#and the fact that it chooses to close the story proper through the perspective that would most bring that to the fore….

[prettyboysdontlookatexplosions]

something about the way that killing vamped-up lucy is a full on Boys Adventure that seward recounts from being in it and of course impressed by van helsing’s command and also one of the most violent & gross scenes in the book, and then for the death of dracula - the big bad! the titular role! - we spend the scene with mina, watching with the old man from a distance through the snow… idk what to make of it exactly but it feels like it says something ultimately about what kind of book this is. and of course i love that mina is the one who gets to bring the story home - and the cleverness of the fact that we know they win the second we realize with relief she’s writing again, which must mean she’s been restored to herself.

#dracula daily #thinkin bout mina and her ‘man’s brain & woman’s heart’ #& that bram quote i can’t find rn where he’s like ‘will the world ever believe a man can have the heart of a woman’ #idk the book is violent & gory & scary but also in many ways it is startlingly soft and gentle #there’s a real fundamental sweetness at its core #and the fact that it chooses to close the story proper through the perspective that would most bring that to the fore…. #like in some ways it almost feels like it ‘should’ be jonathan right? #jonathan brought us into this world; jonathan takes dracula out as his final revenge for his half year of hell #but he’s not the one who sees the story to its end; it’s mina who watched it all go down #mina who after everything finds relief in glimpsing an instant of piece on the monster’s face…. #idk!!! in its final pages this novel has once again found a way to genuinely surprise me

[daipeanutsaiban]

Hii is it okay if I ask you about what you think everyone's relationships are like for a fanfic I'm planning to write? Like, since you're a multishipper, what do you think caused Genshin to report Klint to Stronghart before confronting him? Why do you think Lady B was alone, far away, during her hour of need? What do you think of their characters in general (you mentioned you like Klint having parallels to Kazuma, do you have any more ideas?) or who they are like/who they contrast? What role does your version of Mycroft play in this story? I'm sorry I'm just so curious to know everything- sorry if this is weird or creepy and promise I'm not trying to idea steal for my fanfic, I have a lot of ideas of my own I just wanna get other people's perspectives!!

hi, not weird at all! i'm happy you're asking me!!

when it comes to genshin, i feel like that hinges on how you choose to characterize him since there is little that we do know. genshin came to great britain as a visiting student to learn about their police and judicial system. as a guest in a foreign country, it's not unsurprising he would choose to defer to stronghart's authority on the matter (of course, this is before he learns about stronghart's direct involvement). on the other hand, we know that klint and genshin were friends- close enough that klint knew he couldn't lie his way out when confronted by genshin (due to genshin's skill as a detective, or affection, or both. and by this point...klint wanted to be stopped). if genshin was aware of this, it wouldn't be unreasonable to think that a part of him wished to avoid coming to terms with the fact that he'd be ruining a lot of people's lives by exposing the truth (in a fun parallel to ryuunosuke), such as lady baskerville's. following that train of thought leads me to believe that he was close enough with her, or at least well-acquainted through his friendship with klint and barok that he weighed the decision to report klint with serious consideration. it's implied by his conversation with yuujin in the prison that genshin is the one who relocated her to the house where she gave birth in, so i can't help but believe he prioritized her and by extension her child's safety as he is a father himself. (and therefore was disappointed and angry at klint for jeopardizing their well-being with his actions.......which he ended up doing as well in a deliciously ironic night of bad decisions. lmao)

i have MANY questions about lady b (what did they do with the body after iris was born?? did holmes take care of that? it's not like they could report it to the authorities, that would defeat the whole purpose of being low-key...like did they make a deal with lowgate cemetery or some med students ...again😭). honestly, in answer to your question, i was surprised that she was completely by herself with zero staff but that does speak to the gravity of the situation so i understand the logic. however, and this might be an unpopular opinion/hc, that leads me to think that she believed her own family to be untrustworthy to look after her and iris. it's my headcanon that klint and barok's parents passed away when klint was around 14 (paralleling with kazuma losing his father, and then his mother the following year), so she would not have had any relatives on the van zieks side either to entrust her child to. i really wonder what her (and maybe by extension genshin's) plan would have been, had klint been executed following a proper trial. (i have some ideas, but that's for a later comic..)

regarding klint and kazuma, i fully believe that they are meant to be narrative parallels with the additional irony of ryuunosuke being more similar to genshin than his own son, because just like klint, kazuma has been "corrupted" in his pursuit of justice- until his friend makes him see clearly again (which is perhaps one of, if not my favorite moment in the entire game. i love ryuunosuke so much waugh). hm, they're also both older siblings now that i think about it haha. i wouldn't say i have many hcs adding to their similarities though, canon already does a good job at it so i don't have to say anything LOL. although in an everybody lives; no one dies modern AU setting i'm absolutely convinced that kazuma would consider klint to be the most annoying person on the planet, but that's because i love when things are funny lmao.

finally, thanks for asking about mycroft! he's not relevant to the main plot of the games, because i like to keep my fan characters as canon-compliant as possible- and since he and sherlock are both people of extremes, it's believable for iris to not even be aware that she has another uncle outside of barok, at least during the game timeline. mycroft has a low threshold for social interaction on a daily basis, and with his younger brother being a "world-famous great detective", he's asked sherlock to not talk about him. (mycroft does know about iris's existence, and might have met her once as a baby.) as for what role mycroft plays, he's a huge influence on sherlock and pushed him to pursue his ambitions in establishing himself as a detective, even if he questions sherlock's approach sometimes lol. while mycroft, like in ACD canon, would be considered "more apt" at deduction, sherlock has more social aptitude and mycroft actually considers his younger brother to be the better detective since he's hurt a lot of feelings in the past. he's the kind of person who looks like he doesn't care, but actually cares a lot. he's also arrogant but hates attention because i love characters who are a walking paradox.

as you might have seen in a previous post, i decided to have him and klint be childhood acquaintances (and later on, friends). keeping in line with my hc of the van zieks losing their parents very young and klint becoming a Lord way too early, having contact with people who aren't nobles like the holmes family from a young age helps to ensure that he stays more open-minded than his fellow lords who are likely all at different stages of corruption, and the same goes for lady baskerville. mycroft and klint are both older brothers, too, so there's something to start relating to each other with in spite of their very different personalities (their first impression of each other was not very good to say the least haha). the doodles in the post i linked are actually concept drawings to figure out everyone's dynamics because i really want to make a fan game where all the kids have one day to solve a mystery. it's extremely self-indulgent and might never get made but working on that project is super fun 🥰

there was a lot to cover for this question and i feel like i've barely scratched the surface since i could talk about dgs for hours but this post is probably super long already LOL. if you or anyone else wants to ask more specific questions on this or literally anything else please go for it!! and of course, best of luck to you with your fanfiction 🙏🐰💖

#the great ace attorney #dgs spoilers #tgaa spoilers #replies #anonymous #i phrased my answer about kazuma and klint weirdly- they ARE narrative parallels. shu takumi put on his manicure to type those lines

[miloscat]

[Review] Sin and Punishment: Successor of the Skies (Wii)

A cool and hip sequel.

With my TV setup all repaired, it was time to revisit this mini-series of Treasure rail shooters. Released nine years and two console generations after the first game, the visual and technical prowess on display have had a huge boost and there's more control options, but the plot doesn't make any more sense!

The year: irrelevant. In fact the only link back to the original seems to be that the star is Isa, the son of Airon and Saki, who can also transform into a kaiju thanks to the cursed blood inherited from his father. Since I have a proper translated manual this time I was able to get some background... oh wait, nothing in the story blurb really comes up in the game... in fact, I would say it just raises further questions! The plot of the game itself starts in medias res and never really slows down to explain what's going on. Suffice it to say you play as a pair of anime tween supersoldiers who are on the run from various interdimensional factions of superpowered biomonsters and have to blast everything in sight. That's all you really need to know.

Accompanying Isa is Kachi, a defected alien double agent hard light hologram in human form... or something. You can choose to play as either of them; Kachi has a sort of auto-lock on aim assist and a multi-lock charge shot, while Isa has an explosive charge shot. I opted for Kachi and had a grand time on Easy mode, finding it plenty challenging enough (very nice to have the option!). You spend the entire time in Japan but with sci-fi trappings, fighting through ruined cities, deserts, underwater tunnels, a yokai dreamscape, a militarised volcanic Mt Fuji, and finally a cosmic boss rush where each boss gets new forms.

Much like the first game, it's a genre-hybrid rail shooter/gallery shooter/platformer, only the platforming is much reduced. You can still technically run along the ground but the pathetic jump might as well not exist, and both characters can at any time float anywhere on screen (Isa has a back-mounted hover sphere, Kachi a hoverboard), and their mobility is further augmented by a dodge move. Staying on the ground does get you a point bonus for whatever that's worth; the game is always prompting you to upload your scores to the now-defunct online leaderboards. But despite allowing for hardcore score-chasing and high-difficulty challenges I like that it remains accessible: there's still a stage select, and lives have been abolished as you can now freely retry from checkpoints at the cost of a score reset.

The stages are always full of action, the 16:9 widescreen display flooded with enemies to blast at, your multiplier filling up as you prioritise between chunkier mechs, vehicles, or creatures or the floods of creatures and soldiers, in every moment deciding between rapid fire, charging your lock on, or the melee attack for up-close big damage or reflecting projectiles. I rarely felt overwhelmed though as the action is communicated and paced well, and the game's solid and consistent 60fps framerate both helps keep things clear and is impressive on a technical level. Each level is long, with multiple miniboss fight setpieces strung through them with the shifting perspective keeping things fresh. If there's one criticism I have it's the occasional use of bullet hell-like patterns during boss fights because in these moments where it's most important, I wasn't clear on what my character's precise hitbox was. But the melee attack and dodge can help to get you through these waves of projectiles so you don't have to be a total movement wizard.

Multiple control schemes are on offer: the Wii pointer style works well for a shooter like this and all the functions are bound sensibly. I preferred using this for the level of control you have over your cursor, although it's hard on the wrist in long sessions. When my cat happened to be sleeping on my lap and I couldn't use cushions to help prop up my pointer hand, I switched over to Classic Controller mode which worked fine too. It's certainly a more straightforward scheme than the N64 controls of the first game even despite having new functions, thanks to dual-analogue being the new standard.

I'm very pleased with how much this game built on the foundation of its predecessor. The brief seems to have been to constantly have something cool happening, and it certainly succeeds at that. The battles that you get in the middle of make the world feel alive and dangerous, and the shapeshifting boss characters give a nice sci-fi feel. The character models don't have the distinctive pinched marionette look of the first game; rather, there's an attempt at realism mixed with large anime eyes and prepubescent proportions for the protagonists that I don't think works as well, despite the upgrade to voice acting and mocap. Still, it's a brilliant sequel in most ways, an exciting action thrill ride with good options and an amusingly careless approach to coherent story.

#sin and punishment #sin and punishment successor of the skies #sin and punishment star successor #treasure #wii #review

[rmkenvs3000w23]

Unit 6: The Importance of History

“There is no peculiar merit in ancient things, but there is merit in integrity, and integrity entails the keeping together of the parts of any whole, and if these parts are scattered throughout time, then the maintenance of integrity entails a knowledge, a memory, of ancient things. …. To think, feel or act as though the past is done with, is equivalent to believing that a railway station through which our train has just passed, only existed for as long as our train was in it.”

I don’t think the importance of learning from and understanding history can be overstated. Possibly because I find history genuinely interesting, possibly because I know the old cliche about those who fail to learn from it, I find that learning about history, either in broad strokes or in specifics, can be a very informative and enlightening, but also humbling experience. A knowledge of history can at once demonstrate humanity’s greatest triumphs as well as our darkest moments, and offers us important insight as we look to the future. 

In this excerpt, Hyams raises an important point about the nature and purpose of the modern study of history - to reveal the truth of events as they happened, from a minimally biased perspective, with proper context for both the contributing factors and runoff effects, so that we can understand the story of history as completely as possible. This is the meaning I am taking from Hyams’ allusion to integrity. He ascribes merit not to individual objects - cups, bowls, bits of cloth, scraps of paper - but to the power they hold as pieces of the truth, pieces of that story. As referenced in the Beck text, and in similar fashion to a Starfleet officer, the first duty of any natural interpreter is to the truth. Maintaining the integrity of the true story of what happened, to the best of our abilities, is vital not only to educating ourselves on the past for its own sake, but also preparing ourselves for the present and the future. 

Of course, the quote makes clear that just because something is old doesn’t necessarily make it valuable, but when seen through this lens, it very much does. The very fact that we are able to look at an artifact, be it 70 or 70 000 years old, represents innumerable coincidences, choices, and conscious efforts that resulted in the object, you, and the two of you coming together. When considering natural history specifically, the implications of that happenstance are increased exponentially, and the accuracy of Hyams’ sentiment is underscored. Our connection to history through the sharing of objects, stories, and experiences is an essential part of the human experience, and allows us perspectives which would otherwise be lost to us. 

The second half of the quote helps to demonstrate a key point in what a lack of understanding of history. It also brings to mind imagery of a part of one of the darkest periods in human history, and one I have a connection to. As the Beck et al. text references, the efforts made to ensure the events of the Holocaust are never repeated and never forgotten. An entire branch of my father’s family was exterminated in concentration camps because they happened to be Jewish. Many like them were packed onto rail cars, as many as could possibly fit, and sent to their deaths. Never forget is what they’ve been saying ever since, but since the Shoah, there have been several genocides across the globe resulting in the deaths of millions more, and an even more recent rise in antisemitism. It is our duty as interpreters and as stewards of the planet in the coming years to be conscious of the past so as we attempt to navigate the future.  I’m choosing to close off with an excerpt from Carl Sagan’s Pale Blue Dot. I first watched this video when I was probably 12 or 13, and it has informed much of my outlook ever since. I highly encourage you to give it a listen if you’re feeling particularly existential, and consider this dot, our home, the setting of every moment in our history.

[allandoflimbo]

Ashens (Part 18)

Summary: She falls in love with Bucky Barnes from the moment she sees him. Bucky, still in love with a woman from his past, hates Y/N and plans to make her life miserable. To both their dismay, they are assigned together to go undercover into The Capitol for six months. There, they develop a heartbreaking friend with benefits agreement. Dystopian. Pairing: Bucky x Reader

Chapter Word Count: 17,000 (I’M SO SORRY) the first half of this story is flashback. The second half is the present.

Chapter Warning: Sex, twice. Sad Sex. Filthy sex. SMUT. VERY strong Language. Bucky and Reader will be very toxic in this chapter. It might be triggering if you’ve ever been in an emotionally abusive relationship. 

Rating: M for Mature, E for explicit. Enemies to lovers trope, sharing a bed trope, friends with benefits trope, temporarily unrequited love, heavy and angry sex, heavy on the angst, and very strong language.

Full Masterpage |

There’s an imminent smell of old wood garnish and pumpkin spice escaping a bright orange glow that flickered in the background.

The odor was extremely strong, trickling through the thick and heavy air of the twelve by twelve room. There was a draft coming in through the window and it continued to help push the flame directly towards the center of the room- the scent marking anything in its direct path with a faint reminder of the close arrival of winter.  

Though the glow of a candle was soothing, to many it was anything but pleasant; scented candles were a new thing and it was said to be something for the upcoming future generation. 

The idea behind it was that it carried an artificial smell that held a memory you could carry along with you wherever you went. Its point was to remind you of where you were or what you wanted to be feeling, come the fitting setting. This specific pumpkin candle was to remind us all that it was a season of festivity and gathering, and much-needed warmth. The other obvious reason being that pumpkin was delicious. 

If you weren’t eating it,  you might as well be smelling it.

To most people, it made no sense. Why would you want to smell something so delicious and not be able to physically consume it? It was a pleasant odor coming from an artificial chemical, completely contrary to what is expected. Put simply, it was an empty promise.

One more strong whiff of pumpkin, mixed together with the cozy sound of a crackle of fire, he blinks and Bucky is brought out of his daze. He’s now entirely environmentally aware of his surroundings and sounds coming from additional places come into his perspective. 

Within a moment’s relapse, he chooses again to regain focus on the other specific sounds aside from the antagonizing fake fire, gazing his eyes over the pleasant words in front of him.

To his dismay, they don’t sink in. He is distracted by the harsh rain pellets and the distant undeviating sound of a honking Durant. Unlike the candle, those sounds didn’t stand out to him as empty promises, but instead as a reminder of the harsh reality of the outside world. 

His strong and confident fingers appeared to skim the yellow worn-out pages of his book on their own accord; his eyes still looking, but not necessarily seeing. Looking closer, with shoulders painfully slumped, he squinted his blue eyes. The words blurred into one and he began blinking desperately and shifting in his seat. He tried to regain his proper vision, not enjoying the sensation of not knowing or seeing what he was trying oh so hard to understand. 

His right thumb gave a slight unconfident tremble as he tried to pick up the next page. After a couple of failed attempts, the paper not obeying (most likely due to his careless attempt- it’s not like he was actually reading it),  he sighs in aggravation. 

He closes his copy of This Side of Paradise harshly between his hands, bringing it to his face. He bounces his right leg uncontrollably up and down as he tapped his pointer finger on the cover of the worn-out novel, resting one elbow on each knee.

It was a nervous tick he picked up somewhere along the way. 

The walls of the study room seemed to want to envelope him warmly, as if trying too hard to show comfort and security. There was an eeriness that made him constantly tremble and not feel comfortable at all. Maybe it was the hideous wallpaper, or maybe it was that disgusting odor of varnish from the freshly repainted wooden chair that he smelled when he first came in and could not stop thinking about. 

There was no longer a sound of a honking Durant, and the rain seemed to dim down drastically as he continued to look into the distance. He wondered if it was the December air leaking through the slightly ajar window that made the tightness in his chest grow cold and frigid.

Aggravated, he placed the book down next to him on the side table, avoiding the waiting and apprehensive eyes staring at him. They had been staring at him for what felt like hours but had been only mere minutes. 

He knew he was a strong young man, he'd always tried to be because that's how he was raised back in his little home town of Shelbyville, Indiana. And if asked about it, he would speak of it with great confidence.

When his mother passed away, his father had been the one to make sure to teach him that nothing like her death would be strong enough to tear him down. That instead, it would, and should, be a motivation for him to be a better person each and every time. He would need to transfer that hurt and despair into physical action. 

But clearly, it had to come with a price and tremendous hard work. Things like that, non material things like emotional determination, could not be bought. If you wanted to be great, you had to work to be great. If you wanted to be strong, you'd have to work for it. He’d have to push through all the heartache and pain to reach that level of excellence that he knew his father wanted to see in him.

That is that natural characteristic they’re born with: soldiers.

It was well known, Bucky Barnes was a military brat. His father was always well respected at Camp Lehigh. They'd say back at camp that he was much like his father: loyal, headstrong, patriotic, and obtained strong morals. It was practically in his blood to be a fighter. A fighter for the good in people, the kind, and the innocent. It was his duty, and when he'd grow up to put his own two feet in combat boots himself, he would be prepared to take on any mission he was told. He would be more than capable of doing so. 

They all promised him this and he himself grew up believing it. 

But this, this of all things, was not something he was prepared for.

Because he's realized -at this exact moment- that his entire life he has lost almost everything and gained absolutely nothing in return. He'd put himself out there so many times to try and do the better good, from giving his last twenty five cents (that he initially wanted to use to buy flowers for the new pretty girl he met) to the little boy he saw walking down Broadway with no shoes.

He excelled in every class he'd ever taken because he knew it was good for him because it would make his father proud.

The shadow that belonged to the eyes and voice from earlier sat down in front of him behind a large desk that had a plaque. 

It read ‘Director' in golden ink that had begun to fade from years of scratching and unkindly picking by kids that faced much less traumatic sentences than this.

Bucky's eyes lifted for the first time in what felt like a long time. He could feel the strain on his heavy eyelids as he did so. He regretted it the moment he looked up, because that's when reality seemed to have punched him directly in the gut. His eyes swelled and he blinked away quickly, not letting emotion get the best of his masculinity. 

He'd refused to let a tear out.

But the look of pity on the man's face is what did it for him, it made him want to completely fall apart. He didn't like being looked at that way. He didn't like being the victim, the way it felt. He hated it with a passion. He wanted to run out of there and hide himself away for at least one small moment and cry. 

"I'm so sorry." 

That was the response he exactly did not want to hear. Bucky let out a shaky breath and ran a hand through his short hair as the words rang in his ears like ticking bombs. Again, he didn't like the pity. 

He tried to deny it and shake his head back and forth to himself but all that did was drive tears to trickle out of his blue eyes. 

He knew this would pass with time, but being weak was not the reaction he needed to put on display. He was a soldier for heaven’s sake. No matter how destroyed his life seemed to be getting, he couldn't let it show.

Bucky cleared his throat, making sure his voice would sound strong before he would begin to speak. 

And it was.

"It's not your fault.”

Twenty-one. That's how old Bucky Barnes was when his father passed away.

+  +  +

They were both laughing so hard that she started getting tears, but she wasn’t sure if it was from the laughter or the bitter cold. They were both so caught up in the events of the night neither noticed how cold it really was. 

Once their laughter dwelled down, she continued to stare at him in total admiration. He was something else  for sure. She wanted to feel his arm around her again. She looked down at his freezing hand and took it into her cold one.

“Tell me about you, James.”

He smiled when she looked back up and he gave her a tight squeeze.

“First, tell me what a fine dame like you is doin here in Brooklyn.” A playful smile plays on her lips, but it’s a rhetorical questions so he continues, “What do you wanna know?" 

She smiles even wider and this time it reaches her eyes, “Everything. I want to know everything about you by tomorrow mornin’.”

The fact that she suggested spending the night with him made him gulp. 

He looks down at her lips and nods slowly.

He followed up by telling her that the apartment he had rented out for the next few weeks was just a couple of blocks away. On the walk there she had questioned what he meant by rent for a couple of weeks to which he responded with that he would explain there, but that they should get warm first. 

When they arrived, his door ended up being three floors up. His dingy beat-up door made her smile inside. He gave off a classy, rich, stuck up vibe, but really he was simple and not much for being out there. She liked that he seemed so original.

He inserted the key into the normal door lock and bolt lock and opened the door for her to let her in first. She stepped into the “foyer”, if it could even be called that, and took a look around. It was more like a two by two feet space. She walked in the rest of the way and took a look around. It was basically a small studio, but a lot smaller. It was one room, inside there was a tiny kitchen on the left corner, a window that looked out to another brick wall, and to the right a metal bed with a white blanket.

But it was made, military style.

He walks over to his record player and places the needle gently down on the vinyl. If You Only Knew starts playing quietly. 

He looks over his shoulder at her and notices her facial expression.

“Yeah, sorry” he chuckled dropping his keys by his iron stove, “I know it’s not much, but it’s temporary. You should’ve seen my old place before I left for training.”

He catches himself when he says it but it’s too late. Her head snaps to his direction and her face holds an emotion that he can’t really pin point. He can’t tell if it’s fear or surprise. He swallows hard and tries to direct the conversation to a different direction. 

He curses himself in his head for his stupid slip up. He goes to the far kitchen and opens the cupboard, “I got some cookies, uhm,” he doesn’t know what to say with her staring at him like that. He closes the cupboard and runs a hand through his brown hair. It’s silent. 

It’s so quiet you could hear a pin drop. A car honks outside after it runs through a puddle and Ella’s voice is haunting. 

“You’re in the army.”

He’s caught off guard and his eyebrow raises at her voice. He looks at her. It wasn’t fear or surprise that she had felt when he said that, it was sadness. It was the one feeling he was afraid she’d feel, it was the reason why he didn’t want to tell her just yet. But it was too late, she knows now. 

He nods. 

He sees visible tears build up in her eyes. He doesn’t want this, he wanted this to be happy. Just a half hour ago they were laughing and now she’s in his apartment, shattered. She nods quickly and crosses her arms across her chest. 

She was different and he knew it the moment he saw her. Any normal girl would love to be with a soldier, but not in this case. Not when it was something like this. 

She looks at his bed and his window and shakes her head. This was a damn pit stop. 

The made bed revealed just how loyal he was to what he had signed up for and she knew there was no backing out. But he was perfect, she couldn’t lose him. She had to at least stay for the long hall, she thought. It wouldn’t last forever anyway. 

Her eyes meet his again. The tears had been blinked away and evaporated and her strong satire was back. 

He takes off his suit jacket and drapes it over the sink, sighing. He had been waiting patiently for her response. Whatever she said would ever make or break this, and for God’s sakes if there’s anything he didn’t want to do it was break this. 

“How long?” Her tone was strong. 

“How long till I leave?” He was a bit confused by the question.

She nodded. 

Bucky felt his heart sink. It wasn’t long. She would not like the answer. It was not good. She concluded this herself by his delayed answer and his stare at the floor beneath him. 

She let out an exhausted sigh and a click of her tongue as she turned away from him. Now she was angry.

“Five days.” 

They’re silent, standing there letting reality sink in. Minutes pass by. She takes a seat on his bed and takes off her coat. He watches her every move intently, wondering if she would decided to stay for the long haul or run out of his cheap room he dared call an apartment. 

“Like I said. I want to know you.”

He heart soars and he smiles. He re opens the cupboard and takes out a box of cookies. He fills up two jars with milk and hands one of them to her as he practically dances over to her. He sits criss crossed on the bed. She chuckles at how innocent he looks just sitting there like that in his dress shirt and suspenders, like a kid.

It’s awkward at first, trying to sit cross cross with a long dress on, but eventually she manages by pulling her dress up around her thighs. Bucky blushes at this. She brings him out of the moment.

“So what are you doing in Brooklyn?" 

He smirks, “I live here, Doll.” She gives him a confused look. He takes a deep breath and decides to start from the beginning, “I moved here when I was a teen. My father was in the army since we used to live back in Indiana. I used to go with him to camp, I loved everything about it. The respect those men held, the strong mentality they had, there’s was so much about what they were doing that made me see there was something greater to live for. To make this country better for us, so we can live and be peaceful and happy. There are way too many nasty people out there who don’t deserve to breathe our air. We are good people and I want to save the good people. It’s something serious, putting your life like that on the line. Unfortunately not all are willing.” 

Daisy smiles at him talking about his love for the military. She remembers her mother’s words at that moment. 

It really was in his heart, his love for humanity, “it’s in my blood, just like dad. I did training in New Jersey where he was stationed.” Mentions of his father makes him trail off for a second and Daisy notices. She places her hand on his, “and then they sent me back here for some additional work just until our physical forms go through to see who gets accepted. Who does leave in five days.” 

Daisy perks at this, “So you’re not actually certain if you will leave?” 

Bucky chuckles to himself and looks down. He reaches for another cookie, “Doll, my dad was well respected on the forces. They raised me to do the same. They practically have my name already there ready for me. I know I’m not staying.” 

Daisy stays silent again. Bucky tosses the cookie back down and reaches for her cheek. She gasps and looks up at him, her blue eyes soft, “I’m not saying this to make this harder. I’m being honest with ourselves, because,” he looks at her eyes and then her lips. She swallows hard when she sees him looking there. Her heart starts to race in his chest as he moves in closer, “because I know all we have is five days and I want to make the most of it. I’ve only known you for a few hours but what I feel with you is something I know will last forever.” 

The moment he says this he feels like he’s just put his heart own on his sleeve. Something he has never done. There was no taking it back now. He’s never had a relationship like this before, he prays to God he didn’t just mess it up. He starts getting afraid when she doesn’t respond, she just stares up at him. His eyes swell up slightly and he wants to add that it’s okay if she didn’t feel the same. 

But No. he didn’t not want to lose this. So he slides his hand from her cheek even higher up the side of her head through her hair and watching her, “Please tell me you feel the same.” His voice is low and full of emotion. Hopeful.

She’s never felt this. This had to be the boy of her dreams, and now she felt like the one that was dreaming all over again. Just three hours ago she never even knew this man existed, but all of a sudden she felt like she’s known him all her life.

She moves in closer and watches his Adam’s apple bobble up. The proximity was too much to bear. He was too much, and yet she wanted more. She wanted him.

And she only had five days. They had five days. 

And they were going to make the most of it. 

The moment her lips crashed onto his was a moment he wouldn’t forget. The fire that exploded inside of him was a bright red flame and it burned through his heart. Instinctively, he brings his other hand up as well and slides it to the other side of her face. She slides her left hand up his thigh and he growls against her mouth, their tongues meeting for the first time. It was fast, hard, and needy.

He raises himself up onto his knees so he’s towering above her still criss-cross body. Her hand raises up higher up his thigh and he feels her delicate fingers reaching in his waist band. He growls against her mouth once more.

She uses his belt loop to bring his body downwards as she uncrosses her legs and lays herself down onto his bed. Bucky’s right leg drops down the side of the bed and accidentally kicks the glass over. They’re lips still stay connected and he’s bringing his right hand to the strap of her dress, and now Ella’s voice sounds like a goddamn melody. 

He’s about to pull her strap further down but he stops himself. 

He pulls away and they’re both breathing heavily, Daisy whimpers at the distance he puts between their lips. The sound makes him want to go back to what he was doing, but he stops himself. 

She’s about to question him when he places her strap back against her clavicle. He pats it down gently and the act makes her laugh. His lips are swollen and she kisses them one more time. He moans into her mouth. She pulls away and lets him speak. 

“I want to know you, too.” He says. 

“We will. We have five days.”

 +  +  +

Her legs had curled up against her chest as she laid on her side, a single finger making soft patterns against his chest. It moved up and down sharply as his breathing became affected by what her touch was doing to him. He had stared down at her finger and then grabbed it diligently. She watched silently as he used his right hand to unfold her twirling fingers and fold it with his, holding it against his body. 

She looked up at him incomplete awe, her eyes drifting down to his approaching lips. He dipped his head just slightly as he brushed his lips against hers. 

They had stayed up all night talking about their goals, and what they loved to do. Daisy was a simple, innocent,, young girl. She loved dancing and flowers and she also admired the simplicity of innocence. She grew up in a Christian household and her morals were up there. They both laughed together when she brought up the fact that she never would’ve had thought she’d be cuddled in bed with a man she met only hours before. 

They commented about their families, how Bucky’s little sister had been taken away from him not too far back, about his mother’s death. 

“What about your father?” She had asked. 

Bucky remained quiet as he stared up at her. She noticed his change in demeanor and her eyes squinted. Bucky let go of her hand and switched his position from on his side to on his back. He brought his leg up and folded his hands on his chest.

He felt her shift and lean against him. He looked over and saw her resting on her elbow, her left hand drifting up his neck and into his hair. She pulled on it slightly making him close his eyes. 

“James.” She whispered, pleadingly. He opened his eyes and looking into hers. 

“He passed away,” he could tell she was going to start saying condolences as her mouth opened but he beat her to it, “this morning.” 

He thought she was going to start giving him sympathy, he expected it. But instead he felt her rest her head on his sturdy chest. He was taken aback at first, but then smiled softly and took in a deep breath. He allowed his hand to snake in through her soft blonde hair.  

“You’ll get through this. You’re strong.” He swallowed as he felt her hand skim against his chest, feeling him. He didn’t want to push her into anything and was thankful that her hand just went to his waist, pulling his body closer to hers, “I can tell.”

“I want to be with you. And when I get back from war, I want to be with you again.” 

+  +

She knew she was taking a risk by inviting him over to her house, but she had wanted him to meet her family. Sure this was fast, but how long did they truly have together? She obviously remembered the stories her mother told her.

Underneath the anxiety, love, and happiness she felt as he helped her mom cut the carrots, she genuinely hoped her parents would love him, too.   

“How long have you known this boy, Daisy?” Her mom had asked over her shoulder as she washed some lettuce and tomatoes in some cold water in a bowl under the sink. Daisy bit her lip. Her mom noticed her hesitate, “ Daisy .” 

Her tone was judging and all too motherly. Daisy looked up and saw her mom giving her a glare that quickly told her that she didn’t like where this was going. Daisy felt defensive. 

“Momma, before you judge me, he’s an amazing gentleman and I fully trust him with everything,” she saw her mom shaking her head to herself and murmur something but the sound of the sink water drowned it out. Daisy got up exasperated and walked over to her mom, “Think about it, when was the last time I brought a boy home? You know I don’t bring just anyone. You are going to love him.” 

Her mom smiled and looked over at her, shutting off the water.

“You are lucky I’m me and not your dang fatha’, Daisy.” She washed two more tomatoes, “Do you?”

Daisy gaped at her, not really know how to respond to that. To be fully honest she didn’t really think about it. When it came out while she was cuddly with Bucky earlier that day, it was natural and she hadn’t thought twice about it. But it seemed to soon to tell, but yet not fully impossible. She’d never felt the way she felt that when she was with Bucky. She felt heat creep up into her cheeks and her mom started to smile. The moment was interrupted by a strong voice.

“Love who?” 

Both Daisy and her mother’s face fell at the heavy tone that washed over them like pure ice. Daisy’s eyes drifted up to her dad who was standing in the door way. He held a cigar in his right hand, his leather covered foot tapping away. He eyed them both, clearly he was eavesdropping and was not liking where this conversation seemed to have been going.

Daisy gulped. She looked down and fidgeted with her fingers. 

“A boy, daddy.”

“Daisy invited him for dinner.” Her mom added casually, draining the water out of the bowl with her hands. The silence was deafening. Her dad could tell she was avoiding his gaze. 

He chuckled maniacally as he tapped his cigar with his pointer fingers, some ashes tickling towards the freshly mopped floor. Daisy watched as if it were poison. Suddenly, she was very fearful.

“Is that so?” 

Daisy nodded, finally looking up. Her dad looked serious, territorial even. 

“Charles, quit scarin’ her. I hear he could be the one.” Her mom winked at her. 

Her dad squinted angrily, “The one? And I’m just now hearing about this kid?” He walked over to his wife and rubbed her back soothingly, still giving Daisy a disapproving look, “and did I just hear love?”

Daisy groaned in aggravation, running her hands through her curls, “Mom, stop that.” Daisy sighed as she wiped her hands on her little dress and walked back over to the stool that sat on the far side of the large kitchen, “he’s a great guy. Daddy, I know that, it’s why I invited him today.”

“I just don’t get why I’m not meeting this damn boy.” 

Daisy flinched at his tone, “Daddy, please.” 

“Then explain it to me!” 

Daisy dropped her face into her hands, “I was just worried about you meeting him because he’s not the typical guy you go for. But I do care about him, please, just give him a chance. He’s very sweet.”

Daisy practically felt her father roll his eyes. She looked up and saw a snarl on his face.

A soft knock on the door and Daisy immediately flew out of her seat to open it. Her dad made a comment to Daisy’s mother about agreeing to this in the background, but Daisy was now momentarily too excited to care. She took a deep breath as her hand wrapped around the doorknob. 

She opened it and the moment her eyes landed on him, her heart went soaring and she literally felt herself smile. All the anger and fear she felt before dissipated. His reaction was mirrored to hers, his pearly whites making her blush hard. His gorgeous eyes wrinkled at the sides as he smiled. He looked perfect in a soft black suit, underneath it is a  white dress shirt, but the top button undone. His hair was in a small quiff and shiny from his pomade.

She extended her hand out to take his in hers and pulled him inside playfully hard. They both giggled together, Bucky’s face leaning down to kiss the top of her cheek. She hadn’t realized how hard she really pulled him until he stood right in front of her, their fronts touching. She was blushing as he stared down at her face and then her lips. 

He tilted his head slightly and started to lean down, and her eyes drifted shut, when the moment was interrupted but a cough.

“So you must be the boy Daisy won’t stop going on about.” 

Bucky pulled back, red tainting his cheeks. At that moment he realized he had just been caught almost wanting to devour this woman’s daughter’s mouth right in front of her.  He stepped back bit and straightened out his back and cleared his throat. 

He brought his one hand across his chest and with the other he extended it out for a handshake. No longer lust in his eyes, he was now completely serious, his mission being to impress a high class family. Her mom smiled at how charming he was.

“Mrs Davis.” Bucky greeted with a firm shake and smile.

She could tell by his strong handshake that he had been raised well. She exchanged looks with Daisy, who clearly looked terrified and expectant of what her reaction to him would be. She looks back at Bucky.

“Daisy never mentioned your name.”

“James, mamn.”

“That’s a strong name.”

Everyone looked up to follow the voice. Charles stood there tall and brooding, another cigar in hand. Bucky stretched out his arm once more, too eagerly this time, “Please to meet you, Mr. Davis.”

Bucky waited as Charles stared down at Bucky’s hand, not taking it and clearly not wanting to anytime soon. Bucky stood there awkwardly, fear and rejection creeping into his guts. He slowly lowered his arm, Charle’s gaze not leaving his face.

“You live on the upper east side, too? What’s your Street? You’re dressed like a damn paper boy.”

Bucky’s face fell immediately and Daisy inwardly groaned. 

Bucky licked his lips nervously and then fixed his back to stand taller as if to appear powerful. There was no way he was going to let this man tear him down. 

“No, sir,” He hates that his voice is shaky. He gives Daisy a nervous side glance and then back to her dad, “I live in Brooklyn, sir.”

Her dad frowned and both Daisy and her mother knew this was going to go down fast.

“Brooklyn,” his tone was disapproving, “What do you do for a living, boy?”

Daisy took a step next to Bucky, “Dad, that’s enough.” 

Bucky frowned and realized Daisy hadn’t really told them close to anything about him. While he understood, he was now dreading the whole entire conversation that would go down. Him and Daisy shared a look before Barnes looked back up at Charles.

“I’m in the military, sir.”

Her dad raised an eyebrow as soon as the words left his lips, then a scoff. Daisy looked up to his her mother’s face fallen and sad. 

Bucky’s eyes darted between Daisy and her father, suddenly realizing that something that he said was not good.

“Sir, was something I said -“

“Daisy, tell me hows a boy who doesn’t have a real job suppose to be with my daughter? A goddamn soldier? Jesus.”

“For heaven’s sake, Daddy!”

“Charles, stop that!” 

Daisy’s mother’s angry voice made everyone go silent at once. Bucky felt small, wanting to fade away into the ground below him.  

Charle’s scoffed, tossing his cigar at Bucky’s beat up dress shoes. It was the best pair he owned and even those were not his best. He swallowed hard, trying to not feel small and sad.  

“I’m gonna get Jimmy and then we can eat.”

Bucky stared down at the cigar at his feet, his heart feeling heavy. “A goddamn soldier”. 

It replayed over and over in his head.

Suddenly, he felt a comforting hand on his back. He looked up and saw Daisy staring down at him, sad.

“Just a goddamn soldier, Daisy?” He motioned upwards with his hand. “What is this?”

Daisy looked down, “James, that’s my father, okay? If anything, let’s just be glad he didn’t kill you. He’s like that with everyone.” That actually did help Bucky feel slightly better as he stood up taller. Daisy’s hand reached up as she cupped his cheek, “And the soldier thing, he’s weird about that. I’m not sure why.”

Bucky stared at her for half a second, doubting every word, before he simply complied and nodded. He smiled slightly. 

+ +

 The dinner was quiet and tense, and over much too slowly. Bucky had quickly pulled Daisy out into the hallway to say goodbye before he left, groaning into her mouth how he was never going back in there ever again. They both laughed and kissed.

And now here they were at the bar, the night before he had to leave. Bucky didn’t want to leave, because he had a feeling that this would be one of the last few days he would have any peace and serenity. His gut was twisting and turning as he played with the strand of her hair between his thumb and pointer finger. As his gaze drifted from her lips to her blue eyes he just knew deep inside that this is exactly the kind of feeling he wanted to be feeling for all of eternity.

He felt it when he touched her, when he looked at her, and when he held her in his arms. 

It was like a wave of fresh air that reminded him of home - Daisy was his new home. He knew it happened fast, they all did, but sometimes true love doesn’t have to be complicated. When its meant to happen, it just simply happens. It’s simple as that - as simple as him tucking her hair behind her ear and giving her that pearly white smile that made the cheeks on her face turn a crimson red.

She leaned her forehead onto his as he held her close by her waist, the piano in the background that was once haunting, now insanely beautiful exactly like the woman in front of him. 

When Bucky had told Steve he might ask her to marry him one day.

Those words Steve said kept ringing in Bucky’s head, even as he now held Daisy in his arms, but they meant absolutely nothing to him. She was his sanctuary, his now, and he would take it by the hand.

He would take advantage of these last few hours he had with her and he would pretend all is good in the world and it would stay that way. It had to.

He kept telling himself that so he, himself, could believe it. The truth was it was all going to go downhill, he could tell.

He knew that once he left for New Jersey tomorrow that he wasn’t going to automatically be drafted into war, there wasn’t a necessary need just yet. But his father had told him the speculations of how the US wanted to go after the Nazis, and he knew there was something else his father wasn’t telling him, and it would not be long before hell broke loose. 

That’s when Steve and all the others would eventually be even more so analyzed and drafted, and so would Bucky - without a doubt.

Sure, he was courageous. It wasn’t that he was scared to go, but he needed to be certain that Daisy would always be safe. He would surely miss the moments of having her in his arms, safe and happy. 

Softly, he took her left cheek in his hand and rubbed his thumb across the top of her cheek bone,. He needed to take advantage of this moment that was staring them dead in the eye. He needed to. It didn’t matter how fast it was, how much he wanted to treat her preciously, and how much he respected her faith. He needed her. 

“Come to my apartment with me,” he noticed her gulp and her mouth opened slightly. Daisy’s mouth went dry and she watched his usual blue eyes turn a heavy grey.  Bucky smiled slightly, “I don’t want to seem like I’m making you do something you don’t want to, but I just…” his voice drifted off as his gazed dropped slightly. His eyes became clouded with disastrous visions of the future.  He blinked it quickly away, wanting to just see the image of Daisy underneath him. Just her and her pearly white skin and those gorgeous lips kissing him. 

At that moment Daisy knew exactly what he was asking.

She was a virgin and she had mentioned that to him when they started talking about the topic of her faith. She technically wasn’t supposed to be engaging in anything that was sexual before marriage to which Bucky simply nodded. At that moment, he decided he wouldn’t be too strong on her nor mention anything of his past sex life which would surely leave her blushing. He loved fucking.

But as she stared at him right then and there, realizing this could be the last moment where they’re both happy together and not  having to worry about anything, she wanted just exactly the same thing he did. She closed her eyes tightly together and leaned her face closer to his, giving him a deep and sexy kiss on his top lip, biting it as she pulled away. 

Bucky practically growled at her action, never seeing this side of her. Daisy was innocent, a classy lady, one that should always be treated as such. Sure, he knew of her passions for burlesque and lingerie (when she told him he had practically tried not to cum right then and there in his bed), but that was a dirty little secret that he concluded shouldn’t be mentioned out loud. She was always that beautiful, young, and morally behaved girl that stole his heart.

When she let go of his top lip, which was definitely throbbing now, he narrowed his lusty eyes at her and took it as a sign of acceptance.

She would be lying if she said she wasn’t slightly shaking the whole time he walked her to his dungy little Brooklyn apartment. He looked straight adorable in his little Italian flat hat and suspenders, his coat draped across one of his arms, the other holding her hand as he slid his key into all three locks of the door. 

She swore she could see him shake a little too when they had gotten inside and he put his coat on the tiny kitchen table and he turned to her. 

The room suddenly felt even smaller, the air between them hot and utterly thick. 

He eyed her up and down and swallowed hard. She wore a beautiful black dress that covered every single part of her that he now wanted to see exposed to him. 

Her lips were slightly red from the many kisses they shared on the way to the apartment, and her pinup eyeliner was so damn pretty as it shaped her eyes to perfection. She was damn gorgeous and she knew it. 

He slid off his dress shoes and then walked over to where she was standing. Her heart hammered away in her chest as his stunning blue eyes traced her body. The moment he finally stood before her, he realized he didn’t want to do with her what he did with every other girl.

He lifted his left arm to the side of her neck and watched her chest fall rapidly up and down. He grabbed her there lightly, and then slid it down the side of her body, eyeing the beauty that was simply her. 

“James.” 

“I’ll be gentle.”

He grabbed her right hand and pulled her along over to his bed. She looked down at him as he stared up at her, in awe and in love. She brought her hands to his face and touched his perfectly combed hair, smiling.

She stopped when he laid his hands over hers and brought it down between them. His face was now serious as he whispered, “Lay with me.”

He wanted to make love to her tonight. 

Did they and it was slow and tender. 

+ +

Bucky had told Steve he’d be back soon. It wouldn’t be too long - maybe a month, maybe even a few weeks. Bucky stepped onto the steam train and Steve and Daisy had stood next to each other as they waved him goodbye. The moment he sat down in his seat and the vision of the love of his life and his best friend became nothing but silhouettes, he threw his head back against his cold seat, taking a deep breath. He made a vow to himself that now was the time to make himself, his father, and his country proud. 

The only thing he wanted more than his girl was to save the lives of every person he possibly could. 

He took an additional deep breath, running a damp hand over his face. He stared up at the iron ceiling as the train swayed side to side and up and down over the slightly uneven tracks, making its way south.  

He fidgeted uncomfortably as each horrible made up scenario of what could happen when he arrived went through his mind. He wondered if the chief and sergeant would agree that he’d be as fitting as his father in taking his place and if he’d make the best soldier he always wanted to be. 

He took a deep breath and simply leaned his head against the glass. 

His blue eyes watched as the scenery of green and trees became the last of peace that he had a feeling he would feel for a very long time.

+ +

Wheaton, New Jersey

 The train ride wasn’t long; a little over an hour which was just enough time for Bucky to take his well-needed nap. When he had arrived at the station, he had noted the Jeep he was told that would pick him up along with two others who were on board. He didn’t even bother to meet up with them while onboard the train, wanting to take as much time to himself as he could, knowing it was probably his last opportunity.

The Jeep zoomed down a dirt road and through an intimidating metal gate. Bucky watched as young men ran around the perimeters, training intensely. Others were talking amongst each other as they took their break, sweaty bangs dangling onto their foreheads. 

They looked at him in curiosity as his car sped towards its destination, probably wondering what was so special about this guy that he had to get to where he was going so quickly. 

Suddenly, the car came to a heavy jolt and a hand slammed down beside him on his seat announcing their arrival. He jumped slightly at the intrusion but took a deep breath and opened the dingy door. 

As Bucky stepped off the jeep and into the dirty mud of his new camp, he knew he needed to find his uniform and combat boots as fast as he could. 

He stared down in a slight grimace at his freshly destroyed dressed shoes - he had just gotten them shined. He scoffed to himself and dragged it’s front against a random dry patch of grass trying to get off as much as he could. A young man jogged by, kicking some mud up onto Bucky’s new pants. Bucky looked on at the man as he ran, a look of anger written all over his face.  

From a distance (from beneath a random tent that provided cover for a rest area, Colonel  Douglas Smith watched in amusement the entire scene unfolding.

“This is Barnes’ son? The sniper?” He snarled under a grimace. He turned his head and gave Williams a disappointed look.

Another man -Williams- which sat to his left, looked towards Bucky’s direction over his daily newspaper. He watched on along with Douglas and smirked as Bucky looked around, lost. 

His eyes drifted to Smith and then back down at his paper,  giving it a slight smack, “Yes, sir.” humor tinted his voice heavily.

Smith shook his head in wonder as Bucky dusted off a piece of lint that was on his coat’s collar, “He better be right about this, or I swear to God.” 

Bucky’s eyes scanned his vicinity, eyes narrowing diligently. His eyes finally landed on someone who seemed to be who he should be looking for, judging by their attire and posture of authority. Also, the fact that they had been looking at him first.

“He seems too pretty to be as good as they say.”

“His father says he is the best.”

Colonel Smith eyes Bucky up and down as he made his way over, sporting his new suit and fresh suspenders. As soon as he reached the two men, Bucky nodded at each one and took off his Italian flat hat, tucking it into his armpit revealing a perfectly groomed gorgeous head of hair drenched in pomade. 

He reached out with his right arm for the Colonel to shake with a bright smile on his face, “James Barnes.”

“Colonel Douglas Smith,” he nods over to the man sitting down who seems very busy jotting something down, “This is Sergeant William of the one-oh-third.”

“Colonel. Serg.” Bucky confirms with a nod to each.

“Sit, boy.” Colonel demands with a motion of his hand in front of him. Bucky politely abides as he pulls out a chair to sit himself down. Bucky places his hat down in front of him and takes a deep breath, “First, I’d like to give you my condolences.”

Bucky momentarily stalls as his eyes drift back and forth between both men, but then clears his throat nodding, “Thank you, Sir.”

“Your father was a great man. Quite a fighter used to say he raised you from young to be the same way.” Colonel eyes Bucky up and down. Bucky gulps, finally feeling the pressure he had been slightly dreading from the beginning. He knew they were expectant of him, and now he was here to prove it and he wasn’t sure he had the balls of steels he had one day ago, “That true?”

Bucky clears his throat, “Yes, sir.” He leans down to reach into his briefcase and pulls out a beige file. He puts it onto the table and slides it across to Colonel. Smith is impressed by his promptness and professionalism and sees William smile from his peripheral. 

“What’s this?”

Bucky clears his throat once again, “Dad trained me for many things,” he took a brief glance around the base, “I experienced boot camp at the age of fifteen. I’ve done long races, obstacle races, everything that tested my endurance, boxing, running- both in the rain and scorching heat. I’ve bled, I’ve learned not to cry and hold my own. I know tactics, I know what it takes to be a soldier, sir,” Bucky notes their faces still hold no expression of amazement he was looking for and he feels his palms sweating harshly, “My father did it so I knew how to be strong and prepared for when the time was right.” 

Colonel Smith crosses his arms and leans back in his chair, not yet touching the paper in front of him. Bucky looked on in simple embarrassment from Smith to his folder, wondering if it was pointless to show as much pride as he did.

 Smith’s strong voice makes Bucky jump when he starts talking, “You think that because you’ve trained since you were a young boy, but clearly have no experience being on the front line, that you are an American Soldier?” 

 Bucky automatically becomes defensive and his posture becomes confident. He didn’t like the nagging, the accusation of something he was not. That’s when he realized, he needed to prove himself. He was good, and they wanted to see it. 

He leans closer to the table and crosses his hands out in front of him, “No, sir, of course not. Not yet,” His voice was strong and clear. The colonel sat there waiting for what Barnes had to add, “I have no experience yet with being in a war, not yet. But I have other experiences, first-hand experience.”

“And what is that exactly?”

“Guns.” Both Smith and William now give Bucky their full attention, looking straight at him in total interest. Smith even moves up closer to Bucky.

Bucky is almost one hundred percent more confident now than he was ten minutes ago because now he’s finally talking about something he knows he can own up to well. This he enjoyed immensely.

“Sure. Your file we have here does show you are good with targets, that you know what weapon is best for what, that you helped your father when it came to assembling and reassembling them for the troops, and that you are great at knowing the anatomy of a gun but many here can do that with intense training. What do you have that the others here don’t, James?”

The colonel was pressing now, and Bucky at that moment realized that what he was doing was not because he didn’t see a reason to not trust Bucky, but more so so he could prove himself, and this was his chance. 

Bucky looked Colonel Smith straight in the eye with a snarl. He slammed one finger down on the table in front of them, “I’m not just good with targets. I hit them all.”

“I do not miss. This file,” Bucky again slams his finger down on the folder in front of them, “There are diagrams, spreadsheets, rough drafts, charts, and all my grades for every algebra, geometry, physics, and trigonometry class I’ve ever taken. All As. It also includes my use of Pythagorean theorems.” Colonel raises an impressed brown and opens the file. His mouth is slightly agape as he reads on what is pages and pages of mathematical equations, transcriptions, and each a different weapon usage. 

For a cocky good looking guy, Bucky was clearly very very intelligent - a closet nerd.

“I might no be a soldier yet, but I’m already a good fucking sniper.” 

William and Smith are smiling now as they see Bucky in the way they wanted to, “Look, I’ll go out there tomorrow if you need me to. Sure, I’m a kid, but that just means I have the time to learn more. I’m ready to fight.” 

Colonel stares at Bucky for a beat. He nods, takes the folder in his hands, and stands up. Bucky looks up at him, “You will be here to assist Serg. William and I. And then we’ll see where we take you from there. We want a hard-headed kid here to help get these other guys in order.” His voice was softer now as he spoke on, “Soon, we’ll be out there in the real world and I feel you’ll do fine, kid. Your health record looks great, I saw your previous training records here at the base and they are impeccable,” 

“Thank you, sir-“

“but,” Bucky swallows hard. Smith hands the file over to William, “We want you to focus on shooting. And train these damn ass kids that this isn’t just a game. William will escort you to your temporary quarter.” 

 Bucky nods and stands up, a wide grin on his face as Smith initiates the handshake this time, “Good luck, Kid.”

+ +

Letters.

That's how he spoke to her for two years. He missed her, he missed Steve, and he missed school. He missed Brooklyn, but he missed her most of all. She was everything he had ever wanted and more. 

They refused to lose touch, but it seemed to have gotten harder the longer he spent time away from her. He almost started forgetting what it was she looked like and he did not like that at all. 

He hoped more than anything that she didn’t forget what he felt like, what his cock felt like the inside of her pretty self. God, he missed her so much. 

He’d be laying down in the bunker after one of her letters where she’d admitted that she missed all of his body, and suddenly he’d find himself a panting mess, a hand wrapped around himself. No other women in his life made him cum as much as she did. She was perfect.

Dad has been gone for four weeks and I don’t know why. Jimmy has gone with him- it’s just me and mother. I overheard her saying something about Germany but I’m not quite sure.. Or maybe it was something else. Though none of that matters to me, James- I want you. Please come home to me.

He would pick up his pen and start writing.

Daisy, 

 I’ll be home soon, my love. I want and miss you, too. 

For some reason, a chill ran down his back as he reread the words “something about Germany”. 

Like an awful memory that has never happened, he sees a child in front of him. It was a little girl and she screamed in agony for mercy. She was getting strangled to death by his own hand, a silver glint caught his eye- 

“James!” 

Bucky jumped up looked upfront his lap from where he was writing to see Williams looking at him in curiosity, waiting. 

“Be right there, Sergeant.” 

Take care of Stevie for me, Daisy. Be careful, both of ya. 

Much love,

Bucky

+ +

He’s standing in front of the men, showing them how to correctly calculate the wind and kickback of a PPSh-41. Ten iron cans laid on the grass as Bucky allowed his gun to swing back towards him. He smirks and slides it back into place in the holster around his waist. 

“Johnny, you’re up.” Bucky would announce each boy’s turn until they’ve all managed to hit all targets. Some of them taking more thirty tries each to succeed.

As much as he’d try and teach them how to properly shoot each and every gun they had on hand, it was evident that they’d never be as good as him.

But there were good in other aspects, some of which actually reminded him of Steve back at home.

“Faster.” Bucky would demand as he walked in front of them as they did fifty push-ups each. He knew they could handle it.

Williams and Smith watched from afar as Bucky’s men eventually became some of the strongest and most courageous they’ve seen in a long time. 

They shared a knowing look and Smith gave a small nod.

Bucky’s gaze drops from the men he’d grown to love down to his feet. He didn’t expect to be there for two years. He didn’t think he would go that long without seeing Daisy, but they ended up loving having him there.

 Within weeks he had the entire infantry under his finger. At first, he wasn’t too keen on yelling at them at what to do and how to do it, but with time he realized it was for their best and they realized that too. He was actually not a complete asshole when it came to bossing everyone around, but to be fair it mostly had to do with the fact that they were all not too much younger than him either, some even older. 

+ +

It had been Friday night when Bucky had everyone in their bed by 8 o clock, without a complaint or disobedience.

Bucky sat in his little office under the vintage desk light as he was reading one of Daisy’s latest letters, where she spoke about how her father had come home briefly but was quickly leaving for Siberia within a few weeks and how much she was dying to hold Bucky back in her arms again. 

She kept begging and begging him non stop. 

Bucky’s face was crestfallen as he wrote back that he promised he would be back, and that he had to talk to her about something special when he saw her again for the first time.

Truth was, he was going to ask her to marry him. He wanted to spend the rest of his life with her even if it was from such far away. Bucky was tucking the letter into the envelope when someone cleared their throat from his left.  

His head snapped and he smiled when he saw it was colonel Smith.  

“Bucky, mind if we speak for a second.” Bucky nodded his head and tucked the letter in his back pocket. The colonel noted this with a nod, “That for the lady?”

Bucky smiled slightly, although it was also sad, “Yeah. Miss her,” 

Colonel patted a hand on his shoulder, “I know, kiddo.” 

They were about to go into Colonel’s office when Smith turned around. Bucky practically walked into him, not expecting him to stop so suddenly in his path. Bucky’s face was serious and he felt worried at the tension that quickly grew, “What is it, Colonel?”

Contemplating before speaking, he looked over Bucky’s shoulder, “The men love you,” 

He looked back at Bucky, “You’re good. Really good.”

Bucky should’ve been proud of his words (he was slight) but he could tell something was going on. Smith’s tone and his eyes were off, something was clearly up. 

“What’s going on?”  

The colonel looked down. It looked like for a second that he was going to back out on telling Bucky. But clearly this wasn’t something anyone could control anymore, “They want them in.”

World War II had merely started about a little over a year ago. Nazi Germany was at its peak and troops were being sent out constantly. Bucky knew there were several infantries being sent in, along with the heavy draft. Bucky had spoken to Steve back at home and Steve kept mentioning about the guys all being deployed out, but not all. They were still trying to recruit more as time came, seeing who was eligible and who wasn’t. Bucky tried to convince Steve as much as possible to quit trying to join the army, to stop lying on his forms to get accepted.  

At their base, they were training until they were to be pulled out.

And now was the time.

“But that’s not what I want to talk to you about.” 

Bucky’s heart plummeted for a fraction of a second.  He wondered what else he possibly had to say. 

Colonel turned into his office and allowed Bucky to follow behind. Bucky closed the door behind him, reluctantly and with a hard swallow. 

“There’s a group being deployed in two days. To England, the one-oh-seventh.”

Bucky’s heart jumped into his throat. Pride filled deep within his gut and he tried to contain as much excitement as he could. 

Smith went around his desk, “We agreed that you’re more than suitable to be deployed as well. So you’ll be with them.”

Bucky smiled. It was finally his time. It wasn’t just his men, but him as well.

“When?”

“A couple of weeks. The week before you’ll be allowed one week at home to see your friends,” Colonel looked at the letter that was peaking out behind him, “and your girl.” Bucky felt like he was going to cry from excitement at this point. Colonel’s face was still serious, “we want to assign you as an official Sergeant.”

The earth seemed two have shifted for a moment while Bucky processed the words. He couldn’t believe they would want him to serve at that level. Bucky’s brows raised in surprise as he stood motionless.

A soldier he always knew he would become one day, it was practically in his blood, but “Sergeant?” 

“Yes, sir.” Smith crossed his hands out in front of him and stared up at Bucky, hopeful, “I knew the moment you started talking that you were different. You’re good, you’re loyal, you’re a true born soldier just like your father always said you were. You wouldn’t dare lay a hand on something unless they were worth it. You know how to take charge and you’re willing to be on the front line.”

That same image of a tormented child being strangled to death by a hand flicker’s through his mind's eye, except now the kid is thrown against a brick wall, completely deceased.

Bucky swallows hard, “My men, they will be with me?” He knew the answer because he was already told upfront but Smith but he needed to be sure. He needed to know all of them would be there by his side when he killed Schmidt.

“Yes. Drafting starts soon, son. You’ll be home for a little bit to say goodbye.” Smith smiled, “Go get your girl.”

+ +

He’d made sure all their beds were made before they all left to say goodbye to their loved ones one last time, and he made his as well. What good Sergeant would he be if he weren’t the best example if he were a hypocrite?

He hadn’t told Steve nor Daisy that he was coming home- wanting it to be a surprise. He stepped off the train, a tailored uniform, his new Sergeant cap on his head, and a pin on his left chest. He was ready. 

A sharp wind blew in from the west, making him frown slightly in pain. The January air burned him like fire but yet gave life at the same exact time. This was reality and it was like a slap to the face. He was here to say goodbye. 

Bucky had grabbed a paper from the boy at the train station and saw something about Howard Stark’s Expo and he felt like a little boy all over again. He loved Howard Stark, to be frankly honest he was quite a nerd for it. Not only did he make the best weapons that Bucky would love to have his hands on one day, but he also loved how smart and genius he was. How he was never afraid to reach the unreachable and to do what no one else had the guts to. He would kill to meet him one day and just tell him how amazing he was.

So he had to go to his expo before he left. He was ready to see his best friend and his girlfriend and that’s exactly who he was going to go with.

Bucky had been walking excitedly from the train station to Steve’s house, but he was not expecting to see him getting beaten up by a gentleman in an alley outside a theatre. 

Anger blew up inside of Bucky as he ran towards the scene, “Hey!” He called out, grabbing both of their attention. 

When Steve saw Bucky his eyes lit up. 

Bucky grabbed the bully by his collar and kicked his ass while Steve watched from the corner of the dirty alley. 

“I think you like getting punched.” 

Bucky said as he helped Steve off the floor. 

“I had him on the ropes.”

Bucky decided not to comment any more on how Steve needed to lay off and instead wanted to spend the last few hours he had with his best friend and his girl. He told Steve about how he was sergeant now for the 107th and that he was leaving for England in the morning the next day. 

But he was also excited to share with Steve the one thing that Steve knew Bucky loved the most - Stark. When Bucky pulled out the newspaper that showed the expo that was happening that night, Steve notices the fanboy smile written all over his face. He couldn’t wait to pick up Daisy so they could all go.

When Bucky and Daisy saw each other for the first time, he had spun her around so hard her dress spun with her. Bucky kissed her so hard and she cried as she told him how much she missed him. 

Steve just stared back in boredom. 

“Are we going, or…?”

They both giggled and Bucky punched him playfully on the shoulder, “Come on, punk.”

The three of them walked into the expo. Steve was looking around in awe while Bucky had the biggest grin on his face as he held Daisy’s hand. She wore a beautiful dark drey below-knee dress and brown leather oxford heels and her lips were coated in the most beautiful shades of red. 

It was everything Bucky had ever dreamed of. Stark literally blew his mind, especially when he brought out the beautiful to die for women and then make a car fucking fly. Even if it was for just a second.

Bucky’s heart soared.

Daisy looked up at him wonder and she watched his face light up in pure happiness. She didn’t know someone could be so beautiful and that she could love someone so much. She raised her right hand up to his face as a firework went off behind his head in the sky. It was blue - the same shade of his eyes. 

He wasn’t expecting that gesture from her at that moment, so when he felt her soft little fingers on the side of his face, he snapped his head down to look at her. Her smile faded as he gave her a look of pure want.

She traces his lips with her thumb and leaned her head down on his chest. Her heart soared even more as he brought her to him in a tight embrace. He kissed the top of her head and then told Steve that they should call it a night.

Steve gave Bucky a tight hug and told him to be safe. 

“Don’t do anything stupid until I get back,” Bucky warned him with a smile.

When Steve split ways with the couple at his door, he knew exactly what they were up to. He was happy for his best friend, he just hoped they weren’t too emotionally involved more than anything. He didn’t want to see Bucky get hurt.

He looked at his best friend with a weird sorrow. He wasn’t sure why something in his gut was telling him that this happiness, this simpleness, was going to be very short-lived. 

+ +

When they had gotten back to his apartment, he had her against his door and his lips were on hers.

This was it.

 Snippets of that flash of that dead child kept hitting Bucky over and over as he kissed Daisy up against his door. 

He tried to get rid of those images as much as possible as he grabbed her gorgeous legs, pulling them around his waist.  

That seemed to have done the job perfectly because he felt himself growing hard for her. 

“Please.” She pleaded desperately over his lips. He pulled away from her for a second and just stared at her beautiful face trying to take it all in. Reality hit them like a truck as he caressed her cheek with his thumb. This was goodbye, for a while. 

He leaned in slowly, and this kiss was different. It was love and care, and so much need. A need for forever. He felt tears building behind his lids as the thought of never getting the chance of holding her like this ever again tried to take over his brain. She tightened her legs around him, her hands going to the straps of his belt.

“God, I missed you, Daisy,” He moaned against her mouth. He brought his right hand between her legs, pushing her panties to the side. He slid one finger from her clit down her slick slit and her head fell back with a thud against his door. She groaned out loud at the sensation that wracked through her body, “Missed the sounds you make. I love you so much.” He growled against her.

She ran her hands through his hair and pulled his face away from her neck to kiss him deeply again. She nodded against him as her hips met the rhythm of his hand, confirming that she felt the same way. 

“Please take me, James.”

He walked them over to his bed and gently laid her down. She stared up at his lustful eyes, her lips swollen from his kiss, and her dress bundled up at her waist.

Bucky didn’t waste two seconds to pull it off her. Next, she helped him pull off his uniform jacket and shirt, revealing his gorgeous abs that she wanted to lick over with her tongue. 

Next, she removed his pants. 

She slowly tucked her fingers into the underside of his underwear as she bit her lip. It was obvious that she was teasing him. 

“Just take it off.” He ordered. 

She did as told and practically whimpered as his hard cock was revealed to her. She sat up and reached behind herself to unclasp her bra. 

When he saw her perky breasts, he leaned down and kissed her once more. The first time they had sex it was different. It was innocent and timid, but now that he knew her body and she wasn’t so shy anymore, it was more carnal. The first time was about opportunities and their future. 

But this, this felt like goodbye.

“I can’t wait, Daisy. I need you.” He confessed as he laid her down all the way. She nodded against his understanding.

He stretched out his left hand to hold onto the headboard while the other grabbed his pulsing shaft. She spread her legs and he slid into her with a long moan. 

He looked down at her and watched as she arched her neck back in pleasure, the nails of her left hand digging into his sides.  

“Faster.” She moaned. 

The other thing that was different about this time was how fast it was. The first time it lasted for almost an hour, they had made love in the most sensual way that left his skin crawling. This time they were both so close so fast, they just needed that release due to being away from each other for so long. 

She was practically screaming as he fucked her fast and oh so deliciously into the bed below her. It was so good that after only a few minutes she was looking down at the spot where they both met, her lips formed into a perfect o. 

She started nodding quickly. She cried. Bucky groaned as he twitched inside of her, his pleasure growing just as strong as hers. He was right behind her. He put his other arm up on the headboard too, letting his restless hips do all the work. 

All that was heard in the room was the sound of skin slapping on skin and their moaning.

He picked up his pace as he stared deeply into the blue orbs. When she shut her eyes she let out a silent scream, and he felt her clench around his cock. 

That did it for him. He whimpered. 

He increased his speed until he felt his own end approaching, and it was going to be strong. When it did, he groaned, tightening his grips on the headboard, making it bang against the wall behind them.  He continuously slammed his hips harsh against her.

“Fuck.” He groaned slipping out of her. She watched in awe and as he stroked himself so fast his hand became a blur - little spurts of white falling over her pretty tummy.  

His eye drifted back to her face and he watched as a smile played on her lips. Her face was extremely flushed as she bit her bottom lip in a way that made him want to take her again. He chuckled lightly. It made his heart heavy, and he knew that now was the perfect time to ask her what he had been wanting for the last two years.

He let go of the bed and laid himself next to her. He placed his left hand above her hand and the other on the side of her face.  They watched each other in complete love before he kissed her long and hard.

When he pulled away, she felt him slightly shaking and noticed the look of nervousness in his eyes. She swallowed hard.

“Daisy,” he whispered. He traced her features with his hand, and just like that the fear escaped his eyes, and instead of scared he was now feeling complete love and he was ready because knew this is what he wanted forever. 

+ + 

Diamond ring on her hand, big heart in his chest, Bucky Barnes had been ready to devote his life her and to love.

Life had other plans for him. 

Why be a husband when he could be brainwashed into becoming the Head of Hydra? 

Why love with his heart and soul when he could kill and become the world’s greatest assassin?

They’re at the New York Library. Steve stands behind him, hands in pocket and eyebrows furrowed together.

70 years later, Bucky detests himself for who he has become. He hates it all. He hates that he woke up.

His hand trembles as he reads the article. It’s worn out, ink faded.

YOUNG WOMAN, FOUND IN HALLWAY, SHOT

Reason unknown, ongoing investigation

The blonde 21 year old was found shot through the skull in the five story building but an other woman after a shot was heard. 

The woman states: “There was blood everywhere. It reeked of disaster. The poor girl was always so quiet and sweet.”

Her family has been under investigation after her father’s disappearance —

Bucky’s heart shattered, but those beautiful memories still stayed fresh in his mind.

Present 

You watched him from underneath your lashes as his chest slowly moved up and down. He looked deep in thought, as if his mind had been somewhere else, even though he was physically there. 

As his eyes examined you across the bed, you wondered what was going through his head. 

You were shocked when he stretched out his arm and you felt his hand run through your hair, letting his thumb linger over the back of your neck. 

“What does it mean?” He asks. His voice is deep and filled with emotion. 

He’s asking about your tattoo.

“Nothing.” You say breathlessly. 

His eyes were enthralling. 

“There’s no meaning?” 

“No.” You eyes leave his and you look out towards the direction of the dining area.

“Why did you get it?” He asks.

“It was in the moment. It felt like it would be thrilling; fun. The thought of forever made it even more so.” You say without a thought, letting your eyes close.

His hands don’t leave the back of your neck, and his touch remains gentle.

“You’re absolutely insane.” His tone has a chirp to it that you’ve never heard before and a near chuckle escapes your chest. He rubs his thumb there again it sends a jolt into your stomach. You open your eyes again to take a peak at him and the looks he’s giving you must’ve triggered something in your own appearance because his eyes furrow together, “What?”

“You reminded me of someone.”

He swallows thickly.

“Yeah?”

“Will.” You feel your throat grow tight at the mention of his name. Bucky senses a change in your tone and he knows that whoever this Will is, he had an impact on your life, “He died just a few days before Fury found me. He was my best friend. He was sweet, humble, funny, sarcastic, optimistic,” there’s a crack in your voice and Bucky’s breath hitches, “I loved Will. He was supposed to be here with me. We were coming to the Capitol together.” Bucky watches you intently as you speak so fondly of your dear friend. Emotions consume him and he’s in a warped daze, right hand that had been on your tattoo running up the side of your face and into your hair, “he was the only friend I ever had.”

Your eyes meet his and he sees in the tears in your eyes. He looks at you confused, fingers tightening in your hair.

“And then after I laid him to rest, I walked into the woods. I was crying and I was angry at him for leaving me. I fell down at slope, hurt my hand and my leg —” Bucky says your name quietly but you ignore him, “it was dark. I was afraid. But I wanted to continue on. Deep down I know I did. I needed to do it for Will. Then this man came and he was going to ruin everything, so I killed him. I had to,” it’s the first time you’re addresses your killing so verbally and so emotionally and it affects you more than you thought, “I had to kill him.” Bucky watches with concern as your fingers tremble against the sheets, “And then Fury found me and took me to your camp. I met Steve, and then I met you.”

Bucky pulls his hand away moments later. 

You both lay there in silence. It’s the most you’ve spoken to each other since the night he first fucked you. 

After you had sex in the kitchen, you both had separated quietly, going your separate ways until night time. You both slept on opposite sides of the bed and a couple feet apart.

It wasn’t even that it was awkward. There’s was just too much unsaid and still too much tension. You kept falling harder and harder, and you were getting weaker.

The next day you had gone to work and Bucky had found a plan to get into Ashen’s tower. 

A day later, you finally spoke again.

At nights it was the hardest. You hated his sudden silence.

You hated that you had no idea what the hell was going on anymore.

Your eyes met in an intense gaze. 

Bucky watched curiously as your left hand grazed over the sheets and up over his waist. You watched as his breath hitched, his breathing picking up. 

“What the hell are we doing, Bucky?” You asked sincerely. 

Part of you genuinely wondered if he was only doing this with you because you were the only girl available. 

“Fucking.” He spats out too quickly. He continues to watch you as tug your fingers into the band of his dark grey sweats, “we’re fucking.”

You feel a surge of energy build its way up your body. You don’t know if it’s lust or anger, and it scares you that you can’t distinguish it. You begin to wonder if possibly it’s both.

You move closer into him dragging his sweats down as best as you could. Bucky had to help you by lifting his hips off the bed for a second. He lets out a long breath as his length escapes the confinements of his pants. 

Your heart hurts as you take in his glorious body and his face. The face of a boy that you wished could give you more than this, the face of a boy that changed your life. 

Because even though he was pure man, you knew deep down inside he still felt young. He felt robbed. You hated that you wanted to take him in any way you could. You hated that you loved making him cum and that he let you.

Eyes darting down to his half soft cock, you lick your bottom lip. You take him into your hand, thumb sliding over his tip. Bucky lets out a tight moan. It comes out heavy and needy.

His reaction gives you a boost and you give him a few languid strokes. 

“Over the head, and under it.” He tells you with a gruff. You do as told, watching as pre cum oozes out of his hole. Bucky groans, stretching his right leg out. He mumbles something you can’t make out. Your look up to see him quickly lick his hand and the replace yours with his own over his growing dick, “Like this.” He curved it up towards his body and he teaches you how to stroke. You watch amazed as his flesh hand moves over his cock, noting how where his thumb and pointer finger meet focuses on the edge of the mushroom tip.

You put your hands over his and he lets himself go, letting you take charge again.

The feel of his saliva on your palm over his cock is filthy. Dirty. Fucking sexual.

You mimic his actions from earlier for about a minute until you decide to lick a strip up the underside of his shaft.

You hear him gasp underneath you and a heavy hand meets the back of your head. You look up at him timidly and he’s looking down at you. He looks as sinful as ever. His cheeks are flushed and his mouth is agape. You can’t tell if it’s the pleasure you’re giving him or if he’s shocked. 

It kills him how innocent you look with your head between his legs. Your lashes are so long and pretty and, oh, your lips look small plush too. You keep eye contact as you flick the tip of your tongue over his tip and a whine escapes his throat. You do it again, and again.

“Oh my god.” He moans. You take him into your mouth little by little, careful to not let your teeth scrape him. 

You bob your head up and down, your right hand stroking what you can’t take down your throat.

You feel his hands pulling your hair into a makeshift pony tail and you groan around him. 

“Fuck.” He gasps at the vibrations. One of his hands leave your head but the other stays there, helping you; guiding you.

You sit up up until your butt is in the air, with him still in your mouth, and your place your hands on his thighs. You take a deep breath, and he watches as you lower your head down his cock, as deep as it could go. 

The chocking sounds are erotic to both your ears.

Bucky is breathing harder now and he takes your head in both of his hands, running his fingers gently down the sides as he slides you up and off his cock. 

When your eyes meet, his looks lust blown. His gaze is briefly on your now swollen lips, and then he composes himself, hands going down to the hem of your white camisole dress.

He helps you pull it off in one go followed by your underwear. As soon as it’s off your feet you go to sit up when he stops you.

He grabs your pillow and places it behind you. You sit back. Bucky gives your body a hungry look as he grabs each of your knees, bending your legs up. He gives them a shove away from each other.

You feel exposed and naked and you know he can see just how soaked you are. You whimper as he slides to fingers up your bare and freshly shaved folds. He lets out his own moan as he gathers your juices onto the tips of his fingers, smearing them over your clit.

Shocked, you watch as he leans down until his front is almost perpendicular to the bed. He kisses the inside of your thigh, nibbling it as he makes his way to your center.

You feel his hot breath against your cunt as he tells you to put you to grab his head.

In a euphoric daze, you do as you’re told. A jolt of pleasure shoots through you as he licks your clit. You feel two of his fingers spread your lips and then he’s licking at you, feeding on you like you’re his favorite meal.

You groan, shoving his head closer to your pussy. 

“Oh, shit.” You moan when he enters two flesh fingers into your as he sucks on your bundle of nerves.

Your left leg kicks out as he sucks and sucks. You’re breathless as you look down, the sigh of his head between your thighs being the sexiest thing you’ve ever seen.

“Oh, god.” You say. 

He looks up at you and you’re gasping. His eyes don’t leave yours as he continues to fuck you with two fingers, the tip of his tongue now flicking at you like mad.

You let out a heavy groan, your head tossing backwards in pleasure.

You feel him pull away and you whimper at the loss of feeling. You feel him grab the side of your waist and he’s pulling you against him until he’s back into the same position he was before. 

Bucky leans over the side of the bed and goes into his night stand. You don’t know how to feel when you see him grab a box of condoms.

Did he buy that? Did he know he didn’t want it to be just a one time thing? He didn’t want it to be a one time thing?

You rips box and tosses almost angrily, and when he’s got the foil in his hand, he tears the edge with his teeth.

He slides the condom over his dick and then gently grabs your arms.

“I’ve never…” you stutter as you sit on his lap.

“I know you haven’t, i’ll teach you.” He slides you up and down over his cock, coating it with your slick. You’re leaned over him gasping and he’s grinning his teeth, “You can ride my cock, can’t you?” He purrs up at you so deliciously you have to bite your bottom lip to keep from whimpering, “I want to make you feel good. I want to make you cum. I want us to cum together.”

Your movements quicken as his words turn you on. He takes himself in his hand and rubs his tip up and down over your slit before finally pushing into your heat.

You both groan simultaneously. The pleasure is mutual and you both feel full and satisfied, for the first time. He’s gasping, both hands taking a hold of each side of your face.

He hates what this has become. He hates that his emotions are at an all time high right now.

His eyes look into yours as you move up and down and he remembers why he was so afraid of loving again.

As you move over him, he knows he wouldn’t be able to handle it if something bad were to happen to you. As you fuck yourself on his cock, he knows he can’t fall down that rabbit hole again. He tried so hard to make you hate him and yet here you were, letting him fuck you.

You couldn’t like him. Not emotionally and not physically. It was for your own good. He was bad news, he knew he was.

Everything he touched always got destroyed. It always died.

He was cursed.

Your cunt gives him a perfect squeeze and he shouts.

“God, Y/N.” He cries, grabbing your hips and driving you down faster and harder. 

He bends his legs and the sound of your skins hitting echoes around the loft. 

Dirty.

Your hand goes to your pussy and you rub yourself furiously.

“Oh yeah.” You moan. He moans back in response, his own hips lifting off the bed to fuck into you.

He tells you to rest your hands on the pillow next to his head and you do so.

He grabs your hips and starts ramming up into you.

Looking down, his face is only a few inches from yours and you wished you could kiss him. You wonder if he can see past your lie of just wanting him for sex. You wanted so much more than an orgasm.

He was killing you.

With one of his ruthless trusts, he hits that spot inside of you that makes you see sparks and you feel your end approaching.

You’re breaths come out of your nose in sharp huffs, fingers curling into the pillow case. 

You scream when he leans himself up, taking the side of one of your breasts into his mouth. His nibbles you with a growl.

You know he’s getting close too because his eyebrows are tight together and there’s a thin sheet of sweat over his body.

You cum beautifully over his dick. You know you’re probably shouting but you don’t care because there is absolutely nothing that could ever feel better than this. He helps you drag it out and he rams into you and you look down to see his eyes tightly closed. 

You rub a thumb over the tops of his left cheek.

“Cum for me.” You whisper.

His mouth gapes open and he gives you a few more strong thrust before they start to falter. He lets out a loud and animalism grunt, followed by a slap to your right ass cheek.

You’re both panting as you collapse on top of him.

+  +

The building’s security infrastructure was a lot less advanced than Bucky had planned for, which was a great thing. He half expected to have to divert more cameras and more security. Especially for a Hydra centre. 

Or maybe he was just that stealthy. 

He had commenced his part of the mission earlier in the afternoon than he usually did, but that was because he wanted to see if he could catch Ashen this time. 

Just as planned, at three forty five sharp, Ashen and three other man came in through the main entrance. 

Bucky, having come in through a weak and dingy window across the building, watched from afar as they took the elevator. On cue, Bucky took the door to the stairwell. 

He made it quickly to the seventieth floor until he hear the familiar voice. Waiting until it was far enough and he could no longer hear anything, Bucky stepped out into the hallway.

He makes sure to avoid directly sight of any cameras he sees along the way. So many years as the world’s most dangerous assassin gave him the stealth and experience needed to do it successfully. He would go undetected.

The building was modern and gorgeous. There were glass panels and long hallways. Bucky followed the men from a safe distance until they finally walked into a room, closing the door behind them. Bucky tried to maneuver as best as he could without being seen. 

When he turned he saw something that left him stunned.

It was a medical bay, expect that there was just one bed.

He could see Ashen and those few men, who were now adorning lab coats.

What caught Bucky off guard was the little boy laying in the bed, unconscious. There were several tubs and IVs coming in and out of his little body. He was a strange color, almost light green. Ashen sat next to the boy, sad.

Bucky watched carefully as Ashen took the little boy’s hand in his.

“Hey, kiddo. Daddy got you a gift this time. It’s not the usual one you like, but I figured you’d still love it.” Bucky watched as Ashen pulled something out of his suit pocket. It was a Hershey kisses. Ashen placed it on the bed, “You need to wake up, buddy. It’s the only thing left before we can figure this out. Please, Ashens.”

Bucky’s heart sunk as the kid’s father’s head dropped down onto the bed. His hand ran over his head, the other continued to hold onto Ashens’ hand.

“Sir?” One of the men in the lab coats speaks.

“Yes?” Ashen responds.

“We can hold him on the machines for a few more months, but if things don’t start to look up —-”

“I don’t want to hear it. He will wake up. He will stay on the machines until I say otherwise.” He snaps, “We already have Stark technology being detected within the walls, we can’t afford to lose guard now. We are getting closer!”

“Sir—”

“He’s my son!” He shouts.

Bucky starts to back away when he hears someone about to turn the corner. He hides behind one of the walls that lead into a room until the close is clear. He finds his way back the way he came.

He needed to find you.

+  +  +

“Pour me a Knob Creek on the rocks, sweetheart.” The man slurs, giving you a nod towards drinks behind you.

You tried not to groan as you gave him a fake smile. You quickly poured him the drink and slid it across the bar to the douchebag who wouldn’t stop eyeing you like a piece of meat.

“I’ll have the same.”

A voice says on the opposite side. You look over and you feel fear creep up in your bones.

Silas.

You nod, hands shaking as pour his drink.

He watches you closely.

“You nervous about something?” He asks.

You let out a shaky chuckle.

“No.” You say bluntly.

You slide him the drink and he takes it, but his eyes don’t leave yours. 

“I won’t bite.” He says.

You look away. Shit did he remember you?

“Didn’t think you would.”

You go to turn around when he grabs your wrist. Your blood runs ice cold and your freeze on the spot. You can feel your heart beating away inside of your chest.

His eyes are intense as they stay on you.

“Do I know you from somewhere?” He asks.

You let out another chuckle.

“No, I don’t think so.”

“You’re not a whore?”

His blunt question insults you. You know he means one of the call girls down stairs, but it still bothers you.

“I’m a bartender.” You insist.

“Bartender?” His grip tightens slightly.

He stares into your eyes and you feel threatened. 

Did he remember?

“Hey, everything alright out here?” You turn around, relieved to see Pietro behind you.

Silas quickly lets go of you and returns to his drink.

Pietro looks up from your wrist to Silas with a raised brow.

Your heart only calms down a bit before you clear your throat.

“You okay, Marina?” He asks you in the corner where Silas won’t hear.

“Yeah, I’m fine.” Pietro doesn’t believe you and you can tell by the way he looks at you.

“If you ever have any issues with anyone here, please let me know.” You nod, “Good. Have a good night, you did good today.”

You give him another short nod, still unable to breathe properly.

+  +

Bucky was standing out on the balcony when you came home. He looked to be deep in thought about something so you gave him the space he needed. You avoided the bedroom and instead hung out for a bit on the couch, trying to process what happened tonight and how you would tell Bucky. You knew for certain he was going to flip out. Or maybe it was just your paranoia and he would tell you to relax and that you were overreacting. 

You weren’t sure what would happen. 

Bucky doesn’t decided to come inside until you’re in the kitchen grabbing some left over take out from yesterday. He stands in the entrance for a few seconds before sitting down at the table behind you. 

“We need to talk.” He says.

You wait a few seconds before sitting in front of him. He’s looking down at his hand on his leg instead of at you.

He bites his lip and scoffs, disappointedly. 

What was going on?

He stands up, runs his hands through his hair and begins to pace around.

“We shouldn’t have done this. Any of this. It was a mistake. I knew it would’ve been bad. A distraction. We shouldn’t have done this.” His mumbling under his breath and not making any sense to you.

“Bucky, what’s going on?” You ask quietly and concerned. 

He walks over to the counter and slams his flesh fist on it. 

“What the fuck are we doing?”  He shouts, “We’re supposed to be working, focusing on this mission, and instead,” he spins around pointing out the kitchen, “instead we’re out there fucking, Y/N. We’re acting like a bunch of fucking animals, humping each other’s brains out!”

“Bucky —”

“I knew, I knew this would’ve been a bad decision. I fucking knew I shouldn’t have let this happen.”

“You need two people to have sex, Bucky.”

“You should have never told me you wanted to fuck me.”

“I never told you to fuck me. I was only telling you how I feel. That’s all I’ve been doing this entire time.”

“Well, you shouldn’t have.”

“You’re the one who told me you wanted to fuck me, Bucky! You’re the one that bought a fucking damn box of condoms while I was taking a damn shower!” You’re angry now as you stand up from the chair, “Don’t you dare tell me this was all me or all you, this was both of us.” You jammed a finger into his chest, “You bought me fucking plan B just so I couldn’t get pregnant with your damn child and then you fucked me again not even an hour later. Don’t you fucking dare.” You can feel the tears in your eyes.

He grabs your fingers and walks you back until your back is against the wall. He snarls down at you.

“Then fuck it. We like to fuck. Either it’s me or you or both us, fine. But we shouldn’t have done it.” 

You want to push him away from you as you feel repulsed by him.

“Yeah? Was that what was going through your mind as you were shoving my head down your cock, Barnes? Making me choke on it? Or when you fucked me up against our window so our neighbors could see? I don’t have to fuck you ever again.”

“Good —!”

“—I literally told you I loved you and you attacked me for it—”

“—because it’s obviously only making everything worst—”

“—I then sleep with you, I gave you my virginity, and you have the audacity to stand here and say I seduced you when I gave you my innocence!” You shoved him away and he stumbled back. Your face felt red and you feel furious. You were shocked you weren’t crying, even though you felt like it, “Huh?” You give me another shove, “How fucking evil are you? You gaslighting piece of shit.”

He looked at you after that and your breathing was the only thing that could be heard. His face was stern and turned into a scowl as he looked down at you.

“I’m evil?” You took deep breaths through your nose to control yourself, “No, yeah you’re right, I am. I know I’m a piece of shit. I’m abnormal.” He spat the same words out you had used against him the other day, “I’m so damn evil, Y/N, that I’d rather try and focus on this damn mission than worry about getting laid.” You’re both breathing hard now. He takes a deep breath before continuing, “Yeah, maybe before I was thinking with my cock instead of my head, but it needs to stop now. Last night was the last time.”

You could feel your heart thundering away inside of you. You squinted your eyes at him, seeing the underlying discomfort in his eyes.

“What happened today?” You ask slowly, carefully. He doesn’t answer you and you start to get angry again, “I come home, I found you outside looking all depressed and now you’re in here snapping at me about focusing on the mission. What. Happened. Today?” You emphasize through clenched teeth. He takes a deep breath again, looking away from you he runs a hand through his hair and turns away from you.

“They know we’re here. We weren’t careful enough.” He says.

Your heart falls into the pit of your stomach along with your worst fears.

“What?”

“They know we’re here! I fucking followed them and I overheard them. We either weren’t careful enough or —- I don’t know!” He’s pacing again, “Your parent’s must’ve put in some kind of tracker to make the capitol aware or something of stark technology or maybe Hydra pre installed something. Whatever it is, they know we are here, and for all I know they could be watch us right now. We fucked up.”

You watch him as he stresses over this. He grabs at his hair.

“They don’t know it’s us, Bucky. If they did they’ve would’ve caught us by now.” You tick your jaw as you watch the muscles in his back flex, “Something happened at work today, too. I think Silas remembered me.”

Bucky scoffs, turning around again to face you.

“There’s no way he remembers you. We wiped him.”

“Maybe you’re right, but he was acting off. He came to order a drink and he grabbed me —”

“He grabbed you?”

“Just my hand. I was fine. Pietro showed up, sensed the tension, and Silas backed off.”

“Fuck.”

You take a deep breath, stepping away from Bucky.

“You’re right,” you eye him up and down, “We can’t let it happen again. We need to focus on this and I’m already exhausted from you.”

“Exhausted from me?” His voice is a low timber now, the anger from before having died over.

“You don’t even know the amount of emotional turmoil you put me through, do you?” He continues to stare at you quietly and you take another step towards him, “You took something I can never get back.” You say quietly, “And it’s up for you to decide what that something is.”

+ + +

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[samwisethewitch]

Everything You Need to Know About Pagan Deity

As you’ve probably guessed by now, there are many, many, many different approaches to deity within the wider pagan community. While it would be impossible to summarize all of these different perspectives in a single blog post, this post contains some common themes and best practices that are more or less universal and can be adapted to fit whatever system you choose to work with.

In my Baby Witch Bootcamp series, I talk about the “Four R’s” of working with spiritual beings, including deities: respect, research, reciprocity, and relationship. However, when it comes to gods and goddesses specifically, I think it’s important to include a fifth “R” — receptivity.

If you’re completely new to this kind of work and want to avoid making rookie mistakes and/or pissing off powerful spiritual forces, sticking to the Five R’s of Deity Relationships is a good place to start. The Five R’s are:

Respect. It’s always a good idea to have a healthy respect for the powers you choose to connect with, whether you see those powers as literal gods and goddesses or as archetypes within the collective unconscious (see below). While not every ritual needs to be incredibly formal and structured, you should always conduct yourself with an air of respect and reverence when connecting with deity. There’s no need to humble yourself to the point of cowering before the gods (and in fact, this kind of behavior is a turnoff for many deities), but you should strive to be polite and follow your system’s proper protocol for things like cleansing, offerings, and prayers.

Research. I am of the opinion that you should do serious research into a god or goddess before any attempt to make contact with them. This can be controversial, but in my own experience things seem to go more smoothly when I know what I’m doing. Books are really the way to go for this — the Internet can be useful for connecting with other worshipers and hearing their stories, but it isn’t a good source for nonbiased factual information. I recommend starting with academic sources written by secular experts for a purely historical account that won’t be colored by personal religious experience. Once you have a decent understanding of the basic historical context, look for books by pagan authors who have experience working with this deity. These sources will give you a framework for your own interactions with them.

Reciprocity. As we’ve discussed before, reciprocity is a core value of virtually every pagan tradition. Reciprocity is a mutual positive exchange where all parties benefit in some way, and this quality forms the backbone of all healthy relationships with deity. While we benefit from connecting with the gods, the gods also benefit from our worship. Upholding reciprocity in your relationships with deity means making regular offerings to show your appreciation as well as living in a way that your god or goddess approves of.

Relationship. At the end of the day, connecting with a god or goddess is about creating a healthy, fulfilling relationship. Like any relationship, it takes time and effort to keep the connection alive. The gods are living, thinking, feeling beings just like you and me, though on a much larger scale. Just like you and me, they have likes and dislikes and require certain things from those who want to work closely with them. Try to approach the gods as individuals, and connect with them as you would with another person. This will naturally lead to much more authentic and organic relationships.

Receptivity. To be receptive is to be open and ready to receive whatever comes your way — this is an essential quality for anyone who is serious about connecting with a god or goddess. Connecting with the gods means allowing them a place in your life, whatever they choose to bring with them. It means forming a relationship with them on their terms, and that requires us to give up a certain degree of control. While you should never feel afraid or completely out of control when connecting with deity (if you do, stop contacting that deity immediately), you may very well experience things you did not expect or ask for. Be prepared for these surprises, and understand that when the gods surprise us in this way, they do it in order to help us grow. Let go of any preconceived ideas about what a relationship with this deity “should” look like, and instead let it unfold naturally.

Though there is much more to working with deity than just these values, keeping these values in mind will get you started out on the right foot in your relationships with the gods.

Deity or Archetype?

As odd as it may sound, not everyone who connects with the gods through study and ritual believes those gods to be literal spiritual beings. Some pagans (I would even say the majority of pagans, based on my personal experience) connect with the gods as individuals with their own personalities and agency, but others connect with them as symbols that represent different elements of the human experience. This latter group is working with the gods not as deity, but as archetypes.

The term “archetype” comes from academia, particularly the fields of psychology and literary analysis. An archetype is a symbol that embodies the fundamental characteristics of a person, thing, or experience.

Swiss psychoanalyst Carl Jung argued that archetypes are powerful symbols within the collective unconscious (basically an ancestral memory shared by all of humanity) that arise due to shared experiences across cultures. For example, Jung would argue that Demeter, Juno, and Frigg all represent the “Mother” archetype filtered through different cultural lenses, reflecting the important role of mothers across Greek, Roman, and Old Norse culture. For Jung and his followers, archetypes allow us to connect to latent parts of our own psyche — by connecting with the Mother archetype, for example, you can develop motherly qualities like patience, empathy, and nurturing.

For comparative mythology expert Joseph Campbell, archetypes represented types of characters that appear in some form in most or all global mythology. In his book, The Hero of a Thousand Faces, Campbell identified the “hero’s journey” as the archetypal narrative framework on which most stories, from ancient myths to modern films, are based. (If you’ve taken literally any high school literature class, you’re probably familiar with Campbell’s work.) Like Jung, Campbell has been hugely influential on modern pagans who choose to connect with the gods as archetypes.

Working with an archetype is a little different than working with a deity. For one thing, while archetypes may manifest as gods and goddesses, they can also manifest as fictional characters, historical figures, or abstract symbols. Let’s say you want to tap into the Warrior archetype. You could connect with this archetype by working with gods like Mars, Thor, or Heracles — but you could just as easily do so by working with superheroes like Luke Cage or Colossus, literary figures like Ajax or Achilles, or the abstract concepts of strength and honor.

When pagans worship a deity, it’s because they want to form a relationship with that deity for some reason. But when pagans work with an archetype, it’s usually because they want to embody aspects of that archetype. In our above example, you may be trying to connect to the Warrior archetype to gain confidence or become more assertive.

The biggest difference between worshiping a deity and working with an archetype is that a deity is an external force, while an archetype is an internal force. When you connect with a deity, you are connecting with a spiritual being outside of yourself — a being with their own thoughts, feelings, and drives. When you connect with an archetype, you are connecting with a part of your own psyche. Because of this, archetypes tend to be more easily defined and behave in more predictable ways than deities, although some archetypes can be very complex and multi-faceted.

On the surface, worship and archetype work might be very similar, but the “why” behind the action is fundamentally different.

If you choose to worship the Morrigan, for example, you may have an altar dedicated to her, make regular offerings to her, speak with her in meditations and astral journeys, and/or write poetry or make art in her honor. If you choose to work with the Wild Woman archetype, it may look very similar to an outside observer — you may have an altar dedicated to the Wild Woman energy, speak with manifestations of Wild Woman (perhaps including the Morrigan) in meditation, and write poetry or make art dedicated to this archetype. However, these actions will have a very different intent behind them. Your Wild Woman altar is not a sacred space but a visual trigger to help you connect to the Wild Woman within you. Your meditations are conversations with different aspects of your own personality, not with a separate being. Your art is an expression of self, not a devotional act. The result is a deeper connection to yourself, not a relationship with another being.

I hope I’ve made it clear that archetype work and deity worship can both be very worthwhile spiritual practices, and that each serves its own purpose. Many pagans, myself included, work with both deities and archetypes.

There is some overlap between worshiping a deity and working with an archetype, and many pagans start out with one practice before eventually ending up in the other. Sometimes working with an archetype leads you to encounter a deity who embodies that archetype, which can lead to a relationship with that deity. Likewise, your relationship with a deity may help you become aware of a certain archetype’s influence in your life, which might lead you to work with that archetype.

Making First Contact

First impressions are important. This is true for making new friends, for job interviews, for first dates — and for your first meeting with a god or goddess. In many cases, the way you behave in your first meeting with a deity will set the tone for your relationship with them.

That being said, don’t overthink (or over-stress) about your first impression. You aren’t going to be cursed or punished if you mess this up — at the very worst, the deity might lose interest in connecting with you, and even that can often be remedied with an offering and a polite apology. While it’s always best to get off on the right foot, don’t feel like you need to be perfect.

So, how do you make a good first impression on a god or goddess? Honestly, the rules are largely the same for making a good first impression on any other person. Make sure your physical appearance is clean and tidy — some systems, such as Hellenismos and Kemetic paganism, have special rules for cleansing before contacting the gods, but it’s always a good idea to take a shower first and make sure you’re wearing clean clothes. Likewise, make sure the physical space you invite the gods into is relatively clean — it doesn’t need to be spotless, but take a minute to tidy up before beginning any ritual. Be polite — there’s no need to be overly formal, but you should be respectful. Don’t immediately ask for favors — how would you feel if you met someone at a party and they immediately asked you to do some sort of work for them?

Beyond the basics, it’s wise to make sure you have an idea of who this god is and what they are like before you reach out to them. This will keep you from accidentally doing something offensive. For example, you wouldn’t want to invite them to an altar dedicated to a deity they have a rivalry with. Likewise, you want to avoid offering food or drink that would have been taboo in their original worship. (Of course, there are exceptions to every rule, but when you’re just starting out it’s a good idea to follow the historical framework as closely as possible.)

At the risk of sounding like a broken record: this is why research is so important. Knowing who you are dealing with allows you to deal with them respectfully, gracefully, and competently.

Callings

There’s one aspect of deity worship that is controversial in modern paganism: the idea of being “called” by a deity. This is a question you’ll find many, many heated discussions about online. Do you need to be called by a deity to form a relationship with them? Do deities choose their followers, or do we choose them? How do you know what a call from a deity even looks like?

As I said, this is a controversial topic, but I firmly believe that 1.) you do not have to feel called to a deity beyond being interested in them, and 2.) feeling drawn to a deity’s image, symbols, and myths is a form of calling.

Many pagans do feel like they were called or drawn to the deities they walk most closely with. They may have encountered myths of that deity as a child or teenager and deeply resonated with them, or may have always had an affinity for that god’s sacred animals. They may have dreamed of this deity before knowing who they were, or may have felt a spiritual presence around them before identifying it as a god or goddess.

Many people first encounter the gods in fiction, only for this fictionalized depiction to spark a deeper connection that eventually leads to worship. In the modern era, it’s entirely possible for someone who worships Loki to have first encountered him (or at least a character loosely based on him) in Marvel comics and films, or for someone who worships the Greek pantheon to have first discovered them through the Percy Jackson books. As far as I’m concerned, this is also a valid “call” from deity. The gods are very good at communicating with us through the means available — including fiction.

That being said, just because you don’t already feel a strong connection to a god or goddess doesn’t mean you can’t or shouldn’t worship them. The connection will come with time and effort, just like in any relationship.

Dedication, Patrons, and Matrons

In online spaces such as Tumblr and TikTok, a lot of inexperienced pagans parrot the idea that every pagan needs to have a designated matron and/or patron god and/or needs to be formally dedicated to a god in order to have a close relationship with them. Not only is this untrue, but such restrictions can actually cause harm and/or stunt spiritual growth.

Let’s address dedication first. To be dedicated to a deity means to outwardly declare yourself a servant of that deity, usually with a formal dedication ritual — think of it as the pagan version of joining a convent or going to seminary. It is an outward expression of your devotion and loyalty to that deity. Dedicants are held to a higher standard than the average worshiper by themselves, their communities, and the god(s) they have dedicated to.

Dedication can be a powerful and fulfilling spiritual experience (it’s the backbone of many peoples’ spiritual practice), but it should not be taken lightly. Dedicating yourself to a god or goddess should be a sign of your commitment to them and a deepening of your relationship — it should not be the beginning of that relationship.

Dedication is a lot like marriage. Just like you wouldn’t marry someone you’ve only been on a handful of dates with, you shouldn’t dedicate to a deity just because you’ve had one or two positive experiences with them. Like marriages, dedication can be difficult to get out of — ending your dedication to a deity is possible, but it’s a messy, complicated, uncomfortable process that is sure to shift the foundation of your entire spiritual practice, and not always for the better.

My advice to new and inexperienced pagans is not to even consider dedication until you’ve been practicing for several years. As you begin your journey, your focus should be on exploring your options, forming meaningful connections, and developing a practice that works for you and your unique spiritual needs. Now is the time for experimentation, not lifelong commitments.

But let’s say you are an experienced pagan, and you feel like you are ready for dedication. How do you know if you should dedicate to a given god or goddess?

Dedication may be the logical next step in your relationship with a deity if:

This deity has been an active part of your spiritual practice for at least 2-3 years, with no major gaps in contact with them

You are comfortable upholding this deity’s values for the rest of your life — and are willing to face consequences if you fail to do so

You are willing to dedicate a significant amount of time and effort to the service of this deity

You are willing to face major changes in your life outside your spiritual practice — dedicating to a deity often leads to major shifts that may affect our career, family, and/or relationships

If you answered “yes” to all of the above, dedication may be appropriate. This may seem overly cautious, but remember that dedicating to a deity is a serious, lifelong commitment akin to joining the clergy. For context, it takes at least five years of study and practice to become a Catholic priest, a similar amount of time to become a Jewish rabbi, and three years to become a high priest/ess in Traditional Wicca. If you don’t have the patience to maintain a relationship for a few years before dedication, that is probably a good indicator that dedication isn’t for you.

If you are dedicated to a deity or are planning to dedicate, you may actually choose to attend seminary or receive some other formal religious training. This training will help you to better serve your deity in a public capacity, as you will learn skills like religious counselling, leading ritual, and building community. If your program of study includes ordination, it will also allow you to perform legally binding religious rituals like marriage ceremonies. Depending on your path, attending seminary or training may be your act of formal dedication.

Finally, let me make it clear that dedication does not make you a better pagan than someone who is not dedicated. The choice to dedicate or not dedicate is only one element of your spiritual practice, and it is possible to have a fulfilling and life-affirming practice without dedication. Some of the people who do the most work in the service of the gods are not dedicated to them. You may be one of these people, and that is totally okay.

Patron/matron relationships are a specific type of dedication.

The concept of patron deities comes from Wicca and related neopagan religions. As we’ve previously discussed, Wicca is a duotheistic system with a God and Goddess, whose union is the source of all creation. However, because Wiccans believe that all gods are manifestations of the God and all goddesses are manifestations of the Goddess, some covens choose to work with the God and Goddess in the form of other deities (say, for example, Osiris and Isis), which are referred to as the coven’s “patron” and “matron” deities. In these covens, initiation into the coven’s mysteries (traditionally in the form of first, second, and third degree initiations) typically acts as a form of dedication to these deities.

As Eclectic Wicca has gained popularity in the last few decades, there has been a growing trend of individual Wiccans and eclectic pagans choosing personal patron and/or matron deities. Some Wiccans will have a single god or goddess they are dedicated to, while others feel that it is very important to be dedicated to exactly one masculine deity and exactly one feminine deity. This second model is the one I see most often in online pagan spaces, especially Tumblr and TikTok.

The patron/matron model can be useful for some pagans, but it is not one-size-fits-all. As I mentioned, this model of dedication comes from Wicca, and is a very modern concept. In ancient pagan religions, most people would not have been dedicated in this way. That does not mean that this isn’t a valid form of worship (it absolutely is), but it does mean that those who practice reconstructionist paths may not be inclined to interact with deity this way.

The guidelines for patron/matron relationships are similar to the guidelines for dedication in general, but these relationships often (but not always) have a more parental nature. For some people, having a divine mother and/or father figure is ideal — especially for those who are healing from parental trauma or abuse. If you feel drawn to this type of deity relationship, I encourage you to explore it.

On the other hand, you may not have any interest in the patron/matron model, and that’s totally fine! It’s called polytheism for a reason — if you prefer to maintain less formal relationships with many gods, you should feel free to do so.

I hope this post has helped clarify some of the murkier aspects of polytheism and deity work. Obviously, this is only the tip of the iceberg — I could write a book about this topic and many, many authors already have. However, I think the information here is enough to get you started, and I hope that it will provide a first step on your journey with your gods.

Resources:

Wicca for Beginners by Thea Sabin

A Witches’ Bible by Janet and Stewart Farrar

The Spiral Dance by Starhawk

Where the Hawthorn Grows by Morgan Daimler

The Way of Fire and Ice by Ryan Smith

Jessi Huntenburg (YouTuber), “Dancing with Deity | Discovering Gods, Goddesses, and Archetypes,” “Archetype, Deity, and Inviting Transpersonal Experience,” and “10 Ways to Bond with Deity”

Kelly-Ann Maddox (YouTuber), “How to Have Deep Connections with Deities”

#paganism 101 #paganism #deity work #dedication #devotional witchcraft #devotional #eclectic pagan #wicca #wiccan #pagan #baby pagan #baby witch #witchblr #witch #witchcraft #religion #theology #goddess #patron god #matron goddess #spiritual #polytheism #witchtok

[jishyucks]

Me and You Against the World ‣ hjs

‣ genre: royalty!au, arranged marriage, female reader, pls read an!

‣ wc: 4.7k

‣ summary: "I don't understand why they judge when they don't even know you…"; in which you don't let the words of others get in the way of your relationship with Jisung

‣ warnings?: Itzy is mean in this (but it doesn't reflect how they are irl!), prejudice due to less wealth, lots of thinking

‣ an: These events are what leads to this fic but in a different 'era.' Basically, I decided to just write the ending of this fic in a rich kid au setting instead of a royal au setting and just post that,,, but since I already wrote a lot of it, I decided to post it! It can be read separately but this doesn't have a proper ending.

i.

You can vividly remember the reactions of all the other princesses when they found out you were arranged to marry none other than Prince Han Jisung. They snickered and laughed. They blatantly shared pitiful glances, taking turns to pat your shoulder as if it could bring you a sense of comfort.

Of course, at the growing age of fourteen, you had no idea why they had been acting as so. From images and stories you received of the Prince, he seemed like someone who would be easy to get along with. So why the judgmental looks?

"They're the poorest of all the kingdoms, Y/N," Yeji pointed out, "Your kingdom is one of the richest, of course, after mine. Don't you think that's rather odd?" She traced the laces of her gloves and scoffed discourteously.

You bring the teacup up to your mouth, eyeing your friend curiously, "What do you mean by that?" You gulped, afraid that the image of your family name would be stained. It was not your choice, however, nor your parents'. You had been drawn to be last when choosing a suitor, and naturally, from the apparent reputation and wealth of the Han family, their son was the last left to be selected.

Yeji scoffed, the other princesses laughing at how naive you've been acting, "Obviously, their family's going to leech off of your family. I think your parents should rethink their decision of choosing Han Jisung as your future husband."

Shaking your head, you frowned at the meaningless words that your friend had been spitting out, "I don't think that's needed… Isn't that what we're supposed to do? Help each other out? How bad can Han Jisung be?”

Lia finally speaks up, "I heard that he rolls around the mud with their pigs."

"And… he doesn't even take a bath after doing so," Yuna budges in. She stirred the cooling tea with a miniature spoon, a smirk rising up to her lips, "Imagine how his bed smells. Rancid."

"I hear he's poor-mannered, too… that he lacks the respect a prince should need towards others," Ryujin says stiffly, "Just generally not fit to be a king. I feel bad for you, Y/N."

There was a brief silence between the six of you, the sound of Yuna's spoon tapping the sides of the cup occupying that silence. Though you felt yourself frown at the possibility that you were to be married to an ill-mannered prince, you quickly shook those thoughts out and tried your best to ignore them. You were taught never to be driven towards believing rumours or gossip in this case. Who were they to judge someone they never met? Except for Yeji, who met him through her brother.

"I ask you all not to pity me in any sort," you finally say, "Not until I've met him. Besides… those are just rumours. He could be much better than you hear." Satisfied with how you handled the situation, you straightened your back and took a long sip of your tea, mentally preparing yourself for your first meeting with the Prince.

—

Upon arriving at the valley region, the kingdom owned by the Han's, you immediately understand why your parents settled with their son. Though you were last to choose your suitor, your parents and his parents seemed to be closely acquainted, smiles on their faces and direct contact as they greeted each other. You stood back, watching the exchange begin and end, rather amused at how happy both sets of parents looked.

"I'm so happy you all arrived safely," the Queen of the valley region clasped her hands. The King nodded and let his wife continue, "And I'm so glad that our children are to be married by chance… All the other young princesses chose, while you–" She looked over your mother's shoulder and at you, "You and my precious son fell into this arrangement by fate's doing! The world wanted this."

Your mother responded by smiling fondly, "I never viewed the situation like that!" They begin to move up the stairs towards the front entryway, the knights moving along the four majesties. You followed closely behind, listening in on the conversation as you let your eyes wander around. "My mother had been upset that Y/N fell last, telling me I would not be able to choose the best," your mother began, "But I don't see any problem with that."

Compared to other castles you've visited, you could definitely see how much wealth the Hans did have. It was still very much a beautiful castle. It was well-kept and unique in build. Something drew you to it. But you couldn't exactly point out what part of it did.

"I understand your mother's perspective," the King chuckled, "No one likes being last. However, I believe that in such matter, no one is stuck with the 'worst.'"

At this point, everyone had entered the castle, and this was when you could see that the Hans were, in fact, less wealthy than the other royal families. Much of the furniture and interior decorations were quite old, almost antique, but again, it was a feature of the castle that drew you in. The outside of the castle looked much larger than the interior.

"Ah! I almost forgot," the Queen turned to look at your family, "My son is out and about exploring. We instructed him to come in time to greet you guys at the entrance but boys his age never listen." At the mention of Jisung, you almost forgot about him, causing your curiosity to rise.

"Miss Kim?"

A lady appeared from another room, hurriedly approaching the Queen with a bow, "Yes, your majesty?"

"Please escort Princess Y/N to Prince Jisung," she instructed gently, "It will be nice for them to get acquainted while we continue with our conversation about this arrangement."

Miss Kim nodded and waved you over with a motherly smile, "Let us go, Princess." You quickly bid your parents goodbye before trailing behind Miss Kim. Though her legs were short, she moved with ease, almost flying down the corridor with a constant speed. She didn't look back to see if you had still been following her as your footsteps helped her indicate your presence.

"I suspect the Prince is somewhere by the garden," she mutters urgently, "Or by the river."

"River?" you questioned. The idea of a river caused you to smile. Your family ruled the mountain region, meaning there were not many rivers to visit. A river would be a nice change in scenery. Miss Kim finally leads you out of the back of the castle, the sight of flowers taking over your line of sight.

"Prince Jisung?" she called out, "Prince Jisung?" It was rather enjoyable seeing Miss Kim run around frantically in search of the Prince. Your mind wanders back to the conversation you had with other princesses, how the Prince is ill-mannered, one who was not fit to be a king. With his absence in greeting you and your family, you're afraid that the other princesses were actually correct with this information.

"I'm over here, Miss Kim!" a voice called out, "By the pond!"

Once again, Miss Kim waved for you to follow you. You hiked up your dress and tried your best to keep up with her speed, though she still kept the same pace she previously had. She walked straight down the stone path, turning right onto another pathway, and then left, finally revealing a beautifully decorated pond.

"Ah, there you are, my prince!" Miss Kim had been blocking your view of the third presence, marching towards the pond. You let her move ahead, allowing her to approach the Prince on her own, "The Y/L/Ns are here… your mother strictly told you that you should be there to greet them."

Still a voice with no face, you hear him reply, "I'm sorry, I lost track of time… I'm feeding the fish!" There was a moment of silence as the Prince went to stand up, finally revealing the frame of his body to you. He turns to face your direction. His head was kept down as he dusted off the dirt from his pants.

"Do I have time to chan–" The Prince finally noticed you standing yards away from him and Miss Kim, causing him to halt abruptly in his words, "–ge?"

"Your parents have ordered for you two to get acquainted," Miss Kim stated, "I assume I will be the one to call you both shortly for dinner." At this, she turns to hurry back, leaving you and the Prince alone.

He bows stiffly, "Nice to meet you. I'm Jisung."

He bowed… that's a good indication of manners, right? You curtsy, "I'm Y/N."

"I know who you are," he says happily, beginning to walk back towards the main path. You follow, "You know they call you the 'Snow Princess' here? Which I don't understand because the mountains aren't always filled with snow." He looks back to see if you followed him, "Do you mind if we drop our titles with each other? We are at the same standing."

"I don't mind," you replied. You're taken aback at his apparent tendency to talk, "We are arranged to marry in a few years…."

"Well, Y/N," he begins, a bright smile on his face, "How should we begin?"

You watch as he advances forward, hands swinging carelessly, something you were taught never to do. As a princess, you were taught to cross your hands in front of you to give you a poised appearance. Jisung had a hop in his step, his posture could be straighter, and his hair was unkempt. You could already say that Yeji's brother, Hyunjin, was probably the opposite of Jisung. He kept himself tidy, he came on time to schedules and never interrupted when another was speaking. This is perhaps what Ryujin meant when she said Jisung was not fit for a king.

"How do you like to spend your time?" You questioned. You figured that this was a way to start a conversation, hoping that it would blossom into another.

Jisung hummed in thought, "If I'm not doing my studies or sleeping, I tend to spend my time here… just deep in thought." He raised his arms, presenting the garden to you.

"You don't go horseback riding? How about practicing swordsmanship?"

He shrugs, "We're short on horses right now, and my father is prioritizing the knights with the horses since they need it. As for swordsmanship, my mother wants me to wait until I'm older."

Short on horses?

"Ahhh, I understand," you nodded awkwardly, "If you ever come to my kingdom, I'll take you horseback riding! You seem like the person who would love doing it."

This sparks a feeling of joy in Jisung, a smile reflecting it, "That would be really nice! I'll look forward to that." He stuffs his hands into the pockets of his dress pants, "How about you? How do you spend your time?"

"I do studies, like you… I read, visit the village. Horseback riding, of course… suddenly I can't think once I'm asked," you laughed, "But I'm often very active and doing my duties."

"Your life sounds a lot more interesting than mine," he grins, trying to laugh the sad reality off, "It's evident in the way you can't even list all of your activities." You could see his smile start to falter, bangs falling over his forehead as he looked down at his feet.

You feel your heart stutter, and soon you're frowning. The words you had told the other princesses echoed in your head. Isn't that what we're supposed to do? Help each other out?

Reaching out, you grab ahold of his wrist. At the sudden contact, he flinched slightly before relaxing at the realization, "You're still happy, aren't you?"

He nods gently, still dwelling on the fact that even though you both stood at the same social standing, his wealth didn't amount to yours, and he couldn't help but be embarrassed. He couldn't help but feel bad you were stuck with him as a future husband when it was quite obvious you could do better.

"Then that's what matters," you say. A part of you wanted to tell him not to compare his life to others, but you stopped yourself, refraining from creating emphasis on your wealth and his supposed slight lack of it.

At your exchange of glances and sympathetic smiles, the footsteps of Miss Kim grew closer. Looking over, you see as she's waving you both over for dinner. Jisung nodded and held up a thumbs up to indicate that you both were going to follow, sending Miss Kim back to tend to the meal.

Jisung turns to once more, "Thank you, Y/N. I'll live by that."

–

"So?"

Yeji, Hyunjin, and Lia sat around the table, eyeing you as if you owed them something of great importance. You stared back at them, straightening your back as you become aware of the attention on you.

"Pardon?" What is it that you needed to tell them? You didn't recall promising them any sort of information, nor did you have news to pass on.

"How was your visit to the valley region?" Lia questioned, "Was it all as they say it was?"

Yeji leaned towards you, "And Prince Jisung? Was he ill-mannered?"

You mentally bring a hand to your forehead, comprehending what it was they were expecting from you. You assume they wanted you to traduce the Han family and their kingdom. But despite the obvious difference in wealth they had from the rest of the kingdoms and the fact that Jisung lacked the training he needed as a prince, you found no problems in the Han family.

"Their castle was unique," you begin, "It was beautiful, actually." You use a fork to poke into the sliced fruit laid out on a plate, bringing it to your mouth as you wait for their reactions. As anticipated, puzzled looks rose up onto their faces, rather confused about your comment. You continue, "The interior was beautiful as well. Not as extravagant as the Hwang family's castle, but it was still a sight to look at. It was adorned with flowers.

"As for Prince Jisung," you could feel some sense of protection over him, biting back your tongue from saying rude things to those in front of you, "He's just as much a prince as Hyunjin. He's playful and carefree, is all. So I hope you all should refrain from listening to the gossip being spread about the Han family, especially since they're going to be part of my family in the future." The three of them sat back and nodded. You wished you could laugh at the embarrassed and apologetic looks on their faces, but to their eyes, that would not be very polite of you.

ii.

It wasn't until two years later that Jisung had been actually able to visit your kingdom. Though you did enjoy visiting his kingdom and enjoying the change in scenery, having him come to yours was something you had wished for ever since you met him.

Over the past two years of getting to know each other, you had grown much closer than you initially expected. Jisung had a view on life that contrasted to yours in more ways than one, and learning of the different perspectives of the world allowed you to adopt an open mind. You believe that he made you a better princess and future Queen.

Likewise, Jisung has been able to get a taste of what a typical royal life is like through you. Though his family was still able to experience the everyday duties and privilege of being royalty, there were limitations when it came to his position. Through you, he could at least understand what other things were expected of him. As he grew physically, he grew mentally, learning to appear princely in front of others without completely stripping the playful personality he had around those close to him.

Regardless of what others did say about the Han family, the relationship between you both worked well in all sorts of ways. You would always think about what Jisung's mother had told your parents, how you both were brought together by fate, and in that sense, you guys were meant to be partners.

"Ready to ride horses?" You had a mischievous grin on your face as you pulled the boy behind you.

"Why are you smiling as if the horses could kill me?" Jisung eyed you suspiciously, genuinely afraid of what could happen next. He stumbled over his own feet as he followed you, scared yet excited.

You laughed, "I mean, they can, but they won't."

The two of you finally arrived at the stable, catching Seungmin placing the saddles onto the horses. He greeted you and Jisung with a bow before speeding up in doing his task.

"I promise you, I won't let you get hurt in any way," you say. You asked Seungmin to bring the horse out for Jisung, who refused to guide the horse without experience, "You'll get the hang of it. Watch me get on and do the same."

He nods, listening to every single syllable of your words. Setting your left foot onto the stirrup, you grab hold of the saddle and heave yourself up after a couple of bounces on your right foot. You swing your leg over your horse, Blizz, with ease, quickly making yourself comfortable on the horse.

"That… that can't be too hard…." Jisung muttered. He mirrors what you previously did, setting his foot onto the stirrup and grabbing hold of the top of the saddle. You watched as he bounces countlessly on his right foot, unable to find the right time to pull himself up.

"Do you need help, Prince Jisung?" Seungmin questioned. You almost forgot that he was standing aside because of how amused you had grown in watching Jisung.

Jisung shook his head, mentally shooing Seungmin away as he finally times everything right and heaves himself up. Forgetting to throw his leg over the horse's, Buran, body, for a brief moment, Jisung's body had been doing over the horse, hovering as his foot stuck to the stirrup.

"Sung, throw your leg over!" You exclaimed, holding back a laugh. You shouldn't even laugh, as he barely rides horses, but you couldn't help but find the situation hysterical. Jisung was close to panicking, but right when he was going to back off of the horse, he finally found the courage to build momentum to swing his leg over.

"I did it!" He gasped. Jisung shifted slightly on the saddle to make himself comfortable, a proud and bright smile on his face.

"You're a natural!" You tease. You let Blizz move closer to Buran, mirroring Jisung's smile widely, "It's actually difficult getting on horses. I'm surprised you didn't have much trouble."

"Of course," he joked, winking, "I'm me."

You playfully hit his shoulder before going over the ways he was supposed to guide his horse. He listened carefully, never seeming to blink for the next ten minutes of your brief lesson, "I won't go any faster than this." You rode circles around Jisung, keeping your attention directly on him. Judging by the expression on his face, he was nervous to begin moving, "Are you ready?"

Jisung nods confidently, gesturing for you to go ahead of him so that he can follow.

"I'm staying beside you," you told him.

You both started off slow, following a man-made path that circled your family's castle. Jisung had great control of Buran, though his knuckles were white from the grip had on its reins. You assure him that he was okay, that Buran was well trained and would not go out of control even with the most hectic of occurrences.

"Are you sure you haven't ridden before?" You questioned, "Wanna speed up a little bit?"

He nods, "Not so quick, though… I want to ease into it." You nod understandingly as you both begin to speed up. He follows you, heart pounding at the possibility that Buran would not understand his controls, "I've ridden once before, but my father was the one controlling the horse… He let me hold onto the reins, but that was about it."

"How long ago was that?"

"When I was about five."

Making plenty of rounds around the castle, you decide to divert down the path down to the edge of the town. Jisung followed you, even moving slightly ahead, "Your kingdom is beautiful, Y/N."

"I could say that about yours, Sung," you catch up to him and let your gaze fall onto Jisung. The gentle breeze softly brushed through his hair, exposing his forehead. You could tell that he was slowly growing used to the feeling of riding. You figured that speaking to him was a great distraction from the nerves.

He smiles at the mention of his home before shaking his head, "Oh hush… this is about you." He returns your gaze, snickering once he gets a proper look at you. Despite you both being on horses, the space between you both would have been considered close.

"What's so funny?"

He reaches forward and picks out a leaf that had flown into your hair, "Since when did you get so messy?" Letting the leaf fly out of his hand, he winks jokingly at you, causing you to almost fall off Blizz.

"I've always been messy," you rolled your eyes. At the sight of the town, you advanced faster, making sure that Jisung was comfortable without your guidance, "The only reason my bedroom is not cave-like is because of the caretakers."

Jisung won't say it out loud, but somehow, flaws such as this made him fall harder for you. Though you appeared to fit how princesses should be, the more he learned about you, the more he understood that you were just as human as any of those he ruled and you ruled.

"Do you want to stop by the bakery before returning to the castle?" You turned back to look at Jisung, who had chosen to fall back slightly just to catch a glimpse of you, "You can meet Mr. Yang! He'll love you!"

Jisung nodded and trailed closely behind you, ensuring that he wouldn't lose you, not that he actually would lose you. The town's buildings grew closer, the townspeople walking to and from them.

It was nice to see the attire and the architecture of those who lived in your region. Compared to Jisung's region, where people often wore sleeveless or short sleeves, the people wore longer sleeves and thin layers. Though the weather was not at all bad, he figured that they had grown used to this type of weather and generally wanted to dress warmer. The buildings were built on top of platforms that separated the actual structure from the ground, probably to avoid the permafrost during colder days.

"We're here," you turned back, noticing the awe in Jisung's expression. He shook the look off and smiled, slowing the speed of his steed just as u had, "I wonder if Jeongin is in! I've known him since I was younger."

Jisung took time to hop off his horse before dusting off his trousers to make himself look presentable. You were ensuring that the horses were tied tightly at a nearby post, waiting for Jisung to join you. Once he had done so, you both made your way into a large building, the name of the bakery on the front: Yang-Yum Bakery.

"Mr. Yang!"

"Princess! Welcome!" An older man had his head raised over the counter, a deep smile on his face, "And is this Prince Jisung?" He stood up straight and bowed, "Welcome to my bakery. Princess Y/N has told me so much about you!"

Jisung felt his ears warm up before smiling back, "Nice to meet you, too, Mr. Yang."

The baker kept the smile on his face as he moved down the counter towards his baked goods, "What would you like? It is on me today as a welcome gift to the Prince."

Jisung's eyes widened at the selection of goods, his mouth watering at how good they all looked. He could hear you thanking Mr. Yang, "Is Jeongin helping out today?"

"Unfortunately not, Princess. He's out doing errands for Mrs. Yang," Mr. Yang retorted. You nodded understandingly before turning your attention down towards the treats. You spot your favourite ones, the meringue cookies, and then the honey-bread, a close second.

"What do you want, Sung?" You questioned quietly, gesturing to Mr. Yang the two choices, "You'll probably enjoy any of them." You could see his eyes moving back and forth across the options, his lips pressed into a thin line.

"I'd like those," Jisung points towards egg tarts, "And those, please." His finger pointed towards strawberry cream croissants, a satisfied look appearing on his face.

"Coming right up," Mr. Yang smiled and prepped the baked goods for you and Jisung, tying them into a cloth bag. He pushed it towards you with a warm smile, "I hope you enjoy them all. See you, Princess. It was a pleasure to meet you, Prince Jisung." He bowed and softly waved.

You and Jisung bowed back before taking your leave. Soon you both were back outside, people still carrying out their duties. They had not noticed that you were present, which you did not really mind. It was nice not being the center of attention once in a while. And while Jisung was here, you didn't want the usual fuss that occurred when you visited the village.

Speaking too soon, a younger girl noticed your attire, immediately indicating that you were a royal. She smiled and curtsied, "Afternoon, princess."

"Afternoon," you smiled back.

At that small exchange, others followed in pursuit, also noticing the presence of the Prince next to you. And because they did recognize him, you couldn't help but take note of the fact that people were whispering, which wasn't what usually occurred when you were in town.

Upon hearing Jisung's name in their hushed remarks, your ears perked, miraculously gaining the ability to hear the words they spoke, "Isn't that the Prince of the valley? The poorer kingdom."

"Yes… you can tell just from how he's dressed."

Shaking your head, you tune out the insults being 'secretly' thrown towards Jisung, who, judging by the look on his face, could also hear them talk. It was sad how people were so quick to judge.

"This is Prince Jisung," you say confidently, "The one who I will marry in a few years' time… I ask that you respect him as much as you respect my father."

They shut their mouths, bowing to follow what you had asked of them. Jisung's gaze fell onto you, hundreds of thoughts rooted from different beliefs clashing inside his head. The people had dispersed, leaving the two of you alone.

Though you smiled at him, he couldn't help but feel bad that you had to stand up for him. Every time someone mentioned the wealth of his kingdom, he couldn't have but believed you deserved better, especially because there was a drastic difference between your family's wealth and his family's wealth.

Y/N shouldn't be going through this…

"Should we get going?" You questioned, "There are more things I want to show you." You acted so casually about such a situation that Jisung could sense that you've already been in a position. Just how many times have you stood up for him?

Though the idea should be giving him a sense of comfort, he still felt as though he should be doing something in return. Securing yourselves back on the horses, you begin making your way back to the castle. There was a short period of silence before Jisung had spoken up, "You don't need to defend me, you know. But thank you."

You glance over at him and frown, "I don't understand why they judge when they don't even know you… And as your future wife, it is my duty to defend you. Besides, if it were the other way around, you would do the same."

That night, Jisung couldn't help but let the words play over in his head. You were right. He would do the same for you, but it was because he adored you. Did this mean that you felt the same?

"Part Two"

#reposting if this doesn’t show up in tags #stray kids #stray kids imagines #stray kids scenarios #skz #han jisung #Han Jisung stray kids #jisung #Jisung stray kids #Han Jisung imagines #Han Jisung scenarios #Han Jisung fluff #Jisung scenarios #jisung imagines #han imagines #han scenarios #stray kids fluff #kpop imagines #kpop #kpop scenarios #soft stray kids #stray kids soft #my writings #my skz writings

[cakesunflower]

a court of golden shadows: elain archeron and azriel endgame

so this is like an 11 page paper i wrote on why i think Elain Archeron and Azriel from Sarah J. Maas’s A Court of Thorns and Roses are endgame. i made a joke on twitter that i’d write a proper MLA format styled paper on them because i love them so much and a bunch of my moots convinced me to do it so here i am.

this is for the Elriel lovers like myself. if you read it, which you don’t have to, please refrain from commenting anything negative. everyone is entitled to their own opinions, and this whole essay is just my opinion on it. so if you read, i hope you enjoy!!

keep in mind, it’s LONG.

         A Court of Golden Shadows: Elain Archeron and Azriel Endgame

Sarah J. Maas’s fantasy series A Court of Thorns and Roses displays epic, world-shattering love stories among the thrilling action and fantastical elements present throughout the novels, as seen in the romance between Feyre Archeron and Rhysand and, most recently, Nesta Archeron and Cassian. Two sisters have already accepted and embraced the (so-called) rare mating bond with their respective counterparts, yet the question remains on what is to happen with the middle sister, Elain Archeron, who apparently has a mating bond of her own with Lucien Vanserra, but has not, for two books and a novella, made any indication of accepting it. However, Elain, in her quiet, gentle way, has shown to be more attentive towards the Night Court’s resident Shadowsinger and Spymaster, Azriel. Who, in turn, has notably started to move on from a five-century long love harbored for another female and gravitating towards the last remaining Archeron sister.

It can be said that the concept of the three Archeron sisters all ending up with the three Illyrian males is a cliché, but if done right, they can capture the reader in their grasp—one that no one would want to get out of. Taking a look at the novels, particularly starting from the second book, A Court of Mist and Fury, since this is where Azriel’s character is introduced, it is difficult to ignore the fact that Maas has been laying the groundwork for Elain and Azriel—or Elriel, as I will refer to them throughout this paper—to be a couple from the moment they met, whether these hints are subtle or obvious. In chapter 24 of ACOMAF where Feyre, the Illyrian faes, and her sisters have dinner together, we see tentative interactions between Elain and Azriel, despite the two of them having just met and Elain, as a mortal who grew up with stories of the terrors of faeries, seems to look towards the spymaster more. The first glimpse of their interaction, no matter how small, is shown on pages 253-254 when “a faint smile bloomed upon Azriel’s mouth as he noticed Elain’s fingers white-knuckled on that fork”. Though this moment can be overlooked, it is only the first of many oncoming moments of Azriel noticing Elain and her actions, a subtle hint of the spymaster’s attention towards Elain. The focus of attention is returned when Elain then turns to Azriel a few pages later, wanting to know more about their ability to fly, even so far as going to say “That’s very beautiful” when Azriel describes Illyrians as being “born hearing the song of the wind” (256-257). Additionally, there are two moments in this particular chapter where Elain, in some semblance, looks towards Azriel as a way of relaxing herself. The first is noted when Azriel’s attention is said to be on Elain, and he offers her a “polite, bland smile”, and Feyre notices how Elain’s “shoulders loosened a bit” in response to it (256). Rather than looking towards Feyre for indicators during an unexpected dinner with faeries, Elain seems to be more drawn to looking at Azriel, which is shown once again in the following passage: “Rhys chuckled, Cassian’s wrath slipping enough that he grinned, and Elain, noticing Azriel’s ease as proof that things weren’t indeed about to go badly, offered one of her own as well” (258). Elain tends to check everyone’s reactions to the circumstances to determine the levels of tension in the atmosphere, but she truly seems to be put at ease when she notices Azriel’s own relaxed state, once again indicating the attention she pays to him from the moment they met.

The first three books in Maas’s series are told through Feyre’s perspective, so it can be said that our perception of and desire for Elain and Azriel getting together is skewed because of the point of view we are given. I, however, consider this to be a moot point because Feyre’s character is the type to notice everything around her. She comes to grow close to both Azriel and Cassian, and with Elain being her sister, the reader can depend on Feyre as being as much of a reliable narrator to tell us exactly what she sees and how she sees it. With this in mind, some of the examples given will be from Feyre’s own musings, but it is important to note that she, more than once, groups Elain and Azriel together. This is shown when, in chapter 49, Feyre is distracting Rhysand as she tries to take care of his wounds and muses about her sisters visiting Velaris. There, Feyre mentions to Rhysand, “I think Elain—Elain would like it, too. Though she’d probably cling to Azriel, just to have some peace and quiet”, before proceeding to think to herself—and the reader, “I smiled at the thought—at how handsome they would be together” (487). Of course, this observation is followed by the acknowledgement of Azriel quietly loving Mor, as he has for centuries, yet what we don’t know, during this, that this wouldn’t remain an issue for long.

Moving on to focus on the third installment of the series, A Court of Wings and Ruin, there is a solemnity surrounding Elain, who, at the end of the second novel, was forcefully turned into fae against her will. After the transformation, Elain has become a shell of who she used to be, trapped in a state of deep mourning of the humanity she lost, of the love of her fiancé she inevitably lost, too. She doesn’t eat nor does she speak to anyone, an empty yet no less beautiful version of herself as her Cauldron given powers, unbeknownst to everyone else, manifest. But even in her state, in her indifference towards her mate Lucien and yearning for her human fiancé Graysen, Elain managed to acknowledge Azriel. He is gentle with her, much like everyone else, as he carries her into the townhouse, smiles, inquires if she’d like for him to show her the garden. And although he stands tall, intimidating in his fighting leathers and large wings, Elain does not recoil from him in fear or shyness. Instead, she takes the arm he offers her and, although it is unsure if she is looking at his Siphon or his scarred hands, she still utters “Beautiful” in response to him (254). Even when life has unexpectedly turned bleak for Elain, even when the world loses its color in the aftermath of the trauma she suffered, in that moment, there was a glimpse of who she used to be as she found beauty in nothing but Azriel.

This same chapter is followed by an insightful conversation between Feyre and Rhysand, triggered by Feyre watching her sister and Azriel. Feyre notes how at odds Azriel looks sitting in the garden next to Elain in his armor, yet she still questions, “Why not make them mates?” (257). This spurs a significant conversation between the High Lord and High Lady, where readers are given some more history on mating bonds and introduced to the prevailing concept of rejected bonds. Rhys provides examples of ill-chosen bonds, such as his parents, who were mates yet their relationship was not ideal in the least. Here, we are told that sometimes fate, the Mother, whatever chooses two mates can be wrong in its pairings, and it is rare for the bond to bring together “true, paired souls” (258) like Feyre and Rhysand. It has been established that the female can reject the bond, and while the male may feel the tug of it, it’s their burden to push through it. Maas spends an entire page or so talking about the concept of ill-chosen or rejected bonds, so it would be naive to look over these details if they weren’t placed in the storyline for a reason. Elain and Lucien may be mates, and Azriel (at least currently within the book) may be in love with Mor, but the idea of free will is not something to be so easily dismissed. Elain already had the choice of her humanity, her mortality, ripped away from her—it’s doubtful she would let this pattern continue.

In chapter 24 of A Court of Wings and Ruin, when Elain is having her first conversation with Lucien, she states, “No one ever looked—not really” (252), and although here she is referencing Graysen, this statement comes around a few chapters later. In chapter 27, Elain walks in on a conversation amongst the Inner Circle, and Azriel was the first to step forward as he noticed something amiss. His observations and questions when he says to her, “[But] you heard something else” and “What did you see” indicate that he, unlike Feyre and Nesta, believes that Elain’s riddled musings have a deeper meaning and need to be heard. The scene ends with Feyre looking to Azriel, noticing that his “hazel eyes churned as he studied my sister, her too-thin body. And without a word, he winnowed away” (287). Azriel didn’t brush off what Elain said, because while her sisters thought Elain had gone mad, Azriel listened to her—he looked. He looked past her “too-thin body” and read between the lines of what she said, and knew there was more than what meets the eye. He looked, which was exactly what Elain had wanted.

This is repeated in chapter 32, when Elain brings up another queen and no one is quite sure what she’s talking about, except for Azriel, who steps forward and gently prods Elain to elaborate. Even Lucien watches Elain warily, questioning if they need to help her, yet Azriel is firm in his assessment that Elain doesn’t need help, that they need to be the ones who need to listen, before ultimately determining that she does, in fact, have powers and is established to be a seer. So while Lucien “stared and stared at [Elain], as if he’d never seen her before”, it was Azriel who actually looked at her and saw what no one else was seeing, whose acknowledgment of her gift and the attention he brought to it from everyone else “freed her from whatever murky realm she’d been in” (336).

The idea of Azriel truly looking at Elain transitions into him looking for her, too. But first, another example of the former is seen in chapter 63, when Feyre, Nesta, and Amren hear the call of the cauldron in the middle of the night. They wonder about it, question why they three heard it because they were Made, not noticing that another who was Made was missing from their group. That is, until, Azriel asks, “What about Elain?” (560), and he is moving alongside the sisters to inspect Elain’s tent, only to find her missing. Azriel notices Elain—whether she is present or not. And so the concept of Azriel looking for Elain is introduced when they are discussing Elain’s rescue from Hybern in the following scene:

“From the shadows near the entrance to the tent, Azriel said, as if in answer to some unspoken debate, “I’m getting her back.”

Nesta slid her gaze to the shadowsinger. Azriel’s hazel eyes glowed golden in the shadows.

Nesta said, “Then you will die.”

Azriel only repeated, rage glazing that stare, “I’m getting her back.”” (563).

There was no hesitation on Azriel’s part in being the one to get Elain back, but there was obvious rage, as noted, in his gaze at the very idea of Elain having been kidnapped. A silent, lethal aura surrounds the shadowsinger that can be so clearly picked out within that scene, showcasing Azriel’s unwavering determination in returning Elain, even if it meant slipping into the heart of enemy camps—especially if it meant that. And throughout the dangers and urgency of this particular mission, when they do reach Elain, Azriel takes a moment to be tender towards her as he “gently removed the gag from her mouth” (573) and asks if she’s hurt. Elain, in turn, is shown to be “devouring the sight of him, as if not quite believing it” before she says “You came for me” (573). Elain looks at Azriel in wonder and disbelief, and this reaction hints towards how she feels drawn towards him. In their very first meeting during the dinner in the Archeron house, Elain looks to Azriel for reassurance, for judgement of the situation, and in the event of her rescue, she finds that same kind of comfort on a far more intense level. Because here, he truly is her rescuer, appearing in front of her to save her from the dangerous hands of their enemies and bring her to safety. And Azriel, in this sense, is devoted to her, holding up his fierce promising of getting her back. Even when he was injured, Azriel held onto Elain, refusing to let her go even while getting shot at and chased, and when they landed in their own camps, the first thing he claimed was for someone to get the chains off of her, rather than even mentioning his own injuries. This just reminds us of ACOMAF when Elain was being dragged to the cauldron and Azriel wasn’t even conscious to witness it—there is no doubt that if he was awake—and uninjured—he would’ve done all he could to save her. Maas robbed us of that type of scene.

Furthermore, evolving from the concept of Azriel rescuing Elain, we get another significant scene between the two of them that displays the kind of trust these two characters smoothly and effortlessly developed. On top of Elain accepting Azriel’s offers of taking her to the garden, a silent indicator that his company was one she enjoyed, Azriel shows a great act of trust to Elain as well when, in chapter 69, he offered her the use of his beloved knife, Truth-Teller. This blade is Azriel’s most prized possession, and to offer it to Elain to bring her the same kind of comfort and safety that we have seen she finds in Azriel himself portrays the trust he has in her—and his desire to protect her. This is emphasized when Rhys tells Feyre, “Never. . . I have never once seen Azriel let another person touch that knife” (610). Even Cassian was stunned that Azriel would let someone else use Truth-Teller, which is significant to note given that he has not let even Cassian nor Rhys—his brothers he has known for centuries—even touch it. And Elain, who had refused to take the knife Cassian had offered her, ends up accepting Truth-Teller—because it’s Azriel’s, and because through the short time she’s known him, he is someone she has poured her trust into and understands he wouldn’t lead her astray. And he didn’t, for it was Elain who “stepped out of a shadow” (653) and used that very same blade to kill the King of Hybern. A temporary gift, given from Azriel, that she used to put an end to one of the greatest threats to both the human and faerie realms.

In the post-war novella A Court of Frost and Starlight, Maas furthers the Elriel endgame agenda by continuing both subtle and blatant hints in their favor—and not just through actual interactions between the two. The concept of Azriel avoiding Lucien because of his mating bond with Elain is important to remember, for it will come back around later. But in this novella, we see it when Rhysand asks Azriel if he keeps an eye on Lucien, given that he is the spymaster. Azriel, in turn, informs him that he does not track his movements, because “He is Elain’s mate” and “It would be an invasion of her privacy to track him”, which Rhysand, since this is shown from his perspective, notes is because Azriel does not want to be aware of if and when Lucien seeks out Elain, and what they do together—if they do anything at all, given Elain’s tendencies to utterly ignore Lucien (70). Rhysand questions Azriel’s motives on this, but doesn’t get a response, but there is an understanding of Azriel’s intentions behind it. Not only does he want to remain ignorant of the forced bond between Elain and Lucien, but a big motivator for him is also Elain’s privacy, which he doesn’t want to intrude on—ironic, given that he is a spy, and it’s his job to know of others’ movements and thoughts.

Another example of Azriel very subtly showing his blossoming feelings towards Elain is when he unforgivingly states that if Lucien were to kill Elain’s ex-fiancé, then “good riddance” (71). He was well aware of how Graysen treated Elain after finding out she was fae, is the one who sits with her in the gardens because he is a comforting presence for her in the face of mourning, so he understands her. This idea is repeated in Azriel’s bonus chapter in A Court of Silver Flames, when Rhysand catches Azriel almost about to kiss Elain—that is definitely to be unpacked later—and warns him that Lucien has the right to invoke a Blood Duel to defend the mating bond, and Azriel does not hesitate, is confident, when he retorts that he would easily defeat Lucien, would have no problem in pulling Elain out of a bond she doesn’t even want.

The novella also includes some more obvious, sweet moments between Elain and Azriel, ones that show Elain’s own growing interest and feelings towards Azriel. Like in chapter 12, when Feyre notes that when Azriel enters the room, she feels Elain freeze at the sight of him, and then Elain proceeds to be almost in a trance when Azriel, after she greets him, moves towards her and takes the heavy dish of potatoes from her hands and says he’ll take care of it for her (105). This scene then continues when Elain hurries off to make herself more presentable, and rather than letting others dive into the food, Azriel stops Cassian from putting food on his plate and all but commands him to “wait until everyone is seated before eating” (106). Rhysand informs Feyre that this sudden reaction from Azriel stemmed from the treatment his mother received as a near servant, but it can also be tied to how Azriel keeps aware of Elain and the recurring theme of looking after her in any way. He notices her, just as she notices him, a subtle way of this being present in Elain’s solstice gift to Azriel. She doesn’t get a gift for Lucien, her mate, but does get one for Azriel, one that makes him laugh in a way that, Feyre notes, she’s never heard before. A genuine sort of joy breaking the cold, indifferent mask of the shadowsinger as he accepts and cherishes the gift Elain gave him—the extent of which we see in his bonus chapter, where it is revealed that he looks at the small vial every night before going to sleep, a not-so-subtle showing that Elain is the last thought on his mind before he descends into slumber.

This notion of the two of them looking after one another in their own ways is again repeated in A Court of Silver Flames in the following passage on page 221:

Azriel smirked. “You and Nesta are wanted down there.”

“Because of the shit with Elain?”

Azriel stilled. “What happened to Elain?”

Cassian waved a hand. “A fight with Nesta. Don’t bring it up,” he warned when Azriel’s eyes darkened.

Throughout the friendship they have formed, Azriel becomes a kind of protector of Elain’s, deriving from her being a part of their Inner Circle as well as the notion of Azriel’s own personal feelings for her. He is so obviously shown as going on the defense at the news of Elain getting into any kind of fight, of Elain potentially being hurt. It’s repeated on page 233 when Elain and Nesta are arguing, and after Nesta utters a nasty comment that lands on Elain like a blow, there is an acknowledgement of the “shadows gathered in the corners of the room, like snakes preparing to strike”. The shadows, of course, are Azriel’s, ready to jump between the sisters and defend Elain from Nesta’s verbal attack, to once again be her protector.

Of course, we can’t forget that Elain has a mate in Lucien, and how it seems to offer the enticing forbidden love trope between her and Azriel. We see a hint of it in A Court of Wings and Ruin, when in chapter 24, Lucien can scent where Elain had gone off to and who she’d gone with, in this case having it be Azriel, and he’d nearly snarled until Rhysand assured him that Azriel wasn’t the “ravishing type” (254)—although I think we can all agree that he most likely is, but wouldn’t even dream of it in terms of the state Elain was in at the time. Maybe it is the mating bond or maybe it’s both Elain and Azriel’s quiet personalities—or perhaps a combination of the two—but the shyness that has them looking at each other and then looking away continues. On page 467 of A Court of Silver Flames, Cassian notes how Elain nods shyly towards Azriel, who in turn offers her a small smile that she quickly looked away from, prompting Cassian to be puzzled as he wondered, “Lucien was certainly not here to snarl at any male who looked at her for too long”. Elain doesn’t look away from Azriel because of the bond, but perhaps because she is well aware of her feelings for him and, for the moment, is too shy for them to be known, especially by Azriel.

The mating bond between Elain and Lucien does serve as a barrier between her and Azriel, though. This is particularly present during the Winter Solstice, when a layer of Azriel’s character specifically has been peeled back to show his feelings for Elain. Like on page 597, when Elain is laughing at Nesta, the older Archeron sister notes that “Azriel stood in the doorway, monitoring them. As if he’d heard Elain’s sharp laugh and wondered what had caused it”. And if that wasn’t enough, Nesta watches as Azriel’s “gaze shifted to Elain, and though it was utterly neutral, something charged went through it. Between them. Elain’s breath caught slightly, and she gave him a shallow nod of greeting”. This is perhaps the most prominent moment of both of their feelings being reciprocated by the other, because Nesta notices the way they look at one another, as if they both see past the person they put in front of everyone else and truly see the other. And even Nesta understands that there is something deeper between the two, even if they themselves haven’t figured it out yet, when she approaches Azriel where he stands by the doorway and, when asked why he doesn’t sit, responds with a “pretty lie” of his shadows not liking the fire. But Nesta looks to where Elain is the one sitting by the fire, and why Azriel chooses to stand as far as he can, because it is “his secret to tell. Never hers” (600). Just like that, Nesta is aware of Azriel’s feelings for her sister and, perhaps, her subtle way of comforting him was her showing her approval.

We get a deeper insight of this scene in Azriel’s bonus chapter—an entire chapter that allows readers to see exactly how he feels about Elain, and that she returns those feelings, too. It is confirmed that Azriel stands by the doorway, away from Elain, because Lucien is in the same room, and the sight and scent of their mating bond is one that Azriel cannot stand. Because the female he feels deeply for, according to fate, “belongs” to another male and he needs to put distance between himself and the two of them when they’re in the same room. Yet, the mating bond doesn’t prevent Azriel from thinking of Elain, from fantasizing about her every night. He goes from being shown as relieved when Rhys tells him he doesn’t have to buy the sisters presents for the Winter Solstice in A Court of Frost and Starlight, to actively buying her a beautiful flower necklace that she would no doubt love. Their secret exchanging of gifts leads to an epic, steamy, full-of-yearning almost first kiss that shows so clearly that Azriel’s feelings for Elain aren’t unrequited, that she, just like him, is desperate to give into what’s been brewing between them for so long. Yet it’s all cut short when Rhys interrupts Azriel, reminding him of a mating bond that Azriel’s painfully aware of—and confidently willing to pull Elain away from if Lucien decides to invoke the Blood Duel. Azriel’s questioning of the cauldron, wondering why it picked three sisters and had two of them end up with his brothers while the last remaining one was mated to another, is not him declaring that he has a right to Elain. This is him questioning the powers and forces that no one truly understands, this is him questioning from a place of heartbreak, wondering why, yet again, he was the one left behind. It happened when his father imprisoned him, forcing Azriel to delay in his training as an Illyrian, it happened when the female he spent centuries loving never once returned the same kind of love, and now it’s happening again. Azriel does not believe he deserves Elain—it goes against his character, because he is self-deprecating, does not think he truly deserves anything good and worthy. He is simply questioning why his choice doesn’t ever seem to matter, and why Elain is yet again left having her decisions being taken away from her.

Because the matter of choice is a prevalent, significant theme for the two of them. For Elain, she was never allowed to truly make a choice in her life. Her mother’s death, her family falling into poverty, turning into High Fae, losing Graysen, the mating bond, her father’s death—these were all huge, significant life changing moments that she had no say in and was forced to endure, completely upending who she was and how she lived. But there is one choice Elain can make, and that is to reject the mating bond with Lucien. There are so many examples throughout the books where Elain turns away from Lucien; she doesn’t express any interest in him—it’s like he doesn’t even exist to her. There is utter indifference on her end, despite any effort made by Lucien, and that in itself is Elain choosing to all but formally reject the bond, however that may come about. There is a moment in A Court of Wings and Ruin in chapter 54 when Elain, while pleading with Graysen, claims, “I belong to no one. My heart belongs to you” (498). Of course, Azriel has nothing to do with what Elain was saying at the time, but her declaration of this speaks to her character and how dearly she holds onto the idea of being with someone of her own choosing, with someone she loves. This can further be developed into the idea that although fate, the cauldron, the Mother may have chosen Lucien for Elain—a pairing that can, ultimately, be ill-chosen—Elain would not give it the time of day unless it’s what her heart wants. And from what we have seen so far, her heart wants Azriel. She chooses Azriel over Lucien, and that holds significant weight to her and, I imagine eventually, to Azriel as well.

Azriel, who has not been other people’s choice. Azriel, who was imprisoned by his own father, who was rejected by the Illyrians. Azriel, who has spent five centuries loving Mor, who will never love him the way he did her. And it’s saying something, isn’t it, that he has finally stopped yearning for her, and that it was Elain who he is enraptured by? Even Cassian noted that the way Azriel used to look at Mor have become few and far in between, telling the audience that the spymaster has finally begun to move on, or already has, from Mor. And Elain wanting to kiss Azriel confirms to him, in particular, that he is her choice as well. And she is his, as further confirmed when Azriel tells Rhys he has no problem engaging in the Blood Duel with Lucien if it means freeing Elain from a bond she doesn’t want, and allowing them both to dive into the choices they clearly want to make.

Truthfully, there are many examples throughout the books where I can talk about Elain rejecting Lucien. She cringed away from the very first time he touches her in ACOMAF—though, granted, it happens right after she comes out of the cauldron. She is unsettled when Lucien tugs on their bond, saying that it felt as though he pulled on a thread connecting to a rib, which sounds painful and nothing like the comforting bond readers have seen between Feyre and Rhys. Elain doesn’t buy Lucien any presents for solstice, and the first present he got her, gardening gloves to prevent her hands from tearing, are ones she doesn’t use. Because she would much rather feel her hands get torn up while she’s working in her garden, uncaring if they scar, which in turn is a reminder of Azriel’s scarred hands and how she found them beautiful. And for those who wonder about Azriel giving the necklace he got for Elain to Gwyn, it is important to note that he tells Clotho to give it to any priestess who would want it, and merely mentions Gwyn by name because he trained her, because he was the one who rescued her after an attack, and she is the one he knows most familiarly by name because of it. At the end of it, Azriel only wanted the necklace gone because he didn’t want to see it, didn’t want to remember that the female he wants, wants him back just as much, but he was all but forbidden to pursue her. Once again, a choice that was taken away from him, and giving the necklace away is far easier than keeping it and remembering how he couldn’t be with Elain. At least for now.

Throughout the novels, there are many symbols that hint towards Elain and Azriel being together, but that is a paper for another day. This one’s goal was to simply point out the many physical and emotional indicators of the way the two of them are drawn to one another, despite the obstacles that are thrown their way—the biggest one being the mating bond no one asked for. There is comfort in the relationship they have, an ease you wouldn’t expect someone with Elain’s light to find in Azriel’s darkness. He offers her comfort in shy smiles and soft looks, and Elain does the same for him, which we see in the act of his shadows disappearing around her. These very shadows provided him comfort when he needed them, were his friends in his prison, and them leaving him when Elain is around is a sign of the contentment Azriel feels, because he doesn’t have to protect himself in her presence. Azriel loved Mor, and it has been noted that he lights up when she is around, and Elain is the only other person he reacts similarly to—because Elain is who he wants now that he has moved on from Mor. It’s important, isn’t it, that Elain is who pulls Azriel away from the centuries-long love he’d been lost in? That she is who he looks for, thinks about, wonders after?

Elain has found comfort in Azriel’s darkness, and he has found peace in her light, and so how could they not defy what’s been expected of them and rewrite fate to fit the choices they make themselves?

#elain archeron #azriel #elriel #a court of thorns and roses #acotar #a court of mist and fury #acomaf #a court of wings and ruin #acowar #a court of frost and starlight #acofas #a court of silver flames #acosf #nesta archeron #cassian #nessian #feyre archeron #rhysand #feysand #elain archeron x azriel #azriel x elain archeron #elain x azriel #lucien vanserra #elucien

[demivampirew]

I would give up everything for you.

A Charles Brandon x Mary Tudor (written as reader) (Henry’s sister) one shot

You can find more of my writings in the Masterlist

Warnings: Death, heartbreak, crying, unwanted arranged marriage (and talking about being consummated).

Summary: Shortly after becoming a widow, Henry summons you back to England for he has arranged a new marriage for you.

A/N (Important to understand the story): For those who don’t know, in the show they’d merged both Henry’s sisters into one: Margaret. In reality, he had two sisters, the one mentioned who ended up marrying the King of Scotland, James IV, becoming the Queen consort of said country (and after the death of her husband, Queen regent in name of her son for two years). Mary, the other sister, was married to the King of France, Louis XII for a few months, until his death and soon he was succeeded by his son-in-law Francis I -the King of France from the show, and his daughter Claude as Queen Consort- she couldn’t reign for the law forbid a woman to rule the country back at that time. Shortly after the death of the King, Charles was in charge of bringing Mary safe back to England, but in reality that was a secret plan for them to marry in secret in France, as Mary confessed to King Francis. It isn’t known when and how exactly they fell in love but it surely was before her marriage to the late King of France. They married in secret but then they had a public wedding because they suspected Mary to be pregnant and they wanted their kid to be legitimate.

For my story, I mixed a bit of the show’s plot with actual events. The main characters are the same from the show, except from Mary, written from a perspective of reader, who wasn’t on the show (Margaret’s story in this one-shot is the same from history and not the one from the series). I used the arranged marriage with the King of Portugal’s plot from drama purposes (this never happened in reality, because like I’ve said, Mary married Charles before going back to London, and she had married the King of France with the promise that she would marry who she wanted after that or she would become a nun - which Henry did not want because he would lose the Dowager’s money if she did that. -although in this story she doesn’t threaten him with becoming a nun.)

Disclaimer: English isn’t my first language and write in another period of time can be a bit difficult. I tried my best, so I apologize if I made mistakes.

Tag list: @lunedelorient @henrythickcavill @wolvesandhoundshowltogether @mary-ann84 @desperate-and-broken @peakygroupie @summersong69 @ivvitm1109 @madbaddic7ed @iloveyouyen @the-soot-sprite @hell1129-blog @whyyoudothistomecavill @thetaoofzoe @thereisa8ella​

"The Queen of France, Your Majesty" announced one of the guards as you enter the room. Henry was sitting on the throne. There were a few guards there as well as Charles and William Compton, who were standing next to the door. - Dear sister! - your brother exclaimed as he stood up and approached you, grabbing your arms and placing a kiss on your cheek. - My poor sister, I'm terribly sorry for the lost of your dear husband.- "dear husband"? It felt as if he was mocking you, after all the only reason you married the late King of France, Louis XII was because he forced you to for that marriage forced an alliance between the two countries.

Being married to an old man was not a pretty thing. Being forced to consummate that marriage and with a crowd of people to witness it. Luckily, it didn't last for long because not long after your coronation as the new Queen, on Christmas' eve your husband died for an illness. After his death, his son-in-law, Francis I, inherit the throne with his daughter, Claude as Queen Consort. Even though your marriage was short, you were a loved Queen and you could have stayed in France if you desire it, but your brother had other plans for you. For you to agree to marry the late French King, he promised you that you were going to be able to marry whom you choose after his death, but sadly for you, he had no plans to keep his word. He ordered the Duke of Suffolk to escort you safely back to England. Charles was a loyal friend to Henry, but you succeeded to confess your brother's intentions for your return to England - you knew that if he wanted you back so quickly was not because he missed his beloved sister, but because there was something he needed from you. "He wants you to marry the King of Portugal" he confessed finally succumbing to pressure. After finding out that your worse nightmare was a reality, you ordered everyone on the ship to leave you alone and you cried on the way back.

- As sorry as I am for your loss, I must admit sister that I would need you to put aside your grief and take the King of Portugal as your new husband. With the rise of power of the Holy Roman Emperor, we need new alliances and he is more than pleased to become out ally if you marry him. He's seen your portrait and is enchanted by your beauty.- he informed you with a smirk. You remained silent and made no gestures. - So, my dear sister, would you consent to marry the King? - My consent is not needed, Your Majesty, for the King always does what he wants.- you finally said, your voice emotionless. There he was, your older brother. He could be charming for a moment and a second later be the devil himself if you crossed him. He didn't like when anyone defied him, especially women. His face showed no signs of rejoicing anymore, just contained anger. - We are at war, my dear sister.- he explained angrily. - We could face an invasion from Spain and if that would happen, we will need soldiers and money and he could provide that to us. - You are at war, brother. This is all because of you. If the Holy Roman Emperor is planning to attack England, it is because you broke your promise, like you always do, and set aside his aunt, humiliating her all. And that's because you had fallen in love with another woman. In your eyes, dear brother, you are the only one allowed to marry for love and you do not care who has to pay for your desires.- you replied bitterly. -If you want me to marry that old man, breaking the promise you once made me, at least you could have avoided me the displeasure of seeing your face and should have asked the Duke of Suffolk to escort me directly to Portugal since you know that no matter what are my choices, at the end I must be a loyal subject and obey you or I'll suffer the traitor's faith.

His hands were closed forming fists; he was containing his rage. If there was something Henry hated more than anything else was being defied. If it was not for the fact that he needed your Queen Dowager's money and the perks that your new marriage would bring to him, he would have you banned from court.

- Charles, take her to her chambers immediately.- he ordered and walked away, returning to his throne.

You bowed to him and allowed Charles to escort you back to your bedchambers. Once in the room, he closed the door to be sure no one would hear you speak.

- The Queen would be wise not to cross her brother.- he advised you. He spoke softly, surely it was because he did not want to be heard, but there was another thing in his voice: worry. - Why not?- you asked; it was a sarcastic question, you knew exactly why you should no speak to Henry that way for he was a King before your blood. - He could vanish you from court or worse.- he explained. - Great! I would rather be banned from court or dying to have to marry another old King.- you admitted, sighing bitterly. - You should not say that Your Majesty.- he pleaded. - Charles, would you stop calling me Your Majesty? I have known you my entire life. I'm still the same Mary I have always been, just less trusting and much more unhappy.- you confessed. - But now you are the King of France, Your Majesty. I should treat you with nothing but the proper respect. - I am Queen Dowager, I don't have the same importance that an actual queen has. - You are soon to be Queen again.- he reminded you and a tear fell from your eye; you wiped it away quickly. He stared at you with sadness on his eyes. He was probably hurt that you had to go through that again. - I rather die.- you repeated and look to the floor -You are lucky Charles, you could marry whom you choose.- you sighed. - I cannot.- he said with sadness. - Who is that you want and can't have, Charles? -you asked sarcastically.

The Duke of Suffolk looked you directly into your eyes, giving you the answer to your question without even saying a word.

Before leaving England, the two of you were close. He was this ladies' man and you were the King's little sister, but you started to see him differently in the year previous to your marriage. He was sweet, funny and protective. It was clear that you were not a just his friend's sister anymore, but a smart, funny and delightful woman. You had long talks while you played with carts and spent a lot of time together before your departure.

Charles excused himself and was about to leave. You called his name and when he turned to face you, you ran into his arms and kissed him. He pulled you closer to him as he stopped fighting his conscience. He probably felt that it was wrong, but he couldn't keep denying his feelings. After the long and awaited kiss, he pressed his forehead against yours and sighed.

- Escape with me.- you pleaded. - What? -he asked confused. - We could go to France. Francis is not a fan of my brother and he had nothing but sweet thoughts about me. He will be delighted to have me back there and surely he will support us and protect us if Henry decides to seek vengeance. - you assured him.- Please, Charles. - I... I cannot do that, I am sorry.- he said avoiding to look at you. - I will not betray my King. - Is it because he is your childhood friend or because you do not want to lose your lands and titles, Duke of Suffolk? - you questioned bitterly. He did not say a word, but it was not necessary; his shameful look said it all. Your poor heart broke into a million pieces. Not only you would have to marry an old man once more, but the man you loved preferred his nobility and money over you and your happiness. No matter what the future had set for you, it surely would not be a happy one.

A month passed before you were set to leave for Portugal. As you demanded, Charles stood away from you. The days passed and all you could do was crying about your cruel destiny. If at least you could have the luck that your sister Margaret had of marrying a young King whom she fell in love with, but no, that was not your fate. You were meant to be unhappy for the rest of your days.

Charles' eyes met yours. You could feel his pain but you could not be sorry for him, after all, he could have had you if he would have been brave enough to fight for you and, surely soon he would forget all about you and find solace in another woman's arms while you had to be with a man much older than you whom you didn't know. You quickly look to other side making sure he noticed that you were ignoring him and stood there, waiting in the room full of people for your brother to show up to say goodbye.

Henry appeared shortly with Cardinal Wolsey by his side. He approached you a kissed you " My dear sister. Fare you well on your journey. Remember the King of Portugal, your future husband, loves you and respects you. You must love him in return." - he said faking affection when in reality it was a command and a warning. He looked into your shiny, watery eyes but that didn't seem to have any effects on him. After crossing him the day of your return to England, he must be more than happy to see you gone.

The King was about to leave the place when the Duke of Suffolk called his attention.

- Your Majesty, I would like to have a word" - Charles pleaded. Henry looked at him with confusion but gestured him to speak. He walked a few steps forward and got on his knee in front of his best friend. - My heart forces me to beg you to save your sister from this marriage for that would make her unhappy.- he said firmly. There were gasps among the people present. You were breathless and your heart was beating an at exhilarating speed. Henry stared at him, his eyes showed both shock and anger. - As a sign of gratitude for your kindness towards the Queen of France, I will resign to my title, renounced to my lands and accept to be banned from court and any other punishment Your Grace sees suitable for my outrageous request.

For the first time since your mother's death, you saw tears fell from your brother's eyes. It didn't come as such as a surprise to you, you might be his sister by blood, but Charles was his brother by choice; they grew up together and he was his most faithful companion and now he put him in a position Henry must have surely hated. If he agreed to let you escape from this marriage, he would have to punish Charles from defying him in front of people from court. If he rejected his plead, people would know that he forced you into a marriage you didn't want to and he would further loss the affection of his subjects, who were already unhappy about his decision of leaving the beloved Queen Catherine for Anne Boleyn. Whatever decision Harry took, surely it would not have a happy ending for Charles. You knew you were right at the moment your brother stormed out of the room without saying a word.

Anthony Knivert, one of your brother's closest friends, walked you back to your chambers after Cardinal Wolsey ordered him to do so. The trip to Portugal has been postponed until after the King came with a resolution about the matter. As impossible as it seemed, you were even more heartbroken than before. There was no way Charles could cross your brother like that and no get punished and all because of your fault. If you just accepted your destiny quietly and had not made him feel guilty for choosing lands and his noble title over you, this would not have happened. Now, because of your stubbornness, he could face death.

It was around midnight when you heard someone knocking at your door. After permitting to enter your bedchambers, Charles walked in. You got up quickly from your bed and ran into him. He hugged you tightly for a moment and then softly pressed his head against yours. You could feel his warm breath. His hands grabbing your face provoked you chills. - Charles, you should not have done that.- you regretted. - I should have done it before, but it is ok. I would do it again if necessary.- he assured you and tears rolled down your cheeks. His thumbs clean the tears and then he kissed you. - You are not only the Queen Dowager of France but also the Queen of my heart, Mary.- he confessed. You smiled at him and your lips met his again.

After a knock, the door opened and Will Compton warned Charles to hurry for someone was coming. He kissed you once more and disappeared.

The King summoned you a few days after. There were some noble people present, Thomas Howard, Duke of Norfolk among others. Charles was already there waiting. About half an hour later Henry appeared with Wolsey and sat on the throne. He remained silent for a moment, as he inspected you. He knew; he knew his friend loved you and his love was reciprocated.

- Dear sister, I would like to apologize to you, for I did not know you were unhappy with the marriage proposal.- he said with conviction as if that would make it true- I desire nothing more than happiness for you, my beloved Mary. So I have decided that it should be you the one to decide who your future husband will be. You have my word and my blessing. Of course, he would make it seem as if you pact before marrying King Louis XII was his idea, but you did not care, as long as he granted you that you were not mad about him credit it to himself. - As for Your Grace.- he said looking at Charles- Your title and lands were given to you as a reward for bravely fighting by my side to defend your country and should remain at your disposal. Furthermore, as a sign of gratitude for enlightened me about my sister's displeasure for her now announced marriage, I would like to grant you my blessing to marry her, if that is her heart's desire and I hope you live the happy quiet life you desire away from court.

There it was, your punishment was being banned from court, but it was a slight price to pay for all the great things you had achieved. You were now allowed to marry Charles and live happily with him.

Maybe it was the fear that Henry would change his mind that made you marry that same day. In a private ceremony, with a few maids and his friends Will and Anthony to witness it, you promised to love each other forever.

You had the opportunity to have another wedding since you have not bled and you were sure with child, you had a public wedding to show the legitimacy of your future child. This time, you had it at court. Henry was a proud man, but even if Charles did what no other man would have dared unless they wanted to lose their heads, your brother loved him too much and trust no other like he trusted your husband.

Henry Brandon. That's the name Charles choose for your newborn. He was the living image of his father.

Not everything in your remaining life was happiness. Even though you had been blessed with another two children, Frances and Eleanor, by God's will your little Henry died when he was six years old. A year after that, another baby joined your family, honouring his late brother by carrying his name.

Charles was nothing but a loving husband to you. He stood by your side when tragedy hit your family and later when you got ill. You survived the sweating sickness but never fully recovered from it, and five years later you meet again with your loving son. It must have hurt your love, who never left your side until your heart stopped beating. He loved you much and would be sad for losing you, but you were glad he had your loving daughters and son to keep him company and help him move on.

#charles brandon #charles brandon fanfic #charles brandon fanfiction #charles brandon one shot #the tudors #the tudors fanfiction #henry tudor #henry VIII #mary tudor #mary queen of france #henry cavill #henry cavill fanfic #henry cavill fanfiction #charles brandon x reader #charles brandon x mary tudor #demivampirew

[kageyahma-remade]

Whisper of the Heart and Haikyuu!!, both being feel-good stories about personal growth with a foundation of interpersonal support and self-care, how very special places in my heart. Whisper of the Heart’s storyline of two people inspiring each other to pursue and improve in their crafts and Haikyuu!!’s focus on human connection and relationships, specifically revolving around Hinata and Kageyama’s relationship, led me to realize that there are A LOT of parallels between Shizuku & Hinata, and Seiji & Kageyama.

Shizuku and Hinata are the protagonists of their respective stories and therefore undergo the most growth. Shizuku sets a goal for herself to finish her novel by the time Seiji returns from Italy, and Hinata aspires to be good enough to beat Kageyama, the “King of the Court”, declaring that even if it takes ten or twenty years, he will do it.

Seiji is very good at making violins and has high aspirations that will take him elsewhere on the globe to improve. Kageyama is hailed as being a prodigy setter and has a strong drive to become the best there is. (I think the moment these parallels clicked for me was when I realized that their aspirations brought the both of them to Italy: Seiji to be an apprentice violin maker in Cremona, Kageyama playing for Ali Roma). They have worked hard for what they love and their goals have been set for a long time, in contrast to Shizuku and Hinata. Shizuku and Hinata acknowledge they need to catch up; Shizuku says “it must be nice to know what you want to do with your life. Me, I just go from one day to the next” and Hinata, having started playing volleyball later than Kageyama (and playing in a proper team even later), learns along the way what he wants to do and HOW best to do it

Seiji and Kageyama start farther ahead in their personal progress but give Shizuku and Hinata the inspiration and the means to start theirs. They create a place for them to use their talents -- Kageyama using his precise setting to make use of Hinata’s incredible speed/jump height/overall natural athleticism, Seiji being a part of Shizuku’s connection to Baron and part of her inspiration to write. They open up their viewpoints to a world they could have never seen without them.

And these relationships spark passion and drive and inspiration between every individual. Kageyama makes Hinata promise that he will meet him at the world stage one day. Long before Shizuku even noticed him, Seiji admired her talents and checked out dozens of library books hoping she would see his name on the cards. They excel on their own but with Shizuku and Hinata there, they can become even greater.

These relationships are about having someone around who makes you want to be better, who makes you want to dig deep and learn about yourself and go through the hard work of improving without the glamour and glory. I got into it briefly with this post but there’s a whole lot more i want to talk about (especially after seeing this beautiful piece of fanart by hazwqste !)

i got carried away and this got super long so i’ll be going into this in more depth (and including haikyuu manga spoilers!) under the cut:

First of all, they meet and get off on the wrong foot, and don’t get along very well.

They get to know each other and are soon able to fully express themselves around each other and allow each other to excel at what they love. Seiji shows Shizuku Baron’s eyes twinkling in the light and the violin he made, Shizuku excitedly tells him about things feeling like they came from magic or a storybook and even sings the lyrics she wrote when Seiji plays Take Me Home, Country Roads on the violin. Hinata and Kageyama have a love for volleyball in common and once they figure out how to put their skills and abilities together to make their freak quick attack work, they practically glow with excitement and become almost inseparable. 

An event separating these two pairs act as catalysts to their growth (Seiji to Italy and Kageyama to the week-long All-Japan Youth Camp in Tokyo), because Shizuku and Hinata realize how far behind they are and how much they have to work to catch up. They even have similar running sequences that express their fear of being left behind.

Shizuku and Hinata both express the desire throughout their stories to be at an equal level to Seiji and Kageyama. Shizuku tells Yuko, “He wants to find out if he’s talented enough. Well, so will I! ... if he can do it, so can I!”.

One example of this with Hinata is that he wishes to complete the new quick attack during the Tokyo training camp arc so he and Kageyama could be on equal footing: during the Inter-high preliminaries, Hinata an Kageyama’s freak quick attack was something that was uniquely theirs, but it was something that Kageyama controlled. Heck, even Coach Washijo tells Hinata, “Without Kageyama as your setter, I can’t say I see any worth in you.” Hinata expresses a desire to evolve, to be able to pick his shots and stop closing his eyes, to learn from the best in the prefecture and work on everything he needs to improve on.

Shizuku and Hinata set off to go on journeys of their own to improve: Shizuku writing her novel with only Yuko and Nishi knowing, and Hinata in the ball boy arc and Brazil arc. They work hard, but realistically go through periods of doubt.

Here I noticed even more parallels between Shizuku and Hinata: Shizuku ends up skipping dinner, staying up late, and letting her grades slip while she works on her novel. Hinata has a history of not taking the best care of his body -- he practices all the time and needs to be reminded to take a break. He doesn’t start fully paying attention to the food that he’s nourishing himself with until he’s denied food at the Miyagi select rookie training camp. And he has a bad habit of not changing out of sweaty clothing and not wearing a jacket when he should, which leads to -- you know.

They feel discouraged and alone and end up thinking about Seiji and Kageyama’s hard work.

But they learn the importance of balance and self-care and soon feel okay again with wonderful scenes where a mentor figure brings them food to comfort them.

Most of Whisper of the Heart and Haikyuu!! are told from Shizuku’s and Hinata’s perspectives. However, the inspiration taken from Seiji and Kageyama does not go unreciprocated. In fact, even before they met, it’s like Seiji and Kageyama had been waiting for Shizuku and Hinata. Kageyama’s grandfather tells him at a young age that if he gets really good, someone even better will come find him. And it’s not until he gets to high school that Hinata tells him, “I’m here!”. It’s not until 6 years after that that Hinata is able to match/surpass his skill level and they have their fateful rematch to decide who will stay on the court the longest. Seiji hopes Shizuku will notice him a long time before they properly meet, and he waits right by Shizuku’s window right when he returns from Italy. They work hard because of Shizuku and Hinata, too. It’s almost like fate brought them together and keeps them together even when they’re apart.

For as long as they have known each other, these relationships have made them want to work hard in their respective crafts and really think about how to best nurture their growth -- whether the reasons are to become the best of the best, to beat the other at the world stage, to prove their worth in something they choose to pursue, or to follow their aspirations to the other side of the world

until finally,

they meet each other again

after a period of being apart,

ceaselessly waiting for each other and inspiring each other

and becoming better people because of it.

#whisper of the heart #haikyuu!! #kagehina #ghibli #hq!! #hq m #as long as i'm here #mine #janina reads hq!! #there are SO MANY more tiny little similarities that i wanted to include but didnt because this would end up getting way too long #love is stored in the volleyball #food becomes muscle #whisper of the haikyuu

[mudwingpropaganda]

Queen Glory of the RainWings

Ye of terrible governmental implications! The replacement Dragonet of Destiny, her Majesty of the Rain Forest, and who knows what else. There’s a lot to be said about Glory, a victim of abuse, a part in the cycle of violence, and the child who knew better than an entire queendom of dragons. Glory is an unfortunate character, both personally and in the story as a whole. 

I have a lot of opinions about Glory. Bless yourself upon them if you deserve so.

Design Headcanon

Despite appearing colorful and bright, especially among her fellow dull scaled siblings, her scales are much plainer than a traditional RainWing’s. Most of which tend to have terribly neon scales correlating with their emotions. Glory tends to have disgusted green and irritable red scales reflecting her mood. The yellow is simply an accent, but mistaken by her subjects as muted amusement. Her scales easily flinch along to her emotions, but she finds that showing these colors gains the respect of her subjects, rather than lose it like she did with the guardians, who never truly did pick up on what these colors meant.

Glory has inspiration from a few different animals. Chameleons are out of the way. She also has a similar “beak” to a swan, a dark area on her face that she simply can’t change the color of. She also has dexterous claw talons, excellent for gripping onto trees or delicate dexterity. And the oddest thing about RainWings is that they initially appear wingless, similar to a draco lizard. RainWing ribs expand and and glide rather than the intense flying that most dragons do, which made her appear weaker than her fellow dragonets of destiny. She always keeps her wings flared, which is risky and makes her underside vulnerable, but it was better than being called a wingless serpent by her guardians.

Glory is a very cautious individual. She doesn’t walk until she knows where she’s going. She won’t begin to walk until she’s sure she can get there confidently. Glory is surprisingly prideful and avoids not to waste her breath, even if she chooses the wrong battles to fight.

Implication of Heritage

If I were to write Glory, I would completely boot out the idea that Glory was biologically destined for the throne. The whole moment where Grandeur spills her guts and explains the whole narrow-minded royal blood idea, that was stupid. Because it implies that all overcoming of adversity will be rewarded with the fact that all those who deserve it will be rewarded with their desires, not for hard work they used to achieve those goals, but simply because they’re supposed to.

Instead, I would make Kinkajou a convenient character in the scene to have a moment of importance, but it doesn’t mean she’ll be the new queen. But I’ll get to that later on. Grandeur will recognize Glory’s selfless and initiative as the prime reason she is more deserving to be queen. The idea that she’s fighting so desperately to help the NightWing prisoners, and that’s reflected by how she puts away the chance to win the Queen Competition for the life of this little dragonet.

Glory should have been Queen through initiative and new perspective, not the idea that she was “smarter” than the RainWings or that the RainWings were too “lazy” to have a functioning leader. She should have been a respectable character who overcomes her biting remarks to be truly selfless, put aside her needs and desires to help this tribe. Be the leader that Sunny would look up to.

Miscellaneous Thoughts

Glory doesn’t honestly get the proper respect as a grumpy character considering the trauma she’s went through and considering her entire life has been ruined as those who raised her repeatedly told her she shouldn’t exist and that they ought to kill her. Not as an empty threat! The acceptance of her situation seemed so understated (until it was revealed she had a plan) and no one really respects that she had the shortest end of the stick compared to the other Dragonets of Destiny. 

Along with that, I feel like it’d be interesting if Glory had an innate distrust or fear or SOMETHING of SkyWings. After being berated by a SkyWing guardian, being meant to be a SkyWing her whole life, Clay unintentionally claiming Peril as the missing SkyWing, and being prisoner and biggest prize of Queen Scarlet of the SkyWings, I don’t see why she wouldn’t be a little more afraid or hostile in a scenario with one. 

One headcanon of mine is that Glory has narcolepsy, a byproduct of not getting enough sun as a sun dependent tribe. She frequently lost control of her muscles during sparring practice with Kestrel, leading her to slither helplessly and worsen her image. She pardoned her sleepiness through consistent naps Under the Mountain, but it became harder to excuse after they left the mountain. Once the sun hit her scales on the marble tree in Scarlet’s clutches, she finally gave in and slept for a majority of that time, otherwise overwhelmed and unable to move. Unfortunately, along with classic form of narcolepsy, Glory also has hallucinations. She often interprets her hallucinations as Kestrel or Queen Scarlet, long after their deaths. Despite denying special treatment as the RainWing Queen, she does give into sun times to satiate the urge in her to rest.

Narcolepsy is also described as being triggered by high surges of emotion. Another reason why Glory does her best to suppress her emotions, to stay in control of her consciousness.

It can negatively affect relationships with other people by being triggered during these surges of emotion and as a result, Glory is not quite as emotionally connected to her siblings as the others are. As the consequences of the war subsides, she wishes to try making up for lost time and finally respond to her narcolepsy instead of be frustrated and angry with it.

Glory’s reign of the Rain Forest Queendom is characterized not by her inherent intelligence over the other RainWings. In fact, a majority of the beginning of her rule is learning the rich history and important traditions of RainWings from Duke Handsome. Due to her unfamiliarity with oral history, her first order is to try and record as much history and as many orders as possible to keep the RainWings’ respect and learn about her own culture. 

As well as that, Glory steels herself, with the sympathy of her siblings, Prince Jambu, Duke Handsome, and the other Queens, when ruling the NightWings. So easily could she take out her anger on these innocent victims of their own actions. But in the end, she learns it’s more important to be the bigger person and move forward in peace, not dwell in hatred.

Despite that, Glory is still apprehensive before directly meeting with SkyWing figures such as Queen Ruby. 

Glory and Tsunami probably have the closest relationship out of any of the other Dragonets of Destiny. Tsunami looks up to Glory as a queen and Glory makes fun of her lack of royal blood for it. Tsunami, after apprenticing with General Shark, also assists in the disciplining and order in the Rain Forest Queendom. Tsunami, Sunny, and Glory are the main royalty figures establishing a fairer justice system in the Rain Forest so there are no more Chameleons and that individuals like Mastermind have a place to go.

LGBT+ Headcanons

Glory, for a large part of the story we see her, is probably questioning her orientation. She’s never felt the right to be loved and never been able to emotionally connect with anyone enough to feel worthy of affection. Eventually, she comes out as a lesbian! Proudly leading her two tribes with acceptance and understanding. The Rain Forest proudly leads the largest Pride Parades with the SandWing queendom following closely behind. (Which means Deathbringer x Glory is not canon in my headcanons! He can ROT.)

Glory is also a trans woman! She did not embrace it easily with the role models she had growing up. She had always been told she was born incorrectly (for OTHER reasons, but it’s for the metaphor), but with the unconditional support from her siblings, especially her solidarity with Starflight, she was able to come to terms with her identity and be even more prideful because of it. Fully taking her destiny and her life into her own talons has empowered her more than anything after the events of the SandWing War of Succession.

#wings of fire #wingsoffire #wof #glory wof #wof glory #queen glory #rainwing #rainwings #wof rainwing #wof redesign #sebastiowu #enigmew

[crazy-loca-blog]

Personal thoughts on Open Heart Second Year, Chapter 19

Note: As the title says, these are just personal opinions on Choices books and chapters. Of course, you may agree or disagree with them, I only use this platform to express my thoughts on what I read every week and what I’d like to see in the next chapters, because none of my friends play Choices so I have no one to comment the books with.

Let’s see… how do I even begin with this? Oh yeah… I’m mad. It’s really hard to be mad at my favorite series, but I’m mad (but nope, it’s not because of what everyone has been complaining about in the last few hours… keep reading and you’ll find out). But let’s start with the good things that happened this week (because yeah, there were many good things that must be highlighted):

The Caroline Bloom case had some bittersweet effect on me. On one side, and I’ve said it before, she is a good woman, and she doesn’t deserve any of this. Her diagnosis was heartbreaking and it only followed the same path as most of our diagnosis throughout this book: terrible things happening to incredibly good people. On the other hand, we had our revenge… sweet, sweet revenge (at a terrible cost, of course!). When we treated Leland Bloom, the man literally bought a new kidney to keep living… and we were all mad at him because of this. Well, every decision we make must have a consequence (good or bad) at some point, and now we know how things ended for him. No one would have ever thought that saving him would mean “killing” the only thing that truly matters to him… his wife.

Also, even though I love the dynamic and the work ethic between the MC, Ethan and Baz (excuse me, but June who?), I’m beginning to wonder if we’ll see Baz in Book 3 or if he’ll keep working with us as he does in Book 2. You know, I really enjoy when the writers give us a chance to have diamond scenes with secondary characters that are loved by the readers, but I think that the scene with Zaid wasn’t there just by chance. Even since the beginning of the chapter we got plenty of information on Baz Mirani, like too much information for a single chapter. Now we know that Baz is a world-class immunologist, that he’s receiving an award that is attached to a job offer, and that he is more into research than into diagnosing people… so Zaid is probably the only reason why he hadn’t left Edenbrook yet. But overall, I loved helping them, not only because they are great characters, but also because now we know that Baz is the reason why Zaid became a doctor, and also because PB keeps teasing us with the type of relationship that Zaid and Ines have (just choose to help Zaid on his words choice and you’ll see). It was a great moment.

There is also this scene with Ethan… even though this is not a romance scene, I’m beginning to think that the OH writers might be reading some fan fictions during their free time, because this is something that Ethan stans have been asking and writing about for a while now. Overall the scene was nice, BUT the fact that some of the content in it is paywalled bothered me a little bit. In normal circumstances I wouldn’t mind about it, but after Louise got admitted at Edenbrook, Ethan’s issues with her became more visible to every player, not only for people who pay the diamond scenes. So even though there are some brilliant moments in it (not only we confirmed that, if you’re romancing him, Alan is the captain of that ship, but we can also tell the MC will be teasing him about his teddy bear FOREVER!), I have too many questions about how this scene went in different scenarios. I personally think I got the proper closure to his issues, he promised to visit his dad more often, the relationship between them seems to be fine now, and Ethan even told Alan that he would give his childhood pictures to Louise (I took the route to forgive her). But again, I’ve bought all of his diamond scenes and a lot of this stuff was already paywalled. But what happens if you took other routes? I mean, how do things go if you don’t forgive Louise? What if you don’t buy his diamond scenes at all? Don’t you feel like something was left there like “floating” and unsolved? Because it does feel weird to me.

And finally, we had this scene with our friends, which I liked it, but I didn’t love it… I would have expected to see them wrapping up things at Donahue’s after completing the bucket list. However, I’m very happy for all those people who wanted to romance Sienna, Aurora or Elijah… because I guess a kiss is better than nothing (?)

Anyway, I wanted to stop for a second to talk about Rafael. I want to dedicate a full paragraph just to him this time. Because there is something about him and his behavior… and I’m really sorry for Raf stans, but something is not looking good here. Even before the incident I had a bad feeling about him, and it has nothing to do with the idea of PB daring to kill him. He’s been a mess this whole book (and nope, I’m not talking about the writing). He rekindled a relationship with his ex that never felt right. He took a lot more risks than he used to do, to the point that he ended up being suspended. Then he quit a job he apparently loved. Then we had the incident, right before he moved to Brazil looking for a fresh start. After the incident, he decided to move to a new neighborhood, and last, but not least, we’ve discovered he’s not a fan of riding helicopters anymore (do you remember how excited he was about this in Book 1?). There is also what he said today and that got our MC thinking... and I think… guys, I think Raf has been going through some HUGE depression during the whole book, but it’s only being more evident now. He definitely needs further treatment, like ASAP. Also, and I know I’ve said it in the past, our MC and Raf really need to have some type of “heart to heart” conversation, a deep one, because in my mind, they need each other to find some real peace after all they went through together.

By now, I don’t even feel like talking about the LIs anymore but yes, I will do it, because even though I loved the night out scene with our gang in Chapter 18, now I’m guessing this could have messed things up with our LIs. In case you don’t know, that night out was supposed to be a “night date”. Maybe that night date was supposed to be the scene where we would have “the talk”. However, we didn’t have that date, we haven’t had “the talk” yet, Edenbrook closed its doors and we were left like… OK… so what’s happening with our personal lives now? I’m hoping to see them fixing this mess in Chapter 20, because right now it looks kind of ridiculous. The fact that our MC almost died should have changed the perspective of all relationships (or at least that’s how it looked like during the incident and after the funeral). After the gala, it looked like finally all the LIs were at the same level and ready to take the next step. Now I feel like we’re all right where we stood at the end of Book 1 (I can see Jackie, Raf and Bryce acting as if we were a hook up and Ethan pushing us away all over again). And as I said last week, maybe this uncertainty is due to the fact that we still don’t know where the MC will go or where our LIs will go, everything is kind of blurry for all of us. But again, that doesn’t mean we don’t want to know what’s happening with our personal lives. Are we breaking up? Are we going to try long distance? Are we moving to the same city? Again, I know in the end we’ll stay in Boston and everything will “go back to normal”, but as of this moment, Edenbrook is closed and we must leave, so it bothers me to see that this part of our story hasn’t been addressed yet. I don’t need our LIs to say those three words, I don’t need them to be exclusive, I don’t even need them to be official… I only need answers on how they’re going to face the future.

Well, if you’ve read all this non-sense I’ve been writing, this is probably where you wonder “why is she mad besides the obvious?”. And my dear people, this is where we go to the very last scene of the chapter. When I saw the limo and Leland talking to us, my first thought was “I really hope that Ethan is inside that limo too, because I don’t want my MC having to make these decisions by herself” (I play as a girl). But nope, he wasn’t there… and that’s where I got mad, really mad… at Leland Bloom. Of course Ethan wasn’t there because Leland knows that he would say “no” without even listening to him, and of course he would go directly to the MC because Leland knows that if there is one person that Ethan would listen to, that’s the MC. Also, why didn’t he just call the board, just like he did the very first time he needed our help? It’s not like he doesn’t know how to reach them. Why did he decide to go to a second year resident’s home instead? There is something so, so weird about this guys… I don’t believe in his reasons to reach the MC instead of people like Ethan, Naveen or the board. I have a gut feeling that we’re walking on thin ice here, especially because accepting Leland’s money means we’ll have to play by his rules in Book 3. And I don’t know about you guys, but I don’t expect to have a happy ending next chapter… I think we’ll have to deal with some huge cliffhanger instead.

#playchoices #choices stories you play #open heart #choices open heart #open heart choices #casey valentine #ethan ramsey #bryce lahela #rafael aveiro #jackie varma #aurora emery #sienna trinh #elijah greene #kyra santana #baz mirani #zaid mirani #naveen banerji #leland bloom #caroline bloom #edenbrook

[icykalisartblog]

Why Bilbo Baggins/Gandalf OTP

All right, here’s my big post on why Bilbo/Gandalf is OTP. This is half-joking but should include some genuinely valuable analysis! Much of this is cribbed from a paper I wrote in about queercoding in The Hobbit.

The Hobbit tarot deck has them as the Two of Cups, usually signifying soulmates and romantic attraction so this seems like a good image to start the post with... soulmate AU, anyone? XD

Without further ado:

Bilbo Baggins Big Queer

Usually when I see queer readings of Tolkien’s works, it’s centered on The Lord of the Rings, and for good reason. But I believe the most likely character to be queer in Tolkien’s work is in fact Bilbo Baggins. When reading Tolkien’s works with this idea in mind, Bilbo, Tolkien, and the world of Middle Earth take on a new dimension, especially The Hobbit.

Bilbo Baggins is an unusual Hobbit due to going off on his adventure to win back the Misty Mountains from the Dragon Smaug, but at the beginning of The Hobbit, it would seem that he should have represented an ideal wealthy landowning Hobbit in the eyes of his neighbors and family members.  The narrator of even states that the Baggineses were highly respected. However, we know from the very end of the book that Bilbo was not particularly well-liked even before he ever did anything exceptional, by the eagerness with which his family members auctioned off his belongings and presumed him to be dead. It is not just jealously over his wealth that caused the other Hobbits to dislike him—his mother was Belladonna Took, and the Took family was known for going on adventures, though the narrator explains that after marrying Bilbo’s father, she never did anything unexpected again. Interestingly, the narrator suggests that “...although he looked and behaved exactly like a second edition of his solid and comfortable father, got something a bit queer in his make-up from the Took side, something that only waited for a chance to come out.” Also from this page, we know that other families of Hobbits thought that one of the Tooks had taken a “fairy wife” and that Tooks would occasionally disappear, but that their relatives would try to quiet the rumors. If you’re going 👀 at queer make-up and a fairy being mentioned, you should. These terms were already being used as queer signifiers and pejoratives in the 30s when Tolkien wrote The Hobbit, plus Tolkien was well... a philologist. 

Enter Gandalf

So Bilbo’s Tookish side is being linked to his queerness, and the other Hobbits think the strange behavior of the Tooks might have been caused by one of them taking a “fairy wife.” Now, if you are very familiar with Tolkien’s works, you’ll know that the closest thing to a fairy that exists in that world is probably what Gandalf is—a spirit known as a Maia, which all the Wizards are. Maiar (that’s the plural) are usually conceived of by critics as angelic beings because they serve the gods and Abrahamic God equivalents, but they have fairy-like qualities as well. And Gandalf is going to serve as the catalyst who brings out Bilbo’s, well, queer side. 

When Gandalf arrives in The Hobbit and introduces himself, Bilbo simultaneously gushes and rants about him, and gives special importance to Gandalf’s fireworks: “They used to go up like lilies and snapdragons and laburnums of fire and hang in the twilight all evening!” he says, and then the narrator remarks, “You will notice already that Mr Baggins was not quite so prosy as he liked to believe, also that he was very fond of flowers,” as if Bilbo’s secret desire to be unique and his love of flowers were of close to equal importance. Gandalf mentions that for the sake of the Old Took and “poor Belladonna” he will take Bilbo on an adventure. The only reason we are given for Belladonna Took being unfortunate in any way is that she was somehow repressed after being married. A critique of heteronormativity?

Bilbo turns Gandalf away and denies his not-so-well-hidden desire for an adventure but invites Gandalf to come have tea with him the next day, an action Bilbo himself does not understand. In fact, the Bilbo is so shaken by the invitation he himself gave that he thought “a drink of something would do him good after his fright,” despite this scene taking place right after breakfast . Gandalf is left standing outside of Bilbo’s house, laughing. He takes the “spike of his staff” (...!) and draws a “queer sign” (...!!!) on Bilbo’s door.

I think it’s worth noting that in Tolkien’s unfinished writings, Gandalf initially didn’t want to go to Middle-Earth. He feared Sauron and thought of himself as too weak to be a proper emissary, but that’s exactly why Gandalf was the right Maia for the job of protecting Middle-Earth. Gandalf’s origin was thus very much the same as Bilbo’s... he’s been through all of this reluctance, too. 

The Two Together

After Bilbo’s adventure, he is ostracized, and the beginning of The Lord of the Rings makes it clear that he had “no close friends” among Hobbits, and that the only ones who appreciated him were young children who would not understand how he was non-normative, and poor Hobbits to whom Bilbo gave money. In fact, the narrative begins with an argument between the Gaffer and Mr. Sandyman about Bilbo’s and Frodo’s “queerness,” which includes Bilbo’s adoption of an heir as opposed to having children biologically. With a queer reading in mind, Bilbo’s request that Gandalf take care of Frodo makes Bilbo and Gandalf appear to be caregivers of an adopted heir.

The text that I feel makes it hard to deny that Bilbo Baggins is queer is a version of “The Quest for Erebor,” an unfinished account from Gandalf that gives his perspective on the journey of The Hobbit. “The Quest for Erebor” was written at the same time that Tolkien was working on The Lord of the Rings, but was not ultimately included as part of the narrative (only an abridged version was included in the appendixes of The Lord of the Rings). I will quote Gandalf’s words from the unabridged version, regarding his choosing Bilbo for the quest (emphasis mine):

I learned that he had never married. I thought that odd though I guessed why it was; and the reason that I guessed was not that most of the Hobbits gave me: that he had early been left very well off and his own master. No, I guessed that he wanted to remain 'unattached' for some reason deep down which he did not understand himself - or would not acknowledge, for it alarmed him. He wanted, all the same, to be free to go when the chance came, or he had made up his courage. I remembered how he used to pester me with questions when he was a youngster about the Hobbits that had occasionally 'gone off,' as they said in the Shire.

As one can see from this passage, Gandalf, who has a very close relationship to Bilbo, does not believe what would be the obvious explanation for Bilbo’s remaining a bachelor—that he was a wealthy landowner, and thus did not need to. Rather, Gandalf believed that it was Bilbo’s latent desire for adventure that led to his never marrying. As I have pointed out, the call to adventure is connected to queerness. Gandalf also quotes other Hobbits as referring to those who had adventures as having “gone off.” To “go off” obviously indicates leaving the Shire to go somewhere else, but this phrase could also mean exploding (and fireworks, something that Bilbo remembered Gandalf for, go off), or to go bad—in the sense of food rotting or becoming moldy and inedible.

I think it’s also worth pointing out that Gandalf felt supernaturally compelled to bring Bilbo along on the quest. It’s likely that this was the Tolkien equivalent of Abrahamic God intervening in the events of Middle-Earth—something that rarely happens! The relationship between Gandalf and Bilbo is really important!

All of the points I have made signify that Bilbo Baggins’s story is applicable to the experiences of queer people, and his relationship with Gandalf suggests that Bilbo himself in fact has a queer romantic orientation—that he is queer in more than the sense of being non-normative due to going on a quest to retake Erebor. The friendship between Gandalf and Bilbo develops throughout The Hobbit and The Lord of the Rings, as Bilbo learns to trust and appreciate both Gandalf and his own adventurous side, and Gandalf learns more about kindness and true strength from Bilbo, Gandalf visits Bilbo many times afterward. Finally, they both care for Frodo and leave for the West together. Their friendship is heartwarming, and I would argue that this queer reading of it may be even more so—while there is an enormous age difference between these two characters (Bilbo is fifty-one at the start of The Hobbit, Gandalf is thousands of years old), Gandalf treats Bilbo like an equal and they both teach each other a lot (and Gandalf does not act like he is thousands-of-years old, he lost a lot of his innate knowledge and power when he was sent to Middle-Earth, after all).

Other Details

Close to the end of The Hobbit, after they retake Erebor from Smaug, Bilbo and Gandalf travel together, just the two of them, and the narrator doesn’t elaborate on this. This sounds like peak shipping and adventure fanfic fuel to me! 

I’m not a fan of The Hobbit films, but they do contain some great shippy moments with the two characters. There’s some hilarious snarking, like this exchange: 

BILBO: Are there any?

GANDALF: What?

BILBO: Other wizards?

GANDALF: There are five of us. The greatest of our order is Saruman the White. And then there are the two Blue Wizards... you know, I've quite forgotten their names.

BILBO: And the fifth?

GANDALF: Well, that would be Radagast the Brown.

BILBO: Is he a great wizard, or is he more like you?

And then Gandalf is like 😮 XD

There’s also a really heartwarming moment where Galadriel asks Gandalf why he chose Bilbo: 

GALADRIEL: Mithrandir? Why the Halfling?

GANDALF: I don't know. Saruman believes that it is only great power that can hold evil in check. But that is not what I have found. I've found it is the small things, everyday deeds of ordinary folk that keeps the darkness at bay. Simple acts of kindness and love. Why Bilbo Baggins? Perhaps it is because I am afraid, and he gives me courage.

I remember there being other movie-only sweet moments too, but it’s been a long time since I’ve watched them!

#bilbo baggins #gandalf #the hobbit #the lord of the rings #queercoding #I need an analysis/meta tag

[intp-energy]

Why Raelle and Scylla’s relationship works

So I felt like I needed to get this off my chest because of how some people are perceiving and reacting to their relationship right now. This is a long read, so brace yourself. :)

I like their relationship and while some may feel that their story was rushed or that they don’t have chemistry, we’ll have to look at the characters in isolation from each other.

Raelle. We have to remember that Raelle’s mother died just a year ago. She is still grieving and to be able to find someone you connect with and understands what you’re going through is a rare thing for her. To find someone who can make you feel like you want to live and to live everyday is very difficult if you’re grieving so when she found Scylla, she was thrown a lifeline and was given purpose to continue on. That would develop a certain co-dependence, which I think Scylla was really banking on given her initial objective. We also need to understand where Raelle grew up and how she grew up. Her father is human and in their world, that’s something that’s frowned upon. She was most likely considered weird — so again, to find someone as weird [or as sexy weird] as you, is a rare thing and you would want to cherish and protect that relationship. So when it came to the wedding, despite Scylla crashing it (which, yes, may not be proper etiquette - but remember, their world has different rules. Who knew that you’d have to enter into a contract just to keep a man for 5 years? Scylla participated in the wedding and was beside Raelle when the binding took place, so eventually, it kind of wasn’t really a big deal anymore), Raelle was very bleh about the reactions of Abigail and Tally. She was already very angry at the beginning when she couldn’t bring Scylla, would you really think she’ll be worried about what Abigail thought?

A whole lot of people thought Raelle was very selfish and didn’t think about her unit and that her unit should always be her focus. Apart from the reasons I gave above (being so deeply inlove and connected to another person who you would LIVE for; “I like doing everything because of you.”), we have to empathize with Raelle and figure out what she’s feeling. For me, I think before she met Scylla, she’s basically just forced into the institution that killed her mother and has no choice but to comply “I hate to break it to you, beautiful, but there is NO WAY OUT.” That feeling of helplessness will destroy anybody. Heck, she even wanted to go to the front line as soon as possible, had it not been made clear to her that she will be taking Tally and Abigail down with her. She doesn’t want to be there, but she also doesn’t want to be responsible for Tally and Abigail being in danger. She is still innately a healer, so helping others is a calling — just not a strong enough calling for her to want to live for it, but enough to not make her screw things up for her unit.

We’ve also been shown her family tree and it was a very small one. Having a bloodline that short could be very lonely and could make her believe that she was simply meant to just perish like all of her other ancentors. There wasn’t really a point in continuing, 1) she’s gay and will not get pregnant unless she wanted to, 2) she sees being a witch as somewhat of a curse (remember that she has a human dad, meaning she knows what it’s like to have a “normal” life and not be doomed to answer to a call that will come when you’re 18), and 3) if I were her, why would I want my children to suffer the same fate as our family had, I would rather end the bloodline. She is grieving and if you think it’ll take a mere year to get over someone so close to you, then you have a very good coping mechanism, unfortunately, not a lot of people get that because while you may have a good support system, grieving is still a process. She has no one, she only has her father who is grieving with her. It was meant to spiral.

Scylla. I think I’ve made my point about grief and like Raelle, Scylla is grieving. Her parents were killed and unlike Raelle who used depression as a coping mechanism, she used anger. She may very well have joined the Spree because of anger and because she wants to destroy the institution that took her family. If you have no one, yes, it feels lonely, but it also feels like nothing else matters. It feels like this blind hatred and revenge will somehow compensate for the grief and loneliness that you’re feeling. Maybe it’s also meant to dampen that sadness and convert that into something greater, something worth fighting for. She believes, as a dodger (always remember that she’s a dodger, she grew up with different ideals), that witches should have a choice and that choice is taken away because of the accord made hundreds of years ago. She believes that by joining the Spree, she could save the lives of the witches who were killed and hunted (like her family) because they wanted to be free. At this point, I don’t even want to comment on her redemption arc because we don’t even know which deaths she was directly responsible for. And again, I’m not making up excuses for her, but she truly believes in the cause and may believe that she’s saving more lives in the long run than the number of lives the Spree is taking. When I think about Scylla and the bad things she did, I think about Regina Mills, who took how many seasons to get the redemption she deserves. I don’t see why we can’t give Scylla the same. I don’t even want to go into the rabbit hole that is Villanelle and Eve. If you want to define toxic, that’s the pair, but it’s oh so delicious to watch, isn’t it?

I would like to point out that as dodgers, we know that Scylla would have been a social pariah. That was a very lonely way of living and was very self-deprecating; add the loss of her parents and she’s just a mess. As Helen Graves, she told Raelle that she’s weird, spooky, and generally separated from others because of her being a necro. She was very hopeful though because she wanted Raelle to be patient with her as she opens up. And to find someone who is very much willing to do that, that must’ve felt like she struck gold, but here lies the complication. She has a mission and she starts to question this because she’s developed feelings for Raelle. I couldn’t imagine how it must’ve felt for Raelle to include her and make her feel like SHE BELONGS - first, by introducing her to everybody (even at the wedding), and second, by fighting for her. So her reactions to save Raelle from the Spree is very authentic and it horrifies her because by saying I love you (and I choose you), she basically signed her own death sentence or she’s basically accepting the fact that she’ll be living her life running and not belonging. AGAIN. She was prepared to do it, though, so her decision to save Raelle wasn’t rash. She already developed the connection using the spell she did. When she said that it was so that she could say hi wherever Raelle was, she was essentially saying, so that I can keep the connection even while I’m running or being tortured, whichever the case. That must have been really hard on her - saying her last I love you, knowing she might not see Raelle anymore. So we really couldn’t deny that these two love each other deeply.

Their relationship. Okay, yes, it started as a mission for Scylla and desire (or at least an effort to feel alive) for Raelle, but because of the deep connection they have based on the stuff I wrote above, it makes perfect sense how they’re portrayed right now. Scylla is terrified that loving Raelle may harm Raelle in any way or may mean her own death and Raelle is terrified of losing yet another person she loves. These are two very closed off, very scarred, very deeply emotional, grieving people who found each other despite the circumstances. Of course, they’ll be awkward or sometimes it’ll feel like they have no chemistry; well, they’re protecting themselves from getting burned - they’re closed off and being careful. They are, individually, people who’ve been shunned by the world because of their circumstances. They have very different, mostly difficult, situations and upbringing and their priorities weren’t really supposed to be about love. They weren’t expecting it, they don’t know how to deal with it or act around someone who is getting very close to them - it was NEVER in their plans. Of course, it’ll look rushed, we don’t have a lot of episodes in this season. Of course it’s weird because we’re so used to the dynamic of one bubbly person paired with a broody person. It just so happened that they paired two very complex, very introverted (most likely INTP - check out MBTI if you want to know more) characters - and we’re not used to watching that. We’re used to the chase, we’re used to the giddiness, but the reality is that these people went through hell and are both still going through a lot. And the fact that they’re depending on each other in unconventional ways is something that people see as unusual or even boring. If you step back, it’s actually very beautiful and complex. Even the exchange of gifts was seen as creepy and weird, that’s exactly the point, they ARE weird, they ARE people who other people usually misunderstand. And that’s besides the point that, again, this is a different world. Their customs are different, some of the things they’re used to is different. We’ll have to look at their world in their lens to understand it better. So I do hope that before judging the relationship, fans of the show would sit down and really think about what the characters are going through. This isn’t the feel-good movie you want to watch and just not think about. It is very well-thought of in terms of complexity and world building. This is the type of series that will take you away from your current world and your biases and show you a different perspective and an angle you may not have considered before. Give it a chance, open your mind, and take the journey with the characters.

#motherland: fort salem #motherland fort salem #raelle x scylla #raylla #raelle collar #scylla ramshorn #taylor hickson #amalia holm

[cosplayswitzerlandaskblog]

Unlike last time Hetalia got a new season, the response has not been particularly positive, and I’m seeing a lot of twisted feelings towards the show and the fandom to a point where it seems long time content creators are stepping away from it. I know anyone still active who follows me either are or were fans of Hetalia, so it should be relevant for all y’all.

As a fan who never fell out of the show, I find the response sad though healthy, and even if I know I ghosted you all on tumblr (sorry) because of time constraints and mental health, I still make the occasional CMVs. Fact is, I do not let go of special interests very easily. It seems a lot of you all started watching the show at 10-14 years old, where I myself was a bit older – 17 – and had grown a bit more. Long story short, my Naruto phase was your Hetalia phase, and no, it’s not pretty. You’re young and stupid and don’t know much critical thinking and make mistakes, and you have to forgive yourself for those mistakes, especially when the content you consume is associated with the real world in a sensitive subject.

But after seeing all these posts explaining all the bad we see from Hetalia, I wanted to make a post explaining what I learned from it – all the good that can come with a show like this if you stay aware of perspective. I am not excusing all the bad that came with it, for WWII is a serious event in history that should never be forgotten nor made fun of, but here goes:

I went from a ‘war-is-cool’ history buff to one who truly delved in and learned the intricacies of history, being fascinated with the ‘hows’ and the ‘whys’ as well as getting an excuse to look at the histories of nations which I’d never otherwise be interested in, and I know a lot of other people in the fandom did the same. This is how history should be known, as that is how we can truly apply it to the real world.

I learned to separate people from their countries. To give an example that’ll hit close to much of tumblr, when I started Hetalia I hated Americans with a passion because of the road “you” had put the world on, and I considered all y’all dumb and bad as a cause of it. Getting that excuse to take an ACTUAL look at how your nation functioned and what communities truly hid behind the borders, I learned instead that your government is corrupt as shit, your society is rigged against you and you have been forced to stand by and watch as chaos happens. It got applied to the world as a whole, where I considered other nations being as dynamic as my own, with people both good and bad, and the actions of the nation is even less of a reflection of the people in the cases of corrupt democracies or dictatorships.

I separated from Colonial world views. I was never actively racist, brought up in a proper home, and already before Hetalia I fiercely protected the rights of Muslims who are often mistreated in my nation and tried to hear them out when possible. But I was a Westerner, and even if the nation I came from had barely participated in invasions, I had learned to consider my culture ‘correct’ and native and African cultures ‘primitive’. While the journey was long, a step wise process of realizing things like there was nothing inherently ethically wrong eating dogs or partially incubated duck eggs, only in how the animals were acquired, that cultural progress is heavily dependent on perspective and that fucking genocide of native peoples still happen in this damn century, Hetalia was the stepping stone which gave me the interest in other nations to expand my world view. I probably ain’t done here – I have a whole life of outside influences to unlearn – but I’m further than most people I know in my near surroundings, and I’ve even managed to move my parents who originally taught me to respect people of all kinds in the first place.

I learned Nazis were people. This is a conversation which often comes up here on tumblr, and the demonization Nazi Germany and its government directly allows actual Nazis and fascists like Richard Spencer a free pass because they look groomed and proper. Until then, I’d simply assumed no one was ‘stupid enough to be a Nazi’ because of the atrocities of WWII and therefore looked at the world naively. Realizing how little true support Nazis had during WWII and similarly anyone could end down that pungent rabbit hole, I became careful of what I excused on social media and allowed myself to doubt seemingly normal people if their behaviour was alarming – such as the police man who is supposed to be a damn ‘hero’ of society.

I learned how to deal with material sensitive to others. A common problem in the fandom has always been the cosplaying and portrayal of Nazis, especially at cons and the like, and in a similar vein – I did blackface once because of Hetalia. The horrible thing about this is that blackface is immensely common in Europe – at least my own country – and blackface frequently happens at schools during ‘international’ events, where whole classrooms are assigned to portray a designated country. A whole of two times – in 6th grade as well as 2nd grade of high school – I was exposed to blackface as my class was given an African nation to portray – Somalia the first time, Kenya the second. No one, adult, teen or child, are aware of the history of race imitation in my country, but by the second time I was supposed to participate in dressing up as an African tribe, I’d understood the issue – thanks to Hetalia. My friend group of white, privileged, European teens discussed what symbolism was appropriate at cons or in videos – could we wear the Iron Cross? The Nazi flag? What if we burned it during the video? These thoughts are not usually a part of the mind of European youth, and I consider that a grave problem which leads to people making fun of ‘triggers’, downplaying racial issues and the like.

It offered me a means to make history personal. The biggest struggle for good history teachers and the reason we are often made to read and write letters from the periods we study is to make it seem real and get a emotional connection to these past, lost peoples. Hetalia offered puppets for me to place into historical contexts to make them truly real – the main driver pushing me away from mere fascination of war, since I suddenly felt the horrors of warfare through the characters that I loved. Things like Elizabeth I’s court, the conquests of Rome, the dissolution of the Kalmar Union, the battlefield of Somme, the invasion of America, damn slavery becomes different when something you already know is a part of it and you can see them in there. Hearing of people of the past should in itself be enough, and for the closest parts of history (WWII and afterwards) it always was for me, but we are human. We cannot understand the size of a billion, and we struggle understanding the lives of those living centuries before us, unless we are offered context.

I’m not blind to the issues of the fandom or the show. I was here for ‘the r*pist, the pervert and the p*dophile’, I know of South Korean and Chinese issues with the show, and I heard the gassing joke in the show’s dub and got nauseous from discomfort and anger. I’ve always been in the fringe of the fandom due to my social disabilities, so I don’t know everything that happened, but I’ve seen many racist OCs and disrespecting of historical sites. It’s not pretty, but I will believe these people, who were likely young, likely learned in time. And I may have been able to learn these things by other means, but not in the same way, and not through personal interest and research that’s helped me become sceptical and analysing of the world around me.

At its core, Hetalia is about watching a normal, nerdy guy learn how to draw, using stereotypic country personifications mainly from the perspective of Japan. It’s natural he chooses Japan, since he’s Japanese, and WWII is unfortunately the automatic historical event for most common people to focus on – but Hetalia doesn’t even solely focus on that, but is an amalgamation of vaguely correct historical situations played out by the characters, and often it is with the intent of comedy rather than the grimness often associated with historical settings which allows a wider audience than merely history nerds.

What I want you all to do is learn from your mistakes and forgive your younger selves for not knowing better. Maybe reflect on what you got from the show, rather than what you lost. A new generation of young Hetalians is likely coming with the new season, and us old timers might be able to help them avoid pitfalls if we stay around to teach them. The best of the show is compassion towards the people of the world combined and love of history, as I believe Hima wanted it – the worst is Nazi apologetics and racial stereotyping. We decide in what direction we take it, and what lessons we bring into the future.

TL;DR: As a lot of media intended for older audiences, Hetalia is a show which has to be watched critically, which makes it dangerous for young people to watch unhinged, but it also opens up for interest in the world beyond the borders you live within. We should be aware of the issues and learn from them, but in and of itself the show has a lot of good to offer in learning compassion for other nations and cultural groups.

#impressive how active I've become these last weeks #I kinda feel embarrassed #but Hetalia is coming back #and a lot of people are feeling dread because of it #my own feelings are mixed #but Hetalia is was gave me friends and started expanding my world view #other people might get a similar benefit from it #and I want them to have the chance #I'd love to hear the opinions of others tho #also #welcome to my usual iconic long posts

[thelittleredheadedmusician]

First Lines

So @klaineharmony @wordshakerofgallifrey and @radioactivepigeons ​all tagged me to do this so uh here it is. This is NOT including academic stuff. But it IS including original work. 

Rules: List the first lines of your last 20 stories (if you have less than 20, just list them all!). See if there are any patterns. Choose your favorite opening line. Then tag some lovely people!

Hitch Hiker - my book:

It’s raining, hard enough to hit the windshield in fat drops though he can still clearly see the wet road ahead. Oliver isn’t speeding, in high school he would’ve flown around the curves out of town. But now? Coming home and in bad weather? He manages to stay just below the speed limit. And a good thing too.

I don’t want to linger any longer - DCU, Batman, Green Arrow:

Alfred was leery of the summer camp. Bruce went to public school partially because of Martha's pointed remarks regarding democracy and public education, partly because of her pointed remarks regarding Thomas's own time at boarding schools and prep schools surrounded by equally rich and entitled boys. Alfred never said anything at the time, it wasn't his place, and would never say anything now but, he whole heartedly believed both. Especially after his own childhood in private schools, even if the times and the British and American systems were very different. Regardless, Bruce was remaining in public school with all the trials it entailed. Including the socializing problem.

untitled post final chapter short for Hitch Hiker:

“I’m so glad I get to be here for this,” Eve practically flung herself onto the couch, bouncing slightly before settling. She’d just gotten dropped off after rehearsal and was miraculously still teeming with energy.

Give Me the Stars - an original short story:

Morgan leaned closer to the mirror, shifting her hair so she could examine the new growth near her scalp. It was a dark, almost dull brown and the scalp itself didn’t seem red or irritated. She half combed her fingers through it while she shook her hand loose of the strands. Where the few centimeters of brown ended, a shifting cascade of colors began. A swirl or wave or reflection of green and blue and purple with notes of black and pink and sometimes silver. Like an oil slick made tangible. Except, after two months it’d lost its glimmer, its shine. Which didn’t really matter since Morgan spent about seventy percent of the time tucking it up under one hat or another.

glitter and gold - DCU:

She hadn’t been expecting the second explosion. None of them had been expecting the second explosion. Luckily, they were all clear of the debris but Steph’s ears were ringing. A gut feeling said her comm had been knocked out but it’s not like she’d be able to tell right now anyway. She swayed, unsteady. But Batgirl had to worry about the people around her, not herself. A cursory glance looked as though the block’s residents had gotten back far enough before the blast hit. Leaving them covered in dust but unharmed.

five phones on the table - DCU, Titans:

The long table with its numerous chairs was, by proximity to the kitchen, a dining table but due to the nature of the building it occupied doubled as a meeting and strategy table. The small net, paddles, and light plastic balls stored in an innocuous box in the kitchen meant it tripled as a ping pong table.

Adulting Fail - DCU, Titans, Nightwing:

“RICHARD JOHN GRAYSON,” Donna says and for an instant he wonders how a woman who has never met his mother can sound exactly like her. But then again, Donna has always been and will always be his older sister, never mind the fact neither are sure if it’s by three months or three thousand years.

Seventh Floor Walkup - DCU, Titans, Nightwing:

Dick may slightly regret asking his friends to help him move. See, he didn’t have the funds for real movers but had promised pizza if they helped. Except Roy and Garth could each eat a whole pizza, Donna could eat two, and Wally half a baker’s dozen. Which left Dick carrying eleven boxes of pizza to his seventh-floor walkup.

Et tu Brute - DCU, Flash, Batman:

“What the-?” Barry shifted his momentum with ease, turning from where he’d been running towards the Batcomputer and Bruce waiting there for him to instead run towards the metallic object low to the ground and glowing a dull green he’d spotted out of the corner of his eye.

you were shunned and burned your cradle - Newsies:

Being a changeling in New York City hurts. It makes his skin itch and his lungs burn and his eyes water. From the iron that surrounds him, fills the very air along with the smoke. If he’s not careful when he reaches out or brushes against something his skin comes away with a sharp, searing scar.

The Devil Wears What? - DCU, Hellblazer, Zatanna:

“What is this?” John slurred, arm flopping towards the television screen.

The Hattrick - DCU, Green Arrow, Hellblazer:

There is a strong possibility that Mia is in hell. It’d be vaguely poetic and certainly fitting if her personal hell were an empty warehouse. The fact John Constantine is here definitely sells the idea.

Inhouse House Party - Les Miserables: 

“I thought we agreed that we weren’t doing Halloween this year?” Enjolras half grumbled, half called up the steps. “In light of the fact that there is a global pandemic and we’ve been responsibly quarantining and social distancing this whole time.” Despite his complaints, he still fixed the ridiculous headband he wore as part of his costume. The halved wiffle ball glued onto it made pretty decent looking fly eyes, but the weight was weird and the whole thing kept slipping as a result.

Second Time is Coincidence - DCU, Green Arrow, Hellblazer:

“Oh c’mon,” Mia groaned, slumping against the bonds that currently had her suspended from the warehouse ceiling. “Not you again!”

Three Musketeers - DCU, Batfam:

Bristol was technically in Gotham City limits. Though the gilted mansions and private woods with pastures and stables seemed like a whole other world in comparison. The residents liked to think so too, especially because – despite Gotham’s robust public transportation system – it was almost impossible to reach the rich suburb from the city proper. It was because they lived in this separate world that Bristol’s wealthy residents often fought to receive special treatment or even secede from the city all together.

Deal? Deal. - DCU, Hellblazer, Zatanna:

“No,” John whined, drawing it out into about six syllables. He stretched his arm out, nearly falling off the couch in the process, but Zatanna just pushed the half-empty glass of whiskey further away from the edge of the coffee table and out of his reach.

Pumpkin Guts - Les Miserables:

There had been strange noises coming from the kitchen all afternoon. Combeferre was staunchly ignoring them because he’s trying to finish reading this journal article before anyone else came home. Having Courfeyrac in the vague direction of behind him and doing who knew what all is more than enough of a distraction. Besides, Ferre can fairly well ignore the sounds coupled with Courf’s slightly off-key humming of Nightmare Before Christmas.

Sunrise Shadows - DCU, Batgirl, Starman:

It was late, or early depending on your perspective, and Steph was that bone deep tired that came after a fight to save the fate of the world. Which was fine, they’d won, but she didn’t really know where in the world she was and Steph really just wanted to crawl into bed. Maybe take her suit off first. Possibly slap some Neosporin on her cuts and scrapes. But mostly sleep.

The Good Stuff - Newsies:

Kath pulled her favorite armchair into the doorway of her apartment. The antique wingback her friends had helped her liberate from a thrift store in Queens and then clean and reupholster. It was, undeniably, too heavy to be shoved across the hardwood like that but Kath wanted to be comfy. And there were the little felt things on the legs to protect her floor.

Salt and Iron - DCU, Batgirl: 

Steph pried her bedroom window open before slipping in and closing it firmly behind herself. Then locked it for good measure. Sure, she’d seen some weirdness since first putting on a mask, and just a few months into her time as Batgirl she’d even fought off some Segway riding vampires with Kara. But this was different. For one, they weren’t real vampires but Dracula from an old film brought to life. For another, it looked like literal hell had overtaken Gotham.

Well, I either have really long opening lines or my understanding of what constitutes opening “lines” is skewed. Also my formatting didn’t always past so poo on tumblr for that. Hmm, this is mostly Halloween fics but also fairly indicative of what I write which is nice. I like that I start with dialogue so often, it’s weirdly fitting for me as a person. The cold open musing on Gotham’s social, political, economic structure at Three Musketeers isn’t my favorite but I am obsessed with it. I think Second Time is Coincidence is my favorite because Mia’s response to John is the only response anyone should ever have to John Constantine. 

All of my friends have already been tagged~ 

#long post #writing #own writing #my fic #original writing