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antebellumite · 4 months

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Fic or Art/Graphic Title: and the rest around my heart

Author/Artist Name: antebellumite/unitaryexectheory

Fandom: Pundit & Broadcast Journalist RPF ( US ) [ specifically CNN ]

Jewish or Jew-Ish Character(s): Harry Enten, Jake Tapper, Dana Bash, Wolf Blitzer, John King

Bingo Squares Being Filled: H5- Debate, A1- Applesauce, N5- Heirloom Recipes, U1- Latkes, K5- Noshing, K3- Free: Alternate Hanukkah Spelling, A3- Shalom, H2- Judah Maccabee

Rating: Warning(s): None

Link to Work: https://archiveofourown.org/works/52242136

December 2, 2018

The first CNN Hanuqa ( CNNuqa? ) Harry Enten spent in his new job seemed, upon entering, to involve a significantly smaller amount of afterpartying than he’d expected.

It wasn't even- he checked his phone- midnight. The white numbers blaring 10:44 PM shone up at him. Enten blinked. He turned off the phone, and looked back up, where somehow, only a few of the anchors were still here-- John, Dana, and Anderson sitting on the couch, Jake sitting by the table, and Wolf leaning against the doorway.

You'd think the bulk of the reporters here would last until at least 2:00 AM, Harry figured, but he supposed it was just his New York sensibilities talking. His fault for faulty assumptions, he supposed.

" Shalom." Harry waved. " Sorry, I seem to late."

" Shalom," John, Jake, and Wolf offered back. Anderson gave him a wave.

" No problem." Dana said. She got up. " There's still some food that needs to be taken out- I think we still have latkes to-"

" No, it's fine-"

" Yeah, we still have latkes." Anderson confirmed, and Harry had not realized that he had already gotten out of his seat, took out a plate from the kitchen, and plopped it into Harry's hands.

Wow, they smelled good. And warm.

" Huh, thanks." Harry said. " These aren't storebought."

" I know, I was shocked that wolves could cook too." Dana agreed. " Do you want any more?"

Harry frowned, confused. Wolf waved.

" No, six is enough." Harry finalized. " Thanks."

He checked for something to say in the silence. At last, Harry placed down his plate, and pulled out a chair on the opposite side of Jake Tapper.

“ Can you imagine," Harry asked, for the sake of conversation, after he'd settled into the wooden seat, "if Hanuqa ever fell during election season?"

The new CNN Senior Political Analyst ( no trademark, unfortunately ) wasn't sure what he was expecting when he offered up the question, but he did feel a moderate amount of surprise when all five of the anchors began to double over.

Wolf gave a stiff cough. Anderson furrowed his eyebrows, before a look of sudden horror seemed to sink itself into his expression. Dana chewed her lip, and then proceeded to press her hand against her eyes. From where John was, a latke was unceremoniously murdered by a fork.

Before Harry Enten could comprehend it, Jake Tapper bowled himself over, and slammed his head against the table.

" Please don't make me." he pleaded with abrupt demand. A phone was suddenly jabbed accusingly at Harry's face. Jake rubbed the space between his eyebrows in desperation, lines on his face sinking in with weariness. " Do you know, if that ever happened, my hand would be so fucked up with carpal tunnel-"

John gave a heavy nod at that.

" Everyone's hand would be messed from carpal tunnel--"

" -- I might as well just light all my fingers on fire minus one, and not only would that be less painful, I'd also be happier to do it."

Anderson and John echoed Jake's words alongside him, Tapper's forehead collapsing again with a thud.

Harry frowned. He stabbed his food, and promptly ate it.

" ...Would it be that bad?" Harry asked, his voice as light as possible. He chewed the chunk of the cheese latke that he'd just covered with ketchup, and gently placed the bottle next to Jake's seemingly comatose form. He glanced at the others.

" It wouldn't be the worst," Dana remarked, clear blue eyes looking at Harry. " You could take comfort, it's not like election day is that different from the end result of that formed the Hasmoneans."

Wolf turned his neck to look at her as she got up to exit to the other room, returning moments later with just-made potato dumplings.

"...Did you mean to say there's a connection between the Maccabees' overthrowing of a Greek dynasty and a democratic transition of power from one office-holder to another?" Wolf inquired as she walked back.

Dana looked at Wolf as she sat down, placing the basket onto the table. " It's a metaphor." she said. " About the importance of advocating for rights and freedoms under a government that might not have your interests at heart.”

" Couldn’t it also be a moral lesson about stopping a revolt that threatens to topple democracy?”

Dana shrugged, the- not tater tots- were freshly made. Harry felt himself get hungry again from smelling the heavy aroma of the food. They were pale gold in the basket.

“ I’m sure there is one person in the White House who sees it like that.” Dana popped the food into her mouth, chewing. She looked at John. " Want one? Last batch."

“ There’s probably an op-ed for that already,” Harry pulled out his phone, swiping past to his notes. “ Any other parallels we’re drawing here?”

“ Something about unification, if you’re willing to do a parallel of two-parties, two-kingdoms."

" The implications of that statement..."

“Debate is a Hanuqa tradition."

" Only if every day was Hanuqa."

“ Interviews aren’t meant to be debates— do you mean panel discussions?” John offered. Jake's latkes had to be cold by now, but he was still eating them. A true sign of bravery.

“ You’re right, interviews dissolve into arguing, not constructive dialogue." Jake agreed through a mouthful. " Is there any way to get some good old fashioned civil conversation nowadays on the news?”

The man promptly removed the ketchup bottle that Harry had given him from the vicinity of the table.

" Do you mean moderating?" Anderson offered. He stared at the potato dumplings in a basket where Dana brought them in. Harry noticed that the basket had the CNN logo on it.

“ Or press conferences?” Dana offered. She gave the basket over to Anderson. Everything had the CNN logo on it in CNN.

" Or Town hall?" Harry offered, providing Jake with sour cream instead. He was starting to worry that even he was inevitably going to have that logo on him.

" Shlishkes,” Wolf took one. “ Jake, you host your own program, but we see your point."

" The point is,” Jake said, “Hanuqa is supposed to be enjoyable. No one can enjoy it if there's elections, democracy, and unreasonable conspiracies to be worried about."

Honestly, Harry figured that doing that would be pretty enjoyable for at least approximately one person, himself included. Anderson passed the basket over too Jake, who immediately shoved it aside for Harry to look at.

" I'm pretty sure Judah Maccabbee wasn't enjoying it either when he was bunkering down." Dana said. She grinned. " It's definitely a metaphor."

" About the never-ending struggle for truth and change in the world?" John asked.

Harry plucked one out, and split the dough in half. It melted warm in his mouth, saltish. Savory. Chewy, kind of a crunchy texture. He ate another.

" About how the struggle for change requires constant attentiveness to not give into pressure, as well as how miracles can come from the oddest places. " Dana agreed, solemn.

Harry raised an eyebrow as Jake pushed away his polite offer of cranberry. He continued to stuff his face the shlishkes. He offered the basket back to Jake with a want one? expression, but Jake looked focused on the other anchors.

" What would you choose to do if election day ever did coincide with Hanuqa?" the man asked.

" Probably stay and do my democratic duty." Dana acknowledged after a moment of contemplation. " Wolf, you would do that too, right?"

She looked at Wolf, who, to add another credit to his many already in place, agreed instantly.

" Of course-- I'd hate to leave Anderson the burden to be the sole reporter for everything. Besides, it would just be one election cycle."

Anderson hummed. " Thanks, Wolf. But what if it was every election cycle?"

Wolf looked pained.

" John, how about you?"

John squinted his eyes.

" That might actually be the hardest question I've ever faced. Can I please come back to it in ten minutes?" he questioned.

" That would be acceptable." Wolf agreed.

" It'd depend on the situation."

" That was fast.”

" Well it's not like I can just leave if the election was like-- 2016." John argued, looking at Harry. " I'd be worried sick and guilty-- Harry, are you eating all that."

Harry popped one last nugget between his lips, and scooted himself out, slipping the basket to John from over the couch. The other reporters on the couches frowned, the glasses on Wolf's face lowering. Dana's eyebrows knitted together.

" I'd send you updates." Anderson and Wolf and Dana said in unison.

" Please don't-- thanks--"

" You're welcome."

"-- that'd just make me feel guiltier. Besides, I get locked in the map for the better half of the election season anyways."

Anderson cocked his head. " By the way, Dana, what recipe did you use for these?"

" Family recipe," Dana answered, pride tinting her voice. " Not too different from any other you'll find, there's just more salt, less oil- I actually forget the recipes of food the second after I make them, I'll send you a screenshot."

Harry turned back to Jake.

" How about you?" Harry asked, shaking the other from his thoughts. " On the hypothetical possibility that we won't ever, in God’s infinite kindness, face?"

" Oh, fuck."

Jake heaved, giving a heavy, heavy, sigh. His eyes looked up to the ceiling, before hitting back at Harry. " You know-- if I ate anything of substance after 96 hours of sleeplessness, Red Bull, and cocaine, my body would actually fucking kill me?"

" Cheers ," Wolf, Anderson, Dana, and John echoed in an instant. Jake shook his head, a loose smile breaking out over his face. Dark eyes shone.

“ The best comfort I can find is it’d be something we’d only suffer through once in our lifetimes, at least.” he said to Harry.

Enten pointed out. “ If the Maccabees launched their revolution earlier, we could easily be celebrating Hanukkah entirely inside early November. Maybe October."

“ No.”

He held up his hands in surrender, sitting himself back down into his seat.

Jake reached over to pick a bottle of applesauce from the collection of bottles. Harry watched as he slathered it over his latkes.

" Something up?" Jake asked, his eyes bright as he looked over at Harry. The golden-brown latkes, their end strands slightly burnt, drowned on Jake’s plate. Weren't they cold by now? Harry could understand applesauce, just a bit, but surely no one could like that enough to justify eating it on not-warm latkes.

" It's not really my place to judge.” Harry admitted, hopefully speaking not just as a colleague who was very respectful of Jake Tapper’s food preferences, but also as someone who routinely ate Popeyes takeout combined with diet cream soda and root beer. “ I’m sure it tastes great.”

Jake stared at him for a moment longer than needed, pouring way too much applesauce onto his latkes. A lopsided grin fixed itself into his features.

“ You know, you kind of look like Jim,” he said, complimentarily. Harry frowned.

" Who?"

" Mr. Acosta, you've seen him."

“ Hm, kind of." Harry agreed. " Eyebrows, I bet. Thank you.”

#hanukkahbingo #misc #fic #cnn #harry enten #jake tapper #dana bash #wolf blitzer #john king #anderson cooper #is in here too

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rabbiteclair · 4 months

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i don't think i could ever write fanfic for Bocchi the Rock because the only way I could be satisfied with it is if it was some kind of fucking... mixed media ARG

midway through she would start having a deep nervous breakdown, and the fic apparently ends with a link to a CNN article about how introversion is associated with a shorter life expectancy. the CNN article links to a youtube video discussing some of the science in further detail. however, if you watch the video it weirdly skews the algorithm to recommend you a particular other video, which shows people killing cows with captive bolt pistols in black and white while Sunn O))) plays

in the comments of the cow murder video is the second half of the fanfic

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foursaints · 2 months

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dearest saints would you like to give me a rosekiller prompt to write because the Writers Block is killing me and i love your rosekiller…

oh nonnie <3 DO I HAVE SOME PROMPTS

rosekiller au where they’re cursebreakers (possibly in the 1920s)… evan is the archaeology professor and the academic and a licensed gringotts employee & barty is the glorified grave robber and freelancer with a really concerning collection of cursed amulets. and they’re forced to team up

barty is racing to get into an elevator in time & evan is too busy for his shit so he’s AGGRESSIVELY jamming the door close button as he gets closer. but barty JUST makes it in on time and mashes every single button to be petty and then the elevator breaks

line cook!barty / food critic!evan fic of my dreams when…

small town religion au. barty is the traveling preacher’s son with something deeply wrong with him & evan is the strange, quiet, pious boy who’s rumored to do sacrilegious things in the woods. barty wants to show him something new behind the pulpit. barty thinks he could corrupt him worse

Winter Olympics AU but neither of them are actually in the olympics. barty has an obnoxious (but wildly popular) radio show & evan is the reporter for CNN and they’re paired together as the announcers the entire time and drinking the free hot chocolate from those tiny styrofoam cups while arguing

barty is a Dangerous Wildlife Photographer for national geographic and evan is the really overzealous PETA activist who would probably actually murder him before letting him get a single picture of the lion pride. barty thinks he looks hot in his “SAVE THE ANIMALS” t-shirt while evan is actively kicking over his tripod

#a #rose & thorn #t #LISTEN. I ALWAYS HAVE THOUGHTS!!!!!#these were all off the dome but i’m realizing i could probably keep going forever

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iboatedhere · 16 days

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Thank you @jmagnabo92 @suseagull04 @lemonlyman-dotcom @liminalmemories21 @fullsunsets @cha-melodius for the tags ♥️

A little bit from my neighbor AU.

—

“I should’ve known you’ve been here before. Why would I think you haven’t been?”

“It’s all right,” Henry says as he pulls another book off the shelf. “I always enjoy stopping by.” He turns to Alex with a smile that Alex is slow to look away from.

They’ve hung out a few times since they finally introduced themselves.

Alex came home late from work a few weeks afterwards with take out and saw Henry’s light on. They shared a meal together, sitting on Henry’s living room floor in front of the TV, watching The Food Network.

It was nice to focus on something other than CNN or MSNBC and poll numbers or some bullshit manufactured controversy about Rafael Luna smoking pot in college.

A few weeks after that, the power went out during a wind storm and Henry knocked on his door with a box of Cornettos, sent from a friend in London. He said he’d rather die than let them melt so he and Alex split the box before Alex sent him into a defensive frenzy when he said that Drumsticks are basically the same thing.

This is the first time they’re hanging out on purpose, where Alex set aside a block of time in his jam-packed schedule to walk around the National Mall with Henry and David.

They saw the cherry blossoms in bloom around the Tidal Basin and toured the monuments, where Henry stopped to read every inscription and Alex stopped to admire Henry.

“I’m sorry,” Henry apologized in front of the statues of Fala and FDR. “I know I’m slow.”

“I like it,” Alex had said and Henry had raised his brows. “I mean I like that you want to know more about this stuff. Our history definitely isn’t pretty but I think it’s still important.”

“Important enough to be cast in bronze,” Henry said as he nodded toward the statue of Roosevelt’s Scottish Terrier.

“You know Fala is the only presidential pet to be honored like this. He loved Roosevelt and Roosevelt loved him. They’re practically buried right next to each other.”

“That’s nice,” Henry said softly, “and I’m afraid if I think too long about it I’ll start to cry so perhaps we should keep moving.”

Alex was charmed and he thought the best place to end their day was at The Lantern, a rare and used bookshop just down the street from their place.

He thought it was his chance to charm Henry by appealing to his interests as both a writer and a reader. That he’d be taken by the shop's homey atmosphere. He thought he could show Henry something new.

But now David is being held like a baby by one of the clerks up front and Henry is picking through the shelves with a familiarity that makes it seem like he stocked them himself.

—

I did have a little cry over Fala while I was at work today.

Tagging: Tagging: @cricketnationrise @magicandarchery @porcelainmortal @inexplicablymine @accol-fics @oxfordslutphase @anincompletelist @youcancallmekathyp @sunshinestrand

#rwrb #rwrb fic #FirstPrince #FirstPrince fic #wip wednesday #neighbor AU

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fluffyhare · 1 month

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Like Real People Do, Part 8! ♡ (Casper x Avery)

☁️ Summary: Avery's cloud form starts to emerge in public. Casper takes quick action to try and save him. Big crying scene -- BIGGER tickle scene. This fic is outrageously self-indulgent, even for me.

☁️ Warnings: Ler!Avery fans... this one is for you. Unspeakably, desperately vulnerable. Lots of crying. Discussion of trans (ftm particularly) topics. Men in their underwear (no genital nudity). If you can get through the emotions, I reward you with the biggest, teasiest Ler!Avery scene you can imagine. This is not NSFW, however… it is very suggestive. If you skip to the end... well, I just can't believe you! (Just kidding, read this however you want.💙)

☁️ Author's Note: I discuss being a demiboy/FTM pretty intimately here. Importantly, I do not claim to speak for every demiboy/gay/FTM/trans person. I am not a gender studies major, this is just my experience, and I do not have to justify it to anyone. Do not come in my messages/ask box with critical language about how I describe my experience. If you do, I will immediately block you.

This is a series now!

Part 1

Part 2

Part 3

Part 4

Part 5

Part 6

Part 7

Part 8 *you are here

If you just got here and want to know more about my characters, you can read my comic starting right here!

My eyes frantically scanned the storage area. Luckily, it was vacant, at least for now.

Gary's Market was a relatively small grocery chain, and the stockroom was clean and well-organized. Large shelving racks stood in rows that reached the ceiling, and a small handful of pallets waited to be unloaded. Above us, rows of fluorescent lights hummed softly.

“Look for an exit,” I whispered, still grasping Avery's wrist.

“Casper, I'm so sorry-”

“Shh, no time for that now, let’s just get out of here.” I let go of him, walking to the end of the entryway and peeking around the nearest shelving unit. At the end of the hallway, past several rows of goods, was a glowing red exit sign.

“Oh, thank god. Let's go,” I turned back to Avery.

My blood ran cold.

I had not seen the employee who was approaching us; perhaps he had been in an adjacent aisle when we entered, had found what he needed, and was returning to the sales floor. Avery was still standing in the doorway, and as soon as the man rounded the corner, they would be face-to-face. The brunette twenty-something held a jar of peanut butter in one hand, and the only reason he hadn't seen me yet was because he was holding his phone in the other, texting with his thumb.

There was still space between us, but not so much that I couldn't read his nametag: David. “Hi, my name is David!” I imagined the smaller print said. It was difficult to believe the bored-looking youth, with his wrinkled uniform and beat-up Vans, would ever introduce himself that way.

Avery wasn't looking at me. If I called to him, the clerk would certainly hear. If I moved, I was sure to catch David's peripheral; he would see me, and then he would see Avery. There was nothing I could do; David was about to ruin my life.

What would happen, then? Would he scream? Would he pass out, as I almost had the first time I saw Avery? Would he tell his boss, then his family, then the news? His phone was already out – what if he took pictures? I imagined Avery's terrified face on CNN, Twitter, Tiktok. A cold sweat broke out all over my body as my insides twisted, a metallic taste filling my mouth. Was I really going to lose him – and like this?

Suddenly, Avery moved, his feet shuffling on the concrete floor as he widened his stance. His hands extended outward, fingers spread and clawed, as if he were preparing to grapple someone. His fingertips began to glow.

Was he going to attack this man?! My heart raced.

“Oh god, Avery, no!” I screamed internally. Whatever I imagined might happen to Avery would be infinitely worse if he harmed someone. He wouldn't just be captured and studied, he'd be killed. My blood pressure plummeted. I tightened my grip on the storage rack; I was about to collapse.

Then, the sound of crackling electricity filled the air. Until that moment, I hadn’t known electricity could sound like fire. A series of deafening pops rang out, followed by a blinding flash – then glass rained down on us as every lightbulb in the room exploded.

“What the fuck!” David cried as he dropped his phone.

Before I could react, I felt a cold hand on my arm, guiding me down the hallway toward the exit. The sign itself had gone out, too, but I could barely make out where sunlight seeped through the cracks. My knees were weak as Avery pulled me through the door and into the bright daylight, practically tripping over my own feet as I tried to regain my bearings.

The alley behind Gary's was empty, except for a pair of dumpsters and a few broken wood pallets. It was a clear day, and on the other side of the building, my car was right in the middle of the parking lot. We weren't out of the woods, yet.

I pulled Avery behind the dumpsters. His face was a mask of emotions I had never seen on him: guilt, shock, desperation. Fingers trembling, he carefully picked a piece of glass out of my hair. I could tell he was about to say something; I cut him off, cupping his cheek with my hand.

“Avery, stay right here. I'm going to bring the car around, okay? Stay right here behind this dumpster. I'll be right back.” I turned away before he could respond, jogging to my car as my heart shattered to leave him in such a state.

As I got in my car, I glanced at the store's entrance. The lights were on; I guessed the sales floor was on a different breaker than the warehouse. That was good – the less people who saw the lights go out, the better. I sped around back and parked next to the dumpster. Avery was right where I left him, huddled in a ball, face hidden in his hands.

“Hey, hey, it's okay… you're okay, you're safe now,” I comforted as I helped him into the back seat. Luckily, my car windows were tinted – practically a necessity in the desert where I was from. Afraid that David (or really, anyone) might come out the exit, I got in the driver's seat and pulled around to a secluded parking area. I climbed into the back, kneeling on the seat beside Avery as I put my hand on his shoulder. It was then that I realized just how small he was – I guessed he had shrunk to my height, maybe even shorter. He was still hiding his face in his hands.

“Avery… are you okay? I'm so sorry. I should have set an alarm… This is all my fault.”

“Casper, I'm- I'm- I'm so s-sorry!” He broke into a sob, his shoulders trembling as tears leaked out from under his hands. I saw, too, that the flat bottom of his head was dark and puffy. Water gushed from him, soaking his clothes. He wasn't just crying, he was raining.

“Oh my god, Avery, it isn't your fault! None of this is your fault!” I put my arms around him, hugging him into my chest. I hated to cry, especially when I was trying to comfort someone else, but I couldn't help it; my eyes stung as tears streamed down my cheeks, too.

“I- I should have known. I- I put you in danger,” he choked, his square glasses falling into his lap as he rubbed his pale eyes. He was completely soaked – so was my car seat – and as he cried, he was shrinking quickly. I panicked.

“You're shrinking! Avery, please stop crying! We're safe now, okay? I'll get you something to drink, alright? I'm not mad – at all – and I'm SO sorry. God, this is all my fault…” My stomach churned with regret. How could I have been so thoughtless? When we first met, I always set a timer on my phone, just to make sure we never ran out of time. As we’d grown closer, I'd become more and more lax. It had never been an issue before today, but now, my carelessness could have cost Avery his life. How could I live that down?

He looked up, then, to meet my eyes for the first time. Gently, he tucked a wisp of damp hair behind my ear. “Casper, i-it's not your fault, either. I know today was different from usual, there's no way you could have known. Please… don't cry,” he sniffled. “My heart breaks when you cry.”

“You don't cry! My heart breaks when you cry! So put that in your juice box and suck it!” Through my tears, I managed a small, but sincere laugh. Sniffling again, Avery giggled back. Regaining a bit of composure, he picked up his glasses, wiped the lenses and put them back on his face.

“How about we agree that, before we leave, we always set a timer. No matter what. Deal?” I kissed Avery's forehead, gently wiping the last of his tears. It was a bit wavering, but he finally gave me a real smile.

“Deal.”

+++

Avery protested, but I had to go back into the store to get our groceries. By the time we had finished crying, both of us were soaked, which earned me plenty of uncomfortable stares as I checked out. I had never been so thankful to be home.

He started to assist me with putting away the groceries, but I pointed sternly to the couch. “Dude, you’re shorter than me right now. You need to sit down and start hydrating, don’t worry about the groceries, I can handle it. Oh! I got you this.” I handed him a styrofoam cup with a dome lid. “It’s an ICEE. At first, I thought I should get you Gatorade… but your body isn’t like mine; you have ice crystals in there. I thought this might help you hydrate faster. It’s kinda like ice cream, but… different. It’s cherry flavored, think you’ll like it.”

Avery took the cup from me. His wet clothes hung on him like a tent in his diminished form – his glasses, too, were cartoonishly big for his shrunken face. I watched him sip slowly from the straw – then, his eyes lit up with an expression I recognized. He started to drink faster. I was delighted to have been correct in my selection; as he drank, he was rapidly growing in size.

“Heh, I’m glad you like it. Uhh… woah there, turbo, slow down. You’re gonna get-”

“Ow, ow, ow!” Avery winced, clutching his head. “Ahh… I’m not sure I like this, after all.”

I snorted. His mouth – normally a pale blue – had already turned purple from the red dye.

“Dude, you got a brain freeze. You can’t drink cold stuff that fast.”

“Ah, I see. It… tastes so good, though…” He started sipping again, his eyes forming half-moons of enjoyment.

I tittered. Relatable.

I worked on the groceries as Avery rested on the couch, sipping his drink and scrolling on his phone. By the time I was finished, he had returned to his smallest “normal” size – 6”3 (190.5cm ♡) and there was a big wet spot on my couch. I should have put a towel down, first.

“Alright, let’s get out of these wet clothes. I know you don’t have a spare set, here… but you can just wear your pajamas until your day clothes are dry, okay?”

It cost an extra thirty dollars per month, but it was worth it to have the tiny washer and dryer set in my unit. Standing over the washing machine, I peeled off my wet shirt and jeans, leaving me in my plaid boxers.

“What is this…?” Avery asked. I hadn’t noticed him leave the couch, and I jumped slightly. Though we had been together for several months, his quiet footsteps – and unexpected speed – still caught me off guard sometimes. He was pinching the hem of my half binder. I realized that I was currently more exposed than he had ever seen me, and having fallen asleep unexpectedly the night before, I had never even taken it off.

“Oh… uh, it’s a binder,” I replied, embarrassed.

“What is it for?” Avery looked concerned.

My binder was wet, and at that point, I had been wearing it for well over twenty-four hours. I was uncomfortable, and I was sure I looked it, too. A sigh rolled from my chest. I knew I would have to explain this to him, eventually. I just didn’t expect it to be today, when I had already spent so much energy… well, fearing for our lives.

“Remember last month, when I explained queerness for humans? I know for clouds, you guys all get born the same, and you can kinda decide what your bodies look like. Well… for us, we get born how we get born, and sometimes we get born looking a different way than we feel inside. For humans, changing our bodies is actually really hard, and complicated… and sometimes, even if we feel a different way from how we’re born, we don't want to change our bodies. We just want to be seen for who we are inside, but in the bodies we're already in.”

I paused to look up at him – he was listening intently, his brow furrowed as he stared into my eyes. I shrunk under his intense gaze, blushing a bit.

“It’s rarely ever cut-and-dry, though, when we’re born a different way than we feel. Sometimes people get born in a ‘man's body,’ but they know they are female, and vice versa… but there are a lot of people who are in-between, too. Some people feel like ‘gender’ as a whole doesn't apply to them. Some feel a mix of things.

“I was born biologically female. Most of the time, I feel either male, or neither. It’s not that there's anything wrong with my body… it's just… when other people see me, I want them to see me how I feel inside. I wish I didn't have to wear a binder, but when I don't, people get ideas about me – and sometimes, I even get ideas about myself – that aren't who I really am,” I said, as if wearing a binder allowed me to pass consistently – it did not.

I was afraid to meet Avery's eyes, staring down at my wet clothes as they laid at the bottom of the washing machine. What would he think of me, now? Would he think I was just “confused,” as so many had said in the past? Even when they didn't say it out loud, I could tell. I could always tell.

A cool, soft finger crooked under my chin, gently tilting my head up.

“You will always be who you are inside when you're with me, no matter what your body looks like. Is that clear?”

My eyes welled with tears. I tried to look away, but Avery didn't let me.

“Don't let me find out that you've been wearing that thing longer than you should be – I know there must be safety precautions with something like that – and you never need to wear it when I'm around. In fact, I think you should take it off, right now. You don't have to do it in front of me, of course… but I can see that it's wet, and I can tell it's affecting your breathing. In fact, I've been able to tell many times in the past; I just presumed it to be a facet of your hypotension. Now that I know better, you can expect that I will be keeping you in check.” His intense gaze softened as a tear streaked down my flushed cheek. He encircled me in his huge embrace, a cool hand rubbing my back.

“Casper, I love you. I love you so much that it hurts, sometimes. Never feel like you have to perform for me, you are perfect just as you are.”

I trembled. I was frustrated to be sobbing for the second time in the same day, but Avery's chest was so soft, and his love was so big, I just couldn't help myself. Years of self-loathing and rejection poured out of me as he cradled my half-naked body against his chest.

“Shhh… it's okay, sweetheart. I know you must have been worried for months about what I'd think, but you don't have to worry any more.”

He pulled back from me, hands on my shoulders and a gentle, playful smile on his lips. He peered at me over the rim of his glasses.

“Now, go change, okay? I believe I made a promise to you earlier, and I intend to keep it.”

+++

Avery and I changed separately. I was soaked all the way through, so I donned new boxers and a fresh, loose t-shirt. It was a relief to be free of my binder. I inhaled deeply, feeling my ribs fully expand. Though I was still a bit nervous for Avery to see my chest, after so much crying, a flood of endorphins suppressed my fear.

As I entered the living room, Avery was already on the couch, hands folded neatly in his lap. He was dressed in his pajamas, and I could only assume he had been drinking more ICEE, because he was especially big and fluffy once again. Only the washing machine’s soft whirring broke the silence.

“Come here, dear.”

I took a few steps toward him, and then a sudden force – like a gust of wind – swept me from behind into his lap. I yelped in surprise.

“Hey, that scared me!”

“Hehe, sorry – guess I’m feeling a bit eager.” He smirked. My eyes widened. Until that moment, I had not realized exactly what he meant about his… promise.

It was the one he had made in the frozen section.

“W-wait,” I stuttered, my ears growing hot as I tried to scramble out of his lap. It was too late; with one large hand, he ensnared both of my wrists, lifting them over my head. I squealed. “WAHAHAIT!”

Avery laughed gleefully, showing his delicate round teeth.

“What, exactly, am I waiting for?” He teased. “Am I waiting for you to be ready for how much this is going to tickle? Because, I don’t think you could ever be ready for that. Hehe… you’re just buzzing with oxytocin right now, aren’t you? This is going to be so fun. Wonder where I should start?”

“Pff-hahahaha!” I laughed, trying to curl inward, which was impossible with Avery holding my arms up. As I pulled against his grasp, I fully internalized that my strength was no match for his. I also knew that as soon as he started tickling, I was likely to go limp as a ragdoll, too weak to fight. Despite the futility, it was all I could do to struggle while I still could.

“All this giggling when I haven’t even touched you, yet – I never tire of it. You’re so cute. Why don’t you save some laughs for when I start tickling, dear? You’re going to need them… trust me.” With his free hand, he wiggled his plush fingers threateningly in the air above my tummy.

“AHAhahahahavery PLEASE!” I could hardly contain myself; he hadn’t laid a finger on me, yet I could feel his damnably soft fingers already, dancing all over my body.

“Please what? Please don’t tickle your cute tummy? You know… I think it’s only fair that I should get to see it, this time. I did, after all, show you mine. As a matter of fact… I think I want to turn this snack into a full course.”

Avery stood, scooping me into his arms “bridal style” as I squirmed, howling in protest.

“Put me down! You can’t just manhandle me like th- ACK!” Chuckling, he deposited me unceremoniously on the bed.

“Can’t I?” He mused.

Then, he flourished his hand in a way I’d never seen before. Like magic, two ghostly hands – very similar in appearance to Avery’s – appeared out of thin air. Before I could react, each of my wrists were grappled and pinned to the top of the bed.

“What is this! This is cheating!” I objected, pulling at my arms. It was no use – apparently, any strength that Avery had, he was able to transfer to these apparitions, too.

“All’s fair in love and war, isn’t it, Casper?” Tittering, he straddled my waist, one knee on each side of my wriggling body. He pinned me so firmly that between his weight and his cursed “helping hands,” I could barely move. My blush spread like fire; especially with my binder off, I’d never felt more vulnerable.

“There we are… Now, let’s see what you’ve been hiding, hm?” Avery gently lifted the hem of my shirt to my lower ribs, exposing my tummy completely.

He paused, his eyebrows raising. As I watched, a pretty cerulean dusted his cheeks. His eyes practically sparkled as he looked down at me, making me flush even hotter.

“Oh… Casper. Just look at you. Goodness, I… I knew you would be lovely, but… oh, you are so cute. Just look at this little belly button…” With a silky fingertip, Avery drew a circle around the rim of my navel.

“PFFF HEHhahAHAHA!” I shouldn’t have been, but I was surprised by how much it tickled. My stomach muscles tensed beneath his delicate touch; it was completely undeniable, impossible to block out.

“Oh, wow... Your blush goes all the way down, doesn’t it~?”

I could hardly stand this any longer.

“Plehehehease…!” I begged, though not entirely sure what for.

“Ah, sorry. You’re right: It’s impolite to play with your food.”

With that, he lowered all ten of his fingertips to my tummy, wiggling them deftly into my taut skin.

“AAAAAHAHAHAHAHA!!!” I screamed with laughter, my hands balling into useless fists. My unrestrained feet kicked uncontrollably as my back, with the little space I was allowed, strained to arch off the bed.

“Oh no, does that tickle? Poor, sensitive Casper… have you forgotten what it’s like to be anxious, yet? No? I suppose I should keep going, then.” Avery giggled cheerfully, gently moving his fingers around my tummy, probing different spots randomly, just as I had done to him just a day prior. As always, his touch was so gentle; he always tickled with just enough force to excite the nerves beneath my delicate skin.

Fireworks exploded in my mind as the torture of sensation ran through my veins like electricity. I tried, but I was laughing too hard to even get a word out, like someone attempting – but unable – to tell the funniest joke they’d ever heard. Beads of moisture collected in the corners of my eyes as I shook my head, a halo of sweat forming on my pillow.

“What’s wrong, dear? Can’t stand the taste of your own medicine? I distinctly remember you tickling me, just like this. Could it be that you did so because you knew, if done on you, it would be simply unbearable? You’re already a mess, and we haven’t even gotten to your other spots, yet.”

Like a comedian pausing for effect, he stilled his fingers, grinning deviously.

“YOU’RE KIHIHIHLLLING MEHEHEHE!” I cried, finally able to somewhat form a sentence, though the tickle persisted long after he had stopped.

Avery laughed reactively – his big laugh, the one that I loved so much. My exposed, trembling tummy filled with butterflies.

“Would it be such a bad thing to die laughing?” He joked tenderly, leaning down to place a feather-light kiss on my tummy. Then he reached up, brushing the damp hair from my forehead. “Do you need a break?”

“...”

Avery lowered his tone, leering over his glasses again. “Before you answer, just so you know: I’m taking those armpits for a spin, next.”

The fluster I experienced was so powerful and so immediate, I saw stars.

“Y-Y-Yes, I need w-water,” I choked, imagining how crazed I must look to him. He chuckled, leaving the room for a moment, and then returning with a bottle of water. With a hand on my back, he helped me sit up. The hands holding my wrists relaxed, but not enough to give me free range of motion. I shot him a quizzical glance.

“Oh, dewdrop… You didn’t think I was going to let you go, did you?” He taunted, gently cupping my chin as he poured the water into my mouth.

I blushed furiously.

It was difficult to drink, as I was trembling from head to toe, but I managed… somehow. He set the bottle on the nightstand, and then I was trapped again, arms aloft as Avery sat on my waist.

He eyed me through his bifocals, a fingertip placed to his lips.

“Hmm… Under, or over your shirt?”

“What?!”

“Sorry, did I stutter? Under or over, Casper.”

“I-I-I…”

“What’s wrong, dear? Can’t you manage a simple, one-word answer~?”

My response was nothing but an incoherent whimper.

“Since it seems you’re feeling indecisive, I’ll choose for you. I choose under.”

“No! NO! AHAHAHahveery!”

He leaned forward, placing his fingertips on my bare lower ribs.

“Let’s just take a little trip, shall we? We’ll start right here.”

“NOHHOHOHO!”

“Then we’ll work our way upward, nice and slow…”

Avery walked his fingertips up my ribs, pausing now and then to wiggle into a soft spot.

“AAAAHAHA NOOO PLHEHEHEHEHASE!”

“You know, sometimes, it’s about the journey, not the destination… don’t you agree?”

His silky digits continued upward until they reached the top of my ribcage. I shook with laughter beneath him, my feet stomping the bed fruitlessly as my toes curled in desperation. I simultaneously dreaded and craved what was next.

“But, then again… it is nice to arrive, too~”

With that, he dipped his fingertips into each of my helpless armpits, scribbling gently into the bare hollows.

“Tickle tickle tickle,” he lilted, grinning.

My response was a delirious, unintelligible shriek. In my mind raged a five-alarm fire, searing any coherent thought to ash. With what little movement my restraints would allow, I thrashed beneath Avery, my heart palpitating so fiercely I was afraid it would escape my chest. Tears streamed down my burning cheeks, heralding my third cry of the day.

“Oh, my god… Your previous laughs were hardly a giggle compared to this. Have I finally found a favorite spot, sweetheart? Are you just too ticklish under these arms? Goodness… I could hardly tickle you any more gently, but even this is driving you nuts!”

I couldn’t respond – the tickle was so intense, so overwhelming that all I could do was laugh in futility. I had no strength left to struggle; my body lay limp beneath Avery as he killed me softly with those silky, gentle fingertips, stroking merrily away under my arms, destroying any hope I had of stringing two thoughts together.

After what seemed like an eternity – but in reality, must have been less than ten minutes – Avery stopped. The pair of hands that were holding my wrists released me, but I hadn’t even the strength to put my arms down. His cool hand stroked my cheek as he chuckled affectionately.

“Well, now… How do you feel? Have you forgotten what it’s like to be anxious?”

I sat up – tried to, anyway – and then collapsed back onto the pillow in a blissfully overstimulated huff. Avery started to giggle, which escalated to a delighted belly laugh.

“I’ll take that as a yes!”

“Avery…”

“Yes…?”

“If you don’t cuddle me – right now – I think I'm going to die.”

Still chuckling, he immediately enveloped me in his fluffy embrace, hugging me as if he were afraid someone would take me from him. I snuggled easily into his arms, cocooned in a heretofore unknown peace and safety. The last thing I heard was Avery’s characteristic lightning zap as the light flickered out; I was asleep before my head hit the pillow.

#tickle fic #tickle fluff #tickling community #casper and avery #like real people do #fluffylore #writing #my fic #romance #tickling #ocs #my ocs

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slippinmickeys · 15 days

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Twenty questions for fanfic writers

I was tagged by @agent-troi and @randomfoggytiger Thanks for the tag, guys!

1. How many works do you have on AO3?

2. What's your total AO3 word count?

712,000 exactly, which is sort of creepy?

3. What fandoms do you write for?

The X-Files mainly, though a million years ago I wrote two fics for JAG, and technically, I have a His Dark Materials fic (but it's an XF crossover)

4. What are your top 5 fics by kudos?

The Mesas of Deuteronilus Mensae

Prompt Drabble Collection

The Annapolis Grant

Three Part Harmony

A Companion Unobtrusive

5. Do you respond to comments?

I try to! Comments are the only payment fanfic writers get, and it's an incredibly valuable and underrated currency. Fanfiction as a community is one of the most generous you'll find, and I'm incredibly proud to be a part of this particular one.

6. What is the fic you wrote with the angstiest ending?

Oh man, probably La Comtesse de Saint-Germain.

7. What’s the fic you wrote with the happiest ending?

In this day and age I feel like we deal with enough shit, so I try to end most of my fics happily. I think A Gem-Like Flame probably has the most uplifting happy ending, but then, I'm a sports nerd.

8. Do you get hate on fics?

I haven't yet.

9. Do you write smut? If so, what kind?

Um, probably pretty vanilla het MSR. No shame.

10. Do you write crossovers? What’s the craziest one you’ve written?

I've only written one, but it turned out really well, I thought. It's an X-Files/His Dark Materials novella-length crossover that takes place in Lyra's world, pre-Lyra, called Out of the Little Grove.

11. Have you ever had a fic stolen?

Anyone who steals my fic is going to catch these hands.

12. Have you ever had a fic translated?

Yes, a couple of years ago someone asked if they could translate one of my fics to Russian. It's out there somewhere.

13. Have you ever co-written a fic before?

I jumped in and helped @monikafilefan get Five Years and a Lifetime over the line for a fic exchange a couple of years ago. A fun, collaborative experience, that was like 85% Monika. It's a great fic, check it out if you haven't!

14. What’s your all time favorite ship?

Mulder & Scully are my OTP. Always and forever.

15. What’s a WIP you want to finish but doubt you ever will?

I'd love to finish Madam Scully's Spiritual Services, Inc., it's an AU where Scully works for her sister's Psychic Boutique while prepping for med school. Scully ends up being actually psychic and she helps newly minted FBI agent Fox Mulder solve a series of murders. I have it almost completely plotted (except for the nitty-gritty hard stuff), but I don't think I'll ever get it done, sadly. It's just too big a story to tackle with where I am in my life. Though I never say never.

16. What are your writing strengths?

I'm decent at dialogue, have a pretty firm grasp on plotting, and, I hope characterization.

17. What are your writing weaknesses?

My character work is probably my weak spot, which is why I have so much fun writing fanfic--the character work is already done, I just get to play around a world where everybody already knows the characters.

18. Thoughts on writing dialogue in another language in fic?

When I do it, I hope like hell that I'm doing it right. I think it's necessary for some stories and you just hope you're properly respecting a language you don't speak.

19. First fandom you wrote for?

The X-Files, in the year of our lord nineteen hundred and ninety eight.

20. Favorite fic you’ve written?

It's a toss up between Proof of Life, an AU where CNN conflict reporter Dana Scully is kidnapped and imprisoned with fellow kidnap victim and photojournalist Fox Mulder, and they, you know, fall in love. And North of Zero, a post-col novel where Mulder and Scully get William back and have to save the world. The one I totally pantsed (made up as I went along), and it came together like alchemy. I love that story. If you don't like AU, you'd like Proof of Life. If you don't like post-colonization stories, you'd like North of Zero. I don't always like everything I've written after I'm done writing it (a writer's life), but I'm incredibly proud of both of those fics.

Tagging @monikafilefan because she's already tagged, and anyone else who wants to do this!

#fanfic asks #the x-files #the x-files fanfic #slippin mickeys

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voylitscope · 11 months

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Stucky Recs: Pride Edition

So, the original plan was to do dystopias and apocalypses as the next theme. I actually started that post. It's sitting in my drafts. But then between work, moving, and other real-life stuff, I sort of ran out of days in May. Now it's mid-June. And since it is mid-June -- and since part of the whole point of these rec lists is the theming -- I thought I'd go for Pride recs instead.

We'll do dystopias in July.

I could have done a lot of different rules/qualifiers with this theming, but, for this time/post I went with, "actively has sexuality themes as a decently large plot point." I ended up with 12 fics.

Note: As part of my personal campaign to combat the persistent idea that every great fic in this fandom was written in 2015, I'm now marking recs of fics written post-2016 and recs of fics written post-Endgame.

Canon

🏳️‍🌈 Tin Soldiers | idrilka | Teen | 19,743 words

You know what's great? Fake pop culture, fake academia, and fake social media. This fic makes such good use of all of those things and is so smart about it. I love that this fic narratively sandwiches CA:TWS. So a large part of the point here is the public perception of Steve, and of SteveandBucky right before, during, and then after the events of CA:TWS, in a world where all of that is real. The way it's done is brilliant and feels so true and accurate to life. There is live tweeting and live reactions. There are news headlines. There's fandom culture and blogging. There are social media arguments. It's just so well done. There are a lot of fics that look, at least briefly, at the public perception/use of Steve's legend in some way, and a lot of them are fantastic. I'm just so especially of fond of this fic. There's a hyper-realism to it. Plus, it includes a scene of people live reacting to Steve spontaneously and bluntly coming out on CNN. It's some beautiful stuff.

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As Michelle Mbatha argues in The Anatomy of a Sidekick, “Barnes’ transition from a partner to a sidekick marks the point at which the relationship between Barnes and Rogers becomes that of a mentor and pupil, thus effectively prohibiting any potentially »unsavoury« readings of their partnership” (121). In this sort of dynamic, one which emphasizes the much more prominent age difference, there is, indeed, no place for any assumptions of queerness or any sort of code similar to that which permeated cinematographic works of the time, signifying penalizable, “forbidden” practices falling under the censorship guidelines (see also: The Celluloid Closet, 1995). Bucky, then, in taking his place as Captain America’s teenage sidekick, becomes figuratively castrated in order to appear effectively sexless and thus avoid any possibility of coding their relationship as queer.

Moreover, the insistence upon heteronormative and ultimately exclusionary interpretations of Rogers’ relationships with Barnes and Carter respectively, both in the comics and in biographical writings, comes from the need to reaffirm the image created by the American propaganda, which constructed Captain America to reflect the intrinsically jingoistic policies of the United States, to propagate the myth of American machismo and uphold the wholesome image of the American everyman at the same time.

🏳️‍🌈Let me be buried under your name | tempestaurora | Teen | 50,669 words | **Post-Endgame Rec**

Oh no. This one. So, sometimes, my notes on fics in my rec database have sensible things like comments about tropes or moments I definitely want to point out. Other times, well -- The notes on this one say, "DOG TAGS," and also, "OH GOD." Which is very helpful of me. To myself. But I will say more coherent words about it to all of you. I imagine that fics that have both wartime and post-TWS scenes are emotionally trying for us all, and this very painful, and very beautiful fic is certainly a good example of why. There is a heartbreaking quality to the wartime Bucky POV, the during Hydra captivity POV, and the post-TWS Bucky POV that has really stayed with me. Bucky's thought processes, and his descriptions of Steve at various points, especially, are so observant and vulnerable all at once. It's also all just -- Guttingly but wonderfully romantic.

Quote:

Maybe he’d read before the light died entirely. Steve had bought him a pulp novel at the market and Bucky had been working through it slowly, dragging out the story and making it last, to make the most of the pages. He’d likely read it three times over before trading it for something else, and even then he’d tell the story to himself – mythical, magical things he’d never even thought of existing; time travel and other worlds, aliens and laser guns and space ships, exploring the stars. His eyes fluttered shut, and he just listened to Steve’s breathing, to him drawing, to the birds outside the window. He’d more than once thought that he could live in this moment forever; that he’d be more than happy to live out the rest of his days just like this one, with Steve and a crummy apartment and a warm summer day. Screw marriage, kids, and a house in the suburbs – this was where Bucky pictured when he thought of home. This was what he’d be imagining on the cold nights in Europe. This was what he’d fight to come home to.

🏳️‍🌈We wear red so they don't see us bleed | unicornpoe | Teen | 2,161 words | **Post-Endgame Rec**

This is the most beautifully tense little fic. A canon-divergent-before-canon-starts fic (I never know how to classify those. If it's AU, but Steve and Bucky still move in together by like, 1939-ish... is it fully AU? Like, yes because them as childhood friends is important, obviously, but also -- in the grand scheme of overall canon -- sort of no?) that has Steve and Bucky sitting in jail cell doing this dance of little cues about each other. This is all little words and gazes and touches; there is a conversation under a conversation in this fic. They're having this casual chat as strangers in jail, except they're also having this whole second secret dialogue underneath it where they're trying to make sure they speak each other's language. Also? I adore this characterization. I love it.

Quote:

Bucky stands up and crosses the cell in two long strides, draping himself in clean lines along the section of free bench next to Steve; he pulls one leg up beneath him and stretches the other out, so that their ankles almost touch. Turned toward Steve as Bucky is, he can watch fully the sharp, barely-there movement of Steve’s eyes flickering down to their legs, and then back up to the wall across from them. He doesn’t turn to Bucky. It’s mostly silent in here. There’s a faint murmur of voices somewhere down the hallway, the quiet, steady tick of a clock hidden from view, the various noises of the men locked up with them—but other than that, nothing. “Where’d a guy like you learn to throw a punch like that?” Bucky asks finally, when he’s spent too long staring at the delicate, fucked-up line of this man’s profile, spent too long raking his eyes over and over again down the line of his feather-soft lashes. The corner of Steve’s mouth ticks up, just slightly, just a little bit.

Shrunkyclunks

💗I just met you (and this is crazy) | littlesystems | Explicit | 41,784 words | *Post-2016 Rec*

This is one of those fics that surprised me with just how much I liked it. I certainly wasn't expecting to dislike it, but I was not expecting to love it so much, either. It's a joy, though, just a total feel-good joy. It's a fic that has Steve and Bucky pretty instantly head-over-heals for each other, something I never ever object to, and the instant attraction works so well here. I think, too, so much of what I love about this one, is that they make each other so happy in it -- like the two of them truly just get dumber and happier and more in love with every 100 or so words of this fic. So then I get happier and happier as I continue to read it. Seriously, this fic is a joy in part because Steve's POV is so damn giddy and joyful about Bucky. I love that. It's good stuff.

Quote:

“You’re a person, Steve. And if people hurt you or take advantage of you, that’s not your fault, either. You should be able to go to a bar. You should be able to hook up with some guy. There’s nothing wrong with any of that. The fact that someone took pictures is the photographer’s fault. And the fact that newspapers decided to print it is the editors’ fault. And the fact that some fuckwad decided to lie for a quick buck is his fault. You may regret it, and that’s fine. But I don’t want to hear you blame yourself again. Got that?” Steve nods. His throat feels tight enough that he’s not sure he can speak. Bucky tips their foreheads together and they sit in silence, until Steve has naturally matched his breathing to Bucky’s - slow, deliberate, relaxed, and not geared up for a fight. Bucky kisses him softly, then.

💗The Voyager | notlucy | Explicit | 76,740 words | *Post-2016 Rec*

I am a sucker for the Steve and Bucky road trip fic. A very recently arrived in 21st century Steve on a road trip with a modern Bucky? All that time alone? In those motels? That might or might not have the right number of beds? This is a good trope that we should very much use forever. This fic is such a classic sort of road trip fic. Honestly, I've never been on any sort of proper, real road trip, but I'd like to think this fic feels like a road trip -- what they must feel like, anyway. There's such freedom in the storytelling here. There's a suspended sense of time in this fic. There's a way this fic rolls along with a pace that makes sense here, in this story -- it's a pace that definitely wouldn't work in all stories, which is exactly why it does, in this one. It's lovely, it's a little bit surreal, and it stays with you long after you finish it.

Quote:

“Wow,” Bucky managed. Words were difficult when faced with something so spectacular, the canyon spread out before them lit with the slow, smoldering burn of that deep, ancient glow. “Awesome,” Steve murmured, the word incongruous in his mouth. Bucky nearly poked fun, until he realized Steve meant it literally - what they were seeing was awesome. Smiling, he leaned his head against Steve’s shoulder before entwining their fingers, not caring a whit who might see them. Who might care. At that moment, Bucky wanted to tell the entire world, because he was in love. Except it wasn’t love. Strong like, maybe. Effortlessly increasing affection, sure. But not love. You couldn’t fall in love that fast. He’d only known Steve since May, after all. It was at most infatuation. Appreciation. Fascination. Bucky was a very level-headed person. It wasn’t love. But it was something.

Modern

🌈On The Back of a Raindrop | musette22 @musette22 | Explicit | 52,215 words | **Post-Endgame Rec**

Something I love to read in kid fics is any time that thing happens where it's not just Steve and Bucky acting like a couple without being together yet, but a group of people starting to act like a family unit in every single way -- except that no one has talked about that, or acknowledged it, and technically, someone is actually still the neighbor, or the babysitter, or, in this case, the gardener. I love that, and I love this fic, specifically. Featuring this sweetest and loveliest and healthiest family forming in a backyard garden over the months of a beautiful summer. It's so domestic, so intimate, and it happens so naturally over the course of this story. It makes everything feel so perfectly meant to be, so romantic, and so satisfying. Also! One of my database notes on this one is, "SARAH," because this is a fic with a very alive Sarah Rogers, and I love, love, love, Steve and Sarah's relationship in this fic.

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Now that he’s gotten to know him, seen him with the twins, has gradually watched Bucky’s tan deepening and bringing out the grey-blue of his eyes, Steve is so wildly attracted to him sometimes that it knocks the breath right out of him. It’s how he ends up sketching Bucky again on Wednesday, from his usual spot in the shade. He makes sure to make it a PG rendition this time, including Gracie and Miles as well, so that when later, Bucky asks him ‘Hey, whatcha drawin’?’, Steve can actually show him the sketch. Bucky is silent for the longest time when Steve hands over his sketchbook. For a moment, Steve almost panics, wondering if he accidentally forgot to draw Bucky’s jeans or something, but then Bucky looks up, a look in his eyes that Steve can’t quite pinpoint. “This is amazing, Steve. Could I… Would you mind if I hold on to it, maybe?” Steve blinks in surprise. “Of course, yeah. I mean, it’s not my best work. I could do you something better if you like.” “It’s perfect,” Bucky frowns, seeming almost offended Steve would suggest otherwise. “I love it.”

🌈One for Fiction | thepinupchemist | Explicit | 6,713 words |*Post-2016 Rec*

I very much enjoy a shrinkyclinky-ish modern fic where Bucky is a disaster about the fact that Steve, like, exists. I am just so here for this, and this very adorable fic is a top-tier demonstration of that. Featuring a Veteran-turned-librarian Bucky and a barista Steve, and a lot of awkward flirting. At a library! Also featuring a lot of Bucky being a disaster about Steve, but also a lot of Steve being like, "...have you? seen? or? met? yourself? You are definitely the catch here." It's cute. They're cute. This fic is cute.

Quote:

“Fun fact about the library,” Bucky went on, “As long as no one can see your computer screen, you’re allowed to look at porn. That’s protected under intellectual freedom.” Steve raised a brow. “Interesting.” They meandered back to Bucky’s display. The night, as far as nights went, was a quiet one for the library, and the cafe was a ghost town, but for the group of teenagers with bags of McDonald’s scattered across the table and AP History books open on their laps. “Where’d everyone get their pronoun pins?” asked Steve, as Bucky pushed his stepladder upright, collected his tape dispenser, and climbed back up to finish hanging the flag garland. “They make ‘em at one of our sister libraries,” Bucky said, “Have a pin press over there and everything. I’m picking up a couple of shifts for one of the ladies over there next week; you want me to grab you some?” See, Bucky used to be this smooth. He used to be this smooth all the time. Apparently, trauma and PTSD aside, he could still be smooth every once in a while. A pleased little smile tilted beautiful Steve’s beautiful lips. He said, “That would be awesome. Do they have pride ones, too? Like your rainbow?” Does Steve like men? Steve might like men. Be cool, Barnes. Don’t be weird.

🌈Wholesale Change | biblionerd07 | Mature | 83,320 words | *Post-2016 Rec*

You know how sometimes you're the captain of an NHL team, and you're very talented, but over the years you've gained a bad reputation? And so your people all but force you to do a The Bachelor-esq dating show? And you've been having a terrible few years and feel like your life is falling apart? And also you're bisexual and closeted because of the whole NHL thing? And also the camera guy on that dating show is your long-lost very attractive best friend? Who also used to play hockey? Look, this fic has a ridiculous premise. In the best possible way. It's a delightfully ridiculous premise. It's so much fun. There's literally a dating show. Steve gets mad about dating show manipulations and lies! And, you know, Steve definitely ends up selecting one of the dating show contestants. Steve definitely does not fall for Bucky instead! Steve definitely does not purposefully out himself on live TV. Steve absolutely follows the rules and sees the dating show contract through! Because as we all know, Steve Rogers follows rules and does what people with authority tell him to do. Always and at all times. So much fun. So delightful.

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“I’m so tired of lying,” Steve says. He almost sags with the weight of it all, now that’s admitted it. He was trying so hard to outrun it all. Outskate it all, maybe. But he’s been losing for a long time now. “I know,” Bucky murmurs. “I’m sorry. But I don’t think letting him tell the world is going to make you feel any better. You need to tell the truth on your own terms.” Steve sighs and leans his shoulder against Bucky’s. “I’ll talk to whoever I pick,” he says. They deserve that, at least. He doesn’t want to pick someone under false pretenses. Falser, anyway. “You won’t get much alone time,” Bucky warns. “But I’m sure you can find a way.” “Nothing gets in Captain America’s way when his mind’s made up,” Steve says in his cheesy commercial voice. It was a line from some ad campaign he did for a sports drink he didn’t even like. Bucky snorts. “I was thinking more about Steve Rogers,” Bucky says. “That asshole’s unstoppable.” And after a line like that? All Steve can do is kiss him.

🌈Songbird | chicklette | Explicit | 70,843 words | **Post-Endgame Rec**

I am very fond of this fic. It's music industry closeting -- but then planned sexuality revealing. Through lies. This is a fic that starts off with what should have been a one-night stand -- a great one, as one-night stands go, but a one-night stand. Except, pictures are taken of them very early the next morning, hugging, in front of Steve's apartment. And Bucky is very famous and very not out. Bucky's already got a damaged reputation and a host of other problems, and so his team decides that, actually, Bucky pretending to date some non-famous, pretty-faced, nice boy for a couple months might do his reputation some good. So, then, as you can imagine, being Steve and Bucky, the two of them spend the fic doing a very excellent, really great, just super good job, at sticking to having a formal arrangement. A no sex, no feelings, totally-just-a-business-deal-smile-for-the-camera-thing. They're total pros at it, okay? It goes so well for them. They definitely succeed. Just because, whatever, they quickly become friends and get close, it's totally still fine. They're definitely still doing really amazing at this, alright? They've got it under control. They're not going to crack on any of this. No sex. No not-for-the-cameras-kissing. No feelings. No one will cry at any point. Nope. They're So Good at this. Like I said, I'm super fond of this one.

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Steve smiles, his face going all soft and sweet, and it’s like a knife to Bucky’s heart. Ten more weeks, and someone else gets all those smiles. It’s a Goddamned shame, is what it is. His thoughts are uncomfortable enough that Bucky gets up and goes to the railing, looking back out over Manhattan. All the people there, living their lives, day in and day out. How many broken hearts is he looking at right now? How many people starry-eyed with new love? How many people, he wonders, comfortable in an old love, one that’s solid and still growing, deeply rooted, secure enough to be safe, but fresh enough to still bloom? “Penny for your thoughts,” Steve says, and Bucky tilts his head to look at him. “There’s a million love songs happening right now, just waiting for someone to write them.” “That’s awful hopeful, coming from you.” Bucky chuckles. “Nah, I was just wondering how many people we’re looking at right now with broken hearts.”

🌈Strong Saftey | queenmab_scherzo | Mature | 23,043 words

As a first note here, I will point out that this fic is a sequel to Targeting, and it is probably most satisfying when read with full context. But I really do think it can absolutely be read on its own. I really, really appreciate and love the way this fic handles Bucky and trauma. (the Targeting 'verse mirrors canon very closely, re: bad things happening to Bucky. Except that it's about college football.) Bucky's headspace here, and the way that then translates to his actual dialogue/actions is so, so well done. Plus, Steve and Bucky are preestablished in this fic, and it's healthy and lovely and romantic and makes me emotional-- Bucky is so hard on himself about everything, all the time, but he's got Steve, who is wonderfully loving and supportive. Also! Bucky befriends a cat. Also! Bucky legitimately has Steve saved in his phone like this: "Punk ❤️."

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"Vanilla latte, no whip?" the barista calls. Steve goes to the counter for his drink, but keeps his ears open. "I just wanted to tell you—I came out to my high school team last week. And, um. It's gone really well actually." "Wow," Bucky croaks. "Yeah, it just, I've been scared about it for a long time, but then you told the whole NFL, so I thought—yeah. I just wanted to say … thanks." From the corner of his eye, Steve can see them shake hands. "Wow," Bucky says again. He clears his throat a little. "Thank you. I mean, thanks for telling me." "I'm headed out to visit Oregon now, actually." "Football?" "Yeah." "Holy shit," Bucky says, candid as ever. "That's legit, man. Good luck." "Thank you." The kid starts to turn away, then adds: "For everything." When Steve goes back to Bucky's side, Bucky is staring into the paper bag at his donut. He sniffs, audibly.

"Are you crying?" Steve asks quietly. "No." Steve can't see his eyes through the sunglasses, but his nose is really red. It makes Steve smile. He doesn't press the issue.

🌈Rough Edges | sparkagrace @sparkagrace | Mature | 33,278 words | **Post-Endgame Rec**

Showmances and Rivals-to-Lovers on the Stars on Ice Tour! There's a lot to be excited about here. This fic is such a delight, truly. I love it. You know that post that goes, "What is a rival other than a crush you're mad about having?" Steve spends the first chunk of this fic so disproportionately angry at Bucky for incredibly minor things. Like standing in rooms or... skating. It's amazing. But then there is bonding and heart-to-hearts. Often on skating benches! And, as it turns out, those two being around each other a lot is, as always, a very, very good thing, in the long run. One that helps them both. Also! Becca texts Bucky lots of pictures of Alpine -- pictures from Alpine. Also! Bucky and Nat have a somewhat frighteningly intense friendship/skating partnership and it's all just so, so great.

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Bucky continues on the corner edges while Steve sorts through one of the color groups. He thinks he has enough to make up branches of the tree that was displayed on the front of the box. He likes it when he finds the pieces that fit together, it’s like his brain fires little electrons of glee when they slot into place perfectly. He tries not to think about the fact it’s the same feeling he gets sometimes when he and Bucky execute their twizzles in perfect synchronicity. The same way he likes the sound of their prop swords clashing when they’re choreographing their throne number. Everything seems to feel matched when he’s around Bucky lately, like they’re synced partners as much as he is with Maria or Bucky is with Natasha. Puzzle pieces. Bucky seems to be enjoying it too. The quiet as they work together to put together this puzzle that neither of them would have looked twice at if they weren’t desperate for a distraction. A distraction from his heartache, from Bucky’s boredom… from the way that Bucky keeps looking over at him, from how he wishes they were doing this under different circumstances.

🌈Right where we are | steveandbucky | Teen | 10,395 words

This is actually the first fic in a whole 'verse, and they're all super sweet and super lovely. I really enjoy the way this Steve and Bucky build their relationship. I love seeing them get to have happier lives where they just get to be good for each other and good to each other, and this 'verse's Steve and Bucky, who do their best to communicate and who are so so cutely smitten from the gate, are great for that.

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“Hi,” Bucky smiles again, wider this time and the effect it has on Steve is embarrassing, since he can barely get out a greeting in response. Bucky looks ten times better in person. His now longer hair parted in the middle, and he has a two-day-old stubble, looking gorgeous in a navy blue shirt and dark form-fitting jeans. “Fancy running into you here,” he says as he leans closer to be heard above the music. Steve gets a waft of cologne, a sharp and somewhat sweet scent that draws him in as he briefly leans in to speak close to Bucky’s ear. “I’m just here with some friends, I swear I’m not stalking you.” Bucky laughs heartily, ducking his head and crinkling his nose as he does. It’s the cutest thing Steve’s ever seen, and fuck if he wouldn’t spend every minute of every day trying to get Bucky to laugh like that again. “Didn’t think you were stalking me. But what a coincidence, huh?” Bucky says, still grinning. “Nice to finally meet you, Steve Rogers.”

Bonus:

So, this is WIP, and I haven't started reading it yet. But! From everything I know about it, it absolutely fits what I'm going for on this rec list. Also, I've loved every other fic by @zenaidamacrouras1 that I've read. So while I can't actually rec something without reading it, I did feel like this should be in this post somewhere:

Unpredictable Synchronicity | Zenaidamacrouras1 | Mature | 106,788 words (WIP)

Second bonus:

These are fics that 100 percent should/would be on this list, except that I literally just rec'd them in my Brooklyn stories post. They are wonderful for all reasons described in the Brooklyn post:

Three White Horses | magdaliny | Mature | 16,601 words

Not In The Answer But The Question | aimmyarrowshigh @aimmyarrowshigh | Teen | 27,382 Words

Ill With Want | thedoubteriswise | Mature | 26,999 words

This turned into a very long post, but that feels fitting. Happy Pride! 🌈

Like I said, next up will be dystopias, apocalypses, etc.

More Recs

#SteveBucky #Stucky fic #Stucky Fic rec #Fic recs #Fic Rec Series #me rambling about other people's writing

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sparklepocalypse · 2 months

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Hello hello! It's once again the day of the week where I give you a chonk of fic that I haven't posted. Thanks for the tags today, @bigassbowlingballhead, @priincebutt, @wordsofhoneydew, @gayrootvegetable, @hgejfmw-hgejhsf, @sophie1973, @getmehighonmagic, and @zwiazdziarka!

My tag is always open, so if you haven't done the thing yet today, please consider yourself tagged.

Today's chunk of Facing Tempests is more than three paragraphs, so I'm sparing you a scroll behind the jump!

“Wheels down in 20,” Amy says when Alex puts the phone down again. As if on cue, a predictably garbled announcement from the cockpit resounds throughout the plane's cabin. When it’s finished, Amy continues. “We’re heading straight back to the White House from Dulles. You have a meeting in the yellow Oval as soon as we arrive.” Pulling his backpack from the cubby by his feet, Alex repacks the book and his assorted studying gear. “I talked to my mom yesterday afternoon,” he says. “She probably wants the details of my day as a prisoner in Kensington Palace.” Amy rolls her eyes and huffs out a laugh. “You weren’t a prisoner,” she says. “Really? Tell that to all the people who glared at me whenever I tried to leave the guest quarters.” “The portraits of dead royalty can’t hurt you,” Amy replies dryly. “But the captain might if you don’t put your seatbelt on.” “It’d make for a great ticker blurb on the 24-hour news channels.” Alex turns to Amy with a grin, gesturing at an invisible marquee before him. “FSOTUS concussed during landing at Dulles; White House declines to comment.” “Unfortunately for CNN’s ratings, it’s my literal job to prevent you from being concussed,” Amy says, “so buckle up.”

#red white and royal blue #rwrb #rwrb fic #alex claremont diaz #my fic #rwrb movie #wip: khix

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carsonian · 8 months

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local girl finishes wip. cnn breaking news segment to follow

Hi (sunglasses on). I have finally finished my giganosaurus, humongasaurus WIP. Whoopee (sunglasses on but wonky)! It's 64,000+ words which is the most I've written ever so THAT is the arbitrary milestone to which I'll be dedicating my extra cup of cawfee to, today (sunglasses slipping off)!

(takes sunglasses off) This was a tough fic to finish. I had a month between updates TWICE, and I'm not too proud of that. Many optimistic lies and broken promises in the end notes re the next chapter's release. But I AM proud of crossing the finish line, and am genuinely satisfied with what I've brought out from this childhood-fav homage and love letter / SteveTony fic. & sure, I'd change a few things here and there, but as a whole, I can face it without sunglasses on. And that's something.

"The Remarkable People Initiative & The Zugzwang Dilemma"

Steve Rogers and Tony Stark first met as promising candidates of The Remarkable People Initiative when they were children. Twenty-four years later, Tony shows up at Steve's doorstep. (The Mysterious Benedict Society AU.)

The guts and stuff of it all ⬇️

Chapters: 9/9 Words: 64,297 Fandom: Marvel Cinematic Universe Rating: Explicit Pairing: Steve Rogers/Tony Stark Tags: The Mysterious Benedict Society AU, Alternative Universe - Avengers but Different, Getting Back Together, Hurt Tony Stark, Protective Steve Rogers, Tony Stark Needs a Hug, Tony Stark Has A Heart, Angst with a Happy Ending, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Team as Family, Steve Rogers Needs a Hug, Chess Metaphors, Inspired by the Mysterious Benedict Society, Childhood Sweethearts, Happy Ending, Howard Stark's A+ Parenting, Top Steve Rogers, Bottom Tony Stark, Service Top Steve Rogers, War Veteran Steve Rogers, Chess used a la the apple that fell on Newton's head; for the epiphanies, Childhood Trauma, Overcoming Trauma, Found Family, Daddy Kink

Don't @ me about the daddy kink... I've never written it before and I have no idea how it snuck its way into this...

Annnnnnnnnd that's it from me! ✌️

If you're still here, pls do read the fic and let me know what you thought of it. I worked really hard on it, and am curious to know what others think. Lots of love from me to U xx

#my fics #my writing #stevetony #stevetony fic #steve rogers #tony stark

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coloradocharmiegirl · 1 year

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On a day when there were plenty of other things to occupy our collective fandom thoughts, this nearly slipped by me. Thank you @coeur-de-coeurs for pointing it out!

And though this isn't exactly how my fic brain imagined the process of two men having a bio-child, it really isn't too far off. It warms my heart to think that someday, just maybe, the world might end up with a charming baby with big blue eyes and dark chocolate curls, with a tall, green-eyed Papa and an even taller, blue-eyed Daddy--one of the Impossible Children. And for those with no clue what I'm talking about but intrigued by the idea, check out my very first fic--the story that grabbed my consciousness and just wouldn't let go.

Impossible Children

And thank you for indulging my rambling on a topic/story so dear to my heart. 💙💚CCG

#charmie fanfic #charmie ff #two dads #charmie baby #maybe someday

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retrosabers · 2 years

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THE ART OF STARTING OVER.

a moonknight x fem!avenger! reader story

CHAPTER ONE: A SIMPLE FAVOR

summary: when a new masked crime fighter appears, it’s time to call an old coworker.

warnings: slight mentions of violence

word count: 2.4k

gif by @salome-c

a/n: this is somewhat a self indulgent fic that contains some non canon events/changes to the storyline of the moonknight series and to the mcu in general. i also feel it’s important to note i am not an expert on disassociative identity disorder. if there’s anything misrepresented in this work please let me know.

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there's only so much daytime television a person can take before they start to go insane.

most people would've reveled in government pension letting them live comfortably in an apartment that wasn't the size of a shoebox. some people would've been thrilled to have access to all the chinese take out that manhattan had to offer. even fewer people would've been okay with the fact that they were practically unemployed.

there's only so many soap operas and egg rolls you can consume before you start to miss the supernatural.

to miss a world where people lived in constant fear was sick and twisted in every sense of the word. people woke up every day with knots in their stomachs over the wonder of "what batshit crazy being is going to fall out of the sky today?" or "what kind of irreparable damage will i find to my car, my home, or my family?" it was no way of living, not even in anyone's wildest dreams, yet you found yourself missing it.

these days, thrill came in the form of seeing if you could outrun a red light. a feeling that used to course through your veins on the daily had compacted itself into a corner so deep you didn't know when you would see it again. something that was once quintessential had become a distant memory.

it would've been a pathetic sight to see; a former avenger cooped up in a fourth floor apartment with nothing to show for her accomplishments except a lousy medal and knarly scar that made its home down her spine. sometimes just the glint of that hunk of metal in your peripheral made you want to toss it out the window and never see it again. years of hero work watered down to a lousy thank you from the government that couldn't be bothered to really pick up the pieces of what thanos left behind.

it was a fact you faced every day, that the life you once had was gone. the people that were in it, the things that you did, were all moments, in the past tense. it wasn't just the end of a chapter, it was closing the book entirely.

there was a part of you that clung on to that time for dear life. to provide protection for people that wouldn't have otherwise had it, was a responsibility you still carried, especially now that most of the earth's greatest were gone. the weight of their legacy now fell onto your shoulders, and there wasn't a damn thing you could do to continue it.

the world outgrew the avengers, and thus the world outgrew you.

so now, your days consisted of bouncing between medical dramas and cnn, watering plants that you were certain would end up dying anyways, and trying your best to keep your head above water. sometimes you could float in the waves, and let the tide take you wherever, and other times it felt as though the undercurrent was going to drag you down. it was a never ending cycle of hope, grief, and every single emotion in between.

after rearranging the succulents on your windowsill, you plopped yourself down on the couch. there was a small dent on the cushion from where you sat far too frequently, the other side practically untouched. with your legs tucked beneath you, late afternoon sun leaking through the blinds, you scrolled aimlessly through the television channels.

the pictures had a habit of merging together into a relatively indistinguishable mix of faces, advertisements, and landscape. it was a rare occurrence for something to peak your interest, having tortured yourself with just about everything cable had to offer already. today though, there was an image that caught your attention. you frantically rushed back three channels, worrying it vanished in the ten seconds that passed since you last saw it.

photographs of the metropolitan museum of history were displayed as opposed to the news network's typical propaganda. you scooted to the edge of the couch, eyes scanning repeatedly over the headlines and the completely empty displays. as the reporter continued on about the rich history of what had been stolen, your curiosity peaked and you opened the laptop that sat atop your coffee table.

an overwhelming amount of information was presented to you with just a few clicks. there were pages upon pages of articles about not just the met heist, but the countless other museum robberies that had taken place across europe and north america. there was debate about whether or not the crimes were linked together, or if the assailants were hired by egypt's government to reclaim pieces of their history. the buzzing sensation in your chest only grew stronger as you started bookmarking tabs to review later.

history and mythology wasn't your strong suit in the slightest, but there was something about the circumstances of the situation that had you weighing some slightly irrational options. at the end of the day, thievery, especially of priceless historical items, was wrong, and more importantly, a crime. was this a shield wielding, web slinging problem? of course not. was it something that could've used a different approach than what investigators were doing?

maybe.

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the impulsive part of your brain was winning. it had been hours since the breaking news report, the soft glow of moonlight replacing the blaze of the sun, and your eyes never left that computer screen. each path you started on lead to another, burying you neck deep in police reports, an international wanted list, and a crash course video on the history of ancient egypt. there was something you were looking for; something that would tip you over the edge and plunge you in the epicenter of this whole scheme. it was a desperate tactic, scouring every corner of the web to find even the tiniest crumb that would get your any closer than the authorities, but there was a feeling in your gut that you couldn't ignore.

this was going to lead to something far deeper than what was on the surface level. gut feelings always did. when you were younger, the minute the sokovia accords were dropped on the table in front of you, the divide it would cause within the team was painfully evident in between the lines of the clauses and statutes. even before the time heist, when natasha looked at you with her sweet, optimistic smile, some part of you knew it would be the last time you would ever see her.

"whatever it takes."

that all too familiar shudder made its way through your body as her voice echoed in your mind. so much for trying to leave the past behind.

your eyes grew strained from the last few hours in front of a stark white screen, the signs of a migraine creeping into the back of your skull.

just ten more minutes, you told yourself. ten more minutes and then you would drop it. for the rest of the day at least, which by looking at the time, wasn't for much longer.

almost on cue, as your finger was hovering over the play button, the "breaking news" banner flashed across the television screen, the same perky reporter from earlier reappearing.

"we have a breaking news report for you, this time, from across the pond. london officials have confirmed that the british museum has been broken into and many artifacts from its exhibits are missing. this eerily mirrors the break in at the metropolitan museum just yesterday. now while the nypd has yet to identify any of the perpetrators involved, leaked security footage from the british museum gives us a strange new development. take a look."

four different angles of security cameras were then displayed on screen. the first thirty seconds of footage were less than exciting. after being a crime fighter for a while, men running around covered head to toe in black wasn't really groundbreaking. you were anticipating this to be another overdramatized story when suddenly the assailants came sprinting back into frame, followed by a figure dressed in all white. he left as soon as he entered, bouncing back and forth between all four scenes. it was evident he was opposing the men in black, throwing punches far too articulate for him to be an amateur. upon closer inspection, he was wearing some form of armor, unlike any super suit you had ever seen before. the voice of the reporter was drowned out by the sound of your thundering heart beat.

the gut feeling was never wrong.

rushing over to your bag to grab your phone, you thumbed through your contacts, ignoring the countless missed calls and texts from over the past few weeks. hesitantly, you pressed the call button on the ever dreaded number, the ringing sound doing nothing to soothe your growing headache.

"i was wondering when i would hear from you."

"never mind that." you pressed. pacing around your living room. "i need a favor."

there was a scoff on the other end of the line. "and what makes you think i owe you one?"

"seeing as though i've stayed out of your hair these past few weeks" you continued, returning to your position on the couch. "i would say that warrants one."

there was silence for a moment and you couldn't shake the desperation you harbored.

"fury, when have i ever asked you for anything?"

he sighed. "what do you need?"

"i take it you've been following the museum break ins, no?"

he laughed, this time genuinely. "what makes you think i have any interest in a bunch of low lifes stealing relics?"

"surely you've seen the guy with the cape on the news."

"there's lots of guys in capes on the news. ever heard of thor?"

"very funny" you deadpanned. "but i'm serious."

"i'll look into it."

it was your turn to sigh. "can you do it for me now?"

you didn't have to see his face to know he had that same resting expression he always did.

"since when do you call the shots around here?"

"since when do you ask so many questions?"

there was another pause. you shrunk back into the cushions, wondering if maybe playful banter wasn't the best approach.

"what do you want to know?"

you couldn't help the impish grin that spread across your face.

"see if you can get me the security cameras on the outside of the building."

you heard the distinct sound of fingers tapping away on a keyboard, along with a few other digital noises that likely belonged to some s.w.o.r.d super computer.

"do you still have that flash drive i sent?"

"yes sir." you replied, almost tripping on your own feet to get to the unpacked box you had stored from when you first moved into your apartment.

"when you plug it in, what's on my screen will be mirrored onto yours."

you rummaged through the box for what felt like ages before grasping the small rectangle. rushing back out to the living room, you were quick to insert it into your computer. within seconds your screen went from a paused youtube video to a shot of what you assumed was the back alley behind the british museum.

"this is about 30 minutes before the break in." fury's voice blared through the phone speaker.

the footage sped up and about halfway through, a large freight truck pulled into the back of the building. on the outside it appeared to be a delivery truck; probably what the museum was used to seeing transport the odds and ends of its gift shop offerings. instead, around ten men were ushered out of the back, leaving the delivery car wide open with a few still inside. the footage sped up again to show some of the most valuable and precious pieces of ancient history be practically manhandled and tossed into the back of the truck. there was only about two pieces that were loaded on before the masked figure from the news jumped into frame.

almost as if fury could read your mind, the camera zoned in on the white-cloaked vigilante, throwing brutal punches and what appeared to be crescent shaped darts at the burglars. despite being outnumbered, he took them out with ease. in the interim of combat, the truck managed to drive away, leaving a barrage of unconscious men on the ground. the glowing eyes of the mystery man looked around at the scene, before his suit soon dissolved from his body. while the dim lighting did little to truly showcase his face, you saw the facial recognition software run a scan.

"i take it this is what you were looking for." nick's voice knocked you out of your concentration.

your gaze was glued on the scan. "gotta start somewhere right?"

he sighed once more, but this time it was different. "look, i know it's been hard to adjust to life after everything that's gone on. but i'm telling you, this is none of your concern."

it was your turn to scoff. "most of what i've done hasn't really been my concern. i've helped save the world anyways."

"this isn't what i would call a world saving scenario."

"precisely" you quipped, heart rate increasing as the scan began its final stage.

on the other end of the line, fury ran a tired palm down his face.

"just promise me you won't do anything stupid."

"you know i don't make promises i can't keep fury."

a bunch of files began to appear before a passport photo popped up in the center. you squinted your tired eyes at the screen.

"he looks like that one guy from star wars."

you could hear fury's eye roll through the phone. "you've been spending way too much time around parker."

"what? sometimes he needs a ride home from school, what am i supposed to do, leave him on the side of the road?"

"just look at the damn files."

"okay okay!" you started. "let's see, i'm looking at a military discharge form, a termination of marriage -"

"what does his marital status have to do with anything?"

"i'm simply reading what's in front of me." you replied casually. "you got a name for me nick?"

i was getting to that" he hastily replied. a loading bar appeared on the screen, followed by a driver's license. finally, a large square popped up, zooming over the name on the id.

"marc spector."

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thanks for reading chapter one! any reblogs/ feedback is greatly appreciated :)

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twwpress · 6 months

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Weekly Press Briefing #70: October 22nd - October 28th

Welcome back to the Weekly Press Briefing, where we bring you highlights from The West Wing fandom each week, including new fics, ongoing challenges, and more! This briefing covers all things posted from October 22 - October 28, 2023! Did we miss something? Let us know; you can find our contact info at the bottom of this briefing!

Challenges/Prompts:

There are no open challenges/prompts that we know of this week. Do you have a challenge or event you’d like us to promote or know of one we’re missing? Be sure to get in touch with us! Contact info is at the bottom of this briefing.

This Week in Canon:

Welcome back to This Week in Canon, where we revisit moments in The West Wing that occurred on these dates during the show’s run.

Season 2, Episode 4: In This White House aired on October 25, 2000.

Season 3, Episode 3: Ways and Means aired on October 24, 2001.

Season 5, Episode 4: Han aired on October 22, 2003.

Season 6, Episode 2: The Birnam Wood aired on October 27, 2004.

Season 7, Episode 5: Here Today aired on October 23, 2005.

Photos/Videos:

Here’s what was posted from October 22 - October 28:

Amy Landecker posted photos of her and Brad’s new puppy, Angie: 1 | 2

Amy Landecker posted photos of her and husband Bradley Whitford with his The Handmaid’s Tale castmades Ever Carradine and Julie Dretzin at the Hudson Theatre, where Julie is appearing in Sea of Terror. Bradley Whitford posted one of these photos too.

Amy Landecker posted a graphic promoting an upcoming Stories from the Front Line event in LA on November 2.

Josh Malina posted a video of himself encouraging his fellow union members to stay SAG-AFTRA strong, as well as a version with captions.

Josh Malina posted photos from a couple’s memorable wedding in celebration of their anniversary: 1 | 2

Marlee Matlin posted photos from Family Weekend at UO, where her youngest daughter is a student.

Marlee Matlin posted a video of Maine Governor Janet Mills hugging the ASL interpreter when speaking on CNN about the tragic mass shooting in Lewiston, Maine, in which multiple victims were members of the Deaf community.

Marlee Matlin posted in memory of Matthew Perry.

Mary McCormack posted a photo of herself walking the SAG-AFTRA picket line with Mac Brandt.

Peter James Smith posted a photo of himself on the SAG-AFTRA picket line with Greg Daniels.

Rob Lowe posted a photo of himself and his son Johnny on the pickleball court.

Miscellaneous:

On October 28th, beloved actor Matthew Perry passed away. In addition to being known around the world for playing Chandler Bing on Friends, TWW and Sorkinverse fans also know and love him for his roles as Joe Quincy, the Associate White House Counsel who replaces Ainsley Hayes, and Matt Albie on Studio 60. We are deeply saddened by this loss and are sending our love to his family, friends, and fans.

Edits/Artwork:

#joshdonnamsr (taylor’s version)! by @hvnleia [VIDEO EDIT] #JOSHDONNA: i broke my own heart ‘cause you were too polite to do it by @JessBakesCakes [VIDEO EDIT]

Editors’ Choice:

Trick or treat! To celebrate spooky season, we rounded up some of our favorite Halloween fics that weren’t in last year’s Halloween round-up. Stay in with these sweet (and mostly not-so scary) treats!

Dead Man's Creek by LadyReisling for RisalSoran | Rated G | No Pairings Listed (Gen Fic) | Complete | No political operative in their right mind would be here four days before the election. But they all lived by the same credo: Let Bartlet be Bartlet. "Who said this is a good idea?" by msmarycrawley | Rated G | No Pairings Listed (Gen Fic) | Complete | The country’s best and brightest decorate the White House for Halloween. life and love are the same by jazzjo | Rated G | Josh Lyman/Donna Moss, C. J. Cregg/Andrea Wyatt/Toby Ziegler (implied) | Complete | As far as Josh knows, his baby girl has it all figured out. If things were different... by Khoshekh42 | Rated G | Josh Lyman/Sam Seaborn | Complete | Josh hands out candy on Halloween. He and Sam talk about their relationship. all dressed up by sam_writes_fics | Rated G | Josh Lyman/Donna Moss, Ainsley Hayes/Sam Seaborn | Complete | Josh and Donna take their kids trick or treating. // Halloween fic set fifteen (ish) years post canon. Stuck in the Middle With You by blueteak for SuburbanSun | Rated G | Josh Lyman/Donna Moss | Complete | fter an hour stuck in the elevator on Halloween, senior staff suspected the reason they were still stuck there had something to do with Leo trying to teach them a lesson. White House elevators couldn't just get stuck like others, could they? tears and fears and feelin’ proud by jeaniecregg | Rated G | C. J. Cregg/Toby Ziegler | Complete | CJ drags Toby to a scary movie.

We will be reblogging this week's fics shortly!

#the west wing #tww #tww fandom #josh lyman #donna moss #tww fic #west wing #cj cregg #sam seaborn #toby ziegler

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star1117-archives · 1 year

Text

Miles !!

╰┈➤ Mingi’s bby [REAL !!]

𝐓𝐇𝐈𝐒 𝐁𝐋𝐎𝐆 𝐂𝐎𝐍𝐓𝐀𝐈𝐍𝐒 𝐘𝐀𝐍𝐃𝐄𝐑𝐄 + 𝐍𝐒𝐅𝐖 𝐂𝐎𝐍𝐓𝐄𝐍𝐓 ♡ -𝟏𝟔’𝐬 𝐀𝐍𝐃 𝐀𝐆𝐄𝐋𝐄𝐒𝐒 𝐁𝐋𝐎𝐆𝐒 𝐃𝐍𝐈

ANNOUNCEMENTS: #1 #2

Read before interacting -> 𓆩♡𓆪

➫ Don’t send hate, just block !!

➫ Soft + hard asks -> ✓

➫ Requests -> at limit :(

Hard Hours | Soft Hours |

My blickyyyyyyyy

Up on the dresssssssah

My Blicky - Fresh X Reckless (2023)

INTRO :: Hi my name is, My Name Is, MY NAME IS !!

Miles !! Minor. He/Him. UK. Pansexual. Gender tbc.

Tone Indicators.

ᴺᴼᵂ ᴾᴸᴬᵞᴵᴺᴳ : AU79 - Tyler, The Creator

Volume: ■■■■■■■□

TITLE TRACK :: The Good Stuff ᵀᴹ, I promise !!

Cash app ❏ TAGS ❏ MOODBOARDS ❏

MASTERLIST ❏ COMMISSIONS ❏

B-SIDE :: Bitch, I’m the news, CNN !!

— Under 16’s block the following tag : smut {♧}

— Accepting anons !!

animals preferred but not a requirement

current anons: 💋

— Comissions -> open !!

— Taglists -> open !!

— Backup -> @mingi-galore

— Old Themes / Masterposts (Give credits if used !!)

1. Dark Purple (Most compatible w/ dark mode)

2. Red (Most compatible w/ dark mode)

3. Pink (Most compatible w/ light mode)

4. Dark Blue (Most compatible w/ dark mode)

OUTRO :: Don’t leave me hanging !!

Recent fics will not be updated until all content is transferred from my old blog, sorry for any inconveniences !!

#the archives ━━ [📚]#m.list ━━ [🎞️]

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heauxplesslydevoted · 1 year

Text

New Year, Same Us

Ethan Ramsey x Naomi Valentine

Summary: A look at the Ramseys' NYE celebration

A/N: Me posting a fic for the first time in over a year. Who would've thought? Anyway, Happy New Year everyone!

~v~

Then:

Donahue’s is packed wall to wall, patrons inside the bar and spilling out into the beer garden as well. The crowd is lively, the energy in the establishment buzzing, everyone drunk and in a good mood.

With the entire gang working on New Years Eve–perks of being an intern, you get the shifts no one with seniority wants–coordinating a full scale outing for the night didn’t seem feasible, but a night getting drunk at their favorite bar that’s walking distance from their job and the train station? Perfect.

“Okay, Sienna, what is your New Year’s resolution?” Naomi asks, pushing a shot glass towards her friend.

“To not cry in an on-call room?” Jackie groans and throws a napkin at her. “What? I think it’s a good resolution.”

“That is depressing as fuck,” Jackie deadpans.

“Well what’s yours?” Sienna counters. She finally picks up the shot glass Naomi slid and her direction and downs it with shocking ease. “To scowl more often?”

“To get laid more,” Jackie replies with a smirk. “I’ve already re-downloaded Bumble and Tinder.”

Bryce laughs, loud and boisterous like everything else he does, and clinks his glass against Jackie’s. “I’ll drink to that.”

While the group of friends all discuss their different resolutions—work out more, stop eating so much fast food, attempt a vacation, among the few shouted out—Naomi’s eyes scan the bar. It’s packed and dimly lit, so she can’t see too much except the tops of people’s heads, covered in bright glittery hats. She’s about to give her attention back to her rowdy bunch of friends when she sees a tall imposing man in her peripheral vision. It’s Dr. Ramsey—Ethan—sitting at the bar, eyes glue to the television behind Reggie as CNN’s New Year’s Countdown special plays.

“Guys, I’ll be right back,” Naomi says, sliding out of seat.

“Hurry! The ball will drop soon.”

Naomi maneuvers through the throngs of people with very little finesse, getting jostled multiple times along the way. But she makes it to the bar, smiling at Reggie. The bartender gives her smile back and that simple act causes Ethan to turn around to see who’s captured his attention.

“Hi Dr. Ramsey.”

Forever observant, Ethan gives Naomi a once over from head to toe, his eyes not lingering for too long, but he manages to memorize everything about her. The ridiculously high and strappy heels she’s wearing, the way her pants cling to her like a second layer of skin, the way her glittery top catches every speck of light this bar has to offer, the slight flush of her cheeks, probably because she’s had a drink or two. It takes him less than four seconds to catalog all of it before he’s looking her in the eye.

“Rookie,” he greets coolly, nodding his head in her direction. Naomi rolls her eyes at the moniker.

“When are you going to stop calling me that?”

“It’s your intern year, Valentine. I’m simply stating a fact.”

“I didn’t expect to see you here for New Years Eve. You’d think Ethan Ramsey would have other plans in mind.”

“I’m not here celebrating New Years Eve,” Ethan argues. “I don’t particularly enjoy holidays that promote binge drinking and reckless behavior. It just means more work for us tomorrow, or we get paged in. I��m here because I live on the other side of town, and traffic is an absolute nightmare. I figured I might as well wait it out for the next few hours.”

“Drinking holidays are the most fun though!” Is what Naomi replies with. A snort passes through Ethan. That’s what she decided to fixate on, out of everything he said?

“Also, what did you envision me doing on a night like tonight?” Ethan asks, his curiosity slightly piqued.

Naomi makes a dramatic show of staring at him, tapping her chin for added effect. “I don’t know, doing something fancy and miles away from us plebeians.”

“That’s very rich coming from you of all people.”

“I’m saying it because I know the type. I can’t tell you how many New Year’s parties and fundraisers my parents went to in order to network, politic and posture.” Naomi laughs. “You, in a nice Tom Ford tux, rubbing elbows with all of New England’s finest.”

Ethan leans forward, slightly amused. “We’ve known each other for a few months now. I think you know I’m pretty anti-socializing, especially with stuffy rich people.”

“You are a stuffy rich person.”

“Touché.”

“You don’t have any friends you want to spend the night with? Maybe even a special someone?” Ethan raises an eyebrow at her, and Naomi feels her face heat up. “I am so sorry, that’s none of my business.”

“You’re right, but I’ll let it go.” Ethan lifts his tumbler to his mouth and takes a long sip. “No, I don’t. I’ve always been a lone wolf, never one for a lot of friends, and it was just me and my dad growing up. He worked long hours, so it wasn’t like he was eager to stay up until midnight, nor would I ever expect him to. And no, I am single, so there’s no one special.”

“Oh..” Naomi frowns. Her ridiculous, overly empathetic bleeding heart squeezes at the idea of Ethan being alone. “No one should have to ring in the New Year alone.”

“Rookie, I’m fine,” Ethan assures her. He’s the one with the sad backstory, but the sad look on Naomi’s face makes him uncomfortable. Someone like her should never look sad, especially for someone like him. His fingers itch, anxious to touch her, soothe her.

“You can come hang out with me and my friends,” Naomi offers, pointing to the booth her friends are occupying. “I can’t promise Landry and Sienna won’t be a little starstruck and awkward.”

“I’m good, but thank you.”

“Not that my words mean much, but this time next year, if you want it, I hope you aren’t alone. I hope you’re surrounded by genuine people who care for you.”

“Thank you.”

“Fifteen seconds until the New Year!” Reggie announces loudly, dimming the lights. “If you want to make it count, find that special someone to plant a kiss on!”

There’s a lot of shuffling and the volume on the television goes up so everyone can hear the countdown. Ethan turns his attention to the tv, watching as Anderson Cooper starts counting down.

“Ten, nine, eight, seven, six, five, four, three, two, one–”

In a flash, Ethan feels a pair of soft lips press against his cheek. Naomi’s jasmine perfume, the scent that constantly plagues him as he walks through the halls of Edenbrook, fills his nose. He feels like a teenager again, his pulse picking up.

As quickly as she kisses him, she’s pulling away. So quick, a part of him feels like he just imagined it. “Happy New Year, Dr. Ramsey!”

Ethan doesn’t even get the chance to respond before Naomi is gone, disappearing into the crowd of people and back at the table with her friends.

“Happy New Year, Rookie.”

~v~

Now:

“Daddy, wake up!”

A clammy little hand poking and prodding at his eyelid is more than enough to get Ethan’s attention. His eyes open and he sees his daughter Danielle leaning over him.

“Daddy’s sleeping, mommy!”

From the other side of the living room, Ethan hears his wife tsk teasingly. “Daddy is an old man, baby girl. He needs his sleep.”

“Daddy’s not old!” Valentina argues. She shuffles over to Ethan and wraps a protective arm around him.

Ethan laughs at the 6 year old’s staunch defense of him, and kisses the top of her head as best as he can. Like her brother and sister, she’s wearing a headband that says “Happy New Year” in big gold letters. “Thank you, Teeny. I’m not old. And I wasn’t sleeping, I was resting my eyes.”

Now that Valentina is older and understands the concept of New Years Eve more clearly, the idea of getting to stay up until midnight and watching fireworks on tv was too enticing to pass up. Ethan and Naomi thought it would be something fun, allowing the child to create a core memory and feel more mature than her actual age. What they did not anticipate was the twins and their insistence on doing the same thing their older sister was doing. The two two-year olds are running on pure adrenaline, sugar, and the competitive desire to not be outdone.

“Surely the great and powerful Ethan Ramsey can come up with something a little bit more creative than that,” Naomi goads. She walks over to where Ethan and their children are currently sprawled out, cups of apple cider in her hands. After she distributes them to the children, she plops down onto the couch, scooping Danielle and Nicholas into her arms. “We think you were sleeping.”

“Trust me, I cannot fall asleep with three rambunctious rugrats in my ear.”

“Yeah yeah yeah, that’s what they all say.”

The banter is cut off by Danielle wiggling out of her mother’s arms and crawling to Ethan, ignoring his grunts of discomfort at having a toddler’s foot lodged into his side. “Yelly, I’m not your personal jungle gym. You have to be careful.”

She ignores him, leaning down and planting a kiss on his nose. “Mwah! New year!”

“You can’t butter me up with kisses, little lady.” She gives him another kiss, this time on his forehead and Ethan laughs. “Okay, you can butter me up just a little bit.”

“New Year!” Danielle repeats. “New Year!”

“Happy Happy!” Nicholas adds with a laugh.

“It’s Happy New Year,” Valentina clarifies. She sighs, the weight of being the big sister fully on her shoulders.

The kids delve into their own mini debate, on the correct pronunciation of the holiday, complete with Danielle climbing over Ethan again to get to her siblings. Once they’re all together on the floor, Naomi slots herself into Ethan’s side and he drapes an arm across her waist.

This is a far cry from the way the holiday used to be celebrated by him—if one could even call it that.

“Penny for your thoughts, Mister Ramsey?” Naomi asks, burying her face in the crook of Ethan’s neck.

“Just thinking. I used to end the year alone, working through the hall drop, going to bed before midnight, or having a drink in solitude. Now I have this. If you would’ve told me 10 years ago that I would be married to the bubbly intern, and we’d have 3 kids who are currently fighting over a noisemaker as we wait for midnight to strike, I would’ve had you placed on a hold.”

“Life comes at you fast, doesn’t it?”

“Too fast.”

“I remember my intern year, when I gave you a kiss on New Years, and I wished that you wouldn’t be alone at the same time next year.”

“And I wasn’t. I had you.” He feels Naomi smile at his words.

“I’m glad that worked out for me, because I had a ridiculous crush on you and would’ve never acted on it at that time.”

“I am entirely too grown to admit to having a crush, but I was so attracted to you then I couldn’t think straight.”

“You had a crush on me,” Naomi says in a singsong voice. “You had a–”

Valentina’s excited squeal cuts off the rest of Naomi’s sentence. “Mommy, daddy, look!”

Naomi and Ethan look at the television, and they see the countdown has now 30 seconds to go. They untangle themselves and sit up.

“Okay my little chickadees, we have to get ready. And when they get to 1, we have to shout out ‘Happy New Year,’”

The kids settle onto the couch with their parents, eyes never leaving the screen, as time ticks on.

“Five, four, three, two, one–”

“Happy New Year!”

“New Year!”

“Happy Year!”

Ethan can’t help the laugh that escapes him as Valentina groans at the way the twins mess up the saying. Of course his child would be so serious about such a matter. Of course.

Naomi grabs face, and presses her lips against his, the kiss fierce but unfortunately over all too soon for his liking. “Happy New Year, handsome.”

“Happy New Year, beautiful.”

“What do you say, next year we ask your dad to watch the kids?” Naomi suggests. “We can spend the evening alone at the condo in the city.”

It’s a very tempting offer, one that he’s sure he’s going to concede to. But then Nicholas launches himself into Ethan’s and Naomi’s arms at full speed and wraps them in a hug. “Happy Year!”

Ethan kisses the crown of his son’s head before turning to Naomi. “You know what? I’d rather just stay home. For as long as I’m able to, you 4 are who I want to ring in the year with.”

“Okay. One more suggestion though.”

“Shoot.”

“How about we put the kids to bed, go downstairs and open up a bottle of champagne, and have a private celebration of our own?”

A wide grin takes over Ethan’s face. “You’re full of great ideas, Missus Ramsey.”

~v~

tags: @openheartfanfics @mvalentine @choicesaddict5 @professorkingslay @maurine07 @bluebellot @whimsicallywayward15 @blossomanarchy @takemyopenheart @jamespotterthefirst @fanmantrashcan @ao719 @x-kyne-x @paulfwesley @the-pale-goddess @writinghereandthere @ramseyandrys @perriewinklenerdie @aworldoffandoms @thatcatlady0716 @drakewalker04 @canknot @hatescapsicum @lapisreviewsstuff @senseofduties @badchoicesposts @ethandaddyramseyx @chasingrobbie @zodiacsign1 @choices-lurker @my-heart-beats-for-ya @adrian-motherfucking-raines @riverrune @edith-eggs1 @cecilecontrera @thatysn @bellcat2010 @blainehellyes @junehiratas @choices-love-affair @openheart12 @desmaranj @nazario-sayeed @ruinedbypixels @nooruleman @rookie-ramsey @uneravine @choicest @schnitzelbutterfingers @stateofgracious @caroldxnvxrs @mainstreetreader @edgiestwinter @jerzwriter @toadfrog26

#ethan ramsey #dr. ethan ramsey #ethan x naomi #open heart

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