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getitoutofmymindwrites · 6 months

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The crushing | joel miller x f!reader, 5.2k

Summary: This is the story of a man who had everything in the palm of his hand and traded it all for an empty space in the hollow of his heart. Or This story follows Joel, two to three years after he cheated on his wife.

Warnings: 18+ MDNI, ANGST, cheater!Joel, Joel's POV, this is NOT “The Falling” from Joel's POV, brief mention of smut (p i v) but nothing too graphic (I think), self-loathing, depression, therapy, flashbacks and memories from the past, alcohol consumption, Tommy being a supportive brother (eventually), as always let me know if I missed anything!

A/N: Ok, so, Joel gave me a whiplash on this one, he was either staring at me through the screen giving me nothing, or he was mumbling unintelligibly in my ear while I was trying to keep up with him. It started out as a final chapter, but I really think that this part should be Joel's POV and the next and -probably- final one should be the resolving, however that may come. I guess it can be read as a standalone, but if you're interested, it's a sequel to “The Falling”. I edited it seven thousand times because I kept adding things along the way, so I hope it all makes some sense and there are not too many mistakes.. Thank you for taking the time to read anything I write! Love you all! 🥰😘

P.S.: I just wanted to take a moment and let you know that I really appreciate everyone who has read, liked, commented, reblogged and asked about “The Falling”. I honestly didn't think a single soul would take the time to read that kind of story. It means more than you know and I didn’t take lightly how close to home this fic hit for some people; yet you’ve given it a chance, sharing some of your own experiences with me. I love you all, take care and I'll see you -hopefully- in the comments! 🥹🫂

Dividers by @cafekitsune & @saradika-graphics

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...need your reassurance...

...your only focus…

...for the foreseeable future...

He did make it his sole focus. Because of course, he closed the deal, even after he left that damn table like a madman. He still found a way to get what he wanted. That's the man he was. And he wasn't sure if he hated himself for it or not. But self-loathing was a daily occurrence now, so one more reason added to the list was nothing he couldn't handle.

For two years he would wake up every day, is it called waking up if he doesn’t sleep at all?, he would work his ass off, he would go home, he would sink into despair and then he would start all over again the next day. A vicious cycle consisting of 730 days in a row. The deafening silence within the walls of the house was excruciating, the loneliness was unbearable. Even the light penetrating through the windows seemed different than when you were there with him, a dullness surrounding every corner of the now barely lived in space.

You. He hadn’t seen your face in 730 days. He hadn’t smelled your scent or touched your soft skin. He barely listened to your voice anymore, any form of unavoidable communication, you preferred to be conducted by the lawyers, or via text messages, at the most. At the 731st one, he finally knew, something had to change. He couldn’t repeat another day, like all the others that came and went. He simply couldn’t.

Tommy suggested that therapy might help Joel, a few times, but he refused every one of them. Maria was keeping her distance, her place was delicate, being his brother’s wife but also his wife’s best friend. Surprisingly, she was the one who finally got through to him.

“Are you gonna stay a recluse for the rest of your miserable life, then?” Maria wonders, switching her gaze between Joel and the dining room. Everything was untouched, as you left them when you moved out, but the place felt empty, depressing, probably mirroring Joel’s existence.

Joel sighs, closing his eyes briefly. “I’m not a recluse..”, he snarls through his teeth, rolling his eyes at her. He was more than eager to be done with the dinner his sister-in-law insisted on having in his house and be left alone, in his natural state. Alone. Infuriating woman.

“What do you call that?”, Maria persists, goddamn lawyer to the bone.

“What?!” Joel spits back pissed off, looking at his brother next, for support.

“That!” she gestures around his body and his surroundings. “The way you go on for the past two years! Either get over it or do something about it!”, she doesn’t hold back, even when Tommy proposes a gentler approach. Yeah, look where it got you, is the paid answer, so Tommy steps back, shaking his head and raising his hands up in surrender.

“You’ve got him on a leash, hm?”, Joel jokes absentmindedly, “Can you breathe alright, Tommy boy?”, earning himself a hard glare from Maria.

“Maybe the wrong Miller is on a leash..” Maria mutters, causing Tommy’s eyes to widen in horror.

“What’s that supposed to mean?”, Joel retorts doing a double back at her.

“Means that freedom is for those who can bear it.”, Maria throws her napkin on her plate and leaves the room. Joel remains silent, pondering the meaning of her words. It would be a long time before he understood what she meant.

Therapy was hard.

Therapy was hard because he had to do it for himself. He had to concentrate on himself. He thought, being the contractor that he was, that he would walk into the room, get the answers he needed and fix his marriage, just as he rearranged the bricks and the wood and the steel on the construction sites.

But this wasn’t about his marriage. His marriage and the way it crumbled down was the aftermath, he came to learn. It was the outcome of insecurities, selfishness, lack of communication, ungratefulness.

He got it all wrong. Everything. Every little thing. He had to rewire his brain and change every point of view he was holding onto. Honesty. Honesty was the key.

“Why didn’t you reach out to your wife after that night?”, his therapist insists.

“I respected her boundaries.”, Joel was quick to respond.

“And what were those?”

“She didn’t want to see me.”

“Did she say that?”

“No-, I mean-, the way she left that night, she didn’t say much in general. But she blocked my number, so.”, he shrugs in defence.

“So, how can you be so sure that she didn't want to see you? Even if you're right, it doesn't mean that she didn't expect a reaction from you, or that you weren't allowed to try, if that’s what you wanted.”

“Why would she? I upset her, she needed time to think, work things out.”, Joel explains.

The therapist swipes her fingers over her lips, contemplating her approach. “Joel, you walk into your bedroom, into what is supposed to be a safe place and you see your partner with another person in an intimate moment. How does that make you feel? Just say the first words that come to mind.”, his therapist changes the point of view.

Joel shudders just at the thought of it. You, naked, flushed, lips parted and swollen, skin sweaty, breaths short and pupils blown wide, coming for anyone other than him. It would utterly destroy him. “Furious, pissed, betrayed, heartbroken.. I think I would lose it, if I’m honest.” he admits instantly, in his haste to throw the abomination of this image from his thoughts.

“I see. But in her case, you think your wife was just upset?”

“No, of course not.” Joel slightly frowns, shaking his head.

“Do you think she felt all those feelings that you just described to me?”

“I believe so, yes.”, god this is so hard.

“You believe so?” the therapist pushes, again.

Joel’s nostrils flare from the sharp inhale, “I know so.”

“So, she wasn’t just upset.” the therapist concludes and Joel agrees without meeting her eyes, “No, she wasn’t.”

Over time, Joel came to realize that his choice of words was a subconscious attempt to diminish the seriousness of his actions.

“You said in a previous session that you gave space to your wife to work things out.”

“Yeah, it was only fair.”, Joel confirms.

“So, it was hard for you to give her that space?”

“Yes, of course, I missed her every day.”

“Was that a constant in your relationship?”, the therapist wonders.

“I’m sorry, I don’t follow.”

“How did you work things out as a couple, before? I assume you had difficult times as partners, no?”

“Nothing major to be honest, my wife was a very calm and reasonable person. If anything occurred she would talk to me about it.”

“And how did you respond to that?”

“Uh, I was there to listen, we always found a solution together as a couple.”

“Hmhm, so, what changed this time?”

“What do you mean?” He knew exactly what she meant.

“Why didn’t you talk to her? Communicate with her? Maybe help her see your side of things, like you did before, find your way out of this together, as partners.” his therapist explains. “And even before the infidelity, did you let her know that something was bothering you, that you felt differently?”

"I didn't feel differently about my wife. My feelings for her never changed.", he immediately corrects her. "My love for her was never the problem," he confesses and it's the first time since his therapy began that he's shared something so personal, so private.

“But there was a problem, something was wrong if you felt the need to be intimate with another woman. So, why did you keep that from her?”

Joel opens his mouth already knowing he does not have an answer. Or that he doesn't want to give one. He shakes his head, raising his brows in a silent admission that he can’t answer that. Or he won't. His gaze is fixed on a loose thread on the fabric of the couch, his fingers keep picking on it.

“Joel?”

“I- I don’t know what you want me to say, I don’t know.” he keeps shaking his head. He can’t answer that. He won't.

He was so angry when he left the session that day. He was so angry at you. He was angry at your honesty, your clarity, your courage to have a mind of your own and to speak it freely, knowing full well that probably no one else shared the same opinions as you did. That's what he loved most about you, but now he hated it.

“Own it, Joel. Own what you have done. At least that way it will be worth something. Otherwise it was all for nothing.”

This was one of the last things you said to him on the phone, while he was trying to persuade you to change your mind about the divorce. You were always so brave about those matters. Matters of the heart, of integrity. He remembers you always talking about things that he found admirable but utopian. Easy in theory, hard in practice.

“I need to be able to sleep at night. I need to own my decisions; not because I’m always right, far from it, but at least I know I’m being honest with myself. And that matters.” he recalls one of your late-night talks.

You usually found it easier to share your most vulnerable thoughts once you were thoroughly fucked and satiated. When Joel held you in his arms, your breaths almost shared over the same pillow, your scents and your fluids mixed together.

“We’re all imperfect beings, flawed; we all feel embarrassed when we fuck up,” you continue, “it’s hard to admit our mistakes to others, I get that. But deep down we always know what we’re doing and why we’re doing it. Admitting it only helps us to be present in our lives.”

“Be present?”, Joel seems fascinated by the way your mind weaves your thoughts together into deeply rooted beliefs.

“Yes, my love, there's no greater freedom than to live your life truthfully.” you smile at him, softly. Your sleepy eyes roam his face affectionately. Your fingertips caress his jawline, your thumb pressing lightly against the bare patch of his beard. He can feel your devotion pouring from your fingers and sinking into his skin at that moment.

“That’s one of my greatest fears, you know. Living my life in ignorance, in a lie.”, you whisper your deepest insecurity against his soft lips. His hold on you tightens as he rolls you onto your back, nestling his hips between your welcoming thighs. You are safe in these arms. His arms. You surrender to him, body and soul. You can feel his growing erection pressing between your folds, already wet from your combined releases. He tenderly brushes his lips against yours and slowly licks his way into your parted mouth, as he intertwines his fingers with yours. He enters you in one fluid, slow thrust, his warm exhale cooling your wet lips. “Then let me give you something real.”

Thinking back to those moments, Joel couldn't reconcile himself to the fact that he was the one who had brought that fear of yours to life. What broke him was that it was not a lie. Your life together had not been a lie. He loved you. In fact, he was burning up for you. He was a man of control, but not with you. Never with you. You consumed his every thought; being around you for too long made his lungs constrict in pain, begging for a deep breath. Sometimes he was worried sick that if he completely let himself love you like he needed to, he would suffocate you. He loved you. And it killed him that his actions suggested otherwise.

But at some point he had to be honest with himself. He was just protecting his ego. He was trying to get the upper hand out of a shitty, compromising situation. He wasn't being thoughtful, he was being selfish. He was biding his time. He thought the longer he left ‘it’ untouched, the less it would hurt when the inevitable time of confrontation came. He was scared out of his mind that he would lose you forever. No second chances, no redemption, no reconciliation.

No lingering scent on his pillow as your hair pools there, under his chin, as you nestle your face between his neck and shoulder, breathing him in. No laughter through the enormous house, damn, why did he build it so big; you never clarified what the disbelief in your eyes meant when he said he built this house for you, while he pulls you up on your feet for a silly cowboy dance.

No more gentle touches, no more noses brushing together as a silent goodbye in the kitchen before you rush off to work. No more turning around just before you open the door to leave, running to him like a little girl, giving him quick, hungry pecks on the lips while he laughs on your mouth, squeezes your butt cheek and slaps it playfully to say goodbye. Later, baby, he would promise you, his teeth nipping at your earlobe and he could feel your skin crawling with anticipation.

No more I love yous, either breathed, either whispered, either panted, as he makes a home for himself inside your warmth.

When did he fuck you last? He used to have you every day. You craved it every day. You craved him. Why did he stop telling you he loved you every chance he got? When was the last time you said it?

A week before that fateful night, when you touched him longingly, aching for him to touch you back and he told you he had work to do, he wasn’t a teenager anymore. Why the hell did he say that? Why did he sit there and watch the light fading from your eyes? I love you, you said with a sigh against his temple and walked out of his office defeated. Why did you say that? Did you know? Did you suspect? Why didn’t you fight him? You should have said something, anything, pushed him, punched him in the chest, woken him up. Would he have woken up? Or did he need that to come to his senses? Does he have to fall? Does this falling ever stop? Does he have to let you go? Will you come back to him? Does he deserve you?

Days blurred seamlessly into one another. Joel drifted further and further away from everyone. The house haunted him, all the progress he was making within the therapy walls was dissipating once he stepped inside the cold space of his empty house. Leaving the confines of it was his first thought in the morning, while he hurriedly dressed to go to his office far earlier than necessary and his last when he closed his eyes, as he laid his weary limbs on the couch, chasing still your now long gone scent on its fabric, knowing another sleepless night was his only companion until the first rays of sunlight hit the floor-to-ceiling windows to announce the beginning of another day.

People at work tiptoed around him, not knowing how to act. It was as if he was there, but not really. He was focused solely on the Marks project, mechanically going through board meetings, paperwork and supervising the construction site. He. Just. Wasn’t. There.

Joel, will you please sign the papers?

He simply stares at the text message for a good full minute, his thumbs hovering over the screen of his phone. This was one of the rare occasions you had initiated communication with him, always about the progress of the divorce.

No, no, I won’t, the little toddler in him screams, stamping his little feet on the ground.

The papers are not ready.

Joel texts back. He keeps it simple, frightened he might not get an answer back.

Joel, we both know they are. I don’t want any of your assets or your money; this is an easy signature, please.

An easy signature? You think he cares about the houses, or the cars, or the money?

You know I can’t accept that. The house is yours and so is a good part of the money.

The point was to share this house together, Joel, don’t you think us splitting up kind of defeats the purpose? And what on earth makes you think I would ever want to go back in there?

So, there’s nothing I can do to make this easier for you?

Easier? You think money or property can make up for what you’ve done?

Of course not, I wasn’t implying anything like that. Just wanna do something for you, anything.

Can you turn back time?

Of course, he can't. So, he doesn't know what to say to that. He just keeps staring at the screen, lost in thought. After 2 minutes another text follows.

You know I can’t..

Sign the papers. Please.

“Is there anything in particular you want to talk about today, or should I take the lead?”

“Actually I’ve been thinking a lot about that night.”, Joel suggests for the first time. He usually lets the therapist decide where to steer the conversation, then simply refuses to elaborate until he feels ready to talk.

“What about it?”, he shifts his gaze from the window to the direction of her voice.

“I should probably rephrase that. I’m always thinking about that night, repeating it in my head again and again and I’m troubled by something I realized.”

His therapist nods to signal that she's listening.

“Why did she just leave? The more I think about it, the more it doesn’t make sense to me. She just left. No shouting, no breaking things, no attacking either me or-”, her. “Why she didn’t stay? Why she didn’t insist that I leave? She was just- so quiet.”

The therapist smiles in recognition of Joel's near breakthrough. They were beginning to get somewhere, his empathy nudging him under the surface.

“I'm really glad you mentioned that, Joel, so I'd like to take you back to that night and try to understand what might have been going through your wife's mind at that moment," she explains.

“So, she walks into the house, finds her safe space violated by her husband, and she chooses to handle the situation calmly and quietly-” Joel tries to stop her, but she already knows what he's going to ask. “I can't tell you why she chose that path, that's for her to answer, only she knows why.” His therapist continues, “She is making one request of you and one request only, can you tell me what it is?”

“She asked me to leave the house.”

“Hmhm.” the therapist looks at him expectantly.

“I just wanted to talk to her.”, Joel elaborates, “I thought that if I refused to leave, she would accept to listen to me.”

“So you forced your needs on her, while she was in a particularly fragile state of mind.”

“I should have made my intentions clearer, you mean?”

“I mean, that maybe you shouldn’t have had any expectations in the first place. Why do you think was so important to you, to explain yourself right at that moment?”

“Because I knew it was probably the last time I would see her for a while, I just wanted to ease her pain, why is that so wrong? Should I be indifferent? Would that be better?”

“Did it ever occur to you that you might be depriving her of her right to choose?” Come on, Joel, break some eggs.

Joel now begins to make connections. He rubs his hand over his face, the realization of what has really happened crushing him. “Oh, god, I-” He's been so selfish from the start. He hasn't shown you any respect, not even at this delicate moment. He didn't give you a choice as to whether you wanted to listen to him or not. He didn't even let you choose where you wanted to stay. He just made you leave the house. Did he make you believe he wanted you to leave? That he wanted her to stay? Because he didn’t. Fuck. “-I never thought about it like that.”

Fuck.

How could he be so blind? Why was he so blind?

His therapist insisted on it. Because no matter how much progress Joel made over the course of a year, he never revealed the true reason behind his infidelity.

“Joel, we’ve talked about a lot of things; you’ve tried really hard to make this all about your wife and about understanding what she was feeling and how your actions have affected her, but as I keep reminding you”, she smiles understandingly, “you’re the one in therapy, you need to heal your wounds before you even attempt to heal hers. And although it is in fact a really noble thought, this” she gestures between them, “can only work if you do it for yourself. I know it may sound selfish, but I promise you, it is not. It is the exact opposite.”

Fuck.

“Yeah?”, his voice hoarse from sleep as he answers the door after the insistent knock at it. Tommy looks at him surprised once he opens it, “You’re sleeping, already?”. No, he wasn’t. He wouldn’t call it that. But when he goes almost a week without any proper rest, passing out is the right word for what he’s doing. “Yeah, I guess I dosed off..” Joel lies. “What are you doing here?”

“I came to see you.” Tommy responds as he squeezes himself through the door to enter the house. “Yeah, sure, come on in.”, Joel mutters under his breath. “You just saw me at work this morning, is everything all right?”

“I just came to check on you.” Tommy confesses uncomfortably.

“You could have called.”

“Would you have answered?” Tommy deadpans.

Touché.

“Tell Maria I’m fine, Tommy, no need to worry about me; go spend the night where it counts.”, Joel replies in an attempt to push him away, as he walks farther into the house, rounding the kitchen island.

“Hey, brother, I’m here, I am here for you.” Tommy’s eyes narrow in pain and concern as he stares at his sibling's back, following behind him.

Joel exhales hard through his nose, his grip tight as he grabs the edges of the counter, his head lowering between his shoulder blades.

“You shouldn’t, nobody should.” Joel sighs, rubbing the pads of his fingers across his forehead.

“Ok, that’s enough.” Tommy snaps at him. “Enough self-loathing, enough resignation. Enough. You’ve punished yourself enough.”

Joel laughs at that. “Is that right? Is it enough for you? What about her?” he asks, his head turned to the side, looking at his brother over his shoulder.

“What?” Tommy is genuinely confused.

Joel turns his back, resting his waist on the edge of the counter, now looking straight at Tommy. “I should have what? Just get on with my life? Let it all be water under the bridge? Disrespect her even more?”

“Jesus..” Tommy mutters, pinching the bridge of his nose with one hand, the other resting on his hip, his eyes shut in frustration.

“Are you doing this for her? Does she even know that?”

“It doesn’t matter, Tommy!” Joel raises his voice, exasperated. “I’m not doing this for her, I’m not doing anything for her, apparently and that’s the problem.”, his voice breaks, the lump in his throat too big to push down. “She’s not here anymore, Tommy.” he’s standing fully on his feet now, pushing himself away from the counter, leaning slightly forward, like he’s trying to make his brother understand; his eyes are glazed, Tommy had never seen him so devastated before. “She’s gone. I’ve lost her.”, his palms clenched in fists in front of his chest, resisting the urge to wrap them around his shirt and rip it to shreds, as he wants to do with his heart.

“I thought therapy was working..” Tommy whispers, his eyes dropping to the floor beneath him.

“Oh, it’s working, all right!” Joel chuckles in irony, sniffing his nose. “I’m getting a front-row seat, witnessing what a piece of shit I am-”

“Hey!” Tommy tries to cut him off.

“-what on earth was she doing with me to begin with, is beyond me.”

“HEY!” Tommy's eyes bulge out of his sockets, angry at his brother's self-deprecating words. Joel bends his waist forward, puts his elbows on the island in front of him and lets his head sink in again.

“Ok.” Tommy breathes deeply to ground himself, his hands in a position of a prayer in front of his mouth, “Ok, we could both use a drink.” he realizes, as he moves to open the cupboard to grab two tumblers and the whiskey from the shelf with the drinks. “..or five.”

The two brothers drink their first round in silence, both calming their nerves down. Tommy refills their glasses without asking; he knows this is going to be a long night.

“I’m sorry I wasn’t there for you.” Tommy begins, pushing Joel’s drink back towards him. Joel wringles his brows in confusion, “What are you talking about? You’re always there for me.”

“No, I haven’t, not really.” Tommy admits, “I let Maria take over when all this happened and I’m sorry.”

“There was nothing you could do, Tommy, don’t sweat it.”

“Let me say this, please.” Tommy raises his hand, his palm facing his brother. “I was just- fuck, we all knew how much you loved her, how much you loved each other, so when it all went down, I just didn’t know how to deal with it. What to say to you, how to comfort you. I didn't know how to deal with you.”

“You blamed me.” Joel says matter-of-factly.

“No-”, Tommy weakly refuses but Joel shakes his head dismissively, interrupting him. “It’s ok, Tommy, you should.”

Tommy looks embarrassed, his cheeks slightly pinkish, not only from the whiskey. “It’s just that I- I couldn’t reconcile the image of the man you were with her, with.. you know..”, he stutters.

“..the image of a cheater. Say it.” Joel adds.

Tommy shakes his head, like he still can't believe what's happened. “Besides, while she was staying with us those first few weeks I saw how devastated she was, man- she was a shell of a woman, so I was confused, I didn’t know how-”

“Tommy. Tommy, it’s fine.” Joel feels his skin crawl visualizing you like that in his head, cutting his brother off once again; he deserves every ounce of mistrust and he knows it.

“No, it’s not.” Tommy insists. “Yes, you fucked up. Brother, you really did. You did a number on her-”, Joel’s body tenses instantly at his brother’s words, his jaw clenching as his eyes darken, moving down to his hands, his grip on the tumbler tightening, his knuckles turning white and Tommy stops abruptly, “shit, sorry, I didn’t mean-”, his face twitches with regret.

“It’s the truth. That’s exactly what I did.” Joel’s gaze seems detached as if he's somewhere else right now.

“What I meant to say, is that I should have been there for you in spite of what has happened. I can see you're suffering, it's taking its toll on you, it has been for some time now; tell me what I can do. How can I help you?” Tommy seems almost desperate, like he’s the one in need of redemption.

Your text flashes through his mind, can you turn back time?, making him smile bitterly.

“Can you turn back time?” Joel's repeating your question and as the words leave his mouth he can feel your presence next to him. That's the most he felt of you for the last three years. He's almost blissful.

“You know I can't.” Tommy sighs. Joel laughs earnestly, the irony of the moment too good not to appreciate.

“Joel, brother, please, just talk to me. Help me understand. You act like you’re the one who’s been cheated on. So, what happened? Why did you do it?” Tommy is pleading with him to give him anything.

Silence fills the room for much longer than either of them would like. Joel feels torn between telling his brother everything or keeping his mouth shut. He wants to tell him, he hasn’t told a soul, but he’s not sure he can get the words out. He’s not sure he can bear to hear the words coming out of his mouth. He’s not sure he can substantiate it, make it real. Because that’s how it feels. He talks about it and it becomes real.

But maybe this is the right thing to do. That’s what needs to be done. He needs to talk about it. He needs to tell the truth and admit the pain he’s caused. Make it real for you, too. Perhaps it is time for him to give you what is rightfully yours. Acknowledgment.

Joel’s made up his mind. He’s gonna talk to Tommy. He lifts his glass to down his drink for some liquid courage, freezing his hand in mid-air as the next words fall from his brother’s mouth. “First of all, who was it?”

“What?” Joel's eyes search Tommy’s through his glass for an explanation.

“Who did you do?”, Tommy clarifies.

Joel feels like he’s been struck by lightning. “What the hell are you talking about?”

“Who did you fuck, Joel?”, Tommy begins to feel confused, are they not on the same page here?

“You don’t know?”, Joel can barely speak now, his voice low in shock.

“No one does, not even Maria; she never told anyone.”

You told nobody? Not even your best friend? Why on earth would you do that? Did you feel ashamed? Was it just too much to talk about?

But his brain takes pity on him, helping him for once to understand. He’s connecting the dots while your voice fills the corners of his mind through his memories. His head is swarming with images of you standing in that walk-in closet, remembering what you said the last time he saw you. You’re the one I married, not her. I expected better from you, Joel, not her.

You were right.

It didn’t matter who it was. That is why. He was the one making the choice. He was the one breaking his promises, breaking your trust, breaking your heart; breaking you. He was the one who should have known better. He was the one who should have been honest. Easy in theory, hard in practice.

He feels a fresh wave of pain scattering through his body. He welcomes it. Damn, he’s craving it. He’s glad you chose to withhold the identity of the woman. Not because somehow it’s making it easier for him to defend himself, on the contrary.

There’s no one else to blame. Nobody. Just him. All of the anger, the resentment, the disappointment, all of them on him. He embraces them all. Everything. He will take it all, swallow it down and let it rot inside of him.

Joel tells Tommy everything. Everything, but her name.

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Taglist: @southernbe, @orcasoul, @auteurdelabre

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loveroftoomanyfandoms · 5 months

Text

That Summer, Chapter 2

Pairing: Frank Castle x F!Reader

Rating: M

Story Summary: Frank Castle has been on the move ever since he "retired" as The Punisher after finding out the truth about his family's murder and handing his former best friend, Billy Russo, off to the Feds.

With his new identity as Pete Castiglione, Frank decides to settle down in a small town in Iowa, where he finds employment as a farmhand/handyman for you, a widow who's struggling to keep your farm running by yourself after the untimely death of your husband a year prior.

As Frank grows closer to you, his past -- and true identity -- begin to catch up with him, putting his chance of finding peace -- and both of your lives -- at risk.

Warnings/Tags: Canon-Typical Violence, smut in future chapters

Word Count: ~2400

A/N: Thank you to everyone who read, liked, reblogged, and/or commented on chapter 1! If you'd like to be tagged in this, please let me know!

Taglist: @danzer8705 @carolinaxvz @thepunisherfrankcastle @eddieslooneymoonie @kezibear

“Thank you for lunch,” Frank said half an hour later as he finished his sandwich and chips. “I certainly appreciate it.”

You nodded then stood and picked up your and Frank's plates. “It's nothing fancy but it's really all I ever have time for during the day.”

Frank shook his head. “No, it was great, really.”

He stood as well. “If you show me where the boards are for the fence I'll go ahead and get started on that.”

You walked over to the sink. “Sure, just give me a second to wash these plates.”

Frank nodded. “Mind if I use your bathroom then?”

You shook your head. “Go right ahead. Guest bathroom is in the front entryway on your right.”

“Thank you, ma'am.” Frank went to the bathroom and relieved himself before moving to the sink to wash his hands.

He looked up at himself in the mirror. He had grown his hair and beard out while he had been on the road, but it would be time for a cut and shave soon.

He returned to the kitchen, where you were once again looking wistfully out of the window.

You hadn't seemed to notice Frank's presence, so he took a moment to study you. The sunlight filtering in through the window gave you an ethereal glow despite the sadness on your face. She's beautiful.

He couldn't deny that he found you attractive -- even though he had only known you for a few hours he could tell that you were a kind and caring yet determined and hard-working woman.

He cleared his throat. “All set.”

You turned from the window and looked over at him, a small smile crossing your lips. “Okay, great. Here, I'll show you where I keep the extra lumber.”

The two of you put your boots back on and headed back outside, Canine Frank following behind you. “Tom had just put that fence up about a year and a half ago,” you said as the two of you walked towards a storage shed next to the barn. “So I don't understand how it can be in such bad shape already.”

Frank was pretty sure he knew the reason, but didn't want to say it until he had confirmed it. “The boards have been rotting really fast, huh?”

You nodded as you opened the shed door. “Yeah.”

Frank walked in and picked up a board. Just as I thought. Pine. “That’s because you're not using a strong enough wood.”

He turned to you. “These are pine boards, which is a cheaper option for fencing, but also really soft – moisture’ll get in pine and rot it very quickly, especially during the winter. And on top of that, these boards haven't been pressure-treated, which is just making them rot even faster.”

Your shoulders slumped. “So basically what you're saying is that I should go ahead and replace the entire fence.”

Frank nodded. “I can replace the currently broken posts and rails if you want, but you're just going to keep having the same problem and will eventually have to replace the whole thing sooner rather than later anyway.”

“So what wood do you suggest?”

“Oak, which'll probably cost you more in lumber now but will last you years longer and need way less maintenance since it's a much harder wood.”

You sighed. “Okay. Let me check with my lumber supplier and see how much it would cost me to replace the entire thing.”

Frank nodded. “In the meantime I'll start on getting that tractor fixed for you. What's been going on with it?”

“About two months ago I was hauling a bale of hay in for the horses and the damn thing just sputtered and quit on me right where it sits.” You shook your head. “Couldn't get it started back up and I haven't had time to take it to get looked at. Just too much to do around here.”

You pulled a key out of your pocket and handed it to him. “If you need me I'll be over at the chicken coop.”

Frank walked over to the tractor and raised the hood. I should check the oil and gas first before I try to start it since it's been sitting.

Both looked free of water and debris, so he began to inspect the other parts. Spark plugs look good, but the carburetor could use a cleaning.

Frank walked over to the barn and grabbed a couple of tools, then went back over to clean the carburetor. Nope, that wasn't it.

Next he tried testing the battery. That’s fine too.

He was beginning to suspect that it was something with the fuel system based on the way the tractor had been trying but failing to start, so he checked the fuel line and filter next. No, not those either.

“Any luck?”

Frank turned as you appeared behind him carrying a large wicker basket of eggs, Canine Frank trailing behind you. “Not yet, but I’ve narrowed it down to something to do with the fuel system. Can you come try to start it for me so I can check something?”

You nodded and set the basket down. “Sure.”

Frank went back to the front of the tractor while you climbed onto the seat. “Okay, go ahead,” he said.

Frank looked over the engine as you attempted to start the tractor up. Aha. “Okay , I think I know what the problem is. It looks like the lever that controls the fuel level is jammed.”

He looked over at you. “Got any WD-40 or something like that?”

“Yeah, just a second.”

You climbed down from the tractor and walked back to the shed where you kept the fence lumber, then came back with a can of WD-40. “Here you go.”

“Thanks.” Frank sprayed a bit on the stuck lever, then carefully worked a flathead screwdriver into it to help loosen it up.

He lowered the hood of the tractor and peered over it at you. “Try starting it again.”

You got on the tractor once again and turned the key, a wide grin spreading across your face when it started right up. “It worked!”

Frank closed the hood. “I also cleaned the carburetor and tested the battery, and the oil and gas looked fine so it should be good as new.”

You nodded, a look of relief on your face. “You’re amazing. Thank you so much.”

Frank shrugged and wiped the sweat off his brow with the back of his arm. “Ah, not a problem.”

You cut the tractor off and climbed down as a loud mooing sounded from the barn. “The cows are starting to get restless, so how about I get these eggs put away then show you how to do the milking?”

Frank nodded. “Sounds good.”

“Alright then. Give me just a minute.”

As you picked up the basket of eggs and headed back over to the main house, Frank walked over to the spigot connected to the barn to wash the dirt and grime off of his hands.

You came back a minute later with two large metal buckets. “Okay, I'm ready.”

Frank opened the now-easily sliding barn door for you. “After you.”

He followed you to where the cows were kept.

You set one of the buckets down and grabbed a nearby stool. “I usually start with Clarabelle. She gets fussy if she has to wait too long.”

Frank chuckled. “I bet it's not easy milking a fussy cow.”

You shook your head, a small smile on your lips as you opened Clarabelle's stall and headed inside. “It’s not too difficult. Clarabelle is just a bit of a diva.”

You set the stool and bucket down and gave Clarabelle a gentle pat on her nose. “Aren’t ya, Miss Clara, my sweet girl?”

Clarabelle blinked her soulful brown eyes and nuzzled your hand, as if to say, who, me?

Frank smiled. “Diva or not, she clearly loves you.”

“I love her too.” You glanced at Frank. “This farm is all I have, so it's important that all of my animals are happy and well taken care of.”

Frank nodded. Message received. “I'll take care of them as if they were my own, I promise.”

“Good.” You adjusted the stool and sat. “Now, let me show you how to milk the cows.”

You took a damp washcloth out of the bucket. “I sell milk, butter, honey, and eggs at the farmer's market on Saturdays, so it's extremely important to follow state safety regulations for the production and sale of raw milk.”

You carefully wiped Clarabelle's udder then set the washcloth on your lap. “The first step is to clean the cow's udder so that nothing that isn't milk gets in the bucket then to use an udder balm to make sure you're not hurting her.”

Frank nodded. “Got it.”

You rubbed some cream from a small jar onto Clarabelle's udder then took her teats in your hands. “Then we pre-milk her a couple of times just to make sure that there's no dirt or debris in her milk ducts.”

Frank watched as you gently squeezed and pulled down on Clarabelle's teats, releasing a stream of milk from each group.

You set the bucket under Clarabelle. “Then we just set the bucket down and get to milking.”

You squeezed a few streams of milk into the bucket. “Want to try?”

Frank nodded. “Sure.”

He switched places with you and took hold of Clarabelle's teats. “Like this?”

You shook your head and knelt down beside him. “Little higher up.”

Frank took a deep breath as you took his hands in your smaller ones. You smelled of clean sweat and soap and something else Frank couldn't quite identify, but liked.

Your grip slightly tightened on Frank's hands. “Then you just pull and squeeze, like this.”

You guided Frank in milking Clarabelle for a few moments, then let go to let him try to milk her on his own. “Good job. You're a natural.”

You reached up and patted Clarabelle on her rump. “And you are being such a good girl today, sweetheart. You definitely deserve a treat for being so patient.”

“How do I know when she's done?” Frank asked. “She'll just stop producing milk?”

“Her udder will be a lot flatter and she'll seem more comfortable,” you replied. “Once you're done with her, give her a carrot from the bag on the front of her stall, then if you don't mind, could you move on to Daisy and milk her then give her a carrot as well? I'll get the other three.”

Frank nodded again, keeping his attention on milking instead of looking at you. “No problem.”

You stood. “Thanks. If you need any help I'll be right over here.”

You took the other bucket and moved down a few stalls, talking softly to Lulu before opening the stall door and heading inside.

Frank finished milking Clarabelle then gave her a carrot before moving on to Daisy’s stall.

Daisy looked over at Frank as he entered and moved over to the wall, turning sideways so he could get to her udder easily.

Frank chuckled. “You know the drill, huh girl?”

He set the stool down and gave Daisy a gentle pat on her side. “Good girl. You're gonna make this easy for me, aren't ya?”

Daisy ‘moo’ed in response.

Frank cleaned Daisy's udder and applied a bit of cream before making sure her milk ducts were clear. “Okay, let's get you milked.”

He milked Daisy and gave her a post-milking carrot, then headed over to the other stalls to find you. “I'm all done.”

You peered around Millie at him. “Great!”

You looked at your watch. “Since you got that tractor back up and running for me I'm gonna bottle up this milk then get the grass cut. Why don't you go ahead and knock off for the evening, take a shower and relax a bit before supper?”

Frank rubbed the back of his neck. “In that case, I might go ahead and head into town, pick up a few groceries.”

“Okay.” You patted Millie’s side and stood. “Just so you know, you’re welcome to any of the goods we produce or harvest. No point in having to buy them from the store when they're readily available here.”

Frank nodded, mentally taking milk, butter, eggs, and honey off of his grocery list. “I appreciate that.”

“I'll get some stuff packed up for you to bring back to the cabin tonight after supper.”

“Sounds good.” Frank gestured towards your now-full bucket of milk. “Need me to grab that for ya?”

“If you don't mind.”

Frank shook his head. “Not at all. Where we heading?”

“Back to the house.”

Frank picked up the other bucket of milk and waited as you gave Millie a carrot, then he followed you back to the big house.

He smiled to himself when Canine Frank, who had been napping on the porch, got up and wagged his tail at the two of you.

You scratched Canine Frank behind his ears then unlocked the door. “Here, you can just set those on the counter for me.”

Frank followed you in and set the buckets down in the kitchen. “Need help with anything else?”

You shook your head. “No thanks, I can take it from here.”

Frank nodded. “I'll see you at dinner tonight, then.”

He gave Canine Frank a friendly pat on his head then headed back to the cabin, where he moved his laundry from the washer to the dryer before heading to the bathroom to shower.

As he stood under the hot spray of water, his mind turned back to you and the way your hands had felt on his earlier.

Frank had honestly found it difficult to concentrate as you had guided his hands to milk Clarabelle. The way you had gently squeezed and pulled had made Frank think about having your hands in a place he hadn't been privy to having a woman touch in a long time. Shit.

He sighed. He was here to work, not get distracted by the thought of your hands (and mouth, if he was honest) on his cock. It's just been entirely too long since I've been with a woman, he thought. It hadn't had anything to do with her in particular.

Even as he thought it, deep down he knew he was lying to himself. It's going to be a long summer.

#lotmf writes #That Summer Masterlist #frank castle x you #frank castle x reader

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queer-book-character-tournament · 4 months

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We've run enough of these tournaments that it's probably past time to make a compiled post

Previous winners of the queer book character tournament:

Eric "Bitty" Bittle from Check, Please by Ngozi Ukazu

Wei Wuxian fromMo Dao Zu Shi/Grand Master of Demonic Cultivation by Mo Xiang Tong Xiu

Andrew Minyard and Neil Josten from All for The Game by Nora Sakavic

Previous winners of the queer book ship tournament:

Wei Wuxian/Lan Wanji from Mo Dao Zu Shi/Grand Master of Demonic Cultivation by Mo Xiang Tong Xiu

Also since I'll be pinning this post:

i do want to remind everyone to be respectful in these polls. even if you don’t personally like one of the books listed, or your favorite is losing, someone else still submitted that book because they like it and you’re being rude to them and everyone else who enjoys that book when you’re complaining about it.

propaganda is always welcome and encouraged. i consider these tournaments to be book recommendations first and a tournament second, so i love propaganda and try to reblog as much of it as i can. but propaganda should be about why your book/ship/character is good, not why the other one is bad. that kind of behavior will get people blocked, which is really not something i want to have to do so lets all have fun instead

How the game works:

These tournaments are submission based. I post a form, leave it open for a few days, sort through the answers, and then post a list I half jokingly call quality control for you guys: the viewers at home.

The quality control is because I can’t reasonably have read every book these submissions come from. So I post a list for you guys to let me know any mistakes: characters/ships that don’t meet the requirements, repeats on the list, misspellings (I copy paste from the submissions, so if they’re misspelled and I don’t know the character I’m not going to know to fix it), or anything like that. Quality control is open until the polls actually go up, at which point tumblr doesn’t let polls can’t be edited.

Matchups are randomly generated. This is to keep things fair.

Round one is groups of four and lasts a week to let everyone have a chance to realize the tournament has started and promote their favs.

After that rounds are 1v1 and last for a day (if the number is odd there will be one three way poll).

The final round will last one week.

#op speaks

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shining-gem34 · 25 days

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SHIPPING INFO. Answer the following for your muse(s) so people know how shipping works on your blog.

What’s your OTP for your Muse(s)?

Hm! I won't say it here, because I don't want to give the wrong impression. I will say I do have a few OTPs! My close friends/besties already know my bias!

What are you willing to RP when it comes to shipping?

Excluding the big NO-NO (r*pe, non-con, underage sex, and etc.), I'm pretty open and willing to try a variety of things for shipping. It can go from fluffy/playful to angsty next. On that note, I am also open to exploring toxic ships/red flags as well. :3

How large does the age gap have to be to make it uncomfortable?

As someone who RP's muses who are either in the three digits or immortals, I can safely say as long as they are both ADULTS who are consenting, all is good. I will say NO if our muses have a parent/child bond like Muse A has raised Muse B since they were a kid, or anything similar to that.

Are you selective when shipping?

In general, it's a yes.

Mostly because I don't get home until the evening and by then my energy is pretty low. It takes time for me to sit down and focus on tumblr replies. Too many things happening can feel overwhelming for me, especially if I think about making sure shipping with the same muses are different/varied. It hasn't happened yet as my activity levels here are random! But I am thinking it about now and rjrbrjrhrje Y e a h. That is why I made the shipping rule for new people who are following me the first time.

Otherwise, if we're already friends, chances are we already went feral about the characters/ship. I don't mind going straight into pre-established ship or RPing (plotting) how they got together. I'm not picky in that regard.

How far do steamy moments have to go before they’re considered NSFW?

I don't think I have reached that point on this site. If I do, I would say the moment they start stripping while kissing and getting handsy with each other. Maybe there's touching the private parts. At that point, as I try to follow my own rules, I would probably move the full NSFW into DMs/IMs.

Who are other muses you ship your muse with?

Uh. For reasons, I'll keep this short and sweet:

For everyone who saw read my ramblings in DM's or I drop something and leave like a rat, thank you so much for indulging me. <3 I had so much fun coming up with fluffy, silly, and angsty stuff for our muses together!

And it doesn't have to be just romantic too! It applies to platonic/familial muses too!

I do hope we can continue this and watch out muses get into shenanigans together. <3

Does one have to ask to ship with you?

Preferably, yes! If you don't tell me, then I won't know!

How often do you like to ship?

I'm thinking hard on this, because both outside and inside here? Not alot honestly. I do think about shipping however it usually ends up being brief and passing entertainment. So I don't really have alot of ships I am committed to.

Are you multiship?

Yes! It's surprisingly refreshing thinking of each ship being it's own thing and not a bunch of connected events. <3 I definitely enjoy the dynamics of each ship too!

Are you ship obsessed or ship more-or-less?

I say ship more-or-less than ship-obsessed. I don't actively seek out people to ship. Also it's too much for me to handle checking too many things happening at once. So, I'm usually committed to a few ships and if something develops naturally, or I feel something is happening? Yeah, I'll ship. :3

What is your favorite ship in your current fandom?

Me x Dan Feng

Finally, how does one ship with you?

I would say just be direct and ask if we can ship our muses together. I will say "yes" most of the time, especially if we have been plotting in the DMs and have a few IC already). If not, then yes I would like to discuss it first and get some IC interactions going. I always have a meme tag for a bunch of memes I've reblogged to break the ice, or starters if you prefer that!

Because, the more we talk about our muses dynamics and each other, I am more likely to fall in love and turn feral! I will be 100% on board shipping them! Like moreso if it's a character I am neutral about it's a BIG WIN because YOU made me love them!

Trust me it happened like....3-4? times now since I started this blog. I love it when people have so much love for their muses I just support them and fall in love too!

Tagged by: @memovia, @etherealguard, @grislyintentions Tagging: You!

#jadecoocoo (mun rambles)#cluster gems together (dash game/bingo)#||Whew #||Some questions had me stumbling a bit

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starblazes · 17 days

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🔥 unpopular opinion meme - callouts/dni's

( let me air out my unpopular opinions / accepting !! )

disclaimer: i would like to note that this is a relatively recent change in opinion for me and that yes, i have participated in/condoned these in the past and probably still have some dnis on my blogs floating around but at present these are my thoughts.

i'll start with dnis as that is where most of the changes in my opinion lies. at the risk of being booed out of the community, i don't really think public dnis are necessary. im not talking about standard, universal dnis — such as 'minors dni' or 'dni if you condone x phobia/ism' - but the more specific ones. this is merely personal preference, but in the same vein of keeping my privacy and peace, i feel that publicly announcing the fandoms, urls, characters, and faceclaims you won't interact with is just kind of inviting people to ask about it, and talk off the dash, and potentially create tension across the board.

i'm too damn old and too damn tired to keep up with the personal drama of everyone i follow.

if there is someone or something i don't want on my dash, i'm perfectly capable of using my block button and filter settings to get rid of that content. i have my stuff set so that anything i don't want to see ( people, triggers, etc ) doesn't even give me a notification that its hidden. it's just not there. this relieves a lot of stress for me, personally, as it prevents me from getting curious if tumblr puts the "hey we blocked this post containing 'x' but would you like to view it anyway" notif on the dash and then getting upset at myself when i inevitably look at it and it's exactly what i didn't want to see lmao.

again, for me personally, i just don't think it's anyone's business who or what im uncomfortable with the same way i don't think it's anyone's business what my mental illnesses and traumas are. privacy and peace is so important and im trying to be better about cultivating that.

that being said, i do think there is a time and place for callouts. as a general rule of thumb, i don't reblog them unless i, in my understanding of reading the information given to me, feel that an individual ( or individuals ) is harmful either to themselves or the community. it's a very tricky line i think, because not only are many of us unreliable narrators in airing out the dirty laundry, but because on the surface level i think a lot of people brush off callouts as just "petty drama" and they would be right to some extent; but i also think there are cases — few and far between — where toxic behaviour being called out can affect more than just the parties presenting their case in a callout, perhaps even opening a discussion for other individuals who were too scared to speak up and say 'hey, they treated me like this too and that's not okay'.

where i draw the line with callouts is when it becomes an excuse to witch hunt and/or drive someone out of the community or off tumblr completely. no one has a moral high ground. i think everyone deserves at least one chance to turn things around and apologise. and even if they don't, unless they are actively harming someone directly, i really don't think it's right to continue to bully them until they leave. again, it's about curating your space. it's one thing if you don't want to see them on your dash or interact with them, and that's perfectly okay — protect yourself — but to go out of your way to make sure they know you think they're a bad person or to chase them off is both mean-spirited and ultimately more stress on yourself than necessary.

#⌜ ooc ⌟ ✦ * · ˚ answered ask.#anonymous

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aew-regression-cove · 17 days

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Caregiver!Adam & Barbara Maitland

Okay so I'm picturing this as you've moved into their house. They'd find out about your regression by accident, they wouldn't mean to. You thought you were alone and had regressed. It was then they walked into the room, all three of you panicking as they realised you could see them.

Barbara was able to calm you down, reassuring you that you were safe, that her and Adam meant no harm and explaining who they were.

The three of you end up falling into roles of them acting like parents (your caregivers) whilst you were regressed.

They had spoken about kids when they were alive but they never got the chance so looking after you was very comforting but also completely new to them.

They didn't originally really use many nicknames for you but after a while they ended up with what felt like a never ending list- 😂

They're both quite big on affection and hugs!!!

Adam loves to ruffle your hair playfully, normally just after Barbara has fixed it from the last time he did it.

There is no denying that the house they live in is quite big- and it's also no denying that Barbara (especially) seemingly enjoys decorating- She most definitely decorated a play room for you (+ Adam helped assemble any furniture)

^^^ this room is stocked!!! Like I said the Maitlands never got to have a child of their own so you can bet they spoil you!!! There's all sorts of books, games, toys and stuffies in the room- there's also lots of clothes, both dress up and normal.

They love to have little fashion shows with you!!! Barbara loves dressing you up!!!

On Saturdays you get to help Adam with his model of the town, he loves finding out something new has changed or been added and you've taken a picture for him. (Like Lydia did at the end of the movie)

You and Barbara bake lots!!! 🍪 :3

Now they can't exactly leave the house which is unfortunate but they make sure to have LOADS of fun inside!!!

Movie night? Absolutely, every week, several movies!!! You (and Adam) normally fall asleep after a few..

They'd make sure that Beetlejuice doesn't know of you (they try their best but he has his ways) — they 100% do make sure however that he can't communicate with you in any way!!!

Barbara is the best when it comes to nap times/bed time routines, she tucks you in happily, and most times there are plenty of cuddles with all three of you!!! (Although Adam has a habit of chatting and waking everyone up 😂)

Adam prefers reading to you or talking about your days to help you settle for sleep, Barbara prefers singing or humming lullabies.

The three of you have matching plushies that are all different sizes. (Adam's is the biggest, then Barbara's and then yours!!!)

There's always drawings you make stuck with magnets to the fridge!!!

There is always a fidget toy in near proximity. If you can't find one ask Adam. (he's probably fiddling with one that he's picked up absentmindedly)

The three of you have a 'family picture' that is hung up and framed next to the fireplace. Adam and Barbara are both wearing sheets so they can be 'seen' either side of you- :/

Adam is a sucker for letting you have snacks (even before meals) — Barbara pretends she doesn't know most of the time.

Listening to music whilst cuddling or dancing is a common activity!!!

They are both very gentle Caregivers!!! <333

ⓘ if you want to reblog, let me know and I'll decide to temporarily unlock the post or not <3

#ash's fictional favourites 💞#ash's writing

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ravenwitch45 · 1 year

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Just read a Hazbin/Helluva x Owl House fanfic you made and IT WAS AWSOME!!! Honestly I like seeing Amity, Edric, and Emira adopted by M&M, who we know are better parents than Odalia even though Alador is trying to be better, but it's still an amazing idea. Is there still some fanfic ideas based around it, if so could you share some details about the AU?

Ah those fics, it's been a while since I thought of them but I'm glad some people still stumble across them and enjoy them so much. I must admit though that the original asker for those fics @beastkeeper91 gave me that idea even though I took my own spin and wrote em, as well as a few others, but yes I suppose there are a few other ideas I didn't explore in either, some theirs, some my own and I'm happy to share a few.

But first since you just said fic, I'm gonna be safe and assume you only read one, and put both here, please read both before you go further cause I'm going to assume you've read both as I discuss the new stuff

(Note those are their reblogs of the fics, cause they were kind enough to send them to me so I could find them easier since this was a while ago, now the new stuff!)

First of all, since the Owl House has since wrapped up I guess I'll speak on M&Ms status during season 3, most likely they'd end up collected like everyone else, sad but that means Amity gets three parents to lovingly greet after everything is done, and Odalia isn't just the third wheel now, she's the fifth wheel! Cause she deserves it :3

Also Stolas and Blitz would probably be right with them, a little bitter but the whole crew gets the collector is a child and all, and if Amity thinks there okay, they'll listen to their daughter/niece. Speaking of daughters I still don't know what to do Octavia and Loona, sorry ladies XP

And since this is a somewhat M&M centric AU, I certainly can't just not mention the episode that most focuses on them and their relationship, Yep Exes and Oohs.

Crimson exists in this AU, but luckily Moxxie has of course cut ties with him, he still sucks essentially, and I don't hate Moxxie enough to have him dragged back. Not sure what he runs in this AU, cause I don't think the boiling isles has a straight up mob, but it's something Moxxie wants no part of. He's aware of his 'grandchildren' and I'm only air quoting that cause this man hardly deserves children, let alone grandchildren, he's never met them though, he is a little impressed with Amity after the brawl so he's intriqued.

Now that I think of it imagine the tension if while he's taking over running the company, Alador get's involved with Crimson, unaware of his shady dealings, and Moxxie just wants to explode right there when seeing him again. Oh lord the drama... And the possible bonding with his kids when they find out that just like them he had a bad parent like they did in Odalia

On a lighter note, how about we talk about some funny scenarios with the funny shark man?

Chaz in this AU, is on much better terms with his exes, and kinda acts like an unwanted uncle to the blight kids, often joking he might just get back together with M&M to become their dad. Ed and Em find him amusing, and kinda get their sense of humor from him at times, and Amity can't stand him one bit, though she is nicer in this AU to start so she's at least cordial with him, agree with who you like.

Moxxie and Millie however, kinda keep him on a short leash when around their kids, none of his usual horn dog behavior as you'd expect, and Moxxie says he'll just steal Chaz's voice if he ever does it in front of em. Which is usual successful, so the kids just see him as the weird uncle, who just acts very awkward round their parents.

Speaking of magic, Chaz is a bard, just like Moxxie in this AU, though Chaz uses his voice for his magic, while Moxxie and say Raine use instruments, his magic looks like green and teal sound waves. Not sure what or if he'd branch off into other stuff after the sigils removed, maybe illusions for like stage effects but that's just me XP Still figuring stuff out for him.

Now this is an idea completely given to me by good ol beastkeeper. Now in this AU I.M.P doesn't exist as we know it, which I felt was for the best not only cause portals are a much more serious thing in TOH, but also not exactly a great career to have when your daughter ends up with a human girlfriend. XP

My original idea was that they kinda had a club during their hexside days and that's kinda how they got so close, but after graduating they all kinda ended up doing different things while staying in touch, Moxxie became a Bard, Mille an Abomination expert, and Blitz a beastkeeper, but then Beastkeeper proposed I used an idea there using in their own Helluvaverse/TOH AU, check it out, it's a little dark but still neat I think.

Anyway they proposed a new company, I.A.S. Imp Appreciation Soceity, essentially activists for equal treatment, now in my AU Imps are just a type of biped demon, same with Goetias, Shark Demons etc. But I reason that Belos, in his puritan head, ended up getting Imps considered lesser and more "wild" then other types, mainly cause they resemble classic ideas of demons the most, cause Belos is an asshole, no surprise there.

Anyway that means they still technichally work together. That's about as much as I've explored it in my head. Either way I find it cool.

The last thing I wanna mention is a few miscellaneous ideas I have thought up but don't feel have enough layed out to say much about, I want a little plot of Blitz and Luz working together and bonding, protagonist solidarity and all. Also of course figure out what Loona and Octavia are like in this.

Also figuring out a ton of hexside time stuff, how they all met, how they interacted, how the parents possibly did. tons of stuff, but I hope for now this is a good bit of information for this AU, maybe ask later and I'll say even more who knows XP

#ask reply #helluva boss #the owl house #helluva millie #helluva moxxie #amity blight #edric blight #emira blight #helluva crimson #helluva chaz #chazwick thurman #blitzo #crossover #luz noceda #my writing #kinda

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dietraumerei · 1 year

Text

Weekly Writing and Reading Update

Hello, I am back from my lil weekend away which was absolutely divine, October vacations are the *best*. I just impulse-bought a pair of shoes and I have a cinnamon bun from my favorite place, life is good.

Also I have written...so much for Whumptober, and there is frankly so much still to come. I literally do not have enough time to write everything I want to, so it's gonna go into November this year, lol.

Writing

Oh lord, just scroll through my Whumptober Collection

A few notes for the coming week, and in general:

okay I really, really love posting the prompt answers as separate stories, thank you to that poster I reblogged a few weeks ago. This is so much easier and cleaner, and doesn't really take more time than adding chapters.

Lot of skip days coming up, just because there is one MONSTER GIANT story that has taken on a life of its own and which has become almost the only thing I write. I'll go back and fill in the gaps (that is, there will be 31 stories in the end, although I've remixed and reused a bunch of prompts), but this I *think* might be the week that kind of suffers the most from not getting a story a day. (Having just checked my schedule, uh, everyone gets a chance to catch up because the only thing definitely finished is for Wednesday!)

Assuming I finish the fucking thing, the giant story will be posted, probably, on Saturday. I am contemplating if I want to chop it up into chapters, and thinking yeah, probably, so at least there will be a lengthy reward for going without :)

I am having SO MUCH FUN. blorbos go cronch and then hug, truly the best storyline.

Reading

I finished Everything I Need I Get from You: How Fangirls Created the Internet as We Know It and have a lot of feelings! I think it's a really, really good book that's respectful of fans and interesting, but it focuses almost solely on One Direction fandom, and I kind of wish that was clearer from the title and the summary? Like, no shade to that being the topic, but it feels like this is being sold as kind of a universal look at online fandom, and...it kinda isn't?

(yes i'm salty there wasn't anything about snapewives, yes this was somewhat soothed by chapters dedicated to L*rr*es and B*byg*te, YES I am afraid of 1D fangirls.)

I also read Phoebe's Diary because I adore Phoebe Wahl and it was cool to read a middle-grade novel/graphic novel from her! (Most of the book is typeset, but there are lots of great little cartoons and drawings interspersed. I really, really liked it, although sometimes it's a little hard to read because a) it is very realistic which means it's like 95% about boys and boyfriends and that gets kind of old and b) it is very realistic and made me so unbelievably grateful that I never ever have to be 16 again. I would be extremely curious what a contemporary sixteen-year-old thought because it's kind of a semi-period piece (set in 2005-6) and a few bits of it sort of...haven't aged well from that period? (There's one character who I think we're meant to dislike but I love her so much because she reads aro-ace.) Anyway, I'm really glad I read it although at times it was painful, 10/10 do not miss being sixteen.

#weekly update

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astorythatwritesitself · 2 years

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You mentioned wanting to flesh the crew out more so your choice of Normandy crew for 🌱🖤 ✍️ & 🍄

Normandy crew:

🌱 Nature- Kaiden, sadly, never saw very much ground action during the SR1 days- similar to Liara, when it came to combat teams, Shepard provided solid biotic capabilities and either needed heavier fire backup or dedicated tech expertise. But, he did appreciate that she kept him in mind, often bringing back samples from non-radioactive mineral deposits- they always got a laugh over her handing over a chunk of gold or platinum in particular. While Kaiden had spent a good bit of his life on earth, his experiences on Jump Zero left him particularly sentimental to keeping reminders of... maybe not Earth, specifically, but solid ground nearby; he was pretty good at identifying various rocks and minerals, and often assists ship-side on the surveys.

(When Mordin shares about his time on stage, Shepard actually gets a little... not weepy, but it's not a completely happy laugh, when she says 'a friend of mine tried teaching me the elements to that tune')

🖤: yeah actually I've been here for like an hour, I got nothing lol. I'll try to work on one & will edit/reblog and tag if I do?

✍️ Education: Wrex was among the last generation of krogan who got an education that halfway included anything beyond hard combat focus, and his favorite subjects as a whelp were history and literature; particularly where the two came together in epic sagas, and he has extremely strong opinions on word choice and structuring damn it. He tries to keep reading after leaving Tuchanka, but it gets pushed to the backburner: most surviving older krogan regard it as a waste of time, and the few children born just... don't get the point of it. So he's... really surprised when, on the Normandy, Adrian extends what is clearly a token invitation of 'hey, Ash is starting a book club, want to join', and he figures why the hell not?

It's part of what kicks his conviction to return to Tuchanka- human literature was surprisingly nice, but then he got the chance to share something. Chose the story of a small, loyal band protecting their clan leader from a hostile uprising- not a major battle, but he liked it because it was one that was verifiable and was just plain beautiful, exemplifying a true leader fighting honorably at the head of the battle, demonstrating strength of will to survive over complete brute force, something that seems to have been lost over time.

The humans loved it (Ashley immediately suggested he check out some Tennyson), but it was also the first time he'd really felt that kind of... passion, again, turns out a long life just means longer depressive funks. And goddamn it, the krogan were better- are better, whatever anyone may think- they have culture, they have beauty, and like hell is he going to let that get pissed away.

(After Grunt is officially welcomed into Clan Urdnot, Wrex sends him a few books- a personally curated collection of krogan works of course, but there's ultimately a novel or collection of verse from every major species, just to make sure the kid has variety.)

🍄 Cooking/food: Jack spends a ton of time around the mess early in. She's- look even before prison, she was not well cared for and she was probably never fed enough, especially considering the toll her biotics would take (in fact, Chakwas puts her foot down on Jack doing any groundwork for a solid bit of time, because her body is basically on the verge of eating itself alive for a while). It evens out though, but she's still often raiding whatever eatables she can because there's that very loud, distinct instinct that it's not going to last and at least she can be in good shape before getting kicked out.

Everyone notices, but it's Rupert of all people who takes action first. Tells her she can at least make a sandwich instead of stealing energy bars. (Jack thinks, why not both, because she's been targeting Miranda's favorites and it's hilarious seeing her get frustrated.)

But she also, with plenty of complaining and name-calling on either side, decides fuck it might as well, and it might be a good skill- if she makes her own food, with her own ingredients, she can be extra sure it's not going to be drugged or something. And then it turns out to be fun (she's encouraged to set something on fire? Fuck yes), and it's great to lord over Commander 'I can save the galaxy but am banned from kitchens for life and death' Shepard. And she can threaten the crew with getting thrown across the entire second floor if they don't eat what she's made! Which is, of course, the only reason they do so, and the ones saying it's actually good are just brown-nosing. Sucks for them, just means she's going to keep doing it until someone cracks!

#ask #mass effect hcs #i was challenging myself to work with characters i usually don't but there's a line between that and 'i barely know how to work em yet' xD #my writing

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glitternightingale · 3 years

Note

Yeah so I'm also here post-animation process video drop and your brilliant break-down about Bruno's belly. Hi! I’m not on Tumblr and hope you mind a long ask in lieu of reblogging/adding to your OP.

The confirmation has been validating, is one big thing. But is it weird that with regard to the three whats/whys in your break-down (artistic choice, chub, malnutrition), I was like “ah but couldn’t it be a little, or be some combo, of all three?" - said with an intonation à la Mirabel’s "and I think it's all because of me?" I think I'm a bit of the mind that his belly is round (and "disproportionate") more due to malnutrition than from having actual healthy adipose, based on its shape? and stuff, but that's probably me reading way too into things.

There's this other part of me that's also like, what are the chances that someone like Jared Bush, who does answer questions about the canon on his Twitter, would further confirm… or maybe not confirm per se, but shed a lil insight into some of the choices?

And and: have you been able to compare the 1st and final passes at the chase scene animation? I’m no artist, but I feel like I noticed a few differences between the two Brunos (using side-by-side screen grabs bc I am 100% Like That). Ex. when he’s running toward the camera and goes to leap for the pipe: in the 1st test his stomach actually looks larger than it does in the final test; and, in the final his chest/rib cage/sternum area... and kind of his whole frame tbh... look smaller and more... shrunken/visible. Which I’m sure makes sense since it’s the final version and stuff like the muscle rigging(?) gets tweaked, but I just found the changes interesting in light of your post, the discussion, and because process stuff is cool.

This is all over the place, sorry! Last thing I swear: I love your fic, WAACH - and your art! More and more with each chapter. Always so happy seeing a telltale alliterative title in an email from AO3 :)

Oh, it could definitely be all three! I actually only broke it up into sections to structure my mess of thoughts on the matter. Well, then I forgot to point out exactly that. 😅

Here's the link to the referred post: Bruno's Belly: Artistic Choice? Chub? Malnutrition?

Bruno's Belly (2): Artistic Choice? Chub? Malnutrition?

When I wrote the first little meta about this topic, I was also really thrown off by the frames you mentioned:

(I tried my best to keep them comparable, but the more rendered version is from a slightly different, more dynamic perspective.)

And then we have this, where his belly disappears completely:

I know nothing about professional 3D animation, but this difference really strikes me. It doesn't seem to serve the purpose of exaggerating the action (like stretch and squash, for example), so where -- and why -- did it go?

Please, if anyone who reads this is brave enough, ask Jared Bush on Twitter! I need a concrete explanation. 😭

I once came upon a post where people were discussing the notion that these two Brunos aren't even the same model in the final version of the movie (correct me if I remember it wrong):

At least there's continuity where Bruno's wrists and ankles are concerned and that is that they are skinny all the time:

Here's my humble opinion on the matter in general:

I absolutely agree with your take, anon, and I think that it makes too much sense for it to not be canon. I believe Bruno is malnourished (as mentioned in my latest part of WAACH) in both meanings of the word. My fic works with the implications that Bruno had too little food (and that it wasn't of great nutritional value), as well as a diet with little variety.

Extra:

I'm so glad you enjoy my fic! I'm always really scared that I'll ruin it with my updates and that everyone who keeps up with it will be disappointed. BUT! The next installment will be called "Building The Base" and you can already guess from the first letters who it'll focus on. 😉

#asks #encanto meta #my writing #my meta #bruno madrigal #and his mystery stomach #encanto

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thedamageofherdays · 3 years

Text

This week's [23-08-2021 - 29-08-2021] reading log is here! I read a lot again this week and I feel like it's a lovely variety of fics. Most fics are Stucky like usual, but there's at least one other ship. I am constantly amazed by the talent people have in this fandom! There was one fic I read on Tumblr that I can't seem to find unfortunately, but when I do I'll make sure to reblog and rec it 💕

Favourites are marked with a 🌻

When life gives you lemons by moonthejedi394 @moonythejedi394 [Stucky, 40k words, Mature] (12/15 chapters available)

Or 13 Terrible Things to Do With Lemons Other Than Making Lemonade

Steve Rogers is a home health nurse. He works for an agency, which assigned him to the aging Winifred Barnes, the one and only Silent Era Hollywood darling. As her needs increased, she requested the agency assign Steve to her full-time. She could pay for it, so she got it. Steve then moved in with her, becoming her caregiver; he cooked, he cleaned, he managed her medications, he made sure she was comfortable.

Winifred's children treated him less than ideally. He was the help, after all. And then Steve had the audacity to go and turn out to be eldest son James Barnes's soulmate. No one saw that coming.

The Masseur and the Assassin by buckybarnesdeservestobehappy @buckybarnesdeservestobehappy [Stucky, 17k words, Explicit]

Bucky Barnes needed a vacation from his job. What he found was a happy ending.

The Words Breathe by buckbarnesdeservestobehappy [Stucky, 1k words, Mature]

All Steve has to do is keep his promise. When he doesn’t, Bucky gets mouthy.

Soft by this_wayward_life @wayward-lives [Stucky, 2k words, Explicit]

The last time he'd seen Bucky he'd looked unhealthy, with pallid skin and greasy, lanky hair. Now, Bucky shone; his hair was thick and silky, his skin a deep bronze from spending so much time outside. He was softer, too; the hard muscle that used to cover him was now replaced by soft fat, his body still strong, but in a more mundane way. His thighs were thicker, his ass plumper, and when he'd pulled Steve into the river Steve had noticed the pudge on his stomach.

Seeing Bucky so happy, well-fed and shining, was a bit of a kick in the face. For all the years they'd known each other, he'd never seen Bucky so... care-free. Now that Bucky was putting on weight, his middle soft and his body malleable, it sent a bolt of arousal through Steve every time he noticed the curves of Bucky's body.

Or: Bucky put on a bit of weight in Wakanda, and Steve is Not Coping.

🌻 Revive Another Side of Me by dontcallmebree @iamthe-wo-manwhocan [Stucky, 1k words, Mature]

Steve’s never lived in a world without Bucky, and he’s not living now. It takes them a while, much too long, to get that awaited rest, a little slice of peace after the dust has settled.Steve Rogers and Bucky Barnes are inseparable, history remembers. But they’re not men of the past quite yet.

🌻 imagine being loved by me by spacebuck @spacebuck [Stucky, 20k words, Explicit]

Just after 1am - a few hours after he posted today’s photo - he hears the tell-tale sound of a twitter message. Bucky grabs his phone, not checking who it’s from as he opens it because it’s probably one of his mutuals yelling at him as per usual. When he actually looks at his phone, though, it’s not Natasha

The ‘verified’ check stares back at him for a long moment before he can even bring himself to process the name on his screen. Steve Rogers is messaging him. Or, he reasons, a very good fake. The handle looks right though, not that Bucky knows. Not that Bucky has Captain’s America’s tweets set up as notifications, or that Bucky’s own display name is set to captain america’s bitch. Not at all.

Hey, the first message says. It’s Steve.

🌻 JB’s Complete Lube Services by dixons_mama @dixons-mama [Stucky, 3k words, Explicit]

People just didn’t approach Captain America and proposition him. Although, sometimes Steve wished they would; even the pinnacle of virtue and justice needed to get dicked down from time to time.

Or, the one where Steve has the hots for a mechanic and decides to be proactive in getting that dick.

If it had to be someone by rainbow_nerds [Stucky, 1k words, Mature]

Bucky had known since he was a child that he didn’t have a choice in who he married, but he’d thought he had more time before the day arrived.

Miscalculations by christywantspizza @christywantspizza [Ransom Drysdale/Reader, 6k words, Explicit]

Ransom tries to get you to sleep with him by less than honorable means. You give him what he wants, just not how he wants it.

How to Seduce a Writer by obsessivereader [Stucky, 2k words, Teen]

What's a determined master strategist going to do when the oblivious writer he's trying to woo keeps missing all the clues?

He doesn’t think it’s because he hadn’t signaled his own interest to Bucky. He’s pretty much done everything short of hitting Bucky over the head with semaphore flags by this point. There’s no way Bucky could’ve missed them. Unless… There’d been that one link he’d stumbled upon when he’d googled ‘how to talk to a writer’. It’d been written by a writer, who’d been candid about how oblivious writers could be, and how someone could go about seducing one. An idea starts to form. It’s ridiculous, but at this point, he’s willing to go with ridiculous, since subtle wasn’t getting him anywhere.

🌻 Pod Bless America by Deisderium @deisderium [Stucky, 6k words, Teen]

Bucky can't believe his favorite podficcer recorded his newest fanfic AU of the show Commandos. He's even more surprised when the customer who busts him listening to fic while he's working in the office supply store turns out to be that podficcer.

* The guy—maybe bi_shield?—took his phone, looked down at the screen, and smiled. "Yeah, that one's mine," he said with no evidence of embarrassment. "It was a good one." He handed the phone back to Bucky.

"I wrote it," Bucky croaked.

take a bite by wearing_tearing [Stucky, 7k words, Mature]

"I’d never let anyone freeze to death.” Steve gives a big sigh and flutters his lashes. “All that blood gone to waste.”

Bucky’s lips turn down and his nose scrunches up a little. “I want to be grossed out, but…”

“But you get it.” Steve gives him a pointed look. “Vampires aren’t the only ones who can appreciate how juicy blood is.”

Or: Vampire Steve saves newly-turned werewolf Bucky from a snowstorm.

Leaving the Shield Behind by BuckyAboveEverything [Stucky, 6k words, Teen]

“So, on one hand, we have Steve Rogers - hunk, genius, animal lover. Buys you waffles and overpriced coffee. 100% wholesome all-American boy.”

“And, on the other hand, we have Capsicle – twink, smart-ass, fanboy. Reads your stories and sends you fanart. Possibly a pervert or a serial killer.”

Bucky groaned.

“I am 100% certain I am 0% sure of what to do."

Bucky Barnes, full-time copywriter and free-time fanfic writer, struggles to choose between two equally-attractive suitors, only to find that he doesn’t have to after all.

* Based on a true story *

Cap's Book Corner by Neche [Stucky, 2k words, Teen]

Recluse Author Bucky Barns stumbles into fanboy Steve Rogers bookstore one day...

Cat Nap by galwednesday @galwednesday [Stucky, 8k words, Teen]

Objectively, losing the Bucharest safehouse and its contents was the least of Bucky’s problems. The balding agent he’d seen directing the raid was apparently affiliated with SHIELD, which was a shadowy government agency that made representatives from other shadowy government agencies suddenly remember urgent appointments when Bucky tried to bribe, threaten, and otherwise shake them down for information on what the hell SHIELD might want with a former brainwashed assassin. Dodging SHIELD should be his number one priority.

Subjectively, he wanted his fucking cat back.

at any given moment by honeypuffed [Stucky, 1k words, Teen]

Steve and Bucky find out that everyone thinks they're sleeping together.

Brought to Brightness by eyres [Stucky, 10k words, Teen]

Army veteran Bucky Barnes has fallen in love with Steve, a guy he met online a few months after he returned from Afghanistan. Only problem is, he doesn't know Steve's last name or even what he looks like.

When his sister helps him send his story into MTV's Catfish, he's hoping they can help him meet Steve or, at least, let him move on with his life if Steve isn't real. Little does he know, Steve and Captain America have more in common than just a first name.

🌻 Nokken Wood by leveragehunters @leveragehunters [Stucky, 10k words, Teen]

When Sam's friend needs a house-sitter for his place in the country, Steve jumps at the chance. Six months rent-free to do nothing but draw and paint and wander the countryside, looking for inspiration? It was like a dream. But when he gets lost in a storm and nearly falls into a pond he starts to rethink the whole like a dream aspect of life in the country. And when a red-eyed, sharp-clawed, silver-fanged creature rises out of the darkness, Steve is one hundred percent certain the dream's morphed into a nightmare.

...until it gives him a cup of tea.

(Inspired partly by this prompt a supernatural creature is supposed to scare you but instead it gives you a cup of tea and a blanket because you're having a bad day and you keep coming back and partly by this painting.)

Professional Pride by galwednesday [Stucky, 700 words, Teen]

Bucky is having a very good day, until he turns around and finds himself face-to-face with Captain America.

“Oh shit,” he blurts before he can stop himself, and Captain America blinks at him. “Hey, hi, I didn’t expect to see you here.” Here, at New York’s Pride parade, surrounded by thousands of happy screaming people wearing rainbows and sometimes not much else. What is he doing here? Is he on guard duty or something? Was he just on a mission and happened to be passing by on his way back?

He’s in uniform but with the cowl loose around his neck, so when he rubs the back of his head it fluffs up his matted hair. “I, uh. I saw one of your–temporary tattoos?” Captain fucking America says, like it’s a question.

The A-bridged Guide to Trolling by galwednesday [Stucky, 1k words, Teen]

“I don’t have any money.”

Oh no, now the girl looked upset. Her eyes were huge and her lip was wobbling. Bucky tried to think fast despite the oh shit oh shit oh shit looping through his head.

“That’s okay,” Bucky said gently. “I don’t need money. We can figure out another kind of toll.”

The girl frowned at him. “Like what?”

Bucky scratched his head, trying to think of something a kid was certain to have on hand. “Do you know any jokes?”

(Fantasy AU in which Steve is a hedge witch with a green thumb, Bucky is a bridge troll who's new in town, and knock-knock jokes are a viable form of currency.)

It's a bittersweet ending (if you know what I mean) by relenafanel [Stucky, 1k words, Teen]

“I’ll see you around, Steve,” Bucky answers with a smirk, moving away from the counter with a wink.

Steve watches him go. Bucky’s wearing a pair of skinny jeans coated in something to give the appearance of leather. It’s impossible to not watch him go.

stuck on you by wearing_tearing [Stucky, 5k words, Teen]

“Bucky? You don’t look so hot.”

Bucky makes a tiny little sound in the back of his throat, only to start coughing. Of course he doesn’t look hot. He’s sick and he’s dying and Steve obviously isn’t attracted to him.

Decision-Making in Relationships (Paid Research Opportunity!) by castiowl [Stucky, 8k words, Teen]

Clint looked thoughtfully at the flyer. “I guess your actual roommate wouldn’t be down with it?”

Bucky frowned. “Have you met Steve Rogers?”

no way out but through by hollimichele [Stucky, 9k words, Teen]

Steve never sees it coming.

you got blood on your hands (and i know it's mine) by nighimpossible [Stucky, 3k words, Teen]

Bucky refuses to see Steve after his deprogramming.

Like What You See by daisymondays [Stucky, 8k words, Teen]

For all the time Bucky’s spent fantasizing about meeting Captain America, he’d never imagined it would be while posing nude in front of a drawing class.

🌻 A Real Boy by itsnotbleak [Stucky, 5k words, Teen]

It took the Winter Soldier three weeks to remember that human beings needed to sleep and eat.

It took Steve far too long to realise the Winter Soldier was sleeping in his bed.

Amapola by chaya [Stucky, 830 words, Teen]

Total fluff. Bucky's recovering nicely. Steve's oblivious. Sometimes it's best to set aside subtlety for action.

Knocking Boots With Sugar by buckybarnesdeservestobehappy [Stucky, 4k words, Explicit]

In between summers at college, Steve Rogers wants a new adventure beyond his lonely life in Brooklyn. He ends up in West Texas working on a dude ranch where Bucky Barnes is a long-time employee. When Bucky offers to buy Steve a drink, they end up drunk on tequila and making out in public. For the rest of the summer, they're inseparable. As the summer draws to a close, Steve realizes he doesn't want to leave.

Rogers and Associate by roe87 @jro616 [Stucky, 7k words, Teen]

When they first meet, Bucky is a hooker and Steve is a cop. She's been arrested, but Steve lets her off.

Years pass and they maintain a casual friendship, seeing each other out on the streets most nights.

Though he later makes detective, Steve loses faith in the system and quits his job.

He wants to set up as a private investigator, and he asks Bucky if she'd be his assistant.

Just in time by rainbow_nerds [Stucky, 1k words, Mature]

Bucky knew the apartment he was renting was old fashioned, but walking in the front door and finding himself transported back to 1938 was not on the list of things he had prepared himself for.

🌻 You Like What's in My Head by dontcallmebree [Stucky, 15k words, Explicit] (with art by @kocuria)

Bucky can’t decide if Steve’s a tough nut to crack or incredibly easy. The timbre of his voice, a low and almost amused, “Sure, kid,” when Bucky asks for a drink feels like something gripping him on the back of his neck.

He thinks this might be one of those moments in life he’ll pinpoint in the future and either curse at for dooming himself, or remember fondly with pride.

He’s right. Bucky Barnes blunders through falling in love with Commander Rogers and tries to find a deeper meaning behind the expensive gifts and thorough fucking.

Can I Sit Here? by BuckyFrickenBarnes [Stucky, 962 words, General]

Bucky has unusual methods for getting rid of his writer's block.

Or, Bucky needs that table.

Workplace Romance by BuckyFricken Barnes [Stucky, 1k words, General]

Bucky is under the impression that his boss hates him.

Or,

Steve needs to get better at dealing with his feelings.

🌻 1-800-MAYTAG by Miss Plum @misspluckyplum [Stucky, 1k words, Explicit]

Bucky just wants to get some housework done. It gets out of hand fast. Silly little fluff and smut romp with snarky stucky boys.

Eyes of the Forest by Lordelannette [Stucky, 7k words, Explicit] (2/8 chapters available)

When Omega Bucky Barnes comes to Eagle Lake, it was in search of wolves, a creature that had not been seen in the area for decades.

What he finds instead is Steve Rogers, a handsome, though quiet Alpha who seems to be everywhere in the forest.

#r's reading log #my reading log #fic rec #stucky #stucky fic rec #fic recs #stevebucky #long post

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squid--inc--writes · 5 years

Text

Inktober 2019 day 2: mindless. Art + story.

Update: Masterlist

Warning for gore, tell me if there's anything else to tag. Also, message me, or reblog this and and say tag me, if you want to be able to read my Inktober stories, and see my art.

The day they came, the strange folk, was the day everything changed. Of course, cliche as that is, and, frankly, obvious in that anything new will make change happen. But that doesn't matter.

It started with a family of five, all seemed normal enough, a nuclear family model, really. They made friends, had parties, all that suburban crap.

However, they always seemed off. Maybe it was the way how, when asked a question, or presented with a decision, it was always a blink, then an answer. Never more, never less. I brought it up to other people, my parents, my friends, anyone. No one seemed to think anything of it. Which is fair, I guess. It's inconsequential, right?

However, one day, that family of five turned into a family of four. I asked what happened to their baby. I know my friend Cami would babysit for them when they were away, and she'd gush about how they were. They said they only had their two sweet babies here, and gestured to their kids playing in the pool with some other kids.

I knew Cami was upset the first time she came back home, wondering what could have possibly happened. But after a party two days later, she didn't even seem to remember the third kid. Like it never happened.

About four days after, I could tell something was wrong. See, a few of the neighbours started acting like them. They'd wait a blink to answer, always cheerful, but never unique. People stopped mowing their lawn, too. Stopped caring.

Only three families left not falling into the trap. The klines two houses down, the Smiths across the street, and us.

I couldn't parse what we had in common. The Smiths and my family were having plumbing issues, so we couldn't use water. I thought, maybe that's it. But the Klines always have perfect plumbing, so that couldn't be it.

It wasn't until we started seeing the state of the street that my family believed me. Among grass, and litter, there were clumps of hair on the ground. Hair and… other debris. And the smell, God the smell. Something smelled rotten, and fermented. I could barely go outside anymore. When I did, I'd have to cover my face with a cloth doused in my mother's perfume.

Luckily, we didn't go outside much anymore. No one threw parties anymore. In fact, I don't think most people came outside anymore.

When our pipes finally got fixed, that was when I knew we fucked up. I got up in the middle of the night, woken up by loud noises. I followed them down to the basement, hiding at the top of the stairs, behind the door. I opened the door just a little, and looked through. There was mom, holding my unconscious sister. Dad was holding a tool I didn't recognize. It became quickly apparent what it was, as it sliced through her skin, expertly flaying it from the muscle below. It peeled away, like an orange. Hair falling out in clumps. She didn't even wake up. I don't know if that's good or bad. I hope she wasn't awake at least.

Dad set down the… the thing. And he walked to the sink next to the laundry machine. That's when the stench hit me. Once he turned on the tap, something disgusting, the same as outside, only ten times more concentrated came out. The water looked fine, though. He took a long swig of water, then turned, and handed to my mother.

She stood, and said, "I'll go get Joanna."

With that, I didn't bother shutting the door. I just slunk away, as fast as possible, far away from the stairs. I know she hesitated, noticing the door was slightly open. They had to know. So I got out the back door, didn't bother closing it, and ran. Didn't go around front, I risked walking through the backyard behind us. Brandy Jefferson lived there. Or she used to.

I snuck through, trying not to trip anything, when I wound up kicking something sticky, and soft. It blew up around my foot, I slid, slamming my back on the ground, and lay there in silent pain.

I looked at the mess, now staining me. Dark, viscous, and mushy below me. I thanked whoever I could when I looked, and saw that it was a very old pumpkin. Very, very old. And, hilariously, smelled better than the air around me.

I crawled my way up to my feet, and once again thanked whatever entity saw it fit to make my escape a little easier. The grass, which grew unnaturally tall, over my head, and the fence between our yards, his my escape, from my mother, who was now calling out for me.

I moved as silently as possible, making my way around the yard, and coming it to the side of the street. My decision to stay in the grass was probably the only thing that kept me from getting grabbed.

Walking before me, I saw the street filled to bursting with disgusting, pale, almost translucent skinned beings. They all also had thick dark lines around their eyes, almost like veins, but like a new system was trying to work its way through the body, rather than accept the old routes. The smell was more pungent here, than before.

I have to cover my mouth and nose, and I feel my eyes watering.

Making my way past the parade of sickness, I weave my way through yards until I wind up across from the Klines. I glance down to where the Smiths should be, and notice that their lawn has been overgrown, despite it being nice and neat only a few days earlier. I peak around and see, despite having been immaculate not ten minutes ago, my home is overgrown as well. The only clean yard is the Klines. However, in order to make it there, I'd have to get across the street, then their yard, and pray that they would let me in. And that they were fine too. All without being seen.

I can still hear my name being called, but it's getting further, and further away. Hopefully. So, I brace myself, take in as much air as I can without gagging, and I bolt across the street.

Someone had to have seen me in the house, because the door opens, and I sprinted in, not stopping, and slam in the wall a short distance from the entrance. The door slams shut behind me, and I feel a large, sharp object pointed at me. Mrs. Kline is staring down at me, eyeing me.

She says, "You alright?"

I stare at her, eyes wide, before I start just sobbing. I'm not really sure if it was from terror, exhaustion, or what, but I just sob.

I distantly hear a lock, and Mrs. Kline yells "Bill, get some blankets and the first aid kit."

Sitting up, I look and see the Kline kids. I never actually learned their names, cause they were homeschooled and only went outside on rare occasions. I feel bad about never saying hi.

Once they look me over, I learn their names. Bill Kline, the father, Angela Kline, the mother, and their, turns out three kids, are Betty and Beatrice, identical twins, and Carlisle, the eldest daughter.

I wind up moving in with them, discovering that they have an underground farm, essentially. It's a good thing the HOA isn't around anymore. The amount of readjusted pipes, or purification system thrown in. Even their own electric supply. It seems almost too good to be true.

Which is why I, stupidly, stopped trusting them. Which is why I, in the dead of night, left the house, and, with no key, did not lock it.

Which is why I was the death of the Klines. They could have been evil, they could have been good, but I never gave them a chance to prove it. Although, they already did so much for me.

So, on that night, I checked the street, closed the door, and snuck into another yard, having stolen a good amount of water and food. I thought I would be in the clear, but I should have known better.

I tried to leave the neighborhood, but it seemed to go on. Endless. What I finally realized was that, while it wasn't endless, it was being made to be.

Buildings torn down to be made into houses. It got to a point where, although there were plenty of similarities, it was eerily different. Just enough, in just the right ways, that it was concerning.

I finally gave up on reaching the end. I knew I wouldn't be able to get past whoever was building it. How could I? Instead, I climbed a roof, in the dead of night, after days of walking, and tried to see anything.

At the center of the strange design being built with the houses, I saw it. The water processing plant. I could feel a bad idea rising.

Making my way there, sleeping in the grass during the day, and walking, walking, walking during the night. I still saw them, but none of them veered off course.

They would flood the streets after sunrise, and be gone before the afternoon. They would then return before sunset, and stay in their homes. the lawns weren't as safe as I'd like, but they'd have to do.

However, as time progressed, and I ran out of food, I could have sworn the sky was changing. While the time of day would be easily clear to see, there was a rolling smog that began to fill the sky. It made everything darker, easier to hide, but harder to breathe.

When I finally got to the center, that smell that I had gotten so used to, increased tenfold; so thick that I could bite a chunk out of the air, if I wanted to puke.

Fueled by the thought that, perhaps, there will be a section where maybe I can get clean water. Maybe I didn't ruin my chance.

That thought changed however, when I saw the hanging bodies of the Klines. Not flayed like everyone else, no.

Solid, bloody. I couldn't tell how they were hung there, but I could see stretched skin behind each of them. Not wanting to look any longer, I shifted my gaze. There, in the center of the pool, was a small bundle of sludge, pulsating, and whining.

I stepped forward, pulled by an unseen force, and crouch by the side of the water. Well, it looked like it once was.once close enough, it screamed out, the sound of a baby having a temper tantrum, but louder. Always more than what it should be, I couldn't stand it.

Covering my ears, and clenching my eyes shut, I didn't feel the push, but I certainly felt the fall. Then I didn't feel anything. I didn't think anything. My mind uploaded somewhere else, as a freak experiment, and my body…

My body left mindless.

#inktober #inktober 2019 #art #story #story + art #spooky #tw gore #kind of #it probably sucks #idk #reblog

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