I'd ask about the Cap one, but you already did it, so what's Good Investments? 👀
Oh man @thatmexisaurusrex, Good Investments is my absolutely, self-indulgent Sambucky slow-burn. It's basically HGTV meets Sambucky and features house renovation, gardening, chaperoning a school dance (yes we went there) and way too much dialogue about feelings. I have one chapter left that I'm slowly working my way through but it's practically complete.
It was hard to pic a snippet bc it's 20-something chapters, but here's one of my favorite parts:
Finally, it’s Friday night; Bucky and Sarah are out on the back porch. Sarah’s got some part from the boat she’s cleaning and Bucky’s next to her drinking a beer and polishing his arm, while he waits for Sam. He’s antsy about tonight, and cleaning his prosthetic always helps to calm his nerves and take his mind off things.
He gives her a crooked smile and shrugs. “Isn’t that what the kids do nowadays? I’m just trying to blend in.”
Sarah laughs brightly. After several weeks of Bucky living in her guest room, they’ve gotten pretty comfortable around each other. He really appreciates these moments when it’s just the two of them; it’s easy and Bucky feels like he can be himself around her. Sarah reminds Bucky of his own sister, and being with her brings him a certain feeling of comfort that he doesn’t get from anyone else. It’s a lot like Sam, minus the messy feelings of attraction.
“It’s a real nice thing you’re doing, going to this fundraiser tonight. Helpin’ the school out and all.”
Bucky takes a swig of his beer, thinking back to his conversation with Sam a few months ago. “I was recommended to try ‘acts of service’ as a way to help with...ya know.” He twirls his fingers near his temple. “Sam’s idea. I think it’s helping.”
Sarah nods. “Yeah, that sounds like something my brother would say. It ain’t bullshit either, he knows from experience. It’s why he was such a great counselor.”
They lapse into companionable silence. Bucky is ready to go, has been for the last half hour. All he’d done was grab a quick shower and throw on some clean clothes. That’s something this decade has over the forties, men’s attire had become significantly less complicated; you could literally get away with jeans and a tee shirt for everything, now. Sure makes getting ready a breeze. Sam, on the other hand, seemed to miss that memo. Bucky checks his watch for what feels like the twelfth time.
“Jesus, he always this slow?”
“Ha! You have no idea,” Sarah replies, setting down her own rag. “He is the worst when it comes to getting ready. He’d take more time in the bathroom than anyone in this house. Can’t tell you how many times he’d make us late for somethin’. Daddy would get so mad.” She starts laughing. “One time Daddy turned the hot water off on him while he was still in the shower. Oh my God, that boy screamed!” Right on cue, Bucky hears Sam coming downstairs.
“Fucking finally,” Bucky mumbles, knocking back the rest of his beer. He gives his arm one last lookover, shifting it around in the setting sun, and nodding with satisfaction at the gleaming gold and black metal. “C’mon Sam, shake a leg; we’re gonna be late!” he yells through the screen door. “Pretty sure punctuality is part of being Captain America!”
“Yeah and so is lookin’ good, so shut it,” Sam snaps as he joins them on the porch.
And he does look good, tonight - fucking gorgeous, actually. He’s wearing a simple white button-down with the sleeves rolled and a pair of dark khakis. The white of the shirt makes for a stark but lovely contrast against his dark skin, and it’s snug in all of Bucky’s favorite places. And with his high cheekbones, warm dark eyes, and perfectly manicured goatee, Jesus, Sam is a real looker. Bucky gets a whiff of his cologne, something spicy that’s mixed with the vanilla undertones from his body wash, like something Bucky’d like to sink his teeth into (Sam apparently enjoys smelling like dessert). Bucky’s got to admit, Sam’s checking all of his boxes, right now. He nervously wipes his palms on his thighs, unsure of what to do with his hands.
“You - you look...nice.”
God, he’s shit at this. The real tragedy is that Bucky used to be a real pro when it came to flirting. It was so easy in the thirties and forties: tell a gal she was pretty, hold the door for her, buy her a soda, ask her to go dancing. He had no idea how to court people in the twenty-first century, and definitely not a guy. His boot camp trysts didn’t exactly lead with flowers and holding hands. And even though he knows this isn’t a date, Bucky can’t help but feel something like it’s an important step for him and Sam. He’s felt it all week and wonders if Sam’s picked up on it too.
Sam just smiles at him, he’s been caught in the act of staring again. Bucky sees Sarah glancing back and forth between the two of them, lips pressed tightly like she’s holding something back. Bucky coughs and looks away, rubbing the back of his neck.
“Thanks, man, but what is this?” Sam gestures at Bucky. “What is this look?”
Bucky looks down at himself, confused. “What?” he squawks. He’s wearing his usual wardrobe of boots, dark jeans, and a light blue short-sleeved tee (Sam had picked it out, said Bucky needed to expand his wardrobe’s shade range).
Sam rolls his eyes. “We’re chaperoning a school dance, Buck, and that’s what you’re wearing? A tee shirt and skinny jeans?”
“This is what the kids wear!”
“You’re a hundred and six, not sixteen,” Sam counters.
“Well, sorry I don’t have my uniform anymore, which is what I would normally wear...in 1942.”
“Where’s that blazer Sharon gave you back in Madripoor? You didn’t keep that?”
“It’s eighty degrees outside and my baseline temperature is 100.7!”
“It was a Versace!”
“You know, I really love these little moments of ours when you are all up my ass. Best part of my day.”
Sarah steps in to referee, knowing full well they’ll carry on all night if left unchecked. “Sam, would you leave the man alone? He looks just fine; not everyone needs to dress like they’re going to a church picnic.”
“Yeah, Samuel,” Bucky snaps, glaring at Sam. The evening is off to a solid start. Forget everything; Sam’s incredibly annoying and Bucky’s not remotely attracted to him at all. The only feeling he’s got towards the guy is annoyance. He turns to Sarah and kisses her on the cheek.
“Alrighty, ma’am, I promise to have him home by curfew.”
Sarah pats him on the cheek, with a fond smile on her face. “You boys have fun, now. And behave yourselves.”
“You know, I’ve been hearing that a lot lately.” Bucky flashes her a grin, grabs his keys off the hook by the back door, and starts towards his motorcycle.
“What’re you doing? I thought we’d take the truck.”
“I’m not showing up in that thing,” Bucky tsks, primly. “It’s filthy and there’s a power washer in the back. Captain America and the Winter Soldier are arriving in style, thank you. We’re taking the Honda.”
“Oh, so now you care about style?”
Bucky chooses to ignore the jab and climbs onto the bike. He turns expectantly to Sam, patting the seat behind him. “Well? Hop on, doll.”
“God, I fucking hate you.” Sam climbs onto the back seat, begrudgingly. “What, no helmet?” he grumbles.
“Not like I really need one,” Bucky mumbles as he checks a couple of things on the bike.
“Okay, well for those of us not enhan - “ but Bucky cuts him off by revving up the engine.
He’s starting to suspect that Sam’s superpower seems to be always needing to have the last word. Bucky reaches behind him and grabs Sam’s hands, placing them on his waist.
“I suggest you hang on,” he throws back over his shoulder, raising his voice over the sound of the engine. The noise thankfully drowns out any expletives coming from Sam.
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Pt II good omens but i've still never watched it
so you crazies blew up the other post, and many of you tried to explain the plot to me. many others said there is no plot. many said i was accurate. many said i wasn't. and then i watched a few youtube edits of the angel and the demon.
I'm convinced that I know at least a little bit more now, so like the great guy I am, I decided to share how well you've educated me.
the plot is an angel and demon become alcoholics together while doing the good ol' animal husbandry
neil gaiman doesn't have social media
everyone is crying because the angel wanted to go to heaven and the demon said no
and then the demon did the kissy smoochy to make the angel stay and the angel said no
they were not married for 6000 years but they were more married than married
there is a car. it is silver and crowley likes it.
the car is then yellow. crowley doesn't like it. aziraphale does.
there's some kind of Jane Austen ball and dance
oh but also crowley gives aziraphale a more private dance in their home and he bows while making intensely sexual eye contact with the angel who is turned on and says nice and everyone is gasping about it
no one knows about god, not the fandom, not the characters, not god herself. god is ineffable. hey mum i learned a new word!
they run over an american witch
the angel likes books in a way bordering on obsessive and worshipful
the demon likes the angel in a way bordering on obsessive and worshipful
there's a gramophone
crowley says sorry a bunch of times
aziraphale keeps getting flustered and dying coz of crowley, and the fandom dies every time. crowley is also dying. everyone is dying. hopefully not literally, im now scared of this fandom.
there's a psychedelic drug trip at some point that's in the edits where crowley goes whee down a chute. either that or the sleep deprivation is getting to me. fuck you, good omens fandom.
terry pratchett is a guy
whether he is real, or a character, or like neil gaiman he is neither real nor a character, i am unsure, but he is important and people want me to remember him
crowley likes speeding
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This is what happens when you're raised by TV and trained in literary analysis
Beyond the crushing heartbreak of that finale, one thing in particular has stuck with me when I look at it in the context of S2 as a whole.
He lays out their relationship, "We're a team, a group. A group of the two of us. And we've spent our existence pretending that we aren't."
He then turns his head away and says, "I mean, the last few years, not really."
He pauses here, facing the interior of the bookshop. Really looks it up and down.
Turns back, "And I would like to spend" before choking on his words and looks toward the window. He can't finish saying something like "And I would like to spend eternity with you" because that's too much, too fast, for both of them.
But it's that "last few years" bit that has firmly lodged itself in my very broken brain.
According to Gaiman, it's been "a few years" since the end of Season 1. Armageddon has been averted. Heaven and Hell have reluctantly retreated. Crowley and Aziraphale have been effectively cut loose from their "sides," leaving them to form their own side.
So at the start of Season 2, we get a glimpse of the “fragile existence” they have carved out for themselves. To me, the biggest difference that we see is how they exist together in front of others. Going to the coffee shop, the pub, and the other shops along the street that Aziraphale has lived on for over 200 years. And don’t forget how they act in front of Nina, Maggie, and sweet, dim Muriel.
At the coffee shop, Aziraphale stammers a bit when Nina asks who Crowley is, but he still seems to have affection in his voice when he says, "We go back a long time."
Compared to Shakespearian "He's not my friend! We've never met before. We don't know each other!" panic, this is an incredible difference.
Of course, each time, Crowley is cool and cheeky and does nothing to indicate that they aren't a pair. Though, of course, he does deny it when Nina asks about Aziraphale being his side piece. “He’s not my bit on the side! He’s far too pure of heart to be anyone’s bit on the side.” And refers to him as an “Angel [swallows]I know.”
When they go the pub, Crowley's joy at doing something together in public that they do not normally do is super cute, including his cheeky order for Aziraphale's sherry. Then, when bringing the drinks over to the socially trapped Aziraphale, he greets Mr. Brown with a truly adorable, "Hello" and a signature DT smile. Then upon hearing how “excited” Mr. Fell is to host the meeting, he looks down and says, “Oh? You astonish me.” while Aziraphale sips his sherry and squirms.
We also watch as Crowley follows Aziraphale as he goes to each shop and talks to the owners about the meeting/secret ball. In theory, Crowley has no reason to tag along, and he certainly doesn’t help sway anyone who doesn’t want to/can’t go. He goofs around at the magic shop. He splays out on the bench, chin on hand, looking for all the world a husband waiting for his wife to pick out a dress at the department store. They are so married it’s ridiculous.
Finally, their behavior in front of Muriel while inside their sanctuary. Crowley sits on the arm of Aziraphale’s chair, somehow looking supremely comfortable on the old-fashioned furniture. He folds up those gloriously long limbs and presses himself as close as possible.
He smiles and plays along with Aziraphale’s coaching of Muriel in her disguise. Calls him Angel and asks to speak in private. And at the end, during the awful wait while Aziraphale talks with The Metatron, Crowley cleans up the shop and tells Muriel that he and Aziraphale will need some “us” time after all this. No beating around the bush.
Without oversight, they can be openly together and happy. But Heaven just can’t let that happen.
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