#not too far below the Captain line of succession?

[thegreatcaptainusopp]

Brook is basically old man Sanji send tweet

[thewulf]

The Price of Protection || Captain John Price

Summary: Request -Recently I was SA. Now I wasn't R@ped. But I was peer pressured/manipulated and intoxicated to verbally consenting to things I didn't want to do. I'm not asking for it to be relived but rather comfort. Everyone always talks about feeling disgusted but I want comfort for the guilt and second thoughts... Read Rest Here

A/N: THIS ONE IS HEAVY. Please read the trigger warnings below. Thank you anon for trusting me with this. I hope you like it.

Pairing: Captain John Price x Female Reader, TF 141 x Platonic Female Reader

Word Count: 4.8k +

TW: MENTIONS OF SA (Not outright but hints), Heavy Angst, general COD warnings.

You had always admired your Captain for as long as you’ve known him. It wasn’t but almost three years ago now that you were assigned to Task Force 141. They were skeptical at first, as you would be too. Who was this little American girl infiltrating their ranks? This was a Task Force with the most brilliant minds and somehow you were there. Yet, you had proven yourself one of the most valuable assets to the team time and time again. You were good, great even, at your job. You could hack into anything, take over any camera you wanted, reroute rockets if you had the time allotted. You were the genius behind some of the missions that could’ve gone south fast. You were Captain Price’s secret weapon that he kept well hidden.

It took you a while to open up to the guys. But leave it to Soap to get you talking. After a year of trying your best to maintain the Ghost persona, Soap had successfully broken you down. They learned of your past, how you came to be so freakishly good with computers and hacking, where you went to school and where you grew up. You were an enigma to the team. And they grew to love you. It was slow until it wasn’t. You were an outcast until you weren’t. You found yourself laughing and bantering with John, Soap, Gaz, and Ghost time and time again. Suddenly, you were a part of the team, a true member of TF141.

Most times you would head out with the team to help them out. But sometimes you could do the job right from your home base. And this mission turned out to be one of those times. You didn’t hate that you didn’t get to go; you just felt a little left out when you stayed back. But Price always assured you it was for your safety above all else. Sometimes these missions were a little too dangerous for even you. Which of course led you to be more nervous than ever. If it was too dangerous for you, then what was it for them? Surely no walk in the park.

You walked with Price out to the chopper trying one last time. “Captain, are you sure? I can help with logistics once you get there.”

He gave you that signature soft Price smile before shaking his head softly. “I’m sure. It’s a quick in and out. No need to put you in the line of fire for it.”

“But…”

He cut you off. “I know you want to go. I really do. But it’s not worth the risk. You’re too valuable to this team.”

You let out a sigh before nodding. “I understand. Please be safe. Make sure everybody comes back in one piece.”

He gave your shoulder a comforting squeeze. “Like we always do. We land at 0800 local time. Soap will be giving you a call then. We’ll see you soon.”

Pressing your lips together you forced a smile to him. “You better.” With a quick nod, you watched as he hopped in the chopper with the rest of the team. Soap flipped you off before the pilot ascended, leaving you in a fit of laughter, always the shit he was.

You had forgotten how much you disliked being away from the team. You felt so far, so disengaged. Even with MacTavish swearing like a sailor in your ear. You felt totally helpless but tried your best to do whatever you could for the team. The mission was successful but not without hiccup. Gaz had been shot, fortunately, it was just a small graze to the shoulder but nevertheless it reminded you of how fragile their lives were. How one misstep could take a best friend away from you. How crucial you really were to their livelihood.

The stress was getting to you tonight though. The thought of mortality was becoming too much. So, you found yourself at the bar just outside of base. What better way to bury your stresses away than to drink your worries away right with it? You weren’t usually so careless. But the worry and the helplessness got the better of you. One beer turned to two. Turned to a few shots bought by a man across the bar who was giving you the eyes. You’d seen him around base. Maybe even chatted for a brief time. But you chose to never give these men the time of day, until tonight. You knew the type and usually stayed far away. But it was a moment of weakness that got to you.

As the night wore on and the drinks kept coming, the edges of your worries dulled. For a fleeting moment, the weight of the world seemed to lift from your shoulders. It was a temporary reprieve, a fleeting sense of freedom from the constant pressure of your responsibilities. In the chatter and clinking of glasses you felt an unwanted hand on your shoulder, and you turned to see the man who had been buying you drinks. His smile was charming, but there was a hint of something predatory in his gaze. Instinctively you tensed as your senses were on high alert in your inebriated state.

You forced a polite smile, but you felt uneasy. The alcohol had clouded your judgment, leaving you vulnerable and exposed. You knew you should’ve left right then and there. Find your way back to the safety of base, but a part of you hesitated. Maybe it was the loneliness or the desire to forget, but you entertained the idea of staying just a little longer.

As the minutes ticked on, you found yourself ensnared in a web of conversation with the soldier. His words were like honeyed poison, dripping with false charm and manipulation. He seemed to know just what to say. But beneath the surface there was a darkness lurking. A predatory intent masked by the guise of friendly banter. The alcohol eventually dulled your senses, clouding your judgment as you struggled to keep up with the rapid pace of the conversation. His words became a blur as each syllable merged into the next until they lost all meaning. But still you listened captivated by the illusion of connection he wove around you.

His touch was insistent. His hands lingering where they shouldn't have been sending shivers of discomfort down your spine. You tried to pull away, to put some distance between you and this stranger who seemed to know too much about you. But he only tightened his grip, his fingers leaving marks in their wake.

As the night wore on, the line between consent and coercion blurred. Your protests drowned out by the relentless onslaught of alcohol and manipulation. You knew deep down that you didn't want this, that every fiber of your being screamed for you to escape. But you felt trapped, suffocated by the weight of his expectations. And so, with a soul weighed down by guilt and shame, you surrendered to his advances. Your body moving on autopilot as you sought refuge in the temporary oblivion of physical pleasure. But even as you gave in a part of you screamed in silent agony you mourned the loss of you usual control.

In the aftermath as the harsh light of reality pierced through the haze of alcohol and regret, you were left grappling with the devastating truth of what had transpired. You had been used, manipulated, reduced to nothing more than a pawn in someone else's twisted game. The guilt threatened to consume you, gnawing at your insides as you struggled to come to terms with what had happened. You blamed yourself, berating your own weakness and naivety. Wishing you had been stronger, smarter, better able to protect yourself. But deep down you knew the truth. You were not to blame. You were a victim of his manipulation, preyed upon by someone who saw you as nothing more than a means to an end.

The next day dawned with a heavy burden that seemed to press down upon your shoulders, weighing you down with the crushing weight of guilt and shame. As the TF141 team returned from their mission, the atmosphere in the base shifted. You left the air thick with an unspoken tension that hung over the corridors.

Alone in your room, you felt as though you were drowning in a sea of despair, the walls closing in around you with every passing moment. Tears streamed down your cheeks unchecked, leaving salty trails in their wake as you grappled with the overwhelming flood of emotions. Each sob that wracked your body felt like a physical manifestation of the agony that churned within you. A relentless reminder of the betrayal of your own body and the violation of your trust. Every breath was a struggle, a battle against the suffocating weight of shame that threatened to crush you beneath its relentless onslaught.

Outside your door, the sounds of laughter from Soap and Gaz only served to deepen your anguish. You could hear Price and the others talking, their footsteps echoing through the corridors as they made their way back to their quarters. But despite the familiarity of their presence, you couldn't bring yourself to face them. You couldn't bear the thought of meeting their eyes and seeing the disappointment and judgment reflected back at you. Instead, you remained sequestered in your room. You isolated yourself from the world outside as you struggled to come to terms with what had actually happened.

As the hours passed and the weight of your guilt continued to bear down on you, your phone buzzed incessantly with messages from Soap, Gaz and even Ghost. Each notification felt like a sharp jab to your already fragile psyche, a painful reminder of the concern and judgment you knew awaited you on the other end of the line. Soap's messages were filled with words of worry and encouragement, his concern evident in the way he repeatedly asked if you were okay. Gaz's messages were more subdued, but no less concerned, his terse inquiries betraying the depth of his worry for your well-being.

You ignored their messages, unable to fake it to them. Instead, you buried yourself deeper in the cocoon of your own despair, the silence of your room offering little solace in the midst of your turmoil. But as the day wore on and hunger gnawed at your stomach, you reluctantly dragged yourself out of bed and made your way to the cafeteria. It was late, far later than anyone else would-be getting dinner, or so you thought.

As you entered the desolate cafeteria, your heart sank at the sight of Ghost sitting alone at a table in the corner. Despite the emptiness of the room his presence felt suffocating, casting a harsh spotlight on the turmoil brewing within you. With a sigh you ignored him and walked up to serve yourself the usual dull military food. You felt Ghost's gaze boring into you. His eyes a mixture of concern and confusion as they lingered on your tear-stained face.

You filled your plate with food, your hands shaking as you struggled to maintain your composure. The weight of Ghost's scrutiny felt like a physical burden. But as you made your way past Ghost's table, you couldn't bring yourself to meet his eyes. Instead, you kept your gaze fixed on the floor. Your cheeks burned with shame as you tried to hide the evidence of your recent breakdown.

With a quick nod of acknowledgment, you hurried away from Ghost's table. Your steps quickening as you sought refuge in the farthest corner of the room. You found an empty table and sat down keeping your head bowed as you focused on your food, desperate to avoid any further scrutiny. But despite your best efforts, you could still feel Ghost's gaze burning into you. His concern was a palpable presence in the empty room. You felt exposed, vulnerable, as if every inch of your skin was laid bare for him to see. And as you picked at your food, your appetite all but forgotten in the wake of your turbulent emotions. You couldn't help but wonder how long you could keep up the charade. How long before the facade you had constructed came crashing down around you?

As Ghost approached your table, his presence a calming anchor in the midst of your turbulent emotions, he gave a curt nod of acknowledgment. "Hey, kid," he greeted you in his trademark gruff tone, his voice carrying a note of concern beneath its rough exterior. "You alright?"

You tried to mask the evidence of your tears with a feeble attempt at a smile, but Ghost saw right through that. His keen eyes bore into yours, his gaze unwavering as he waited for your response.

"Yeah, just allergies acting up," you replied, your voice betraying the strain of your attempts to deflect his concern.

But Ghost wasn't fooled. He knew you better than that, could see the pain etched into every line of your face. With a grunt of acknowledgment, he accepted your explanation, though you could tell he wasn't entirely convinced.

"I won't push ya," he said with his gravelly voice, his tone softened by a rare display of empathy. "But if you ever wanna talk about it, I'm here." With a grateful nod, you thanked him and watched as he walked out of the room leaving you to your thoughts.

As the morning sun filtered through the curtains you found yourself ensnared in a labyrinth of restless thoughts. Each beam of sunlight seemed to illuminate the tangled mess of emotions that swirled within you, highlighting the heavy shroud of guilt that enveloped your very being. You had spent the night tossing and turning, your pillow dampened by tears that ebbed and flowed.

Just as you had managed to drift into a fitful slumber the persistent knocking at your door shattered the fragile semblance of peace you had managed to find. Each rap on the door felt like a blow to your already fragile composure jolting you awake from the fleeting respite of sleep. Groggy and disoriented you stumbled across the room, every step a struggle against the weight of exhaustion that hung heavy upon your shoulders.

With a heavy heart Captain John Price stood on the other side of the door, his hand hovering tentatively over the handle as he took in the sight before him. His breath caught in his throat, a pang of concern twisting in his chest at the sight of you. The vibrant energy that usually radiated from you had been replaced by a sadness he rarely saw from you. A shadow of your former self. His heart clenched with a mixture of empathy and apprehension as he took in your fragile state. Every instinct urged him to gather you into his arms, to shield you from the pain that etched lines of sorrow upon your face. But he held back, knowing that you needed space to unravel the tangled threads of your emotions in your own time. With a silent prayer on his lips, Price waited for you to acknowledge him.

"Captain, what are you doing here?" you greeted him with a ghost of a smile, though it failed to reach your eyes, which still held traces of the turbulent night you had endured.

Price's gaze softened at the sight of you, his concern etched into every line of his expression. "Hey love," he greeted softly, his voice carrying a gentle warmth that offered solace in the midst of your turmoil. "Missed you this morning at PT. Everything alright?"

You forced a tight-lipped smile, the effort of masking your inner turmoil nearly unbearable. Every word you spoke felt like a weight upon your chest, each syllable a struggle against the overwhelming tide of emotions threatening to engulf you. "Yeah, just feeling a bit under the weather," you replied, your voice strained with the weight of the unspoken troubles that gnawed at your conscience. Price's brow furrowed deeper in concern as he studied your haggard appearance. His gaze lingered on you, searching for answers in the depths of your tired eyes, his intuition telling him that there was more to your distress than a simple case of illness.

"You sure that's all it is?" he pressed gently, his voice laced with a mixture of concern and skepticism. He had known you long enough to recognize when something weighed heavily on your mind, and the mask you wore now couldn't conceal the truth from him.

You swallowed hard, the lump in your throat making it difficult to respond. The weight of your secrets threatened to suffocate you, but you clung to the fragile facade you had constructed, unwilling to burden him with the weight of your troubles. "Yeah, just... a rough night," you murmured, the words tasting bitter on your tongue as you forced them past the lump that lodged there.

Price had always treated you differently, with a softness he never seemed to reserve for the others. From the moment you joined Task Force 141, he recognized the weight of the horrors that came with the job.  He made it his mission to be there for you in a way that went beyond mere professional obligation. He became your confidant, your sounding board, the one person you could turn to when the darkness threatened to overwhelm you. His gentle demeanor and unwavering kindness provided a safe haven in the chaos of missions and the toll they took on your spirit.

Price's gaze softened with understanding as he reached out to gently squeeze your arm. His touch was a far cry from the man a few nights ago. He was that comforting anchor in the storm of your emotions.

"You don't have to face it alone, you know," he whispered, his voice a soothing balm to your weary soul. "Whatever it is, you can talk to me. You can always talk to me, love."

Indeed, Price's tenderness towards you was unmistakable. While you were every bit a soldier like the rest, he recognized that you were different. The things you witnessed and the actions you took on these missions slowly started eating away at you long ago. But Price was there offering solace and understanding. His affection for you growing deeper with each shared moment of vulnerability.

Over the three years of working together Price found himself drawn to more than just your skills and abilities. It was your spirit, your unwavering determination, and your unique personality that captivated him. At first it was subtle, just a flicker of admiration for the way you handled yourself under pressure, the way you never backed down from a challenge. But as time went on and he got to know you better, that admiration blossomed into something deeper. He found himself enchanted by the fire in your eyes when you spoke passionately about something you believed in. He admired the way you never lost your humanity, even in the midst of the darkest missions. Your compassion and empathy for others in the face of danger touched something within him that he hadn't realized was missing.

Price began to notice the small things about you, the adorable quirks that made you uniquely yourself. He found himself smiling at your jokes, laughing at your antics, and feeling a sense of peace whenever you were around. He cherished the moments when you let your guard down and allowed him to see the vulnerable side of you. He felt honored that you trusted him with your fears and insecurities.

As the years went by, Price realized that his feelings for you had evolved beyond mere admiration. He was in love with you. He loved the way you made him feel alive, the way you challenged him to be a better man, and the way you brought light into his dark world. But even as his feelings grew, Price knew that he could never act on them. Not while he was your Captain and the stakes of their missions remained so high. So, he buried his feelings deep inside. He was content to love you from afar and grateful for the opportunity to know you. Even if it meant keeping his emotions hidden.

Soap, Ghost, and Gaz were like a finely tuned unit, attuned not only to the dynamics of the battlefield but also to the subtleties of their comrades' interactions. They noticed the way Price's demeanor would shift whenever you entered the room. The slight softening of his usually stern expression, the warmth that crept into his eyes as they lingered on you, and the way his voice would adopt a gentler tone when he spoke to you. It was unmistakable to them though they never openly acknowledged it.

In their downtime when the mission chatter had quieted, and they found themselves lounging around the base, the guys would exchange knowing glances whenever Price's attention seemed to linger on you a little longer than necessary. Soap might chuckle and nudge Ghost, raising an eyebrow in silent communication that spoke volumes about Price's apparent fondness for you. Ghost, ever the silent observer, would offer a small smirk in return, his eyes gleaming with amusement as he watched Price navigate the delicate balance between professionalism and the undeniable affection he held for you.

Gaz, always one for a bit of banter, wouldn't hesitate to make playful remarks whenever the opportunity presented itself. He'd tease Price about being extra protective of you during missions, jokingly suggesting that Price had a soft spot for you that he couldn't quite hide. Price would roll his eyes in response, brushing off Gaz's comments with a gruff retort. But the slight flush that colored his cheeks betrayed the truth behind Gaz's jests.

Despite their teasing, Soap, Ghost, and Gaz respected the unspoken boundaries that surrounded Price's feelings for you. They knew that his affection for you was genuine and deep-rooted, and they never pushed him to confront it unless he was ready. As for you, you might have been the only one oblivious to the undercurrent of emotions swirling around Price. To you he remained the steadfast leader, unwavering in his commitment to the mission and the safety of his team. His true feelings were well hidden behind a mask of professionalism and duty.

Tears welled in your eyes as you struggled to find the courage to vocalize the turmoil that had been devouring you from within. The weight of your confession hung heavy upon your shoulders. Each word feeling like a jagged stone forced from your chest. "I... I had a little too much to drink while everyone was gone," you confessed, your voice barely rising above a whisper, as if you were afraid the words themselves would shatter the fragile sanctuary you had built around yourself. "And... I did things... things I didn't want to do."

As you spoke, the air in the room seemed to thicken with a suffocating sense of shame. You couldn't bring yourself to meet Price's gaze. You feared the judgment you were sure would reflect in his eyes. But when you finally summoned the courage to glance up, the expression etched on Price's face was not one of condemnation but of utmost concern. His features tightened with an intensity that mirrored the turmoil raging within him. His heart twisted with a potent blend of anger and sorrow at the thought of someone exploiting your vulnerability in such a despicable manner. But despite the roiling emotions churning beneath the surface, he remained stoically composed. He understood that now was not the time for upsetting you even further.

"Coerced..." you added, your voice trembling with shame as you unveiled the truth that had festered within you like a poison, eating away at your sense of self-worth with every passing moment. "I tried to resist, but... he wouldn't listen. He wouldn’t take no for an answer."

As the weight of your confession hung heavy in the air between you, you couldn't help but feel a surge of relief wash over you. As if the simple act of vocalizing your pain had lifted a burden that had threatened to crush you. Despite the shame that threatened to consume you there was a profound sense of solace in knowing that you were no longer bearing this burden alone. That you had finally allowed yourself to be vulnerable in front of the one person you trusted implicitly.

In that moment of raw honesty, you couldn't help but wonder if Price understood the depth of your feelings for him. If he could see beyond the facade you presented to the world and glimpse the tangled mess of emotions that lay hidden beneath the surface. As you spoke you couldn't deny the palpable sense of comfort that enveloped you. It was as if in allowing yourself to be vulnerable with Price you had discovered a sanctuary where judgment held no power, where acceptance reigned supreme. Captain John Price was the best of men.

And as Price listened his gaze never wavering from yours, you couldn't shake the feeling that he knew on some level the depth of your affection for him. Perhaps it was the gentleness in his touch, the understanding in his eyes, or the unwavering support he offered without hesitation. Whatever the reason, you found yourself daring to hope that maybe, just maybe, he felt the same way. As the weight of your confession hung heavy in the air between you, you realized with startling clarity that Price was more than just a trusted confidant. He was your rock, your pillar of strength in a world filled with uncertainty and doubt. And as the realization settled deep within your heart, you couldn't help but acknowledge the truth that had been staring you in the face all along: you loved him, in a way that transcended mere friendship.

With each passing moment, the bond between you and Price grew stronger, forged in the chaos of shared experiences and unwavering support. And as you looked into his eyes seeing the reflection of your own emotions mirrored back at you, you knew without a doubt that you could tell him anything, and he would be right there for you, no matter what.

Price's grip on your arm tightened ever so slightly as you made your confession. His touch both grounding and reassuring in its strength. His resolve hardened as he fought back the surge of protectiveness that threatened to consume him. "I'm here for you," he reassured you, his voice unwavering in its conviction. "Whatever you need, I'll do everything in my power to help you through this."

As Price listened to your trembling words a whirlwind of emotions roiled within him. Anger burned hot in his chest at the thought of someone taking advantage of you. His fists clenched with the urge to seek retribution. But beneath the rage a deeper sense of sorrow welled up aching with empathy for the pain you had endured alone. "I will always be here for you," he murmured again. As the weight of your confession settled upon you both Price felt a swell of tenderness wash over him, mingling with the fierce determination that burned within him. He wanted nothing more than to wrap you in his arms, to shield you from the pain that gnawed at your soul.

With a gentle hand he lifted your chin, meeting your tear-filled gaze with unwavering reassurance. His heart clenched at the sight of your vulnerability, and he couldn't help but brush away the tears that traced delicate paths down your cheeks. "You're not alone. I promise you that," he whispered, his voice infused with a quiet strength that resonated deep within you. "I'll be right here, every step of the way." And as he spoke those words you felt a sense of solace wash over you. You knew that you could lean on him, trust in him.

Against his better judgment, Price drew you into his embrace. His arms encircling you with a tenderness that concealed the strength of his resolve. He held you close as you surrendered to the flood of tears that just kept coming. "It's okay," he murmured softly, his voice a gentle reassurance in the midst of your turmoil. "I've got you. You're safe now."

His heart clenched at the sight of your vulnerability. He couldn't help but brush his hand through your hair. His touch a comforting caress that made you shiver. With each stroke he hoped to ease the burden that weighed so heavily upon your shoulders.

"You're not alone love," he whispered in reassurance. His voice a quiet promise against the chaos of your emotions. "I'm here for you, always." He said once more letting you know that he wasn’t going anywhere. He continued to hold you as the tears slowly subsided. His silent grasp on you a vow to stand by your side through every trial and tribulation that may lay ahead.

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[goodqueenaly]

Not to be too "true crime" about, but it you think Jaehaera Targaryen was actually murderer and if what she had survived her fall?

Spoiler alert: it was Unwin Peake.

I don’t find any of the alternative explanations (other than the rather obvious one above) for Jaehaera’s death very convincing. While Jaehaera was certainly a very traumatized child, the proffered explanations as to why she would have chosen that moment to end her life seem rather thin: at no other point does Jaehaera appear to express sympathy for Rhaena (such that she would be so traumatized at the news of the latter's miscarriage), or jealousy of Baela (over the latter’s continued pregnancy), and the idea that Jaehaera “loved the king with all her heart” and mourned that he “paid her no mind” and “showed her no affection” appears at odds with the queen who was “loath to leave her chambers” where she “had seemed content … with her maids and ladies, her kittens and her dolls”. Likewise, Gyldayn himself acknowledges that while rumors abounded blaming the king, or Cassandra Baratheon, or one or more of the queen’s servants for her death, “[w]ith hindsight, we can say for a fair certainty that none of these played any role in” Jaehaera’s death. This is not, I think, an inaccurate take from Gyldayn either. Aegon was definitely withdrawn and gloomy, but he was certainly no child sadist as young Maegor the Cruel had been, and his lack of interest in either his queen or partisan vengeance argues against any role he may have had in killing her. Cassandra Baratheon may not have liked Jaehaera, but the rumor that she had had the queen killed seems to stem more from antagonistic scheming by Unwin Peake, the better to promote his own daughter, rather than any real motivation on Cassandra’s part (and you might think Cassandra would have admitted, alluded to, or been questioned about any role she might have had in Jaehaera’s death during the unraveling of the poisoning and treason conspiracy). 

By contrast, the means, motive, and opportunity behind, as well as the overall general character of, Jaehaera's murder all fit far too well with Unwin Peake. The Kingsguard posted at the door of Jaehaera’s chamber on the day of her death was Mervyn Flowers, a man whose connections to Unwin Peake were both natural and explicit: not only was Mervyn Unwin’s bastard brother, who was put on the Kingsguard by Unwin himself (along with another Peake relative, Set Amaury), but Mervyn would also continue acting in Unwin’s barely disguised name thereafter: colluding with Tessario the Tiger and Cassandra Baratheon to murder Daenaera Velaryon, arresting the Hand Lord Rowan, and being named alongside Peake’s other co-conspirators by George Graceford. Nor, as Gyldayn admits (albeit rather reluctantly - more on that below), would Mervyn Flowers have had to get the queen’s blood (metaphorically) on his hands: as Mushroom alleges, Tessario, the unscrupulous and mercenarily violent captain of Unwin Peake’s personal guard and as much a co-conspirator with Peake as Mervyn himself, might easily have been allowed into Jaehaera’s chambers to throw her to her death. That Unwin Peake confronted Aegon just one week after Jaehaera’s death with the news that the young king was already betrothed to his, Peake’s, own daughter demonstrates Peake’s naked ambition, and his motive for removing the sitting queen; even Gyldayn acknowledges that the hasty fait accompli-style betrothal acts as its own sort of proof of Unwin’s guilt in Jaehaera’s death. Moreover, Unwin’s vigorous bias against the succession of either one of Aegon’s sisters or Baela’s then-unborn child - caustically referred to, presumably by Unwin himself, as “the whelp of a wanton and a bastard” - supports Unwin’s motive: eager to secure the succession of his preferred line - that is, not just a child of the only surviving male-line male Targaryen, but also one through the Peake family - and concerned that he would achieve neither if the king acknowledged the unborn child carried by Baela as his heir, Unwin I think had all the reason he needed to make the Queen’s role vacant, the better to push his daughter into it.  

Too, I think Unwin arranging Jaehaera’s death as such aligns with Unwin’s other murder plot - that is, the attempted murder of Daenaera Velaryon, which actually resulted in the murder of Gaemon Palehair. In both cases, Unwin’s goal was the same: the elimination of Aegon III’s wife and queen so that his own daughter could be slotted into her space. What’s more, in both cases Unwin seems to have utilized a clumsily obvious framing narrative for each death, the better either to excuse himself and/or to work against his enemies. In the case of Daenaera, Unwin I think specifically used the “tears of Lys” in order to fuel his anti-Rogare conspiracy - of course, Unwin I think tried to suggest, those no-good-very-bad Lyseni would use a poison whose very name advertised their origins to try to kill Aegon III. Likewise, In the case of Jaehaera, her death is deliberately paralleled with that of her mother: just as Helaena is widely (and I think correctly) assumed to have thrown herself to her death toward the end of the Dance, so I believe Unwin wanted onlookers to believe that Jaehaera had, quite literally, followed her mother to the grave. (Of course, when it then became profitable for Unwin to undermine other young women ahead of the Maiden’s Day Cattle Show, he was also quite willing to shift the parallel - blaming Cassandra Baratheon for her death, just as Rhaenyra had been blamed for Helaena’s.) In both cases, however, Unwin all but gave himself away through the ruthlessness and obviousness of his ambition: just as the king and Prince Viserys sniffed out the Peake conspiracy through the tortured false confessions of Thaddeus Rowan, so the unseemly, peremptory hastiness of the king’s betrothal to Lady Myrielle revealed Unwin’s hand (no pun intended) in brutally moving Jaehaera out of the way for Myrielle’s sake. In both cases, moreover, Unwin relied on his known, unsubtle agents Tessario and Ser Mervyn, whose later guilt only I think highlights their guilt for the earlier murder. 

I do also think it notable that while Gyldayn does show a rather baffling (to me, at least) level of favoritism toward Unwin Peake, even the maester-author has to concede the likelihood that Gyldayn was responsible for Jaehaera’s death. Though he adds the exculpatory parenthetical that “there is no shred of proof of that [i.e. that Jaehaera was murdered]”, Gyldayn names “the only truly plausible culprit” as Unwin Peake; too, after explaining the reasoning behind this possibility, Gyldayn concludes that “[i]f murder was indeed the cause of her demise … the man behind it could only have been Lord Unwin Peake”. Further, as noted above, Gyldayn also states that “without proof, none of this would have been damning … [sic] if not for what the Hand did afterward” - that is, betrothing Aegon III to his daughter.  If even an author who spends multiple paragraphs praising the Peakes generally and Unwin specifically admits the high likelihood that Lord Peake was behind Jaehaera’s murder, I take that as pretty conclusive evidence of where we as readers are supposed to lay blame for Jaehaera’s death. (Nor, indeed, does that other maester-author, Yandel, quibble about Peake’s guilt: Yandel simply states in TWOIAF that “[t]hough we will never know the truth of the events that day, it now seems likely that Jaehaera's death was somehow instigated by Lord Peake”.)

To that point as well, I think that GRRM wants us readers to compare the murder of Princess Elia (and, relatedly, those of her children at the same time) to that of Queen Jaehaera. While neither Tywin nor Unwin put their own hands on Elia (and her children) or Jaehaera, respectively, their guilt behind the scenes is made very evident: these two similarly named men, sometime Hands with vindictive streaks and a desire to see their daughters made queens (and, incidentally, a penchant for stealing dead men's Valyrian steel swords), sent their personal, violent agents against a royal woman and her children or a royal female child herself, with the expectation that those agents would see to the murders of these people (something I've talked about specifically with Tywin). Therefore, despite the unwillingness of biased in-world scholarly sources to commit, in whole or in part, to placing the blame on these men - recall Yandel’s weaselly statement “[i]t is tragic that the blood spilled in war may as readily be innocent as it is guilty, and that those who ravished and murdered Princess Elia escaped justice”, and his laughable attempts to blame Aerys II or even Elia herself for those deaths - I think GRRM himself makes clear that both Tywin and Unwin were responsible for their respective royal murders. 

[ofdragonsdeep]

2: Horizon

Where the sky and sea meet.

(technically spoilers for the very very first quest of Dawntrail)

Preparations for the trip had taken a long time.

Ships did not often sail to Tural, even though they were tentatively more open to trade than before. On top of that, the unusual nature of their party made negotiating fare a difficult prospect.

Krile had very patiently dealt with a number of ship captains who were not, despite their assurances, ready for the bulk of Stoh Oosh. While she was quite content to fly when the sun was up, the night demanded a place to rest, and the decks of many of the little merchant vessels simply couldn't hold her. That was the line for many of the captains, but after that, Krile also had to ensure they could get Haurchefant and his wheelchair up on to the deck, despite his assurances that he would be able to manage.

Ar'telan, who knew very little about money and the price such services might demand, had steered well clear of the whole thing. All he knew was that, by the time they boarded the ship, Krile was already exhausted, and Wuk Lamat was incredibly antsy to be off.

It was a little strong to say that Ar'telan hated ships, but he was not overly fond of them. Ever since his first ill-fated trip from Meracydia, it seemed that every boat he set foot on wanted to take him into one terrible situation or another. He could count on one hand the normal boat rides he had taken - and even then, on some of them he had been subject to some very unorthodox visits.

He sat on the deck, back to one of the masts, trying to keep his distance from the footfall of the sailors working on the rigging. He looked out to sea, and fancied he could feel the air get a little warmer. He hadn't been anywhere with a climate close to Meracydia's - even the South Sea Isles only came close. The bottom of Tural, if the maps he had been shown were accurate, would be similar, but they were headed to the middle for the start of Wuk Lamat's succession bid.

He did not want to be here.

"The morose look doesn't suit you, Ar'telan."

Mitron sat beside him, not even asking if he could. That was fairly normal for him, to be fair, so Ar'telan did not protest.

"I have things on my mind, that's all."

Mitron followed his gaze out, the sea stretching on. There was nothing to see, of course - they were far past land by now, and it would be some days yet before they approached Tural. Mitron, of course, had not come to help Wuk Lamat with her problem. He had come for the fishing, and the incredibly important job of moral support.

"You don't do well when they give you breaks, do you?" he said, an amused tone in his voice. "It'll be fine." He glanced over to Wuk Lamat, who was leaning over the side of the boat and completely failing to hide the nausea. "Probably." Ar'telan grimaced.

"It's not about that. I don't really know enough to worry about that yet, to be honest," he confessed. "I'm just… homesick." Mitron made a thoughtful noise under his breath at that.

"I don't think anyone would complain if you went home, you know," he said. Ar'telan shook his head.

"It's… complicated. It feels too final."

Mitron's eyes travelled from the sky to the dragons. Stoh Oosh was rippling through the water below them, but Orn Mahr and Moh Rhei were both at the prow of the ship, enjoying the winds.

"Yeah. I can imagine."

There was a silence between them then, but it wasn't strained. The sound of the wind and the shouts of the sailors at work rang out on either side, and Ar'telan let himself think.

Meracydia would not hate him for what he had been party to. Tiamat knew. Midgardsormr knew. Vrtra knew. The layers of pain that made up what had become of Nidhogg were complex, and he could not articulate it to his fellow mortals well enough for them to forgive the crime. But the dragons did, even if he didn't think they should have.

Perhaps that was it. He didn't think they should have.

It had been so long ago now that the pain had faded, but it had been so hard. He had heard the judgement in Hraesvelgr's voice, the fact that it was the fault of mortals that Nidhogg had to be stopped at all. That even though Midgardsormr had seen it for what it was, it still hurt.

He had wrung a promise from Estinien that he would not kill Nidhogg, and in the end, it had been false. Ysayle had fallen into a despair that matched Hraesvelgr's for so long that he had worried she would never rouse from it. He had eked ilm by painful ilm across the war-scarred fields of Coerthas so desperately never harming a dragon, and then they had faced Tioman on the mount.

It is like Tempering, they had said.

But it was not.

And even if the dragons had forgiven him, he had never forgiven himself.

All of his life he had held in his heart that there was nothing more sacrosanct than the life of a dragon. It was the epitome of Allag's evil - to kill Bahamut, to drive the others to desperate summoning, to damn all but a few to the Tempering. To trap his twisted idol in perpetual agony. He had all but wept when he had found the engine of prayer in the heart of Dalamud's workings. And there he was, on what had once been Allagan soil, commiting once more the sins of Allag.

To go home with it weighing on him felt like a betrayal of his people. And even if he could make peace with it, Meracydia would not feel the same as it had when he had left. He had changed too much now. He had been a fire keeper, a potwatch, the one who wrangled unruly kits. And now he was a godslayer.

He hadn't wanted any of it. But nobody in his position had ever asked for it.

"You know, I think it'll be good for everyone here," Mitron remarked. "A real adventure, you know? I'm not sure any of your little team have had the chance for one in a while." Ar'telan considered the statement.

"It would be nice to explore without the fate of the world on my head," he agreed. Mitron smiled at that, eyes on the sea once more.

"It'll do that stuffy elf- elezen, sorry, still got the First in my head - some good to see new places," he added. Ar'telan made an amused noise.

"Of all the elezen to call that, I'm not sure Haurchefant is the one you want," he replied. "But you're right. Maybe I'll call it an adventure."

"Just don't forget to call me if the fishing is good," Mitron said, a cheeky grin on his face.

"I would never forget."

[townofcrosshollow]

Lessons I've Learned from Plane Crashes

The worst case scenario will always happen...

The DC-10 was designed with three redundant hydraulic systems that can each independently move the flight controls. No procedures were created for a loss of all hydraulics, because it was thought to be impossible. But in 1989, United Airlines flight 232 suffered exactly that failure when a fan disk inside the rear engine broke and severed all three hydraulic lines, leaving the crew with no way to control the aircraft.

...but you still have to try.

Despite the unprecedented failure, the pilots stayed calm, analyzed the situation, accepted help from a fellow pilot riding as a passenger, and managed to use careful adjustments of engine thrust to control their pitch and make turns. With this method they successfully brought their plane down on the runway, and despite the impossible odds and fiery crash, only 112 people died, while 184 survived. The fact that anyone, let alone the majority, survived is a miracle.

Everyone has something to offer...

The pilots of flight 232 credited their successful emergency landing to crew resource management. I know, it has a very HR name, but CRM is the principle that everyone has something to offer and everyone should have a say in the decision making process.

...and you have to demand that respect from others.

In 2018, a captain flying for Royal Air Maroc Express intentionally descended below the minimum descent altitude on approach and made his first officer do the same. When they were only feet away from crashing into the ocean, with the captain still pressing the nose down to descend, the first officer finally took control and pulled them out of the dive, preventing catastrophe. If other first officers throughout history had managed to do the same, hundreds or thousands of lives would have been spared.

You have to have respect for the rules...

These sorts of accidents are sadly common. Safety rules, such as minimum descent altitudes and visibility requirements (or wearing a mask, testing for STDs, etc.) exist for a reason. Don't let anyone pressure you into doing things that are unsafe.

...but know when to break them.

Ameristar Air Cargo flight 9363 was chartered to fly the University of Michigan basketball team to a game- but when the pilot went to "rotate" the plane to take off, the nose wouldn't come off the ground. The number one rule in aviation is to never reject a takeoff after the V1 speed, because that's the point where it will be impossible to stop safely on the runway. But the pilot rejected anyway, and although the plane still suffered severe damage, all of the passengers evacuated safely. It turned out that the elevators had been damaged while the plane was in storage- the plane would never have taken off, and if he hadn't rejected, the resulting crash would have been far worse.

And most importantly, take care of yourself.

The most common cause of plane crashes is pilot error. The most common cause of pilot error is fatigue. When the body doesn't have time to rest, relax, and recuperate, you can't operate your best. Whatever the deadline or project, nothing good will ever come of pushing yourself too far.

[queen-of-the-avengers]

CATFA: Part Eight

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Female!Reader

Word Count: ~2.2k

Warnings: canon violence, language, and angst

Author’s Note: any and all comments are appreciated <3

x

All of the soldiers head outside to fight Hydra while you and Steve go in the opposite direction in search of the isolation ward. This part of the place is desolate because this is where they can experiment with their weapons without anyone else knowing. You turn the corner and see someone exiting the room at the other end of the halfway. He just kind of stares at you with blueprints in his hands.

He runs away and you and Steve run after him. You're about to follow him when you hear someone in the room the man left out of.

"Sergeant. 32557."

You look inside and see the love of your life strapped to a bed with machines looming over him.

"Bucky!" you gasp and run inside.

"Is that...?"

"It's me, baby. I'm here." You yank the leather straps off him before Steve helps him to his feet. "You scared me. Everyone thought you were dead."

"I thought he was smaller," Bucky says about Steve.

"Come, we gotta go."

Now that you have what you came here for, you can leave and get the rest of the men back to home base. There is a map on the wall with Hydra's bases marked. You can't take the map with you, but you'll be able to remember where it is for future reference. Steve sees it too, so he'll be able to help map it out later.

"What happened to you?" Bucky asks his friend.

"I joined the Army."

"Did it hurt?"

"A little."

"Is it permanent?"

"So far."

You three make your way back to the balcony that overlooks the area with the machines lined up in order. Seconds later, they explode. Whoever did this knows you're here, knows they're outnumbered, and want to destroy all evidence so they can get away with whatever they're doing here. The fire is so hot to someone like Steve and Bucky, but you're not bothered by it. You run back up the stairs to try and find another exit but are greeted by two men: Schmidt and the guy you saw running from you earlier.

"Captain America! How exciting!" Johann Schmidt says. He and Steve walk toward each other while you stay by Bucky's side. "I'm a great fan of your films. So, Dr. Erskine managed it after all. Not exactly an improvement, but still impressive." 

"You've got no idea," Steve growls.

Your friend punches Johann in the face as hard as he can. Johann goes to strike back but Steve blocks it with his shield. Steve falls backward onto the platform, giving up his ability to fight Johann back. You muster up the air inside of you and blast Johann back several feet. The man he's with sees you can be a real threat, so he pulls a lever and makes the platform break into two.

"No matter what lies Erskine told you, you see I was his greatest success!"

Johann begins to peel the skin right off his face as if it's a mask he hides behind. What's underneath is his skull that's been turned red to which you'll be calling him Red Skull. It's fitting.

"You are deluded, Captain. You pretend to be a simple soldier, but in reality, you are just afraid to admit that we have left humanity behind. Unlike you, I embrace it proudly. Without fear!"

"Then how come you're running?" you yell at him.

Johann and his assistant get into an elevator that will lead them to their escape, but you're not going to let them get away so easily. You pull your first back and let it catch on fire, and you send a fireball straight at the elevator. The doors close just before it could make contact. You're all alone in here now, and you have to get out of here if you want Steve and Bucky to survive.

Steve scans the room for the nearest exit and notices a door on the upper level. There is a small bar that extends from your side of the factory to the other, but it'll be like walking on a balance beam. Still, that's your only option right now. You three head up the stairs and over to the beam as everything below you catches fire.

It's risky but you have to do this.

"Wait, there's something I can try first."

There isn't enough water in the air for you to put the flames out that way, but you can absorb it. If you use your air powers, you'll only spread it more. Steve and Bucky stand back to let you do your thing, and you jump over the railing to get a better view of the fire below. Your air powers support your body to make you hover in the air, and you stick your arms out on either side of you.

The fire begins to whirl like a tornado, but you direct it to come right at you. Two columns of fire strike both your hands, but the second that it hits your skin, the water in your body immediately cools it off. A ton of steam is pouring out of your body but it's allowing the fire to go somewhere.

"Go! Get across the beam!" you yell.

"Go, come on," Steve urges his friend.

He allows his friend to go first, and Bucky carefully walks across the beam while occasionally looking over at you. It doesn't look like you're hurt or that it bothers you because you've endured things that were a lot hotter than this. Once Bucky makes it across, Steve quickly scurries over the beam to the other side.

"Come on!" Steve yells at you.

You blast the fire back down below and away from you, and you fly right over to them. The machines that haven't blown up do, but you're already leaving. Peggy never got your call to ome pick you up because your transmitter got damaged in the fight. The Colonel didn't expect you to come back either, but here you are, marching the 107th back to their home base.

Everyone lined up as soon as they saw you coming. Most of their men are okay despite some of them needing medical attention. The Colonel and Peggy meet you at the front of the line, and you can tell the Colonel isn't happy that you left in the first place.

"Some of these men need medical attention."

"We'd like to surrender ourselves for disciplinary action," Steve says.

"That won't be necessary."

"Yes, sir."

The Colonel walks away and Peggy approaches Steve. You turn to Bucky and pull him close to you. He's been gone for way too long, and you don't want to be apart from him.

"Let's give it up to Captain Amercia and Lieutenant Y/N!!"

The entire platoon cheers for your victory, and you pull Bucky closer to you. You kiss him in front of everyone, not that you minded the attention. Since this part of the battle is over, everyone got shipped back to London as soon as possible. They either need medical attention, they get to go home, or they are getting a new assignment. 

Either way, this entire base camp is going to be empty in the next few days.

You're not sure what Hydra did to Bucky, so he was sent to a hospital immediately after landing in London. Since you and Steve saw the map with Hydra's bases on it, you and he went back to London's headquarters top come up with a strategy on what to do next. You've already marked the first four locations Hydra had, and there is a total of six.

"The fifth one was here in Poland, right near the Baltic." Steve marks a giant map. "The sixth one is about here, thirty or forty miles west of the Maginot Line. I just got a quick look. These are the weapon factories we know about. Sergeant Barnes said that Hydra shipped all the parts to another facility that isn't on this map."

"Agent Carter, coordinate with MI6. I want every Allied eyeball looking for that main Hydra base," The Colonel orders.

"What about us?" you ask.

"We are gonna set a fire under Johann Schmidt's ass. What do you say, Rogers? Y/L/N? It's your map. Do you think you can wipe Hydra off of it?"

"Yes, sir. We'll need a team."

"We're already putting together the best men."

"With all due respect, sir. So are we," you smirk.

If you're going to do this, then you need a team you can trust. The 107th has a lot of good men that Steve can get on his side. Bucky has known these men for quite some time, so if he says you can trust them, then you can. Steve will be a better person for the pitch, plus, you and Bucky have a lot of catching up to do. 

There is this small corner in the back that's hidden from most of the people inside the bar, and that's where you and Bucky are. You don't want to act like a horny teenager, but it's been so long since you've felt his lips on your skin. The other patrons don't pay any attention to you, but it's not like you'd stop even if they were.

Bucky kisses the spot right under your ear, and you pull him back up to your lips. You kiss him with everything you've got, and you've got a lot saved up for him.

"Fuck, I missed you," you whisper.

"Me too, doll. You have no idea what went through my head this past year."

"I might have an idea," you grin. "Are you doing any better? Are you okay?"

"Yeah. Whatever Hydra did to me didn't stick. I feel fine."

"Good."

You pull away form Bucky and bring him to a table to enjoy the alcohol and each other's comapny. Steve notices you two are done being all over each other and decides to come visit.

"You ready to follow Captain America into the jaws of death?"

"Hell, no," Bucky laughs. "That little guy from Brooklyn who was too dumb not to run away from a fight, I'm following him. Are you're keeping the outfit?"

"You know what? It's kind of growing on me."

All chatter stops in the bar as Peggy walks in. She's wearing a red dress that compliments her curves. It shows some of her long legs, and the men inside the bar can't get enough of her. She doesn't look anyone but at Steve, and you pull Bucky away to give them some privacy.

"Captain."

"Agent Carter."

"Ma'am," Bucky says politely.

"Howard has some equipment for you to try tomorrow morning. He asked that you be there too, Y/N."

"Sure."

"Sounds good."

"I see your top squad is prepping for duty."

"Do you like to dance?" you ask, trying to get the ball rolling between them.

"I do, actually. I might even, when this is all over, go dancing. I've just got to wait for the right partner. 0800, Captain."

"Yes, ma'am. I'll be there," Steve smiles as she walks away.

"I will also be there!" Steve watches her go, and you slap his arm lightly. "Go after her. Ask her to dance. Go." You push Steve in Peggy's direction and you turn to Bucky with a smile. "Care to dance, Sergeant Barnes?"

"I would love to, Lieutenant Y/N."

The rest of the night is spent dancing in Bucky's arms and well into the early morning. You have to meet Howard at eight, but you and Bucky decide to get up a little earlier than that to watch the sunrise. You fly with him to the roof of your building so that you two can be alone.

"I'm glad you're okay. You have no idea how much you mean to me," you say.

"I'm starting to."

He cups your jaw and pulls you closer to him, planting his lips on yours. His love is consuming, passionate, and safe. He truly makes you feel like the only woman in the world. You can say or do anything to him and he'd still love you all the same.

"So, what was life like before you met me?" he asks.

"Lonley."

"You must have been with people, no?"

"Yes, but I was never in love with someone in the way I'm with you. I was with the same guy for about nine hundred years. We were dating, sure, but I wasn't in love with him. Maybe in the beginning, but he was held up on his ex. I could have left him, but I guess I didn't want to be alone."

"What do you mean? Who is he that he survived for nine hundred years? Is he like you?"

"No. He's an Eternal. It's this other-worldly being that was put on Earth to protect people from deviants. They're beautiful creatures but very deadly. They never aged, they were strong, and they had powers like me. I guess I wanted to stick by them knowing they wouldn't die after eighty years."

"I'm going to die one day and you're still going to be here," he says gently.

"I don't like to think about that. I meant it when I said I was in love with you. Steve got a serum. If humanity can develop that, then maybe they can develop something to keep you from aging."

"I don't know if I want to live forever."

"Then I'm not going to waste a second with you. I wish I had met you sooner. I was there when the Aztec empire fell. You would have loved going on adventures with me. Have you ever been to space?"

"No," he chuckles.

"I could take you someday if you'd like."

"Maybe someday," he grins.

x

Follow my library blog @aqueenslibrary​​​​​​ where I reblog all my stories, so you can put notifications on there without the extra stuff :)

[cable-knit-sweater]

mayaaaa. hello it is me. if you're still accepting prompts for the spotify wrapped ficlets, how about song 54? whichever ship speaks to you 🧡

Allieeee 💕💕 I am still accepting prompts, thank you so much for sending me one 🥰🥰

#54 is:

Which obviously has to be a stucky fic 😭😭 And I couldn’t just let one lyric inspire me, there are so many parts of this song that make me think of them, especially for the fic I had in mind:

Flashes of the battle come back to me in a blur // All that bloodshed, crimson clover // Uh-huh, sweet dream was over // My hand was the one you reached for // All throughout the Great War

But also:

Your finger on my hair pin triggers // Soldier down on that icy ground // Looked up at me with honor and truth // Broken and blue

And this 😭:

Always remember // Uh-huh, we're burned for better // I vowed I would always be yours // ‘Cause we survived the Great War

I’m sorry in advance.

Everything in him feels at war with himself. The need to follow orders, the urge to give in to the instinctive feeling that tells him not to. Part of his mind telling him to not hold his punches, that he has a mission here, his heart constricting painfully at the sight of sad blue eyes and a bruised, bloody face.

He feels so off balance, so unmoored, he doesn’t know what to do. That’s a first, or at least a first for as far back as his memory goes. He always has orders, knows instinctively to follow them or… But now, he’s torn, confused. He doesn’t understand what’s happening to him.

The man below him just lays there, taking the hits as they come. He wants to scream at the Captain to put up a fight, to not just let the Asset kill him. Because he will, it’s all he’s good for. He’s never wanted to, he doesn’t think, but he knows it’s what he’s supposed to do here. He can’t fail. “You’re my mission,” he screams out, and he knows he’s just trying to convince himself of that right now, because he isn’t sure of anything anymore.

The man’s face is familiar in a way, even battered and bruised. His voice wrenches something loose in the asset too, but not enough to give him any sense of clarity. He feels the frustration with all these muddled thoughts starting to get the best of him, no longer the mission focused Asset he’s been made into. Or maybe always has been. He doesn’t know, and that makes him act like a cornered animal, lashing out.

If his mission could just stop, stop talking, stop looking at him with eyes full of hurt, eyes that he feels piercing his soul. But the captain doesn’t. He keeps fucking talking.

“Because I’m with you ‘till the end of the line,” the man finally croaks out. The Asset feels like something inside him breaks, memories rushing to the front of his mind, so strong and vivid, he feels paralyzed by them. He doesn’t recover quickly enough to catch the Captain before the helicarrier breaks apart further and he falls through the cracks, into the river. The sight of it so achingly familiar he wonders if he’s been here before.

(A fleeting thoughts tells him he has, but the perspective is off - was he the one falling?)

He doesn’t think for too long when he finally comes unfrozen, and just jumps after the man. As he dives into the river, as he tries to focus on dragging the man to the surface, he tries to push away the rush of memories that flood his mind. He doesn’t recognize any of them, unfamiliar images flashing before him, doesn’t know why this is happening or why he’s going against his orders and trying to save his mission.

(A lie, he does, his heart tells him - shut up, his brain tells it)

He drags the man in uniform to the side of the river bed, taking in the sight of him. The man isn’t breathing. His mission was to kill Captain America, so maybe he’s been successful, but it does nothing to ease his fear like it usually does. Instead, a different type of fear creeps over him, memories of a small boy struggling for air trying to push their way through his messy thoughts, no matter how much he tries to stop it. He can’t handle that right now.

When his mission - Stevie, his traitorous brain tells him - splutters out water, coughing roughly, the Asset finally feels like he can breathe again. He ignores the voice in his head that tells him to stay, to make sure the man is okay, and stumbles away from the body. The man is sure to be found, and when he is, the Asset can’t be there.

He feels guilty, but he doesn’t know why. This is for the best.

(He does know why. A vow. ‘Till the end of the line)

[smolvenger]

💜👎🏻and 💻 for the asks! 😁

Hello there! Thank you so much, it does mean a lot!🥺🥺 I love talking about my own writing because I’m obsessive about my own writing (I will legit get so into it that hours pass)

💜- three favorite lines

(Warning, me being a Will hater below. You have been warned. Just fast forward to the rest)

My three favorite lines that I’ve written on this blog/account and the fics associated with this (not including the stuff on @likesomekindofcheese) are

1. The Opening Line of Stella of Essex or The Vicar’s Wife Betrayed (my fix-it fic of The Essex Serpent where it’s told from Stella Ransome’s POV)

“My husband fingered another woman against a tree.”

The “tree” scene happens in the book and I am not 100% sure if it happens in the TV adaptation. But I thought it was a nice, punchy first line for a series to open with the cheating and then rewind in the fic and go through Stella’s early life and her falling in love and marrying Will…knowing the whole time that he’s eventually going to cheat on her. I love using Dramatic Irony like that in stories- reading and writing!

2. This passage from the first chapter of The Twelve Days which is Prince Hal or Henry V/Reader being in an arranged marriage. Reader is tossed into it and is secretly dreading being married off to a powerful man she knows little about.

“Besides, the more cynical side of your brain thought, you were being brought in as no more than a glorified broodmare for England”

I just am proud of “glorified broodmare for England” in terms of describing a Queen Consort.

3. This is from the second chapter of Miss Narracott and The Captain.

“Ain’t nothin’ that makes foolish men quiver like seeing a woman happy on her own terms!”

Just the part of me that’s into feminism discourse loves it and I like it’s the reader’s mother encouraging her to go after whatever makes her happy instead of trying to please others.

👎🏻- if you could change something in one of your works, what would you change and why?

Good question! I have several, but if we are sticking with one, I wish both the first chapter of The Twelve Days and I Say Nothing That Frightens Me was more detailed and got into things. Because at the time I was in a rush to write both and get them just done and posted because I crave getting things done and getting attention for it. But then there is a bit of a shock when the latter chapters have more details and descriptions in them!

💻- three works of yours that are must reads

1. Definitely The Twelve Days series- the arranged marriage between Hal and Reader! Because I love building a relationship and working in the confines of a different time period.

2. The Cure for Virginity (so far, of the “Tom’s Characters” fics I’ve written my most successful! And I’m proud of it 🥰)

3. It’s a tie and here is my reasoning

(Will hate below. Don’t like that then don’t read the next two paragraphs and go the stuff below)

Alternative One: Stella of Essex or The Vicar’s Wife Betrayed felt the most like my own book rather than a run of the mill fanfic, but I know it was very ballsy of me because 1) it’s not a Reader fic like I usually do and 2) I take a loved character (Will) and actually discuss and deconstruct how destructive his canon action of cheating on his wife actually is and he (as well as Cora too) actually is punished and held accountable for it! But I get that it’s spicy and controversial.

So I understand why it’s not everyone’s cup of tea. But that fic was my coping mechanism for my trigger about cheating and being traumatized by The Essex Serpent. That fic is like my baby- you insult it, you insult me.

(Will girlies and Lust Viarettes I offer you this cake as a peace offering)

Understanding that, It leaves the alternative choice!

Alternative Two: Summer in Majorca! Jonathan Pine with some fluff moments, angst, some humor I threw in, and even an attempt at smut at the end😁

(Hopefully these links work😭)

Link to The First Chapter of The Twelve Days

Link to Miss Narracott and The Captain Chapter Two

The Cure for Virginity

Stella of Essex Masterlist

Summer in Majorca

Thanks for asking and letting me monologue!

[jasonsutekh]

Starsky and Hutch series (1975-9) and film (2004)

Two unrully cops patrol their city area taking down gangs, interrogating attractive women, and sometimes breaking the law to maintain peace.

 One of the better aspects of the series is how the comedy balances out the heavier side of the story like murder or systemic oppression. Some of the action scenes are entertaining or varied. There are times when some characters drift a little too close to cultural stereotypes but mostly it attempts to compensate with topical episodes.

 There are so many women that the two leads seem to be having passionate romances with that it loses its edge eventually, especially if we’ve never heard of them before and they’re never seen again after the end of their episode. Some stories are a little slow, particularly the fake amnesia episode. There are some aspects of the subtext which are irritatingly hinted at but it’s never openly explored and it was difficult to get over Starsky abstaining his opinion in the queer politics episode.

 Some of the more bizarre story lines easily make for more interesting episodes, especially if they’re eventually explained to establish a little realism by the end. In this way the film narrative kind of works, mainly for basic comedy in the cocaine scenes. The race politics episodes are often the more interesting ones, in particular the ones in which we learn more about Captain Dobey. The original Dobey actor was effective and likeable, and both Huggy Bear actors are entertaining.

 The film wasn’t so successful as an homage to the series because it delved too far into comedy to take the drug gang threat seriously. The cameos were naturally necessary and anticipated but it was handled poorly, appearing to have too much ad libbed rather than an unobtrusive inclusion. It also wasn’t a great change that the characters were made either corrupt or incompetent, unlike their original counterparts.

 Series: 4/10 -It’s below average, but only just!-

 Film: 3/10 -This one’s bad but it’s got some good in it, just there-

 -Bay City is fictitious but in the pilot there are clues left in that it’s Los Angeles.

-Most of the plot for the film is based on some of the most famous scenes from the series, loosely strung together.

-Although it’s rarely mentioned, Huggy Bear’s surname is Brown.

[pragatileadershipindia]

Engaging Games & Activities to Identify Your Upcoming Leader

Powerful leaders are the true assets of a company. Their far-sighted vision, smart strategies and mentorship drive real results. No matter how rough the terrain is with strong leadership qualities like’s analytical skills, reliability, integrity, and crisis management etc organizations can overcome all hurdles.

In the VUCA times, the role of leaders has become a lot more critical for a company’s sustained growth. For this, focusing on hiring new talent from outside is not enough. Training and developing your executives by implementing strategic leadership program schemes too can help spot a true leader from within the organization.

The hunt for the right future leader should be a perpetual process. And, one of the effective ways to identify your future leader is to conduct leadership games and activities. 

These fun engagements can be helpful in finding a particular skill set which could include mental sharpness, decision-making, organizing abilities, strategic planning and more.

Enlisted below are some leadership games & activities that successful organizations conduct as part of their skill empowerment programs and can help you find your next captain!

Games & Activities to Spot Your Budding Leader

# Building the tallest tower

In this game, you need to make teams of 5 to 6 members each and ask them to make towers of books or boxes. The team that builds the tallest tower that could balance a lightweight object over it like an empty glass or a chocolate bar in less time is the winner. 

The game involves problem-solving, critical thinking and collaboration in the team. Now, these are important traits of a leader.

# Maneuvering through the minefield

Make two teams of 2 members each. Create an obstacle course around the office which is different for each team. Now blindfold one member of a team and let the other member will try to guide him by shouting out directions. The obstacles could be chairs or stools. The team that reaches the destination in the shortest time is the winner.

This game emphasizes the importance of communication, coordination and problem–solving.

# Treasure hunting

Based on the classic treasure hunt or scavenger hunt, this popular game is also used in inspirational leadership training programs by professional mentors. Here you can make 5 to 8 teams of a few members each. Use office supplies as treasures and hide them in different places. Each team must prepare a list of hidden objects and hand it over to the opposition team. The team that finds all the hidden stuff in the least amount of time is declared the winner.

This game tests teamwork spirit and patience.

# Spotting the difference

For this, you need two teams at a time. Allow the participants of each team to stand in a line, facing towards the members of the other team. Give one minute to everyone to observe the opposition.

Next, ask the teams to face the other way, and let each member make some changes in themselves. It could be something like folding the sleeves, putting on glasses, taking off wrist watch etc. Once the changes are complete, both teams should stand facing each other and spot the change in their opposition. The team spotting the most differences wins the game.

This game helps identify members with an eye for detail and sharp memory.

# Catch Phrase

This game has become so popular that we can even find an electronic version of it. In this fun activity, the team members are asked to describe a word or phrase without speaking about it. Each team sends its member to enact the given word or phrase which could include celebrities, expressions or even objects. The rest of the team has to guess the word.

A great team-building activity and even a part of best CEO training programs, it revolves around effective communication, creative thinking and team dynamics.

# Magazine story

Create teams of 3 to 6 members and give each team the task of building an imaginary magazine cover story about a successful project/business achievement. Allow them to come up with suitable images, headlines, quotes, etc. They can either do it with paper and pens or use templates for the same. The team with the most compelling cover story wins the game.

It’s an excellent way to gauge people with creative ideas and innovative approaches.

Takeaway

Becoming a successful leader is tough but finding one is tougher. However, you can make this challenging task enjoyable through interesting games and activities. Try the above games and activities at your workplace to keep your employees positively engaged and in the process find your number one manager in the making!

To know more contact us !

[akshatxen0]

Black Widow Makes $60 Million in VOD Sales: Can Theaters and OTT Coexist in entertainment industry?

The long-awaited origin story of the enigmatic Russian secret agent and Avenger tells the tale of a broken “family” that comes together after two decades on a mission to liberate other Black Widows — talented women kidnapped as children and changed into ruthless killers without their volition.

Black Widow, however, is also funny.

The comedy is dark, as the two sisters in the lead relate their physical and mental trauma with immaculate deadpan.

But the comedy is also goofy, as is characteristic of all of the MCU (Marvel Cinematic Universe) films.

And characteristic of the Marvel Cinematic Universe, Black Widow made records. Disney, which owns the rights to more than 5000 characters in the Marvel Universe, launched the movie simultaneously on its platform, Disney+, and select theaters worldwide.

But for the primary time in the history of streaming, closing Sunday morning, Disney launched the revenue it earned via way of means of streaming Black Widow — an eye-opening $60 million (Forbes) over the weekend.

Never before has a streaming platform disclosed the actual money it made via way of means of streaming a movie or show.

Instead, systems have continually made vague, context-much less claims of success, as Warner Bros. did whilst it stated that The Little Things at once shot as much as primary on HBO Max.

In what context? We don’t know.

So, what does it suggest for different streaming services?

Will they follow Disney’s example?

More importantly, given Black Widow’s success, should theaters be more worried?

Even superheroes need saving in a pandemic Black Widow isn’t always the primary superhero movie launched in the center of a pandemic.

The New Mutants, produced via way of means of 20th Century Studios, was launched in August 2020. Warner Bros.’ Wonder Woman 1984 came out in December 2020. And New Line’s Birds of Prey was launched in January 2020. Disney owns the rights to more than 5000 characters in the Marvel Universe. And all three proved surprisingly terrible on both screens.

On the opposite side, Black Widow, Marvel’s first release in years, changed into some thing to behold.

Domestically, its box office launch earned it north of $80 million (Forbes) — the highest weekend debut in view that Star Wars: The Rise of Skywalker ($173 million, 2019).

Owing to its aggressive advertising and marketing and diehard enthusiasts worldwide, the movie grossed more than F9: The Fast Saga and Fast & Furious 9 ($70 million) and A Quiet Place Part II ($48 million).

Though it was below-common in comparison to Marvel’s standards.

Sure, Black Widow’s origin story roared at the opening weekend, leaving behind origin stories of even stalwarts like Black Panther and Captain America.

However, ticket income plummeted the following day by nearly 43% (Variety). In box office parlance, the movie’s 2.0x weekend multiplier became grim, sharing the destiny of other big-scale disappointments like Batman v Superman: Dawn of Justice and Suicide Squad.

And professionals argue that it’s far precisely to save face that Disney disclosed the income it crafted from streaming Black Widow on Disney+.

Like most of the MCU’s films, Disney claims that Black Widow, too, grossed $100 million, because it earned $80 million in theaters and an additional $60 million on Disney+, making the overall around $140 million.

[crackedoutwalnut]

Debris (Natasha x Wanda x Reader)

DEBRIS Pt. 2

Summary: To say Carol Danvers is absent in your relationship would be an understatement. However, when she steps too far out of line and risks your wellbeing, Natasha and Wanda scramble to comfort a devastated Reader.

Word Count: 4,419

--

The argument started when you ran into a former high school friend at the bar. You and Carol had been out on a date night to celebrate her return from a successful mission. Your girlfriend was always off saving galaxies or destroying intergalactic armies, which doesn't leave much time left over for you. Not that you minded, of course! Her work was important, and you couldn't dream of keeping her from it. However, this meant that you savored every moment you had with her.

She had gone off to get the both of you another drink when your friend approached. You had been eager to catch up with them, seeing as it had been years since the two of you last spoke. Rushing to hug them, the two of you excitedly started catching up.

You were opening your mouth to ask another question about their career when Carol came storming up to the booth you were sitting at.

Giving her an excited smile, you waved her over. "Hey babe, this is F/n, my friend from high school. We were just catching up," you introduced.

Your friend gave Carol a slightly starstruck smile and waved, "Hello, it's incredible to meet you. When Y/n said she was dating the Captain Marvel, I couldn't believe it."

Your girlfriend gave them a carefully neutral face, an expression she only made when she was particularly upset about something. "Well, I'm glad you two got to catch up; however, we have to get going."

You gave her a slightly baffled look, "We do?"

Carol let out an incredibly stiff chuckle as she shouldered on her bomber jacket, "Well, it's getting late, and I don't really like staying up all night getting drunk."

You glanced down at your phone's lock screen; it was 9:15. "Well, if you're tired, I suppose it would be okay if we left," glancing over at your friend, you offered them an apologetic smile. "Sorry, F/n, but it appears we are leaving."

Your friend waved off your apology and pulled you into another tight hug. "It was amazing to see you again. We should catch up sometime, yeah?"

Grinning, you pulled away, "For sure, keep in touch." When they turned to walk away, you felt Carol tightly grasp your hand. Once she had your hand securely in her grasp, the hero immediately started tugging you towards the door.

Wincing, you stumbled to keep up with her determined strides. "Babe, can we maybe slow down a bit? The Uber will still be there in a few minutes, I promise." Both your request and your joke went ignored as the woman continued to practically drag you down the street. Your confusion continued to mount into panic as Carol promptly stormed right past your waiting Uber. "Carol, I think our driver was back the- what the fuck are you doing?!" You let out a loud yelp as your girlfriend silently hefted you into her arms and shot into the night sky. Scrambling to find solid purchase around her neck, you shot Carol a shellshocked glare.

The blonde seemed set on maintaining her pointed silence as she flew- a lot faster than you would have liked- towards Avengers Tower. So, you squeezed your eyes shut and buried your face into her shoulder, trying your best not to peer down at the ground far below. Finally, after what seemed like hours, Carol landed in front of the Tower. Without bothering to glance in your direction, she haphazardly dumped you onto the sidewalk and stormed into the building.

As quickly as you could muster, you followed behind her on the shaky legs of a newborn calf. The last time Carol had flown with you, it had been your first date together. After you nearly had a mental breakdown mid-flight, she had quickly agreed to ask for explicit consent before doing so ever again. Well, at least you thought she had decided to ask for permission; apparently, that agreement had expired.

After gaining your footing, you felt anger building up inside you. Why was Carol so upset all of a sudden? She had never been this petty before, at least not without an obvious reason. You stomped into an empty elevator. She had not bothered to wait for you. "JARVIS, please take me up to Carol's floor," you requested snippily.

"Right away, Miss Y/n," the AI replied. You waited until the elevator slid open before storming through the main room and into yours and Carol's shared bedroom. Inside, your girlfriend was pacing the room in her bra and boxers. Normally the sight of the blonde's abs would be enough to have you tackling her onto the bed in a second. Currently, you barely gave them a second glance.

"Do you mind telling me what the fuck all that was about?" You snapped.

Carol paused her pacing to shoot you a look rarely saw from her. Captain Marvel was furious. "Who the hell was that, back at the bar?" She replied venomously, ignoring your question.

Your eyes widened as realization set in. "You threw a tantrum back there because you were jealous?" You questioned, tone rising in volume.

"Answer the damn question! Who was that, and why were they practically eye-fucking you right in front of me?"

You stared at the woman in disbelief, "I already told you, F/n is my best friend from high school. And to be clear, they were not eye-fucking me. They gave me a hug."

Carol scowled and stopped her pacing. She pivoted to face you and crossed her arms over her chest, "Listen, I know I'm gone a lot. Trust me, if I could stay and be with you 24/7, I would, but that doesn't mean you can just go off flirting with whoever the hell you want! Especially not right in front of me!"

"Oh my God, you are acting like a child!" You threw your hands in the air. "I wasn't flirting. We were discussing their new job; how is that even remotely flirtatious?"

Carol rolled her eyes, "Oh right, like I'm supposed to believe you lean in that close to talk about someone's new office job."

"Listen, I don't know if your just stressed from your mission or why the hell you have decided to act like this, but-"

Your girlfriend cut you off by storming closer to you. She was an imposing figure on a good day; however, it wasn't until that moment that you truly felt scared of her. She towered over you, her stance solid and tense. "I'm 'acting like this,'" she held up air quotes, "because I don't like it when my girlfriend feels up random ass people at the bar."

You stepped away from her, "You're irrational, Carol."

Carol pointed a hand at your chest; it was glowing from the heat of her just barely restrained photon blasters. "It isn't irrational when my girlfriend is acting like a complete whore!" Her voice rose to a scream. Then, time moved in slow motion as the unnatural heat from her palms exploded just above your head. Chunks of drywall and debris burst throughout the room. You dove backward, falling onto the dirty carpet with a pained scream. Blood dripped from cuts of varying sizes along your arms, legs, and face. Your ears rang slightly as you looked up at the shaking form of Captain Marvel. Her face was distorted with horror as she gazed down at your quivering form.

"Baby, I am so sorry. I didn't mean to do that, I swear-"

Your entire face scrunched as tears streamed down your now dust-covered cheeks, "Don't you dare. First, you cut short the one night I get to spend doing something other than worrying about your safety because you're acting like an irrational bitch. Then, you fly me into the air without asking, despite knowing how much I hate that. Then finally, you decide to try, and fucking kill me," stumbling to your feet, you glared at a now sobbing Carol. "You should have stayed with the Kree, Danvers. You have got more in common with them than you ever had humans."

You pushed past her and strode out to the main room of the floor. You started to approach the elevator when the doors abruptly slid open. Tony, Steve, Natasha, and Wanda rushed out of the box, suited up and ready for battle. Tony had his repulsor cannons raised as he looked around for the source of the explosion.

You were quickly swarmed by Wanda and Natasha as they checked you over for injuries. "Y/n, what the hell happened? Why are you bleeding? Is Captain Marvel dealing with the enemy?" Wanda asked, scanning her eyes over you worriedly.

You wiped the tears from your eyes as you stepped away from the two women, "Lower your weapons; there's no threat." The four heroes glanced at each other with baffled expressions as they hesitantly lowered their respective weapons.

Natasha slowly stuffed her handgun into its holster, "If there's no threat, then why is your bedroom wall missing?"

Just then, Carol decided to come rushing out of the room, "Y/n, please, I'm sorry. I swear I never would have done that on purpose-" She slid to a halt at the sight of the other Avengers.

Steve Rogers crossed his arms and stepped forward, "You did this, Carol?"

Natasha looked between you and the blonde, "You better start giving a damn good explanation for what the fuck happened to her, Danvers."

Carol ignored the assassin and stepped forward; her tearful eyes were locked on yours. You flinched as she approached, stepping back closer to where Wanda and Steve stood. "Baby, please, I never meant to hurt you. I was just upset; it will never happen again, I promise." Before Carol could even consider taking another step, Wanda had wedged herself between the two of you. She acted as a wall of security, her eyes glowing crimson as she glowered at the blonde. Steve wrapped an arm around you and pulled you even further away from the other captain.

The witch stepped closer to Carol until she was practically nose to nose with the woman. "I know you think you're tough shit, Captain," her Sokovian accent was thick with venom as her voice quivered with barely restrained anger. "But I assure you I can knock you down several pegs if you even consider touching Y/n again." Her hands glowed with wreaths of scarlet as she poked her finger against the blonde's chest.

"Please, I just want to talk to her," Carol explained, peering at you over Wanda's shoulder. Your gaze was fixed on the wood paneling beneath your feet as you sunk against Steve's protective arm.

"No, you are going to leave right now, and you are not going to return to Earth until you are given explicit permission to do so." Carol looked as if she wanted to argue; however, when you refused to meet her gaze for a second time, she nodded. Carefully, she stepped around the witch and stalked towards the elevator. Pausing, she looked back at you one final time before allowing the doors to slide shut behind her.

The four of you stood in silence as you continued to burrow your gaze into the floorboards. The love of your life had just left for good, and you couldn't help but feel like a coward for feeling devastated by it. You should hate her; she had nearly killed you tonight. Still, you wanted nothing more than to chase after her and beg for her to stay.

Natasha glanced over at Steve and Tony, who were staring at the elevator in awkward shock. "Wanda and I can handle it from here."

Steve gave you a hesitant look, "Are you sure?"

Nat rolled her eyes, "Yes, we're sure, men are terrible at handling breakups, now shoo." Begrudgingly, the two men turned to leave. Once they were out of sight, Natasha carefully approached you. "Are you alright, Hun?" You shrugged dejectedly. You firmly bit your tongue, trying everything within your ability to keep from sobbing like a toddler in front of the two strongest women you know.

Wanda outstretched her arms and gave you an empathetic smile, "Would it be okay if I hugged you?" she asked. That did it; your dam burst. Letting out a croaky sob, you nodded, your face twisted with grief. Wanda tutted softly and pulled you into her arms. Her hand reached up to cradle the base of your head as she rubbed your back with the one wrapped around your torso. You desperately wanted to stop getting snot and tears on your friend and work colleague's shirt. However, you were drunk and tired, and all you wanted to do was get lost in those soft strokes running up and down your back.

You sniffled and peered up at Wanda. "How much of it did you see?"

The woman grimaced and pulled you tighter into her arms. "A lot of it; her thoughts were incredibly loud. I'm so sorry."

Natasha sighed, "Let's get you upstairs. You're probably tired, huh, sweetie?" The stoic woman's voice was gentler than you had ever heard it. You felt her presence shift closer to you as she placed a warm hand on the back of your shoulder. As if on instinct, you leaned into it. You opened your mouth to speak; however, only a pathetic whimper slipped out. Your face burned hot with shame at the two women seeing you in such a state. You were a SHIELD agent, goddammit; you dealt with loss every day. So, where was that fire now?

If Natasha and Wanda were disgusted by your display of weakness, they did not comment. Instead, the telepath simply maneuvered you in her grip so that only her arm was wrapped around your waist. You melted into her like caramel left in the sun. Once you were sandwiched safely between Natasha and Wanda inside the elevator, you felt your voice return to you.

"Wh-where're we going?" You murmured.

The woman holding you squeezed your side gently, "To our floor."

Furrowing your brows, you squinted up at Wanda in confusion, "Why? Wouldn't it have been easier if I just slept in Carol and-" you swallowed before correcting yourself, "In my room?"

Wanda flashed a gentle smile and crinkled her nose in amusement, "Sweetheart, your bedroom is covered in dust and debris. Not to mention the giant hole. We would never let you sleep in those conditions."

"But what about-"

Natasha cut you off with a soft pinch to your upper arm. "Shush you. Stop being so damn stubborn, and let us help you get over that bitch."

You winced at the insult, stilling, feeling a tad defensive of the woman, "Can we not insult her, at least for now?"

Wanda scoffed, her grip around your waist growing firm and protective. "I don't see why not, considering what she called you."

You practically heard the scowl that formed on Nat's face, "What did she call you, Y/n?"

You shrugged sheepishly and gazed down at your feet. "It was nothing..."

You heard the witch next to you let out an angry guffaw, "It was far from nothing. She called you a whore."

You felt Natasha's entire body go still at those words. Daring a glance, you saw her face contorted with rage. "She what? I'm going to slaughter that bitch. If she ever-"

Panic started to mount in your chest as Nat ranted on; you clutched tightly at the side of Wanda's shirt, desperately seeking a solid, safe place to hide. Normally, dealing with an angry Avenger was just another day on the job. Tonight though, it was too loud, too hostile, too much. You didn't realize you were hyperventilating until Wanda was wrapping her other arm around you. She pulled you back against her chest and allowed your head to burrow under her chin.

Unbeknownst to you, Wanda sharply nudged Natasha's calf with her the tip of her boot. Natasha's angry monologue was cut to an abrupt stop as she beheld you, shaking and whimpering in her girlfriend's arms. Pursing her lips guiltily, she gently cupped the back of your neck. "Hey, I'm sorry. Everything's alright now, kotenok; you're safe. Everyone's calm, I promise."

The elevator door opened with a ding as you continued to bury yourself in Wanda's arms. You nodded slightly and let out a shaky hum at Nat's words, still not moving from your hiding place. Wanda grinned softly and carefully started to maneuver her way into the apartment. Her arms never left their place around your waist and upper back as she allowed her girlfriend to lead the way. It wasn't until she gently guided you onto a bed- her bed- did you pull away from her.

"What are we doing here? I want to go to bed."

Natasha shot you a strange look, "You are in bed?"

Your eyed widened, "I can't sleep here. Where will you guys stay?"

Natasha snickered, "We've slept on surfaces far worse than a sofa, Y/n." You opened your mouth to protest; however, the assassin swiftly shut you up with a stern look. Pursing your lips, you looked down at your lap like a scolded child.

Wanda gently cupped your cheek, "Wait here, detka. I'm going to get something to clean up those wounds. You nodded and watched as the woman disappeared into the bathroom that branched off of the master bedroom. Natasha sat down next to you on the edge of the mattress.

"How are you holding up?" She asked, her eyes sweeping over your hunched form.

You simply shrugged in response. The vodka shots you had taken earlier at the bar had finally started to wear off, leaving the full weight of the situation to press on top of you. Carol was gone. And this time, it was permanent. Your worst fear had come true: your captain was gone, and she was never coming back. Your face twisted once more as a fresh wave of tears streamed down your dusty cheeks.

"She-she's gone, Nat." You should hate her; she called you a whore over something you hadn't done in the first place. For fucks sake, she nearly killed you! So then why did the thought of never seeing her again hurt so bad? Natasha sighed and outstretched her arms. Taking it as enough of an invitation, you collapsed against the woman and let out a chest-aching sob. "She's gone..." You repeated quietly.

"I know this isn't going to be an easy adjustment for you, sweetie. But, just know Wanda and I are going to be here for you the entire time. You won't have to be alone through this," Natasha murmured, her nails gliding up and down your back comfortingly. The two of you sat in that protective embrace for what seemed like hours.

You only pulled away when Wanda strode back into the room with an arm full of first-aid kits, pill bottles, and band-aids. She set them on the foot of the bed and gave you a sheepish smile. "I didn't know what we would need..."

Nat snickered and nudged Wanda playfully with her foot, "Jesus Wands, she has a couple cuts and bruises. It isn't like she's bleeding out."

The witch shot her girlfriend a playful glare. "Shut up and start disinfecting the cuts on her legs." She tossed a towel and a bottle of disinfectant to the assassin.

Nat smirked, "Yes, ma'am." You sat between them, awkwardly staring down at your lap. You had since shifted away from Nat and settled cross-legged on the duvet. The assassin glanced up at you with an apologetic smile, "This might sting a bit."

"I'm sure it will be- shit!" You cut yourself off with a hiss as you felt the cloth dab at your scrapes.

"Told you," she replied with a playful wink.

In a mock display of petulance, you crossed your arms over your chest and stuck your tongue out at the woman. Nat flicked the side of your knee in response.

Wanda rolled her eyes fondly, hiding her grin behind her hand. "Alright, children, that's enough. Now, Y/n, I need you to hold still for a moment."

"Wh-" your question was once again cut short by the feeling of a cold washcloth against your cheek. Scrunching your face in confusion and discomfort, you shrank away from the cold fabric.

"I need to get this dust off your face and arms before Natasha starts tending to them," the witch explained.

"Yeah but, can't I do that myself?" you asked.

"I suppose," Wanda conceded, "However, after the night you have had, you should not have to."

Sighing, you gently nudged the towel away, "Look, I appreciate this and all. But, I think it would be best if I just took a shower. It's been a long evening, and I need some time to think."

Natasha considered this before standing, rag clasped in her hand. "Of course, you hardly had time to breathe before we were dragging you up to our room."

"It isn't that I don't find it incredibly sweet because I do. It's just," you ran a hand through your debris sprinkled hair, "a lot. Losing my long-term girlfriend so abruptly and so permanently has put me into a kind of shock that I need a moment to drag myself out of."

Wanda nodded in understanding, "Of course, take all the time you need. We will be here when you are ready."

"Thank you both, I mean it. I don't know what I would do without you two."

--

In the shower, you found yourself staring at the greyish water that ran off your body and down the drain. Chunks of paint, drywall, and dust had managed to coat every follicle of hair on your scalp. Your nails and fingertips violently massaged the mess out of your hair. Once you got it to an acceptable degree of cleanliness, you grabbed a loofa from a hook on the shower wall and soaked it with lavender honey body wash. You grit your teeth slightly as you lather over the many cuts littering your skin.

If you ever had any doubt that Carol Danvers was one of the most powerful Avengers, they had been thoroughly blasted away alongside your now nonexistent bedroom wall. Sighing, you leaned your head back to scrub at our collarbone. The thought of your destroyed bedroom brought another gut-wrenching question to your mind. Was it even your room anymore? The only reason you were allowed to have a floor in the Tower was because of Carol. Now that she was gone, where would that leave you?

A large part of you knew that there was a slim chance that Tony would ever actually kick you out. However, that didn't mean that it wasn't a possibility. You weren't an Avenger, nor were you an asset to him or anyone else on the team. Sure, you were a SHIELD agent, but there were plenty of other agents out there. Your chest tightened painfully. Your shower thoughts were continuing to close in on you when a knock sounded from the door.

Jumping, you peaked your head out from behind the frosted glass door of the shower. "Y-yes?" The cracks in your voice were painfully obvious.

"I'm leaving some of Nat's sleepwear on the bed; we will be in the living room if you need us," Wanda called.

"Th-thanks Wan! I'll be out in a sec!" You replied hastily, scrubbing at your teary eyes.

--

As promised, an oversized red t-shirt and a pair of silk pajama shorts were neatly folded on the bed. The smell of Natasha's cologne brushed your nose as you slipped into the well-worn shirt. Sighing, you allowed the familiar scent to fill your lungs for a moment before stepping out of the bedroom. You felt nerves creep back up your spine as you entered the living room. There, Natasha and Wanda sat beside each other, a blanket draped over their laps. Natasha's arm was wrapped around her partner's neck as she idly scrolled through Netflix.

Having heard you approach, both women turned to face you. Wanda offered you a tender smile, "How are you holding up, sweetheart?"

Shrugging, you fiddled with the hem of your shirt. "I don't know; I already miss her so much."

Natasha sighed, "Come here, please?" she requested gently. You shuffled over to the couch. The two women scooted aside to leave a space between them. You sat down in the provided space; immediately, Wanda set part of the blanket over your lap. Shrinking down further into the sofa, you stared down at your lap as Nat began to speak again. "When I heard you and Captain had started dating, I almost couldn't believe it."

You glanced up at her, "What do you mean?"

The assassin pursed her lips, "Carol is not known for her commitment. She's a great soldier to fight alongside. However, she is not the kind of woman who will ever put her lover before her work. Even if she had not fucked everything up the way she did, that wouldn't have changed that she could never provide you the full extent of love you deserve," Natasha wrapped an arm around you and pulled you against her. "Everyone noticed how distraught Carol's constant long-term disappearances made you. You barely eat or sleep when she's away- which is most of the time- and you can barely stomach to watch her leave when she is here."

You glared furiously down at your lap as you processed Natasha's words. "So what are you saying? She never loved me in the first place?"

Wanda cupped your cheek and guided your gaze to meet hers, "We are certain she truly loved you, Y/n. That is not what Nat is talking about. You were the most important person in Carol's life. However, you deserve someone willing to act on that adoration. Someone who will be by your side at the end of each and every day."

You glanced between the two women you were sandwiched between. A smile settled on your lips as you burrowed yourself closer to the pair. "Yeah, maybe you're right."

Natasha leaned down to kiss your temple as she wrapped her arm back around you. "Of course we are."

Wanda settled her arm on top of Nat's. Softly threading her fingers through your hair, she smiled. "No one will ever hurt you like that again, Sweetheart. Not while we're around."

[recurring-polynya]

I'm currently obsessed with your newest fic and have a quick question that probably could only ever have a convoluted, purely speculative answer BUT do you think Byakuya would ever remarry?

I'm so glad you're enjoying it! 😘 To start, this topic gets chewed on quite a bit in future chapters, primarily because Ginrei would also very much like to know the answer to this question. Unsurprisingly, it does not exactly resolve conclusively. (the fanfic is here, for reference) 

My answer is: yes, I think he will. Eventually.

(convoluted, purely speculative answer below the cut)

As sort of a disclaimer, Bleach takes place in a make-up pseudo-historical setting, and everything I am going to say is within that context, but it is literally Byakuya's duty to get married and continue the family line. Given Byakuya's personality and his approach to The Law in the Soul Society Arc, I think this is a thing that he knows and accepts. At the moment, though, he just can't, which is something he feels quite a bit of guilt over. He sort of doubles down on being a good Gotei captain, because that’s a thing he can do, and he gets very defensive when his aunts try to set him up with people, but he can’t really escape the fact that he is failing his family and he knows it.  

(I have always headcanoned that Rukia is not within the Kuchiki line of succession, and the whole vibe of WDKALY seems to support this, so I am not considering the possibility that Rukia or Ichika could be named Kuchiki Heir).

I tend to think of Byakuya as demisexual and gray-romantic. It is hard for him to get close to people, but when he does, he tends to fall really hard for them, just in a non-romantic, non-sexual way. Noble marriages are, like or not, primarily economic arrangements. Byakuya grew up expecting to have a wife who would run his house and hold parties while he went out to defend the Soul Society. It wasn't really something he was looking forward to, it was just a thing that was going to happen to him. Except that he met Hisana and his whole world got set on its ear. He loved her and he was in love with her and he was attracted to her, and he had the happiest five years of his life. And then they were over, and he feels like there is no way he will have anything close to that again.

After Hisana’s death, I think Byakuya was sort of trudging along grimly, trying to accept his new normal, and he probably would have re-married a few years later and been a very distant husband and eventual father, if it weren't for Rukia.

Rukia's adoption sent him into a holding pattern of grief. There is a now a person who lives in his house, who looks just like his wife and sounds just like his wife, who never even knew his wife existed, and he’s not even allowed to tell her about Hisana. He can’t move on with his life because Rukia is there, haunting him, but he cannot stomach trying to have any kind of relationship with Rukia while he’s still choking on his own grief. He is stuck. For forty years, he is stuck.  The other people whom he has ever been close to are largely gone (his father, maybe Yoruichi, per my fanfic, his grandmother), and he pushes away the ones that are left (Ginrei, who never liked Hisana in the first place; Ukitake, who is far too understanding)

It takes nearly getting his sister executed and being beaten up by a teen to break this stalemate, but it does, and that’s what matters. I love the scenes in the Hueco Mundo arc where it’s clear that Rukia and Byakuya are moving in the direction of sibling-hood, but you can tell it is not a linear process. Neither Rukia nor Byakuya are easy people to love, and their hearts have both been wrung raw, and they are exactly the sibling the other needs.

(and this scene where he won’t even look at her!!)

Caring about Rukia opens the door to caring about other people. He has a deeply strange relationship with his lieutenant that literally only Renji would ever put up with. Early in the Soul Society arc, we see Gin and Zaraki roll up to jeer at him and he’s very cold back at them, but in the TYBW, he’s got a much more mellow relationship with his colleagues, even cracking wise with Hitsugaya.

It’s not a quick thaw, but it is a progressive one. In WDKALY, Byakuya quietly saves Rukia and Renji from their own inability to plan a wedding about six times in a row. Kubo said in one of the Klub Outside interviews that he’s very indulgent of Ichika, saying “never mind” when she gets up to trouble.

I do not think that Byakuya is going to fall in love again in some sort of grand romantic fashion. I think at some point, he’s going to reflect on the happiness that being part of Rukia and Renji’s family and being friends with Toushirou has brought him, and say, you know, I think I can do it now. I think he is going to go through all of his peerage books, and find a lady with the most venerable, reiatsu-rich genes in Soul Society. He’s going to conduct interviews. Rukia’s going to put vetoes on about six ladies that are absolutely terrible matches for him. But maybe he finds one who fits. Maybe she’s also a widow. Maybe she’s also on the aro-ace spectrum. He doesn’t expect her to replace Hisana and she doesn’t intend to try. But they have a similar set of values and they get along and they both know what they’re about and she’s going to make a killer Lady Kuchiki.

Rukia and Renji have the sort of relationship where they like competing with one another and trash-talking each other, and doing sweet combos in combat. I do not think this is the ideal relationship for Byakuya. He likes being the best there is at what he does, and I think he would be happiest with someone who is also the best there is at what they do (provided it is not the same thing that he does). I have, in a couple of fanfics, had Rukia or Renji teasing him about having crushes on an eccentric poet he’s obsessed with or the lead cellist for the Seireitei philharmonic, but I think an accomplished artist/socialite or genius academic would be just about right for him. It would absolutely have to be someone whom he respected and who respected him for his own accomplishments in return. He would hype her shamelessly, and he and Renji would be the most insufferable pair of wife-guys in Soul Society. And it would probably creep up on him, but I’m pretty sure Byakuya would end up eventually falling in love with his wife. 

To be perfectly honest, I would love it if the manga continues and there’s some scene at Kuchiki Manor and he just has a wife now and possible a baby, like it just happened during the timeskip and Kubo is just now getting around to telling us. (Search your heart, Kubo would absolutely do this, you know he would)

[startanewdream]

Captain Potter

Summary: Lily Evans has a secret that the army cannot know and it doesn't help that her captain is trying to be her friend.

Note: So I was watching Mulan and it's Shirtless JP May and this got me into googling shirtless army man, so please enjoy this piece of very much self-indulgence set in another AU. Also, I have no knowledge of military ranks, so bear with me.

Read on AO3 or below:

‘Evans’, the captain calls, and Lily turns to him, slightly afraid as she always feels when she hears her name. Maybe this is the day her secret will be found, this is the day she will be expelled and will fall in disgrace —

But Captain Potter has one of his carefree trademark grins, none at all looking as if he is about to arrest her. He looks at ease, leaning against one of the training posts, arms crossed lazily, watching her with interest shining in his hazel eyes as if she is a puzzle he will understand someday.

Lily truly wishes he won't, so she avoids looking at him directly in the eyes.

‘Captain’, she answers at least, saluting. That seems to amuse him.

‘I have a name, you know’.

‘Hum’, she stops, unsure. Her interactions with the captain have been restricted — well, her interactions with everyone have been limited —, but she has watched him from afar.

He is young and yet he never tries to act bossy with all the other soldiers, never tries to impose himself. He may have a more affinity with three of the soldiers (his friends for a long time, as she gathered), but he tries to treat everyone fairly, encouraging and teaching all soldiers equally, from the weakest of them to the strongest, and it’s not hard for her to see why everyone is willing to follow him into battle. The only one that he hadn’t been able to reach some sort of relationship was with her.

Something that had fit Lily’s plans and worries very well.

‘Captain Potter?’, she tries.

‘I am someone besides a rank’, he suggests.

‘Mr. Potter’.

‘That would be my father. I am James ’, he says at least, as if she is unfamiliar with the name of the youngest captain of the army.

‘I know , but — it would not be proper —’

‘Liam’, he stops her and, just as anytime someone uses that name, Lily wants to look around searching for that person until she remembers her situation. ‘Can I call you Liam?’

‘I’d rather Evans’, she answers, grimacing, and when he looks dismayed, she adds quickly: ‘It’s how everyone calls me. Not… it’s more personal, really’.

‘Fine, Evans’. He grins again. It’s a beautiful smile, so open and inviting, that again Lily has no difficulty understanding the success he makes with all the other soldiers, why their unity is unanimous in praising him. There is something on him that draws people to him — her included. ‘Well, call me James. I can order you to if it will make it more proper’.

Lily lets out a laugh before she stops herself, biting her lips, worried. She shouldn’t laugh; though she can disguise her voice mildly well, her laugh is too thin, too sparkling. It’s not a man’s grave laugh.

Fortunately, the captain doesn’t seem to find anything amiss. He looks just… glad with her reaction.

‘So you are capable of laughing’, he notes teasingly. ‘I had my doubts, you know’.

‘There has never been an occasion, Cap — James ’.

He opens his mouth in an offended expression; it’s so dramatic that, again, she wants to laugh. ‘I beg your pardon? Yesterday, when someone — a very clever someone, I might add — pretended to be shot by an arrow? That was an occasion!’

‘Wasn’t that you?’, she asks, raising her eyebrows. It had been a long tense one minute in which one of the other soldiers, Sirius, had been sure he had shot by mistake the captain and his best friend before James had revealed himself alive, laughing hysterically and showing the fake arrow attached to his badge.

Sirius had punched him, all rank forgotten, but then he was laughing too and everyone thought it was hilarious.

‘It was fun ’.

‘It was terrifying’.

‘Oh, so you were terrified I’d died?’, he jokes, his grin now very smug. ‘And I thought you didn’t like me’.

Lily blushes, lowering her head and hoping he hadn’t noticed it. Truth was she had misjudged him on the first day, annoyed by the way he acted with that captain badge pinned on his chest. He came from a long family of militars, after all, and he was very young, no matter what his father would praise about his grades in military school, so she had truly believed he didn’t deserve to be a captain, that he had only got there for his family name.

In the last few weeks, though, she was forced to admit he was a good captain. He had the vision for it, good ideas, an efficient way of training everyone and, of course, he was a leader.

‘I have nothing against you, sir — James’.

‘I’m glad to know’, he says, sounding earnest. ‘I am worried about you, you know’.

‘Have I done something wrong?’, she asks, surprised, fear involving her again. Lily had taken care of doing all exercises, overworking herself, all to prove that that stupid rule that forbid women in the army did not make any sense. They needed everyone in the fight against Voldemort, after all, and she would not wait patiently, especially when people like her were one of his targets.

‘No, no, you’ve been perfect, really, no one dedicates as much as you’, he assures her. ‘But you don’t socialize. You stay quiet during dinner. You don’t participate in any of the games', he pauses, before adding again dramatically: 'You don’t laugh at my pranks!’

All of it is true. Lily has purposefully gotten away from everyone, afraid they would notice something different about her, though that quiet soldier, Remus, had tried to talk to her. She just feels she can't risk.

‘I do not think it’s time for pranks, James’, she answers, deciding the last point was probably the easiest.

He shakes his head. ‘We are at war, Evans. If we don’t laugh now, we may not laugh after’.

She supposes he is right. And even though he enjoys more pranks than she thinks it’s reasonable, she knows he worries too. More than once, when she is on guard duty, she has noticed the light of his tent is on very late in the night. James may look carefree with everyone else, but he has concerns about the war — and what lies in his shoulder.

‘Your work has been impeccable’, he adds quietly. ‘I just want you to get to know more of your colleagues and for them to know more about you’. Lily presses her lips, hoping her worry doesn’t show on her face. That was all she was trying to avoid. ‘You will need to count on them in the battlefield and they will need to know you have their backs too. And the only way to do that is if we trust each other. Can we do that?’

James is waiting for her answer, his eyes boring into hers firmly, and Lily can’t turn away now. In the light of the morning, with the sun shining on his face, his hazel eyes seem to glint in gold, the pupil barely visible. He has wrinkles on the side of his eyes, and she suddenly wishes they weren’t meeting in the army while she is pretending to be an introverted thin young man.

He seems the kind of guy she would like to meet in college, or to grow up together with, or even in a dancing club with her friends; they would talk and she could be then fully herself, could share with him her witty side and even help him in a prank or two. In that other life she would appreciate how nice and beautiful he is, with that black hair that’s always messy no matter how much he tries to comb, and those hazel eyes that were made for laughing, not to be worried for the war.

But that’s not her life and she is sure that if he ever finds out about her, he will hate her. Somehow, with how much she has learned to admire him in the last weeks, she fears his rejection more than she fears being expelled from the army.

Lily knows she would trust James Potter with her life, knows she would do her duty and die for him if it was needed, and yet she also knows she can't ever tell him  her secret.

So she does what she has been doing best ever since she joined the army.

‘We can trust each other’, she lies.

He beams. ‘Great, Evans! And I thought we could start sharing your mourning runs’. He raises one eyebrow when she looks surprised. ‘I’ve noticed you awake at dawn to run’.

‘I like to train’, she admits. ‘I am… thinner than the others, so I am trying to get fitter’.

‘You look a lot better’, he compliments, touching her arm, where her biceps have been evolving nicely. It’s a pat, a soft brush, and yet it sends shivers down Lily’s spine; his hand is warm . ‘Mind if I join you?’

She hesitates just a little. ‘I will stay quiet’, she warns him. ‘I like to think while I run’.

‘Works for me. And if you want to share a thought or another, well, I’m here, Evans’.

He winks at her, again so friendly that she turns her eyes away, wishing she could tell him the truth. But she can’t, so she presses her lips, ties the ribbon around her hair so the bun stays in place, and kneels to make sure her shoes are tied. Then she raises and her heart stops for a full second.

James has taken out his shirt. She knows he is fit — there is no way he can’t be with all the years of training he had — and she has seen before shirtless, but only when she was far away in the line, hoping to get unnoticed as she trained the movements.

Now, it’s only him, his tanned skin glistening under the morning sun, a god coming out of her dreams. She is staring and she knows it, but there is no way she can avoid it; weeks at the army have made her lost a lot of discomfourt around men's body, but this... This doesn't seem fair.

She watches the muscles in his arms, his biceps far more evident than hers will ever be, and it suddenly occurs to Lily that she would like very much to feel them around her, involving her, holding her. There would be only benefits in hugging him, she realizes, as her eyes move to his torso, enjoying the firmness of his chest and the muscles in his abdomen, a six pack that seems drawn perfectly. In his arms, she would glide her hand through his chest, would place a kiss over his heart and then she would raise her head and they would be so close —

And then James stretches his arms, raising them above his head, and she notices the hair on his torso, a few patches near his chest that shine with a few drops of sweat she wouldn’t mind drying, and then the darked patch over his abdomen, in a path that goes on vanishing inside…

When she finds herself staring at his pants, Lily decides she has crossed more limits that it's reasonable.

She turns, all her concentration in avoiding glancing at him again, though she feels it's fruitless. The sight of him seems to be recorded in her mind. He will appear on her dream, she is sure of it.

‘Everything all right, Evans?’, he asks, right behind her, and she jumps. 'You look red'.

Lily knows it; her face is hot, burning even before she has started to run, and she won’t fool herself pretending she doesn’t know the reason.

‘I'm fine, let’s go’, she answers quickly, heart racing in her chest. This was a horrible idea; mourning runs with her very gorgeous hot captain will do no good for her keeping her secret.

She sprints without warning, but he catches up with her easily. She keeps her eyes ahead. Don't look, don't stare, don't ogle.

‘There is something special about you, Evans’, he declares, the run not seeming to disturb his breathing. ‘I will find out one day’.

[nootgi]

Love? - Kaeya

A/N:// I HOPE YOU ENJOY THIS FIC WHILST I WORK ON MY OTHER REQS, I MAY HAVE CRIED A LIL WRITING THIS! I apologise for this story too T^T

Word count: 3k

“What’s love?” Kaeya paused at the question, his paperwork left forgotten on the table.

“Isn’t that a big question~!” He teases Annette, ruffling her hair. She puffs out her reddened cheeks and tries to move away from his hand, pressing Kaeya for an answer.

“Have you ever heard the phrase curiosity killed the cat? Though I suppose a baby like you wouldn’t know at such a young age.” He laughs, picking up the glass of grape juice to sip from. No alcohol around the children is what you strictly ordered when Kaeya decided to take Annette to work. For something like take your daughter to work day.

“I’m 6! I’m not a baby and mother says it’s good to be curious.” He couldn’t help the grin that spread across his face at her words. That sounds very like you. The apple doesn’t fall too far from the tree he muses as he looks into Annie’s eyes, they hold the same wild innocence yours do. She has her mother’s eyes.

“Very well then, let me tell you a story.”

It was early April and the Windblume festival was coming to a close. The celebrations, despite coming to an ending, still kept the streets lively. Most of the people of Mondstadt were recovering from a hangover from last night’s heavy drinking but still had smiles on their faces. Kaeya was going for a stroll, to distract himself from the thoughts building in the back of his mind. He looked down at the plaza from where he stood, watching the clean up. It always felt bittersweet, taking down the flower garlands that hung from the buildings or rolling up the green carpets that lined the steps. He didn’t know how but he came to love Mondstadt so much... Well actually he did know. They accepted him for who he is, with all of his flaws and lies, Mondstadt and its people held a part of him he didn’t know he had. His family. And in that moment as windwheel aester petals blew from above, Mondstadt gave him something he’ll always be thankful for. 

“Here’s a flower for our cavalry captain!” You cheered, holding a cecilia flower in front of Kaeya’s face, snapping him out of his thoughts. You snuck up on him, attacking him at his weakest moment with a smile. Even though Windblume was coming to a close, you kept the festive cheer. You were handing out a variety of flowers to everyone in Mondstadt to spread the joy and love to everyone. 

“Such beauty handing me a flower, what did I do to deserve this.” He smirks at your momentary panic, ducking down slightly to be face to face. He takes the flower and smells it, hiding his smile in it’s petals. You scold him for saying such cheesy things to someone he just met. It was funny how even though it was your first meeting, your personalities fit perfectly as one. 

“Don’t you ever feel embarrassed by saying those things?” You adjust the flower that was tucked behind your ear.

“The only embarrassment I feel is that I have nothing in return for this lovely gift.” His hand comes up to fix the flower, tucking it perfectly behind your ear. The white petals glowing against your skin. That one encounter set the tradition of Kaeya and you giving presents back and forth every year during Windblume. Even as the years went on, the present stayed as a simple cecilia flower as an ode to that first meeting. 

“He didn’t believe in love at first sight. You could say it was only something that existed in fairy tales for plot convenience. It takes a lot more than first sight to fall in love but he swore that moment could’ve been it.” He looks back at the child who now climbed into his lap, she placed the red blanket over the two of them to make sure they were both comfortable. Her eyes were fixed on Kaeya, watching with eager eyes to hear more. He holds her close so she doesn’t fall off his lap as he continues his story. 

“Love can be the best feeling in the whole world but it can also be the worst.”

Kaeya stood in front of the crowd of kids with an odd look on his face. It wasn’t one you were used to seeing on his face, it was the look of utter confusion. You walked over to find out what was going on but decided to listen to the conversation first. 

“Sister Barbara said you’d be entertaining us! But this is boring!!” One of the kids said, the others around him nodding and some going far as to cheer. Kaeya didn’t know what to do. He was bad with kids, he couldn’t be mean otherwise Jean would have to deal with the complaints and he most definitely couldn’t use his usual lines. As he tried to think of something to do the kids started to chant ‘let’s play!’ and that’s when you finally decided to enter. 

“Hey there Captain! Need some help?” It was like an angel coming down from the heavens, he swore there was even a halo around your head. The kids, already knowing you, cheered at your entrance. Kaeya watched as you calmed the kids down, getting them to eat lunch and successfully buying time for the two of you to plan something to entertain them. 

“How’d you manage to get into this then Kaeya?” You approach him after giving the last child some apple juice. 

“Jean would normally do this but since it’s been a while since she spent time with her sister I decided to volunteer.” That stunned you for a moment, you heard stories from Amber about how Kaeya always seemed to avoid work and formed an unfair opinion of him in your head. You felt guilty because of those thoughts, you saw how he struggled with those kids but still put himself out there for the sake of Jean and Barbara. “But let’s not tell Jean that.” 

“Would it be so bad for Jean to know the truth?” You ask plainly, ignoring the way Kaeya said the last part of his sentence. 

“Well-” You didn’t even let him finish

“I think the problem you have Kaeya is that you’re too closed off, children are so open and trusting that the only way to get along with them is to do the same.” 

“That can’t be done overnight let alone in an hour (Y/N).” It was the first time Kaeya said your name and it sent shivers down your spine. The very thought of opening up felt dangerous to Kaeya, the last time he opened up the last of his family left him in the dust.

“You’re right in that area but we can take baby steps!” You weren’t deterred by the tall walls he built around himself. You used the word ‘we’. We can take baby steps. That’s all that lingered in Kaeya’s mind, it was like an informal promise from you to him that you’ll be beside him for that journey. 

“Then where do we start, captain cheerful?” You roll your eyes at the nickname but gesture towards the children. 

“We start with them.” That day was one of the best days Kaeya had since his childhood. He never thought hide and seek could be so thrilling or that duck duck goose could be so intense! The kids were more than happy to embrace Kaeya and his awkward aura, teaching him of super secret tactics that no-one would ever know. He found himself learning more about the children and about himself. At times when he feels his guard going back up, he glances over at you and sees you playing with some of the quieter children, bringing them out of their shells. Your smile blended in with the childish joy of the kids around the two of you. Sometimes your eyes caught each other's and you both just shyly laughed it off as kids pulled the two of you away in different directions. It was hard to catch a moment to talk to each other until you took the kids to watch the sunset by Cider lake. Most of the kids were settled on the grass, sitting crossed leg and talking about all the fun they had that day. One of the boys shyly tugged Kaeya’s leg, asking to be carried since his mother always did it for him. He looked towards you for help but you just gave two thumbs up, encouraging him. He carefully picked up the boy, letting him rest on his hip and one arm securing his waist. The boy rested his head on Kaeya's shoulder, using the fur on his shoulder as a pillow to slowly doze off. Kaeya stood still. He didn’t expect the day to go like this let alone carry a sleeping child too. You patted Kaeya’s shoulder to reassure him and the rest of the sunset was spent with whispered words exchanged between the two of you. After such a successful day, the two of you decided to take the kids once every week off of Jean’s hands. 

“Love didn’t make him become a better person magically but instead motivated him to strive for that. She inspired him to try and be a better version of himself. It wasn’t like she was perfect either, they both worked on themselves whilst inspiring each other. That’s the good side of love Annie, but there is a bad side too…” Annette saw Kaeya’s eyes darken a little and she moved her small hands to rest on top of his larger ones to comfort him. 

All Kaeya saw was red. It started off as a light hearted exchange between some treasure hunters that the two of you came across during an adventure. They used the typical story of their cart breaking down and needing help so they could lure adventurers into a trap before robbing them blind. Kaeya already knowing this tried to shut them down before anyone else could fall victim to them. He was going to only use his words since he didn’t want you getting hurt in the crossfire. He knew you could defend yourself but it was too risky with the amount of numbers they had on them, no doubt there were more of them hidden. However his words only seemed to provoke the treasure hunters more, they struck to attack him but the crossbow went astray and hit you in the shoulder instead. It could’ve been a simple flesh wound or a small cut but even the tiniest amount of blood from you sent him off. The area started dropping in temperature, the floor stable floor below the men started to turn into ice and there was a still moment as a singular snowflake drifted down onto the floor. Once it hit the ground, there was a flash and  its delicate crystals were stained with blood. Kaeya stood over the last one with his sword raised to crash down on him till you came from nowhere to hold back his arm.

“Kaeya! Stop this!!” You begged him, looking at his side profile and trying to avoid looking at the bodies that surrounded the two of you. He couldn’t hear you, all he could hear was your scream when you got hit and had tunnel vision. 

“Please stop, you’re scaring me.” You sobbed softly, finally catching his eye. The darkness that clouded his eyes faltered as he put down his sword and embraced you. The man that was on the floor scrambled up to his feet, apologising profusely before running off with a terrified shriek. Kaeya could care less about what he did, he could only think about you now. He felt your shoulders shake from the fear or maybe from the sobs that escaped your body. His heart felt as though it dropped to his stomach, he hurt you. He scared you. When his hand came up to pat your head, you flinched away. It still sticks with him to this day, your tear stained face and eyes filled with fear because of what he was. He hated himself after that day, he felt as though he was back to square one. 

“It can lead you to dangerous things. You could disregard everything and everyone around you and ironically hurt the one you were trying to protect. But you can control all these negatives by simply talking about it with whoever you love. Never run away from it.” 

“Did the lady leave him after that?” Annette asked with tears in her eyes, not wanting to see such a tragic ending for the love story. 

“No she didn’t. When he ran away, she chased after him. She was really stubborn and cornered the poor man!” 

After the incident, Kaeya was put on a suspension from his job. The people of Mondstadt didn’t know any better, thinking it was him taking a small break from his work. Kaeya doesn’t know why Jean kept it a secret but decided to roll with it. He took his suspension as a time to withdraw from you, it was scary how quickly he became so attached to you. It was dangerous for the two of you so he decided himself to end whatever went on between the two of you. When you woke up the next day, you found out about Kaeya’s suspension and tried looking for him to talk things out. It was an impossible task since Kaeya seemed to become air whenever he saw you approaching or when you ask people about his location they all gave different answers. It annoys you to no end. He saves your life and then decides to remove himself from your life. Like hell you’d allow that. So you hatch a plan with Rosaria. 

It was a Thursday night and normally Kaeya would be holed up at work but with his suspension he decided to go to the angel’s share. Rosaria said she would be there in the back corner on the second floor, she told him that she would drink with him since it was boring to drink alone. He arrives earlier than Rosaria and decides to start drinking before she gets there, ordering a bottle of dandelion wine and slowly sipping on it. Minutes turn into hours and before he realises it’s closing time and he isn’t nearly as drunk as he would like to be. Rosaria was a no show and the tavern was completely empty. That’s when Kaeya realised he was caught in a trap, he had nowhere to run as you slowly approached him. You had a really angry look on your face. It was one look, he hates to admit, that scared him. You say nothing as you seat yourself across from Kaeya.

“F-fancy seeing you here (Y/N).” He offers with a meek smile.

“It really is an odd coincidence huh? It feels like it’s been a while since we talked.” You smile, but it isn’t reaching your eyes. That night you both talked about your feelings and cried with each other. Kaeya tells you things he never imagined telling you, about his self-hatred and how he feels as though he doesn’t belong. How the guilt eats him up everyday. You in return comfort him through it all, you might not have much to say back to him but that’s okay because just having someone listen to him was more than enough. Especially if it was you.

He was walking away from your doorstep after dropping you off home when he was stopped by you.

“No matter what happens Kaeya, don’t make my decisions for me! I’m a grownup and I told you all those years ago, WE will take these baby steps together.” You say seriously, holding his gaze with your fiery eyes. As he looked up at you, he felt his heartbeat pick up and a terrible realisation came down on him. Oh.

“I promise.” He was in love. 

“When you love someone Annette, it isn’t all black and white. You have to work to keep your relationship going, when something bad happens you talk about it, celebrate the small wins alongside the big ones. At moments you can feel lost in love, know you aren’t alone in this world. And once you find that special person, never let them go.” He pats the girl’s head as she brings her hand up to rub at her sleepy eyes. 

“Would there ever be a moment you would let go of love?” She asked innocently. As Kaeya opened his mouth to respond, the sound of the door opening interrupted the two of them.

The two look towards who came in and suddenly all the sleepiness in Annette’s body seems to leave her.

“Mommy!” She shouted excitedly, jumping into your open arms. You lift her up and spin her around as she giggles happily. Kaeya watched the exchange with fond eyes, standing up to walk towards them.

“So what did you do today?” You ask, it seems like an innocent question but Kaeya knows it's you checking to see if the two of you got up to any devious acts. 

“I learnt about love!” Annette says proudly, she holds her hands against her hips and proudly puffs her chest out. Kaeya laughs softly, as you turn to him with a curious gaze. 

“Oh really? Who taught you?” Diluc walks in behind you, laughing softly at Annette. Annette notices his arrival, reaching out for him to take her off of you. She laughs when Diluc tickles her sides as he adjusts his grip on her.

“Uncle Kaeya!” Her red hair bounces as she turns to point to Kaeya who was standing a few steps away from the family. 

She had her mother’s eyes and her father’s hair.

‘There can be a moment Annie. Sometimes there can be a moment when you realise another person can make them happier than you ever could but I hope from the bottom of my heart that, you, my dearest niece will never experience that.’

[mtreebeardiles]

Armor Upgrades, pt 2 (ExK)

A follow-up to Armor Upgrades! Also on AO3

Kaidan eyed the message from Evvy with a level of suspicion well-earned over years of knowing the Commander. Circumstances may have pulled them apart, and coming back together hadn't been seamless, but the longer they worked at it, the longer they learned to fit again, the more evident some basic truths became:

 Everett Shepard was and always would be a little shit. 

 And thus the message Hey, can you come help me up in my quarters? was assessed for its assumed innocence and, in light of their earlier interaction in the shuttle bay, deemed very much not innocent. 

 As if Everett could read his mind several decks down, the Commander followed up with a simple

 ;)

 Kaidan bit back a laugh, shaking his head, and made his way to the elevator. 

 He'd gotten the update that Evvy and his ground team had made it back from their mission, that it had been a success, and he wondered if Everett had even written his report yet or was choosing mischief before work this evening. 

 Then again he does have those report templates…

 Kaidan hesitated outside the Captain's Quarters, mentally preparing for whatever bit of teasing Everett was likely going to throw his way, and finally palmed the door open. 

 "So how much should I bet that this has something to do with how I embarrassed my…myself…"

 Oh.

 Kaidan had  expected some good-natured ribbing for ogling Evvy in full armor. He was not expecting Everett to be here, in his own quarters, far from the Armory, fully armored still and leaning against the fish tank, hips cocked just so and eyebrow raised. 

 A small smirk that was pure mischief, pure Evvy, curled his lips even as he widened his eyes innocently. 

 "No idea what you mean, nerdlet," Everett lied, eyes glinting. "But I got bit a distracted after my mission and seem to have…forgotten to kit down. Help me out?"

 Good god.

 Kaidan swallowed hard, staring at him, trailing along all the delicious lines the armor set had absolutely no business emphasizing on his partner's body. Evvy raised both eyebrows at him, barely fighting back a grin, and Kaidan finally moved to close the distance between them. 

 Everett smelled like a gunfight, spent thermal clips and a hint of eezo, and for all he hadn't been there to see him in action his imagination readily supplied the visuals: how quickly Everett could move, how quietly, the clear orders given over comms wrapped in a voice like velvet. Gray eyes flashing blue and body limned in that ethereal light, all the more beautiful for the confidence hard-earned when it came to biotics -- knowing he had helped Evvy on that journey, too. 

 Everett tilted his head and Kaidan took the invitation, pressing searing kisses along the column of his throat where he could, nips to the sensitive spots below his jaw, nuzzling his cheek to his stubble. His hands ghosted along his sides, following the contours of the armor to rest where it emphasized his hips and staying there, reveling, drawing Everett into a heated kiss. 

 "You need a minute to find the seals?" Everett murmured, voice pitched low in his teasing, and Kaidan gave a harder nip in response. Everett laughed, goosebumps erupting over the limited areas of skin Kaidan had access to while he stood fully armored. 

 "Maybe more than a minute," Kaidan retorted, nuzzling his nose to Evvy's. Everett laughed against him, seizing Kaidan's lower lip and giving a playful tug. 

 "These really do make my hips look great, huh? I don't know how I didn't notice before," he admitted as Kaidan kissed him again. 

 "Hips, legs, ass," Kaidan echoed from earlier, earning another breathless laugh. He gave the weave covering Evvy's hips a squeeze before his fingers finally moved to undo the seals and clasps of his chest and arm pieces, letting them clatter to their feet one by one. He tugged at the material of his undersuit, tugging at zippers with his teeth and nuzzling to the skin revealed below. He heard Everett's head gently tap against the fishtank behind them as he let it fall back on his neck, exposing a longer expanse of tantalizing flesh for Kaidan to tease. 

 Kaidan took his time, mouth mapping out a layout of muscle down and down, lines still familiar even after all this time. Sensitive spots were still responsive just the way he remembered, pressure of teeth and tease of tongue eliciting results that felt like a homecoming with each pass, each shiver, each breathless gasp. He glanced up to see Evvy watching him, felt Everett's fingers slip into his hair, run gently along his scalp, pupils blown with a look of desire, of want, so tied to his memories of their Before that he ached with it. 

 The leg pieces were next, greaves falling away and Everett was stepping out of the boots. Kaidan made his way back up, hands running along his chest to press the material of his undersuit away as he kissed him again. He kept that kiss going, using memory of touch to strip the suit away, to slip down his sides to his ass and lift, Everett's legs going around his waist and arms around his neck and he carried him to the desk he'd since commandeered as his own. 

 Evvy kept himself wrapped around him as he broke the kiss, nose brushing against his, barely-there kisses ghosting along Kaidan's jaw, following the line to the spot just below his ear that Evvy knew made him shiver. 

 They hadn't been intimate like this since before Alchera. He hadn't seen Evvy like this since before he'd been ripped away from him, hadn't been on the receiving end of Everett's want, his need, in a long time. The fact that he wanted to be here, bared like this, trusting him like this…

 Kaidan kissed him again, hoping Everett could feel the way he loved him, the honor he felt at being trusted again after so long, the acknowledgment of their foundation fixed and repaired, piece by piece, the work they'd put into it -- into them, the concept of "us" still important even as the universe burned around them. Choosing each other again, hands catching and holding in the dark, hoping for light as they sought comfort together. 

 They were breathless as the kiss ended, resting against each other a moment. Evvy's eyelids were heavy as he looked up at him, cheeks flushed, and Kaidan stepped back to better admire the view. As he did his eyes caught on what he'd missed when stripping Everett down: tattoos, familiar and unfamiliar, more than he'd seen on his partner's body before, spilling down from his shoulder to his wrist. 

 He took another step back, fingers maintaining contact on Evvy's knees, eyes trailing along more tattoos along the side of his torso, his hip, his thigh to his leg all the way to the little bee sleeping in a flower on his foot. 

 More flowers, some strange and alien, weaving together on Everett's skin. Kaidan reached up, tracing fingertips along their lines, his throat tight. A tattoo for each person and place that had ever meant something to Everett, a fresh set of history that Kaidan had missed, that he hadn't been there for. New friends, new connections, bonds forged in the hell of the Collector Mission, reality in the curve of each flower and vine and leaf beyond what Kaidan had gathered from intelligence reports. 

 "Kaidan." Everett cupped his chin, drawing his eyes back to his. Everett ran his thumbs over his cheekbones, soft, soothing. "We're okay." He leaned forward, kissing Kaidan's forehead. "We're okay."

 He took one of Kaidan's hands, brought his fingers to the top of his tattoos. 

 "One," Kaidan breathed. 

 "Elizabeth." The first foster parent Everett had ever had, the only one he had ever considered a parent at all. 

 "Two."

 "Liara." Delicate blue and white flowers; Kaidan wondered if they grew on Thessia, or if their Asari friend had suggested based on her own favorites.

 "Three."

 "Jack." A thorny, alien plant in a riot of colors, twining along vines.

 "Four."

 "Wrex, Grunt. Tuchanka." 

 "Five."

 "Mordin Solus." These Kaidan actually recognized from images he'd seen of the lush Salarian homeworld. His fingers lingered, hearing the hitch in Evvy's voice, and he leaned forward to press a kiss to the intricate lines of the leaves -- a silent acknowledgment of his passing, a soundless thank you for being there when Kaidan hadn't. 

 And so it went -- Thane and Jacob and Miranda and Tali, Garrus and Kasumi and, near the bottom, a tangle of flowers shaded to look wrought from metal. 

 Legion. 

 Each loss marked by a kiss, a squeeze, a reassurance. 

 The fire in their veins had cooled as Kaidan made his way back up, standing between Evvy's legs, but it was replaced with something deeper, more profound, something harder to put into words. 

 So he didn't. Everett's hands slipping under his shirt to rest on his hips, seeking his warmth, his contact, and they kissed with a quiet intensity that felt a lot like home, a lot like a promise, that they'd find each other again and again.

 No matter what.

 "One more," Everett murmured against him. He took Kaidan's hand, guiding it to the opposite hip as he shifted on the desk to better show it. Small, a delicate circle of intricate lilies, and Kaidan's fingers trembled as he brushed over them.

 "What's your favorite flower?"

 "You know…maybe not the flashiest, but I've always loved lilies."

 "Sixteen," Kaidan whispered. 

 "Kaidan Alenko."

 Kaidan exhaled, shaky, eyes fluttering shut as Everett drew him into another soft, tender kiss.