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starberry-cupcake · 5 years

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your tags make me worry. did lapidot become canon behind my back?

I also received a reply about this so I’m answering both things under read more because the su fandom scares me a lot lol

count-di-luna replied to your post “Reblog and put in the tags something seemingly everyone in your fandom…”

this! Peridot has way better chemistry with Amethyst anyway and Lapis just needs her space

First, I don’t know if they’re “canon” but it’s very heavily implied in the show that there’s something going on between them that’s more romantic than not, for what it seems like to me. The way in which their relationship is shown isn’t in the same way as the relationships of other characters that don’t have romantic relationships, so I don’t know what to tell you.

I’ve been told about some “behind the scenes” reasons why this was, I don’t wanna delve into any of that because I care about what the story depicts in this instance, so I’m leaving all “behind the scenes” reasons the crewniverse may have aside. As for the “behind my back” part, probably, since we haven’t seen the development of their relationship kind of at all, aside from when there’s some conflict Steven needs to get in between, so if it’s happening, it’s going on behind all of our backs.

When it comes to the comparative aspects with other ships, I don’t really have much opinion on the majority of fanon SU ships, it’s not something I’ve ever been much involved in, so I can’t really say what ship is better or not.

What I wanted to focus on for my tags, what really makes me a bit uncomfortable when it comes to Lapis and the way the fandom sees her, is that a lot of the things that are criticized about her come from writing problems, which is not to diss the crewniverse because SU is fantastic and I love it, but I do feel Lapis hasn’t been handled well as of late.

I feel like her whole reaction when she left and took the barn would have been taken less harshly by fandom had it not been at the expense of a relationship that had little to no development in-show and that was with a fan favorite character that everyone loves. It wasn’t so much Lapis’s reaction and her choice of leaving what made fandom react like they did but the way in which she left Peridot, which represented a state in a relationship we never saw them arrive at because they were always off-camera.

Lapis has had too much trauma related to other people exercising choices for her for me to be comfortable with her having a relationship so soon with someone who had her as a prisoner before, someone who was Jasper’s second in command in the ship she was kept in. Which hey, I’m totally cool with redemption arcs and I feel Peridot evolved and learned maybe more than most characters on the show, I’m not saying Peridot is the same she was or that she doesn’t deserve to be trusted, she absolutely does, but making it romantic in such a short period of time and WITHOUT SHOWING IT ON SCREEN is too much believability to ask for me tbh.

I wish Lapis’s arc had centered on her recovery and her healing without having to compromise her decisions to romantic relationships. I wish we had taken more time to develop her trauma in a way that makes more sense to the plot, because I hate when people say they’re tired of her whining or they hate her for not fighting.

Lapis represents a very important part of war, she is, from the group of Gems, the one who was most affected by BOTH SIDES of the fight. She was a war prisoner and considered an enemy by BOTH the Diamonds and the Crystal Gems and, as such, was imprisoned for so long, until Steven listened to her.

She then decided to imprison herself AGAIN to save the one person who had shown her kindness, because it was the only way she felt she could. And when confronted with that, she was manipulated into thinking that it was only with someone toxic, with someone who wanted to use her at the time, how she could have any value.

Lapis deciding not to fight is a valid, important and realistic part of war. She is a victim who was once and again mistreated by EVERY SIDE of it. It’s understandable that she’d want to flee and it’s powerful that she not only came back but used her sadness and her scars as a way of facing a major enemy. She had felt worse.

She was a prisoner of war, a survivor of abuse and was banished from every place she knew. She had no home, not in Homeworld, not on Earth, and it’s understandable and valid that someone who was faced with this past would choose to not stand for people who let her down.

It is, however, understandable that she would come back and fight for Steven, because he is the character Lapis was shown to have a trusting friendship with. Steven was the one who listened, cared and healed her, he is the one who offered her a home and, most importantly, the one who, no questions asked, respected her decision to leave without pressuring her into staying to fight a war that had destroyed her. This is a friendship the show took time to show me and develop, Lapis caring for Steven like an older sister, more so than a mother figure, as most of the other gems are (there’s a parallel dissertation here between Steven’s mother figures when he has never had a present mother, but that’s another subject matter entirely). I didn’t need from Lapis more than this pure friendship, a sibling sort of bond.

So, when it comes to this friendship, the conflict of Lapis leaving and then coming back makes narrative sense. The strain of the decision and of Steven’s understanding of her leaving have implications that are easy to understand because we’ve seen the friendship develop.

When it comes to Peridot, I was lost. I didn’t understand where this strong emotional bond had formed and how, when the episodes they had together didn’t quite showcase a development aside from “they’re getting along better”. Added to that, their personalities don’t really fit in a way in which you could fill in the blanks easily, because Lapis is a complicated character that tends to be unpredictable with others, because of her long isolation.

It isn’t that a romantic relationship wouldn’t be possible or that it takes away from her character, it’s that it gives a layer on her decisions that makes her choices questionable in the audience’s standpoint, because you don’t know what’s going on between them but you’re gonna root for Peridot because she’s the easily likeable one of the two and because she’s staying to fight.

It stops being about trauma, war and fear and starts being about the betrayal of someone’s trust. It undermines the importance of a character like Lapis, imo, when the conflict of her choices is transformed into a romantic issue where clearly Peridot will be the favorite to be on the “right”, because as a viewer with nothing to lose it’s easier to understand that fighting is the “right thing to do”. It’s easy to have an opinion on war and political strife when it’s about fictional characters in a fictional world, it’s easy to say “the right thing is to be brave and fight the authority”, but within that situation, it wouldn’t be that easy.

So, basically, my problem, all shipping preferences aside, is that, for a show that is otherwise amazingly written and planned out to the t, this whole situation seems shoehorned and strained and causes fans to turn on a character whose representation of trauma, ptsd and past abuse should be something to understand more.

Again, this is not to hate on the crewniverse (past or present) at all, it’s their story to tell and I’m grateful to be able to hear it, this is just my opinion as an adult with access to the internet and nothing better to do at the time, so my opinion isn’t worth a damn. They did their best and chose to tell this story and that’s ok. I heard that some people have been rather aggressive to some of the crew for this before and I wouldn’t dream on doing that at all, so please let’s not do any of that.

#destapé una olla que no sé si debería haber destapado #ask #anon #anonymous #count-di-luna #reply #long post when expanded #Anonymous #please take all my opinions with a bucket of salt #and please don't hate on the crew past or present at all #if this in any way gets me angry mobs again #i'm gonna delete it #so read it while you can to those who messaged me

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awanderingdeal · 3 years

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An unfair race

I finally finished this! This fic is kind of a follow on to Endless Nights. Note: That fic is rated M and contains some sexual content, but you do not need to read it for this to make sense. I wanted to combine Finn talking with Heather, and an aspect of the discussion after that fic, where we talked about athletes in particular using exercise as a coping mechanism, and how this can sometimes turn unhealthy.

Some content warnings for this one: over exercise (if you'd like to skip the explicit description of this, skip to after the first stars, although there are a couple of mentions throughout), food mentions, self-depreciation and mentions of coming out/being outed.

Rating: T

If you feel I missed any content warnings or need to change the rating, please drop me a message!

The characters in this fic are from the sweater weather universe and belong to @lumosinlove

Finn’s entire body ached as his feet pounded against the path once more. His form was sloppy now, shoulders too hunched over and his strides falling without any real control. He forced himself onwards, breaths coming in fast pants, the straining muscles of his quads screaming desperately for more oxygen. And yet, his brain still whirred, obnoxiously loud thoughts pushing their way back to the forefront each time Finn managed to grasp a few blissful quiet seconds. He’d lost count of the number of times he’d passed the statue of the girl and her ducks, the smile on her face that he normally found so comforting becoming more and more irritating with each meeting. As he came to the gates of the park, Finn contemplated going home, but even just the reduced speed had brought the taunting thoughts back with a vengeance. One more go.

***

"H, has her jacket on. Has everybody got their game faces ready, boys?" It had been at least 30 minutes since James had made the joke as they all tumbled from the locker room, yet the sound of bright laughter still rang in Finn's ears.

He watched as Heather tugged her suit jacket more tightly around her, their eyes meeting for the third time in short succession. Fuck. Finn pushed his tongue against his mouthguard, sinking his teeth into the hard plastic. Later, self-inflicted as the need would be, he would complain about the new one he’d have moulded, each guard always feeling slightly different. For now, the rhythmic clench of his jaw was soothing.

Finn forced a breath through his nose, trying not to react too visibly as Heather dipped her head once more to add another scribbled note to the small, black book she carried everywhere. He forced himself to look away, knowing his constant glances were giving away his unease. Whilst Heather didn’t come to every training session, not even most, it wasn’t that uncommon to see her hovering around the edges of the ice, and ordinarily, only the very newest of the team paid any attention to her beyond an initial greeting.

“Earth to O’Hara!”

Finn held up his hand in apology, shaking himself back to the training session. Kasey’s eyes bored into him. It wasn't his usual intense stare, but something more concerned and Finn waited for the inevitable question. After a long few seconds, Kasey's eyes dropped to the puck, passing it back to Finn to take another shot.

The numbers on the clock inched forwards, slow and heavy like the sweet sticky molasses Leo was so fond of. Still, when Coach finally dismissed them for the day, Finn found himself wanting to take another lap. If he could get his thighs to burn enough then his head would race a little less, and it wouldn’t be too suspicious; Finn’s record of being last on the ice was surpassed only by Sirius. Before Finn could really consider it, Leo was next to him, knocking their shoulders together.

“Hey,” Leo cocked his head slightly, hair ruffled from the mask he’d recently pulled off and his pale skin glistening with sweat. He looked as beautiful as ever. Illogical as it was, it somehow made the dull ache in Finn's chest worse. "Everything good?"

"Yeah," Finn tried for a smile. "Busy brain today, that's all." There was no point brushing the question off completely; Leo was scarily observant. He and Logan often joked that he had eyes in the back of his head. Finn had no doubt he had caught the many pucks he had missed over the last hour.

"That sucks," Leo said, scepticism leaking into his voice. "Is there anything I can do to help?" Finn followed his glance behind them to where Logan was tussling with Jackson, loud rumblings of French intertwined with their laughter. "Or Lo, perhaps?"

"I like it when he looks like that,” Finn sighed.

"Mmm, me too” Leo hummed, his features softening. “Don’t think I didn’t notice that change of subject though, Sir. You don’t have to talk to me about it, but please don’t bottle it all."

Finn slumped into his stall, smiling as Leo lifted his hand to press a kiss to the knuckles. “I’m dealing with it.”

“Baby,” Leo started, his next word morphing into a stunted exhalation of air. His eyes closed briefly, his shoulders squaring before he relaxed them. He opened his mouth again, the sentence uttered clearly not what he’d originally planned on saying. "I'm going to take my padding off and head to see Lars. I think Loops is sticking around so I can get a ride with him if you two want to go home?"

Finn thought back to the quiet look of concern on Logan's face after he'd got home from his run the previous evening, and to the creased lines of worry at the corners of Leo's eyes earlier. "I think I might go and see Heather," he shrugged.

"Thank God," Logan appeared, wrapping his arms around Finn's waist. "Your runs were getting ridiculous."

"You didn't say anything?" Finn turned in Logan's arms, to rest his chin on top of his head.

"We were going to give you one more day. Leo wanted to speak to you this evening, only I had faith.”

"Oh, fuck off," Leo laughed. "You were just avoiding the conversation."

“I’m offended that you would even suggest that,” Logan burrowed into Finn’s chest. The sweat soaked gear they wore didn’t smell great, but neither of them seemed to care.

Moody huffed as he veered around them, his arms filled with tape. “No canoodling in the locker room.”

***

“As lovely as this chat has been Finn, if you really did just come in to catch up then I’m going to have to ask you to leave. I’ve got a couple of sessions this afternoon, and a mound of paperwork to complete,” Heather shifted in the forest green bucket chair. They were new since Finn had last been in here, replacing an ugly leather thing that Heather had always complained was too stereotypical. She’d removed her jacket now that she was back in her heated office, the item hung on the back of the door where it rightfully belonged.

Finn, freshly showered and changed, sat cross legged in the chair opposite. He reached forward to grab more pretzel sticks from the bowl on the table between them, puckering his lips as his tongue protested another injection of salt. “You know there is something I could do with your opinion on.”

Despite the reaction being minute, Finn saw the tiny upwards quirk of Heather’s lips. “Go on,” she encouraged.

“It’s dumb,” Finn muttered, drumming his fingers against the arm of the chair.

“Thoughts don’t have moral value Finn, it’s what we do with that’s important.” Heather pulled a handful of tissues from a box on the table, holding them out. “Tap away, but please spare the upholstery.”

“Sorry,” Finn grimaced, cleaning his hands of the salty residue.

“No need to apologise, I’m just still a bit precious about the new furniture.” Heather smiled. “Why do you think your issue is dumb?”

“It’s -” Finn tugged at his sleeve. “I can just never be happy with what I’ve got can I? I spent 8 years saying that if Logan could just love me back then I’d never complain again. And now I’ve got Logan and Leo and I’m still not happy.”

“What’s making you unhappy?

Finn breathed in deeply, scrunching his eyes shut. He’d spent weeks stuffing the pain into the tiniest box he could in his brain, and now here Heather was asking him to just - talk about it?

“Finn, look at me?” Finn did as he was asked, lifting his head to find Heather’s kind eyes. “I’m going to reiterate something I’ve said before. You can say anything you want here. It doesn’t matter if it’s selfish or unkind or if you think it’s stupid. Unless I think you’re a danger to yourself or anybody else, then nobody is going to hear about it.”

Finn bit his lip, wiggling his toes beneath his legs. “I get jealous,” he rushed out. “I get jealous of Cap and Loops and Potts and Lily and all those other couples who just get to hug and kiss and tell the cameras how stupidly in love they are.” He paused, the panic of having told somebody matching the relief, but now the words had started tumbling out he couldn’t stop. “I get so angry about it. Sometimes, for the tiniest second, I hate them. All of them.” he whispered, barely able to admit it. “And then I just feel worse. Because I love them too and it’s not their fault. Cap and Loops didn’t even get a choice in the matter. How messed up is it to be jealous of somebody that got outed?”

“Emotions are complex. It is possible for you to have sympathy for Sirius and Remus, whilst still feeling jealous that they now can be more open about their relationship.”

'I don't like it," Finn huffed. The sentence had come out mimicking a toddler having a tantrum. Finn wanted to act like one too, to throw himself on the floor and scream.

“Have you spoken to Leo or Logan about it?”

“No,” Finn frowned. “It would just make them sad and I don’t want them to pressure them. I don’t want them to know I think such horrible things.”

“Okay,” Heather nodded. “Imagine one of them came to you and told you everything you’d just told me. What would you say to them?”

“Wait.” A distressed noise fell from Finn’s lips. “Do they talk to you about this too? Both of them make a comment here or there, but we talked about it not long ago and we agreed that we weren’t ready.”

“Finn, you know I can’t tell you about what I discuss with Leo or Logan.”

“It was worth a shot,” Finn shrugged.

“So, what would you say?”

“I’d say they are entitled to be jealous. I'd say it’s not fair we don’t get to do everything the others do just because the world is homophobic and close minded and can’t imagine the three of us could love each other exactly the same as every other more traditional couple. I’d say that I know they don’t hate Cap or Loops or Potts or Lily, they hate the situation and that’s completely understandable. It fucking sucks and they can be angry about it." Finn drew in a hulking breath, Heather's outline a little blurred through his wet eyes. Each word had sent an aching pain through his body, similar to when he ran, only now he felt like was chasing something cathartic rather than running away.

"Earlier you said what you had to tell me was dumb," Heather said. "Can you explain why you think that it's dumb for you to feel that way, horrible even, but if it were Leo or Logan their feelings are valid."

"Maybe it's not dumb," Finn looked down at his hands, tracing over the freckles there. "But that doesn't change the fact I don't like having those thoughts. Especially when I don't want to act on them. I’m okay with waiting to tell people about us, if we ever do. They're not ready. I'm not ready."

"That’s something we can work on. Helping you to reframe those thoughts, I mean.” Heather slipped her notebook from where it had been tucked beside her and made a note. Finn leaned his elbow on his leg, tucking his chin onto his fist, trying to make his attempts to see the page surreptitious. Capping her pen, she gave a small chuckle, “I’m just leaving myself a reminder of what we’ve discussed. You can always ask what I’m writing, I’m not trying to keep secrets from you.”

Finn sat back, the book no longer quite so interesting now that it wasn’t forbidden. “So? That’s it?”

Heather hummed. “For today. I think you’ve got a lot to think about already. I’ll schedule some more sessions with you over the next few days, okay? It’ll give me a chance to get some new pretzels.”

"Thanks," Finn laughed, then gestured at the empty bowl. "For the pretzels. And the talk."

“That’s what I’m here for,” Heather said. “I’m just going to ask one thing of you before I see you next. Please try to keep your evening runs to a reason-”

“Who snitched?”

“There was no snitching, as you call it. We’ve just known each other for a while now, Finn. And as an employee of the Lions whose job it is to make sure you’re at top playing ability, I don’t want you to injure yourself. As your psychologist, I want you to have healthy coping mechanisms and exercising to that extent is not healthy.”

“I know,” Finn unfolded his legs, stretching them out. They’d gone stiff after being sat on for so long, the sensation coming back with an uncomfortable tingle. “I’ll try to keep the runs in check, promise.” His gaze fell on the closed door, steeling himself to leave. He stood, sending Heather one last smile. It was safe in here, but his boys were out there.

“See you soon, Finn.”

Stepping out of the office, Finn closed his eyes, giving himself a second to compose himself. A rustle of movement to his left caught his attention, startling a little at the sight of Leo and Logan. They sat on the floor, Leo’s hand resting on Logan’s knee where they were hunched to his chest.

“Sorry,” Leo scrambled to his feet, his arm outstretched to let Logan pull himself upright too. “We didn’t want to wait too far away. In case, well, I don’t know, you needed us.”

Finn joined them, immediately finding Logan attached to his side, his familiar warmth exactly what he wanted right now. “I’m okay,” he assured. “I’m not sure I’m ready to talk about it with you guys just yet. I need a bit of time to process, but just you being here makes things better. I’m going to see Heather a bit more too.”

“Proud of you.” Leo flanked him on the other side, taking his hand. Finn didn’t get to be in the middle often, Logan usually claiming the spot, and he felt like he had a kind of shield. “We just want you to be happy. And safe.”

“Can we go home, please?”

“Ouais, home,” Logan agreed.

#finn o'hara #logan tremblay #leo knut #heather #sweater weather #coast to coast #lumosinlove #rating: t #cw: overexercising #cw: food #cw: self-depreciation #cw: coming out #cw:outing

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excitedlysuffering · 4 years

Text

How He Hurts Your Feelings

Here’s some angst for ya :p wait is this even angsty?? Idk it’s the angstiest thing I’ve ever wrote XD

Masterlist Part 2

Naruto~

You sighed as you neared your second home, a ramen shop. You loved ramen, of course, but it was tiring having to cater to your boyfriend’s uncanny obsession with it. For once you wanted to have a choice. He never listened to your ideas anymore, recently he had made your relationship all about him, and it was beginning to eat at you.

You didn’t even necessarily want to eat. You just wanted to spend time with Naruto without having to eat ramen. Was that too much to ask?

“Naruto, we always go to Ichiraku’s for dates… maybe we could do something different?” The blonde turned to you with a pout. “Why? I thought you loved ramen?” You sighed, shaking your head.

“I do, but it’s all we seem to do these days.” His frown deepened. “But, I’m hungry!” You nodded, trying to control your patience. “Me too, but maybe we can go somewhere else to eat? I heard there’s a new BBQ place opening!” He was full-on scowling and his arms were crossed.

“Why are you being so disagreeable? You wanted to go out and here we are.” Your face fell at his hostile demeanor, but you refused to back down.

“I’m not being disagreeable, Naruto. You always pick out our dates without considering my opinion, I’m simply asking if we can do something different.” He rolled his eyes, his cerulean eyes burning with irritation.

“Fine, whatever. Go to your BBQ place. I’m going to get ramen.” Without another glance, he turned around and ducked into Ichiraku’s, leaving you alone on the street. Tears filled your eyes and blurred your vision as you ran back home, suddenly having lost your appetite.

Sasuke~

The Uchiha rarely got sick, but when he did he was more irritable than usual. You knew that when he did it was best to take his words with a grain of salt, as he was just trying to seem tough to make up for his perceived weakness at being sick. However, there was only so much you could take and you were slowly reaching your limit.

With every snide remark, you felt yourself grow a bit more upset. As it was Sasuke had tried to slam the door in your face when you had arrived, given you the silent treatment, complained about every little thing about the soup you made, he even griped about the tomatoes you’d brought him.

However, what was really pushing you over the edge was his ungratefulness. When you were sick, you let him take care of you, why couldn’t you return the favor?! You had been nothing but patient and gracious, and still, he had a problem with everything you did.

“For crying out loud, woman, I don’t want the medicine!” He snapped. At that moment, you snapped too. You threw down the spoon of medicine and a loud clang resounded. “FINE! I’ve done nothing but help you, same as you’ve done for me, but all you’ve done is treat me like some kind of pest! I get that no one is themselves when they’re sick, but I am not you’re personal punching bag, Sasuke!”

He seemed taken aback by your outburst, even to the point of silence. “You’ve made it clear I’m not needed here.” His eyes narrowed as you grabbed your bag. “Because you’re not.” You froze, trying to school your expression. “What?” He scoffed. “I said you’re not needed.”

Refusing to tolerate any more of his verbal abuse, you walked out his door without a word, not caring if he saw your tears.

Neji~

If you were being truthful with yourself, you knew you had been a bit neglectful of Neji lately. In the last two weeks, you had last minute canceled three consecutive dates. In your defense, you were so close to finishing the novel you were working on, and you had completely immersed yourself in it, excited for it to be so close to completion.

You had pushed him to the back of your mind and wrote day and night. You were just pages away from completion when you heard an obnoxious knocking at your door.

You were surprised to see your boyfriend, who looked furious, to say the least. “Oh, hey, Neji, what’s up?” You stepped back letting him in. His lilac eyes met yours and it felt like staring into a typhoon.

“It’s been three weeks since we’ve gone out, and all you can say is ‘what’s up’?” His voice was deadly quiet and you sheepishly avoided his eyes. “I’m sorry, I know I’ve been distant, but I’m so close to finishing my novel, and I just-”

He was in your face before you could blink. “Your novel?! You’ve been avoiding me for that stupid thing?!” Even though his words stung, you knew he had every right to be mad; you hadn’t been very considerate lately.

“I’ve been working on it for so long and I just wanted to finish it, I didn’t mean to hurt you.” You insisted. He sneered. “I can’t believe you’re spending so much time on a pipe dream. I’ve read it, and it will amount to nothing.” You had no idea how to respond, you could feel tears forming. “Get out.” Your voice was quiet but firm. “What?” You looked him directly in the eyes. “Now. I won’t repeat myself.” He stormed away with a scoff, leaving you with new insecurities.

Shikamaru~

Much to your delight, Shikamaru had agreed to go walking in the park with you. He had been away on a mission for a month and had gotten back a few days ago. You had missed him greatly and you were ecstatic to finally have him back.

“What did you do while I was away?” You looked up at the Nara as you walked. “A lot of training, really… not much else besides that. I missed you a lot.” He threw an arm around your shoulder, a small smile on his face. “I missed you too, (Y/N/N). I’m glad to be back.”

You passed a few kids who were playing a game of tag and weaving in and around the area, laughing all the way. You smiled at the sight, leaning your head onto Shikamaru’s shoulder.

“Shika?” He looked down at you letting you know he was listening. “How come you didn’t want to go cloud watching? Not that I’m complaining, it’s just unusual.”

He chuckled, steering you around the rambunctious children as they ran by. “I’ve been gone for a while, I figure it’d be nice to walk around a little bit. Don’t get used to it though, this is special.” You giggled, not surprised in the least.

“At least some things don’t change.” He raised an eyebrow. “Oh? What things?” You smirked. “You’re still as lazy as can be!” He dramatically rolled his eyes before letting a smug expression settle on his face.

“And you’re still abnormally short!” Shikamaru snickered. You rolled your eyes, punching him in the shoulder. You were about to reply when there was a plume of smoke. Shikamaru was no longer in sight.

You felt your mind blank for a second. A shadow clone. Your own boyfriend had rather send a clone than actually see you after a month of being apart. You felt an ache in your chest as you angrily wiped the tears from your eyes. Had he really not missed you at all?

Kiba~

You screeched indignantly as a bucket full of water rained down on you. Tears of frustration gathered in your eyes, much to your chagrin. This was the third prank today, and you were more than tired of Kiba’s antics.

You were going to your room to grab your jacket and was in too much of a hurry to notice the trap. Now you were in the doorway, soaked to the bone, shaking with anger and cold while Kiba just laughed.

First, it had been replacing the sugar with salt so your morning coffee had been spoiled, then it had been hiding every article of clothing you owned and then having to find each individual piece, one at a time. Now you were wet and miserable and Kiba looked like he was only just beginning your torment.

“You know what, Kiba, this isn’t funny! This is the third prank in as many hours! What is your deal?!” He looked confused as if he didn’t know why you were angry. “They’re just harmless pranks, babe, no reason to get worked up.”

They were harmless pranks, but it was your… not so special week and you didn’t have the energy to deal with it. “Look, I’m tired, okay? So can you please just quit it?”

He rolled his eyes as if he were exasperated. “You’re so boring (Y/N). Why can’t you just loosen up once in a while?” You harshly rubbed your temples, trying to push down your hurt. You knew you weren’t overreacting, you were sore and drained, and he was making it that much worse.

“I’m going back to bed. Please don’t bother me.” You waved a hand towards him and walked away and slammed the door behind you. “God, what did I do to get such a whiny girlfriend?”

Your mouth fell open as you heard his voice. Was that really how he thought of you?

Gaara~

You sighed dejected, as you stared at the empty seat your boyfriend was supposed to be. You knew that as the Kazekage, Gaara was a busy man, but he was the one who planned the date and he had promised to be there.

After thirty minutes of pity filled stares and waiting, you figured he wasn’t going to show up. This was the fourth time this month that he had stood you up and you couldn’t help but find yourself hurriedly heading in the direction of the Kazekage building to confront him.

By the time you had finally reached his office, you had calmed down, but that wasn’t to say you weren’t still angry. You knocked harshly on his door and waited for his response. “Enter.” You stormed your way in, your dress swishing behind you as reached his desk.

“Gaara. I was expecting you forty-five minutes ago.” Seafoam eyes met yours, before sweeping over your outfit. “Oh, god, (Y/N), I’m so sorry, I got caught up-” I scowled at the overused excuse.

“This is the fourth time! For goodness sake, this date was your idea!” He stood up, holding your trembling hand. “I know, and I’m so sorry. I’m going to make it up to you.” Your frown deepened as you turned away.

“Do you know how foolish I looked? Having a reservation for two, and sitting there for thirty minutes?” He sighed, but it didn’t sound remorseful. “I said I’ll make it up to you, okay? I was in the middle of something important.”

Your eyes hardened as they met his. “Important? So more important than me apparently? I know you’re busy, Gaara, I do, but this is getting ridiculous! Not only are you neglecting our relationship, but you’re also neglecting your own health!”

The crimson-haired Kazekage’s eyes left yours as he sat back down. “I’m very busy right now, (Y/N), can we finish this later?” He suggested emotionlessly.

Your fists were clenched. “Don’t bother, I have nothing more to say.” The slamming door had a note of finality to it as your left.

Kakashi~

You hissed as the peroxide touched the wound on your stomach. “You were reckless, (Y/N).” You glowered at the head of silver hair that was hunched over your bruised and bloody form, medical supplies in hand.

“I wasn’t reckless, Kakashi. My team was in shambles and we were outnumbered. I did the best I could with what I had and the mission was a success and everyone is okay.” Even through his mask, you could see his frown. “But at what cost? You should’ve waited for back up!”

I rolled my eyes. “Tsunade-sama was proud, everyone is fine. These injuries are nothing. I’m a shinobi and so are you. You know the cost and this can barely be considered a cost.” He shook his head, frustrated, as he wrapped your bandages.

“I get worried, okay? I know you, and I’m scared of the day you finally go too far and do something stupid-” You shot up, no longer being able to tolerate his attitude.

“Do you doubt my abilities that much? Even though I graduated from the academy, passed the Chuunin exams, and got my Jonin promotion the same as you?!” Kakashi simply crossed his arms.

“Well, I’m having to stitch you up, right?” You swatted his hand away from the cut on your shoulder. “That’s enough! I don’t have to take this! I’ve earned my place here, no matter what you say! The number of times I’ve patched you up and never complained and this is how you treat me?” Your words faded to a whisper hurt shining through your tone.

“That’s different! I can handle it!” Your eyes widened at the words. “Seriously? So what? You’re calling me weak now?”

“That’s not what I said, (Y/N).” You chuckled humorlessly, still in disbelief that you were even having this conversation. “You didn’t have to. It was pretty clear. I think it’s time you left.” The Jonin did just that, without another word or even a glance in your direction.

With tears dripping down your cheeks, you addressed all your minor injuries, trying not to think of Kakashi.

~Akatsuki~

Pein~

In hindsight, you knew it wasn’t the best idea to rip up the forest fighting Hidan. But the Jashinist had run his mouth a little (a lot) too far this time and you dismembered him. It wasn’t that big of a deal, almost everyone had done it at some time so you thought nothing of it. Pein didn’t have the same sentiments, however, and had wasted no time calling you to his office.

“What were you thinking?” He hissed. You simply raised an eyebrow, your lover hadn’t succeeded in intimidating you in a long time. “Hidan went too far and I did what everyone else has done in the past.”

He pinched the bridge of his nose, exhaling. “That’s not an excuse, (Y/N). You’re being immature, and I will not stand for it.” You snorted. “Look, Kakuzu cuts off Hidan’s head like once a week and you’ve never had a problem, so what’s got you pissed about it this time?” He scowled, his Rinnegan becoming more prominent.

“I recruited you for your smarts and potential, not so you could bounce around doing whatever you wanted! I don’t have time to deal with your childish antics!”

You just snorted, trying not to show how deeply his words were cutting you. Pein was never like this with you, he always treated you like a goddess, and now here he was berating you over a minuscule problem.

“You don’t have to ‘deal’ with me, Pein! I’m not a kid, and if someone offends me, you’d best believe I’m not going to let it slide! Now I’ll ask you one more time. What. Is. Your. Problem?” He shot up, his hands slamming down on his desk causing you to step back, startled.

“My problem is that my girlfriend is being a fool and embarrassing me!” It really did feel like he had stabbed you through the chest this time. But you bit your cheek not to let it show. You wouldn’t give him the satisfaction. “So that’s what it is, huh? You think I’m not good enough for the great ‘God’ Pein?” You mocked.

When he didn’t respond you waved a hand, walking towards the door. “I haven’t dismissed you yet, (Y/N).” Pein’s voice rang out. You shook your head as you reached the door.

“I don’t know about that, I feel pretty dismissed right now, actually.” With that, you left, not caring to hear what else he had to say.

Deidara~

You watched as Sasori and Deidara worked on their separate projects, while you yourself worked on your own. A large, half-filled canvas was before you, baring your newest artwork. It was an abstract graffiti painting, creating a 3D letter effect. You were quite proud of it actually.

However, you could feel eyes on you and you turned, giving Sasori a questioning look as you set your paints down. “What?”

His blank brown eyes ran critically over your artwork, before shrugging and going back to his puppets. You rolled your eyes at his typical behavior before walking over to Deidara’s table.

“Hey, Dei. Whatcha working on?” He turned to you, his smile wide as he held up a clay sculpture to you. It was a chibi version of you, causing you to blush. “Do you like it, hm? It’s my best one yet, yeah!” You handled it carefully, laughing a little. “Yeah, it’s adorable!” The blonde puffed up causing you to giggle more.

“And deadly, un! These are advanced, only for special circumstances, yeah.” You were just about to question what kind of special when you noticed the puppet master in front of your canvas, looking unimpressed.

“Um, Sasori?” He didn’t respond, just waved the two of you over. You sighed as you both followed him, slightly nervous about what he was going to say. “Look, brat.” You watched as the artist’s eyes looked over every line and color. “The strokes are uneven, and the shading is off. You call this art, (Y/N)?”

Your mouth fell open at his bluntness. “Okay, one it’s abstract so that’s the point, it’s not supposed to be precise! Second, yeah, I do call this art.” Deidara offered you an apologetic smile. “Sasori no Danna is right, un, it’s a little off…” You blinked twice not comprehending his words for a moment.

“Seriously?! I never speak badly about either of your pieces, so why don’t I get the same respect?!” Sasori just rolled his eyes, sitting back down at his desk. Typical. You turned your glare to your boyfriend. He crossed his arms, not looking at you.

“It’s fine, (Y/N/N), we all have bad days, un, nothing to get worked up about, hm.” You didn’t warrant his statement with a response. You just scoffed in disbelief as you stalked out of the room. Unbelieveable.

Tbh the pic has nothing to do with this but I found it and I thought it was hilarious?

#akatsuki #naruto scenarios #sasuke x reader #neji x reader #shikamaru x reader #kiba x reader #gaara x reader #kakashi x reader #pein x reader #deidara x reader #part 1 #naruto shippuden #angst

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chattingwiththelightkeeper · 3 years

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A Display Of Twue Dumbinance

I am going to start with this, I know I spelled true wrong in the title. Calm your britches trolls because “twue” is lifestyle slang for balderdash. Now that is out of the way, I want to talk about this guide to finding a true/real dominant that I bumbled upon the other day. This little ditty has zoomed around Tumblr and I am sure many of you reading this have read it and maybe even liked/reblogged it because on the surface some of it sounds great. As I read through it, I found myself cringing, facepalming, and the more I read of this supposed guide to finding “twue” dominance I knew I would be talking about this here on my blog.

As I read through this list the very first time, I was convinced that I wanted to do something I very rarely do and address the hogwash point by point by linking back to the original post and blog. However, when I reached the end of the drivel came a surprising statement that this post was not this “master’s” but he liked it, copied, and pasted it to his blog without ever crediting the person who originally concocted this nonsense. I did discover some great news upon reading Master Cox’s (name changed to protect the guilty) about me section for the ladies of Tumblr, please feel free to submit a nude and/or boobie selfie because he will be happy to post and comment about your body and boobs. It does come with the disclaimer that you may not like what he has to say about your body. This is pure Tumblr gold! Send him a picture, he will body shame those he wishes and as a bonus, he saves all photo submissions for his personal use. Ding, Ding, Ding, ladies we have a twue wiener! So as much as I want to quote this craptastic masterpiece of malarkey, I will paraphrase since crediting the original dumbinant is sadly not an option.

Submissives, did you know that a twue dominant will never approach you demanding your submission, naked pictures, and/or gangbangs? I know, this is a huge news flash and we better call the news networks to get this unfair and unbalanced revelation out to the masses (This is such big news for the masses that I bet we could get the Pope to talk about it at mass!). In all seriousness, a respectable d-type will not contact a submissive with incredulous demands, and a dominant worth their salt will be respectful in all communications. This is cynical but if you believe that this lifestyle works by dumbinants making crass demands and then following them, please change your self-identifier from submissive to stupidmissive. Sorry, this is not news but is simply common sense.

Hey submissive ladies, did you know that a twue dominant man can get laid anytime he wants? Oh, you betcha (said in my best Fargo accent). The reason for a twue d-type’s ability to bow-chicka-wow-wow three hundred and sixty-five days a year with an equal amount of different women is because all women just cannot resist dominance. All a d-type has to do is approach a lady in the produce section, show her his kumquats, and they will be shagging in the Piggly Wiggly parking lot five minutes later. Okay back to reality, this goes to the crap-o-la that dumbinance preaches about all women naturally desiring a dominant man. If you are submissive, single, attracted to humans with penises, then you may want a dominant man as a partner but sorry Master Malarkey, not all women want a dominant man. There are women to want a submissive man because they are dominant and there are other women who are vanilla and do not want a dominant or take-charge guy (in vanilla terms). Now, this one blows the minds of the twue dumbinant, but not all women want, need, or are attracted to people with penises. As shocking as this news is, the twue dumbinant never grasps that all women do not want him, and there are women who are not attracted to humans that have baloney ponies and are involved in the lifestyle. Being dominant does not suddenly make someone so sexy that all the ladies of the world swoon when he passes near.

It is time to get into a bit of shady business and it is whatI call the Christian Grey effect since this has become fake news fodder since Fifty Shades of Hay descended upon the lifestyle. This twue dumbinance theory goes like this, all real dominant men are successful, wealthy, white-collar professionals and all a submissive needs to do is check the brand of cars driven, logos on clothes, and bank account balances to find out if a d-type is the real deal. So college students, construction workers, mechanics, HVAC techs, those who work in the trades, or an enlisted person in the military are all excluded from being d-types. This twue myth links career to the lifestyle and is simply rubbish because how anyone earns their living has nothing to do with the lifestyle or their role within it.

I would like to dedicate this tale to the submissive ladies out there. Okay, ladies, the reason why you have never had a successful relationship in the vanilla world is that men who are not dominant are scared of sex. Yes, ladies, it is twue, Vinny Vanilla is just soooo scared of sex that when you asked to be spanked, he ran home and cried to his momma. This tale tells that all vanilla men are scared of sex, sexuality and thus this lifestyle leaves them cowering in fear. The simple truth here is that if a person needs, wants, and desires to have this lifestyle be part of their relationship then engaging in a relationship with someone who is a vanilla bean is going to leave some things unfulfilled no matter if you are a dominant, submissive, switch, or any other lifestyle role.Once again, it is time to cause Master Malarkey’s mind to blow, vanillas can have sex, even kinky as heck swinging from the chandeliers sex, enjoy the living hell out of it, and some vanilla folks are even more sexually adventurous that lifestyle people. Sex is just sex and sex does not make a relationship nor does it mean that someone who is vanilla is scared of it.

Guess what readers, our guide to twue dominance is still hung up on sex, and get ready for some more sexciting news. Ladies, the good news is here! Your domly dream man is already god’s sexual gift because twue dumbinants are great in the sack, skilled in the art of making women orgasm, and will never engage in vanilla sex. I bet all the single, submissive women seeking d-type men and reading this are super excited to learn that he dominant of their dreams will never make love because whenever the bedroom boom-boom happens it will be of the kinky fuckery variety. A twue d-type must have had many sexual partners (seriously this part of the malarkey manifesto), so if you are a young man or a more life experienced man without a plethora of sexual partners, you better get out there, fornicate with as many willing women as you can find because until you have, you ineligible to be dominant. Did anyone else besides me facepalm here? Being male and dominant does not mean the guy has had many sexual partners nor does the role of dominant transform anyone into a sexual dynamo.

The menu of twue d-types is now moving a bit away from sex and into the realm of kinkicious play. The chef who created this dumbinant menu requires the man who wishes to attain twue dumbinance statues to acquire, have, and own accouterment of the lifestyle. If a dominant fails to have whips, chains, floggers, and the toy de jour then sorry Sir Charlie, a dominant you are not. I hope there is a collective of heads shaking because toys do not make a person, let alone a dominant. Maybe this ties back into the part of the myth about being Richie Rich and by having thousands of dollars in toys it is another symbol of wealth, success, and therefore dumbinance?

Whew, we are finally away from sex and toys (at least for now) but we do need to pause for a moment. Readers, please take this brief pause, to put your boots on because we are about to step into a few large piles of poops. Seriously, it is about to get worse…

Submissives, a twue dumbinant will select you. It does sound sort of nice and maybe a bit romantic to be selected by a dominant but there is a huge BUT here. Just like any relationship, a lifestyle relationship requires two people, or more if you are poly, to say I like you and want to be with you. Now it is time for that big but (Am I the only one here singing Sir Mix-A-Lot’s Baby Got Back now?). One of the most basic things in this lifestyle is that the submissive must offer their submission to the dominant of their choice. A dominant does not select, choose, or demand submission but it must be freely given by the submissive partner. So it may sound romantic to be selected by a d-type but this is rubbish. In my opinion, this is nothing more than a ploy to make it sound okay for a dumbinant to demand submission from a submissive.

Everyone knows that humans are mistake-prone creatures and this mythology plays upon this. Remember a few points back when a twue d-type needed to be fabulously fornicating with many partners? Well, it is expected that one who follows this how-to guide would come from a background of many failed lifestyle relationships because the twue dumbinant will make mistakes along the way to the submissive they select. The thing here is that failed relationships might be labeled as mistakes sometimes but they are always life lessons. A broken relationship from the past is not something to chuck in the fuck-it-bucket and move forward. It is a lesson to learn as you move forward in life. What this myth is doing, I believe, is making people disposable as the twue d-type must fuck many, gain experience, before they “seize” the submission of who they select. This bit is just a way to justify the sordid past of a fuck boy. No more, no less.

So the break from sexy stuff did not last too long and this should give everyone a great laugh. The twue dumbinant will never, ever, never ask a submissive for nude or naughty pictures because d-types will “never beg” for anything. The twue man is soooooooo irresistible that a submissive who has conversations with him will just not be able to control themselves and will be “dying” to send him naked photos. Anyone else laughing out loud with me? So guys, if your inbox is not crammed with pictures of naughty bits every morning, the twue dumbinants are coming to take your dominant id card.

Remember when I warned about the poop level getting deep, well, here are the last two bits of the hit parade and it is going to get deep. I hope that everyone reading these words would agree with me that trust and honesty are hallmarks of a solid relationship and are even more important in a lifestyle relationship. So without further ado, it is time to get to the twue truth and it might hurt.

It is fairly common online to encounter a blog post from a submissive who discovered their dominant is actually in a relationship with someone else and they are simply the submissive side piece. Not to worry though because the twue dumbinant will never lie about being in a relationship because he will come right out and state he needs you to be his subbie side action, on the down-low. We should all applaud Mr. Twue for being honest with Subbie Susie, right? I am sorry but that is just crap. This lifestyle is all about being trustworthy and honest. So that is great that Twue has told Susie she is number two in his life, he still is being dishonest with number one in life (his wife) and is trying to build as well as lead a relationship that has a lie at its foundation. It is not going to work and Susie, you may think you are number two behind the wife, but depending on Mr. Twue’s day, you are number five or six.

So, here is the last bit of twue d-type poppycock from this guide. It once again circles back to honesty. It has been established that it is acceptable for a twue dumbinant to be honest about being dishonest. Not only is that okay, but it is expected for the d-type to lie about somethings (Serious, a twue dumbinant will lie and it is supposedly okay). To paraphrase the twue example given (sorry this may gross a few of you out) but it is okay for a twuebie to say they agree with a submissive’s hard limit of no water sports but believe that swallowing a golden shower is right up that s-types alley (thus they are going to do it anyway). Relationships require honesty. It is that simple. Even hard questions such as does this make me look fat or aren’t you excited my mom is coming to stay with us for a month, can be answered with tact and honesty. There should never be a reason to disrespect a submissive by saying that you agree with a hard limit while plotting to make her swallow pee. It is simple, just be honest and say that you will respect the limit but also express if that is your thing, that it is a thing for you. Maybe someday the submissive will want to do to for you if you find yourself in a relationship with them. Be honest because if you are not your relationship will fail.

Okay, this concludes the busting of this twue dumbinant discovery guide. I know that it can sound amazing, especially if you are new, to have certain things to look for and/or lookout for. If you are new to the lifestyle, get to know people, ask questions, and learn from their experiences rather than read a blog post and think “oh that sounds good, I will go with this as a guide”. This guide about twue dumbinance has parts that sound great but when you dig closer, it is nothing but a document that excuses the behavior of fuck boys masquerading around the lifestyle as d-types. The thing about this lifestyle is that things may look amazing at first glance but you must always read between the lines as well as every bit of the fine print.

As with all of my writings, please see this disclaimer.

©TLK2021

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captain-kelli · 5 years

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Master List

If you like piña coladas and getting caught in the rain...

Kidding. Sort of (because I do like a good piña colada). These stories are for anyone who:

Can’t get enough of Team Cap

Is dying for strong, capable, and confident female reader-inserts

Enjoys the occasional, drunkenly-written crack fic

Is desperate for an adventure of their own

I hope you enjoy these stories as much as I loved writing them.

Please read the individual warnings for each post. There will occasionally be content that is only suitable for 18+ readers.

Publicity Stunt Series - On Hiatus // Updated 01.24.2022 You’re a post-quantum computing scientist who is on the brink of success when your ex-boyfriend slams you in the press. It’s a media frenzy of epic proportions - one you and your new boss, Tony Stark, plan to combat with a little good press. Will a couple of highly-visible dates with Captain America clear your name in the court of public opinion?

A Mixtape for Steve Rogers Series - On Hiatus // 06.03.2021 Your love story with Steve, from start to finish, told through a collection of John Mayer songs in independent one-shots.

Call Sign: Renaissance Series - Complete // 08.09.2020 After a rescue mission gone wrong, you retire as a pararescue airwoman. When an old friend of yours comes calling, asking you to spearhead a disaster response team for the Avengers, you have to decide if you can let go of the past in order to save lives. Will you move on and possibly fall in love? Or will the demons of your past come back to haunt you?

Driver’s Seat One-Shot // 08.26.2021 You drive across the country in your Fiat Spider to start a new job in New York. She keeps breaking down and men keep insisting on fixing her.

The Promotion One-Shot // 01.22.2021 Sam, Bucky, and Steve are all called in for a critical mission, but you’re mysteriously missing.

Could’ve Fooled Me Drabble // 08.25.2020 It takes almost losing you before Steve admits how he feels. Never mind that he was the one who told the HYDRA agent to kill you.

Thalassophile One-Shot - Fernweh Collection // 06.22.2020 Years spent working side by side, you and Steve have maintained a strictly professional relationship even though each of you harbor secret feelings for the other. Can the salt air and island life change that?

Wayfarer One-Shot - Fernweh Collection // 05.25.2020 With a second lease on life, you and Steve cross off an item on your bucket list in Peru.

Healing Through Music Challenge, One-Shot // 03.09.2020 After the Battle of New York, you perform at a fundraising benefit hosted at the newly dubbed Avengers Tower where you meet Steve Rogers for the first time.

Tequila Confessions Challenge, One-Shot // 02.10.2020 Getting drunk and confessing your feelings for Steve Rogers really wasn’t your plan for the night, but Kevin Bacon and Whitney Houston had other ideas.

West Philadelphia One-shot // 01.17.2020 The Fresh Prince of Bel-Air is a classic and it’s really important to you and Sam that Steve watches it.

An Easy Fifty Bucks Challenge, One-shot // 01.01.2020 An impromptu invitation to a gala at Stark Tower offers you the chance to meet Steve Rogers. And win a bet.

‘Tis the Season to be Married Challenge, One-shot // 12.02.2019 As a New Yorker, it was always your dream to get married in the city at Christmas. You just didn’t think the actual day would be better than your imagination.

Losing My Religion One-Shot // 11.21.2019 When everything Steve had faith in abandoned him, he abandoned you. But a close-call makes him second guess his decision.

Christmas in the District Challenge, One-Shot, Coffee Shop AU // 11.07.2019 Christmas makes you want to be with the people you love. Will you and Steve finally admit your feelings for one another?

Still Feel Like Your Man Challenge, One-Shot // 11.04.2019 You weren’t an easy girl to get over, not that Steve wanted to do that anyway.

No Supervision Required Challenge, One-Shot // 11.01.2019 You’re fiercely independent and exceedingly capable. You’re also undercover. Why can’t Steve Rogers see that?

Lay Me Down One-Shot // 11.01.2019 The Sokovia Accords split up the Avengers and forced Steve into hiding with you still in New York. He leaves a letter behind, asking you to wait for him. But just how long is a girl supposed to wait?

The Air That I Breathe One-Shot // 10.31.2019 Steve loves you, but he never really let Peggy go. When he left to return the infinity stones to their proper places in time, he knew he wanted to stay. But that meant he was leaving you behind.

Hot & Cold One-Shot // 12.10.2022 There’s something about an old flame that keeps Bucky warm in December.

Moksha One-Shot - Fernweh Collection // 06.15.2020 At Stephen Strange’s suggestion, Bucky travels to Kathmandu in search of peace. Before he finds it, he finds you.

Solivagant One-Shot - Fernweh Collection // 06.01.2020 Bucky is sent to Antarctica on a highly-classified, fact-finding mission. He has trouble keeping his intentions a secret from you, a lovely but skeptical biologist.

The Prerogative (to Have a Little Fun) One-Shot // 04.07.2020 Karaoke is infinitely better with your girls by your side and Bucky Barnes in the audience.

Power of Ten Challenge, One-Shot // 03.17.2020 Bucky gets a new neighbor at the compound and has a battle of wills over the volume of music.

Pages of the Soul Challenge, One-Shot // 01.27.2020 With help from a Wakandan therapist and his journal, Bucky begins to heal from his traumatic past while finding his way back to you.

Birthday Battle Royale One-Shot // 01.12.2020 Bucky isn’t one to celebrate his birthday, so the cake you were baking was a surprise. Until it wasn’t.

Killer Queen One-Shot // 11.15.2019 You were the assassin that got away. Bucky wouldn’t be able to get you off of his mind until he got you into his bed.

Keeping Barnes Warm Drabble // 11.08.2019 Bucky is asked to go on a mission somewhere he’s not entirely eager to return to.

Delicate One-Shot // 11.03.2019 Bucky explores his path of renewal with you in Bucharest.

Stop This Train One-Shot // 10.31.2019 Saying good-bye to Natasha was impossible. You find comfort in Bucky as the two of you figure out what life looks without your two best friends.

Memory Loss Mini-Series // On Hiatus // Updated 05.23.2021 Sam Wilson isn’t the only one on the hunt for the former Winter Soldier. Always two steps ahead of him is a runaway assassin from the Red Room looking for revenge. Can Sam convince you that Bucky Barnes deserves to live?

Abbiocco One-Shot - Fernweh Collection // 06.08.2020 In one of the most romantic places in the world, you and Sam spend your honeymoon learning to make pasta, drinking wine, and lingering in bed.

Fernweh Collection: We may not be able to board a plane and travel like we’d like in this virus ridden world, but we can still use our imaginations to explore far off places with some of our favorite characters. Join Steve, Bucky, Sam and others in this collection of independent one-shots with a common theme: travel.

Recommended Reading: I use the tag #fic rec for every story I read. There are some talented writers in this fandom and I loved every one of these stories. Go check them out!

Don’t Call It a Comeback (Tour): I had been gone from tumblr for a few months and missed the community here so much. I desperately wanted to get the gang back together and this writing challenge was the perfect way to do it.

Stories about Strong Women: In March 2020, some of my absolute favorite writers (friends and newly discovered ones) submitted brilliant stories featuring strong women for my first writing challenge.

#Steve Rogers x Reader #Bucky Barnes x Reader #Marvel Fanfic #captain-kelli

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skybiome · 4 years

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And when the sun comes up, you’ll find a brand new god.

Chapter 3

Beginning | Previous | Next

ao3

tw: mild unreality

Techno woke up face down on a forest floor. He rolled over, and was faced with the tallest trees he’d ever seen. A navy sky fought through the foliage as the sun sat low on the horizon, casting massive shadows across the needle and leaf coated floor.

The patch of ground Techno had landed on was swept clean of organic material, leaving bare dirt. On one side of the clearing was a stone statue of a person. Opposite the statue was a footpath that wound around the trees and disappeared into the distance. Techno got to his feet and approached the monument

It should have been a life size monument of a person standing on a small pedestal, sword drawn and held out in front of them with a pair of wings spread behind him. Instead, the arm had broken off and fallen to the dirt floor. The wings had likewise broken off near their bases, and foliage had grown over the broken limbs.

Time had worn the statue’s face smooth, and removed several of the letters from the plaque on the bottom pedestal. The first part of the starting word was the most damaged, but the rest of the script was fairly legible.

It read, “----ZA, GOD OF SURVIVAL AND SOLITUDE. PATRON OF CHILDREN AND THE HURT. PROTECTOR OF THIS FOREST AND THE ONES IN IT.”

If he focused, a script running along the blade of the fallen sword read “Justice”. It’s name most likely.

Even severely worn down, the statue seemed content in its current state. If this really was a land blessed by a deity, Techno doubted they would have let age damage an image of them so. This whole area would have been created by Wilbur, but the monster hunter wouldn’t put it past him to get a few other gods involved. The deities of the land were well acquainted with one another.

The sun had risen slightly. Techno’s blood dyed clothes shimmered in the growing daylight. Turning away from the statue, he started down the trodden path. After spending days on end wandering circles around a stone labyrinth, Techno was surprised to reach civilization after only an hour’s walk.

A small village was set up surrounding a central well. There was no movement in the windows, but the location seemed lived in. Gardens were well kept and wheel tracks were freshly made in the dew dampened dirt. But this was just all a setting made by Wilbur. Simulating a fully functioning town would be difficult and time consuming, even for a god.

Letting that train of thought fizzle out, Techno gravitated towards the only building in the central plaza with light on inside. A sign outside the building declared it the Core Inn. Opening the door revealed a room full of tables that should be brimming with patrons. Instead, the only moving figure was polishing some glasses behind.

Blond with stubble and a green and white bucket hat. He looked kind enough. His most eye catching features were the massive black wings on his back, though.

At the sound of the doors, he looked up. The bartender didn’t look very surprised at the sign of someone wearing gold stained clothes stumbling in. Instead, he just waved Techno towards the bar top.

Techno sat down at the bar, and was incredibly relieved when the man turned around before speaking. He didn’t have the energy for a face to face conversation right now.

“What brings you to my little town?”

Techno set his head down on the wooden tabletop. “Can we please not do this, right now?” He knew he was filthy, but he was so tired of being awake.

There was a pause before the man let out a questioning, “Alright?” After a moment, he continued with, “What do you want to do then?”

The monster hunter groaned. “I just want a bed. I don’t have money, but I can pay you back with work.”

His bag of money had gotten torn off during the fight with the gryphon. Techno didn’t need sleep, but he wanted nothing more than to stop thinking for a few hours. Wandering through a maze for weeks was far from the most stimulating things, and the contrast from blank stone walls to the wind blowing through a forest was overwhelming.

“Okay, I can probably find something for you to do around here. Come on, then-” he parsed that sentence by softly knocking on the table by Techno’s head “-follow me.”

Techno took a moment, but slid off the stool. The man led him down a hall lined with doors to various rooms. Pulling a keyring off his belt, he unlocked the door and held it open. Techno walked right past him and was asleep before he even hit the bed surface.

---

When he woke up, starlight was struggling to fight through the canopy of the forest outside his window. . The monster hunter tried to bury himself in the blankets of the bed and disappear for a few more precious hours, but his eternally healing body would only let him sleep for so long.

Techno hadn’t slept indoors in years. It was cheaper to sleep outdoors, and it involved less human interaction. A win for everyone involved, in his expert opinion. His gold stained boots moved silently over the finished wooden floor.

Walking around the corner, he was faced with an even emptier tavern setting than the day before. Even the bartender was gone. The lamps on the walls were still lit, though. A note sat on the end of the bar, facing towards the hall Techno emerged from.

It read, “Gone out to do something. There’s a bath drawn up in the room behind the kitchen with clean clothes. You look like you could use it.”

The gore coated man set the note face down on the bartop, and went to see what was beyond the kitchen. True to the note’s promise, a large tub full of water sat in the room, along with soap, towels, and fresh clothes. He locked the sliding bolts on both doors and stripped out of his tattered clothes.

He couldn’t remember the last time he’d had a proper bath. The closest he’d gotten was walking in the rain, or getting thrown into a river or lake by a monster. The water of the bath was even pleasantly warm. Techno certainly took his sweet time, washing himself and the blood out of his hair. If he could, he would have fallen back asleep in the warmth of the water.

But eventually, Techno pulled himself out of the tub and toweled off. He dried his hair the best he could. It was already down to his lower back, and he’d need to cut it soon. Techno glanced over at his sheath, which had moved itself out of his pile of discarding clothing, and was now leaning against the side of the tub.

The man’s expression fell at the physical reminder of his curse, and decided against cutting it right now. The hair was one of the few aspects of his affliction he didn’t mind. Techno liked having his hair long, but it often got in his way and was a lot to take care of. He could cut it when he left the small town.

Right now, he let it hang loose and put on the clothes provided to him. A plain white shirt and black pants that were nearly identical to the ones he’d been wearing before, along with a deep green cloak. Green wasn’t normally his color, but it would do until it changed. He pulled on the boots, and walked back out into the kitchen.

Despite it still being dark outside, the bartender had returned, and was reading a book on the other side of the counter top. A glance at the back of the bar revealed very little. Only about 3 glasses and a singular, unopened bottle of wine met Techno’s vision. Whenever Wilbur had created this place, he’d done a very poor job of detailing it.

While the monster hunter had been silently judging the deity’s decorative abilities, the winged bartender had closed his book. Techno looked up at the man. He took that as his cue to speak.

“My name’s Phil. It’s nice to meet you.”

Techno nodded and simply offered, “Technoblade.”

Phil didn’t seem discouraged by his curt reply. Instead the winged man pushed himself off the bar stool and walked around to the back of the bar. Taking the hint, Techno moved back to the front and sat down on a stool.

“Do you want something to eat?” The bartender was facing away from Techno, resting his hand against the door to the kitchen.

The monster hunter hummed for a moment, before answering with, “sure.”

The feathered man nodded, and entered the back room, leaving Techno alone in the mainroom of the inn. About 30 seconds later, Phil re-emerged with a plate full of steaming hot food.

That shouldn’t have been possible. Techno had been in that kitchen not even 30 seconds ago, and none of the appliances were lit. Wilbur wouldn’t have been able to change something that small that fast. Deity rarely worked on microscale unless they were there physically. Phil would’ve had to have made it.

But that was neither here nor there. Right now, Techno’s attention was fully focused on the meal in front of him. He may not need to eat, but he hadn’t eaten in months and the food in front of him smelled really good.

Phil chuckled as Techno dug in. Techno ignored him. The meal was just a potato with salt and butter, and some carrots and peas on the side, but it tasted like heaven. If he had been a normal man, he definitely would have burnt his mouth.

In ten minutes flat, Techno had cleared the plate. The bartender whisked the plate away and set a glass of water in front of the man. That disappeared just as quickly.

Phil set that back in the kitchen as well. Techno bet that if he went back there, there wouldn’t be a plate or glass in sight. Instead, he just ran a hand through his hair, and looked to the winged man.

“What can I do to repay my debt?” Techno wanted to get out of this town as fast as possible.

Phil thought for a moment, and answered with, “Go strip down your bed, and wash it in the creek behind the building. There’s a washboard against the outside wall. I’ll clean up the bath.”

The monster hunter tilted his head, “Should we wait until day?”

The winged man had already walked into the kitchen, but Techno heard him shout, “It is day!,” through the walls.

A glance out the windows revealed Phil to be right. The sun was up over the horizon, casting the same long shadows Techno had seen yesterday.

The cursed man blinked. It had definitely been night time only a few minutes ago. Techno stood up, and shook off the lingering confusion. Once he got out of this weird town, things would stabilize. He just needed to finish working for Phil first.

Walking back into his room, Techno began pulling the sheets off the bed. Most of the blankets were still neatly folded and tucked away under the bed frame, so he only had to clean the stuff that directly on top that he’d slept on.

True to Phil’s word, a washboard and a bar of soap were sitting on top of a barrel outside the back of the inn. This town definitely wasn’t real. Someone would have stolen the washboard if anyone else lived here.

But he wasn’t here to question the world building of Wilbur's domain. Instead, he stripped off his boots and socks, folded his new cloak, and left them in the grass away from the running water. The crick bed was entirely stones and pepp. The water ran clear and Techno could see the bottom. So he got to work scrubbing the mud and sweat out of the bedsheet.

That’s where Phil found him, ten minutes later. Saying nothing, the winged man took off his shoes and socks and joined Techno in the water. The stream was about ten feet across, and sluggishly winding through the forest side, so Phil could sit on the far bank and dip his feet in the water without disturbing the other man’s work.

A comfortable silence sat over the two as the monster hunter noticed another odd thing about the forest. There were no birds singing or insects chirping. The only noises came from the river babbling and Techno rubbing the filth out of the fabric. Just one more thing to add to the inaccuracies of this domain.

After a few more minutes of scrubbing, Techno gathered up the material in his arms and waded to the center of the brook to rinse it out. Once all the loose dirt was washed away, he bundled the material up and looked towards Phil.

“Where do you want me to put this?”

The winged man pushed himself to his feet, and took the sheet from the monster hunter’s grip. “I’ll hang it on the line.” He turned and walked out of the river, towards a clothesline hung between the side of the inn and a nearby tree that definitely had been there before Phil had turned around.

That was a bit much, even for Techno’s suspension of disbelief. He’d have to confront the winged man about it later. Right now he turned back to cleaning the other sheet. The fact that he was hanging out with an all powerful deity was future Techno’s problem. Right now, he had to get out of debt of the all powerful deity in question.

Techno’s attention was split between washing the material in his hand, and watching Phil wrestle the fabric up and over the clothes line. He was doing it fairly well, but the cursed man was more enraptured with how Phil’s wings moved along with him.

The deity’s attention was solely focused on manipulating the sheet, and Techno was fascinated as the man out precariously leaned one way, only for his opposite wing to extend and counterbalance him. Originally the wings looked almost pure black, but they seemed to reflect a deep purple color in the daylight.

Phil finished securing the fabric and turned to face Techno. The monster hunter averted his gaze, turning back to the washboard in his hand. In a few more minutes, the other sheet was cleaned, rinsed, and handed off to Phil again.

Techno waded out of the river, and futilely tried to shake the water out of his shirt sleeves. The front of his shirt and pants were soaked, along with the ends of his hair. Ringing as much water out of his hair, he gathered up his shoes and cloak. He’d leave them off until the rest of his clothes dried out.

Leaving Phil to continue wrestling the damp cloth, Techno wandered back inside the building. He sat back down at the bar and continued running his hands through his long hair, trying to get as many tangles out as possible. The monster hunter barely noticed when Phil entered the inn.

Most of his focus stayed on playing with his own hair, but a small portion did stay locked on the winged man, as he walked into the kitchen and out of Techno’s sight.

A couple minutes later, he re-emerged with two bowls in hand. One was set in front of the Techno, and the other he sat down with beside Techno. Phil immediately dug in.

The cursed man took a moment to look at the stew, before doing the same. Rabbit with some root vegetables and a few spices that Techno couldn’t name. Phil certainly hadn’t cooked it by hand, but it was still very good. Before he knew it, his bowl was empty and he was tipping it up to drink the last of the precious liquid.

A small chuckle from Phil grabbed his attention. Techno wiped at his mouth, and turned to look at the bartender.

Phil lifted his bowl to his mouth and mimicked Techno. He was a little over enthusiastic in his attempt, because some poured over the edge and down his front. A laugh escaped from the monster hunter. Undeterred, the winged man finished off the bowl.

The bartender wiped his mouth with the back of his hand and gathered both of their bowls. He stuck his head into the kitchen and deposited them somewhere behind the door. When he turned around, the stains had already disappeared from his shirt.

Phil brushed his hands together, as if he had just finished an arduous task. “You can probably go to bed if you want, all the chores are done for today.”

Techno tilted his head to the side and gave him an odd look. “All we did today was laundry.”

Phil shrugged. His winged flexed and moved along with the motion. “It’s dark outside already. I’m not going to make you work at night.” He gestured towards one of the windows on the side of the room.

Techno’s vision followed his motion. True to Phil’s word, night time had already fallen outside. The monster hunter turned back around to the sound of something shuffling.

The noise was Phil stretching and his wings moving in tandem with his arms. The extra limbs didn’t extend outward and knock over the displayed alcohol bottles. Instead they reached upwards and the primary feathers almost tapped the rafters in the ceiling. After a moment, the wings folded back up neatly behind Phil’s back.

He rubbed at his eyes and said with a yawn, “I’m gonna to head to bed. You should probably do the same.” With that, the bartender turned his back on Techno and walked down the hall that led to the bedrooms.

A door opened and closed out of Techno’s sight. After a moment, the cursed man re-gathered his clothes and ventured down the hall. Turning the knob to the room he’d slept in last night, pushed the door open. The bed was perfectly made with new sheets, even though Phil had been back in the room. There was a new chain lock on the door that the cursed man made use of.

If Phil was a god, a simple piece of metal wouldn’t stop him, but it was still a nice thought on his part. The winged man had been nothing but hospitable, and Techno was going to take full advantage of that. Setting his cloak and shoes on a bedside table, Techno pulled a blanket out from under the bed frame.

Oh, and the clothes he was currently wearing were entirely dry, when they’d been wet only minutes before. Weirder things had happened today.

He smoothed the blanket over the bedspread and crawled underneath. He’d spend a few more days in town, and then continue to wherever Wilbur wanted him to go. Either way, it would keep him from destroying more of the real world. Trouble always followed him, so it was nice to not have to worry about the destruction he always left in his wake.

#technoblade #philza #my writing #when the sun comes up au #poggers #this doc is over 11k now making it the longest thing ive ever written

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quirkysubject · 3 years

Note

You say you care about critical thinking, but you reblogged that interview without comment. Everyone's going to assume it's genuine.

That’s a good point. I reblogged the link without a disclaimer that everything about it should be taken with not just a grain of salt, but a whole bucket.

The reason for that is that I thought @a-froger-epic made a good job of explaining how she came to know J in the author’s notes, so that everyone had the tools to make up their own minds. I kind of have this expectation that when people see “anonymous source” on something, they’ll know how to handle it.

I genuinely didn’t think that people would read this and take everything at face value. Perhaps I’m naive.

Perhaps I should have added the disclaimer anyway, because you’re right, it might come across as me vouching for the veracity something. And since we’re all likely to fall into traps of wishful thinking, it’s a good idea to repeat that reminder (to myself as well) every now and then.

So thank you. I’m already trying to be as careful as possible about distinguishing facts from theories/rumours, but I guess I can do better.

(By the way, there is also some really interesting discussion going on in the comment section, fact-checking some things said by J.)

~~~

For anyone who’s interested, my personal opinion on J’s authenticity is behind the cut. But please, go make up your own minds.

First off: I wouldn’t take a single thing J has said and claim it is fact without other supporting evidence in its favour. Even if we believe that J is genuine, she’s a single person giving her impressions of things that happened almost fifty years ago.

Memories are constantly built and rebuilt, they’re malleable, and they kind of take the shape that best fits our narrative over time.

So for example, the “I went to gay pride with Roger, Freddie, Brian and Tim” is one I’ll only believe when I have Word of Roger, Brian or Tim (who apparently was in Italy at the time anyway). This is a case where I think it’s possible she was there with some mates - and over time those mates took on the shape of her more famous mates.

So, what about J herself? Personally - and I might be wrong! - I think the outline of J’s story is true. I have seen some of the e-mail exchanges and it “felt” authentic for what that’s worth. However, a clever hoaxer (or just someone who convinced themselves of their own story) could of course fool me. Or perhaps only parts are true - perhaps she was in London at the time, but never met Queen, or was a lot less involved with them than she now claims/remembers.

The fact that she claims to have lost all her photos in a flooding in 1988 is suspicious, and I understand everyone who nopes out at this point.

Finally, I realise that my friendship with @a-froger-epic makes me want to believe it, and that it sways me in that direction. If anyone else had posted this, perhaps someone I didn’t like or trust, I’d probably be much more suspicious of the story in general.

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spyvstailor · 4 years

Photo

GRAVEYARD DIRT & SALT

CHAPTER FIVE: BENNY

“South Carolina abouts they have this critter called a 'Boo Hag', said to be a skinless sort of vampire and they like to ride you to death and steal your breath. If they like you, they keep you alive, sucking your air, sustaining themselves. But if they don't, if you struggle or make them angry, they skin you and wear your skin. Just walk around like they wear pants or such. But they can't stay riding you forever, they gotta be home and in their skin before sunrise or they become trapped forever without skin.”

Please support me, I’m still out of work because of COVID, so anything you can toss my way can really help. I’m going to need to feed my kitties soon! Reblog this if you can’t donate to please support a nearly starving author!

Read the newest chapter here below the cut if you want, since ko-fi can be unreliable!

Chapter Five: Benny

When everything went to hell, Benny had been at the top.

Maybe he still was? He had no idea how Vegas handled the swarms of the dead.

Probably no better than Atlanta.

God, what a fucking hole in the ground to be caught undead in. Why had he even agreed to come here to the middle of Satan's nutsack to make a deal?

By the time he waded through the packed streets, filled with fleeing idiots, days had passed and the wave of infection had spread.

When he made it to the edge of the city, it was almost completely overrun.

And his private helicopter, that last hope he had of leaving Georgia, was useless, no pilot. So, he was wading his way through the land of good ol' boys and peaches, heading home.

Because what else did he do? Just stay stuck in Georgia with the undead on his ass? Forever? The idea seemed to tickle him. It was divine retribution for all his sins. This was hell. He was in hell. Well, thanks but no thanks. He'd take his chances back in Vegas with his well-stocked warehouse and his penthouse in The Golden Rose.

God, he missed The Golden Rose. Melody's pretty little voice chirping 'Hello, welcome to The Golden Rose', every time he passed through the lobby, or the weird night gamblers bellying up at the bar around two in the morning, sipping on complimentary Flash-bang's, the signature drink created by Bruce behind the bar. Sure he had more employees than Melody and Bruce, the others, the late-night workers who always were just a little bit off, but friendly enough. The kids fresh out of school, old enough to work at the casino, who tried too hard to impress the boss. Sven in the kitchen, who never seemed to leave, always yelling at him for coming down and making those 'nasty little sandwiches' as he called them, the open-faced ones made with peanut butter and sliced bananas on plain white bread, the sandwiches Valerie had gotten him hooked on when they were first dating. They were her favourite midnight snack and they had fast become Benny's too.

Valerie.

Ten years. Holy fuck had it been ten years?

Plucking at a stretchy beaded bracelet he wore, Benny snapped it hard and shook off his thoughts of Valerie. They didn't do him any good in this new society.

From where he sat. Perched on the railing of the bell tower, looking down across a darkened Georgia, barely peeking over treetops that surrounded the convent, Benny exhaled.

Annie had given him the stink-eye at their new spot, full of bird shit and leaves and any kind of crap that the winds blew into the little tower, but Benny had sat her down gently onto the bearskin rug and the sleeping bag on top of it and promised her they would clean it up in the morning.

He didn't tell her what he was thinking, he didn't tell a lot of people what he thought, no one wanted to hear his bullshit. His old man used to say 'if I want your opinion, I'll beat it out of you' and he meant it.

The truth was, the trouble on the wall, the nun dying, had reminded him how dangerous it was. He had become too soft and spoiled lately, the dead were thinning out and he had forgotten what it was like when the outbreak first happened when it was really bad.

They were safer in the tower, should anything happen to the gate, there was a heavy church door to open and a narrow ladder to climb before anything could get at them.

And, sitting on the trapdoor that led to the ladder, Benny knew Annie was safer here than anywhere else.

It had been a long, long time since anyone had relied on Benny and he took his job seriously. Nothing would happen to Annie as long as he was alive and kicking.

During his flight from Atlanta, he had somehow wound up arm in arm with Annie and her mother Laila. They had sort of run across each other and just kept running in the same direction.

Benny had immediately liked Laila, she was tough as hell and he had to admire that about her. Not that he knew much about her or the kid, they weren't real big on talking and he also had to admit he liked it that way.

But Laila had his back and he had hers and they made a good team, but when she went out one morning to scrounge for breakfast and never came back he didn't think for a second the dead had gotten her. He knew her, she was a survivor.

Something else happened.

So he stuck around the area, hoping he'd find something which would let him know where Laila had gotten off too. And somehow, sticking around the small town, he wound up running into that marine and that Grayson kid, and when the kid started talking about men taking his sister, Benny started thinking. He wasn't a gambler by nature, despite him living in a casino in Las Vegas, but he would bet everything he had that when they found these men, he would find Laila.

And Jesus, if he didn't also kind of like that marine.

Not that he'd ever admitted that out loud. Admitting you liked someone, admitting you wanted to be someone's – what? Drinking buddy? At his age? Embarrassing.

But he liked him just fine. The Cajun was a tall puppy dog, but there was something about his optimism that balanced Benny's nihilism nicely.

On the wall below, three nuns kept vigil over Sister Mary Patrick's body. They couldn't retrieve her until morning, so they kept a quiet, mindful watch.

And just like those nuns, Benny would keep a silent watch over Annie all night long, he would sleep when she was old enough to take care of herself.

Sitting by the nuns' water pump in their convent yard the next morning, he watched Annie as she brushed her teeth, brushing his own with the travel toothbrush he kept in his jacket pocket. He liked to travel as light as possible, gun, bullets, knife, toothbrush and tube of toothpaste, and while he'd never admitted it, reading glasses for emergency reading, because fuck if he wasn't getting old.

He noticed the marine traveled with a goddamn apartment on his back and that was just fine for him. Marines were trained for distance and roughing it, they were pack mules. And just as dumb.

He needed more bullets for his tidy little Springfield, come to think of it.

“She's a good kid,” someone said from his left. It was a male voice and not Grayson's.

Benny ignored the marine for a moment, not wanting to chat about the fucking weather or some bullshit, spitting his toothpaste foam into a bucket of water to be dumped over the wall with the rest of the handwashing and face washing water.

There was a nun's body being buried out behind the church right now and he didn't feel like jibber-jabbing.

“We did our best last night,” the Lieutenant said, easing down beside him on one of the folding chairs the nuns had set up around their water source. For what? Water pump gossip? Maybe.

“Dead nun though,” Benny replied, sipping at some water to rinse his mouth.

The marine was quiet beside him, gazing out across the dewy lawns.

“I didn't mean to put the squeeze to you,” he began. “Yesterday in the church. I know you don't like talking about yourself.”

“Sure you did,” Benny returned.

Withdrawing for a moment to regroup, the marine went on, “fine. I did a little, but...it's hard trusting people nowadays, yeah?”

“Hard to trust people before this bullshit,” Benny shot back.

“Fair.”

There was a tension to the marine that told Benny he was gearing up for something, angling to reach for something during the entire conversation.

“You got something to say, don't pussyfoot,” he said calmly.

“Not that I don't believe you, but I want a reassurance that you're not trying to fuck us on this deal with the copter,” the marine said.

Benny nodded. “Yeah, I thought you'd think that. I wouldn't blame you. But it's real.”

“Well, we go in smart then,” the man stated.

“We go in smart,” Benny agreed, stretching out his legs and resting them on another chair across from him.

Beside him the marine remained seated, quiet in the growing daylight.

“We done?” Benny inquired.

“You ever hear about the boo hags?”

“The what?”

“And the moral of this story is...?” Benny prompted.

The Lieutenant shrugged, folding his arms. “Nothing really, I just think about the Boo Hags sometimes.”

“My granny used to tell me about this guy she knew from Corpus Christi, used to hate wearing pants. He wasn't crazy or anything, just said they were too hot and itchy, so he'd walk around in his boxer shorts everywhere.”

Around them, the nuns went about their morning routine, chores, and preparing for their morning mass after burying their fellow nun.

“Well,” Benny said. “Maybe he was a little crazy, I guess.”

Annie came to him and climbed into his lap, watching the activity around them quietly. It was a strange sort of calm to the morning, despite the funeral. It felt like the soft morning's Benny had at his grandparents, warms sunlight, peace, and quiet before the hectic activity of the day. It brought him back home to a home he mourned every single day of his life, a home he had only fleetingly as a boy before it was replaced with the boozy smelling mornings of his parents home.

“Mornings like this feel like my Mamere getting ready for church,” the Lieutenant said. “She used to sing when she was getting ready in the mornings, and she'd sing,

There's a land that is fairer than day,

and by faith we can see it afar;

for the Father waits over the way

to prepare us a dwelling place there.”

In his lap Annie rest her head against Benny's chest, listening to the marine as he sang in a fine, deep baritone. Benny knew the song well, it was his grandmother's favourite. When she finally came and took him home, to his real home with her and his grandfather, away from the chaos of his mother and father's lives.

They were the only people who ever really loved him.

The hymn brought back memories of Sunday mornings dressing for church, of Sunday evenings with the smell of roast chicken and his granny's baked apples, sweetened with brown sugar, butter, and cinnamon, sticky and warm.

He didn't live with them long. They were hit by a drunk driver and killed two years after he moved in with them. Benny went back to the chaos and Edna and Merle were buried in Oak Grove.

At the sound of the gentle singing, a few nearby nuns gathered in closer, curious, and quiet. Raised Baptist by his grandparents at least, Benny joined in with the marine, singing only very, very faintly, as though he were doing it for his granny and no one else. He would sing in a voice only barely above a whisper.

It was Annie who joined in the singing, almost eager and happy to do something that wasn't fighting and surviving.

In the sweet by and by,

we shall meet on that beautiful shore.

In the sweet by and by,

we shall meet on that beautiful shore.

We shall sing on that beautiful shore

the melodious songs of the blessed;

and our spirits shall sorrow no more,

not a sigh for the blessing of rest.

In the sweet by and by,

we shall meet on that beautiful shore.

In the sweet by and by,

we shall meet on that beautiful shore.

To our bountiful Father above

we will offer our tribute of praise

for the glorious gift of his love

and the blessings that hallow our days.

“My granny used to sing that one too,” Benny finally admitted, in the stark silence at the end of the song. “Yours lived with you?” He asked.

The Lieutenant nodded. “Yeah, my grandparents raised me.”

“Where were your parents?” Benny asked.

“Due to circumstances beyond my control, nowhere in sight,” the Lieutenant replied, a grin in his voice. “My ma was hospitalized most of my young life,” he added in a more serious tone. “The man who impregnated her was...not important.”

“Pump and dump?”

“Of sorts, not really given permission for it though,” the Cajun finished tentatively.

Benny felt his blood chill a little. “I get you.” He said, not wanting the marine to have to open up old wounds.

“You?”

“I lived with my grandparents for a while, yeah. My parents were...selfish pricks, they lived in Galveston.”

“I get you,” the marine repeated his own words. Easing back in his chair, the Cajun asked, “where you from? Where'd you grow up? You said you lived in Forth Worth?”

“My grandparents lived in Fort Worth, so I guess I moved between there and Galveston mostly.”

“What happened to the twang? You lose it or hate it?” The Lieutenant inquired.

Benny chuckled. “I haven't lived there for years.”

“Can never really shake the twang though, yeah?” The Lieutenant teased.

“I guess not. You? I know Cajun when I hear it, but where you from in Louisiana?”

“Eunice.”

“Eunice? That's...down south, isn't it? Way down the bayou,” he mocked the Lieutenant's accent, prompting the marine to laugh.

“Yeah, yeah it is.”

“Annie,” he turned to the kid in his lap. “Why don't you head inside the infirmary, okay? I'll be right there to get you set up for the day.”

The girl slipped down to the ground and nodded, heading obediently for the building where Grayson was already getting his shit together.

Sullen, a little pissed that he was forced to face things he had buried long ago in Texas, Benny remained quiet for a good long time. Long enough that eventually the anger dispersed.

Benny sat still and silent so long that eventually, it was just him and the Cajun, who remained, squatted down on his haunches, resting.

“We're running on a very short timeline,” Benny finally said to the man.

The marine nodded. “Yep.”

“That girl, if she is still alive, won't be so young and vibrant if she's with these men, I can tell you that right now. Feel like with no law, men will become animals, women will become prey.”

“What's going on in that tiny bird brain of yours?” The Cajun asked.

“You need to stay here and train up some of these damned nuns, right?”

“Yeah.”

“Think you could trust me?” Benny asked suddenly, turning away from the middle nothing he was staring at and pining the Cajun with a look.

For a good long while the marine eyed him back, blue-grey eyes hard and scrutinizing. At rest the man's face was regal, but villainous, betraying his genuine kindness, at rest his face was the face of a man you didn't want to fuck with.

“Yeah, I think so.”

“You're going to have to know so,” Benny urged.

“Alright, I know I can trust you.”

“It might be riskier, but time is important, isn't it?”

“What's your plan, fancy man?”

“When I was poking around the church earlier, I spied some priest shit, a get up for a proper man of the Lord. Might give me a pretty good shield, might get me close enough to those men if I can find them, to get inside their group.”

“Espionage?”

“Whoa, slow down there Bayou-bred, that's a big word for you.”

The two men hushed up as Grayson began to head over towards them.

“Fuck off, Grayson!” Benny shouted.

“Fuck you, assclown!” Grayson snarled back, veering off in anger towards the wall and the gate.

“That kid is going to murder you in your sleep some night, paon.” The Lieutenant mused.

“Ah well, he's a good kid, needs toughening up. Mouthy little fuck though.”

The two men settled a little again, their ruffled feathers smoothing out in the tranquility that followed the exchange between Benny and Grayson.

“You could get yourself killed ducking in on a group like a priest. If they find out you're not or if they happen to find out what you're up to.”

“I know,” Benny replied. “But I'm good at it.”

“Good at it?” The Lieutenant asked.

Benny smiled. “Getting into places I shouldn't be as someone I'm not.”

The Cajun was quiet, before sighing. “Okay. Cut the shit, what the fuck are you?”

“I'm goddamned good at what I do. You just worry about these nuns. When I head out, you need to do one thing for me. You just need to trust that whatever happens once I leave this convent, I'm not going to fuck you over. Annie will stay here, she'll be my guarantee that I won't let anything happen.”

“Okay.”

“You tell anyone you need that I ran off in the night, just not Annie. You tell her I'll be back. You need to do this for me. Can you do this?”

“I don't like handing the reins over, but...you're right. Time is important and these nuns can't be left alone. Splitting up might be the best bet for everyone. I'll play my part.”

“Pact?” Benny offered, holding out his hand. He knew it was childish, but he wanted God (if there be any) to witness his honesty. For once in his goddamned life of other names, other faces, he wanted some higher power to see his bluffing ass telling a truth.

The Lieutenant leaned back a little, before saying, “brothers. It makes you blood. You don't cross blood.”

“Brothers,” Benny swore, the two men shaking hands firmly.

Releasing hands, the two men sat back a little, trying to look like two men just sharing a conversation, as Mena poked her head out of the convent cloister and started their way.

“We meet up tonight, dead of night when everyone is asleep, in the back room of the church,” Benny said softly, hurrying before Mena could join them.

The Lieutenant nodded.

“Gentlemen,” Mena greeted in the high toned, pretty magnolia blossom voice of hers. Pure sugar, pure south. “Good morning.”

“Why Miss Mena, you're as pretty as a bluebell this morning,” Benny teased, mocking her southern accent.

She offered him a stern, but sparkling warning look, the corners of her mouth lifted a little like a cat. She looked like she was grateful for the teasing distraction, grateful because otherwise, it was pure mourning and fear that remained should she not have anything to distract her from it. “You may mock me all you want, Mr. Malone, but I lost one of my flock last night and I'm not in the mood. Now, we've buried the poor woman, and we were promised training. The sooner the better, I think.”

“Are you thinking of staying? You and Annie are very welcome to.”

They had gotten the nuns started with whatever makeshift weapons they could find and while the Lieutenant gave them a rifle handling and maintenance crash course, Mena had once more sidled up beside Benny as he stood in the shadows of the eastern side of the church, watching the chaos, while idly thumbing through a small bible he had found in the church.

“You're thinking of the wrong man,” he replied, motioning with his head at the marine. “He's probably yours for life though.”

She smiled. “We love having you here, Mr. Malone. All of you.” She hesitated, before adding, “I sort of forgot how boring convent life can be until you all arrived to shake things up. Granted, we suffered a loss, but...I think we're stronger with you and the Lieutenant and even Annie and Grayson. We're no longer cloistered, we're a community center, a...a home.”

He opened his mouth about to say something, before considering it, finally he relented. “I know a nun's faith is sacred to her, but...why did you become a nun? You seem...unhappy with your lot.”

“I wouldn't say unhappy,” she replied. “I'm ungrateful in a small way. I became a nun to help people. Work missions and aid the poor and those most unfortunate. I suppose, I just...never felt like I was helping much here. Feel sort of immured behind these walls.”

“Immured?”

Before Mena could answer his question, the Lieutenant joined them, easing against the church for a rest in the shade.

“So?” Benny asked him.

“Well, they don't like the idea of hitting anyone, seem hesitant, but I think when push comes to shove they know how to do it.”

Scoffing, Benny turned to Mena. “What about you, debutante? Wanna fight with the others?”

Mena laughed. “I'm afraid I don't care much for fighting.”

“You need to learn how,” he went on.

“I know how to throw a punch, Mr. Malone,” Mena argued gently.

Inhaling calmly, Benny scooped the nun up easily in one move and had her stomach perched on his shoulder as she dangled over it in shock, her legs and knees digging into his chest in shock.

“So you're telling me,” Benny began as Mena struggled to be put down, trying to maintain her dignity while being treated like a sack of flour, “you know how to prevent being carted off by someone like this?”

“Mr. Malone, please?!” Mena shouted, panicked. Her ever calm facade breaking into a sort of girlish embarrassment. Shrill and just a little tremulous.

“Don't break the nun,” the Lieutenant warned with a small grin.

Sensing the rest of the nuns' attention and maybe wanting to cheer them up just a little with a distraction from the death of Sister Mary Patrick, Benny perked a little more, hefting the woman on his shoulder as she squirmed.

“Are you kidding me?” He demanded loudly. “I'm two steps away from giving her a noogie. This is fun. I'm going to hold her down and snicker-snag on her if she can't break away.”

“Don't you dare! Put me down!” Mena shouted as the rest of the nuns began to notice the noise and started wandering over towards them curiously.

“Look at how small she is,” Benny laughed. “I could toss her over the wall into a pile of leaves like a little mouse. Hey, give me a hand, I want to try playing keep-away with this shrimp.”

“Are you seriously bullying me right now, Mr. Malone?” Mena demanded, still draped over his shoulder, her veil fluttering to the ground, all dignity lost. “Lieutenant, please?”

“I can't step into another man's training ring,” the Lieutenant lied. “It's not courteous.”

“Courteous?!” The nun hollered.

“Think if I put her down and follow her she'll lead me to her pot of gold?” Benny asked, spinning with the nun.

A stray knee from the poor nun hit Benny in the mouth and he reeled back a little, blood drawn.

“Alright, play time's over, kids,” the Lieutenant stepped in, moving to take Mena from Benny.

As soon as the Cajun set Mena right again, kneeling to get her veil for her, she was puffing up like a little ruffed grouse and twirling around to poke at Benny in the chest.

He was too distracted by the taste of blood on his lip to notice.

Behind them the nuns that had gathered were all trying to conceal their amusement at the scene, a few of them giggling into their veils, some turning their soft laughter into mild coughs.

“Serves you right,” Mena stated. “The indignity!”

Benny, idly licking at his torn lip, grinned and held his hands up. “Hey, okay. Put the guns away, shrimp, you win.”

“Blood has been drawn, no harm done,” the Lieutenant said. At Mena's sharp look, he amended that statement to a soft, “maybe?”

“I am an Abbess,” Mena snarled, whirling on Benny again, her little finger pointed at him like a rifle. “I deserve a modicum of respect.”

“A what?” Benny asked, pocketing his hands. “Hey, don't get mad, country mouse, you said you could handle yourself, and boy, did you sure prove me wrong.”

“I,” Mena began, a little louder than her normal soft-spoken Southern belle coo. She stopped short and seemed to inhale, calming herself. “I...will not let you goad me into a fight, just to prove myself capable, Mr. Malone.”

“One punch,” he pushed. “Just one solid punch and I'll leave you alone.”

Mena was quiet, still trying to smooth her habit and veil back into place after her manhandling.

“It might give you back a bit of that lost dignity,” Benny added in a whisper, leaning towards her.

“Sock him, Mother!” One of the older nuns shouted.

“And just like that the teachings of peace and forgiveness of Christ have been forgotten,” Mena murmured.

“If you punch him then he'll stop being a bully,” another nun suggested.

“I don't think Sister Mary Patrick would approve of this,” another nun pointed out.

“Like it nothing, she'd love to see this cheeky man popped in his cheeky face,” yet another nun added.

“I will not,” Mena declared. “We are not animals and I refuse to hit a man without due cause.”

“He just picked you up like you were a duffle bag, just hit him in his pretty face and get it all over with,” Sister Mary Agnes, one of the few nuns Benny could tell apart suggested. “I would,” she added, before crossing herself quickly in a form of silent absolution.

“Aw,” Benny gushed. “She thinks I'm pretty. Come on, Abbess, just give me one solid punch and prove yourself capable. Come on,” he went on, “I know there's an animal concealed under those robes of yours, let the lioness out.”

“Lieutenant?” Mena asked.

The tall man sort of took a thoughtful step back on one foot and considered it quietly, before he answered with a simple, “hit him.”

Mena was quiet, sizing up Benny for a bit.

He could see her small hands curling into fists at her side and tightened his jaw to take the hit.

Instead, Mena's hands relaxed and she shook her head, turning to Annie who was watching.

“We don't hit people who don't deserve it,” she explained to the child. “A lady must always take the high road.”

“As short as she is, the high road would be the best option,” Benny murmured.

Mena leveled her chin almost indignantly, still looking at Annie.

“Good for you, Mother,” Mary Elizabeth said. “Remember Matthew 5:39. But I say to you, do not resist an evil person; but whoever slaps you on your right cheek, turn the other to him also.”

“If he keeps taunting her I'll show him both cheeks,” one of the older nuns grumbled.

Benny laughed to himself. He didn't know much about each individual nun yet, but he knew he liked the older nun with just that one sentence.

“We are not a boxing club,” Mena went on. “Though we will train to defend ourselves, senseless violence is never the right path. Despite how much a man may want to be hit by a lady.”

“It's always been my dream,” Benny added playfully.

“I'm gonna hit him for you,” the Lieutenant broke in.

Laughing, Benny backed away, hands up. “Okay, I wanted to get hit, not knocked out today.”

This seemed to break up the gathering, nuns moving off, heading back to their training.

Mena, still a little fired up, remained for a moment.

“No hard feelings, Thumbelina,” Benny said. “I just wanted to see your form.”

“I'm sure you felt enough of my form while I was riding high on your shoulder,” she returned a little bitterly, before walking off.

Benny sidled up beside the Lieutenant, still grinning. “She was real mad.”

“Yeah.”

“Has kind of a temper.”

“Yeah.”

“I kind of liked it.”

“Easy now.”

“Don't tell me you've never thought of picking her up,” Benny went on. “She's so fucking small.”

The Lieutenant smiled. “I mean, I could.”

“Hell yeah, you could. You could pick me up, big guy.” As they walked off, heading for the infirmary, Annie following behind, the fancy man added, “but don't ever fucking try, because I will lay you out.”

Chuckling, the Lieutenant opened the infirmary door for the shorter man and said, “you could never, little fancy man.”

Inside the infirmary Grayson sat on his cot, reading a well-thumbed copy of some real crime book, looking bored and still angry.

“Hey kid,” Benny greeted. “You need to learn some fighting too or do you think you'll pull some karate moves out of your ass when the time comes?”

“Could kick your ass,” the kid grumbled.

“Want to give it a try?” Benny offered sincerely. “See what you got?”

“You have, like, thirty years on me, think I'd win, grandpa,” Grayson replied.

“Only one way to find out.”

“You think you'll be ready to head out tomorrow morning?” The Lieutenant asked the kid, playing his part perfectly to Benny's delight. At least the marine had a poker face. “We have to get to that airfield before noon if we want to find proper camp before dark.”

“I was ready two days ago, what have you two been doing?”

“Keeping these nuns safe first and foremost,” Benny said. “You know, about eleven lives versus one? Using our brains.”

Grayson glowered at him.

“Can the shitty attitude, we're trying,” Benny went on firmly.

“Tomorrow,” the Lieutenant said firmly, breaking up the tension, “we will continue on the hunt for these men. Right now, I have to head out to get something for dinner for all of us.”

“Not taking your life partner with you?” Grayson asked.

“Surprisingly progressive, kid,” Benny mused, folding his arms. “I don't even think it's an insult.”

“More observational than insulting,” the Lieutenant added.

“You could do worse than me,” Benny teased.

“Could do better too, paon.” The marine retorted dryly, offering Benny a small grin as he grabbed up his rifle. “Don't kill each other while I'm gone, yeah?”

“Can I hang him from a flag pole again?” Benny asked. “Seems to be the best way to take the bite out of him.”

“Fuck you, Benny,” Grayson growled.

“That is no way to speak to your elders, son!” Benny replied.

“Come on, kid. Let's head out for a hunt.” The Lieutenant said, stepping in calmly.

Grayson jumped up, eager to finally help, but couldn't resist grumbling, “don't call me 'kid', old man.”

“Don't call me old, son,” the Lieutenant murmured, ducking out of the infirmary after the boy.

Alone in the infirmary now with Annie, Benny inhaled and turned to her.

“You like those two?”

She shrugged.

Looking at the child in his care, Benny wanted to say something to her, to emote. But emotions were never his thing, once he opened that pandora's box they wouldn't stop. So he reached out and ruffled her hair, the two puffs on top, at least.

He liked the kid, he really did. Hell, he could almost admit to himself that he loved her and if it wasn't for circumstances and his fucking weak need to be helpful, he wouldn't be leaving her at the convent.

There were mornings, before they ran into the marine, that he would wake up from light, cautious sleep, to find her sitting up and watching him.

She never said much, and he always wondered what was going on in her undeveloped little noodle, she didn't even really speak much even when Laila was with them. Horrors, he assumed, something that kept Laila on edge and wary of their surroundings, haunted the two of them and when Benny found the mother and child, or rather when they had found him, they were almost feral.

He assumed it was something to do with the wedding ring on Laila's finger, of the way it took Annie months to finally take his hand without him telling her to.

She kept close to him now, she had lost her father – as far as Benny knew, and now her mother and the child was wafting on the breeze, drifting around with no moorings. Nothing to tether her to safety and comfort, but for him.

And Benny hated that it had to be him that poor girl relied on. He wasn't reliable, not to people who loved him – at least. He had cut his moorings a long time ago, or...maybe they had rotted with Valerie. Moldering in the grave with his beautiful wife, her cold hands clutching the last strands of the rope that had kept him from drifting.

He didn't mind being tethered by Valerie, he liked it even. Whenever he'd go off and come home, he had a home to come to. She would be there, bright and smiling, her flower garden always in bloom, it seemed, even in the cold Rhode Island winters, when the wind came across the Atlantic frigid and cruel.

She had died in the winter, or the early spring, rather. March. The witches tit of a month, the cold, brown spring.

Valerie wanted to be buried, not cremated, so they had to wait another month before she could be buried.

Benny was gone long before that. He had left the night she died, just walked away.

He liked the poetic idea of their beautiful home and everything in it rotting with his wife, like the idea of her garden drying up and withering. No one deserved her things, or her garden or even dare come near anywhere she had walked.

If he could, he would have built a stone wall, higher than the one that kept them safe at the convent, wider than it needed to be, all around Rhode Island. He would have kept everyone from that state. It would become a shrine to Valerie. His angel. Patient and sweet and everything he didn't fucking deserve.

So with no option to do any of that, he burned Rhode Island from his mind, it didn't exist in his world. It was a crater, with his wife dead in the center.

Everything he owned, everything that remained clinging to him when he walked away, was thrown into the ocean to fucking disappear. Except for his wedding band, wrapped like a napkin ring around a rolled-up photo of her, that he kept in his sock, secured by the knife strap he wore.

When he began to feel too alive, he would torment himself, like a form of self-harm, only instead of cutting his body, he wounded his soul. He would unroll that photo and wear that ring and he would feel every moment of sorrow all over again.

Was that healthy? Was grieving like that right? No. He knew it was sick.

But life was fucking sick, because she was good and he was not, and she died, starving to death because the cancer that had started in her uterus had swept viciously through her body, into her stomach and everything she ate, would be thrown up, black and diseased. And she withered fast, like a rose when the frost touches it.

But she didn't wither fast enough not to suffer.

And even now, with the fucking infected, or the dead, whoever you asked, when they ravaged and tore people apart, he somehow lived. At first, he wanted to live, it was human nature to fight to survive.

Valerie wanted to live too, and she died. So he would live for her if only to eat all the pain he couldn't eat of hers.

And then he had Annie and Laila, and while they were never anything more than people surviving together, Benny had formed an attachment, the first kind of real attachment to the two of them. He had begun to re-weave that tether that had rotted away from Valerie and then one morning, Laila was just gone.

She had left a note, she always did when she went out on her own to scavenge.

But she never came back.

And Benny felt another tether begin to rot.

He was a man struggling to hold on to a handful of sand in a wind storm.

So he held Annie's tether tight because he knew she held his just as tight.

Yes. He did love the child.

He wished the world was better for her, but he thanked the chaos and the randomness of numbers that he had her, and if these men had Laila, if she fell prey to them, he would get her back if she was alive and he would hand over the tether that Annie held that connected to him, back to her mother.

But he was still stunted and fucked up emotionally, so all of this, loving the kid and wanting everything for her, came out in a hand rubbing the top of her head. Because Benny's parents didn't hug and Benny didn't know what to do with a child, he and Valerie had never had one and they never talked about having one. And then she died and he had never been around children except when he was one.

So he tousled her hair and thought to himself that maybe someday he'd be able to express himself to someone else.

Maybe someday Rhode Island would exist on his maps again. Maybe Valerie would finally rest in peace because he could move on and grow and learn to be a human being.

Or maybe he would die trying to get Laila back to her mother and that girl back to her brother and maybe there would be no lesson for him to learn, no more room for him to grow.

Maybe Georgia would become to Annie what Rhode Island was to Benny. Not because of him, he didn't assume the child held any love for him, she was only clinging to him because she was lost, no perhaps she would bury Georgia behind a wall, because of her mother, because of her father, because of the dead and because every day she woke up, she had to see a corpse.

No child should ever have to live in a real nightmare.

Or.

Or maybe someday, Annie would stitch Georgia back together, maybe there could be hope for her future. The dead were thinning out and maybe her mother would return and maybe she'd find happiness, though he knew she would still have nightmares about the dead, he had nightmares about the dead, about Laila and Valerie and Annie, all roaming across the wastelands of his dreams, their eyes cloudy, milky with rot, because the cornea's had no blood flow, their fingertips turning black, their skin waxy and bloated.

Since it had begun, Benny had seen too many children among the dead, small forms, corpses that hungered, but never seemed to eat, only tear and shred and maim.

The thing was, the dead or the infected didn't make very loud sounds. They shuffled and they slogged, their feet dragging, but they didn't moan like the movie zombies, they would give off mewl-like moans. Something almost like the air just rising up from their bloated bellies. It was soft enough to miss if you weren't listening for it. And it wasn't often like they were sleeping and then would moan or when they mimicked and exhale of air. They were near silent forms moving like manifest destiny towards eternity.

Beside him, Annie was very much alive and he would make sure she stayed that way. Benny was nothing if resourceful and he could use those resources to the best of his ability.

If brute strength and survival were what the Lieutenant did best, Benny's abilities were subversive action and artful manipulation.

#novel #support an author #Graveyard Dirt & Salt #zombies #sorry it took me a while to post my friends and supporters i had some mental health set backs due to being laid off and jobless #but im back!

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themaskedwriter · 5 years

Text

The Screen

Bucky Barnes x Female Reader

Summary: Your whole life is movies, down to the job that you have and where you live. When a mysterious stranger comes into the movie theatre that you own, will your life become a romance? Or something else?

Word Count: 4055

Warnings: Some fluff. Some angst. Pop culture references. Made up movies to suit the plot.

Clues:

1) I have as many letters as numbers in my URL

2) I have three Queens, but only one of them is real

3) I do love a crossover

The movie theatre was a juxtaposition for the senses. In the lobby; scents of popcorn, salt, butter, the overwhelming smell of hot cheese for the nachos and a sweeter smell of mustard and ketchup for hot dogs, and all of this overlaid by sugar from the candy and chocolate available for the kids. Sounds too were rife, children yelling excitedly about the movies they were about to see, parents yelling even louder for them to hush, couples and friends giggling and debating about possible plot lines…

Once inside the screen, however, calm would reign. The movie playing could be noisy, perhaps an action film which deployed explosions and gunshots as often as a comedy would deploy laugh out loud gags. Or perhaps it was a romance, or a thriller, or a horror designed to make you whimper and scream in your seat. It didn’t matter however. The people within the screen who watched the stories unfold would always be silent. Mesmerised by lives that weren’t theirs, dizzying highs and heart-breaking lows. Set underwater, in space, in far off nations that these people would never get the chance to visit.

The screen was a whole other dimension for the senses. A sea of calm amongst the craziness of today’s life. It didn’t matter what type of life you lead, who you were before you entered that screen and watched those stories unfold for the price of $20 including your snacks…

The screen was a safe space for all.

••��•••••••••

The first time you saw him, he barely registered to you. The Screen, the name of your movie theatre, was packed. The newest Disney film was out and families had flocked from all over Brooklyn to pay to see it. Kids excitedly trying to cajole their parents into gifting them with just one more candy bar, or pleeeaaase can they have the animated animal themed soda glass? All of this made you smile, your heart light. This was what having a movie theatre was all about.

Making people happy.

Families were everywhere, which was why he stood out to you. Tall, dark shoulder length chestnut hair mostly hidden under a black baseball cap and, most tellingly, he was alone.

You took a second look, mainly out of idle curiosity, he wouldn’t be the first person to come to the movies by himself, but your eyes came up empty. With barely a pause for breath, you mentally shrug and continue to serve the popcorn.

He must’ve changed his mind.

••••••••••••

The second time, the man stayed and bought a ticket, but he went to Faith, your employees register. He didn’t go to see the film about the action hero that everyone was raving about, instead he went into the quieter screen with almost no people, showing the lesser known period movie about a WW2 sweeping romance. Again, you forgot him within minutes, the only thing that played on your mind was that for someone as tall as he was, he seemed to shrink into the background spectacularly well.

Two hours later and the five people, including the man in the black cap, came out. Black Cap was the only one alone, and he looked far more affected by the plot than the others.

“Did you enjoy the movie?”

You had no idea where the question came from, your usual practice was to smile benignly at the customers as they left and give them a generic thank you to top it off.

There was something in his eyes though… they were red rimmed… the man must’ve really been affected by the plot. Those swollen and- blue, such a pretty blue - shadowed eyes swung to yours…

Time stopped for a moment.

You had never felt such a jolt at just a look before. A string connected you, you felt like one of those romantic comedy heroines that you pretended to hate but secretly loved so much. The handsome stranger stared at you, right into your soul, and-

“I hated this movie. Completely inaccurate.”

The spell broke.

Your lips twist in disdain, “I’m so sorry you feel that way, sir. My understanding is that it is hard to accurately portray the horrors of war on screen in a way that really shows what it was like. And what’s wrong with a little love during such a terrible time?”

Black Cap rolled his eyes, scoffed, and walked out of your theatre without a backwards glance.

“Ummm… do you usually go out of your way to be an ass to potential repeat customers, boss?”

The tentative sound of Faith’s voice brought your attention to him, and you shake your head, “Is that any way to talk to your boss?”

Faith just shrugged, completely unbothered. To be honest, it was one of the reasons you liked the young woman so much. You grin at her and sigh, your shoulders slumping in sudden exhaustion when you see the time, “Oh god, I was a bit of an ass, wasn’t I? I just-”

“Yeah yeah, ‘movies are escapism, not real life,’ I get it, boss,” Faith mocked your saying and continued to clean out the popcorn machine, “The man was hot though, sure would’ve liked to see him again…”

Faith was right, of course. Black Cap had been a stone cold ten, you were just realising to yourself, but that wasn’t why you were hoping he might return, and not because of the potential repeat business either. Someone as sad as this man deserved to see movies that made him happy. To escape from whatever put those shadows under his eyes.

Your thoughts continue to drift to him, and you and Faith close up and head home.

••••••••••••

It was another two weeks before you saw him again, this time he had come in to see a film critics were destroying, but fans all over were absolutely adoring. This one was about a lone ex soldier taking down a government conspiracy. Filled with explosions, violence and one very gratuitous sex scene.

You, personally, had loved every ridiculous second.

Black Cap came up to your stand, keeping his eyes down, “Can I get a ticket for Saviour, please?”

“Sure, would you like any snacks with that? A drink? My opinion on the movie shoved down your throat, perhaps?”

Black Cap - you really needed to find a better nickname - finally looked up at you in shock, confusion creased the space in between his eyes for a moment, and then he smiled. It changed his whole face into something beyond handsome and dark and into… you didn’t have the words for it, but your heartbeat fluttered almost painfully against your rib cage as you saw it.

“Word on the street is that a movie like this shouldn’t be taken seriously,” Black Cap remarked casually, and pointed behind you at the popcorn, “Can I get some buttered, please?”

He was one of the last people to head to the screen, so you took your time getting his treat, “Something like this plot is so outrageous, all you should do is watch for the fun of it. Just leave your brain at the door and enjoy, you know?”

You turn, smile stretched across your face and hands filled with the gigantic bucket of popcorn, to see an unreadable look on the man’s face. He didn’t look angry, not like the last time, but he did look…

“What if it’s not outrageous? What if shit like this actually happened? How would you feel then?”

Black Cap took the popcorn, staring intently at you, as if the answer you would give was important to him. You felt it again, that string, pulling tighter. Your answer came unbidden, straight from the heart.

“They had to get this plot from somewhere, right? I would just like to think that, if something like this did happen in real life, that everyone involved got a sappy and happy ending like they do in this film,” A gasp escapes you and you cover your mouth, “Oops! Spoiler alert!”

Black Cap blinks, and that devastating smile returns to his face, “That’s okay. I like knowing that they got a happy ending.”

This time, when he came out, he stopped and talked about the movie with you. Faith kept giving you guys looks and smirks as you talked.

••••••••••••

Months went on, Black Cap, who you eventually learned was actually named James, would come to your screen maybe twice a month. He would always come in to the last show of the evening and he would always be alone, a fact that you tried to stop yourself feeling relieved about, but the feeling came unbidden, regardless.

What started out as a few words before and after each movie, turned into longer discussions post movie and James helping you to lock up. Soon, James was coming in just to speak to you, to keep you company, and you were able to let Faith leave earlier on those nights, much to the brunettes delight.

Eventually, James offered to walk you home, citing the need to keep an eye on you after dark, and you chuckled, feeling heat spread across your cheeks at his concern, “I actually live in the apartment upstairs, so there’s no need to worry about me walking the streets all on my lonesome, James.”

“Oh,” James had removed his cap, was spinning it idly in his hands and suddenly looking awkward, “right. That’s good. Uh… okay, well, it’s late. I better go.”

“Do you want to come up? I always need a while to unwind after work, I usually put on a movie, you could join, if you want?”

The air became charged again, but you felt more awkward than anything else, what exactly had you been thinking?! You barely knew the man! Of course he was going to say no-

“Really?” James interrupted your inner scolding, “What, uhhh… what movie were you thinking? I don’t wanna impose.”

“I’m feeling actiony tonight, maybe The Terminator?”

“Haven’t seen that, sounds good to me,”

You’re too busy spinning away and turning off lights in mortification at using the term “actiony” to notice how James went pale at the mention of “Terminator”.

You were surprised at how easy it was to have him in your little one bed apartment, and you were more than relieved that you had cleaned up earlier in the day.

“This is really nice.”

“Thanks, I love it.”

You start heading to the back and your bedroom, indicating the kitchen where James could make a drink, “This place was my Grandfathers, he built The Screen up from scratch back in the forties, it’s one of the only original movie theatres left from that time in Brooklyn.”

You’re busy pulling off your work uniform, and grabbing up your sweatpants and comfy t-shirt to fully hear James’s reply, but it sounded oddly like “I remember.”

“Huh? Remember what?”

The apartment being so small, it took you scant seconds to get back to James, finding him staring at your table of photographs, holding one up of you and your grandfather outside The Screen when you were maybe fifteen. Before his dementia had taken his memories of you, but not before he had passed his love of this place to you, or gifted the whole place to you in his will.

James’s smile was oddly wistful as he put the photo down, “I Uh… remember reading about this place. At school, I think. History class?”

“Oh.”

“This place reminds me of somewhere I used to go, way back when I was a kid, with my best friend. The guy who ran it, younger than you would think, he caught us sneaking in one time,” James chuckled fondly, but his eyes, those pretty, pretty eyes, they shone bright with tears, “made us learn how to change the reels and clean and tidy them. We worked a whole summer there, and he gave us free tickets after that.”

“Maybe he knew Pops,” You remark, softly, “Sounds like a story he told me ages ago about helping two kids out one summer.”

You’re fussing with the remotes, setting up the movie, and don’t see how James, once again, goes pale.

“I can’t believe you’ve never seen this movie, James!” You flop back onto the couch, patting the spare seat for him to sit, “It’s probably one of my favourite movies eveeeeer!”

James smirks and rolls his eyes at you, placing himself in the seat carefully after he removes his jacket, “Uhhh, excuse me, but not all of us grew up with movies on demand, ya know? Some of us were… busy.”

“Who the hell is too busy to watch classics every once in a while?”

The movie enraptured you, as ever you’re fascinated by the time travel, how Sarah Connor is swept up into a whole new life due to a choice she hadn’t even made yet. The way she starts out as an every-woman style character and eventually becomes such a badass called to you. And then, of course, there was Kyle Reese. The crush you had always harboured for him burned… especially when you realised that James looked just a little bit like him…

Tension fills the air again, your concentration on the movie starts to waver. You’re so close to James, and you just hadn’t appreciated before, how big he was. Your upper arms were almost touching, and the long sleeved top he wore did very little to hide the definition of the large bicep muscles he had.

“This movie is insane.”

You jump slightly, the scene where Kyle had confessed his love had just happened, igniting more than the usual amount of tension for you. James was so close, and he was clearly as tense as you… Those pretty blue eyes stayed on the screen and didn’t turn to you, however, so you answer, trying to break the tension you were feeling, “Well, yeah, it’s about a time travelling cyborg sent to kill a woman before she can give birth to the man who will stop a war between artificial intelligence and humans in the future. And,” You add as an afterthought, “the poor woman isn’t even pregnant… well, yet.”

You’re trying to joke, the antics on the screen showed that the moment of conception was very, very imminent.

“That’s not what I mean.” James’s jaw clenches, his eyes trained on the screen, “How can a woman like Sarah ever feel comfortable with Reese? His world… she’s always in so much danger, and it’s because of him.”

“You can’t help who you fall in love with, James.”

You tilt your head along the back of the couch and, after a moment, James turns to look at you too, blue eyes burning with something you can’t name.

“If Reese had just left her alone, the Terminator wouldn’t have needed to try and kill her. He should’ve stayed away.”

“She went into everything with her eyes wide open, James. And she loved him, she wanted to help him, too.”

That connection came again, the string pulling at your heart, and this time you could see that James felt it too. His teeth caught his bottom lip, the plump pink flesh turned white under the pressure… you couldn’t take your eyes off him if you tried…

“I have secrets, Y/N… I shouldn’t be here. I should go.”

He didn’t leave, though, or make any movement to indicate that he would.

“We all have secrets, James,” your left hand inched forward, towards his right hand in the gloves he still wore and he never took off, “but you don’t have to carry them alone.”

“I’m not a good guy. I’ll only hurt you.”

This was it, you could tell that he was serious, and he was trying to give you an out. But you thought of everything you knew about him. How he tried to melt into the shadows at The Screen, but how he smiled gently at the children that had dropped their candy on the floor at his feet that one time, and how he had paid for them to get more.

You thought about how he had raved about the Pixar film he had watched, all the emotions he had felt while watching it, and how he blushed when he said he “wished Stevie had been there with him.”

And you thought about his gloves, and his hats. That he had been some kind of soldier who was dealing with a lot and used your Screen as a way to escape the violence of his past was clear to you. He hid because he was scarred, probably physically as well as figuratively. None of this was your business, though. He would tell you when, and if, he was ready. Until then…

You take his hand. James stiffens at the contact… but doesn’t pull away.

“James… you could never hurt me the way that the ending of this film does.”

This time, your joke lands, and his nose scrunches up at you in a chuckle. It was a bad joke, but that was the point, to make his serious look go away. The string pulled tight again as you both laugh, and the distance between you both closes.

The press of your lips to his is everything you had hoped, and your eyelids flutter closed at the deep groan that rumbles up from James’s chest. As far as first kisses go… you knew none would ever top this one.

••••••••••••

Days later, and you’re in the middle of the late afternoon rush, but never has the sound of people demanding their escapism sounded so sweet as it did in that moment.

James is hanging around, shooting sweet glances at you, waiting for the moment where you would take your break and go outside with him. Most days since your kiss, he would come and meet you, kissing you sweetly and bringing you a flower, or a box of chocolates, old school gestures of courtship that made your heart flutter and your lips never stop pulling up into a smile.

You already knew you loved him. That he wanted to take his time with you and what you both had, only made you love him more. What that man had been through, what you assumed he had been through… who were you to ever push someone like that for more? You would wait as long as he needed to share his body, his soul and his secrets.

Your watch tells you that you have five more minutes, and you gesture to Faith who fondly rolls her eyes whilst taking the ticket and snack order of the man and his girlfriend in front of her. You don’t notice how the man keeps on looking over at James, or how he is suddenly very interested in bringing up CNN on his cell phone.

You only notice that he drags his girlfriend away and out of the door, not paying for the tickets that Faith holds in her hand, her brown eyes wide in frustration, “Rude goddamn jackass! What a waste of popcorn and soda!”

“Oh,” A frown creases the space in between your eyes and you shrug, “just take it for yourself, Faith. He probably had some bad news.”

James came to the counter, looking over his shoulder at the door the couple had vacated, “What the hell was his problem?”

“Asshole muttered something about an escaped convict and fuckin’ ran outta here like a bat out of hell,” another low growl, then, “this isn’t a goddamn movie. Escaped convicts aren’t a real thing!”

The way the man had behaved didn’t bother you anymore, all you could think about was spending time with the amazing man on your left, and you grab his hand, starting to walk to the staff exit, “People are weird, you know that, hon. Okay, I’ll be back in twenty, you okay here?”

“Yeah, yeah.”

“Wait.”

You look up at James, who was now rubbing his eyes frantically, “Ummmm… rain check, doll? I… I don’t feel so good all of a sudden, probably ate something bad at work.”

Concern fills you, it was possible, James works at a small takeout restaurant in the kitchen, he often eats there to save money and, well, it wasn’t the cleanest of places. You often wondered why he would want to work somewhere with such a shady reputation.

Maybe it was just because it was quiet and he didn’t have to talk to people.

“Sure!” You say quickly, “If you don’t feel well!”

James can’t meet your eyes… he really did look pale…

“I, uh…” he seems to wrestle with himself, his eyes going from the exit to his shoes and to a point over your right shoulder, “I’m so sorry, Y/N… I w-wish I could’ve been different… ummm, I mean, I wish I wasn’t sick.”

“You can’t help getting a bug,” you narrow your eyes, “James, what’s wrong? Are you-?”

“I have to go.”

He pulls you into his arms, suddenly, the kiss he lays on you is sudden, deep, filled with emotions you’re too shocked to unravel, so you just kiss him back, holding onto his biceps with a desperate grip.

You knew he had a prosthetic arm, he told you a while back… a spark of something went off in your brain, a knowledge…

“I’m so sorry, darlin’… I love you.”

His lips left yours, his arms unwound themselves from around your shoulders and waist, and your fingers slip from the warm strength of his body. Without a backwards glance, James left you in the foyer of The Screen.

“He’s sick. He’ll be back.”

Faith doesn’t respond. But there was no need. Barely fifteen minutes later and your Screen is filled with SWAT and agents from branches of the government you had never heard of.

James was James Buchanan Barnes, aka; The Winter Soldier. He was responsible for god only knows how many murders and assassinations.

And you had fallen in love with him.

••••••••••••

So many questions. So many accusations. James Buchanan Barnes has been in your Screen, in your home, so many times over the last few months, and you had no idea about who he was?

It didn’t matter to them that you had only seen the good sides of him, that the Winter Soldier side wasn’t his true face. They dragged you into some dark room and held you for questioning for what felt like days.

You couldn’t give him up. You didn’t know anything and, in your heart of hearts, you knew that even if you did, you wouldn’t tell them anything.

There wasn’t any point, anyway. James was gone forever…

You get home, they release you and make you sign forms threatening prison or worse if you say anything about who was frequenting your establishment. Exhaustion pulls at every single muscle, screaming at you to fall into the blissful oblivion of sleep.

Your head hits the pillow… and you hear the crackle of paper. Frantically, you pull the hidden letter out from the pillowcase and hold it up to read;

Y/N,

I’m never going to be able to apologise enough. I just wanted to go somewhere that I remembered, that held only good memories for me. I knew your Pops, way back when.

I wish I could say that I hate myself for sticking around, for talking to you and learning about this amazing woman who kept Pop’s dream alive and knows more about movies than she does about math.

But I don’t.

I’m a selfish prick, but I wouldn’t change a goddamn thing about meeting you and getting to hold something so good in my arms for the first time in a very long time.

I want you to know, your Screen, your love, it gave me hope for the first time since before the war. I’m keeping it with me wherever I go.

I do love you, Y/N. It’s just funny how I now hate that I turned out to be Kyle and not the Terminator.

I won’t be back. I won’t do that to you.

Thank you for everything, Y/N.

Yours, always,

Bucky.

Tears fall, ink runs, and your heart breaks.

Turns out your life could be like a movie after all, it just wasn’t the type you

#fic

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bucky-on-a-bike · 5 years

Text

Unexpecting (3/?)

Super soldiers don’t get stomach bugs. No one believes you when you tell them you’ll be fine in a few more days, so your loving husband Bucky makes you go to the doctor. Turns out, you’ve got a parasite.

Words: 1485

Warnings: Language. The beginning of Angst.

Part 2 . . . Part 4

When you woke up in the morning, Bucky was walking around the room getting dressed. He looked so handsome in the morning light. You sat up in bed and pulled your knees to your chest, admiring your husband as he got ready for work.

“I love you, ya know,” you mumbled. A sleepy smile spread over your face as you thought about the baby growing inside you. “Hey Buck?”

He glanced up briefly from tying his shoes. “Yeah babe?”

“What would you think about us having a baby? Don’t you think it would be wonderful to have a little one around to love and play with?” Your eyes focused a little better and you could see Bucky frozen in place, shoelaces half way tied.

He let out the breath he had been holding and finished his shoes. “I think that’s a hypothetical situation that we don’t need to worry about. We’ve got enough on our plates right now between work and you being sick. What time do you go to meet up with Banner today? I’m looking forward to knowing what’s going on with my beautiful wife.” He walked over to the bed and sat down beside you, a small half-smile on his face.

You blinked at him and cleared your throat. “Well, uh, I guess whenever I get up and get there, that’s what time my appointment will be. Are you going to be back here for dinner tonight?”

He patted your leg and pushed up off the bed. “Yeah, I should be back around 5. Do you think you would enjoy going out to eat somewhere? We haven’t gone on a date night in a long while.” He kissed you deeply before walking to his dresser to get the rest of his gear for the day.

“I would love a date night. Just, I don’t want anything that smells fishy or overly pungent. Maybe… a good old-fashioned hamburger sounds good. And some fries. Waffle-cut fries with salt sounds so good…Oh! Or maybe sweet potato fries! Or both?” You looked up at Bucky to see him cocking an eyebrow at you. “I mean, or anything really. I would be good with whatever you have in mind. I don’t really have a strong opinion one way or another.”

He laughed at you. “Whatever your heart desires, doll, is what you’ll get for dinner. I’ll get you all the different kinds of fries you want to eat if it makes you feel better and happy. I love you, I’ll see you at 5.”

You giggled and blew him a kiss. “I love you, and I’ll see you tonight, stud. Tell Steve I said hello.”

The door closed behind Bucky and you heaved a sigh, the smile dropping off your face in record time. I don’t think he wants a baby at all. I don’t know how this is going to work, but it has to.

You got up, brushed your hair, and put on some sweat pants and a loose tank top. You texted Nat that you were headed to see Bruce and she immediately replied that she would meet you there. You smiled and off you went to discover your future.

. . . . .

You walked into Bruce’s office and he and Nat walked over to wrap you in a group hug.

“First of all,” Nat said, “I’d just like to congratulate you on the baby and I want you to know that when you tell the others, they’ll be just as excited as we are for you. I am so proud of you and I really am so happy to walk with you through all of these changes. I know Bucky isn’t here for the first ultrasound, but I’ll hold your hand and we can tell him all about it after tonight.” She stopped talking and wiped a tear from her cheek. Grinning at you, she took your hand and led you over to the chair.

Bruce tilted it back so you were basically lying down and lifted your shirt above your belly. He asked you, blushing, to pull your sweats down a little so he could access all he needed to for the ultrasound.

“Now, this gel is going to be cold, and I might have a bit of a hard time finding the baby because it’s been a little while since I’ve done this procedure. Don’t worry though, ‘cause I remember all of the information. I do. I’m just a little rusty maybe.” He laughed nervously and grabbed the gel. “Remember, cold.”

You sucked in a deep breath when the ice cold blue gel hit your stomach. All of a sudden, this situation was even more real than it had been moments before.

“Oh…Nat…I’m pregnant…holy shit…” you mumbled as Bruce began probing your tummy with the wand. You reached over and grabbed her hand, clinging on for dear life.

“It doesn’t hurt, does it?” asked Nat.

“No, why?” you whispered back

“Then why are you grabbing me so hard?” Nat bit back a laugh. “Its fine, you hold on as hard as you need to. Bruce will tell you when to push.”

“Nat! Shut up, not funny! I’m nervous!”

“Ladies, please. I just found the baby.” Bruce turned the monitor around and the world froze. There, in black and white, was your baby. Absolutely breathtakingly beautiful. “It’s about the size of a blueberry right now. You’re only about seven weeks along, so the best due date I can give you is…January thirteenth. Do you want a picture of this?”

You slowly nodded to him. “Seven weeks…it’s a blueberry…having it in Januberry…Nat?”

She giggled at you. “Yeah?”

“I’m gonna throw up.” And you did. Right into the bucket she thrust in front of your face. You puked and puked until even Bruce was amazed there was anything left to come up.

“That shouldn’t be possible…” he muttered as he busied himself in the opposite corner of the room.

Once you regained your composure, you cleaned up and walked over to the printer. Laying right there was a perfect shot of your little baby. Nat hugged you gently from behind as she looked over your shoulder. “You should be so happy and proud, Y/n. You got the little miracle you’ve been dreaming of.”

“I know.” You rested your hand over you belly where you imagined your baby would be. “Nat, Bucky and I are going on a date tonight. I think I’m gonna tell him then. Will you help me get dressed after I take a nap?”

“Oh my gosh, of course! I’ll be there around…3:30? I’ll wake you up, too, hun. Don’t even worry about a thing, I’ll do your hair and makeup and we can find a stunning dress for you to wear.” She let go of you and walked over to Bruce. She gave him a hug and took your hand. The two of you thanked him as you left, all three of you beaming. Babies really did bring joy.

. . . . .

Several hours later, you sat in the recliner chair in your living room and waited for Bucky. The card you had written him with the picture inside was stashed in your purse, and you could sense it weighing on you. Just as you were closing your eyes to rest, Bucky came in the door.

“Hello, doll!” he exclaimed.

He startled you so badly you jumped and dropped your purse, everything spilling out on the floor around you. “Oh, crap!” you said as you started scurrying to pick up all your things. Your eyes were scanning wildly for the card, hoping to get to it before your husband did. You couldn’t find it, though.

Bucky was on the floor with you in seconds, helping gather pens and lipstick and other things. But all his motion stopped when he picked up the card from under the coffee table.

“Y/n? Why did you get a card for me? It’s just a date.” He laughed and started to pull the envelope open, but paused a moment to look into your wide eyes. “Uh, is it ok if I open it? I can wait until later if you would rather?”

“Um, well, no. No, you’re more than welcome to go ahead and open it.” You clasped your hands in front of you to keep them from shaking too noticeably. “Just be careful ‘cause it’s really important.”

He looked at you questioningly and slowly finished opening the powder blue envelope. He pulled out the card and smirked. “Father’s Day is a couple weeks away. And I ain’t a dad. Why did you get me this card?” When he finished reading the front and opened the card, the smirk melted away. “Y/n, what the fuck is this? Is this some kind of sick joke?” He glared up at you and your heart sank to the floor.

Please, not like this…I have to be stuck in a nightmare.

TAGS: @buckysberrie, @100acresofwood, @whatsbetterthanfantasy, @dracodormiensnunquamtitillandush @bellenuit45, @ificouldhelpyouforget, @38leticia, @thisisthelilith, @englishwriter15

#bucky #bucky barnes #bucky x reader #bucky barnes x reader #bucky fic #bucky barnes fic

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