#put the death flag back on the shelf

[mmliveblog]

BRANDON NO

[heyftinally]

https://www.tumblr.com/heyftinally/748388217187958784/i-love-bitching-about-taylor-swift-and-im-glad?source=share

Hi I saw this on my dash and wanted to say I agree with your anon and your reply so much. The thing that annoys me the most isn't that she stays silent about x issues it's that she constantly claims to be a massive ally/activist for x groups/issues but when it's actually time to be an active ally she says NOTHING. It's clear in her doc she only said all that she did about being an ally and how actions speak louder than words to make herself look good bc people were calling her out, not bc she actually cared. What has she done since that doc was made in 2020? She hasn't done many actions and even with just words she's been mostly silent on things.

It's like her constantly claiming she is a massive feminist and cares about women's issues but when many women [along with trans men and NBs] had to deal with abortions being banded/illegal on a federal level in the USA she didn't say anything until after the decision was finalized why bc she's billionaire rich and worldwide famous so it wouldn't effect her. Her fans claim her speaking up before hand wouldn't have done anything and that is the dumbest shit I've heard given her fame and power status. She only cares about feminism or any women's issues when she gets to be at the center of it and she just uses it as a weapon so others can't hate on her.

Let's not even get started how she's the appitmy of "white feminism" [or how I see it caring about feminism only when it benefits herself] bc she screams feminism but I didn't see her saying anything when a poor innocent young woc was getting racist death threats from HER fanbase bc of a tweet SHE made. Wasn't the actresses fault that one line joke was made blame the writers of that netflix show! This situation alone tells me she hasn't "changed/learned" like she claimed in her doc.

She's the exact same as she was back in the day when she was silent on the fact white supremist groups idolized her and claimed her as "one of them". She was silent for years on the matter and only said something when she changed from typical southern country gal to liberal pop girlie and her older pop fanbase was like umm what is this? I honestly don't understand how ANYONE over looks the ws group situation. It's very alarming. She's not a kind of done some questionable things person it's VERY red flag things she has done or in this case not done.

When it comes to the music portion it's just like you said if she wasn't shoved down our throats 24/7 and treated like the greatest artist who ever lived we wouldn't care so much her music is average and her latest album was awful. All the lyrics I've seen on SM are so wtf? Who wrote this? THIS is the "greatest writer of our generation"? Outing her ex as someone with mental health issues and how you just wanted him to "easily get better" so you could love him? Outing yourself as awful [yet again] by saying the things your other ex did was just "bad jokes" and you thougut you could fix him bc racism, misogyny and SAing workers on stage at your concerts are just "bad jokes". Romanticizing 1800s America. Acting like you had a lower class upbringing with many bills to pay when really you had a rich upbringing and your daddy bought your way into the music industry.

Also her putting out 20+ versions of one damn album so she can make as much money as possible and have as many streams as possible is so 😵‍💫. It was such a cash grab when she had the backs of midnight vinyls be a puzzle picture that forced fans to buy 4 vinyl copies of 1 damn album or it just looked like an incomplete shelf piece for fans.

Lastly it's just like you said most of us who dislike her don't dislike her because she's a women it's bc she's an awful person who uses x issues and people to further her own agenda and only really cares about herself and will step on anyone just to make herself look better and more of a victim. The only victim thing she has actually dealt with was her music being bought from under her BUT now she owns her own music and found a way to make it a huge cash grab for herself so she could get that billionaire status. 🤩 She needs to stop using feminism as a means to try and stop people from calling her ass out for being problematic!!!

The post anon is referring to is here, for those wondering

Anon, you are so very, very right, and I personally want to give you a round of applause: 👏🏻👏🏻👏🏻👏🏻👏🏻

One thing I want to elaborate on (because I find it endlessly funny/ironic), is where you said "She was silent for years on the matter and only said something when she changed from typical southern country gal to liberal pop girlie..."

Taylor Swift was *never* a "southern country gal". She's from Pennsylvania. A big white McMansion with a swimming pool in Pennsylvania. All those old songs about summer nights in the country? The cowboy boots? Sweet Tea (referenced in an unreleased song)? Yeah, lies. She painted the image of a good ol' Tennessee princess pretty darn well, didn't she? I'll admit, she fooled me for a while on that, too. But no, she built her career on fraud from day one.

The rest of your ask I'm going to hit point by point, because it's beautiful and made my day and you deserve it.

Performative is her middle name. I about choked when she - a self proclaimed LGBTQ+ ally (side note: you don't get to just decide you're an ally, it's not that easy) - got up on stage in a known LGBTQ+ safe state to make a statement about queer rights, and somehow left queer people out of the statement. It was all "it's so hard for us as friends, family, and allies to see our loved ones face such hatred". As if being an ally is harder than being the queer person actively afraid of getting hate crimed???????? She somehow managed to center herself even when actively talking about an oppressed minority group she has nothing to do with unless she can profit off of us. And she can't even put us at the center of our own oppression. If I hadn't stripped her of her ally status before, that would have done it.

If Taylor Swift can make the impact that she does on economies, the environment, and social trends, she could absolutely speak up about human rights and make a positive change in the world. But she doesn't. Her feral mob loves to brag about how much power they have, but they/their hive mind leader never uses it for anything good. They're just her minions to go bully whoever she's decided deserves her high school mean girl nastiness next. So many artists with ⅛ the reach she does make positive change every day, and she can't be bothered to pay someone to tweet her fake support for oppressed minorities or to stand against a genocide. And it's because she cares about money above all else. Her fans accept the bare minimum of scraps, so she's able to play both sides - before it was the white supremacists and people who weren't raging bigot trash, and now it's homophobes/racists/genocide supporters and people who don't see those things as bad enough to stop supporting someone who happily aligns herself with bigots. It's pure self serving greed.

Is her music shit? Yes. Has it been shit for a while? Yes. But there's alose a lot of music I don't like, for one reason or another. I've never been a fan of "Hey There Delilah" even though it was a MAJORLY popular song. I'm not much of a fan of Maroon 5, or Post Malone, or Yungblood. But unlike those bands, if I turn on the radio at any point, I *will* hear a Taylor Swift song withing twenty minutes. And another one twenty minutes after that. Despite having her blocked/filtered on every social media possible, I see more about her than artists I actively follow the personal accounts of. That's a PROBLEM. Because it's not just that I think both she as a person and her music suck - I'd ignore her as much as I could if that were the case - it's that despite ACTIVELY trying to avoid her, I'm forcibly subjected to her shitty music and shitty actions daily. And her shitty actions aren't just annoying! As a queer person who has queer, black, and disabled friends, her bullshit actively impacts our lives. One of my disabled friends was totally blindsided by this recent "asylum" bullshit, and was so shocked and hurt because, in a different time, they would have been sent to an asylum. They're physically disabled with a degenerative condition. They would have been sent away, drugged up, and forcibly given electroshock and brain surgeries until they died/were murdered. And Taylor Swift is using that aesthetic - disabled people being exploited, abused, tortured, neglected, and murdered - to be "edgy". In turn, she's minimizing just HOW bad that abuse was. That waters down disabled history, and considering disabled people still have to fight SO hard just for basic respect, nevermind access rights and fair treatment, it's an overall thoughtless and disgusting thing for someone with so much money and access to feedback to do.

The multiple releases of albums is nothing short of a scam that her fans keep falling for. I've never in my life heard of an artist doing such a thing. Sometimes you'll get a platinum or deluxe edition if they hit a milestone with that album, which usually has 4-6 new songs and some new art/bonus pictures/a mini poster/etc inside. And that's it, that's the only "duplicate" album we got. Meanwhile, Taylor Swift will release the same album five times in one day, each with one different song and a different cover. She's actively preying on consumerism to line her already fat pockets. At least donate the money to charity! Pick an album = pick a charity? Nope, because she's incapable of not scamming her fans. Case in point: all the Eras merch that requires a masters in chemistry to wash without destroying you $60+ shirt.

She truly has such a huge victim complex that it might ACTUALLY be bigger than her ego. She's no feminist - she'll tear a woman to shreds as soon as it serves her purposes. Hell, she'll tear ANYONE apart just because she's bored. Whether it's siccing her fans on an actress for reading a script she didn't like or basic her ex (AGAIN) for the "crime" of having a mental illness, all she cares about is how other people effect her. She's incapable of compassion, yet weaponizes is and cries big white woman crocodile tears any time her conniving bullshit comes back to bite her in the ass. Then she begs for all the compassion she never shows anyone else. Hell, remember the fan that DIED at her Brazil show? Yeah, that poor girl's family had to CROWD FUND to afford to bring their daughter's *dead body* home for the funeral. Taylor Swift posted a half assed "thoughts and prayers" on her Instagram story - gone forever in 24hrs. But as soon as she gets called out for dating a known racist who gets off to abuse porn? She has every defense in the book as to why "poor little Taylor" doesn't deserve all that mean ol' accountability for her actions. And if she doesn't have the defense? Doesn't matter, her fans can - and have, and will - justify everything up to and including racist harassment, stalking, and death threats!

Genuinely, my dislike of Taylor Swift can be summed up in this: she's a shit person with shit music who uses her disgusting amount of power and money to do nothing but serve herself, regardless of who she hurts in the process. And the rest of us are forced to watch it happen because if you don't worship the chair she farted on people act like you're either stupid, a piece of shit, or both. And then those same people will go on tumblr and post "eat the rich" and "be trans, throw hands" memes as if they didn't just give $300 to a billionaire who couldn't give less of a fuck about any minority to ever exist.

Anyway, thank you again for this, anon. You cleared my skin, watered my crops, and gave me a small amount of faith in humanity back.

[jessjad]

Words

Summary: Stepping out of your comfort zone can open new doors. But you should be prepared for the fact that these new developments can be quite painful.

Pairing: Jensen Ackles x Reader

Prompt: "Sleeping under the stars"

Warnings: Hurt, a little drama, character death (mentioned), but a glimpse of hope too?

Word count: 2531

A/N: Hello! :) This is my contribution to @smellingofpoetry 's 400 Follower Celebration - Summer Edition. First try, so please be gentle. ^^ I changed Jensen's character a couple of times and the story changed too. But here we are now. Jensen might be a little OOC, but the story is not real anyway. So, I hope it's not to bad after all. All mistakes are mine. Please enjoy.

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One week. It had been one week since Y/N saw Jensen. There were no calls, no text messages, nothing. And that hurt. It almost brought tears back into her eyes, but she had already cried so much that there were no tears left anymore. Y/N knew from the start that this whole relationship thing with Jensen wasn't going to work out. She should have just stuck to her principles. Getting to know him at all had felt like a great blessing. But circumstances had been unfavorable.

Jensen's wife had died three years ago and Y/N had always known that she would never get involved with a widower. More often than not, it was difficult for the new woman to get a halfway equally important place in a widower's heart. And Y/N was fed up with always being second. She had had that often enough by now and she didn't want to be hurt like that again. So when Jensen started flirting with her and wanting to get closer to her, her alarm bells went off. She had always had a crush on him ever since she first saw Jensen on TV and through a somewhat embarrassing incident he had found out, but Y/N had always held back. A small voice inside her had whispered to her that it didn't have to be like that with the dark blond Texan. That maybe he was completely different and that she wouldn't feel the same way with him. But then happened exactly what she had finally feared.

They had been together for almost six months now and Y/N had visited him at his home on a number of occasions, sometimes even staying at his place for several days. She hadn't really felt comfortable with it, because Jensen had left everything in his house as it was. And now that she knew him on a very personal level, she had also discoverd that the style of the interior reflected very little of his own taste. After Y/N realized this, it was almost as if his wife was present in every room, looking down at them from every wall. Maybe she imagined that, but she didn't dare to talk to Jensen about it. It also seemed like he wasn't very comfortable in her home, which should have been another red flag.

And then, a week ago, it happened. Y/N had just arrived at Jensen's to spend the weekend with him. They had decided to stay at home, cook and then watch a movie. So while Y/N unpacked her bag, Jensen quickly took a shower. In her bag she had brought a few personal items from her apartment to feel a little more comfortable at Jensen's home. That wasn't much, just two books and a picture. On a living room wall there was a large shelf on which almost only decorative items were placed. So Y/N made some space on one of the shelves and put her stuff there. She looked at her handiwork from behind the couch and smiled. If you didn't look closely, you wouldn't even notice it. Still, she felt better right away. Satisfied with herself, she went into the kitchen and began to arrange and prepare the ingredients. But when Jensen came out of the bathroom, the good mood didn't last long.

“You already started? What are we going to cook?” Jensen smiled.

“From what you've got here, I'd say... pasta.” Y7N smiled back at him and saw him nod in agreement.

“Sounds great. Do you need help?”

“You can cut the onions, if you want?” Jensen made a face, but Y/N knew he would do it anyway.

Y/N pulled out another cutting board and knife while Jensen went into the living room and turned on the TV. She heard him zapping through the channels until he got stuck on one. Y/N was just getting a pot out of the cupboard and putting it on the stove when the drama ensued.

“Y/N?”

She heard Jensen calling her, but there was something about his tone that she didn't like right away. So she looked at him and raised her eyebrows questioningly. But when she realized where her boyfriend was standing, a chill ran down her spine. Cautiously, Y/N came out from behind the kitchen island and slowly approached him.

“What's wrong?” she asked slowly.

“Did you do that?” he sounded annoyed, but she wasn't quite sure why.

Jensen pointed to the shelf, exactly where her things were and then she suddenly knew why he was upset.

“Jensen...” she tried, but she didn't get far.

He was already taking her items down from the shelf. “I didn't tell you you could do that." Jensen put the things on the living room table and put everything back in its place.

“I didn't realize I need to ask you for it.” she answered.

Something just went very wrong here. She really hadn't asked Jensen if it was okay to bring something of hers and leave it here. But those were just a few things that were hardly noticeable. It wasn't like she wanted to move in with him right away. It should only help that she also felt at home here. But she must have thought wrong. Maybe it was now time to talk to Jensen about her feelings and thoughts. Maybe then he would understand.

“Jensen.” She took a few steps towards him and talked gently to him. “Your wife died almost three years ago. Which is painful, I understand. But since then... you haven't changed anything here. It's like..” How should Y/N describe this without hurting or offending him? “...she never left.”

Jensen huffed, but Y/N spoke again. “Do not get me wrong. Of course it's clear that you don't want to lose the memory of her, I understand that too. But I thought that we both started fresh together. That I too now have a place here with you. But every time I'm here... it feels like I'm intruding unintentionally. As if I would disturb here.”

She looked down and played with the hem of her shirt. It wasn't the whole truth, but still it wasn't a lie. She didn't want to admit it, but every time the two of them were here, Y/N experienced what she never wanted to feel again.. Like she's only second. But Jensen didn't seem to hear her words.

“You had no right to just switch things around here. These things belonged to my wife. If I want to part with it, I'll do it myself.” he fired back and looked at her unyieldingly.

“Nobody asks that of you...” she replied, but it was as if Jensen just wouldn't hear her. He just kept talking.

“Your things don't fit in here at all. When we remodeled this house, my wife spent weeks on the phone back and forth with the architect to get everything set up as it is now. You can't really compare that to your cheap furnishing style.”

Then there was silence. Jensen had turned away from her and was examining the items on the shelf. It was like he was lost in his thoughts. Y/N didn't quite know how to react to his hurtful statements. She was staring to get mad too, but she didn't want to get short-tempered too. Otherwise the situation could escalate and a reasonable conversation would be almost impossible.

“Wow...I...I didn't wanna intrude...I just thought that...I would have a place here now too.” she repeated. Oh, how wrong she was and Jensen was just about to show that to her.

“Well, you must have thought wrong on that.” Jensen crossed his arms in front of his chest and looked at her angrily.

“What...what is that supposed to mean?”

Anger spread in Y/N, but she still didn't want to offend Jensen. It was all a sensitive topic and a special situation. Something she wasn't familiar with. Virtually unknown territory. But still, he didn't have to be so mean. She had always thought that the two of them could talk normally about such things. But she should be wrong about that, too.

“That's obvious, isn't it? YOU are not my wife. And you never will be either!”

And there it was. The moment when Y/N's heart shattered into a thousand pieces and the raw pain choked her so much that tears stung her eyes. Her heart was pounding so hard she feared it could be heard throughout the house. Jensen had practically thrown at her the reason why she never wanted to do anything with a widower. And maybe she just should've stuck to that. The lump in her throat made it impossible for her to speak. But Y/N didn't have to either, because Jensen wasn't finished yet.

“Everyone expects me to just start over. To leave her death behind like it never happened. But what no one seems to understand is that she was taken from me just like that. Completely unexpectedly, her life was taken. That was not fair! Everything went well, we were happy! And suddenly she's just not here anymore! Just because someone was messing with their phone while driving. I couldn't even say goodbye and nothing will ever bring her back to me. The house, all this..." Jensen stretched out his arms to either side and turned to point to everything around him. "...is the only thing I have left of her. And nobody's going to take that away from me."

That's all Y/N needed to hear. In a way he was right. It wasn't fair to lose someone you loved unexpectedly. But he wasn't the only one in the world this happened to either. And it didn't justify the fact that he hurt her so much with his words and didn't even realize it. But further conversation was pointless at the moment and Y/N wanted nothing more than to go home. Back to where she really felt comfortable and safe.

“Okay.” she replied softly, but didn't manage to look at Jensen.

She grabbed her belongings from the table and retrieved her empty bag. Y/N put on her jacket and shoes and left Jensen without another word.

And since then she hadn't heard from Jensen. She had expected that he might call in a day or two later. When he calmed down and realized how hurt his words were, at least he would apologize. But nothing. Which didn't mean Y/N would forgive him right away. Still, she would have liked an apology. But she didn't even get that from him. How could she have been so wrong about Jensen?

Y/N didn't dare write to him herself. He still had some of her stuff from her, that she had left behind in her rush to get away and even if it was just clothes she wanted them back. Taking a deep breath, she picked up her cell phone and wrote Jensen a neutral message. Y/N certainly wouldn't apologize. And since he didn't seem to want to apologize either, maybe it was time to realize that it was actually over and that she had to look ahead after all.

It lasted until the early evening when Jensen answered her. And he, too, didn't wrote much. He just sent her an address to go to, as he thought it would be better if they met in public. If Y/N had a little bit of hope before, it was all gone now. So, with a heavy heart, she set out. Her annoyance was still somehow there and actually she would like to take it out on Jensen. But on the other hand, she didn't want to give him that power over her either. He had already made her fall in love with him. Something she had finally wanted to say to him a week ago. Luckily she hadn't.

When Y/N arrived at their destination, she wondered a bit. The address belonged to a glamping site where you could eat and stay overnight. After a moment she got out of her car and walked towards the main building. A young woman was standing at the reception desk and Y/N gave her her name. The woman smiled and gave her a little map after telling her the way. What was that supposed to mean?

With the map in hand she set off and after a short time she realized that she was walking towards a small dome tent, the upper third of which was transparent. the weather was now getting quite warm and summer was fast approaching. There shouldn't be a single cloud in the sky that night and in this tent one would certainly be able to watch the stars undisturbed. But suddenly she stopped, because Jensen was standing on the small plateau in front of the tent and looked in her direction. Now her nerves were starting to kick in and she took a few more steps towards him before stopping.

“Hey.” said Jensen and smiled softly.

Y/N didn't know what to say back. He seemed so... normal. As if nothing had ever happened. What did he want to say with his behavior?

“Your... things are in the tent.” Jensen pointed shyly to it.

“What?” Y/N was still confused and just didn't understand what was going on here.

“I booked it for tonight. For you.”

What happened here? Was she dreaming? Jensen no longer smiled, on the contrary. He seemed serious and didn't give her a chance to react.

“I'm sorry Y/N I'm so so sorry. I've been a huge asshole to you and there's probably nothing that excuses that. All I can say is that I just saw red. You were right. I didn't change anything in the house because it still made me feel connected to my wife. I... subconsciously didn't want it to be true.”

She saw that Jensen seemed to have a hard time admitting these things. But she tried not to let it get to her.

“When I met you, it was like everything just kind of... got easier. You were... like a light that pulled me out of the darkness. God, that sounds so cheesy." Jensen ran a hand down his face and tried to cover his embarrassment. “I don't think I've processed my grief properly yet. Even though it's been three years. Otherwise the situation would have been completely different.”

Tears welled up in Y/N's eyes but she tried to hold her ground. Jensen slowly approached her, but still kept enough distance.

“You are such an amazing woman, Y/N. You are funny, smart, loving and beautiful. I never thought that I would meet a woman like you again. And then I screw it up in every possible way. That's why I booked this tent for you. You once said that you want to be sleeping under the stars for a night. I just wanted... that not every memory you associate with me is a bad one.”

“You still remember that?” Y/N couldn't believe it.

“Of course I do.” he responded.

And suddenly, without warning, hope was there again.

[practically-an-x-man]

Whatever Keeps You Around (Rick Flag x Eris)

Summary: Based on this prompt, Eris runs into an immortal surprise in a very mundane place. (Title from First Time by Hozier)

Word Count: 2.1k

Tags: Mild jealousy, mild possessive themes, some mentions of violence.

____

"Go see if they have any bread you like, hon."

Eris nodded, ducking past him and half-jogging up to the shelf of artisanal bread in the corner of the store. This was why he'd picked this store, even though it was small and pricey and overly-organic: Eris claimed it was the only place in New Orleans that made bread the right way, whatever they in their mind deemed the right way.

All Rick knew was that it cost about eight dollars a pop and was loaded with spices he couldn't identify, and that Eris could go through three loaves a week if he let them. Usually he did. The one perk to working for Amanda Waller was the paycheck, and that allowed him at least enough wiggle room to buy the right kind of bread.

She jogged back up to him, two loaves wrapped in paper in her arms, just as Rick had finished thanking the deli clerk for his cold cuts and cheeses. Eris tucked the bread into the shopping cart almost delicately and promptly plucked the deli bags from his hands to inspect his selections.

"Oven-roasted turkey? Not the herb kind?"

"Outta stock. I've got thyme and stuff back at the house if it really bothers you," Rick replied, "What kind of bread did you pick out?"

"Honey-rosemary and something they call rustic medley," Eris muttered, "I'll be the judge of that."

"Sounds pretty good," he agreed, "Maybe we can make butter to go with it."

Eris tilted his head, something Rick stupidly misinterpreted as a lack of understanding.

"I saw it online, you just put heavy cream and a little salt in a mason jar, shake it u-"

"I'd be willing to bet I'm more familiar with making butter than you are, Flag." Eris cut him off, sharp as always, "But why?"

"I dunno. Seems like fun."

"You have a real strange idea of fun. And this is coming from someone who lived through tapestry being the popular hobby." they jeered, but tossed a carton of heavy cream into the cart as they passed the dairy case. Rick tried to hide his smile. If anyone was the definition of 'actions speak louder than words', it was Eris.

He stayed close to Rick's side as they wandered the store, occasionally tossing things into the cart on what looked like pure whim. Cans of tomato soup, the ones Rick remembered mentioning were his favorite because they reminded him of his childhood, made their way in alongside pretzels and peanut butter and bars of high-cacao baking chocolate. It was far too bitter for his tastes, at least in anything other than baked goods, but Eris could snack on it like a Hershey bar. She liked it for the same reason she liked the artisanal bread, he thought. Nostalgia, or the closest thing to nostalgia they could find.

"Lasagna tonight? Or should we just find something to stick in the oven?" Rick asked, frowning at the prices of the pasta boxes on the shelves. Eris was back at his side in a moment, moving so quickly and silently that he would have jumped if he wasn't used to it.

"Hm. Neither. Make your pot pie." he decided, and Rick felt him lean in against his side, "I have a taste for it."

His mother's recipe, the one he'd tried so hard to get right after her death, now lived on as a favorite in the mind of a centuries-old metahuman.

That one made him feel good.

He knew Eris wasn't one for public affection, but he still couldn't resist wrapping his arm around their shoulders and pressing a kiss to the top of their head. He pulled back quickly, before Eris could wriggle away or complain about looking soft, and waved a hand at the produce aisle they'd left in their wake.

"Go grab me a bag of baby carrots and some green beans, then," he said, then paused and corrected, "In a bag. Not just loose green beans."

"I know that, smartass." Eris huffed, rolling her eyes at him as she walked away. Rick suppressed a chuckle.

There was someone else in the produce aisle, apparently trying to decide between a starfruit and a cherimoya. They were half a head taller than Eris, with wavy brown hair halfway down their back and a flowing blue sundress swishing around their knees.

Rick didn't pay them much mind, and was about to turn and grab a can of biscuits when Eris froze in his tracks.

"Julius?"

The taller figure whipped around so fast it must have given them whiplash, and their eyes widened to the size of dinner plates. Rick could see, even from afar, that their features had the same strangely archaic look as Eris' own, though perhaps a continent and a few centuries apart.

"Oh my- Eris?" they stammered, then gestured vaguely at themself, "And it's- er, Wisteria now. Wisty."

"Wisty." Eris repeated, as if testing out the name, "You're... very not dead, for someone three hundred years old."

"Made a deal with a witch a while back. And you're... very tame for how I remember you."

That made a grin flash across Eris' face, quick and sharp and promising only dark things.

"Try me."

But Wisty didn't flinch. She just smiled right back, though this one was nostalgic, almost soft.

The thought struck Rick like a bolt of lightning.

Eris had a type.

Underneath the flowing fabric of her dress, Wisty had to be at least as tall as Rick himself was, and just as stacked with muscle. Old scars littered what bare skin was visible around her clothing, like she'd been a fighter in a past life- or perhaps still was. And she knew not to flinch at those shark-smiles Eris threw at her. Just like Rick did.

The thought made something strange bubble up inside him. He wasn't sure he liked it. As strange and twisted as Eris' affections could be, he'd never before had competition for those affections. It was actually one of the best things about being with them, knowing they'd always drift back to him at the end of all the chaos.

It wasn't Wisteria's arrival alone that had him so tense. What really got him was the set of Eris' posture as he spoke to her: leaned back slightly on his heels, shoulders loose, head tilted ever-so-slightly in curiosity. Casual. Relaxed. The only time he'd ever seen Eris truly relaxed was when they were alone with him.

"We should catch back up." Wisty decided, a smile slowly growing on her face, "Go... spar like the old times or something. I'm a lot tougher than I used to be."

"I don't doubt it." Eris said, their spine automatically straightening at the promise of a good challenge.

He deserved this, Rick thought. This was some sort of cosmic payback for those two years he spent pushing her aside in favor of June, for snapping at all the times they suggested making him into a metahuman like them - it was all to keep him safe, to keep him around.

Well, here was someone who'd stuck around. Who'd played the long game, the centuries-long game, the way Rick was always so afraid to commit to. Who could hold their own against Eris, when she still had to pull her punches against him.

"What do you think? My lance and your spear, or hand-to-hand?" Wisty asked, playfully throwing up her fists with a broad grin. Eris returned the gesture, bouncing on his toes a little.

It was like he'd forgotten Rick was there, just ten feet back. And even as much as he wanted to call out, to remind them... he couldn't move. All he could do was watch it all unravel before him, the can of biscuits still held tight in one hand. Suddenly his mom's old recipe didn't seem to matter much.

"It'll be like before. You and me," Wisty said, "The old war god and the king's footsoldier."

Then there was a different kind of tension in Eris' posture. The shift was sudden, her chin lifted and her shoulders drawn back, all joviality transformed into something more guarded.

"I'm with someone." he said, each word crisply spaced, and brushed past Wisty with smooth, disciplined steps. They grabbed a plastic bag and shoved a handful of green beans into it, pausing only to pluck a few wrinkled and undesirable vegetables from the lot and toss them back. Wisteria turned, fixing them with a tilted expression.

"You told me you wouldn't love another. You told me love was too painful. You told me... that I was the last one."

Eris snatched a bag of baby carrots, holding them tight in her hand as she turned.

"I was wrong." they said, chin set and eyes blazing, "And if you do a damn thing to him, if you hurt him thinking that'll bring me back to you, I'll kill you where you stand. And I will feel no remorse."

With that, he stormed his way back to Rick and tossed the vegetables into the shopping cart.

"You were staring." they muttered, taking the can of biscuits from his hand and dropping it into the cart alongside the rest of the groceries. Then, to his surprise, they folded their fingers into his own. For Eris, that was the equivalent of a public strip tease. Rick gave her hand a gentle squeeze.

"Yeah, I know. Couldn't help it." he admitted, knowing better than to try and duck around it, "First time I've ever seen one of your old friends. Didn't realize there was anyone else... like me."

"She wasn't like you." Eris huffed, ducking around his arm to give the cart a brisk shove, "Nobody's like you."

"It's alright if she was." Rick argued, "I know I'm not the only person you've loved, doll. That's okay."

Eris opened his mouth to respond, then reconsidered and shook his head. It must've been a lot to explain, or something they couldn't bear to speak in such public company. Their posture was still tense, shoulders stony, and they didn't spare so much as a single glance back at the produce aisle.

"Nobody's like you." she just repeated, even more set and sullen. Rick decided there were two ways he could take that: a sign that this love was real, or a sign that the pattern would end up repeating itself in a few years. He decided to take it as the former. The latter, true as it might be, felt far too pessimistic.

"Rome!" a voice called from behind them, and finally Eris turned. Wisteria had caught up, and fire a glance between the two of them. Rick met her eyes calmly, and found something strange swimming there. She returned her gaze to Eris, unflinching. "A hundred years. Rome. Then we'll have our fight."

Rick could hear the other half of her words: because he won't be around by then. Maybe he should have been offended by the implications. He didn't bother. He'd always known there would be someone after him. He didn't expect to meet that someone, but... this was life with Eris. He'd learned to get used to things like this.

"Fine." Eris agreed, though the firm look never left her eyes, "I will meet you on the steps of the Colosseum in one hundred years exactly. We will have our fight."

Their grip tightened on his hand unexpectedly, right on the verge of being painful. Wisteria's eyes fell straight to it, and she frowned a little. Eris must not have been any more affectionate in their prior life.

"But you will get no love from me then." they concluded, "They will bury my heart when they bury him."

Rick saw hurt bloom across Wisty's face, a shocked and helpless sort of pain, but Eris just spun and gave the cart another brutal shove towards the checkout lanes. Rick found himself pausing an extra moment, looking into Wisty's shockingly crestfallen eyes and debating an apology.

In the end, he just shut his mouth and trailed after Eris, leaving Wisty where she stood. He had a sense that speaking to her would only make things worse. It was better just for him to be, in her mind, some speechless nameless thing at Eris' heels. It was probably safer for the both of them.

He caught up to Eris just shy of the checkout lanes, right as they set a rotisserie chicken in the front basket of the cart. She glanced up at him as he approached and offered him something like a smile. It was a little pointed, a little irritated, but he didn't mind that too much.

"You're mine." she muttered, possessive like a wolf to its mate, "Until they put you in the ground, you're mine."

"I love you too, wartime."

[checkoutmybookshelf]

Loup-garou and Lycanthropes and Hexenwolves, Oh My!

Ok, so I figured that a noir detective inspired, edgelordy series needed a more aesthetic shelf choice, so as we go forward with the Dresden Files, the photos are gonna be on the black bookshelf.

*Atmosphere*

So, for anyone who is just finding this post, you might want to check out this post for my feelings on Dresden and what my Dresden tragic backstory is, and this post for my overview of Storm Front, because I'm not going to rehash any of that in this post. The TLDR is that I'm working my way through the Dresden Files because until Peace Talks and Battle Ground, I was a megafan and there's a reason for that. These reviews--for want of a better word--are exploring what was good and what were red flags from the get-go. So with the business out of the way, let's talk Fool Moon!

In a classically punny Dresden Files title, this book tells us with its whole chest what this book is going to focus on: Werewolves.

Now, thanks to the excellent work of Red from Overly Sarcastic Productions, I get to link you to this video on werewolves instead of doing a lore overview myself. Many thanks, Red! Butcher manages to really take a ton of different threads of werewolves and gives multiple threads and lore lineages page time. It's actually really cool, because Dresden Files does fantasy lore exceptionally well.

What I also find really fascinating though, is how that fantasy lore is mixed with non-fantasy genres. Let's back up a little and define some parameters and some genre stuff.

The Dresden Files series (particularly the early books) draw from urban fantasy, noir detective fiction, and hard-boiled detective fiction for their genre. And if there was ever a book series that proved that genre is made up and that there are no hard boundaries between genres, this is it. To make it even more interesting, the Dresden Files mix three subgenres. So simply put, urban fnatasy is just putting supernatural elements in a contemporary urban setting. Harry Dresden is a wizard in Chicago. Boom, urban fantasy, done. Noir in general goes back and forth in terms of whether it is a mode (something that defines a mood or tone) or a full-on subgenre, but generally speaking, if we are describing something as noir, we mean that it leans towardds darkness (in both theme and subject matter) and we often mean that is has a mixture of sex and violence. Finally, we have hard-boiled detective fiction, which was traditionally characterized by their antihero protagonists, their corrupt legal systems, and their Prohibition setting. However, the setting and the organized crime antagonists are often negotiable, and the Dresden Files negotiates the hell out of that to have Marcone's organized crime syndicate as well as a few different fantasy factions that function as organized crime if you squint a bit.

To hit all the main points of all three of the subgenres effectively while explaining werewolf lore is really genuinely impressive. That said, the subgenres are what can potentially make Dresden Files hard to read. Noir and hard-boiled detective fiction have misogyny and patriarchy and paternalism and violence against women deeply embedded in them. Kim Delaney is ripped to shreds by a man she is trying to help because Harry gets all paternalistic about his "sometimes apprentice" asking about a type of magic she is absolutely not ready for, and instead of digging into WHY she's asking this, he gatekeeps the information, directly leading to her death. This is steeped in noir and hard-boiled detective fiction generic conventions, and...there's a tendency to sort of write it off as "oh, it's just part of the genre" and just keep reading because the fantasy lore and plot are compelling. And yeah, I fully excused this stuff in early books for exactly that reason.

But here's the thing: Genres can change. You as author can change them, and we do not have to double down on misogny and violence against women and paternalistc patriarchy. We just don't.

I'm probably not talking enough about the plot and characters, which after the lore are the things that keep you reading the early Dresden Files books, because the first three books are aggressively ok as novels, and four shows an improvement and five is a sharp upswing in quality, but the first three books are...fine. They're fine. They're interesting enough in their lore to keep you reading, and the writing is competent if not as polished and clearly voiced as later books would be. Like genuinely, when I do Dresden rereads, I tend to start at either Death Masks or Dead Beat. And these days I tend to stop at Skin Game, because I will die on the hill that Skin Game is the pinnacle of Dresden.

...And I still didn't manage to get to the characters and plot in that paragraph. Look, we're still very much at the point in the series where Harry and Murphy are carrying the series--although Marcone has also always been a strong character--but we do meet Billy Borden and the Alphas in this book, and they will recur throughout the series and develop in some really interesting and compelling ways.

I think that's where we're going to leave it for this book! I have a hard time recommending Dresden Files these days, but if you want to pick them up, I'm not going to say don't. There are worse things to pick up, and these can be fun, if you're willing to turn off your critical thinking for a few hundred pages.

[sleepnoises]

@geddyqueer so kindly tagged me in a Meme

Last Song: darlingside - my gal, my guy

Last Show: rewatched the first three episodes of our flag means death, which provided one solitary glimpse of taika watiti in his little outfit

Currently Watching: technically as of last week i am halfway through the first episode of interview with the vampire. however smart odds are on more pirates

Currently Reading: just finished the second book in octavia butler's lilith's brood trilogy! finished the first yesterday... entering the butlerzone [weird zone]

Current Obsession: i was traveling around and about over the holidays and got back yesterday so i am obsessed with 1) decluttering my room by building a new shelf for all my sewing nonsense. imagining this shelf, measuring boxes i would put on it, etc is bringing me minutes and minutes of fun. 2) minecraft, which is extremely good for killing time on planes and trains. i do not normally allow myself to play building video games because they take over about 95% of my brain immediately. that said they have added SO many biomes since 2014

tagging @i-like-mountains @digsdigsdigs @dwellington @literarymagpiepie @fortheninth @door @somniens and You, if you would like

[thenexusofsouls]

“No one should be alone on Christmas!” (Leigh to Carl Lucas; Mxrvelouscreations)

@mxrvelouscreations | {I’m setting this after the events of Death Race 3, but in an AU in which something went wrong with the escape plan and Katrina ended up being killed. So now Luke is lonely on Christmas and blaming himself.}

In a dark bar, maybe no one would see his badly scarred face. He remembered back in the old days, when he worked for Markus Kane, going to bars was a regular pastime for him. It was fun... the drinking, the flirting, the raunchy jokes, all of it. Now, it just seemed like Luke was somehow outside of everyone else’s reality. Like he was watching life go by instead of living it. He couldn’t relate to the problems of yuppies or college kids. His were far greater, far more serious. And he couldn’t relate to the happy couples either. His girl had lost her life trying to escape from utter hell, because she’d put her trust in him. Even with all the money he was paid to screw over Niles York, Luke had taken a tiny, crappy apartment in the city, keeping a low profile and just... blending in. Disappearing. He watched people, he didn’t talk to them anymore.

And yet... he didn’t stay home on Christmas. Something drew him out and into the dark of night to see what was open and who was around. Even if he didn’t have anyone to spend Christmas with, he thought that at least surrounding himself with people might help the loneliness... and the guilt. Finding a bar that was actually open on Christmas, he went inside and tried no to draw attention to himself. Sitting at the bar with the couple of other guys who looked like they were already five drinks in seemed like a good idea. Guys like that wouldn’t remember seeing anybody in particular the next day if asked. I’m a free man now, why am I still thinkin’ like a criminal?

He sat down, at least three stools away from anyone else, at the end of the bar and waited to be noticed. In no particular hurry, Luke didn’t bother to flag down the bartender. She was on top of things, though, and noticed him right away. When asked what he wanted, “Whiskey. Top shelf,” was his simple response. He could certainly afford it. In fact, he put the money on the bar already, just in case she looked at him and saw a deadbeat who might try to skip out on the tab. When she asked if he was waiting for anyone else to show up, he shook his head. “It’s just me,” he said rather unceremoniously. He expected that to be the end of it, but then she said that no one should be alone on Christmas, and he couldn’t help but look at her.

“Really? Is that right?” he said softly. Sipping his drink he shrugged a little in an exhausted sort of way. “You’d be surprised. There’s a lotta people who actually deserve to be.” Like me, he thought, but he didn’t bother to add that. This woman didn’t want to hear his problems, she was just doing her job.

[randomoranges]

I posted 1,426 times in 2022

141 posts created (10%)

1,285 posts reblogged (90%)

Blogs I reblogged the most:

@annundriel

@anthonyandaziraphale

@standardizedbogey

@thisnameisquitequeer

@wrathofthestag

I tagged 815 of my posts in 2022

Only 43% of my posts had no tags

#our flag means death - 301 posts

#étienne maisonneuve - 124 posts

#pc: montreal - 122 posts

#edward murphy - 90 posts

#pc: edmonton - 90 posts

#fic - 62 posts

#good omens - 55 posts

#au - 52 posts

#k attempts to draw - 49 posts

#art - 44 posts

Longest Tag: 135 characters

#and then cal returns only to find his bf in bed with his worst sworn enemy who is clearly also an assassin plotting to kill his beloved

My Top Posts in 2022:

#5

Yes, the Maisonneuve twins are die hard Backstreet Boys fans

Yes, AJ really did say that at the end of the song

Yes, MTL really did put the Backstreet Boys on the North American map, you're welcome

Yes, B Centre really did give them special Habs jerseys for the encore

Yes, I finally did get to see them perform 20+ yrs later.

10 notes - Posted September 5, 2022

#4

just a little blurb.

teacher au

Sweet Tooth

 Between the two of them, Étienne is the one with the sweet tooth. He likes chocolates and candies and pastries and cookies. For as much as he can go through most of the day without a proper meal, he’ll keep stashes of sweets in his desk drawer and eat them throughout the day. He’s aware that it’s not the best of eating habits, but he also finds it incredibly hard to resist the temptation of sour candies and velvet smooth chocolates and buttery pastries and decadent cookies and such.

 Edward, on the other hand, doesn’t go for that kind of stuff as much. He prefers to make his pastries and cookies – finds that he can duplicate the recipes and save maybe a grand total of fifty-three cents, but he’ll have enjoyed the process. However, he does enjoy the process of baking and if anything, Étienne makes a good tester to have around, even if he is hopeless in the kitchen.

 As it goes, a very popular item to get a teacher during the holidays and even at the end of the school year, is a box of chocolates. There is even a specific brand that markets itself as the perfect gift to say thank you to someone. Étienne, despite being the art teacher, gets his fair share of various chocolates, what with having hundreds of students that he sees over the year. Edward will get more varied presents, but the box of chocolates or sweets or cookies or such will make its way to the pile. Of course, he is always very thankful to the student and makes sure to write a thank you note to the parents. What the student doesn’t need to know is that more often than not, he’ll give the box to Étienne, who will be more than happy to add it to his stash and reserve.

 Edward knows that in the back of the art room, in the storage room, next to the extra paints and above the Bristol boards, there is an entire shelf dedicated to his stashes of sweets.

 He knows, for, on occasion, if the mood strikes him just right, he’ll sneak off to the room and abscond with a candy or chocolate.

 He figures that – they were his first, anyways.

 FIN

10 notes - Posted January 15, 2022

#3

this is an ancient idea.

from rock band au. this takes place yrs later. i am v much aware that i have yet to finish that au and that there are only 2 parts left. shh.

Key Chains

 “I’m home!” Étienne sing songs as he steps into his shared home.

 From further inside, Edward closes his laptop and pushes back his glasses on the top of his head. He grins to himself and walks over to the entrance to greet his boyfriend.

 “Flight okay?” He asks after they exchange a long hug and one of many kisses. Étienne may have been gone for only a little over two weeks, but it certainly felt like much longer.

 “Uneventful. Boring really. Only got recognised once,” Étienne pouts. Edward laughs and helps him out of his jacket, before hanging it up.

 Normally, he manages to show up partway through a tour, or, if anything, he shows up to the airport to pick Étienne up, but for as much as his work sometimes allows him to be there, there are other times when he can’t follow the band to wherever it is they’re playing next. This had been one of such times and so, Edward had stayed behind, while Étienne had gone on tour with the rest of Les Maisonneuves.

 “More importantly, I got something for you!” Étienne tells him excitedly. Edward goes along, far too used to this strange little ritual of theirs, after so many years, and goes back to sit at the table, while Étienne rummages for whatever it is he has to give him. Edward knows already what it’ll be, but this too is part of their game.

 “Close your eyes,” Étienne warns him and Edward complies.

 For as long as they’ve been dating, Étienne has brought him back two items after every tour. He has a collection of them, by now and Edward treasures each and every one of them.

 When Edward is given the go, he opens his eyes to find a neatly folded concert t-shirt placed in front of him. Edward has one from every tour and they’re used for absolutely everything. Some have turned into pyjamas, others are work shirts for when he has things to do around the house, and there are a few he’ll wear out for a casual ensemble.

 Sometimes, Étienne will even steal one from him, which Edward thinks is hilarious. Étienne defends himself saying that it smells like Edward.

 “Oh, this one’s a nice shade of blue. New colour?” Edward asks as he unfolds the shirt, knowing full well that the second item will be inside of it.

 “Yeah, we wanted an update on t-shirt colours. Figured you’d like the change from the others.”

 Edward nods and as expected, he finds six different key chains, from six different cities inside the shirt, each one of them a place where the band had performed at during their latest tour.

 “Aw, I love these; thanks Sweetheart.” Edward rewards him with a kiss and Étienne beams, utterly pleased with himself.

 It started during Étienne’s first tour shortly after they’d started dating. Due to the health restrictions, Edward hadn’t been able to tag along and so, late one night, as they’d been on a video call, Étienne had asked Edward if there was something he could bring him back.

 There wasn’t anything that Edward needed, but Étienne had insisted, and so, in the end, Edward had asked him for a keychain, just to get Étienne off his case.

 Of course, Edward had failed to take into consideration the fact that Étienne never backed away from an opportunity to pull one on him. Therefore, when he’d returned from his tour, Étienne had brought him a keychain from each of the cities he’d played in.

 They weren’t fancy key chains, or even pretty ones. They were slightly tacky, this side of gaudy, but it became a thing – their thing, and soon enough, Edward found himself with a collection of them. Each one had the name of the city, sometimes there were other little ornaments on the ring, and – Edward cherished each and every one.

 When it got to the point that he had amassed quite the collection, Edward made himself a corkboard on which he put up the different key chains. First, there was the one at home, for his home office, then there was the one for his work office.

 “You know, at this rate, I’m going to need another board.” Edward remarks as he observes each keychain in turn. They’re just as spectacularly tacky and gaudy as all the rest and he loves each and every one.

 “Well, you don’t have a board back at our place in Montréal, so, that’s an option.”

 It’s crazy to think that Étienne’s original Montréal place is now their place, but then again – the same can be said about their place here in Edmonton.

 “It’s a good thing the band is still touring, in that case.”

 Étienne grins at the comment and Edward invites his partner to tell him more about his latest tour, even if he’s heard the main points of it over their many calls and text exchanges.

 FIN

11 notes - Posted August 21, 2022

#2

St-Étienne du Bagel

There's a new giant ring downtown.

I had fun taking silly selfies.

I had to then draw this.

11 notes - Posted July 3, 2022

My #1 post of 2022

'Tis the season, 2022 edition

358 notes - Posted October 24, 2022

Get your Tumblr 2022 Year in Review →

[returntosaturn271995]

Thursday, December 28th: Winter Cleaning

Whew. Day 2 and I decided before unpacking into my home, I first had to clear old crap out of it. I am the opposite of a hoarder, I like removing old shit and some "still good" shit whenever I can.

Liberating as hell.

Reading:

"You are more than you think you are" by Kimberly Snyder

I'm expanding my meditation knowledge into breathwork and vitality. Some of it feels woo-woo, and some of it feels inauthentic (the author has a skincare line and I did a mirror meditation where I was supposed to ignore all supposed flaws of the body). But there are good practical meditative tricks in there too. I plan to make my own version of a shrine by buying a portrait of Dolly Parton for shits and giggles.

Quietly Hostile by Samantha Irby

Her humor style is amazing. I consider it a primer on my stand-up and one of the easier books I'm trying to tackle in January.

Writing:

Here I am. Some days a journal entry is as far as I go. Still kind of amazing how regularly I write though, eh?

Cooking:

Crispy prosciutto and lemon-pesto pasta with broccoli and parmesan

The new knives rock! I forgot how pleasing cooking with good knives is!

Also went to the grocery instead of ordering food. That's basically one of Hercules's trials for me.

Political Awareness:

I learned (via podcast) about Franca Viola, the first Italian woman in 1960s Italy to refuse to marry her rapist, and the ending of "rehabilitation marriages". Additionally, Vincent Chin, whose murder led to the first Asian-American court case about a hate crime in the 1980s. Chilling how recent so much social progress actually is, but there are more inspiring people than evil people in the world.

Loving Relationships:

Today I'm grateful for Mom, Hannah, Makenna, Nate, and Kiera. <3.

Getting outside:

Walked to get groceries and back. Bumped into my street's newest poodle puppy and an Old English bulldog.

Dressing with Style:

Removed one-fourth of my clothing in a massive closet sweep and donated/sold it at Buffalo Exchange. Only keeping/purchasing beautiful fitting, classic pieces moving forward.

Current outfit: White Paris sweats, fitted black tank top, ponytail, black headband

Cleaning:

What the fuck didn't I clean?

Removed old stackable drawers

Organized and threw out undesirable everything: from socks to underwear to shoes to dresses to jeans to sweats

4 loads of laundry, washed, dried, and hung up or folded

Vacuumed room and charged vacuum

Washed and put away dishes from dinner

Took out trash and recycling

Full set of fresh bedding

Wiped down kitchen counters, stove, and inside of dresser drawer

Cleaned out fridge and stocked it with groceries

Organized shelf above bed and lit a TJ's apple candle

Annnnnd I still have more tomorrow, but feeling waaay lighter in here.

Yoga:

17 minutes of flexibility stretches where I did notice a marked difference in my legs and hips

Meditation:

A Daily Jay on the six specific kinds of self-care:

Emotional- Therapy, Journaling, Creating Art, Music

Practical- Closet organization, looking up new gyms

Physical- Hydrating constantly with tea, healthy eating, enough sleep, walking in the sunshine, yoga, sunscreen, hygiene

Mental- Reading, studying, crossword puzzles

Social- Setting up dates, called mom, seeing friends this month

Spiritual - Time at the beach, meditation

Something I love about meditation is that it stretches time. If you worry about the future, know that you have an endless present around you if you choose to vertically drop into the moment.

Mindfulness baby!

Content I can't stop thinking about:

Saltburn, Our Flag Means Death

And now it's 10 O'Clock. Productive, healthy, and peaceful.

I'm in the zone.

[meep923]

༻Your Appearance Messed Me Up(yuyeon)༺

Chapter 13/25 + bonus chapter

Yuqi's POV

I looked at my watch, it was 10pm. I took my gear and walked out the bathroom. I headed to where the archives were. I heard some ruckus at the other end of the hallway, I suppose it was Qifan distracting the guards. I only had an opening of probably 1 minute. I took out the copy of the boss's fingerprint and successfully unlocked the door. I slipped in.

I looked around quickly finding for shelf 32-7. There were records of the fingerprints of my father and my uncle, apparently, there. I hope I was not too late and my uncle did not change them to his. I quickly flipped through the files. I found it relatively easily, I kept it in my bag and went on to search for shelf 51-3, there were records of the full mission that year. Maybe I could find something useful there. CRASH! I turned around and saw two guards raising their guns and pointing it at me.

"Put down those files or else we will shoot." They warned. I slowly raised up my hands and took of my bag to put the things on the floor. While I was bent down, I took out my gun and shot one of the guards in his knee. I may be scary and ruthless but I am heartless. I turned to the other man. "We need backup on level 18 in the archive room." He sent a message through the walkie talkie. I shot his shoulder and picked up my things and the folder which I packed into my bag. I ran to the nearest window outside the archive room. I pulled a small device and stuck it to the floor. The built in hooks immediately latched onto the floor and I clipped the buckle that was on the string coming out of the device onto my suit.

I jumped out of the window and ran down the building, parallel to the street below. I landed on my feet. I could hear people indistinctly shouting in the lobby of the building. I unlatched the buckle and ran as fast as I could. I heard people running after me. I was certain that they used cars to chase after me. I turned to a dark alley, climbed up the wall and started creeping on the rooftop of the 2-storey flats. I jumped off of the roof at the other side when I reached the place where I stored my things. I carefully avoided all the security cameras and retrieved my things. I changed out of suit and placed everything in to the bag I had originally brought to China from Korea.

I went back to the apartment, placed my weapons under the floorboard, left the keys and Lucas's credit card on the table. Then I left for the airport. I logged onto the company's hidden website and took down the date of my mother's death and saved the photo on my laptop. I then went on an incognito tab to find the video and saved it to my desktop. After that, I turned on flight mode on it and went into the boarding gate.

1:30am - Song mansion

"What?! You let a damn woman steal files from the archive room? You had men! Men! Cars too! And you could not catch her?! You useless bastards! Which files are missing?" Mr Song slammed his fist on the mahogany wood table. He was sitting at his seat in his office, there were two men cowering in front of him.

"We... we are sorry-" One of them stumbled.

"Sorry doesn't cut it, Ming!" Mr Song boomed.

"Boss, the files taken were regarding to the mission you went on in Korea 5 years ago. There was also one with the details of your fingerprint... and that of your deceased brother's." Mr Song's assistant rushed in.

"That fucking woman. What does she want?" Mr Song cursed.

2 hours, 30 minutes later

I landed in Seoul International Airport. I did not have cash on me so I might have to get a taxi to drop me off and I rush up to get cash. I flagged down a taxi that was waiting outside the arrival hall. The driver was kind enough to drop me off at the entrance of the building that I had rented an apartment in, I left my bag in his car and ran up the stairs to get cash. I grabbed my wallet and ran out of the apartment. I took my stuff and paid the driver. 

I walked into the apartment and saw Soyeon on the couch with a computer and some recording devices in front of her. She must like music producing. I thought to myself. I felt a wave of guilt wash over me. If only I did not go into that convenience store that day. Maybe she would not be involved in all this crap and would have a normal life, pursuing her career. 

I went back to my room and found my phone. I picked it up and powered it on. I saw messages that were left unread. Some from Shuhua while others from Minnie. I chose to open Minnie's first, Shuhua's could wait.

minnie

hey, where r u

we need to meet

hello?

r u there?

yuqi?

yuqi

sorry, i had something on

can we meet now?

read 4:50

minnie

got it

send me ur address

I texted her the address, took my bag and went downstairs.

Soyeon's POV

"Hey, where've you been this week?" I asked when I saw Yuqi walk out of her room.

"My own things. I have things to do." Yuqi replied. She seemed anxious to go out.

"What are you going out for then?" I asked. I did not know what came over me. I just wanted to know what she was doing.

"Personal things." She muttered and went out. I was still curious of what she was doing, but I think I was being a little intrusive. Maybe, just maybe, I was jealous that she was somewhere with someone else, someone that wanted her love. I went back to the kitchen to get my cup of coffee. I was just looking out of the window when I saw a car pull up in front of Yuqi. A woman, the detective that was investigating on the scene a few months back, came out of the car. She held the car door for Yuqi. The latter sat down in the seat and soon enough, the car drove off.

What were they doing? I wondered. I could not help but feel scared. I knew that she was a detective, what if she found out that Yuqi was the one that killed the men? The car vanished into the throng of some cars that were already on the street. I was really worried. I prayed that she would be able to get back, innocent to the eyes of the police.

[our-flag-means-death-ao3feed]

someone's at the door

by maieuticaa

«Do you want to put it back?» She asked him, almost whispering. He’d not gone back to his room in years, he couldn’t before, it had been too much. It was still too much; it felt like bringing flowers to someone’s resting place, even though there was no closure in the act and there couldn’t be. That’s why he decided to accept, to bring the vase with the tulips back to the shelf in his room, as much as it was painful, it still wasn’t a tomb. He couldn’t decide whether he preferred it to be or not.

-

«Hey Ed, » he said, voice so low only a ghost would hear. «I brought your mum some flowers, »

 Or: Ed is missing because of reasons you will find out, Stede is sad because Ed is missing, Ed's mum is sad, and Fate has something to say about it!

Words: 2917, Chapters: 1/1, Language: English

Fandoms: Our Flag Means Death (TV)

Rating: Teen And Up Audiences

Warnings: Major Character Death

Categories: F/M, Gen, M/M

Characters: Blackbeard | Edward Teach, Stede Bonnet, Mother Teach (Our Flag Means Death), Mary Allamby Bonnet, Edward Bonnet | Stede Bonnet's Father

Relationships: Blackbeard | Edward Teach/Stede Bonnet, Mary Allamby Bonnet/Stede Bonnet, Stede Bonnet & Mother Teach (Our Flag Means Death), Edward Bonnet | Stede Bonnet's Father & Stede Bonnet, Blackbeard | Edward Teach & Mother Teach (Our Flag Means Death)

Additional Tags: Angst, Alternate Universe - Reincarnation, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Hopeful Ending, Open to Interpretation, Ambiguous/Open Ending, Bittersweet, Child Loss, Grief/Mourning, I Made Myself Cry, i made a cake be relevant in the multiverse, POV Third Person Omniscient, this one is strange and sad but bear with me, Food as a Metaphor for Love, Baking as Love Language, Blackbeard | Edward Teach Loves Stede Bonnet, Stede Bonnet Loves Blackbeard | Edward Teach, Alternate Universe - Soulmates, Fate & Destiny

source https://archiveofourown.org/works/47197546

[sunderlust]

won't you keep lettin' me love you for a long time (rooster)

masterlist

pairing: rooster x f!reader

synopsis: you drive rooster home after one too many margaritas

warnings: fluff, smidge of angst (mentions of grief, death, bradley losing his parents)

wc: ~2k

note: a wise person - aka may - once told me to never scrap your writing, even if you’ll never use it again. I was gonna backspace the first draft of this - actually wrote it for another angsty Jake what’s new - but then rooster inspiration struck (roospiration, if you will) (actually don’t that just looks like perspiration) (I mean I’d love to have rooster’s sweat- nvm)

sorry long ramble aside here’s something short and sweet after my last angsty fic 💕

“You’re way too good of a friend to me,” Rooster grins sloppily as he slumps over the bartop in front of you. Honestly, he’s pretty lucky they had just wiped down the counter. At any other moment, it’d be sticky with beer and sweet and sour and he’d run the risk of getting a pistachio shell stuck to his mustache.

“Yeah, perhaps I am,” you half-seriously agree with a smile and slide a full glass of ice water towards him, then lean back in your own chair to observe a drunk Rooster trying to manage a few gulps while smiling like a goober at the colorful liquor bottles lined up on the shelf.

The bar’s been long empty, most aviators having taken their leave thirty minutes after the last call. Bradley usually heads out earlier than this - doesn’t like staying out late and messing up his perfectly curated bedtime routine. But tonight was a reunion of sorts with his old classmates, and they went through quite a few margaritas. 

You joined about an hour ago, and Bradley immediately elected to sit with you and engage in wonderfully mindless chit-chat. You’re not complaining at all - every moment you can spend with the gorgeous aviator is a moment to cherish. Plus, it doesn’t hurt to get all the gossip on his current students at TOPGUN - like the three that are involved in a devastating love triangle that’s most definitely exacerbated by Bradley always grouping them - a move he most certainly took out of Pete Mitchell’s book (“They need to focus on the job, not distract themselves with high school theatrics,” he ranted to you earlier).  

“Hold on, wait,” Bradley suddenly says, then springs himself upright and focuses hard on you. “If I squint just right...” he screws up his face, almost going cross-eyed. “I can see two of you!” Bradley’s mustache quirks with his smile, and his entire face lights up like the sun. “Goddamn. What a sight.”

“You’re hammered,” you scoff in an attempt to conceal how much the term of endearment affects you, how it makes your entire body feel warm and tingly because you secretly love it when he’s this open and brazen with you, tossing out flirtatious remarks with no hidden agenda besides trying to put a smile on your face.

“I’m not hammered - they call me Rooster,” he replies breezily and you swat at his shoulder, turning away to hide your smile and raising your other hand to flag someone down to close out Bradley’s tab.

After handing over your card (despite Bradley’s drunken attempts to sway the bartender against letting you pay) - you finally stand up. “Need a lift back home?” you ask him with a teasing lilt to your voice. It’s a rhetorical question - he’s got no other way home besides an overpriced Uber - but he still hums thoughtfully. Slowly, he lifts his head and surveys you while drumming his fingers on the wood.

“I.... think that would be best,” he declares, determinedly slapping the counter and attempting to slide off the barstool in a suave manner - it looks more like Bambi on ice, but you can’t deny that it’s still incredibly endearing. He looks up to flash a brilliant, a bit lopsided smile at you. “I’ll see if ‘Nix can pick me up early to grab my car in the morning.”

You laugh, slide your purse off from the back of the chair, and think to yourself about how he’ll have to find out for himself tomorrow that he didn’t even drive here.

--

Your car rolls to a stop right outside a quaint, one-story bungalow, and you shift into park before unlocking the door and sitting patiently. Bradley’s quiet - as he’d been the entire ride home - and you chance a brief look at him. He’s sitting up, now looking straight back at you with an unreadable expression on his face. Evidently, there are one too many thoughts running around in his tequila-addled brain.

“You okay?” you ask him, eyes seeking out his in the darkness of one AM.

A few seconds of silence roll by, each ticking louder with your beating heart. “Yeah,” he breathes out. “Think I may have had a bit too much.” 

“I’ll say,” you snort. “You didn’t even say anything when someone queued up Foghat earlier.”

“Fuck Foghat,” Bradley groans out and leans back against the headrest. “And fuck Jake for ruining a perfectly decent song.” 

You hum reassuringly and eye his dark figure carefully, watch the shadow of his chest rise and fall steadily, and find yourself matching his breathing. “You sure you’re alright?” 

His head lolls to the side as he appraises you. Finally, he lets out a long sigh. “Yeah, I just...” he trails off, fingers tapping mindlessly on the console. “You’re my best friend,” he says at last. “And you’re so... good” 

Bradley shifts into the tiniest sliver of light, eyes glinting with the reflection of the street lamp glowing outside. You hold your breath, not sure if he can even see you or what he means by it, or what will come out of his mouth. “You’re so kind and good to everyone. Even me. And I don’t deserve it. Don’t deserve you,” he says with so much sincerity your heart breaks at him thinking that he’s not deserving of benevolence, friendship, or even love.

You open your mouth to object, to reassure him that it’s very much the opposite, but he beats you to it with words that make your heart bounce around wildly in your chest, yearning to jump right out and press up against his. “I wish my mom and dad got to meet you.”

It punches all the air out of you, and you just sit and look at him solemnly, somehow at a loss for words. 

Bradley has carried grief with him since he was four years old. One day, he’s learning about all the different species of dinosaurs from a book his uncle had gifted him, and the next day, he finds out that his dad won’t be coming home, and he’s discovered something new - a little thing called loss. And years later, loss greets him once again with a bittersweet kiss on both cheeks as it tears away his loving mother and his traitorous Uncle Pete. And for some time, it’s just Bradley and his grief, the dynamic duo, a force to be reckoned with as he swears to uphold his father’s legacy, to make Carole and Goose proud (even Maverick, on a subatomic level). 

You know some time back, he figured out why Mav pulled his papers - to appease Carole, sweet Carole, who didn’t want her son to see the same fate as Goose. You know Bradley wonders if his parents would be disappointed in him for still following his dreams. The worst part about losing his parents is that he’ll never know how they’d feel about the man he’s become. It’s especially easy for him to believe he hasn’t done enough. 

“Bradley,“ you start, throat closing up as your mind races, as you search for the right sequence of reassuring words. “I think you deserve the world.” 

You think back to the early days of getting to know him - shortly after you’d moved to San Diego and found him in some dive bar near the ocean. You remember coming back to the bar with your coworkers on Thursday nights, wistfully sending glances his way across the room and trying to muster up the courage to talk to him, ask him to hang back for a drink, ask him if he likes pancakes or waffles in the mornings because you want to know what to make for him after rocking his world (that last sentiment may have been heavily gin-fueled). It was a simple crush at first. 

You recall the day he slid up next to you, bought your next drink, and asked you to join him for a round of darts (which you failed miserably at - somehow it’s much harder in real life than GamePigeon). You remember the laughter, the neverending conversation, the comforting feeling of having a new friend. A great friend - one who always lends a listening ear, makes you laugh until your stomach hurts, who brought you his mom’s famous tomato soup when you got the flu. 

Phoenix says he’s usually stuck in his head and thinks too much - but in the time you’ve known him, he’s never spared a second thought when it comes to you. 

In a rush, you return to the present, where he’s sitting in front of you with glistening eyes and a drunk mouth speaking words you know cross his sober mind every day. His face is crumbling with emotions that he usually keeps under lock and key because he can’t let it get in the way of his job, can’t let it mess him up when he’s flying or teaching. For whatever reason, this is the side of him that he only feels comfortable enough to show you.

Slowly, you reach over the console to interlace your fingers together and pull his hand up to your mouth to press a sweet kiss to the back of it. He squeezes once. “You know that they’re always here,” you tell him. “Every part of them that they’ve given up has made you the wonderful man you are now. In that way, you always have them with you. And they’d be so damn proud of you. I wish I had the chance to meet them, but I know they’d agree.”

He’s nodding his head with your words as if he’s shaking them around his mind in an attempt to instill their meaning. “And...” You press another kiss to the back of his hand. “I’d say you’re my best friend, too,” you say, whispering mock-conspiratorially. 

The grin that slides over his face makes butterflies erupt in your stomach, flying around wildly, completely shredding your intestines but that’s a problem for later because right now Bradley, who has to be the love of your life, is smiling like he just won the lottery, like he’s the luckiest man in the world. Suddenly he’s leaning in, reaching a hand out to brush a piece of loose hair behind your ear and then cup your cheek lovingly, and he’s kissing you like you’re the air he breathes. 

You return with fervor; his mustache scrapes roughly against your nose and you can still taste the cheap sour marg mix on his tongue and you can definitely sense how drunk he is by the lack of coordination he exhibits every time your teeth clash together. But it’s real and raw and beautiful all at once, and he’s kissing you like he did the first time all those years ago, as he did on the beach when you said yes to forever, as he did months ago after you exchanged I do’s in a small but beautiful ceremony. 

You’ll always prefer messy kisses over anything else, and you’ll always love Bradley with his grief wholly and unconditionally. 

Bradley, now seeming to be the slightest bit soberer, breathes in deeply, pulls back slightly, slowly grazes your cheekbone with his thumb as he tries to look at you in the darkness of what must be one-fifteen now. “Thanks,” he says genuinely. Doubt is still festering its prickly self inside him, but he’s grounded now and is comfortably tethered to you. 

“Always,” you promise to your best friend, to your partner, to your husband, then surge forward to press another kiss to his lips before moving to unbuckle his seatbelt. “I love you.” 

“I love you, too,” he replies ardently and pulls you in to kiss your forehead, then turns to fumble for the car handle. He pauses and lowers his head to look out the window where his Bronco is parked right next to yours. “Hold up - I didn’t drive tonight?” 

You stifle a laugh and grab your bag from the back seat. “Think your age is showing, honey.” 

Bradley squawks out in indignation and stutters through a couple of rebuttals before sighing and burying his face in his hands. “I hate this. Why did you let me drink this much?” 

“I showed up later, babe,” you tell him. “Think you can blame Jake for the margs.” 

Another groan sounds out from him. “Of fucking course it’s Jake’s fault.” 

With a little bit of coordinated effort, the two of you manage to walk (stumble, in Bradley’s case) up the stone pathway leading to the front porch, unlock the door, and step into your shared home together. And later that night, you lay down next to a softly snoring Bradley, think about all the moments that brought you to him, and drift away on the feeling of utter devotion. 

[yanderedreaming]

Daddy issues

Pairing: Reader x Step dad Toji Fushiguro.

Warnings: Step dad, manipulation, mentions of cheating and death, daddy kink, smut, dark content, dub-con.

Summary: Your mother marries the man of her dreams. One day she goes on vacation with her friends leaving you, her 19 year old daughter, alone with your step father.

Word Count: 3.2k

MDNI

Your mothers new husband Toji was everything she wanted in a man. According to her, he was a tall hunky beast she could never get enough of, yet he was the perfect husband who was kind and funny. She couldn’t see how Toji was a walking talking red flag, he would ask her for money every now and then, probably taking advantage of the fact that she was a rich widower. He would constantly be out all night and come back drunk to satisfy his urges before leaving once again.

This stuff never bothered you as it was her life, she was used to being walked over by men and it was quite the norm. But the one thing that made you hate him was the way he would look at you and make every effort to touch you when your mother wasn’t looking. Or maybe she was, it wasn’t like she cared anyway.

At first you thought it was an accident when he brushed past you when you were standing in the kitchen, his torso pressed a little too hard against your back, or when he walked in your room without knocking when you had told your mother you were going in for a shower. But things got clearer when you realised it had become an everyday thing, Toji never passed up an opportunity to touch your delicate skin. He would come up behind you when you were stacking the plates and putting them in the top shelf, his chest firmly pressed against your back as he took the plates out of your hands and put them in the shelf instead.

You complained to your mom rather implicitly, not wanting to go into the details but she would always brush you off and tell you, you were imagining things. Even going as far as saying why would he be interested in you when he has me? Yes. Your mother was immature and too full of herself, part of you knew the only reason she kept you around was because you were the one who inherited your fathers wealth, your paternal grandfather made sure of that. You leaving would mean your mother would lose the steady flow of income in her bank account.

You were 19 and still living in your mothers house, well it was yours but you lived with your mother, and her husband Toji. You wanted to leave and get your own place, but your mother wouldn’t allow that. She knew if you started living on your own, she would lose the money she got off of you that funded her expensive shopping sprees paired with the fact that she was still mentally a teenager. Part of you didn’t want to lose the only family member you had left so you opted to stay home and take your classes online, the pandemic really did help you with that.

“I’m going to the Paris for a week!” Your mother chimed, “A shopping trip with the girls is a need at this point!” She was over the moon, the borders had finally opened up and she wasted no time in planning her trip. “That’s great baby. When will you leave?” Toji asked, “Hmm.. tomorrow? I just didn’t want to waste a single day. I got tired of shopping at the same stores in Tokyo.” She said acting as if the pandemic had disrupted her life significantly.

“That’s perfect actually! You deserve this baby. Don’t worry, I’ll take care of everything here. My baby deserves to have the best trip with her girls!” Toji said grabbing your mother by her waist and pulling her close. Hearing Toji’s encouraging words made her all the more excited. “You can’t just leave me here” you exclaimed, mad at your mother for acting like a literal 16 year old. “Oh no! Baby!! Toji’s here! You just focus on your studies! You won’t even realise i’m gone”

Your face turned sour, how could your mother even think of leaving you here with him, after all you’ve told her. Sure, she could ignore everything and tell you you’re paranoid, but isn’t there something inside her that’s telling her leaving her 19 year old daughter alone with a man like Toji is the worst possible idea she could come up with?

“But mom!” You whined, your mother replied, “Y/n! No buts. Don’t you think I deserve a trip after all thats happened?” You sighed in defeat. Nothing you could say could change her mind, you’ll just have to see if you could crash at a friends place.

The day of her flight came and your mother left. You and Toji were standing outside the door, waving your mother goodbye. You didn’t waste a second to run back to your room to grab a duffle bag you had prepared to crash at your friends. Toji just stood there lighting his cigarette as you walked out. “Don’t forget your keys.” He said and you mentally slapped yourself for forgetting to grab them. “Won’t be here to let you back in whenever you plan on getting back” he said exhaling the smoke from the cigarette he had puffed.

Curiosity got the best of you and you asked him where he was going to which he replied, “A week long bender with some old pals. You’ll have the house to yourself so lock up.” He threw the cigarette butt and stepped on it before walking back in. Nodding, you walked over to your car to get to a hotel where you’ll spend the week.

The first 2 days were fun, eating takeout for every meal was nice, but you started to miss your room and the home cooked food you were used to eating. Your stomach couldn’t handle this much takeout and you started regretting your decision to stay at a hotel. You drove back home and saw it was empty, just as Toji had said, and got cooking. This became a daily thing for you, you would come back to cook food, eat it and leave after cleaning up.

It was already day 6 and you decided to check out of your hotel room and go back home, Toji wouldn’t be back till tomorrow afternoon, around the same time as your mom would be back so you didn’t see the problem.

As soon as you got home, you crashed on your bed. The hotel bed was comfortable, yes, but nothing compared to the feeling you felt when you were in your own bed. Slowly you started to drift off to sleep and before you knew it, you were fast asleep

You were a light sleeper and a sudden dip in your bed caused you to wake up. To your horror you saw Toji sitting on the foot of your bed staring at you. You jolted up and grabbed a pillow to throw it at him, he dodged effectively but remained still, not coming close to you. “Get the fuck out of my room!” You screamed at him. “Look. I just want to talk to you.” You interrupted by shouting at him once again, “Y/N ITS ABOUT YOUR DAD. ARE YOU SURE YOU DON’T WANT TO KNOW?” He shouted right back at you, you were started by him raising his voice.

“Just-“ he shut you up by playing an audio recording on his phone. It was your moms voice, you decided to listen in when you heard her take your fathers name. Her recounting the day your father tragically lost his life. She had always told you it was a traffic accident, but the recording said otherwise. “I got involved with the head of this gang, he was hot and i didn’t want to the perfect wife Ken wanted me to be. I thought I could just have a little bit of fun you know.” You never knew your mother cheated on your father, how she would leave you with him at night and go off doing whatever she wanted with all these men made you sick to your stomach.

“Ken found out, and well. He didn’t want Y/n to grow up in a broken home. He lived that life and he said he would do anything to make sure she lived the perfect happy life. He found me at the gang members office and asked me to come back, one thing led to another and one of the boss’s lackeys just shot him.” You let out a sob hearing your mother recall the final moments of your fathers life. His last words to her were, “take care of Y/n.” To think the last thing your father had thought about was a 1 year old you. That he lost his life trying to secure your happiness and your mother was the cause of your misery. She had lied to you your entire life. How could she?

Toji shut off the recording and spoke, “Your mothers mouth can ran a 100 miles an hour when she’s under the influence.” He chuckled lightly before continuing, “your dead father was quite the gentleman. Asked for your mothers hand in marriage and vowed to give the two of you the best life you could imagine. It takes guts to do that when you’re two teenagers trying still in high school. “ Toji scooted a little closer to you, placing a hand on your thigh, rubbing it lightly, “he still stood by your mothers side after getting disowned by his parents. Got 2 jobs and took care of you while your mother ran free.” He said. “Shut. The. Fuck. Up.” You said through gritted teeth. It wasn’t the fact that he was speaking ill of your mother, it was just too much to take in.

“Y/n. I didn’t mean to upset you. Just thought you should know.” He said lightly tapping your thigh before getting up and turning his back to you. “Heck, i’m a shitty father myself, but i would never leave my kid with the person who makes them feel unsafe.” Toji said, adding insult to injury. “But your mom just kept on shutting you up, telling you that you weren’t as hot as her so there was no way I could ever be interested in you.” You lowered your head onto your hand, your forehead resting on your palm as you continued to cry. Everything you had been holding in all this time just came out, all the emotions you had been bottling up, the tough facade you put up all came spilling out.

“My dad. H-he di-died because of. Because of m-me” you said in between sobs, the thoughts of how he wanted to make sure you never had to live the life you were living now came back to you. “Its not your fault.” Toji said sitting back down on the bed, this time right next to you. His hand went to your back and he started rubbing soft circles on it, his other hand went to your chin to raise your face. He looked at you with soft eyes, as if he could feel your pain.

“If anything, its all your mothers fault. Hating you for ruining her life, then being the reason your dad passed away. Bringing in all those men and prioritising them over you. That’s just cruel.” Toji’s words hit you hard, it was true. Your mother had all these new men prancing around your house, she was too busy chasing after these men to take care of you. She was the reason your childhood had been taken away from you, forcing yourself to mature quickly and take care of your own self.

“Even now. She prioritised me over you.” Each time he spoke, you became increasingly angry at your mother. It was all stuff you felt before, but hearing someone else say it just pissed you off even more. Toji’s hand, that was placed on your chin, moved to wipe the tears off your face a sympathetic look in his eyes as he spoke the next few words. “Your mother cares more about her own self and me as a matter of fact.” he brought his face closer to yours and kissed your forehead, the hand he had placed on your back moved lower till it was at the hem of your tank top, playing with the fabric, his fingers grazing against the skin underneath.

“I can see how upset you are. You know, you could get back at her. Revenge is so satisfying. You’ll be able to get back at her for taking your dear father away from you.” As much as you wanted to smack him for saying such twisted things to you, you kept on repeating the word revenge in your head. You knew what he was getting at, and at this point you didn’t care. You wanted to take away the things she chased after, you wanted her to know how it felt to be cheated on. You wanted her to be in pain for all the pain she caused your father, you wanted nothing but revenge at this point.

Toji was staring intently at you, trying to understand if the words he said affected you at all, not sure if he should say anything more as he could see you were at your tipping point, any further and you might just explode. You moved your hand to his chest and began rubbing it, his chest was rock hard, you knew just how buff this man was, but you were going to see him in all his glory first hand.

You moved your hand to the back of his neck and pulled him closer, covering the rest of the distance with face, kissing him. He was quick to wrap his hands around your waist and slam you to the bed, his hands had a tight grip on you holding you as close as possible, as if he was afraid you would run away. 

Your hands made their way down to the hem of his shirt and pulled it off, you sat up to remove your own tank top, but Toji beat you to it ripping it apart right there and then. His mouth attacked your chest, you undid your bra allowing him to gain access to your breasts. He sucked on them hard, trailing his tongue over your nipple while his hand made its way down to your shorts and in one swift motion they were off. He pressed his clothed erection to your wet core and started grinding against it.

You pulled him off of your chest and brought his mouth to yours, the two of you shared a lustful kiss, nothing romantic about it. You felt yourself get wetter by the second and ran your hands over his back, he was built like a beast, something inside you told you that you might regret everything you’re doing when you’d get to the main course, but you didn’t care. It felt amazing. 

Toji unzipped his pants and slid them off, his free cock now rubbing against your core coating it with your slick. Giving himself two pumps for good measure, he positioned himself in front of your entrance waiting a second or two. You didn’t know if it was his hesitation, or he wanted your express consent. Either way you said, “Are you gonna fuck me or not?” You pulled his hair to make him face you, a smirk appeared on his face as he pushed himself deep inside you. 

You let out a loud moan, not expecting to be filled up like this. You didn’t get the chance to see his cock, but the feeling of it practically rearranging your insides with each thrust told you it was bigger than you’ve ever had. 

Each one of his thrusts felt better than the one before, you couldn’t stop moaning, never wanting it to stop. He was practically ripping you apart, you didn’t even know how you were taking him so well. How you weren’t screaming and crying out of pain by now.

“You like it when daddy fucks you like this?” Toji said in between a moan, the use of the word made you feel a little something inside, this beast of a man ripping you apart, dominating you like you’ve never been before.

“Yes daddy” you said, clenching your walls causing him to let out a loud grunt, “just like that, keep on doing that.” his speed increased, it became hard for you to continue on clenching “you’re so fucking tight.” he moaned in your ear, taking your earlobe in his mouth, swirling his tongue around it. Just as you could feel yourself about to come, Toji pulled out. The feeling of his cock leaving you causing you to frown.

He smirked and flipped you over on your back, spanking your ass and positioning himself at your entrance once again. You pushed yourself back to regain the feeling, allowing him to take back the reins from there.

“Impatient aren’t we?” Toji said his hand rubbing your back, he was taking it slow. Painfully slow, you wanted him to speed up, you were getting frustrated wanting to get back that build up that he took away from you.

“Faster Toji!” you said, “Hmm.. I didn’t hear that what do you want daddy to do?” He asked while he slid his hands down to your hips holding them loosely, you sighed and said, “Fuck me faster, daddy” the grip on your hips tightened, his fingers places on your back dimples and he started pounding into you, your ass felt the impact of his thighs hitting it and you slumped forward desperately trying to hold yourself back up, but the impact of his thrusts didn’t allow you to do so. Your back started to straighten up instinctively perhaps as his size was a little too much for you especially in this position.

He placed one of his feet on your back to arch it back up, and continued on fucking you hard and fast, his gip on your hips made sure you didn’t move too much, and that he could go as deep inside you as he possibly could. Just as you were about to cum, he Toji took his foot off of your back and went back into the position you two were in before.

“its too much, daddy I can’t” you moaned, your eyes rolling to the back of your head as you reach your climax, the feeling of euphoria that over came you was longer than you had ever experienced before. Your legs gave way and you lowered yourself down, he leaned forward, his chest on your bare back and his hands were pulling your ass up slightly and he thrusted into you a few more times before finally coming falling on you completely.

After your mother came back, you made it a point to interact with Toji a little too much for her liking. Passing him smiles, casually brushing up against him, even going as far as leaving your panties in his pockets. Your mother was in denial, she didn’t want to believe what was happening, perhaps living in denial was the best thing for her, because she couldn’t kick you out of your own house nor could she cut you off. She just had to live under the same roof as you, her husband was now spending his nights fucking the living day lights out of her daughter.

[bagginshieldbay]

SAME SCARS

Stede x Izzy x Ed | Our Flag Means Death

Apologies if this seems rushed but I haven't written in six years lmao

Izzy is getting a little bit slow in his older age and it's not working out for his line of work.

Israel Hands wasn't as fast as he used to be.

Probably a bad idea for a man working as protection for Stede Bonnet, appointed by Blackbeard himself. The sappy blond got himself in trouble worse than a teenage boy surrounded by three whorehouses.

Like now, where a Spanish ship somehow caught up with them and decided to take revenge for what Stede's crew did to their sister ship.

"I'm gonna fuckin' kill that twat of a captain!" Izzy growled as he slashed and stabbed at the offending soldiers. Bloodstained his face, his leather snagged and torn by offhand blows.

The Spaniards were growing thin, most lay bleeding in the light-colored deck. Stede will scream when he sees the stains they leave behind. Hell, Izzy didn't even know where that fuckwad of a captain was at the moment. He wanted to feel glad he was free of the idiot, but he caught himself watching and hoping to see Stede's blond curls bouncing around and avoiding getting hurt.

It was when he thought he was fully alone, safe to look for Stede, safe to lower his weapon, when he made the worst mistake he could have ever made.

Israel assumed. He assumed he was alone. He assumed he was safe to look for Stede. He assumed he could lower his weapon.

The sun beat down on Israel, his cheeks were pink with sunburn and he was already exhausted. The ocean roared in his ears, completely drowning out any noise from the ship.

It was too late to defend himself when a final Spaniard jumped down from the upper deck with a vengeance and stabbed Israel in the middle of his stomach. Pain ricocheted all around his body. He thought getting shot in the hip had hurt all those years ago, but this was something else entirely.

"Fuck."

The soldier slowly pulled the dagger out to leave the smaller man to die. The pull was accented by a sickening squelch, Izzy wanted to vomit.

"Unhand him you cur!" a lively voice yelped from behind Izzy.

"Fuuuuuck."

"You won't do shit, Gentleman Pirate," the Spaniard spat.

"I may not, but—!" Stede cut himself off with a scream.

The Spanish soldier dropped in a spray of blood.

"I will." Edward was revealed holding his gun with a terrifying grin as the Spaniard fell. He, too, was covered in blood and glistened with sweat in the sun.

"Aha! The final one is down!" Stede laughed giddily. His hand found Israel's shoulder, shaking him, and Izzy didn't have the energy to yell at him.

"What the fuck were you doing, Iz? Usually, they're dead before Stede can talk," Edward said. Stede nodded quickly in agreement.

Izzy grunted and tried to put more pressure on his wound. His hand was slick with blood when he pulled it back to inspect the damage.

"Is this enough of an excuse?" he asked, showing the bloodstained hand to both captains that were fretting over him. The bloodloss finally got to Izzy and it wasn't long before he hit the deck leaving Edward and Stede to flounder about and figure out what to do.

———

"Izzy... Israel. Dizzy fucking Izzy!"

Israel knew that voice. Calico Jack.

"Ja-Jack?" he cracked out. His voice hurt like he hadn't used it in years.

"You're getting old, fuckface." Calico Jack appeared in front of Izzy. He stood, towering over where the injured lay.

"I'm not. He just fucking surprised me. You're the one getting old."

Jack laughed something haunting, "Sure. First Mate Israel Hands got 'surprised'. Good fucking joke man."

"What do you want from me?"

"I just came to tell you that you're useless now. Edward will see it soon enough. Hell, Stede fucking Bonnet is more useful than you now. At least he can reach the top shelf," Jack sneered, "Soon enough Edward will come crawling back to me. Begging on hands and knees for me to join his fucking crew in replacement of you."

"Shut the fuck up." Izzy hated how his voice shook. "Ed is through with you. Stede threw you off the fucking ship."

"Oh, you know I'll keep coming back, Izzy. I'm always the first choice before you. Don't fuckin forget, the only reason you got first mate was because I was good enough to get my own crew. You never would have been good enough for your own. And now look at you. "

Izzy grunted and clenched his fists. Jack was hitting him with low blow after low blow and it hurt more than his stab wound.

"You are so...fucking...useless...."

It was silent. Calico Jack had faded away and there was nothing left around. Even the sound of the ocean, something that followed Izzy everywhere, was missing.

It didn't last long.

"Israel Hands!" the shrill voice of Israel's mother, Esther, rang out.

Izzy flinched. His mother was never the nicest person ever, especially with Izzy. She called her punishments the 'orders of God'. Effectively pushing her young son away from the protestant religion.

"Mum?"

"God warned me when you were young that I would have to discipline you into being a God-fearing young man. Apparently, I didn't do it enough," she hissed.

"You made me fear you instead!" Izzy replied. "I ran off to become this because of you!"

"You were never good enough, Israel. Your sister was always going to be the favorite and I had to show you one way or another. She was the prized pig. You were always going to be the runt of the litter being sold to the slaughter."

"I tried!" Izzy croaked, "I tried so hard for you to love me and look at where I am now. Dying in a shithole of a ship with a fucking graveyard of a crew."

"God may be an understanding man, but he will never accept a disappointment like you."

"God abandoned me the moment I was born. He didn't fuckin' want me in the first place."

Izzy's mother smiled a sickeningly sweet, too many teeth grin, "I didn't either. Burn in hell, pirate."

It wasn't long after that Izzy fell into a much more peaceful, silent, blackout.

———

It had been weeks since Israel Hands had been stabbed. Thankfully Edward and Stede had been smart enough to patch the wound and keep it clean. Roach helped sew as much as he could, but he was never the master at it and Frenchie vomited when he saw the damage.

But today Izzy was finally waking up.

The grey-haired man grunted quietly, slowly coming to. Hushed voices faded in and out and were more unintelligible than Izzy wanted.

"Ed.....worried about.....you look like shit......it'll be....doing the best we can," Stede's voice drifted in and out.

"But....been there for me....love him...like you..." Ed seemed to reply.

"I do too, but.....figure it out....awake. Sleep. I'll find you if anything changes."

Izzy fully awoke to the sound of retreating footsteps. He grunted in pain and slowly looked around the room. He seemed to be in the captain's quarters, lying snugly on the white silken sheets that Stede so carefully chose.

"God fucking damnit," he croaked out. He tried to turn over to his side but waves of pain crashed through him instead. He would never admit it, but he yelled out in pain.

"No. No...no no-no-no. Oh, Izzy. It's entirely too early for you to move like that," Stede rushed over to the edge of the bed. The blond gingerly sat, blocking Israel's only exit.

Izzy had never heard his name spoken so softly before. He melted. The grey-haired man groaned and went limp, flopping back onto his back and sunk into the feather-filled mattress.

"If you would like, I can help you sit on the side of the bed," Stede said softly.

Izzy hated how soft Stede's voice was. He also hated what he was about to say, "Please..."

Stede grinned and stood up. He held out his hands for Izzy to grab onto. Izzy noticed how soft his hands looked compared to his, ones that have never worked a hard job in their entire life.

Izzy followed his lead. Hand in hand, Stede (who was uncharacteristically strong for being previous gentry) pulled up the smaller man and helped him to the edge of the bed. A slight chill ran down Izzy's spine, the porthole windows were cracked open to let in some fresh air, cooling the sweat on his bare back.

"Oh, dear," Stede said. He looked down at the dressings covering Israel's stomach. "It seems as though it's time for a dressing change."

Izzy looked down. The bandages were yellowed with sweat and blood stained the center a dark crimson. If he didn't want an infection, he definitely needed them cleaned and changed.

Stede turned and fussed about on the other side of the room, humming some sort of sea shanty he had to have heard through Spanish Jackie's pub or even Frenchie.

"How long was I out?" Izzy asked.

"Three weeks...we were worried about you. Roach did his best and my book knowledge helped some, but it was just a waiting game," Stede replied. He turned to look Izzy straight in the eye, "I'm glad you're back, Israel."

Izzy felt pinned by his stare, only broken when Stede turned back around to gather the bandages. He felt as though he wanted to cry. Stupid fucking Stede Bonnet and his stupid fucking kindness making the first mate to Blackbeard soft.

"Alright, my dear. Lucius brought some fresh wrappings on board the last time we were at port. Ed got some salves from Jackie. She wasn't thrilled, but Ed is very persuasive!"

Stede carried on rambling about what all he had while Izzy just stared, open-mouthed and slightly red at the way 'dear' seemed to slip so easily out of Stede Bonnet's mouth.

"You know, I've read very little on medical practices but I'm sure I can figure this out," Stede laughed slightly. Izzy sobered and recognized the nervous energy that seemed to be thrumming just under the blond's skin as he turned to look at his underling.

"Lotta fuckin' trust you have in yourself," Izzy laughed dryly. He hadn't laughed in ages.

Stede startled, but a small smile graced his sun-kissed (and lightly freckled, not that Izzy was looking so close) skin. He turned to collect the small hoard of supplies he had gathered to clean Israel's wounds. As soon as he was done, he turned and kneeled at the bedside.

"Now, this may hurt quite a bit," Stede said just barely above a whisper.

Izzy barely registered what he had said, Stede was just tall enough that the top of his (perfectly curled) hair just brushed the edge of Izzy's nose. It smelled of lavender and chamomile tea, things Izzy was too damaged to keep pure.

Delicate, non-calloused hands slowly started unraveling the stained bandages that protected his wound. Though the hands were soft and tried their best not to hurt the healing tissue, a sharp tug on the final layer caused Izzy to suck in a sharp gasp and grip the sheets as hard as he could.

"Oh, dear. I'm so sorry, Izzy,” Stede looked up with a small grimace.

Israel refused to study the way Stede's eyelashes fluttered every time he blinked. How he had to look out from under them since they were so long. How the lines around his eyes made him seem even kinder and genuine somehow.

"I—" his voice cracked, "I've felt worse. Don't worry."

Stede softened and turned back to what he was doing. The wound seemed much better than the week before. Much less angry and red, there was more healthy tissue growing in and around the entrance. The exit area on Izzy's back still seemed irritated, but with him being on his back for so long it was no wonder.

"Look, Israel," Stede said joyfully. He stood and untucked his shirt, pulling it up just enough to show the scar that had brought him and Blackbeard together, "We have the same scars!"

Israel's eyes widened. He had completely forgotten where Stede had been stabbed and he was right, it was the same area. The only difference was that Stede didn't have the matching exit wound.

Stede kneeled again, "Look, now we finally have something in common."

The two stared at each other. This was one of the rare moments Izzy didn't yell or make a rude comment. He honestly didn't even want to. No one had talked to him, touched him, so softly like this before.

Maybe that's why, without a second's hesitation, he leaned forward and his dry lips locked with Stede's soft ones. His eyes fluttered closed, as did Stede's, as they took each other in and kissed soft yet desperately.

Stede planted a hand firmly into Israel's hair, precisely trimmed fingernails scraping at the latter's scalp making him release the tiniest of noises from the back of his throat.

Izzy didn't know how long they were kissing, but it was long enough to where they had to pull away from each other to breathe, chests heaving with flushed cheeks and pink-tinged lips.

It wasn't until someone cleared their throat at the door that Stede remembered he hadn't shut the door behind Edward when he left.

"You got to him first, that's not fair!" Edward's voice called. He sounded like a toddler that didn't get his way, Stede chuckled.

Izzy was thoroughly confused. Edward and Stede had definitely been a thing for a while and that was not the reaction Iz thought Ed would have. He was thinking more along the lines of castrating Izzy with his own sword or forcing him to eat another toe.

"What?" he rasped.

"Oh, yes," Stede started, "Im sure you're very confused, Israel. Well, Ed and I have both come to realize what we thought was going to make the other uncomfortable. We both, nearly at the same time, fell in love with you."

"Both?" Izzy asked.

Edward strolled up to the bed and sat cross legged on the wooden floor, "Yeah, mate. About a month ago Stede and I blurted out that we thought you were hot at the same time in the middle of sword training. Few talks later and here we are."

Israel blinked slowly at both of them. He wasn't sure what to even say to the two co-captains. Surely, the crew wouldn't take too kindly to Izzy working his way in between the two.

"We would like to ask, if it's okay, if you would like to try us out? All three of us, together. It's okay if you feel uncomfortable Izzy, we understand," Stede asked with a genuine look of interest on his face.

"Or we could forget all this happened and go back to fighting each other with unresolved sexual tension," Ed snorted. Stede elbowed him in the side and he cringed.

"I—" Izzy started. He froze.

Did he want this? He had loved Edward for years and he's finally getting his chance! But there was the part with Stede and they've only really argued. Then again, Izzy is just now having the 'oh my gods it's because I thought he was attractive' moment.

"Yes." He spoke. Before he could even finish weighing the pros and cons, "I would like that. Very much."

Stede broke into a cheery grin and hummed happily. He busied himself with the first aide supplies, nearly knocking it all over, "Of course we have some logistics to go over, but I need to finish wrapping your wound. Do you mind, Izzy?"

Israel shook his head as he sat up straighter for Stede to get a better look at the wound. Ed stood from the floor with a smirk and sat on the bed next to his first mate, throwing an arm over his shoulder and pulling him close.

Stede doused a white cloth with antiseptic. He sniffed it, cringed, and gagged before speaking, "This might hurt, Israel. However, it's beneficial for healing."

"I've felt worse, Bonnet," Israel replied.

"Yes, but—"

Ed interrupted with a smirk, "If it makes you feel better, I can distract him."

Stede nodded once before giving a signal to his other half.

Izzy was in a whirlwind of feelings as Ed took him into a deep kiss, cracked lips on ones glazed with lavender oils. At the same moment, Stede had put the antiseptic on his wound and Izzy definitely hasn't felt anything as bad as that. He definitely needed the distraction.

"All done, my dear!" Stede said cheerfully.

Ed and Izzy broke apart, leaning on each other for support. Izzy held out his hand, which Stede took, and the three of them say in silence for a while.

Israel Hands may be damaged goods, but in this moment he felt whole and unbroken.

[pollyna]

James gifts M's a ceramic bulldog, with a freaking flag on it, after his first mission as an operative. He isn't a Double-Oh yet and he's still part of the navy but M already knows he is going be great, so she asks a favour or two and James ships out and back in forty-eight hours, plus he takes back a damn ceramic bulldog.

M finds a place for that ugly thing on her desk because it's good to remember, to herself and to everyone, she knows damn well what she is doing. It even survives the Silva's attack, among other things, where so many don't, and she takes it home for a little bit, while she writes a letter after another of condolences and organises her husband's funeral too. It's the first time she relocated it. She lets it in written that it's going to be back with James, because she has to remember him, even when she isn't going to be around anymore, that she took the right choice all that years ago choosing him for that job, and for all of them after the first.

It ends in his hands and then between cardboard boxes, travelling from an apartment and a storage space, always labeled as fragile and do not be broken or else. But it never finds a new stable place where James can exhibit it like some incredible kitsch piece of art he paid a large amount of money.

It finds is place of rest, and it sounds almost ironic, in the only place M would have approved. Q has to put it on a shelf neither of his cats would reach and he could look out for it without having to see it every minute. It's not the only thing James leaves him but it's probably the most important. It stays in the same black box he was delivered to James after M's death for almost a month and even after it takes time for Q to look at it without crying or screaming. There's a card with it that says Now this ugly little thing will watch over you in M's calligraphy, followed by It will take care of you, Q. I already missing you.

[vdlest]

2am knock on my door

Characters:

Bucky Barnes x Avenger!Reader

Summary:

After Tony's death, Cap's disappearance, and end of Thanos, everybody go on separate ways to continue their lives. You became alone. But one rainy night, you heard a knock on your door, only to find Bucky Barnes soaking wet outside your apartment. You soon realized that you're not the only person who feels that kind of sadness and loneliness. That makes the two of you.

Warning:

Nothing that I could think of

It is not a secret that after Tony and Nat's death, Cap's disappearance, and your fight with Thanos, everybody go on their separate ways.

Wanda may have experienced a tough time to accept everything that has happened, but she did anyway. She's somewhere out there, preparing herself for the time that she'll be needed to exercise her powers and strength.

Spider-man kept his promise that he'll always be in the neighborhood. He's a full-time student and a full-time Spider-man at the same time. What a great kid.

The Guardians, of course, they are in the galaxy, doing what they have to do, alongside with Thor. They're doing everything in their power to protect the galaxy from going chaotic again.

Sam, as the new Captain America, is having a mission with Torres as they are tracking down the rest of the Flag Smashers. The ex-Winter Soldier, the White Wolf, James Buchanan Barnes, is doing his amendment to those people who are still on his list.

And here you are, all alone in your two-storey apartment. Waiting for the call of mission, and doing some training on the side with Sam and Bucky, when they're not busy of course.

Everyone check-up on each other from time to time. In fact, everyone's planning to have a Christmas party this coming December, but that's too far to be excited about. It's only May for Christ's sake. They are always reminding you that they are always around, for you, no matter how far they are. But you still feel empty and feel lonely.

Steve's not here anymore to have late night talks and coffee with.

Tony's gone for real.

Nat's not coming back and you got to live with that.

You are just with yourself.

But one rainy night, you heard a knock on your door.

You sleepily checked the time on your alarm clock. It was 2 am. 2 in the freaking morning.

You're not the type of person who invites people at your house, especially at this time. So, you questioned yourself as you get up and grab your robe.

"Who could this human being be?" you groaned as you make your way downstairs.

You are too sleepy to open the lights, so you just reached for the nearest lamp and that served as your light. You walk towards the door and removed all the locks that Sam and Bucky installed for you, for your safety.

As soon as you finished unlocking your door, you opened it.

"Barnes?" your eyes widened as your y/e/c eyes traveled to the blue-eyed soldier in front of you, "What on earth are you doing up here at this hour? And why are you showering in the rain?" you asked him.

He is soaking wet because of the rain. He must be riding his motorcyle without any rain coat.

After you questioned him, you realized that the James Buchanan Barnes in front of you right now is different from the James Buchanan Barnes you always interact with. That cocky and naughty James Barnes who always bully Sam when the three of you are together. There's sadness and loneliness in his eyes. Apart from that, you can also sense longingness in him for unknown reason.

"I didn't want to wake you and bother your sleep, but..." he paused for a moment to find the right words to say to you, but he didn't find any lucky, "Anyway, I'll just leave."

Before he could turn his back on you, you grabbed his wrist.

"No, don't go, Barnes."

You have no idea why those words escaped through your mouth. All you know is that you didn't want him to go back to his house and be more miserable and lonely. You didn't want to push him away, as you can already sense that he's not okay. So you decided to ask him to stay since you have a spare room in your apartment.

"I'm not yet asleep when you knocked anyway," you lied to make him feel less guilty for waking you up, "I could use some company."

You and Bucky has been civil and professional with each other. You can call each other friends but you know that there's a borderline between the two of you. But seeing him in front of your house in the middle of the night, there must be something. And maybe it was the time that you and him will finally erase that borderline.

As soon as both of you entered the living room, you asked him to stay there and you quickly get a towel upstairs.

While waiting for you, Bucky roamed his eyes around your living room and he noticed the newly displayed pictures on your wall, which he can clearly see because of the lamp near it.

Your picture. Your picture with your family. Your photo with Steve. Your photo with Wanda and Nat. Your photo with Dr. Banner in a form of green, big guy and with Clint.

But the picture that stunned him was a picture of him and Sam.

As he was about to grab the picture frame, you saw him while you were holding the towel.

You've been unoccupied with the last few weeks, so you decided to have some redecoration on your apartment. You bought new printer and new picture frames. You decided to put the important people in your lives, until you've come to realized that you don't have pictures with Sam and Bucky, and they helped you once in a while.

"Barnes, here's your towel," you said as you walk towards him and handed him the towel.

His stare let go of the pictures and accepted the towel.

You offered him coffee but he refused. You also offered him with water, something to eat or anything, but he refused too. So, to make things not so awkward, you asked him the question you've been meaning to ask him.

"Barnes, wha---"

He cut you off, "Call me by my last name again and I'll leave."

He used the voice that he's using when Sam is annoying him with the use of his redwing. You were stunned when you heard him using that kind of tone to you.

"What do you want me to call you, then?" you confidently asked, trying to hide that you were kind of scared when he used that kind of voice towards you.

"Bucky."

You didn't have the guts to call him that because you once heard him telling Sam that he shouldn't call him Bucky because he's not Steve, so you thought that only close friends and family can call him that.

So you asked yourself, are we that close now?

"I installed your book shelf in your bedroom, I put up your headboard, I even fixed your dresser, and here you are, still calling me Barnes?" he scoffed as he sat down in the couch.

You sat down on the couch across him and cleared your throat, "Okay. So, Bucky, why did you really come here?" you asked.

The sadness and loneliness came back in his eyes as soon as you asked him. All of a sudden he remembered what really pushed him to go in your place.

"Before the Flag Smasher fiasco in New York, Sam advised me about making amendments," he started.

You nodded, "Which I'm already aware."

He glares at you, giving you a look if you want him to finish talking and explaining or you'll conitnue to give comments.

"Anyway, I came to Yori last night and..." he paused for a moment as he look down and avoided your gaze, "...and I told him about what I did to his son. I...I told him that I am the murderer of his son...I was the one who...who," the moment you saw him struggling to continue his story, you immediately stood up and walked towards him, "Fuck!" he hissed and closed his eyes while his palm is already on his face.

You are very much aware of everything that Bucky have been through. You also knew how much he wanted to forget everything he unwillingly do when he was still under Hydra's spell. You saw in him how eager he is to become a better version of himself.

"Bucky, it's not your fault," you said, trying to calm him down.

You were hesitatnt to sit beside him and put your arms around him to comfort him, but you could see that he really needs a friend, and that's the exact reason why he knocked on your door in the middle of the night. He needs a friend and the friend he needs is you.

You squeezed his shoulders as you calm him down.

"You are not the Winter Soldier anymore, Bucky," you reminded him, while waiting for him to meet your gaze.

"Winter Soldier will always be marked as me," he countered.

He finally removes his hands from his face and you saw how red his eyes were. He was holding his tears back.

This is the first time that you actually saw him like this, but your belief and confidence in him and his heart hasn't changed a bit. You've always believed that there's a good person in him despite his dark past. You know for a fact that he's already far from the man he was before. You believe tat one day, people will remember Bucky Barnes as the man who had his redemption by saving people's lives. You believe in him. You have faith in him. And you wanted him to know that.

"Did you know why I chose you and Sam to be my trainor when everybody left?" you asked him.

Of all people, you chose him and Sam.

His blue eyes finally meet with your gaze and he is totally waiting for you to asnwer your own question.

"Because when everybody left, you and Sam constantly checked up on me. When I told everyone that I am moving, you and Sam instantly came to my old place and helped me without asking you to do it. Especially you, Bucky," your hands traveled all the way his knuckles and gave it a squeeze, "I know we're not really that close, we don't tell everything to each other, but every single time we cross paths, you are very concern and you are always taking good care of me as if I'm your sister."

"I don't look at you like that," he suddenly said, stopping you from talking.

Suddenly, his metal arm was already on top your hand, holding it like it's a fragile flower vase.

You waited for him to continue from talking but he was just staring at you. You felt uncomfortable the way he looks at you because you feel butterflies roaming around your stomach so you decided to avoid his gaze and continue on making him feel better.

"As I was saying," you cleared your throat and closed your eyes for a second before you move your eyes back to him again, "Bucky, you should stop letting your past determine what you will be. Steve saw something good in you and that's what we're seeing in you. Unfortunately, you don't see that because you're too busy thinking of what others will think about you and your new life. You should stop that, Bucky. Do this whole thing for yourself, for the people who believe in you and that's us. We're here. I am here."

A small smile came up in his oh-so-perfect lips.

"Thank you," he said while his eyes are pinned on yours.

You looked down and smiled, "It's the least that I could do for the person who fixed almost everything in this apartment of mine."

"Hey, Sam helped too," he said, being too humble to accept the compliment.

He and Sam helped you, but knowing that Bucky have vibranium arms, he's much more help than Sam.

"Well, since only the two of us is here, let's just keep it a secret that you did all the work here," you joked as you moved your eyes back to him, "Just so you know, you are always welcome to come here, Bucky. I could also use a friend sometimes," and when you said that, you suddenly felt loneliness in your heart as well.

All those times that you've been in your bedroom, watching a dumb-romantic movie just because you're bored, the times when you had to eat breakfast, lunch, dinner and even midnight snack alone, because no one's around to accompany you. And you don't want to oblige everyone to accompany you 24/7 since everyone has their own lives to fix and run.

You were too shy to tell Bucky about how welcome you are for him, however, you're not too proud to seek new friendships.

"And just so you know too, I'm here," he said as he gave your cheeks a caress. "And I don't want you to think that I only see you as a sister or what, because you're not."

Your brows formed a frown when you heard what he said.

"Just don't, okay?"

You gave him a nod and a smile, even though you are completely puzzled with what he said.