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needtherapy · 3 years

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soaring, carried aloft on the wind...continued 14

A story for Xichen and Mingjue, in another time and another place.

The Beifeng, the mighty empire of the north, invaded more than a year ago, moving inexorably south and east.

In order to buy peace, the chief of the Lan clan has given the Beifeng warlord a gift, his second oldest son in marriage. However, when Xichen finds out he makes a plan.

He, too, can give a gift to the Beifeng warlord, and he will not regret it.

Part 1: 1 / 2 / 3 / 4 / 5 / 6 / 7 / 8 / 9 / 10 / 11 / 12 / 13 Part 2: 14 / … HOME

It’s complete on AO3 here.

Notes: Check the tags if you’re concerned about the pairings ;)

For translations of the entirely fictitious Beifeng language, you’ll have to scroll to notes. I’m only going to translate something that’s not clear in the text. Sadly, there’s just not any other good way to do it on Tumblr!

Part 2 Hoakora

hoakora [hō-ä-kō’rä], noun Affectionate regard or friendship between equals

Chapter 14: Now

Xichen pulls the hood of his fur-lined coat over his head before tucking an arm behind his back and following Qingyang out into the snow. He is used to the snow, but winter on the flat land is very different than it had been on the mountain, Xichen thinks. It was not as cold here, but the shearing wind had the bite of dragons in it, and the snow piled high in drifts around the tents. Xichen would not have gone out into this weather at all, but Qingyang had asked for his help. Fortunately, they don’t have far to go.

Even from twenty paces, Xichen can hear the raised voices, and he stifles a smile. Qingyang, on the other hand, grimaces and hunches her shoulders. She hates stepping between two tigers.

“You don’t reduce pay in winter,” Huaisang yells. “That doesn’t make any sense!”

“But why would you pay your army more during an armistice in winter? You feed them, you clothe them. They are idle, Oringa'anhu Ikira, and you are not even encouraging them to be productive.”

Huaisang slams his hand down on a table, and Xichen raises his eyebrows. In the seven months he’s lived with the Ikarahu, he’s never seen Huaisang angry, although, he isn’t sure he is seeing him angry now. There is a sparkle in his eyes that does not speak of anger.

“They are riding formations, they are training in this bitter cold, and they are existing in this forsaken country. They have more than earned their pay.”

Guangyao rolls his eyes, brandishing a leather-bound account book. “Then pay the cavalry extra, but do not pay everyone extra. You will bleed your coffers dry before springtime.”

“If I only raise the cavalry’s pay, how will I explain that to the archers who protect the skies or the foot soldiers who guard their flanks? Or the people who fletch arrows, feed the horses, check their coats, pick their feet, watch for colic, oil their saddles? You pay the soldiers to protect the cavalry, the hostlers to care for the cavalry, and you pay the cavalry to win wars. You may be the Jin clan heir, but apparently, you don’t know the first thing about maintaining a successful army.”

Xichen winces. There are a few things Guangyao is likely to be genuinely offended by, and Huaisang is tiptoeing along an unkind path.

“Anati, Guangyao, will you join us for lunch?” he asks, and the two men look at him with identically aggravated expressions as though they had not noticed he was there.

It is interesting to see them both turn into different people; Huaisang’s expression melts into mirth and Guangyao’s shifts to solicitude.

“Ahora'ipa, did you make food? You know the way to my heart,” Huaisang is always cheerful about food.

Xichen opens the basket he is carrying and takes out the tureen of hot soup.

“Of course I did not make it. Thankfully, you pay your kitchens well,” he teases, smiling at Guangyao, who smiles back ruefully, just the corners of his mouth tipping up, but still revealing the deep dimples that always make him seem younger.

Huaisang is gracious in his triumph, and serves out four bowls of meaty soup at the table in Guangyao’s tent, pushing aside a stack of account ledgers. It is a smaller living space than Xichen’s, more sparsely appointed, yet somehow messier and more inhabited. Books sit open on the bed, and there are papers in piles on every flat surface, some scribbled on, some not. It is one of the contradictions of this man Xichen finds fascinating, that he can be so meticulous in his person, but so disorderly in his space.

“Huaisang, we are bribing you with lunch. I finished the drawings you requested, and if you want changes, I will need to know now,” Qingyang informs him, and Huaisang nods, slurping soup enthusiastically. “And Xichen is here to teach the guqin, so you will need to leave Guangyao alone.”

It had been clear from the beginning that Huaisang’s position in the Ikarahu command was more than merely symbolic, but he usually preferred to hide his intelligence behind a mask of frivolity, and Xichen let him pretend. He tried not to notice the piercing way he watched Guangyao when he thought no one was looking, the soldiers in dark clothes that sometimes came with Huaisang to retrieve Mingjue in the night, or, most damning, Qingyang’s respect for him.

The only time Xichen had seen him reveal what lurked beneath his lighthearted demeanor had been that drunken night, and Huaisang has not said anything about his older sister since then. Xichen hasn’t asked, but the sorrowful words sit at the front of his mind every day.

She is lost to us forever. What else should we do?

Since Guangyao has been here, though, it has changed something in Huaisang, as though he was shooting arrows into the sky before and is now staring at a target. His clever mind has sharpened in a way that could either be productive or disastrous, and Xichen isn’t sure which way he will land.

The voice in the doorway surprises Xichen out of his thoughts, and he is vaguely aware that Guangyao, sitting next to him, straightens his back slightly.

“Edas ahora, I have a gift for you!”

Mingjue strides over to Xichen and kisses him enthusiastically, despite Huaisang’s dramatic groan.

“Will you come see?” he asks, and Xichen pretends to hesitate.

“Outside? In the snow? Ipira’orhew Ikira, you are too cruel.”

Mingjue grins, and Xichen has to fold his hands together to keep from touching his face. “I am. Very. I will prove it later. But first, gift.”

Xichen laughs and gets up. “I resent being threatened, Ipira’orhew Ikira. Perhaps I will be cruel later.”

“I hate you both,” Huaisang grumbles, but he follows them, his curiosity greater than his distaste for being a younger brother.

“Mingjue.” Xichen stares blankly at the shape in the snow, his gift for intelligent language—or any intelligent thought at all—failing. “It’s a horse.”

It was, in fact, a beautiful horse, dark grey with a pattern of light speckles dappling its coat. It looks strong and sturdy, and there is a curious glint in its eyes. The horse pokes Xichen in the chest and huffs a breath of visible air at him, a lock of black mane falling between its ears.

“Oh, another horse,” Huaisang says dryly. “It’s too cold to look at another horse.” He disappears back inside the tent, narrowly avoiding the snow Mingjue throws at him.

“Ta odinga is Liebing,” Mingjue tells Xichen, his excitement coming out in a confusing mix of Orera and Yuyan. “She looks like a cloud. Et irakas ta dakia. She moves well, ani? Mares are better than stallions in war, Xichen. You...hm...em ekos eko em amaka.”

If he does not stop him, Mingjue will tell him every detail of this horse in two languages, so Xichen leans against him and snuggles an arm around his waist. “I am already not disappointed.”

“She is a galau,” Mingjue says proudly, although Xichen doesn’t know what that means. Mingjue notices Xichen’s puzzled look and explains, “She is a wind horse of our mountains and came when I called.”

He whistles to demonstrate, and the mare perks up her ears, swinging her head to him and chuffing as though in answer. Xichen is appropriately awed. The Ikarahu value all horses, but Xichen hadn’t realized that more than only Mingjue’s beautiful black mare would answer his command. He wonders if it is magic or training or some other ingrained horse understanding.

“She is beautiful, ahoraho. Tiras mau,” Xichen says, and tips his head to be kissed. “Yes, she is marvelous. Wherever did you acquire this magnificent creature?” Guangyao asks from behind them, polite, but with an unusual edge of sarcasm.

Guangyao often uses his largest words around Mingjue, but Mingjue always seems to think Guangyao’s attempts to confuse him are amusing. Xichen isn’t sure if Guangyao does it in spite of Mingjue’s reaction or because of it.

As always, Mingjue laughs, a deep belly-driven chortle, grinning at Guangyao. “Horses can be found anywhere, Yao-ti.” Xichen closes his eyes and does not laugh as he realizes why the horse has a Yuyan name. “Ahoraho, did you steal this horse?”

Mingjue widens his eyes and tries to look as innocent as a warlord in armor can look. “I do not know this word, ‘steal.’ I will need to ask anati.”

They both turn at the snorting laughter from behind them. Even Guangyao seems startled by his outburst, because he breaks off as soon as they look at him.

“Excuse me. I must apologize to Oringa'anhu Ikira. His hostlers are worth every penny if they can keep up with Chifeng-Zun’s capacity for finding horses wherever he looks.” Guangyao looks innocent, but there are sudden teeth in his words Xichen doesn’t fully understand. He is not quite angry, not quite longing, but something sardonic in between.

Not for the first time, Xichen wonders who Jin Guangyao really is.

Notes: Oringa'anhu Ikira = This is Huaisang’s title, but the translation is in the next chapter. ;) Edas ahora. = Beloved husband (which Xichen is still mistranslating as “beloved man”) Ta odinga is Liebing. = Her name is Liebing. Et irakas ta dakia. = Her legs are strong. You...hm...em ekos eko em amaka. = You will not be disappointed. -ti is an affectionate pet name diminutive

#the untamed #cql #mdzs #mo dao zu shi #soaring au #lan xichen #nie mingjue #nielan #the untamed au #mdzs au #jin guangyao #nie huaisang #sangyao #luo qingyang #compete on ao3

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tingfeiart · 4 years

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Unloved Tragedy - Chapter 2 - “Nearly Forgotten”

Chapter 2 of Unloved Tragedy, a Peter Pan x Treasure Planet Fanfiction

Word Count: 1,236

Table of Contents

Hunting for the Lost Boys was always a game for bragging rights. They had developed a point system where small animals - squirrels, fish, and rabbits - were worth small points, and large animals - bears, tigers, and lions - were worth more. Once the sun set, the boys returned to the tree and laid down their spoils. Tootles threw down some bugs, which didn't count for anything because they didn't like to eat them. The Twins threw down three squirrels, rather disappointed with their small success. Nibs threw down a skunk, which smelled so bad that the rest of his brothers ruled that he had to dispose of it immediately. Cubby threw down a half eaten fish, which caused the boys to groan because he hadn't saved any for the rest of his brothers! And last, but certainly not least, Slightly proudly threw down a large deer, which was enough for the boys to last a few days before the next hunt.

But for the first time, and to the Lost Boys' surprise, Peter came home with nothing. Absolutely nothing. "You okay, Peter?" Cubby asked, his mouth half full with the raw fish he had devoured.

"Yeah, Pete! I beat ya! Haha!" Slightly laughed mockingly.

But Peter didn't answer. He couldn't focus. His mind was stuck on Wendy, and he didn't know why. He couldn't understand why, after nearly forgetting about her, she was all he could think of? It wasn't like Peter to be dwell on the past.

The idea that bothered him the most was he couldn't understand why did he care? Why was Wendy all of a sudden so important to him? She left, he had let her go as she pleased. He wasn't the least bit bothered by her decision. Even if it did bother him, he would have forgotten all about it very quickly!

"Eat the deer without me, boys. I'm not hungry," Peter ordered, before heaving a deep sigh as he retired to his private quarters and slumped on his hammock. Staring upward, he wondered if it was worth his precious time to confront these thoughts. The hammock worked like a yo-yo. Every time it swung left, he thought I should go see her. But when it swung right, he thought Nah, too much work. Peter never enjoyed visiting the Mainland. It aroused in him a deep confusion - a mixture of guilt for having left behind his real family and a curiosity to know what would happen if he left everything he knew and loved... for something more?

But then he remembered, he loved to listen to Wendy tell stories about him - his heroism, bravery, chilvary, solely for the purpose of feeding his large ego. I know what I need! I need to hear Wendy's stories about how marvelous I am! And then all my problems will disappear! It's genius!

He leapt off his hammock, grabbed his hat, and prepared his departure stance, until he heard a chime. "Where are you going, Peter?"

"To the Mainland, Tink!" Peter exclaimed. "We haven't been since the last time we dropped Wendy off!" Relaxing his stance, he walked over to Tink's private quarters. "You wanna come?"

Tink knitted her brows. "What for?"

"To see Wendy, and listen to her stories! About me!" He giggled. "Don't you want to hear her talk about how great I am?"

Tink scoffed at the idea, an act she always resorted to when she chose to be dismissive about something. "Why would you want to see Wendy again? To get another thimble?" Tink asked with mockery in her voice.

"A thimble? What?" Peter raised his brow at Tink. Was she making stuff up for her own amusement?

Tink's mouth dropped and eyes widened. "The thimble, Peter! Remember when you were fighting Hook, and Wendy had to give you the thimble in order to defeat him?"

"Uh, it seems familiar." Peter stroked his chin. He had to really dig deep into his memories to remember anything remotely related to a thimble, but it was all fuzzy. "Well, if you say I got a thimble, then I did." Peter shrugged his shoulders, acknowledging that Tink's memory served much better than his. "But that's not what I'm going for. I just want to listen to her tell stories about me!"

Tink rolled her eyes at Peter's inability to recall such a momentous occasion. "Well, since you nearly forgot about her, then she's probably forgotten about you!" She shut the leaf door of her quarters.

"Aww, cut the 'tude, Tink!" Peter whined. He slid open the leaf door to meet Tinkerbell at eye level, but she turned her back toward him. "How could she forget about me? No one forgets Pan!"

Tink turned her head to face Peter, wearing disappointment on her tiny, pretty face. "Peter, I don't think it's a good idea."

"What!?" Peter wrinkled his face with despondency. "Why you gotta kill my excitement? I really want to see her!" he continued to whine.

"Peter, listen..." Tink stood up and flew to meet Peter an inch away from his nose. "I have a feeling she won't be telling stories about you to anyone."

Peter, taken aback by this, couldn't understand where Tink was coming from. "That doesn't make sense, Tink! She's always telling stories about me. And... if I remember correctly, she promised she would!"

But Tink shook her head. "You don't get it, Peter. I've seen her each time I've had to go to the Mainland with the Pixie Hollow fairies. Trust me when I say this, Peter, I don't think she'll remember you."

Peter could not stand for this. Tink was seeing Wendy behind his back? How could she! She knew how much Wendy meant to him! This was a serious crime - worthy of banishment! "What - why didn't you ever tell me?" he asked, vexed.

"Because, Peter..." Tink began. She was looking down at her tiny feet. "I think you'd be sad to hear what I saw."

Peter crossed her arms. "Sad? How could I be sad? It's Wendy! I'd be the happiest boy ever to see her again!" he said nonchalantly. "You don't really know me, Tink, do ya?"

Tink lit up, but she placed her hands on her hips and stomped on the ground. "Fine! Go then, but I'm not coming!" She waved her hands to shoo him away. "I just wanted to protect you from getting hurt, but you won't listen! Well, don't come crying to me once you see her for yourself!" She turned on her heel and returned to her private quarters and shutting the leaf on Peter's face.

"Oh yeah? Well good riddance!" Peter yelled. He didn't need Tink. He didn't need anyone to take care of him. He could do anything alone because he was Pan. And this Pan was going to do the best thing he could ever do for himself.

He prepared his flight stance, and leapt off the ground and soared to exit Hangman's tree. He stretched out his arms, like the free, untroubled bird he was, as he elevated above the clouds to find the second star that would take him to the Mainland.

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searchingwardrobes · 5 years

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Until the Day Breaks and the Shadows Flee: 1/8

Here it is, my second contribution to the @cssns! I am really excited about this one because the story of Cupid and Psyche is my favorite myth, and I’ve been contemplating this fic since we first heard of the Underworld arc. Since CS spends all their time in the dark and in bed, this ended up being the steamiest story I’ve ever written. It’s not smut (that’s what my beta and I concluded, anyway), but it goes right up to the line. I must warn you, however, that you’ll have to endure a few chapters of slow burn first. I hope you all enjoy it!

A thousand thank yous to my beta @snowbellewells who is graciously still doing her thing even though she just had to go back to work at her teaching job because I last minute decided to make this an MC. And thanks also to @hollyethecurious for the gorgeous artwork that really sums up this story so well!

Summary: Every night, she traces the contours of his body as Killian whispers words of love against her skin. But can Princess Emma ever be fully happy with a husband who only comes to her in utter darkness? A Captain Swan AU of the Roman myth of Cupid and Psyche.

** I’m also curious if anyone knows where the fic and chapter titles come from. Drop me and ask if you have a guess!**

Rating: M for sexual situations

Words: about 3,000 in this chapter

Also on Ao3

Tagging (let me know if you want to be added or removed from this list): @kday426 @jennjenn615 @welllpthisishappening @let-it-raines @kmomof4 @teamhook @bethacaciakay @profdanglaisstuff @shireness-says @wellhellotragic @distant-rose @mythologicalmango @optomisticgirl @xhookswenchx @branlovestowrite @ultraluckycatnd @vvbooklady1256 @resident-of-storybrooke @thislassishooked @whimsicallyenchantedrose @tiganasummertree @snidgetsafan @delirious-latenight-laughs @winterbaby89 @ohmakemeahercules @gingerchangeling @nikkiemms @revanmeetra87 @cocohook38

Chapter One: On the Rugged Mountain

The procession making its way down the streets of Misthaven was beautiful in a macabre sort of way. It was led by chanting priests in black hooded robes swinging orbs of burning incense. Behind them, Queen Snow and King David rode in an open carriage draped in black satin and drawn by a team of chestnut horses. They were both decked in mourning clothes of black, the queen’s face covered by a lace veil. Behind them was another carriage, this one drawn by two white horses. This one was closed, dark curtains pulled shut. Yet everyone knew who was inside, dressed in the wedding gown that should have been worn in celebration. The townspeople lowered their heads as it passed, some dabbing silently at their tears. Bringing up the rear of the procession were the ladies of the court, also dressed in garments of mourning. The only sounds apart from the clip-clop of the horses and the creaking of the carriage wheels came from them: deep wails of grief accompanied at times by the warbly singing of an old folk song about a maiden wed to death himself.

At the village gates, the priests and mourning maidens abandoned the procession, standing before a throng of villagers. The silence that had fallen amongst the people remained until the royal carriages crested a hill and were no longer in sight.

On these two carriages traveled, cloaked in silence. Even the king and queen were at a loss for words to comfort one another, and their daughter had requested to be left alone for the journey.

Finally, the carriages rumbled to a stop at the top of a misty hill. It was rumored to be filled with monsters and lesser gods and goddesses whose constant turmoil created the rumblings of thunder and flashes of lightning upon its peak.

King David helped his wife down from the carriage, then went to assist his daughter. Yet the door opened before he could lend his hand, and Emma alighted on her own, her face pale yet determined, her back straight.

“Emma,” her mother said, a sob rising in her throat, “you don’t have to do this.”

The princess’s stony expression softened slightly at her mother’s tears. “Yes, I do. What is my life compared to that of our entire kingdom?”

Snow let her tears go then, clasping her daughter in a desperate embrace. David enveloped both his girls, his hand coming up to cup the back of his daughter’s head. It seemed only yesterday he was rocking her to sleep after a midnight feeding. He kissed the top of her forehead before releasing her with a trembling smile, his eyes awash with tears.

Emma clasped the pure white fabric of her gown in both fists. “You know what the oracle said. You must leave me here alone.”

Snow practically collapsed in her husband’s arms as he led her away. Emma watched both royal carriages rumble back down the hill, her courage fleeing with them. Once they were out of sight completely, she fell in a heap upon the ground. She was surprised, however, when tears didn’t come. She supposed she’d had time to accept her fate.

The mist turned to a thick fog, and she wondered if she would die quickly before seeing the monster approach. She closed her eyes and awaited her “groom.” A virginal sacrifice to sate the hunger of a beast and save a kingdom. It was an old story, wasn’t it?

***************************************************

Emma had imagined many gruesome scenarios since she learned that she was destined to be the “bride” of a hideous creature. Yet in none of those tableaus had she imagined that she would get bored waiting for the damn thing to show up. Yet here she was, going out of her mind wondering how much time had passed. She curled up on the ground, using the long train of her dress as a makeshift pillow. She didn’t expect to sleep, but suddenly she was jolted awake by the hot sun on her face.

She sat up and rubbed her eyes, amazed to see the green hill, dotted with the most beautiful roses she had ever seen, and the sky bright and blue above her. The fog was rolling away, revealing such amazing beauty as it went. Then the fog revealed something even more unbelievable, and Emma’s jaw dropped.

Right before her was a huge, glittering castle. It was of white stone, with angels on every buttress and turret instead of gargoyles. Every bit of filigree and trim around its windows and doors was done in gold. Emma scrambled to her feet, in complete awe. As if the castle itself knew she was awake, its gates swung open. Emma hesitated for a moment, part of her wondering if she were still sleeping, and another part worrying that it was a trick, but a tug in her core seemed to pull her towards the castle.

She went through the open gates, marveling further at the beauty that surrounded her. A path of white marble cut through a garden filled with flowers of every hue. They seemed more vibrant than any Emma had ever seen, and butterflies and hummingbirds flitted around them by the dozens.

Just like the gates, the doors of the castle swung open of their own accord. Emma made her way up steps also of pure white marble. The marble extended into the foyer of the castle, yet as the door gently closed behind her, the feeling enveloping her was one of warmth. Despite the cool stone beneath her feet, the wooden banister of the spiral staircase was a comforting mahogany, and the plush furnishings made her long to curl up and take a nap.

“Hello?” she called out tentatively.

In response, Emma heard giggling and childlike chatter.

“You were supposed to greet her at the door!”

“Well, you were supposed to be watching from the second floor balcony.”

“Hush, both of you, you’ll scare her!”

At first, Emma couldn’t figure out where the voices were coming from. Then she noticed glittering balls of colored light bouncing and floating all around her. If the accompanying voices hadn’t sounded so delightful, she might have been frightened.

The orbs began to grow and lengthen, and Emma could make out three distinct colors: green, purple, and red. Then she was able to see wings, then the tiny creatures attached to them.

“Fairies!” Emma exclaimed with a smile.

The orbs faded, and then three young women were delicately landing upon the marble floor in front of her. The first had blonde hair like Emma’s, pulled into a loose bun on the top of her head. Her dress looked as if it were made of green leaves.

“I’m Tinkerbell,” she said with a curtsy, “and I take care of the flowers in the garden and will also be your cook.”

The second fairy had long dark hair plaited in two braids, an olive colored complexion, and large brown eyes. Her dress was made of soft deerskin dyed with indigo and decorated with intricate beading.

“I’m Tiger Lily, and we all take care of the flowers, Tink.”

Emma bit her lip to keep from laughing at the dark haired fairy’s obvious irritation with the blonde.

The red-head giggled fondly at her fellow fairies, then addressed Emma. “I am Ariel, and I am to be your chambermaid.” Then she gasped and lowered into a deep curtsy. “I mean, your majesty.”

Emma’s mouth dropped open in surprise as the other two fairies curtsied as well. “I, I don’t understand -”

“We are here to wait upon you,” Tiger Lily explained, “at our master’s command.”

“Your . . . master?”

“Of course!” Tink exclaimed, clapping her hands merrily, “You are his bride, after all.”

Dread flooded through Emma’s veins. Being sacrificed to a monster was one thing, actually being married to one was quite another. She swallowed the bile rising in her throat.

“And . . . who is your master?”

Ariel giggled, and Emma was suddenly weary of the blonde and redhead’s exuberance. At least Tiger Lily seemed more sedate.

“We can’t tell you that!” Ariel exclaimed, as if it were a silly question.

Tiger Lily reached out and grasped Emma’s hands. “You are home now, m’lady, that is all you need know. All will be provided for you; anything and everything your heart desires.”

“But,” she bit upon her lower lip, “when will I meet my . . . husband?” She tried not to choke on the word.

For the first time, Tink looked solemn. “You won’t see him much, I’m afraid. He has many responsibilities. He is away from the castle now, and he gave no word of when he would be back.”

Emma frowned and pulled her hands out of Tiger Lily’s grip. “What kind of being is he? A cyclops? A chimera? What?”

All three fairies burst into giggles - apparently Tiger Lily could be silly too - and without answering, they transformed back into pixies. They dipped and swirled as they darted around Emma’s head in a most annoying fashion.

“Whatever you wish to eat will be served in the dining hall,” Tink’s voice called out.

Emma sighed as the fairies disappeared. She hugged her middle and did a cautious turn, taking in her ornate, exquisitely lovely surroundings. Well, she was hungry, and pork chops with gravy and roasted potatoes would really hit the spot . . .

Scarcely were the thoughts formed when she smelled something delicious down the hallway at the east end of the castle. She followed it, easily finding the dining hall, spread with a feast of all her favorite foods. She wondered for a moment if it could be poisoned, but her growling stomach won out in the end and she sat down to pile her plate high.

Even captive Princesses forced into marriages with beasts had to eat, after all.

************************************************************************

Ariel chattered excitedly as she showed Emma around her new chambers. They were gorgeous, Emma had to admit, with a large, ornate bed surrounded by exquisite tapestries. Emma longed to draw them around her and sink into the inviting bed piled high with soft pillows.

“Now this,” Ariel said, flitting across the room, “is the master’s favorite part.”

She flung open the French doors that lead out onto a spacious balcony, but Emma latched onto a single word. Her heart plummeted, and the last thing she cared about was a balcony with a view.

“The master’s? This . . . these are his chambers?”

Ariel turned to face her, head tilted innocently. “Of course. I mean . . . they are yours now, too. Yours and his. The . . . marital suite?”

The fairy was wringing her hands now, her face slightly pale. She turned to shut the French doors and pulled yet another tapestry across it. Avoiding Emma’s gaze, she went about the room lighting several candelabra. Then she opened the wardrobe, pulled out a long satin gown and laid it out on the bed.

“So the master will be sleeping here as well? That’s what you’re saying?” Emma demanded, stepping close to Ariel.

Her maid turned slowly to face her. “Yes. I mean, he is your husband after all.”

Emma clasped her hands together as they began to shake and took in a deep breath. She would not succumb to fear now, not when her kingdom was in danger. She released the air in her lungs and tried to force her pulse to slow.

“And when shall he return?”

Ariel shook her head, a look of apology upon her face. “I’m sorry, but one can never tell.” She bit her lip for a moment, then smiled encouragingly at Emma as she grasped her hands. “You have nothing to fear, Princess, I promise you.”

Easy for a fairy to say, Emma thought dryly. She wasn’t sharing a bed with . . . whatever the master was.

“Is there anything else I can get you?” Ariel asked.

“No. I just wish to be alone.”

As soon as Ariel’s footsteps faded out into the hallway, Emma sank onto the bed, finding it just as soft and inviting as she had imagined. She lay sideways, curled in on herself, eyeing the satin gown disdainfully. The cloth looked light as air and far more comfortable than the wedding gown she still wore, yet it had thin ribbons for straps and a plunging neckline, clearly a garment meant for seduction. She simply wouldn’t wear it.

Try as she might, however, she couldn’t get comfortable in her cumbersome gown. Frustrated, she leapt up and stomped over to the wardrobe. Inside, she found a collection of beautiful gowns, and in the back, a collection of nightgowns. She grumbled when she found that they were all in the same style, simply in different colors. Black, red, and pink didn’t seem any better than white, so she returned to the bed and began removing her dress. As she struggled with the corset, she wished she had asked Ariel for her help after all, but eventually she was slipping the simple satin garment over her head. It slid against her bare skin deliciously, and Emma sighed in contentment. She crossed over to the vanity and removed the crown of flowers pinned in her hair, running her fingers through her long locks.

A shiver ran down her spine as she crawled into the giant bed, pulling three of the four tapestries closed. On the open side, she kept the last candelabra burning, the encroaching darkness causing panic to crawl across her skin. She slipped beneath the covers, hoping against hope that the master wouldn’t be returning for their “wedding night.”

He didn’t even bother to see me in my wedding dress, Emma thought sarcastically to herself. She started to laugh bitterly, but then an image rose in her brain of being chased through the halls of the castle by a lust-enraged dragon or minotaur, and it turned into a hysterical half-sob.Then the blood froze in her veins at a creaking sound on the other side of the closed tapestries. Did someone just enter through the balcony doors?

The lights in the candelabra by her bed burned lower in an unnatural way, and Emma’s pulse quickened. She scrambled to the head of the bed, fisting the sheets and blankets at her chin. Was this when the monster would come? Had he been toying with her all this time?

A rush of air blew through the room, extinguishing all the light. The tapestries around the bed, which had seemed so luxurious when she first entered the chamber, now felt like heavy walls trapping her in. She held her breath, straining to hear, but it was useless against the pounding of her heart. She sensed his presence more than anything when he reached the bed, and she squeezed her eyes shut. Not that it made a difference in the pitch-black room.

“I won’t lay a hand on you.” His voice was deep, yet gentle.

Emma opened her eyes but still didn’t relax her posture. “I find that difficult to believe considering this,” she swallowed around the lump in her throat, “is our wedding night.”

She felt the bed dip and pulled her feet up hastily.

“Believe it or not, I speak the truth. You can trust me.”

Emma squinted in the darkness, trying to see his face.

“You won’t be able to see me,” he told her calmly.

“Then how can you expect me to trust you?” she shot back, unable to keep the frustration from her voice.

He surprised her by chuckling in a low, warm tone.

She licked her dry lips. “What kind of monster are you?”

“I’m not a monster,” he answered simply.

She eased forward hesitantly. “Then you’re human?”

“I . . . didn’t say that either.” She heard him pull in a deep breath. “Listen, all you need know is that you are safe and the plague that was ravishing your kingdom is over.”

Emma bit her lower lip. “But you expect something in return?”

“The only thing I ask is what you are willing to give.”

Emma fell back on her pillows in exasperation. “You speak in riddles just like the oracle!”

There was that chuckle again. “They do like to be mysterious, don’t they?”

Now that she was lounging upon her pillows, Emma released the sheets from her grip as well. “So what are we doing, exactly? You say you won’t touch me, so why are you here?”

“You are still my bride, that much is true, and like any groom, I wish to get to know you.”

“Most grooms do that before the wedding.”

He laughed again, and the sound was actually becoming relaxing. She wriggled down beneath the covers and attempted to stifle a yawn.

“You’ve had a long day,” he said gently. “How about tomorrow night you tell me a bit about yourself?”

Emma hesitated, her body tensing involuntarily. As if he could see her reaction, he hastily spoke again.

“Rest assured, I will not touch you without your consent. Ever.”

Emma swallowed, wanting to believe him, but unsure if she should. “Okay, I suppose tomorrow night we can talk. On one condition?”

He hesitated, and it sounded as if he were clearing his throat. “Within reason. That’s all I can promise you.”

“Tell me your name.”

She could literally hear his body sag in relief. And was it possible to hear someone smile?

“That is easy, love. Please call me Killian.”

“Killian,” she repeated, almost testing it on her tongue. “I like it.”

“I rather fancy it myself.” Yes, he was definitely smiling.

A pleasant breeze blew through the tapestries, and then the candles flickered back to life. Her new husband was gone.

#cs ff #cssns #cssns 2019 #captain swan supernatural summer #cs au #cupid and psyche au #myth #enchanted forest au #slow burn

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pantstomatch · 5 years

Text

untitled winterhawk mess for lissa!

SO HERE’S THE THING. It’s creeping up on midnight (my time) and I promised @lissadiane I would write her whatever she wanted for her birthday (today) because she’s amazing and, listen, I’ve been extremely dependent on her, she’s all I’ve ever wanted in a writing buddy and just, like, A FRIEND, and it doesn’t matter that we live so far apart, I feel like I get to see her every single day. She is literally the only reason I ever write and share anything. So anyway, BECAUSE IT IS HER BIRTHDAY, and because she asked me to write Winterhawk on SGA, I have... done this. I have no actual idea how to write anyone in the marvel universe, so this is just... you know... hopefully not terrible. (the second half is rushed for time, shhhhh, just pretend this is balanced and maybe someday it’ll be magically fixed). HAPPY BIRTHDAY LISSA!! I HOPE YOU HAD AN AMAZING DAY DESPITE THE CAR THING.

The only reason Bucky tolerates diplomatic missions is because Steve's simultaneously the best at them and the worst. It's both a Steve thing and a Stark thing. Steve's got a sixty percent probability of becoming indignant on someone's behalf, and Stark's got a much higher likelihood of blowing things up. And that's only if he hasn't already accidentally insulted someone important on purpose. When things go well, they go great—one planet has a god damn statue of Steve, which Bucky finds hilarious and Steve hates with passion—which is the only reason they're still getting sent on these milk runs.

Bucky's got his palm along the outside of his P-90, pointed at the ground as he stands fifteen paces behind Steve, Stark, and Wilson.

The planet's delegation consists of two old pale guys in robes—par for the course—and a haggard nutbar that Bucky's pretty sure they're trying to sell as a wizard.

He notes Wilson watching all their hands, and scans the perimeter for threats.

The settlement is mostly a tent city built on the ruins of a more prosperous time. Half-crumbled brick and mortar, dull canvas tarps staked down over top.

For all the technology of the Ancients, the Pegasus Galaxy has basically been beaten back into the dark ages. He fucking hates the Wraith.

He's got his eyes on the sparse woods to their left when he hears a soft scraping sound. He barely tenses, forces a natural sweep of the tree line, back over the other three members of his team, and then lazily focuses on a narrow, dirt alley that snakes down behind a line of crumbling buildings. Out of the corner of his eye, he watches a thick stone slowly lift and shift. Grubby fingers appear, palms wrapped in worn cloth, gripping the edge.

Bucky forces himself to keep still, stance open.

A tuft of matted, brown-blonde hair pokes up, Bucky catches a fast look of blue eyes, busted nose and a split lip.

Graceful and quick, the kid—youngish, slim, rag-covered, barefoot—gracefully climbs out of the hole, and then promptly trips over his own feet. He catches himself on nothing, arms spread out with an almost silent whoosh of air.

Bucky spots what looks like a quiver of arrows on his back and a motherfucking bow, and rolls onto the balls of his feet, wondering if this is some kind of ambush. He slips his fingers down to lightly cover the trigger of his gun.

The kid just crouches down to heft the stone cover back over the hole, though, and when he lifts his head again, their eyes catch.

Panic moves fast over the kid's face before disappearing into a cocky quirk of lips. He winks at Bucky, lifts his finger in a 'keep quiet' gesture, and then flees around the turn of a tent before Bucky can even snap his mouth shut.

Huh.

"Buck?"

Bucky blinks once and says, "Yeah, Stevie," without looking away from the alley.

"Everything okay?"

A hand lands on his arm, the one attached to the hand still caressing his P-90, and Bucky looks up to see Steve's face schooled into Earnest Concern.

"Peachy," Bucky says. "Hey," he gestures to the hole the goddamn street urchin just popped out of, "where do you think those stone covers lead to?"

Steve shrugs. "Old sewer? Sophisticated Ancient underground bunker? Weapons store?"

Bucky feels his lips twist into a frown. Steve's eyes are twinkling.

"I know you're joking, Rogers," Stark says, swanning over, "but just because there hasn't been another Genii infestation, doesn't mean there won't be."

"I think calling them an infestation is offensive," Steve says.

"Are we done here?" Bucky asks. His skin is crawling. They're being watched.

"Nope." Stark claps Bucky on the arm and Bucky growls at him.

Stark tells him to, "Chill out, tiger," because he's a raging asshole, and the only reason Bucky doesn't punch him in the face is because Steve ducks his head to hide a smile.

Jesus.

Wilson moseys over, thumbs looped into his belt and gun draped across his back, even though he must notice Bucky's still on high fucking alert. "I don't know about you guys," he says, "but I can't wait to get off this weird-ass planet. I am not letting that grand high poopah dude read my chakra or whatever the hell he was twitching about."

Stark's face is practically plastered to a tablet but he waves a hand and says, "I believe the appropriate term, Wilson, is probe."

Over Steve's shoulder, Bucky sees the kid again, this time rapidly skirting the edge of the woods. He rolls his lips and doesn’t say anything and hopes it isn't a mistake.

Two days later, Bucky's cursing at the general motherfucking shittyness of their luck with his hands tied behind his back.

The 'jail' is one of the few buildings mostly still standing; dim light filters in from the single high window, and also weakly beams through the gaps in the stone walls. A solid push would probably take them down, Bucky's got enough rage to really put his back into it, but he'd prefer to have his hands free.

Fucking diplomats.

"How's it going, Stark?" Bucky asks through gritted teeth. He's hot, he's sweaty, his hair's all over his face and all he can do is scrape at the ends with his shoulder.

The only good thing is that Steve and Wilson weren't served the same fate. Steve's probably still in the 'talking them around' stage of negotiations, where he tries to explain that Stark didn't really mean it, and Bucky wasn't trying to assassinate anyone by accident, and it's sweet the way Steve always alwaysthinks that's going to work, even when it never does.

"It's going," Stark says absently. "Can't you bludgeon your way free with your robo-arm?"

"It's off," Bucky says.

At that, Stark lifts his head and an eyebrow, gaze slipping down the metal of his arm twisted behind his back.

"No," Bucky says, manfully resisting rolling his eyes. "They fucking turned it off. Nutbar wizard has the ATA gene."

"You mean old Turkey Face? Yeah, that guy's a treat," Stark says, and then his arms loosen and drop with a sigh and tiny robot with a saw climbs up over his shoulder to say hi.

Just as the little gizmo starts in on the ropes binding Bucky, the door slams open and street urchin kid gets tossed in with a yelp, and a shouted, "Sure! Be that way! See if he doesn't eat you, now!"

A guard kicks him in the leg, but he bounces up almost immediately and clings to the small slotted hole in the wood. He says, "Kidding! I'm kidding, please don't hurt him," and curses under his breath.

"Hello," Stark says, like he's real interested.

The kid's tall, but probably not as tall as he will be. He swings his arms when he turns and then leans up against the door, watching them warily. His mouth quirks up in a smile, though, and he says, "Hi. What are you in for?"

"Treason, apparently," Stark says dryly. "And failure to acknowledge the royal 'we.'"

Street urchin nods a lot, says, "Sure, sure," and paces to the small window and back to the door again. His lip's crusted over and his busted nose has radiated out into a black eye.

The tiny robot finishes Bucky's ties and he shakes out his hand in relief while the street urchin keeps one eye on him, and the other on the door. He's backed himself into a corner, arms crossed.

Bucky silently moves toward Stark and shifts so he can still see the kid.

Stark says, "Did you forget how to use your words, Barnes?" but reaches out for the latch underneath his arm, the Ancient tech lighting up in response to his own ATA gene.

Bucky doesn’t have one, the synthetic never stuck, and he's never considered it a liability before.

Stark, frowning, says, "We need to get you better non-Ancient tech attached to this thing. Give me a week after we get back. You can be a little lopsided in between missions."

"Gee, thanks," Bucky says.

His arm powers up with a whirl and a few clicks of the plates shifting. He's highly aware of the kid gawking at him as he lifts his arm and folds his fingers into a fist.

Stark waves him forward and says, "After you."

Bucky grins at him, feral around the edges, and punches straight through the wall.

Shouting from the guards kicks up as soon as they crawl through the rubble.

The kid says, "What the fuck was that?" blue eyes big.

Bucky only feels a little guilty when the awe and hesitation are what get the kid caught.

"Aw, man, no," he hears faintly as he takes off down the dirt path, conscious of Stark keeping pace beside him, because that's his job. Not saving some raggedy teenager who doesn't even have enough sense to wear shoes.

He's gonna see those big blue eyes in his nightmares. Jesus Christ.

He slows to a jog and then skids to a stop.

This sucks.

Stark says, "Hustle up, Barnes," and Bucky shakes his head.

"I'm going back."

"You want me to tell Rogers I lost his best friend to a sad-eyed alien that looks like a half-grown man-child?"

"Steve would go back," Bucky says, because it's true. Mostly true. He's pretty sure if it were between Bucky and a stranger, Steve would unhesitatingly go for him.

But Bucky's always been the only exception that feeds his martyr complex, so whatever.

Stark sighs like Bucky's a heavy burden. He says, "You don't have any weapons."

Bucky wiggles his metal fingers.

Stark pinches the bridge of his nose and says, "Take Tiny with you."

Tiny shoots tiny missiles. Tiny is Bucky's new best friend. Stark is never getting Tiny back.

Bucky goes for mass chaos over finesse, and has just enough time to grab the kid by the scruff of his neck and haul him backward before a wall falls on two of the three guards that were holding him down.

The shouts and explosions have brought out half the town and most of the diplomatic delegation, and Bucky sees Steve book it sideways in all the confusion, Wilson bringing up his rear.

This mission is officially fubar, unsalvageable, and Bucky just wants to get back to his tiny bunk in his tiny room with his own private tiny bath. Halfway down the street, he lets the kid go and hopes he just keeps running. It's not his problem anymore.

The Stargate is in an open field almost two clicks out of town. Bucky and Steve are the only ones not panting by the time they reach the dial.

"You came through the ring," the kid says, staring up at it with his mouth hanging open. "You came through the ring."

"Yep," Stark says, rapidly dialing out, sending his ID code through as it whooshes open. "What's your name, kid?"

"Clint." He rubs a hand over his mouth, staring at the rippling portal like he's never seen it open before.

"You going to be okay, son?" Steve says. He drops a meaty palm on join of his neck, squeezing once and then letting go.

"Oh yeah, sure," Clint nods, "but, uh," he drags his gaze away from the 'gate and up at Steve, "this planet is really small, and they were gonna cut my hand off, so, you know, anyway you can see yourselves letting me tag along?"

Steve's face goes dark. "What." Oh no.

"And Lucky and me don't take up much room, swear, except for the fact that Lucky actually does, but, uh—what?" Clint seems to finally notice how Steve's gone expressionless.

Stark whistles through his teeth and says, "Are we in Aladdin?" and Wilson snorts a laugh even though he says, "Not funny, man."

Steve says, "They're going to what?"

"Uh." Clint darts his gaze from Bucky to Steve and back again, like Bucky can somehow stop this clusterfuck of a situation.

Luckily, Bucky speaks fluent Steve. He hitches a shoulder and says, "He means you're coming with us."

"Oh, but. I mean, that's great," Clint says, but he doesn't look like he thinks that's great. He looks wary. He looks like a kid who was hoping for the best but clearly expecting the worst, and doesn't trust an inch of it—or them. "Don't you want to know why?"

"It doesn't matter why," Steve says—it totally matters why, Bucky thinks darkly, but keeps his mouth shut—and claps Clint on the shoulder, urging him forward.

Clint staggers and stops, digging his bare heels into the dirt, and blurts out, "I was stealing food."

Steve's eyes go soft. "That's okay, Clint."

"No, but. I was stealing food for him." He jerks his chin to something behind them, and Bucky whirls around to see….

It looks like how a dog would look like, if no one had ever seen a dog. If someone had just said describe a dog to me, and then drew it with their eyes closed. It's… an approximation of a dog. Floppy ears, lolling tongue, tail that wags like a flag. Big, four-footed, furry all over, but with too many teeth for its mouth and eyes too wide-set on its pointed skull.

It is, quite frankly, disturbing as hell to someone who emphatically knows what a dog should and should not look like.

Clint's shoulders slump. They're ridiculously sharp under his threadbare shirt, and he's woefully underfed. This beast looks sort of fat.

"It's okay," Clint says. He's sad. Hell, Bucky's sad. But, like, that thing can't come to Atlantis. It might eat everyone.

Which is why he's actually too stunned to protest when Steve says with deliberate, forceful calm that Bucky knows is absolute bullshit, "He can come too."

Wilson squawks. He says, "Steve."

Bucky tries to murder Steve with a glare, but Steve doesn't take an order he doesn't believe in, and doesn't offer anything he isn't prepared to back up with his whole soul. It's one of the things Bucky both loves and hates about him.

"Sheppard's gonna have a field day," Stark says gleefully, bouncing on the balls of his feet. "C'mon, blue eyes, the first step's a doozy."

Clint throws up all over the 'gate room to absolutely no one's surprise.

Also to no one's surprise, a bunch of guns get immediately pointed in the not-dog's direction until it bounds over and licks Bucky in the back of the neck. Christ.

"I have to go debrief," Steve says. "Buck, can you take Clint and, uh…"

"Lucky," Clint says, swiping at his mouth while gazing narrowed-eyed around them. Bucky doesn’t want to say he's casing the place, but he's a self-admitted thief.

"Can you take Clint and Lucky down to medical?" Steve gives him puppy eyes behind Clint's back, which is the only reason Bucky says yes.

Stark says, "I'll be in my lab." He jabs a finger at Bucky. "Barnes, arm. Tomorrow or Wednesday, whenever you're feeling it."

Bucky's tempted to not feel it at all, but on the other hand it's his arm, and he'd like it to work better.

Wilson mutters something about taking a, "Goddamn bubble bath."

Steve lifts his fingers like a boy scout but says, "Two hours. Full reports or I'll make you go talk to Sheppard. He'll hate it just as much as you will."

Clint follows Bucky out of the 'gate room, and Lucky follows Clint until they're stopped by an over-excited scientist from the xenobiologist lab. Bucky has no idea what her name is, but she's really insistent on quarantine and scans and people not accidentally dying, so he lets them herd Lucky down a split in the hallway.

Clint says, "What are they—" before cutting himself off with a sharp clack of teeth.

"He's going to the animal med bay," Bucky says. "We're going to the people-shaped one." Can't say human, he guesses, but Bucky actually knows fuck-all about the genetics of the Pegasus Galaxy. Supposedly they were all cut from the same Ancient cloth, so who the fuck knows.

In the infirmary, Dr. Biro tuts over Clint's clothes, his dirty hands, his crud-encrusted feet, and shoves a pair of scrubs in his hands before flipping the curtain around him closed.

She says, "Well," to Bucky with her hands on her hips.

"I guess… call Captain Rogers when he's done?" Bucky says.

Her eyebrows deepen into a V. "You don't want to wait."

Did he want to? Kind of. He's just not sure he should. He didn't make the decision to bring Clint back to Atlantis. He's definitely not his responsibility. At all.

Bucky sits down on the edge of an empty bed with a sigh. He needs a shower, and he needs to write up his report, and apparently he needs to make sure a too-thin alien street urchin isn’t going to die on them, too.

A half hour later, Bucky's half asleep sitting up. But Clint's got a mostly clean bill of health—dehydrated, half-starved, lacking nutrients, but in great spirits!—and is eighty percent dirt-free. He needs a shower, but his nose is taped, a butterfly bandage on his lip that definitely won't last, and the scrubs show-off his lean build and the bruises on the back of his arms, like fingerprints. He looks older and taller, even though Biro says, "He's eighteen or nineteen, he can't remember, and age in years is an Earth construct I still haven't figured out how to apply to multiple planets outside our solar system."

Sitting on the edge of the bed, Clint wiggles his toes in the fuzzy socks Biro had given him. He grins, "Hey, look."

"Real fancy, Clint," Bucky says. He quirks an eyebrow at Biro. "So he's good?"

"For certain definitions of good, sure," Biro says. "I want him hooked up to a IV for an hour and then someone can come collect him."

"What's an IV?" Clint asks, watching curiously as Biro takes hold of his arm and starts tapping along the veins.

Bucky wants no parts of that. He nods at Biro, says, "Good luck," and then slips out the door.

Bucky has a routine in between off-world missions. Breakfast at 530AM, followed by a two hour sparring session, followed by a second breakfast of whatever fruit they have on hand, preferably sitting on the highest balcony he has access to.

After that, it's a toss-up between a nap and a run around the serpentine corridors on third floor. Lunch, usually with Steve, and then he reports for duty wherever he's being rotated in for the day—control desk, lab security, clearing out and constructions. He winds up the time before dinner swimming laps off the southeast pier, if it isn't crowded. Very infrequently, he's bullied into team movie nights by Wilson. It's nice. Structured, but not too structured.

His first job after the bullshit mission where they found Clint is to… find Clint.

"What do you mean he's gone?" Bucky asks Steve, falling in step next to him as they walk down the corridors toward the living quarters. "Can't you just have Atlantis pinpoint his vitals?"

Steve's mouth tightens. "Apparently his biometrics haven't been entered into her systems yet. No one's seen him since I dropped him off after medical."

Bucky stops. "That was two days ago, Steve."

"Yeah, I know." Steve swings on him, visibly irritated. "But Corporal Jamison didn't see him leave his room, and when he finally went in to check—"

"Finally?" Jesus, did they not think Clint was eating? Or his... not-dog thing?

"Yeah." Steve looks real pissed about that, and it's only slightly mollifying. And then he looks hangdog and guilty, because of course Clint's their—Steve's—responsibility, and the thing Steve's gonna focus on most is that Clint hasn't been coddled enough to his satisfaction, and not the fact that he's a unknown variable in what is, technically, a hybrid civilian-military war zone.

Frankly, Bucky's more worried about that too. Not that he'd eversay anything about that out loud.

Steve says, "When he finally went in to check, there was zero signs of Clint anywhere. So that's where we're going to check first."

"The place where he isn’t," Bucky says, but follows Steve when he starts moving again anyhow.

"The place Clint somehow got out of without using the door."

Clint's assigned room is small, located on a less used corridor in the living section. It's sparsely furnished. There's a narrow bed, and round table with two chairs, and a postage stamp bathroom. The bed doesn't even look slept in. There's a pair of boots shoved into a corner. A folded pair of sweatpants and a t-shirt on a chair.

Bucky idly picks up the gray Air Force shirt and says, "So he's in sock-feet and the scrubs Biro gave him," hopefully, "and no one has fucking seen this guy for two days?"

One of the chairs is at a weird angle, spun around from the table and halfway into the cramped 'living space' that boasts a skinny tower bookshelf.

Steve places his hands on his hips and goes, "Huh."

Bucky skims fingers over a light dusting of debris on the shelf and then glances up at a roughly 12x24 vent in the ceiling. "D'you think his collarbones unhinge like a cat's?"

Steve says, "Well. Shit."

Clint could basically be anywhere on Atlantis. The main problem, though, as Bucky sees it, is that so could Lucky.

"So how can he hide a hundred and fifty pound… dog," Bucky generously allows, "in our recycled air system?”

The duct work threads all over the city, spilling out into every room, and god knows he's probably sleeping in there too.

Steve says, "Good question," and radios Colonel Sheppard, who lets out the longest, loudest sigh Bucky has ever heard in his life.

Steve and Bucky are unsuccessful in their mission that day, because a) the damn not-dog is still quarantined in the xenobiology lab, and b) Bucky almost punches Colonel Jamison in the face when he says he told Clint no when he asked for him.

"Now we know why he bolted," Steve says, looking like he wants to punch Jamison, too, "and we know where he was going. But we don't know why he didn't get there."

"Well," Dr. Simmons pushes her glasses up her nose. "The xeno labs are routed through a different ventilation system, since everyone was complaining about the smell."

Lucky is licking at the glass partition, staring longingly at Bucky, and he still looks like half a horror. An incomplete sketch. What comes for you in the dark and lives under your bed. Christ.

"So he's lost," Bucky says, which is why they had to end up gathering all two hundred and fifty three inhabitants of Atlantis in the 'gate room and commissary and then run a full scale vitals search on the rest of the compound.

No one is happy about it, even when Sheppard says everyone can get an extra jello.

Lost for two fucking days stuck in the vents without anyone knowing, and, god, Bucky just really hopes he got to sneak out to go to the bathroom.

An hour in, Bucky's lounging along the wall of the commissary, dreaming about all the ways he's gonna take Jamison apart in the gym, when Stark shouts, "Got 'em. Unless another bird got stuck in the tower again." He looks up at Steve. "The spire overlooking the west end."

Bucky swears under his breath. He's out on his Second Breakfast balcony. "Let me go," he says without really meaning to.

Steve looks as surprised as he feels. "You sure?"

Bucky nods. "Hold everyone from another twenty minutes, just in case he disappears."

"I'll let you know if he moves," Stark says, tapping at the tablet. He flicks his fingers over the screen and then spins it to show Bucky. "The transporter at the end of the hall only goes up to three, but it'll still be faster than going all the way around to the 'gate room. You might want to take the stairs the rest of the way."

If he thought he had the time for it, he'd stop and bring Lucky, too. He's only a little relieved that he doesn't.

He doesn't bother with stealth. He figures if Clint hasn't moved in the ten minutes it's taken Bucky to advance on his position, making noise isn't going to make a difference. When the door whooshes open, the high winds hit Bucky like a smack in the face. A storm must be heading in.

Clint's sitting on the ground with his legs dangling out under the railing.

Bucky drops down next to him and nudges him back a little, just for his own peace of mind. Clint doesn't react other than shifting further away, bringing his legs up to hug his knees.

"So," Bucky says after a long, quiet moment, "Jamison refused to bring you your dog and you go off and sulk, making the entire fucking city of Atlantis waste hours searching for you."

Clint glares at him. "What." He scoffs. "If I asked you, you woulda just let me have him?"

Bucky opens his mouth to say yeah, except who the fuck knows what he would have done. He would have at least asked the xenobologists if he was safe.

Clint snorts like a punk.

Bucky wants to wring his skinny neck and also, inexplicably, make him eat an entire plate of mashed potatoes.

He says, "Have you eaten anything?"

Petulance melts into a smirk. He says, "Maybe," which Bucky is taking for yes, and also the high probability that he’s been breaking into their stores.

Bucky sighs. This is going to be a full time fucking job. "Come back to your room," he says, "and I'll see what I can do about Lucky."

Clint makes Bucky feel old.

"You're not old," Steve says, determinedly sawing into his too-dense waffles. "We're not even thirty yet."

"Steve," Bucky says seriously, reaching across the table to cover his hand with his. "Steve, you're thirty-two."

Steve's mouth drops open, then snaps closed again. "No, I'm…. am I?"

"Stark's forty-one."

"No," Steve says, scandalized.

Clint befriended Romanov five days after he stopped hiding in the vents and they haven't stopped running rings around every single other person in the city since.

Clint can shoot an arrow at a bullseye two hundred feet away with his eyes closed.

He's bendy. He does handstands and walks across tables. He swings up into the rafters of the ‘gate room because using stairs takes too long.

Bucky's knees crack when he crouches down to pick up a dropped fork.

He's in shape, he's in great shape, and he's more active now than he ever was on base back on earth, but he also wears a brace on his left knee, and has to use reading glasses and if he were at home he has a sneaking, depressing suspicion that he'd have trouble driving at night.

Clint makes him feel old, and the only fucking reason that it matters at all is because he's definitely, maybe gotten a little crush.

It's been two months and Clint's filled out considerably and apparently has the arm strength to climb up the outside of Atlantis all the way up the second breakfast balcony—on a dare, because he's reckless and young—and it's fucking with Bucky's head.

Competency is hot. The fact that Clint trips over Lucky whenever he goes to open his room door and routinely falls off chairs like it's his job—he tilts them back way too far and can't seem to help himself—sadly doesn't detract from this at all.

Bucky wishes it did. In fact, it should. There's nothing sexy about a lap full of tough chicken, gravy and rehydrated rice, and yet…

So Bucky feels beat and old, even though he's twenty-nine and lied like a rug to Steve about it—Steve's hilariously susceptible at 5:30 AM—and Clint’s probably a good ten years younger than him and also an alien.

It's never going to work.

Romanov has been on permanent team rotation ever since she justifiably shot Rumlow and sent him hurling into space out the back of a puddlejumper. She subs for people stuck in the infirmary or if teams need an extra assassin on hand.

She teaches Clint how to fight dirty and gives him a gun and not even Sheppard has the balls to complain about it.

Bucky turns down every single request to spar with him because he's not a masochist, but he still manages to claim the seat next to him on the movie nights Wilson guilts him into going to.

He knocks their shoulders together and watches Clint's eyes light up when he says, "Hey."

Clint sits like an acrobat, knees and elbows in weird places, and Bucky feels all the points that press against him like fire.

They're watching Jaws and Clint's breath is fast, but Bucky can't tell if that's a Clint thing or a something is wrong thing, and he nudges his fist into the side of Clint's thigh.

"Okay?"

Clint turns to look at him, pupils blown in the half-light. "What?" he asks with a lick of his lips.

"Um." Bucky wants to reach out and curl a hand up under the hinge of his jaw. Without the tape and bruises and swelling, he's got smooth cheeks and a slightly crooked nose. "Are you okay?"

Clint's grin blooms across his mouth in honest, open affection and Bucky feels like he's been donkey kicked in the chest.

Bucky scrambles to his feet and ignores half the room staring at him like he’s lost his mind and books it out of there.

The next time Bucky sees Clint, he’s sitting on a table in Stark’s lab, swinging his feet and humming what sounds like Chariots of Fire.

“Bucky!”

Bucky winces at the volume, and Stark puts a hand on Clint’s knee to get his attention and mimes dialing it down.

Clint points at Stark and says, “Tony’s fixing my ears.”

“I didn’t know anything was wrong with ‘em,” Bucky says, watching the way Clint carefully watches his lips.

“He’s got truly horrendous tech in them that someone cobbled together out of what looks like twigs and bubble gum,” Stark says.

Bucky peers over his shoulder. It looks like regular wires and doodads to him, but he knows fuck all about that kind of stuff. “Those were in his ears?”

Tony hmms absently, but then he pins Bucky down with a look and says, “I haven’t forgotten about your arm either. Who made that crap, anyway? Hammer? Ancient tech is good, but mine is better.”

Clint stares curiously at his arm, but doesn’t say anything.

Bucky was down here for a reason, but now he can’t remember why. He’s losing it, mind and body. This is the worst.

Suddenly Clint waves his hands and says, “Oh! Guess what?”

“Uh… what?” He swears he’s usually more suave than this. He used to have game. He used to charm the pants off of ladies and men alike. His mouth feels too big.

“I’m 22 earth years,” Clint says proudly. “Tony figured it out.”

“Clint,” Bucky says, throat dry. “You weren’t even sure how many of your years you were.”

Clint shrugs. “Eh.”

Bucky takes a deep breath. “Okay, so…”

“Barnes,” Stark says, clacking what looks like a pair of tweezers together, “take the kid to lunch and a slow bone before I choke and throw up on all this tension.”

Bucky freezes. “Did you just. Did you just say slow bone?”

“What’s a… slow bone?” Clint says, head cocked, and this is when Bucky realizes that Stark hadn’t been facing Clint but Bucky is, and now he has to kill himself.

Stark arches an eyebrow at him. “That is not my fault.”

Bucky ignores him and rolls his shoulders and bites out, “Lunch.” He jerks his head toward the door and mans up. “Coming?”

There is a single glorious planet in the Pegasus Galaxy that boasts no less than fifteen different kinds of dinosaurs, and the fact that they have to keep going back to it to get a certain herb that both the botanists and medical doctors go gaga over is a source of unending joy to Bucky.

He fucking loves Dinosaur Planet.

He keeps trying to convince Steve to let him bring back an egg.

He knows the only reason Steve volunteers their team for these missions is because of Bucky. Stark usually insists on sitting them out, which is why they have Romanov with them this time instead. He has absolutely no idea what military organization she’s a part of, but she’s definitely not a scientist. No one’s willing to fuck with her after the Rumlow situation.

She’s got a cold, calm eye that gives Bucky the willies, but he doesn’t have a problem with her. They don’t have problems with each other.

Except, apparently, for right now.

“Uh.”

Romanov has her arms crossed. “Well?”

“You realize you’re ruining Dinosaur Planet for me, right?” Bucky could be getting run down by a T-Rex right now.

“Answer the question, Barnes.”

Bucky could have lived his whole life happily never having heard Romanov ask him if he was interested in boning Clint, Jesus, and he knows this entire clusterfuck is Stark’s fault.

“What answer is the one least likely to get me stabbed?” He’s not above lying to Romanov if he has to.

Luckily or unluckily, Romanov seems to take that as whatever she actually wanted to hear, so she nods smartly and then gestures over his shoulder with a lazy, “Incoming,” and that is how they spend the rest of the day dodging pterodactyls.

Bucky can’t wait to come back.

Clint doesn’t hesitate. Whether it’s shooting an arrow, sparring, eating, swimming, talking—Clint just goes for it, all in, even if he ends up making a fool of himself.

Bucky admires that.

He’s also extremely tired, hot off the Dinosaur Planet, and three minutes ago he was dead to the world face down on his bunk.

He scrubs a hand over his face until the blurry shape in his doorway in front of him resolves into Clint’s grinning face. “Huh?” He’s almost entirely sure it’s the middle of the night, but the city does weird things to his circadian rhythm.

“Sam told me what bone means.”

All Bucky’s body parts wake up and freeze at once. “I’m going to murder him.”

Clint says, “I hope it can wait,” and then lunges forward and kisses him. Kind of. It’s aggressive enough that Bucky thinks maybe it’s his first kiss, which is goddamn charming and almost irresistible. He’s just so enthusiastic.

Bucky slides his hand up to cup Clint’s cheek, rests his metal one on the small of his back, settling him into slowing down. He eases out of the kiss with, “It’s the middle of the night, Clint, and Stark’s probably watching us through his peephole.”

Clint’s mouth is red and his eyes are wide. “Oh,” he says, but looks out of it enough that Bucky’s ninety percent certain he hasn’t understood a word Bucky’s said.

Bucky says, “Go to bed, Clint.” His legs hurt from running from dinosaurs all day and he needs at least another four hours of sleep before figuring out how to handle… this.

“Right,” Clint says, but doesn’t move.

Bucky reaches out and squeezes his hand. “G’night,” he says, and the steps back and slides the door closed behind him.

The only thing that Clint loves more than Lucky is pizza, and the only thing Lucky loves more than Clint is also pizza, so Bucky sweet talks Corporal Lovett into making him a pie in exchange for three chocolate bars he’d been saving. It’s an approximation of an earth pizza, and it’s only 9 in the morning, but he’s due for second breakfast anyway.

Bucky rings the bell on Clint’s quarters and tries not to be skeeved out by the echoing wooffrom Lucky, like he swallowed an actual dog and that dog is making that sound from the bottom of his throat. Lucky’s cool. Bucky gets along great with Lucky if he doesn’t think too hard about him.

Clint’s normally open face is wary when he sees him. He’s wearing shorts and an old t-shirt that has ‘Barnes’ across the right breast that Bucky’s been missing for over a month. He’s still wearing the fuzzy, slouchy socks from that first day in medical.

Bucky says, “Pizza?” holding up the tray, and Clint’s grin finally reaches his eyes.

Clint takes the pizza with a too-subdued, “Uh, thanks?” and Bucky swoops in oh so suavely and slides a hand onto the nape of his neck, tugging him into a swift kiss.

If they’re doing this, Bucky’s gonna do this right—they’re gonna date first, second breakfast, lunch, dinner—and then they’re gonna bone.

#winterhawk #for lissadiane #writing buddies!#oh god

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thecomicsnexus · 5 years

Photo

JUSTICE LEAGUE #7-11, 0, 14-16, 18-21 MAY 2012 - AUGUST 2013 BY GEOFF JOHNS, GARY FRANK AND BRAD ANDERSON

SYNOPSIS (MIXED WITH DC DATABASE AND COMIC VINE)

Doctor Thaddeus Sivana is investigating reports of people across the world being mystically abducted by an old wizard. Upon finding them unworthy, he sends them back home. Sivana is convinced that these stories prove magic is real.

Seven months later, Billy Batson is in a boarding home and being interviewed by potential foster parents. He acts like a good boy so the Vasquezes will become his foster parents. As soon as they leave he makes insulting comments and is excited to have finally tricked someone into getting him out of there.

Billy Batson begins his new life with the Vasquezes, but he has a hard time adjusting to his foster family.

Billy Batson and his foster siblings go to school. While walking home, some kids start bullying them, and Billy fights them off. The principal threatens to expel Billy.

Doctor Sivana finds a door in his archaeological dig that he thinks is the tomb of Black Adam. He tries to open it, and lightning emits from the door and strikes his face. He falls to the ground, then begins laughing, saying he can see magic.

Foster parents Victor and Rosa Vasquez discuss Billy Batson and the events of last issue. Victor suggests that Billy was doing some play acting when they met him at child services, and that he is showing his true colors now. Rosa defends Billy, suggesting that Billy's encounter with Mr. Bryer has left Billy traumatized. Mr. Bryer is the richest man in Philadelphia, and the father of the four nasty bullies who are bullying Billy's new family at school. Mr. Bryer is a pretty nasty fellow himself, and Billy had the guts to stand up to him. But now Billy has hardly touched his hamburger, and Victor is concerned. Victor expresses frustration, telling Rosa that Billy never gave them a chance.

In fact, Billy is in his room, packing that hamburger in his backpack. He leaves the pickles behind, and sneaks out. Billy heads to a zoo, crawling in through a breach in the brick wall, and feeds the hamburger to Tawny, a tiger that Billy seems to know personally. Freddy tails Billy, but is eventually spotted by him. Billy pushes Freddy, who tumbles down in the snow. Freddy admits he previously lifted Billy's wallet out of curiosity, but did not steal anything.

Billy and Freddy discuss the problem with the Bryer brothers. Freddy reveals that the four bullies have been bothering them daily for quite a while. Freddy usually distracts the bullies so that Mary can help the younger ones get away.

Freddy tries to convince Billy to give Mr. and Mrs. Vasquez a chance. But Billy defiantly says "They aren't my parents."

Freddy thanks Billy for intervening when the bullies were bothering them. They consider heading to the Bryer home to get even.

45 miles north of Baghdad, Dr. Sivana continues the archaeological dig at the Tomb of Black Adam. Aided by his magical right eye, (see last issue), Sivana is now able to read the hieroglyphs. They tell him that he can release Black Adam and bring magic to the world with the utterance of a single word. Sivana quietly speaks the word "Shazam", the magic lightning hits, and a hooded Black Adam stands before him, asking for the Wizard.

The recently freed Black Adam demands that Dr. Sivana take him to see the wizard. Meanwhile, Billy Batson and Freddy try to break into one of the Bryer's cars, but they get caught. Billy pushes Freddy in some bushes to hide him, while he escapes on the subway. But the subway doesn't take him where he thinks it will …

Billy Batson makes his way through the labyrinthine halls of the Rock of Eternity. The place seems deserted, though the boy hears the echoes of whispered voices.

“It’s just a boy.”

“What’s he look like?”

“The lad looks awfully small to me! He’ll never break the curse! Send him back already!”

Another voice, a more commanding voice, beckons him onward, deeper into the temple. He passes unimaginable marvels. Behind one door, an indoor snowstorm, memories of a childhood snowman. Down a hall, illusive specters of the Seven Deadly Sins of Man.

And at the end of the hall, six empty thrones, with an impossibly ancient man seated in the seventh. He is the last of the Council of Wizards, and the Keeper of the greatest magical fortress in all existence, the Rock of Eternity.

The Wizard seeks a mystical warrior who is pure good, but the boy his magic has summoned is far from pure.

Billy Batson doesn’t believe that a purely good person exists. “People are horrible. They disappoint you. They let you down. I’ve spent my life learning that... You’re searching for something that doesn’t really exist. That’s why you’ve never found it.”

Time runs short for the Wizard. Black Adam has already been freed from imprisonment. He searches the boy’s mind for the embers of good, seeking even a glimmer of hope.

And though Billy Batson is not the warrior of pure good he sought, the Wizard does see potential in him. He teaches the boy the word that will summon his magics. The word that when spoken with purpose, with belief, with good intentions, will transform him into his greatest potential.

“SHAZAM!”

Billy Batson inherits the Wizard’s chair on the Council of Eternity, and with it, the Power of the Living Lightning. He will be able to travel through the sky as lightning does, to fight with the strength of a demigod.

And he will have to fight, to stop Black Adam from awakening the Seven Deadly Sins of Man. Black Adam will stop at nothing to become absolute ruler of all magic.

As the Wizard passes from this world, he declares Billy Batson magic’s champion. Billy Batson is now Shazam!

Billy Batson returns from the Rock of Eternity, now in possession of the Power of the Living Lightning. And as his first act as magic’s champion, Billy Batson pays a visit to the Bryers’ house. With his magnificent strength, he lifts the Bryers’ car into the air before casually crumpling it hood first into the ground.

He and Freddy then try to use his now adult appearance to buy beer, but Billy feels a bit conspicuous in cloak and magic armor. He also has a hard time interacting with electrical objects, causing them to explode with living magic.

As it grows late, the criminal element of Philadelphia makes itself known. Freddy and Billy witness a mugging, and Billy decides to intervene. He swats the criminal aside, but his strength is greater than he realizes, and the man goes flying into the side of a nearby car.

The woman he saved is incredibly grateful, and she asks if there is any way she can thank him. Freddy suggests that Billy should ask for some cash, and the woman awkwardly hands him a twenty dollar bill.

As the woman shouts her thanks, the boys walk away to celebrate their newfound source of income.

Black Adam and Dr. Sivana begin to track down the Seven Deadly Sins, starting with Sloth, freeing them. Meanwhile, Billy Batson and Freddy buy a coat to cover up his Shazam costume.

Black Adam overpowers Shazam but he escapes by transforming back into Billy and blending into the crowd.

While Black Adam is looking for Shazam, Billy Batson and his foster family try to visit the old wizard, so Billy can convince him to give his powers to someone else. But this cannot happen. Francesca shows Billy the origin of Black Adam. Billy, seeing that this is the story of a kid, storms out to confront Black Adam, only to find out the kid didn’t make it.

Shazam transfers some of his powers to his friends to help him fight Black Adam and the Seven Deadly Sins. As the battle continues, Shazam is still overpowered and his friends return to normal. Instead, Shazam turns back into Billy and provokes Black Adam to do the same; he does and dies as his mortal form is centuries old.

With Black Adam gone, the Seven Sins flee from battle. Billy returns to his daily life and celebrates Christmas with his friends.

REVIEW

Geoff Johns had a terrible task at hand. He would need to give Shazam a “rebirth” treatment. A character that, while not broken, had a lengthy history of real-life legal drama. In this context, Geoff Johns had to create Shazam and the Shazam Family. I don’t need to tell you that these didn’t exist before (except for the Wizard Shazam).

For those coming late to the party, Shazam’s name was always Captain Marvel. After the legal battle that canceled Captain Marvel’s titles at Fawcett, National (DC) got the rights to the character (not at once, though). By the time Captain Marvel was brought back (the seventies), Marvel Comics got the trademark for Captain Marvel and made sure to create a character with that name (not Carol Danvers). There were also other attempts of using that name by other publishers.

So, from that moment on, DC wasn’t able to use the “Captain Marvel” name on the covers of this character. Instead they would use sentences around the name Shazam. The character in the interior would still be called Captain Marvel, and his extended family would keep their names as well.

But after Flashpoint, calling the character’s name was a golden opportunity. This would also change the names of his extended family. So this is why I am saying, the character is not the same... but at the same time, it is. It’s very similar to the golden age Flash and the silver age Flash. They were almost the same, but had different names.

When I started reading this, back in 2012, I was intrigued by the change in Billy Batson’s personality. This change makes sense, and it is part of his arc. When we start his story, he doesn’t trust anyone, he can only rely on himself. Within a year, he will learn to trust his family (and recognize that a family doesn’t have to be biologically linked to you). This is a very good approach to it, because Billy and all his other “siblings” are adopted from different families. The idea that you can create your own family if life doesn’t really give you one, is quite powerful here.

Billy and Freddy’s reaction to the powers are also amazing. You see a superhero having attitudes of a kid. Gary Frank is so good at this, it feels weird seeing Shazam act like Billy. Captain Marvel was always fantasy, always mild and good, and this adaptation brings reality to it, brings different personalities and points of view. While I don’t think Shazam/Capt Marvel needed this change... it is welcome.

Now, is this enough to establish the character? NO. Most of us readers still call him Captain Marvel, or Mary Marvel, or Captain Marvel Jr, or the Marvel Family. We need to get used to the change. And there was no follow up to this arc, for 5 years. Only brought back thanks to the movie. So my wish is that this movie succeeds at changing “Shazam”’s status quo, so we can start calling him by his new name.

I appreciate the tightness of the writing as well. Side characters are justified and the main character has a very acceptable trauma for his reality.

The only character that gets a bit lost by all the events is Sivana. He keeps repeating that only magic can save his family, but this is never explored (this was just the beginning, and I am guessing it will be explored in the new title).

And Gary Frank is a god here. This may not be the breath-taking experience that “Power of Shazam” was... but his Billy Batson is very distinguishable.

I give this story a score of 10

#shazam #captain marvel #dc comics #new 52 #post modern age #comics #review #2012 #2013 #black adam #sivana #justice league #gary frank #marvel family #shazam family

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thepaperpanda · 5 years

Text

His Ego || Stephen Strange x Reader.

Summary: You are taking care of Strange shortly after his accident

Warnings: None.

Words: 1327

Request by: Anonymous

Authors: Cass & Toro

You loved your job. Helping others was your longtime passion, you couldn't imagine yourself anywhere else but in a hospital, unfortunately, last few weeks were a horror to you.

Stephen Strange has ended up in the hospital due to his car accident. After that he went through five doctors and several nurses, and all of them told the one thing: 'I am not going back to him.'

Stephen Strange wasn't the easiest person to deal with. He was an arrogant long before that accident but then it was even worst - a mix of his arrogance and anger.

Soon there was no more doctors that wanted to even enter Strange's room and someone in his condition couldn't just stay alone.

You gathered all of your courage and decided to go there by yourself.

You entered room slowly. "Stephen?"

He raised his brow with a deep sigh leaving his mouth. "What now? Another dose of pills that will miraculously heal me? Nor maybe you've come here to see the best neurosurgeon in the world who is not even able to hold a stupid mug in his hands, huh?!" Strange was raising his voice with each word he was speaking out loudly.

You sighed deeply and shook your head gently. "I came here to see the patient, no matter who he is. I am not here to judge you and you good know this."

You already had to fight the urge to hit him. You had to listen to his screams and now they were directed straight at you, it was really over the line.

Strange turned his head to the window, not saying a word. He started to pretend he was alone in the room.

You let out another sigh and your hands dropped to your sides. "Please, Stephen. Cooperate with us. You know we all want what's the best for you," you said moving closer to his bed. "Come on, show me your hands," you requested as you sat on the edge of his bed.

Former doctor struggled, trying his best to roll on his right side. "Fuck off," he only hissed. "I don't need your help. I don't need anyone to feel sorry about me. I'll be fine by my own. If they wouldn't have done that to me, it wouldn't be that bad right now. They fucked my entire life."

"Stephen... I don't do this because I feel sorry for you. I do because this is my job and I am kinda the only one standing by your side since you effectively scared others away."

You watched him for a moment, thinking what more you could add.

"I want to remind you that if not other doctors, you would have lost your hands for real. You good know that you still have a chance, you just need to give yourself time to heal."

"Time to heal, huh?!" Stephen turned his head to face you. "Do you hear your own words?! They've destroyed all the nerves that left! They could have done it other way, inserting a simple fucking stents in my hands! That would truly help! And now they're sending someone like you," he threw you a disdainful glance. "Pathetic."

You shook your head and got up. "You are the pathetic one right now, Strange. Look at yourself, you are the one on this bed. You are the one that was reckless enough to use your fucking phone while driving! Kids in kindergarten know that you should never do this!" You growled. "You should at last be grateful that we saved your ass, and that for now we waste our time to deal with such a stubborn asshole like you. I am leaving now but I will be back later," you simply informed him and then left.

Strange only shrugged his arms slightly and rested his head on the pillow.

He closed his eyes and let the thoughts drift away.

He was almost falling asleep but a sudden thought crawled into back of his head.

You were absolutely right. If he wouldn't be that stupid to check upon his phone while driving, he wouldn't be where he was then.

However, he still was too proud to admit that it was him who was mistaken.

You returned to your office and decided to do a bit of your work before dinner time.

You had to somehow relieve your stress and anger after visiting Stephen. Even if you knew it won't be easy, you set yourself a goal to change his behavior.

During the dinner time you decided to order something in the cafeteria and take it to Stephen.

When he heard someone entering his room, he theatrically rolled his eyes. "I don't want whatever you have there. I am not interested. At all. Leave me alone."

"Yes, yes. But you know what? I don't care, just like you," you said and smiled at him holding a tray. "It's dinner time so I decided to jump to the cafeteria and get you something warm because even you need to eat," you put the tray on his bedside table.

"And how do you imagine this, huh?" He snorted. "How can I eat with those?" man pointed at his bandaged palms. "I think I have to consider your intelligence level, darling," Strange growled.

You took a deep breath, you could feel anger slowly building up again but you only bit inside of your cheek, trying to control yourself. "I always can take bandages off and help you with eating. It's not really a problem," you shrugged, putting hands into pockets of your coat.

"To you it may not be a problem but to me it's a fucking shame but sure, of course, who would even care what fucking Strange feels," man summed up angrily. "Do what the hell you want, I have it deep in my asshole."

"Stephen. I meant unwrapping your hands. I never said that I don't care. Sure I do," you rubbed bridge of your nose. "I understand you are ashamed of your condition but you can't act like this. Please. If you want I can even feed you."

Stephen shrugged slightly. But this time he didn't protest. He let you unwrap his palms, he also let you take a spoon and feed him.

You smiled at him as soon as you finished.

You got up and went to wash your hands. "You see! It wasn't that hard, Stephen. Now please, be a good boy and show me your hands."

He did without complaining. "And? What are you gonna do with them? Are you gonna heal me? No one can, that's the truth," he clenched teeth.

"I am a doctor here and I need to check on them to see how wounds are healing, if you like it or not," you responded, taking a seat on the edge of bed.

You gently took one of his palms into yours and studied it carefully, later you repeated this with other hand.

"They are healing, it looks very nicely, I must say. Would you like me to bandage them back?" You asked looking at him, still holding his hand.

"Do whatever you have to," Strange sighed out loudly. "Besides, I thought you're an ordinary student nor nurse, how funny," his voice sounded more wryly than he attended, so he grinned, cocking his brow.

You lurk around to get new bandages for him and quickly came back to wrap his palms. "Well, because of your lovely attitude no one wants to come here, so I need to be everyone to you," you explained, carefully wrapping his hands. "I hope you will feel more comfortable for now but you know what, Stephen?"

He tilted his head slightly. "No. Tell me."

"I think you still have beautiful hands," you stated and smiled at him, then raised on your feet. "If you will need anything, just ring for the nurse. I will be in my office. And remember, it's gonna be better."

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eaffwesf · 3 years

Text

I have in my heart when I doing it is the feeling of being a human

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gushingaboutgames · 7 years

Text

Sega Dreamcast

I hated middle school. There’s a whole swath of memories I’d rather do without as far as the years 1999 through 2002 are concerned. There is, however, one memory I hold near and dear to my heart during this time frame. After reading about it in magazines and being really excited for it, my mother took me to Toys’R’Us one evening to get me a Sega Dreamcast. We brought that puppy home with a copy of Sonic Adventure, hooked it up, fired it up, and took it all in. As the opening cinematic played on my TV, Mum said “It’s like playing a movie!”

Boy, if we only knew what games would go on to look like now.

The Dreamcast was, and to this day remains, my all time favorite console. It’s the swan song of a company that was perhaps a bit too ambitious for its own good, a marvel of gaming technology many years ahead of its time, and home to some of the best and most unique games to ever come out.

At the time of its release, the Dreamcast was the most graphically powerful console on the market. Sony’s Playstation boasted 32-bit graphics, and the Nintendo 64 had double that, at -wait for it- 64 bits. Dreamcast had double of that: 128 bits of beautiful graphics, thanks to the GD-ROM, a proprietary disc format born from squeezing every bit of memory out of a regular old CD as was physically possible, before DVDs and Blu-Ray became as ubiquitous as they are today.

Even the method of memory storage was unlike its competitors; the standard memory card for the Dreamcast was the Visual Memory Unit (VMU), a cross between a memory card and a Gameboy that let you manage data and download minigames to extend the functionality of many games. The only other thing like it that I can think of being made is Sony’s Pocketstation, and that never saw the light of day outside of Japan. You would not believe the number of button-cell batteries I burned through caring for Chao on the go.

Of course, all of the fancy tech and cool gadgets wouldn’t amount to much if the games on offer weren’t fun at all. Tiger’s Game.Com bragged of being a versatily console and handheld device, but the games for it all stank like a fragrant dog poop laying on the sidewalk on a hot Floridian summer day. Thankfully, fun games were something the Dreamcast had no shortage of, even in the brief few years that it was on the market, a slew of which I’d like to bring attention to.

Sonic Adventure 1 & 2

Maybe they haven’t aged as well as I’d like to think, but DAYUM if these weren’t some fun games back in the day. Sonic has always struggled with 3D, but the first attempts at true 3D Sonic games remain quite novel. The first Sonic Adventure had different play styles for each character, some of which were great (Sonic and Gamma, for me at least), others...not so much (the less said about Big, the better), in addition to, for its time, an intricate plot with each character’s story intertwining and playing out differently depending on which character you’re playing as.

Sonic Adventure 2, meanwhile, streamlined the gameplay and improved upon some of the first game’s flaws, cutting out the non-platforming related stages (aside from the treasure hunting stages, which are a touch better than in the first game). It’s story was also very compelling, being one of the darkest storylines in the entire series; government conspiracies, weapons of mass destruction, fucking murder! Maybe that’s not everyone’s cup of tea, but I think we can all agree that SA2 handled “dark and gritty” a lot better than Shadow the Hedgehog’s stand-alone game.

Both games also featured a mini-game that could prove to be just as addicting, if not more so, than the games proper: Chao Gardens. Chao were little, adorable water monsters that players could raise like virtual pets, their popularity likely owed in part to the ubiquity of other virtual pets like Tamagotchi near the end of the millennium, as well as how easy-going and casual raising a Chao was compared to a Digi-Pet that would not wait for you to clean its shit up: you can enter and leave Chao Gardens freely, and you wouldn’t have to worry of your Chao dying of neglect in your absence. There’s also very deep mechanics at work for raising Chao, with their growth and evolution depending heavily on how well you raise them, what animals you give them, and what fruits you feed them, all so you can have them participate in races. The aforementioned VMU also expanded Chao functionality considerably, letting you raise them anywhere you wanted.

Shenmue

My relationship with Shenmue, these days, is very much that of a love-hate relationship. On the one hand, Shenmue popularized two aspects of gaming today that I loathe; Quick-Time Events, and over-blown game budgets (this game would’ve had to be bought by every DC owner TWICE before it could break even). On the other hand, there’s no denying that this game was a labor of love by Yu Suzuki. The attention to detail in Ryo Hazuki’s hometown of Yokosuka is staggering. Everything you can imagine can be interacted with, down to the last dresser drawer in Ryo’s house. Every resident of Yokosuka was unique from the others and had their own behaviors that they would go through, unlike every other NPC in the town, or other games for that matter. The story may be a tad formulaic, and most of the voice work left something to be desired, but the world of Shenmue was one that was very fun to explore.

Plus, this game introduced me to Space Harrier. If that’s not a good thing, you tell me what is.

Jet Set Radio

I had to convince my mother this game wouldn’t turn me into a graffiti-painting delinquent. It was a hard sell, but it paid off, and boy am I glad it did.

Jet Set Radio is very much unlike other games, then and today even. This was the game that helped to popularize cel-shaded graphics; the thick black outlines around the character models made this game look like an anime come to life, and eventually paved the way for the wicked-awesome graphics we see today from Arc System Works with Guilty Gear XRD and Dragonball FighterZ. The idea of playing a roller-blading hooligan throwing tags around the city and evading the police was also unique, and kept players on their toes as techno music accompanies their shenanigans. The game was a bit on the short side, but was challenging and fun enough that multiple playthroughs were warranted.

Making my own graffiti tags was also quite the timesink.

Phantasy Star Online

I may be a late bloomer to the Phantasy Star series, but it has become one very dear to me for helping me meet some of my closest friends (Hi, Tara!).

Phantasy Star was a series of JRPGs by Sega meant to compete with other big franchises like Final Fantasy and Dragon Quest. The original PSO, on the other hand, is an online multiplayer dungeon crawler that would change the course of the series from that point forward. As interstellar colonists investigating mysterious phenomena on an alien planet, players would delve into unique locals with characters they would create themselves to slay monsters, collect valuable items, and unravel the mysteries of the planet Ragol.

The original PSO is also very notable for its attempt to break the language barrier with a unique conversation system. While good ol’ fashioned keyboards remained in vogue, players also had the option of constructing sentences to transmit to other players in the area or party in those players’ native languages. Using this system, you could send a message saying “Help! This dragon is too powerful!”, and your friend in Japan would read it as “助けて！この龍は強すぎる！” It may not have seen much use, since players are more likely to congregate and play with those that can speak a common language fluently, but it was very kind of Sega to provide the option.

One thing that gets me straight in the feels is something from the original beta trailer for this game: “The world of Phantasy Star Online lasts for an eternity!” It is not uncommon for trailers and developers to hype games up with hyperbole (just ask Peter Molyneaux), but this is a statement that has held true for PSO! Even after the last official server for the last iteration of PSO shut down in 2008, private servers continue to run the game to this day, ensuring that the world of PSO truly remains eternal. Even with a proper sequel Phantasy Star Online 2 proving to be a pop culture staple in Japan, the original PSO remains one of the most beloved and enduring MMOs in history.

Skies of Arcadia

I’ve got friends who would skin my hide and leave me to hang like the Predator if I didn’t mention this.

Just about every console since the NES has a JRPG, and the Dreamcast is no exception. While Phantasy Star shifted towards MMO territory, those hoping for a sweeping single-player adventure still had Skies of Arcadia. As the daring sky pirate Vyse and his motley crew of adventurers, players fought to stop an evil empire from awakening an ancient evil while flying across a world of floating continents in a kickass airship. This game is among the most challenging JRPGs in the genre; a clever mind and strategic acumen are needed to survive battles with other pirates, monsters, and rival airships. The world of the game is also incredibly beautiful; I personally think it has much in common with Castle in the Sky, my favorite Hayao Miyazaki film. The soundtrack compliments the game incredibly, and is a joy to listen to by itself.

---

There are plenty of other games that made the Dreamcast incredible, but this article is long enough as it is, so I’ll have to give those games their proper due later. Suffice to say, though, the Dreamcast is a historical console that remains one of the most beloved in the history of the medium, not only by myself, but by hundreds of thousands of gamers the world over. It may have only been on the market for a few years, but it is said that the brightest stars are the ones that burn out the quickest.

And make no mistake, the Dreamcast is one of the brightest stars there ever was.

#dreamcast #sega #sonic #phantasy star online #skies of arcadia #shenmue #jet set radio #9/9/99

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thorne93 · 7 years

Text

Who Will Win? (Part 6)

Prompt: Jefferson (Once Upon A Time) sees you on the sidewalk one day, his “dead” wife.

Word Count: 1647

Warning: Threats, language, angst, sadness, sick parent

Notes: This will span from season 1 through 5, if you don’t want spoilers, maybe don’t read this, haha. Also, the reader’s Storybrooke name is Alice. Beta’d by the amazeballs @like-a-bag-of-potatoes and badgered @amarvelouswritings Thank you both! Could never get this done without you!

Tags: @amarvelouswritings @cocosierra94 @essie1876 @magpiegirl80 @letsgetfuckingsuperwholocked @harleyquinnandscarletwitch @iamwarrenspeace @marvel-imagines-yes-please @superwholocked527 @myparadise19982sand @missinstantgratification @thejulesworld @nedthegay @marvelloushamilton

Sebastian Stan Tags: @nedthegay @lostinspace33 @alwayshave-faith @elleatrixlestrange @buenostardissherlock

Who Will Win Tags: @mrs-lancelot @elivanah @ultrarebelheart @learisa

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

That night, you couldn’t sleep. You lie awake in bed wondering if anything he said was somehow true. But how could it be? How could you have a husband and daughter and not remember them? How could he believe you were dead for over thirty years when you weren’t even thirty yourself? How is anything he said plausible?

And yet….and yet there was an air of doubt in your mind. You couldn’t just mark this down as the ravings of a mad man. There was something about him. He seemed familiar the moment you saw him on the street.

But how could it be possible? It wasn’t. There was no way a world with magic existed.

Yet...He was right about Emma Swan...She had seemed to change things. Nothing seemed...normal in this town now that you thought about it. No one had memories, time seemed to stand still, daily lives were repetitive...It’s as if everyone woke up to do the exact same thing every day, we were all waking up to the same day.

Okay, so let’s say he was telling the truth. What did it mean? Who cursed you all? Why? And why is Jefferson the only one allowed to keep his memories? Did Regina curse you all? The mayor? But why? What on Earth would be her reason to do something like that?

As much as you didn’t want to believe it, you did. In a way, it sounded nicer than this life you were living now. A curse would explain why your life seemed dull and heartbreaking. A loving, handsome husband such as Jefferson, and a sweet daughter. That sounded like a wonderful life. How could someone as sweet and kind as Jefferson be crazy anyway? How could he act sane for weeks, and then suddenly snap? You weren’t a doctor but you didn't think insanity worked that way, that you could just keep it at bay for a while and let your delusional thoughts out when you wanted.

-----------------------

After a few hours of sleep, you decided to talk to someone. You arrived at his office and knocked.

“Hello? Oh, hi there, Alice. You don’t have an appointment,” he noted.

“I know, Dr. Hopper. I just...can I come in? I have a few questions.”

He contemplated for a moment but decided to let you in. “Sure. Come in. sit.”

You came in and sat on the leather couch.

“Okay, first off, I’m not asking for me.”

“Oh, Alice, everything we say will be in confidence, I assure you.”

“No...No, that’s not what I mean. I am literally asking because...A guy I like...He’s been entirely normal, helping me with things, being sweet. We have a connection...But...then last night, he started to ramble on about magic, an enchanted forest, us being married in a past life, a curse, and...all sorts of nonsense.”

Dr. hopper frowned at you. “I’m sorry, I don’t think I’m following.”

“Well, my question is, how can he seem completely normal, and sane, and not mention any of this until now? I’ve known him for a few weeks now and he never said anything about this. Is it...is it normal for delusions to just come out of nowhere?”

He sat for a moment, thinking.

“Well, no. Not really. Someone who is delusional can’t just summon up the delusions and then lock them away at will.”

“So you’re saying what he said might be true?” you questioned.

“Not exactly. But...maybe they are in his mind. Why do you ask? If you don’t think he’s telling the truth, why would you come to me? And if you think he’s crazy, why would you come to me?”

You shook your head. “I’m not sure. I just...I want to believe him but I don’t want to feed into his delusion.”

“So don’t. Make it clear that this is reality.”

“You think he’ll accept that?” you wondered.

“He might. If he truly believes you were married at some point, he might listen to you.”

--------------------

You left Dr. Hopper’s place and decided to call Jefferson.

“Oh, Y/N, it’s so good to hear from you,” he breathed into the phone as if he’d been panicking.

“Are you okay?”

“I--I thought I would never hear from you again.”

“Me too,” you murmured. “Listen, I want to talk about this. Could we meet for lunch at Granny’s?”

“Sure. When?”

“As soon as you can.”

“I’m leaving now.”

You hung up and walked down the street to Granny’s, ready to talk this out.

You sat down and Ruby handed you two menus and you waited. It wasn't too long and Jefferson showed up in his deliciously dark attire and sat in the booth across from you.

“I am all ears. What did you want to talk about?” Jefferson asked sweetly.

You smiled gently.

“I uh...I wanted to say, I want to believe you about all this curse and magic business. And even if I want to believe, I can't just...force myself to start believing things that don't seem true to me.”

He clenched his jaw and pursed his lips. You knew this wasn’t exactly what he wanted to hear.

“So...did you bring me here to tell me you don't believe me?”

“No...I...I brought you here because despite my instinct, I have a gnawing sensation in my stomach that I can't ignore…”

He waited for you to continue.

“Look, I really, really, like you. I think we do have a connection and whether it's other worldly or just normal attraction, I want to see where it goes. I'm willing to...try and make this work if you are.”

“Y/N, that's all I want,” he said sweetly as he reached across the table to hold your hands.

“We’re going to need some ground rules. You can't call me Y/n any more.”

“But--”

“I know you think that's my name, but...if we're going to make this work, the delusions have to stop. I don't want to hear any more about curses, magic, past lives, or even a possible child we have…”

“But...those things aren't delusions. They're real to me.”

“I know...but they aren't to me.”

You two sat in silence for a moment. You didn’t want to lose the first friend and boyfriend you had in several years, and if you were going to make a relationship work, you would have to remember how compromises work.

“Here...I can do this. Don't call me Y/N, but you can tell me about our past life...even if it's not real, it might be nice to imagine something other than this…”

“Really?” he said, hopeful light illuminating his face.

“Yes. I think so long as you don't push your...other reality on me, and you simply tell me about it like a story, it will be alright.”

The thing was, as mad and insane and completely preposterous his ideas were, there was that gnawing sense in your gut that he wasn’t lying or just insane. It was all too elaborate and precise.

“So...what do we do now?” Jefferson asked.

“We continue this...path. I mean, I clearly like you romantically and you like me romantically...we could call this a date and just continue what we were doing.”

“Does that mean you'll move back in?”

You laughed. “Woah, tiger, I like you but sharing a living space as...partners might be too much too fast.”

“No...yeah, you're probably right.”

“I'm not saying I don't want to see you. But...we need to get to know each other better before we start making plans like that.”

Jefferson smiled and nodded one time. “Fair enough.”

You two shared lunch and went to the park afterwards where you walked hand in hand while you asked Jefferson how you met. He told you this adventurous tale.

“I could really do all that?” you wondered in awe as you two strolled through the park.

“Yes, you could. You were the most clever woman I ever met and the best with a sword. They say Mulan was the best warrior but she seemed to make a name for herself only after you had...well, disappeared.”

“Wow...I sound like a badass in my other life,” you said, smiling to yourself.

“You really were. I saw you take down seven armed knights of the evil queen’s.”

“And the evil queen here is Regina, right?”

“Yes.”

“Wait, so what did you do for work then? Let me guess!” you requested as you skipped along. “Hmm, perhaps a...baker? No...a Hunter? No...hmm.” You thought some more before snapping your fingers. “You were a hatter.”

“Sadly, yes. That and a thief. And it's because I'm a thief that you got...killed or whatever happened to you.”

“How?”

“I stole from the wrong person...and you were with me...you paid the price for my mistake. I stopped that life after that and went to selling mushrooms.”

You thought quietly for a moment.

“I'm so sorry you had to lose me that way.”

He gave a sad but reassuring smile. “It's quite alright. I have you now.”

“So was I a thief too?”

“Yes.”

“Why?”

“You were good at it,” he informed with a shrug

“Did I ever want to be anything...more?”

He thought for a moment, gazing down at the walkway before speaking.

“You wanted an easier life. One that we could live comfortably and honestly. You didn't like being a thief. I think you wanted to make fashion, if I do remember...”

“So why didn’t we try for that?”

“We had nothing to offer. No one wanted to pay two thieves for any jobs.”

“Oh.”

Your questions stopped for the time being on your other life, but you definitely wanted to know more about this life.

#who will win #jefferson #jefferson fic #jefferson x reader #ouat #once upon a time #ouat fic #once upon a time fic

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jrubalcaba · 7 years

Text

Precious Cargo Ch. 7 - The Valentine

Precious Cargo Chapter 7 - The Valentine

author: jrubalcaba

featuring: OFC Guinevere “Gwen” Adams x Bucky Barnes

word count: 1839 words

rating: PG

warnings: talk of anaphylaxis, hospitals, drunken kissing

A/N: Okie dokie. This is a major chapter. I don’t want to say much so I don’t give anything away. As always, @avenger-nerd-mom gets a huge thanks for beta-ing this for me!

“Time to wake up sleepy head,” a far too cheerful voice whispered in my ear. I opened my eyes and saw Bucky laying next to me in bed. He was smiling so wide it made my face hurt. He knows I’m not a morning person, and that if I’m woken up too early, I’m to be approached like an angry tiger. I rolled over and checked the time before turning back to him.

“Is there any particular reason why my slumber has been disturbed before 6 a.m.?” I growled at him, letting my irritation with him sink into my very bones. He sat up and bounced, literally BOUNCED, on the bed a few times before he explained his good mood.

“Well, it would appear to be both your birthday AND Valentine’s Day. The kids and I can’t wait to spoil you rotten today!” He was almost shaking with how excited he was. There was a small kink in his plan though.

“Uh, no. My birthday isn’t for another seven months. And I hate Valentine’s Day. I never have anyone to celebrate it with. Now, let me go back to sleep.” I grabbed his pillow and pulled it over my head and rolled onto my stomach. I felt the bed move and the pillow disappear before I felt him press against my back and his lips were at my ear.

“It’s your birthday, Elizabeth. We’re going to celebrate it today because the kids will be very upset if you don’t eat the birthday and valentine cake they made you,” Bucky insisted. I rolled over, which was hard to do when you have a super soldier smushing you into the bed, and looked up at him skeptically. “What if I told you that I bought alcohol for tonight after the kids go to sleep? Would that make it any better?”

Oh god. Alcohol, no brain-to-mouth filter, and a raging hard-on for Bucky? No thank you.

I shook my head at him and was about to tell him where to stick the booze when he spoke again. “You won’t lift a finger today. We’re going to wait on you hand and foot. Today is all about you. Please?”

The offer was very tempting, and it would kill me to disappoint the kids. I must have been taking too long to make a decision, because the next thing I knew, Bucky was giving me that look. Now I understand why he was such a ladies’ man back in the day. That face was killing me. “Puppy dog eyes? Are you kidding me right now? Ok fine. I expect to be pampered like its going out of style, Sebastian,” I teased, giving in. He jumped off the bed, punching the air.

“Oh babe. I promise you, you’re going to have the best day ever!”

Worst. Day. Ever. I collapsed onto the bed, letting my purse fall to the floor at my feet. I could hear Elliott talking to Bucky out in the hall. I turned and saw them enter the room and approach the bed. They looked so sad after the day’s events, but it wasn’t their fault it all went to hell today.

“Sorry you had to go to the hopsical, Miss Ellie. We didn’t mean to make you sick,” Elliott apologized. Zoey nodded along with him, holding her stuffed bunny out to me. “Zoey wants you to sleep with Bun-Bun so you can feel better.” I smiled at them, sitting up so I could talk to them better.

“It’s ok you guys. Thanks for letting me sleep with Bun-Bun, but I think he should sleep with you, Zoey. I’m going to lay down for a little bit. Its past your bedtime, so Bucky is going to put you in bed ok? Good night and I’ll see you in the morning.” Elliott and Zoey hugged me then left and headed to their rooms to get their pajamas on. Bucky kissed the top of my head before leaving to put the kids in bed. I flopped back down and shut my eyes, thinking about what a disaster this day has been.

The day started off decently. The kids brought me breakfast in bed, cooked by Bucky. Eggs, bacon, perfectly toasted toast with butter and jelly, and a glass of milk. I ate everything, which was surprising, because Bucky’s food isn’t normally all that edible. Then we all sat and watched movies all morning long. Lunch time came and it was pizza, followed by a Valentine’s cake. That’s when the day went bad. Elliott told Bucky to feed me the cake, but my eyes needed to be closed because the cake had a surprise in it, and I had to guess what it was. So, I obliged the kids their wish and closed my eyes and opened my mouth so Bucky could feed me. I couldn’t smell it, but there was something that I couldn’t place. He had fed me a few more bites before I finally got a taste of the surprise. My eyes had popped open so fast it startled Bucky. I had asked what was in the cake and he told me it was a cherry flavored cake with strawberry pieces mixed in. My jaw had dropped open in shock and my heart skipped a few beats.

Strawberry. The one thing that I’m allergic to. Everything seemed to zoom by from that point on. It had taken Bucky a few seconds to understand why I was starting to swell up, but when it hit him, he flew into action. He carried me to the car and strapped me in, then got the kids buckled in. The car ride to the hospital was tense, what with Bucky going from being calm for the kids to being irritated with me for not having my Epi-Pen to being contrite for yelling at me. He screeched to a stop outside the hospital entrance and all but teleported inside before returning with a nurse and wheelchair. The nurse helped me into the chair while he got the kids out. He stayed with them while I was admitted and assessed. We had a SHIELD physician there, so they were aware of our cover. They apparently kicked him out, so he took the little ones out for dinner. By the time the three of them returned, I was released and ready to go home.

Bucky must have walked back into the room, because I heard a clinking sound and something being placed on the side table and felt the bed dip as he laid down next to me. I looked over at him and sighed. “You feeling ok babe?” he inquired. He’s taken to calling me babe the past few weeks and I’ve grown so used to it that it makes me smile. I nodded at him, rolling onto my side so I could see him better. He reached out and brushed some hair behind my ear, his metal hand caressing my cheek in such a tender fashion I almost melted. “I’m glad you’re ok. I was so worried about you earlier.” Bucky looked so guilty and was blaming himself for everything.

“Bucky it’s ok. It was an accident, accidents happen. You can’t change that it happened, but what you can do, is get me a glass of whatever alcohol you bought, so I can try to salvage the night,” I suggested. He looked down at me and grinned, rolling over to grab the bottle and glasses off the table. “You brought me vodka and Pepsi? How on earth did I get so lucky?” I was astonished that he knew my go-to drink at the bar. We’ve never had a drink together, so I had a feeling that Wanda must have tipped him off. He filled our glasses then handed me mine and held his up.

“Happy Valentine’s day babe. Here’s to next year’s being a lot better,” Bucky toasted. I clinked my drink with his and downed it. “Whoa. Easy babe. Don’t wanna get sick do you?” he chastised me. After a day like today, I needed a good buzz, and I know my limits. Three of these and I’m good. I got up and made myself another before returning to the bed.

“Don’t worry about me, I’ve got this,” I assured him. He looked at me skeptically but didn’t push the issue. I drained half of my drink before I asked him the question that I’ve been dying to ask him all night. “Bucky, why were you so upset at the hospital?” He choked on his drink, so I waited until he was ok before I continued. “The nurses told me that you were getting rude with them and that they had to throw you out. Is that true?” I asked him. He took a long drink from his glass before turning to me.

“I was upset because they wouldn’t let back to see you. I was worried sick about you and even though I was just your teammate to them, you mean a lot to me and -” Bucky stopped suddenly, his mouth agape.

It took a while for my brain to catch up with what he had said. I mean a lot to him? He polished off his drink and got up to make himself another. “Would you like a refill?” he offered, reaching for my glass. I emptied it before handing it to him and watched while he made us new drinks. He brought our drinks back and sat back down on the bed. I raised an eyebrow at him, letting him know that I was waiting for him to finish his answer. “I’ve had feelings for you since we met.” I drank for a little bit while I took in his confession. “You’re such an amazing person and you’ve always treated me like a normal person, and not a monster. I understand if you don’t feel the same way but I wanted you to kn-” Bucky couldn’t finish his sentence because I was too busy kissing him. To hear that he felt the same way that I did was the best feeling ever. I threw my arms around his neck while his arms went around me, pulling me onto his lap. I pulled back to look at him and to answer his silent question.

“I have feelings for you too.” I looked him in the eyes for a moment before he smiled and began kissing me again. Bucky rolled us over so I was on my back and he was hovering over me. His metal hand went up my shirt while I fisted my hands in his hair. I guess he was feeling over dressed because he sat back on his heels and pulled his shirt over his head, then reached down and grabbed the hem of mine and pulled it over my head. Everything was a blur after that because the next thing I knew, it was morning.

Chapter 8

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#precious cargo #bucky x ofc #Bucky Barnes #jrubalcaba #gwen adams

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ralphspina-blog1 · 7 years

Text

Beatles songs for Band of Brothers characters

AND HERE IS PART THREE OF MY TOTALLY UNPLANNED BUT AWESOME (i hope) HBO WAR PLAYLIST TRILOGY! It’s going behind a read more because it’s insanely long, and I do apologise to anyone who doesn’t have their fav on here, but the cast size and the discography scope could’ve combined to have me doing this forever. I had to throw down some limits. Thank you for coming on this wild ride with me! Or if you’ve just tuned in, welcome, and I hope you enjoy <3

Dick Winters: Hey Jude // And anytime you feel the pain, hey Jude, refrain / Don't carry the world upon your shoulders / For well you know that it's a fool who plays it cool / By making his world a little colder / So let it out and let it in, hey Jude, begin / You're waiting for someone to perform with / And don't you know that it's just you? / Hey Jude, you'll do / The movement you need is on your shoulder

Lewis Nixon: Baby, You’re a Rich Man // How does it feel to be one of the beautiful people? / Now that you know who you are, what do you want to be? / And have you traveled very far? / Far as the eye can see / Tuned to a natural E / Happy to be that way / Now that you've found another key, what are you going to play?

Harry Welsh: All My Loving // Close your eyes and I'll kiss you / Tomorrow I'll miss you / Remember I'll always be true / And then while I'm away, I'll write home every day / And I'll send all my loving to you / I'll pretend that I'm kissing the lips I am missing / And hope that my dreams will come true / And then while I'm away, I'll write home every day / And I'll send all my loving to you

Ron Speirs: The Continuing Story of Bungalow Bill // He went out tiger hunting with his elephant and gun / In case of accidents, he always took his mom / He's the all American bullet-headed saxon mother's son / Deep in the jungle where the mighty tiger lies / Bill and his elephants were taken by surprise / So Captain Marvel zapped in right between the eyes / The children asked him if to kill was not a sin / Not when he looked so fierce, his mother butted in / If looks could kill it would have been us instead of him

Carwood Lipton: While My Guitar Gently Weeps // I look at the world and I notice it's turning / While my guitar gently weeps / With every mistake, we must surely be learning / Still my guitar gently weeps / I don't know how nobody told you how to unfold your love / I don't know how someone controlled you / They bought and sold you / I look at you all / I see the love there that's sleeping / While my guitar gently weeps

Donald Malarkey: With a Little Help From My Friends // What do I do when my love is away / (Does it worry you to be alone?) / How do I feel by the end of the day / (Are you sad because you're on your own?) / Would you believe in a love at first sight? / Yes, I'm certain that it happens all the time / What do you see when you turn out the light? / I can't tell you, but I know it's mine / I’ll get by with a little help from my friends

Bill Guarnere: Getting Better // Me used to be angry young man / Me hiding me head in the sand / You gave me the word, I finally heard / I'm doing the best that I can / Man, I was mean, but I'm changing my scene / And I'm doing the best that I can / I've got to admit, it's getting better / A little better all the time/ Can’t get no worse

George Luz: Sgt Pepper’s Lonely Hearts Club Band // It was twenty years ago today / Sgt. Pepper taught the band to play / They've been going in and out of style / But they're guaranteed to raise a smile / So may I introduce to you / The act you've known for all these years / Sgt. Pepper's Lonely Hearts Club Band / It's wonderful to be here / It's certainly a thrill / You're such a lovely audience / We'd like to take you home with us / We'd love to take you home

Joe Liebgott: Hey Bulldog // Some kind of happiness is measured out in miles / What makes you think you're something special when you smile? / Childlike, no one understands / Jackknife in your sweaty hands / Some kind of innocence is measured out in years / You don't know what it's like to listen to your fears / Some kind of solitude is measured out in you / You think you know me, but you haven't got a clue

Buck Compton: Yesterday // Yesterday all my troubles seemed so far away / Now it looks as though they're here to stay / Oh, I believe in yesterday / Suddenly I'm not half the man I used to be / There's a shadow hanging over me / Oh, yesterday came suddenly / Yesterday love was such an easy game to play / Now I need a place to hide away

Skip Muck & Alex Penkala: Two of us // Two of us riding nowhere / Spending someone's hard earned pay / Two of us Sunday driving / Not arriving / On our way back home / Two of us sending postcards / Writing letters on my wall / You and me burning matches / Lifting latches / On our way back home / You and I have memories longer than the road that stretches out ahead

Eugene Roe: Dear Prudence // Dear Prudence, open up your eyes / Dear Prudence, see the sunny skies / The wind is low, the birds will sing that you are part of everything / Dear Prudence, won't you open up your eyes? / Dear Prudence, let me see you smile / Dear Prudence, like a little child / The clouds will be a daisy chain / So let me see you smile again

Babe Heffron: Help! // When I was younger, so much younger than today / I never needed anybody's help in any way / But now these days are gone, and I'm not so self assured / And now I find I've changed my mind, I've opened up the doors / And now my life has changed in oh so many ways / My independence seems to vanish in the haze / But ev'ry now and then I feel so insecure / I know that I just need you like I've never done before

Joe Toye: Helter Skelter // When I get to the bottom I go back to the top of the slide / Where I stop and I turn and I go for a ride / ‘Til I get to the bottom and I see you again / Do you, don't you want me to love you? / I'm coming down fast but I'm miles above you / Will you, won't you want me to make you? / I'm coming down fast but don't let me break you / Tell me, tell me / Tell me the answer / You may be a lover but you ain't no dancer

Frank Perconte: Old Brown Shoe // If I grow up I'll be a singer / Wearing rings on every finger/ Not worrying what they or you say / I'll live and love and maybe someday / Who knows, baby, you may comfort me / I may appear to be imperfect / My love is something you can't reject / I'm changing faster than the weather / If you and me should get together / Who knows, baby, you may comfort me

Floyd Talbert: One after 909 // My baby said she's trav'ling on the one after 909 / I said move over honey I'm traveling on that line / I said move over once, move over twice / Come on baby don't be cold as ice / Said she's trav'ling on the one after 909 / I got my bag, run to the station / Railman says you've got the the wrong location / I got my bag, run right home / Then I find I've got the number wrong

Charles Grant: Any Time At All // If you're feeling sorry and sad, I'd really sympathize / If the sun has faded away, I'll try to make it shine / There's nothing I won't do / If you need a shoulder to cry on, I hope it will be mine / Call me tonight, and I'll come to you / Any time at all, all you've gotta do is call and I'll be there

Bull Randleman: Fixing a Hole // I'm fixing a hole where the rain gets in / And stops my mind from wandering / Where it will go / I'm filling the cracks that ran through the door / And kept my mind from wandering / Where it will go / And it really doesn't matter if I'm wrong / I'm right where I belong I'm right / Where I belong / I'm taking the time for a number of things that weren't important yesterday

Johnny Martin: Good Morning, Good Morning // Going to work, don't want to go, feeling low down / Heading for home, you start to roam, then you're in town / Everybody knows there's nothing doing / Everything is closed, it's like a ruin / Everyone you see is half asleep / And you're on your own, you're in the street / Good morning, good morning / Nothing has changed, it's still the same / I've got nothing to say but it's okay / Good morning, good morning

David Webster: We Can Work it Out // Think of what you're saying / You can get it wrong and still you think that it's alright / Think of what I'm saying / We can work it out and get it straight, or say good night / Try to see it my way / Only time will tell if I am right or I am wrong / While you see it your way / There's a chance that we may fall apart before too long / We can work it out

Shifty Powers: All You Need is Love // There’s nothing you can make that can't be made / No one you can save that can't be saved / Nothing you can do, but you can learn how to be you in time / It's easy / Nothing you can know that isn't known / Nothing you can see that isn't shown / Nowhere you can be that isn't where you're meant to be / It's easy/ All you need is love

Skinny Sisk: Boys // I been told when a boy kiss a girl / Take a trip around the world / My girl says when I kiss her lips / Gets a thrill through her fingertips / Yeah, she say ya do / Well, I’m talking about boys / Don’t you know I mean boys / What a bundle of joy!

Renee Lemaire: Eleanor Rigby // Eleanor Rigby died in the church and was buried along with her name / Nobody came / Father McKenzie, wiping the dirt from his hands as he walks from the grave / No one was saved / All the lonely people / Where do they all come from? / All the lonely people / Where do they all belong?

Ralph Spina: When I’m Sixty-Four // I could be handy, mending a fuse when your lights have gone / You can knit a sweater by the fireside / Sunday mornings, go for a ride / Doing the garden, digging the weeds / Who could ask for more / Will you still need me, will you still feed me when I'm sixty-four?

Albert Blithe: Blackbird // Blackbird singing in the dead of night / Take these broken wings and learn to fly / All your life / You were only waiting for this moment to arise / Blackbird singing in the dead of night / Take these sunken eyes and learn to see / All your life / You were only waiting for this moment to be free / Blackbird fly, blackbird fly / Into the light of the dark black night

John Janovec: A Day In the Life // I read the news today, oh boy / About a lucky man who made the grade / And though the news was rather sad / Well, I just had to laugh / I saw the photograph / I saw a film today, oh boy / The English army had just won the war / A crowd of people turned away / But I just had to look, having read the book

Herbert Sobel: I’m Looking Through You // I'm looking through you, where did you go? / I thought I knew you / What did I know? / You don't look different, but you have changed / I'm looking through you / You're not the same / You're thinking of me the same old way / You were above me, but not today / The only difference is you're down there / I'm looking through you, and you’re nowhere

Norman Dike: Nowhere Man // He’s a real nowhere man / Living in his nowhere land / Making all his nowhere plans for nobody / Doesn’t have a point of view / Knows not where he’s going to / Isn’t he a bit like you and me? / Nowhere Man, don’t worry / Take your time, don’t hurry / Leave it all ‘til somebody else lends you a hand

#band of brothers #fandom playlists #THIS BEAST #it is complete #music recs

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