#me and stuff or whatever but it’s really just fucking bleak and I don’t feel like I belong here at all

[eyeritestuff]

“I’m home.”

——

Tom (Eddsworld) x Reader [FUTURE AU]

Characters: Tom

Warnings: none,, just sad or whateva (send help)

Author’s note: don’t ask where i got inspo… short bc erm yah :3 i didn’t check for typos so oopsies !

——

The night was bleak, but yet somehow managed to house life with all of the neon city lights. You let out breath, only to see it animate as smoke in front of you. It was nothing you weren’t already used to, however living in America for 10 years will make you appreciate the little sun home had.

You had just got off the plane and were awaiting a bus to your hotel. You came here on impulse.. you were starting to get anxiety at the idea. What was the whole purpose of this trip? You tried to quell it, and so you looked down at your phone to see a missed call from- oh.. oh.

Immediately, you unlock your phone and redial, and with the same amount of swiftness, the other side picked up.

“Hello?”

His voice, it sounded so different. It was woven with misery. It’s not the him you knew. Of course, in the past he always had his monotone and sassy way of responding, but it’s.. different. Does he even know? He hasn’t called you all this time up until this point.. he had to know.

“Tom..?”

You choked out. Why were you getting emotional? This didn’t make any sense. You missed him, yes, vbht he hurt you. It’s probably the nostalgia from being at here again. At home.

But home didn’t look like home anymore.

“ahh.. y/n..,” he sighed and your breath hitched, “i’m sorry.. i’m so so sorry.”

You grabbed your stuff and got off of the bench you were sat at and started walking.

“Please don’t hang up, and listen. I don’t know why I didn’t call. I think about you every night. I was mad... I think I was mad. I was hurt you didn’t even hesitate to leave. I didn’t show up at the airport the day you left and I regret it everyday. The promise you made all those years ago.. we were teenagers, I know, but I can’t help but remind myself of it every time I think of you.”

Your walking pace started getting faster. Next thing you knew, you took a sharp left turn, then a right, then you continued on straight. Your body was guiding you at this point, but you didn’t care. As long as the tears didn’t fall. You listened intently as his breath hitched and couldn’t help but feel your stomach turn.

“I got the letter you sent me.. and I never wrote back. I’m sorry. I read it everyday. I tried writing back, and I’ve kept every draft. I want to read it to you one day.. I don’t know when that day will be, but y/n.. when I read the last part.. when you said ‘Til infinity.. did you really mean it? Do you still love me? Did the feelings ever leave?? Y/n I can’t begin to apologize enough..”

Next time your conscious decided to check up on your surroundings, you were in a building signing a visitor list with your shoulder prompting up your phone to your ear.

“Y/n.. I love you. I never stopped loving you. I was hurt, and I was upset.. that I lost the only person I ever recognized as a part of me. I didn’t want your happiness to depend on me. I wanted you to have the world, and the luxuries I couldn’t afford you. For fuck sake y/n, I could barely afford repairing Susan. I saw how much you wanted to become a doctor.. so I thought letting you go would be best,” he let out a sad chuckle, and it made you flash a sad smile in return, “I’m probably not making any sense, am I? Whatever.. I just needed to get this out to you.”

You found yourself standing in a doorway to an office. You didn’t dare make a noise once you realized where you were: It was his office.

How’d you even think to come here.. when did you even ask the front desk for directions? How’d you know— well, you knew what he was up to because Matt did keep in contact. Still, it made your stomach do flips.

You heard him speak twice over because you hadn’t dare hang up, “Y/n… you don’t have to say anything but..” He stopped, and so did your heart. The feedback from the phones was enough to make the back that was facing you turn. To say he looked different was an understatement.

You watched as his frown turned into a shaky smile, then into a frown again, but this time he bit down on his lip. Probably to stop the quivering. You couldn’t tell if he was crying due to the goggles he had on, but you knew he was in shock by the way he shakily stood up.

Your heart sank watching how he tried to stay strong for you.

The tears fell when he hung up.

The sobs followed when you closed the door behind you.

Tom slowly moved from behind his desk to get closer to you, only for him to run towards you after watching your legs struggle to keep you up. Falling into his arms, you clung onto him for dear life. He smelled so nice.. the alcohol scent was softer now.. did he lay off a little? All the memories your dream job helped you repress came rushing back. He was your first kiss, your first boyfriend, your first true best friend… your first everything.

“I left you.. I broke our promise, and I’m so sorry Tom-” he interrupted, “You were my responsibility and I avoided you because I was being selfish.”

You looked up at him, and him down at you.

“I love you so much… you look so miserable… yet you look so pretty.. you’ve grown up.” You tried to smile but you realized it probably looked like you were dying, and the awkward laugh you choked out ended up sounding like a whimper.

Burying your face into his chest, you spoke muffled, “I regret leaving you. I was selfish.. and I didn’t think of you-” “No y/n-” “Listen.. please.. I don’t need the money. At least not anymore. I wanna be here with you again. I wanna be with you.. again. I wanna have the stupid family you always spoke about.. you know.. the one with the mutated dog and a daughter with the inability to tell her left from the right..”

You heard a chuckle rumble from him and began to pet your head, “I can’t believe you remember that..” Oh his voice sounded sad.. like he was crying. Brace for rejection, is what you told yourself.

“Id like that a lot y/n..”

You looked up to see Tom, now without his goggles.. Oh his eyes… what happened to your love when you were away. You couldn’t help but cry harder seeing him like that. You weren’t there for him. You watched as his face grew pained watching your reaction. Like a child, you rubbed your eyes, but the tears wouldn’t stop.

“Tom… I love you so much. There’s so much I want to say but I can’t manage to stop.. barely even speak… could you ever forgive me..? For doing this to you.. for leaving you like this..”

You felt his hand gently grace your face.. what once was a soft hand turned rough.

“I’d forgive you a hundred times over if it meant I got to hold you again.”

#eddsworld tom #tom ew #tom eddsworld #tom fanfic #tom x reader eddsworld #tom x reader #ew tom #future au #eddsworld future #eddsworld x reader #eddsworld fanfic #eddsworld #this lowkey a vent ngl

[lesbian-in-leather]

Here's a couple more for the writing ask game! : 12, 25, 32

12. If a genie offered you three writing wishes, what would they be? Btw if you wish for more wishes the genie turns all your current WIPs into Lorem Ipsum, I don’t make the rules

Okay FIRST OF ALL I think it's rude that I can't wish for more wishes, we all know I love loopholes. SECOND OF ALL this was really fun to think about, so here we go:

I'd wish for the ability to perfectly retain any and all information about my WIPs until I've written it down, at which point it can be stored with regular memories. How often have you had a great idea just as you're falling asleep, or in the shower, or just busy and don't have time to write it down, but by the time you actually can, it's left your head? Not a problem anymore

I'd wish that I can always think of the word I need. Not only does it stop annoying mid-flow thesaurus checks or ages of combing the internet because I know what I mean but I can't find it - but there are other applications too! Creating a fantasy language? No need for a translation document, I can just type out whatever shit I need and it'll be right. Get wrecked genie, two for the price of one and I didn't cheat so my WIPs are safe

And finally, I'd wish that I have the motivation to write whenever I have the time, so that all of my writing sessions will actually be productive (maybe I'd link this motivation to like. A specific word or something? Idk, I don't trust this genie not to mess with me here)

25. What is a weird, hyper-specific detail you know about one of your characters that is completely irrelevant to the story?

Okay so I know what I said in the last post, and I do over-plan, but also I try to include a lot of the random details because I much prefer reading and writing character driven stories, so like, the little details are usually relevant to something. Having said that, sometimes it's just a very short throwaway kinda relevance, or it's an extension of an actual plot point that doesn't come out until later. Although I do know some random stuff like, one OC constantly fidgets with her necklace without realising, and another one always wears a hoodie and messes with the zip because she likes the sound it makes. Sorry I feel like this wasn't as interesting as it could have been lmao

32. What is a line from a poem/novel/fanfic etc. that you return to time and time again? How did you find it? What does it mean to you?

Okay I physically cannot pick just one, but know that there are also so many more that I could have said here (including but not limited to: all of the works I mentioned in the last post that I am deliberately not allowing myself to repeat). Because I've picked so many examples and you asked a former English student for analysis, I'm going to put them all under the cut and honestly I had so much fun thinking about this and writing out the analysis that I don't even mind if no one reads it lmao

Mentions of death and suicide (in relation to the fictional characters in the texts I'm talking about)

Poems

This Be The Verse, by Philip Larkin

They fuck you up, your mum and dad. They may not mean to, but they do. [...] Man hands on misery to man. It deepens like a coastal shelf. Get out as early as you can, And don’t have any kids yourself.

Technically I first heard this (or, the last stanza of it, at any rate) quoted in The End by Lemony Snicket, but I also studied the full poem when I did my A-Levels, and honestly the whole thing is absolutely incredible. It's such a beautiful poem, and I do think about the entire thing all the time (I have it memorised) but specifically the first two lines and the final stanza have always been my favourite. Something about the acknowledgment of how you can still be fucked up by your parents even if they didn't mean it really, really got to me (I wonder why haha), and the final stanza has such a bleak outlook on everything but... it also really resonated with me, especially at the time I first read the full poem. And even though I don't think like that anymore, and I now have a much more neutral or even positive outlook on humanity and human nature, this poem still holds such a crucial place in my heart, and I do think about it all the time

Ozymandias, by Percy Bysshe Shelley

My name is Ozymandias, King of Kings; Look on my Works, ye Mighty, and despair! Nothing beside remains. Round the decay Of that colossal Wreck, boundless and bare The lone and level sands stretch far away.

Another one I have memorised - what initially started as GCSE work really stuck with me lmao. Again, the full poem gets me just as much, but this passage specifically... oh my god. As someone who has a genuine Issue in my head about being remembered after I’m gone, this poem really got to me. The fact that Ozymandias spent so much time and effort into ensuring he was remembered, and he got his wish... on a technicality. The idea that I can't control how I'm remembered, only what I do, and if I spend too long focusing on my legacy, then that's all that people will know about me... yeah, this poem got me fucked up

Novel

The End, Chapter Thirteen, by Lemony Snicket

“You're the one who made us orphans in the first place,” he [Klaus] said, uttering out loud for the first time a secret all three Baudelaires had kept in their hearts for almost as long as they could remember. Olaf closed his eyes for a moment, grimacing in pain, and then stared slowly at each of the three children in turn. “Is that what you think?” he said finally. “We know it,” Sunny said. “You don't know anything,” Count Olaf said. “You three children are the same as when I first laid eyes on you. You think you can triumph in this world with nothing more than a keen mind, a pile of books, and the occasional gourmet meal.” He poured one last gulp of cordial into his poisoned mouth before throwing the seashell into the sand. “You're just like your parents,” he said, and from the shore the children heard Kit Snicket moan. “You have to help Kit,” Violet said. “The baby is arriving.” “Kit?” Count Olaf asked, and in one swift gesture he grabbed an apple from the stockpot and took a savage bite. He chewed, wincing in pain, and the Baudelaires listened as his wheezing settled and the poisonous fungus was diluted by their parents' invention. He took another bite, and another, and then, with a horrible groan, the villain rose to his feet, and the children saw that his chest was soaked with blood. “You're hurt,” Klaus said. “I've been hurt before,”

Alright I know I don't shut up about asoue but here me out, okay? Similarly to the last post (because even though I'm not letting myself repeat passages, I can still repeat themes) I read this when I was like seven or eight, and it was, once again, one of the first times grey-morality was introduced to me. But, where Witches Abroad taught me that sometimes heroes don't want to be heroes and that villains might not think they're villains, The End taught me that even if a villain knows and embraces the fact they're a villain... that doesn't mean they're evil. Now, as an adult, I actively reject the 'Good Vs Evil' dichotomy, but as a kid, basically everything you're exposed to has the heroes always be Morally Correct while the villains are Entirely Evil (hell, even most media aimed at adults struggles with the concept of villains being terrible people while still being allowed to have redeeming qualities). And then I read this passage. I mean, the whole entire scene still makes me fucking sob, but I come back to this passage in particular over and over and over again. Because Olaf was fucking dying. He's tired, and he's been stabbed, and poisoned, and he was going to let himself die right then and there. He doesn't even deny the accusation that he killed the Baudelaire parents - what would be the point, when we all know that villains lie? No one would ever believe him - but that question in response is heartbreaking. He looks at these children that he's tormented for months on end, and just asks them, simply, if that's what they think. Like he can't quite believe they'd think so little of him. As if, suddenly, he's realising how they see him, how they've always seen him. Realising that, to them, he really is just a cartoon villain. And that death would have been sad enough. That death would have still stuck in my head, and I would still probably be talking about it now, if he'd died on the very next line. But he doesn't. He hears Kit's name and launches himself at the antidote, and the kids and the reader finally realise that he's bleeding out but he doesn't care. All he cares about it Kit, saving Kit, helping Kit, and it's so jarring. He's spent thirteen books not caring about anyone but himself, leaving even his own henchpeople in the dust when it suits him, but suddenly he's not only helping someone else, but disregarding his own wellbeing to help someone that's shown to be directly opposed to him. He helps someone that we, as a first time reader, assume to be his enemy, and he's so panicked at the thought that she's in danger, and so soft when he helps her. He's still the same man he's always been - but we now know that that man isn't evil, and he never was. He's cruel, and greedy, and selfish, and he cares. He loves someone else enough to die for her. He's hurt, but it doesn't matter to him as long as Kit's safe. He's been hurt before

Fanfic

Now, most of the time with fanfic what sticks in my head is a particular scene, or theme, or even just the feeling evoked by the entire work. Having said that, there are some notable exceptions to this rule (and, again, I’m only choosing two and not letting myself repeat any of the works I talked about in the last post) so I would like to draw attention to:

This Ficlet by @beatricebidelaire

Ernest sits down next to him. “When she [Violet] frowns,” he says in a low voice. “It’s almost as if I'm looking at him.” [Bertrand] Frank doesn’t turn his head. “I thought he always smiled when he’s talking to you.” “You say that as if those are the only times I ever looked at him,” Ernest replies.

Oh,,, the love in that sentence. I can't stop thinking about it. The fact that we can tell it was reciprocated - Ernest looked at Bertrand even when he didn't notice, but whenever Bertrand looked at him he was smiling, and everyone else saw it. OH I feel so many things. This is love, you know? That's what I want, and I love how gentle this quote is. How softly it's presented. Like a fact and a confession all at once

And then there's this fic by @jeromesqualor

And then, all of a sudden, he [Jacques] feels like he’s been hit by a freight train. The laughter stops, and he feels nothing but a strange, pleasant warmth, all over. This is the moment where he realises that he doesn’t want her [Esmé] to ever leave. This is the moment where he realises he’s completely, inconceivably, very inconveniently, fucked. [...] When he’s [Jacques] no longer able to sit straight, when he slumps against the bricks and his head lolls forward to press his forehead into the bars, he distantly hears her sharp, broken intake of breath. “It’s alright, Jacques,” she [Esmé] whispers, cutting through the haze, choked with tears. “It’s alright.”

I found this (predictably) by combing through the Esmé tag, and though it was for a ship I'd never really considered before, it is absolutely one that now consumes my thoughts. These two passages specifically, though, for very different reasons. The first one is such a soft, genuine way to present love and it's beautiful. A freight train that leaves him feeling a pleasant warmth. The fact that he isn't even necessarily happy about it, but the feeling is there all the same. It wasn't a choice, but it isn't bad, either. It's just... I don't know, that's love. Uncontrollable, unpredictable, sudden and slow all at once. And then there's the second section - ohhhhhh man. Because it's so clear that she loves him back - you can see it. But she had to do it - she had to poison him. And she knew he would die and it would be her fault, and it would have been so easy to present her as someone who doesn't care, but that's not true. She did what she thought had to be done, but the second she sees the result she breaks down. It's so out of character, but in a perfectly in-character way - it's something that feels so real, so right, but also something no one would ever expect from Esmé, and I think about it literally all the time

Etc. Plays

I know that usually plays aren't read, but I studied both of these and I've (tragically) never gotten the chance to see either of them performed (though I have seen a film adaptation of Streetcar, but I still read it first) so I'm saying they count

A Streetcar Named Desire, Tennessee Williams

BLANCHE [holding tight to the DOCTOR's arm]: Whoever you are—I have always depended on the kindness of strangers.

Oh my god. Oh my god. This play, this whole entire play, is a masterpiece. But studying it in my class was much less fun than it should have been, because I was one of the only people in that room that liked Blanche, and I stand by that to this day. She is a beautifully written character. She's flawed, and selfish, and materialistic, and so, so fragile that she's already broken before the play has even begun. And it breaks my heart to see it. But this line. This line hurts. Because the Doctor she's clinging to so desperately is taking her away to an asylum. That's how her story ends. It's the last line she says before she leaves, and it's almost the end of the play. And after she's gone, almost everyone goes back to exactly how they were before she'd arrived, like she'd never even existed. And she's been hurt so many times - we learn about her past, and how she's been treated, and see how she's treated during the play. People - and especially men - are not kind to Blanche. And yet, after crying on the floor, being pinned to the ground while screaming and making "inhuman cries", she sees this man. This stranger. And, as an audience, we know what he's here to do. After this line they leave, arm-in-arm. And she's trusting him, she's relying on him to protect her. And he won't. We know he won't - but she doesn’t. She truly believes it. Over and over, she believes she'll be protected. Even after everything that she's seen, and done, and everything that's been done to her... Still, she depends on the kindness of strangers

Hedda Gabler, by Henrik Ibsen (translated by Michael Meyer)

TESMAN [runs to the doorway]: Hedda dear, please! Don't play dance music tonight! Think of Auntie Rena. And Eilert. HEDDA [puts her head through the curtains]: And Auntie Juju. And all the rest of them. From now on I'll be quiet. [She closes the curtains behind her]

This is another play I studied at A-Level (Drama, this time, instead of English), and while this isn't the last time Hedda talks, it is the last time we see her alive. And ever since I first read it, it's been bouncing around in my head. It's the understated way she disappears - and only a few lines later, she cuts herself off with a gunshot to her own head. It's the way everyone around her misunderstands her so thoroughly - her own husband thinks that mentioning the dead will get her on side, and no one thinks it odd that she brings up a woman she's repeatedly made it clear that she dislikes. As a reader or a member of the audience, you can see that she's realising there's no way out of her life - she can't divorce her husband, she might even be pregnant with his child. And she tells them that she’s going to end it - I'm sure, to her, she was making her intentions perfectly clear. "From now on I'll be quiet." It's so sad, and soft - especially when said by such an unpredictable character. And then her death is the culmination of everything she's been feeling throughout the play - the longing for beauty, because to her it is beautiful. And I think part of the reason it sticks with me so much is because I was the only one to see her that way in my class. Not everyone hated her (though a lot of them did), but no one else was sympathetic to her. I'm not saying she was a good person, but I did empathise, especially in a room of people all arguing that she deserved her fate

I apologise for the sheer amount I talked about all of those. And if you did read all of this rambling, thank you! I appreciate it, even if it might not have been particularly coherent

#aaah thank you for sending more asks!!! #i am having literally SO MUCH FUN answering these #the lesbian herself #weird questions for writers #vaguely functional directions #by the time i finished this it was only like #half an hour until my daily queued post #so i just booped it up to the top of that list lmao

[ap-trash-compactor]

The Tavstarion thing has such potential but the execution… mmmm. So far the Durgestarion run feels a little more, like, complete? Nuanced, alive, polished? But it still feels like there’s a lot of, like… idk all the storylines feel sketched more than drawn but as someone who went into this game specifically bc the elf sounded like my exact brand of bullshit, I am most disappointed by the deficiencies in it. Although, to be fair a lot of the complaints I have about the elf nonsense actually apply to ALL of Tav’s (or Durge’s) relationships, platonic or romantic. The biggest of them is that… like… nobody ever asks Tav if they’re ok. How they’re doing. Fandom loves the Astarion hug moment (personally I think that does not feel like a hugging moment and I never use that option and low-key hate that it’s the only chance the game allows instead of several more appropriate moments), but… nobody ever offers Tav a fuckin’ hug. It’s basically impossible to play Tav as a complex, fully realized human being who has their own needs. Tav is basically everyone’s shoulder to cry on, but is never offered or allowed to ask for any support. They’re written as kind of a shell, and I *get* that that’s partly the nature of the genre but I felt like my SWTOR OCs are given more grace, leeway, and depth all at once than Tav, in spite of that being a much more railroaded game. I truly found it incredibly bleak and genuinely depressing when I played the first time. It makes all the relationships, romantic or platonic, feel like… idk, man. It makes Tav’s “life” feel like a drag. And it pairs *particularly* poorly with the Astarion stuff where he is always dancing on the razor’s edge of being a completely abusive POS. And to a certain extent that’s fine — it makes sense that he has the patterns he has, he’s a complex and well-written and interesting character, but it makes his ~journey~ back to, like, humanity or whatever feel pretty fuckin’ lame that the writing never actually gives him an opportunity to try (even to try badly!!! even to fail at it and fall flat on his face and have to deal with that!!!) to go outside himself and offer Tav *any*… anything! Anything! The concept is this broken person waking up to his own vulnerability and desire for a relationship (or friendships, if Tav goes the platonic route) and getting his own sense of self back as part of that etc etc etc, but he really ends up looking like a douchenozzle even in the “romantic” moments because the writing uses Tav as an eyeball instead of a character, so the narrative can never be arsed to put Astarion in a position where he has to grow up enough to try and reach outside himself by offering his alleged partner any, not even the slightest modicum, of support or concern or literally anything. I guess the player is supposed to be moved by the feelings confession and the graveyard scene but like. Idk man maybe it’s just how I engage w this kind of media but I don’t want to feel like the game is showing *me* something, I want to feel like I’m discovering my OC’s story, so I’m playing along thinking “who is she? what’s this like for her? why is she doing this? what’s her motivation? how’s she feeling right now?” and while I tried to invent a person who would stick it out to the end of the Astarion romance because I wanted to see it, it felt like such a bleak, empty, sad, draining story for Tav that it just… made me sad. Not for him. For Tav. But of course the issue from a writing standpoint is not “Astarion is a jackass,” it’s that the writing never. Ever. Not one time. Gives Tav any opportunities to express distress or ask for emotional support… from anyone. It stands out most in the romance but it is pervasive. Because Tav is not a person with a story. And that drives me up the fucking wall.

[squeak3ater]

Face reveal and tiny blog : 12/12

I was never consistent with writing. I tried keeping a diary before it became too much. Making up for having someone to speak about nothing with isn’t easy if there’s something eating away at you.

I found encouragement here and there, enough of it. And I started writing again. These are hardly half-assed, to be honest. There’s something intimate about sending your poems to someone prior to maybe sharing them somewhere, or send a scratch of it even. I’ve done that, but, never when I really should have maybe.

I’m late. I’m out of time. And I hope late is better than never, or rather not. It has been a year. And I miss feeling like I’m home. Can’t have it all, I guess.

I made some friends and made my mistakes. And there’s more to be made. Hopeless optimism even when it’s bleak, because what else do I know, what else can I live with. Nothing here is solely for content, and everything can be read beyond face value. You want to think on it? Want me to read it to you? You wanna stop reading right now? It’s your call. But, I hope I get it across, somehow, somewhere right.

Why do I upload everything here? Because it’s pretty that’s why. It doesn’t matter if I’m asking people to come here and read it, what matters is that they do. I’m not that interesting to have people lurking here with a fucking Rosetta Stone, I lay my cards flat out on the table. We don’t talk about what we don’t talk about. Thick fucking boundary I got here.

I initially hoped to have three poems a month, but so far I’ve missed two months. Oh well, quality am I right? None of these are published so whatever, was never the point. If I was cooking meth for the cartel I’d be dead lol.

I hope you’re still here next year. And I hope you find more diverse content than you’ve seen so far. No I’m not talking about furry art, just writing and stuff. If there’s anything you have to tell me, use the ask me anything button to be anonymous and whatnot, be creepy, but don’t be weird, and don’t mix them up.

Here’s to melancholic winters, Damien Rice, and learning to live all over again. Pray that I find happiness, it goes with the colour palette here. And I promise to not get cancer. Bye :3

[kinetic-elaboration]

October 25: Cabinet of Curiosities 1x01

Almost unfathomably tired today but I very bravely avoided taking a nap and I rallied enough to watch the first ep of Cabinet of Curiosities.

[spoilers below]

Overall, I enjoyed it a lot! I really liked the atmosphere, the sets and costumes, the actors, and the building mood of bleak mysteriousness. It was also very well crafted, which I am a known slut for: every detail was meaningful, every bit of information was used later. There weren’t loose ends or random bits.

My favorite parts as far as call back and important details:

The lights always going off and that playing a pivotal role in the creepiness of the final section and last scene;

Nick telling Amelia that she could use the padlock for something...and her using the padlock for something;

The storage unit sizes;

“There’s only one exit.”

I also really liked the concept as a whole: the man buys a storage unit and there’s Something Evil in it.

Am I particular fan of devil worship and demons and tentacles? No, not really. That was the weakest part for me personally. First because I don’t find it scary and second because I hate Lovecraft and this is inherently Lovecraftian. But the build up to the reveal was very good, and I wasn’t so much disappointed by the reveal as... I don’t know, I’m not sure how to put it. At first I had a lot of different theories about what was going on, but then they fell away slowly and I understood more and more, and then it made sense. Do I think some of my theories would have been better? Yeah, kinda, but that’s okay.

In particular, I thought the original owner was raising some kind of evil creature in there, and then he was harvesting it and that’s what we see in the beginning. Upon reflection, I guess it was the opposite: he was cutting up whatever that thing was, and he was going to feed it to the demon later. Begging the question, for me, of what the point is? He summons this demon, gets it to do something (presumably, boundless evil), but then he’s stuck taking care of it the rest of his life. He has to keep it bound up, and I suppose feed it, and he can’t ever let it free or he’ll lose a valuable book, I mean be eaten by tentacles.

The episode definitely was not subtle in its theme of racism and bitterness--”white rage”--and the sort of...the cycle of evil that comes from desperation and feeds into more evil. But I feel like there was something to in the old man and his fate. It’s sort of a traditional tale, right? You summon the devil, you get something you want, and then you pay with your soul later. Except he thought he was tricking the demon and winning: he’d just trap it and it could never collect. But it DID collect, in the form of a life of servitude to it, during which he lost everything else.

A recurring theme of unavoidable costs: of America’s war(s); of the lot itself; of the demon’s favor; of the books; Nick’s debt. Nick is so fucking angry because he paid the price for something that he didn’t start. At least the old man--and Nick later--were paying the prices of their own actions.

I wasn’t 100% of what to make of Roland. I assume he was a Satanist? I mean when he was describing the original owner’s evil deeds, it was very “And what were you doing at the Devil’s sacrament, Goody Roland?” I didn’t dislike Roland but Nick having zero time for/interest in his bullshit did make me laugh, and made me like Nick more.

I also enjoyed the irony of Nick, in his hurry and his greed, setting free the demon. He wasn’t thinking about consequences. He wasn’t think about the price.

And finally, I enjoyed that it was a short story, just filmed. It really read that way. Satisfying horror that is what it is and is economical and well-made and atmospheric. I’m not really into the eldritch/cosmic/tentacle horror stuff but I am hopeful I’ll find aspects of the other stories I like as well.

#the year 2022 #2022: fandom thoughts #2022: cabinet of curiosities

[castielcommunism]

re your tags: they literally make a dean a dictator but at the same time punish him for having any emotions. like dean being shitty toward cas at the beginning of season 15 was indeed shitty and wrong of him but also mary had been dead for like four days at that point and it partially WAS cas's fault for Yet Again knowing about a problem and then having the problem he was being secretive about blow up in their faces when it could have been avoided (i say this with love as cas is my favorite). people also give dean a lot shit for what happened with jack and it's like, even if you think that's reasonably in character (which I tend not to), dean's biggest trauma is being forced to take care of a kid that's not his after the person he loves most is killed and there's no real time to mourn for them. i'd lose my shit if that happened to me twice too. they make dean need to control everything and have every issue even if they aren't ones he had in previous seasons, and then are like "but you need to be stoic about it. it's literally only a problem if it causes social friction and you're too open about it."

I feel like I can’t really engage seriously with what actually happens in the later seasons (s13-15 especially) because it’s patently absurd. like overarching plot stuff is whatever, it’s a CW show so if they want Satan to possess the president and for Britain to invade the US then like sure dude go for it, that stuff is hilariously bad and entertaining. but the interpersonal drama is like, fucking diabolical. the divorce arc is about the dumbest shit imaginable, mary is killed off again so dean has a “sympathetic” reason to be abusive to jack, sam is slowly melting into the wallpaper of whatever room he’s standing in and has no motivation or drive to do anything, cas is just like hanging around and does shit that pisses dean off.

I disagree that he’s punished for having emotions. I think the problem is that dean has all of his worst tendencies turned up to 11 with no counter-balance, no joy, no tenderness, and no resolution. later seasons are deeply unpleasant (for me, at least) to watch because it’s all sharp edges and no room to breathe. like all of it is so incredibly bleak lol. In general I hesitate to say that dean is ever punished by the narrative in a meaningful way, even in later seasons, because his actions are almost always justified by some rational foundation. which you even give some really good examples of! he abuses jack, but he’s a yellowed eyed “monster” who is ostensibly threatening his brother and later kills his mother. he’s angry at cas, but cas is the one who hid something from him. he yells at sam for wanting to do anything other than hunt. dean does something bad BUT he’s got a good reason, etc etc etc.

now you can argue that the show frames this as bad in the end, but he’s still given a bunch of rational justifications for revolting behaviour. dean displays a lot of abusive tendencies that are, in real life, fundamentally irrational because they’re about control, power, and cruelty over other people in service of yourself, but he’s metanarratively justified in all those things because everyone around him is also doing “bad” things like killing people he loves and hiding information from him. this not only makes him unlikeable and boring, but it does a disservice to all the characters around him as well. no conflict resolution means everyone kinda just accepts, like, dean and sam trying to lock jack in a box for all eternity. like what is going on dude!!!! what is happening on my tv screen right now at this moment!!!!

so I don’t find that interesting at all. I don’t want Dean to be punished, I just want him to be allowed to be wrong. It’s actually much more compelling if his behaviour is narratively irrational, because that’s a flaw you can use to create conflict and set the grounds for resolution and growth. But by s13 that’s impossible because all of his other actions up to that point have been justified, too, so it’s way too late.

and like again I am saying this from a place of deangirlism. I like that dean has control issues, that he has abandonment issues, that he’s insecure and temperamental and inconsiderate at times. those are all really human, really gritty, really fun things to explore in characters, and they add a lot of texture to his good qualities! they give dimensionality to him. but if the payoff is the guy we see in s13 then like I don’t want that. I don’t want that for dean, I don’t want that for sam or cas or mary or jack.

anyway this is a very long-winded way of saying that I don’t really find it meaningful to engage with the literal text of the later seasons because the foundation is too rotten and bleak, so it’s hard to either pardon or condemn dean in those seasons because I can’t suspend my disbelief long enough to care one way or the other. even something as simple and surface level as dean telling lisa he’s scared of becoming his father in s6 is shockingly more self-aware, honest, and fruitful than anything we get in the later seasons. give me more of that and less of “dean is mean to everyone he loves but they started it first”

#dean.txt #asks #hrm. hope this does not start discourse #dean studies #long post #meta

[aforrestofstuff]

Chapter 149 Expert Review Time

Hey gamers what’s up time for another CHAPTER 👏 REVIEW 👏

It was looking kinda bleak last time for pretty much everyone so I’m hoping things improved this time around, but it seems Murata and ONE are kinda going through their “I’m going to put my characters through the MOST” phase so… that feels unlikely. But nevertheless… still excited to see my favorite boys.

The 10000th Psychic Sister cover. Murata, I’m begging you. There’s literally like 30 other characters to choose from. I know you like drawing boobs but imma need you to put the pencil down for a minute and take a walk because this just ain’t IT.

“Summer is coming” it is July. Summer has been here for ten years. I’m so fucking hot all the time. Everything has been evaporated out of me and I’m literally a raisin.

The Psychic Sisters covers are just so devoid of life a lot of the time… I wouldn’t mind if it was them fighting or engaging in everyday activities but when they’re posed for the camera and deliberately placed there to look sexy it just sucks all the human out of them. The cover/splash page is a great chance to show characters in a new light!!! It’s mostly set away from the story so you can do whatever you want! Choosing to make 80 fanservice covers is just wasted opportunity for what could be additional character development. It’s gotten to a point where even the smegma-slinging bitchboys on Reddit are complaining about the excessive sexy covers…. When PussySlayer384756 complains that there’s too much tittage being shown, that’s how you KNOW we’ve got a problem. Now, idk how the fan climate is in Japan but I can’t imagine they’re feeling much different over there either.

Also, her anatomy is… janky. Her tit is bigger than her head, her belly is too long, and she’s got like 4 spare ribs. Like, I’m by no means an art expert but it doesn’t take a chef to know the soup is shit, you know what I mean? I feel like page after page of Murata drawing obscene muscle men has made him rusty on what should be (somewhat) normal-looking people.

Darkshine learns what TRUE peak male performance looks like.

You’ve gotta wonder how Darkshine even got to the S-Class to begin with when he pussies out of nearly every single fight… except the one where the opponent was literal water. Everyone says that he just joined the association for additional validation, and I believe it… this boy is not cut out for actual hero-ing. 99% Of the time HE’S the one who needs a hero.

It kinda bothers me how useless he’s been post-Garou fight, especially when we spent like an entire chapter trying to console his ass. I get that’s part of his character and development… but it’s begun to slow things down. We get it. We don’t need to see him be insecure every time a new enemy pops up. One was enough. We would’ve gotten the same effect if he just sat out the entire time post-consolation, because everything that’s happened to him on the surface has been kinda redundant.

Here comes the boooyyy 🎶🎶

Nice callback. I’m glad Metal Bat is finally here. Bitch runs slow as fuck.

It’s nice to see him act on his own agency instead of orders from the hero association. He’s clearly much happier when helping out on his own accord, and has a ton of initiative too. The chapter he got with just he and King meeting up and slingshotting themselves to the fight was really a breath of fresh air from all of the fighting. It’s moments like these where ONE remembers that people like OPM for the characters, and not necessarily the pretty action sequences. I really like this duo. I like Metal Bat. I like it when they’re given time to be themselves and not just vessels for the next fight scene.

I know I said I wanted the heroes to die but Murata I’m begging you please don’t kill the child. You can kill Puri, though. I hate that fucker.

Child Emperor regularly visiting and eating with Bofoi even despite being his lab assistant would be a lot cuter if Bofoi wasn’t the human equivalent to a dog turd. I might’ve overstated that… seems like Bofoi is just using him as an errand boy. The clear lack of respect he has for CE is very indicative of his character and is not necessarily a bad thing plot-wise, but I would still like to beat him with a cane. Additionally, it’s clear that he’s not going to help the heroes here. At least, I don’t think so. His “fuck them kids” attitude seems to be a pretty big pillar in the building of his character and I doubt ONE would jeopardize that just because he’s written himself into a corner. Oh, well. We’ll see.

It’s very sweet that even when near death, CE still thinks of Zombieman. Aaaaghh it’s so GOOD when the characters actually LIKE each other. I know realistically not everyone is gonna be friends but man… it would be a lot cooler if we got more insight on their chemistry. Pleaz have more Metal Bat-and-King-esque chapters. I wanna see how everyone gets along.

Also, the concept of Puri just manifesting drilling powers and carving through solid rock with nothing else but pure strength and determination is so funny. A little convenient, sure, but I really don’t care because it’s actually done well. Their reunion scene is hilarious. More stuff like this pleaz….

I don’t even know what to say about Genos here. Dude, I know you made an oath to protect Tatsumaki or whatever, but there’s no shame in a good bail. You can’t even bail anymore because your damn legs are gone. See, this is what happens when you make promises. The secret to keeping your legs intact is doing the bare minimum. Hope this helps ❤️

He’s making a valiant effort but… I’m afraid he just ain’t gonna do much while roleplaying as a worm. Maybe he’ll make a chrysalis and come out as a butterfly. Wait, that’s caterpillars. Fuck. TATSUMAKI IS A GONER, BRO. WE NEED YOU TO BE THE DEUTERAGONIST!! IF YOU DIE WE LOSE 70% OF MERCH SALES NOOOOOOOO

Local man has a heart attack in front of thousands of little monsters and somehow saves the world, more at 5.

King I’m begging you please get that shit checked out that’s not NORMAL.

Yeah, I like this conclusion. Very tasteful cliffhanger. I mean we know King ain’t gonna do shit but SOMEHOW black sperm is gonna get punted like the little cumstain he is. Can’t wait to see the events that unfold next chapter… it seems like every scene that involves King turns out to be really funny and I’m super looking forward to black sperm seeing Jesus.

Also, a little off-topic but I just really like the way Murata inked his pants. Got a real comic book feel to it. I mean, he’s just really good at drawing clothes overall (save for Fubuki’s body-tight dress that is 100% not how women’s clothing works but I digress). Fucker understands fabric physics like I understand how to make a bomb ass chicken parm. I respect it.

In conclusion, lower everyone’s expectations of you and you might get to keep your arms and legs. This has been Life Lessons from Forrest. You now owe me 50$.

#one punch man #opm #zombieman #metal bat #child emperor #king #manga spoilers #I mean not really it’s been out for like two weeks now (I think) #Genos #Tatsumaki #puri puri prisoner #meta

[reynita9]

hey hey. I feel so awkward for this lol but I really resonate with the things you write on tumblr - whether on the whole world situation rn or stuff in general - and (un)fortunately have like 4 people to talk to who feel the same way. I was wondering how you cope with anxiety about the future, I am sometimes falling in a spiral of being scared there’s no hope, as I don’t want to have my job and life in some metaverse type shit world 💀 sometimes struggling with hope to live a fulfilled life as an unvaxxed whatever person. n its so lonely with most people around me being completely not like this, who really think things will change back to normal bla bla. Point of story I wonder how you as a young woman deal with these thoughts and feelings because I think we share the same viewpoints. + wanted to say I’m beyond thankful you’re sharing those with the world because they also made me feel less ~isolated~ 🙃 love !

Hi 💌

To be honest this took me a while to respond to because I had a really emotional week about the way the world is. I cried and cried and cried, and sometimes that’s the only way I know how to cope. At least the tears get it out of my body. Sometimes I feel strong and confident and sometimes I feel defeated. I think the biggest way I am coping is by being really gentle with myself and taking time to validate my own experience. And accept that we are in between realities right now, so it’s natural for life to be uncertain. We’re still universally becoming. I lean into prayer and meditation, and astrology gives me insight about what’s going on. I’ve become quite hedonistic and cope by preparing myself meals I love and having good sex and listening to music like my life depends on it. Where I am right now, I can only be a part of society if I choose to get vaccinated and life’s become pretty bleak not being able to work or being allowed to go to things my friends go to. I am coping with that by preparing to move. My life is here, so it brings a bit of heartache that I will move my whole life instead of just complying, but it feels right to me. I cope by listening to my body. I’ve been around many people who have covid and feel really grateful i have the skill set to and am comfortable caring for them. I cope with the way the world is by reminding myself to be grateful. I do my best to be grateful because when I’m grateful I am able to trust why I’m living though this.. I low key spiritual bypass myself a bit but it gets me though lol. I’m not telling you that being grateful while living through these really dystopian heinous painful horrible stacked catastrophes is the way, just know it sometimes works for me. And sometimes doesn’t which then becomes funny. I cope by not taking it so seriously sometimes and looking at good memes. Or chatting with cute girls on tumblr lol. I cope by developing ancestral skills which can be used as an alternative to relying on the society which wants me to be dependent and ill. I see myself becoming a part of a pretty off grid autonomous community. I see society getting way more integrated with technology that I am not okay with, so I’m gonna dip out and hope and pray I find a handful of good friends who want to do it together. Most importantly I have to do everything in my power to keep the candle in my heart lit for what I envision for the future of life on earth. I believe in healing and I believe all people can be free without abusive authority mandating every aspect of our lives. I believe I can arrive at this place if I keep preparing for it, and keep honest and true to myself, and continue finding people who accept me as I am, and allow me to think and feel whatever I want to, freely,And still love me. Obviously people who can lovingly keep me in check when I get too far out. But I’m learning to stop giving a fuck what people think, which is funny because it seems to be lifelong process.. i always think I don’t care what people think until I stop caring what they think and feel like my concept of life is expanded again. I think taking it day by day, working to form community, speaking our truth. I was so terrified to speak about what I feel because I was terrified to be rejected by my community. A certain part of me realized that if that’s the case then they might not be the community for me. I can have fulfilling relationships without shrinking myself. And so I’ve barely begun being honest about what I feel and think, and people like you are messaging me from across the world in solidarity. It’s great meeting people from other places who feel the same as me. My light shines for u. we’re gonna be ok. We’re gonna get through it. Reach out any time. I’ve read too many government documents and dystopian sci-fi books to think this is casual haha. We can look at the past to determine the future… it’s really not a crazy concept that these horrible evil motherfuckers would continue to harm and distract people for power and capital. Thank u for reaching out ❤️

[swanhookheart]

Angry Grishaverse book review time!

After watching and LOVING s1 of Shadow and Bone, I read the trilogy! I was not impressed. 

Spoilers incoming for Grishaverse stuff, so if you don’t want those, don’t read on!

Watching Shadow and Bone this past weekend, I was hooked : Darklina, the lore behind the amplifiers, the Aleksander backstory… I was really impressed and hoped that this was it--that at last, I’d found a fantasy series that was going somewhere big, something I could really, thoroughly sink my teeth into. 

*Sigh* 

Then I read the books.

The reader / viewer enters the Grishaverse associating darkness with pure evil. The Fold, described early on, is shown to be this bleak, awful, ruinous place where people go to be eaten alive by volcra and hope goes to die. We therefore, naturally, associate the Darkling--who possesses the power of shadow--with that evil from the off. I’m speaking as someone who only got into the Grishaverse last Saturday. My initial thoughts were, “oh, he’s being set up to be viewed as dark and scary; this is the expectation Bardugo wants us to have so that we’ll be blown away by some great twist later. Count me in!”

But that twist never came. He was set up as evil, and he stayed evil. Surprise, he’s the Black Heretic! Surprise, he’s an abomination effectively created by Morezova’s greed! Surprise, he’s ruthless and horrible and does cruel things! Except none of those things are actually surprising, given he was SET UP from the beginning to be viewed that way. He did bad things, walked a bad walk, and talked a bad talk. I kept thinking “ah, so he’s gonna get a sweeeet redemption arc,” and then he just never did. That element of the story was predictable to a nauseating degree, and that predictability made the entire universe feel a bit flat. If the reader saw more of his backstory, had more real, logical, sound justification for why he does the things he does (like in the show, where they at least tried to paint his actions as borne of some misplaced sense of servitude / protection for the Grisha or where we saw him actively struggling at points to grapple with the darkness inside him), then maybe the trilogy wouldn’t have been such a letdown. And yes, I know about his sacrifice or whatever later on. It’s not enough.

In villains, I and probably plenty of others like to see humanity. We want to empathize with our villains to a certain extent--to understand them just a little bit--so we can fully commit to hating them when they violate our trust. The Darkling didn’t have that human, redeeming quality, though--at least, not in the books. In the books, he was just a power-hungry jackass who simultaneously didn’t want to be alone and kept trying to kill his only opportunity not to be alone. His single-mindedness, his lack of human empathy, the simplicity with which he pursued this made him seem almost stupid to me as a reader. For someone who’s lived hundreds of years, he’s kind of an idiot when it comes to other people--which, itself, almost seems incongruous with his having lived for so long. If he’d maybe had more backstory or more in his story to justify his actions, maybe he’d feel like a better villain. But atm, all I’m doing is rolling my eyes with him. I couldn’t love him because he didn’t put in any work toward being a better person. Even in the end, he doesn’t actually do the work or repent. But I also can’t hate him because the source material hasn’t given me enough actual human qualities to hate or to feel betrayed. His character just… missed the mark for me. 

As did Mal’s. Fucking MAL, oh my GOD! This dude’s literal only personality trait was loving Alina. Cool, he could track--for Alina, mostly. He could fight--for Alina. “I am become a blade”? Sir, you got a whole-ass tattoo announcing that you’re an object in this woman’s service? No WAP is worth that, and I’m speaking as a very bisexual woman. My dude, it’s weird, it’s extra, it’s just too much. I’ll go back to the Darkling for two seconds to say that, ofc, his actions were painted as problematic and misogynistic and gross. But, like, the possessiveness Mal displays with Alina kinda feels on that same level? Why are we pretending he’s better when he actively tries to keep her low, keep her powerless, and keep her his? Again, dude got a tattoo of her sigil. He was fully prepared to be the leader of her guard even if she married Nikolai just for the opportunity for some sexytimes. I know that YA is about really intense emotion, the fire of teenage hormones and stuff, but that all just felt a bit toxic. The way that his entire life revolved around her while she tried to balance the role of saint, hero, orphan, and all the things she was just felt goofy and like a wildly unhealthy dynamic. 

Their whole relationship also felt really obvious, as I guess the Darkling being revealed as the trilogy’s big bad did. It was predictable, set up to be that way from the start. There were no surprises. It was Mal, and then it was still Mal, and in the end, it was also Mal. We weren’t really shown any of what made them so drawn to each other, we were just kind of told and expected to be fine with the intensity of it. But it read as being way too much for me, and god, it kept getting worse. Again, this one felt like low-hanging fruit--low effort, lazy writing. Nothing about it actually read to me as romantic, just as too much. They didn’t so much as fall in love as just start out that way, and reading that was somewhere between boring and uncomfortable. At least with the Darkling or hell--even Nikolai--we saw some of that chemistry unfold on the page. We were shown some of what made them work the way they did. There was something underpinning their relationship, and not just “oh, they’re supposed to be together”. I mean, after all JKR’s bullshit, I feel totally fine saying fuck authorial intent. If you can’t even be bothered to actually put your shit on the page, don’t ask me to blindly accept your version canon as gospel truth. 

We could have had Deckerstar vibes, Beauty and the Beast vibes, seen light and dark come together and surprise us by actually working well together. But no, we saw a special girl lose everything that made her special and settle for some mediocre fuckboy from her hometown. We get characters that actually have the potential to be dynamic and make for a good story, but she still ends up with this bland, vanilla, trick-ass bitch? It’s a major letdown when you’ve actually been exposed to decent fictional couples, tbh.

OOF! And the ending? Oh jesus fuck, that ending. Darkling just… dies. Just like that. I read three whole books for that? I know he comes back and dies again and all, but the whole trilogy felt like it was building up to something more, something deeper and greater and more profound. He was horrible for the things he did, sure, and he deserved defeat as long as he refused to waver from his power-hungry, destructive path. But his death brought about no closure. He and Alina never actually had the fight they needed to or reached an understanding with each other. Everything is left undone, unsaid, unexplored. The ending just felt super anticlimactic on the page, and so, the trilogy as a whole fell completely short of any mark I hoped it might hit.

Did I hope Darklina would be endgame? Sure. But I’d also have been A-okay with a tragic ending if it had been done right. Did I think it would have been a lot more interesting to see a redemption arc for Darkling than just… more of the same? Or maybe Mal develop a personality outside of Alina? Absolutely. There was so much potential, and it really feels like Bardugo squandered all of it. And for what? This was nearly as disappointing as the eighth season of Game of Thrones. I probably won’t be watching future seasons if they follow the books, but I guess I’m glad for the day or so of fleeting pleasure I got when I still had hope for a properly told story. 

#Shadow and bone #anti-mal #darklina #shadow and bone spoilers #grishaverse

[fanmoose12]

What if in the time skip Hange had to travel during the timeskip to learn about technology or strategy with Yelena and Levihan keep on talking by letters during the time apart? Started with passionate ramblings and ended with both talking about the 104thkids, life and themselves🥺

Levi!

I'm writing you to inform that I've safely arrived to Marley. Yelena provided me with housing and food. She guarantees I'd be safe here. Tomorrow I'll meet with their engineers. They're all Paradis’ sympathetisers so I'm totally safe here. Besides, Yelena and Onyakopon are keeping an eye on me. So don't worry and take care of everything while I'm gone.

I promise to return as quick as possible. Say hi to the kids.

Take care, 

Hange 

_____________

Hange.

Is it safe for you to write letters? You're not using our code, so I guess no one is reading it, but you and me. Or did you just forget that someone can intercept our letters? Please, don't tell me that you did.

Also, do you understand that by writing that Yelena and Onyakopon are watching over you, you're making me worry even more? I know you want to trust them, but be cautious around them. Don't let your guard down.

We're doing just fine, the construction of railroad is going well.

How is your work going? How many death tools you've devised already?

Don't forget to eat and sleep, 

Levi

_____________

Levi!

Of course, sending letters is safe. Onyakopon is the one who takes care of my correspondence. I know you're still wary of them, I admit, I don't trust Yelena too, but Onyakopon is a good man, I can trust him on this. So don't you worry, I'm not accidentally endangering myself or the fate of our operation. I have everything under control.

Speaking of things under my control, the development of new weapons is going great! Using, the information and instruments I've been provided with, I was able to achieve a lot. I'm not going to tell you about it, I'll need more than one page for that, and I don't have a lot of time for letters, but I'm sure you're going to love our new weapons. Of course, I'll need to modify them a bit, to accommodate for scout's fighting style, but I'm feeling good about this.

How are you doing? How are the others? Did something peculiar happen? If so, please write to me about this. These Marleyans are boring as hell, I can use some laugh right now. Take care and be safe.

Lots of love, 

Hange

_____________

Hange.

So you're making lots of progress. That's good. Don't overwork yourself, though. Take all the time you need, we'll be fine without you.

You asked for a story about brats, and I do have something to tell. I’m sure you’ll love it. 

You've told me many times to stop checking on them during the night and I was following your advice. But yesterday I was heading to the kitchen to brew myself a cup of tea, and I heard some commotion upstairs. I hurried there, worried that something had happened, and you never guess what was going on. The brats were chasing each other through the hallway with pillows in their hands. Even Mikasa was involved in this, I expected better from her. They were so into their stupid game, it took them a full minute to notice me. Once they did, they had enough sense to look ashamed. I ordered them to go sleep, but even afterwards I heard their whisperings. They grew so tall, but, goddamn it, they're still little, annoying brats.

Hope this story is enough to make you cackle, Hange, because I can't remember anything else they've done. They're strangely calm without you. Makes me uneasy, to be honest.

Maybe, they'll be back to normal, once you return.

I hope you'll come home soon.

Until the next letter.

Levi

_____________

Levi!!!!

What did you cross out? I'm really curious! I've tried to use different sources of light to see through it, but you've done a good job of hiding it.

By the way, are you saying that the kids miss me? Tell them I miss them too.

I do have a question - are they the only ones who miss me? Feel free not to answer it, I know you're too shy to do it.

The work has been doing fine, maybe, I'll be able to finish in the next few weeks, but who knows how long I'm going to stay here. Yelena and Onyakopon can't just let me fly back home, they need to devise a safe route for me first. They say it may take another month or two, before I can return. Try not to forget about me in the meantime, yeah?

Sending you hugs!

Hange

_____________

Hange.

Two more months? What the fuck?

Everything is alright. There is nothing to report.

Levi

_____________

Dear Armin,

I hope you and Jean are doing everything in your power to keep your friends in line. I know you're busy as it is and I know I'm asking too much of you, but can you please keep an eye on Levi? I worry about him a bit, and it'll make feel better if you check up on him.

Thanks for all the hard work you do!

Take care,

Commander Hange

_____________

Commander!

Please, don't worry about us, you have enough on your plate as it is. Captain is a bit melancholic, it's true, but I'm sure he'll get better once you return.

In the meantime, I'll think of a way to cheer up our Captain! You can count on me!

The others had asked to pass their best wishes to you. We're eagerly awaiting your return.

Armin

P.S. Sasha just told me that she convinced Niccolo to prepare a celebratory dinner for you. So, as you can see, everyone misses you. The corps are not the same without you. I'm hoping for your swift return.

_____________

Hey,

What the fuck? Why do you send letters to the brat, while I received no response to my last one?

And what was in that letter, by the way? Armin refused to show me. Are you keeping secrets from me, Hange?

Hopefully, you'll answer this letter.

Levi

_____________

My dearest Captain Grump,

I'm so sorry if I hurt your feelings, but there was something I needed to discuss with Armin. It's boring stuff, you wouldn't like it. Do tell me how you're doing, I'm very curious about it. Are you sleeping well? I hope the nightmares don't bring you too much trouble. If they do, then I'm sorry that I can't be by your side to help.

If something bothers you, please tell me about it. I'll try to help in whatever way I can.

Sincerely yours,

Hange

_____________

Hange,

Everything is fine, don't worry. You have more important stuff right now.

The brats act really weird. Today they asked me to accompany them to a trip into town. I can't even imagine their reason for it, but they practically begged me to join, I had no other choice than to agree.

The walk through town was... Nice. The weather was good, sunny but not too hot, just as you like it. Something was wrong with the brats, however. They kept staring at me, Iike I've grown a second head. It annoyed me, although I do have to admit I was feeling strangely too. During the whole day, I kept looking back as though something was missing. Maybe, I'm just exhausted.

We visited my favorite café and then went to a marketplace. The cleaning supplies were running low, so it was fortunate that the brats were with me, they helped me carry everything I needed. I bought something for you too, it already waits for you at your table. I hope it won't be covered in dust by the time you come back.

Take care,

Your Levi

_____________

Dear Levi,

Oh nooo, you went for a walk with kids? I'm so envious! I'm cooped up here all the time, Onyakopon doesn't even let me leave my room during daytime. I'm feeling like a wilted flower. The sun here is so bleak, I can't figure the reason for it, but it's nearly not as bright as in Paradis. It's too cold there as well.

On the bright side, they have lots of meat here, (see, I'm eating healthily). Although, it's a bit dry for my taste. You're going to laugh at me, but I'm actually missing the broth from our cafeteria. Maybe, I'm just going crazy with boredom.

I'm finished with the work, and now I'm waiting for the signal from Yelena. Onyakopon says it could take a few weeks, but I'm getting impatient. I can't wait to be back home. Hopefully, you're waiting for me too.

Sincerely yours,

Hange

P.S. I just reread your letter and what? You bought me a gift? What is it, Levi? Tell me what is it! You know me, I won't be able to sleep until you tell me.

_____________

Hange,

If I find out that you're not getting enough sleep, I'll kick Yelena's and Onyakopon's asses. Then I'll kick yours.

You'll see it when you get home. So quell your curiosity.

Wish you all the best, miss you so much

Levi

_____________

Levi!!!!!!!

Yelena just came back, she told that everything is ready for my departure! I'm so excited! I can't wait to see all of you, I missed you so much!

I'm going to warn you, though, once I return, I'm going to hug you, and no, you can't refuse or run away from me. It's commander's orders.

Lots of love,

Your Hange

P.S. there is a second part of this letter. It describes the details of my trip. For safety reasons, I've used our code to write it. See? I do take precautions.

_____________

Hange

Thanks for your letter. I showed it to Jean and Armin (only the coded part), they're getting ready for your arrival.

Have a safe trip.

The brats and I are waiting.

Hopefully this is the last letter I ever write to you, don’t leave me alone again

Levi.

#sorry for turning your ask into whatever this is lmao #but i was so inspired #writing that was actually fun because it's just dialogues (i love writing dialogues) #levihan

[forasecondtherewedwon]

The Great Madripoorian Snake Off

Fandom: The Falcon and the Winter Soldier Pairing: Sam Wilson/Bucky Barnes Rating: M Word Count: 3950

Summary: All Sam argued was that Bucky shouldn't have to pretend to be the Winter Soldier. He never suggested Bucky pose as his husband instead.

The Baron—with his garage of vintage cars and his popped-collar bullshit—starts getting a little too comfortable. Somewhere between his prison cell and his private plane, he begins to act as though he’s the one running the show, so when he states, despicably blasé, that Bucky will need to go undercover as the Winter Soldier, Sam tells Zemo no. Not as forcefully as he forbade him from speaking earlier, but firmly enough that Sam thinks it’s clear that he won’t be changing his mind.

“But it’s the only way,” Zemo says, spreading his hands. “As the Winter Soldier, he is a very believable bodyguard.”

“Maybe he doesn’t need to act like a bodyguard,” Sam argues.

“A show of strength is—”

“Is that really what we need? I thought we were trying to fly under the radar. If we’re advertising Bucky’s capabilities like that, doesn’t that make us a target?”

“Yes,” Bucky mumbles, mostly staying out of it.

Sam’s irritated that Bucky’s not standing up for himself, not pushing back against Zemo’s half-baked plan. Having Zemo here is a lot to deal with, Sam gets that, but if they don’t fight him on this shit now, he has a bad feeling they’re going to regret it when they end up in a firefight. Whatever. He’ll speak up on Bucky’s behalf to save them both grief in the near future. He hopes Bucky would do the same for him.

“Whether or not you acknowledge what he is…” Zemo begins again.

“Who,” Sam says, gaze flicking to Bucky’s face, which is tilting down as he avoids eye contact. “Who he is.”

“…you have the risk of aggression.”

“Buck?” Sam checks. He stares until Bucky’s eyes dart up to meet his. “You gonna keep your cool in there?”

“Best behaviour,” he promises. His blue eyes are suspiciously steady, like always.

“That means,” Zemo translates with a finger raised to complement his interjection, “he’ll react whenever and however he feels he needs to. There is no guarantee it will align with your own conduct.”

“Yeah, man, I know,” Sam snaps.

Like he needs Zemo to explain Bucky to him; Sam knows Bucky. He knows he’s stubborn at best and a reckless hot-head at worst, but he also knows Bucky’s working on that. There’s no need to state how little Zemo expects from Bucky right in front of him. If anybody’s gonna complain about Bucky’s aggravating habit of doing the opposite of whatever Sam wants him to, it’ll be Sam.

He’s still glaring at the Baron when Bucky shifts in his seat, hands clenching in his lap. Sam’s eyes go to the fists, then up to Bucky’s face.

“You see that?” Zemo asks, sounding deeply amused as he nods towards Bucky. “He’s going to insist on playing a bodyguard.”

“What do you mean?”

“Ignore him,” Bucky says, quick and low like a kick to the ankle.

“He’s ready to jump to your defense,” Zemo says. He’s grinning, propping his elbows on his armrests and lacing his fingers—looking like the villain he’s already been sentenced for being. “He shows a strong instinct to protect you.”

“Put Bucky with me then,” Sam says reflexively. He glances at Bucky. “If that works for you.” His gaze slides back to Zemo after Bucky’s subtle nod. “If you don’t dress him up like he’s the Winter Soldier and make him act like he’s the Winter Soldier and have him take goddamn orders from you like he’s the Winter Soldier, who’s gonna know? We’re counting on people not being too perceptive, right? That’s why I’m using this Smiling Tiger dude’s identity instead of a made-up one.”

“That’s true,” Bucky says. His tone is gruff as he backs Sam up. “You can’t have it both ways, Zemo. Either we’re both pretending to be real people or neither of us is.”

“I don’t understand,” the Baron says affably, looking between them with a smile. This plane’s gotta hurry up and land before Sam gives in to the urge to stick Zemo’s head in the toilet and flush. “Smiling Tiger and the Winter Soldier are both real people.”

“No. They’re not.”

The silence strains with the pressure behind Bucky’s words. It feels to Sam as though Bucky’s just thrown up a forcefield between himself and Zemo, forbidding him access to the Winter Soldier. Sam can see the disappointment on Zemo’s face, but that asshole will have to wait to express it because the plane’s easing into its descent, circling over Madripoor before setting down on a private airstrip outside the city.

From the hangar, Zemo conducts a short, hushed phone call while Sam watches him with crossed arms. Doesn’t seem to be anything sinister for the moment, because the only result of the call that he witnesses is the arrival of a narrow selection of men’s clothing—including a pair of garish suits. The man who brings the garments laughs with Zemo while Sam and Bucky change in the bathroom off the hangar’s office.

When they see each other, Sam appraises Bucky. His outfit is dark and nondescript. Pricey in its details, but forgettable to anyone who doesn’t have good reason to look closely. (Sam tears his eyes away.) In contrast, Sam’s been urged to choose between the brightly-patterned suits. Layers of fabric and layers of necklaces to top it off. Not exactly Sam’s choice if he were to dress himself in anything on Zemo’s dime, but the Baron insists, flashing him a photo of Smiling Tiger to strengthen his case for bold fashion choices.

“I thought we were making characters up,” Sam says when he looks away from the screen, fiddling with his jewellery.

“This will be easier,” Zemo swears.

He dismisses his contact and the three of them—Zemo, Sam, and Bucky—walk out of the hangar, heading for a bridge with swooping arches and the lights of Madripoor beyond. Apparently, a car will catch up with them. They have until that time to work out their cover without anybody listening in.

“So I’m supposed to be Sam’s bodyguard?” Bucky checks. “Is that what’s happening?”

“You can’t be Smiling Tiger’s bodyguard,” Zemo answers, dismissing it with a wave of his hand.

“Why not?” Sam demands.

“Smiling Tiger is never seen with a bodyguard. Everyone knows he has them, but they remain at a distance.”

“Why’s that?”

“Arrogance, most likely,” Zemo says with a smile that Sam would definitely call arrogant. “Smiling Tiger affects an untouchable persona. The presumption of invincibility may not allow him to enjoy a terribly long life, but what committed criminal does?”

“You’re doing alright so far,” Bucky remarks flatly.

Sam sighs and gets them back on track. He’s already fed up with Zemo and these heeled shoes suck, so he’s losing what patience he had.

“What’s Bucky’s role then?” he asks. “We’re sticking together. If you get us some clandestine meeting with somebody who can tell us about the super-soldier serum, we’ll have to be able to explain who Bucky is.”

“Whoever he is, he’s in your orbit, not mine,” Zemo says. “That’s what you decided on, even though my plan would have worked flawlessly—”

“I don’t have any sympathy for you not getting to play puppet master with the Winter Soldier. It’s not necessary, just you looking for any chance to fuck with Bucky’s head. How about you get over it and show a little of the craftiness that helped you break out of prison?”

“Thanks to me,” Bucky notes.

“You want a new plan?” Zemo asks. “Ok. You’re together.”

“No shit we’re together. Like Sam said.”

“No, no,” Zemo says, smiling like he’s about to be a real dick. “You can be Smiling Tiger’s boyfriend. No—husband. That could be useful.”

Bucky stops in his tracks and Sam grips Zemo’s arm to force him to halt as well.

“But...” Bucky says.

“Yeah,” Sam agrees, though Bucky doesn’t get any further in words. His eyes are considerably more expressive, but Sam can’t read them, the emotions flying past too quicky, a kite flipping around in a strong wind.

“It allows James to be near you,” Zemo tells him, “and would explain any protective gestures. It’s the simplest solution. Tell me I’m wrong. I know you enjoy doing that.”

“You’re wrong.”

But Sam isn’t so sure about that. They all begin walking again and, by unspoken understanding, allow Zemo to drift slightly ahead. Bucky moves silently to Sam’s side.

“You think this is a good idea?”

“For the record, I don’t like it,” Sam says.

“Neither do I. We’re almost outta time though.”

Sam looks sideways and narrows his eyes at Bucky’s determined expression.

“You’re not fighting this very hard. Is it because you and Zemo have been in cahoots since the prison?”

“We’re not in cahoots.”

“Then why are you so fine with this?”

“It’s better than being the Winter Soldier,” Bucky says.

“The nickname’s a downgrade though,” Sam quips back. Could be a bad time for a joke, but if they’re doing this he can’t have Bucky going into it with that bleak attitude. They need to be more at ease with each other.

The thought alone makes him want to shove Bucky from this bridge and lean over the side to watch the splash.

“Mr. and Mr. Smiling Tiger,” Bucky says miserably. “Fuck.”

“For all I know, Zemo’s making this guy up,” Sam hisses, glancing at the Baron’s back, “so I have to use a stupid name and wear a stupid suit.”

“Seems a little petty for Zemo.”

“He’s gonna try to break us with the small stuff, just you watch.”

“You’re being paranoid,” Bucky tells him.

“That’s exactly what somebody who’s in cahoots with Zemo would say,” Sam accuses. “He’s been working on you since you left me out in the hallway and went in to meet him in his cell alone.” He tugs on the hem of his fitted jacket. “Gotta be vigilant.”

“Whatever you say, Smiling Tiger.”

“You know, I don’t want to hold hands with you, but I’ll do it just to irritate you more than you’re irritating me.”

Bucky glares at him.

The hand-holding is supposed to begin and end as a bluff, but when they get in the back of the car together and Zemo twists around in the passenger seat to give them a significant look, Sam figures he’s trying to get some show of affection out of them. Zemo’s obviously paid the driver—and the hired guns flanking the car on their motorcycles—but this is Madripoor, where competing interests pay competing sums for tip-offs; Sam can admit to himself that, not too far from here, multiple somebodies probably already know Baron Zemo and Co. are in the city. Any one of Zemo’s hires could be reporting on them. He swallows and inches his hand across the middle seat towards Bucky’s.

Zemo gives him an approving nod and a dorky ok sign that makes Sam roll his eyes. When he’s facing forward again, Sam bumps his hand into Bucky’s. With a jerk, Bucky goes from staring out his window to down at their hands.

“Just do it, man,” Sam says under his breath, glancing at the side of the driver’s face.

“Nothing I want more,” Bucky says with zero enthusiasm. He flips his hand over for Sam to grasp and adds, “Babe.”

Just for that, Sam intertwines their fingers to make the hold as intimate as possible. He sees Bucky’s jaw tighten, but before he can probe his staring eyes for meaning, Bucky’s looking out the window again.

Not letting go immediately goes from part of the act to a competition between them. Sam catches the driver peering at the two of them in the rear-view mirror and yanks their joined hands over so the back of Bucky’s rests on his thigh. In obvious retaliation, Bucky clamps Sam’s hand securely when the car rolls to a stop in Low Town, forcing Sam to scoot across the back seat and climb out Bucky’s door.

“You could look a little happier about this,” Zemo suggests, motioning to their rigid arms while they maintain a squeezing hand-hold, as if the Baron’s about to attempt to red-rover his way between them.

“That better not be you telling me to smile,” Sam warns.

“I thought Sam’s nickname was supposed to be ironic,” Bucky says.

“What do I know,” Zemo says. He raises his hands in a gesture of harmlessness—that Sam absolutely does not buy—and leads them up the street.

“He’s not wrong,” Bucky turns his head to mutter as Sam’s gaze roves over a series of seedy deals conducted right out in the open. “You could loosen up a little. You look mad. It’s suspicious.”

“Oh, I could loosen up?” Sam shoots back. “Try wiping that death-stare off your face for five minutes.”

“Hey, I’m allowed to look like this. I’m acting protective, remember?”

“Well, maybe I look mad because your hand’s all sweaty.”

“It’s your hand that’s sweaty!”

“Uh, no.”

“You want me to switch hands?” Bucky asks, eyes boring into Sam’s and startling him because, beneath the exasperation, there’s unmistakable fear. Could be the situation, or the fact that they’re kinda putting their lives in Zemo’s hands here, or that he expects Sam to recoil at even the suggestion of clasping his Vibranium hand like a lover would.

“Yeah,” he says. “Gimme the other one.”

They stare each other down until Bucky shrugs it off, refusing to switch. Sam hopes he knows that he would’ve, that it doesn’t need to be a big deal, and that it’s probably just all Zemo’s talk of manipulating Bucky into playing the part of the Winter Soldier that has him extra wary of his own prosthetic. His Vibranium hand is currently covered by a leather glove and Sam’s glad the Baron can’t see the sleek metal when he looks back at them with greedy eyes full of an agenda Sam’s certain they only know a piece of.

“Almost there,” Zemo tells them.

“I’m gonna try not to attract attention,” Bucky says quietly, making Sam stop with him before they can enter the bar. “I might not talk much.”

“That’s fine,” Sam assures him. “We’ll let Zemo take the lead. You just stay close, alright?”

Bucky nods and they duck inside, following the back of Zemo’s high collar as they weave through a crowd of disreputable characters. It’s packed in here. Sam tries to keep his chest out, his head up, his body moving like this suit is type of thing he wears all the time. Bucky releases his hand to walk behind him, leaving Sam’s palm clammy and cold.

When Sam stops abruptly to let Zemo reach the bartender first, Bucky walks into him. Honestly, his solid presence is a relief and Sam shuts his eyes to reset for a second before turning his head partway.

“That a knife in your front pocket? I thought we were being inconspicuous.”

“It is inconspicuous,” Bucky replies, brushing past him to stand at his side instead of right against his back. “Nobody’s gonna know it’s there unless I have to pull it out.”

“I know it’s there.”

“I wasn’t counting on you pressing your ass against it.”

Sam opens his mouth, but all he can do is make a disgruntled noise before Zemo’s turning away from the bartender with a smile to wave Sam and Bucky forward.

“Ah,” says the Baron. “Will you join me, Smiling Tiger?”

Repeatedly telling himself to keep his shit together, Sam comes up to the bar, leaning an arm on the surface. He isn’t expecting pushback from the bartender, but maybe Zemo doesn’t have quite as much clout in Madripoor as he imagines; the bartender holds Sam’s eyes for a moment before glancing pointedly to Bucky. Sam can feel Bucky hovering at his back.

“My husband,” Sam states. Probably best to keep his answers short. He might look like the real Smiling Tiger, but he has no idea whether or not he sounds anything like him.

The bartender just stares back, then drops his gaze to Sam’s hand, splayed on the bar top. Shit. He knows what the man’s thinking: no ring. Although Sam’s totally good with leaping out of the back of airplanes, being required to improvise with words has him panicking. If he and Bucky had thought to come up with an excuse for why a guy like Smiling Tiger—who’s evidently comfortable being decked out in jewellery—wouldn’t wear a wedding ring, he could deliver it now, but without rehearsing? He’s not a smooth or practiced liar.

Defensively, he draws away from the bar and feels his shoulder hit someone. Bucky. Sam looks from where his shoulder is pressing into Bucky’s chest, then up to his eyes. Wordlessly, he asks for assistance. Bucky leans forward to make his voice heard over the noise of the room and Sam exhales slowly in swift relief. But that’s until Bucky says to the bartender, “Just between you and me, Smiling Tiger says he won’t wear a ring until I find him something that looks better wrapped around him than my mouth.”

The bartender doesn’t react. Sam’s trying not to either, but the expression Bucky petrified onto his face when he spoke can’t look natural. He glances at Zemo, who appears to be unequivocally enjoying their sloppy storytelling. Lifting a glass, the Baron toasts Sam and Bucky.

“Newlyweds,” he says.

With titanic effort, Sam manages a tight approximation of a smile, then angles his face away to speak to Bucky.

“Why the hell would you say that?” he groans.

Bucky gives him a brief glance before returning his gaze to the inscrutable bartender. He fucking beams at him, at the same time replying to Sam from between his clamped teeth.

“Because we’re deeply in love.”

“According to you, the only thing I’ve been deeply in recently is—”

“The usual, Smiling Tiger?” the bartender asks, cutting off Sam’s mumbled conversation.

He nods and the man puts his back to them as he prepares whatever Smiling Tiger’s signature drink is.

“I believe it,” Zemo offers, murmuring into his drink as he tips it back.

“We didn’t ask,” Bucky tells him.

Sam can still feel Bucky standing there, making casual contact that alters slightly as he speaks. What is he doing? Shifting to put himself between Sam and Zemo? The Baron might’ve been right about his protective instinct, though Sam’s sure as hell never noticed this before. No, Zemo’s gotta be wrong. These are extreme circumstances—stressful circumstances—and he and Bucky are just putting their backs together (figuratively), ready to defend against an attack from anyone but each other. That doesn’t mean anything except that they’ve been in combat together and developed a certain amount of dependability and, alright, trust.

“The chemistry is there,” Zemo continues casually, dissecting after being blatantly told not to. “The history, the tension. It’s absolutely electric.”

Zemo is spared the merciless comeback forming in Sam’s mouth when the bartender slaps an entire dead snake down in front of them and starts to gut it. Even Bucky flinches against him. Sam can’t remember the last thing he ate, but he has a bad feeling he’s going to be reminded any second when he ralphs it up between his fancy shoes.

“Hey,” Bucky says, grabbing his arm and turning him away from the bar.

Sam wants to knock his hand away because he can’t break character now. This could be some kind of test, ordered by the person Zemo brought them here to make contact with and carried out by the bartender. Sam needs to be unfazed by this and he’s taking shallow breaths through his mouth (because what he doesn’t need to do is find out what that snake’s corpse smells like), striving to regain his composure.

And Bucky… well, Bucky just has to fuck that up for him.

Vibranium fingers take gentle grip of Sam’s jaw as Bucky tilts his head and plants a firm kiss on his lips. Sam hates that this is easier to improvise than a spoken lie. And he’d be lying to himself if he couldn’t admit that he’s thought about this. A dozen times, just today. He grabs Bucky by the hips, hauling him against him. In his head, thoughts and stimuli are unfolding and collapsing like his wings—the thick slicing sound of the bartender’s knife, Who the hell does Bucky think he is, kissing me out of nowhere?, the puff of air leaving Bucky’s nose and hitting Sam’s cheek, All of this is Zemo’s fault, the soft feel of Bucky’s bottom lip between his teeth, Fuck that, Zemo’s not getting credit for this, the ridge of the knife in Bucky’s front pocket as it pushes against Sam’s thigh. That is still the knife, isn’t it?

When Bucky breaks it off, he looks a little dazed. Sam wants to laugh and tell him, Hey, that was your idea, but there seems to be a lag in his ability to banter. At the sound of a glass being set on the bar behind him, he recalls what was going on right before Bucky initiated that kiss and from what, therefore, Bucky was trying to spare him.

“Thanks,” Sam mouths.

Holding his gaze, Bucky nods.

Sam rotates to find a shot glass with something distressing floating inside. His stomach lurches like a student driver’s ride as he stares at the slimy lump in the glass. Bucky moves around him to prop an elbow on the bar, excitement in his eyes, clearly ready to watch Sam swallow whichever organ the bartender just harvested for his consumption. What a dick. So much for Bucky protecting him.

It makes Sam shudder just to close his fingers around the glass, but when he catches Bucky looking like he’s suppressing a laugh, he suddenly knows exactly what’ll make him feel better.

“I hate for you to waste a good snake,” Sam tells the bartender. Out of the corner of his eye, he sees Bucky’s face fall. “You’ve got plenty of choice pieces left. Pour another one of these for my husband.”

With the final word of his order, he takes his hand from the bar to smack Bucky’s ass.

“I was just starting to think about forgiving you for breaking Zemo outta prison and you had to look at me like you can’t wait for me to down this snake drink,” Sam says, focusing on Bucky while the bartender takes his knife to the snake a second time.

“So this is the punishment?” Bucky asks.

“I believe it’s more of a trust exercise,” Zemo offers. Oh, that’s right, he’s still here. Between the nastiest drink-making process he’s ever witnessed and making out with Bucky, Sam actually stopped being aware of Zemo. “Really, it’s symbolic, James. Sam would like for the two of you to go through this together, to strengthen your bond with a shared experience. The gesture is quite moving.”

“Can we get one for the Baron too?” Bucky requests as the bartender sets his drink in front of him. “Wouldn’t want him to feel left out.”

Zemo attempts to wave it off, but Sam piles on with an “I insist,” and apparently an insistence from Smiling Tiger is worth more than the manners of a backpedalling Helmut Zemo in this city. Or the bartender doesn’t like the Baron either.

“We’re gonna talk about that kiss later,” Sam informs Bucky, ignoring Zemo’s expression of pure dread.

“Why don’t we talk about it now and skip the—”

“Because I said so.” Sam raises his shot glass in Bucky’s direction. “Cheers.”

Watching Bucky reluctantly lift his own drink from the bar, Smiling Tiger finally smiles.

#my writing #tfatws #tfatws spoilers #The Falcon and the Winter Soldier #Sam Wilson #Bucky Barnes #Helmut Zemo #Sam Wilson x Bucky Barnes #sambucky

[fallingtowers]

btvs season 7 episodes ranked

we did it gang!!! we’re crossin the finish line!!! it’s finally time to dig into season 7, about which i have uhhhh mixed feelings. it is Not The Best season of btvs; frankly, it is probably the second worst, even if i personally like it more than s4. still, s7 does have a few standout moments, and i think it deserves props for its appropriately apocalyptic feel. it’s really bleak, even after the reception season 6 got, and i gotta respect that the showrunners stuck with their guns. well anyway check below the cut for the list! love you! take care!

22. episode 6, “him”: good grief. where do i even start with this one. in this episode, magic makes a gay woman fall in love with a man, and that’s only one of the many dumb and uncomfortable things that happen in it.

21. episode 13, “the killer in me”: this episode has got some good stuff, and alyson hannigan’s acting is incredible as always, but the good pales in comparison to the bad. not only is the gimmick dumb, it hinges on the whole willow/kennedy plotline, which even i, a known liker of girls kissing girls, cannot bring myself to care about. also, amy outright admits to kennedy that she was behind the whole thing, and yet this is never addressed or followed up on???

20. episode 14, “first date”: who cares about any of this.

19. episode 15, “get it done”: kind of boring, with just a dash of btvs’s trademark weird uncomf race stuff to spice things up.

18. episode 19, “empty places”: so, like, i get that the narrative demands that this be buffy’s darkest hour, and that the way to do that is to make her friends turn their backs on her, but it just isn’t written in a way that makes sense. like, it’s understandable that everyone has grievances with buffy at this point, but i don’t see how no one at any point stands up and is like, “maybe we shouldn’t literally exile our strongest fighter when we’re up against a world-ending threat. maybe that isn’t the most strategic course of action to be taking”

17. episode 2, “beneath you”: something something dune joke. this is an ok episode; it’s ranked this low mainly because the spike stuff doesn’t really work for me. he plays his role so well that it rings a little false when we find out that he was just acting the entire time. it’s frustrating, too, because it feels like such an easy fix! but whatever. i can’t get into what i would’ve done differently this season or this list will be a million words long.

16. episode 20, “touched”: i watched this one and then immediately forgot what happens in it. aside from the fact that everyone fucks. oh, and spike stands up for buffy. that part is good.

15. episode 10, “bring on the night”: on the one hand, this episode manages to make the first feel like a genuinely threatening villain, and buffy’s speech at the end is a banger. on the other hand, why the hell does the turok-han not kill buffy after it knocks her out? what is the rationale there? it just feels like sloppy writing. at least invent some lame deus ex machina to frighten it off or whatever. sheesh

14. episode 1, “lessons”: this is a solid opener! opening on the new high school lends it a nice sense of narrative balance and effectively sets the season’s “full-circle” tone. and you know i love a haunting.

13. episode 21, “end of days”: ok, like, obviously everything about buffy’s Mythic Scythe is deeply stupid, but it’s never more stupid than here. not only is there an ANCIENT EGYPTIAN TOMB in the middle of a sunnydale cemetery, BUFFY DESECRATES IT. she doesn’t even fucking hesitate! she just kicks the door in! god i love this stupid show. anyway, if you disregard all that stuff, this is a strong penultimate episode that’s got a bunch of good moments. even if it does lose points for angel showing up. get out of here, angel!!! begone from me, vile man!!!

12. episode 22, “chosen”: this one feels kind of like a microcosm of the season as a whole—it’s a little rushed, a little haphazard. it feels like they didn’t build up to it enough and it suffers as a result. like, why does angel of all fucking people show up without preamble in the last episode and just hand over the mcguffin that ends up winning them the climactic battle?? stupid. still, even despite all that, the good parts of this episode are really good.

11. episode 9, “never leave me”: this is a fun one! the scene where xander and anya interrogate andrew is top notch.

10. episode 18, “dirty girls”: it’s kind of weird that they introduce caleb so late in the game—it feels like another symptom of s7’s kind of haphazard writing—but overall this episode is solid. nathan fillion is a lot of fun hamming it up as caleb, and faith’s conversation with spike is great.

9. episode 8, “sleeper”: god lmao I never realized that aimee mann was in this episode. wild.

8. episode 11, “showtime”: the gladiator fight between buffy and the turok-han is such a banger. i don’t understand how killing the turok-han allows her to rescue spike though. like where was the first even keeping him? and why was it even keeping him alive??? well, whatever. btw it’s fun how willow is apparently so powerful that people can now just telepathically contact her instead of the other way round. always tuned to the frequency. on call 24/7. if she was snoring in the other room you could just scream in your mind until it jolted her awake

7. episode 3, “same time, same place”: willow i love you. i kiss you. this episode is fun! it’s got a good gimmick that’s executed well. the demon is a little goofy, and alyson hannigan’s acting kind of suffers from the whole “lying on her back paralyzed” thing, but still.

6. episode 16, “storyteller”: this one is packed full of good gags, and the ending is nice and affecting. it’s cool to see andrew get some character development.

5. episode 4, “help”: poor cassie :( this one is lovely. the actual demon stuff is eminently forgettable but the mood of it has always stuck with me. buffy’s grim determination in the face of bleak odds really encapsulates the feel of season 7 to me.

4. episode 12, “potential”: this one is great. finally dawn is the focal character in a good episode. the conversation between xander and her at the end is lovely.

3. episode 17, “lies my parents told me”: this one is a standout mainly for the spike flashback stuff, but the rest of it is also good. wood’s murder room with all the crosses on the walls is a great image. it’s a shame that the wedge this one drives between giles and buffy is never quite resolved, though.

2. episode 5, “selfless”: poor anya :( poor xander and buffy too. buffy’s speech about standing alone as the slayer is really good. anya’s death wish hits hard. that’s really my only problem with it—they shoulda called it “death wish” instead.

1. episode 7, “conversations with dead people”: god i still have a hard time watching this one because it scared me so bad when i was a kid. btvs has never nailed the haunting stuff more than it does here. i like that they definitely knew how good this episode was too lmao it gets an artsy little title card and everything

#buffyposting #buffy the vampire slayer

[clydesdonovan]

ginger cow? you’ve said you hate it but i want to hear why!

okay this is the only episode I'm not rewatching LOL so. my b if this is a little rusty

★ Do I like this episode? Why or why not?

Absolutely not. This is one of my least favorite episodes. I'm talking like... bottom 3. I find the whole episode to be some of the most disturbing content the show has ever put out. I won’t ever forget how seriously disgusted and horrified I felt watching it, like… dude what the fuck lmao?? I honestly couldn’t believe I was watching an ep of south park. There was no absurd comedy within it to balance out the dark and the bleak (like “Scott Tenorman” had, for example). It’s literally just 25 minutes of Kyle being psychologically abused. Kyle is so clearly, obviously, painfully distressed throughout the whole thing, and the amount of glee Cartman feels at hurting him that way is really upsetting. I don't find any of it funny. I just find it tragic and horrific and incredibly disturbing. I watched it when it aired and I haven’t (and won’t ever) seen it since.

★ Favorite moment?

Honestly, I don't have one because I hate every aspect of the episode. The beginning is okay, I guess, before the ball really gets rolling... so I guess that? if it counts lmao

★ Least favorite moment?

Literally all of it. The entire episode. It's a big awful time.

★ Do I have an unpopular opinion about this episode? What is it?

I don't think so... as far as I know, most people agree that it's a bad episode and has no redeeming qualities. It's probably one of the few episodes I think we all (mostly?) agree we can do without, and there's nothing lost in ignoring its entire existence.

★ Something I would change?

EVERYTHING. It could've been a good classic Cartman vs Kyle episode if it had been done differently. Tbh, I wouldn't even have minded the "Kyle does whatever Cartman says" plotline, if it had been like… stupid and/or childish stuff (like, idk, Kyle does his homework or insults someone or something) and not downright psychological torture.

★ Rating out of 5?

0/5 lmfaooo

★ Anything else I want to say about this episode?

I just... really, really hate it. Seeing Kyle being tormented like that and being unable to put an end to it was terrible. I feel like this episode showcases some of Cartman’s most deplorable moments and behaviors. For me, this is the episode Eric can’t come back from (and so for my own sanity and enjoyment of his character, I willingly ignore it’s existence). The whole episode just left me feeling so genuinely, viscerally disturbed, and it was the first time an episode has ever left such an impression on me. It was a very jarring experience lmao and I don’t want to experience it again

#asks #anonymous #ask game #this got kinda long I'm sorry #but god. I just really hate this episode #I’m still getting around to these asks tho :^) #this was one I didn’t need to see the episode to answer lmao

[prose-for-hire]

Claimed

Part One // Part Two

Pairing: Angel x vamp!reader

Request: as promised I'd like to request a part 3 to So wrong it’s right/Natural attraction

[Desc: Third part. An old friend of Angel’s comes to town and makes him wonder where your affection truly lies]

Requested by: Anon

Warning: Swearing. Implied sex/sex reference. Biting. Blood. A little violence.

You let me handle the plot so, as always, things got carried away. The timeframe moving from the previous part is either a while later or diverges a little from the show depending on where your imagination wants to take you. 🖤💖

You were slumped on the sofa in front of yet another re-run. So, incredibly bored. As if the lack of his presence had made life unbearably boring. When he was around he made you feel alive. Made you excited - as if you wanted to be someone he could hold affection for.

But all of this embarrassing hope had been dashed. You hadn’t seen him in so long, you only had the delicious memories of your last stolen moments with him.

But without him, the colour had been sucked out of the world again. It was so bleak that you were stuck inside moping over him hopelessly. God, when had you gotten this way?

It had been too long. You missed him so badly you ached. Yearned in this guilty way to be even just in his presence. This wasn’t just lust anymore. The excitement of sex or trading blows with him. Somewhere inside you knew that it was all of him that you wanted. Craved.

Mind, body and even that stupid soul of his.

He had crawled into your dead heart. Made a home there. Leaving you suddenly full of life. Wanting to be more. It still irritated you, at how much influence he now held over you. But you couldn’t fight it. Didn’t want to anymore.

But he had been away recently. Dropped you as soon as he heard some Slayer was in trouble. He had been away in some ugly little town called Sunnydale. She needed his help. You soon learned from Angel’s team this Slayer was his ex. 

You dropped in on them every so often now to check in when you were bored and thought you might as well help them save the world or whatever. You were fun to be around, you didn’t hold back and they couldn’t help but like your company. So you stuck around them, enjoying the feeling of having something close to a group of friends. 

It was new to you, but you secretly enjoyed it. You spent a lot of time sharing your knowledge and trying to make their lives easier. Something you wouldn’t have even considered doing. Not before him.

But he had left you sorely lacking ever since he skipped town without so much as a word. You had really hoped that he might tell you himself, not get Wes to pass on some vague message about his ‘weekend plans’. 

The television buzzed soullessly as you stared through it. The only vision you wanted to see being him. And you were just sat there. Not even having the heart (or the attention span) to open a book. All you could think of was him. You were so bored. You were even considering masturbating for the millionth time to distract you from the way you needed him.

You started to move as if to do just that, when there was a massive thud at the door. Someone was knocking pretty urgently.

Shit. Debt collectors. You owed a lot of people a lot of kittens. You muted the tv and stumbled over your feet in the opposite direction from the door. You decided for everyone’s sake it would be better if you disappeared. Pretended not to be in.

You were almost panicking a little, not really sure if you had the mental or physical strength at the moment to take on a fight. So you did something too embarrassing to even describe properly. You rolled under your bed. Hid.

After some more urgent knocking, whoever it was got bored of waiting and just kicked the door in. As you had been expecting. You were hoping whoever it was looking for you was either too stupid to check under the bed for you or thought better of you than to even consider looking there.

The door was broken clean off its hinges. And you stayed still. Hearing two pairs of footprints stomping through your home. You were considering sliding out the window and onto the ledge while they looked around your living room. But then you heard something.

“Y/n?” His voice sounded urgent. Your chest swelled at the sound of his voice. Angel.

You rolled your eyes though. At what you were doing. God this was embarrassing. It was either stay hidden and risk not getting to see him or admit you had just hidden under a bed like some soon-to-be-dead loser in a shitty horror flick.

You decided you would just have to bear it. You rolled from under the best giving him the best scowl you could muster (you couldn’t help smiling a little at seeing him again).

He had the decency not to say anything about you rolling out from under the bed, although he had to hold back a small smile about it. He would tease you later, he was sure. Hopefully if there was a later he thought to himself.

“Funny how a weekend trip can last the full fourteen days now, isn’t it?” You hinted. You had missed him. You wanted him. He had left you longing.

“Look, it’s a Hellmouth stuff happened-”

“Too bloody right-” Someone else spoke up but you cut the stranger off. You hadn’t noticed him at first, your eyes only on Angel.

“Who the fuck is this?”

“Look, he’s-”

“And why the fuck is he just stalking through my house like he owns it?” You snapped, snatching a rare book of yours back from his hands.

The pair shared a look at your outburst as if you were the unreasonable one. You smelled it then. They both had souls. You eyed them both, not sure how you had found yourself the only sane, normal vampire in a thirty-mile radius.

“Name’s Spike” he offered and you squinted, recognising the name.

“Oh. Old flame right? Did you go through every ex’s town on your way back from Sunnydale or just the ones you thought were attractive enough to make me jealous?”

“Spike is not an old-”

“One time! It was one-!”

“Well, that hit a nerve” You muttered, rolling your eyes. Great. You had more competition for Angel’s affection. And God, did you want all of his affection laid on you. You wanted him so badly that it almost made you throb with need just from this brief interaction.

You were just staring now as he spoke. The way his eyes glistened in the dim light. His features chiselled as if made just for you. He made you feel things you weren’t sure you could even name. Some long-forgotten emotion that made your chest swell and your stomach feel like there were baby bats in there.

“I thought you said they were a help. Fat lot of good this one is considering their fourth wank of the day in front of bloody Time Team” You snapped out of your Angel-induced daze to scowl once again at the blonde man and his, unfortunately, accurate depiction of the way you were currently living.

They turned conversation quickly to try to convince you that you were needed. There was yet another plot to take over LA. Someone had informed them on the Hellmouth. To reverse it, they needed three vampires, ones that have enough good in them. No human could stand the pain of it. Angel insisted the third one is you. 

He had faith in you. In some way, it made you fill with pride. But, again, this wasn’t your life. You had never wanted to save the world. He mentioned that there was a ritual you could do to check, to at least prove him right and to begin the reversal of this apocalypse was needed.

“And tell me again why I would want to go through all that pain rather than, say, relocate?” You muttered, already knowing you would agree. For him.

“Y’know... because you’re good now, right?” Even as he said it, Angel knew these were the wrong words to use. You scoffed at him. You had never claimed this. You just liked the company of the team. Enjoyed a good fight. Enjoyed… the proximity with him.

“I’m okay, thanks. Don’t care. Sorry. Don’t let the door hit you on your way out”

“Listen here, pet-” The other vampire appealed to you. Which was also the wrong move.

“Why is this Billy Idol impersonator talking to me? Is it a joke I’m too cool to understand?”

“Oi- look here-”

You didn’t speak this time, you just went to punch the man in the face. But Angel caught you before either of you reacted. Wrapped a strong hand around your wrist. Kept it there.

His grip tightening in a way that made you smirk. You had missed this. God, you had really missed this. He lowered your hand, his still firmly grasping your wrist. And you just stared at him as he did. Hoping he would lean in and catch your lips again. Tear the fabric of the walls apart just with a look.

“Enough” He warned. Touch lingering as his eyes did on your form.

You would let him wreck the house if you thought it meant you could have him pressed against you again even for a second. He was dangerous to you and you loved it. He, on the other hand was still more cautious of the way you navigated your relationship. Of how he showed just what you meant to him.

He thought about you all the time. More so, while he was away. He was addicted to you. The way you moved, spoke. Held yourself. Had such entrenched opinions and he might even deign to say morals (loosely, of course).

He thought more of you than he had ever done before. Dreamt about you. Thought about what you could be doing, wanting to know what you were thinking. What made you tick. He held on to every intimate detail he could discover.

Remembered it in such crystal clarity. Because it was you.

He decided to get you on side, he would appeal to the more logical side of you. Which, surprisingly, worked. He managed to convince you to put your un-life on the line. Because it would help your new sort-of friends. To save Fred and the others, you could try it.

You finally relented. You almost didn’t so soon, hoping that he might descend to fighting you over it. Some contact with your skin. It was needed after so long. You nodded though and they nodded and you started for the door. Stepping over it as you left.

“What a bloody delight” Spike murmured so that you could hear it.

“Can it, Blondie” You hissed as you strode behind them, your usual confidence evident to all around.

Angel side-glanced at you, a small smile tugging at his lips at seeing you again. Even if all of your barbs were being thrown Spike’s way. It was so good to see you.

Angel had never been so sure that he wanted you around. Permanently. He just wasn’t entirely sure how to admit this. To himself or you. You always left him wanting more. That demon part of you matched his. The demons had claimed the other long before either of you had embraced how you felt. 

Neither of you had dared ask the other how they felt. What they wanted from this relationship. It may shatter the illusion you both had. That there could be a future there. That at least some of your eternity could be theirs.

You were staring blankly at a carved tablet, one that Wesley had found in connection with this stupid apocalypse you had been roped into stopping. You weren’t really reading, just skimming it. You’d catch up later, you always did. Right now, you were thinking about Angel. He was all you were ever thinking about at the moment.

“What’s that? Picture book?” A British accent asked. Spike.

“No” you said shortly. God, he was dumber than a bag of rocks. What had Angel ever seen in him? He rubbed you up the wrong way. And not in an exciting way either.

Wesley explained what it was as you had a rant in your head, just staring at the tablet.

“All that eternity and you can’t even read. What exactly do you do?” You couldn’t help it. It slipped out. He was a fly you wanted to swat away. Squish into nothingness. 

You glowered at him, but knew there was some big stupid prophecy so Spike had to stick around. You did what the powers wanted just enough to save your own skin. And, well, if you staked him God forbid, they tried to make you a champion in his place.

Angel frowned at your words. He wanted you to be talking to him. Ragging on him at how he couldn’t read them either. Wanted the charged tension that always stretched between you back. But since he had returned you had appeared more distant. Less smug about the way you rendered him simultaneously infuriated and obsessed with you.

You were laughing with the team when Spike stalked in after calling up his precious Slayer and talking loud enough to wake the dead. Or, at least wake Angel who had been trying to sleep. Instead he had joined you and the rest of the team. Your face had lit up when Angel entered the room but he hadn’t noticed. Or, you thought he hadn’t anyway.

The laughter died when he entered and he scowled. Spike had enough of you. How nobody appeared to accept him but even with your ‘evil’ nature and lack of soul these people embraced you with open arms.

“Why’s every bugger hangin’ on their every word? Hello, I’m the one with the bloody soul here”

“Because nobody likes you Spike” Angel shrugged from the doorway.

“Yeah, because having a soul makes you suddenly likeable and some all-encompassing good right? You’re kidding yourself - choices are what make us not writhing around in the sand with some dumb demon for a couple months”

Everyone had braced themselves, expecting your usual rant about not having a soul not meaning anything. That you could make good decisions. You could do what you wanted and still not be evil. But you had decided to just make a cheap shot.

“Piss off. Like you could stand it anyway”

Angel had been watching with a frown. Didn’t like the way you gave Spike such attention. He thought it was the way you used to give him attention before you began to deepen your relationship. 

He wanted you to be focusing on him. Only him. He missed you. In his bed. The way you looked contorted in pleasure. His.

When he thought about it, truly thought about it, he missed talking to you. The way you could make him laugh. Speak to him the way nobody else could. You embraced every side of him. Even the parts that he struggled to embrace himself.

He found himself almost needing that interaction. Needing you. Desperately. Not just your body but your mind too. All of you in fact. He ached for it, quivered with need. He didn’t care you lacked your soul anymore, he just needed you. Thirsted for every side of you.

You kept glancing at each other. You weren’t his partner but he really wanted you to be. He was finally able to admit it to himself. He just didn’t know how to ask. How to tell you what he wanted. He wanted it just you and him. Not to have to smell any of the particularly nasty lingering scents of lovers you had taken since he had been away.

Angel kept making snide comments about Buffy and Spike at any opportunity. This always made you scowl because he seemed so bothered by them. Spike smirked smugly. Which made you scowl even further. It was mostly to distract himself from his feelings from you. But you didn’t know this. You wanted his mind to be on you again. He hadn’t even pulled you aside during any slow moments like he usually would.

On a particularly boring day, while they were taking a break from the research that was making everyone have a headache (except you and Wesley), talk turned to Spike’s new soul. And why he had fought for one. For this Slayer.

“I think it’s romantic!” Fred cooed as you caught on to what had happened.

“For love? You got a soul for love?! That’s so cute, did it come with a complimentary heart shaped box? A dozen roses?” You cackled and Spike looked like he was about to thump you. Pretty ruthlessly too. But Angel pulled you away before he could. Apparently he was the only one allowed to berate Spike.

He took you by the shoulder and pressed you against the wall in the corridor once you were alone. You smirked, face lighting up expecting his lips on yours. Just like the last time you had been close in this way. But he just half-heartedly chastised you instead.

“Cool it off” he warned. You were disappointed with his tone, you missed the way he would excite you. Mix with anger and passion the way you had missed so badly.

“Why? Because it makes you uncomfortable? It’s foreplay for us. You know it, I know it” You plucked the nerve just to see what would happen. Making his blood boil. You saw it then. That hint of jealousy. This flicker of the demon side of him, he wanted to claim you as his.

“Whatever. Do anything you want after the case, just not here” He consciously tried to even his voice this time, hide the growl. But his chest rumbled dangerously at even the thought of you and Spike. He was clinging to his human form as the demon protested.

This is what made you tug on the nerve, near severing it. You leaned into him, so that your lips brushed his ear. Your tone seductive, one he would usually enjoy.

“Don’t be jealous, baby, I’m very good at sharing myself out. Especially while you were away-”

You were cut off by his hands tightly gripping your shoulders. Even as a vampire, you were sure you would bruise. Your stomach flipped at the fire behind his eyes. The need for you to not stray from him. He slammed you back against the door you had just left out of, near shattering the glass behind you. God, you had missed this. So badly.

You couldn’t help smirking. You were ready to take him right here. Fucking or fighting. Either one would do it for you. So long as you received his full attention. Just you and him.

He had come back so disaffected. His face mostly neutral. You thought he had barely looked at you, let alone touched you. Even in this way. You would take what you could get and savour every second of it.

You didn’t realise just how hard it was for him to be back in Sunnydale or all of the baggage he had left there (some of it that he had had to bring back as well). Dredging up his past had confirmed something to him. That he wanted you with him. Wanted you to be his. He wanted something more than what you were already doing. It scared him. Made him nervous, which is why he had kept a distance from you.

Even though it guilted him that this was selfish and something that would make him happy. Even though you were rough around the edges and morally dubious. Even though you had never expressed softer feelings of your own.

You meant something. Everything. And he couldn’t deny it now. Couldn’t begin to fight it anymore. He didn’t want to.

That was why he didn’t like you interacting with Spike. Because he felt this so strongly. That you belonged with him. Not with anybody else. But you had never labelled your relationship and he didn’t know how to even begin to tell you.

“If you’re not gonna do anything about it, let me go” You warned. Hoping he would do the opposite. He gripped tighter for a moment and you got excited but then he just let you go.

Disappointment washed over you and you frowned. You had so wanted to taste him on your tongue again. To have his body, hot with desire, pounding against yours.

As time went on, Angel began to get more and more jealous watching you and Spike interact. You began to notice it more. The way his furrow deepened whenever you glared holes in the man. Mistaking the interaction for something that excited you.

But he didn’t say anything. Barely looked at you. Which left you so sore. So needy for him.

So, you took it into your own hands. Of course, you didn’t actually speak to him about it. Oh, no. Instead, you dialled it up. Speaking to Spike much more. Making Angel so jealous he would shake. Aiming to make him want you more.

The ritual couldn’t be conducted for a few months yet, just before the steps to the scheduled apocalypse had begun. So there was a lot of waiting around and planning. However, your mind was less on that and more on how to get Angel to touch you again.

You had an idea. You gestured with your head to get the blonde vampire to come over and speak to you. The vampire was hung up on the slayer and you were hung up on Angel so neither of you had any particular interest in the other.

“Look I don’t like you, you don’t like me. But you wanna annoy Angel right?” You offered, giving him a knowing look. You weren’t stupid, Spike had an obvious and complicated past with your- the man.

“I’m listening” He squinted. And you didn’t waste any time, you whispered in his ear your suggestion.

Along with your obvious intelligence, you could be very persuasive. Near manipulative (it was how you had survived this long and gotten yourself out of many, many debts).

So, the next day you swung your plan straight into action. It wasn’t a particularly clever plan. But it was enough for you and Spike to know it could end badly wrong. Like, dust on the floor wrong should Angel be in a particularly bad mood.

You and Spike turned up to the building with his arm slung around your shoulder. You had asked to wear his jacket but he told you to sod off. So, you compromised and had him sling his arm over your shoulder told him to whisper something. Anything. Encouraging him to be as crude as possible. Implying that you had spent the previous night together.

You were speaking to the room but your eyes were on Angel the entire time. Watching the way his thoughts began to spin out of control behind his eyes. He was shaking with anger. Filling with pure jealousy. The way Spike was allowed so close to you. How he pressed against you the way he should be pressed against you. Natural touch that should be his.

He couldn’t just stand there. Watching. He just walked up to you, snatching your hand in his and dragged you from the room. If he didn’t he would have exploded then and there.

“Problem?” You asked, that infuriating tone you always used. He just directed you by the back of your head to move your ear next to his mouth.

“You’re mine” he growled and you couldn’t help the way your stomach flipped in excitement. Made you weak for him. Your eyes lit up. But you wouldn’t let him see you submit that easily.

“Prove it” You challenged. And he did just that. He pulled you into him, crashing his lips to yours. The rough embrace made your heart soar with happiness. He wanted you. He really wanted you.

As you made your way to the bed you stopped in your passion every now and again on the way. Slamming you into the walls, more furniture lost to your desire. You pushed him back onto the bed smirking down at him. He reached for you and pulled you down against him.

Lips crashing. Hands grasping. Skin slapping.

He claimed you as his. The feeling, it was shared. His eyes telling you that he was yours. He clutched you, while you grinded against his body. He made you feel alive. It was primal. This animal attraction never ceased. But this connection was deeper than anything either of you could name.

Your demon forms shifted, facing each other again. As they always did when you were together. They had missed their equal so desperately. You moved with him. As if you were one. He bit down hard, fangs embedded in your neck. You moaned in his ear and it made him bite harder still. 

Your blood tasted so good in his mouth. He hadn’t done this in so long. Hadn’t trusted anyone this way. This bond, it ran deep.

You directed his head further into you as he did this, grasping at the hair on the nape of his neck. It was pure pleasure.  Blood oozed down your chest as his mouth moved from the bite on the side of your neck. He pressed some open-mouthed kisses down your collarbone, following the trail of your blood. He licked slowly up it, catching every drop. His eyes bored into yours. Telling you what you already knew. You were made for him.

He pressed further into you, with a urgency that matched yours. He was finally embracing his demon. The way you had hoped he would for so long. You wanted all of him. To do this, you would have to give all of yourself. So, you did.

You stayed in bed together a lot longer than you usually might. You were just lying in bed together. You were on a slant, the bed had been lost to your passion. Frame splintering and collapsing. He would have to replace it. You were leaning on your side facing him. God, you had missed this. He had left you aching, empty without him.

He hadn’t so much as implied wanting to touch you like this since he had returned from Sunnydale. Just spent his time squabbling with Spike. So, this had been a needed release. Building up over so long.

“I missed this” You admitted, not quite meeting his eyes.

“Yeah?” He asked and you just nodded your reply. He found himself reaching for you, stroking your bare skin. You met his eyes, this tender touch he had never afforded to you before. It was alien but you wanted more of it.

“It was hard. Bein’ back there” He said slowly, referring to Sunnydale, “Seeing them both. Together as well, it hurt. Didn’t know what to do about it”

“Still hung up on them then?” You sighed, looking at a pull in the cotton. Twisting it in your fingers for something to do. Anything to distract from the way you had begun to hurt at the thought of him not feeling the same way as you did.

He shook his head but you didn’t see it. His hand stroking down your arm and resting on your hand. It was the most tender he had ever been. Action a lot subtle that you had ever shared. You found yourself wanting more of it.

“No. ‘Cause when I saw you again I, uh knew… knew that I’d rather be with you than anywhere else” He said slowly. He said it awkwardly, the words strung together as if they didn’t quite fit next to each other. But he meant it. He wasn’t sure if he had ever meant anything as much before in his entire life.

You didn’t know what to say to this so you just nodded. It was the best he could have hoped for. When you weren’t teasing, it was hard to reveal how you felt. You laughed though, mentioning you didn’t even like Spike anyway. You had just wanted him to pay you more attention again.

You then muttered something about not knowing what Angel had ever seen in him. Angel gave you a look but you didn’t get it (he felt that it was because you and Spike were too similar, that’s why you didn’t get on). Thankfully, he liked you a lot better than he liked Spike though.

You smiled at each other, both of you feeling even slightly more secure. You hadn’t been able to admit that you wanted to be exclusive, but you had both now implied it. Which was the best either of you could wish. You found yourself almost wanting to be his, the way he had hissed it in your ear. You couldn’t recall feeling that way before.

There it was again. That feeling that frightened you. Hope. It had crawled into your heart and only spread the longer you spent with him. An ugly thought popped into your head. One that embarrassed you immensely.

As you watched his face turn into that small smile beside you in bed. Understanding stretching between you. A glimmering hope that still frightened you more than anything else ever had. His jealousy still a delicious taste in your mouth. The wreckage of the room surrounded you but the atmosphere was almost... soft.

It was a thought he had already had himself and started to accept. You shuddered as you thought it though. Finding that maybe you truly had found your anti-soulmate. In Angel of all people.

#Angel btvs #Angel btvs x reader #Angel x reader #Angel btvs imagine #Angel imagine #angel btvs x you #angel the series #ats #ats imagine #ats x reader #ats x you #angel the series imagine #Buffy The Vampire Slayer #buffy the vampire slayer imagines #btvs

[dogin8]

I told myself If they did a c!dream redemption arc I would leave the fandom for my mental health and was wondering whether I should dip already at this point- /hj but like seriously do you think they are going to do a dream redemption arc or not? (don’t have to answer because I know it’s a draining subject, was just interested in your take)

AYO!!!

So to answer the question simply: No

i personally don't think a c!Dream redemption arc will happen, I'm not going to say that I confidently believe it won't, just that I don't think it will.

And I might just be saying this because I don't want it to happen for a variety of reasons,

And I've seen a lot of arguments saying how "it wouldn't be satisfying at all to just kill off c!Dream after depicting all this torture/after showing him in such a weak broken state" and... to be honest, while I kind of agree with that sentiment, I'm really not sure how I feel about that, like... I get that it would be bad BUT I... I think the problem is that c!Dream was presented that way in the first place, like c!Dream wouldn't need to have some "breaking free of the torture and healing" thing if they didn't portray him as sympathetic in the first place, it's just ended up making me confused as to how the story wants me to feel about this character.

^ Okay I wrote all that a little while ago and it's a total mess so sorry if it's repetitive or confusing to understand at all,

i just want to say, I don't want to feel sympathy for c!Dream but it feels like the narrative wants me to, and with how he has been presented recently, saying "a continuing downward spiral or death would be unsatisfying for this character" is frustratingly a valid argument even if I wish it wasnt, BUT Im gonna go out on a limb and put my trust in the writers here, I think that they will find a way to work around whatever is going on with c!Dream currently in a way that's not a redemption arc but also not horrifically bleak (and if it is just death, look, I'm not going to complain, I will understand if somebody else complains but I personally couldn't give less of a fuck about him, just because the narrative wants me to have sympathy doesn't mean i will /hj)

But yeah in summary:

I don't think we will have a c!Dream redemption arc,

I hope we don't,

I'm not entirely happy with how c!Dream has been made sympathetic and I feel like that's a hole that the writers dug themselves into

But i trust that whatever happens will be fine and enjoyable to watch

Also fuck c!Dream all my homies hate c!Dream

(I appreciate the out btw and ur right, it is kind of a draining topic but for me at least, posting stuff and being able to physically lay out the thoughts i already have rlly helps with making me relax about it, always happy to answer almost anything)

#dream smp #dsmp #dreamsmp #asks #atomiclightcycle #discourse #c!dream critical #dogin8 discourse #negativity #tysm for the ask btw #i have a lot of thoughts but i never really post discourse for fear of 'nobody asked' because it's largely true #Idk I just can't drop my opinions without prompting i feel like I'm making negativity from nothing #but i rlly appreciate this #have a great day friend :>

[aerielz]

You wanted prompts? Here's one, Probably Josh/Donna but any ship will do, "Get out of my head"

This was hard to write. In so many ways, oh god. But it was so, so, fun, too. I loved exploring this side of Josh.

Hope you like it, thanks so so much for this prompt. 

Post-Gaza JD angst under the cut! Soundtrack rec: Adeline, by Alt-J

He busies himself by talking to Leo, to the president, by already thinking up strategies and by going through a mental rolodex of people to figure out who he should, can’t, won’t call. He empties his office without checking the bottom drawer in his desk, and he tells himself it’s not because of her.

He repeats it: it’s not, it’s not, it’s not. He is not leaving because of her. He's leaving because his life happens in cycles of fours. And if he can’t tell if she left three years too late or one year too early, maybe it's because those answers are not for him to have.

Pennsylvania Avenue is quiet, that night, when he walks out. Josh crosses the road into Lafayette Square breathing in deeply and it feels like freedom. He goes all the way to New Hampshire, and that feels good, too. He finds days that are bleak and cold, there, and an exhaustion that hangs around his neck and that feels like a blessing.

After too many panic attacks the adrenaline is not the drug it used to be, and running a campaign is nothing new. But presidential trails have a different energy to them. It’s almost like fiction, like the stakes are too high to be true, and Josh welcomes the thought that none of it is real more easily than he thought he would.

(And it is not because she left. It’s just not.

It’s the long shot, the rather quixotic nature of the whole thing. Josh wears the responsibility of a fool’s errand like he was born for it, but anything too serious has always fit him best when it stayed firmly as an abstract of maybes.

He thinks of her, yes, but it’s just because she’s been in New Hampshire with him, before. She’s been with him everywhere — goddamn everywhere —, but he’s free if he can keep moving. He can’t possibly know if she catches glimpses of him at the corner of her eyes like he does, so real life can’t touch him.)

And then Cliff Calley calls him, of all people.

“Hey. Josh. I— Well, isn’t this weird.”

“Make it short, then,” he snaps.

“You left some stuff here.”

“Here where?”

“In your— my— the office.”

“No, I didn't.”

“I’m absolutely sure this is yours.”

“There’s no way you can know something like that.”

“Josh,” Calley’s voice changes, “I know it’s yours.”

Josh understands him well enough to wonder just how much Cliff saw of Donna that he’ll never be allowed to. He sighs, running a hand over his face, “It’s not mine.”

“I’m telling you—”

“It’s not, nothing in that drawer was,” he says, “Whatever it is, you should... you should call her.”

He wants to press end-call right away, but he stays on the line, fascinated by the silence that stretches between them and that tells him that perhaps Calley called her, already. Maybe he did and she told him she doesn’t want any of it.

“Alright,” Calley says, “I’ll let you know.”

“No need.”

He’s a little bit drunk when he takes the elevator back to his room, that night.

The door closes behind him gently, and he strips down on his way to the ensuite, starting a trail of clothes leading to the shower. He thinks of her pink cardigan, of her ridiculous christmas sweater, for some reason. They swim prettily amidst a fog of bourbon, and Josh successfully slides his socks off his feet near the sink.

Almost gets the trousers out, too, but his balance fails him when he tries to pull at the ends of it and Josh wavers and makes it worse by pulling harder, nearly toppling down to the floor. He grasps out to the sink at the last moment and holds on to it for dear life, regaining his footing.

Of course he hears her laugh. You and your—

“Sensitive system, yeah, fuck you, Donatella.”

Josh looks up and sees himself in the mirror. Shirtless, the first thing he finds is the faint scar of his surgery, clearer to him than it’ll ever be to anybody else.

The bullet that almost killed him left no shards, he thinks, but the worse of the damage wasn’t physical, was it?

She saved his life. What were the consequences of that?

“Get out of my head,” he closes his eyes, “please, get out of my head.”

He falls asleep on top of the budget reports that litter his mattress, asking not for the money they don’t have — give me health and strength — but repeating it, “Get out of my head, please, get out of my head.”

And it works.

She’s not on his mind, anymore, the next day.

He wakes up with a pounding headache, but the hangover was expected. When it vanishes his head feels light and blissfully empty. Josh does the numbers, meets people, spends his day running around Nashua, and he doesn’t see her in corners, anymore.

But he does see her.

He walks into his office, that night, and turns on the TV to see her there, sporting a new haircut and a jacket that appears to have been cut to perfectly suit the curve of her shoulders, and he feels it in his chest, in his throat, in his hands, in the wildfire that runs through him burning everything in its way, in a current of longing that leaves him breathless, as if he’s been shot again.

He’s flushed her out of his head directly into his veins, and the high of it scares him so much that Josh thumbs the power button in the remote just to watch her image vanish into black.

The sight of her doesn’t remain in his head. Her voice doesn’t echo. But his heart won’t stop racing and somehow he thinks he knows how her mouth would feel against his, all of a sudden.

“Josh?,” Ronna calls him from the other side of the storefront, “We need to go, we’re closing up for the night.”

Josh barely hears her. He runs a hand over his face, clutches at the roots of his hair.

“Josh,” Ronna says, again, this time coming up right beside him, “we really need to— whoa, are you okay?”

He looks up with a start.

“I’m. Yeah.”

“Okay, are, are you coming? Because we should—”

“Yeah, I,” he swallows. “Go ahead, I’ll stay.”

“You sure?”

“Yeah, I still have some… I’ll stay.”

“Okay,” she sounds skeptical, and a little concerned, but they’re not close enough that she’d press him on that.

He watches Ronna leave and when he listens to the front door closing, Josh drops himself on his chair, shaking a bit.

He feels weak. He feels the ghost of every time he’s ever touched Donnatella, and thinking about her name like this makes him want to smile and scream and cry, maybe. But it all becomes fainter and fainter, with each breath he takes.

So he clicks the power button again to turn the TV on, and when he looks up she’s still there.

He doesn’t turn it off, this time. He leans back into the chair, letting it all wash over him.

Donna settles around his heart. And he lets her stay there, this time.

#the west wing #josh x donna #I started writing this on Wednesday and it fought me all the way through #but i loved this prompt so so so much #it was fun to grapple with it #cookme25 #tww fic mine #az writes tww fanfic #az answers