#why do they keep coming back i only regurgitate what they said in an even more long winded way what is Their Goal

[thesherrinfordfacility]

LWA: Some more idle thoughts about narrative construction and both seasons, prompted by your reflections about AWCW's inability to see consequences and Aziraphale's already-vivid awareness of them.

Crowley's and Aziraphale's pre-Fall selves are already set into their post-Fall approaches to consequences. Aziraphale, given adequate data, is very good at predicting the most plausible consequences of any given action; unfortunately, he's also very good at predicting consequences when he only thinks he has adequate data, which leads to repeated disasters (both the 1862 fight and the end of s2ep6 being the most obvious examples). It's not an accident that he's good at interpreting prophecy. It may also explain the weird Jane Austen misreading, which has nothing to do with how Aziraphale fell in love (past) but everything to do with constructing an iron-clad narrative in which there's a definite, logical romantic outcome (future). AWCW is politically naive, but fallen Crowley /still/ can't predict what ought to be the completely logical consequences of his actions. (Hence perhaps his own misreading of Richard Curtis, which mistakes the climax of a romcom for its inception.) S1ep1 keeps coming back to the fallout of Crowley pitching his stories too well to his demonic audience. He takes down the cell tower and does himself in, turns the M25 into a sigil and both gets trapped on it and temporarily murders an awful lot of people, and...then there's my favorite bugbear. Fans tend to overlook the likely outcome of Aziraphale giving in to Crowley's manipulation and killing the Antichrist, thanks to Madame Tracy stepping in, but beyond the cruelty /this is not something that Aziraphale could have survived/ (figuratively or literally). I was thrown straight out of the S2 episode in which Crowley gives away the entire bodyswap to Gabriel/Jim during his "protective" outburst, because as script-writing goes that there was a decision, but I have to grouchily concede that if Gaiman were to show up and remind me about the child murder business, he would have a point about narrative plausibility.

Crowley genuinely doesn't appear to believe that his relationship with Aziraphale has a developmental narrative. There's no story to be told about it. As I've said here before, his accounts of their relationship do not square either with what's on the screen or with what the actors have said they're playing. For Crowley, they've always been friends, they've always been a couple, they've always had the same kinds of conversations, whereas what's dramatized onscreen is a more heavily-romanticized take on the /book/ narrative, in which they gradually become friends over the course of centuries. There's no sign that /Aziraphale/ believes they've always been friends or a couple, which may be one of the reasons that Crowley's confession doesn't land.* In fact, one of the things that is now starting to bug me is the problem of Aziraphale's relation to Crowley-as-angel, because Aziraphale's problematic assumptions about fallen Crowley's continuity with AWCW (he's not trying to reverse-engineer Crowley, he really believes demon!Crowley effectively still /is/ angel!Crowley, just grumpier) mirror Crowley's refusal to acknowledge that his relationship with Aziraphale has an actual plot.

My take is that Aziraphale could obviously have done a much better job, Crowley-wise, of accepting the Metatron's proposal, but there's nothing to indicate that he could have done anything /else/. It's not just a mirror of Beelzebub's ep1 proposal to Crowley, but a warped mirror, in which the whole point of the "coffee or death" dialogue is that the Metatron is not really offering Aziraphale a choice in the matter.

afternoon LWA, hope you're well!!!✨

i didn't think to look laterally (not to this extent, anyway) at aziraphale and crowley when comparing their pre-fall selves with them later on in the narrative, but that's really fun to consider!!!

i absolutely love this interpretation of aziraphale's inner thought process, because whilst i had never really thought to see aziraphale as having an analytical personality type, he absolutely does; his approach to pretty much anything appears to be very systematic. in fact, im struggling somewhat to think of an instance where im confident that aziraphale reacts completely intuitively... maybe when he squares off against satan (crowley comes up with the time-stop, but where aziraphale chooses to face the devil down feels like he does so without any idea of how it could end)? any other action aziraphale takes, or words he says, feels like they've been very carefully deliberated over before delivery, even if he knows the outcome is going to be... well, shit.

you mention 1862 and ep6 as two examples, but, to me, aziraphale's way of thinking vs crowley's (which i'll come back to) is just encapsulated neatly in the entirety of s1; there are so many examples of where aziraphale consistently reacts to incoming data (when he discovers it or - when he deigns to - when crowley tells him stuff), and acts accordingly, and then immediately cycles back to analysing the result when it doesn't work.

my day-job (GO is practically The Other Job at this point) is largely based around analysis and research, and i regularly use a few thought models (maybe not consciously, but it's second nature at this point) in approach to a problem/question. so looking at the overall context of s1, aziraphale appears to follow a similar process:

scanning (identify the problem: the apocalypse)

analysis (gathering information/data, and identifying mitigating factors or outlying data: e.g. the hellhound conundrum, agnes' prophecy, adam is in tadfield, heaven actively wants the apocalypse)

response (how can the problem/question be addressed, and take into account any extraneous data that may affect the result: e.g. stop the dog, return to tadfield, engage shadwell and the WA, consult a higher authority through the portal, finds a human to 'possess' and get to tadfield)

assessment (the impact of the response, and any splinter effects or conclusions that the response initiated: e.g. realising that they had the wrong boy, identifying the right boy, where the apocalypse would happen, and that he and crowley were alone in stopping it themselves).

the last bit is especially indicative to me of aziraphale being analytical; he hears crowley say that god would not speak to him, but he still tries because it's a viable solution to scrutinise, and when it fails he immediately re-evaluates and then contacts crowley to try out an alternative, and share the information he has, because ultimately crowley ended up - on this count - being correct in his own initial, instinctive assessment.

obviously those phases of problem-solving throughout s1 are non-linear, and instead completely cyclical; aziraphale takes into account different factors and data at individual points in the story, and repeatedly comes up with various options in which to respond to problems as more data materialises - he continuously reassesses. initially, his approach to the problem of armageddon was to Not Act, and allow it to happen, because it was the great plan, and as an angel it was logical to him that whatever god had planned was for the best, was what was always intended, and would only ever be Good because... well, it came from god, right? had he perhaps thought a touch more intuitively, followed his instinct (which is arguably to thwart armageddon, the same conclusion crowley arrived at), he would have probably leapt on the chance to follow crowley's proposal... or possibly even proposed it himself.

but as it stands, he doesn't, and crowley gives him reason after reason to do so. all of this builds as significantly compelling data to aziraphale - to the point that when he's fully analysed (at this point) the potential outcome of Not Acting vs. Acting, he chooses to Act - a conviction that he sticks to. even at the bandstand, he doesnt sway on wanting to stop armageddon, but that the way that crowley proposes they do so not only directly conflicts with aziraphale's moral boundaries (killing a mf child), but also conflicts with aziraphale's sense of logic and reason (running away). and then as a last thought for aziraphale; he goes to instinctively shoot adam when crowley pushes for the last time, and is immediately thwarted by madame tracy - she does it as an emotional, knee-jerk, moral-based, human reaction, "you can't just shoot children!" - but given that that reaction is what aziraphale actually agrees with, it only reinforces that his way of thinking, logically and analytically, is the correct one, just because they happened to arrive at the same conclusion.

but this is where crowley comes in. crowley on the other hand acts very intuitively, instinctively, and i daresay emotionally - his immediate reaction to delivering the antichrist is panic, and to immediately call aziraphale (the narrative at the very least doesn't show any kind of analysis of the issue on crowley's part - would he have arrived at a different response if he had? and plus, as you say, him taking down the phone network was a class A monkey-paw job, well done crowley). but then he goes on to convince aziraphale into stopping armageddon with him (which, admittedly, does work, but only once crowley changes tack, stops invoking the emotional, and instead lays out the logical, does aziraphale agree).

when the issue arises of the hellhound (which, let's reiterate, crowley did not think to tell aziraphale before this point...), and the prospect of their upbringing plan not working because of this, crowley's reflex is to destroy the antichrist completely - but tempt aziraphale into doing it. when aziraphale pushes back on this more resolutely at the bandstand, crowley's immediate instinct is to just run. fair enough, given that crowley ends up being correct that aziraphale's resolution to beseech to heaven will just go ignored, but he similarly doesn't consider that aziraphale needs to test the hypothesis first, engage a more methodical and strategic approach, before resorting to more scorched-earth measures.

but as you say, this definitely harks back to the pre-fall scene. narratively, we still don't have any confirmation on what leads to aziraphale having any concept of punishment, or a sense of consequence; there is no iron-clad context (that I can see anyway!) as to why aziraphale would start to formulate this rationale - that asking questions might lead to a larger, damning (ha) consequence - when we can only surmise up until this point that angels would consider their creator as benevolent and omniscient.

AWCW presumably doesn't mean anything nefarious behind his questions (i think that can be reliably interpreted from his behaviour and delivery), so why would god ever punish him? this is beside the point, however; in any case, crowley tends to rush to a response, to act, without stopping to consider other factors, other data, and the potential consequences. in the pre-fall scene, if he had acknowledged the warning, the 'data', as it were, that aziraphale was giving to him (that something could go wrong if he continue the path he's walking), he might have arrived at the same action but with considerably more caution, and potentially prevented what happened to him (which, in contextual hindsight, is not necessarily a good thing). we don't have the full narrative yet to tell us what exactly happened during AWCW's fall, but it does seem like crowley is a chronic case of "fuck around - find out."

in this respect i personally find it entirely in character - and rather in-keeping with crowley's overall narrative in both s1 and s2 - that crowley reveals the ruse of the bodyswap in s2; he's not thinking about the consequences that it could have, but thinking entirely based on instinct. he's not thinking about whether gabriel/jim might remember the information, whether gabriel (regardless of his presumed reformation of character in ep6) might exploit that information, but entirely acting on the emotional wave that gabriel is posing a direct risk to aziraphale's safety and wellbeing. plus, we don't know how long he was sat in justine's restaurant for; it's entirely possible that he was three sheets to the wind by the point aziraphale happens upon him.

once again! not sure i arrived at a point! but i think in hindsight this is a really interesting way to read the final fifteen; it's fairly obvious that crowley is acting and reacting emotionally during the feral domestic, and aziraphale is - as metatron-aziraphale theories are indicating at the moment - acting and reacting based on a conclusion he's arrived at from data we've potentially only partially seen/data hidden in plain sight. but then we switch to aziraphale saying "i need you!", which is a hitherto uncommon emotional outburst from him, and crowley... saying nothing. is that crowley's way of thinking logically, analytically? because anything he says is not going to change the outcome - aziraphale will ascend, he will not, and they will still be apart?

on the note of their relationship, it's a really interesting dynamic - how crowley and aziraphale both see it from their perspectives. on one hand, you have aziraphale that goes from crush, to acquaintance, to confidant, to friend, to best friend and person he's in love with. crowley's perspective is... well, it is the same, right? so why does he retrospectively suggest that it's something that it, by all accounts, wasn't? look, maybe crowley was in love from the wall, immediately fell for aziraphale when he told him about the sword - but that's not what's actually shown in the narrative, to the audience. so... if he did, did he even realise it? is that why he looks back on their history as being something that, as far as shown to the audience, it isn't?

the s1 flashbacks are all shown from aziraphale's perspective (why am i only realising this now) - mesopotamia, golgotha, rome, arthurian england, 1601, 1793, 1827, and 1941 all show aziraphale first. the scenes are all set up with aziraphale opening them. it's only eden, uz, 1862, and 1967 that show crowley first... and all of them are pivotal moments for crowley's character development, as well as the development of their relationship specifically. that they learn to confide in each other, then they learn to trust in each other, then they learn the extent of what they mean to each other, and then they learn (or acknowledge) the danger of them being together.

so actually - does crowley think that there's no plot to their relationship? or is it that by 2023, he counts on the fact that the plot has already happened? that the biggest problem they confronted in his view - the holy water and the breaking away from heaven and hell - has been resolved (see: it hasn't), and that they've now reached the happily ever after? rather than the fact that we are actually only just getting to the climax of their personal story? which is also likely the stage that aziraphale was at by ep5, and is considering that crowley, by the time of the confession, is still a chapter ahead? "you go too fast for me, crowley."

(christ i don't even want to know the word count of this answer)

and this is similar potentially to how aziraphale sees crowley own angel-to-demon-to-just-crowley development; that he thinks that crowley as a person would want to be an angel again, "just like the old times, only even nicer", because why wouldn't he? he's a good and kind person, why wouldn't he want to be restored to the station and to the place that - in aziraphale's view - inherently embodies that? heaven has been corrupted, and he could make a difference, but heaven was always meant to be the place of good... right?

well, once again, aziraphale is without data - he doesn't, presumably, fully understand why crowley couldn't ever become an angel again, couldn't set foot in heaven again (not in that capacity, at least). so the conclusion he draws absolutely misses the mark; thinks this is the long-awaited happily-ever-after for crowley, when actually crowley is perhaps a chapter or two behind. s2 has shown more that crowley is able to somewhat accept that he is a good person, but he still has a way to go before he fully acknowledges it, and reconciles that with the, we can only guess, full circumstances of his fall.

last point - so glad that someone else spotted the mirror of the beelzebub proposal in ep1 to the metatron proposal in ep6; i think i gasped when i realised the implication of that conversation between beelzebub and crowley!!!✨

[aliscntcrres]

task 03 ; the euology

Alison is wearing a simple black dress ... from Prada's Fall 2004 Ready to Wear line. Paired with a simple, light weight, black cardigan. The golden crucifix and Tank Louis Cartier watch she always wears, paired with simple small golden hooped earrings. Sensible black heels. Hair and make up kept simple but elegant. And I know you're all wondering: Benito is not present for the funeral, he's inside the house probably Alison's room enjoying some peace and quiet xx

" I'd like to start by thanking everyone for being here. Coming together on such short notice. As well as Mrs Tristan and her team, all their tireless hard work to put this together in a matter of days. A wildly impressive feat even for the best of the best. "

What the fuck was she doing. A thought that runs constantly through her mind as she stood in front of the crowd of mourners, beside Richard's new grave. Aside from the way she clutched a card in her hands, the quickly written notes upon it, she held herself impeccably well. Like she always did. Politely mingled with guests before the service started, tried to keep an eye on everyone as they faced Richard's death in an undeniable sense– tried to get an idea of what they intended on saying as well, obviously. But she felt insane for it. She felt insane for every conversation she had, every politeness she regurgitated– even the stupid outfit she'd put together. Thank god she was capable of doing what she had to on auto-pilot.

" A man like Richard Woodrow is infinitely rare. To be intelligent and ambitious is one thing. Without them, the career his hard work earned him, many of us may have never crossed paths with him. Certainly we would have never had any of the opportunities he was able to offer us. But to be those things, and then also as kind as Richard was? To have as open a heart as he did? I've never known anyone else even capable of it. And I'm not sure I ever will again, I'm not sure any of us will. "

His name felt like glue and sandpaper in her mouth each time she said it. She knew the formal way she had usually addressed him was entirely inappropriate in this setting. It would be off putting to hear her called him Professor Woodrow and then say the words that were expected of her, and then hear the other wards she spent so much time with share anecdotes and memories of him. But to her? It made her sick to her stomach. That flicker of anger she'd felt when she'd first read Mrs Tristan's letter had been ignored but truthfully it hadn't dimmed. The act she put on so well only fanned the internal fire.

Pause came as she looked at the next note on her card. It told her to share her own anecdote. She'd written down the words 'first meeting' but standing here, staring at those words, feeling the rage burn in her stomach – there was no way. She knew it would make her seem a better person, more relatable, more empathetic. But why did she owe that? Why did she owe it now? So, Alison detoured. If she could escape vulnerability even at a funeral, she might just survive the next few days.

" I won't speak for the others, as you'll hear from them all too. But I can only say how grateful I am for everything he gave me and everything he gave to all of us. From the most basic necessities like a roof over our heads, to education, to health, to confidence, to purpose, to belief in all of us. And to connecting us to one another. "

She could feel her act. Perfectly practised and perfectly in place, it usually felt entirely effortless. Usually it felt real. Her posture, her features, her perfectly calibrated words. Usually her greatest strength, her greatest protection, it felt like her greatest weakness. She wondered if she came across as much of a fraud as she felt. She wondered if she cared what anyone here thought of her. She wondered how much longer the flood gates would hold back the rage and sorrow within her. She wondered how heartless she seemed for not sharing any sort of personal story, no matter how short. She wondered if Professor Woodrow even really liked her, or if she was the start of something that changed when he met Estrella. She wondered it all with a sadness delicately coating her features. Showing that she had the appropriate, solemn feelings about this, but that she was good at holding them back. Exactly what any guest, any of the fellow wards, would expect from her.

" I idolised him endlessly, and I'll miss him dearly. "

[cringefailcabitha]

sorry i dont have tumblr (i only use it to stalk cabby art LOL) and idk if youll answer this but i am known as the cabby yapper by my friends so i wanted to bring this up to someone who thinks about her as deeply as me

do you ever like think about how terrifying mephones plan for a season 4 would have been to cabby specifically? out of all of the final 3 she has been hurt by the game the most (with no closure mind you unlike balloon), i think having to go through everything again would genuinely break her. even if shes less misunderstood the game still puts pressure onto her to be a facts machine, a strategist. when shes literally the kindest person ever, trying to comfort silver (despite his constant mistreatment of her), and sacrificing almost every post merge challenge for the sake of somebody else (i.e giving up her inani-mate for yinyang, sacrificing herself in episode 13 to put herself on the line with yinyang even if she was manipulating them out of obligation, AND EPISODE 15 SHE DEFINITELY WOULD HAVE WON IF SHE HAD USED HER FILES and completely foiling blueberrys plan, but she didnt because she cared about bot)

in the episode when shes reading the file, the screen actually starts shaking a little. implying she was absolutely horrified at what she was reading. and she had every single right, especially considering what shes gone through.

the other thing that’s absolutely insane to me is the fact that this information was conveyed to her via a file. aka her disability aid, something she relies on. that mustve been horrifying to see something so person to her used against her in such a way.

sorry i regurgitated a lot of this info from the shut i put on tiktok. im just genuinely crazy about cabby

ALSO UR A CABTUBE TRUTHER IM LITERALLY SO IN LOVE WITH CABTUBE i am lesbian cabbys number one truther and see her shipped with men far too much. but like i was so hoping test tube would at least apologize or something. it irritates me how they can make one sided silvercandle canon but they cant show us anymore one-sided cabtube. just make her blush or something. but tbh it made me emo when test tube (and pb bc they nodded) oraised cabby, it made me genuinely crazy.

also unshout out to everyone bullying cabby this episode genuinely why were half of them so mean please let silver Die slowly and painfully. also if lifering (i hc him and cabby as father and daughter, like u cannot convince me lifering and floory arent her dads) switched up on cabby i will personally take his soul like the grim reaper he will be seeing these hands.

sorry feel free to ignore this!

-🍭

😭 I was for real thinking about that earlier today like hasn’t she been through enough… Yes Cabby is a very competitive person but after everything that happened to her in this season and the fact that she’s Still in a vulnerable place right now I don’t think she would find it particularly enjoyable to not receive a prize and then immediately be thrust into a new season of competition— and as a team leader, no less.

Test Tube thanking her for apologising was,,, weird to me. I literally rolled my eyes. It gave me the impression that she (and Paintbrush) think Cabby *should* be apologising to everyone for making some of them uncomfortable? And I just don’t agree. As polite as it is, I think it’s way overstating her actions. Like… why is it “right” to apologise to the entire jury for her past behaviour making “some of them uncomfortable” pre episode 7 when she had never even worked with half of them when said behaviour was supposedly occurring? It’s so frustrating to me, like… how much smaller does she have to make herself for them to be satisfied? I don’t get it.

And of course, “making them uncomfortable” thing again comes back to her files. It’s basically impossible for her not to internalise the idea that keeping information is bad because she Might get things wrong (which. Is another thing. As far as we’ve seen, her writing is almost always correct, barring Bot which is an obvious outlier, and erroneously attributing Suitcase turning on her alliance in season 2 to Balloon’s manipulation.) In episode 15 too, aka the worst Test Tube episode to me, she says Cabby thinks everyone is just “what she happened to write down” as if Cabby is careless and doesn’t do her due diligence when writing her files. Which to me directly contradicts her calling Cabby’s Fan file “impeccable” and having “so many notes” back in episode 2?

And as for Test Tube’s assertion that Cabby would turn on her the moment she stopped being useful, and that she treated everyone like chess pieces on her little board, it really felt like her jumping to conclusions because of what happened with Fan. Because she has done that to no other member of the Pinkers. And there is way less manipulation on Cabby’s part in the show than Test Tube’s irritation would have it seem.

I’m not sure if the writers intentions were to make Cabby as manipulative as Silver from the beginning, but if it was and that’s why this is all going on, well. Mission status isn’t exactly a success to me— the only manipulation she does is in episode 2, when she tries to get Bot to vote out Fan (and presumably the rest of the team as well), and episode 7, where she makes a big show of approaching Silver about how it would be better for him to stack the ice cream because, knowing him to be lazy and careless, it would increase the odds of him screwing up the challenge and make it easier to vote him out.

I’m at least relieved that Test Tube seems to have been thinking about things whenever Cabby says something self-effacing or seems to be nice, because it gives me hope that she may finally realise she’s been taking it too far and maybe Cabby will get an apology, but the fact that she’s been just sitting on it for like 3 episodes by now is killing me,

[carsonian]

ignore that silly anon omg! ur rec posts were sooo refreshing, especially bc u weren't necessarily rec'ing obvious authors. i love the way you talk <3 everything u write is so funny, your fic notes are their own delight to read & so many of your fics are lowkey underrated. luv the crack fics and how they still have serious elements. "here i am & here you are" is in my all-time favs and i'm so happy ur on tumblr and in this fandom <3333

Thank you so much ❤️ You're the absolute sweetest and I have no words because you've used all the lovely, heartwrenching ones. BUT! Since you mentioned that "Here I Am & Here You Are" is your favourite, I thought I'd share a coda for the fic that never made it into the fic mostly because I only wrote it two hours back. Also, this one goes out to all the SamBucky fans who were sad that the two didn't get much screen time in the fic!

"We Just Keep Going" on AO3 | 1,829 words | Rated M

"Well, well, well," Bucky propped a hand up against the door. "If it isn't my favourite person with my second least favourite person. A pair, when put together, forming a union so utterly average in my favourites list that it doesn't even warrant the work of accurate ranking."

"Did you run lines for that?" Steve asked.

"You're not very good at math." Tony tilted his head.

"Agh." Bucky wrinkled his nose, "I already hate this sequel. Come on in."

"Sequel?" Steve added as he pushed their suitcases through. Tony trailed behind them, running a hand over the flat tile on the door, a colourful piece that bore the words, "BEARS AHEAD! GRR!" 

"You two. Back together." Bucky shook his head, "can I have it on the record that I don't endorse this?"

"What record?" Tony asked. "What're you even on about? I thought you lost an arm, not your head."

"Wow." Bucky pointed a finger at Tony. "You know, this is why people call you "difficult"."

"Yeah, yeah," Tony said, "how's the new one handling you?"

"I would say like a dream but I don't want to feed your ego, so I'll say like a," Bucky steepled his fingers, metal and human hand making a compelling image when intertwined. Like some harmonic fusion of AI and humanity. Real cyberpunk shit. Bucky exhaled, deciding on, "like a well-constructed reality."

"Okay." Tony drew out the word, "is Chip here?"

"Who?"

"Sam." Steve clarified.

"Oh, haha, Chip 'n Dale, I get it. You think you're funny. Shut the fuck up." Bucky said, no bite to the words. "Yeah, he's around here."

"What a welcome." Tony crossed his arms. "Okay. I'm gonna change, then lay on the couch, drape an arm over my eyes and nap off the jet lag."

"Sure." Bucky shrugged. "Sam's gone to get burgers. Should I wake you then?"

"Steve can wake me then." Tony shot a glare at Bucky. "Since he knows how to do it without totally violating someone."

"It was one time, we were twenty-two, and the ice had all but melted." Bucky protested, quips easy from an argument too often regurgitated, so well-worked that they slipped out easy even after a decade.

Demonstrating that the passage of time didn't necessarily reflect emotional growth, Tony shot Bucky a middle finger. Then, after pointedly waiting for Bucky to point out the bathroom, he took his clothes from the carrier bag and went over to the bathroom. The snick of the lock rang in a final pointed gesture and in the pointed silence afterward, Steve and Bucky met each other's gaze.

"You gonna give your old man a hug or are you too grown up for that kind of thing?" Steve asked.

"What the fuck are you saying?" Bucky made a disgusted sound, "you ever say that to me again, I'm kicking you out, brother or not."

"Alright, tough guy. Come here." Steve urged, bringing Bucky forward and hugging him, taking care to pat him on the back of the flesh shoulder. 

"Y'okay? You all mushy?" Bucky asked into his shoulder, "Tony treating you well?"

"Shuddup." Steve replied good-naturedly, "You run Sam into an early grave yet?"

"He's a slow runner." Bucky seesawed, pulling back to make the gesture.

"Don't I know it." Steve said, "seriously, though. How've you been?"

". . . Better." Bucky admitted, "Not everyday, but, you know. . . a lotta days. It's good. I'm good." 

"That's a solid deal." Steve praised, raising his eyebrows to punctuate the point.

"Ain't it?" Bucky gave a flash of a grin, all young fire and old contentment. 

"I'm glad to hear it, Buck." Steve said, gripping the man's shoulder for a moment, just a brief press, "I really, really am."

"I know, ya big sap." Bucky shrugged the moment off. "How's Tony been? You fucking each other's brains out?"

"Reckon it would take a while to fuck Tony's brains out." Steve pondered, "since he's a genius and all. Lots of brain. . . cells." 

"Okay." Bucky raised his eyes heavenward. "He ain't even that smart. Remember when he thought a carton of milk cost eight bucks?" 

"He's a futurist." Steve said in his defense. "Give it a few years, it probably will."

"Christ alive." Bucky shook his head. "Good thing Sam's only drinking soy and whatnot." 

"Agh, he's converted you?" Steve wrinkled his nose.

"Ye-up." Bucky turned his thumbs inwards, pointing at himself. "Total believer in the soy cream, right here."

"If your mother could see you now, she wouldn't even recognise you." Steve shook his head faux-solemnly.

"Uh, duh. Why'd you think I grew my hair out?" Bucky scritched a finger against his chin. 

"I dunno, to hide your ugly mug?" Steve volleyed. 

"Is that what the scruff on your face is for?" Bucky poked him. "'Cause what's that about?"

"I didn't have time to shave while travelling." Steve said, "I'll shave it off when I shower later. Tony likes me clean-shaven, anyway." 

"Tony likes me clean-shaven, anyway." Bucky mocked in a jeering tone. "Jeez, the two a you are awful."

Steve paused, set his lips in a straight line and said, "'Cause the stubble can be scratchy when I'm rimming him." 

"Eugh. Yuck." Bucky shook his shoulders out. "What the fuck, eugh. Oh god, I'm gonna gag."

"Okay, drama queen." Steve rolled his eyes. He took the pause to push their suitcases up against the wall. Upon turning back, he found Bucky raising an eyebrow at him. 

"That's a homophobic remark." Bucky said.

"You're." Steve ran a hand over his face, "I'm too jet-lagged to listen to you right now."

"Good way to say you can't think of a comeback."

"Don't say comeback, it reminds me of—"

"Blah, blah, blah." Bucky stuck his fingers in his ears, "can't hear you, can't be traumatised by you and Tony." His voice rose higher with the second sentence, and it proved the "losing one sense amplifies the other senses" thing wrong because limiting his hearing was obviously causing an amp up in Bucky's lack of common sense and also, his (already debilitated and clearly debilitating further) sense of humour. 

Thankfully though, it seemed that the universe was immune from the senses thing because it was with an apt sense for timing that the doorbell chose that moment to ring out.

Steve let Bucky continue his immature performance, going up to open the door in the charmless host's stead. 

"Hey!" Sam greeted, takeout bags in both hands, "you're here!"

"Hey Sam," Steve returned, taking the takeout bags from him and moving them to the dining table, "good to see you, man. How've you been?" 

"Great, great." Sam said, "How're you? Travel safe?"

"Yeah, perfectly." Steve said, "Tony's just getting changed. You came back quick, eh?"

"Got lucky with the line." Sam said, "how's—man. What are you doing?"

Bucky took his fingers out of his ears and gave Sam a sheepish smile, "well, well, well." He said faux-menacingly, "if it isn't my least favourite person."

"Don't say that about Steve." Sam sidestepped, "and why're you acting like a child?" Without waiting for an answer, Sam entered the kitchen and the sound of running water followed. 

"FYI, this is why you're Dale in Tony's "Chip 'n Dale" analogy." Steve said. 

"Look at you, bein' such a supportive boyfriend." Bucky said. "Boy oh boy, I best be careful or I'll be out of the running for boyfriend of the year."

The lock of the bathroom door clicked and Tony came out in a grey sweatshirt and trousers. Steve decided to save the fact that they were both Steve's clothing items for later, when Tony was sleepy enough to only notice the reprimand and not how hot Steve got at the sight of it. Tony ran a hand through his hair as he asked, "I heard the door. Sam's here?"

"Kitchen." Steve jutted a thumb out, and Tony headed over to say hi. 

As the two began what sounded like an incredibly mature exchange of greetings, Steve and Bucky shared a short look. 

"We are not the immature ones in our relationship." Bucky insisted, "we are not the "Dale" of the relationship."

"I think they're brothers, anyway." Steve gave an involuntary rictus, "Tony's always multi-tasking when we watch films. It's a problem. I'm working on it."

"Yeah, okay." Bucky sighed. "Hey, Stevie, off the record?"

"The record that doesn't exist?" Steve asked, "that record?"

"The very same." Bucky cleared his throat. "I'm happy you're back together, you know? Real happy. You average each other out."

"In your favourites ranking or in general?" Steve asked. 

"Both, genius." Bucky said. "That's why you two work so well together." 

"Thanks, Bucky." Steve said. "You too, you know?"

"I know." Bucky said, giving him a genuine smile. That, more than anything, made Steve feel properly settled. He was out of business in taking other people's opinions on him and Tony getting back together, but Bucky was definitely the closest to being a person he could trust to know enough to be accurate and honest enough to be truthful. So—the fact that he approved, well. It just mattered.

Sam and Tony walked out of the kitchen, still chatting, with table mats in Sam's hands for the food.

"Hey, Tones." Bucky walked forward, "hey, buddy, come here." 

Tony made an "oof" sort of sound as Bucky came up and hugged him, matter-of-fact about it. The look Tony sent over to Steve over the shoulder was bamboozled. Befuddled. Somewhat begrudged. A tad bemused.

"Hey." Tony said, "you okay?"

"Yeah." Bucky patted him twice on the back and then stepped back. He pointed at Tony with the metal hand and at Steve with the other, "you two break up again, I'm suing you for psychiatric damage."

Tony's finger met Bucky's in a perversion of the E.T. greeting, pushing him back as he said, "Buckaroo, you couldn't afford me."

"Can we continue this over food?" Sam called out, "'cause I didn't wait twenty minutes for cold fast food."

"Sure thing, babe." Bucky grabbed Sam by the scruff of his neck and pulled him in for a tight hug and a peck on the cheek, "there, there. Didn't mean to make you feel left out." 

"I wasn't even—" Sam tried to shrug out the hug for a futile moment before quickly conceding to it, "whatever, okay."

"I don't want to break up," Tony sidled over to Steve, "but I do want to keep up with the psychiatric damage."

"Agree." Steve wrapped an arm around Tony's waist. 

"Should we fuck on his bed?" Tony suggested.

"Sam would suffer too, then, and he doesn't deserve it." Steve said, adding with a thoughtful tone, "let's do it on his old bike."

"We do average out." Tony said, and then, at Steve's startled surprise, "see, I can multi-task."

[admirableadmiranda]

I don't think LXC hated WWX either. But people argue he stopped him from confessing his love for LWJ at the temple. I think he might have been a little embarrassed by WWXs confession and that is why he said it.

Do you think he quietly shipped them in WWXs first life?

People have rather a lot to say about Lan Xichen at the guanyin temple, much of it at this point regurgitated nonsense that completely fails to understand what is going on there because he is currently fandom's favorite villain now that bashing Jiang Yanli has lost its flavor. I'm sure eventually they'll get bored once people realize that the Lan Xichen they're talking about does not actually exist and move onto someone else who apparently is not morally perfect enough for this somehow black and white victim vs villain story.

But enough salt. I am here to be a balanced blog which means I'm going to talk about what he likely feels based on the text we are given.

I do think he is somewhat mortified by Wei Wuxian screaming that he wanted to have sex with Lan Wangji, it is not exactly the sort of thing you can prepare yourself to hear. In addition, while I am all right making somewhat dirty jokes with my family and alluding to the fact that I have a sex life, talking about it frankly in front of people is rather further than I or they would want me to go, which is where Wei Wuxian is starting.

Also note that Wei Wuxian is not actually stopped, they just go in out of the rain, Jin Ling and Lan Xichen give them what privacy they can (people who want to insist that they're being homophobic here can go eat rotten eggs, they are all being held hostage in an open temple with nowhere to go, what else are they supposed to do to convey that Wangxian can have their moment to talk?) and then Wei Wuxian goes right back to telling Lan Wangji that he loves him.

As for your second question, do I think he quietly shipped them in the background? Also nope. He had no idea what was going on. No one did. He only found out when Lan Wangji turned his sword on his own clanmates to protect Wei Wuxian, when Lan Wangji no longer cared about anyone knowing and was willing to kill to keep Wei Wuxian alive.

There is a very strong belief in the fandom that someone must have known that Wangxian had feelings for each other in Wei Wuxian's first life. I see it given to Jiang Yanli, I see it given to Wen Qing, I see it given to Lan Xichen. I'm not sure where it comes from. Even in CQL where they are supposedly good friends in their first life, people still seem to think that they don't actually get along depending on the episode. It is a wholly fanon created thing.

I made a post once calling the juniors the first people to actually see Wangxian as a couple in the novel and my opinion will not budge on that. Everyone assumed something about their feelings that did not match with reality, one of the many themes of assumptions about people's relationships and characters not matching up with reality in the book. No one else knew earlier on that their feelings were reciprocated or in most cases even existed, no one quietly shipped them in the background. Were there no resurrection, Lan Wangji would have likely been assumed to be above relationships with no interests because the one person he ever wanted was dead and gone.

Lan Xichen was not being homophobic or trying to stop Wei Wuxian from confessing in the temple. He was also not shipping Wangxian. He was doing what he consistently does throughout the novel, trying to look out for his little brother, because above all else, he will always choose Lan Wangji first.

Thanks for the ask!

[thecoffeelorian]

Overwatch, Chapter 2

Inspired by ASMR

SFW

Word Count: 1.6k

2 of 5 Chapters

Created for TBBAW 2023 @tbb-appreciation-week

DAY 5: CROSSHAIR

Hiding face in Neck

Characters: Crosshair and Omega, aka You are Omega because the usual 'x reader' tag will not work here.

Tags: Grieving, Smoking

Tag List: @groguandthebadbatch

AO3: Click Here

"...Tech?!"

Instead, you find yourself straight on the border between speaking clearly about everything that took place, about being within tethering distance of him and yet unable to do anything but watch as he let go of the load weighing your squad down, and turning into the same sobbing, shaking mess that you became the moment you learned the truth.

"What happened? Is he safe? Is he all—"

"—He's gone."

Somehow, though, in spite of your pain threatening to spill out of you like it would to any other girl of thirteen cycles...you just barely keep yourself together. The guards here like to punish the ones who protest too loudly, so it's not much of a stretch to figure out what they would do to anybody who bursts into tears and begs for their Sergeants.

What they could easily do to you without a second thought.

This is why you're able to explain to Crosshair exactly what went down on Eriadu with the same level of military bearing you've seen your own Sergeant demonstrate, and hopefully, with the same sort of calm demeanor that won't suggest to anyone you're an easy target.

Wouldn't Hunter be impressed?

Once you've gone past your narrow escape off of that horrible planet and into the ambush on Ord Mantell, though...well, that's when a few tears start slipping down your cheeks, even if you don't make a sound to accompany them. Your sense of shock might have worn off, all right, but the pain probably never will.

"...You're sure?"

"Yes. I heard what he said before he left us. I watched him fall. He's gone, Cross."

There's only silence now, a lack of words between you and Crosshair while the somewhat natural sounds of water dripping from rock faces and the occasional round of footsteps echo in the distance. In a way, it's only fair, because…because silence is a lot better than the two of you arguing, or yelling, or flat out turning your backs on one another.

A lot better than last time, or so you want to believe.

At least, not until you hear the dry sob coming from Crosshair’s direction.

"Well. There goes yet another brave young soldier, marching off into the dark."

Now, there's a stab of pain in your throat that you know didn’t come from any change in temperature, or virus, or strange thing you didn’t normally eat every day. It’s from the hollow sound of your cellmate’s voice as he processes the devastating news, and yet has nothing to offer in response other than regurgitated Republic slogans. Is that really all he has to say about the loss of his own brother…?

"We should all hope for a death as honorable as his...right?"

No.

No, you don't want to think about that now. It's becoming a bit too late for you to concentrate clearly, for you're feeling your mind start to fog up from your own grief. Grief, and fear, and possibly a bit of lasting pain from your injuries on the side.

"Or you could give me a hug."

Instead, you decide to do what you pretty much may have always done since you first left home.

Try to make a connection.

"A what...?"

"A hug, Crosshair. It's what people do to comfort each other when things go wrong."

There's a sigh in the darkness across from you, an image in your own mind of this sniper rolling his eyes at your request...then, you feel the tip of his finger tapping at your arm.

"...Fine. Come on over, I'm just straight ahead."

You feel his hand clasping loosely at your own, a dry, calloused thing that seems to be little else than cold skin and bones—and yet, you're silently glad that it's him, and not one of these 'doctors' or other sad excuses for medical personnel. Better him than just one more stranger who wants to turn you into their next experiment.

"So...like this?"

In fact, though he pulls you in a little closer with some hesitation, you're certainly feeling some relief once you're allowed to hide your face in his neck, even if for just a minute or two. He doesn't smell like antiseptic, at least...not like that Hemlock. You'd be very pleased if you never had to smell antiseptic again. You do, however, smell a little dried sweat, stale smoke, and something metallic coming from him, although you’re not about to make any foolish reactions about it so soon. Truth be told, you’re happier for this small moment of bonding than you are over the concept of ‘personal hygiene’.

"Yep. Not bad for your first try."

"Heh. That’s one thing I’m good at, I suppose. Still…"

That happiness doesn't last very long, though, because the next thing you know, he's nudged you back toward your bunk and back into your own wavering grief. Shame...you were starting to get used to the idea of not mourning Tech all by yourself.

"...We're gonna need some light."

At this same time, he was never one for giant emotional displays, so...perhaps it’s just as well. He’s got to do something important now, anyway, something like...lighting a very small lamp resting somewhere to your right. Is it only to add some light in here, you wonder, or will it bring in a little heat as well? Oh, how you hope that this will be so. You can only handle your own teeth chattering for so long.

"Or, should I say, I'm going to?"

But if that wasn't curious enough for you, then his next action certainly is. Once that lamp is good and flickering, its light spreading quickly across the floor and walls of your cell, he wastes no time in using the open flame upon what you can only describe as a death-stick.

"Surprise. I use them to trade for bread...mostly. The rest of the time, I save them for a little 'alternative medicine'."

It's not the first time you've seen anyone smoke during your travels, for a great many humans and humanoids did just that on Ord Mantell alone. You also saw a few on Coruscant, Bracca, and a few planets you’ve already forgotten the names of take smoke breaks as well, so it’s not exactly out of the ordinary. It is, however, the first time anyone you know decided to light one up, so...maybe that’s why you find yourself turning away from the foul-smelling smoke, not wanting to inhale so much as a single puff.

"Nasty, isn’t it…? Too bad. These count as credits, so you might want to start collecting a few. Who knows when they might be useful?"

"Hunter wouldn't approve."

A weakened, rough round of cold laughter slowly spills out of Crosshair, but not before a quieter round of coughing follows.

"Oh, I don't think Hunter's opinion counts around here, do you? What, is he coming to give us all a lecture?"

"That's not what I meant—"

"—Doesn't matter."

Whatever calm or patience he might have had in his voice before is gone now, and in his place, you almost believe yourself to be looking at the old Crosshair all over again. He certainly was the person you saw back on Kamino, so this version could easily be making a comeback.

"He's not in charge of this room, he's not in command of this floor, and I know he's nowhere close to being in comm range."

He takes a long inhale of the death stick and all of the poisons it holds; then proceeds to breathe out a small curtain of smoke only centimeters from where you're standing. A few seconds later, you're the one who coughs as soon as the smoke reaches your nose and mouth.

"So...why in the world would anyone here, myself included, bother with his stupid little demands?"

You can't answer right away. The strength of the smoke has made your eyes water on the spot, and with it, you almost wonder if it's going to choke you to death.

"Pfff...use that wet rag in the corner. It'll clear your vision."

Vision. Sure. It's almost one big joke that he's bothering to help you with it tonight. Especially since going back to his old habits seems to be a lot easier for him, never mind a bit more enjoyable.

Nevertheless...it works.

Once you’ve taken the rag out of the bowl of water it arrived in—a thing left lying on the floor in place of a sink, though not a very good replacement for a refresher—you’re able to see a bit better without your eyes smarting. As a few seconds gradually tick by, your throat stops itching as much. A shame that rag couldn't help rid you of any bigger problems, such as the amount of guards patrolling the hallway...or, for that matter, your cellmate's attitude.

"I meant I won’t be here long enough to trade anything."

Still, you're not about to fall for his attempts to rile you up. To rephrase the words of a wise sapper, you’re better than that.

"Or for that matter, to take up smoking. Our squad will be here long before then."

" 'Our squad, our squad'...bold words coming from somebody who’s going to be dragged off to Hemlock any day now."

Then again, he’s not exactly backing down against you, either.

In fact, you’re seriously beginning to wonder if he’s merely doing this to liven things up, or stranger still, if he actually wants you to start a fight with him.

"What exactly makes you think you’ll live that long, anyway…? It’s not like you have an arsenal of weapons all to yourself, now, is it?"

Try as he might, though, you're still not going to rise to the bait.

Not when you already know who your real enemies are, and he's no longer on that list.

"No...but I know quite a few Troopers who do."

[mrsgojosatoru]

The funny thing you are missing is Amber Heard is the abuser, she has repeatedly been violent and instigated fights. You can hear in the audio. There’s plenty of evidence. Even before she was with Depp of her violent streak. She also has some mental health issues that have been brought up. She needs to be taking medication for. It’s actually quite disrespectful for her to claim she’s a victim when she’s the one who’s been abusing and being physically violent with people. It’s all just very sad. She even mocked JD saying no one would believe him if he ever tried to come forward. She is only giving a bad rep and making it harder for those who actually go through these kinds of things. She’s been caught in a lie many many times. It’s very obvious that its premeditated.

And JFK is going to come back any day now and put Trump back in his rightful spot in the presidency.

I'm really sorry school has failed you so much that you fell for an online smear campaign without looking at any of the other evidence. You should work on your media literacy skills.

Amber did what is called reactive violence, this is not uncommon in abuse. Amber did not have the power to abuse her older, heterosexual, wealthy, famous husband. An expert witness just testified the other day about this. How much of the trial have you watched? Or are you just regurgitating an a smear campaign from Adam Waldman in my inbox?

Anyways her partner claimed that report was filled due to homophobia.

Amber was diagnosed with BPD and the defunct histrionic personality by a doctor wined and dined by Depp who talked to her for 12 hours. Other doctors have diagnosed her with PTSD and Battered Wife Syndrome. But I should stress even if Amber does have BPD to use that against her as a sign she is an abuser is gross and ableist.

That audio of her "mocking" D*pp is a clip taken out of context and passed around the internet as part of a smear campaign orchestrated by Adam Waldman. (Who btw has ties to Russians oligarchs who likely spread disinformation about the 2016 election.) The clip cuts off before she goes “Because you’re big, you’re bigger and you’re stronger. And so, when I say that I thought that you could kill me, that doesn’t mean you counter with you also lost your own finger. I’m not trying to attack you here. I’m just trying to point out the fact of why I said call 911. Because you had your hands on me after you threw a phone at my face. And it’s got crazy in the past, and I truly thought I need to stop this madness before I get hurt.” 

You're really going to tell me the pictures, witness testimony, videos of johnny breaking stuff, expert testimony on IPV, the fact that johnny just got caught in a lie about his finger yesterday, the misogynistic text messages, and the fact that a judge ruled in the UK that amber was abused all is just what? A lie?

For that to be true, Amber would have had to been plotting this and faking this since she started dating D*pp. Diary entries, emails, text messages, fake photos, getting people who aren't even her friends anymore to keep lying for her. For what? 7 million dollars? When she was entitled to over 30 million? Like what's the pay off? SO she could have people attacking her every single day, calling her a gold digger and a liar and amber turd, and a psychopath. Like what was the fucking benefit to do all that?

For Johnny to have abused her a man with a history of violence would just have to have used his power to abuse his much younger wife.

Amy Dunne isn't real, Harvey Weinstein is.

Anyways get better soon bestie, and brush up on your media literacy skills. Maybe stop getting all your news from tiktok memes. We've got an election coming up in 2 years and at this rate it'll be so easy for Trump to pull another misinformation campaign on ya'll. I mean that's who's pushing all these anti-amber heard stories on social media anyways.

[nahalism]

Hi<3 i struggle a lot with pessimistic, fatalistic thinking (and feeling). I slip very easily in the catastrophic states, a lot of bad things happened in my life for sure both during childhood and adult life but i feel like my brain just keeps expecting that now, that at almost any time something can go wrong, something could blow me and my life apart again. I am always on guard, expecting the worst even if i hope for something good because i cut myself on expecting goodness too many times. Did you ever or maybe still do struggle with being negative in your approach, thoughts, feelings? Maybe know some ways that could lead to deal with it somehow or ideally conquer this. It’s really exhausting to be trapped in this but no matter what i do i am somehow brought back to it. I wish i could feel calm and not on the verge.

sending love 🤍

hey so, this will b another long one. sorry,,,,. i do and have dealt with this. i feel like whenever i move from a fearful place or a 'i lack ... in my life' kind of mentality, i begin looking for solutions, or things and situations in the world, to gauge/affirm my sense of security and identity. if i dont catch that that's what's happening, that quickly escalates into thinking in negative, catastrophic ways, because subconsciously i want to protect myself from perceived danger. howeverr, one of the many issues with that way of thinking is that the danger i put up defences against is perceived, not actual, and since my perception is rooted in fear, my 'instinct' is to react from fear which = impulsivity and either extreme actions taken out of poor judgement. even worse is that operating from an unconscious space where every thought, emotion, and action is a reaction not a response, makes it harder to trace the root of the problem or rectify the negative series of events that has been playing out, so rather than seeing what might be very clear opportunities to resolve the situation, ill revert to habit, and seek out the danger and toxicity that replicates what my subconscious perceives to be a sense of safety or familiarity.

the reason i say all of that because the only solution ive found to anything is a repetition of basically how i respond to all of these asks, and rather than me regurgitate that, i feel like an insight into my pattern might give you more clarity on your own pattern, or make the 'advice' i give specific & directly applicable.

1) you have to get still [usually this kind of thinking is reinforced by cyclical patterns in 1) thought, 2) emotion, then 3) the actualisation of both thought and emotion in an event that validates the initial urge to 'be worried/fatalistic'. if you can create breaks in the experience of those emotions or thoughts by attuning to your present state of being, you can begin to create breaks in that cycle, and allow for clarity, groundedness, or literally any other thought possibility to enter your mind]

2) get to know and accept yourself [dont just get to know your character, or likes and dislikes, but actually observe nature and ground yourself in a knowing of your true role in the wider ecosystem of earth. you need to know who you are so you be anchored, trust in what you know through feeling & not what you know through whats shown to you.l. no matter what comes to pass, you have it within you to overcome it, but if your not tapped in to your own compass, all these thoughts will have power and thus ownership over you.]

3) once you find what you are, move from that space [dont try to share it or bring anyone along for the journey. dont try to make others aware of that space within them. dont try to get anyone to see what you see and affirm it. just stay on your journey, walk it alone whilst you have to, pick yourself back up when you have to, and trust what that process shows you, and who and what it eventually brings to you.]

all of those things are so much easier said than done, but that's why its a practice. each time you fall of and bring yourself back into alignment, a puzzle piece slots into place and those puzzle pieces are pieces of wisdom that eventually accrue and become what allows you to see, understand, move differently and then change your life.

one last thing ill say is, read over your message again. the things ur saying affirm the continuation of a pessimistic cycle & im not saying that to be mean or as a call out, because im sure you explained your feelings the way u did to give me a clear insight into what you feel, however the way you said what you said was very much an indication of the truth you believe about yourself. so keep an eye on your words, because our words betray us. & you may not believe yourself when begin that process of paying attention to what you say, & altering it to be more affirming, but eventually the truth will stick to your ribs and one day you'll have no choice but to believe it cause you will see it for yourself.

final thing. the things that have happened to you always stay with you in some capacity, but just know that they are not hinderances. your experiences will bless you the moment you realise you are the one. & u are the one. sending u my love <3

[lgcjino]

REC: I'M ON A BOAT ! — reflection vlog

he likened the idea of regurgitating the tale of their week on the sea akin to telling his parents how his day went — not that he remembers telling his parents how his day went, ever. but he thought the sentiment should be the same: homely, comfortable, amusing, not missing any detail but leaving out the unseemly parts, appropriate but not too appropriate that it’d come across as boring.

of all things to fluster him, jino did not think a camera and an empty room would do the trick — it almost seemed perverse.

jino fidgets, trying to make himself comfortable in the room, watching as the light on the camera lay blinking — edging him to spill to his heart’s content, daring him to give them something, anything. he licks his lips once, runs a hand through his hair; down his neck, licks his lips twice and strays his gaze.

this was harder than he thought. hadn’t he just told jiah about what he did hours earlier? why did it feel so easy then but feel so hard now?

an uneasy hand waves at the camera, that should be a start, yea?

he clears his throat, scooting to the edge of the chair before finally starting — he wonders just how much footage they’d have to clip from the beginning from his unnecessary stalling.

“it’s been fun,” this he can say truthfully. the entire trip had been like fresh air — especially when the rest of the year he had felt like he'd been submerged underwater. the entire year had been full of foreign schedules, routines and things he had never in his wildest dreams thought of pursuing but the cruise had been a much-needed respite.

(even if much of the cruise had been full of workshops, the change of scenery had helped more than he had initially thought it would)

“i never really thought something like this would come along, you know? i thought being at the company was all work, no play.” he chuckles, the first step to relief as he takes a edge further into the camera’s eye.

“not to say i’m ungrateful for the work, i am — grateful, that is. i’m learning a lot about a lot. it’s been real eye-opening.”

“but man did i miss traveling, usually we’d have taken a family trip — jiah and i with our parents,” unfortunately, since he and jiah 누나 were preoccupied with being trainees under strict obligations, the only family trips they were allowed were trips to their grandparents’ kimbap shop in seoul. “but this is nice too. i was able to go to shanghai disneyland with 누나, too. rode rex’s racer four times. i know, i didn’t puke once.” he smiled as if to say: cool, right?

“the rest of the trip was fun; saw some dope views at the tamatorizaki observatory, too. i think they said tomorrow is the last day so i guess i should end this quick, gotta go get some rest before tomorrow’s early day. breakfast hall opens at 6 and you know me — i’ve got to get some food in to keep my energy up!” he laughs, “if i’m able to, i’ll try to do another update before we disembark, but that’s enough out of me for now. thanks for the opportunity, caps! this trip has been what we really needed, i think — everyone feels a lot more at ease these days.” at least as at ease as being on sea as one could get.

“that’s it for me, for now, moon jino — over and out!” he sends out with a tiny salute and a sly wink before reaching over to shut the camera. the male slinks back into his chair for a moment, a sigh of relief on his lips as he finishes the segment.

[nade2308]

CHICAGO MED RANT!!!

I can't wait for s8 to start, but my hopes in the writers are pretty low atm, so I wrote something my heart desired. And because this got too long to represent the notes in my story, I am posting it separately, as a rant.

A) ANOTHER Pat Halstead scenario. Really? Are we really going with Will might suffer in a similar way his father did and later died as a result from it? This is almost like Cornelius having a heart murmur for years he neglected to treat, at that point I screamed. Pat's mitral valve regurgitation, much? Just please, whatever you do, handle that storyline with care. If Will is going to survive, give us realistic healing process, and maybe some burns/scars as a treat. I believe that Nick can pull off the whumpy parts SO WELL.

B) You cannot convince me that Connor Rhodes would act so worried about Will for him to leave without saying a word to him. You'd be amazed what people do when they are betrayed irl or something truly bad happens. I get it, it was an emotional reaction, but please, I don't think he would have done that as it happened. I had bad things happen in my life, people still betray my trust, yet, I am still here. And even if I leave, it won't be because of that. Granted, my ex girlfriend who killed my father did not cut her throat in front of me, but imho, Connor Rhodes I know and love wouldn't have made a decision like that. Borne out of Impulse and despair and lack of distance between what happened and how he felt about it. Once again, the writers wrote themselves in a corner.

C) Imo, Will Halstead followed Connor Rhodes out of Med in 5x01, the rest is a very long dream.

D) Why do the writers always give Will toxic relationships he gets stuck with? And he keeps chasing something unattainable, because imo he feels like he has to, because otherwise he is not worth it. Absolutely not gonna fly with me.

E) So many missed moments to have Will and Connor share screen time. And this is purely my platonic/friendship brain thinking, I'm not sure the writers would have written a good dynamic if they were together as a couple. Just so many missed moment that could have made a change.

F) Someone on Tumblr said that when Connor left he took Will's last braincell with him. They were right. CONNOR PLEASE COME BACK, AND SET YOUR BOY STRAIGHT, or you know, just set him right.

G) I cannot stop thinking about what happened with Jennifer Baker. And the writers thought that it'd be good thing to give Will a clinical trial storyline and have the worst possible scenarios written for him. I cannot get past that no matter how hard I try.

H) And if by any chance he wasn't convinced Med wasn't the place for him, he should have been when Goodwin blackmailed him like she did, up to the point where he thought it was his own decision if he was in or out + he thought he did it because it is what he always does. Baby, we established in s4 and the Burke storyline: GTFO of undercover work, it always ends up in a mess or trauma.

I) Do not get me started on the trauma and the lack of support system. Because no one believes in this precious sweetheart, no one really cares about him. The only thing they care about is to tell him how good he is when it's convenient for them, and when it'd lead to Will doing something for them because he'll feel wanted and important at that moment. Except maybe Dr. Charles, that guy does feel like he genuinely cares about Will. And Connor, but Connor is not there anymore. I mean, come on, you cannot tell me Jay wouldn't call or text at least once a day to check on him and vice versa. Because he is the only thing left from their family, and it'd be logical to stick together even in the toughest situations. The rest of the time, what everyone does is distrust him, monitor him when he doesn't need that, keep pointing his mistakes and like that's the worst thing ever, and all around it feels like they don't appreciate him right.

J) The conclusion being is:

- Will needs a safety net that consists of at least two reliable friends, more is always better.

- Will needs a healthy relationship (preferably outside of work this time). Someone who will not be a bitch, brat, act entitled and scream and blame him for everything. Someone that will tell Will how things are and will actually love him instead of gaslighting him. Because yes, Natalie was a typical abuser/gaslighter, please don't come to me with the explanation that she has issues too, that she is a woman and that she had the right. No one had the right to do to Will what she did to him. The end. Phillip Davis had no right to say Will ruined Natalie's life in that one scene because it was the other way around.

- Will needs a healthy work environment. If he makes a mistake, talk to him about it, ask him why he did it, INVESTIGATE what caused it. If he doesn't know why, it's fine, even if something undesirable happened. Hazards of the job. He is not a psychopath or a serial killer or anything like it. But even those people have reasons and motives, so please, don't make him the bad guy in any situation always, I am begging.

- Normalize people having friends outside of work. I mean, we have seen friends, family and acquaintances of almost everyone at Med, but they rarely spend time with people that don't work at Med. Tell me about Will's college friend moving back to Chicago, about that one surgeon from NYC that he still keeps in touch, some of the guys from Sudan that finally made it to the states, maybe a baby he helped deliver that's now 4-5 years old and wants to meet him. Give me more Will with kids content because it's adorable and I'm pretty sure I am not the only one craving this.

- Have Will's colleagues stand up for him for once even if he is wrong. Someone really needs to show that boy that he is appreciated and like that, that he has the support from many people and that they would love him be it the wrong or the right thing he did. I screw things up every few days, yet my friends haven't yelled at me like I did the worst possible thing, or told me to get out, only because I made A MISTAKE. It's why it's called a mistake, gee. Granted, it's not the work environment one would face in Will's case, but work is also a relationship. Just be there for Will, people!

And to sum it all up:

GIVE WILL HALSTEAD A BREAK, PEOPLE!

Stronger or weaker person notwithstanding, they would have broken so many times by now if they went through all that Will went through.

Oh and:

P.S. 1: I'll never forgive Goodwin for what she said in 1x18, that the only reason she okayed the offer to Will was because she wanted to see how and when he'll get himself fired. I believe the exact term was how long will it take. Sorry, writers, irl, if my future employer says that, I am out of there the second that is said. No way I am staying to prove someone's point. Besides, if she didn't trust him for him then, then what's the point to get up every day for work when it won't matter to her or anyone? Yes, you will save the lives, but at what cost?

P.S. 2: Connor should have told Will what he did to save his life. It feels to me like that was an important thing to tell someone who is a close friend in the least. Will deserved to know.

P.S. 3: Will Halstead is a precious boy who deserves the world. He needs to be loved, held and cherished. Protect the boy at all costs.

And yes this and much more has been discussed with @thethistlegirl over the course of the last two months and even though she doesn't watch the show, she agrees with me wholeheartedly.

WILL NEEDS TO LEARN THAT HE IS WORTH IT!

I think that's all. For now, lol. We never know when my ranting urges will return.

[pixla]

I think I've already asked, but I forgot, can you do a MadThomas hot? Well hot 🙈

Two fics in two days, never been heard of

Another chance

Mad Thomas x fem!reader

Summary: you and Thomas were childhood friends but drifted apart until the full moon party when he catches you on your way

Warnings: sex (outdoors), swearing, alcoholism, dick Thomas as usual, slight angst, angst to smut (feel free to tell me if there’s anymore)

Word count: 1.5k

You had known Thomas since you and your mother first settled into union, you, only a few years old. The two of you often found yourselves playing games in the grass behind the church or when you became older, playing in the river that neighboured the settlement within the woods.

It was only when he found comfort in ale and beer rather than you. The first time you found him drunken and collapsed on the floor was a few days after your 16th birthday. You were on your way home when you spotted a figure laying still on the ground beside the outhouses. Usually you would assume it to be someone like mr.Fier, but you knew well enough from the size of the man it was not him.

You nudged the shoulder of the man, rolling him onto his back. “Thomas?” You stepped back “what on heavens are you doing?”

The man stirred awake looking up at you through squinted eyes. “Y/N.. you look- you look pretty..” His words were slurred and almost inaudible.

“Thomas. Are you drunk?!” You furrowed your eyebrows looking down at him. “What would your father say! Get up. Now!” You demanded him.

Gripping the wood of the outhouse he tried to steady himself, his drink still in his hand. “Come here.” You sighed, taking his arm over your shoulder. “If anyone sees us, you're dead Thomas.” You whispered trying to lighten the mood.

“Why would that be so bad now?” He tilts his head closer to yours. “Don’t you know, people predict us to be wed.”

Did they really? You had never heard of this. Well of course you heard perhaps the small comment talking of your fondness or one another, but nothing near to the two of you getting married.

Thinking back to it, you probably shouldn’t have said what you had, but in that moment you felt as though you had nothing to lose. So what if he didn’t say what you had hoped, it wasn’t as though he would remember. “And what do you think about this?”

You felt your cheeks flush at the sound of your own words. “Hmm, wouldn’t you like to know, girl.” He leans in, his breath tickling against your neck.

“As if, Thomas-“

“Hey now, don’t be so defensive, if you really want me to be honest, it wouldn’t be my worst choice.”

The moment felt surreal, was this some kind of confession? Either way, there was nothing to stop how giddy you felt, apart from him regurgitating his drinks all over your shoes, that was sort of a mood killer.

—

Unfortunately, that wedding never came, and that drunken state never left.

Everyday walking through union you’d have to face that version of your future that never happened. “Now where are you off to, girl.” Tommy strode up to you, following beside you as you walked. “I’m off to give my mothers gifts to the millers, and you Thomas?” You avoided eye contact.

The man thought for a second. “Nowhere special. Besides, I’m surprised to see that you’ve not been wed yet, such a young and pretty face, put to such a waist.”

“Quit it Thomas.” You spat, quickening your pace as the man's words soon became cruel and condescending as they always did.

“Hey!” He yelled after you, but you gave him no attention back, reaching the miller's house.

—

The full moon party soon approached, only a few hours away, after nightfall. They happened every so often, but you were frilled every time. It was a night where there’s no elders, no union and no morals. It was a time where you were finally free.

Watching out your window, you waited for the sun to finally set and for your family to finally rest.

Finding the time to be appropriate, you dressed yourself with your cloak and fled.

The night spring air was cold to the skin, sending a shiver down your spine as you clutched your cloak tightly around your body.

“Now, where are you off to, girl?” A voice rang out from behind you. Turning, you found yourself face to face with none other than Thomas.

You furrowed your brow glaring at the man. “I could ask you the same thing.” You crossed your arms.

“Fair enough.” The man shrugged resting against the outhouse wall. You noticed the way he was acting was, well, normal. “You’re not drunk?”

He froze. “No..no I’m not, would you prefer me to be?”

Maybe his tone wasn’t just apparent when he was drunk. “I’m glad.” Your voice quietened, your tone more serious. “If only you’d stay like this.”

He scoffed, walking up to you. “Would that keep you happy?” His hand travelled up to your jaw, you not even thinking to stop him.

You felt as your body became hot from the smallest touch. “Yes.” You let out a breathy response.

You watched the moonlight trickle across his features. “Can I kiss you?” He whispered, giving you a small nod in response.

His lips were dry and chapped, but you couldn’t get enough, the feeling intoxicating. You jumped as you felt his hand run down you back, groping your lower half. “Thomas!” You pulled away. “You shouldn’t, we’re in public.”

“Since when has that ever been a problem for you?” Your hand went to slap him but he grabbed your wrist, holding it in the air. “Don’t act like I’m lying.”

“Curse you Thomas, curse you! You said you loved me, yet you left me! All you’ve ever done is hurt me Thomas!”

He paused, letting go of your wrist, a pained expression in his eyes. “I never wanted to hurt you.”

“Well you did.” You say bluntly, your eyes tearing up. “Do you get it now?”

He stepped back looking at you, the realisation of how much damage he really caused hitting him at the sight of tears rolling down your cheeks. His hand reached out to you only for you to step away. “Enough Thomas!” You reached your hand up, finally slapping him across the face, him accepting the act of violence.

Before you could tell again, he grabbed your wrist pulling you close to him, his lips hitting yours. You were angry, but you couldn’t resist. You channeled your frustration into him, kissing him messily.

“You’re insufferable.” You whined into the kiss as his hand reached up pulling your shirt undone. He smirked, his hand travelling down to grab your behind.

You gasped as you felt him pick you up, your legs wrapping around his waist as he slammed you against the back of the outhouse. You felt his hand ride up your thigh, his lips attaching to your neck, pressing not so gentle kisses along your collarbone.

“Thomas.” You breathed out as you felt his hand dive fully under your dress. With one hand, you too reached down, pulling at the man's waistband. “Thomas hurry.” You muttered the man releasing you to undo his belt, throwing it to the ground.

Undoing the button he hitched down his trousers. Eagerly, the man gripped your thigh lifting it, level to his hip. Reaching down, you took him in your hand, aligning him with your entrance. Following your advancement, the man used his spare hand to grab your hip, pushing into you slowly.

“Shit.” Thomas groaned at the sensation, furrowing his eyebrows. “Language.” You let out a breathy laugh. “I doubt those morals overpower the sin we are committing right now.” He lent in kidding you again. “I wish I could’ve given you everything you deserved.” He said in between slow gentle thrusts. “I ruined myself. I ruined you. And I’m so sorry.” He kisses along your jaw.

“Oh, Thomas.” You frowned, rubbing the man's neck. It was hard to forgive him. Everything he had done. It wasn’t something you could just leave in the past, but you were willing to give in for just that moment. “It’s..okay.”

He lifted his head. “I just want another chance.”

You probably shouldn’t have said it but it’s all you could bear to utter. “Okay.”

You felt as the man's pace quickened, his hips rutting against yours. “God Thomas, I’m close.” You whined into the crook of his neck, your nails clawing into his back. “I need it please.” You threw your head back, hitting it against the outhouse wall but all you could think about was Thomas and how he made you feel.

“Don’t worry, me too.” Thomas whispered into your ear placing gentle kisses down your neck as his thrusts hardened.

Rubbing circles into your clit, you felt as you reached your climax, your arms wrapped tightly around Thomas’ neck as you did so. You felt your thighs twitch as he pulled out, him readjusting his pants.

“Y/N”

“Yes?” You looked up, fixing your dress.

“I love you.”

You reached up, placing a small kiss on his lips. “Okay, thomas.”

[trixree]

got any studying tips or study blog recs?

Anon, you have opened one hell of a box with this ask... Do I follow any study blogs? Nope! Do I have study tips? Yes. Yes I mcfucking do. I am the child of a teacher with a bad case of perfectionism and an anxiety disorder. I'm about to graduate with my B.S. in genetics and I'm pursuing a PhD for the purpose of research and teaching in higher ed. I have tips coming out of my fucking ears.

I study very differently for different sorts of evaluations, so my biggest and most important tip for anyone, regardless of what they are studying or why, is:

Adapt your methods to what you are being asked to produce.

I'm going to study differently for a philosophy essay exam than I am for a biology lab practical or a multiple choice chemistry test and that's okay! That's GOOD, even! Different kinds of learning support different sorts of outcomes. If I spend all my study time explaining concepts to others without looking at any notes, I'll likely perform very well on an essay exam that asks me to explain concepts in writing. But if I study for a multiple choice test in the same way, I'm not going to do as well because different types of evaluations evaluate different skills.

Below the cut, here are the ways that I study for different kinds of evaluations (with examples!) as well as general tips that I've found helpful throughout my academic career.

1. Problem-Solving (Examples: Math, Calculus, Physics Chemistry, Statistics, etc.)

HOW I STUDY: practice practice practice! Practice is key. Start by identifying the types of questions you will be asked to solve on your exam. I don't mean "will these be multiple choice or short answer" but "what is the process I'm being asked to demonstrate that I can do?" Get super comfortable doing those things. Do them over and over again until doing them is second-nature. This will both (a) make you better at doing them and (b) make you comfortable with them. If you're like me, the later is super duper important because you're liable to see something you aren't comfy with on an exam and immediately panic, sob, vomit, and piss yourself in anxiety and despair. You are much less likely to do these things if you are confident that you know your shit.

Keep getting them wrong and not sure why? For STEM subjects, Khan Academy is a great resource. I've used them in the past for some refresher math, some calc, chemistry, and physics... They usually have video tutorials that walk you through common types of problems. Here's a sampling of some of the courses they have available, for FREE:

Or, check out your university's learning resource center (or whatever it might be called: student support services, tutoring services, etc). Almost every college has them and they are staffed by other, more senior students that are getting paid for the express purpose of helping you learn how to do things better. Sometimes, they are even given material from your courses to inform their tutoring.

I was a FREQUENT FLYER of my university's chemistry resource center my freshman and sophmore years... The staff knew me by name. It was an invaluable resource and is the SOLE REASON I passed organic chemistry.

2. Regurgitation of Facts (Examples: this can be literally anything from geography to immunology; many instructors test like this)

HOW I STUDY: This is the most annoying kind of evaluation altogether, in my opinion. Not only because studies have found that asking students to simply regurgitate shit back at you is not super helpful for long-term retention or for comprehension, but it's also fucking stressful as all hell. That being said, here are a few things I do to be able to regurgitate very well. Flashcards are your best friend. I use Quizlet (there is a paid subscription option, but I've never used it and I get by just fine) because I like to have flashcards on my phone for ease of access. Use them for key terms, questions, dates, etc. Anything and everything. Here is an example of the different ways I use flash-cards: (Some are terms, some prompt you for explanations, some prompt for definitions, etc.)

Another thing I find helpful, especially when I'm having trouble keeping track of the big picture in all the little details, is concept mapping. I will get a piece of blank printer paper, a fuck ton of pens, markers, highlighters, whatever and whatever lecture material/textbook/notes I have for the content. Then, I fill that page completely with information. I'm a very visual learner and this strategy allows me to literally picture my "map" during the exam. It does NOT need to be pretty. It can be pretty fucking chaotic, actually. So long as the organization of items makes sense to YOU, is something YOU can recall/picture in your minds eye, is something YOU can derive value and sense from, you're golden. Here a couple examples from the last time I used these to study: (Left - immunology; Right - developmental bio)

3. Reasoning and Critical Thinking (Examples: Applied Biology, Applied Chemistry, Essay Exams, etc.)

HOW I STUDY: I use a mix of explaning concepts to other people and practicing problems. Why a mix? Usually because it's harder to find sample questions for the sorts of things that you might get asked. For evaluations like this, I reaaaalllly recommend getting a good study group together. Take turns explaining key concepts to each other, listen for innacuracies or missing information, help each other produce better explanations. I love encorporating slang and curses into my explanations because, let's be real, you are more likely to remember what I mean by unwanted RNA splicing when using viral vectors to build recombinant genes if I tell you "the cell starts fucking your recombinant shit up because it thinks it's MRNA and it wants to process the fuck out of that" rather than a boring and more professional example. About 90% of my absolute best friends are people I met in study groups.

If you can get your hands on practice problems or a practice test, that's your best source of the kinds of things you'll want to practice solving. Review old quiz questions or homework questions if you have them. Anything to familiarize yourself with the sorts of things you'll be asked, where key information can be found in the question, and how you are expected to answer is going to be very helpful.

I also appreciate reviewing recorded lectures, if you have them (I challenge myself to write a transcript of the lecture while watching so that I keep myself on task and I'm, thankfully, a fast enough typer to manage this) especially if I'm going to be asked to explain something more philisophical/conceptual. If you don't have them, some universities will let you request an accommodation to get them through their disability services if you've got ADHD, auditory processing challenges, or other such challenges that make paying attention and taking notes hard.

Are you being tested on readings? Maybe a book, a story, articles, or studies? ANNOTATE THEM. This is the most useful skill I was ever taught. Fuck having "pristine" copies of books, I want you to mark them up like a drag queen with an unlimited supply of gluesticks. If you have PDFs or digital copies of things, consider investing in a cheap tablet that will let you write/highlight those documents directly. My parents got me a samsung tablet for like 200-300$ this Christmas and this is ALL I use it for. It's been a total fucking game-changer. Yes, annotating your readings will take you longer. BUT you retain more of what you've read, you can more easily refer back to things in the moment using your notes as a guide, and it's also very fun.

Sometimes you might find value in re-creating an argument in the margins...

Or just in simple highlights!

Either way, annotation is a really good tool to get you to engage deeply with material as you are reading it. It saves you more work in the long run if you roll up to an evaluation with a solid, memorable understanding of the things you've read rather than constantly needing to reference back, frantically searching a boring and un-colorful document for something you can only vaguely recall.

4. General Tips & Resources

Before COVID, I was a major proponent of going to a library, coffee shop, or other venue to study. There's actually peer reviewed research supporting the hypothesis that being a teeny bit distracted by your immediate environment makes you more productive overall. There are also virtual substitutes for this. I Miss My Cafe is my favorite (I found out about it on TikTok) and it allows you to control different kinds of ambient cafe sounds (and synch your spotify!) I also enjoy Lo-Fi playlists or classical music.

Identify the times at which you are the most productive! This is actually a really big deal and it doesn't get a lot of recognition. I'm a morning person and I'm always at my most productive in the morning with a cup of coffee, a glass of water, and a solid breakfast. My partner is the exact opposite as me; he is most productive in the evenings and at night. Even when he forces himself to sit down at 8am and start working, he describes it as an uphill slog against his own brain. The same goes for me if I decide to stay up till midnight working on something! I'm fucking miserable, I don't think as well, and I'm cranky as shit. Find the times at which YOU work best and build your schedule accordingly. Block out those Most Productive hours for your Most Important tasks, whether that's studying or writing a paper or annotating some readings.

Panicking? Walk away. I don't care how little time you have left. I don't care how pressing the problem is or how urgent or dire the situation. If you are panicking, you are not going to accomplish anything. I've been having panic attacks (specifically around academic performance) since I was in first grade. I'm an old-hat at this. My third grade teacher, who I loved dearly, once told me that panic fills up your head like wet cement. You can't think past it and trying to push through it is not only extremely difficult but extremely uncomfortable. If you can prevent yourself from getting to that point of panic with coping strategies, that's great! If you can't, that's okay, but you can't unpour the cement. You have to take a break and try again once you're calmer. Listen to Mrs. G, her wisdom is unparalleled.

Ask for help when you need help. I have emailed professors for extensions on so many things for a whole range of reasons from "I had a panic attack" to "I am in the hospital" to "I was not able to devote as much time to this assignment as I had hoped". Some people are assholes and they'll tell you no. But 80% of the time, I've been really pleasantly surprised by how willing folks can be to work with you. Go to your TA for help during office hours. Go to your professor's office hours and review your previous exams/homework. Go to your really smart friend that's good at explaining stuff and study with them. Go to your disability resource center (or if you're in highschool still and you have medical documentation to support academic struggle, like ADHD, anxiety, or dyslexia, go talk to whoever coordinates learning accommodations at your school and get a 504 plan!) and apply for accommodations. The most powerful things you can do are advocate for yourself and accept help as you need it.

Perfection is not necessary. As someone who has a 4.0 and honors, I am here to tell you that it doesn't mean much in the grand scheme of things. I've bombed tests. My lowest ever score? Pretty sure it was a 64 on an immunology exam. Failing one or two exams over the course of your college career isn't going to kill you. Getting a few B's here and there or even some C's overall is not going to greatly impact your ability to get where you want to go... UNLESS WHERE YOU WANT TO GO IS MED SCHOOL, AND THEN GOOD LUCK TO YOU, I WILL PRAY FOR YOU. Very few professions (*cough* med school *cough*) demand perfection from you. Don't beat yourself to death demanding perfection when it isn't needed, wanted, or realistically attainable. C's get degrees and that is facts, babe! Sure, it feels nice to be highly achieving, but do you know what else feels nice? Having good mental health, a flourishing social life, and numerous fulfilling hobbies. Balance your priorities accordingly knowing that--save for very few paths--perfection is not a requirement. Live a full and healthy life, first and foremost. Let everything else come second to that or in service of it.

[eclairslein]

Why Technoblade is an unreliable narrator

I’ve seen a lot of viewers idolizing c!Technoblade and saying it didn’t make sense that Tommy left him in the end. I watch Technoblade’s streams, but also everyone else’s. I think there’s a lot of overlap in viewers who idolize him and those who don’t have any context other than what comes from his character’s POV. As someone who has watched all POV’s here is why I disagree that “Technoblade has done no wrong” “Techno helps everyone and just gets betrayed” and “Tommy backstabbed Techno!”

I disagree with all of these statements and I don’t think c!Technoblade is a victim despite his personal monologue insinuating that. Let’s start at the beginning.

Technoblade joined to help Wilbur and Tommy with the intention of taking down Shlatt. He preached for anarchy and chaos. Although he was clear about the from the beginning, the people he was allied with didn’t agree with that. Wilbur was driven to that point AFTER Technoblade had already been allied with them. Tommy NEVER wanted to “destroy all government” his goal was always just to take down Shlatt and return to his home. Technoblade ignored the wishes of his only two allies and continued to entertain the idea in his own head of completely destroying L’Manberg. That was never an agreement, he made that decision on his own AGAINST the will of his only friends, Tommy and Wilbur.

Technoblade, on the other hand, was keeping secrets from them. He had withers prepared before they even put Tubbo in charge. Behind all of their backs he conspired with Wilbur and DREAM to destroy L’Manberg just as soon as they’d won it back. That is betrayal. No one betrayed Technoblade because they never promised him anarchy in the first place.

This is where his narration becomes unreliable. In his speech he brings up making all the gear for his new allies and then them betraying him when they used that gear to take back L’Manberg. He called that a betrayal even though it was CLEAR FROM THE BEGINNING WHAT THEIR INTENTIONS WERE ( the beginning being when Quackity and the others joined Pogtopia to help Tommy and the intentions being stopping L’Manberg’s destruction by Wilbur and ending Schlatt’s administration ). Technoblade calling this a betrayal is delusional.

The second thing his character is unreliable about is his “retirement.” When Technoblade set withers upon L’Manberg he caused pain and destruction, but also ultimately committed crimes against L’Manberg. He also vowed to them before disappearing into the wilderness that he would continue to destroy the government. When the Butcher Army arrived at his doorstep asking to answer for his crimes he claimed to be in retirement. Fleeing from a crime scene and then not committing crimes for awhile doesn’t excuse you from the original crime. Butcher Army coming for Technoblade was not entirely unreasonable the way c!Technoblade paints it to be. Technoblade was a war criminal and a threat and it made perfect sense for them to pursue him. Putting Phil under house arrest crossed a line, but going after Technoblade was not unreasonable for L’Manberg to do.

As for Technoblade’s relationship with Tommy in particular this is something that c!Technoblade is completely deluded about. Pogtopia days, Tommy did consider Technoblade a friend. The one thing that changed that was when Technoblade worked with Wilbur and Dream to BLOW UP LMANBERG. The ONE THING Tommy fought for, at least at the time. Technoblade dropped Tommy as soon as he realized that working with Wilbur and Dream (behind the backs of Tommy and everyone else) would get him his personal goal of anarchy. He betrayed Tommy first when he made that decision.

When Tommy holed up in Technoblade’s basement, Tommy stayed because Techno told him that he’d help him get the discs back. But Tommy was clear with Techno the whole time that he didn’t want to do anything to hurt Tubbo. Tommy always said no to plans that would hurt Tubbo, Technoblade would brush him off constantly and say things along the lines of “we’ll work out the details later.” Tommy never budged on not wanting to hurt Tubbo, despite Technoblade’s constantly insisting that Tubbo is bad and didn’t care about Tommy.

Technoblade was breeding anger and feelings of betrayal in Tommy in trying to convince him his best friend didn’t care about him, the same thing Dream was doing the weeks before while Tommy was in Logstedshire. Convincing Tommy that he didn’t really belong in L’Manberg was the only way to make him pliable and useful to both Technoblade and Dream. By pushing on Tommy that he should leave his friends (L’Manberg) behind, they were turning him into a bad guy. A person only motivated my personal gain (the discs) and that cares for no one.

After threatening Fundy, Technoblade told Tommy that he finally had respect for him. Finally believing that Tommy didn’t care about his old friends in L’Manberg anymore and was solely motivated by the discs, he revealed his plans to destroy L’Manberg. Tommy never agreed to this and was frankly horrified that what happened between him and Wilbur was happening again. He had no where to go and stayed with Technoblade but expressed clear discomfort in Techno’s plans to destroy L’Manberg.

Now for what Techno calls “Tommy’s final betrayal.” When Tommy stands by Tubbo at the community house and leaves Technoblade. To show why this was completely justified on Tommy’s part I’m going to draw comparisons to one of my favorite works of fiction: Avatar The Last Airbender. At the end of Book 2: Earth Zuko betrays Iroh and returns with Azula to the Fire Nation. Zuko’s time there makes him realize that he cares more about doing the right thing and being the PERSON HE WANTS TO BE than staying with his family and hurting people. Tommy leaves Technoblade for the same reason Zuko leaves Azula. Tommy does not want to be the type of person that would stay with Techno.

Tommy and Tubbo were in a screaming match. After Tommy regurgitated line after line that Dream and Techno had been feeding him. “You left me to die!” and all that jazz about choosing L’Manberg over him. The thing that stopped it was Tommy saying “ Those discs were worth more than you ever were!” Everyone went silent. Tommy stopped everything and realized that he had become a deplorable person and he was saying things he didn’t really mean. Caring more about discs than his friendship w Tubbo was Dreams plan all along and exactly what Technoblade had been feeding him. Tommy dropped everything to stand by Tubbo because he was mature enough to realize that he was the farthest he had ever been from the person the wanted to be, and the closest to being the villains he had been fighting his whole life. Whether it was intentional or not, Technoblade was the person who drove him to become that person. Dream started it, but Technoblade finished the job.

Technoblade felt betrayed, Tommy left him. But it was the only thing Tommy could do and still hold on to the person he wanted to be. Tommy cares about his friends, Tommy has been with L’Manberg since the beginning and has always done what he could to save those he cared about even if it meant personal sacrifice. That’s who Tommy is. The Tommy that Technoblade wanted to be allies with was a person who would help hurt and destroy L’Manberg. Someone who cared more about discs than his lifelong friends. That Tommy never really existed, he was always uncomfortable with Technoblade’s revenge plans. If Technoblade really listened to Tommy, and cared about what he thought, he would know that Tommy could never be the cold heartless person that Technoblade could use to achieve his personal revenge on L’Manberg.

Ultimately, the Tommy that Technoblade needed to help him and/ or stand by and watch him destroy L’Manberg doesn’t exist. It goes against everything that has been established about who Tommy is and what motivates him. To stay true to himself, Tommy could not possible stay with Technoblade and become a stubborn, cold hearted, vengeful person.

That “betrayal” was the most mature decision Tommy has ever made in canon and I WONT STAND BY AND LET YALL SAY IT WAS UNJUSTIFIED JUST BECAUSE IT WASNT WAHT TECHNOBLADE WANTED.

Technoblade is a villain, just because he has a reason for wanting to blow up and destroy everything doesn’t make him a better person for it. He is not moral and never has been. His goal from the beginning has been taking something so many people cared about, L’Manberg, and destroying it because he, personally, is an anarchist. That is an ideology, but it is not the only one. Technoblade wanting to destroy L’Manberg is pushing his values onto others through force and makes him more of a tyrant than every leader of L’Manberg combined. He is flawed just like every other character. The difference that I see is that his character never reflects and admits any wrongdoing on his own part, only blaming others for not agreeing with him and ultimately leaving him.

[aithorin]

A Lesson in Possession - All Smite x Reader (18+)

Summary: When you make the mistake of revealing that you find one of the top ten heroes attractive, Smite wastes no time in reminding you that you belong to him.

Warnings: Villain AU, Villain!All Might, Possessive behavior, Dominance, Vaginal fingering, Possessive sex, Unhealthy relationships, Degradation

Archive Link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/30772664

Very much NSFW!

All Might was ignoring you. Intentionally ignoring you. And you didn’t like it. Not one bit. For the last 20 minutes, you’d tried in vain to get him to finally sit down on the couch with you yet to no avail. He just continued to rustle around in the kitchen, seeming to clang together every goddamn pan in existence while looking for who knows what. At any rate, it was clear your attempts weren’t working at all.

Letting out a huff, you turned away from the kitchen to face the television. Raising the volume to drown out all the fucking noise he was making, the newsreporter babbled on about a battle that had happened earlier in the day. The fight in question was between none other than All Might and a horde of the top heroes. But what else was new?

‘Boooooorrrrring’ You droned out in your head. Picking up the remote, you flicked to the next channel only to be met with the same regurgitated garbage from the last. Sitting up straight, a spark of irritation fired through you as you began cycling through all the channels, going through them faster with each disappointment.

“All Might-” Next

“Earlier today, Symbol of Discord, All Might-” Next

“Top hero Endeavor and All Might faced off-” Next

God, was there nothing else to fucking watch? Huffing in frustration, you hit mute before tossing the remote onto the cushion beside you. Crossing your arms, you settled further into the sofa as a small pout crept onto your face. Glaring at the TV, you gave it a scowl that rivaled All Might’s. However, as you kept your eyes trained on the now silent news report, your glower slowly faded into a wicked grin as an inkling of an idea began to take form. You knew exactly what to do. All Might wouldn’t be ignoring you for much longer.

Sitting up, you swung your legs up onto the couch and schooled your features into the epitome of relaxed and unbothered. Slinging one arm over the back, you kept your gaze glued to the TV and called out, “Your fight from today is all over the news.”

A particularly loud clang was all you got in response. That was okay. It was to be expected. On to phase two.

“They’re saying you destroyed half of Kamino Ward. And with five of the top heroes there too! That’s pretty impressive you managed to make it here without a scratch. I guess even the best have nothing on you.”

This time you got a clang followed by a grunt. Okay, so flattery was a no go. Time to change tactics. But no matter, you had saved the best for last.

“Although…” you began, dragging the word out, “While they may not be a match for you when it comes to power, I do have to say that some of them rival you quite well in the looks department. Personally, I think Hawks comes pretty damn close.”

Bringing a finger up, you tapped it against your lips. Amending your previous statement, you said, “Hmmm, wait. On second thought, I think he might actually be hotter than you. He is pretty attractive, you know.”

At your words, all clanging came to an abrupt halt. This time all that greeted you was deathly silence. Reveling in it, your smirk grew tenfold. Checkmate.  

Slow footsteps rumbled across the ground, sending tremors through the floors of your apartment. But you wouldn’t let yourself be intimidated. Keeping your eyes trailed on the screen, you refused to look at him, knowing it would anger him more. With the sole intention of pretending not to notice you had just pissed off the number one villain, you nonchalantly picked at invisible dirt in your nails.

Standing in the doorway that separated the living room from the kitchen, you could feel his glare burning holes into the back of your head, but you held steady to the charade.

“What,” All Might growled, “Did you just say?”

Giving a noncommittal hum and schooling your features, you threw a cursory glance at him over your shoulder before turning back to the TV, feigning disinterest. Once you were out of his line of sight though, you couldn’t help letting the devilish grin return. It was all going according to plan. He was absolutely pissed. You didn’t think you’d ever seen him so angry before. Just a couple of words and his aura had darkened so much it cast a shadow over the whole room. With his eyes blazing and his lips curled back in a snarl, his fists were clenched at his sides, trembling ever so slightly in an attempt to keep his anger in check. At any rate, it was clear your comment had gotten his blood boiling.

“Hmmm, what was that?” you finally replied. Looking at the TV, you continued, “Oh, I was just saying that I think Hawks is way hotter than you. No offense.”

Letting out a snarl, he began to stalk towards you. “You’re playing a dangerous game doll. Are you trying to make me mad?”

“No,” you said, giving a small pout, “I’m trying to get your attention. You’ve been ignoring me the whole time you’ve been here!”

“Insolent girl!” All Might growled, “And you thought insulting me was the way to do it?”

“Well nothing else was working!” you said haughtily, crossing your arms, “Besides, from my view, it worked perfectly. You’re certainly not ignoring me now, which is all I wanted in the first place.” Letting the irritation slide off your back, you gave him a cheeky grin and waggled your eyebrows.

Yet your words seemed to have the opposite effect on All Might as his expression grew impossibly darker. Giving you a derisive smile, he sneered. “Fine,” He said, voice sinister yet full of promise, “Have it your way then.”

The change in the air was palpable. Grin fading from your face, you realized that with nothing more than a few words from him, you’d lost all control over the situation. The knowledge sent a wave of nervousness down your spine. There was no denying it. The tables had turned, and while you may have won the battle, you were most certainly about to lose the war. God, you should have just kept your mouth shut. Why did your impatience always land you in such deep shit? Would it really have been so bad to wait another 15 minutes?

You’d played with fire and now you were about to be burned. From the look of All Might’s heated gaze, it seemed you were in for a world of painful pleasure. He’d give you what you want alright, but the bastard would be sure to reduce you to a writhing, sobbing mess beforehand. Yet despite the fact that your head was screaming at you to get away, your body seemed to have other thoughts. To your horror, you realized that the idea of being so completely at his mercy was actually turning you on. Just thinking about it had you shifting uncomfortably in your seat as a dull throb of need began to build in your abdomen.

In a flash, his looming form hovered over you, encasing you with his shadow, and the glow of his blazing blue eyes burned with a smug self-satisfaction at the sound of your breath hitching. Somehow, he’d gotten ahold of your arms, and they lay trapped in one of his hands held high above your head. His actions had caused your shirt to ride up ever so slightly, a fact which had not escaped All Might’s attention. Taking a moment to rake his eyes over your form, you could feel your body heat under his appreciative gaze, tendrils of want slithering through you.

Leaning over you, All Might trapped you with his body, your chests touching. His nearness created a warmth, and with it your heart began to beat ever so slightly faster. Tongue darting out to nervously lick your lips, you waited to see what he would do. With his free hand, All Might came up to swipe his thumb across your bottom lip, getting rid of the moisture you’d just laid there, before tilting your chin up and somehow getting impossibly closer. It was more than enough to unnerve you, and it was obvious he was doing it on purpose. The damn bastard knew you were helpless to resist when he was that close.

Bending down, he pressed his face toward your ear. “You want attention?” He snarled, his hot breath fanning the shell of your ear and sending a shiver of anticipation down your spine, “I’ll give you attention.”

Pulling back, he made sure his eyes met yours. “I’m gonna fuck you so hard that you forget that bird brained freak even exists. But first, I’m gonna teach you a lesson, doll. Mark my words, you’re gonna regret opening that pretty little mouth of yours.”

And that was all the warning you got. Leaning down, he captured your lips in a bruising kiss, demanding entrance. But the brat in you couldn’t help resisting. You met him full force, refusing to give him what he wanted, goading him. In response, he growled against your lips before biting down on your bottom one, not hard enough to break the skin but hard enough to surprise you. Releasing a tiny yelp at the shock, he seized the moment to push his way through. In an instant, he had his tongue tangled around yours. And there was nothing loving about the embrace. Rough and bruising, it was pure punishment and you were helpless to do anything about it.

As your need for air began to become overwhelming, All Might started to pull away, leaving a trail of saliva connected to your lips, thinning ever so slowly before finally splitting in half to land against your chin. Chest heaving and yearning to feel his lips against yours again, you sought his touch the only way you knew how.

By baiting him.

Sitting up ever so slightly by wiggling one arm out of his embrace, you propped yourself up on it and gave him a roguish grin. “Is that all you got, big guy?” You asked.

At the jab, he let out a growl. “I’m not anywhere close to done with you, girl.”

Leaning down, he grabbed hold of your T-shirt and tore it straight in half in one fell swoop before doing the exact same with your bra. Letting out a gasp, your exposed nipples began to harden in wake of the cold air, and All Might smirked as you rushed to cover yourself.

“Uh Uh Uh” He tutted, waggling his finger at you, “You know better than that.”

Slowly you began to lower your hand, and All Might let out an appreciative hum. “Good girl.” He purred.

Leaning down, he latched onto one of your nipples, swirling his tongue around the tip before taking it between his teeth and giving it an experimental tug. Your body, desperate for the slightest touch now, responded immediately. Letting out a breathy moan, you arched into his touch, silently begging for more as the sensation sent jolts of pleasure dancing across your chest that headed straight to your core. Smirking in satisfaction, All Might chose to ignore your plea. Grabbing onto your hips, he began trailing his lips down to the waistline of your pants, leaving warm wet kisses with his tongue across your belly while his thumbs stroked the sides of your waist. Arriving at the top of your pants, he reached one hand over to flick them open before sliding them over the curve of your ass, taking your panties with them and leaving your glistening pussy fully exposed.

“Look at you. You’re positively drenched, and I’ve barely even touched you. What an eager little slut you are.” He said, dragging one long finger along your slit.

Gasping at his touch, you watched, entranced, as he pulled his finger away, your juices dripping off of it. Bending down, he held it up to your mouth.

“Suck.” He commanded. Looking down at it, you hesitated just a moment too long, and his face twisted into a snarl.

“I’m not gonna ask you twice, girl. When I tell you to suck, you suck. ” He growled, squeezing your jaw open with one large hand wrapped around your cheeks and pushing his index finger into your mouth.

Tentatively you took the length of his finger into your mouth, wrapping your lips around the base of it. As the back of your tongue touched the pad of his fingertip, the warm, slightly salty taste of yourself met it. Swirling your tongue around the digit, you slowly began to bob up and down on it, thoroughly lubricating it with your saliva.

Letting out a satisfied smirk, All Might purred, “Good girl.” Shoving his finger back in as far back into your throat as he could, you gagged trying to catch your breath as he finally removed the digit, bringing your bottom lip down with it.

“That was for earlier.” He sneered, “Don’t disobey me again.”

And then, beginning from your mouth, he traced a path down your chin with his wet finger, going between the valley of your breasts and the soft curve of your belly. As the wet trail he made quickly dried, you shivered as the dampness met the cold air. Arriving at your pussy, he began to prod at your entrance, easily slipping the digit in.

You couldn’t stop from letting out an immediate moan at the stretch. From one finger, he had already managed to make you feel deliciously full. The mind numbing emptiness your body had been begging for him to satiate was finally being remedied.

Beginning to pump, All Might turned his attention toward your clit. As his fingers thrust inside you, his thumb began to rub slow circles over your clit, pulling all sorts of gasps out of you. Working you open, his pace began to quicken and before you knew it he was slipping a second finger in.

Dissolving into putty at his hands, you could feel your climax fast approaching.

Yes!” you moaned, “Just like that.” You were so close. With one more thrust, you’d be gone. You could feel his fingers pulling out, preparing to send you over the edge, when suddenly they were completely gone, leaving you painfully empty.

Choking from the force of being denied so suddenly, your eyes flashed open just in time to see him climbing off of you. Face sweaty and cheeks flushed, you were an absolute mess. Lost in a haze of need, you could barely even comprehend what was happening. All you could see was that damn smirk on his face.

Unbuckling his pants painfully slow, he seemed to revel in your agony. As he hooked his fingers into the waistband of his pants, a distinct clink floated through the air as his loose belt buckle hit the metal of his pant button. And then in one swift motion, he took his pants off, his cock springing free. Painfully hard and red, it seemed to almost pulsate. Following the line of one thick vein, you saw that the tip was already oozing pre-cum.

Licking your lips in anticipation, you waited for All Might to approach you once more, but he remained standing. In fact, he moved farther away from you, making you want to cry.

Stroking himself, he seemed to completely ignore you as he lifted his other hand to rest on his chin, a thoughtful expression came over his face. “You know, I’ve already been quite lenient with you. Maybe it’d be better to just take care of myself.”

At that you wanted to sob. Nothing in the world mattered more to you than having his cock balls deep inside you at the moment. “Please please don’t do that!” you said, wanting nothing more than to pull him close, but he was just out of reach, and by then, you were too out of it to do anything else but stretch a weak hand toward him.

“Ple-please touch me.” You whined, legs rubbing together, desperately trying to regain even the slightest amount of friction.

Letting out a snort, he taunted, “And give me one good reason why I should. You haven’t exactly been on your best behavior today. Need I remind you that this is supposed to be your punishment?”

“I-I know you want to though.” You said, breathless. Raising your head to look at him through hooded eyes, you purred, “It-It’ll be so good.”

Taking a few steps toward you, he looked down into your eyes. Face becoming almost pleasant, he questioned, “You want this? You want my cock?” As you watched him stroke himself, you eagerly nodded. You wanted nothing more.

In an instant, his face turned dark once more as he growled, “Then beg for it.”

At that, a look of confusion spread over your face. “Wh-What?” You questioned.

“You heard me. If you want my cock beg. for. it.” He said.

Under normal circumstances, you would’ve laughed in his face, but, well, being incredibly horny does make a difference. Swallowing your pride, you whispered, “Please. I want your cock. I want you to fuck me.”

And yet, true to the utter asshole that he was, All Might pretended not to hear you. “Hmmm. What was that?” He said, lifting a hand up to cup his ear, “I didn’t hear you.”

“I want your cock!” You shouted, looking up to glare at him, “I want you to fuck me.”

“No need to be so mean kitten,” He said, a mock pout coming over his face, “That’s all I wanted to hear.”

Before you could even register that he’d moved, All Might was back over you again, one last self-satisfied smirk being the only warning you got before he buried his cock in you. Moaning from the sensation, tears sprung at your eyes from how far he was stretching you. God, he was so big, yet you couldn’t even find it in yourself to care because it felt so good.

Fully inside, he gave you the small mercy of allowing but a single moment for you to adjust. Before you knew it, he was pulling out only to thrust back into you again, setting an absolutely brutal pace. Eyes rolling into the back of your head from the force, you briefly registered him attaching onto your neck, sucking hard enough to leave teeth indentations.

Grabbing hold of his neck, you wrapped your legs around his waist to give him better access as breathy groans escaped your lips. Already you could feel the coil inside beginning to wind again.

“You filthy slut. You like this, don’t you? Me using you for the whore you are.” He said, wrapping a hand around your throat and grunting as he bucked into you.

“I’m the only one who’s ever gonna be able to fuck you this good. I’m the only one who can make you feel like this. You got that. You’re mine.” He growled, reaching hand down to flick at your clit, never once slowing down.

Lost in pleasure, you barely even processed his words. That is until he leaned down to snarl in your ear, “Say it.”

“I-I’m yours, All Might. You’re the only one who can fuck me this good.” you groaned.

Coming in close, he caught your lips in a bruising kiss, before thrusting in once more, going so deep you were sent flying off the edge. Gasping, you saw stars in your eyes as white hot pleasure wracked its way down your spine sending tremors throughout your body. As you came, your pussy clenched around him, causing All Might to climax as well. Hot seed coated the insides of your walls as you both fought to recover. As your heavy pants gradually became more controlled, he slowly slid out of you.

With sweat coating his brow and his breathing ragged, All Might looked down at you, blue eyes blazing,  “Nobody makes you feel the way that I do. Nobody. And you’d do well to remember that, doll.”

Climbing off of you, he began to make his way down the hall, throwing your pitiful form still sprawled out on the couch one last glance.  “The next time you want to try something like what you just pulled, I’d suggest you remember our little lesson today.”

[just-some-random-blogger]

Bootylicious

Stray Kids Bang Chan x Idol!Reader Summary: You're known as the gym rat in your group, and quite frankly, you only have two moods: shredding or chilling. This was why when you're not asleep in between schedules, you're spotted with a male idol you happened to meet in the gym you were at that day. It's a known fact though, that you and Bang Chan are gym buddies and each other's spotter. Word Count: 2k+ Warnings: Internet toxicity, sasaengs, vulgar language, sexism, misogyny, pining, fluff, mentions of Pentagon because why not <3, etc.

A/N: Girl, i shouldn't do this but I did. It's so funny to me someone requested this cause I have recently become an exercise junkie lol. Also, if you can't tell, there is a pov shift after the cut so yeah. I also wanted to keep the reader gender neutral but I want to write about how psychotically different people treat male and female idols because that stuff aint it. It's most definitely not what anon was expecting me to write but I hope they enjoy it nonetheless.

There's compilation in YT with growing parts centered around you flexing your physical fitness and prowess. It ranges from you affectionally touring your fans, which really meant the cameraman, through the gym, introducing your trainer, and doing your routine on camera, to your group (and others) both fawning and bragging about how strong and how hot you are.

CLIP #1: A scene from an interview of your group in Japan, struggling to talk about how you can do 40 straight push ups.

There was a male interviewer in a suit you could all faintly recognize was talking about your recent Instagram post of a gym mirror selfie.

One of your youngest members smirked and in broken Japanese, cutely said, "Wah, she does 100 push ups! Everyday, every night."

You snap your head to the maknae and raise your brows, "nani?" You begin to shake your hands in protest and begin to explain your truth, "absolutely not 100. Maybe around 40, but nooooo, not 100."

The interviewer and your group comically react in awe. The man in the suit urges, "can you show us?"

You give a face, "Excuse me, but I'm not getting paid to do that in this miniskirt."

Everyone, including the film crew, break into laughter.

CLIP #2: A scene from a variety show where you had to prove you were, in fact, yourself, by doing a shortened version of your exercise routine.

One of the hosts of the show asks, "Wait, do you honestly do all of this in your workout? Like you can do all of it?"

The list of your exercises were written on a colourful cardboard, held by the one who just spoke. It was a range of exercises in 10 sets, from jumping jacks to sit ups, to vague sounding exercises like crab pinches and robot arms.

You purse your lips at the last question asked of you, not really liking the tone in which it was asked. You answer quickly and nod proudly, "I actually do more, cause when I get in the zone and I'm already really sweaty, I feel like I should keep going until my whole body burns." You chuckle.

The older hosts, tilt their head and mutter lowly under their breath something along the lines of, "I'd rather die."

You finally do the routine, quickly, continuously, earning impressed reactions from everyone.

"That's hot," one of the hosts note.

"Ya, for some reason it looks easy to do."

The hosts begin to clamour at that statement, and force whoever said to do the exact thing you did. Clearly, they don't work out as much as you do and cannot even get halfway through it without stopping.

You break out into a breathless laugh in amusement of the comical attempt but then protest, explaining how bad it is to force yourself to do more than you can

CLIP #3: Pentagon, Hongseok especially, fawns over how fit you are

Trailing a conversation about how your group is close with Pentagon because your companies are situated closely to each other and you wind up eating together a lot, there is an anecdote about how there was a jar no one could open, no one but you, that is.

The interviewer asks no one in particular, "wah, none of you could open the jar? Really? Or did you all just pretend so she could open it?"

There is a chorus of answers concluding with, "no really, she was the only one that was able to open it."

The story is backed up by how the jar had a really small lid and some hands were too big. Then came an explanation how you were recently into the new rock climbing machine in your gym.

Hongseok speaks up, "I was invited to go to rock climbing in, like, an actual rock climbing place and I was honestly so surprised when she began to climb. She said she never actually tried rock climbing on a wall, but it seemed like she had been doing it for years."

Shinwon agrees, "Right, right. I was also really curious about what they did that day," he points to Hongseok, "that I joined them one time. I never felt so out of shape in my life. I just stayed back and filmed everything."

Pentagon laughs, and then agrees that you were exceptionally fast and just super fit in all honesty.

The interviewer catches Hongseok's expression then suddenly asks, "do you like a woman like that?"

"Yeah, I like my women strong."

Then came a lot of teasing remarks from Pentagon, and a plethora of complaints from delusional fans who did not want Hongseok to ever breathe in your direction again.

With all that's been said about that, in all the parts of this series floating around in the internet, one thing remained, there was a slightly larger population of impressed fans than the still large portion of antifans who wanted nothing to do with it and only came around to hate.

It's hard not to think about it, but even the slightest back handed compliment can sometimes linger in one's mind.

And right now, as much as I kept my mind on my counting as I finished my set high knees, I couldn't help but think of how much backlash I got from posting a post workout photo with my midriff exposed.

Apparently that was not only enough to merit hate for being both a whore and an attention whore, but people baselessly began to hate on my groupmates simply for being associated with me.

It's kind of sad really, how, say Wonho, can post a fairly exposed photo of himself and get so much praise for it, and yet I couldn't even do anything remotely close to that.

And I don't even mean to come at Wonho, we all know he's a beast at the gym and should be able to show as much of his hard work as he is comfortable in showing, but why can't I?

"Hey trooper. I thought you said you were only doing 80 counts?" a voice cracks me out of my train of thought.

I turn to whom spoke and chuckle at myself as I stop my leg raises, "ah yeah, I got lost in thought, and your really good song."

I pull on my earphones and give a lopside smile, "I love working out to God's Menu."

He gives a soft, "he he, thanks."

"No need for a thank you when I'm only giving my honest opinion, Chan."

"Yeah, well still, it makes my kokoro go doki-doki," he sniggers, crossing his arms and flashing a dimpled smile. I raise my upper lip and reel back, "EWWW!"

I playfully shove him. He acts hurt, "this is violence against children."

"Chan, you're literally older than me."

"That doesn't mean I'm not a child at heart."

"You mean, it doesn't mean you're not a drama queen."

"Hey, I have no interest in having a throne, my only interest is," he leans in and whispers, "you."

I feel my soul leave my body as he snorts to himself and runs away. I regurgitate in surprise, "YA!"

"You better do your next set properly," Chan says heading off to a cable row machine, "I'm always watching."

I try to ignore the blood rushing up your neck, "creep."

He shrugs, "rather that or have you get injured, sweet heart."

Yeah, Chan has saved me from a lot of injuries I could have had. It was a bad habit. It stemmed from the same thing that made me mess up my count a while ago, my overthinking.

Sometimes I thought of rather harmless things, but sometimes I began to fixate on the hate I received for simply being. I do a lot to get my mind to realize that they hated me simply because they could and because it was easy. Exercising helped tremendously, especially when I had someone fun to work out with, especially when I was with Chan. He just... made me feel safe, y'know.

But when the news of us being work out buddies surfaced, a lot of sasaengs came for me. Of course, a lot of Stays and my own fans were really kind about, speaking out that we were our own people and exercising together did not mean anything in particular really.

But some really went for it, and made it a hobby to comment on everything I was in that I was a slut for 'working out' with different men every day."

I let out a breath as I finish my routine. I catch my breath and go for a swig of my water. I take a moment then sit down by the mirror, which was near where Chan was currently working out.

"You're doing it again."

I turn from where I was blankly staring at turn to Chan who gave me a soft look, "you good?"

I release a sigh then purse my lips, "maybe."

He pouts, "what happened?"

I shrug and stand from where I sat, "you know, the usual."

Chan then comes up to me and takes my water bottle from me, "you know, no matter how much people say you don't need water to live, you can never change the fact that you are extremely dependent on water to live."

I look at him and half- heartedly point, "are you calling me thirsty?"

He begrudgingly groans and releases a chuckle. He calls my name out in a scolding tone. I feel myself relax, "I know what you're getting at Chan."

He nods, "good. I'll always be here to remind you of that."

I smile and feel an urge to hug him, "if you weren't so sweaty, I would totally hug you right now."

Chan then gives me a look then does not hesitate to crush me into his arms. I groan and whine in protest. He chuckles, "you literally just said you wanted a hug!"

"YOU'RE LITERALLY SO SWEATY. NO ONE WANTS THIS TORTURE."

Chan huffs and gives a wounded look, "hmp. You better spot me while I lift or else I'm unfriending you."

"Hmm... I think I'll be good without you as a friend."

I half expect Chan to whine about it, but he instead smirks, "ahhhh, you must want me to be your boyfriends so badly huh."

I- I mean...

CLIP #4: A crack edit of Chan when he gets asked about his gym relationship with me in Chan's Room.

He was looking through the questions and suddenly chuckles, his ears noticeably began to redden. Cue a zoom in of his face and his red ears. Cue a clip of Cardi B saying, "that's suspicious."

He says my name then continues, "am I close with her? Yeah. I would say I'm close with her-- and her whole group actually."

Captioned: Nice save, Chris.

"The kids and I are close with her group," he says, clearing his throat.

A clip of him clearing his throat is repeated about ten times.

Chan adjust the beanie he was wearing as he thinks of what he was going to say next, "we actually do work out together a lot because she's under a trainer that works with my trainer."

Captioned: Sure, Chan. That's the only reason, right?

Chan catches another question, "Is she a beast in the gym like Hongseok says?" He breaks into a laugh. He then rubs his cheek and grits his teeth.

A clip of someone saying, "Oh he's jealous," flashes on screen.

"Yeah," Chan finally says, "she's got a really high stamina."

Cue the clip, WHAT DID HE SAY?

Chan continues, "she can go between exercises without stopping. she doesn't even take that much time to catch her breath. In fact, she sings while exercising sometimes, which helps make her vocals stable."

Captioned: Queen Tingz.

The next thing that happens is Chan breaks into a laugh and begins to chuckle. He says, "Sorry I saw a funny comment."

Captioned: WHAT HE MEANS IS HE SAW A COMMENT SAYING 'SHUT UP CHRIS, YOU'RE WHIPPED."

Then came these comments:

LITERALLY LOOK AT HOW FLUFFY BANG CHAN GETS WHEN HE TALKS ABOUT HER DONT FUCKING TOUCH ME MY SHIP IS ALIVE

They are dating period. prove me wrong. you cant

Chan literally blushes over anything, buT HE TURNED INTO A TOMATO WHEN HE TALKED ABOUT HER BYE

if you hate on your faves loving each other, you most definitely need Jesus (:

PLEASE CAN YOU SEE HOW WHIPPED THEY ARE FOR EACH OTHER

Yeah... it's not been confirmed to this day.

[captainsimagines]

traitor

Summary: It was only one night, no strings attached, just two friends working through their grief together. Steve went to live his life with Peggy and within two weeks of returning, he peacefully passed. Unimaginable things happen everyday, jokes have negative consequences, and protection doesn’t always protect from the possibility… the possibility of carrying a child. He would have stayed if he knew, everyone agrees with this, so why is the world calling Steve Rogers a traitor?

One-Shot (with a happy ending)

Pairing(s): Avengers x Fem Reader; brief Steve Rogers x Fem Reader

Warnings: Unexpected pregnancy; serious talks about abortion; brief mention of suicide (if you squint); mentions of Endgame deaths; strong language; minor descriptions of actual birth; ANGST but with a happy ending! This is purely fanfiction. 

Word Count: 6,600+

A/N: So, Olivia Rodrigo’s album just came out and dude, jfc every song is magical. like... wtf. This is essentially a ‘song fanfic’, but ehhhh not quite. The lyrics don’t match the fanfic lmao but the melody does??? idk this is a shit ton of angst, be warned. It was from a request I got a while back, so this is kind of a request fanfic. 

~

Up until the moment Steve pressed his soft lips to yours, you were certain you had never experienced such a wonderful sensation of magic. You had been witness to actual magic, to beings from other worlds, and yet Steve’s gentle touch was enough to erase any other image, to completely overpower your senses, a kind of magic that dug deep into the trenches of your heart and settled in its new home. 

No, you and Steve were not a couple. There were some flirty remarks over the years, some fantasies that lay dormant, but there was never the craving to actually act upon them. But when half the world disappeared and the remaining Avengers came up with a plan five years later, the loss of a teammate prompted the sudden push of two touch-starved individuals. The rest of the team had gone to sulk in their own corners of the compound, some hard at work at constructing the final piece to the puzzle, and you and Steve ventured off to the kitchen. Two cups of tea each, silent but heavy tears mixing in with the sugar and milk. 

You were the first to break, shoulders crumbling and knees rocking under your weight. You fell to the floor, sobs and hiccups forming into a full-blown attack, your hands scratching at your neck. Steve fell beside you, pulling you into his chest and rocking you back and forth. He cried too, the final words of his best friend ringing in his ears like a dreaded song on repeat. See you in a minute. See you in a minute. See you in a minute. 

Time was irrelevant, you had enough of counting time, estimating it, time-traveling through it. If you could sit there all night, all week, another five years huddled close to Steve Rogers, then so be it. 

‘I can’t believe she’s gone,’ you had sobbed. 

‘I can’t believe it either. I can’t,’ he had cried back. 

You had simply lifted your head and turned his face toward yours, searching his eyes for any hesitation before you had leaned in first. He had returned the intimate gesture almost immediately, gripping you tightly. Tears dripped in between your moving lips, sobs caught inside breathy moans, grips becoming tighter and tighter as each of you shared your first time together. No other partner up until that point had ever pulled such a pained but grateful cry from your throat, no other human being had ever made you feel so safe and peaceful. 

The final battle was over, you had lost yet another teammate, but the world had a chance to start over. And Steve had pulled you aside a few days before he returned the stones, letting you know that he wasn’t coming back the same man. He had been so scared of telling you, of possibly betraying you, but when your palms cupped his cheeks and you gave him a kiss on the lips with a soft whisper of ‘Be with her. Cherish her. Be happy. We’ll meet again’, his worries instantly shattered. He could only rapidly nod his head, grabbing your hands that were soaked in his tears, and kissing them until he said his final goodbyes. 

And he returned such a different man, but with a smile you had never quite seen before. Yes, he was older and you only had a few seconds to actually process that, but he was happy. He had been happy. He finally lived the life he deserved. 

Sitting in that pew two weeks later, both sad and happy tears streaming down your face, you felt at peace for the first time in a long time. You simply gripped Wanda’s hand as they carried the casket down the aisle, a sad melody drowning the church. 

`

The first round of sickness hit you the day of the funeral, but you obviously didn’t think much of it. It was the fits of sadness and grief, the hot coil in the middle of your stomach, you thought. It had to be. It wasn’t until your breakfast was regurgitated into your toilet only a few minutes after enjoying it that you were suddenly worried. 

You sneaked to some liquor store a subway ride away, careful of not leaving a trail. This was embarrassing, it was insane, it couldn’t possibly be real. You gave the cashier your money and ran to the stall provided, peeing on the stick the best you could before placing it on the dirty sink in the corner. You patted your hands on your thighs repeatedly, careful to not touch any other thing in a goddamn liquor store bathroom. 

‘Friday?’ your voice was so defeated, tears already stinging your eyes.

Your little bluetooth sprang to life, ‘Yes, Y/N?’

Your bottom lip was trembling wildly, hands now shaking. ‘Can you stay active with me while I read the results? I can’t… I can’t be alone right now.’

‘Yes, Y/N. Anything you need, I’m here.’ You sobbed openly, thanking her under your breath. ‘Are you sure you don’t want me to contact anybody else?’

‘I can’t face them. I can’t face them if it’s positive, Friday.’

‘Okay, it’s alright,’ her voice was so delicate, so quiet and reassuring. ‘Just keep talking to me, Y/N. I think the results should be ready now.’

You inched closer to the test. ‘I’m scared, Friday.’

‘I know,’ Friday sighed, ‘But you will get through this. No matter the result.’

Grabbing the small device from the sink, you swallowed so much saliva that it actually hurt. The plus sign was so clear, so evident in its visibility, and your ears only registered the loud cries escaping your painful lungs because Friday was practically yelling in your ear. 

‘Please, calm down Y/N! Your heart rate is too fast-” she was stuttering, an AI was stuttering. ‘I’m calling for help. You need someone to be here with you. I’m sorry.’

It took ten minutes. Ten minutes of banging outside the bathroom door from the cashier, ten minutes of blurry vision and a strep throat. Sam broke through the door as quickly as he could, eyes flying around the small bathroom until he saw you huddled in the corner, a pregnancy test clutched in your small hand. He crouched down beside you, hands extended but not exactly touching you, and eyes trying to lock with yours. 

‘Y/N, Y/N?’

Just the sound of his voice, the voice of someone who didn’t need this added pain in their lives, it was just too much. Another weight added to your shoulders. 

‘I don’t know why,’ you choked out, ‘I’m so sorry.’

Sam’s face contorted into a pained expression, eyes brimmed with salty tears. ‘What are you talking about? No one is blaming you for anything. You’re safe, I’m here.’

You shook your head violently, ‘I didn’t mean to.’

But as quickly as those words left your mouth, the pounding in your head had become too unbearable. You collapsed into Sam’s arms. 

`

You woke to a single doctor who was monitoring your vitals. She was just sitting beside your bed, clicking random buttons on the screen in front of her. You whimpered slightly, the bright lights temporarily blinding you. The doctor quickly stopped what she was doing and removed the tube from your nose, allowing you to breathe on your own. You ignored the weird scratch that caused, and asked her the question you needed to have answered by a true medical professional - not a liquor store device. 

She confirmed what you already knew. There were no ‘congratulations’ or even ‘I’m sorry’s’, just the fact that you were pregnant and it was very early on. There were still options for you, it was healthy so far, you were healthy so far- 

Wait, options? 

The team were all huddled outside, nerves all over the place. They didn’t know what was going on. Sam knew but it wasn’t his information to pass on. It wasn’t until Bucky’s angry demeanor actually turned violent, a hole forming through the hospital wall. You were all on a private floor, completely displaced from the reality down on other levels, so any freak-outs were only slightly justified. Slightly. 

‘Sam, you gotta tell us. I made a promise to Steve, Sam! I promised to take care of her!’

Bucky’s words gripped Sam’s heart in a metaphorical vice. ‘She’s gotta tell you guys, man. It’s not my place.’

You had curled in on yourself, the doctor’s words echoing louder and louder. 

‘Abortion is an option. At this rate, it would be quick and safe. I can promise you that. It’s your choice.’

You wanted to die. You wanted the world to swallow you up and bury you alive. You wanted to disappear. If you had died in the snap, this wouldn’t have happened. It wouldn’t have happened. 

The ride back to the compound was a quiet one, with Sam driving you and the radio on low volume. 

‘Are you going to tell them?’

You bit your lip, ‘The doctor said I had options.’

Sam’s breath hitched and he tried to mask it, but you had heard it. You felt guilty, disgusting, like you betrayed Steve and the rest of the team. They had just lost him, you had just lost him, and you were carrying his child. And if Steve would have known, he would have wanted it. He would have encouraged you to have it, he would have been so happy, he would have been such a great fa-

‘The choice is yours, Y/N.’ He glanced over at you, ‘Can you at least tell me who the father is?’

The wrecked sobs were like second nature now, choking you with their strength. ‘I’m so sorry!’

Sam pulled to the side of the road and quickly took off his seatbelt, sliding over in the connected front seats to pull you into his chest. ‘Shh, hey. We are not going to be mad at you. Everything’s going to be okay. It may not seem like it now but-’

‘Sam!’ you cried, clutching his shirt in a tight fist. ‘I swear it was an accident! Steve didn’t know! He didn’t know, I swear he didn’t know!’

Sam’s mouth dropped open, an almost embarrassing noise of surprise sounding from the depths of his soul. He ran his hands through your hair, eyes rapidly searching for a single viewpoint. But he couldn’t focus on any one thing, not when you were shuddering against him and apologizing nonstop. 

Steve didn’t know. 

`

The team had reacted in a similar manner. They so desperately wanted to wish you a congratulations, it was the norm for this kind of thing. Especially with such a rough few years - bringing life into this world could be considered an ultimate blessing. But this was Steve’s child, his baby, his only baby in this timeline. It was a part of him, something he had unknowingly left behind. 

The team took a few days. The pain of losing Natasha, of losing Steve, of losing Tony. The gift of life. It was just too much. 

And you found yourself in front of Wanda’s bedroom door, hands clutching your night robe closed and knees wobbly. She brought you tea, she laid underneath the covers with you, she spooned you until you stopped crying. 

‘We weren’t together.’

‘You weren’t?’

You sat up, muscles straining due to your thousandth crying session that week. ‘No, it was one time. It was a mutual thing. We just… felt safe. And we made love.’

Wanda shut her eyes briefly, only to open them for two parallel tears to slip. ‘That sounds beautiful.’

‘We used protection. It really was an accident.’

Wanda interrupted, ‘No, don’t try and justify yourself. It happened. It’s done.’

You whimpered, reaching out to grab her hands. ‘I feel so guilty for even talking to you. I don’t know how you did it. I’m so selfish to be pouring all this on you-’

‘Hey, hey,’ she whispered, ‘But I am the only one who can truly understand. I have lost more in my lifetime than anybody ever should. But I am going to help you get through this, Y/N.’

You pulled her into a hug, ‘I missed you so much. I’m so sorry, but I can’t do this.’

Wanda slowly pulled away, eyes cloudy and touch of red twinge flying in her irises. ‘Alright. I won’t leave your side. No matter what you decide.’

` 

The chair was cold, the room was cold, no matter how inviting the hospital tried to make this room. It was decorated in the most neutral colors, so delicate in its designs, pamphlets and books scattered on every available surface. It was made to make the pregnant person feel secure, to feel comfortable in the hands of their doctor, but it just made you sick. 

And when the doctor asked if you would like an ultrasound first, that it wasn’t actually necessary for you to view it, you found yourself saying yes. You were at six weeks, it would be there. Wanda clenched her eyes shut, because even if you were strong enough to do that, she wasn’t. But she was here to hold your hand. She would hold your hand no matter what. 

It was the size of a grain of rice. That fuzzy, white figure off a little to the right of your uterus was the size of a grain. A literal grain of rice. The monitor shifted and the doctor cleared their throat, the slimy device absentmindedly being circled around your lower abdomen. 

‘Oh my god,’ you whispered, eyes locked on the place the doctor had their finger. Wanda brought her hand up to her mouth and looked away. 

That’s when you heard it. 

The steady rhythm of a strong heartbeat. 

Your chest started heaving, tears staining your cheeks as you listened to the beautiful sound. 

‘I’m so sorry,’ the doctor mumbled, ready to pull the monitor’s plug to end the live video but you gripped their arm before they could. 

‘No, no!’ you yelped, the heartbeat still sounding, so early in its actual life that this was for sure Steve’s child. 

You turned to Wanda, face contorting into one of agonizing regret. ‘I can’t do this. I can’t do this to Steve.’

Wanda gulped and took in a ragged breath, ‘Y/N, Steve’s not here.’

‘No,’ you whined, head turning back to look at the monitor. The monitor with yours and Steve’s child on it. ‘This is the only real part of him we have left, right?’

Wanda opened her mouth but shut it again, unable to formulate a proper response. 

‘This is Steve’s child,’ you stated, sucking in a breath through your sobs. ‘This is my child.’

` 

The team was alerted of your decision the minute you walked into the common room. They had known what you left for, dread itching in their souls and morals twisting greedily, but they hadn’t stopped you. They couldn’t do that to you. 

‘Hi,’ you mumbled, placing your things on the counter. Everyone kept their heads down, lumps growing in their throats as each second passed. ‘I’m okay.’

Clint was the first one to speak. ‘Did everything go well? Did they hurt you?’

You smiled with your teeth for the first time in weeks, ‘No, they didn’t hurt me. They didn’t even touch me.’

For a few seconds, no one caught on to your words. But Bucky was the first to register them, to etch them deeply into his brain, to stand from his seat and walk to you cautiously. ‘You decided-?’

You smiled wide now, happy tears falling over your strained cheeks. ‘I’m having a baby.’

The team erupted, cries and cheers deafening you. Bucky stumbled over and hugged you close, arms wrapped over your shoulders and face buried in your neck. He had to bend his knees to keep that position. He weeped into your shoulder and thanked you repeatedly, his own body rumbling with broken sobs. You held him close, fingers digging into his shirt and the skin of his back. 

‘We promise, Y/N,’ Sam said off to the side, waiting for his turn to hug you. ‘We promise to take care of you and this baby.’

A few more long-awaited congratulations were shared. ‘Guess I’m on desk duty for the next nine months, huh?’

Bucky held you tighter. 

`

The first four months were certainly eventful. Wanda insisted on taking pictures of you every few weeks. She had you model with a nice tight shirt to show off your growing stomach, different props in your arms as the weeks passed on.  Flowers, sporting equipment, random Avengers inventions, signs that read the number of weeks you were at. You even did couple shoots, with your teammates posing behind you with their hands on your stomach and an equally bright smile.

She had them printed out and framed, the compound common rooms now littered with random photos of you and your growing child. It was like a timeline, a museum considering you would catch someone inspecting the photographs. This time it was Scott, casually eating his cereal and balancing it in his hand as he walked the hallway. He had this silly smile on his face the whole time, milk dripping from his bottom lip. In his photo, he was posed behind you with a giant smile, back arched and head thrown back while you were trying your best to arch your back as well. And then he saw you watching him, eyes falling from your face to your stomach, and that silly smile growing wider. 

Happy insisted on doing yoga with you every other morning, his chosen playlists actually Tony’s. Half expecting the songs to only emit the essence of rock and roll, you were surprised when the playlist only contained acoustics. Happy winked at you, ‘He was a man of taste, Y/N. He, too, had those sad driving songs.’

Peter was hesitant to visit at first. He was still mourning Tony, as you all were, and seeing everyone again was certainly a hard thing to do. But he managed, and the moment he saw you there, trying to balance a plastic bottle on your tiny stomach, he burst into a fit of giggles. 

‘Oh, oh! I almost got it!’ you encouraged yourself, stomach not yet protruded enough to quite get it. 

Peter rushed over and caught the bottle as it slipped, ‘You’ll get there. How do you feel?’

You grinned at the kid, ‘Like I’m pregnant.’

Peter chuckled, ‘I wouldn’t know, so.’

‘It’s weird,’ you admitted, turning back to your abandoned bowl of fruit. You popped a piece of pineapple in your mouth, ‘But I just remind myself that they’re gonna be an angel when they come out.’

‘All slimy and angelic.’

You swatted at Peter, ‘They’re healthy. That’s all that matters.’

Peter placed his hand on your stomach, half-expecting something to happen. ‘I can’t believe you’re having his baby.’

You bit your lip, willing yourself not to cry. Steve should be here experiencing this. ‘Me neither.’

`

The next month had come so quickly. Your friends - your family - made sure to keep you occupied. Whether it was to shop, to nap together, to eat together, to exercise together, anything, they were by your side. It was so overwhelming at times, but not wanting to scare anyone, you took time for yourself whenever you could. You’d settle in your room, in a nearby cafe, in Natasha’s room, and just sit and breathe. With one hand on your stomach, you couldn’t possibly fathom the luck on your side. It always tore your heart in two when you realized Steve would never meet his child, absolutely mutilated it. But the realization that this child was going to have such a massive family, your family, uncles and aunts who would die for the kid - that realization was sometimes too much. 

The thunder from outside startled everyone. The quiet night everyone was having was suddenly interrupted by the appearance of a certain god, hair now cut and beard trimmed, running into the common area. He was practically hyperventilating, his quick pace halting as he scanned the room. ‘Is it true?’

‘You got my message?’ Wanda asked, shutting off the water from the sink. 

‘I’m sorry, I was away. I just got the message and-’

Thor lay his eyes on you, your obvious stomach, and he started crying softly. ‘It’s true?’

You smiled at him, opening your arms for an embrace. But Thor fell to his knees in front of you, forehead resting on your stomach. ‘This is a miracle.’

‘It really is,’ you laughed, wiping away a few stray tears. ‘The condom broke.’

Laughter sounded almost instantly. 

Thor looked up at you, eyes red and eyebrows furrowed. ‘He didn’t know?’

You shook your head, ‘No, Steve didn’t know. I promise.’

Thor nodded, believing you. He stood slowly, encasing you in a tight squeeze. He hadn’t changed much since you last saw him, but he did seem to be drinking less. ‘After so much loss, the Heaven’s send us a gift from a beloved friend.’

`

Bucky seemed to be the happiest. Although he shared your beliefs that Steve should be here to experience this, to cherish this, to be the father he had deserved to be, Bucky couldn’t help but feel grateful that you decided to keep the baby. He knew he needed to stop relying on Steve to fix his mind, this he had to do on his own, but the bundle of joy inside of you just added to his undying love for his best friend. This was a piece of him, a true half of Steve’s heart that would soon be breathing air and opening its eyes. 

He was currently laying beside you, just woken up from a nap and lazily drawing circles over your clothed tummy. You were still asleep, deep breaths a little ragged since you were twisted slightly to your side. You had given up trying to sleep on your back nowadays. 

‘Hey there,’ Bucky whispered, a funny smile forming on his face because he can’t believe he’s talking to your literal stomach. ‘You know you’re a miracle, right?’

There was no response, obviously. But Bucky just positioned himself to lean on his elbow, temple resting in the palm of his hand. ‘We’re going to love you so much. Steve would have loved you so much.’

He placed his metal hand on your stomach, careful not to apply so much pressure. He was hesitant though, the metal hand now from Wakanda but still something he didn’t entirely trust. Still, he rubbed smooth circles on your side. ‘I already love you so much.’

Kick.

Bucky widened his eyes, a hitch in his breath. Was that real?

‘Did you just respond to me?’ Bucky asked, a little laugh escaping his lips. ‘Should I say it again?’

Nothing happened for a long while. He switched hands, rubbing a little deeper now. It was a free massage for you, anyway. 

Bucky bit his lip and looked up at your face, still peacefully dreaming. He leaned closer to your stomach and repeated his earlier confession. ‘I love you.’

Kick. 

Bucky shot up from his spot on the bed and covered his mouth, a loud laugh accidentally escaping and startling you awake. 

‘W-What?’

‘They kicked! They kicked!’

‘Seriously?’

Bucky was shooting through the stars, because even though it was a long shot, he felt like somehow Steve was telling him he loved him back. 

`

Sam’s leg bounced madly as he watched the doctor slick up the generator. You repeatedly tried to calm him, tell him that it would be quick and simple, and there was nothing to be worried about. 

You were six months now. Belly now protruding to the point where you could only see the tips of your toes when you glanced downward, and the baby was positioned farther into your back. If anything, you were having a giant freaking baby. He was a product of a super soldier. 

You remembered having that scary conversation with the doctors, your whole family beside you as they heard and relayed the information. 

‘Your baby is perfectly healthy. The serum isn’t affecting it. His lungs are forming less quickly than the other organs but there’s no serious worry.’

Bucky had literally cackled at that, confusing everyone in the room. ‘Steve and his shit lungs.’

But now you were finding out the sex. Only one person was allowed in the room this time, and Sam had literally begged you with his eyes to choose him. 

‘Are you two ready?’

You each nodded at the doctor, waiting for the monitor to spring to life. After a few seconds, the heartbeat was detected. You gripped Sam’s hand in yours, a quiet ‘thank god’ passing through his lips. 

Then the giant image of a literal baby appeared on the screen. It was so surreal. It resembled a quick sketch, like one Steve would have casually drew, and you couldn’t help but imagine him drawing that very image from memory. 

‘Y/N, I-’ Sam cleared his throat, smiling at you. 

‘Would you like to know the sex of the baby?’

‘Yes, please,’ you answered, gripping Sam’s hand harder. 

The doctor moved the generator a few times more, hitting the spacebar on the computer to capture the image. ‘Congratulations, you’re having a boy.’

You shuttered a tiny laugh as Sam flew out of his seat, arms extended upward for a moment before he brought his hands down to kiss them over and over. 

‘I’ll print this out for you,’ the doctor smiled, leaving you and Sam to celebrate. 

`

Everyone had gathered later that night to find out the news. You had printed enough copies for everyone who wanted one. Bets were placed, a multitude of gifts already mounted in online shopping carts. 

‘Don’t keep us waiting!’ Rhodey shouted, champagne bottle at the ready and propped up on his thigh for when you made your announcement. 

Sam was standing beside you, a massive grin plastered on his face. You rolled your eyes at him and urged him on, telling him that you were fine with him saying it. Sam didn’t need to be told twice. 

‘It’s a boy!’

Pop! Drinks were poured and hugs were shared, with even Friday coming over the monitor to congratulate you. 

Even in the midst of all the excitement, you felt a little empty. But you enjoyed your pre-baby shower, happy that everything was so unbelievably working out. 

It was midnight when you alerted Friday to call Happy to your room. You needed a ride. 

Happy was slightly irritated at being woken up, but once you told him where you were heading, he obliged. The ride was silent, comfortable, with Happy glancing at you once in a while to make sure you were okay. 

You walked across the grass slowly, hands resting on your stomach and just a little waddle in your walk. You flashed your phone light over the headstones even though the headstone you were looking for was in a secluded area. Happy trailed you, keeping a respectable distance. 

You stopped in front of the small building, the fence somewhat blocking your path. But there was no security around, and even if you were caught on camera, your face let everyone know who you were and your connection to Steve. You had no worries. 

You broke the lock easily and opened the door. It was almost entirely marble, a good deal of Steve’s actual aesthetic. So simple, not overly patriotic, and secluded. He had refused to be buried in Arlington. 

You sat on the bench provided, the three names in front of you standing out like they were begging to be read out loud. So you complied. 

‘Sarah,’ you muttered, smiling as the name rolled off your tongue. ‘Thank you for sending everyone a literal angel.’

You muttered his father’s name as well, but felt no personal connection to it. You spent at least ten minutes building up the courage to utter his name, to say his name in front of him again. He was buried right underneath your feet, his name the only thing for you to see. 

‘Steve,’ you sighed and rubbed your stomach. ‘Steve.’

You sobbed silently and watched as the tears fell on top of your resting hands. ‘I don’t regret it.’

You were met with silence. ‘I don’t regret any of it. God knows why he did this. But you lived your life, and I just can’t believe I have to bring life into this world without you here.’

‘It’s a boy, Steve. A lovely little boy.’

You brought your hand up to your mouth to bite the side of it, throat clenching. ‘Everyone is so happy. I am, too. I promise you.’

You lowered your hand back to your stomach. ‘I just wish that you could feel that happiness.’

The moonlight moved slightly, shining on his name brighter now. ‘He’ll know about you, don’t worry about that.’ You laughed. 

You didn’t want to keep Happy waiting. You stood from the bench slowly, feet sore. You walked closer to him, wishing you could easily bend down and give him a kiss. But you physically couldn’t right now, so you blew him one instead. ‘Thank you.’

`

Somehow the rumor got out that an Avenger was pregnant. And when Wanda was seen outside without a large stomach, all fingers were pointed at you. 

The news went ballistic, most positive and raving, while others pondered just who had gotten you pregnant. You had been seen with everyone in paparazzi photos, so no actual conclusion had been made. 

Until a picture of you at Steve’s gravesite was leaked. 

It was constant bombardment, timelines were stitched together, magazines and their headlines were having a field day. Rhodey had tried to cancel these news stories, to threaten lawsuits, but to no avail. The world was now cursing Steve’s name - ‘how dare he leave her while pregnant?’, ‘how could he leave her pregnant and for another woman?’, ‘did he even know?’

The team had done everything in their power to try and clear yours and Steve’s name, but no one was having it. Steve’s love story was now tarnished, with many calling him a traitor and a deadbeat. It was no use. 

You struggled to climb the stairs, inwardly cursing the staff for not installing a ramp instead. The flashes were blinding, the lights were hot, and the various microphones placed on the stand were comical. 

Everyone hushed, looks of sympathy and pity slapping you in the face. 

‘I know what you’re all thinking and what you’ve all been saying,’ you started, eyes wandering to the far corner of the room where your team were huddled. ‘But I need to clear a few things up.’

‘Steve didn’t know.’

The crowd erupted, questions flying at you like fast bullets. They were silenced after a few moments. ‘We shared a moment with each other before we brought everyone back. I didn’t know I was pregnant until after his funeral.’

The crowd murmured amongst each other. ‘He told me he was planning to stay in another timeline. To live his life. I encouraged him. He did not leave me alone and pregnant. He truly didn’t know.’

You finished, they didn’t deserve a deeper explanation. You ignored their calls for questions, some even trying to crowd you at the doors. But you pushed through them, cradling your stomach with a newfound sense of pride. 

`

It was time. 

You sat up in your bed and quickly wiped away the hard crusts from the corners of your eyes. You sat there for a few seconds before you felt another harsh twinge. ‘A-ah!’

You didn’t know why you paused, legs now thrown over the side of the bed. They felt like menstrual cramps, it could be false labor. You let out a heavy breath and pushed yourself up, legs wobbly. But the moment you did, it was like something snapped. Your legs were wet and a tiny puddle had started forming on the floor. 

‘Friday!’

The lights in your room turned on immediately, ‘Y/N, is it time?’

You moaned at the uncomfortable cramping, ‘Yeah, I think it is.’

‘I’m waking and alerting the team right now, Y/N. Sit back down, please.’

You listened to Friday, sitting at the edge of your bed for a few moments before you realized you had to pack a bag. You shuffled across your room and grabbed the duffel bag Scott had left for you a few days ago. You packed a pair of socks, sweats, underwear, vaseline and your toothbrush, hairbrush, and phone. You zipped your bag just in time for both Bucky and Sam to throw open your door, Sam struggling to put his shoes on and Bucky slipping on a jacket inside-out. 

‘Y/N, is it really time? Are you ready? Are you okay?’

You ignored the cramping in your back and laughed at them, ‘Yes! My water broke, I’m in pain, it’s time.’

With both Sam and Bucky at your sides, they held onto you as you all stumbled down the hallway. Thor was already waiting with the elevator open, the biggest smile on his aging face. 

‘Wanda and Bruce are preparing the room. Scott already called the doctor. Clint’s in route,’ Bucky reassured. The three men huddled into the elevator with you, all instructing you to breathe and to squeeze them if you needed to. 

But even though you were in pain, albeit not as extreme as it was going to inevitably get, you were so incredibly happy. They were all so loud, so chaotic, and you were as calm as a cucumber. 

The elevator dinged. ‘Good luck, Y/N,’ you heard Friday call after you. You pinched your eyes closed, the thought that Friday was ultimately a part of Tony’s consciousness - Tony was wishing you good luck. 

The pressure in your hips was starting to build and you didn’t know how long this would actually take. Some people had quick births, some people lay in labor for hours, some for a day. But it seemed like this was going to be pretty quick, because your next scream was completely involuntarily. 

Bucky winced, leading you to the bed Wanda had just lay sheets on. ‘You’re doing great, Y/N. Absolutely perfect.’

You laughed at Bucky and gripped his hand in silent thanks before slipping into the bed and trying to get comfortable. Before you could truly feel like you made it, like the first hard step was done, you sat up quickly. 

‘Wait, wait! Nat’s sweater! I was gonna wear Nat’s sweater!’

Thor was already out the door, ‘I’ll get it! Don’t worry!’

You smiled at the ceiling, beads of sweat now rolling down your forehead. ‘Oh, this hurts!’

It was an hour. Once you shimmied into Natasha’s purple knitted sweater, you lay there trying to control your breathing. Everyone had piled into the room one right after the other. The room was big enough, spacious enough for even Bruce to roam freely. Although you were in an immense amount of pain, you still focused on your team. 

Scott was on his third cup of coffee, sipping excitedly as he conversed with the others. Bruce was constantly checking your vitals and wanting everything the doctor was saying repeated. Wanda was beside you, a hand gripping yours and the other running ice chips along your lips. Bucky was on your other bedside wearing one of Steve’s sweatshirts because it still smelled like him. His logic was that if he was wearing something of Steve’s the first moment he held your baby, then the first thing he smelled would be the remnants of his father. 

And Thor was practically speechless, silent in his own little corner and feeling like the god’s really did bless everyone in this room after such turmoil.

Clint arrived with Peter trailing behind him just when the doctor instructed you sit up - you were at ten centimeters. 

‘You gotta push, Y/N! You gotta push when the doctor says push!’

You yelled until your lungs gave out, head almost rolling back but Sam held it in his palm. ‘C’mon, Y/N! You’re doing great!’

You usually had perfect pitch when you sang, never faltering when it was time to hit a high note. But your voice was cracking at the most unusual times, throat rubbed raw as you felt your hips splinter open. 

‘He’s crowning!’

Wanda traded places with Sam real quick, deciding that she wanted to see the baby when he was finally out. Bucky had a death grip on your hand, tears flowing freely and a smile to match Thor’s. 

‘Push, Y/N! Push!’

‘I’m-I’m! I’m sorry! I can’t!’

The doctor was working her hands around the head, trying to ease the baby out easier. ‘Trust me, Y/N. One more big push and the shoulders will be out. That’s the hardest part.’

The doctor’s words were starting to drown out, and your head lolled back again. You felt tiny smacks on your cheeks, ‘C’mon, Y/N. You can do this. Everyone believes in you. You’re so goddamn strong, Y/N!’

That was Bucky’s voice. Bucky. 

You opened your eyes, delirious for a second. ‘Steve?’

Bucky whimpered and nodded, bringing your hand up to his lips and pressing kisses all over. ‘He’s here. I feel him, Y/N. You can do this.’

And you could feel him. You could see your family but you could feel him. It was so light, like a gentle whisk across the cheek, a promise that this truly was a miracle. 

You screamed as you pushed under doctor’s orders, feeling numb and abused but satisfied. His shoulders slipped out and along with them came his arms and torso, legs and all ten toes. The doctor caught him quickly, lifting him up vertically to let you see him. He was already crying. 

‘He’s here!’

You sobbed and smiled widely, laughter rattling your chest as the team bombarded you with quick hugs. Sam remained at your side, his eyes motioning for Bucky to go see the baby. 

‘Who’s cutting the cord?’

You looked around the room but you knew. You answered the doctor’s question. ‘Bucky.’

Bucky was truly confused. Not because of your decision, but because he couldn’t possibly be worthy of this. His hands, those hands that had killed so many people involuntarily, had almost killed Steve, those hands were now gripping a pair of medical scissors to cut the symbolization of new life entering the world. He turned to you for permission one last time, before he gripped the cord in his hand and cut where the doctor pointed. 

His shoulders felt a million times lighter. Like he was set free all over again. 

They cleaned the baby up quickly and swaddled him. The doctor placed him in your arms, all warm and utterly safe, to look back up at you with the same blue eyes as his father. 

You sobbed happily, brushing your fingers delicately along his pink cheek. ‘Hi. Hi there.’

He was no longer crying, just staring up in pure astonishment at the various faces staring back at him. 

‘Y/N, he’s beautiful,’ Clint said, tissue already in hand. 

‘I can’t believe you’re here,’ you spoke softly. 

‘Do we have a name?’

It was like everyone said it in unison. ‘Steve.’

You snuggled into the bed and Natasha’s sweater, somewhat aware of the doctor still fixing you up down there. You would try feeding later, but for now your newborn needed to be passed around the group and be awed at. 

You carefully guided him to Bucky, holding his head gently in your palm. Bucky took him, arms instinctively curling in the correct position. Once Bucky had him in his arms, it was like everything that happened in the world was worth it. Absolutely everything. 

Bucky watched in fascination as the baby curled deeper in his chest, little fist clutching Steve’s sweatshirt. He took the sweetest little intake of air…

`

xxMoni