#but it’s really not hard to see that every stark pov is shaping up to be a very powerful individual

[nightswatchdisbandmentera]

The thing about Bran's intended importance (supposedly kingship of all no less) is it falls flat as far as this due to the lack of hinting of... what that even is supposed to "do" in the grand scheme of things? The show's version of some totalitarian regime with 24/7 surveillance from the magical King is fucked up, and it's hard to understand what else would make Bran special otherwise.

The only people interested in the idea (and only as surface level) are big Stark only Stans who just see it as "Starks get everything because" and that's as deep as it gets.

The idea of who would have leadership to rebuild the world is too much built on stanning as a whole. The only ones with an actual leg to stand on are fans of Daenerys simply because her entire arc is trying at different things to restructure an oppressive elite based governing only to at this point end up with the realisation that their class simply cannot exist in a society without seeking to opress so they have to go. That's also what we see in Westeros, so both monarchy AND lordship power must be evaporated. So there's that.

But Martin isn't even angling for that as far as it seems (which would mean even Targaryens and Daenerys relinquishing power by the end and all, even if it would be the system she is currently trying to develop to be applied), but angles for a 'King'. One whose power is magic, which makes one think it is what would make him King, hence angling for the show end which is frightening as a form of government. And in the 'political' sense he's a nice kid who means well for others, but that's it. It's just the whole having a nice lord now and then without guarantee for the next.

So while it might be little page time and some unfairness for Bran, outside of people just stanning "Stark supremacy" in vague terms, it's hard to think of why and in what direction people would 'root' for Bran in the specific intended importance of role he's apparently meant to have.

Whew, you sent a big one. So I’ll try to break it up and answer in parts.

The thing about Bran's intended importance (supposedly kingship of all no less) is it falls flat as far as this due to the lack of hinting of.

I disagree. I think GRRM has been hinting at Bran being a return to the past - more specifically, a greenseer king. And even before that, Bran’s royal status has been front and center the whole time. It’s just ignored.

We as a fandom get so caught up with the magic part of Bran’s storyline (though we can’t be blamed really!) but forget that Bran’s book chapters often place his magical arc right along his identity and status as a lost prince. I’m gonna make a bit of a generalization here and say that the majority of Bran’s chapters since Robb’s ascension mention his status as the current heir to the Northern crown. He is the Prince of Winterfell. But not only that, he is the prince of the woods and the hills and the greens (we see this language being used for Bran once he begins his greenseer training). This princehood is actually extended to Bran’s direwolf, Summer. Bran’s princehood extending to Summer is quite poignant too, since the direwolf is directly named to be an opposition to winter, and Bran’s mythological parallels rule as summer kings.

Bran’s magical arc doesn’t remove him from his royal heritage. It only reinforces it. Again, think of how he becomes a prince of the natural world in an almost literal sense. And also the motifs used for his royal status: e.g., when Jojen and Meera Reed swear fealty to him, as their royal prince, through ice and fire (in addition to other natural elements).

The show took the route of placing Bran squarely in the magical arc, forgetting that first and foremost, he is an exiled prince. After Robb died, Bran became an exiled king. The main point here is that Bran is royal! He always has been, always will be. Heck, his very name literally means “Prince”.

And there’s other things about Bran’s storyline that aren’t very clear with the show’s depiction; I’m mentioning it here since people’s aversion to king Bran is mainly the show’s fault. Bran is a retelling of various Arthurian myths. You might have seen various meta on his similarities with the Fisher King, for example. I’ve written before about how Bran is also very similar to T.H White’s Wart from The Sword in the Stone (sorry, can’t find the meta link). Because the show removed the royal elements from Bran’s story, viewers weren’t able to catch that he is intended to follow the King Arthur trajectory, albeit with various twists.

When I first joined the fandom, the consensus among Bran fans was that he would be King in the North (a big theory at that time was that Westeros would split back into its pre-Targaryen markups). The idea was that there are way too many hints about Bran’s princehood, especially in relation to the North, so the only endgame that made sense was for him to rule it. And Bran does have a mini ruling arc in Winterfell in ACOK, which was good ammo for this theory.

So Bran’s relation to kingship has always been there. For years in fact; I joined this fandom over a decade ago. It’s just that no one expected his kingship would extend to all of Westeros. And I think that will be GRRM’s task, tying in why Bran will take not just the North, but the south as well. However, I have the inkling that Bran the Builder’s legend ties into this (and we know that he had a legacy all over Westeros).

what that even is supposed to "do" in the grand scheme of things?

Blame the show runners for this. They do not at all understand Bran’s importance to the narrative. And I don’t think a majority of readers understand it either. I mentioned Bran the Builder above. Well, he’s a legend that crops up sometime around the Long Night. Now we have a new war with the Others coming up, and little Bran Stark is Bran the Builder come again. Plus Bran has parallels with the last hero, who is credited with ending the Long Night. We still have two books to see how things shake out but given that Bran is following the trajectory of perhaps two of the most important legends from the War for the Dawn - one who ended it and one who rebuilt Westeros after - it’s easy to tell why he is important “in the grand scheme of things”. But we still need TWOW and ADOS to see how it all plays out. Remember, we only have a published 5 books, and Act II is barely finished!

The show's version of some totalitarian regime with 24/7 surveillance from the magical King is fucked up, and it's hard to understand what else would make Bran special otherwise.

I 100% agree that Show Bran’s ascension comes with some very problematic undertones, in addition to being totally stupid. But again, blame the showrunners for not understanding greenseeing and Bran’s relation to it. Greenseeing is, as I understand it, nature magic. It’s not just that Bran gains the ability to see through ravens and trees, but he can speak to nature as well. He can even shape it (ref Hammer of the Waters). This is going to be really important when Westeros is decimated in the War for the Dawn, and needs to be rebuilt. That’s why Bran being the prince of the “woods and the hills” and being the reincarnation (so to speak) of Bran the Builder is so important. He can rebuild Westeros. This is a very unique skill set that literally no one else has because once Bloodraven croaks, Bran inherits the mantle of the Last Greenseer.

The only people interested in the idea (and only as surface level) are big Stark only Stans who just see it as "Starks get everything because" and that's as deep as it gets.

I’ll join you in being annoyed with that particular brand of Stark fan (we all know who they are). But I just want to remind you that so many of us Bran stans (in fact the vast majority of us) do not fall within that group. Bran stans who advocate for Bran’s kingship do so because we have noted his Arthurian parallels, in addition to noting his arc as a prince in hiding/exile. None of us book fans even remotely believe in him being an all seeing autocrat, nor do we want him to be. It’s a certain type of Stark fan (again, we know who they are), who likes the idea of King Bran because they also believe in an independent North. I think an independent North (with a separate six kingdoms) as endgame is a rather ridiculous idea, and I haven’t got around to detailing why in my blog. But as far as I’m concerned if Bran is to be king, he will be king of everything.

The idea of who would have leadership to rebuild the world is too much built on stanning as a whole.

Super agree! I think the POV structure exacerbates this issue. So a majority of “who will be king”, “who deserves to be king” is solely dependent on who the reader likes best (i.e., who has the biggest fandom) and not who is most narratively suited for the role. Ironically, Bran is hurt but this because he has a pretty small fandom; by far the smallest out of the Stark POVs. So he does not benefit much from solo stanning. Again, the typical Bran stan does not believe in Starkception. If readers chose to theorize the endgame king based on who is most narratively/thematically suited for the role, wouldn’t the boy whose animal familiar is named to be the opposite of winter and likened to a prince of nature be among the most popular options?

The only ones with an actual leg to stand on are fans of Daenerys simply because her entire arc is trying at different things to restructure an oppressive elite based governing only to at this point end up with the realisation that their class simply cannot exist in a society without seeking to opress so they have to go.

Agree with Dany, but I think you’re also forgetting about a young lord commander whose entire rulership arc was about being a revolutionary in a rotten and backward system…

P.S: Jon stans can be really annoying too (I would know, I am one), but they’re not wrong when they say that he actually is the one character with the most foreshadowing for “endgame king”; he is literally King Arthur through and through, so 🤷🏽‍♀️

That's also what we see in Westeros, so both monarchy AND lordship power must be evaporated. So there's that.

It’ll be interesting to see how Martin’s critiques on feudal structures plays into the endgame leaders. Especially when we begin to factor in the thematic relevance of stories like Brienne’s and Arya’s among the smallfolk, as well as the upcoming war with the Others and how the feudal structure might do more harm than good.

I tend to have a more optimistic outlook tbh. Winter means death, and I think that will also ring true for a lot of the problematic elements in Westeros’ political and social structure. And let’s not forget that we have a bunch of civil upheavals coming up with Aegon and Daenerys both invading Westeros. I think a lot of these petty lords will die either in battle or during the long winter that’s sure to follow, so what’s left when all is said and done is having our heroes (Bran and Dany and Jon etc.) pick up the pieces. I tend to believe that a massive shake up is in the works such that while it might have been impossible for a crippled boy to rise to kingship in the AGOT era, it just might be the one remedy in ADOS.

But Martin isn't even angling for that as far as it seems (which would mean even Targaryens and Daenerys relinquishing power by the end and all, even if it would be the system she is currently trying to develop to be applied), but angles for a 'King'. One whose power is magic, which makes one think it is what would make him King, hence angling for the show end which is frightening as a form of government. And in the 'political' sense he's a nice kid who means well for others, but that's it.

This is another thing that I blame the show for: people thinking Bran can only be an all seeing tyrant. I’ve already touched on this above but again, Bran’s greenseeing magic is so much more. It’s about nature…healing….Summer! I’ve been meaning to write at length about why the resetting of the seasons will fall to Bran, and why that means healing for Westeros as a whole, but I’ll abbreviate my thoughts for now.

Let’s once again consider Bran as a Fisher King, whose very life is tied to the healing of the land. Now, I think Martin is going for a rather “fairy tale” or fantastical resolution to ASOIAF; an ending closer to Tolkien and Arthurian myth. Bran’s magic, as healing magic, is then meant to be a positive. He sets the world back to rights, as a Fisher King would. He quite literally drives the darkness (winter) away, and GRRM has stated multiple times that the Others are the true threat.

In my write up about Bran’s similarities to Wart, I mentioned that Bran’s ascension could end up being similar to Aragorn’s in LOTR (and we know that Tolkien has heavily influenced Martin). Aragorn became king not because of his swordsmanship or his politics or even his royal claim, but because he had hands of healing. And people said that there was a king who returned to them because he healed them. Healing and kingship is really not a novel thing, and they’re tied to medieval understanding of rulership. So it’s not hard to see why Bran’s magical ability to bring back summer, so to speak, can be taken as a positive of him being a rightful king.

It's just the whole having a nice lord now and then without guarantee for the next.

I get what you mean, but tbh this would be a problem with Jon, Dany, etc. Monarchy and inheritance are unpredictable. We can only hope that the king/lord trains his heir well so that prosperity follows with the exchange of power.

So while it might be little page time and some unfairness for Bran, outside of people just stanning "Stark supremacy" in vague terms, it's hard to think of why and in what direction people would 'root' for Bran in the specific intended importance of role he's apparently meant to have.

Hopefully it’s been quite clear in my reply why Bran as king is so thematically rich. He’s connected to summer, has greenseeing magic which is connected to nature and potentially the healing of nature, and he is already royal. Him being a “nice kid” is just the cherry on top.

#bran stark #asoiaf #valyrianscrolls #I’m a king bran truther until the end of my days #also I’m a stark fan - they’re my favorite house - and I believe that they will be the most powerful house at the end of the story #but I also don’t relate to THOSE stark fans #you know who I’m talking about yes? 👀 #but it’s really not hard to see that every stark pov is shaping up to be a very powerful individual #and grrm did call the kids the heart of asoiaf #not all stark fans are evil I promise!! #but anyway super duper sorry for answering this late skdjsksnskanssnsns

[lenissa]

You always meet twice (Wanda Maximoff x Romanoff!Reader)

(not my GIF)

Masterlist

Pairing: Wanda Maximoff x Reader, Pietro Maximoff x Reader (Past), Natasha Romanoff x Reader (Siblings)

Warnings: cursing, i think that‘s it?

Summary: When your sister Natasha asked you to be her representative at the Avengers, you immediately agreed. But then you meet Wanda Maximoff again and it seems like your shared past comes up as well as the then developed feelings.

Word Count: 3.1K

In bold are flashbacks.

A/N: This story is based on my POV i started some months ago, but the plot varies most of the time. Keep in mind that this is my first story and please be nice hahaha

Good reading!

——————————————————————————

You are walking through the halls of the Avenger‘s compound. Although your sister always talks about them, “her new family“, you have never met them before. At least not all of them. Some agents throw judgy glances at you, but you decide to ignore them - you are (Y/N) Romanoff, you’re not in need of being popular, being friendly, you’re a damn skilled agent, always ready to kick asses. That’s also why it didn‘t bother you when Natasha, your older sister, called and asked you for a favour - rather, you have always been curious what it is like to be an Avenger, so you didn‘t even think twice about accepting her offer of being her stand-in for some months.

Are you confident? Yes. Well... you try to be? Maybe- no definitely: it became a coping mechanism. But nobody could blame you… being Natasha Romanoff‘s sister sucks. Don‘t get it wrong, you love your sister with your whole heart, she is your one and only, your tower of strength. But constantly being overshadowed by her? Once people hear about your famous relative you were only seen as her sister, your own persona and personality weren‘t interesting anymore. As a result, you were working for S.H.I.E.L.D in an outpost in Europe, distant enough to start your own life, own career and only hearing about one Romanoff, (Y/N) Romanoff.

You stand before the door of the meeting room, aware of as soon as you go in there, there‘ll be no going back. Surprisingly calm you take one final breath before you knock and get invited in. There they are. The Avengers. Some of them you already know: Clint aka Hawkeye, your sister‘s best friend, Steve aka Captain America, your sister‘s ex-lover, Tony Stark aka Iron Man, sarcasm in person, and… the Maximoff Twins? Seeing them, seeing her, it literally took your breath away. You freeze, not able to breathe, to react nor to say anything.

„(Y/N),my god, have you grown?!“, Clint breaks the silence while coming near to hug you. In his arms you finally release the breath you unconsciously were holding in, and when you pull back you take a closer look at him.

„You‘re becoming grey, Legolas, are the kids that bad?“, you tease, matching his tone and patting his arm lightly.

„Oh dear, it just makes me nervous to see you again“, he jokes as he motions you to sit down.

„Speaking about that, it‘s nice to see you again, (Y/N).“ Steve nods at you and you force a smile - you think Steve is a nice guy, you really do, but you don‘t know the exact circumstances of his break-up with Nat, so you decide to keep distance in a friendly manner.

The remaining time of the meeting nothing special happens, though every time you look around the table you can‘t help but rest your eyes on a certain brunette. And it seems like she notices your gaze, meeting your eyes on and off. You try to ignore the uncomfortable feeling that sets in your stomach whenever her green eyes meet yours, and obviously you are not able to hold the eye contact, so you always look at the floor quickly.

After the meeting the heroes all pop off, only you stay to put away the new equipment and gear you got. But then suddenly a well-known voice speaks up and you startle.

„Already forgot me, (Y/N)?“ You turn around, your heart racing.

„How could I forget the Wanda Maximoff?“, you nervously chuckle.

„I must say I‘m disappointed, I at least expected a greeting.“

„Wanda I-„

„(Y/N)! How long has it been? I…“, Pietro speeds in the room and rubs his neck tense, „I missed you.“

Wanda wheezes and rolls her eyes. „I‘m gonna leave you lovebirds alone“. She walks out of the room before you can say anything more.

„Well that was… weird.“ you say as you turn completely to Pietro.

„She‘s going through a hard time, she will be gentler soon.“

„You think so?“, you laugh, „define soon.“

Pietro chuckles and doesn‘t answer, not even he sees through Wanda‘s feelings, especially when it‘s about you. „Come on, I will introduce you to the others.“

——————————————————————————

Pietro took you to the living room and you have to say, you never thought the Avengers, the world‘s mightiest heroes, would be so endearing. You can finally understand why Nat sees them as her family, even after only spending some hours with them you start to let them in your heart immediately. Until Bucky decided to bring up a sensitive topic.

„From where do you know the twins, (Y/N)?“

You choke on the soda you are drinking, completely caught off-guard with that question. But after clearing your throat your coping mechanism once again appears. „They didn‘t tell you, huh? Well, we had a past.“, you chuckle.

Tony rolls his eyes, annoyed by the childish behaviour, but it makes you smile even bigger. Pietro blushes at the sudden mention of him and tries to distract. „(Y/n), why don‘t you tell them about your powers?“.

„Ok, ok… I'm pretty good at Teleportation, mind manipulation and shape shifting objects.“

Bruce, who you learnt was the human version of the Hulk, was stunned. „Wow, that sounds like a nice substitute for Natasha.“ You smile at him appreciating.

„So Romanoff, since the only other mind stuffy person in this house seems to be pissed, you’ll start training with Rogers.“ Tony announced bugged.

„Can‘t wait.“ You and Steve get up to go to the gym and the rest starts talking about their new member.

„She seems like a faithful person. A true Romanoff.“, Bucky states.

„Ironically, she‘s really good at betrayal and hurting people.“, Wanda says snippy as she walks in to get a snack.

Pietro sighs, „Wanda, what the hell?“

„She‘s not as perfect as you think, Romeo.“

Tony claps to get their attention, „Concentration, guys! You better clear up, Wanda, I just got Information from Fury, you and y/n will be a team in tomorrow‘s mission.“ Wanda rolls her eyes in annoyance, but she knows that it‘s unnecessary to protest.

——————————————————————————

During training, all you thought of was Wanda. Then you tried to read, sleep, watch tv, but nothing could distract you from thinking about the Sokovian. It felt like all the feelings you tried to suppress this past year flood you now at the same time. You barely perceived that you got up, your feet carrying you to the kitchen. Standing in front of the kitchen door you finally wake up from your trance. Your hands are sweaty and shaky, your heart pounding. “What the hell am I doing here?“ You think and just before you turn around the door opens, hitting your shoulder lightly.

„Oh my god, I didn't see you, are you ok?“

„Don‘t worry, I‘m fine. I- I was about to leave anyway.“ 

„But you haven’t even been in there yet, (Y/N).“ The way she says your name releases a cluster of butterflies in your stomach, green eyes watching you amused. „I‘m sorry.“

„Really, it‘s fine. Wanda, list-“

„Don‘t, (Y/N). We don‘t have to do this.“, Wanda sighs.

You take a deep breath and continue, „No, I have to. I am sorry. For everything. I-...I miss you.“

„(Y/N), please, sto-“, she says almost whispering.

„As a friend. I miss my best friend.“

You notice slightly tears forming in her eyes. „You did this to me-“

„(Y/n)! We need you to show us your powers!“ Bucky shouts excitedly as he approaches you both.

„Bucky, now is really not the time to-“

„We need it. For the plan. You know, tomorrow‘s mission?“

You clench your fists and sigh, you know the private moment you just had was ruined. With one apologetic look to Wanda you follow Bucky to the meeting room.

This job will be your end.

——————————————————————————

You weren‘t wrong about this job being your end. Well at least the circumstances. Last night’s events were just... crazy.

After showing the team your powers you went straight to bed, exhausted from all the physical training and psychological stress. When you heard the knocking on the door, you‘re surprised to see Pietro standing there after opening it.

„(Y/N), I think we should talk.“

„Pietro, i-...“, you sigh, „today‘s really not my day. Can we wait until tomorrow?“

„I can‘t wait. Please. I need to get this out.“

„Oookay, go on then, i guess.“, you say, kinda annoyed by the pushiness of the Sokovian.

„I‘m glad that you are here and ok.“

„So am I...“ you laugh humorlessly, „it certainly feels nice to know someone here that doesn‘t completely hate me“ Pietro looks you in the eyes and slowly comes closer. Your breath hitches and you gulp hard when he takes your hand.

„Pietro, what are you doi-“ Before you can finish the sentence, lips are pressed on yours. You are shocked by the action, and you hesitate to kiss back. Yet you can’t resist the familiar feeling of his lips caressing your own, so you kiss back.

„(Y/N), we need to...“, Wanda says approaching your floor but when she sees you both, she immediately freezes„...talk.“

The second you hear her talking you pull back and step away from Pietro. The brunette looks at you incredulously and then walks away.

„Wanda. Wanda!“ you shout while running after her. „Wanda, would you please stop eloping!“ She stops and turns around, eyes burning red. She‘s furious, dangerous, not in control of herself.

„Wanda, use your words. Calm do-“

——————————————————————————

She did not calm down. In fact, she threw you against the closest wall. Even though you don’t have any serious injuries, you are mad. If you were trying to find the courage to talk to her, she could use her words too, right? The morning was quiet, too quiet if you are honest. Each time the door to the gym opened you startled, expecting to get yelled at. But it never happened. Once the twins walked in, they ignored you. Both of them, though Pietro occasionally glanced confused at you. After debating whether you should talk to her or not, you decided to walk up to her and confront her. „What the hell was that yesterday, Wanda?!“

She just huffs and continues to hit the punching bag, but you are determined to talk about it before going on a mission with her, you couldn‘t risk being distracted.

„You‘re acting like a bitch, I don‘t even recognize you anymore“, you say incredulously.

She aggressively turns around. „I am the bitch? You‘re the one that throws herself at anyone, not being here for even a whole day!“

„He“, you point at Pietro, „ he fucking kissed me! I never wanted it to happen. He caught me off-guard!“

„Oh and of course you couldn‘t defend yourself, poor (Y/N).“ Wanda ironically retorts, pushing you against your shoulder.

„Guys-“

„You literally came in one second after he kissed me-“

„GUYS!“ Pietro shouts and both of you turn to him, not noticing that he’s still in the same room. „What the hell is going on with you two?“

„You know what? What the hell Pietro, too! You can‘t just kiss me after not seeing me for a year! What if I don‘t like you anymore?“

„You don‘t like me anymore?“

„You don‘t like him anymore?“

You sigh. „Yes. No. I mean…. I don't like you anymore like that. I- I like you as a friend, Pietro. After you flew from Hydra-“

„-alone-“, Wanda interjects.

„After you flew from Hydra alone, it broke my heart! You freaking left us there!“

Wanda scowls. „And then you did the same to me some time later.“

„Wanda I-... You think it was easy for me to just leave you behind? Fuck, Wanda, do you really think that low of me? When Nat rescued me I tried to convince her to take you with us but she… we… you...“

„Say it, (Y/N). I was the enemy. You were the poor agent, kidnapped by Hydra and experimented on and I was the maniac that volunteered for a dangerous organization.“

„I tried to come back and get you!“

„Don't lie to me, (Y/N).“

„Oh my god“, you huff, „believe me for once!“

„Why should i?!“

„Because I love you!“

O oh.

You both tense, green eyes filled with rage, jealousy, confusion, probably every emotion there is, staring wide at you. You all stand there in silence, all shocked by your outburst, and the only thing that can be heard is your shaky breathing. „Shit. I- I need to go“, you mumble as you storm out of the room embarrassed.

——————————————————————————

This was not going well. Your relationship with Wanda was already complicated enough and your dumb, unplanned love confession didn’t really help. However, you needed to suck it up, ignore all the overthinking in your mind. You are here for a reason. A job. Not a witch.

You are here for the missions. For Nat.

That’s what you tell yourself all the time. But your brain and your heart don‘t really agree, especially while being on a mission with Wanda. You have never been more thankful for your powers that were blocking her out from reading your mind, you were sure your thoughts were literally screaming at her. And gee, you know her too well, she was trying to read your mind - Wanda always has that certain concentrated cute gaze and slight wrinkles between her eyebrows when she does it. Studying her so precisely was a mistake, it made the whole thing even more uncomfortable.

She didn’t react to what you said earlier (not that you gave her that much chance), she acted like you never said anything important like that. But when she caught you staring at her she raised her eyebrows challengingly and broke the silence.

“Are you nervous?”

“Hmm? Oh well, no. I- I guess we had more difficult missions.”, you give her a shy smile and start playing with your fingers nervously.

“Sure.. That’s why you’re currently doing one of your habits when you’re nervous.`` Wanda teases.

You blushed, your cheeks turning faint red. “Let’s just do this'', you say, stepping out of the jet and putting in the comm - earpiece.

Your task wasn’t hard. Go in, kill the enemies, destroy the data, walk out. It was going well until you saw Wanda getting attacked from behind. But before the agent could point his gun at her and hurt her you shut your eyes close and focused on turning his gun into a flower.

“Romantic!”

“You’re welcome”, you playfully roll your eyes. You curse yourself for having no other - less with love connected - idea to use. You scream just before a grenade goes up next to you, throwing you through a glass door. You can’t use your teleportation in time and the impact is pretty hard, causing you to pass out.

Wanda turns after hearing your scream. “Shit, shit, shit Romanoff!”, she activates her comms, “Guys, pick us up, (Y/N) is down!” She stands protectively next to your unconscious body, defending you from getting attacked or worse.

— — —

You wake up in the medical wing of the Avengers. The first thing you notice is that you’re still wearing your suit, so the injury couldn‘t be that bad. At least you thought. Only seconds later you feel the banging in your head, ringing sounds in your ears. You bury your face in the pillow, frustrated of being new and your first mission already gone wrong. You could hear them teasing you for being the “weaker” Romanoff and start rethinking the choice to even get on this team.

And then Wanda walks in and all thoughts are gone. No more noises, no hammering - all senses preoccupied with her. She seems tired, still wearing her suit as well, and exhausted.

“Hi.”

“Hey.” You look at her curious. “You look tired.”

She chuckles lightly. “You pass out and the first thing you comment is how I look? Wow.”

“What can I say, you really make me concentrate on other things than my condition.” She looks confused at your statement, though an amused smile on her lips. “Because you’re a known face- family- and that reminds me of my sister and gives me comfort.”, you stutter complete nonsense.

Did i really just say that?!

You wished she wasn’t standing there, then you would have been able to facepalm yourself as hard as you could.

“Oh, eh, sure. I’m tired, you were right. You were unconscious the whole night. I stayed, I thought it would be nice for you to not wake up alone.” She tries to overplay your weird comment.

“The whole night? Holy shit. I was unconscious for that long i-”, you feel your whole body tingling as you just now realize her purpose, “that’s very nice of you. Thank you.”

“No, no (Y/N). I owed you that. You saved me...thank you.”

“Wanda Maximoff, you do have manners after all.“ She playfully rolls her eyes on your comment and glances at the floor in embarrassment. „You’re welcome. You would have done the same - I hope?”

She giggles and you can’t help but smile like an idiot at that adorable sound. Then you just stare at each other, both too shy to break the comfortable silence. But then Wanda speaks up again.

“You know I’m-”, she starts fidgeting with her rings, “I’m sorry. For being such a bitch. I.. appreciate what you said… earlier. I guess I was just hurt and frustrated.“

“I know Wanda. Don’t be sorry. You have every right to be mad. It was wrong to expect that we could pretend like nothing happened back there in Sokovia.”

After a short silence Wanda asks, almost in a whisper: “Do- do you regret it?”

“What?! No! Loving you is the best thing that has ever happened to me. As a friend. But also more.”, you shake your head as if to underline your sentence and the last part of the sentence coming out almost inaudible, but she still hears it.

Wanda says nothing, she just nodds. But then she slowly moves her hand to your own and takes it. Ignoring the butterflies spreading all over your body, you squeeze her hand, happy you both stopped fighting. You shuffle to the edge of the sickbed and pat to the free place next to you. The Sokovian hesitantly moves next to you, but as soon as she feels your warm body next to her, she gives in and relaxes. You both lie there, just enjoying each other’s presence, until Wanda’s eyes start to get heavier and heavier and she eventually drives off to sleep. And seeing her, the girl you love, in this peaceful state relaxes you as well and you can’t fight falling asleep with the calming sound of her steady breathing next to you.

——————————————————————————

Part 2

#wanda maximoff #wanda maximoff x reader #elizabeth olsen #elizabeth olsen x reader #wanda maximoff x you #elizabeth olsen x you #wanda #wanda marvel #wanda x y/n #wanda x reader #wanda maximoff imagine #wanda maximoff fic

[whatifyoulivelikethat]

wonderland, m | jjk

pairing(s): jungkook x reader

summary: The curious thing about adventure is that you never know when it starts. For Jeon Jungkook, it starts on a train, staring at a woman with exposed shoulders, eventually leading to his lips on her wrists, his tongue dancing over the words, eat me, drink me.

warnings: rated M (18+) for language; graphic descriptions of fantasized sexual acts (fem reader, slight ink kink, biting / marking, dry humping, m and f-receiving oral, cowgirl, a ridiculous amount of sexual tension); non-idol!BTS; Alice Adventures in Wonderland themed; strangers-to-lovers; (purple-haired) Jungkook's POV; based on this

--

"How do you know I’m mad?" said Alice. "You must be," said the Cat, "or you wouldn’t have come here.”

excerpt from alice's adventures in wonderland by lewis carroll

He swallowed hard.

He shouldn’t be staring.

But he was.

She turned her head and looked right at him.

He quickly jerked his eyes away, zoning in on a screw bolted to the floor as if it was the most interesting thing in the world. He should not be gawking at some random woman on the train. That was creepy, no matter how attractive she was. Her outfit was eye-catching, that was all. He had noticed her because of the off-the-shoulder, v-neckline of her black-and-white tartan top that exposed her shapely collarbones and shoulders. The floaty bishop sleeves ended with delicate hands that were elegantly poised on her bare knees, complete with a flared black skirt that revealed most of her juicy thighs because of her crossed legs. And those calves. Fuck. All that and it unexpectedly ended with chunky, ribbon-laced black boots.

Beside her was a black leather purse that was shaped like a coffin.

It rested against her hip.

The train screeched to a stop and people began to move, shoes appearing in his line of vision. She didn’t notice, right? No. Of course not. He just… zoned out. He wasn’t staring at her collarbones and shoulders, imagining planting kisses over that skin, running his teeth over them and leaving bright red marks.

Shit, what the hell was wrong with him?

Someone sat down on the seat next to him. He scooted closer to the window, away from whoever it was. There were plenty of seats on the train. Something hit the outside of his thigh, flat and oddly-shaped.

Out of his peripheral vision, he saw the coffin purse against his black jeans.

He jumped, snapping his head up.

“Sorry about that.”

His eyes shifted and she was looking right at him.

Expression unreadable.

His heart exploded, frightfully fluttering like a trapped bird in his ribcage.

“I-It’s okay.”

She lifted the purse and placed it in her lap. Then she tapped her right ear.

“It’s the earring, isn’t it? You’re curious what it says.”

His eyes darted to the earrings gleaming on said ear. She had three piercings, all silver, two on the lobe and one on the cartilage. The cartilage was a ram skull whose horns curved around the outside of the ear. The two lobe piercings were a hoop with an embedded black stone and a large script earring that dangled down, swinging every time she moved her head.

It read, eat me, drink me.

“It matches these.”

She lifted her hands and turned them around, pulling down the bishop sleeves and exposing her wrists to him. One had a tattoo of a small, square-shaped cake with text printed in the center – eat me. The other was a bulbous, potion-shaped bottle with a vintage-looking tag on it in the same font – drink me.

“Alice in Wonderland,” he breathed.

She smiled at him and he swore his heartbeat multiplied into seven birds feverishly flapping in his ribcage.

She turned her wrists inward, resting them on her purse. “I don’t see many people with exposed tattoos,” she commented, ticking her head to his right hand.

“A-ah… yeah,” he stuttered, covering the back of his hand with his left, leaving only the sheepish emoji tattoo on his upper middle knuckle exposed. “My mom hates them. Well, not hate, but she doesn’t like that I got so many at once.”

“Your mom ever told you that staring is impolite?”

His cheeks burned hot. “S-Sorry!” He bowed his head downward in guilt, gulping nervously. From this position, he could see her hands.

The left was tipped up, exposing the eat me tattoo on her inner wrist.

“Whoa, no need to apologize like that. I was only teasing you.”

He lifted his head slowly and her wrist turned back inward, now simply the back of her hand. His eyes flickered up and she was looking right at him. He almost jerked his head away in embarrassment, but tried to maintain eye contact.

Don’t be a creep.

Her gaze was unwavering, unreadable.

“You think I’m weird, huh?” she said with an amused smile.

He blinked rapidly. “No. No, I don’t. I thought… your purse was pretty unique,” he offered, pointing to it. It made him look down to make sure he was pointing at the right thing.

Her right wrist was exposed to him, the drink me tattoo stark and enticing.

He had a brief, obscene image of his lips attached to it, running his tongue up and down the inked skin, catching a bit of it in between his teeth and releasing it, moan on the tip of his tongue.

He yanked himself out of the moment of jamais vu, quickly switching to her face, his peripheral vision noticing her wrist turned back inward, pressing against the leather. Her lips curved into a coy smirk.

“I get questions about that too, on the regular. I saw it in a shop and liked it, so I purchased it.”

A lock of purple hair fell into his vision, somehow dislodged from his ear, but he couldn’t look away. Something about her tone made it seem like she was going to say more, so he sat there, frozen, captured by those alluring eyes that called to him.

“That and if I’m single or not.”

He felt his eyes widen a little, breath catching in his throat, the birds in his ribcage smashing against their confines, anxiety and anticipation roused from deep within him. Fear wasn’t the right word. It was more like seeing something from the corner of your eye that makes you do a double take, a mix of curiosity and interest, invested in what you might see.

“I am, if you’re curious.”

“O-oh. I… see…”

Her smirk grew into sly delight. She lifted her right hand and placed her palm on her chin, lips against her closed fingers, elbow resting on the coffin purse. Movement slow, deliberate. His lips parted, more violet hair falling around his face. His normal nervousness would have him looking away and pushing it back, but he somehow couldn’t. At least there was safety in this veiled curtain of purple surrounding the edges of his vision. Her hand turned, fingers cupping the left side of her face. Lips sliding down, emphasizing the plushness of them, and he could almost feel the warm inhale on his skin, but there was no way he could – he wasn’t that close and she wasn’t breathing that hard, but that was the feeling he got. Goosebumps prickled on the back of his neck.

He held his breath.

Her lips pressed to her tattoo, the faintest flicker of tongue against the ink.

There was no way anyone would notice unless they were looking very closely to her mouth.

His lower lip trembled, shudder shaking his shoulders.

The train screeched to a stop and the intercom called nonsensically, mumbles as stamping feet rushed out. No one seemed to notice the impossible electricity of this moment, shrinking it to just him, those lips, and that tattoo, the drink me text right there between her lips, an image that he had already seen, except it was his lips on that skin, and that image was imaginary because it only existed in his head.

She pulled her lips away and looked out the window, past him.

“I have to get off at the next stop.”

He was the stop after the next.

“May I…?”

Her eyes drifted back to him. “Hm?”

His eyes flickered down to her right hand, her inner wrist resting on black leather.

“Have a closer look at your tattoo?”

He wasn’t looking at her face. He was staring at the back of her unmoving hand.

“I mean, if it doesn’t make you uncomfortable–”

But before he could finish his sentence, the wrist was turning, lifting, placed right in front of his hungry eyes. Her forearm slid down the leather, grazing her skirt, suspended in the air for the briefest of moments, and then it brushed against his thigh, his left hand turning, and her graceful wrist rested on the pad of his palm, black ink standing out against that skin.

He was touching it.

Holding it.

Her presence neared. His eyes widened.

Goosebumps prickling, her warm inhale feathering right on his curve of neck to shoulder. His white sweatshirt was several sizes too big so the neckline was also oversized, revealing the tops of his own collarbones.

“It doesn’t bother me. Take a look.”

The train rushed into a tunnel, deafening all sound, and then it was only her voice and his gaze on that potion bottle, mesmerized. His hand rose, lifting her arm close to his face, his breathing shallowing. What was he doing? This was crazy. Absolutely crazy.

“If you want, you can bring it even closer. It's quite detailed.”

Insane.

He was lifting her hand, curiouser and curiouser, closer and closer, the script getting bigger and bigger, expanding, taking over his vision. His eyes following the elegant and prominent outline, drink me, the slightly dashed lines that emphasized the roundness of the bottle, the added etched fraying of the edges of the tag, drink me, the way the liquid was drawn to look like it was sloshing a little, as if it was really moving, drink me. He thought it was all in his head.

Her whisper, like sultry smoke, swaying the dangling earrings on his left ear.

“Drink me.”

He pressed his lips to the drink me script and moaned, so soft that she probably couldn’t hear it, but she could feel it on her wrist, vibrating her skin and his tongue tracing the lines, kissing softly, the taste somehow sweet, or was it just his imagination? Was it just a dream or was her body really a wonderland?

The edge of desire, on the cusp of something unknown.

He hadn’t even realized his eyes had closed and he opened them, seeing her looking directly at him, amusement sparkling in those mysterious orbs. He whimpered quietly, realizing how strange this was, how unbelievably weird, and this wasn’t him, this wasn’t something he ever thought he would do, or even something he ever imagined he would ever be in the position to do, kissing the wrist of a stranger on the train, but she pressed her wrist to his lips, her own parting in a faint Cheshire Cat smile.

“Don’t be afraid. I like it.”

He should let go and apologize for his odd behavior. His lips moved on her skin and there was nothing but her taste lingering on his lips, lost in images his head had conjured, tumbling, tumbling.

"Me too," he whispered, looking up into her eyes, silently saying, I don't know why.

Her smile was all he could see.

"You're very handsome...?" She tilted her head, inquiring.

The subway tunnel made the train roar around them.

"Jeon Jungkook."

The smile widened. She lifted her left wrist.

"Would you like to, Jungkook?"

His eyes flickered to it. The little square-shaped cake, eat me. Then back to her, heart racing, lowering her right and her left neared, his fingers slowly encircling her wrist, his eyes following the detail of the small crumbles, eat me, the added line shading to make the cake seem fluffed and appetizing, despite having no frosting or other decorations, eat me, the letters that looked almost stamped on her skin, eat me, and then he attached his lips to it, lightly nicking with his teeth, a nibble that flooded his senses with rushing pleasure.

He looked at her through his lashes, licking at her wrist, and she breathed out, unmistakable desire, her fingertips ghosting his cheek.

There was a sudden bloom of light as the train exited the tunnel, rays of overhead lights expanding through the windows, and he pulled back, gasping, holding her hand tightly, suddenly aware of the world around him, people getting up, sound crackling through the intercom, her hand in his and his thigh pressed against hers, the corner of her coffin bag digging into him because he was so close, so close to this stranger with beautiful tattoos and sweet-tasting skin.

The doors opened.

His eyes darted from her to their joined hands, then back to that faint grin playing on her lips, somehow the only thing he seemed to see.

"Coming?"

His other hand closed around his backpack.

They walked out together, hand in hand.

No one paid any attention to them.

Why would they? They had their own lives, hurrying home, pushing past each other, late for something, early for others. Time tick, tick, ticking, frowning at their wristwatches and wondering where the time had gone, an absurd thought, because time was made to provide linear reason to a nonexistent plane that flowed in every direction and preceded all other things, and so you were always late.

Always.

Jungkook stared at the back of her exposed shoulders, her hair pushed to the left, script earring dangling of her right ear, following on her light steps, all while holding her left hand and watching those muscles flex and relax, spellbound by the movement. She weaved through the crowd, slinking in spaces where he didn't think there was space, stopping for a moment to let someone pass, and Jungkook bumped into her back, his body flush to hers. Because of her tall shoes, the height difference was lessened and those long legs meant her ass and his crotch matched up is perfectly when otherwise they wouldn't.

His breath caught in his throat at the contact of softness to his hardness.

"Thank you for waiting."

The old woman smiled gratefully and the younger bowed her head, letting the elder take careful strides to the escalators.

She rolled her hips into Jungkook's jeans and his unbearable, stiff erection slid down his right pant leg, trapped against his inner thigh and layers of fabric, hot and pulsing.

He swallowed hard, releasing his backpack to grip her shoulder, turning his head so his long purple hair shadowed his eyes and cheek, smelling the tea-like scent of her hair. His inked hand stood out against the nakedness of her shoulder. She turned her head and the long earring bumped against his cheek, icy cold to flushed skin.

The images crept into his mind, them sitting on the train and her in his lap, his left hand pressing her head forward, her hair spilling down, neck and shoulders exposed to his waiting mouth, lips to delectable skin, kissing, sucking, biting, his hands sliding down the curves, pushing her legs apart, spreading them wide, his nails sinking into her inner thighs, her ass on his crotch, grinding down. Marks on those shoulders and neck, her mouth open and soft cries tickling his ears, her hands finding his, eat me on top of his left wrist, drink me above his right wrist, his hands sliding down to wet heat, fingertips pressing into drenched, slick fabric.

What was wrong with him?

"Let's walk a little, hm?"

Jungkook had been holding her left with his left. He let go of her shoulder and readjusted his backpack on his, standing behind her, not quite shy, but still shadowing the path she laid for him, his steps in her steps, his breath on her neck as he spoke in this moment.

"I'm not like this, normally."

He wasn't like this, ever.

"Isn't it alright to fall into abnormality to discover what is wild and new?"

His lips brushed the ram earring on her cartilage, gasping lightly as her hips swayed against the front of his pants, instant, hot, radiating friction.

Her fingers that were laced with his stroked the back of his hand.

This train stop connected to an underground mall, still alive with people and open shops. The scent of restaurants cooking away at this busy time made the air heavy and thick, wafting around the crowd, inciting customers to fill their bellies.

"Does it bother you?" she asked, walking through the crowd with feline grace, but there was a playfulness to her movement. She turned back to look at him, smile dancing on her lips.

"Uh... I... I don't know," he admitted truthfully, staring at those lips, feeling them ghosting his inner thigh, long tongue extending and licking his hard, throbbing length from tip to base before pushing it up, making him gasp, tongue swirling around the bottom, wrapping around his balls, soaking them with saliva, her eyes on him, watching, her wrist pressed to the red, aching, leaking head of his cock, pre-cum smearing all over the words, drink me.

"That's odd, Jungkook. Usually people know if they're bothered by something."

His eyes drifted up from her lips to her eyes, little lights that glimmered or maybe it was simply the sparkly lighting of the whimsical shops around them, crammed full of knickknacks and cute things. Something caught his eye in one of the windows – a writing desk, covered in pastel stationery, set up with pens and half-written notes, as if the busy student had just left the desk.

An obsidian raven plush was perched at the corner of the desk, looking down at the mess left behind by an imaginary child dreamt up by sales associates.

He looked back to her right in front of him. Her head was tilted, her body twisted because he was still holding her left hand. In her right, she held her coffin purse.

"It's not you I'm bothered by," he said slowly, realizing that it was the truth as he said it. Despite this woman being completely unfamiliar to him, a riddling enigma, she had done nothing but present him with things to consider.

"I don't understand what's going on in my head."

He let go of her hand.

Underneath these lights and surrounded by passerby that walked around them without a second thought, Jungkook stared into the eyes of the stranger of his memory.

His hand tentatively touched her waist, waiting for her to step back. She stepped forward, into his warmth. His fingers closed, resting snugly on tartan fabric and the waistband of her skirt, the slimmest sliver of skin in between the two articles of clothing.

She smiled.

"You're a little curious, aren't you?"

His middle finger pushed the hem upward, the pad of his finger directly on her skin.

Her lips parted.

Her left hand raised, touching his chest lightly, elegant fingers barely on the fabric, but he felt more, felt those fingers dig into his sweatshirt and clutch it tightly, pulling it up and over his head, his own left hand pressing her chest down, grabbing the bottom of that off-the-shoulder tartan top, his lips on her stomach, hungry kisses, his hands on her skirt, forcing her to hold it up, dragging her panties down as he looked up at her on his knees before leaning to hot, wet nectar, letting it fill his tongue and mouth, the viscous juices sticking to his lips, his cheeks, sweet and tart, so delicious, and he wanted it all, his hands gripping her ass, fingers of her left hand tangling in his hair, pushing him closer, not letting him go until she was satisfied, her wrist surrounded by dark purple stands curling around the words, eat me.

"You have beautiful eyes, Jungkook."

He blinked, the image gone, feeling his neck heat. "R-Really?"

Her hand lifted off his chest and reached up, nearing his face. Her fingers traced the air, hovering.

"The shape. The way it raises in the center and curves down like this," she whispered to his chin, sounding awed. "The inner corner, so sharp and defined. And the color, like freshly brewed black tea cradled in a delicate teacup."

It was the most bizarre love letter to his eyes that he had ever received and, yet, it suited her and tore his heart asunder, beating wildly in his chest, the anxious birds trapped in his ribcage suddenly released, the stinging air of his rushed exhale making him feel strangely detached, as if his head was no longer part of his body.

"Touch me," Jungkook whispered.

Her fingers millimeters from his face, the eat me cake tattoo and his own purple hair shrouding his peripheral vision.

Fingertips pressed to his right cheekbone, caressing it gently.

He started at her lips and he could feel it, her hand encircling his head, lips to lips, heated, all-encompassing kisses that consumed him, his hands on her waist, pulling her on top of him, his hardness pressed to her softness, sliding in between soaked folds, her gasp on his tongue, gripped by her tight walls wrapped around his stiff length as he pushed deeper, his eyes rolling back as he bottomed out, her tongue tracing his open mouth, her teeth nipping on his lower lip, whispering his name in burning ecstasy, rocking her hips to his, surreal pleasure enveloping him, her hands in his hair, moaning onto his chin as she held onto him, his hands clutching her hips, lost in the heat, the softness, the tightness, the sweetness, thrusting up into her pussy, his cock drenched with her, their dragged-out pants echoing as he took her wrists, one by one, pressing eat me, drink me to his lips, his tongue tracing a circle around the words, staring into her eyes, a wonderland he had yet to discover, all in a golden afternoon.

"Jungkook, may I kiss you?"

He blinked, realizing his gaze had landed on her collarbones and shoulders. He raised his head, a smile forming in his lips.

"Please."

She leaned in and he met her halfway, lips to lips, her wispy, contented sigh as they connected, warm and inviting. His hands around her waist, holding her to him, and her hand cupped his jaw, fingers sliding back to tangle in his purple hair, pressing her chest and thighs to his body, tongue flitting against tongue, teasing, and he wasn't like this normally, truly, all of this was absurd on many levels, but the kiss was like being shaken awake, comforting him from head to toe, the sounds of people swirling around them. Laughter, conversation, footsteps going forward.

The kiss broke. She pulled away with a smile, her lips flushed from the contact.

"What's your name?" he asked breathlessly.

She laughed, leaning against him, her fingers playing with his long violet hair.

Her name, formed by her lips and then by his, the beginning of an adventure.

What a curious, curious happening for Jeon Jungkook.

--

masterpost

#jungkook x reader #jungkook smut #bts smut #jungkook x you #jeon jungkook x reader #jeon jungkook x you

[sierranovembr]

New Poly Fic Rec List!

My final fill for this round of @tonystarkbingo - a list of my favorite poly fics posted during the timeframe of Mark V. This fills square K5: Polyamory or Open Relationship for Card 5045. 🎇 Let's Avocuddle by Reioka Tony has an Only Fans. Steve and Bucky enjoy helping him, even if Bucky does have to convince Steve not to tell Tony he loves him every time they help. Group: Stuckony (Steve/Bucky/Tony) Rating: Mature Word Count: 8748 Review: Hilarious and sweet and sexy. Reioka's humor shines in the boys' interactions, especially Tony's utter lack of modesty and Bucky's willingness to give Steve shit. Steve might just steal the fic for me though; I love the way he loves Tony through his photographs and how insightful he was (the guacamole!). Very fun read and reread. 🎇 The Way to His Heart: A Guide to the Care and Feeding of Tony Stark by NotEvenCloseToStraight When Tony agrees to a cooking date with a new boyfriend, the Iron Man immediately panics because he DEFINITELY cannot cook at all and desperately needs a recipe that will disguise his kitchen disaster-ness and general food gremlin tendencies. The team steps in to help Tony learn to cook. They share their favorite recipes, put the kitchen back together after the inevitable mess, and try hard to not let the truth of everyone’s collective crush on the genius slip. Group: Tony/Everyone Rating: Not Rated (Teen) Word Count: 23409 Review: NCTS is always a delight, and you'd be hard pressed to find the Avengers loving Tony more than they do here. I'm also a huge fan of fic featuring the characters cooking that includes the recipes! Basically, this fic could not be more my jam if it tried. Between the banter and the yearning and the adoration, it's a wonderful fic to read again and again. 🎇 Goin' Down the Bayou by iam93percentstardust When Bucky suggests that he and Sam take a few months to help his sister-in-law with her business, he expects to see the bayou, a few gators, and a whole lot of shrimp. He isn't expecting the mer who accidentally gets tangled in their nets or for the mer to fit into their lives like a missing puzzle piece. Group: Bucky/Tony/Sam Rating: Mature Word Count: 9477 Review: I'm always thrilled to see more for this trio, and this one is such a great example of how well they work together. The first meeting between married, human Sam and Bucky and mer!Tony was hilarious and also sets up the potential poly relationship very deftly. Tony works so well as a mer - somewhat *other* in his personality and reactions, but Bucky is so smitten anyway. The pacing is great, and the ending filled me with happiness for them. 🎇 Two's A Party, Three's A Really Good Time by Anonymous When Tony's not consumed by his projects, he's so animated and lively. Even his hands talk while he's rambling, swaying in the air accompanied by sharp flicks or lazy spins. He's just… Tony. And that indescribable part of him is what made Bucky think he'd be so good for Steve. It's only now, with Tony looking up at him with mirth in his eyes and his smiles tugged up into a teasing curve, that Bucky realizes that Tony would've been so good for him too. Group: Steve/Tony, Bucky/Tony (v-shaped poly) Rating: Teen Word Count: 4078 Review: A coffee shop AU that is just so sweet! Bucky is so loving despite his clueless state, and it's just a real treat to go along with his POV through Steve and Tony falling for each other and then his own eventual happy ending. 🎇 Not just friends (they were roommates) by justanotherpipedream Ty refuses to take no for an answer when Tony ends their relationship, so Natasha offers Tony her room in the loft. Tony's not sure what to expect when moving into an apartment with three roommates, but thankfully, Bucky, Sam and Steve welcome him into the fold. Group: Bucky/Steve/Tony/Sam Rating: Teen Word Count: 7303 (WIP)

Review: This fic uses an interesting writing style, with each short chapter focusing on different members of the poly group. Featuring some of my favorite tropes with these guys (battles over coffee! banter! Nat pointing out their obvious attraction to the guys!) I'm always excited to see a new chapter of this work.

🎇 I Gave You My Life, You Gave Me My Soul by newtypeshadow, Sagana_Rojana_Olt

When Bucky, held hostage, kills himself to keep Tony safe and Steve from being forced to trade lives, he has no idea that Tony and Steve will use his sacrifice to not only resurrect him, but give him the life he's always wanted. Group: Stuckony (Steve/Bucky/Tony) Rating: Mature Word Count: 6974 Review: This wonderful fic features impressive world-building and visceral emotions. Bucky's death and Stony's despair at the beginning are a gut-punch, but the happy ending is so sweet and their progress towards it so tender. I instantly bookmarked and look forward to my next re-read.

#fic recs #tonystarkbingo #everyone is poly because avengers #Top 5 Fanfic Saturday #although I cheat because there are 6 fics here

[hepalien]

Shrunkyclunks (Modern Bucky/Cap Steve) Fic Rec

Hate Sex & Hair Protocol by @maddiewritesstucky - Mature, 1.8k

SHIELD Agent Bucky, UST, Enemies to Lovers (in Steve’s head), Humor

They’re all full of shit, Steve decides.

His team don’t have a clue what they’re talking about, running their mouths about the way he and Bucky look at each other; the tension that seems to be at a constant near-snapping point between them.

'It’s called annoyance' Steve wants to yell in each of their faces, loud and one by one. It’s the pain of having to exist every day in close proximity with someone who drives you out of your fucking mind.

---

In which Steve discovers that ire and desire may just exist side by side in his brain.

Stop interrupting my grinding series by @rohkeutta - Teen, 2.5k

Nurse Bucky, Wrong Number, Fluff, Humor

“I tried to call Sam,” Captain America says, bewildered. He’s sprinting like Usain Bolt and doesn’t sound even a little out of breath. Fucker. “Who’re you?”

“Someone who’s watching you live on TV,” Bucky tells him as the tiny patriotic figure on the screen takes the turns like he instructed. Bucky should probably be a lot more freaked out about this, but honestly? After a tour in the Middle East and six years as a nurse in New York, even this isn’t enough to ruffle him. One sees a lot of shit in the ER. “Also, you better hang up now, that thing is behind the next bend.”

“Uh, okay,” Captain America says. “Thanks?”

“Whatever,” Bucky says, disconnects the call and turns the TV off to get ready for his shift.

Save a Horse, Ride a Captain by @galwednesday - Teen, 2.7k

War Vet Bucky, Meet Cute, Fluff, Humor, Modern Howlies

Bucky tapped him on the shoulder, swaying back and forth a little as he waited for the man to turn around. “Hello,” he said, and then promptly forgot what else he was going to say, because this guy was fucking beautiful. “Wow. Good face.”

Two of the guy’s friends, a man wearing a suit that fit so well it had to be bespoke and a man with a cute little gap between his front teeth, started cracking up. The petite redhead sitting next to them cocked her head to the side and pulled her phone out of her handbag. Beautiful Face just looked kind of pained, so Bucky redirected. He was a gentleman. He could take a hint. No hitting on beautiful guys who were uncomfortable with that sort of thing, no matter how lickable their jawlines were.

“Hello,” he repeated, doing his best to mind his manners. “I’m very sorry to bother you. Can I have a piggy-back ride?”

You Make My Heart Skip A Beet by @musette22 - Teen, 3.8k

Chef Bucky, POV Outsider, Fluff, Humor

“I made soda bread.”

Steve lets out the 6’2” supersoldier equivalent of a squeak. “Oh, I love soda bread,” he says eagerly, rolling forward on the balls of his feet like he does when he gets excited. “My mom used to make it all the time when I was growing up.”

The tips of Barnes’s ears turn red, and he mutters something that sounds suspiciously like, “I know.”

more under the cut

Cafe Au Écoute by @littlesystems - Teen, 3.8k

Coffee Shop AU

No matter where Steve goes, there's always the chance that he'll overhear a conversation about himself - or rather, Captain America. This coffee shop is no different. The fact that he keeps eavesdropping well past the point of plausible deniability is another matter entirely.

#TweetMeDaddy by StarSpangled - Teen, 4.1k

SHIELD Employee Bucky, Misunderstandings, Crack, Humor

Coulson, for his part, stares up at Bucky with such a betrayed look of frozen horror that Natasha actually goes the extra step and presses another button, capturing the moment and airdropping the photograph to her phone for posterity. When he speaks, his voice comes out as a hoarse whisper. “Why…?” He swallows and starts again, trying for some semblance of normality. “...Why would you tweet something like that?!”

“If you must know, sir,” and somehow he manages to make ‘sir’ come out with the same inflection most people reserve for ‘motherfucking son of a bitch’, “it’s because I have a difficult time doing my job when my job involves monitoring the man with the best fucking ass in the United States of America.” He slowly lowers himself back into his seat until he’s at eye level, making extreme eye contact with Coulson until Coulson turns away to make mortified eye contact in Natasha’s general direction through the one-way glass. Natasha would take another picture, if she weren’t too busy catching Steve’s red-faced sputtering. “Sometimes, I vent to my Twitter followers. Sometimes, it’s about hot men with washboard abs. Can I go now, or do you need a graphic description of how I pleasure myself at night?”

at first chance i'd take the bed warmed by the body by @spacebuck - Explicit, 8.2k

YouTuber Bucky

This close, Steve can see exactly how beautiful his hands are. He’s never really noticed before, or at least he’s never really had a reason to notice, but the man’s hands are large, tanned like he works outside all day. There’s an endearing callus on the heel of one of his palms, and Steve can’t quite work out when calluses became endearing.

Steve pauses the video. Swallows hard. Casts his eyes around for anything that’ll keep his mind off the hands on his screen, off the words inked into those hands, the delicate shape of a bird’s wing, the curling edge of a vine.

He looks down. The name of the channel is right there, blaring the man’s name right into Steve’s brain until it feels like he’s known it all along.

Bucky Barnes.

OR: the one where Bucky's a youtuber who solves puzzles on camera, and steve's smitten and horny

Came with my cool (I dropped it) by @liionne - Teen, 9.2k

Yoga Instructor Bucky

"When you said I need to loosen up, I didn't think you meant literally."

"I meant it every way. Mentally, emotionally, and physically." Natasha says, and thrusts a yoga mat at him.

there once was a diamond by bloobeary - Teen, 11.3k

Fluff, Thanksgiving

"You," Becca seethes, and hits him with a wooden spoon. "Could have told me," Hits him again. "You were dating Captain America." Final hit, Bucky laughs. He supposes he deserves it, giving her no more information than the fact he was bringing his boyfriend to Thanksgiving dinner at her house and then showing up with Steve.

Salt by littleblackfox @thelittleblackfox - Mature, 12k

Bakery AU

The cinnamon roll is gone in four bites. Four indecent, jaw-unhinging bites, and Steve sucks the last traces of lemon and icing from his fingers with a low, throaty sound of satisfaction. He glances up at Bucky, who is leaning against the counter and watching him with avid fascination.

“Um…” Steve says around his index finger. There’s still a little icing on the bed of his fingernail, and he stops trying to work it off with his tongue.

“You know those movies where the girl eats an eclair or something, and it’s really, like, sexually charged?” Bucky asks.

Steve pulls his finger out of his mouth. He’s never seen that kind of movie, but the thought of Bucky eating an eclair is certainly… well, it lingers. “Uh?”

“Yeah, well that was the exact opposite.” Steve scowls, and Bucky cackles gleefully. “You are something else, Steve.”

Leg Day by Brokenpitchpipe - Explicit, 12.1k

Gym Thot Bucky

“So talk to him,” Sam says.

“I can’t,” Bucky groans. “I can’t, Sam, I. He just.” He fluffs his hair up and stares at Sam, distraught. “I want him to bench press me.”

“Okay, so it’s serious,” Sam interprets. “Got it."

(Or: The one where Sam is Bucky's long-suffering roommate, Bucky is a hot mess of a millennial, and Hot Steve spends far too much time on the Lat Pull-Down machine.)

Art Nouveau by voluptuous_panic - Explicit, 12.2k

Bartender Bucky, Tattooed & Pierced Bucky

Steve's on the worst date of his life. At least the bartender's cute.

much tattoo about nothing by @deisderium - Explicit, 14.5k

Tattoo Artist Bucky

Steve Rogers gets a lot of email requests, but never one like this: James Barnes wants to use his healing factor to practice tattoos.

Turns out tattoos give Steve boners.

No Wonder There's Panic in the Industry by sprinkle_of_cinnamon - Not Rated (I’d say Mature?), 20.5k

Stark Industries Intern Bucky, Team fic, Humor

In which Bucky Barnes and his BFF, Clint Barton, are NYU interns for Stark Media Group competing to be Pepper's favorite.

Or alternatively, the time Bucky assisted the P.A. team on the Steve Rogers piece and ended up (adopted) with a contact list full of Avengers.

Life of the Party by @aggressivewhenstartled - Explicit, 21.6k

Superhero Impersonator Bucky, Mistaken Identity

“You know, kids,” Steve heard from the backyard, “one of the most common threats a superhero has to face is inside an active volcano! We’re going to have to work on your evasion skills, so for the next five minutes, the floor is lava!” This was met by a sudden spike in both volume and pitch from the small children as they scrambled onto every raised surface they could find and immediately launched themselves right back off.

“I’ve never seen actual lava in my entire life,” Steve said, vaguely offended.

“You got a superhero impersonator for The Falcon’s niece’s birthday party,” Sam said, incredulous. “The Falcon, who is an actual superhero.”

Trust Enough by @geneticallydead - Explicit, 23.3k

Misunderstandings

“Saturday. Yeah, that’s good,” Steve says, and actually scuffs his shoe at the ground. Like a ridiculous shy superhero damsel. “Say eight? I live-“

“Yeah, big building with the A on it,” Bucky says, and can’t help a big stupid grin. Steve stares at him, looking a little dazed, and after their whole conversation it’s only now that Bucky’s brain catches up and realises Steve finds him quite attractive. So. Win for Bucky.

“Let me get your number,” Steve says finally, after they’ve stared stupidly at each other for about three hours, taking out his phone.

So they exchange numbers, and then Steve says he should go, and Bucky agrees, and they kind of stare at each other for a bit more, then Steve actually does go, but not before taking Bucky’s hand and squeezing it warmly in a way that makes Bucky want to shiver all over. Then Steve is gone, and Bucky is standing alone in the alley, grinning to himself.

Right up until the moment he remembers that Steve thinks Bucky is an escort he’s just hired.

Well fuck.

The Roommate by layersofart, Niitza - Teen, 28.6k

War Vet Bucky, Roommates AU, Humor, Fluff, Angst, Team fic

In which Steven G. Rogers, a.k.a. Captain America, gets a roommate. Who rapidly turns into his "roommate"—in the euphemistic sense of the word.

It takes SHIELD and the rest of the Avengers an absurd amount of time to notice.

Brooklyn Baby by sprinkle_of_cinnamon - Mature, 33.7k

Coffee Shop AU, Modern Howlies, Mistaken Identity, Team Fic

In which Bucky is just trying to live life and enjoy his unofficial official table at the obnoxiously hipster coffee shop but some guy named Steve stole his spot.

Or, the time that Bucky unintentionally befriended the Avengers and had no idea.

Never Talk to Strangers by mambo @whtaft - Teen, 40.4k

Grad Student Bucky, Slow Burn

Never Talk to Strangers: or; How a Forgotten Childhood Lesson Led Bucky Barnes to Appreciate Charlie Chaplin, Befriend an A.I., Slip on Soap Bubbles, Be Mistaken for a Succubus, and Try to Woo a Superhero.

Sinking Our Teeth In The Heart Of The Sun by fallendarlings @pressrestartwrites - Explicit, 102.8k

Single Dad Bucky, Kid Fic, Slow Burn, Domestic, Fluff, Mutual Pining, Steve has Autism

Bucky Barnes never intended to become a single father at 25. But life has always enjoyed kicking him while he's down and it's showing no signs of stopping. A chance meeting with a brick wall of a guy named Steve in the formula aisle of the grocery store leads to a friendship it seems like both of them need. If only Bucky could remember that's all they are- friends. If only Steve didn't slot into their lives so perfectly and look so good spoiling Bucky's daughter (and Bucky, despite his protests).

Oh, if only Steve didn't turn out to be Captain America.

Steve Rogers is wandering around a world that he doesn't fit into, fighting for a government that he doesn't trust, just because he doesn't know what to do with himself if he ever relaxes long enough to actually think about anything other than the next mission.

And then came Bucky Barnes and his newborn baby.

More recs

#stucky #stevebucky #stucky fic #stucky fic rec #shrunkyclunks #stucky fanfic #stucky fanfiction #steve x bucky #my stucky recs #fic tag #mine #fic rec #mcu fic #tumblr ate this the first time [my longest sigh ever] #i read art nouveau for the first time last week and I've been thinking about it ever since

[boop-le-snoot]

PARTY FAVOURS | CHAPTER 1

Rating: Explicit. 18+

‼️TW: Reader is EIGHTEEN! Recreational drug use, smoking and alcohol consumption, deeply internalised self-loathing, very questionable moral standards. Daddy kink taken half-seriously. BDSM themes in later chapters - explicit content will come with it's own TWs. FIRST PERSON POV.

Summary: You're Peter's classmate, a child of rich and famous but uncaring parents. Getting paired up for a lengthy project with the boy was an interesting turn of events and you don't know whether to feel blessed or cursed when you develop, seemingly, a perfectly normal, harmless crush on Tony Stark. Fueled by feelings of inadequacy and boredom, your life spirals out of control - and you're lucky your newfound friends are there to pick up the pieces even if you cannot find it in yourself to believe these amazing human (and not so human) beings voluntarily give you more than a fleeting glance and an offhanded thought. And they brought cake!

A/N: Bad girls are sad girls! Always wondered what goes through the mind of a spoiled, rich but intelligent and perceptive teenager? Have you found yourself craving that adrenaline rush, the danger of a forbidden fruit? Okay. That was cheesy as hell. Gross.

Let's try again. Sarcasm? Check. Vine references? Hell yes! Crude humour? Check. Blunt honesty? Double check. We're living in a Lana del Rey song, ladies.

The author doesn't actually condone codependent relationships in real life. This is a filthy little fantasy. Enjoy, deviants.

THE TAG LIST IS NOW OPEN! @another-stark-sub​ @mostly-marvel-musings​

Beta read by the lovely and patient @miscmarvelwritings ! She deserves all the love 💙

Pining. I was pining after Stark and it made me upset. I thought I was better than that. Better than acting the part of a lovesick puppy, begging for scraps of attention- a kind word, a pat on the shoulder, a blanket thrown over me in my sleep. Even if he was my Mount Olympus, I wasn't exactly on board with starting the whole damn journey in the first place.

Most of all, I hated being a cliché. I tried my best to avoid showing how I felt and with time, I think I excelled at it. I am really good with things if I really put my mind to it. Was it a blessing, or was it a curse? Only the future will tell. I try not to think about it, as I prefer not to stress out too much. Peter was the anxious kid and I was the calm one. I was the Ying to his Yang. He flipped his shit often and I always calmed him down and cleaned up after him. No complaints there, Pete is pure and precious and I would kill everybody and then myself if he actually got hurt.

I'm only a year older than him and that year feels like an uncrossable bridge to me. We get along like a house on fire and I delight in the way he starts smiling when we're paired together for a project. Deep inside I'm sure he thinks of me as one of his best friends, his homies but-and there's always a but-I can't reciprocitate that. He goes to decathlon after school with his wholesome BFF duo, I go to a local dive bar with a fake ID I'd made sometime when I was about 15.

Peter has everything I wish I've ever had. Good for him. I'm not going to mess that up, no matter how much my angst demands I throw a tantrum and become, like, a supervillain or something.

I banter, instead. I chit-chat. I laugh and I repeatedly make a joke out of myself. Nobody suspects a thing, and I'm not surprised. People always see what they want to see. I've been the weird loner since middle school. Not the sad kind, of course, my pride wouldn't let me. I'm too good at things to be completely ignored. Teachers adore me, the event planning committee approaches me every year with tentative pleas for advice. The list goes on and on; what they don't understand is that it's just High School. Another year and I'll be out of there and nobody will be wiser.

I feel like a liar every time I'm excited. Because I'm not that - I don't care about their stupid field trips or collaborative projects. My mind is five steps and two hops ahead of that bullshit. It has to be or I just won't make it in the world.

"Parker-pen, Mr. Stark. G'day, sirs," I nodded, entering the lab, looking straight ahead. They both were hunched over... Something vaguely mechanical and I was terribly, horribly hungover. Saturday night was Science night but I'd gone to bed around 2PM after a party ran way too late.

"Hi," and "Powerpuff girl," came from them respectively, and they didn't even lift their heads.

I wondered if I could just skedaddle and leave them to their big brain time. "Is this a bad time? I can come tomorrow instead," I immediately regretted speaking, even to my own ears my voice sounds scratchy.

"No, actually, Dr. Ban-Bruce-wanted to talk to you," Peter mumbled out half-coherently. Tony kept ignoring me and I was fine with that. The less temptation I have the less trouble there will be.

"I'm not playing with his zucchini again," I groaned, causing the intricate pile of metal to squeak sadly as Pete tripped over his own damn body, jostling the prototype in the process. I could have sworn the room got several degrees hotter from the boy's blush alone.

Tony cackled, shuffling away from the newly ruined prototype. "He won the damn contest, you should've seen the judges faces," The engineer's grin threatened to split his face in half. I poked at my phone in muted interest. "Hold up, Friday has a recording. I definitely recorded the thing."

A holo-screen popped up. Tranquil scenes of a local fair, gourds and other assorted vegetables of various grotesque sizes were scattered throughout the square. An unmistakable mop of curly greying hair posed proudly next to a zucchini half the size of Hulk - I was fairly certain genetically engineering the plant was cheating and warned him so but somehow Banner managed to persuade the judges into letting him participate, and ultimately win, the competition for the Biggest Zucchini. Some of them were quite shocked at the size of that thing and well - well, their glances were quite contemplative to say the least.

"Damn, Tony, that blonde chick's face tells me all I need to know," I gave a lopsided smirk in the engineer's general direction. That was our thing, you see? He called me these ridiculous cutesy nicknames and asked me about getting my nails done or going to the mall and I'd make salacious comments and go on an occasional flirtatious spree. That was comfortable. We both enjoyed making Peter blush and giggle like the little schoolboy that he was.

"Our Brucie bear is a freak, don't let him tell you any different, Princess," Tony winked at me.

"Oh, I know all about it, Tones," I suggestively wiggled my eyebrows. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Peter groan and palm his face. I briefly bumped my knuckles to Tony's outstretched hand and made my way to the adjacent lab that hosted the second resident crazy scientist.

"Bruce?"

"Oh, hi there, come on in," He smiled warmly at me and I relaxed, shrugging off the tension in my limbs that seemed to appear every time Tony was around me. Banner's soft, friendly nature always made me feel welcomed and appreciated.

We made small talk as I threw on a lab coat and some protective glasses and discarded my bag in the far corner, away from any possible explosions. I congratulated him on his recent victory - here is when I say that despite what most will say, Banner has a serious competitive mean streak and isn't afraid to get down and dirty when it comes to matters of his personal pride.

That's what makes us alike, I think. I have too much dignity and self-respect to walk around Tony with stars in my eyes and hang around his neck like yesterday's tie.

The quiet, even pace of doing lab work made me completely lose track of time. Some time passed as I felt the crick in my neck become noticeable, and the deep ache in my calves from standing and dancing yesterday worsened. I hopped onto the nearest table, hunched over a tablet, eyes skimming over research articles - most of it didn't register at all in the wake of a dull throb behind my temples. My hair limply hung over my face - I had to wash it to get rid of the stench-hard liquor and cigarettes - but I was way too lazy to style it properly.

I ignored the swaying strands until a large palm gently tucked them behind my ear, a white lab coat coming into my field of view. "You okay?" Banner's quiet voice interrupted my reading. I lifted eyes enough to see he was wearing a dorky button-up in some gross shade of blue under the lab coat. His eyes were affectionate behind thinly rimmed glasses.

"Rough Friday night?" He questioned.

I chuckled. "Yeah, I'm hungover as fuck." There was no point in hiding the obvious; I'm sure the bags under my eyes already had tattled on me.

He chuckled, too, leaning his hip against the table, one broad arm coming to wrap around me in a hug. Usually he wasn't so touchy-feely; but I wasn't complaining. Banner was really, really warm. "I'll spare you the lecture on underage drinking," He said with another chuckle.

"Yeah, it's pretty pointless. You'd be three years too late."

A deep sigh left him, both of his arms wrapping around me in a comfortable embrace. I rested my chin on his shoulder, trying my best to really avoid showing how touch-starved I was. I was a hundred percent sure they all figured out my family life was difficult; the last thing I needed was their pity.

"Y'know, we should sit down and talk someday," He said after a brief moment of hesitation. "About your future. College, maybe?"

I gave a non-committal hum, basking in the warmth of the hug, staring straight ahead with unseeing eyes - behind the glass divide, I could faintly distinguish Tony's and Peter's shapes, still bent over that bench the pile of metal.

"You have a lot of potential," Banner continued, his tone developing a gently admonishing hint. "I understand if you want to take some time off from your studies but I'd rather you succeed and not let all that potential go to waste," He finished, patting me on the back with a gentle hand.

I tried not to preen under his touch. "Are you attempting to guilt-trip me over a party, doctor Banner?" I teased him, expecting the smile that I felt being hidden by my hair. Sometimes I felt that I could read the man like an open book, he was so earnest about his interactions.

"I just - we want you to stay safe, okay? Don't blow your future for a little bit of fun," He shrugged carefully.

"Okay, Bruce," I simply replied, meaning it this time

He kept hugging me, running his hand over my back absentmindedly. Probably thinking about his recent science bender. I wasn't upset: my own brain tended to get tangled in personal projects, too. I had only one complaint and it was that the cuddle was making me sleepy.

I yawned, startling the man. Pulling away from the hug wasn't really an option. He was broad and quite strong, probably courtesy of the Hulk and radiation in his blood.

"Why don't we put you in a guest room for tonight?" He inquired and I nodded. "Call your parents for me, okay?"

"My mother is in Vancouver for the week and I doubt she would care anyway," I rolled my eyes. "She's in the middle of some shitstorm with OsCorp and their marketing department." If anything, I was grateful my mother was preoccupied with her job. Being around her was like hanging out on top of an iceberg in the far end of the ocean.

I felt Bruce's frown. His body tensed briefly, blink and you'll miss the hunch of his shoulders. "What about your dad?"

I cringed. "He's been in Ibiza since the season opened, no doubt snorting miles of coke and... " I hesitated. "You can guess the rest."

My dad was kind of a dick, but I don't blame him at all for being the way he is. My parents have been married for twenty years. They were happy, once - I saw their college pictures with my mother's bright smiles and bushy hair, and my dad's terrible fashion sense and their dog, a funny little runt with an atrocious name. Then mother had me and for a while, they were happy too, but it lasted about until she landed her first prospective job. Kind of cliché.

Bruce sighed again. "Okay. You hungry?"

"No, I'm not going near food until tomorrow. Nu-uh," I fake-retched next to his ear, making Bruce shiver and playfully pinch my side.

"It'll help with your hangover. Doctor's advice."

"You're not even that kind of doctor," I laughed, very gently poking him back, somewhere around his stomach. He squirmed.

"I have seven PhDs," Bruce smiled as he rested his chin on top of my head as he adjusted his torso to prevent my fingers from reaching his ticklish spots. I poked him again in retaliation, fully enjoying the snort and squirm I caused. Soft™. "Let's go get you settled in," Bruce, seemingly without any difficulty, picked me up, propping me against his hip like a toddler. It probably looked awkward but what the hell, I haven't been carried around since I can remember myself. My legs wrapped around his hips for balance, butt resting on his forearm.

"You're a showoff," I couldn't help but snort, getting a lopsided smirk in return.

He made his way over to the elevator with me dangling and examining my nails in an expectant fashion. Tony's jokes aside, I really enjoyed getting them done and weird colors were a quest of entertainment for me. I obviously couldn't have them very long because I worked in a lab so I chose outrageous prints and decorations instead. This week, each of my nails had a different style - thankfully my aesthetician was professional enough to make it look somewhat put together even if it took a good chunk of my allowance and an hour long Uber ride to get to her salon.

I noticed the dimmed lights in Tony's lab and none of Peter's usual mess scattered on the tables, figuring he'd already left. Stark himself stood propped against a table, watching something, smoothie in hand.

For only a brief moment, I let my eyes rake over his body, his beautiful, sculpted physique hugged by a pair of fitted jeans and an old Led Zeppelin tee. Tony's handsomeness wasn't obvious, it wasn't in-your-face kind of appearance like Captain America's, but the engineer was built sturdy and his arms - the only bare part of him - were riddled with scars. He used his strong, bulky body for work.

I turned away before I got too ahead of myself. Bruce smelled like lab equipment and rubbing alcohol, something that made me sober up and snap out of my daydream before Stark took notice and started teasing me about ogling him. My once-over lasted barely three seconds yet with Tony's genius, I always had to be on my toes.

I saw movement in my peripheral. Banner waved before entering the elevator - at Tony, probably, so I looked back, seeing the man watching us, content replaced with a contemplating frown. I waved at him, resting my cheek on Bruce's shoulder. "Tony's having a big mood," I noted quietly in the scientist's ear.

"You know Tony," Bruce sighed, adjusting his hold on me as the car ascended to the housing floors. "His brain runs a mile a minute and he can't make sense of it for the biggest part. Give him some time and he'll be back to his annoying self."

I didn't see Tony as annoying in any way, but then again, I was severely biased. The billionaire was quirky venturing into absurd but also clever and brilliant.

We had reached our destination and Bruce carefully set me down on my feet once the door to my room was open. A large queen bed, TV and another door to an adjacent bathroom. It was really simple but luxurious nonetheless - I had the exact same carpet at home, having heard my mother bitch about it's cost after seeing me spill soda on it way too many times.

"I'll let you get settled in. Ask Friday if you need something," Bruce awkwardly shuffled his feet, taking off his glasses and briefly examining them before putting them back on again. "Breakfast here is on the 74th floor starting around 7AM, someone will probably get you around nine if you sleep in," He finished, giving a shy tilt of his lips.

"Thanks, Brucie-bear," The nickname easily slipped from my lips. I didn't resist the urge to hug the kind scientist, quickly wrapping my arms around his middle, delightfully sighing when he immediately returned the gesture.

"Good night, Princess," I had to suppress a happy squeak when the man kissed my forehead before retreating and closing the door behind himself. A quick shower and a quest to find a power outlet to plug my charger into preceded my less than graceful flop into the bed. It felt like sleeping on a cloud, honestly, it had nothing on my mother's orthopaedic memory foam mattresses. I passed out faster than I’d ever had.

#Bun writes #party favours #Tony Stark x y/n #Tony Stark x reader #Bruce Banner x reader #Bruce Banner x y/n #Stephen Strange x reader #Stephen Strange x y/n #We're going to Hell y'all

[thebluelemontree]

Hiya blue lemon it's me again. Do you have any criticism in the way GRRM wrote Sansa in book1/2? EX:.Sansa and Jeyne are BFF but we amolst never see the girls talking to eachother, and when JP is sex traffikced sansa just forget about her(we could have a scene where sansa try to find what happened to JP or at least grieve for her). Every time sansa appears as a non-POV in AGOT she's been mean and whe we have her POV she's mean for no good reason(SANSA III AGOT). >PART 1<

And the worst is why GRRM wrote sansa goin to Cercei to tell her the "Ned Plans", it's just bad writing, Cercei kill lady so Sansa going to her was OOC GRRM just wrote that to we hate Sansa And in the book it's not explained what "the Ned plans" was(And it was nothing imortant at all, and would make no difference at Ned's fate) so ordinary readers blame Sansa for Ned's death and GRRM does that too in book 2 Cercei put all the blame for Ned death in sansa nd "the Ned Plans" Your thoughts?PART 2

There’s a lot to unpack here. 

I get a sense that in the early books, George was not as comfortable writing female relationships as he was writing male relationships or even male-female ones. I mean, Catelyn has no female friends, no companions like Margaery Tyrell’s cousins, no fostering wards of her own, no correspondences with other ladies except that one letter from Lysa for plot reasons. This is just weird for the lady of two major houses. It is neglectful on George’s part to give most of the important social connections to men. This doesn’t mean he was totally inept at writing female relationships, though, and it does seem like he’s tried to improve upon highlighting the positive in later books.

By comparison, the positive side of the brotherly relationships are presented so strongly that it tends to smooth over the conflicts with many readers. Jon can feel envious and resentful of Robb, but the love and loyalty is always in the foreground. The conflict between Arya, Jeyne, and Sansa does have legitimate character arc and plot purposes, so this isn’t bad writing. It’s unfortunate that GRRM presses down so hard on the constant bickering and occasional nastiness, but he did write some positives (albeit they tended to be revealed in later books) and there are understandable reasons for the dynamics. It was not done in a totally unrealistic way. What’s depicted is a typical and relatable rocky period for that age group, and there was negative adult influence at play. It’s not a permanent feature of the sisterhood. It’s all there if you pay attention and you’re inclined to be charitable toward the mistakes of young girls.       

If a reader is already predisposed to see the bonds between male characters as more pure and more able to overcome the negative aspects, then they probably also view the bonds between female characters as inherently weaker and more fraught with conflict. Fandom misogyny is not GRRM’s fault. That sector of the fandom will always have contempt for girls for being girls, especially preteen girls. They will always hone in on their faults and belittle their virtues. 

I don’t think that is true that we hardly ever see Jeyne and Sansa talking. They are nearly always in each other’s company. There was real friendship between Sansa and Jeyne, because what George does do well with them, is realistically write the way girls cement their bonds. Young girls strengthen their relationship by communicating and confiding in each other. Sharing secrets, crushes, hopes, fears, and pieces of gossip builds trust and intimacy. Jeyne and Sansa do this all the time, even though they can have different opinions and disagree about a lot.  Yes, there is some one-sidedness in that Sansa socially outranks Jeyne and believes that makes her more mature and wiser than her friend. Jeyne is dependent on her closeness to Sansa as a highborn lady and future queen to rise successfully, so she’s not going to push back on Sansa’s dominance. This is also a reason Jeyne sometimes bullies Arya to supplant her as Sansa’s “sister.” When Sansa has something to share, she goes to Jeyne to talk about it. I think it’s hilarious that the girls have a debate over which castle Gregor Clegane’s head will get spiked. Sansa wants Jeyne at her side for these new and exciting events like the tourney. When things get serious and dangerous, they comfort each other. Again, this is not all George’s fault if some readers don’t recognize or value the way girls do friendships.  

It’s stated quite clearly why Sansa tries to not think about Jeyne or her deceased family members very often. It’s fucking traumatic and her survival while among her captors depends on mentally holding herself together. 

If only she had someone to tell her what to do. She missed Septa Mordane, and even more Jeyne Poole, her truest friend. The septa had lost her head with the rest, for the crime of serving House Stark. Sansa did not know what had happened to Jeyne, who had disappeared from her rooms afterward, never to be mentioned again. She tried not to think of them too often, yet sometimes the memories came unbidden, and then it was hard to hold back the tears. Once in a while, Sansa even missed her sister. By now Arya was safe back in Winterfell, dancing and sewing, playing with Bran and baby Rickon, even riding through the winter town if she liked. Sansa was allowed to go riding too, but only in the bailey, and it got boring going round in a circle all day. -- Sansa II, ACOK.

Following her father’s beheading, Sansa was in a suicidal depression for days. She wouldn’t eat, wouldn’t bathe, welcomed drug-induced sleep, and contemplated killing herself. If she thinks too much on those she lost, she falls to pieces. She can’t openly weep and mourn for “traitors” if her life depends on appearing to be loyal to Joffrey. Most of her grief is suppressed inside. This also includes asking too many questions she doesn’t feel psychologically prepared to hear the answer to. She was there when the decision was made to shuttle Jeyne off to Littlefinger; however, she has no idea this is going to result in Jeyne being sent to a brothel and worse. I would also keep in mind that even if she did ask, it’s not like Cersei or Littlefinger would ever tell her the truth. Why would they? Does she really want to hear lies and have to think about what the horrible truth might be when she can’t do anything about it?  When it comes to Arya, Sansa believes her sister escaped on the ship bound for home. She comforts herself with imagining that Arya is safe and free, and that’s enough to keep her going.  

And she prays and sings for Jeyne, wherever she is.

She sang for mercy, for the living and the dead alike, for Bran and Rickon and Robb, for her sister Arya and her bastard brother Jon Snow, away off on the Wall. She sang for her mother and her father, for her grandfather Lord Hoster and her uncle Edmure Tully, for her friend Jeyne Poole, for old drunken King Robert, for Septa Mordane and Ser Dontos and Jory Cassel and Maester Luwin... -- Sansa V, ACOK.

It’s only until later in the books that Sansa feels emotionally at peace enough to start remembering the good times with Arya and Jeyne without breaking down into tears. We can also see the conflicts weren’t always a thing, and the love was strong with all three.

Sansa began to make snowballs, shaping and smoothing them until they were round and white and perfect. She remembered a summer's snow in Winterfell when Arya and Bran had ambushed her as she emerged from the keep one morning. They'd each had a dozen snowballs to hand, and she'd had none. Bran had been perched on the roof of the covered bridge, out of reach, but Sansa had chased Arya through the stables and around the kitchen until both of them were breathless. She might even have caught her, but she'd slipped on some ice. Her sister came back to see if she was hurt. When she said she wasn't, Arya hit her in the face with another snowball, but Sansa grabbed her leg and pulled her down and was rubbing snow in her hair when Jory came along and pulled them apart, laughing. -- Sansa VII, ASOS.

It was most unladylike, but Alayne sound found herself laughing. For just a little while, as she ran, she forget who she was, and where, and found herself remembering bright cold days at Winterfell, when she would race through Winterfell with her friend Jeyne Poole, with Arya running after them trying to keep up. -- Alayne I, TWOW.

So it’s not even that the girls only bond through confiding. They run, play, and roughhouse with each other. It’s interesting that AGOT!Sansa tried to be so mature and proper, but now that she’s older, she’s remembering how good and freeing it was just to be a kid. But let’s not act like this part of the story is over. Jeyne is still very much alive and seems likely to run into Arya in Braavos. We can almost be 100% certain that Sansa will find out the truth about what happened to Jeyne and what Littlefinger did to her (and her parents), then watch out. Sansa will turn all that buried pain into a righteous fury at Littlefinger.  

Now as for Sansa being mean for “no reason.” Um... yeah, LOL. Sometimes she’s just a total unwarranted bitch to her sister, and it’s not meant to be a good look. Sometimes she’s superficial, insufferably immature and annoying, judgmental and prejudiced AND THAT’S OKAY. I mean, she sounds no better or worse than your average middle-schooler if they were of the privileged nobility. Guess what? Sometimes preteens are really like that. Sometimes siblings have ugly, knockdown drag out fights where they say horrible things to each other. Most will grow past those phases and still wind up just as loving and close. It’s realistic and believable. Sansa has flaws, but they aren’t deep moral flaws. She does an amazing job at growing, learning, and overcoming those flaws over the course of the books. In TWOW, she’s warm and affectionate with people, easy-going, nonjudgmental, and genuinely more mature than ever. She took the stick out of her ass and became a happier person for it. What’s the problem? What did you want her to be? Perfect? Unfailingly kind and loved by everyone all the time? She’d be a saint, not a multifaceted human being. Even with her occasional ugly side, Sansa is still a strong, smart, compassionate badass. I don’t care if some people don’t like her as she is written or if they vilify her with their misinterpretations or ignore her strengths. What bearing does that have on GRRM’s vision for her character? He never set out to write any character that the whole fandom would either unanimously love or hate.    

This is not bad writing. This NOT bad writing. This is GOOD writing.

*Sigh* Listen... this whole nonsense about Sansa being to blame for Ned’s demise has been going on since ASOIAF was written on clay tablets. You don’t have to listen to every stupid thing the fandom says about anything. It’s just factually wrong. End of story. This misinterpretation and reader inattentiveness is not GRRM’s fault, because he lays out all the details of everything that went down between Arya, Ned, and Sansa’s POV as it was happening. It’s totally understandable why an upset and frustrated Sansa would go to Cersei, the mother figure she implicitly trusts and admires. She didn’t go to Cersei to betray her father’s plans. She went to the queen to intercede in what she thought had to be some big misunderstanding, having no idea what was really going on or at stake. 

This is not OOC for her to go to Cersei after Lady’s death. The hand that killed Lady was her own father’s, a undeniable breach of trust that wounded their relationship. Ned just doesn’t really do a lot to deal with the emotional aftermath either. Ned and Sansa are very similar in turning a blind eye when confronted with unpleasantness from someone they love. Ned is also at that moment disillusioned with Robert’s failure to do the right thing after the Trident incident. He begs Robert in the name of their brotherly love and the love he bore Lyanna, and Robert turns his back on Ned anyway. Yet Ned immediately goes right back to believing in the best of Robert’s nature, despite all evidence to the contrary. Every sign points to this being a one-sided friendship with Robert being lazy, irresponsible, and completely selfish. Like father, like daughter. Sansa has a very hard time accepting that Joffrey and Cersei are not the people she thought they were, even when she’s seen some cracks. And since she can’t understand her father’s actions and the communication has been shot to hell between them, of course she runs to Cersei with her problems. Cersei can flip a switch and pretend to be kind, loving, and understanding. 

This is so typical of a teenage thought process:  “Dad just doesn’t understand and he’s making a big mistake. I don’t understand why he’s doing this. He doesn’t get how important this is to me. This will all work out if a sympathetic adult steps in and fixes it. Everything will turn out great and we’ll all be happy.” While Sansa is pouring her heart out about how it isn’t fair she can’t say goodbye to Joffrey, Cersei pretends to be that sympathetic mother figure that really understands her. How hard would it be then to pump Sansa for information? Like “Oh my sweet little dove. I know how much you love my son. Don’t worry. I’ll help you straighten this out. You said your father wants to send you away? How? When? What’s the name of that ship again?”  

And that line from Cersei’s POV is horseshit. Cersei is a liar and regularly lies in her POV to absolve herself of responsibility and force the blame entirely on others. In this case, Cersei is acting like she didn’t totally manipulate a trusting child to betray her.  We also know this is a lie because Ned was the one that told her himself of his plans to reveal the invest and remove her as queen. Sansa had nothing to do with that. All Sansa did was give Cersei information that allowed Cersei the opportunity to take her hostage before the girls could leave by ship. Cersei’s plans against Ned were already well underway. Sansa never came to her with the intent of knowingly betraying anyone, but she did have selfish reasons for going to the queen to complain in the first place. GRRM said himself that Sansa wasn’t to blame for Ned’s capture or death, but she did play a role in the events that transpired. That’s fair. All that makes her is a kid who made a not entirely innocent mistake, but a mistake nonetheless, which she immediately learned from. Does she trust Cersei or Joffrey again? Hell no.  

Relax, anon. It’s fine for her to not be nice all the time. It’s fine for her to have some realistic, garden variety flaws. It’s one of the most universal human mistakes to fall too hard and fast for the wrong person, act the fool over them despite all the red flags, only to realize you only saw what you wanted to see in them. And Sansa learned this lesson at eleven when some adults haven’t learned it at all. Relax. She’s a great, well-written, relatable character who has overcome most of these issues successfully.  

#Sansa stark meta #sansa stark #sansa stark characterization #asoiaf characterization #arya stark #jeyne poole #ned stark #asoiaf commentary #fandom nonsense #Anonymous #my meta

[thewidowsghost]

Fox - Chapter 3

Previously on Fox: Clearing her throat, she glances at Tony, and says, "Let's go home," and Tony smiles at her. The two get in their cars and Tony leads the way to his mansion, otherwise known as (Y/N)'s new home. (Y/n)'s POV When Dad and I get home from packing up all my things, he and Pepper show me a room where I can put all my stuff. Pepper and Dad help me put everything in my room and Dad says, "Tomorrow, we'll need to take you to get a bed and other things for your room, alright?" I nod and he and Pepper leave the large room. I glance over at the wooden box I had gotten from Mom's room. Walking over, I pick up the box and sit down against the opposite wall facing the door. Hands shaking slightly, I open the wooden box and stare at the contents inside. A couple items were normal like pictures and a copy of my birth certificate, but digging farther into the box, I see a manila folder. I pull out the folder and set the box beside me.

I open the folder to see a sheet of paper with a picture of me paper clipped to it, and under that, in neat handwriting says:

Name: (Y/n) Stark

Mother: (M/n) (L/n)

Father: Tony Stark DOB: October 05, 1985 Abilities: Pyrokinesis, fire generation, Heliokinesis, Geo-thermokinesis (Fire, Light, and manipulation of lava, magma, volcanoes) Geokinesis (control and manipulation of earth/rocks/stones), Areokenesis, wind generation (control over wind and air), Hydrokinesis and water generation (control over water); Electrokinesis, atmokinesis, electrical absorption (control over lightning and the weather), Cyrokinesis and ice generation (power and control over ice), advanced healing, neural electric interfacing, empathy, telepathy, telekinesis, energy manipulation (control over energy), super strength, shape-shifting, absorption; ability transference (the ability to temporarily give some powers to someone else)

Gasping at the paper, I then glance at my hands. "How could all the power be in one person?" I breathe out. "Let alone me," I I wonder aloud.

Concentrating hard on my hand, I am shocked to see a small yellow-orange flame there. I close my fist and the fire extinguishes.

Clearing my throat, I put the folder back into the box and put it in the back of my closet, not wanting Dad or Pepper to find out about my abilities until I was ready to tell them.

I shakily walk out of the room and make my way downstairs to the kitchen. 'It's about 6:30 now,' I think. 'Maybe I should make Dad and Pepper dinner.'

Digging around in the fridge, i find everything to make tacos so I get to work, browning the beef and dicing tomatoes. Midway through, however, Pepper walks into the kitchen.

"What are you making?" Pepper asks and I look up at the auburn haired woman.

"Tacos," I say and she walks over to stand beside me as I continue to dice the tomatoes.

"Need any help?" she asks.

"The lettuce needs shredded if you want to do that," I answer meeting Pepper's blue gaze.

"Sure," she walks over to the fridge grabbing a head of lettuce and beginning to shred it into smaller pieces.

When we finish, I walk down to Dad's lab and knock on the glass door, JARVIS letting me in.

"Dad!" I call, not seeing him. "Dinner's ready!"

"Be up in just one second, sweetheart," I hear Dad says and I jog back up the stairs to the dining room where Pepper had set two places at the table.

"Hey, Pepper?" I ask, walking back into the kitchen where I see Pepper beginning to put the extra lettuce and tomatoes in the fridge. "Why didn't you set a place for yourself?" I ask, clearly shocking the auburn haired woman.

"The kid's right," Dad says from behind me. "Get yourself a plate and come eat with us."

Pepper, looking shocked, grabs a plate from the cabinet and gets some tacos, carrying her plate to the table.

"So, you graduated from Yale?" Pepper asks, and I nod. "What did you major in?" she asks.

"I, uh," I glance down at my tacos. "I have four PHDs," I say, looking up.

"How'd you manage that at twelve?" Dad asks.

"I have a photographic memory," I explain and Dad nods.

"What were your PHDs for?" Pepper asks.

"Biomedical, Mechanical, and Aerospace Engineering and, IT and Tech," I answer and Dad looks impressed.

"Wow," Dad says, nodding. "I would really like you're help in my lab," he says and I nod.

"Sounds fun," I answer.

The three of us finish our tacos and Dad takes me down to his lab and we start getting to know each other.

The next year went by really quickly for me. Every morning I would go to the gym to try and figure out how much I could lift with my super strength, I had gotten to five hundred pounds, but I think I know I can lift more. I think it might be an adrenaline thing.

I also found out that having the ability to read someone's mind is really awkward when someone hates your guts.

Yeah, that was an awkward day...

Anyway, I decided that I wanted to join the Air Force, thinking that maybe I could use my abilities to help out in the world.

I sent in a letter to the US Air Force and I was just waiting for the letter back.

"(Y/n)!" Pepper calls up the stairs on morning. "You have mail!"

"Coming!" I call, running down the stairs.

"Here," Pepper says, handing me a letter.

I open the letter, looking down it in a little shock.

"Can I see?" Pepper asks, and I silently hand her the letter. "Did you -" Pepper asks, and I nod. "I'm really proud of you," she says, wrapping me in a hug and I relax into it.

"How am I going to tell Dad that I'm going to be gone for four years?" I mumble.

"I'll help," Pepper says. "Just go get your stuff ready, I'll take care of it," she says and I step away from the hug.

"Thanks, Pepper," I say smiling up at the blue-eyed woman.

I run upstairs, grab a suitcase and start putting my clothes into it.

I hear a knock on the door and I turn around seeing Dad standing there. I whip back around to face the wall.

"(Y/n)?" he says, walking across the room to stand beside me.

"Hey Dad," I mumble, folding clothes and placing them in the suitcase.

"What's wrong, kid?" he asks, sitting down on the bed and helping me fold clothes.

"I thought you were going to be mad at me for leaving," I say, looking down at him.

"Why would I be mad sweetheart?" he asks, and I sit down beside him.

"Because I won't be around anymore, I'll be gone for four years," I explain.

"Just because you'll be gone, doesn't mean that we won't be able to talk," he says. "We could call," he says. "I'll miss you, but I'm very proud of you." he stands up and wraps me in a hug.

"Thanks Dad," I say.

"When do you have to leave?" he asks.

"I have to be at Camp Mead, Maryland on Saturday," I tell Dad.

"That's in five days, we need to get you ready to go," Dad says.

He stands up and pulls me towards the door.

Word Count: 1390 words

Don't got much to say, but the next chapter should be out soon, so keep an eye out for it if you want to know what happens next.

See y'all!

Love,            Kaitlynn ❤😍

#natasha romanoff #avengers x reader #agents of shield x reader #tony stark #steve rogers #wanda maximoff #pietro maximoff #clint barton #phil coulson #melinda may #maria hill #sam wilson #vision #nick fury #bucky barnes #fem reader #leo fitz #jemma simmons #daisy johnson #thor odinson #loki laufeyson #skye #laura barton #pepper potts #peter parker #happy hogan #black widow x reader #natasha-romanoff-x-female-reader #natasha romanoff x reader #grant ward

[iluxia]

Unsolicited writing advice???

A ton of you have commented with such kind and complimentary words about my Naruto fic Hiding in the Leaves and its characterization through the shifting POVs. Thank you all! I’m gratified to hear that you’re enjoying it. Some are asking how I shift perspectives and still manage to keep the characters in line. Actually, a fair number of readers have asked for actual advice, so here we go. This is a lot of writing babble, I hope it makes sense but feel free to drop me an ask if anything is unclear! 

(1) I read a lot. I read all the time. Easily a book a day, maybe two days. And when I do, I practice critical reading—or as they say, reading like an editor, so I can pick at techniques other writers use. Writing is an art you learn largely by example. A lot of what I read influences what and how I write, so when I need to change my tone or voice to fit a different character, I usually read something that matches what I want my prose to sound like, on top of using techniques like changing tenses and playing with vocabulary choices. 

I recently had the chance to flex these writing muscles because I went from writing two very distinct human voices (Tony Stark & Stephen Strange) to writing an alien voice (Loki). It was fucking hard; those in the Marvel fandom might know what I mean. Tony and Stephen are both human, born and raised in America, with specific life experiences that inform their daily decisions and personalities. Loki, on the other hand, is an alien: raised in Asgard, stolen from Jotunheim, well-traveled throughout the Nine Realms, and moreover raised as a prince. Just stop and think about that. When your characters do not have the same experiences that you do, they’re bound to not have the same earthbound concerns that you do. Anthropomorphizing non-human (or even non-living) beings is an age-old practice, but to be faithful to his character, I tried my best to twist my writing voice into a different shape—a shape that more befits the prince of a realm that is somewhat humanoid but very different from what we know on Earth. And in order to do that, I did four things: 

I changed my prose from past to present tense; it sounds more immediate and assertive

I read three books, written in present tense, where the prose mimics what I imagine Loki would sound like in his own head

I made a huge spread of everything about Loki (both canon and my own orginal additions) that would inform his motivations, internal concerns, emotional responses, and decision-making processes

I drowned myself in Loki fanwork

Immersion is key! If you saturate your brain in a specific type of rhetoric or style, that’s what’s likeliest to come out of your productive process at the end. So controlling what you read/watch/listen to will help control your writing style too.

 (2) This further breaks down what I just said in the third bullet point above. Before I start writing from a specific character’s perspective, I’ll take the time to brainstorm and build that character from the ground up. This might take a day or two and includes a staggering amount of detail—just as much detail as mine or your life might comprise. Silly little things like favorite colors and foods, hobbies, dislikes. Oftentimes, if you’re a fic writer, this is easier because canon gives it to you. Those amazing wiki-pages exist to make your life easier in this regard. (Bless.) What canon doesn’t give you is where you can dig in. Go deeper. Pin your character down. Think about more serious considerations like emotional triggers, conscious motivations, subconscious motivations, coping and defense mechanisms. When hurt or under stress, are they the type to lash out or curl in? Are they the type to hold on to a grudge, or do they prefer to forgive and forget? Do they get hurt easily or do they have a thick skin? I imagine the character’s relationships in life, I rank them and network them in my head. Who do they run to when they need advice? Who do they like hanging out with when they’re happy? Who annoys them, who inspires them, who scares them, who do they want to be like? Even if these questions aren’t necessarily things you might discuss in your fic, it helps inform this person you’re writing about, so it helps you keep a clearer and more consistent mental picture of them as you go.

But most critical of all, I sit and imagine myself in their shoes and think of how they perceive themselves. That is a major factor when writing, because that’s what their head-voice will sound like. And if the story is written from their perspective, then that means you, writer, are writing in that head-voice!

Here’s a more HITL-specific example (I’ll try not to spoil too much lol):

Sasuke

How he sees himself:

Ordinary; not very impressive as a shinobi, but not absolutely terrible either – just ordinary

Average looking

A slow, impatient learner

Awkward with people, but polite and with good intentions

Emotionally stable

A good reader and listener

How he actually is from someone else’s POV:

Incredibly skilled for his age and level as a shinobi

Actually quite handsome

An intuitive learner, very tenacious and will keep at a task forever until he gets it just right; perfectionist much

Quiet, polite, notices a lot about how others act

Absolutely does not handle emotions well

Selective listener; sometimes only hears what he wants to hear

Rationales:

He’s surrounded by a clan of perfectionists and overachievers who constantly laud his aniki for being a genius while paying him no attention. Of course he thinks he’s ordinary.

No one ever compliments him for his looks in the clan compound, and what he sees in the mirror looks just like a younger version of everyone around him. Of course he thinks he’s average, even though he actually has looks.

Because he’s largely self-taught (except for when Obaa-sama teaches him), he thinks he’s slow. (Ever learned a new skill or maybe even a new language by yourself? I have. I can tell you that my perception of how much time I spent learning ‘basics’ was skewed.) He also holds himself to a higher than normal standard because that’s what gets him positive attention (or attention at all) within his family. Add the fact that Itachi was there blazing through everything before him, and it’s suddenly easy to understand why Sasuke thinks the worst of himself as a student. But he (and Naruto) are actually fast learners—we see this even in canon—and both of them boast high levels of natural intuition, or as I (the neuroscientist) likes to call it, pattern recognition. Some people are naturally better at this than others; there have been extensive tests done to show it. But we also know intuition can be trained, so the more Sasuke works at something, the better he gets, and the faster he learns the next skill—as long as the learning is patterned. Which is why Orochimaru, who has picked up on this trait, walks them through learning each jutsu in a stepwise manner every time.

Sasuke doesn’t have a lot of social interaction outside of his family. The Uchiha clan in this fic is very segregated from the rest of the village, so if you’re not active as a shinobi, you probably don’t get out of the compound much. Interacting with people probably intimidates Sasuke a lot so he feels awkward about it and reverts back to habits of politeness and silence that he was taught from childhood. That doesn’t mean that he’s not paying attention, however; Sasuke is naturally observant and remembers a lot about how people act (and not so much what they say). I have a theory about this related to the Sharingan but I won’t go into too much here because it would be a straight-up spoiler, sorry. :D

He thinks he’s emotionally stable because he doesn’t remember many incidents of severe emotional upheaval in his life. That’s because he hasn’t had them; apart from the whole thing with Itachi, he’s been fairly sheltered his whole life. But he actually doesn’t handle emotions well—something he’s about to find out soon enough—and for the same reason! He hasn’t been exposed to an extensive range of it.

Because he’s largely self-taught, he has confidence in his reading skills. He also remembers all of Obaa-sama’s stories so he thinks he’s a good listener. Well, he is—to an extent. If he wants to listen, he will. If he doesn’t, he’s just as proficient as Naruto at pigheadedness. (I think it’s an Uchiha trait too lmao.)

That was a lot, right? But you can see that if I’m writing from Sasuke’s POV, I have to keep a different set of pointers than if I’m writing from Naruto’s POV about Sasuke. The way I think of it is like changing lenses or shades depending on the light outside.

A few more techniques/guidelines I use:

Stay consistent with vocabulary. Orochimaru is far more verbose than the rest of them, Shikamaru right behind him, and Naruto uses shorter, simpler words. You can even assign particular words to a character, a word only they would use when referring to something. This applies to how your character addresses other people too, i.e. Orochimaru calls them ‘little ones’; Shikamaru calls his dad ‘oyaji’ in front of his peers but ‘otou-san’ in front of his sensei; Naruto is quick to give people nicknames and most of the time it sticks.

Watch the adjectives; different people describe things differently. Orochimaru uses more nuanced words that can mean different things depending on the situation and mood; Naruto thinks in terms of emotions, a lot of how does this make me feel; Sasuke is very visual and notices a lot of colors.

Use speech habits wisely; how your character talks should reflect their life. Just like accents, speech habits can tell a lot about a person. Sasuke always speaks politely because it’s how he’s supposed to talk at home, otherwise there’d be trouble. Naruto grew up in a poorer district and had no one to really teach him how to talk politely, so he’s very casual. Shikamaru cusses at age eleven because his parents and family are incredibly laissez-faire and honest around him, so he thinks it’s acceptable and normal (and he was never reprimanded for it).

Play with your tenses. Writing in past tense sounds and feels very different from writing in present tense. Depending on your character, one or the other might sound more appropriate. There are some expressions and figures of speech that sound fine when written in past tense but awkward when written in present tense, so that will end up inadvertently changing your prose a bit, which can be useful.

Read your work out loud. Cardinal rule of prose-writing. What looks good on paper doesn’t always sound good when read out loud. If you read it and it doesn’t sound like how your character talks, time for a vibe check. You might need to change a few words and move sentences around, or you might need a complete overhaul… an editor (and I mean an editor, not just a beta-reader) can usually help you out.

 A note about editors vs beta-readers:

There is a cardinal difference! A beta-reader is usually not professionally trained but should be experienced enough to point out things that aren’t right. In fandom, I’ve found that beta-readers mostly focus on a story’s general feel, flow and readability, sometimes character consistency, sometimes they point out typos and mistakes. An editor goes further than that. I’m fortunate to have Tria (aventria) who has edited my work for, gosh, 14 years now, fuck, we’re old! I call her my editor because when she goes through a piece, she will fix everything and make my draft bleed and I love it. (I actually get a little upset when she doesn’t fix anything, even if that means everything was good.) As an editor, she does a vibe check and looks for typos/errors, yes, but she also critiques the prose extensively. She can rearrange phrases or entire paragraphs for better flow. She will cut out entire scenes or make me rewrite them if they’re that bad. Like a copy editor, she looks at stylistic inconsistencies, grammar errors, and iffy word use. She’ll usually suggest or replace the offending word altogether. She has a lot of freedom with the work and can actually kick a piece to the curb if it’s really that shitty. She also questions plot progression, character development, and the relevance of a scene. (She’s made me cut out many, many scenes.) – That all being said, it’s not easy finding an editor, much less a good one. It also has to be someone you trust to have this much power over your work. It’s worth it, however, and my writing has gotten so much better because of the help.

If you’ve read this far, wow, thanks! You’re also probably thinking, “Shit, she takes this too seriously. It’s just a fic.”

I have… gotten into fights in the past before because of this. I feel strongly about the stuff I write. Just because it’s fanfiction doesn’t mean it isn’t a labor of love. I’m a perfectionist by nature, so that’s why I put so much time and effort into what amounts to ‘just a fic.’ And you know what? At the end of the day, writing it gives me satisfaction and happiness, so I will keep pouring into it as much as I can. It’s just a bonus to hear that other people are enjoying it too. (Yes, I’m one of those weirdos who intensely enjoy reading my own work…)

 Aaand the final point:

(3) I double-majored in psychology for undergrad and have by now accumulated thousands of hours of clinical hours spent using the theories and techniques I learned from those classes on real people. I’m also specializing in neuroscience, so a portion of my time is spent in psychiatry. Characterization was actually not one of my writing strengths at first, but I definitely noticed leaps in improvement after my clinical rotation started. People skills are just that: skills which are honed with practice. It’s amazing how much you learn about how people think and what make them tick when you interact with a whole spectrum of examples: from your neurotypical everyday well-adjusted person, to high-functioning neurotics and obsessives, to patients who have suffered complex stroke syndromes, to encephalitic brains burning under septic fevers, to druggies stoned so high they’ve breached the atmosphere, to patients whose brains are growing insidious tumors, to schizophrenics and catatonics and the depressed. My job also allows me the rare opportunity to interact with people from all walks of life. All I need to do if I wanted insight about how life is for soldiers who served in an active warzone, for example, is to hit up Bill at the ICU and ask for stories about Korea and the Gulf and Vietnam. Or if I wanted to know about how to survive the Rwandan genocide, I could sit down with Amida, who survived it as a barely-teenager with her brother and sister in tow while only “losing my innocence and an eye.” Or I could talk to Heather, who is building a life with her husband and two rambunctious children, for a perspective on the daily concerns and delights of a ‘perfectly normal and ordinary’ working mother. (Her words, not mine; Heather is amazing even if she eats the doctor’s lounge out of Tita Annabel’s cookies.) Anyway, you get my point. When I write, I almost always write about people, so it makes sense that a lot of my inspiration comes from people too. A lot of my original characters—and even some that are not—often speak with the voices and inflections of people I know in real life. You probably have people with interesting stories to tell in your life; you just have to work up the courage to ask and take the time to listen. You’d be surprised at what you learn!

A few helpful writing resources: (most of these are classics)

The Elements of Style by Strunk & White

The First Five Pages by Noah Lukeman

How to Read a Book by Mortimer Adler and Charles van Doren

And more books that helped me get into people’s heads:

Hallucinations by Dr. Oliver Sacks

The Noonday Demon by Andrew Solomon

Far From the Tree by Andrew Solomon

The Lucifer Effect by Philip Zimbardo

Admirable Evasions by Theodore Dalrymple

I hope you got something out of that. Again, feel free to drop me an ask if you have any questions or want to chat!

#fanfic #on writing #fandom: naruto #answers

[sunnyrosewritesstuff]

Day 6 Hobbit Plot Bunnies

Title: T’was Wit That Slew the Dragon

Summary:  King Kong AU. Dain is a movie director who doesn’t mind filming in the most exotic, dangerous locations to get the shot he wants. Thorin owns Erebor Pictures and has a habit of tackling risky projects, and making a killing off of them. Bilbo is a screenwriter fresh on the scene, and his friendship with Gandalf gets his script on Thorin Durin’s desk with Dain as director. His dream come true quickly changes into a nightmare when they land on Dol Guldur and a handful of cannibalistic locals sacrifice him to a red dragon. At least the dragon appreciates his dry wit.

POV: Various. Mostly Bilbo, but certainly a lot of Dain and Thorin thrown in.

The water was blue. It was more blue than he ever imagined it could be. As a writer he knew several different names for the color blue: cerulean, sapphire, cobalt, turquoise. Yet, when faced with the sheer depth of the ocean, he felt like ‘blue’ was the most apt description.

“I certainly hope you aren’t getting sick, Mr. Baggins.”

Bilbo spun around, squinting against the fading sun’s rays to face the taller man with eyes the same color as the ocean who was responsible for Bilbo’s current adventure. A smile split his face, and he took a step closer.

“Not at all, Mr. Durin.” He stated playfully. “I was actually trying to come up with a better word for the ocean than just ‘blue’.”

Thorin released a laugh shoving his hands into his pockets.

“And yet you’re our writer for this little production.”

“An opportunity I’ve been most grateful for.”

“So you’ve told me.”

Thorin’s soft baritone sent a shiver down Bilbo’s spine. He was rendered absolutely speechless as Thorin’s dark hair and beard stood in stark contrast to the pink and purples of the sky above. They were only mere inches apart now. A single step and he could reach up and kiss that gorgeous face like he’s longed to since stepping foot on this bloody boat.

The boat gave a little jump, and Bilbo stumbled to get his legs back under him only to stumble right into Thorin’s chest.

“Careful.” Thorin grunted as his arms encircled Bilbo’s smaller figure.

His heart felt like it was going rabbit out of his chest as his nerves singed under Thorin’s touch. Bilbo looked up to see he was in a perfect position now. Their breaths mingled, and if he just extended himself maybe a centimeter more…

The next jump by the boat shot Bilbo’s nose painfully into the underside of Thorin’s chin. They broke apart clutching the aforementioned body parts, giving each other a look, and laughing awkwardly. 

“I guess the waters are getting rough. Maybe we should head inside?” Thorin urged.

Bilbo nodded both simultaneously thanking and cursing his luck. Honestly, what was he thinking? Thorin was owner and producer at Erebor Pictures. As an emerging screenwriter, this was going to be his first big production. He couldn’t be developing crushes on the one person who controlled his big break. Something he has been telling himself for the entire five months he’s gotten to know Thorin. And to think, he almost said no.

Thorin opened the hatch door for Bilbo, and he took the five steps down into the common area. The crew was gathered around the massive round table playing cards and drinking as they have done nearly every night since boarding.

“Bilbo! Come join us.” Bofur greeted joyfully.

“Thanks, but I think I’ve won enough money off the lot of you.” He teased.

There were roars of laughter and verbal denials at his words.

“I’m still convinced you cheated.” Nori eyed him suspiciously.

“I’ll have you know, my mother had seven older brothers. It’s not my fault they were good teachers. Plus, you get them drunk enough, and they don’t notice you sneaking a few cards under the table.”

Thorin’s chuckles were heavy and close enough to ruffle the curls around his right ear. Bilbo didn’t put up much resistance as he was pulled away from the mirth at the table and Nori’s shouts of ‘thieving writers’ following them. They walked to the other end before taking the staircase that led up to the next level. Balin, Dain, and Dwalin were already there huddled around Balin’s iPad.

“Thorin! Mr. Baggins! Good of you to join us.” Dain grinned being the first to notice them.

“Not to sound too much like a child on a car trip, but are we there yet?” Bilbo sighed as he flopped down on the U-shaped couch.

“Dain seems to think we’ll arrive by tomorrow.” Dwalin informed him, leaning back with his arms crossed.

“Good. And the cast?” Thorin questioned sitting much more gracefully beside Bilbo.

“Should be about four to five days behind us.” Balin answered.

“Excellent.” Thorin nodded.

His arm slipped seamlessly behind Bilbo’s head, and the writer had to force his body to remain natural and not lean back too enthusiastically. Even if Thorin’s fingers were ghosting the edge of his curls.

It was still a little surreal to be thinking in a matter of days they would actually be working on a movie that Bilbo wrote. He never once thought he’d get to this point. Hamlet, Beowulf, Jane Eyre, these were the works that had inspired Bilbo in his secondary years to put some serious thought into becoming a writer. He had always wanted to leave behind a literary classic that’s language and prose would be talked about in future literature classes. 

Unfortunately, he was growing up in a generation that was losing interest more and more in the written word. He can specifically remember his university advisor telling him that if he wanted to see any shot of success, he better hope his work gets picked up in film or play. So he made the choice to be a screenwriter. His specialty was in dialogue anyways, so he could easily leave a legacy in clever word play. Sure, it was more underappreciated than being an author, but in the end he just wanted to see something of his become immortalized.

He had written tales of hobbits riddling with dragons, Arthurian legends full of heroic deeds, and gorgeous remakes of old fairy tales. However, in his fifteen year career, if he could call it that, he couldn’t get a single studio interested. Gandalf, his agent and dear friend of the family, had asked him to make something with a little more action and humor pertaining to this era. So he wrote El Dorado. A story of two friends who accidentally stowed away on Cortes’ ship, and end up discovering the city of gold before him.

It was certainly what Gandalf had asked him for, and he had even simplified the language to allow it to be marketed to children, thus increasing his reach. He never once thought this slapshot work would get picked over what he considered his masterpieces. He had almost declined Thorin’s offer on principle alone. Being where he was now though, he was extremely glad he hadn’t.

“I’ve been meaning to ask, but how did you find this place again, Dain?” Bilbo questioned curiously.

“Dain served in the navy.” Thorin murmured in his ear.

“Aye.” Dain agreed looking between the two of them curiously. “I was always impressed to learn there were still undiscovered islands out there. So I made notes on which ones to go back to explore later. It’s really come in handy as a director.”

Bilbo’s brows furrowed. “So if they’re undiscovered, how do you know they’re...you know, safe?”

“Well that’s why we’re getting here before the others!” Dain bellowed.

Bilbo shifted in his seat as his imagination ran away with images of being mauled by tigers or other such beasts.

“Don’t worry, nothing’s going to happen.” Thorin eased, his hand giving his shoulder a small squeeze.

Bilbo felt the weight of others’ gazes at the comforting gesture. The privacy from earlier was now lacking, and Bilbo found himself irrationally uncomfortable with Thorin’s forwardness. After all, he was supposed to be a professional. He jumped up afraid that if his face got any redder, he would have to blame it on the sun. He gave a large stretch backtracking towards the staircase.

“Well, I should probably go to bed. Big day tomorrow.” He excused himself.

Dain and Dwalin looked amused. Balin was sympathetic, and Bilbo tried not to think too hard on Thorin’s disappointed face. They all bid him good night, and Bilbo retreated to his room. There would be plenty of time to explore the budding relationship he was creating with Thorin later. Dol Guldur awaited them on the morn.

#7 days of plot bunnies #bagginshield #thilbo #birthdayplotbunnies #starterdrabble #I was trying something different #I really just couldn't get the idea of Smaug on Big Ben out of my head

[awkwardnessandbaseball]

I can't believe we're here at the end!!! The good news is that the 1-2 chapter (just deciding how to split it up) companion piece from Killian's POV will be posted on Monday! Thank you so much for reading this story that I truly never thought I would finish. It means everything to me that people liked it even the tiniest bit, and I hope this last chapter is as satisfying for you to read as it was for me to write. (Also, I took some liberties with the whole house-purchasing process, so... bear with me, okay?)

Once again, so many thanks to: @cspupstravaganza, @sherlockianwhovian , @lassluna

Tag list: @quirkykayleetam, @squidvisious, @carpedzem, @revanmeetra87, @kmomof4, @capnjay21 

AO3 if that’s your jam: Prologue | Ch1 | Ch2 | Ch3 | Ch4 | Ch5 | Ch6 | Ch7

I’d Pick You (and Your Little Dog, Too)

A Captain Swan Pupstravaganza Story

Summary: According to everyone in the known universe, Emma Nolan’s dog is supposed to lead her to her soulmate. But she’s not even sure if she wants that. Soulmates are pretty idealistic, don’t you think?

Chapter Seven:

Killian is going to propose.

Emma can feel it in her bones. No, in her very soul. Which makes sense since, you know, soulmates and all.

She can’t figure out when he’s going to do it, or where. He hasn’t asked her to go out to any special dinners. They haven’t made any plans to take the boat out yet, as apparently Killian wants it to be perfect before they take her on her maiden voyage as The Jolly Roger.

She supposes that could be why he wants to make it perfect, if he wants to propose on the boat. But she really just wants him to do it already and stop making her wait.

It’s probably her own fault, really. The way she’d taken ages to let him in, and then when he’d given her Liam’s ring, she’d probably looked about ready to run straight across the town line and never look back.

But she’s ready now.

She wants to be married to Killian Jones. She knows, now, that the feeling she’d had when she watched her brother get married has a name. It’s called jealousy, and she’s ready to stop feeling it. She wants to be married, too, not on the outside looking in on a happy couple with rings and on their way to starting a family.

Emma has thought about this a lot, and she’s decided that the best way to tell Killian that she’s ready is to show him. He’s given her a sentimental ring, bought her a freaking boat. He’s waited for her at every step of their relationship. So it’s time for Emma to pull off some big grand gesture or make a romantic speech. Or something.

The problem is that Killian seems to have an endless well of sentimental items and stories to give as romantic gifts, and Emma has none.

Until the house goes up for sale.

The house that she and David grew up in has changed a lot over the past fifteen years. The couple that bought it after their parents died apparently almost tore it down entirely, but decided on a simpler remodel. A paint job, a new fence, and a wraparound porch are the most obvious changes that Emma’s noticed over the years, but she has no idea what it looks like inside. She’s walking past it, as she does on her morning walks with Rascal, and she sees the For Sale sign out front, along with a small “OPEN HOUSE TODAY!” sign beside it.

It won’t hurt to look, Emma tells herself, so she texts David that she’ll be late to work -- or later than usual, really.

The inside is different. The shape is the same, all of the walls and doors exactly where she remembers them. But the colors are all off. The walls were all pale yellows and blues, with white trim, but now everything is a stale gray. Where the floorboards had been faded with time, now they’re stark black.

We’ll fix it up, Emma thinks. And then she stops the self-guided tour and freezes for a moment. She waits for the lead ball in her stomach to form, or for the stutter of her heartbeat that accompanies frightening thoughts about the future. But none of it comes.

“Excuse me,” she calls when she finds the realtor. He’s from a company called Ozman Realty from the next town over, so she doesn’t recognize him. “What’s the asking price on this house?”

“Two-hundred-thousand,” the man tells her. He smiles, but it’s hard and somehow almost… slimey. Emma doesn’t like it, but she doesn’t really have a choice in who’s selling the home she wants to buy. “I should tell you, we’ve already had an offer today, and the sign only went up this morning.”

“Dammit, David,” Emma grumbles “One moment, please.” She pulls her phone out and angrily dials her brother.

“Are you even going to bother coming in today?” he teases her.

“Are you trying to buy the old house out from under me?” She has no time for the teasing. She’s doing this, dammit.

“Wait, what?” David pauses. “Mom and Dad’s house is up for sale?”

“Yes, David! Keep up!” Emma yells into the phone. “Are you telling me you didn’t put this bid on it?”

“No, Emma, I had no idea.” He sounds sincere.

“Well… do you… I mean are you going to bid on it? Now that you know?” Emma runs a hand through her hair, finally letting her nerves catch up to her.

“No, Mary Margaret and I are uh… we’re building our own house, actually. We bought some property on the edge of town. We were hoping to keep it a surprise until, you know, there’s actually a house there.” David stops talking and Emma can picture him leaning forward on his desk, brows creasing together. “Are you going to buy the house, Emma?”

“Yeah, I think I am.” She bites her lip. “Or at least I’m going to try! Someone’s already put a bid on it, so I’ve gotta go.”

“You can use the inheritance.” David blurts out before she can hang up. “I used some of it to buy the property, but the rest is yours.”

When the Nolan twins had turned 18, they’d been shocked to learn that their parents had had a large amount of money set aside for them. They’d lived modestly, taken few family trips, so their parents must have spent all that time saving up without their children's knowledge. Emma had wanted to take a vacation immediately, somewhere warm and tropical and distinctly far away from Storybrooke just for a week, maybe two. But David had insisted that they save it.

“Mom and Dad would want us to use it for our futures, Emma, don’t you think?”

Reluctantly, Emma had agreed. But what was more ‘for our future’ than this house?

Still, she felt… wrong using so much of it.

“That’s our money, David. Not mine alone. How much did you use?” It’s way too early for this conversation -- Emma has only had one cup of coffee, courtesy of Killian. It’s not enough.

“I used fifty-thousand. There’s still a couple hundred thousand left. Seriously, Emma. Use it. I want you to. And if we need more down the line, we’ll figure it out.”

“I’ll think about it. See you soon.”

Emma wanders through the house, looking for the realtor again.

“I’ve got the full amount in my bank account. I’ll pay it up front. I want this house.”

She knows it’s not a good technique. You’re supposed to low-ball or pretend you’re not as interested as you are. But truthfully, Emma doesn’t care. She wants this fucking house.

The realtor looks thrown off by her forwardness, but he puts on his fake smile quickly.

“I’ll have to contact the buyer from this morning and give them a chance to counter,” he tells her.

Seriously?

“Yeah, sure, fine.”

He steps out of the room to make the call and Emma wanders through the living room, pointing out memories to Rascal.

“There was a dent in that wall from when David and I got into a wrestling match once. His head hit right below that window. He needed stitches.” Rascal sniffs the part of the wall she’s pointing to. “And over here--”

“Miss, uh, I didn’t catch your name,” the realtor calls.

“Emma No-- Emma Swan,” she tells him. Storybrooke is a small town, and while most of its inhabitants know her mother’s maiden name, it won’t be their first thought if word gets out that there’s a bid on the house. She just doesn’t want this to get back to Killian.

“Well, Miss Swan, the other bidder has backed down. We’ll just need you to get the money and sign some paperwork, and the house is yours. You skipped quite a few steps by having the money up front,” he jokes. “Why don’t we meet at the seafood restaurant I saw by the docks at 7 tonight and make everything official?”

“Why would we meet at a restaurant?” Emma asks suspiciously.

“Oh well… I was hoping we could…,” he stammers out.

“I don’t even know your name. And you’re asking me on a date?” She crosses her arms and arches an eyebrow. Rascal comes up beside her, sensing the tension.

The man, undeterred, simply holds out a hand.

“Walsh Ozman, of Ozman Realty,” he’s grinning, as if expecting Emma to be impressed.

“Emma Swan, sheriff and home buyer. As in, customer. As in, inappropriate to ask out.” She takes his hand and shakes it firmly, hammering her point home: I’m in charge, not you. For good measure, Rascal growls and stares at the realtor, unblinking.

Walsh clears his throat and takes a step back, eyeing both Emma and Rascal warily.

“Here’s my card. You can come by my office this evening.”

“Thanks.”

*****

Emma’s practically vibrating with excitement for the rest of the day. Creepy realtor aside, she’s bought her old house. For herself. For herself and Killian.

If this doesn’t show him she’s ready to move forward, nothing will.

When she gets home that night, brand new house keys in hand, Killian’s camped out in front of the TV holding a beer. It’s not unlike him to have a drink to unwind after work, but the fact that it’s a beer instead of a nice glass of rum makes Emma think that he’s been stewing on something all day, and he doesn’t want his anger to get the best of him. And drunk Killian is a bit more emotional than the sober version.

“Hey, babe,” Emma calls from the doorway. She begins the process of untying and removing her work shoes in favor of putting on her more comfortable sneakers. “How was your day?”

“Fine,” he answers, not even trying to convince her that it’s true. “Yours?” She hears his footsteps coming towards her.

“It was great, actually. You okay? You look…” Emma can’t quite put her finger on how he looks. Disappointed? Angry? Tired? A combination?

“Aye, I’m fine, love. I just… had a bit of a disappointment today.” He steps towards her, pulling her body flush against his. “I’m glad you’re home.”

She kisses him slowly, just for a moment or two, before pulling back. He looks down at her curiously.

“I wanna show you something,” she whispers. “Put your shoes on.”

“It’s nearly eight, Swan.” He seems to realize what an old man he sounds like, because he shakes his head. “I was just hoping we could stay in tonight.”

“Do you trust me?”

“Implicitly,” he answers automatically.

“Then put on your shoes.” She punctuates the sentence with a quick kiss on his cheek, scruff scratching at her lips.

She’s not sure how they figured out the logistics of getting into a car with two humans and two dogs and not a bit of thought. She opens the driver’s side door and both Rascal and Procella scramble in and hop in the back seat, lying more on top of each other than next to each other. They’ve done it since the first time they got into the same car, back when Emma and David had gotten the call about loose dogs at the park. It strikes Emma how long ago that was, how much things have changed, and her excitement is renewed.

Killian doesn’t complain on the drive over, despite his initial hesitation. Emma can tell he’s had a rough day, though she’s not sure why and she knows she should have asked. But… this is important and huge and hopefully it’ll make whatever it is that happened not even matter anymore.

She bites her lip as the niggling little voice in her head, the one that’s been quiet since the moment she kissed Killian’s cheek in the park on one of their first lunch dates, suddenly starts screaming inside of her head.

What if he thinks I’m crazy? What if he doesn’t want to move into the house? What if he isn’t ready? What if he’s not planning to propose, and I’ve done this huge gesture and he doesn’t get it? What if he wants to keep things the way they are? Or what if he takes one look at the huge house -- clearly meant for a family -- and runs straight out of town? What if it’s too much? What if--

“Swan, where are we going?” Killian’s voice jolts her back to reality. He’s quiet in the darkness, a softness to his voice that she can’t quite figure out.

“I bought something I want to show you.”

“Emma, did you--”

“We’re almost there,” she says, and she feels Killian staring at her. Her voice cracks at the end, and her knuckles are white on the steering wheel. What have I done?

If he leaves, she doesn’t know what she’ll do.

She pulls up to the curb across the street and climbs out without looking at him.

Before she even reaches the gate, he’s laughing. She can hear him start to chuckle, and then it grows into a full-on belly laugh.

Oh God, he thinks I’m crazy. Why did I--

“Swan, you bloody brilliant woman!” He’s right behind her now, grabbing her around the waist.

“You don’t even… what?” Emma is so very confused.

“You’re the buyer? I should have known.”

And then the pieces click into place.

“Were you the first bidder?” She turns around in his arms. He’s smiling so wide it nearly reaches both ears, and finally that loud voice in her head quiets down again. She smacks his chest once for good measure. “I was so angry!”

“How did you pay the whole thing up front?” He’s still laughing as he reaches up to brush a loose strand of hair away from her face.

“Inheritance,” Emma says simply. “Why were you trying to buy my house, Killan?”

“For you, of course.” His smile changes then, and his face turns serious. “I work with the man who lived here, Kris. He and his wife are adventuring around the country or something. They’ve been talking about it for weeks. So I knew the house was going up.” Killian shrugs. “I wanted to surprise you, but it seems you got me first.”

“They moved out last week, before it even went up,” Emma tells him, and he’s already nodding because he already knows. “So, we can go in. If you want.”

He smiles again, and she wonders briefly how she could have ever doubted him. Because of course he doesn’t think she’s crazy. Of course their minds were in the exact same place.

Soulmates, she thinks to herself.

They step inside the house, and Emma flips the lightswitch on. It’s still empty, of course, and for a moment, the space feels cavernous and huge. But then Rascal and Procella run out in front of her and start sniffing every corner, every inch of the baseboards. And it’s strange that something so simple eases Emma’s mind, but it does.

“I’m glad you brought me here, Swan,” Killian whispers from behind her. “I had big plans for this house, and I thought they’d all been dashed.” He kisses the skin just underneath her ear. “But now, hope is renewed.”

“Big plans?” Emma asks.

“Oh, aye. In fact, now seems as good a time as any, don’t you think?”

He moves out from behind her and she feels an immediate sense of loss when the warmth is gone. But then he’s in front of her, that same nervous look on his face that he’d had the first time he asked her to lunch.

Emma loves being right.

He gets down on one knee, and in a move that’s so natural that it seems rehearsed, Rascal and Procella come up on either side of him and sit patiently. There are six eyes staring at Emma and watching her start to cry.

“I feel like we’ve done a lot of things backwards, Swan. We met before I even knew I had a soulmate. I thought I’d be alone forever, adrift at sea without anyone for company. But then you and Rascal came along, and you brought me Procella. And then, by some miracle, you let me in. And you gave me something I never thought I would have: true love. And now, Emma Nolan, I have to ask you a very important question.” He pauses, tears threatening to fall from his eyes as well. “Will you marry me?”

He’s barely gotten the question out before she’s whispering yes. And then screaming it.

“Yes! Killian, yes.” And then they’re kissing, in the living room of their house, and it is, without a doubt, perfect.

#cspupstravaganza #captain swan #captain swan fanfic #cs fanfic #cs ff #caitlin writes

[petersboyfriendsonofthor]

Sinister Six: OC!Male Reader x Peter Parker

Part I of II

Warnings: violence, lots and lots of violence, language, some angst, and a little more VIOLENCE. Also potentially awkward writing style. Wrote half of this ten months ago and my writing style/quality shifted during that time. 

Tagging some folks who might be interested: @the-claire-bitch-project @bringmethehorizonandpizza @madmadmilk @all-about-tom @keepingupwiththeparkers

Feel free to ask me about the OC, my POV choice, and tell me what you thought of it!

Description: Peter takes on more than he can handle, and you have to rush to save him

You sat on the couch at Peter and May’s apartment, lazily making out. Date night was going well so far. May was out of town for the weekend and most of the Avengers were off on various missions around the world, leaving you and Peter with an apartment to yourselves and no obligations to fulfill. The Netflix movie was long forgotten as your hand cupped Peter’s face. His hands ran over your chest as you moved your lips along his jawline. 

“Mmmh,” he moaned before tensing up. “Baby wait, stop.” He pushed you away. You looked at him with a worried expression. 

“Did I do something wrong?” You asked. He shook his head. 

“No no, it’s just, my spider-sense is tingling.” He left the couch to find his suit. You went after him. 

“Peter, we’ve been planning this alone time for over a month!” You entered his room to find him slipping the suit on. “I’m sure it’s just a mugging or something, the police can handle that. It’s their job, you know.”

“I know I know,” he replied. “But this feel different. I think it’s that Rhino guy. He must have broken out of jail again.” Peter moved to the window, ready to open it. 

“Need me to come?” you offered. “I’m pretty handy in a fight, you know. Plus, we could spend time together.” Peter walked over to you and cupped your face. 

“I love you, but I can handle this on my own,” he said. “Plus, I really don’t want to risk you getting hurt.” You just laughed. 

“Dude, I’m part god. I am pretty confident some guy in a rhino mech suit isn’t gonna do much damage.”

“Well, actually, he’s been genetically enhanced now, so he IS the Rhino.”

“All the more reason for me to come.” 

“I handled it last time easily enough. He’s not all that bright, so it should be a walk in the park!” 

You laughed, kissing him deeply. “Please come home safe. And call if you need help.”

“I got it, thanks,” Peter said, opening the window and swinging out into the night. 

For the next half hour, you couldn’t stop pacing. Something was gnawing at your insides. This didn’t feel like an ordinary patrol. Against your better judgment, you summoned the remote to your hand and turned on the news. Your heart stopped at the image on the screen. 

The footage showed Spider-Man engaged in combat with not only Rhino, but the Vulture, Scorpion, The Green Goblin, Electro, and Doctor Octopus. Peter successfully uses his webs to swing the Goblin’s Speeder into Vulture, sending them both spiraling out of control. Doc Ock, however, uses one of his vibranium arms to grab Peter by the leg and throw him into the camera crew, cutting out the feed. As the anchor returns to the screen, you’re already racing for the window. 

You double-tap your wristwatch, a birthday present from Tony, and your suit was constructed from the vibranium nanoparts kept within the watch. What happens when you put Shuri, Tony Stark, Hank Pym, Bruce Banner, and Peter Parker all in one room for thirty-six hours? Magic, that’s what. Shuri found a way to enhance Tony’s nanopart suit construction technology with Vibranium, and Pym and Banner were able to store all of the needed parts inside of a quantum storage unit inside of the watch. Peter was there mostly for stylistic design. He was the one to credit for the look of the suit. 

The Vibranium nano parts washed over your right arm, enveloping your arm with a glove and a wrist gauntlet. Your chest was covered with a vibranium muscled breastplate, and a modified, sleeker version of a Viking helm formed over your head. A Vibranium chain mail hauberk materialized over your torso, and greaves appeared over your calves and feet. You looked every bit a Viking as you had all those years in the past. Using some of the magic Loki taught you, you swapped out your street clothes for a crimson cloak emblazoned with a golden dragon. A vibranium shield formed on your left wrist, and a spear in your right. You rolled your neck, bounced on the balls of your feet, and leaped out of the window, using your powers to fly towards the fight in Midtown Manhattan. 

Using your HUD you called Tony, who didn’t pick up. Next, you tried Ned. He answered. 

“Chase, thank God,” he said, his voice filled with worry. “I’m watching the news right now. It doesn’t look good.”

“Yeah I know, I’m on my way to help him,” you said. “Tony didn’t pick up. You remember that number I told you to call if there was an emergency of Superhero proportions?”

“Yeah.”

“Good. Call it,” you ordered. “And don’t stop until you’ve reached one of the other Avengers, understand?”

“I got it.” Where there was once fear and worry, there was now only determination. Ned would do anything to help his friends, especially Peter, even if it meant facing a grumpy Happy Hogan. You ended the call just as the fight came into view. The police were being held back by Electro and Vulture, who had recovered from his earlier attack from Peter. Scorpion, Doc Ock, and the Green Goblin were giving Peter the fight of his life. Rhino was off in the bank nearby, looting the cash, gold, and other valuables in the safe-deposit boxes. The most pressing issue was Peter’s safety, so you wanted to see to that first. However, Electro and Vulture stood in the way. They stopped fighting the cops and turned their attention to you. 

“Well look what the cat dragged in,” Vulture growled, wings spreading menacingly. “Fresh out of the history museum, I see?”

“Can it, bird-for-brains,” you retorted. Admittedly, that wasn’t your best one-liner, and Electro seemed to think so. 

“The Hell kinda insult was that, kid?”

You shrugged. “Not my best work. Stark’s the best with those.” You propelled yourself forward to tackle the Vulture out of the sky when Electro shot a lightning blast at you. It scored a direct hit, and you stopped in your tracks. You slowly turned your head to face the surprised villain. 

“I’m the son of Thor, asshole. All you did was piss me off.” You charged your spear with electricity and hurled it at Electro. He didn’t have time to respond and was impaled and sent tumbling to the ground. You raised your shield and fought with Vulture. You nimbly dodged his bladed wings but took a kick to the jaw. He used this opportunity to grab you and slam you into the pavement below. Your armor took most of the damage, and you were able to throw him off. You extended your hand and made a grasping motion, grabbing him by influencing the air around him and threw him into a nearby building. You slammed him into the wall repeatedly before abandoning him for Peter, who was fighting for his life in a parking lot next to the bank. 

“F.R.I.D.A.Y., connect with KAREN, I need to communicate with Peter!” Peter’s voice soon filled your helmet. 

“Take THAT, armsy! OOF!” You watched as Peter took a hit from one of the Goblin’s grenades. Before he could recover, he was stung by Scorpion’s tail. He writhed in pain before Doc Ock grabbed him and flailed his body around, smashing him into any light posts, parked cars, and the ground. He finally threw your boyfriend into a brick wall and pinned him there with his metal arm. He raised another, the claws rotating like a drill, and prepared to smash in Peter’s head. One of the eyes on Peter’s mask was ripped off, and you could see that he was in a daze. 

“Peter!” you cried, flying down to assist your boyfriend. You threw your shield just like Cap had taught you, and it hit Doc’s arm at the right time, sending it into the wall a few feet from Peter’s head. Doc turned up to see where the projectile had come from, only to be met with your fist. He flew back into a parked car, smashing it. The arms went with him and Peter slumped to the ground, barely conscious. 

Scorpion and the Goblin both recovered from their initial shock and charged you. You used your wind powers to throw a pick-up truck at Scorpion, leaving only Goblin. He threw a grenade, which you forced back with a gust of wind towards the recovering Scorpion. You leapt into the air and punched Goblin off of his speeder. He grappled with you on the way down, however, and managed to land on top of you. He reared back his fist and punched you repeatedly. Your armor could take the pounding, but you couldn’t concentrate hard enough to summon lightning or force him off with your mind. Instead, you had the nano parts from your greaves reassemble on your wrist to form a small shield, which you raised just in time to block the Goblin’s next attack. 

“Ah!” He clutched his wrist. 

Ahh, much better, you thought before punching him off and sending him across the lot. The shield dissolved and reformed your greaves. You summoned back your shield with your magnetic wrist gauntlet, and it reattached itself to your wrist. You stuck it on your back and raced over to Peter’s side. 

He was in worse shape than you thought. Aside from his suit missing an eye, it was torn across the stomach and part of his left sleeve was gone. Additionally, he was bleeding from several cuts and scrapes. You weren’t a doctor, but you could just tell by the way he clutched his side that at least two ribs were broken.

“Chase? What the hell are you doing here?” he managed, wincing. 

 “Peter, baby, come on. I’m going to get you out of here.” You frantically tried to lift him, but he cried out in pain. 

“Stop stop,” he cried. “It hurts. Let me try to get up and help--”

“No no, you stay right there,” you ordered. “I’ll protect you.” You turned around to see the Sinister Six reforming, now including Rhino, who had successfully opened the vaults in the bank. Electro was absent, still pinned down by your electro-staff. Unfortunately, you needed that spear right about now, so you had to recall it, enabling a very pissed-off Electro to rejoin the battle. He could not harm you, however, so you didn’t think much of his presence in the parking lot. 

“Hopefully some of the Avengers get here in time,” you muttered. “I don’t know how long I can hold them off before I start to wear out.” Your powers were not limitless. They tire you out just as any other form of exercise would, and you had already expended a lot of energy. You put your shield back on your arm and braced for the fight. 

“We only want Spider-Man,” Doc Ock told you. “We will kill you if we have you, but there is no seed for you to die tonight, son.” 

“I have no intention of dying tonight, Octavius,” you shouted back. “And if you want Spider-Man, come and take him!” 

Vulture and Electro both dove for Peter while Rhino prepared to charge. Doc Ock sent his arms to rip off car doors, and the Goblin prepared more grenades. Scorpion charged at you from the flank. 

Doc Ock lobbed two car doors in your direction. Reaching out with your mind, you sent one flying up towards the Goblin, intercepting his grenades. The other one smacked Electro out of the air and into a wall. You turned and threw your shield at Vulture, who could not evade in time and was knocked out of the sky. You knew you couldn’t stop Rhino’s charge, so you grabbed a parked car with your mind and threw it at his head, steering the rampaging mutant towards Doc Ock. He used his arms to leap over Rhino and landed near you and Peter. 

You morphed your spear into a sword and recalled your shield. You managed to parry the attacks from Scorpion’s stinger and Ock’s arms at first. One of Ock’s arms tore away your shield, and you had to make a new one from parts from your greaves. Ock grabbed your exposed leg. The grab at your leg distracted you enough that you didn’t see Scorpion reach for your helmet, which he violently tore off. He began punching you repeatedly in the face. The taste of iron filled your mouth. Ock grabbed your face with his metal claws and began to squeeze. You cried out in pain until you saw your shield slam into the side of his head, sending him into a light post. You and Scorpion both turned to look in confusion to see Peter standing against the wall. 

Using his distraction to your advantage, you summoned your helmet to your hand and bashed Scorpion over the head. A kick combined with a gust of wind launched him into a building. You morphed your sword back into a spear and used it to channel a blast of lightning at Rhino, who was again preparing to charge. Out of the corner of your eye, you saw both Doc Ock and Electro recover. Deciding that Electro was less of a threat, you focused your attention on the Vibranium-armed villain. 

You jumped and weaved through his arms, getting in little strikes as the opportunities presented themselves. You punched the spectacles off of his face, which only enraged him. He managed to grab your arm and toss you into the same building you previously kicked Scorpion into. Scorpion grabbed you, stung you, and held you up to watch the scene in the parking lot unfold. The venom from the sting coursed through your veins. You could feel the burn travel throughout your body, as if someone filled your heart with sand and it was pumped to every last nook and cranny in your system. 

“You seem pretty protective of your Spider-friend there,” he rasped into your ear. “So that’s why you’re gonna watch him die before I kill you.”

“No!” you gasped through the pain. Between the venom and your frequent use of your powers, you were almost completely spent. You couldn’t muster the strength to break free of the villain’s grasp, not could you intervene in the parking lot battle. You felt utterly helpless to save Peter from a painful death. 

Peter tried to defend himself but was too weak. Doc Ock threw him into the side of the brick building, and Electro began electrocuting him. You could hear his screams through your comms channel. You only had a matter of moments before Electro would kill your boyfriend. 

Gathering your strength, you broke free of Scorpion’s hold and narrowly dodged an attack from his tail. You grabbed it and threw him at Electro, sending them both hurtling towards the ground. In one great bound you crossed the lot and landed in front of Peter. You summoned your shield just in time to block one of Goblin’s grenades, which sent you flying back into the wall. You landed next to Peter. 

His suit was charred, and so was some exposed skin. His eyes were bloodshot, and he was bleeding from so many cuts and scrapes. His suit was in tatters. There was no way he would survive another attack. You knew what you had to do. 

“Chase,” Peter croaked. “Chase I’m sorry. I’m sorry.”

“I’m gonna get you out of here, Peter,” you promised. You placed your hand on his thigh and sent all of the nanotech vibranium to Peter, covering him in a suit of vibranium. Repulsor jets formed and lifted him into the air. 

“FRIDAY, take him back to the compound and cut comms with KAREN. I don’t want Peter’s last memory of me to be the sounds of my death.”

“Got it, boss. It has been a pleasure serving you. Mister Stark would be proud, and so would your father.” 

You choked back a sob. “Thanks hun. Tell Peter I love him?”

“Absolutely. Anything else I can do?” The Sinister Six were beginning to reform for one final attack. You heard Peter frantically calling your name from within his full vibranium suit, but the sounds were muffled. You took one last look back at your boyfriend, your only reason to live in the twenty-first century. You locked eyes and sent him a look of reassurance, but his only showed panic and fear. 

“I love you, Peter. FRIDAY, send him off. I’ll hold them as long as I can. I’ll try not to make an embarrassing show of it. And you know what? There is something you can do for me. Search Spotify and play “Swedish Pagans” by Sabaton in my earpiece. I was born a Swedish Vikingr, and I’ll be damned if I don’t die like one.”

The song began to fill your head, and your old Viking heart swelled with pride. Peter blasted off towards the north, and you turned to face the regrouped Sinister Six. Vulture peeled off to go attack Peter, and you knew just how to make your final stand as the Son of Thor. You called forth from the sky six massive thunderbolts and brought them down on the six villains. Each of the six was brought down in a great flash and a mighty roar of thunder. You collapsed instantly, and as your vision slowly turned to black, you saw a small fireball and another bolt of lightning arcing towards the parking lot...

#spider-man #peter parker #peter parker x male reader #male oc #peter parker x oc #my posts #please ask me about the oc!!!! #and tell me how you liked it!!!!

[tarithenurse]

Agent of Hope - 10

Your world falls into ruin together with the Strategic Homeland Intervention Enforcements Logistics Division when you find out that your boyfriend isn’t one of the good guys. Pairing: Brock Rumlow x fem!reader, Natasha Romanoff x fem!reader Contents: All the usual and then add: referenced sexual abuse and torture (both physical and psychological). Not overly graphic, but it’s very angsty. A/N: As mentioned in a note earlier, this got really dark. Please read with caution. On a more happy note: thanks to all who’ve been reblogging and commenting! It means the world to me <3

10 - A wrong Step

You’re moved often, sometimes by car and other times by train but apart from that, there’s not a lot to actually complain about considering you’re a prisoner of Hydra…and your ex. The food your keepers serve is decent, consisting mainly of water next to some sort of stew or porridge if lucky (stale bread if less fortunate). Not only is there always a relatively soft surface to sleep on, they even provide a musty blanket too which is enough to stay warm enough to prevent getting sick. Sometimes Brock interrogates you, trying to charm or guilt you into spilling the secrets you’ve learned about the Avengers or to explain what you can do, other times it’s one of his co-villains that takes the place of bad cop. They all end up screaming at you, though, because you keep quiet while pretending not to know anything. You talk back to Brock, deny that your actions were based on anything but coincidence and what you’d seen in the news…even when he threatens with letting the others take over for him.

“They won’t be kind,” he promises as he leans uncomfortably close to you, “they’ve got ways to make ya talk.”

Glaring at him, you shrug. “Won’t change what I say.”

“No?” Strong hands grab your shoulders so hard the bones in your joints grind against each other painfully – the man is healing unnaturally fast. “Ya’ll end up singing for us. For me.” The hatred in his smile is replaced by a twisted tenderness. “Ya used to hum when cooking for us, remember? When ya were sad…the one from Dumbo. I always knew when it’d been a bad day. Ya should be rehearsing that one now.”

Gods, you hate his guts. Detest the twinkle in his eyes as he grins even now, thinking he can scare you into submission or weaken you by reminiscing about the time spent together. Fuck you. Those days are gone, and nothing will bring the feelings of happiness back. No matter how desperately Brock tries to use the past as a way of getting under your skin, you won’t forget what has happened since. He has tried every day. The man has talked for ages about the dinners shared, the walks along avenues in the evening, the soft touches that used to leave you sighing with bliss in the mornings of lazy Sundays. Creep.

Forgetting to think, you spit in his face.

The punch leaves you wheezing for air as the room disappears in a haze and you try to hold down the stomach contents. Blinking tears away, you stare emptily at the ceiling, only slowly realizing that you must have been knocked onto the floor.

“Bitch.” The dark shape of Brock blocks the light above you as he kneels over you. The spit is still glistening on his face. “This will cost ya.”

…   Romanoff’s PoV   …

“This is my fault! I should’ve been there!” The stoicism of Happy is crumbling day by day, reaching a new low this afternoon.

Jarvis is good, old fashioned spy-work is better. And still neither have yielded any results yet which is setting all people present at the compound on edge to the point where no one dares speak louder than a careful mumble…especially near Nat.

She hasn’t, despite Sam’s worries, killed anyone or even threatened with hours of torture. However the spy has lost her signature composure, honed through decades of work in the hardest of businesses where there is no room for mistakes or softness. They can only watch as she paces the rooms of the Compound unless she’s tapping away angrily on a keyboard to gain access (legal or not) to mainframes, surveillance systems, anything potentially containing information on [Y/N]’s whereabouts.

“You were with Pepper as you’d been told to,” Stark comforts the distraught Head of Security slash friend, “don’t beat yourself up.”

“But –“

“Shut up!” The groan is louder than Natasha had intended but is as such quite efficient. Running a hand down her face, she tries to calm down. “None of you’ve done any wrong, okay? We knew there was a risk…I knew and still underestimated it. Now there’s nothing we can do about what has happened so let’s focus on what we can do.”

What is left? They’re already using their networks, cashing in favours from old acquaintances on both sides of the law, and running every shred of evidence in all the databases they can think of. Still, the trail is running cold now that it’s been days. Checking the clock above the wall where the date is displayed in bright blue, digital numbers, Natasha feels her guts tighten. Eight days, two hours, and 15 minutes. [Y/N], where are you?

A pling from Clint’s phone isn’t what makes her look. It’s the soft “ooh” as the archer and best friend sits straight, for once abandoning the leftover pizza from the night before.

…   Rumlow’s PoV   …

Bruises litter the skin of [Y/N], itching at his conscience like a mosquito bite.

Brock had used to run his fingers softly over the smooth surface and watch the tiny hairs rise as goosebumps erupted along the path he’d chosen. Little bumps of pleasure that he could smoothen with kisses that inevitably would grow hungry just like her sighs.

Now the sighs are replaced by guttural cries when his hands land on the love of his life. Oh, he still loves her, she just doesn’t see it right now. Doesn’t see why Hydra is important and that his own actions will bring them peace. A better world. A simpler world. [Y/N] will understand eventually, and then the bruises will fade away to leave room for pleasurable shivers.

Tilting her head, the scarred man dries away the salty tears, smearing away they clean paths they had created down her cheeks. “Shh, it’ll be ‘kay, baby,” he coos, pretending not to see how she cringes, “just tell me, okay? Tell me what ya’ve seen.”

The scared woman swallows her sobs before she answers with a slow and hollow voice. “No matter what you do…it won’t change my answer and still you wouldn’t believe me.” She still doesn’t meet his eyes.

“I wanna trust ya, I swear,” Brock promises. He means every single word. “We gonna get through this, we used to be so good together. I want that again…don’t ya?”

But [Y/N] hesitates. Anger flares through the would-be boyfriend so hot that he loses control. Her throat is soft and wiry under his palms even as it begins to spasm at the grip of his fingers. The words coming from her bluing lips don’t pass the barriers of rancor emboldened by the flickers of panic in [Y/E/C] eyes. Only as the orbs roll backwards does he let go, huddling down with an ear to the chest, nose buried in the warmth of the breast as he listens for the frantic heartbeat to regain its strength.

… Reader’s PoV   …

The scream that jolts you awake is raw and desperate, worse than the pain that has been blessedly absent for the longest time since you learned the truth. Until now. Rocking back and forth in the little bunk mixes with the natural roll from the ocean outside the hull of your current prison and soothes the panic as if you were a baby swaddled and safe in its mother’s arms.

Nothing could be further from the truth, though, and you hear the pounding of boots nearing. Breathe. The grey light of dawn blurs the horizon, taunting you with the impossibility of freedom. Breathe. The metal tumbler rolls as the door to your cell is unlocked. Breathe…don’t show him. There’s no squeak of hinges here on the ship, just a shift in the air to tell that the only way in and out has been opened to let in Brock.

“Morning, baby,” he drawls, voice almost perfect now that the last bandages are gone, “bad dreams?”

You know better than to ignore him or to flinch when he sits down and wraps you in an embrace that once would have been kind. It makes you want to scream and fight, to claw at his face even if the difference would be invisible with all the scars, but at least it would be better than the pitiful complacence that’s keeping you alive physically while grinding your soul to dust. And still, the warmth of Brock’s arms are soothing in a twisted sort of way because as long as he’s caring for you, there’s no new pain.

“Why don’tcha tell me what ya saw this time, huh?” His lips are soft now when he kisses your forehead.

I can’t. “It it was ju-ust a nigh-nightmare.” Calm down. Get control of you voice, girl. “Just a nightmare.”

The gentle caress on your back stop as the man sighs deeply. “Baby, I know when ya’re lying.” Strong fingers tangle in your hair and yank so hard your throat is exposed and you have no clear view of Brock’s face. “Where’s the honesty? The trust?”

This time it’s impossible to supress the shiver as he licks a stripe from clavicle to chin. He’s done this before: kisses, licks, touches. None of it wanted and still never crossing the line where you wouldn’t be able to supress it. Maybe that’s the point? To tiptoe the line as a show of power, that he could rape you but chooses not to. Maybe you’re supposed to be grateful, feel like you owe him. I don’t owe him shit. As if Brock can read your mind, he lays you down and settles heavily between your legs, his abdomen crushing against yours.

“Ya know,” he hums to your cleavage as he pulls at your dirty shirt, “the boys really want to get to know ya better…it’s just me stopping them.” He kisses away the fresh tears as his words remind you of what you saw in you vision. “But if ya don’t want to help me out…why should I help ya?”

Your skin crawls at the obvious threat. I could tell him…tell him something. Anything. “Please don’t,” you plead shrilly from fear, “I’ll tell you, I promise! Don’t let them near me!”

There’s a hesitation to Brock’s fondling, inviting you to go on, and you begin to make up a scenario right then and there about how Hydra will keep working in the shadows although all subgroups constantly are on the run from the Avengers, from governments, from a man with a ruined eye. Anyone!

“CIA, FBI,” you babble while trying to think of other agencies in the hopes of pleasing the man who’s staring down at you with renewed intensity, “more…much more…they’ll find some of y-your erm places and kill…kill Hydra people, but capture most alive and th–“

“Stop.” A finger rests on your lips, but you don’t dare to move to get rid of it. “The man with the eye.” Fuck. Breath sticks in your throat as you realize the mistake. “Ya mean Fury.”

“I don’t know!”

But you do and Brock can see it in your eyes. A grin spreads on his face, tugging at the scars until his right eye is almost hidden in the uneven mass of red and pink and tan. Tasha, please.

The redheaded hero isn’t there to save you as Brock claims the prize after having waited so long for you to mess up. No one intervenes as screams are pushed from your lungs with each snap of his hips that breaks down your will to fight together with the dams that kept the horrors contained in the back of your mind. There’s nobody to help you recover afterwards before they drag you into another room where you’re strapped into a chair with a headpiece full of wires to connect with your greased-up skull.

#Agent of hope mcu fanfiction #Natasha romanoff x reader #Brock Rumlow x reader #Brock Rumlow #natasha romanoff #Natalia romanova #Black Widow #Crossbones #mcu #mcu fanfiction #marvel cinematic universe #natalia romanova x you #natasha romanoff x you #Brock Rumlow x you #clint barton #Steve Rogers #hawkeye #captain america #tony stark #Iron Man #sam wilson #falcon #happy hogan #pepper potts #hydra #The Avengers #shield #angst #torture #hurt/comfort

[jonsafan-blog]

The Dead are Already Here

Looking at the teaser and previous trailers, we are confronted by some interesting possibilities. At this point we are 1/3 complete with the show, putting us firmly into the rising action part of the story.

The very last scene before the episode ended was Jon and Daenerys looking out from the battlements on the encroaching army. But this moment is one after a big twist: Daenerys is no longer allied with Jon willingly.

In the third episode’s teaser, we see Winterfell getting ready for the battle a voice over from Sansa stating that “The most heroic thing we can do now is look the truth in the face.”

We do not know the context of this statement and it’s likely not stated to Daenerys. Sansa is still unaware about Jon and I imagine that remains true at least until the end of the episode, if not later than that.

However, we know narratively that the truth is loyalties have changed because of a hidden secret. Daenerys is no longer loyal to Jon and Jon cannot be loyal to Daenerys because of this breakdown of the alliance.

Daenerys told herself in the beginning that she arrived in Winterfell to save the living, but the truth was that she was doing it for the man she loved who no longer loves her. Daenerys was never being heroic, she was being self-interested... and now her self-interest has fractured.

Right now, Daenerys is thinking about the people she knows loves her: Jorah, Missandei, and Greyworm. As well as the Dothraki, Unsullied, and freed slaves.

She will likely favor her own forces and allow the Starks to be overrun so that her competition to the throne, Jon and the North, dies in the Battle of Winterfell.

I don’t think she’ll do this consciously, and I do think she will regret it, but it will be the first indication of her shifting allegiances.

And it makes sense. Remember... Daenerys has been betrayed.

In the show, it’s a lot easier to identify with the Starks, but Daenerys’s POV was not something that went unexplored in Essos even though it has no direct connection to the plot until season seven. We know her struggles, we know her. And in the books, she will be betrayed by Jon and it’s going to hurt.

Even though the Starks are heroes and Daenerys is destined to be a Mad Queen villain, had the story been written from her perspective entirely the Starks would not be heroic characters. They would be the villains.

So when Daenerys lets Winterfell get overrun, it will make sense and be justified from her POV.

However, when Daenerys says “the dead are already here” there is something to realize about that clip.

It’s at the start of the battle, and neither Jon nor Daenerys look exhausted or frazzled. It’s possible she says this in connection to Jon questioning her willingness to fight... but of course, she is going to fight because she needs to protect her army.

Which is part of the issue Daenerys realized she was in at the end of the episode: she is being used for her dragons and army... and she can’t do anything about it.

But knowing that Cersei is about to betray them, Daenerys is likely to do something advantageous to her.

Winterfell clearly gets overrun more than the allies intended because things look dire in a few clips. Jon and Theon also clearly are in the Godswood fighting someone. They always wanted the Night King to get close, but not that close, which tells me something went wrong.

However, the clip with Daenerys and Jon can’t be about the dead rising in the crypts. It’s too soon. That means it is said in context of something else, and I think it really is as simple as Daenerys confirming she is going to fight despite what Jon had told her. We know she is very recently angry

The teaser just plays on our expectations about the crypt to obscure how meaningful the conflict between Jon and Daenerys is actually going to be.

We know from the season trailer that Jon and Daenerys’s relationship gets a lot colder by the time they reach Dragonstone because Jon turns away in quite a mood from behind Daenerys’s back. They were in disagreement about something.

I suspect that they won’t have a complete fallout right away though, but the first hints of it will be apparent to the viewer in the Battle of Winterfell.

But how does the episode end?

That’s the weird thing.

Nobody knows. Like the wonderful and somewhat unexpected Hardhome, the leaks and the placement of this episode in reference to the others make it difficult to determine what is going to happen. A lot of the leaks and our expectations just don’t match up.

Will the Night King really be defeated in the next episode?

Maybe.

But maybe not.

There have been a whole host of leaks, but there are two that people talk about the most in reference to this episode which seems to be verifiable and directly relevant:

Winterfell burns

A redheaded girl dies

On the first, other leaks suggest that the survivors of the battle need to retreat to Dragonstone, and indeed Jon and Daenerys do end up at Dragonstone eventually.

However, regardless of what happens, that means the living actually gets a good hit on the dead despite losing a major castle if they were able to retreat.

We also clearly see that Winterfell gets overrun and there is a lot of uncontrolled fire.

The second?

Well, that’s the weirdest leak of them all. Leakers have been adamant that they see a dead redhead, though people have differed on whether or not it is Alys or Sansa.

I suspect this is a mild twist to the series, though not the major one GRRM talked about happening.

One important fact to consider is that before Alys Karstark was revealed as a character, people thought she was Sophie Turner’s body double. You can still see indications of this in old leaks. There were even people who thought Alys would die in Sophie’s place while watching season seven!

But it really seems impossible that Sansa would die. She has at least another costume change, which Arya does not, and further leaks suggest she had film roles in the south.

This makes the Alys Karstark death theory easy to believe.

Why bring Alys back and give her such a prominent role? Why make her look so much like Sansa? There is no reason for her to exist. The North is effectively represented by the Starks and Lyanna Mormont cinematically.

The real question is why it is so important for Sansa to appear dead, and in that, we have two specific answers: Daenerys benefits too much from Sansa’s death. So does Cersei.

The most popular theory right now is that Cersei is going to kidnap Sansa. That seemed like a really reasonable general audience fandom opinion given other leaks. The Golden Company is eventually going to attack the allies, and Cersei has unfinished business with Sansa.

However, it doesn’t appear to be shaping up that way.

We haven’t seen Cersei give instructions to have Sansa kidnapped, and Bronn’s instructions were to kill Tyrion and Jaime. It’s possible that this was done off-screen, but it would have been more narratively interesting to have Cersei or the Qyburn drop a hint that they have a special task that needs to be done, even if they don’t mention Sansa by name. It would increase suspense.

That means that it seems unlikely Sansa being kidnapped is a big part of their plans. At best, it would only be incidental.

I also don’t believe it will happen because there is every indication Sansa is still in Winterfell after the battle: We see Sansa standing in a courtyard of Winterfell.

This has not yet happened, and the Battle of Winterfell occurs at night. We know this from the trailer and teaser as well as the leaks. Also, the cast really complained about the agony of the experience as being one of the worst in their life.

Some people theorize this is just an unused clip from episode 2. That makes sense because Winterfell is clearly still standing above, but I also think not all of Winterfell burnt down.

It’s hard to burn stone. Even the castle that was famously burnt by dragonfire, Harrenhal, remained standing and was still usable, if seriously damaged. There is no reason to think the same couldn’t be true of Winterfell, especially since it had burnt in the books recently and a lot of the damage was repaired.

However, when you compare where Sansa must be standing I think it brings up some interesting possibilities:

Sansa is likely looking at the gates of Winterfell. You don’t see the gate in this shot, but I chose this particular angle because the stair shape is clear and the other courtyard in Winterfell doesn’t appear to have it. This is also not the same courtyard that Jon and Daenerys went through in their arrival. 

Castles tend to have multiple gates, and Winterfell is no exception.

There are some differences from the books, but it is clear that there is a front and back entrance. The front entrance (green) is stately and is meant for reception, while the back entrance (red) is a private courtyard connected to a lot of castle workshops.

The back entrance appears to have a large staging area and seems to be where people in Winterfell depart from, given it is the same location Jon left from before he departed for Dragonstone. That means it’s also connected to the crypts.

In the books, we may have some other clues. There are actually multiple gates from the inner castle. One leads to the Kingsroad and Wintertown, the East Gate - the one Daenerys certainly went through, and the other is called the Hunter’s Gate, which is used to avoid Wintertown and for hunting parties... basically a private gate. It is also connected to the kitchen. So the East Gate is the green entrance here and the Hunter’s Gate is the red entrance.

Winterfell has actually undergone significant construction since Jon left for Dragonstone. Below is actually one of the gates. The sept didn’t have a big building around it like it does in Season 8, nor are there dozens of other buildings inside the walls. That said, I think they made some general adjustments to its design since the last season and it’s not a 1:1 representation from season to season.

I bring up all this castle architecture because it’s rather important and I need you to realize there are two gates... which means it is possible for someone to get in and out of Winterfell without someone on the other side knowing.

The Hunter’s Gate also canonically leads to a small wood in both the show and the book called the Wolfswood, though I think the small wood seen in a lot of aerial views is not the wolfswood, but likely a lumber yard for the castle.

But all this means is that I can tell you exactly where that screenshot is happening in the books.

Red

The courtyard and the Hunter’s Gate.

Green

The crypts, broken tower, and entrance to the Godswood.

There appears to be a small courtyard behind the two buildings. These two buildings are where we see Sansa wave goodbye to Jon in the Hunter’s Gate courtyard, and it appears to be an important overlook for people inside the Castle... especially the Starks. Makes sense. It appears the Godswood is behind it and the stables. The building is probably offices and other important rooms.

The L-shape is about where the entrance to the crypts resides. I think the L-part is actually an enclosed hallway up top leading to the Maester’s turret and rookery, so that’s why you always see them receiving messages there.

Orange

This is where the battlements are, and that means Sansa has been looking not at the Kingsroad when she has had her battlements scene. The reason why she is there is because it is a private area of the castle. It also appears to be one of the tallest parts of the castle.

However, it actually has significant personal value to her as well. It is the same location where she jumped off the top with Theon. It reminds her of her own strength. There is a small archway that leads to the courtyard.

Point is, this entire courtyard area is an important part of the castle. It’s right near the Godswood, the crypts, and the place where messages are sent. It’s also near the back exit of the castle... and it’s where you’d expect Sansa to be close to during the attack.

What this means

The Hunter’s Gate faces to the west in the books. The East Gate faces the Kingsroad to the east. However, the show clearly points to this actually being the North, for whatever reason. So we need to re-orient ourselves a little canonically. 

It’s clear that, while in the books Sansa has to be looking at the west from the battlements, that she is actually looking at the south, because the Hunter’s Gate is facing south in this picture and it’s clear that courtyard is the one being represented in the south.

Also, you have to love the medieval accuracy of the lack of three-dimensional shapes!

Green is a weird area that I think is likely to be where Davos, Tyrion, and Jorah will light the fires. It also has to be where Daenerys and Jon saw the White Walkers advancing towards Winterfell. It makes sense given the sheer density of the area on the battleplan map.

Red is the battlements where Sansa likes to spend her time. If you notice, it actually got smaller in season eight compared to season seven to likely account  for more areas needed in filming. However, there is clearly some sort of lookout there.

Blue has to be the crypts. Nothing else makes sense, and the horses would be nearby anyway.

As for the actual battle layout, we know that Brienne is leading the left flank. In the teaser for the third episode and in the trailer, we see her with Vale soldiers. However, she leads the left flank and according to the battle layout there are no Vale soldiers in her formation. In the teaser she states that they need to stand their ground. I suspect the Vale forces have been annihilated and the survivors were pushed back.

Because we later see Pod and Jaime in Winterfell when it is on fire, my theory is that they end up getting cut off from the rest of the army and fall back to the Hunter’s Gate.

Perhaps the Vale soldiers are the ones Daenerys ends up sacrificing. Who knows.

I’ve heard some people say that it looks like Jaime is actually saying Bronn in his trailer scene. Maybe. It’s an interesting theory and might give Bronn a task to do  related to Winterfell if he attacks with the Golden Company.

However, it’s entirely possible the Golden Company never attacks because I think that the two people following Arya may be Beric and the Hound. They are the only two other people I see inside the castle in the teaser.

But they really don’t look like the duo to me. They don’t look undead.

Futhermore, I think that occurs after whatever happens on the walls, and those invaders look suspiciously alive.

So I have two theories for these scenes:

The wights climb the walls of Winterfell and chase Arya down the halls, eventually turning Beric and the Hound

The Golden Company makes a surprise visit and Beric and the Hound ultimately work to save Arya

I like the second one. People have been clamoring for Cleganebowl, and it might be really interesting to have had it happen at Winterfell. Cersei didn’t get her elephant, so she’ll send the biggest man she knows to get the job done. Okay - the cleganebowl is probably just wishing thinking on my part.

However, I do want to get back to geography because you can probably guess the significance of the battlements and the Hunter’s Gate - it’s to the south. And where would the Golden company attack from?

The south.

We already have one battle in which forces from the south turned the tide of the war for the castle’s side - the Battle of the Bastards.

If the Entrance gate for some bizarre reason faces the North, that means that Stannis also attacked from the North and it also appears like Jon did too. That makes sense - Sansa and Theon jumped from the battlements facing the south and likely used the element of surprise to wind their way around the castle.

It also probably explains why Brienne was able to find them - because Sansa and Theon had run through the Wolfswood the long way around and passed her, and then the pursuers passed her too.

Notice also in the flight scene that it is related to another flight scene - Sansa and Theon cross a river and Jon and Daenerys seem to stop by some part of that river too.

But where are Sansa and Arya before everything goes down?

The Hunter’s Gate - the back entrance.

Who knows, maybe it’s the two doofuses up there who are chasing Arya as the undead in Winterfell... they kind of fit the profiles... OMG. But anyway...

Arya also arrives at this gate as well since she came from the south and likely knew it was the least militarized door since it doesn’t face Winter Town.

Why do I say that?

Because the North is a Northern kingdom, and I assume it was oriented towards the North because all their greatest threats came from that direction. Therefore, the reception gate is going to be in the North.

But the south?

They had Moat Cailin and the Neck to prevent themselves from the Andal invasion. My guess is that the Kingsroad passes the south entrance and Winterfell entirely and instead there are two roads which break off and direct towards those entrances. That seems to be the case by the stone marker on the road in the pilot.

Jon and Daenerys arrived at the Northern gate because it is the reception gate... and not because it is the closest part of the castle.

The Knights of the Vale did not attack from the direction that Jon and Stannis attacked Winterfell previously. They came from the south and were able to disguise their approach because of the rolling hills surrounding Winterfell and the general lack of awareness of southern threats.

Basically, the geography that helped Sansa escape Winterfell is also the geography that will lead to its demise - because the castle is not designed for a southern siege, and an army doesn’t appear to be able to move easily because of the river bisecting the Kingsroad. There is likely some sort of bridge that is normally guarded, so unless you have a two-front battle you can’t slink past Winterfell and attack it from the south if you aren’t already in the south.

Now it’s possible the above picture from the teaser is Sansa and Arya looking out from the density where the soldiers are preparing their fire, but I believe they may actually be above the Hunter’s Gate or the Battlements. It’s hard to tell, but I think it’s a good prediction since I imagine Sansa and Arya, even if they are not in the Godswood, would want to stay as close to Bran as possible.

There are some other interesting tidbits about the original trailer:

The Northern forces head back to the castle.

We see horses coming from the opposing direction and they aren’t dead.. and they look like they are in formation heading towards something.

I’m guessing the mounted calvary is on the front line (the Dothraki are - poor bastards), so if things get dark I doubt there are going to be too many mounted forces to ride back to Winterfell.

So maybe the Golden company, and we see it coming from the opposing direction because they are enemy soldiers.

So what does this all mean

I think it’s possible that either white walkers or the golden company attack the Hunter’s Gate - the least defended part of the castle when Brienne’s flank gets overrun. Their attack causes a fire, and I think this is the reason the crypts are penetrated. It’s possible the dead can’t rise in the crypts unless a white walker gets down there first, and when the castle is breached, it will be a lot easier for white walkers to follow in behind.

Either way, Sansa and Arya get separated at some point in the episode either by choice or because of the siege.

We have no indication of what happens to Sansa except the leaks and that one tiny clip.

It’s not unreasonable to assume there is some charred castle behind her, and she looks weird in this picture. Pretty, but almost wistful or mourning - like she’s watching something but she doesn’t want to see it.

If this is a future scene, not only does Sansa makes it out alive, she looks healthy too.

So how does that happen if Arya and possibly the crypts are overrun?

Maybe Sansa was left behind.

Perhaps Sansa is attacked or kidnapped during the siege, but whatever happens, she survives the attempt and hides in the wolfswood or some dark part of the castle (like the broken tower) which is not searched before the allies leave for Dragonstone.

Because the Hunter’s Gate is the gate residents leave through because of all the workshops, Sansa is looking at the gate and watching them leave from the ground since the castle is so unstable.

Jon and the others are unaware she is alive because they believed they found her dead.

However, we know the following about Sophie Turner and Sansa:

She seems happy with the ending but previously feared her character’s death

Sophie was the first person to contact the showrunners after the scripts were released

She was allowed to take a scroll from set that is a major spoiler

She was given a storyboard of her final scene (either filmed or the final scene she is in)

That storyboard is something nobody realizes is a spoiler but is significant to Sansa otherwise she wouldn’t have been given that one

The showrunners say that Sansa has grown more than anyone else from a weak character to a political player

My theory is that Sansa is attacked but escapes during the battle. She hides and does not come out because she was targeted by Daenerys (or she realizes her forces were through Brienne or Jaime).

She learns that Jon is the true heir to the Iron Throne, perhaps during the battle itself, and the scroll she has been carrying is her letter plotting to recruit other houses against Daenerys. Perhaps she sends it from the surviving ravens.

Sansa shores up an army after most of Jon’s army was defeated (and thus the threat against Daenerys neutralized).

And the storyboard? The one nobody realizes is a spoiler?

Because Sansa and Jon return to Winterfell to rebuild it, and the last scene is of them sitting together in the Great Hall as King and Queen - something that has already happened and nobody would think is a spoiler.

#jonsa

[pax-2735]

Fanfic: The moment I knew (2/7)

Day 2 of the ‘Jonsa: a Dream of Spring’ celebration, with @jonsadreamofspring

Prompts for day 2: Wolves /Traitors /Bastards

Summary: Companion piece to the previous installment, Jon’s POV.

What’s in a Name

His steward drapes the cloak carefully over his shoulders, a heavy thing made up of black wool, red dragons stitched upon its edges, and walks round to close the clasp before taking a measured step back to appraise his work. Satisfied with what he sees, he gives him a practiced bow. “You look very regal Your Grace, if I do say so myself.”

He’s dismissed by a slight nod of the head, the bulky man trotting along effortlessly, and Jon finally breathes. He has been surrounded by people for most of the day, pinching and prodding and nodding with satisfied glances aimed at him, and he feels drained.

He raises a hand to touch the clasp on his cloak almost reverently. The silver work is exquisite, a direwolf’s head baring its teeth in a snarl, and he feels a tightening in his throat. It’s something his father would wear. No, not his father, he corrects, his uncle. He’s not a wolf, no matter how much he’s always wanted it, longed for it, no matter how Arya and Sansa keep telling him he is.

He wonders ruefully when has wanting to be a wolf morphed into simply wanting a wolf.

The Keep is mostly silent, the staff still down to a bare minimum only to keep things functioning, most of them hard at work to prepare for the small feast later in the evening. The city is being rebuilt, slowly picking itself up after the wreckage brought upon by dragon fire and ambition, but there is still much to be done. Never had he thought that such a task would fall upon his shoulders.

It’s no wonder they thought he needed help, and who better suited for the role than Ned Stark’s daughter, the blood of Winterfell, Sansa.

His heavy footsteps echo across the darkened stone hallways as he wanders around aimlessly, thankfully undisturbed, as he tries to gather his wits, tries to find the courage to face her, even though his heart and his body, his whole being seems to yearn for little else.

He feels a though he’s betraying her, although what is the exact reason for his treachery, he cannot say. Taking her away from Winterfell, from the North and the only home they had ever known, making her return to this city where she has known nothing but pain and misery might be one. Forcing her into yet another marriage, forcing her to marry someone whom merely a few moons ago she had looked upon with the fondness bestowed on a brother is another. Or perhaps it is merely the knowledge that he has agreed to it not for the sake of the Realm he’s sworn to protect, not to strengthen their already settled bonds with the North, and certainly not for some long discarded notion of loyalty, but simply because he wants this, wants her.

He thinks this might be the very first time in his entire life when he does something simply for himself.

Sir Davos is waiting near the entrance to the gardens, ready to escort him to the Godswood. They walk in silence, the soft rustling of trees swaying in the gentle breeze the only thing disturbing his thoughts. Fireflies buzz around the cobbled path but otherwise everything is still.

He steers clear from the lit torches, his unconscious mind guiding his steps away as he has done ever since that fateful day, when dragon fire had engulfed him after he had plunged his dagger into Daenerys’ chest. He had not burned, though he bears the marks just the same. He’s not a wolf, not really, but turns out he’s not a full dragon either. A bastard, through and through, even if he finally bears his father’s name.

The small crowd parts as he walks by to take his place in front of the Weirwood tree. Gendry and Edmure Tully are faces he recognizes alongside some other Lords he has yet to learn the names of. Tyrion stands there as well, and the Imp gives him a forlorn look before averting his eyes. Sam is the only one Jon is actually glad to see, alongside Davos, and the two men clasp him on the shoulder warmly before Davos nods his head towards the gates, his eyes shining.

Sansa is a vision.

She begins the walk down the path that will lead her to him, Arya at her side, every bit the wolf protecting its pack, and he stares at her in awe. He knows he’s gaping, and wouldn’t Robb have a good laugh at his expense if he could see him now, Theon teasing him merciless, but he cannot help it. She looks stunning, she always does, dressed in soft greys and whites, her red hair swaying gently down her back as she steadily makes her way to him. He forces out a breath and rakes a shaking hand through his hair as ocean blue eyes lock on stormy grey.

She comes to a stop but she doesn’t avert her eyes, never wavers from his gaze, and it’s only when Sam clears his voice does he realize it’s time.

He’s proud of how steady his voice sounds as he recites the words, at how his hands don’t shake when he takes her cloak to replace it with his own. His mind may feel as though he’s in a haze but his body doesn’t seem to hesitate one moment as it recognizes its mate. It’s only when Sam ties their hands together with a silk ribbon, symbolic of their now joined lives, that the fog begins to lift and he feels his chest expand.

He has been called many things throughout his life, most of them unpleasant. Bastard, although that he was never his fault, although he has never truly deserved it, a lie spun to save his life that ended up shaping it just as well. Traitor, even as he has always tried to stay true to his honor and to his duty, even as his actions were always borne out of necessity and never carelessly taken. Queenslayer, despite it having been done because it was necessary, despite it being the reason why countless others lived. King, even though he has never wanted it.

Tonight, he looks forward to becoming something new. Something he had never allowed himself to hope, hadn’t dared to dream. Something he hadn’t known he wanted, until the day he saw her again.

Husband.

#jonsadreamofspring #jonsa fanfiction #jon snow x sansa stark #works-by-pax #game of thrones #fanfiction

[noqueenbutthequeeninthenorth]

 Okay, so, episode thoughts. Here we go. This will get long.

I’m not going to get into the Missandei mess much because it’s all been said and said better than I can say it, but it was racist and cheap and the laziest storytelling I can imagine, and it does a huge disservice to her as a character, turning her into even more of a narrative prop than she already was. Grey Worm will likely meet the same fate. It’s bullshit. 

So let’s talk about the other stuff.

Is Sansa in love with Jon? I honestly think so. There were too many moments that screamed love triangle, including at the feast when she literally walks away when she sees Jon smiling at D/ny. The scene with Tyrion only confirmed it. She was on the verge of tears just thinking about Jon choosing to live in the south with D/ny. The fact that Sansa’s dislike of D/ny has been shown to be both political and personal -- while Arya’s is strictly political (i.e., she’s an outsider and can’t be trusted, but Jon was right to do what he did to get her help) -- clinches the matter for me. Arya doesn’t like D/ny but her dislike is protective, not passionate. She’s not emotionally affected by D/ny or Jon’s relationship with her.

Now, the question remains: Why would they show us Sansa being in love with Jon, only for her to end up alone and heartbroken from unrequited love? Is the show really that cruel?

Well, maybe. But I still don’t think it makes any sense, if D&D knew Jonsa was coming (even unrequited Jonsa), that they would’ve written and filmed Jon as they did in seasons 6 & 7. They wouldn’t have gone out of their way to show that Sansa is Jon’s trigger if they were just going to have him passively accept her being threatened by ~the woman he loves~. Now, admittedly, “making sense” is not the show’s strong suit, but I still see no reason to believe that Jon actually loves D/ny.

The scene between the two of them was, admittedly, the most chemistry they’ve ever had, but 1) he was drunk and probably extremely relieved that they’d won the war against the AOTD; 2) they still didn’t get that carried away in their passion; and 3) mostly importantly, we still get no confirmation from Jon himself that he loves her. She gave him a perfect opening for him to tell her, and the audience, his feelings, but instead he went in for the kiss. Why? If Jon loves D/ny, why not show us his love for her? If Jon is tormented by the fact that he loves his aunt and wants to be with her but can’t, why not have him talk about it? With her, with Sam, with Sansa, with Arya, I don’t fucking care who. If we are headed toward a tragic ending in which Jon has to kill the woman he loves, then wouldn’t that be more shocking and heartbreaking if we see Jon truly adoring this woman?

Instead, we see him simply submitting to her. He calls her his queen so often it’s almost a joke. When anyone questions her, he says she’s the queen, he made a promise, and they are loyal to her. 

Now, I could be completely wrong, but given the writing decisions in season 6, season 7, and 8.03, I think it is perfectly reasonable to assume that D&D are writing toward a plot twist. That’s their MO. Everything they write is shaped around a shocking moment -- presumably the one in which Jon turns on D/ny. Given this pattern, the only reason I can account for the way Jon’s storyline has been handled is that he’s being written solely for the purpose of that twist. 

If the twist was simply that Jon must kill the woman he loves, then there are a million other ways to make that shocking that don’t require us never getting Jon’s POV. In fact, it’s much more shocking if we were fully invested in the love story. If the twist is that he never loved her, on the other hand.....

Yes, it’s hacky writing. Yes, it’s narratively incoherent. Yes, it’s bad television. It’s hard for me to imagine them pulling it off in a way that can be even remotely satisfying. At this point it’s probably impossible. I’m extremely unhappy about it.

But I’m not ready to write off Jon as a character yet, and nor am I ready to write off Jonsa altogether. Will I have to fill in a lot of blanks myself to make it work? Will I have to imagine a lot more communication and nuance than the show is willing to give? Absolutely. Will I be dreaming about how the books will tell this story every day for the rest of my life? Yes. But that’s where I’m at on this.

(The big exception for me is the handling of Ghost. This was so out of character and bizarre that I don’t know what to make of it. If Jon is willing to send Ghost away, then maybe he really is the dumb asshole he seems to be. But, then again, the show has always minimized the importance of the direwolves, and clearly they were looking for a way to get out of people telling them to spend the money on CGI for the direwolves. I don’t know.) 

Other things about the episode, briefly:

Gilly’s pregnant! Nice. At least there’s one good thing happening.

Also the opening scene with the burning of the corpses was moving. The bit with Theon.... I cried.

I think Jaime was using the truth (that he’s a bad guy who’s done a lot of bad shit for Cersei) to push Brienne away to keep her safe while he went south to confront Cersei. I’m worried this means we will be getting Jaime killing Cersei, which as you all know is one of my least favorite but highly likely theories.

I was not surprised by Arya turning down Gendry. That’s seriously not who she is or what she’s ever wanted. I think she’d be happy to be with him, but not as the lady of Storm’s End.

That said, it’s disappointing she returned to her kill list. She deserves more than to be an assassin. She is capable of being more. That said... could she be going south to kill D/ny instead of (or in addition to) Cersei?

While I hate that they used Missandei’s death to “tip” D/ny into MQ territory -- and in fact while I hate that they played up the MQ stuff when up until this episode I’ve never found her mad, just dangerous and power-hungry and self-aggrandizing -- I do appreciate that at least they made it clear she was willing to blow KL to bits even before Missandei was killed. She’s been willing to do it for seasons now. She didn’t need anything to tip the scales.

So...... no Dance of Dragons 2.0? I’m quite surprised tbh! I never really wanted Jon to ride a dragon but what was the point in it, if he made no difference during the war against the NK, and then Rhaegal was just going to get killed the next episode?

Varys and Tyrion were sorta interesting this episode but I hate that they’re framing Jon’s maleness as part of his legitimacy -- and positioning this as a REASONABLE opinion. I also think that while Jon would probably be a better ruler than D/ny, he tbh has done nothing to prove himself lately so I’m not sure why everyone’s so sure of him all of a sudden. That said, I don’t blame Sansa for telling Tyrion the truth; it was an extremely smart thing to do, because she recognizes D/ny for the danger she is, to both her home and her family and Jon in particular.

My biggest gripe, still, is that the show seems to not really care about the Starks. We get one scene of the four of them all together -- and it cuts off before the MOST IMPORTANT PART of the conversation, that is, Sansa and Arya’s reactions to Jon’s parentage. Will we ever have all four Starks in a scene together again? I worry not! And this might be the last we got of them.

The fact that there were also no goodbye scenes between the Starks is fucking outrageous. 

I’m not touching that scene with Sansa and the Hound with a ten foot pole. What the actual fuck to literally every part of it.

I can’t think of anything else right now but I’m sure I’ll have more to say later. Overall, I didn’t hate the idea of this episode, and it even had its moments (Sansa egging Jon on when he was drinking!), but the complete blackout of Jon’s POV and the general lack of care for the Starks in general has kind of ruined this season. IDK. I’m hoping there’s enough about the endgame that I like to make it possible for relatively canon-compliant fanfic to fill in the gaps, but I’m not holding my breath at this point.

ALSO, I’m extremely afraid next week will just be another battle episode and we won’t get any Sansa or the North. Thoughts?

#got spoilers #episode thoughts