I think that anon is upset bc all of a sudden no one cares about buddie anymore bc bi buck is canon and that apparently means he needs to sleep with any man and that relationships have no sancticity anymore. It's bc of this type of "oh we just having some slutty fun" that Tim is not going to make buddie canon anymore bc people are happy with bi buck hooking up with anyone. After so many years of shipping buddie many "fans" have jumped ship and if they don't jump ship, they dip their toes into creating cheap threeways. It's upsetting
And respectfully that’s ridiculous.
Buck discovering his bisexuality is NOT a consolation prize. It’s an important story that affects a lot of people and impacts even more. Not just from his journey for his sexuality but also the way he’s discovering it later in life. To act like such is disrespectful to the character and the bisexual community.
And what’s even more insulting is to call that exploration which involves uncommitted fun sex “slutty” in the tone of condemnation you are using. That’s called slut shaming. And if you cared about Eddie at all then you would care that he would be allowed to experience the same gentle space to grow like Buck is being given right now. If that hasn’t been a concern for you then you need to reevaluate if your “loyalty” is care or obsession bordering on fetishizing.
It is fine to not like Tommy. What is not fine is to be an asshole to people who do. You don’t see me going around leaving hate anon to people who like Brussels sprouts now do you?
You people have GOT to learn how to cope with things not going the way you initially planned for it. The world is full of unexpected outcomes. I am here because I am having fun and because I love these characters. If you aren’t having fun, I’m sorry but that is not mine nor anyone else’s problem but your own. Take your temper tantrum somewhere else because I will not hold your hand through it.
I have quite literally written over a million words for buddie. I have thousands more planned. But what characters I like and how I explore them is up to nobody but myself. I write for me and I choose to share this gift. You have the choice to not read it. What you don’t have a choice in is what I do with my life and my fun. For me that’s exploring Buddie, Bucktommy, and the magnificent Throuple that is BuckTommyEddie.
Be upset if you must though I would urge you to try and live a little. But what you don’t get to be upset about is me not sharing in those feelings with you.
You’re not upset about Buddie. You’re upset because the world is an uncontrollable place and it’s not revolving around you.
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Ask me about my not-yet-written-fics from this list
@linesofreturninggeese
Okay, so this is something I was talking over with @metatomatoes because I wanted Celebrimbor to survive so badly but like, I just could not see how it was possible, and then we got to talking and fucking around with Elvish biology and I think I can make it work.
this is all based on the foundation that Elrond and Celebrimbor were very close in the second age, and/or it piggybacks on the To Partake universe. Either way, they have an Osanwe bond. Not quite a marriage bond. It's a bit weaker than that, but a bond nonetheless.
there are human burn victims who have lost a tremendous amount of skin with medical care and survived, right?
and obviously the greatest risks here are blood loss, infection, and hypothermia
It's reasonable to me to assume that elves have pretty good blood clotting.
We also know from canon that they're better at regulating their temp than we are
If elves are pretty much immune to infection, we can knock that out.
With some sketchy research the general consensus is that a human IRL could, after being flayed, last 36 hours, or perhaps up to a week (if given fluids and semi cared for).
Reasonable to me to assume because Sauron is Sauron that he might continue to toy with Celebrimbor post-flaying, which means he has a vested interest in keeping him alive a bit longer.
Also reasonable to assume that elvish bodies can withstand quite a lot, considering Maedhros survived torture and being hung off a mountainside for a really long time while captured by Morgoth.
So, the final kicker here IIRC was @metatomatoes' idea - which is, what if elves are essentially able to drop into a stasis state? Like where everything slowly shuts down to minimal functions in order to survive extreme conditions? Explains a lot of things, really.
With that, what if rather than dying, Celebrimbor drops into stasis.
Stasis is no fun for Sauron :( Celebrimbor's not making fun noises anymore when he gets hurt.
So at this point Sauron has him shot full of arrows (assuming that he'll be dead soon) and hangs him up to taunt Elrond and Gil-Galad, per the canon events.
Everyone at this point is pretty confident that Celebrimbor is dead as a doornail,
EXCEPT ELROND.
Because he can absolutely feel through their Osanwe bond that there's something left there, and post-siege of Eregion when they finally recapture everything and pull Celebrimbor down, everyone is like "Elrond he's dead, we promise he's dead" and Elrond is like "I promise he's not!!!!!!!!! he's in stasis!!!!!!!!!!!!"
And Elrond by now has Vilya, which enhances his already incredibly strong healing.
Also I have already established within my own universe that Elrond is a bit of a necromancer, so long as someone is only mostly dead (re Princess Bride hehe).
SO, he manages to bring Celebrimbor back from the grave.
And granted, Celebrimbor is like, severely fucked up and perhaps does not even want to continue living, but Elrond is determined.
Once Celebrimbor has recovered (it is a long, slow road) he winds up just living with Elrond in Rivendell, possibly under an alias idk. But hey everyone talks about that weirdly good smith in Rivendell. Like uncannily good smith.
I like to imagine that he's the one who reforged Anduril :3
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Emily Prentiss x Reader Headcanons
Mostly SFW, but a few lil spicy ones throughout (below the line).
Chews on pens/pencils when she's anxious or deep in thought and it's inexplicably hot.
Has a glass of very nice, very expensive red wine every night.
Fluent in Arabic, French, Spanish, and Italian. Passable in Russian.
Seems quiet and mysterious at first but is actually just a huge dork.
Breaks down crying every time before starting her period and will say, "I'm sorry, I don't know why I'm so emotional today," and you're like... "Babe, don't you start tomorrow?"
Usually a no-strings-attached-sex kind of person, mostly because relationships are hard with her job. You're the exception.
Will fold like a wet napkin for nice chocolate.
Notorious for ghosting lol. Sometimes even used a fake name. A bad habit from her undercover days.
Not subtle at all when coming on to you. Pretty much asked you for a date out of the blue.
Loves that you can talk about the deep, dark stuff, but can also make her laugh like no one else.
If for any reason you wake up in the night–stomachache, nightmare, scary storm–she is up with you. She'll claim she can't sleep either, but really she just wants to hold you and make sure you get back to sleep okay.
Watches you breathe at night. She finds it deeply comforting.
Takes you once a year to her grandfather’s cottage in the French Alps, where she spent a lot of time growing up.
Grew up Catholic. She’s not religious anymore, but sometimes she still likes to listen to old hymns and chants, like they had at the mass she and her mom attended in Italy.
Opens every door for you always. In fact, she’ll be hurt if you don’t let her open the door.
An incredibly good listener. She loves hearing about your day, no matter how mundane it was, because her days are usually filled with the darkest, most horrific things.
Has two tattoos. (1) On her ankle. A word from the Qur’an (لِّتَسۡكُنُوۡۤ) that roughly translates to “that you may find tranquility.” She got it in Italy when she started to realize she liked girls, because girls were the only people in whom she ever found tranquility. (2) On her hip. A small asterisk a la Kurt Vonnegut.
Insanely protective. She will not let anyone touch you, say anything to you, even look at you with nefarious intentions.
Has a little note on her phone where she writes down your favorite things–takeout, flowers, ice cream flavors, the brand of tampons you use–so she'll always remember.
“Call me when you get there.” Has to know where you are at all times. You gave up arguing and just constantly have your phone location shared with her. It’d be suffocating except that, given her job, it makes sense.
Loves that you are so independent. She’s watched too many BAU relationships fall apart because their partner was frustrated with the demanding BAU work schedule. You don’t really mind. Of course, you miss her, but you also really like your alone time, so things balance out nicely.
Puzzle fiend. There’s almost always a puzzle going on the coffee table.
Queen of leaving people on read. It’s nothing personal, it’s just that texts usually fall by the wayside when she’s in the field.
Secretly loves it so much when you brag about her. She’ll act all embarrassed about it, but it means a lot that you’re proud of her.
A hipster in the sense that if something is popular, she automatically decides she doesn’t like it. You make fun of her a lot for this.
Falls in love with you every time she notices one of your little gestures–having a second go-bag packed and ready at all times, doing the laundry, packing little granola bars in her purse because you know she forgets to stop for lunch, returning books to the library for her, etc.
Incredibly stubborn. Thankfully, you are, too, so you’re well-matched. On the downside, sometimes it takes forever to make a decision because neither of you are willing to back down.
Swears like a sailor when she’s not at work.
Kind of quiet with other people, but will talk with you late into the night, until you fall asleep. You love that you get to fall asleep to her voice.
Touches you like you’re made of gold, like you were made to be cherished and held on to.
Cheek/nose/forehead kisses. all. the. time.
Kisses you good morning and good night, every time, no matter when she gets home or when she leaves.
You would never guess it, but she lives for gossip. She doesn’t want to be part of the drama, but she sure as hell wants to know about it.
Drives her wild (in bed and out) that you are 100% hers. It is not in your nature to cheat, you are wholly devoted to your person, and she is over the moon that she’s that person.
Acts like a top, is a top.
Can drink coffee at midnight and be conked out twenty minutes later.
After a particularly hard case, she’ll come home and want to just hold you really tight against her chest, sometimes for an hour or more. You always let her.
Big spoon, always. She likes to feel like she’s keeping you safe.
Favorite food is the sweet potato burrito from Muchas Gracias, but they only have them at lunch and she is never in DC at lunchtime, so sometimes you go buy her one and pack it for her for lunch the next day. It makes her day every time.
Honestly it’s a struggle when you have to get up before her because she has you in a ninja death grip that is almost impossible to get out of.
Her feet are always cold, so she has a huge collection of fuzzy socks.
Movie buff. Has a giant checklist of all the Oscar noms during awards season, and you watch one almost every night she’s home.
Loves to shower with you. You will get clean, but you’ll get fucked first.
A wizard with a wand (iykwim).
She still gets butterflies when you hold hands.
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Bonus: Iron Man 1; 1/?
So, I decided to re-watch Iron Man tonight, and I started thinking about how Pocket would fit into existing MCU narratives. So, here's a little bonus, taking place during the first Iron Man movie. This might turn into something, it might not. For now, just a little fun thing I did, mostly so I could write more Pocket/Tony (even though she hasn't been given the nickname 'Pocket' yet). Enjoy!
“Only you would fuck a girl who called you a war profiteer,” you told Tony over the video call from your office in New York. “She still upstairs?”
“Miss Potts should be taking care of her right now,” Tony said as he fiddled with the engine of his 1932 Ford Flathead Roadster in his Malibu garage.
“How’s that working out, anyway?” you asked, your interest piqued. “She’s lasted loads longer than any of your other personal assistants.”
“She’s good,” Tony said, taking a piece of the car’s engine out and putting it aside. “Very efficient.”
“I like her,” you told him. “I think she’s been good for you.”
“Yeah, well, I wouldn’t need her if you just moved out here permanently,” he told you.
“And just leave the New York office to Obadiah Stane? I don’t think so,” you said.
“I don’t know why you hate him so much, Kiddo,” Tony said, turning his focus away from the car and fully onto you.
“He’s the one who hates me,” you clarified. “I’m just matching his energy.”
“I think you’re reading too much into it. He’s a little wary of you, that’s all.”
“He hates that you nominated me for Chief Technical Officer,” you said. “He officially opposed the nomination in front of the board.”
Tony frowned. “When the fuck did that happen? Why wasn’t I informed of it?”
You rolled your eyes. “Maybe if you spent a little less time shooting craps and fucking Vanity Fair reporters, and actually attended a board meeting every once in a while,” you said.
“I’ll talk to him,” Tony assured you.
“No, don’t,” you protested. “It’s bad enough he thinks I’m just another one of your fangirls. The last thing I need is for you to make a demand on him for my sake.”
“Well, what do you want me to do?” he asked you. “This job is yours– it should be yours. You’ve earned it.”
You sighed. “And I appreciate you saying that. Thing is, I’m not going to prove that by having you tell people. Only way it’s going to happen is if they see what I’m capable of, and if I leave New York for Malibu, they never will.”
“Did I ever tell you you’re very annoying when you make a valid point that goes against what I want?” Tony asked you.
“Frequently. All the time. Why do you think I enjoy doing it so much?”
“You know, I think I liked you better when you were just a stripper,” he said.
You stuck your tongue out at him through the video feed. “Yeah, well, whose fault is it that I’m not anymore?”
“You could always join my flight crew, if you ever wanted back on the pole,” he teased.
“Please,” you scoffed at the suggestion. “You call them dancers? They should be ashamed of themselves.”
“Hey now, what they lack in rhythm, they make up for in other… areas,” Tony smirked.
“Do you ever get tired of being a giant slut?” you asked affectionately.
“Not yet, but if I do, you’ll be the first to know.”
“Maybe second,” you told him.
“Whaddaya mean?”
“I don’t know– maybe you should tell Miss Potts first,” you grinned. You looked behind him to see the woman in question coming down the stairs through the glass door behind him. “Speaking of which, it’s her birthday today, so be nice.”
Tony’s eyes widened. “How the hell do you know that?” he asked you.
“I pay fucking attention, dumbass,” you said.
Pepper Potts entered the basement, talking on the phone. “You are supposed to be halfway around the world right now,” she said to Tony as she tapped something on her tablet.
“Hey, Pepper,” you called.
“(Y/N), hi,” the other woman said. “How’s the nomination going?”
You shrugged. “Oh, you know, just roadblocks from the patriarchy. No big deal.”
Pepper nodded understandingly at that.
“How’d she take it?” Tony asked Pepper, interrupting your conversation.
“Like a champ,” Pepper offered.
“Which translates to ‘like an obnoxious bitch,” you chuckled. Pepper winked at you over Tony’s shoulder. “You owe her a raise, Boss,” you told Tony.
“You give a raise,” Tony said. He directed his next words to Pepper: “Why are you trying to hustle me out of here?”
“Your flight was scheduled to leave an hour and a half ago,” she told him.
“That’s funny,” Tony said as he continued to play with the engine of the Roadster. “I thought with it being my plane and all, that it would just wait for me to get there.”
“This is the flight to Afghanistan?” you asked, and Pepper nodded at you.
“I mean,” Tony spoke over you, “doesn’t it defeat the whole purpose of having your own plane if it departs before you arrive?”
“Ignore him, Pepper,” you said, turning to face your computer monitor. “Tony, if you don’t get your ass to the airport right now, I’m going to hack into JARVIS’s system right now and swap all your playlists from metal to nineties bubblegum pop.”
“You wouldn’t.” Tony said, standing up and wiping his hands on a towel.
“Don’t test me, Boss,” you threatened. “This is a huge-ass contract.”
Inside Tony’s garage, the opening notes of Hanson’s MMMBop began to play.
“Fine, enough! You win, you tiny monster!’ Tony grunted, throwing his towel down.
You immediately cut the music. “Get on that plane,” you warned him. “I’ll know if you don’t.” You gave him a Look. “And Pepper, tell him to stop pulling your pigtails, okay?”
Pepper blushed, but she just nodded.
“Give Rhodey a hug for me,” you told Tony, “and let me know when you land, you absolute dipshit.” You disconnected the call.
“You know,” said Tony, turning back to Pepper, “sometimes I regret ever meeting that kid.”
Pepper smiled. “No, you don’t.”
Tony grinned at her. “No, no I don’t. Not even for a second. Now, about that Jackson Pollock painting…”
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