#& I chalk it up to stress & my situation & the inability to really voice

[chaosworthyarchive]

                                                           9.11.3227                                                                                                                                 Location ¦ Angel Island

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     “You can’t stay out of trouble for three seconds, can you?”

     While playful despite the current situation Sonic still narrowed his eyes at his smirking brother, unable to hide one of his own as the echidna raised a brow in turn. Truthfully the hero was touched that The Guardian had bothered to come see him given this was usually the busiest time of day and season for Knuckles, but then again he couldn't remember a time he ever visited The Shrine and not had the other at least greet him in some fashion. Sonic was going to chalk that up to a brotherly instinct and not a lack of trust.

     “Hey, this wasn’t my fault, thanks,” he pointed out, gesturing to the wound that Tikal was currently examining proper. He could see worry on her face, just as he could see the slight concern in Knuckles’. Both of them knew what had happened and the effects of which (Kintobor and Porker had been nothing but thorough it seemed) and the only reason it had taken him so long to come to them was because he wasn’t sure he could make the trip. The need to know had overpowered that doubt, however, and now here he was sitting on the grand steps with the two echidnas, trying to reassure the princess with a small smile and a light joke. “Any hope, or am I a goner?”

     It took a moment but she did look up to meet his gaze, a soft but sure smile forming on her lips even if the concern remained. "I don't believe it is your fault that it is not healing as most of your injuries normally do, and I don’t believe the emeralds mean to be as they are. From what I can determine the emeralds are merely keeping the balance. The power they hold, that mixture of good and evil, is delicate. Taking too much bad could throw things off balance and lead to terrible events. I believe they want to help, they simply cannot risk it."

     There was a sound of gruff agreement from Knuckles, though he didn’t seem to like the news. He merely understood the conditions. "It's just like when Chaos drained them and sucked out all of the bad. Look how well that went. If we had acted any later things would have been irreversible." 

     Tikal nodded, her fingers brushing over the discolored veins on the hedgehog’s side with a featherlight touch, almost despondent. "But you are not like them, you are an individual made of good and thus cannot process the bad. Your body cannot handle the energy, it can purify it in its own time, yes, but the process is slow. That is why..."

     It was why it looked as it did, why some parts of the affected area looked, for lack of a better word, lifeless. Tikal didn’t need to say it, everyone there was thinking it. Even Chaos, who was at the base of the steps looked up with what the hero could only deem as another worried face. Still...none of this was news. It was all what the hedgehog had been expecting, what he had been able to piece together by himself and with a few hints from Kintobor. He supposed, despite its erroneous implications, it did all make sense. 

     When he had cured Chaos the circumstances had been so very different than they were now. It was like Knuckles had said, the emeralds had been drained of their negative energy, leaving only the good and whatever hadn’t been put in the hero at the time of bringing him back to life. It was the only reason he was able to do what he did on such a grand scale, being able to force out that negative energy wasn’t something he could do in normal circumstances. Not on that scale and not, it seemed, when it was within his own body. At least not to the rate he would have liked.

     Given everything else his new chance had granted him, this seemed like a perfect catch-22 but, as with most things, the hero would learn to live with it. It was still a small price to pay. 

     "Well, that's lovely," he quipped, clearly not as bothered as either echidna had expected judging from their reactions. He already knew this was the extent of their help, neither of them could do much else given their power was tied to The Master Emerald, not the ones tucked safely away at the base. "So there's nothing I can do but wait, I figured as much. Thankfully 's not too bad, not as much as it was a week or two ago, anyway."

     More and more he was thankful that the attack that had caused all this wasn’t worse. Yet it gave the hero a new, creeping fear that if The Four ever did come back to finish what they started he might not be so lucky a second time. All the more reason they had to find out who those people were, where they had come from and why they knew about the emeralds in the first place. 

     Something to consider later, he reckoned, looking from the princess to his brother with a grateful smile. "Thanks for the help, but I should probably head back. I...don't think everyone's quite as happy t’ see me."

     The nod he made down below, towards the little blue chao floating around was sure to answer the unspoken question the other two had. It was hard not to notice, frankly. Whenever he visited the island the chao that resided near the shrine were always far too quick to cling onto the hero in any way they could, he had been told this was because of his radiating energy so now that it was more or less tainted it was no wonder the poor creatures looked both torn and wary of him. Even a certain off-red chao was avoiding him. The last thing he wanted to do was cause them any more unneeded stress and Tikal had seemingly understood this and gone to rewrapping his injured side. Though she didn't get far before a light blue, watery, hand reached out to stop her with a gentle touch. The motion enough to cause everyone to look up at odd, almost translucent green eyes. 

     "Chaos…?" 

     The demi-god said nothing, which wasn’t exactly unusual but did look between the two echidnas and the hedgehog, lingering on the latter before their eyes flicked to the burned flesh and back again as they spoke in their odd manner. 

     << I can take it. The bad energy. Let me help. >>

     It was unexpected, so much so that the hero wasn't entirely sure what to say or if it was even a good idea to stop the three-pronged hand from hovering over his side. Fortunately, nothing happened, not just yet, and the two pairs of jewel-colored eyes locked onto one another. Oddly enough, the hero wasn't frightened by the offer, merely confused and wary, chiefly for Chaos' sake.

     Knuckles, however, snorted gently, a sound of realization. Now, why hadn't they thought of this before? "Of course. It makes sense, they did drain the negative energy from the emeralds after all, this would be just like back then. Just on a smaller scale. Seems good or bad Chaos can handle the energy."

     The words didn't help as much as the echidna was maybe hoping they would, in fact they only made the hedgehog frown. While well aware that this was nothing compared to what the demi-god had acquired before there was still a caution about the hero, who knew all too well what negative energy could do to a person. Even as Chaos finally closed the small space and laid a hand on the wound. It was an odd feeling, cool and yet warm at the same time, ever-shifting like the tide but still a solid thing. Still, nothing happened until Sonic looked at those substantial eyes once more, his hesitation clear but nothing but confidence, assuredness, in Chaos' features.

     A moment more passed before the hero relented. What did they have to lose? He trusted that Chaos wouldn't have offered if it meant there was the slightest possibility of something bad happening, and it was so rare that the demi-god took the initiative that the hero almost felt bad for wanting to deny them. It was the first time they had a chance to offer the hero what they had always wanted to give them since their fateful day in the city: help. So, with a small release of breath, mainly to relax, the hero gave a small nod.

     It was all Chaos needed, an equal nod given in return before the faintest glow surrounded not only their hand but the wound itself. Another unusual feeling. Sonic had never wondered what it might have felt like to have something unseen, something leaning on the side of deadly, pulled out of him, but he certainly experienced the sensation that afternoon. It hurt, he wouldn’t deny that much, but the pain was fleeting, momentary, before it seemed to cease altogether. Though it was the small sound of surprise from Tikal that had the hero looking down at his side once Chaos stepped back, both pleased and astonished to see nothing but natural, unharmed skin. No burn, no dark tendrils. No fur either, but the hero certainly wasn’t going to complain about that much, it would grow back in a few day’s time. It always did. 

     Yet, ever true to his nature the hero looked back to Chaos, particularly their hand with an air of concern. He was met with what he assumed to be a faint laugh, both of the water god's hands raising and neither any worse for wear. 

     << Fear not. Small amounts are fine, I am fine. And now so are you. Yes? >>

     It was a mix of relief, gratitude and the inability to resist after seeing Chaos' triumphant expression that made the hero smile, truly smile that was. He took just a moment to gather himself, to make sure that things really were back to normal, before replying with a gentle, "I am, yeah...thank you." 

     Chaos only shook their head, once more surprising not just Sonic but the two echidnas watching the proceedings with clear investment, when they reached out to place that very same hand on the hero's head. Not in a way that was meant to be demeaning, it was precisely the opposite.

     <<Thanks is unnecessary. You saved me. I want to do the same. You are family. >>

     They weren't words the hero had been expecting and, little did he know, his eyes gave away just how thankful he was to hear them even before he could voice them out loud. A chance he never got given how, just a split moment later, he was nearly flattened by a dozen or so chao. Thank goodness for his reflexes and steady feet. Though now it seemed he had to stay just a little while longer, if only to make up for lost time with the little creatures nuzzling into blue and tan fur alike. Chaos knew they weren't going to let him go anytime soon, after all. 

     Sonic would say this. Despite the obvious next steps, despite the fact they still had to find The Four, he was glad things were more or less back to normal. Hopefully, they would stay that way for a bit longer. 

#give a little time to me | queue #everything has changed | update #tikal | guest stars #chaos | guest stars #knuckles | guest stars

[bcbdrums]

What Is True

FFn link --> https://www.fanfiction.net/s/13666708/1/What-Is-True

For @drakgoprompts no. 5, “Emotion Sickness Aftermath.”

Also inspired by @cocoa-at-night‘s answer to the prompt with her lovely art for the prompt!  Please look at it first!!!

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Shego rolled over in bed again, tossing her hair carelessly. She didn't know how many times she had rolled over, but it was enough to now be annoying her as much as the inability to sleep.

She had barely slept for three days, since the incident with the mood-altering device that had inadvertently fallen on her during the most recent caper. Her wild memories of the events that had occurred kept playing in her mind on an endless sequential repeat, the way Holiday Tale did on Christmas Day each year on that one cable channel. She couldn't stop thinking about how she had been fully invested in her actions, every step of the way...

It frightened her. She had been unable to stop crying over a broken nail. And then she was mad at Drakken for not caring. Until she wasn't. Until she wanted nothing more than for him to put his arms around her. And then she cried because he wasn't spending all of his attention on her. And then the sadness turned to rage.

The scariest thing was...she could still access the emotions if she tried. She could feel the sadness, the anger, and...the...

What did she call the feeling she'd spent most of the day having toward Drakken? It wasn't lust. It wasn't a crush. It was something else... Something...deeper, that combined elements of the two.

It wasn't love. It couldn't be love... What was love anyway? She'd never been in love. It couldn't be love...

She rolled over again, and then finally sat up, tossing her hair back in frustration. She reached behind her neck and touched the aching, stinging spot where the little device had been.

Drakken had moved on. He set the henchmen to cleaning the lab that had been ruined by melted snow, and was off elsewhere in the lair working on something smaller until the lab was back to operational conditions. When Shego came out of her room to eat or to see if there was anything new planned, he acted almost as if nothing had happened. He was content to chalk the situation up to the technology and let it go.

But Shego couldn't.

She got out of bed and after dressing, stormed through the halls in search of Drakken. She wasn't entirely sure why she felt compelled to talk to him, but she did know that she wouldn't be able to sleep that night unless something changed.

She found him in the den, sitting behind his desk while a fire roared in the fireplace. He was flipping through a brochure for the upcoming villain convention and circling something on the current page.

"Drakken!"

He dropped his pen and looked up, startled. For once he didn't call out or look annoyed. But Shego was too tired and too riled up from her own stress to notice.

"Why didn't you take advantage of me!"

Drakken's eyes widened and he sank back in his chair, as if trying to disappear. Shego's hand flew to her mouth. She hadn't planned to say those words... They just came out. She stared at Drakken, who stared back, equally at a loss.

"Wh-what?" Drakken asked in a meek voice.

Shego's heart was pounding. But she couldn't take it back...

"Y-you heard me," she said shakily, and then, with more assurance, "Answer the question."

Drakken's shock turned into affront. "That...that would have been wrong, Shego!"

Shego's jaw slowly dropped as he began to ramble about the morals his mother taught him, his uncertainty over her out of character behavior, and how really, he just wanted to enact his plan. The EMA was the perfect beginning to his eventual global domination...

Shego shook her head and stepped closer as he went on, gesticulating wildly as he bemoaned the recent failure due to Kim Possible's unexpected appearance.

"So, so let me get this straight," she interrupted, setting her hands on his desk and leaning forward. "Your plan was more interesting than a beautiful woman throwing herself at you? What are you...are you gay, or impotent, or something?"

Drakken's face then looked like she'd never seen. His brow furrowed, his eyes narrowed, his lips pursed, and his cheeks blushing nearly purple as he seemed unable to decide which emotion to respond with. But she held her ground, glaring at him as she waited for an answer.

And then it suddenly hit her... What answer, exactly, was she hoping for?

"No!" Drakken burst out, deciding apparently on anger. "I was concentrating on trying to cause mass chaos and destruction that would lead to my ruling the world! You— You...wait," he slowed down, his expression suddenly growing nervous. "Did you...want me to...make a move?"

Shego stood up suddenly as her face flushed crimson.

"No!" she spat back before any other thought dared enter her head. "If you had you wouldn't be alive to have this conversation."

Drakken's eyes flashed in fear as he leaned back further, pushing the chair slightly away from the desk. And then his expression fell back to confusion as he peered at her. Confusion, and caution. He moved his hands to his lap and twiddled his thumbs.

Shego sighed. "I'm just...surprised, I guess. Most men would have taken advantage of the situation."

Drakken's expression hardened slightly. "I'm a gentleman, Shego."

Shego looked at him for anything but honesty, but...that's all there was in his eyes. And she was no closer to understanding her own feelings about everything.

As a silence grew between them, Drakken looked more and more like he wanted to say something. Sudden fear over what it might be propelled her speak again.

"Thanks. For...being a gentleman. Guess I'll stick around," she said with a small laugh, hoping that would be enough explanation for her interrupting his evening.

But it still gave her no further answers about why she'd enjoyed kissing him in that photo booth...and why the memory was still positive. Shouldn't it disgust her?

She touched the sore spot on her neck as her gaze drifted to the fire as she worried about why she couldn't get that day out of her mind. And why she kept finding herself wondering why he didn't kiss her back... Why he just seemed to tolerate her romantic advances...

"Is your neck still hurting where that...thing was on you?" Drakken asked.

Shego blinked back into focus and realized she was still touching her neck.

"Oh. Yeah."

Drakken looked like he wanted to say something again. Shego's fingers brushed a spot on her neck that stung, and she winced.

"Uhm. Could you...look at it? I can't see it really well with the mirror."

Drakken's brow rose. He left the chair and approached her silently, cautiously lifting a hand. She spun around and pushed her hair over right shoulder, suddenly feeling a bit unsteady on her feet. Or was her stomach turning over? Or both...

"Ah..." Drakken said. She felt his fingers at the edge of her collar.

"What?"

"Could you...move your collar down somehow? The device was partially beneath it."

Shego felt her stomach turn over again as she unzipped the front of her suit. She suddenly, inexplicably felt like her legs wouldn't hold her up.

"Hold on, uh...can we sit down?" she said while moving to do so, dropping on her knees in front of the fireplace.

"Ah..." Drakken said, following her down. He sat behind her, and Shego stiffened slightly as she felt his hand gently touch her left arm, just above her elbow. She felt her collar pulled down very slightly with his other hand, the garment moving freely now that her suit was undone.

Drakken didn't make a sound as he apparently looked at the injured spot on her neck. The silence made Shego even more uneasy.

"Is it bad?" she asked.

"It...yes," Drakken said plainly. Shego's brow shot up, and she listened as he described the wound. "You remember the device was round and had those little...clamps, to anchor into the victim?"

"Yes..." Shego said, wondering at his choice of the last word.

"There is bleeding beneath the skin where each clamp was... And you have a bad electrical burn in the center, and more subcutaneous bleeding."

His gloved fingers ghosted over the pained spot, and then vanished.

Shego sighed as her thoughts zeroed in on one thing for once that night. He hadn't exactly called her a victim. But it's what she had been... A technology they didn't understand driving her...and leaving her mind so mixed up now it was gone, she didn't know what was true anymore.

Except...for one thing. There was one thing she could still be sure of.

"Dr. D.?" she said, her gaze dropping to her lap without focus. She tugged on the ends of her hair lightly.

"Yes...Shego?"

"Thanks...for being a gentleman."

"Shego... I would never dream of...of..."

He sounded anxious as his words trailed off. She thought back to well over a year before, when he had put her under mind control for an experiment and made a mockery of her throughout the experience. But of all the things he had done then...what stood out must was what he hadn't done.

Her heart was racing. No matter what that strange mood-altering device had done to her...and know matter how mixed up she was... She knew she could always be sure of him.

His hand was still inexplicably resting on her left arm. Why had he put it there? She crossed her arms and set the fingers of her right hand lightly over his.

"Dr. D. I know."

#drakgo #drakken #shego #drakken x shego #dragko #drakken and shego #fanfiction #fanfic #fic #drakkenandshego #shego and drakken #shego x drakken #drakken shego #kim possible live action

[baldrambo]

On Joyce Byers....

Joyce Byers is a bad ass.  So why is she handled with kid gloves by everyone?  This is a bit of a companion discussion to my Hopper post from a few weeks ago. Like my prior meta, I will discuss what I believe to be truths about Joyce and her arc, which don’t appear to be aligned with most analyses of her character that I’ve seen elsewhere. I will make 5 assertions and address each of them below the cut because (as per the norm) this got really long and I am not trying to clog up people’s dashboards.

Assertion 1: We have no canon evidence that Lonnie was physically abusive and making Joyce his victim does a disservice to her characterization

Assertion 2: What Bob represented to Joyce was more important to her arc than Bob himself (aka Bob/Joyce were not really a good match)

Assertion 3: Making fun of/being frustrated by Joyce’s magnet obsession misses the point of her arc in S3, which was about her pro-activity rather than reactivity

Assertion 4: Joyce inappropriately attempts to compartmentalize Hopper (aka Joyce needs to let Lonnie and Bob go if she’s to ever move on)

Assertion 5: Joyce is not a delicate cinnamon roll in need of our protection she is a BAMF and should be treated as such.

Assertion 1:

Our first introduction to Joyce is as a small, mousy, anxious, chain-smoking single mom who….can’t find her keys.  And not because she is is careless. She has literally SO much on her plate at any given moment that the location of her keys is trivial until it’s not.  She works long hours at a low-wage job to support her boys.  She really has no life outside of work, paying bills, and cleaning house.  Wash, rinse, repeat.  She is just barely scraping by. 

And yet we learn through flashbacks fairly quickly after Will’s disappearance that despite working long hours, despite the constant stress….she still manages to find time to parent her boys.  And not just be any old parent, mind you.  Joyce Byers is a good parent.  When Will is out in Castle Byers she doesn’t just barge in.  She respects his personal space, remembers a unique nerdy password, and waits for him to tell her that she can enter.  She then trusts his judgment when he says that he can handle watching Poltergeist. This is later juxtaposed by the scene in Nancy’s bedroom with Jonathan where Karen attempts to enter the bedroom after Nancy has had to lock it.  Jonathan looks at Nancy, a little shocked, and says “she doesn’t knock?” Which is weird to him, of course, because Joyce would always knock.  Now lets contrast Joyce, who is Mother of the Year, with Lonnie Byers who is a Grade A Piece of Shit™. He abandoned the family and hasn’t seen them in years.  And when he was around, he spent his time being a deadbeat, calling his son a faggot, and trying to force his boys into being “manlier” and more mainstream.

We first meet Lonnie in 1x2 when Jonathan drives out to Indianapolis to confirm that Will is in fact, not with his father.  When Lonnie’s girlfriend answers the door, Jonathan pushes past her and into the home, shouting for his brother.  Lonnie then comes in from outside, grabs Jonathan, and pushes him up against a wall.  Only then does he realize it’s his son.  Lonnie hadn’t seen Jonathan in so long that he almost didn’t recognize him, and initially thought him an intruder. Jonathan angrily shoves Lonnie back, who steps back and laughs. Notably, Jonathan does not appear to fear Lonnie and Lonnie makes no attempt to otherwise assert any other type of physical control over Jonathan. Lonnie talks to him like he’s an adult.

When Lonnie returns in 1x5 for Will’s funeral, he is an immediate negative influence who has Joyce up drinking all night, calls her crazy, and starts sniping at Jonathan about some stupid poster in his bedroom being inappropriate.  However, there is no real confrontation until Joyce finds the flyer in his belongings and realizes he is attempting to collect on Will’s “death.”  She screams at Lonnie and holds her ground when he shouts back.  She shoves him. She gets in his face and throws his bag at him.  And then little 5′2 Joyce Byers successfully throws a grown ass man out of her house.  He never raises a hand to her.

This is not a Lonnie Byers apology piece.  Lonnie Byers is a shitty dad, shitty partner, shitty person.  I think an entirely separate piece could be written on the emotional abuse of his boys (although in the 80′s Midwest much of that would be considered normal, but that’s another essay).  But there is nothing to suggest that Lonnie ever hit them, or Joyce.  If the Duffers wanted Lonnie to be physically abusive, they would make it obvious, no?

The most clear example of this? Neil Hargrove. When he enters Billy’s bedroom in 2x8, he has complete control.  Over Billy, his wife, the conversation.  He overtly strikes Billy, humiliates him, and it’s clear that Billy fears him.  Susan Hargrove also fears him, and she stands in the background for the entire confrontation, avoiding eye contact, saying nothing.  The only time she attempts to intercede is to diffuse the situation, diffuse Neil, when he commands that Billy apologize and quickly shuts up when it’s clear her efforts didn’t work.  She then exits the room, first allowing him to leave the room before her. The dynamics here are light years from Joyce/Lonnie/Jonathan.

Ok so.  Why am I bringing all of this up? Because, imo, turning Lonnie into a physical abuser cuts at the heart of Joyce’s characterization.  Joyce Byers is a fighter.  That’s what Bob loved about her.  “You fight back,” he told her, in a somewhat awestruck voice.  Joyce is not a Susan Hargrove. None of this is to suggest that Susan is to blame for what she has gone through, or that somehow Joyce is better for not being like her. I contrast them because the Duffer brothers do. Joyce will steamroll anyone and anything that gets in her way to protect her boys.  If she’s on a mission….if she is trying to save someone…watch out.  Making Lonnie a physical abuser so he can be a plot device, or because it makes it easier to hate and villainize him upsets the core of Joyce’s character. And it changes the entire show.

Assertion 2:

Much of Joyce’s inner strength shines through in S2.  When S2 begins, Joyce can’t leave Will’s side and still worries about him incessantly.  She’s overbearing and “struggles to function” whenever she is not with him.  She is forced to re-live the horrors of what her and her family went through every time she goes to Hawkins Lab and worse…she has to place her trust in the very same people who nearly ripped her family apart.  Yet, she doesn’t give up, she soldiers on for Jonathan and Will.  But so much like S1, S2 Joyce is helpless.  She is unable to control what is happening around her.  The events of S1-S2 make her reactionary, she gets dragged along by the plot instead of driving the plot.

But there is one bright spot of happiness for her…..Bob.  He is the exact opposite of Lonnie in every way.  He is kind, thoughtful, hardworking, honest, and trustworthy.  He put Joyce first, he tried to bond with and be a parent to Will and Jonathan. And he was willing to jump in to the fray when he had no idea what was going on to save her, save everyone despite being absolutely terrified.  Bob Newby. Superhero.

There are some early warning signs that perhaps….we as the audience are not supposed to view this as the perfect match? Jonathan, in particular, doesn’t seem to approve at all, in fact, it downright confuses him.  He confides in Will that he doesn’t understand what Joyce sees in him and later gets agitated when he learns that Bob has stayed the night.  Hopper, too, seems to struggle with it. And while a lot of that can probably be chalked up to the early signs of jealousy, his forced “I’m happy for you” appears to be at least somewhat tied to his inability to take her dating “Bob the Brain” seriously.  Why drop all these hints if it doesn’t mean anything?

It’s the conversation she has with Bob in 2x2 on Halloween that really cements Joyce’s arc and Bob’s central purpose.  While they’re dancing to Kenny Rogers, he starts prattling on about moving to Maine.  He’s in love with her, he knows being in Hawkins is hard for her.  So why not start over again and be a family? “We aren’t a normal family.” She tells Bob.  His response is simple: “It could be.” And that moment plants that seed for Joyce.  What if they COULD be a happy, nuclear family?  What if they COULD leave all that trauma behind them and finally find safety and security?  She starts thinking on it so much that by the end of S2 when Bob brings it up again, she’s all but ready. And the Duffers have confirmed, if Bob had survived she would have gone with him to Maine.

But here’s the thing: what if someone else besides Bob had planted the idea in her head? Would she have wanted it any less?  Or consider, was it really Bob himself that drove her desire, or was it always lying dormant there waiting to be activated?  If she had started dating Hopper after S1 instead and HE had been the one to make the suggestion, would she have desired it any less?  Did she really love Bob himself, or the idea of him?

It’s easy to romanticize Bob because he seemed perfect, he represented the happy ending that Joyce wants, that WE WANT for her, but here’s the thing.  There is no perfect guy.  You can’t move a few states away and leave behind Demogorgons and another dimension that nearly killed your son.  That stays with you wherever you go, and you have to face it and deal with it.  You can’t run away from trauma, and Joyce has to realize this.  Joyce is chasing a mirage. Perhaps Bob was kind of a mirage, too. 

Assertion 3:.

The Joyce we see at the end of s2 seems….like she’s going to be okay.  She has her boys, Hopper’s friendship.  She’s lost Bob but the Gate is closed now, everyone is safe (or so everyone thinks).  But then there’s S3 Joyce.  She’s lonely, isolated, sad, discontent, and restless.  The kids are trying to move on from the events of S1-S2.  But she’s unable to.  She’s unable to move on from Bob, from her fear that her boys could still be in danger, from the feeling that something is going to go horribly wrong again and she won’t be able to stop it. 

So Joyce preemptively reshapes her arc.  She decides she is going to put her own house on the market.  Bob may not be coming with her but goddammit she is going to move anyway and find safety somewhere else.  When she notices the magnets fall off the fridge she is not going to wait and see what happens, SHE is going to go research magnets and solenoids and weird science stuff she doesn’t understand and SHE is going to figure it out and SHE is going bring it to Hopper before shit hits the fan.  And when they call the military, SHE is not going to wait around for them to show up and save her kids.  She’s going to take action herself.

Thus, Joyce is driving much of the plot in S3, rather than being dragged along by the plot as she was in S1-S2.  She is not focusing all of her time and energy on Will and his safety, and reacting to where he is and what he’s doing, she is able to focus on Hopper, El, the Party, the bigger picture.  Will kept her focus narrowed, magnets expanded them.

And perhaps most significantly, the magnet obsession is what ultimately saved the day.  Joyce is the hero of S3.  Think about who saved the day in S1-S2.  Who were the heroes?  El and Hopper.  In S1, El sacrificed herself to kill the Demogorgon and save the Party and Hopper resuscitated Will.  In S2, El and Hopper closed the Gate.  In S3, who saved the day? El?  She had no power.  She wasn’t even the one fighting the Meat Flayer. Hopper?  He was trapped on the platform.  Who closed the Gate and killed the “Meat Flayer?”  Joyce.  By herself. This ended the threat, this stopped the “Meat Flayer,” this saved El and the Party.

I think it’s easy to miss all of this due to the tonal shift in S3, which added some silliness to the plot lines that didn’t exist in S1-S2.  On the surface, obsessing about magnets instead of your son seems ridiculous.  But this shift gave Joyce’s character a chance to breathe, a chance to grapple with her own feelings, what she wants, it gave her a chance to just be Joyce instead of Mom™.  So S3 is about her, instead of what is happening to her. 

And i think, ultimately, this tonal shift in S3 is what allowed that to happen.  If the circumstances in S3 were the same as S1-S2, then the Duffers wouldn’t have had this freedom.  If we want to see Joyce grow as a character, there has to be time and energy spent on her away from her kids and away from the same closed loop of S1-S2. Which brings me to my next point.

Assertion 4:

Jopper.  You can’t expect me to write this long ass meta on Joyce Byers and not talk about Hopper, right?

In early S3 there is obviously a marked shift in her relationship with Hopper.  There are no longer secrets (El) or other relationships (Bob) that they can use to hold each other at arm’s length anymore.  There are no other adults in town now who understand what they’ve been through.  Joyce is effectively co-parenting El with Hopper and it’s clear that he not only asks her for advice often but that they spend a lot of time together.  This did not happen between 1 and 2.  It’s made fairly clear upfront that Hopper is hopelessly in love with her, but what of Joyce?  She’s more difficult to read.  And this is due in large part to the fact that she is more complicated than Hopper and her feelings are more complicated than his.

I am not here to argue about whether I think Joyce loves Hopper.  This entire analysis is based on the assumption that she does because I think the Duffers and Winona have given us more than enough to go on to draw that conclusion.  What I AM here to argue, however, is that Joyce is still grappling with what she wants and (inappropriately so) is attempting to compartmentalize Hopper.

Adult relationships are complicated and particularly for a character like Joyce, who has been to Hell and back a few times, there is added complexity that has to be dealt with and worked through.  She’s been in prior relationships before.  She knows what it’s like to be in love and she’s felt the pain and grief that comes along with it.  She’s been divorced already, had a spouse that abandoned her, children  to prioritize over her own love life, and trauma stemming both from the events of 1983-1985 and separate from it.  Joyce, especially, is fresh off the train of losing a love interest who she got close to very quickly.  You can imagine her hesitation about leaping forwards again with someone else who could die.

There’s your backdrop for Joyce in S3.  Throw a healthy dollop of she has feelings for Hopper and then point blank ask her: “What do you want, Joyce?”  She could probably tell you that she wants to feel safe again.  That she wants to be free of the pain and grief of losing Bob and what happened in S1-S2.  If you really can get her to open up (or if you are a mind reader like Murray) you would also find out that she is still holding onto that desire to have a normal, happy family which includes a “nice guy to settle down with.”  The thing about Hopper is that he fulfills all of this for her, just messily.  Joyce is still looking for that coloring book of life to be filled in by an artist (Bob). Hopper fills it in like a 3 year old with disorganized scribbles that cover the picture but can’t quite stay in the lines.  Lonnie is easy: he never even filled in the lines to begin with.

Hopper shares personality traits with both Bob and Lonnie.  Like Bob, he makes her feel safe, she can trust him, she knows he cares about her, feels more than friendship for her.  But he’s also brash and loud and argumentative and after spending a decade of her life screaming with Lonnie….she doesn’t want that again.  He probably at times DOES “remind her of a bad relationship,” but Hopper is not Lonnie.  He respects her, treats her like an equal, trusts her judgment. But she can’t escape the constant comparisons.

And what I’ve seen from a lot of the fandom are the same attempts to shove Hopper into the “Lonnie” box or the “Bob” box that Joyce keeps trying to do.  S1-S2 Hopper is in the “Bob” box.  We like S1-S2 Hopper. But S3 Hopper, man.  He is in the “Lonnie” box.  He yells and stamps his feet.  This Hopper isn’t “good enough” for Joyce.

But here’s my radical proposition: Hopper IS good enough for Joyce if he is who she wants.  And he is what she wants.  But she needs to let Lonnie and Bob go first.

Lonnie and Bob still have a hold on her and if she is going to be able to take that leap forward with Hopper she needs to put their ghosts to rest.  She couldn’t save Bob, but maybe she can save Hopper.  Maybe Hopper isn’t perfect and has a temper, but that is ok because he loves her and respects her unlike Lonnie. I think if we see Joyce work through this in S4 and join her on her journey of making the decision to be with Hop and making that choice FOR HERSELF rather than the plot or some other force making that decision for her, the payout is gonna be huge.

Assertion 5:

Finally, I wanted to touch on the common theme of this whole analysis: that despite this inner strength, despite the growth and change her character has undergone, she is still largely handled by the ST fandom with kid gloves.  Like she is someone that can’t take care of herself, and who we need to step in and defend and protect against….the world.  Here are a few examples I’ve seen over and over:

1) Mischaracterizing S3 Hopper as an “abuser” that Joyce needs “protection” from, much like she needed “protection” from Lonnie. 

2) Attempting to turn Jonathan into her protector/her keeper.  

3) Defending her when she is in the wrong because she is Mom™ (see i.e. standing Hopper up for their date and being non-apologetic about it.)

4) Analyzing “what is best for Joyce” without thinking about her canon feelings or what SHE wants

As I dissected above, Joyce never needed protection from Lonnie. She doesn’t need protection from Hopper. Or anyone.  She doesn’t need Jonathan stepping in for her and she does not need us the fandom, to decide FOR her what she wants and what she can and cannot do.  All this does is, ultimately, build her arc around men and strip her of her agency as a character.

All the canon evidence suggests that she is a bad ass.  She curb stomps assholes on the regular and saves the day, multiple times.  So why is it next to impossible to find any discussion of Joyce that doesn’t involve complaints of what man (Duffer or otherwise) is wronging her at any moment?  Is it because it’s just easier to pidgeonhole characters, particularly female characters, into villain/oppressor and “the good guy?”  Because if we open her up into complexity outside of being our cinnamon roll mom we worry she could disappoint us? Because we cannot accept that a good female character doesn’t need protection?  What happens if Joyce is just a complex person who is both mom and badass? Focused on her kids and herself? Deserving of her own life and respect for her autonomy? Is both selfish and selfless?

Joyce, imo, has one of the most compelling arcs on the entire show.  We are introduced to her as a Mom who is barely holding it together already and then loses her son, sending her into a spiral that her inner strength alone carries her through.  After nearly losing her kid again, she loses her boyfriend horrifically, and just when she thinks they may have finally escaped it all permanently she has to single-handedly close the Gate, torching the only other man she loves in the process. So she packs her shit up and moves her family away from the danger.  She goes from the most reactive character on the show to, perhaps, the most proactive one.  

She may not have “powers,” she may not be able to effectively wield a gun, but she can knee an asshole in the crotch and that makes her a hero to me. I say let her be everything she is, allow her to explore her own wants even if they are imperfect, let her make mistakes and stand up for and protect herself, and let her be her own person outside of the character arcs of other male characters.

Andddddd end scene.

#joyce byers #jim hopper #jopper #jonathan byers #lonnie byers #thank you for coming to my long winded ted talk part 2 #aka joyce byers could beat my ass and i am here for it #also this got me all kinds of hype for s4 lemme tell you its gonna be JOYCES SEASON #anyway if you read this please give me your thoughts i love to hear what other people agree and disagree about #i get so wrapped up in these im sorry they're so long jfc #meta

[iwantutobehapppier]

Safe Place

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Reader

Summary: You were Romanian native when you two met. something in him drew you in. You were safe with him and he felt a since of peace he’d not known since before the wars. Feelings develop and boundaries blur in your need to help him heal.

Warnings: Oral (for you), unprotected sex, PTSD episode-ish and I think cursing. 18 an older only, do not read if under the age of 18. This isn’t for everyone, if any of these situations bother you please read no further.

Word Count: 3.938

A/N: This was made at the request of my bestie @judiakino. She wanted fluffy Bucky smut so I tried my very best to deliver. Hope you all enjoy!

Chiming of the clock in the entry hallway of your humble walk up pulled you out of your book. You frowned looking out the window, the darkening sky telling sign you had gotten lost in your latest romance novel and the need for starting dinner imminent. Setting the book down on the coffee table across from your love worn couch, you made your way to the kitchen.

You couldn’t help the smile that spread across your lips as you began preparing dinner, he would be here soon and the anticipation of his arrival made you bounce on your feet as you moved between tasks in gleeful anticipation. Once you had the soup cooking on the stove top you pulled the open living room blinds and curtains shut, your visitor had an issue with open window views; you chalked it up to his soldier training he sparsely spoke of.

Returning to your soup you took a small taste and wrinkled your nose, it needed more spice. Reaching up towards your spice rack to your left a cool metal hand wrapped around yours as you grabbed the desired spice, a warm arm wrapping around your stomach pulling you into muscular chest. The heat of his breath fanned neck as brown hair brushing against your shoulder, you sighed in content at his touch. You knew this greeting very well, he was always so silent even the whirling of his metal arm barely above a whisper. His left arm remained glued to yours as you seasoned the soup, he pressed his face into your neck a content sigh falling from his lips at your smell invading his senses.

“I missed you,” he murmured against your skin, you pushed your body further into his at the sensation.

“Oh? More than you do any other day?” You smiled turning your head to face him, he always looked at you with such warmth that you couldn’t stop smiling when he was around.

“There was this elderly woman down at the market going on about the best ingredients for Sarmale.” You turned your attention back to the soup stirring in the spices slowly a you became embarrassed knowing what he would say next. “It reminded me of when you gave me a good verbal thrashing for bringing you lamb instead of beef.” Your checks bright red recalling just how indigent you became with him over his faux-pa he didn’t even understand.

“In my defense,” you began with a sigh, burrowing his face in your neck under your hair you felt him softly chuckle as you became wound up, “I was not aware you knew nothing about Romanian dishes. You have no accent.” He hmed pulling his head back up, just as your sat your stirring spoon down he  twirled you around to face him. He kept his arm around your waist, his metal arm gently holding your chin up turned to him as his warm cerulean eyes searched all over your face.

“Do I have something on my face?” you asked, lifting a hand to your cheek looking into his eyes. He shook his head, “No, you’re just so gorgeous I can’t help but want to memorize this face.” Your cheeks turned a deep crimson at his words, breaking eye contact his honesty and admiration overwhelming. After 3 months of you spending such intimate time together he had yet to kiss you, but he certainly imprinted himself against your skin, always touching you in small or not so small intimate ways that made your heart stop and warmth pool in your stomach.

The both of you ate in comfortable silence at your kitchen table; he looked so large in the basic metal lined kitchen chair. You had to stifle a giggled, his size always seemed comical in your tiny place. His warm hand entwined his fingers with your hand resting palm up on the table. He would look at you randomly smiling only when you looked back. Once finished he took both your bowls to wash them while you put away the left over soup.

Before long the two of you were cuddle up on your love worn couch T.V. playing some American sitcom re-run. His arms locking you in his lap, as if you’d ever leave his embrace. You rested one arm on top of his, your other reaching behind you playing with the hair at the nape of his neck. He bent his head down and nuzzled his face into your hair breathing in deeply. You could feel yourself dozing off in his arms when the T.V. became louder talking about breaking news, causing you to open your eyes wide.

“This just in: Avengers spotted in Sokovia confronting what appears to be some type of Robot Invasion”

The news caster was reading from the prompter on one side while shaky cellphone footage played, Hulk slamming on the ground tearing apart robots and arrows from Hawkeye flying by causing explosions.

You could feel Bucky tensing behind you, his grip around you tightening each second the footage aired the whirling of his arm increasing in noise as it constricted. It wasn’t until Captain America appeared that you felt his grip become uncomfortable.

“Punk,” he whispered out, your hand had stilled against his head and you tried to call out his name as the grip reached level of pain. Hearing you struggle seemed to break whatever trance he was in as he instantly let go of you and stood up shoving you down onto the floor at the unexpected movement.

“Oof” you grunted as your butt made impacted with hardwood floor.  You went to pull yourself up off the ground when the T.V. cut to images of people screaming out. Bucky bent at the waist covering his ears, you stopped trying to get up instead grabbing the remote and quickly turning the T.V. off. Once the noise was gone you began standing up, you brushed his hair back holding it behind his neck and other hand pulling his arm to try and get him to stand up straight.

Quickly, almost smacking your heads together, he stood up looking at you with cloudy fearful eyes chest heaving panic clearly setting in. You gripped both sides of his face lifting up onto your toes and pulling his head down you put your forehead against his keeping eye contact with his faraway gaze.

“Listen to my voice,” your voice calm while you pet the sides of his face, his chest still heaving. “You’re here in Romania,” you slowly trailed your hands down to his neck stopping at his shoulders, your touch soft and caressing. “You’re safe with me,” his breathing began to slow down, tears pooling at the corner of his eyes as you kept staring into them. “No one is controlling you,” His eyes began to focus on you, an anguished whimper came from his lips as he pulled you into his embrace, your arms curling under his arms and clinging to his shoulders as he rubbed his face into your hair. “You’re safe,” you repeated few times you voice trailing off as his breathing finally evened out, the whirl of his metal arm returning its normal white noise level.

When you felt his metal hand pet your hair you knew he was returning to himself. You wrapped your arms around his back, gently rubbing and whispering softly words only he could hear the same words you’d use late night during his night terrors the few times he had stayed over sleeping on your couch. There was never a question of if the relationship would move further; you were content with his visits whether just for the evening or the night. He confessed once that every time you touched him he could feel the demons recede. You never minded comforting the demons he was always trying to keep at bay, the demons you dared not ask the names of.

Quietly you guided him back to the couch; you sat down first laying your back against the arm rest, Bucky cautiously laid between your legs, resting his head on your stomach. You smiled at his trepidation to lay directly on you; he was always concerned in how he handled you. Rarely would he become rough only times getting close when he’d have a flashback. Gently combing your fingers through his hair he burrowed his face into your stomach arms looping underneath your back, the desperate way he clung you giving away his current thoughts.

“You’re safe, we’re safe.” You repeated, nodding your head as you spoke to reaffirm the truth.

He sighed and nodded his head, “Yes we’re safe, you’re safe.” He stressed the last part, expressing the utter importance you held to him with a simple inflection.

“I’m always safe with you around,” your bright smile beaming at him when he upturned his face, his gorgeous pools of blue gazing in awe. The corner of his lips twitched but the smile never really formed, his mind still trying to switch off unsuccessfully as adrenaline still running rampant. He turned his head down, clouds swirling in his eyes once more. He was silent for a moment. “No one is safe around me.”

You chortled at his words; he looked back at you in confusion and mild shock. You shook your head baffled at his inability to see who he was.

“Who saved that little child we saw last week getting bullied? The elder woman who always wears purple down the street, when people were ransacking her house who intervened?” you pressed him to sit up on his knees as you sat up straight looking him in the eyes to make sure he was focused on you and not listening to whatever self-doubt rang in his head. “When I was alone, and those men started following me,” his hands balled into fists, you both recalling a less than pleasant memory. “Remember when they held me in that alleyway. Who was it that saved me?” He looked down to his chest unwilling to answer you, adverse to let him fold into himself again gripping both sides of his face forcing him to look at you repeating yourself slowly. “Who was it?”

“Me,” his voice was barely above a whisper if the T.V. had still been on you would have missed it. “I’m sorry I couldn’t hear that?” His eyes narrowed, he knew you could hear that.

“Me,” Bucky’s voice raised this time enough to satisfy you. “I’m safe with you, Bucky.” He pulled your hands from his now pensive face.

“What I have done, what I did-” you cut him off before he could start his familiar self-loathing rhetoric.

“I don’t care what you did, it only matters what you do.” Your arms sliding up his chest you fought the shiver at the feel of his firm sculpted muscles under your hands. Wrapping your arms around his neck you sat up on your knees as well. Given his height your eye level was still his neck but it was less of an ache to turn your head up only slightly with this position. He appeared to be mulling over your words, determining their worth and truth.

“But I-” you gently pressed your lips to his, capturing his bottom lip. At first he stiffened at the boundary being crossed, his hands finally unclenched resting at his sides, eyes wide peering into yours. You gradually closed your eyes applying more pressure to his lips, his arms shot around you pulling you flush against him. He was tilting his head ever so slightly when his tongue trailed between his lips testing the waters of whatever this new dynamic was.

Gladly you accepted, your lips parting more and both of your tongues gently touching he inhaled deeply closing his eyes, his flesh hand reaching up to grip the back of your head, cradling it as his fingers gently caressed your neck. He had never pushed this line with you, content and believing he only deserved the touches and heartwarming cuddling that had remained but now that he had his first taste of you, he could not find any good reason why he waited so long.

The intensity of his touch ramped up but it still remained gently, caressing, malleable and almost haunting. His metal arm whirling as he caressed your side, moving to rub your back, then back to your side, the metal fingers trailing so cautiously along the underneath and side of you breast but never directly touching. Your head began to swim at his touches. His hand began to play with the bottom hem of your shirt, pulling his lips from yours.

“May I?” he bobbed his head downward, without a word you leaned back his arms moving back to his sides and you pulled your shirt off, making quick work of your bra. When you tossed your bra behind the couch he stared at you, his fingers twitching at his side the gentle whirling of his arm and both of your raggedy breaths the only noises in the small home.

“Please say something,” you muttered becoming increasingly uncomfortable at his silence, “you’re making me worried something doesn’t look right,” he breath hitched at you words, eyes narrowing at recognition of your insecurities.

“Baby,” he whispered out, his metal arm wrapping around your waist pulling you back to him as his flesh hand trailed up your stomach, gently cupping a breast, lifting it up slowly and rolling your nipple gently between his thumb and pointer you felt your breathing shallow at the sensation. “You’re breath taking,” he paused his metal hand molding your side, caressing, grabbing but never too tight, never too aggressive.

He guided you onto your back, your knees falling open; he placed himself right between them. Not before pulling his own shirt off followed by pressing his hardening cock against you to provide much needed friction. Your hands shot up tracing the line of his muscles that felt like carved marble, so smooth but so hard underneath. When your feather like touches trailed his Adonis belt he couldn’t take anymore. He leaned down his hands braced against the arm rest, pressing your chests together you both let out a soft moan. The skin contact feeling like heaven after waiting so long, he kissed you once more, both your breathing labored.

It wasn’t long before he started exploring your body, his kisses trailing down you jaw, lingering at your neck for a gently bite that made you buck your hips up with a gasp. He responded in kind by baring his hips down onto you, the feel of his hard cock turning your gasp into a moan. His right hand began to trail down your body, paving the way for his lips. Just as he gently caressed your breast, rolling the nipple between pointer and thumb without applying pressure his mouth trailed to the adjacent breast, kissing along the nipple, then flicking his tongue gently across your nipple. You arched your back up whimpering at the sensation pooling between your legs. His right hand began to pull your pants down your legs. Reluctantly to get the pants off Bucky had to pull him from your breasts. You almost laughed at his down turned lips, clearly unhappy about having to pause.

“Is this okay?” he pulled at your pants again, you gave a vigorous nod. Before you knew what was happening he had your legs up in the air, almost bent in half pulling your pants and underwear off. He nestled himself back between your legs, returning his attention to your beasts as his right hand gently cupped your mound and nothing else. He continued his lavish attention and adoration of your breasts, his lower hand applying the slightest pressure to your mound, his middle finger trailing along the slit. He groaned against your beast in his mouth when he felt your wetness.

Suddenly his attention shifted, placing soft kisses between your breasts he began to kiss his way down, stopping at your navel to roll his tongue along it as his middle finger gently tapped your already over sensitive clit, you moaned out louder than before at the intensity. He smirked against your navel and returned to descending to his prize, your hands grabbed his shoulders when he kissed your mons.  

“Buck you don’t”

“Sssh, baby let me do this, let me love you” You nodded your head slowly, the grip on his shoulders slacking. You watched him spread your lower lips apart, his eyes trailing up and down letting out a soft groan. “Beautiful,” he whispered out before his flat tongue swiped from your weeping opening to your clit were his lips wrapped around, flicking his tongue leisurely along the engorged nub, slowly moving his pointer and middle finger into your warmth. Your body was shaking by this time, one hand had trailed to his head, gripping his long hair and pulling him into you as you pressed your hips up in offering.

He gladly took all you gave, desiring to only worship upon your alter; show you how much he cared for you, how much he needed you. Bucky had something he’d never thought he’d get when he was with you, a quite mind, there were no replays of missions, no recounting of torture, no war, just you. It wasn’t long with his gentle touches and determination that you were falling apart beneath him.

His eyes were trained on you, watching your flush face tighten then release, lips forming a perfect ‘o’ letting out the most stunning noises he had ever heard. He rested his head on your thigh watching you, his metal hand twirling patterns along your stomach as you kept your eyes shut riding the waves he moved within you. When you finally opened your eyes and looked down at him you smiled sheepishly at the moister along his mouth, he returned your smile.

“Hey there,” you spoke awkwardly not sure what to say to a man who gave you one of the best orgasms of your life. His eyes twinkled knowingly at you, a since of pride and accomplishment taking him over. “Hey yourself.” He stood up his fingers trailing across your skin as he brought himself completely up right.

Lifting you up with both arms he cradled you to his chest making his way to your bedroom. Gently he set you down on the duvet and stood up admiring your body as he undid his belt buckle and pants with his one hand, his metal hand trailed down from the curve of your breast to the widening of your hip. Gently gripping your hip, instinctively you lifted your knees up and spread your legs out, without missing a beat Bucky pulled both his pants and briefs down, climbing to his new haven between your legs.

“It’s been a long time so – and not since they – I just mean,” pressing your fingers to his lips you silenced his jumbled words. Your eyes trailed to his cock, a small whimper falling from your mouth at the sight. He was flawless and truly chiseled from marble head to toe. The venous shaft and glistening head made you weak, your eyes were transfixed as he gripped the base, trailing it up and down your slit, the tip starting to shine more with your combined desire. His eyes were jumping from your face to his actions below and back to your face but your eyes never stopped watching him trail along your slit.

Your eyes widened watching him gently press the head against your opening, his arms shook lightly as he pushed his head all the way in, rolling his head back groaning. You looked up, his neck muscles taunt as he bowed his head back. You couldn’t help yourself, an arm wrapping around his neck lifting your upper half up and pulling him down to kiss. He placed both of hands flat on the bed enjoying the kiss you offered him, tongues gently lapping at each other.

He slowly rocked his hips back and forth panting louder with each movement, working himself into your tight heat slowly to ensure he wouldn’t needlessly hurt you. You were the first to break the kiss; quietly crying out you fell back on to the bed, arching your chest up. Your fingers wrapped around his forearms, your short nails slightly digging in as you mewled and whimpered at the sensation of him slowly filling you.

When he was finally at the hilt, he dropped to his elbows, stilling for a moment inside you, eyes closed he tried to catch his breath. You pushed his hair out of his face with both your hands; he opened his eyes to stare directly into yours. Bucky’s eyes searching along your face, checking for any signs of pain, any signs of discomfort or regret of where you currently were. You grazed the back of your hand along his check then cupping you gave him a soft smile that easily slid into a naughty smirk as you tightened yourself around him. Groaning he pulled back his hips slowly then unhurried he pressed back in. You cried out his name, the sensation setting your whole body on fire, wrapping your legs around him.

“Don’t stop,” you barely got out between your heavy breaths as he continued to move inside you. “Wouldn’t dream of it,” he began to pick up his tempo, pressing his forehead against your shoulder as your arms wrapped around his broad shoulders, encasing him entirely. He cherished the feeling of your entire being coating his, his pace stuttered for a moment, feeling overwhelmed. He lifted his head up, his brown hair curtaining around the two of you, your eyes looking up at him in lustful daze.  Not wanting to leave you behind as you were the only thing he could focus on his hand reaching down he began to rub slow circles around your clit watching the sinful faces you made.

He knew he didn’t deserve you, or any of this. The way you always cared for him, caressing his rough edges, never afraid of him, so trusting and he didn’t deserve any of it. Yet here you were, open to him, your embrace so inviting and tender. Watching your face as you came undone he vowed he would love you with every piece of himself to prove to himself he deserved this. He would earn your affection, no matter how challenging it would be.

When you began to spasm around him at your release he couldn’t hold back, his hips jerking hastily wanting so badly to feel this euphoria together. Groaning out your name he felt the pressure finally release, baring his hips down onto you riding out the sensation. When he felt his shoulders start to wobble he wrapped his arms around your waist, rolling over on to his back and pulling you with him. A whimper escaped your lips, feeling his softening cock move inside you at the shift in position.

He kissed the top of your head as you lay on his chest, you turned your head up and he was there waiting for your gaze, those stunning blue eyes shimmering. His arms tightened around you and with the blood no longer rushing through your body loudly you could hear the whirling of his metal arm, a welcomed noise that you often missed nights he didn’t visit.

Your eyes began to feel heavy, the satisfaction of his attention wearing you out.

#bucky x reader #bucky fluff #bucky smut #james barnes #bucky barnes #james buchanan barnes #bucky x female reader #bucky x female #buck x you #reader insert #winter soldier #winter soldier x reader #marvel universe #ptsd #fanfic

[imdifferentshadesofpurple]

Late Night Misunderstandings.

For @baebae-goodnight - Tiff, we’ve only just barely met but thanks to the kpoptrashnetwork, I’m able to see how wonderful of a human you are. #maketiffweakweek was a perfect example of all the love you deserve. I know it’s a little late, but I hope you’re doing well. I’m sending all the good vibes and my own dash of love. xoxo Mo

There was one thing you were sure of: Jackson Wang was irritating.

Your unspoken rivalry had started at the ripe age of ten, when you had moved cities in order to pursue a fencing career. By that time, Jackson had made a name for himself  in amateur competitions, his skill talked about through whispers and longing stares.

You had paid no attention, focusing simply on yourself and the hard work you had to put in to become someone in the athletic world. 

You trained day in and day out, spending your evenings not at home on the couch but in the training rooms, sweat drenching your clothes as you practiced attack after attack.

You’re able to avoid the “almighty Wang” for a solid amount of time until you’re both set to compete against each other a few years later. By then, you had multiple wins under your belt, placing first in the women’s division three straight years in a row.

He’s not cocky, you couldn’t stand over confident assholes that thought they were better simply because you were a female. He was overly friendly when he finally introduced himself as you were packing up after an excruciating day of training. At first, you chalked your sour attitude to sore muscles, just a simple ‘hello’ in exchange for his compliments on your fencing skills. He had looked surprised at first, the look evident on his face as you brushed off his attempt at being civil. 

It’s after a few more failed endeavors that he starts to get irritating. He teases you and how you hold your sabre, scoffs when you recover and your footing is off. You’re unable to focus when he’s in the room and when you lose your first match since you were a kid, the reason for your blood boiling is Jackson fucking Wang. 

Now, both of you older and completely uncivil towards each other, you find yourself in the one place you couldn’t stand to be:

In a car with Satan himself.

In the time you had grown up in the fencing world, you had made one friend: Shan. She was the only one at school that didn’t treat you differently, something you were seriously grateful for. Her only downside? Her choice in men. And even though Park Jinyoung was handsome and smart and quite funny, his best friend was none other than your archenemy. 

So even when you could no longer fence, your broken bones from a freak accident never healing just right, you had to see Jackson’s stupid face almost everyday. 

Being stuck in a moving vehicle with five more hours of open road ahead was Hell and you wished you could burn up and die. 

“Too hot? I can turn up the air.”

His voice is quiet, a decibel you’re not used to. Even though it was almost three in the morning, you expected him to be as annoyingly vibrant as he would be at one in the afternoon.

“...no. It’s fine.”

He nods, lips set in a thin line as his hands return to the steering wheel. The road ahead is dark and you opt to turn towards the quick moving scenery outside your window. 

Your stomach feels off so you can’t sleep, wishing that your eyes would close so that you could eat up the time by dozing off. Instead, you’re stuck cursing at Shan and Jinyoung in your head, chastising them for their inability to keep their hands off each other.

“Who would’ve thought those losers would get caught skinny dipping on their vacation?”

You want to groan at his small talk, Jackson’s voice still slightly muted from the exhaustion he was most likely feeling.

Four straight competitions in a row on two different continents would make even you tired. 

You shuffle in your seat, pulling your sleeves up and around your hands, “I’m not really surprised. They’re always being gross and stupid in love. It was only a matter of time before the police would catch on and arrest them for how damn horny they constantly seem to be.”

He chuckles, it’s so quiet you almost miss it, but when it reaches your ears, it reminds you of how loudly he’d laugh when you were kids, dressed in his fencing gear while he was surrounded by other athletes. 

There’s suddenly a bitter taste on your tongue... ....and a sudden noise coming from the engine.

You sit up in your seat as the car starts to slow down, panic setting in as Jackson tries to maneuver his car into the nearest parking lot.

The motel sign flashes brightly at you when you get out, cold air hitting exposed skin as he opens the hood up to inspect the damage.

“What the hell, this car is fucking brand new,” he murmurs under his breath, hand wrist deep in the machine. You know nothing about cars so you leaned against the door as he muttered obscenities under his breath. You’re tired, eyes feeling like they’re about to shut, and you can’t believe you’re still in this situation with Jackson Wang.

You know what’s most likely going to happen. But you pray to God it doesn’t have to.

“We might have to stay the night Y/N.”

Dammit.

Jackson continues, unaware of the mental breakdown you’re internally having, “We can grab two rooms and find somewhere to fix the car in the morning. I’ll shoot a text to the lovebirds and let them know they’re gonna have to get comfortable in their jail cell until we can come and get them...Y/N?”

You turn towards him, scowling, “Yes?”

He frowns at you, “I know that look. But we don’t have a choice. I don’t know what’s wrong with the damn thing and it’s three in the fucking morning and I’m exhausted. So we’re grabbing rooms, getting sleep, and you’re gonna have to deal.”

You don’t answer, just angrily making your way to the front desk... ...where you discover there’s only one room.

Of. Course.

The bed is oddly comfortable, for a cheap motel in the middle of nowhere. But you’re too focused on the body in the bed across from yours to settle your racing heart. You want to sleep. Need to. You required energy to yell and de-friend Shan when the sun was finally up. But having Jackson right there, sleeping, was causing your stress level to drastically rise. Clutching the thin sheets, you try and find a comfortable position, keeping the noise to a minimum.

“You can move. I’m not asleep and it won’t bother me.”

Heart seizing quickly, your head turns to see that yes, his eyes were indeed open, staring at the ceiling like it held all the world’s secrets.

“I thought you were asleep. I...didn’t want to disturb you.”

He snorts, “That’s a first.”

“And what the hell is that supposed to mean?”

He gets up, scooting back until he was propped up against the headboard, “You’ve hated me since we were kids. It’s a surprise that you wouldn’t just rustle around to keep me awake.”

“Jackson Wang, I did not hate you when we were kids.” “Bullshit Y/N. Stop lying. It’s not a good look on you.”

Your mouth snaps shut, cheeks on fire at the tone of his voice. It’s quiet, save some movement outside from other patrons, before you say, “I didn’t...I didn’t hate you. And anyway, let’s say I did. You’re the one that started it!”

He turns towards you so fast, you’re afraid he snapped his neck, “Okay. What in God’s name are you talking about? I tried to be your friend. I introduced myself and tried to get to know you and you just...brushed me off like I wasn’t worth your time! You even blamed me when you lost that one match all those years ago!”

“Because it was your fault! You kept bothering me, teasing me. I lost focus whenever you were around! So of course I lost!”

“People tease me constantly Y/N. And sometimes the words are alot more painful than anything I’ve ever said to you! Don’t act all high and mighty just because you can’t fence anymore and you need someone to blame!”

His eyes widen when he stops talking, your expression shutting him up real quick. Your eyes swell and though you hated crying, tears slipped down your cheeks as you turned away and buried yourself under the covers.

“Oh shit...Y/N I didn’t...I didn’t mean...dammit.”

Your shoulders shake with the memory of your accident, the pain shooting up your arm still to fresh even though it’s already been two years. When your bed dips, you look over your shoulder to see him sitting there, eyes laced with concern.

“I’m sorry. I didn’t...I didn’t mean that. I let my frustration out and it was cruel.”

“But you’re right aren’t you,” you whisper, tears slowly falling, “I can’t fence. It’s too much for me now. And you...you can compete. You’re so good and you keep winning and you can still do it. I can’t anymore and I don’t...I don’t know why I’m so angry at you. Or maybe I do. Maybe...maybe you’re exactly what I don’t want to see. Fencing. It’s painful now Jackson. Not just my arm. It hurts to remember.”

You let him gather you into his arms, heart pounding as he rests is his chin on your head. You’ve never been this close, this intimate, and you’re unsure about what you’re feeling right now.

“I won’t let you forget.”

You look up at him, “What? Why?”

He smiles, “It was who you were. I introduced myself that night because I heard of this young kick ass athlete that was new to the training facility and didn’t have friends. I knew how tough that would be in the long run. The other athletes there stick to themselves. Sure, we hangout sometimes after training and whatnot but you and I were the only youth division fencers. I wanted to have you by my side so that we both weren’t lonely. And then...you kept pushing me away. And I thought it was because you were just a little too focused. And then I thought it was because you hated me. Saw me as competition. So to continue talking to you, somehow, I started to tease you. Your spiteful comments were the only way I could still be there for you.”

“Jackson...Jackson why didn’t you try harder,” you wail, burying your wet face into the fabric of his shirt.

He splutters, “I tried okay! No offense, but you’re kind of a bitch!”

You smack him and he laughs, eyes filled with a little more mirth, “I was not a bitch. I just...you teased me. I hated it. And then I lost that match. My first one since competing and...and I blamed you. It wasn’t your fault. I was being childish. But you were right. I wanted to blame someone. Sadly, you were an easy target.”

“Since we’re all about confessing...I’m just going to tell you that I used to have a crush on you when we were kids.”

You almost choked on your own spit.

“I’m sorry, you what now?”

He shifted on the bed, now leaning against your headboard with you somehow between his legs. Shrugging, he played with your fingers, “Even though you hated me, I liked you. You were dedicated. Badass. You had major fencing skills. Smart. Funny. And even in your training gear, you looked pretty. Who wouldn’t like you? Well, besides the attitude.”

He chuckles again as your palm comes in contact with his thigh, “Watch it Wang.”

“In all seriousness, you don’t hate me, do you?’

“No.”

“So all these years were wasted? We could’ve been falling in love and getting freaky in the training rooms when it was after hours?”

“Yah. I said watch it.”

“And I said in all seriousness.”

You think for a moment, remembering all the times your heart would beat quickly at the sight of him before you’d have to remember that oh yeah, you didn’t like him. 

“Maybe. You should’ve tried harder. I’m like an onion.”

“A pretty onion,” he whispers, breath hot against your skin.

“No onions are pretty, you weirdo.”

“I’ve got one right here, I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Jackson,” you whine, the rumble of his laughter pressed against your back.

“Fine. I’ll save the embarrassing compliments for the long ride home. Let’s get some sleep. We still have to pick up the law breaking duo.”

“Stay here,” you ask quietly.

“I’ve always wanted to be right here stupid. Now sleep.”

To say Jinyoung and Shan were surprised to see you both making out in the parking lot of the police station was an understatement. 

They asked too many questions, voices raised in the backseats. You let them be, no longer angry that they were the reason for the impromptu road trip.

You had Jackson’s hand in yours, his smile sent your way, and you didn’t think there’d be another moment in your life where you’d be angry.

And a week later, when you’re cheering him on at his competition, you say goodbye to the pain fencing brought you, welcoming the sport like it was an old friend.

“It is an old friend babe. You used to fence, remember?” “Shut up Jackson Wang. Don’t you make me stab you with your sabre.” “...kinky. Okay, okay ow! Damn sorry.”

A/N: I 100% believe @kpopfanfictrash would get caught skinny dipping with Park Jinyoung. I’ve never been so sure of anything in my life lol.

#kpoptrashnetwork #kpoptrashtag #maketiffweakweek #baebae-goodnight #feat. law breaking Shanyoung lol #got7 #got7 fanfic #got7 scenario #jackson wang #got7 jackson #got7 jackson scenario #got7 jackson wang fic #jackson wang fic #jackson wang scenario #jackson!fencer

[coleymari-blog]

Cyber Space is Always Sweeter : Chapter 9

Summary: Lucy is a down to Earth, studious, responsible runaway attending Magnolia College. Natsu is a rambunctious, intelligent, pyrophilic fraternity boy going to the same school.

They don’t exactly run in the same circles and they have one hell of a history. What happens when the names and facades disappear and all that’s left are words blinking on a screen? Modern day, College/Pen Pals AU. I’m sorry I suck at intros. Rated M for Language, Adult Situations, and future sexual situations. Chapters 1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 | 8 

WARNING: Depictions of hazing ahead. 

“A-are you sure about this, Milady?”

Minerva sneered at Lucy’s hesitation. The blonde bimbo was really starting to get on her nerves, regardless of whether Lucy was a Generational or not. The agitation in the black-haired woman’s voice rang clear in the bedroom of the sorority house while she fixed the freshman’s makeup.

“Absolutely positive,” Milady replied coldly, finishing the last swipe of crimson lipstick. At least Lucy looked cheap. The elder woman stood back to “admire her work” and grinned devilishly.  “Remember, Dragneel said he thought you were super hot. Gotta accentuate your natural gifts.”

Lucy turned red under such scrutiny. When she'd gone to Minerva and she had agreed to help the young girl, she'd imagined it going differently. The doe-eyed freshman had seen Natsu Dragneel at a party during her Rush week and ever since, he was all she could think about. His handsome emerald eyes, his attention-grabbing head of salmon hair. She'd gone to Milady after prodding from Levy, saying that the one sister a Pledge could trust was her Pledge Coach. Gods how wrong her best friend had been.

Minerva excused herself to peek into the room next door to Minerva’s, the door marked “Lisanna”. Lucy could hear her sickeningly sweet voice placating Natsu, saying that she was almost ready. The blonde couldn't help but smile when she heard how restless he was while waiting for her. She was finally going to get to meet the guy she'd been practically drooling over for weeks, and he was just as impatient to see her. The butterflies in her stomach could barely be contained.

Milady came back into sight and motioned for Lucy to stand. She tenderly tucked a strand of golden hair behind the freshman’s ear before speaking again. “Ready to meet Prince Charming, LuLu?” she teased, squeezing Lucy’s shoulders. Without further warning, the older woman dragged the younger suddenly to the other room, pushed her inside, and slammed the door shut.

“H-hi there,” she stammered awkwardly, her gaze shifting about the room as she desperately tried to cover up the places on her body that were exposed by the lingerie she was wearing. “It's so great to finally meet you, Natsu.” She watched as his eyes took in the sight of her, hoping to see some sort of excitement bubbling in them but was only met by confusion.

“I'm sorry, but who are you?”

Lucy shook herself awake, realizing the laptop was still in her bed only mere seconds before it was destined to hit the ground. It seemed to have died overnight so she plugged it into the cord snaked across her desk while rolling herself out of bed. She had stayed awake for hours talking to Dragon, going as far as to tell him (vaguely) about her past. It felt nice to talk to someone about it that wasn’t Levy, as much as she loved her bookish friend.

Not to mention, flirting with her cyber acquaintance was fun in its own right. It had felt so different from the normal attention she got from the opposite sex. She chalked it up to the fact that Dragon had absolutely no idea what she looked like. He couldn’t drool over her curves, couldn’t stare at her like she was a piece of meat up for auction. She took solace in the fact that every compliment he gave was based on her personality and not just her looks. Her mind soon began to wander as she thought about her cyber-friend. What did he look like? Were his eyes kind or piercing? Was he a blond like her or maybe brunet? She pictured a chiseled frame standing before her, muscles defined and cut in all the right places. The freshman shook her head as if trying to shake the image loose, immediately attempting to rein herself in.

Looking at the clock, Lucy realized she had a couple hours before her Chemistry lecture. She sighed but quickly realized that after class, she’d be done with Chemistry for the week. That also meant that she wouldn’t have to see Natsu again until Monday, which was somewhat of a relief. Part of her still felt something and that complicated things heavily. How was she supposed to focus in a difficult class if she had to worry about running into him three days a week? She had thought originally that she could handle it, but maybe she was in over her head a bit. If their little moment in the lab meant anything, it certainly meant that. The freshman groaned aloud as her frustration grew.

Lucy decided that in order to eat up her time she’d throw on her black striped yoga pants with a bright blue sports bra and run to the gym to use the studio. She laced up her sneakers, set her iPod to her favorite blood-pumping playlist, and quickly made off for the university gymnasium on the other side of campus. Cutting through the ancient brick and ivy buildings, feeling her heart race in her chest, the freshman let the worries of the past two days melt away along with the anxiety of the semester to come. It didn’t take her long to make it to the gym, showing her ID to the red-headed attendant at the front desk.

“Is anyone is the kickboxing studio?” Lucy chirped, tightening her ponytail. Her chest was still heaving slightly from the run.

The attendant, wearing a tag with the name “Loke” etched into it, grinned lazily at the beautiful woman across the counter. “Not yet, gorgeous,” he oozed, causing Lucy to roll her eyes. “There’s a class in an hour though.” Even though his eyes were shielded by sunglasses she could still make out his gaze making its way across her form. “I can arrange for someone to take my place if you need someone to hold the bags for you.”

Lucy cringed. Did he really think that was going to work? “No thank you, but thanks for the info,” she replied as respectfully as she could. She was still a lady after all.

Making her way up the stairs, the blonde bombshell entered the kickboxing studio and breathed in heavily. She quickly found the tape and bound her hands in record time. As she started her combos into the hanging bag, she was reminded of her time back at the manor. Capricorn, her father’s Head of Security, had stressed the importance of self-defense and discipline, insisting she take up a form of martial arts at a young age. She’d tried a majority of them and eventually settled for kickboxing, feeling that it suited Capricorn’s desire for protection and strength training. The young woman’s heart ached as she thought of the people she’d left behind, the people who had helped raise her mother and then her after her mother’s passing. People like Capricorn were the only thing she missed about home.

Lucy continued on for the full hour until the next class started arriving. Making quick work cleaning up after herself, she ran back to her dorm, showered, and dressed for class. She felt better after her morning workout, promising herself to do it more often, and lecture with Natsu didn’t seem half bad. Walking down to the sidewalk before her building, Lucy smiled when she found Levy waiting for her, coffee cups and all.

The freshman recounted the events of her night to her best friend, making sure to tell the bluenette about her conversation with Dragon. She was immediately greeted by a bombardment of questions about him, if they’d shared any more personal information like names, etc. Lucy had to giggle at the fact that she barely got a word in edgewise by the time they’d reached the door to the lecture hall. Students had already begun filing in and Levy noticed that the same seats the two had occupied during the last session were still open, so they made their way to what was now ‘their’ seats.

Lucy looked up and immediately noticed a certain graduate student’s sights on her from the desk at the front corner of the hall. His gaze was warm yet guarded but locked on her, making the blonde blush profusely. A couple months prior and she would have given practically anything for Natsu to look at her like that. It made her stomach flutter. She didn’t break their staring match until she heard the professor start and allowed herself to be absorbed by the class material.

Unfortunately, her focused concentration wasn’t enough. Lucy could barely understand the material presented. Glancing over at Levy’s notebook it seemed like the freshman was alone in her inability to comprehend the lesson. She’d lost all track of time and before long, the lecture was over, the students once again filing out to get on with their days. Levy abruptly rose from the table and excused herself, citing an impending “appointment” with Gajeel and left Lucy standing alone in the lecture hall. Looking over the whiteboard made her shudder. There in bright red ink read the following:

Need help? Tutoring Sessions with the TA! Fridays @ 5pm, Precht Library 620

BYOB(ook)

Maybe four days a week wouldn’t be so bad…?

#nalu fanfic #ftfanfics #fairy tail fanfiction #nalu fic #cyber space is always sweeter #;csias