#writing the code that makes these plots was a pain

[relto]

ker time ker time

[crumblinggothicarchitecture]

It's Bothering me so much that Taylor Swift is so fake smart-girl coded, I need to say this:

I have a degree in both Philosophy and English Literature....

She used the term Soliloquy wrong in her song by using it to refer to people espousing nonsense while complaining in an echo-chamber about her.

Instead, a soliloquy is the most honest and introspective a character will ever be. Often the character will stand to the front center of the stage and, as if in a dream, speak openly to themselves (and in respect to the audience) lay out the truth, or the agony of whichever conflict haunts the plot. So, anyway she's just plain wrong in her usage of the term.

I am not giving a sanctimonious soliloquy. Miss Taylor Swift, you are wrong, and I am speaking honestly.

She finishes the lyric "sanctimoniously performing soliloquies I'll never see" and I just want to mention that a soliloquy requires an audience... so she does not know what she is talking about by saying that there is no audience for a soliloquy.

Also, for the record, I don't think Taylor Swift knows anything of substance about Aristotle. I, on the other hand, took a three-hour long oral exam over Aristotle's life work while out-of-my-mind-high on Dayquil and pain meds after a surgery. I got an "A", and, somehow, I lived through that, I doubt the validity of Swift's claims to know anything at all about philosophy. Especially, considering how all her songs are about as deep as a puddle.

She's completely lost her credibility.

The woman did not even finish High School in a traditional, well-rounded way. I think she read a handful of Joe's books and now thinks real highly of herself.

Edit: I don't mean to make fun of her for being dumb. I'm frustrated that she's "stepping on my lawn" and making her legion of fans think that she totally knows what she's talking about when it comes to literary references in her work or philosophy. It's obvious that she does not actually understand the concepts she attempts to engage with.

Her only real literary skill is name dropping actually talented writers or philosophers in her songs.

Edit 2: Since some people want to come on this post and tell me that I am being needlessly pedantic about her use of words. Go away. A soliloquy is an ancient literary form, one which transcends cultures and centuries, and I, as a scholar of English Literature, am in the position to say that Swift is speaking about the form incorrectly. She obviously did not even google the form, it's clear she has very little real acquaintance with half the literature concept or authors she names drops.

Sure, soliloquies can be unreliable (Hamlet's "To Be, or not to be" is the most obvious example). However, the fact of the matter is that soliloquy hinges on the Honesty of the character. Swift writing that it's actually the opposite of honesty proves to me that she has no real idea about the literary form.

[indigovigilance]

The Final Fifteen is about Terry Pratchett's Death

read on Ao3

The final fifteen is obviously a major plot point, and serves a role in a story that was written long before Terry Pratchett was ever diagnosed with Alzheimer’s. But the scene itself wasn’t written until just a few years ago, during the writing of Season 2. In fact, the scene came about during a park bench conversation between Neil Gaiman and John Finnemore.

Others have noted that the non-romantic kiss that signals the story moving into the third act is a Neil Gaiman staple. The function of such a kiss, from Gaiman’s perspective, is to communicate.

In 2023 we are seeing a lot of stories written by men, for men, about men who are best friends and discover that their friendship can go deeper than the norms of society would usually allow; that platonic and romantic love are not so far apart, and perhaps the better word for a relationship that can be described this way is intimacy.

Neil Gaiman has made it clear in interviews that his friendship with Terry Pratchett was deeply intimate. They began collaborating on what would become Good Omens in the 1980’s, endured a tumultuous experience together through the first publication, wherein Neil offered to martyr himself on behalf of Terry if the book failed, and then spent the better part of two decades touring the world, meeting the people who loved their work. Neil would even off-handedly remark that Terry’s fans were so cheerful, and Neil’s seemed like they were ready to kill themselves; wouldn’t it be nice if they got married? From the outside, it looks very much as if Terry was Aziraphale-coded, and Neil was Crowley-coded, working together in an unexpected partnership to make the world a little bit more tolerable for the humans inhabiting it. I am not conjecturing that Neil and Terry had romantic inclinations the way their fictional characters do, but I think it is fair to say that their opposites-attract intimacy became an important part of who each of them were.

In 2007 Terry Pratchett was diagnosed with posterior cortical atrophy, a rare form of Alzheimer’s. As the disease progressed, he began to lose himself, and knew that the person he used to be was slipping away. He wanted to end his life on his own terms, and die as himself, but England did not and still does not allow for voluntary euthanasia or assisted suicide. He advocated for the right to die but never achieved it, and ultimately succumbed to the disease in 2015. Neil Gaiman has spoken a lot on the topic of death, and one answer of his that resonated with me reads:

Mostly it feels terrible. It even feels terrible when it’s someone who has been in a lot of pain for a long time or has not really been there for a long time and you know that Death has in some ways been a blessing: suddenly you are mourning the whole person. 

It doesn’t get easier as you age. It gets stranger. The point where you realise how many people you used to know and like who aren’t there any longer, and you cannot talk to them or see them or laugh with them is painful in a way that I had never expected. The first time that someone you had a romantic relationship with dies and you realise that there had been moments both of you shared and now you are the sole custodian of those moments and one day you will be gone and they will be lost forever is peculiarly strange and hard. 

~~~

The entire show is seeded with references to Terry Pratchett, but the most important one is the one that’s missing. Neil Gaiman cameoed as a sleeping moviegoer in S1E4, but a long time ago, he and Terry had discussed cameoing as sushi restaurant-goers, because sushi was weirdly prominent in the book. That cameo would have been in S1E1. But when it came time to do it, Neil couldn’t. Not without Terry. 

Neil: I was gonna say our location is a Chinese restaurant we’d had turned into a sushi restaurant. So Terry and I, Terry Pratchett and I, had a standing… not even a standing joke, just a standing plan, that we were going to have sushi - there was going to be a scene in Good Omens where sushi was eaten and we were gonna be extras, we were gonna sit in the background, eating sushi while it was done. And I was so looking forward to this and, so I wrote this scene with it being sushi, even though Terry was gone, with that in mind and I thought: Oh, I’ll sit and I’ll eat lots of sushi as an extra, this will be my scene as an extra, I’ll just be in the background. And then, on the day, or a couple of days before, I realized that I couldn’t do it.

Douglas: You never told me this before either. I might have pushed you into doing it, had I known. I think you were right not to tell me.

Neil: I was keeping it to me self ‘cause I was always like: Oh, maybe I’ll be… this will be my cameo. And then I couldn’t. I was just so sad, ‘cause Terry wasn’t there. And it was probably the day that I missed Terry the most of all of the filming - it was just this one scene ‘cause it was written for Terry and all of the sushi meals we’d ever had and all of the strange way that sushi ran through Good Omens.

~~~

In the Final Fifteen, it is clear that Crowley and Aziraphale want to stay together. They love each other. They each know that the other loves them. There’s nothing that needs to be said, no convincing that their bond is true and real and precious.

But Aziraphale has to go to Heaven, and Crowley cannot follow him there.

I cannot speculate what it must have been like for Neil to endure losing a friend who, though I’m sure he desperately wanted to still be in his life, he also knew that life had become a burden to him, and grieved that Terry was not able to choose the time and manner of his departure from this Earth. This sort of complex grief, we fan-ficcers know, is the kind that is often best processed through story-telling. 

I think that what we see Crowley going through in the Final Fifteen, alongside its importance to the story arc of Good Omens overall, is Neil processing his grief at losing his friend Terry Pratchett, and even the kiss, that violent, terrible, awful kiss, was the symbolic representation of Neil saying goodbye.

[madlori]

Here's where I am with Buddie.

[CW: I am using the Buddie tag on this post, even though the gist of it is that I'm increasingly doubtful that it'll ever happen. This is NOT an anti-Buddie essay. If you'd rather not read about this topic, please keep scrolling. The bulk of the essay is behind the cut.]

-------

I've thought a lot about this over the weeks since 7x04 aired. It's not a secret that I'm wildly enthusiastic about the BuckTommy pairing (as are many fans) but what does that mean for my thoughts and opinions about Buddie, a pairing I still love and for which I am still writing fic (slowly but surely…)?

It's become increasingly difficult to reconcile hopes for Buddie with dread for a BuckTommy breakup, but if the show managed to pull off a breakup that did not destroy me, I would still be all in for a Buddie endgame.

But more and more, I don't think it's in the cards, and I'm increasingly okay with that.

First off, I know it's a common assumption that Buck and Tommy have an expiration date, and that it cannot last. That may very well be the case, but…the show is not acting like it, nor are they presenting this arc as if it's short-lived. Episodes 4-6, while also being about other things (especially the amazing Madney wedding plot in 6) were also a bit of a trilogy about Buck discovering his sexuality and taking tentative steps into a relationship with another man. It didn't go…particularly smoothly, but the events of 7x06 where they were concerned had a completely different tone. They had a much more settled vibe in the karaoke club scenes, from Tommy's very boyfriendly "check-in" look before he had to leave, to Buck's casual/distracted "Be safe" (as if he's said this before) and just how they spoke to each other and touched each other was much more comfortable than in the coffee meetup. Which makes me think it's been a few weeks and they've seen each other a few times in the interim.

And then that kiss. Putting aside that it was juxtaposed with a literal wedding kiss, there was nothing uncertain or hesitant about it. It felt like a very arc-capping kiss, coupled with the reveal to the rest of Buck's friends and family, and the clear message was "Okay, they're done 'getting together' now, they are together and will be together going forward, even if we don't see Tommy every episode (much as we don't see Karen every episode)." We know Tommy will be around through the end of S8, if not in every remaining episode. After that, we'll see.

A lot of fans have viewed one of the guys coming out as queer to be a first step towards a Buddie future, but I have to say I've never been super comfortable with that logic. I've always thought that if they were going to get together, or both be revealed to be queer, it would have to be at the same time, with each other, via them getting together. The minute they pulled the trigger on Bisexual Buck, I immediately thought that this made Buddie far less likely. Why?

Because it would mean that the writers/showrunners would be making BOTH their "hot younger firefighter" characters queer…separately. In separate storylines. Distinct from each other. And I just don't see that happening. I'm not saying it SHOULDN'T happen. I'd be over the moon. I'm saying I think that's unlikely.

As much as it pains me to say it, I think Eddie will be written as straight and will continue to be written as straight. I don't disagree with the many examples of queer coding we've all seen - the problem is all of them can be just as easily interpreted as arising from a different trauma. Almost everything we've seen from him that could very legitimately be read as breadcrumbs for a queer identity for him could also be rooted in his trauma over Shannon's death, his family trauma, his PTSD, or his general anxiety over being enough for people. He can be read as having sexuality crises. But he can also be read as having other crises with the same results.

I'm not seeing a sexuality crisis for Eddie in the future. I just don't feel like that's where they're taking him. They're taking him somewhere -- he's got storylines coming up -- but I think they're going to have to do with his family, possibly his friendship with Buck, maybe his relationship (I think we can all agree Marisol isn't going to last, she's like the anti-Tommy in that she's been around way longer but has infinitely less of a presence), and Christopher. That's a lot to deal with just right there. If I'm wrong, I will be delighted to be wrong.

But.

I think the show will continue to prioritize and showcase Buck and Eddie's very deep and emotional friendship, which is revolutionary in its own quiet way. Another thing that makes me think they're setting Tommy up to be a long term love interest is that one of the first things they did with him was affirm that he will not come between Buck and Eddie, give him his own relationship with Eddie and Chris, and have him show that he understands and respects the depth of their bond. Not to mention they've integrated him with the firefam. No other of Buck's love interests have gotten this treatment (Taylor had the most contact with the firefam, but I don't think anyone would say she was integrated, LOL). And it shows how committed they are to maintaining Buck and Eddie's friendship as a key emotional element of the show. Tim has also said this, repeatedly.

People often say that there's no explanation for how Buck and Eddie are with each other if it's not romantic - I read a fantastic essay that pointed out that this statement is the reason their platonic friendship IS so important. Men should be able to be vulnerable and loving with each other without it being romantic, as women can be. If we're unable to see a loving friendship without interpreting it as romantic or sexual, what does that say about the kind of male friendships we see everywhere, that makes this one so different?

I know this is an old anti-Buddie argument and I'm not anti-Buddie nor do I mean it's wrong to see it as romantic. I still do. I'm saying if it's not, if it never is, what it is, is already valuable and special, especially when one of them is now openly queer and dating a man.

Anyway. That's where I am with it, and my interpretation of where the show is with it.

[wickedwitchofthegalaxy]

Foreign Feelings

Pairing: Anakin(rots)XFem!reader

Summary: All the smut and little plot 😝

Warnings~ NSFW, 18+, minors DNI, oral sex (M!receiving), hair pulling, dirty talking, praise kink, dom/sub dynamics

Credit: This is my own spin off to a story I read on here and I can’t find the story again, so please, please text me for inspo credit!

P.S. Also this is my first story since I started up writing again! Please feel free to send me a DM with suggestions or advice! Banner at the end by @cafekitsune Enjoy!!

Word count: 1.6K

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

"I’ve never done this before,"

You lowly admit, the rush of adrenaline pulsing through your veins as you sink to your knees on Anakin’s bedroom floor. Panic and excitement warred within you, mingling with a heady anticipation of the unknown. As you both surrendered to the electric tension that had been building between you, a whirlwind of thoughts raced through your mind - are you ready to embrace the unknown, or are you merely a passenger on this journey of forbidden desire?

Amidst the chaos of your emotions, one thing remains clear - in this moment, you feel truly alive. Being naked and this vulnerable in front of Anakin was not only a new experience but a thrilling one as well. His thumb traces your bottom lip as he lets you wrestle his pants off. The riveting touch of his rough fingers against your silk-like skin sends coded messages throughout your nerves, igniting a firestorm of desire that attempts to consume you whole. His tongue glides along his bottom lip and you find yourself mesmerized by the way his lips got more attractive when he covered them in his spit. Not to mention the raw intensity of his gaze. Those eyes, his enchanting blue eyes, stare down at you. His glare sends a rush of heat flooding your cheeks followed by a flush of arousal, steadily adding to the boiling desire within you.

Every word— No— Every syllable that leaves your pretty pink lips seems to fan the flames kindling within him.

He needed you.

"You'll be perfect, y/n— Just—"

His words trail off into a low, deep growl but the expression in his eyes speak volumes as your hand tentatively wraps around him. Butterfly wings flutter in your stomach while nervousness churns within you. He rolls his head back and takes a deep, labored breath. As his hand quickly reaches out and tangles roughly in your hair, you feel a surge of electricity radiating from his touch, a tangible reminder of the hunger simmering between you. The urgency in his actions sends a shock racing down your spine, a mixture of fervor and anxiety starting to pool in the front of your mind as he pushes you closer to his pulsing cock.

"Mmm," Anakin's mouth betrays him as you take his tip into your wet lips. The sweetness of his precum travels through your tastebuds as you swirl around him, trying to take more of him in. His cock makes your mouth feel full and warm as his hand in your hair guides you. Your thoughts cloud quickly as you let yourself fall into your own sense of pleasure.

You glance up to catch a glimpse of the lovely Jedi; his stomach flexing and sweat glistens on his bare skin while his left hand holds the front of his robe lazily to his chest. His flush lips are parted in awe and those beautiful blue eyes were staring down at you. The feeling of having all of his undivided attention makes your core tighten, and you use the feeling of satisfaction to push your throat further around his cock.

“That’s it, fuck, that’s it,” his tone is smooth and it rings through your ears, erupting a small chill that races down your neck. The scruff of his pubes grazes your lip as his hair-wrapped hand holds your head firmly in place. Your throat starts to contract, begging you for air as lines of drool trail down from the corners of your mouth. A sound croaks from your throat you’d never heard before, and his grip tightens on your hair. He quickly yanks you off of him, oxygen filling your lungs with a stab as the sharp pain from his pull elicits a small gasp. Coughing and trying to catch your breath you look up at him, unsure of what had gone wrong.

"What? What’s wrong?” You question him hoarsely, worriying you had somehow messed up.

“What happened?" You clutch your hands to his muscular thighs as you stare intently, searching his face for an answer. Had you done something wrong? Did you mess up? Your thoughts fill with worry.

His eyes seem to darken, they’re cloudy with unspoken words, while his mouth remains slightly ajar. You observe, a pang of uncertainty gnawing at your insides as you meet his gaze.

Doubt knots within you as you awaite his next move. His hand still tangled in your hair, he chuckles. The low rumble of his laugh sounds of the harshest silk yet glides gracefully through the air and melts into your ears and runs down your spine.

"You said this was your first time?" He questions.

You nod your head in agreement.

'How is that possible?' He thought to himself, 'I felt the back of her throat. I felt it. She didn’t fight when I force her to stay choking.'

His thoughts run wild with a trillion ideas, excitement sparkling in those darkened blue eyes. His hand tugs tightly at your hair which forces your head back with a snap. His next words come out… Well, in no other way than demanding.

"Open."

A jolt courses through you and having no reason not to oblige, you open your mouth, letting your tongue drape across your bottom lip. With each breathless moment that passes, you find yourself teetering on the edge of surrender, torn between the intoxicating pull of Anakin and the lingering echoes of hesitation. He begins smacking his tip on your tongue, a wet thwacking sound filling his small chamber.

“Just-Relax” His voice was sweet yet holds a sternness to it that made those pestering noises of hesitation in your mind quickly die off.

His mouth slowly parts again, a sight you’re growing to love, as he guides his cock into your mouth ever so slightly just to pull it back out, raking it across your spit covered tongue. His other hand leaves your hair and grips his robe tightly, trying to keep it on his chest and out of your way.

“You know you messed up,” Anakin’s hips rock into you, small groans leaving his plump lips.

“Now that I know you can take me, you’re never leaving my sight,”

The words left his lips and flowed through the air like a cold breeze on a hot day, it made goosebumps trickle all over your body.

The taste of his cock was foreign to your tastebuds, you weren’t sure how to feel about the new taste. Anakin's grip on your hair becomes increasingly tighter as he pushes you to take his full length into your throat once again. The sharp pull on your scalp was minuscule compared to the fire burning in your stomach. This time was harder than the last; it was like he doubled in girth and size in the small amount of time he wasn’t in your mouth. Disregarding your attempts to breathe he held you firmly, staring down at you. Those blue orbs were packed full with lust as his mouth continued to murmur slurs and praises one after the other.

"Fuck. Mmm shit… yes, like that, such a good girl," He could feel every time your throat retracted; it was sending him clear over the edge as he let himself sit in the back of your throat. Roughly, he thrusts his hips into your face, getting as deep into your tight little throat as he could before quickly pulling back his hips and forcing your head off and backwards. The sudden exit from your mouth has you letting out a deep cough, drool trails down your chin and begins to cover your neck. You try taking multiple deep breaths to regain some kind of composure, but Anakin didn’t want to see you composed.. No, quite the opposite. He wanted to see you completely overwrought and undone.

Without warning his firm grasp on your hair draws you back onto his dripping wet member with relentless urgency, leaving you no time to prepare as he fucks your throat at an impatient pace. When he wasn’t holding his cock as deep as it would get in the back of your throat, he was holding you tightly in place as he rocked his hips into you, desperately trying to chase his climax.

Your eyes burned with tears and your throat cried for release. The gags and chokes that were leaving your abused mouth were sounds of unholy scripture to his ears and it gave him exactly what he needed to release deep into your throat. He threw his head back as his groans ripple out, he practically growls your name.

It didn’t take much for you to swallow his load. He was so deep into your throat that he was practically in your stomach by the time his cum flowed out of him. Even after his release, his hand stays thoroughly clutching the back of your head, not letting you move an inch off his cock as he pulses in your mouth.

“Oh yeah, you’re mine,”

Anakin’s words were hazy to your ears as his chest heaved with deep labored breaths. Your lungs beg for oxygen and your body reacts to its signals for help. Your arms shot up to his thick thighs, trying to push off. He refuses to free his hold for what seems like an eternity, though in reality only a few seconds pass as he keeps you in place.

With a forceful tug he jerks your head back, tilting your face up to meet his gaping gaze. Your face is covered in spit and tears. He can’t help but admire you, thinking, you have never looked more beautiful, never more stunning than right now. His chest continues to heave as he drops his robe down, his other hand remaining firmly around your hair. Your eyes flicker up to his, fluttering as you try desperately to catch your breath. Anakin, in turn, has never looked more extraordinary in your eyes, the sweat glimmering on his eyebrows, his lips curved into a delicious smirk.

That smirk plastered on his face deepens as he surveys the masterpiece he has created on your face. A scene straight out of a movie, one he couldn’t take his eyes off. His sapphire blue orbs dance with ecstasy, his breaths coming in ragged gasps as he attempts to slow his racing heart rate.

“Your mouth will only ever know my dick,” He said proudly.

“Do you understand?” His words echo in your mind, a heady mix of validation and vulnerability washes over you in waves as he used his now free hand to caress your liquid-covered cheeks.

[hoshinoyozora]

Poor, Unfortunate Soul(s)

🖤 Pairing: Yandere! Self-aware! Twisted Wonderland x Female! Reader

💛 Word Count: 1,3k+

❤ Warnings: -

[Edited]

Do not re-upload my writing to another website or use it without my permission. Also, don’t ask for a sequel unless I like the story enough to write one. Please reblog so other people can see my stories!

***

Just a lil scenario about MC who ‘dismisses’ their existences aka me lmao.

“They’re just a bunch of game characters, anyway. Why should I care so much about them?”

You laughed, unaware of the hearts that you broke within the screen. The thin yet sturdy piece of glass that separated you from the people who thought of you as their world. Their everything. Your friend chuckled, adding salt to the injury. Had she didn’t ask you why you hadn’t logged into the game for days, weeks even, maybe they wouldn’t be so humiliated and disappointed.

But did that mean they wouldn’t know your true opinion on them otherwise?

Maybe ignorance was bliss, because, then, they would’ve kept holding onto the hope for you to come back. To still want them the same way they wanted you. In this world of codes and numbers, you were the one real thing in their lives. You were human. Warm, fleshy, and expressive. And yet, you dismissed their existences so easily just because you both lived in two different worlds.

Did they really mean nothing for you? Were all of your reactions towards them merely a façade? Or a memory so insignificant you forgot about it in the next day?

“Maybe I should just delete the app. It feels like a chore to open it nowadays.”

The sky darkened, the ground trembled, and the thunder rumbled as the result of a certain dragon fae. Was this your true self? Then again, NRC was a school of villains. They shouldn’t be surprised if you, the Player, turned out to be the biggest villain of all. Not even Malleus Draconia could hold a candle to you. Your words alone had the ability to mold and break their spirits. Your touch alone could move them somewhere else and show them how beautiful Twisted Wonderland was with you by their side. And your presence alone gave them a reason to live.

If you were to disappear, wouldn’t that be comparable to death? A slow, painful death where everyone lost themselves in depression and rage, and ultimately, destroyed themselves. In a moment of morbid curiosity, they wondered if that was what you wanted all along. You toyed with their hearts, and when you got bored, you moved onto their lives.

“We… we can’t just let her leave!” A boyish voice, thick with desperation and an even desperate attempt to recompose, shattered the mournful silence. Everyone recognized him as Ace Trappola, one of Yuu’s enviable first friends and troublemakers from Heartslabyul. “We need to stop her! Come on, guys. Are we really going to stop now, after everything we’ve done to reach her?”

“But how?” Leona asked, sounding even more listless somehow. Despite his pride and consent, you’d taken a peek into his past and remained amicable with him. It didn’t matter that it was for the sake of the plot, your vessel, Yuu, still approached him and asked for his help during Octavinelle’s story. Didn’t that mean something for you? For him? “Just because we’ve managed to hack into her phone doesn’t mean we can drag her here. There’s only so much we can do to make her stay.”

Ace flinched, unprepared for the reality to slap him twice.

“I-I don’t know.” He turned to face the Diasomnia gang who, with the exception of the sniffling Sebek, looked as somber as a funeral guest. “Malleus-senpai, Lilia-senpai, you guys gotta know something about bringing someone from another world, right? You guys are the strongest of the strongest. I don’t care if it’s forbidden. There… there has to be a way!”

For a moment, they were silent as though reluctant to admit their lack of knowledge. Ace wilted, his buckling knees threatening to collapse once the severity of the situation settled in.

That is, until Lilia opened his mouth.

“… There is, actually.” he murmured. “But for every soul that moves here, another has to replace them.”

Some of the characters lit up, but the others remained skeptical.

“And I assume it’s for the sake of balance?” Vil mused, crossing his arms.

Lilia’s glance confirmed his suspicion.

“T-then, what are we waiting for?” In a burst of hope, Azul momentarily stopped sobbing. “Let’s sacrifice that person.”

“But who’s gonna be that person?” Jamil retorted.

Everyone fell quiet again, unwilling to be the lamb in the altar of your capricious existence.

“The NPCs ‘live’ when the story is moving.” Idia mumbled through the floating device. His shyness and reluctance for a face-to-face interaction was customary, but nobody could truly see the underworld his sanity was falling at a rapid pace. Still, it didn’t change the fact that he still wanted to see you living among them. Literally. “That means she has to play again if we want to sacrifice one of them.”

“I, for one, would be more than willing to help ‘convincing’ her, if that’s what it takes.” Jade simpered with his eyes closed and a hand over his chest.

“Oui! It’d be a splendid day to see her sublime face gracing us again. The sun would shine warmly, the flowers would grow tastefully, and the birds would chirp merrily!” Rook enthused, jabbing at Malleus’s inadvertent use of magic.

Riddle wiped his teary eyes with the sleeve of his uniform and straightened up.

“Seeing that our Player has slackened in her responsibility to watch over us, it is our duty to set her right.” he declared. “Heartslabyul students, I order you to find this person and bring him here!”

“I-I agree…!” Sebek piped up, still loud as always despite his trembling voice and runny nose. “I shall seize him and send him to that world at once!”

Ever the dutiful one, Silver gripped his baton and nodded. As long as it wasn’t murder without a cause, he’d gladly perform any task like a true knight would.

“Well, if Riddle ordered us like this, who are we to disobey him?” Cater laughed, trying to hide the shakiness of his voice.

Trey pushed his glasses, foggy from the upcoming tears.

“Indeed. But I won’t lie, this is something that I’m looking forward to carry out.”

“For once, you did something right, Ace!” Deuce beamed proudly.

“Oi!”

Jamil glanced at Kalim, who reluctantly nodded. He hated to see people throwing away their lives carelessly, after all the assassination attempts that he suffered through the story. But if it was for the sake of seeing you with them, who was he to stop them?

Floyd grinned happily, but the anger of being abandoned by you darkened his eyes.

“Once she gets here, I’ll be sure to give her a nice, long squeeze as a welcome~”

“Well, Leona-san?” Ruggie asked, crossing his hands behind his head. “Are we gonna boost their morale or something?”

Leona sighed, lacking the irritated exhaustion he usually had. Even he wasn’t immune to the hope that Lilia brought to them, no matter how annoying it was to trust him.

“You better not be disappointing us, Lilia.” he growled. “And you, too, Radish Sprout.”

“I don’t like this.” Jack murmured. “But if this is what it takes to make the Player fulfill her role again, then I’ll do my best to live up to the expectations!”

“I… I will join as well!” Epel stated, clenching his fists resolutely.

“Look, Brother!” Ortho chirped. “You managed to bring them all together. That’s so cool!”

Idia muttered something, but the younger boy was too engrossed in their touching cooperation to notice.

Sunlight finally dispersed the dark clouds, mirroring their spirit. Malleus took a step forward with his chin raised in determination.

“Then, I shall assist Lilia with the magic.”

You said you didn’t care about them?

Well, they would make you care.

[skxllz]

“ 𝐢 𝐠𝐨𝐭 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐛𝐥𝐮𝐞 𝐫𝐨𝐬𝐞𝐬. ”

carl gallagher x fem! reader

warnings; mention of death & reference to death. sad, grieving reader. mentions of pregnancy. takes place after season 11. real tear-jerker plot, angst.

side note; I'm traumatizing myself by writing this so I apologize in advance to everyone else lmao.

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the photo between your fingertips felt crisp... a warmth that was once brought by it now gone. your touch was cold, but the sleek lining of the polaroid was colder. no longer a brightening memory, just a numb remembrance of what shouldve lasted.

tears drizzled down your cheeks like rain on a window pane, dripping over the shininess of the photo that reflected light off of it from the moon above. as you stared at it - smiles and laughter and joy in a moment that felt like just yesterday - you couldn't stop the continuous ache in your chest from increasing. throbbing, and growing, like a large damn tumor. It was painful.

a hiccup escaped your mouth from the oncoming sob that bubbled from your throat. you slapped a hand to your mouth, silencing yourself, squeezing your eyes shut while the tears kept flowing.

it wasn't until you sniffled did you gain the idea.

shaky digits sat the photo down, beside you, onto the sleek wooden planks of the porch. the droplets of rain that stuck to the porch bled through the polaroid, but you were too distracted to notice; grabbing for your phone out of the pocket of your coat.

you switched the screen on and the white glow blinded you through blurry vision, yet you didn't mind. fingers moved quickly in typing in the code to your phone, before you accessed your contacts.

you scrolled, and scrolled, up until you came across his name.

thumb hovering over the highlighted contact hesitantly, before pressing down onto the screen. the screen flashed, before the dial screen loaded; making you lift the phone to your ear.

your sniffles were silent while you painlessly waited through the rings of the other line.

one ring. your breathing came out shaky. heartbeat picking up, startling you.

two rings. your hands were shaking more. you nearly dropped your phone, but managed to squeeze it tighter into your palm.

three rings. you had to bite your bottom lip to keep from crying more.

finally, you were met with nothing but a voice box.

“ hey! It's carl. ” a wobbly grin etched onto your lips at the sound of his voice. “ I probably can't come to the phone right now — stop it, debbie! — but I'll get back to you as soon as i can, alright? just leave a number and name! ”

the phone beeped, signaling for a message to record...

“ hey, carl. ” your voice was scratchy as you spoke form all the sobbing you had done previously. It made you laugh, the irony, “ it's... It's me. It's y/n. ”

you paused, swallowing down your saliva. it was so hard to speak, to think. you had no clue what to say — yet you had so much to say.

“ I don't even know where to start, ” your voice cracked, head angling down as you looked to your feet. you were wearing the vans carl had bought you... “ I just- I just really miss you, ya’ know? ”

you let out a sniffling, pain filled laugh. it was hard not to. the way you were only making the pain worse? you were such a fool.

“ I can't... ” an intake of a large full of air, “ it's just hard to accept that you're gone, ya’ know? I.. when we saw it on the news last week... ”

you had to press a hand to your mouth for a moment. breathing becoming ragged, continuously coming out in short yet fast puffs. you felt as if your lungs would burst.

then, you continued, “ I just couldn't believe it. neither could debbie, or lip, or liam, or Ian.... ” swallowing thickly, you let out a noise of distress. “ or fiona. fiona came back, carl. she was going to surprise you, but you were working- and then the shooting happened- ”

by now, your lips were curling in; cheeks indenting from the rough burrow the motion created between your teeth and the corners of your mouth.

“ why the fuck did you have to leave? ” you sobbed, pressing your hand to your forehead; fingertips bending inward and nails digging into your upper palm. “ why? why?! you- you couldn't have just taken off that day?! ”

the raising of your voice caught the attention of the neighbors, but of course you didn't mind - didn't care. the hallow, yet cramping pit in your stomach is the only thing you were focused on.

your shoulders shook. arms trembled. legs shuffled, until your feet were pressing together. it was hard to calm down, especially with the loathing anger you felt, but... you managed to after a moment.

just sitting there, breathing in and out. In and out. and then sniffing loudly, to clear your nose of the clog.

“ .. I got the blue roses. ” you whispered, voice raw and raspy. your hand was combing though hair, giving your scalp a thick scratch to relieve stress. “ the ones you ordered me the day before... I love them. they're.. they're dying now, but I'm gonna’ press ‘em in a photo album. ”

you licked your chapped lips.

more tears threatened to fall, but you quickly wiped them away.

“ ... and, there's something I didn't get to tell you. ” a shaky exhale was taken, with a small tremble of your hand - it moved, gliding across your jacketed arm before squeezing. trying to comfort yourself.

“ I'm pregnant, ” you croaked, “ have been for a few weeks now. I... I haven't told the family, either. I wanted to tell you first. ”

pausing.

“ of course, it's too late for that... ”

that's when the phone beeped twice, signifying the recording went on for too long. you squeezed your eyes shut then, biting your bottom lip. frustration, sadness, pity - you felt it all and then some in between.

the urge to throw your phone flooded your veins, but you didn't. not with a comforting hand meeting your shoulder.

you looked up, only to see a familiar brunette.

turning your head, you silently averted your gaze away from the female; her presence welcome, always is, but you didint have the strength to greet her. you were just too... tired.

“ ... It'll be okay. ” fiona said after a moment. she too was looking straight ahead as she sat - not at anything particular, just simply basking in the night air and after-chills of the rain that had passed. her eyes seemed dead, not lively and excited like they were when she first arrived...

I mean, how could she be happy? her brother passed away... before she could even see him again.

“ how? ” you sniffed, letting out a chuckle that held so many emotions - but the number one thing that stood out, was disbelief. “ how could it be okay, fi? my boyfriend's dead. ”

“ and so is my brother. ” she dryly replied. It came out a bit harsh, but that was the reality of it. you weren't the only one to lose someone.

and she knew that, which is why her arm wrapped around your shoulders and pulled you close. she felt like crying, but stayed strong - she always had to. “ it'll be okay, because we all have each other. we'll get through this together. ”

her words were met with silence. “ ya’ know, ” as tears gathered over her waterline, fiona chuckled drastically, “ I remember the first time carl told us about you. said he swore he was gonna’ marry you one day. ”

“ he did? ” you mumbled, eyes downcasted towards your touching knees. she nodded in response, with a hum.

“ yes. ” she bit the inside of her cheek, “ I couldn't believed my ears... we all thought he was nuts. ”

you hummed a laugh, the tears sticking to your cheeks and lashes slowly drying up. “ he was... very nuts. I never did get a ring, so I guess he was just yappin’ like always, huh? ”

a reply was never given. several seconds passed by, before you pushed yourself off of fiona and looked at her expectedly.

she was already looking at you, a look of fondness and soft, sisterly love in her doe eyes.

“ what? ” you questioned quietly. your eyes were darting between her own, and then over her face, and then down-

a small, black, velvet box was in her palm.

you sucked in a sharp intake of air, eyes widening with disbelief at the object in fiona's hand. your lungs... they felt like they were burning. like you were drowning.

your heart beat... It picked up vastly.

and your brain - you couldn't think, it was blanking at this point.

carl... he was going to propose to you?

[respectthepetty]

Interesting to have you thoughts on WHY we love the pain and angst in the Unknown series? and we are not getting the ick instead?

I’m trying to explain it to people without just saying “because they do it so well” you know?

Anon, I can't tell you why YOU like Unknown or why anyone else likes it, but I can tell you why I like it since therapy has shown me the beauty of introspection.

I'm a kinky queer who trusts Taiwan.

And just like kink, this show isn't ONLY about the pain and the angst.

Note that I'm not writing about this in a sexual way nor am I writing that this show is kinky. No. I'm writing that I like it because it resonates with me, a queer kinkster.

And by "ick," I think you mean the brothers-not-brothers plot since that ties into the pain and angst aspect.

Not to get too psychological or philosophical, but the pain of the show gives me pleasure. Especially because I know the pain won't last. There is an end point; therefore, there is a release. And once the show is over, I won't be left with this horrible scar of unhappiness but I might be left with some bruises that remind me the pain was worth it for the happy ending.

Also, much like being queer and kinky, this plot is a taboo subject.

And I like that!

The show is treating the subject with respect. The show has established that Yuan and Qian ARE brothers. They call each other "brother," they have their little sister, and the world sees them as brothers.

Yet they aren't blood-related, which is a point that San Pang mentioned when he told Lili not to get too close to Yuan, and people were upset that he said it, but it is the same argument people use to excuse Yuan's feelings for his brother.

And just like kink, the show makes me think about that grey area of life between consenting adults because nothing is ever black and white. Yuan asked San Pang what was wrong with him loving Qian, and we will see the fallout from San Pang dating Lili when he has openly considered Qian family. People have questioned what is different between the two relationships, and the show will question it as well.

This show is asking the audience to reflect, so I feel safe with this show punishing me with so much pain which is a big aspect of kink. I wouldn't tolerate pain from a show I don't feel safe with (Game of Thrones, I'm looking at your ass!). I trust the show to deal with this taboo subject with respect because Taiwanese BLs have consistently dealt with this subject with respect. As much as people hated HIStory 4: Close to You, it didn't shy away from the brothers plot or the sexual assault. Both were treated seriously within the show.

And it did the same with Kiseki: Dear to Me.

And the other Taiwanese BLs it's been used in.

So I've never had the ick factor that others have regarding this particular subject or been bothered by the level of pain it brings, but perhaps Addicted toughened me up because the way China dishes out sad "bromances" due to censorship, I suspect there is a connection there between the "brothers" to lovers plot that transfers into Taiwanese dramas.

Because if you have to hide love behind a wall of being "bros," it makes sense that it would 1) be painful, and 2) be queer-coded since a happy ending wouldn't be realistic.

And yet Taiwan continues to deliver a happy ending with this type of plot.

So yeah, I like the pleasure that will come with all this pain. I like that it leans into historical and cultural queer coding while being explicitly queer. And I like that it's Taiwanese handling it.

That's why I like it.

But, once again, I have no idea why others do.

[thedemonsurfer]

hey uuuh im procrastinating on other things so let's write a big ol' essay about

Eclipse 3.1, and Why Moon Is Doing a Disservice By Writing Him Off As "Insane*"

*insane in this context being the definition of 'acting erratic and unpredictable with no regard to consequences' and not an actual mental illness diagnosis, I know, I wish they'd pick a different word too, but this is an essay about Eclipse's behavior, not linguistics

So! If you've only been sorta keeping up with SAMS, the current plot is someone (we still don't know who) revived everyone's favorite dusty Dorito that had been forgotten under the couch, slapped him on the ass, and pointed him at the Daycare. This has made a lot of people (in universe) very angry and been widely regarded as a bad move, even by Eclipse.

Especially by Eclipse.

Our buddy boy has magic (dunno how), incomplete memories of both the original Eclipse and the backup (no clue how he got those), and directives embedded in his code that can't be removed without killing him (¯\_(ツ)_/¯). He literally woke up in the hallway outside the Daycare and then went inside and started monologuing.

Eclipse wants to find the person who brought him back, maybe or maybe not ask some questions, and then kill them.

He reeeeeally wants to kill them.

(This whole arc honestly boils down to Eclipse grabbing various folks and shaking them while screaming "ARE YOU MY MOMMY?!")

In recent eps Moon has accused him of going 'insane', mostly due to his insistence on picking fights and threatening others, and that he cannot shut up about wanting to get the guy that made him. He very recently picked a fight with Lunar, who killed him again-- and proved at the moment he can't be killed permanently, he'll just come back in a new body.

Huh.. fighting a programmed compulsion, becoming more erratic and aggressive over time, breakdown of logic and reasoning... That seems kind of familiar...

Oh yeah! This is Eclipse's kill code. I'm calling it the 'bother code', but 'cringecode' and 'pain-in-the-ass code' aren't off the table. Unlike Moon's kill code, the expression seems to be 'be a distraction to Moon' rather than like, outright murdering people.

Like the kill code, fighting the compulsion seems to make his behavior more unstable. Because here's the thing: Eclipse isn't stupid.

Well.

Okay, Eclipse is stupid, but not... like this.

Eclipse is a manipulator. His thing has always been to recruit others to help him achieve his goal, and he's patient about it. He's willing to work for months on someone, and while he does shoot himself in the foot eventually, it's usually more indirectly than this. Moon is currently helping him search for the guy, it makes no sense for Eclipse to continue posturing and threatening.

Except-- that's his only outlet right now.

The "I need to find the guy who made me"? That's Eclipse's goal, the one he's pursing with all the stubbornness he has.

The "hey what if I killed or maimed some of your family"? That's the directives.

What we're seeing with Eclipse's behavior is him desperately trying to keep himself on track, when the bother code is trying to yank him in another direction. Threatening Moon so he'll 'work faster' is an outlet, a way for him to briefly pacify the code while redirecting it back into his own goal. He knows it's a stupid suggestion, but he's going to make it anyway because he has no choice.

I think he feels like he's running out of time as well. Because Eclipse can be patient, but he gets frustrated and short tempered the closer he gets to a deadline (this is why I believe he started being meaner to Lunar-- he was frustrated about not finding the star and had given himself only a month to do it).

So like.. yeah. I don't think he's going 'insane' or 'losing his mind'. I think he's fighting a losing battle against his own programming, and taking the frustration and panic out on everyone else. Because the kill code couldn't be fought off indefinitely, eventually the bot would crack under it. And it'd be nice if Moon could acknowledge that Eclipse's behavior isn't entirely voluntary, and he IS I think honestly doing his best-- he outright came to them for help, something he's never done before.

Idk maybe they need to let Eclipse put Moon in a stupid trap again for an ep to get it out of his system so he can chill out for a while.

A sidenote! Its interesting to me that Eclipse's behavior in the coming back ep seemed to be erratic only as long as Moon was present. Once Moon left, Eclipse changed gears in how he was talking to Solar, and had some very classic "you know you're better than this, don't you want to go apeshit?" lines. The kind of thing that we've seen from the previous Eclipse incarnations. Dunno yet if it means anything, but it's interesting!

[sinon36]

Ghost x undercover!reader (HC) Part I

Warnings: torture, blood, pain, unconscious Ghost and basically kinda useless, really capable YOU persona ;), rushed writing, possible mistakes, reader is pretty neutral so far

P.S. Don’t judge the unexplained inconsistency of how a guy like Ghost gets captured, but spy you get to waltz around unbothered, yeah, you’re that good, so good you got plot armour. Besos!   

Part I Part II Part III Part IV Part V Part VI

- the first time you meet it's messy. He's supposed to extract an agent from behind enemy lines but instead he gets captured

-  you pose as a computer science PhD who is in charge of the enemy base cyber security, when in reality you're there to install a backdoor with remote access.

- you know someone should come to help make your exit, but when no infiltration is reported panic starts to rise in your chest

- you start investigating, searching through the facility trying to find out if something happened.

- you gain access to a part of the facility you don't have clearance for.

- you stumble upon a gruesome scene in one of the holding cell in the underground levels

- you find a man tied to the ceiling, bare feet barely touching the floor, muscles stretching under the tension ready to snap

- a black hood is thrown over his head and he's shirtless, remnants of once black cargo pants hang on his hips.

- he was tortured, for days by looks of it

- you know enough about that to know that he hasn't cracked yet, otherwise he'd be dead not hanging there in the damp cold cell.

- you take your chances and take the hood off

- he groggily turns his head to look down at you, he’s a big that much you can say

- blonde whisps of hair matted to his scalp stained a dark red, pale skin the same blood oozing from small cuts on his cheeks dripping down on his pectorals. From behind black and blue and inflammation two brown eyes scan your face

- 'the wolf walks alone' you quietly utter the code phrase for identity verification

- he watches you like an owl watches a mouse with cautious patience but he gives no indication that he'll answer

- you can't stay there too long; someone might catch you here or someone could report that you never came back from the bathroom break

- you reach for the hood to place it back on the prisoner’s head, knowing that you can't do anything for him and in this state he can't even provide a distraction for you to slip out unnoticed

-as you get closer tiptoeing to reach above his head he grunts, you stop in your tracks making eye contact

- his dried and busted lips start to quiver you wait for a moment giving him a chance to prove you wrong

- 'But the pack's got its back...' he draws out in a deep guttural voice laced with a thick Manchester accent

- phrase matching your own, you get to work hastily finding a way to get him down

- as you unlock the chains wounded around his wrists you try to support his weight which proves impossible

- you barely manage to break his fall turning yourself in a cushion under his massive form

- you huff and try to pull him up ' I can't carry you' you mutter to him. 'You gotta get up, soldier' you try and nudge him, you slip and talk in the familiar British accent

- he stalls, taking in deep breaths trying to surpass the pain and ache, multiple bones broken, muscles tumefied, and skin bearing to many cuts and bruises. Blood covers him like a deathly veil

- he tries and with your help he manages to stand but he can barely walk on his own, he can barely see, he can barely think, having sustained multiple concussions

- with great difficulty you get moving, praying to yourself that the guard might be gone, taking a piss or having a smoke

- your prayers are answered, no one is on the otherwise busy hallways this late at night, many having called it a night going back to their rooms

- as you pass the med bay your quick thinking finds a credible disguise: you steal a lab coat and a doctor's key card, some glasses that make your vision blurry once you put them on, and get the wounded soldier in a wheel chair

-he huffs but you can clearly see the relief overtaking him as he no longer has to stand

-you throw a medical gown over him concealing the dried blood on his bare torso

-once you clean his face a little and bandage his whole head to cover his identity, you grab a few bottles of morphine and a med kit for later and push the wheelchair out the door

- you aim for the underground parking lot, where civilians’ workers such as your cover, keep their personal cars

-you hope that the sentinels stationed at the gates won't look too closely at your backseat as you carefully push the wounded man in the car

- everything goes smooth from there, the guards wishing you a good night, no questions ask as to your departure from the base

- once you get farther away you start speeding eyeing for any police cars that might stop you or any military vehicle that might chase you

- to your dumb surprise no one follows you the mountain road dark and deserted

- you head to your safehouse where you have stashed money, fake id's, a new disguise and another car.

- once you change everything and make sure that the soldier still breathes in the back of the SUV, after you've administered some first help giving him the relief of morphine, you burn everything down

- the wooden house the other car, everything, nothing can be left behind to be tracked to you or to the MI6, you have taken precautions that borderline OCD, but you know that you have to be through, no detail to small

- once you're back on the road you contact your handler, a tired voice but you can hear the sound of relief as he hears your voice

- he's pleased that everything went smooth, no alarm was triggered, no shot was fired, no chase happened and you even managed to save your would-be saviour, sent specifically to get you out of that den of wolves

- you announce your E.T.A. to the agreed pickup location and you are annoyed to hear you'll have to wait a bit, your nerves are starting to fray, and body to tire

- you don't have the manpower nor the firepower to make a stand in the woods until the heli gets there

-but you do as you're told, as always

- you grab the pistol you keep under the passenger seat and place it in your lap; the heaviness in your lap gives very little reassurance

- but not long passes and you can hear the lovely sound of an Apache helicopter

- in a whirlwind of dust and voices shouting out instructions both you and the soldier are placed in the metal beast's bowls

-you inform the medics of the dosage of morphine you gave to the soldier as they start hooking him to machines that monitor his vital signs

-you don't even know his name and he definitely doesn't know yours as per protocol, and you doubt you'll ever see him again

-you won't even be there when he'll wake up, he'll probably never know of your act of kindness; you could have left him behind but instead you risked your safety for his

- any other agent would've done it, but not you, you couldn't leave one of your own behind

- you still hold your breath, eager to cross the border and get back to HQ where meetings and debriefs will be held, and rapports will be written then redacted

-you expect the compliments at a job well done and the proud pats on the back from your superiors, even though for you that's just a show

- you know you will get a free month at best to recover and then you'll be shipped somewhere else to do it all over again

- it's a lonely life, and full of danger but it makes you sleep better at night knowing you helped soil some plans that could be used to hurt innocents

- once the pilot announces that you crossed the borders you slightly relax on the padded bench, closing your eyes in relief but not allowing yourself to fall asleep yet

- when you feel the heli dipping down towards the tarmac you open your eyes eager to get off the noisy thing and looking forward for some commodities you know wait ready inside the base

- you watch as the soldier gets rolled toward the med bay and you get pulled by a Sargent that informs you, he's there to take you to the commander of the base

- you'd hopped to at least get a few hours of sleep before the rounds of interrogations start, but the higher-ups are hungry for the confirmation of a successful mission

- you trudge behind the Sargent mentally preparing for the onslaught of questions and can't help but wonder what of the wounded soldier

-you subconsciously hope he'll pull through

Next part here.

[raisedbythetv89]

joss's sick obsession with not just causing pain and suffering - but punishment and humiliation to his "pretty popular girl" archetype characters aka Buffy and Cordelia and his favoritism of the most horrible mediocre white men aka riley, xander, and angel is never more apparent than in Into the Woods

The writers opted not for the FANTASTIC call back to season 1 with owen and Never Kill a Boy on the First Date when Buffy says "two days in my world and owen really would get himself killed…. or I'd get him killed… or someone else...."

which set them up perfectly for the road map of Buffy's attempt at a "normal" relationship that angel, her mother, and the scoobies keep trying to push her to have (when she's not normal herself so of course it's gonna be a disaster which is soooooo trying to force a queer person to be straight coded which is why spuffy is inherently queer on top of them both being canonically bisexual because Buffy embracing her love of Spike is embracing her inherent queerness)

But could you IMAGINE how amazing it would have been for season 1 to have foreshadowed riley being turned at the suck house (because literally all that evil in Sunnydale and NO ONE takes the opportunity to turn the slayer's boyfriend into the perfect secret weapon to take her and her whole family out??? PLEASE)

Then vamp riley almost killing Dawn and her mother (because Dawn would be the one tricked into inviting him in as a call back to Dawn accidentally inviting Harmony in and Buffy saying she's gonna get us all killed plus angel tricking his little sister into inviting him in once he was turned)

Buffy is forced to kill him after pleading with him to remember he loves her or any part of who he was (which would further show how exceptional Spike's ability to form a truce with Buffy, keep it, and fall in love with her all without a soul is)

Making riley her second (third if we count ford being left for dead and then having to dust him) turned evil boyfriend she's forced to kill.

Buffy would still be DEVASTATED and it's Buffy so she'd still punish and blame herself even though it'd be all riley's fault (demonstrating how this storyline would still cause immense pain for Buffy and be very high stakes drama for the plot but again joss elected for humiliation having Buffy literally chase after the man who was cheating on her with vampires while she was dealing with a sick mother and a hell god after her sister. Favoring a white man's character over the best plot line)

All while also further setting up her and Spike's relationship because of the "if that's what I wanted I'd be dating Spike" of it all which was her basically saying if I didn't want normal, Spike would be who I'd choose and now she's tried to be normal and he got killed, almost killed her family and then she had to kill him just like season 1 Buffy knew would happen when she broke things off with owen!!

AND the poetic irony of her trying to be “normal” and it ends with the exact same result?? The lesson being that rejecting who you are is not the answer and the only true answer is self acceptance because pain will happen no matter what so might as well love and embrace yourself ???

BUT NOOOOOOO the writers aka joss opted for riley's narrative to be that he's a hero and a good guy always, no matter what because joss has a big fat crush on marc and guys like him, angel and oz all get written off by treating women like shit without being villainized for it at all and then leaving. Getting to go on to live rich and fulfilling lives while Kendra, Tara, Cordy, and Anya are all violently killed off with barely any time spent grieving their deaths by more than one character..... (I haven't ever been able to finish ats so I don't know how much this applies to cordy's but my guess is the pattern didn't change much)

THEY EVEN LOOK THE SAME FOR CHRIST’S SAKE IT WRITES ITSELF

[playertale-au]

[NOTICE] Thank you for the 300+ followers. To celebrate, bits of PLAYER!Tale AU concept( regarding Player) is shared

Reposting because Tumblr decided to post instead of saving it in drafts when I'm not even finished. Love you tumblr!  (╯ᐛ）╯︵ ┻━┻

◇◇◇◇◇

A/N: 

Oh, wow! We actually reach 300+ (as of now 310) followers!

⸜(｡˃ ᵕ ˂ )⸝♡ 

Thank you very much from the bottom of my heart, I’m glad all of you enjoyed the story despite my art not being that good. I actually wanted to draw for 250 followers but I didn’t realised we passed that milestone. 

Anyways! To celebrate, I wanted to share some concepts regarding the Player based on my memories, though sorry if there is like a black blotched in the drawing as that is considered as spoilers.

To start off, I began creating this AU maybe 5/6 years ago, on and off, (re-writing or removing some stuff along the way) I had loads of concept art and drawings back in 2019 but sadly those old arts were, ummm, forcedly deleted after a disagreement with someone I trusted, haha. The pain for a FT user in ibis paint. ｡ﾟ(TヮT)ﾟ

Then 2023, I wanted to move forward. So I decided to give it a shot and start drawing again. I wanted to share my AU (better late than ever),＼＼\(۶•̀ᴗ•́)۶//／／ and also I thought it will help overcome my fear of drawing and start liking to draw again.

Anyway, here we have Player’s design concept (+ explanation):

Version 1:

Player actually does not inhibit Frisk’s body, as they are not trap in the game, instead, they have their own “Avatar” basing on the data and sprites of Frisk and Chara. (The situation is more towards VR? AR? I’m not sure what to call it) The Player has their memories intact.

The story is just Player goofing around in Undertale, until plot happens, but I didn’t really like the idea as I have no clue how to progress the story forward, so the whole story was re-written.

Player mostly hack codes, while Frisk has the Reset/Reload button.

Initially, their eyes didn’t change colour when using abilities. But I wanted to distinguish what and when the abilities are used.

Version 2:

This is where, I decided that the Player actually inhibits Frisk body, though they are not amnesiac. Frisk is like a ghost (narrator?) here. The image above is post-skip version to maybe 1 year trapped in Undertale. This idea was scrap and rewritten due “Chara” ‘s story and I wanted to involved Gaster in the story. (Also, because I didn’t want to draw this version hairstyle anymore, hahaha (  ≧ᗜ≦))

Player has both the hacking and reset/reload abilities.

This version of Player is more uptight and serious.

Version 3:

I think this is like 2nd or 3rd version of the finalise concept. 

Our current Player. I made the hairstyle simpler.

This Player inhibits Frisk body and is amnesiac. The personality shifted so it’s easier for the player to act consistent. This version is more carefree than ver 2, they are similar to ver 1.

First design of the Player (ver 3).

Despite being ver 3, I wanted to keep a bit of the ver 1 and 2 hairstyle but decided not to. Again, I wanted a simpler hairstyle.

This personality is just them being stress and filled with anxiety. A nervous wreck and a crybaby. Cries a lot at the first arc until they pull themselves together. But I didn’t wanna make them cry all throughout the story, if I continued to write them like that, I might ended up smacking Player myself hahaha. I ended up toning down the personality. 

Gaster would have replace Frisk as the ghost (narrator?). But I decided not doing it, because it conflict with the plot. That, and the story would be over much quicker with him around.

Side note: I had to change the relationship between Sans and the Player(hate, confuse, no interaction, chill, idk? etc), a lot of times, but in the end I decided to make him not trust the Player. 

Previously in most iteration, he just hates Player.  I planned to have him to kill the Player the first time they exited the ruins, but decided to go against it as it doesn’t really fit his style. Also, the story would go very differently if he did commit to it. Maybe one day I can make him kill them. In an alternate timeline maybe. ꉂ (´∀｀)ʱªʱªʱª

Extras: Player in different outfits (loosely)based on the other fallen humans in this AU. (+ ruin outfit)

There is a reason, why the Player had worn some of these outfits in chapter 3 and 4. 

Don’t worry, it’s not originally the clothes worn by the other children, Toriel made them. She has spares. (Sorry, to the one that find it creepy, when it was first shown, hahahaha)

And, that’s all for now I am able to share, I wanted to show more, but I’m afraid, that’s already in the spoiler territory. 

Anyways-! Thank you again for the follow, each and every one of you are the best! And I hope you enjoyed the upcoming story! 

[weirdowithaquill]

Ships? But Sir, They're Trains!

It's Valentine's Day, and to celebrate, I thought I'd break my usual streak of not shipping the talking trains together and share the pairings that I like the best! But only of the original 11, and a few other RWS-related friends (and maybe a bonus or two from the TVS).

Also known as: local weirdo decides trains can kiss, but only on Valentine's Day.

Let's get into the ships... er... trains.

Thomas:

Almost chronically single. I'm sorry Thomas, but you're not very good at the dating thing. Maybe Hank if I swallowed my pride and went to watch Season 12 - just because Hank's calm and friendly personality would naturally balance out Thomas. But also because they are the epitome of 'gentle giant' and 'tank engine terror'. Also, Thomas blushes in this episode:

(Sorry for the Season 12 image, but it's the only Season Hank was in!)

Edward:

This engine has options! Or more to the point - this engine has suitors. Not all make sense to the poor engine - but that's the pain of being the one everyone looks up to. I would put him with BoCo, but I must admit I had a phase where I read EdwardxJames fanfics. So... nostalgia wins (that and Edward needs someone with a fiery personality to boost his confidence sometimes, and James needs a cooler head all the time).

(Look at the smile on James' face! He's ecstatic to see his engine.)

Henry:

Bear. The answer is Bear. I'm sorry, but that Hymek has it bad for Henry, and Henry fought for Bear to stay on Sodor. And after the early days when every engine fought, Henry has no interest in getting tangled up with them again, only this time romantically. Besides, the youthful energy and eagerness Bear has will only benefit Henry, who can be a bit of an old grump.

(Bear, I can't tell if you're looking into Henry's eyes or not...)

Gordon:

Hoo boy... Gordon, oh Gordon. What to do with you? Henry and James are taken, Edward and Thomas are more siblings than romantic interests - and engines 6 through 11 are just not close enough. But how about BoCo? (Yes, this is why I didn't pair him up with Edward). BoCo is calm and polite where Gordon is loud and brash - and Gordon does see BoCo as his saviour. It would probably be the plot of a b-list romantic movie, but I can see these two getting together, with Gordon being the jock and BoCo being the 'kid' of Edward.

(Look at that little smile Gordon has! This engine is smitten.)

James:

He's with Edward, thank you. More than that, he doesn't really fit well with the other RWS cast romance-wise. Thomas is something of a rival and friend, while he wants Gordon and Henry to acknowledge him and Percy is something of a little brother/annoyance to James. Edward and he have a lot to work out (mostly James groveling) but they got a lot of coding in the series from what I remember. Plus Edward saved him - so we've ticked the cliche box.

(Yes, this means Edward is the knight in shining armour. James is a diva anyway.)

Percy:

Has about as much luck as Thomas does, if we're honest. Young, childish Percy has no chance, while older, grumpier Percy is more interesting to consider. The Percy of Seasons 5 and 6 I could see bagging Harold. But then, we could also consider the absolute insanity of Percy and Diesel 10. Imagine the shock, imagine the story! (I'm a writer, let me dream about how I'd write this lot). Diesel 10 would be the delinquent who is soft for Percy and Percy only. It would also lead to an epic fight between the helicopter and the engine with a giant claw.

(Um, is Percy... blushing?! What are these faces?! I have questions.)

Toby:

Is married to Henrietta. They are old couple goals. Percy and Thomas are extremely jealous.

(Toby is grinning cause he knows his wife - that poor manager...)

Duck and Donald:

I considered Percy for Duck, but I feel like what Duck needs is an engine who can really bring out the playful side in Duck - the engine who helps him be more than just the railway he used to work for. That engine is Donald. When they ended up playing pranks on each other in Donald's Duck to the point where Duck stooped to putting a literal duck in Donald's tender knowing Donald would find it funny really says it all about these two.

(Look at him, so excited to play his little prank! His driver is wheezing!)

Douglas and Oliver:

These two practically have a kid in Toad already (or an advice-giving uncle. One of the two). Douglas saved Oliver, and that sort of thing has a lasting impact - especially because it's also the most likely relationship to actually happen. Both Douglas and Oliver are known for sticking it to authority, being a bit hot-headed and being led a bit more by spirit and the heart than by their heads. They have Toad for critical thinking. They live and work together too - and it would be hilarious to watch Duck blast his safety valve off when he finds out.

(Ah yes, let me just stare into your eyes for half an episode.)

Mavis and Daisy:

These two are disaster lesbians, and we love them for it. It's also the femme fatale (or as femme fatale as a diesel railcar can be) and the butch (she works in a quarry - this girl wears overalls) tropes - and they're disasters. Need I remind anyone that Daisy was the one who encouraged Mavis to ignore Toby? It would also be hilarious purely for how much Thomas and Percy would grumble about being single, while Daisy and Mavis rub their relationship in the pair's faces. Which would lead to that one memorable incident where Thomas tried to flirt with a very unamused and confused Bertie.

(Mavis, sweetie - don't listen to Daisy's advice. I know you're distracted but ple-- and she's gone.)

Annie and Clarabel:

Are wine aunts and siblings. And no, neither of them are interested in Thomas, so you can stop thinking that.

(These coaches are Thomas' wine aunts and best friends - and he loves them too.)

Bill and Ben:

Are children! Edward's children! That he has with BoCo (sort of) leading to the brilliant moments where Gordon has to 'babysit' them - which is mostly done with a lot of grimacing and begging BoCo to just hand this lot over to Edward and James - no seriously, please stop letting these two just randomly adopt you as their parent. They're evil, and they wanted to throw me in the sea, remember? No, I don't care that James doesn't like them, I don't like them! BoCo!

(He's petrified of them, but he wants to be nice for BoCo's sake...)

Emily:

Does not need a man, thank you. But she is entranced sometimes by Caitlin's streamlining (yes, I have seen some CGI - I am not a true purist, I am sorry Awdry). Then again, sometimes Emily likes Hiro - and then there was that one time where she was just so upset that Mavis wouldn't notice her. Emily doesn't need no man - but she's also not exactly got the best selection of potential candidates at her shed...

(She's got an amazing poker face. Caitlin however...)

So... that was a thing I did. Somewhere around Percy's entry, this gained a coherent plot in my mind - probably a High School AU? - and now I'm just thinking of Diesel 10 towering over Percy, blushing and trying to give him flowers (with his claw???) while Harold seethes. Clearly, being a single pringle has driven me insane.

Happy Valentine's Day to everyone, I hope you enjoyed this wild idea and if people want expansions on these ships (still trains) and why I like the idea of them, please go ahead and ask!

If people really like this, I will take on the Narrow Gauge engines.

[disasterbijamietartt]

Maybe I’m delusional and drank too much wine, but this is why Roy Kent being a closeted queer man explains EVERYTHING

While writing my meta piece about Jamie x Keeley I spent a lot of time thinking “What about Roy?”, since there are no convincing love interests for him aside from Keeley.

And, well, Jamie.

And for the first time I evaluated this as something that really could happen, since now there is the legit possibility that they make homophobia in professional football the prevalent theme in this season and having multiple queer storylines would help to illustrate different point of views and they could explore this with a Roy x Jamie romance plot.

And then I looked at Roy and … basically everything fell into place.

Why he represses his emotions, why he is so so angry, why he is so full with insecurities and struggles with his self-worth, why he is unable to show (physical or emotional) affection to a man without somehow having to taint it with an unnecessarily violent outbreak – the only notable exception being the Hug™️ in “Man City”. Something that hasn’t been addressed by anyone since then, which was a choice I always considered very odd, but postponing Roy’s character development to season 3 makes actually lot’s of sense, if Roy’s struggles are rooted in internalised homophobia. And if being queer in professional sports is the theme of season 3 like mental health was the theme of season 2.

Still makes his angry, violent outbursts really jarring and he has to show accountability, but if the pain he inflicted on others is related to the trauma of being forced to be in the closet for 25 odd years, that would be so heartbreaking. And it would fit into the theme of the show that actually good people like Rebecca or Jamie – and Nate once he gets his redemption – do unforgivable things and inflict pain on people who do not deserve it as a trauma response. Sure, it could be some other trauma – but this explanation would fit so well into this seasons theme, it just makes SO MUCH SENSE to me.

Also, Trent’s critique explains some of Roy’s insecurities, but he already was full of anger at seventeen, so the root of his anger has to be something different – and growing up queer in a hella homophobic surrounding since age ten and forced to stay in the closet unless he wants to throw away his dream career, if that is not a reason to be filled to the brim with anger, I don’t know what is.

And as far as I recall, the only people he actually physically attacks are Colin (the headbutt in 1x3) and Jamie. Then his beef with Trent.

In other words, we only ever see him being irrationally aggressive and violent towards queer coded or canonically queer men. Yes, he usually has reasons that are not related to (coded) sexuality – with the notable exception of “I have to headbutt Jamie before I hug him lest it seems gay!”

And the “ugly, ugly boy”-thing? Vanity is often used for queer coding. So Roy mocks something about Jamie that is queer coded.

This screams internalised homophobia.

But I hear the naysayer going “Aren’t you reaching a bit?”

Maybe, but let us take a look at some ways how Roy is queer coded that come to mind off the top of my head.

First of all: He canonically has a secret double life, where he is notably softer, hangs out with a bunch of elderly women who have no clue who Roy Kent, professional angry footballer, is, and does yoga with them, frequents gay bars, hangs out with drag queens and watches reality tv while sipping rosé, which is a sweet girly drink, like you know “vanilla vodka. such a child.” – in his “real life” Roy would never ever drink rosé or admit to anyone that he watched even a single second of “Lust Conquers All” by accident (Keeley definitely didn’t know, or she would have teased him with this).

Who else has a secret double life? Colin.

And while I hate to be “look, so many gay stereotypes!” … Look, so many gay stereotypes!

Also, both Julie Andrews and Madonna are gay icons? As are Stevie Nicks and Tina Turner

“The Sound of Music” (his favourite) is popular in gay culture and the nuns are implied to be lesbians?

He mouths along when Rebecca sings “Let it go”, with Elsa being queer coded and the song being a queer anthem?

And when I googled “A Wrinkle in Time queer” first thing I got was a paper by the Syracuse University titled “Unusual Children: Queerishness and Strange Growth in A Wrinkle in Time and The Giver”, which discusses the queerness of the main character. You know, the “Am I supposed to be the little girl”-girl?

This are all the pop culture references I could recall off the top of my head, there may be things that are not queer coded, but … one or two, that is a coincidence. Three or more, that is a pattern. You cannot convince me that the writer’s “accidentally” queer coded Roy so extensively if he is supposed to be straight.

(Dear god, the only thing about Ted Lasso that always disappointed me was the lack of explicit queer characters – like, I’d bet with you that the majority of non-queer viewers didn’t get Keeley’s “dip the toe back in the lady pool” line or Colin’s “oh like Grindr?” – and if they now go and make the third season queer as fuck? Bless them!

And just like the next level trolling by Phil and Brett if they were actually spoiling the big love story for years, while everyone thought they were just joking?)

EDIT: Just looked up Gina Gershon, who Roy said he dated once—guess what, according to Wikipedia she’s considered a gay icon 🙃

[voylitscope]

Stucky Recs: Pride Edition

So, the original plan was to do dystopias and apocalypses as the next theme. I actually started that post. It's sitting in my drafts. But then between work, moving, and other real-life stuff, I sort of ran out of days in May. Now it's mid-June. And since it is mid-June -- and since part of the whole point of these rec lists is the theming -- I thought I'd go for Pride recs instead.

We'll do dystopias in July.

I could have done a lot of different rules/qualifiers with this theming, but, for this time/post I went with, "actively has sexuality themes as a decently large plot point." I ended up with 12 fics.

Note: As part of my personal campaign to combat the persistent idea that every great fic in this fandom was written in 2015, I'm now marking recs of fics written post-2016 and recs of fics written post-Endgame.

Canon

🏳️‍🌈 Tin Soldiers | idrilka | Teen | 19,743 words

You know what's great? Fake pop culture, fake academia, and fake social media. This fic makes such good use of all of those things and is so smart about it. I love that this fic narratively sandwiches CA:TWS. So a large part of the point here is the public perception of Steve, and of SteveandBucky right before, during, and then after the events of CA:TWS, in a world where all of that is real. The way it's done is brilliant and feels so true and accurate to life. There is live tweeting and live reactions. There are news headlines. There's fandom culture and blogging. There are social media arguments. It's just so well done. There are a lot of fics that look, at least briefly, at the public perception/use of Steve's legend in some way, and a lot of them are fantastic. I'm just so especially of fond of this fic. There's a hyper-realism to it. Plus, it includes a scene of people live reacting to Steve spontaneously and bluntly coming out on CNN. It's some beautiful stuff.

Quote:

As Michelle Mbatha argues in The Anatomy of a Sidekick, “Barnes’ transition from a partner to a sidekick marks the point at which the relationship between Barnes and Rogers becomes that of a mentor and pupil, thus effectively prohibiting any potentially »unsavoury« readings of their partnership” (121). In this sort of dynamic, one which emphasizes the much more prominent age difference, there is, indeed, no place for any assumptions of queerness or any sort of code similar to that which permeated cinematographic works of the time, signifying penalizable, “forbidden” practices falling under the censorship guidelines (see also: The Celluloid Closet, 1995). Bucky, then, in taking his place as Captain America’s teenage sidekick, becomes figuratively castrated in order to appear effectively sexless and thus avoid any possibility of coding their relationship as queer.

Moreover, the insistence upon heteronormative and ultimately exclusionary interpretations of Rogers’ relationships with Barnes and Carter respectively, both in the comics and in biographical writings, comes from the need to reaffirm the image created by the American propaganda, which constructed Captain America to reflect the intrinsically jingoistic policies of the United States, to propagate the myth of American machismo and uphold the wholesome image of the American everyman at the same time.

🏳️‍🌈Let me be buried under your name | tempestaurora | Teen | 50,669 words | **Post-Endgame Rec**

Oh no. This one. So, sometimes, my notes on fics in my rec database have sensible things like comments about tropes or moments I definitely want to point out. Other times, well -- The notes on this one say, "DOG TAGS," and also, "OH GOD." Which is very helpful of me. To myself. But I will say more coherent words about it to all of you. I imagine that fics that have both wartime and post-TWS scenes are emotionally trying for us all, and this very painful, and very beautiful fic is certainly a good example of why. There is a heartbreaking quality to the wartime Bucky POV, the during Hydra captivity POV, and the post-TWS Bucky POV that has really stayed with me. Bucky's thought processes, and his descriptions of Steve at various points, especially, are so observant and vulnerable all at once. It's also all just -- Guttingly but wonderfully romantic.

Quote:

Maybe he’d read before the light died entirely. Steve had bought him a pulp novel at the market and Bucky had been working through it slowly, dragging out the story and making it last, to make the most of the pages. He’d likely read it three times over before trading it for something else, and even then he’d tell the story to himself – mythical, magical things he’d never even thought of existing; time travel and other worlds, aliens and laser guns and space ships, exploring the stars. His eyes fluttered shut, and he just listened to Steve’s breathing, to him drawing, to the birds outside the window. He’d more than once thought that he could live in this moment forever; that he’d be more than happy to live out the rest of his days just like this one, with Steve and a crummy apartment and a warm summer day. Screw marriage, kids, and a house in the suburbs – this was where Bucky pictured when he thought of home. This was what he’d be imagining on the cold nights in Europe. This was what he’d fight to come home to.

🏳️‍🌈We wear red so they don't see us bleed | unicornpoe | Teen | 2,161 words | **Post-Endgame Rec**

This is the most beautifully tense little fic. A canon-divergent-before-canon-starts fic (I never know how to classify those. If it's AU, but Steve and Bucky still move in together by like, 1939-ish... is it fully AU? Like, yes because them as childhood friends is important, obviously, but also -- in the grand scheme of overall canon -- sort of no?) that has Steve and Bucky sitting in jail cell doing this dance of little cues about each other. This is all little words and gazes and touches; there is a conversation under a conversation in this fic. They're having this casual chat as strangers in jail, except they're also having this whole second secret dialogue underneath it where they're trying to make sure they speak each other's language. Also? I adore this characterization. I love it.

Quote:

Bucky stands up and crosses the cell in two long strides, draping himself in clean lines along the section of free bench next to Steve; he pulls one leg up beneath him and stretches the other out, so that their ankles almost touch. Turned toward Steve as Bucky is, he can watch fully the sharp, barely-there movement of Steve’s eyes flickering down to their legs, and then back up to the wall across from them. He doesn’t turn to Bucky. It’s mostly silent in here. There’s a faint murmur of voices somewhere down the hallway, the quiet, steady tick of a clock hidden from view, the various noises of the men locked up with them—but other than that, nothing. “Where’d a guy like you learn to throw a punch like that?” Bucky asks finally, when he’s spent too long staring at the delicate, fucked-up line of this man’s profile, spent too long raking his eyes over and over again down the line of his feather-soft lashes. The corner of Steve’s mouth ticks up, just slightly, just a little bit.

Shrunkyclunks

💗I just met you (and this is crazy) | littlesystems | Explicit | 41,784 words | *Post-2016 Rec*

This is one of those fics that surprised me with just how much I liked it. I certainly wasn't expecting to dislike it, but I was not expecting to love it so much, either. It's a joy, though, just a total feel-good joy. It's a fic that has Steve and Bucky pretty instantly head-over-heals for each other, something I never ever object to, and the instant attraction works so well here. I think, too, so much of what I love about this one, is that they make each other so happy in it -- like the two of them truly just get dumber and happier and more in love with every 100 or so words of this fic. So then I get happier and happier as I continue to read it. Seriously, this fic is a joy in part because Steve's POV is so damn giddy and joyful about Bucky. I love that. It's good stuff.

Quote:

“You’re a person, Steve. And if people hurt you or take advantage of you, that’s not your fault, either. You should be able to go to a bar. You should be able to hook up with some guy. There’s nothing wrong with any of that. The fact that someone took pictures is the photographer’s fault. And the fact that newspapers decided to print it is the editors’ fault. And the fact that some fuckwad decided to lie for a quick buck is his fault. You may regret it, and that’s fine. But I don’t want to hear you blame yourself again. Got that?” Steve nods. His throat feels tight enough that he’s not sure he can speak. Bucky tips their foreheads together and they sit in silence, until Steve has naturally matched his breathing to Bucky’s - slow, deliberate, relaxed, and not geared up for a fight. Bucky kisses him softly, then.

💗The Voyager | notlucy | Explicit | 76,740 words | *Post-2016 Rec*

I am a sucker for the Steve and Bucky road trip fic. A very recently arrived in 21st century Steve on a road trip with a modern Bucky? All that time alone? In those motels? That might or might not have the right number of beds? This is a good trope that we should very much use forever. This fic is such a classic sort of road trip fic. Honestly, I've never been on any sort of proper, real road trip, but I'd like to think this fic feels like a road trip -- what they must feel like, anyway. There's such freedom in the storytelling here. There's a suspended sense of time in this fic. There's a way this fic rolls along with a pace that makes sense here, in this story -- it's a pace that definitely wouldn't work in all stories, which is exactly why it does, in this one. It's lovely, it's a little bit surreal, and it stays with you long after you finish it.

Quote:

“Wow,” Bucky managed. Words were difficult when faced with something so spectacular, the canyon spread out before them lit with the slow, smoldering burn of that deep, ancient glow. “Awesome,” Steve murmured, the word incongruous in his mouth. Bucky nearly poked fun, until he realized Steve meant it literally - what they were seeing was awesome. Smiling, he leaned his head against Steve’s shoulder before entwining their fingers, not caring a whit who might see them. Who might care. At that moment, Bucky wanted to tell the entire world, because he was in love. Except it wasn’t love. Strong like, maybe. Effortlessly increasing affection, sure. But not love. You couldn’t fall in love that fast. He’d only known Steve since May, after all. It was at most infatuation. Appreciation. Fascination. Bucky was a very level-headed person. It wasn’t love. But it was something.

Modern

🌈On The Back of a Raindrop | musette22 @musette22 | Explicit | 52,215 words | **Post-Endgame Rec**

Something I love to read in kid fics is any time that thing happens where it's not just Steve and Bucky acting like a couple without being together yet, but a group of people starting to act like a family unit in every single way -- except that no one has talked about that, or acknowledged it, and technically, someone is actually still the neighbor, or the babysitter, or, in this case, the gardener. I love that, and I love this fic, specifically. Featuring this sweetest and loveliest and healthiest family forming in a backyard garden over the months of a beautiful summer. It's so domestic, so intimate, and it happens so naturally over the course of this story. It makes everything feel so perfectly meant to be, so romantic, and so satisfying. Also! One of my database notes on this one is, "SARAH," because this is a fic with a very alive Sarah Rogers, and I love, love, love, Steve and Sarah's relationship in this fic.

Quote:

Now that he’s gotten to know him, seen him with the twins, has gradually watched Bucky’s tan deepening and bringing out the grey-blue of his eyes, Steve is so wildly attracted to him sometimes that it knocks the breath right out of him. It’s how he ends up sketching Bucky again on Wednesday, from his usual spot in the shade. He makes sure to make it a PG rendition this time, including Gracie and Miles as well, so that when later, Bucky asks him ‘Hey, whatcha drawin’?’, Steve can actually show him the sketch. Bucky is silent for the longest time when Steve hands over his sketchbook. For a moment, Steve almost panics, wondering if he accidentally forgot to draw Bucky’s jeans or something, but then Bucky looks up, a look in his eyes that Steve can’t quite pinpoint. “This is amazing, Steve. Could I… Would you mind if I hold on to it, maybe?” Steve blinks in surprise. “Of course, yeah. I mean, it’s not my best work. I could do you something better if you like.” “It’s perfect,” Bucky frowns, seeming almost offended Steve would suggest otherwise. “I love it.”

🌈One for Fiction | thepinupchemist | Explicit | 6,713 words |*Post-2016 Rec*

I very much enjoy a shrinkyclinky-ish modern fic where Bucky is a disaster about the fact that Steve, like, exists. I am just so here for this, and this very adorable fic is a top-tier demonstration of that. Featuring a Veteran-turned-librarian Bucky and a barista Steve, and a lot of awkward flirting. At a library! Also featuring a lot of Bucky being a disaster about Steve, but also a lot of Steve being like, "...have you? seen? or? met? yourself? You are definitely the catch here." It's cute. They're cute. This fic is cute.

Quote:

“Fun fact about the library,” Bucky went on, “As long as no one can see your computer screen, you’re allowed to look at porn. That’s protected under intellectual freedom.” Steve raised a brow. “Interesting.” They meandered back to Bucky’s display. The night, as far as nights went, was a quiet one for the library, and the cafe was a ghost town, but for the group of teenagers with bags of McDonald’s scattered across the table and AP History books open on their laps. “Where’d everyone get their pronoun pins?” asked Steve, as Bucky pushed his stepladder upright, collected his tape dispenser, and climbed back up to finish hanging the flag garland. “They make ‘em at one of our sister libraries,” Bucky said, “Have a pin press over there and everything. I’m picking up a couple of shifts for one of the ladies over there next week; you want me to grab you some?” See, Bucky used to be this smooth. He used to be this smooth all the time. Apparently, trauma and PTSD aside, he could still be smooth every once in a while. A pleased little smile tilted beautiful Steve’s beautiful lips. He said, “That would be awesome. Do they have pride ones, too? Like your rainbow?” Does Steve like men? Steve might like men. Be cool, Barnes. Don’t be weird.

🌈Wholesale Change | biblionerd07 | Mature | 83,320 words | *Post-2016 Rec*

You know how sometimes you're the captain of an NHL team, and you're very talented, but over the years you've gained a bad reputation? And so your people all but force you to do a The Bachelor-esq dating show? And you've been having a terrible few years and feel like your life is falling apart? And also you're bisexual and closeted because of the whole NHL thing? And also the camera guy on that dating show is your long-lost very attractive best friend? Who also used to play hockey? Look, this fic has a ridiculous premise. In the best possible way. It's a delightfully ridiculous premise. It's so much fun. There's literally a dating show. Steve gets mad about dating show manipulations and lies! And, you know, Steve definitely ends up selecting one of the dating show contestants. Steve definitely does not fall for Bucky instead! Steve definitely does not purposefully out himself on live TV. Steve absolutely follows the rules and sees the dating show contract through! Because as we all know, Steve Rogers follows rules and does what people with authority tell him to do. Always and at all times. So much fun. So delightful.

Quote:

“I’m so tired of lying,” Steve says. He almost sags with the weight of it all, now that’s admitted it. He was trying so hard to outrun it all. Outskate it all, maybe. But he’s been losing for a long time now. “I know,” Bucky murmurs. “I’m sorry. But I don’t think letting him tell the world is going to make you feel any better. You need to tell the truth on your own terms.” Steve sighs and leans his shoulder against Bucky’s. “I’ll talk to whoever I pick,” he says. They deserve that, at least. He doesn’t want to pick someone under false pretenses. Falser, anyway. “You won’t get much alone time,” Bucky warns. “But I’m sure you can find a way.” “Nothing gets in Captain America’s way when his mind’s made up,” Steve says in his cheesy commercial voice. It was a line from some ad campaign he did for a sports drink he didn’t even like. Bucky snorts. “I was thinking more about Steve Rogers,” Bucky says. “That asshole’s unstoppable.” And after a line like that? All Steve can do is kiss him.

🌈Songbird | chicklette | Explicit | 70,843 words | **Post-Endgame Rec**

I am very fond of this fic. It's music industry closeting -- but then planned sexuality revealing. Through lies. This is a fic that starts off with what should have been a one-night stand -- a great one, as one-night stands go, but a one-night stand. Except, pictures are taken of them very early the next morning, hugging, in front of Steve's apartment. And Bucky is very famous and very not out. Bucky's already got a damaged reputation and a host of other problems, and so his team decides that, actually, Bucky pretending to date some non-famous, pretty-faced, nice boy for a couple months might do his reputation some good. So, then, as you can imagine, being Steve and Bucky, the two of them spend the fic doing a very excellent, really great, just super good job, at sticking to having a formal arrangement. A no sex, no feelings, totally-just-a-business-deal-smile-for-the-camera-thing. They're total pros at it, okay? It goes so well for them. They definitely succeed. Just because, whatever, they quickly become friends and get close, it's totally still fine. They're definitely still doing really amazing at this, alright? They've got it under control. They're not going to crack on any of this. No sex. No not-for-the-cameras-kissing. No feelings. No one will cry at any point. Nope. They're So Good at this. Like I said, I'm super fond of this one.

Quote:

Steve smiles, his face going all soft and sweet, and it’s like a knife to Bucky’s heart. Ten more weeks, and someone else gets all those smiles. It’s a Goddamned shame, is what it is. His thoughts are uncomfortable enough that Bucky gets up and goes to the railing, looking back out over Manhattan. All the people there, living their lives, day in and day out. How many broken hearts is he looking at right now? How many people starry-eyed with new love? How many people, he wonders, comfortable in an old love, one that’s solid and still growing, deeply rooted, secure enough to be safe, but fresh enough to still bloom? “Penny for your thoughts,” Steve says, and Bucky tilts his head to look at him. “There’s a million love songs happening right now, just waiting for someone to write them.” “That’s awful hopeful, coming from you.” Bucky chuckles. “Nah, I was just wondering how many people we’re looking at right now with broken hearts.”

🌈Strong Saftey | queenmab_scherzo | Mature | 23,043 words

As a first note here, I will point out that this fic is a sequel to Targeting, and it is probably most satisfying when read with full context. But I really do think it can absolutely be read on its own. I really, really appreciate and love the way this fic handles Bucky and trauma. (the Targeting 'verse mirrors canon very closely, re: bad things happening to Bucky. Except that it's about college football.) Bucky's headspace here, and the way that then translates to his actual dialogue/actions is so, so well done. Plus, Steve and Bucky are preestablished in this fic, and it's healthy and lovely and romantic and makes me emotional-- Bucky is so hard on himself about everything, all the time, but he's got Steve, who is wonderfully loving and supportive. Also! Bucky befriends a cat. Also! Bucky legitimately has Steve saved in his phone like this: "Punk ❤️."

Quote:

"Vanilla latte, no whip?" the barista calls. Steve goes to the counter for his drink, but keeps his ears open. "I just wanted to tell you—I came out to my high school team last week. And, um. It's gone really well actually." "Wow," Bucky croaks. "Yeah, it just, I've been scared about it for a long time, but then you told the whole NFL, so I thought—yeah. I just wanted to say … thanks." From the corner of his eye, Steve can see them shake hands. "Wow," Bucky says again. He clears his throat a little. "Thank you. I mean, thanks for telling me." "I'm headed out to visit Oregon now, actually." "Football?" "Yeah." "Holy shit," Bucky says, candid as ever. "That's legit, man. Good luck." "Thank you." The kid starts to turn away, then adds: "For everything." When Steve goes back to Bucky's side, Bucky is staring into the paper bag at his donut. He sniffs, audibly.

"Are you crying?" Steve asks quietly. "No." Steve can't see his eyes through the sunglasses, but his nose is really red. It makes Steve smile. He doesn't press the issue.

🌈Rough Edges | sparkagrace @sparkagrace | Mature | 33,278 words | **Post-Endgame Rec**

Showmances and Rivals-to-Lovers on the Stars on Ice Tour! There's a lot to be excited about here. This fic is such a delight, truly. I love it. You know that post that goes, "What is a rival other than a crush you're mad about having?" Steve spends the first chunk of this fic so disproportionately angry at Bucky for incredibly minor things. Like standing in rooms or... skating. It's amazing. But then there is bonding and heart-to-hearts. Often on skating benches! And, as it turns out, those two being around each other a lot is, as always, a very, very good thing, in the long run. One that helps them both. Also! Becca texts Bucky lots of pictures of Alpine -- pictures from Alpine. Also! Bucky and Nat have a somewhat frighteningly intense friendship/skating partnership and it's all just so, so great.

Quote:

Bucky continues on the corner edges while Steve sorts through one of the color groups. He thinks he has enough to make up branches of the tree that was displayed on the front of the box. He likes it when he finds the pieces that fit together, it’s like his brain fires little electrons of glee when they slot into place perfectly. He tries not to think about the fact it’s the same feeling he gets sometimes when he and Bucky execute their twizzles in perfect synchronicity. The same way he likes the sound of their prop swords clashing when they’re choreographing their throne number. Everything seems to feel matched when he’s around Bucky lately, like they’re synced partners as much as he is with Maria or Bucky is with Natasha. Puzzle pieces. Bucky seems to be enjoying it too. The quiet as they work together to put together this puzzle that neither of them would have looked twice at if they weren’t desperate for a distraction. A distraction from his heartache, from Bucky’s boredom… from the way that Bucky keeps looking over at him, from how he wishes they were doing this under different circumstances.

🌈Right where we are | steveandbucky | Teen | 10,395 words

This is actually the first fic in a whole 'verse, and they're all super sweet and super lovely. I really enjoy the way this Steve and Bucky build their relationship. I love seeing them get to have happier lives where they just get to be good for each other and good to each other, and this 'verse's Steve and Bucky, who do their best to communicate and who are so so cutely smitten from the gate, are great for that.

Quote:

“Hi,” Bucky smiles again, wider this time and the effect it has on Steve is embarrassing, since he can barely get out a greeting in response. Bucky looks ten times better in person. His now longer hair parted in the middle, and he has a two-day-old stubble, looking gorgeous in a navy blue shirt and dark form-fitting jeans. “Fancy running into you here,” he says as he leans closer to be heard above the music. Steve gets a waft of cologne, a sharp and somewhat sweet scent that draws him in as he briefly leans in to speak close to Bucky’s ear. “I’m just here with some friends, I swear I’m not stalking you.” Bucky laughs heartily, ducking his head and crinkling his nose as he does. It’s the cutest thing Steve’s ever seen, and fuck if he wouldn’t spend every minute of every day trying to get Bucky to laugh like that again. “Didn’t think you were stalking me. But what a coincidence, huh?” Bucky says, still grinning. “Nice to finally meet you, Steve Rogers.”

Bonus:

So, this is WIP, and I haven't started reading it yet. But! From everything I know about it, it absolutely fits what I'm going for on this rec list. Also, I've loved every other fic by @zenaidamacrouras1 that I've read. So while I can't actually rec something without reading it, I did feel like this should be in this post somewhere:

Unpredictable Synchronicity | Zenaidamacrouras1 | Mature | 106,788 words (WIP)

Second bonus:

These are fics that 100 percent should/would be on this list, except that I literally just rec'd them in my Brooklyn stories post. They are wonderful for all reasons described in the Brooklyn post:

Three White Horses | magdaliny | Mature | 16,601 words

Not In The Answer But The Question |  aimmyarrowshigh @aimmyarrowshigh | Teen | 27,382 Words

Ill With Want | thedoubteriswise | Mature | 26,999 words

This turned into a very long post, but that feels fitting. Happy Pride! 🌈

Like I said, next up will be dystopias, apocalypses, etc.

More Recs

[writerwithnofreetime]

Try Again

Pairing: Law x black!fem reader 

College! au 

You and Law were both willing participants in a summer fling that turned sour. You make it your life's mission (for three months) to make him regret tossing you to the wayside so carelessly. It all comes to a head at this party. 

wc: 4.025k

cw: mentions of alcohol, inebriation, smoking (weed and cigs), i say vape smoke like once, shit gets angsty at the end, crying 

a/n: this one is for my college girls :). I was planning on writing an Ace x reader, but I found a random draft and the spirit of Law took over me lol. I got way too into this, so I plan on turning it into a series (hopefully max 5-6 parts). Please please pleasee! Feel free to give me feedback and let me know how you feel about certain writing choices/ plot points. I hope you guys enjoy it!

Part 1- The idgaf War

He was not expecting to see you here. 

You knew it. You were counting on it. Law most likely remembers you as the super introverted girl who’d much rather stay inside with a glass of wine and a good book than go out partying with friends. You knew he viewed you as a fledgling of a woman, too naïve to be taken seriously.

It should also be known that all the heaviness in the atmosphere that contained you and Mr. Trafalgar (is what you called him in your head, using his first name feels far too intimate than he deserves) was mainly his doing. You always knew he existed. He was a friend of a friend of a friend, and you would see him out now and then, but there was no reason to speak to one another. The two of you officially met at a train station during the summer. After a week of sharing the frustration that train delays brought, he came up with the idea to exchange numbers. To- you know, let each other know about the status of the train. After a week of turning texts like ‘trains five minutes late’ into conversations about anything from tastes to relationship statuses, he suggested you guys catch dinner together.

Thus began a summer whirlwind romance, which swiftly swirled its way into a tornado as the fall semester's start was approaching. Law, who was interning at a hospital seemed increasingly busy at times he had previously allotted for you. He canceled plans he made. Phone calls went from once a day at lunch to twice a week- if you were lucky- at odd hours. You had no idea what to make of the situation, other than look at the optics and realize that you would be left in the cold if things went on this way. You made the call to end things, and to your dismay, he agreed. Although your fear had played a pivotal hand in the way fate fell, it could have been sated if the asshole had offered a sliver of reassurance at that moment. The two of you agreed to stay friends, but neither of you meant it. 

Staying friends was code for ‘let’s still follow each other on social media and kind of act like nothing happened, though we’ve seen each other's bare asses.’ It would be much easier to play it cool than to explain to any of your mutual friends why the two of you might not want to be around each other. 

The recluse version of you had played the front for 90 days so this plan would be most fruitful. To social media- and by proxy, Law- you were busy attending class, working, and studying. When you would post a selfie (semi-rare), Law would like it but never felt compelled enough to text you. Maybe the reminder of how gorgeous you were wasn’t enough for him. 

There was the possibility the two of you would run into each other, yet you accounted for this. It pained you, but you avoided the quaint cafe you introduced him to that quickly became your guys’ spot. The cafe (Puddings’) was not your favorite- you were smarter than that- but a former safe space. You also passed up on several parties and random outings Nami or any other of your friends invited you to if you so much as got an inkling he would show up.

Only you knew that those 90 days you went unseen were preparation for this month. You planned for this night to be the season finale of the fiasco that was you and Law’s (situational) relationship, and you would go out with a bang. For 90 days, you planned, scrapped, replanned outfits, and worked out ferociously. You salivated at the thought of this night. Your objective was simple- you would pop out looking like a knockout and the realization that he fucked up would hit Mr. Trafalgar so hard he would spontaneously combust. 

D-day was a party your buddy Luffy was throwing. Nami, one of your closest college friends was adamant that you made an appearance tonight, complaining about how long it’d been since everyone was together. You didn’t object. Luffy was known for throwing the best parties in the area, especially after winning a big boxing match. You knew of Luffy through Nami (his manager) who told you Law had recently become a part of Luffys medical crew for the biggest fight of his career thus far- against some guy named Doflamingo. He would be present for this party, even if only to stand on a random wall with his arms folded like Nami described on one of your Facetime calls a while back. 

Since you were here, like this, Law knew that it only meant one thing: A declaration of war. The scales were already tipped in your favor. Your armor of choice tonight was the tightest little black dress in your closet and a pair of black Converse. The dress had a square neckline and showed just enough of your chest, and if anyone got close enough, they'd see the frills from the lacy white bra you wore underneath. Your hair was piled on top of your head in a perfectly picked puff, with face-framing coils on either side of your face, right in front of your ears. Your lips were glossed clear and your makeup simple- the embodiment of cute and casual. To others, it always appeared like you were effortlessly beautiful. Mr. Trafalgar probably thought you didn’t know how to wield your beauty like a sword, to make him kneel at your feet with an offhanded glance. But he was going to learn very soon.

The smell of weed, vape smoke, and booze slapped you in the face as you made your way into the function. The two Buzzballs you pre-gamed with hit you halfway into your Uber trip, so the flush of party wind was disorienting. You pushed- well shimmied, it was pretty packed- on. Clung to your left shoulder was a small black purse with your necessities- lipgloss, debit card, ID, and some dum dums (real bad bitches keep candy in their purse). In your right hand is the unopened bottle of Bacardi Tropical you promised Nami and Vivi to bring. 

It didn’t take long to find them in the kitchen area of the party, with the usual crew- Luffy, whom you heard before you saw, solo cup raised with his signature smile. Sanji has a cigarette in his mouth, a blunt behind his ear (you would question him about that later), and a pretty brunette under his arm you hadn’t seen before (typical). Zoro is leaning against the counter closest to Luffy chatting with…. Law? Well, you couldn’t see the dickheads face, but you knew damn well that was the back of Law's head you were looking at. You smiled devilishly to yourself. This was just the situation you were expecting. You stride over and greet your friends. 

“Y/n!” Luffy exclaimed as soon as you set the bottle on the counter by the other ones. “I’m glad you could make it!” He put an arm around you and smiled even wider. “I feel like I haven’t seen you in ages!” You giggled. Luffy is always great vibes when you’re around him. 

“Yeah, I guess I have been a bit mia…” You trail off with a playful smile. Nami yanks Luffy’s arm, chastising him for almost spilling whatever was in his cup on you. Vivi laughs and greets you with a hug. Sanji introduces you to the girl you know for a fact he met no longer than a week ago as the ‘love of his life”. Her name is Viola and she has your blond-haired friend wrapped around her finger. Someone taps your shoulder, and as you turn to see who, your eyes transiently focus on Mr.Traflagar’s visage. It was hard to tell if he was looking at you, the brim of his hat was pulled pretty low tonight. His face was facing yours. It was pretty dark, but you noticed his lip twitch into a scowl as he took the joint from Zoro’s hand. Law clearly senses the bloodlust in your demeanor. You quickly adjust your gaze to the person who requested your attention.

“If I knew you were bringing more liquor, I would’ve texted you. We ran out of sake about thirty minutes into the party,” Zoro says, peering at you with an easy grin. You roll your eyes and display a cheeky smile of your own.

“Oh, please. You’ll drink anything you get your hands on so shut up, and let's take some shots.” You turn to face the counter full of liquor and grab a cup. Zoro moves past you and fills his cup with the Bacardi you just brought. Nami forces him to pour a shot for the girls before he makes off with the rest. The four of you cheer, then lean your heads back to take sips (in Zoros' case, gulps) of the vodka. 

The burn produces heat in your throat, forcing you to part your lips and exhale. However, it seemed the side of your head would catch fire long before your windpipe. Maybe the incoming tipsiness had you imagining things, but you swear you could feel his eyes on you, dancing across your body and soaking up your frame. Still, you refused to acknowledge his presence. 

No one has noticed that the area y’all are conjugating in had suddenly become a war zone, let alone the blaze emanating from Law’s stare. Your target was now to your immediate right since you and Zoro had traded places. Zoro and Luffy are going shot for shot, entertaining Nami and Vivi. Sanji and his new lover had quietly disappeared after you all took a shot together. 

“Y/n.” He said it loud enough for you to hear it over the music, but it wasn’t like he was raising his voice. His tone was firm and even, and clearly laced with the influence of weed. It seemed to ring in your ears and vibrate in your brain.

You faced him and scanned his countenance with your eyes. He looked… okay. Fine, more than okay. He looked the fuck good. He wore a black hoodie with a white top underneath, his favorite pair of jeans, and black Jordans. There was a decent amount of space between the two of you, but you were close enough to see that he was, in fact checking you out, with his eyes trained on your ass in particular. Shit, it was poking in this dress, which was the defining factor in you choosing it tonight.

You quickly downed the rest of your cup.

“Trafalgar,” you replied cooly, not faltering under his punitive gaze. Seriously. Law looked genuinely bothered by your presence. He was squinting at you, almost as if you were some mirage. The look in his eye made your chest burn with feelings you were actively trying to suppress. Still, he would not win this battle of wills. Not when you knew that simply being here was enough to ruin his night. You craned your head to the side and gave him an easy smile. A smile that you know for certain would weaken his composure. 

It strikes him, you’re sure—his right eye twitches.

“I…..” he trails off, scanning your figure again. You clear your throat and turn to face him. “I wasn’t expecting you to be here tonight.” 

The statement stunned you because it was exactly what you wanted. It also seemed- dangerously honest?  Law was never this forthcoming in the past. He’s the liar-by-omission, roundabout truth-telling type. What is he playing at? You glance at him, brows furrowed.

“Why wouldn’t I be here? Luffy and I are good friends.”

“You weren’t at the match.”

“I couldn’t make it. Besides, I’m here now, having a great time with my friends.” The two of you hold a gaze. Law parted his lips but quickly decided against whatever he was going to say. A chuckle escapes you. “Aren’t we friends, Mr. Trafalgar?”

He raises a brow at the use of his surname. 

“No,” He says after a ten-second pause. He takes one step toward you, and you have half a mind to help him bridge the gap. “I’m not your friend y/n.” His tone is resolute and his eyes, though half-lidded, reflect the same. 

The closeness of his voice resurfaces dangerous memories. Heat rose in your cheeks and the pit of your stomach, but you would not let that control you. You steadied yourself, remembering why you were in this position in the first place. How easy it was for Law to distance himself from you after the night the two of you almost crossed the line. How he responded to your rant at Zepplins with ‘ if that’s what you think is best for you’ then immediately left when you told him you wanted to end things. The text he sent you after saying the two of you would always ‘be cool’. He didn’t fight for you then, so he doesn’t get to make you horny now.  You smile sweetly, but the sentiment turns sour by the time it reaches your eyes. He recoils at the look. 

“Good,” you say warmly. There was more you could say, more you wanted to say, but you knew it would sting more if you kept it short. You spin around, not wanting to spend another moment looking into the asshole's eyes. You rejoin your friends' conversation as if you have never been missing. 

Zoro pours too much tequila into your cup, and you can’t even be bothered to scold him for it. You immediately down half and chase it with a Gatorade, hoping that the electrolytes will be enough to save you from a hangover in the morning. Zoro glances at you, one brow raised.

“You okay there?” Your moss-haired friend has always been extremely perceptive. You press your lips together and nod your head.

“I’m great. I just want to make the most of tonight.” He looks at you again, straight-faced. Zoro’s not buying your shit, but he won't pry any further. Not tonight at least. His eyes focus just past you, then back on you again. “What?”

He raises his cups to his lips to hide his smirk as he nods in Law’s direction. You feel your cheeks burn and a finger at your shoulder, followed by the side of Law’s head. You refuse to move anything but your eyes. Zoro turns around to give the two of you as much privacy as possible. 

“Y/n,” Law starts. His breath is heavy in your ears and his voice reaches every part of you. “I get the feeling if I don’t ask you to speak to me now, I’ll never hear from you again. Please, talk to me.” You lift your chin and pout in frustration. Law wasn’t playing fair. He straightens himself as you turn to face him, arms folded.

“You want to do this right now?” 

“Not here.” You squint. “On the porch.” He adds. You shrug at him and Law visibly relaxes. Two gulps emptied the contents of your cup. You grab a water bottle and previously opened Gatorade and make your way out of the party. Nami and Vivi catch you on your way out. You tell them you were going to get some air. They ask if you want company, but you shake your head and stride out of the party into the night air. Not once do you look back to see if Law is following behind you, though you hear his footsteps once under the plywood of the porch. 

Luckily for you two, there was no one outside- at least anyone who would care to listen in on this conversation. You move to the ledge and wait for Law to join you. You soak in the ambiance around you as you take sips of water. It was pretty, the audio blend of the bass and drums from the party mixed in with the night sounds. There was a light breeze you let wash over you as you closed your eyes. Law clears his throat, but you remain as is. 

“Hey, you alright?” 

“I’m fine.” You were not fucking fine. You’re racking your brain for a strategy, or any indication of how he would play it. This was a shocking turn of events. The Law you accounted for would never draw you out of a party to talk, where several eyes could witness. You played with the cap of the bottles you placed on the ledge. 

“Is it too much to ask you to look at me?” 

“Yes.” Law sighs. You place your hand on your chin and glance at him. He takes his hat off and runs his fingers through his messy waves before pinching the bridge of his nose. He looks up and his grey orbs widen, shocked that yours are staring back at his. 

Fuck it, you thought. I’ll just do whatever I want tonight and pretend it never happened later. 

You bit the inside of your cheek as the silence pressed against the two of you. The tension was so palpable you could see the air currents moving between you. You wish you could grasp it and throw it across the street.

“Y/n….” He straightens up and leans against a support beam. 

You followed his movement with your eyes. “How many times are you going to say my name?” 

He chuckles and looks up from the brim of his hat in his hands directly to you. The sincerity in his eyes softens your heart. 

“I know what I’m about to say might be too late, but please. I need to tell you this.” His words made you straighten up and turn to face him, fingers awkwardly drumming at your sides. The both of you were clearly out of your element here. Law clears his throat and continues, his eyes never leaving yours. “I tried to push you away back then. I’m sorry. After that night when we almost-”

“You don’t have to say it”

He rubs his shoulder with this free hand. “Yeah, sorry. Listen y/n, it wasn’t your fault. I panicked. I don’t know. I knew then that I liked you way more than I felt I should have, and I didn’t want to. I don’t know why- maybe fear- I don’t know. I just,” he exhales. “I thought that if I let you any closer, it would devastate me if I lost you. I didn’t account for losing you when I was icing you out. I wasn’t thinking about how my actions would affect you, only about saving myself. Leaving without talking about it was a big mistake, and I knew it as soon as I got up. But I couldn’t let you in back then. I was…. terrified.” 

The heaviness of the indignation boiled and anviled inside your bosom. Your hands were balled into fists at your sides. Tears prickled at your eyes, but you refused to let any fall. You refuse to hide your pain either.

“Law, I-” you started, unconsciously stepping towards him. “ I don’t believe you. This doesn’t make sense to me.” He raised his arms slightly as if to grab you, but lowered them again as his face studied yours.

“I- I know.”

“No, you don’t know.” you took another step. “Why didn’t you tell me this when I told you how I felt that day? Or any moment after that? You-” Your fist was raised, and two tears fell down one side of your face. “How dare you come and tell me you let me go because you were terrified! You? I thought you didn’t care about me. I thought you discarded me because we didn’t-” You were holding back sobs at this point, and your fists weakly hit Law's shoulders with every sentence. “You made me- I- I felt.” 

He pulls you into his arms and you collapse—everything you held inside escapes you in the form of silent tears against his hoodie. The faint smell of his cologne and weed fills your nose. You were too overwhelmed by the release to be ashamed of yourself for crying in his arms like this. Law presses you tightly as he whispers a slew of apologies into your ear. You honestly don’t know if you believe him. Right now, it didn’t matter. 

Laws hold felt like a steady anchor in the new waters that was the vulnerability between the two of you. He presses his lips to your forehead and you pull away slightly to look up at him. He grimaces and pulls away a little more, using his hoodie to dab at your eyes. 

“Fuck, y/n. I-” He pauses. “I don’t want to keep apologizing. I know it doesn’t do much for you. But it’s tearing me apart inside that I made you feel like this. I fucked up.” You inhale sharply.

“Yeah,” you whisper. Law lifts your chin to his gaze. You could see that a few tears had escaped him as well. You lifted your hand to his jaw, which clenched slightly at your touch. 

“I missed you so much, y/n.” You sniffled as you looked at his lips, suddenly wanting to watch his mouth formulate every word. You were soaking in this new side of Law, not caring about its potential expiration date. You ran your thumb over the outer corner of his eye, wiping away the wetness that gathered there. 

The sound of police alarms pierced through the night and the tender moment. You jump away from each other as Lieutenant Garp slams his car door and walks up the porch. 

“Evening, L/n.” He looks to Law and furrows his brows a bit. “Trafalgar.” His eyes train back on you, a bit of surprise mixed in them.

“Uh-”

“I suggest the two of you get ahead of the crowd that’s about to disperse and call for your rides now. This party is over.”

“Uh, okay.” Garp walks away from the two of you and into the party of unsuspecting youth. You chuckle and shake your head, wishing you could be inside to witness the conversation Luffy and his grandfather would have. You’re sure Nami will tell you the next day. You turn back to Law, who had jumped back a respectable distance at the sight of Garp. His hat was already back on his head and he tapped at his phone screen awhile before looking at you”

“I’ll call you an Uber home.”

“You don’t have to-”

“Correction,” he interrupts. “I’ve already called you an Uber home. It’s ten minutes out.” Your body temperature went up five degrees. 

“Well, thanks.” He shrugs and looks off to the side, his jaw clenched again. Another five degrees. You pull at your dress and play with a pebble under your foot.

“Y/n,” Law starts, commanding your gaze back to his. “I know I don’t deserve it, but please, let me make it up to you. I want to try again. I want to do it right this time.” 

“Law…” He shook his head.

“You don’t have to give me an answer now. Text me when you get home safe. Goodnight.” He plants a quick peck on your forehead. Before you can respond, you hear Vivi call out your name from the doorway as the crew approaches you. When you look back in Law's direction you find his spot vacant. He disappeared in the growing crowd. You pull your phone out of your purse and two notifications stand out.

The first is the Uber details.

The other- is a text from Law’s Number. You deleted his contact in anger in August, but that combination of digits is burned into your memory. 

hey, it’s law.  sorry for stealing a kiss. couldnt help myself. brunch on me at Puddings tomorrow to make up for it. text me when you get home. please