#anyway not my problem. get blocked everywhere bud

[werewolfbarista]

people love to just put me in situations..................if youre here to put me in a situation simply don't do that

[angelz-dust]

heatwave (jason todd x gender neutral!reader)

summary: extreme heat leads to a little accident with your popsicle and jason finds a way to rectify the problem.

warnings: 18+ content (minors dni) - smut, unprotected sex (no condom, no pulling out - pls wrap it up y’all), shower sex, mild food play (popsicle), mild choking. 

minors/ageless blogs who interact will be blocked - read rules before interacting

the sun shone through the window of your bedroom, the rays of light dancing against your sweaty skin as the wind from your fan made the blinds shake. you laid out on your bed, which had been stripped of its comforter, in only your underwear. you were about ready to peel those off of yourself, too. you weakly grabbed at your phone, checking the weather. 77 degrees.

77 degrees, your ass. it felt like 90. 

as much as you enjoyed reaping the consequences of a depleting ozone layer, you felt like it was time to do something to control the temperature in your apartment. you weren't sure how much longer you'd be able to handle breathing in air that felt thick enough to chew. slowly, you sat up, having to peel your sheet off of your sweaty back. you were going to have to do the laundry at some point because going back to sleep in drenched sheets was just as disgusting as it sounded. that was a problem for 3pm you, though. 11am you needed water. desperately.

waddling your way to the kitchen, you opened the refrigerator door and you let out a loud moan of satisfaction. the bright white lights invited you inside its cold confines and you could've swore you saw a dead relative or two beckoning you in. you didn't want to leave the door open for too long, so you quickly grabbed the last water bottle and shut it. you wasted no time swallowing down the cold liquid, ignoring how it made your teeth hurt and froze your throat. you didn't even care that some of it had spilled down the front of your body, down your chest and to the band of your underwear. you welcomed the cold droplets onto your burning hot skin. 

“fuuuuuuck,” you breathed out, your body going limp as it pressed itself against the metal refrigerator door. you could feel your perspiration creating a suction between it and your skin. it was fine, though. you had no intention of moving anyway.

had it not been for your brain taking a few minutes to power itself off, you would've heard the familiar jingle of keys unlocking the front door and you would've turned to see jason coming in with the desserts you requested. 

“what the hell are you doing?” you heard him say and you slightly turned towards him, a dazed look on your face. he was already stripping out of his clothes before he even asked.

“dying,” you responded, opening the freezer for him as he threw in some ice cream and multiple boxes of popsicles.

jason put his hand on your clammy shoulder, slowly ripping you off of the fridge. he turned you towards him, holding some contraption in his hand, which appeared to be a cross between a spray bottle and a fan. without saying anything, he turned it on and began spraying you down like a misbehaving cat, only you didn't flinch. no, you relished in the feeling of the mist on your face.

“here. i got one for myself, too,” he said, handing you the fan. you smiled happily as you started spraying and fanning yourself all over. 

“i hope whoever invented this is getting bomb ass head right now,” you breathed out, starting to feel some relief.

“what about the guy who bought it for you? what does he get?” jason asked, starting his fan up and spraying his chest, it now glistening with both sweat and tap water. 

“absolutely nothing until the temperature drops,” you smiled at him. “what flavors did you get?”

jason’s lips puckered slightly as he leaned back against the kitchen counter. “strawberry, pineapple, and this caribbean mix with a bunch of flavors in it. you might wanna wait on eating them, though. they’ll probably melt fast.”

“it's a risk i'm willing to take,” you said, going and grabbing a popsicle for yourself. you unwrapped it and hummed happily at the flavor against your tongue. the brand jason bought was a little more expensive but it was definitely worth it. the real fruit juices and chunks were much more satisfying to taste than the artificial flavoring of the other brands.

“is it good?” jason asked, a small smile on his lips. despite being uncomfortably hot, seeing you happy made it bearable. the fact that he was able to provide you with the things you needed, even if it was something as simple as your favorite popsicle, made him feel good.

“mhm,” you nodded, some of the juices starting to trickle down your chin and onto your chest. you looked down and frowned a little. you started spraying your chest, trying to get the stickiness to go away. 

jason watched you desperately try to lick up the juices that were now sliding down the stick and getting on your hands. it just wouldn't stop and it was making a huge mess, just as he had warned you it would. 

“sweetheart, there's more popsicle on your chest than there is in your mouth,” he commented condescendingly and you glared at him.

“maybe that's how i like eating it, jason,” you said, his name coming out of your mouth like venom. 

“you know what? i like eating it that way, too,” he nodded in agreement, stepping towards you and dipping his head down to lick at your collarbone and move down the valley of your chest. 

your breath hitched at the unexpected contact and the added body heat to your personal bubble. jason had come back up, giving you a soft kiss and licking the remnants of your most recent bite off of your lips. as badly as you wanted to melt into the kiss, you pulled away. you grabbed your fan and started spraying him in the face. 

“down, boy,” you scolded him playfully, little giggles coming from him as he flinched his punishment. “i'm trying to eat.”

“so am i,” he smirked, taking the popsicle from you and taking a bite out of it. he looked around the room, whistling as he not so subtly let the popsicle fall against your chest and dragging it down some, watching as it dripped down your abdomen. you gasped out as the contrasting temperatures, your back hitting the fridge. 

“oh wow. i'm so sorry,” his fake apology rang against your ears. he took the dessert off of your skin, handing it back to you. “i'll get that for you.”

his lips and tongue fell upon your skin again, dragging over the stains. he found himself at your nipples, despite not getting anything on them. he swirled his tongue around the quickly hardening buds, managing to get a pleasant sound from you. he got on his knees, collecting the sweetness that was threatening to make it way to your underwear. he eagerly lapped it all up before it got to that point, firmly holding your hips against the door to prevent you from moving away.

“jason, it's too hot,” you sighed as he planted kisses up your naval, looking up at you with playful eyes.

“i know. this is really sexy, isn't it?” he spoke against your body, which got himself sprayed again by you. this time, he saw it as encouragement instead of a punishment. how thoughtful of you to help keep him cool while he focused on making you feel good. 

you kept spraying him until he eventually let up, laughing again as he got off of his knees. “fine, fine. if you won't indulge me in my sexy popsicle fantasy, can we at least go take a shower?”

“only to get the juice off. no other reason,” you said coyly and he smirked at you, giving you a firm nod.

“of course. what other reason would there be?” he asked as the two of you headed to the bathroom, touching at each other and giggling your entire way there, taking what little clothes you both had off of each other. by the time the water started running, the little act had dropped and you were all over each other. it was freezing, which put your bodies into a slight shock as you panted heavily in between feverish kisses. 

jason’s favorite thing to do was hoist you up, with your legs wrapped around his waist. he liked showing you how strong he was and feeling your body flush against his own. he made sure to position you high enough against the tile wall so you wouldn't have water violently hitting your face, but close enough to where you could still feel it everywhere else. he never allowed himself to be blinded by lust at the expense of your comfort. 

his hips rolled into yours and his face found its way back to your chest, peppering it with kisses. you carded your fingers through his wet hair, tugging at it just how he liked. even though you were doing a very physically taxing activity, this was the coolest you had felt all day. you wasted no time giving jason’s plump lips the kisses they had deserved earlier, your boyfriend more than happy to reciprocate. as much as you didn't want to part from him again, he pulled away and began suckling at your neck. normally you would object to being marked in such a visible location but you gave him a pass this one time. after all, he was the guy who bought you the spray fan. 

your feet touched the ground again and he turned you around, pressing you against the wall and grinding softly into your backside. it didn't take him long to pull your leg up and slowly insert himself inside of you. you started seeing stars and that's when your legs became like jelly, causing you to lose your balance. jason quickly reacted, your hearts pounding as you tried to stay vertical.

“are you alright?” he asked, his nose rubbing the shell of your ear. 

“yeah, i just got dizzy,” you explained, grabbing his hand with an embarrassed smile. “i'm okay.”

“so clumsy,” he grinned, kissing your temple as his slow thrusting began. his hand trailed down your side and landed on your ass, using it as leverage.

you moaned his name as he started going deeper and slower. he was teasing you now, which was to be expected. even on the hottest of days, in one of the least comfortable locations, he didn't pass up the opportunity. jason treating this like any other love making session and not just a quickie turned you on even more. he never let you question his dedication to making you unravel beneath him.

“jason, please. stop teasing me,” you begged him, knowing that was the only way he would stop. closed mouths don't get fed, as he would say. 

“only because you asked so nicely,” he responded smugly, picking up the pace now. the sounds of slapping skin and breathy moans were amplified by the acoustics of the room. you began feeling a slight ache; a result of jason’s girth and length inside of you. a normal person would’ve asked for a break, but not you. it fueled you to continued, fucking back against him and squeezing around the very thing that was causing you mild pain. 

“it feels good, doesn’t it?” he asked you and you didn't respond. you hated how he always knew exactly what you were doing. “tell me it does, sweetheart. i wanna hear you say it.”

you ignored him again, moving against him a little faster now. his hands quickly went to your hips, holding you still. “answer me,” he whispered in your ear and you whimpered in defeat.

“it feels good,” you mumbled, trying to move again, but to no avail. 

“sorry, i didn’t catch that.”

“it feels good, jason.”

“i'm glad. i want you to feel good,” he smiled, letting you go. you continued to try and reach your high, doing most of the work now while jason watched. his hands caressed your body, encouraging you to continue. 

“does it feel good for you?” you asked him and he nodded. 

“it always does, sweetheart. i feel amazing whenever i’m with you,” he told you, starting to meet you half way with his thrusts. “doesn't matter if i'm inside you or not.”

you felt your face heat up at his words. you hated how he had that effect on you. you felt yourself slip against the wet tile again and he caught you, pulling you back against him. 

“would you stop doing that?” the two of you laughed together, taking a quick breather. “i need you to not die in the middle of me fucking you, okay?”

“okay, i'm sorry,” you giggled as jason helped you get back into position. “i'm sorry.”

“it's alright, don't worry,” he reassured you, slipping his hand up your front and around your throat. “is this okay?”

you nodded, feeling more secure in this modified position. despite your little interruption, you still felt as needy as ever. his grip on you was so gentle that you could almost be convinced you’d slip again, but jason knew your body like the back of his hand. he knew what he needed to do to keep you safe and not hurt you in the process. 

“let’s finish up,” jason’s tone was comforting and you hummed in agreement, picking up right where the two of you left off. it didn't take long, either. you could feel the pressure building up inside of you, waiting to wash over you. once you felt his tip pressing against that sweet spot he was so good at exploiting, you knew there was no going back now. 

you both started getting sloppy, jason’s thrusts being less methodical and your movements no longer matching with his. jason’s broken gasps and moans send you over the edge, sending you spiraling in euphoria. his grip on your throat tightened very slightly as he filled you up, his face resting in the crook of your neck. you let out a sigh as he slipped out of you, feeling his cheek pressing against you, silently urging you to turn around. you complied, your noses grazing each other before your lips met again with little kisses.

“we can take a real shower now,” he smiled against your lips, kissing you again. “no more sexy fantasies. i promise.”

“no more sexy fantasies during a heatwave,” you corrected him, grabbing your wash cloth and wiping away some of the sweat forming at his hairline. “any other time, they will be greatly accepted and expected.”

“good to know.”

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Not Without Me

Warnings: dubcon sex, masturbation, fingering, oral, fucking

This is Bucky Barnes x reader in an established relationship and explicit. 18+ only.

Summary: The reader is tired of waiting for Bucky.

Note: A short little smutty piece to tide you over on a Sunday, sinners. ;P 

I hope y’all enjoy!

Let me know what you think! (Like, reblog, reply, leave some words, a gif, nonsensical emojis)

You were excited for Bucky’s return until it came. He greeted you with a peck so quick it barely touched your lips and a grumble about taking a shower. You said ‘okay’ and swallowed your disappointment that he hadn’t asked you to join. The long night of anticipation deflated in a second.

You were confused. What had changed so quickly? Last night, he’d kept you up with his messages; promises of what he intended when he got home. As his missions often ran for weeks, he was often pent up upon his return. But you felt like just another cushion on the couch.

Well, you shrugged, you couldn’t be selfish. He had just spent three weeks in the field and he deserved the time to decompress. You could wait. You’d waited this long.

When he emerged from the shower with only his track pants, you couldn’t help but look him over. His damp hair brushed along his shoulder as he stared at his phone and blindly found his way to the love seat. You stayed on the couch and changed the channel. You weren’t really paying attention anyway.

“How was it?” You asked.

“Long,” He said and you noticed the dark bruise along his ribs. “But it’s over.”

“Ah, I guess staying up late didn’t help,” You joked.

He swiped through his phone and muttered. You frowned. What was his problem?

You grabbed your cell from the table and opened up your convo. It was all there. ‘Can’t wait, babe’; ‘Been thinking about your ass all day.’, the usual dirty talk. You sighed and locked your phone. You glanced over at him and he looked up and blinked.

“Gotta send this off to Tony,” He turned his screen to you. “He’s been on me since I got on the jet back.”

“That’s cool,” You stood. “I’m gonna go finish my book.”

“Your book?” He was already looking at his phone again. 

“You know, that one I’ve been working on for the last year,” You scoffed. “I made good progress while you were gone.”

“Mmm,” He hummed and nodded. Still his eyes clung to the cell phone.

��Right, I’ll be in the room.” You said and he gave little more response than before.

You neared him and bent to kiss him. He turned his cheek up but didn’t offer his lips as his metal thumb flicked across the screen. You pecked him and pushed yourself away. Tomorrow. He probably just needed a good night’s sleep.

You left him reluctantly. You turned back at the stairs and peeked at him. He slumped down and sighed at his phone. You frowned. Despite the voice telling you to be reasonable, to be fucking patient, you wanted to jump on him and just take what he’d promised. You wanted to be touched after weeks of being alone. You wanted to be with him, not just sit in his half-aware presence.

You dragged your feet to the bedroom and set your phone on the dresser. You stopped as you hand hit the knob of the top drawer. You paused and listened. What was there to hear? His finger tapping on his screen. Even if your hearing was as strong as his, it didn’t matter.

You slowly slid open the drawer and your fingers delved beneath the panties. The ones you wore in expectation of Bucky would just be another drop in the hamper. You licked your lips and pulled out the small vibe. Your little bullet was reliable and easily hidden at the back of the drawer. Small and compact. Your dirty secret. A rather small bed warmer.

You tiptoed to the bed and grabbed your book from the bedside table as you let the bullet slip down on the mattress. Should you? Well, he wasn’t going to. You’d probably fall asleep reading Anna Karanina before he’d even happen upon the idea.

The spine of the book was broken and the corners were curled and worn. You’d carried it with you everywhere, as big as it was, and picked away at the blocks of Tolstoy’s writing. You read one line before your impatience got the best of you. He’d never know. He hadn’t figured it out yet, had he?

You set the book down on the pillow beside you and reached for the vibe resting against your leg. You twirled it between your fingers and admired the purple silicone. You ran your thumb along the end and clicked the button. You felt the buzz deep in your core as you gripped the toy.

You let out a shaky breath and reached to the elastic of your silky shorts. Bucky liked those ones. You thought he would have noticed your ass peeking out or at least how thin your camisole was. Forget him.

You rolled the toy down your pelvis and bent your legs. The elastic pressed to your arm as you angled the vibe along your folds and delved deeper. You gasped as you touched your clit with the vibrating toy and your other hand flitted up to your neck. You bit your lip and tugged down the strap of your top as cupped your breast. 

You played with your hard nipple and purred as the ripples coursed from between your legs. You were quaking in moments; overly sensitive as you had resisted since Bucky’s departure. You didn’t use the toy often, just in cases of desperate emergency.

You slid your palm over the toy and held it firmly to your clit. You poked two fingers down to your entrance and felt around. You pressed just inside and let out a squeak. It was nothing like the real thing but anything was enough. You pushed deeper and without thinking, let out a long moan.

You kept going, inching closer and closer to the edge. Your voice grew louder even as you tried to restrain it and you pressed your lips together and you squeezed your eyes shut. Your hot breath forced itself from your chest and you shuddered as you reached for your orgasm, the vibe rumbling against you as you bent your fingers deeper.

Before you could grasp your climax, the drawer snapped shut and you tore your hand away as you sat up. Bucky stood by the door, his metal fingers tapped on the dresser. He tutted as his jaw squared and he came closer. You blinked up at him and smiled guiltily.

“What do you think you’re doing?” He asked as he tilted his head.

“Relaxing,” You answered coyly. “I figured you were busy, so…”

He bent and grabbed your hand. He wrestled the toy from you and clicked it off as he held it up.

“I thought you got rid of all of these.” He closed his fist around it and you heard it snap in his metal grip. He dropped the broken toy and it bounced on the floor. “Like I asked you to.”

“Well, you’re away so long, I can’t always… wait.” You argued. “Whatever, I can just use my fingers.”

“What?” He hissed.

“I was in the middle of something,” You laid back and touched the top of your shorts. “So, if you’ll excuse--”

He wrenched your hand away and twisted your wrist.

“You’re not cute,” He warned. “Or funny.”

“Well, you didn’t seem interested.” You struggled with him.

“You never were good at waiting,” He snarled as he planted his knee between your legs. “Or listening.” He moved up so that he was straddling you. “Bad girl.”

“Get off,” You snatched your hand away as his grip loosened and you slapped his arm. “You missed out, buddy.”

“Did I?” He looked down and your eyes followed. His erection was snug against his track pants. “You did this, you gotta take care of it.”

“And you’re supposed to take care of me.” You snipped. “So?”

He took your hand again and put it to his pants. He pressed your hand against his dick and groaned. His other hand went to your chest, your camisole still askew and he tweaked your nipple harshly.

“So?” He said as he rubbed your hand along his girth. “You couldn’t wait twenty minutes to get that toy out? You think you can wait any longer?”

“You think you can?” You grinned.

His hand went to your jaw and you gulped. He was rarely this rough. Often, he was overly careful, afraid of his own strength.

“Buck,” You whispered, surprised by the heat in his eyes.

“You afraid?” He asked as he bent over you. “Hmm, you think I won’t take it?”

You giggled and touched his shoulder. “What’s gotten into you?”

“What are you laughing at?” He snarled. “This isn’t a game. You didn’t listen to me.”

“It’s just a toy.” You said.

“What? I’m not enough fun for you?” He hissed.

“Most of the time, you are,” You answered with a wink. His fingers tightened around your jaw.

“I noticed.” He growled. “This little number.” His other hand played with the lace along the bottom of your shirt as he lifted himself on his knees. “I told you. I had to finish some work.”

“You barely noticed I was there.” You huffed.

“Don’t be a child.” He pushed his hand down your shorts. His fingers crept down your pelvis and he felt along your cunt. “You want it, don’t you?”

“Not from you,” You snickered and his hand slipped to your throat.

“No?” He turned his hand and pushed two fingers inside of you. You gasped at how easily he did it. “You don’t want me?”

He curled his fingers as the heel of his hand pressed to your bud. 

“Trust me, babe, your toys can’t do what I can.” He purred.

“Buck-y,” You touched his wrist. “I can’t--”

“Shhh,” He squeezed harder as his hand continued to move between your legs. “Listen to you.”

Your fractured breaths barely passed your lips as you heard how wet you were around his fingers. Your lashes fluttered as your thighs closed around his hand. He let go of your neck as his fingers sped up and he rocked his hand against your cunt.

He lifted one leg to push your right one away then did the same to your left. He settled between your thighs and bent slowly. He moved back as he stared up at you and caught your hip as you tried to pull away. He slid his hand out the top of your shorts and tugged aside the crotch of your shorts, swiftly sliding his fingers into you once more.

“You wanted it so bad.” He sneered and kissed the inside of your thigh. “And you’re gonna get it.”

“Bucky…” You shuddered as he kneaded your thigh and pushed his fingers deeper.

He hushed you again and moved his hand, his tongue flicking over your clit and sending a rush of heat through you. Your legs bent around him as your eyes rolled back and he dragged his tongue over your bud again and again and again. 

You arched your back as he buried his face between your legs and fucked you fith his hand. He suckled at your clit and he curled his fingers to meet that special spot inside you. You whined and your hand shot down to grip the back of his head as the ends of his hair tickled along your thighs.

He shoved your hand away and kept on. You grasped the blankets beneath you and moaned. You were swept up in the sensation of his tongue and touch. You panted and pouted, your voice growing louder and louder as you rocked beneath Bucky.

“Yesss.” You purred. “Oh, Buck--”

Your voice sizzled as you came and your entire body tensed. You bit back your hot breath and quivered as you orgasm rolled over you. As you came down, you stilled and fell limp across the bed. 

Bucky lifted his head slowly to look at you. He smirked and pulled his fingers in and out a few last times before slipping out entirely.

“My turn, babe,” He climbed out from between your legs and removed his pants. He stood at the edge of the bed as his cock bobbed before him. “You know, I can’t even use my hand since I’ve had your pretty mouth.”

You stared at him sleepily and slowly sat up. He gripped his cock and wiggled it impatiently.

“And those shorts,” He rasped. “You can keep those on. Only those.”

You licked your lips and reached to the hem of your camisole. You tore it over your head and flung it over the edge of the bed. You got up and fell forward onto your hands to crawl to him. He reached out and tickled your cheek with his metal fingers. You raised your hand to grip him but he caught it and shoved it back down. 

“Just your mouth, babe,” He ordered as he drew his hands back to his hips.

You leaned forward and parted your lips. You caught his tip with your mouth and carefully stretched your lips over him. He hummed as he slid deeper and you stopped as he was halfway in. What were you doing? You were supposed to be mad at him. He latched onto you before you could pull away.

“I waited just as long as you did,” He said as he forced his cock deeper. “So long.” He sank down your throat and your eyes teared up as you choked on him. “That mouth, oh god.”

He stopped at his limit and drew back slowly, then pushed in again. He thrust into your mouth carefully, lingering after each. His motion built steadily as he kept his hips moving and your spit dripped down your chin and spread around your lips as you gulped and gagged. Your thighs brushed together and you flinched. You needed him inside you.

“What is it?” He taunted as you rubbed your legs together and stuck out your ass. “You want it now, huh?” 

He didn’t waver as he held your head between his hands and groaned. He sped up until you were dizzy and stopped sharply. He eased out of your mouth and lifted your chin as he gazed down at you.

“Let me see that ass.” He said and snapped his fingers. “Now.”

You turned around so quickly you nearly fell over. You stayed on all four as you wiggled your ass at him and wiped your mouth with the back of your hand. He got up behind you on his knees. He guided himself down between your legs and past your shorts as he tugged them aside. He prodded at your entrance with a hum.

“Huh? You want me?” He asked.

“Yes,” You breathed.

“Better than a toy, huh?” He slapped your ass as he ran his cock up and down your cunt.

“Better, better,” You uttered. “Please…”

You pushed back into him and his tip poked inside. You gasped and he spread his hand over your ass as he slipped out of you. He tisked and teased you again with his tip. He pressed inside you again and this time he didn’t stop. He impaled you entirely as your walls clenched around him. You cried out in delight.

“Mmm,” He bent over you and hooked his arm around you. He straightened up and took you with him so that your back was to his front. “Babe…” He rocked his hips. “Fuck, you’re right. I don’t fuck you enough.” His hand slipped down your pelvis and his fingers swirled around your clit. “You’re so fucking tight.”

You whined and leaned into him, your hand on his thick thigh as you grasped at anything to keep from crumpling entirely. You shook as your core began to swell again. You needed more. You were so close.

Slowly, he backed you up and you were too weak to resist. His hands slipped down to the back of your legs and he scooped you up as he stood easily. He held you with your knees to your chest, his metal hand gripped your thigh as his other arm hugged your leg and his hand remained on your clit. 

You let him bounce you up and down, as perilous as it was. Your voice mingled with his deep grunts. You reached back and grabbed his head as your other hand gripped his side. You exclaimed as you were overcome by your orgasm. You begged and called his name as you longed for even more.

“You miss me?” He snarled.

“So much,” You moaned. “So much, Bucky.”

“Yeah,” He purred. “I missed you too.”

He hammered into you until you were speaking gibberish and your head lolled back on his shoulder. He grunted and his hot breath seared your chest as he buried his face against you. His thrusts grew jagged and he spasmed wildly. He staggered forward and fell onto you atop the bed.

He crushed you beneath him as he rutted into you. He chased his orgasm and his heat spilled into you. You hummed as he stilled and held himself inside of you, rolling his hips to make you squirm as you felt his heart beat against you.

“No more toys,” His breath tickled your ear and he kissed your temple. “You just gotta ask, babe.”

[1-800-seo]

1-800-SEO’s 𖣘 ‘Healing of the Heart’

- pairing: Taeyong X Y/N

- genre: drabble, fluff, alternate timeline, non-modern AU, herbalist/apothecary!taeyong, pining best friend!y/n

- warnings: mentions of mice and ill health. I wrote this ages ago for another idol and it has been sat in my drafts for a year and a half, I apologise if the writing is subpar ://

- words: 1307 (unedited + open ending)

Taeyong felt the patter of tiny feet running all the way up his arm as the brown mouse made its way to the hood of his cape. It rested there, its tiny head poking out and sniffing the air. Taeyong lifted his arms up and felt around in his hood until he touched the warm furry body of his pet mouse, Ida. He picked her up in his large hands, scooping her tiny body, and brought her down to rest on the desk before him. She walked in a small circle before deciding to climb up his stacked pile of encyclopaedias, making her way up them like an enlarged staircase. To avoid her falling off, he picks her up again and places her back in her cage, and then turns back to his large boiling pot of mixed herbs and roots. The pot bubbles and sloshes as he mixes the contents around with a wooden spoon, the herbalist thinks of what to add next. His latest concoction is a blend intended to soothe a fever, something his village will most likely need as winter draws near.

The autumnal sunlight seeps in through the adjacent window and the small beams light up Taeyong’s shop. It illuminates the plants sat in the window who are assumably soaking it up, and sheds light through the glass herb jars along the dark wooden shelves. Taeyong racks his brain for the correct herb combination for his creation. As he lands on an appropriate root he has in his collection, you walk through the door of the shop, little bell alerting him to your presence. It’s not the first time you’ve been in Yongie’s shop, in fact it’s not even the 20th time, since you’ve been in ‘TY’s Herbal Healing’. Your regular visits to his shop had become a daily thing, the title of best friend had been bestowed after you became his regular customer ever since the opening of the shop. The only good thing your ill health had brought about was you meeting Taeyong, ever since you’d met him that day he’d opened the shop up, you had been inseparable. Your shared love of plants being the building blocks of that once budding friendship with him.

“Hey Yongie” you say, unwrapping your scarf from your neck and placing it on the counter. “How’s your latest broth?” “Not bad, thank you, I’ve just been attempting to level out the acidity in it, I’m thinking of adding some ginger to make it more palatable. Could you pass me some from the shelf please?” “No problem.” You reply whilst taking some from the shelf and jumping over the shop counter to his brewing quarters. The front of his shop is arranged neatly, the counter clear, bar from his old bonsai stood stout over in the corner. This neatness isn’t carried over to his brewing quarters; open jars of roots and herbs lay open on his worktops, the stove is on heating the bubbling broth, a few books are open and strewn across the sides. Even Ida’s cage is a bit untidy although you doubt this is Yong’s fault, she has a habit of upending her little wooden house and throwing her bedding everywhere.

You pass the ginger to your herbalist and watch as he works, picking up a chunk of the root and chopping it up on the board he has off to the side. He then promptly tosses it into the pot and stirs it a few times. You love watching his deft hands work, seeing how much care he puts into each and every one of his creations. His love and care doesn’t just extend to how he makes his medicines. You can see his loving touch in his shop, in his home, in his music. It’s demonstrated through his care for his plants that litter his shop, through the carefully arranged displays, his well thought out diagnosises to patients. You see it in the delicately handsewn patchwork bed sheets he has, the expertly placed candelabras, the devotion to his pets. And most of all you see it in his beautiful songs, the way he arranges for the lyre is unearthly, and only in the sense that the songs he creates are so ethereal it sounds as if it was plucked from heaven.

The time’s when you are so lost in thought like this lead you to wonder how close you are to your precious Yongie; and your precious friendship, would you prefer if it was something else? Something more intimate, something where you could greater witness the inner workings of his world. You could watch all day his loving works and his caring deeds, you could love him with all your heart. You wonder, whether it would be so bad belonging to the village herbalist, you don’t think it would be hard to cross the boundary from friend to lover. You stare into your herbalist’s deep onyx eyes and realise you could get lost in them forever.

Your thoughts had lead you to make a move, you had to do something. Spending all your life single wasn’t your plan anyway; having resided yourself to a life alone, convinced no one would love you with your many ailments and need to be looked after. But with Taeyong, that didn’t feel the case. You were sure he could love you properly and care for you in all the right ways, the question is, would he want to? You longed to find out. Those days you’d spent pining for him as you weaved a basket or baked some bread. He permeated your thoughts, seeping into the the fabric of your mind at all hours of the day and night, never did you stop thinking about him and you were a little ashamed to say that. But time had come to say what must be said, and so, you did.

“Taeyongie? Have you ever thought about courting anyone?” You query, legs swinging as you sit on the counter, an anxious tremor making itself known through your fingers.

“I have... I’ve thought about this before, I’d like a doting partner, I’m not sure if anyone could love me though. Who would want to put up with me?” He replies, following his sentence with a nervous chuckle.

You gulp at his words, mind racing. “I-I could put up with you. I wouldn’t be ‘putting up’ with you though, I’d give you all my love.... I’ve thought about you for so long Yongie, I wasn’t sure if you liked me, loved me even. I want to be the one who loves you. Will you let me?”

His mouth hangs open, eyes wide with shock. He’s stopped staring his broth and has paused his actions. “I- I’m so sorry for springing this on you. It doesn’t matter. I was stupid to think you would ever love me like I’d hoped.” You look at your hands, head hung low.

Taeyong interrupts before a tear can make your way from its eyes. “No— no! I love you y/n, I really do. I was just so shocked you felt this way.” He takes your head in his hands and rests his fingers on your cheeks, hands splayed. “How long have you felt this way?” He asks.

“Umm, about a year.” Embarrassment flushes your cheeks, staining them rose red. “You should of told me, I’ve loved you for so long. I just thought no one could love the clumsy healer at the edge of the village. I told myself I was ok alone. Now hearing you say this has made me realise how much I need you in my life.” He punctuates his sentence with a tender kiss on your forehead, such a sensitive and emotive action, you feel see his shoulders release tension as he does it.

Some risks are worth taking.

[claybefree]

Seeing as it's the twentieth anniversary, I guess I should post this again

September Third, Two Thousand and Nine

For years whenever anyone asked me when my son Henry was born I’d start to say September instead of August 25, 2001. Sunday he had his eighth birthday party at his mother’s house, and I stayed here. Most of his mother’s friends don’t care for me much. The feeling is mutual. Tonight coming home from work I started stitching what I’m about to write together in my mind and suddenly got very afraid. I thought for a moment that I was about to go get drunk, which might very likely be death for somebody like me. I was sure I was going to change direction of the truck, that I’d drive the same route I always did back then, that I would stand by the register and stare at the bottle in my hand without really knowing I where I was. I think it has to do with the weather finally changing and perhaps that Henry’s mom and I are no longer together. I sat on the porch of my little house and called a friend and told him all this. He listened and after a while I felt better, which is exactly how these things should go. When we decided we were done he told me I should go in and write all this down.

I worked on through that whole day. Most everybody else on the job had stopped and listened to each of the radios on the different floors or cried. The asshole Turks I was framing a bathroom for wouldn’t let me quit. They had tile to run. I found it made me feel better to keep going anyway. The laborers cussed me when I asked them to move so that I could use the table saw, a natural gathering spot on any job. They seemed to think I was calloused or hard-hearted and it was because I was from Tennessee. It just now occurred to me that maybe they were right.

That afternoon, when it was determined safe to walk across the bridges, most of the job, the other carpenters and trades-people, wandered home to Brooklyn or Queens. Me and the two left to close everything up had it different as we lived in Jersey. Anthony, the boss, was big and red-haired, red faced and lived in Hoboken. Duane was in charge of demolition and waste, was a little shorter and darker, and lived in Secaucus or maybe somewhere west of that I think. They squared off on each other frequently. It always reminded me of two walruses going at it on a beach.

Whenever we went out to the bar afterwards Anthony would have a Bud tall boy in each hand at all times, the waitress would come up with four for him whenever we sat down. On the job we liked to yell at each other, I once told him I was doing him a favor by giving him such an easy target, and he never missed an occasion to oblige me. Duane was a single dad, dark haired with deep sunken yet kind eyes that always seemed to have bags under them. One of the black laborers told him once he was the most Uncle Fester looking motherfucker he had ever seen. I tended to agree.

We locked the job up at four I think, humped it across the park through the smoke to the A-train. There was smoke forming a mist around the trees of central park that day. There were no flower children loitering at Yoko’s “Imagine” monument to barge through. Our thinking was to get downtown to the Path train. We had no idea that two of the stations had been destroyed. It didn’t matter, we were underground fifteen minutes before Anthony vetoed the idea. People were running wild through the stations, on the trains, everything was panic and Oh Fuck and Anthony had no intention of being underground. He had a funny look on his face that I couldn’t figure out. It wouldn't occur to me until later that the big man was very afraid.

In the years since I have always wondered why people have reacted so strongly from that day. Later we would go to war because of a something that happened one day in New York City and this has always seemed really strange to me. I guess what I mean is that I was there and never wanted to kill anybody because of it. Most of the time I just thought it was very strange and sad and mostly just very interesting. I only remember ever crying about it twice. The first time was a few months afterward, I had quit Anthony to stay home with Henry. Part of our routine was to watch Sesame Street. One day in the winter there was a skit where Elmo got very scared because of some smoke and noise that was never identified. I suppose in this case it was a nameless fear. A New York City fireman came on screen and hugged him, told him it was okay to be scared, Elmo, and that everything would be alright. I remember little red furry Elmo hugged the fireman tight. I held Henry in my lap and cried into his fine blonde hair.

It was the fireman that did it. I still get upset when I think about the firemen. I have had a lot of trouble with cops in different times in my life, but I never had a problem with any fireman I ever encountered, drunk or otherwise. They seem to me to be a different animal entirely.

Anthony, Duane and me ran into two firemen on the deck of the cruise boat that carried us across to Weehawken. They came in and collapsed on the painted metal floor, shedding boots and letting their helmets roll away. Some people applauded weakly, others asked questions, they just stared at us and said nothing. It didn’t occur to me until much later they were probably the only ones from their station who lived. Other men that for years they worked with, ate and fought with, got drunk with were dead. There was a bar I frequented in Jersey City a few blocks from our house where a couple of weeks later I saw three firemen in dress uniforms. One was between his partner on a stool and the third who was older and may have been a captain. The captain was clearly upset, swaggering and poking the other two in the chest. Everybody else was trying hard not to pay attention to what seemed about to develop into a fight. I think later I saw the old man leaning against the bar and weeping openly, he must have been sixty at least.

I got drunk in this bar Sept. 10th while my wife and kid slept back home. She’d start nursing and pass out with him and I’d head out to roam. The thing I liked about this place was the Sinatra on the jukebox, so that night I loaded it up and sat at the bar listening. I think it was the first time I’d ever heard “Summer Wind.” The tattooed brunette tending bar must have thought it was cute because she serenaded me, singing along with a couple of the songs. There was another man with a mustache further down the line who was putting the blast on her and didn’t seem to like me much so I got the fuck out early. By “early” I mean I didn’t close the place.

I won’t tell you what we saw on the boat ride across the Hudson, you’ve seen it already. We unloaded at Weehawken and everyone, thousands of high end refugees really, started walking south towards Hoboken where we had been told there were buses waiting to take us home. I noticed that even wearing boots, the three of us walked faster than the others. We were construction workers living and working around Manhattan and we were very good at walking. I remember being comforted by walking with them. Hundreds of buses lined the streets of Hoboken and the three of us walked the length of that town. Anthony broke off about halfway to head home. A couple of weeks later I showed up having laid out drunk for two days and told him I had come for my tools. He looked at me and didn’t say a word. He mailed me my check. I haven’t seen the man since.

Duane and me trudged the rest of Hoboken together. I heard that not soon after I left he was let go to cut costs and that not long after that he got into a bad time with a prostitute on rt. 1 & 9. The smoke in Hoboken was thicker than in the city and the fumes from streets filled with idling buses finally got my hangover to officially kick in. I told Duane about how I’d had “Summer Wind” playing as background music in my head all day. He laughed and began singing the song, each line perfectly. We got through the crowd easily, after hours of walking together we had finally hit a stride together. We were marching, really. There was the giant blue sky of the day broken intermittently by smoke and there was the roar of diesel noise and Hoboken and Duane singing Summer Wind to me; some punk kid from Tennessee who had no business being there.

The only other incident I remember having to cry because of some assholes who decided to fly planes into tall buildings was coming across the Manhattan bridge one night after carrying my sister-in-law home to Park Slope. She would come over most nights to hang out with the baby, and around eleven or so and in various states of sobriety I’d be asked to drive her back home. I never hated the terrorists for invoking a War of Terror, I hated them for causing enough terror that it fucked the roads up. Shit got closed for what seemed no fucking reason whatsoever. One day coming back from the pediatrician’s office, Henry got stuck howling in his car seat for four hours because the Holland Tunnel was handling too much traffic and we were too afraid to take him out of it because of the cops everywhere. My sister-in-law and I spent a lot of time in the Saturn together on the nights I drove her home. I can’t remember what we talked about, probably everything. I haven't spoken to my sister-in-law since I moved out last summer.

This particular night the Brooklyn Bridge was only operating east-bound into Brooklyn so after I dropped her off I was diverted back across the Manhattan Bridge in order to get back into the city and eventually home. The Manhattan Bridge back then was still under renovation and I guess has always been the ugly, cross-eyed cousin of the Brooklyn Bridge. I got stuck on it, moving slower than shit, and staring at trash and old faded plywood encasing the little bit of wrought iron and Neo-Classical elements that were left up by the arch. Off to the left t seemed as though the entirety of Downtown was illuminated from the work lights that were set up down by Ground Zero. Downtown glowed with lights that were set up to look for people that weren’t there anymore. The DJ on WFMU that night was playing a super slowed down cover of the B-52’s Song for a Future Generation. If you’ve heard it, you’ve probably laughed, it’s a ridiculously chirpy pop song. I’ve always loved it. The lyrics go a little like this:

Wanna be the ruler of the galaxy

Wanna be the king of the universe

Let`s meet and have a baby now

In between each stanza, the different members give spoken-word tidbits of information about themselves. For example Ricky, the original guitarist, was a Pisces and “loved computers and hot tamales.“ Ricky also died from AIDS back in 1985 when people still had no idea what the disease was.

The version I heard that night had slowed the tempo to that of a blues song. The dip-shit ironic hipster that sang it reflected this. Stuck on the bridge it felt as though I was listening to a lament. What reduced me to tears, smoking Winstons in my little Saturn station wagon, was the feeling that whatever was left of innocence had recently been or was about to be brutally murdered by pig-face, ignorant men. Wanna be the first lady of infinity. Wanna be the nicest guy on earth. Let's meet and have a baby now.

[shuahoonie]

you. [tom holland] - three.

PAIRING: tom holland x female!celebrity!reader

SUMMARY: ah, to be young and in love. it sounds great if only you and tom were actually dating out of pure love and not for the sheer reputation of your careers. it also should be great if you two actually got along, but life isn’t that easy.

WARNINGS: mostly swearing! mentions of alcohol! a bit of fluff, a bit of angst. it’s haters to lovers / fake dating au so take that information as you wish!

WORD COUNT: 1632

SONG INSPO: our lawyer made us change the name of this song so we wouldn’t get sued - fall out boy  

A/N: aaah, hello babes! i have been writing a lot since the new year ngl, it is so refreshing to just write and not stress about stuff. although that’ll change as i head back to university tomorrow [technically today lmao] and face a shit ton of papers and readings!!! anyways, happy reading and enjoy part three!

gif credits @peteparkrrs​

vanessa’s masterlist | preview | one | two | four | five | six | seven | eight | eight.5 [interview excerpt] 

“Why, I found a solution to your problems, my dears.” Zoë smiled, almost too sickly.

You were starting to get anxious. Is it your manager or is it because of the coffee? Probably both.

You waited for her to continue and what she said afterwards almost made you spat your drink.

“You and Tom will fake-date for damage control,” Zoë said as if it was the most obvious solution.

“I’m sorry, what?” You asked, practically choking on your drink. Has she gone mad?!

“You,” Your manager pointed at you “and Tom” She then gestured to the devil sitting beside you “will be acting as a fake couple.” 

“God, please tell me this is just a horrible dream.” You practically begged as you closed your eyes, trying to convince yourself that you’re just asleep and this, whatever this is, will be over as soon as you open your eyes. 

“How did you two end up to this conclusion, may I ask?” Tom asked, equally appalled at the resolution that was dropped in front of you two. 

“It’s the only thing that made sense after the theatrics that you two pulled,” Matthew spoke up. “Setting the illusion that you two are secretly dating and got into a small fight last night, which ended up with Y/N pouring her drink on Tom.” 

“That was a small fight? What if we had a big one?” Tom scoffed “Will she kill me then?” 

You smirked at him. “Why, that’s the first thing that I liked from all of the nonsense you just said.” 

Tom rolled his eyes at you. “I still don’t see how dating for publicity solves what happened last night,” Tom spoke up, in which you had to agree. None of it made sense after all. 

“Then how exactly are you two going to explain the scene from last night?” Zoë asked with her arms crossed. 

“I’ll be glad to confirm to the world that Tom Holland is an asshole since he called me a leech,” You said almost nonchalantly. People were starting to paint Tom as the bad guy in the narrative, and all four you were aware of it. 

“No one will be telling anything,” Tom jeered. “No one will be telling anything because it’s none of their business. They shouldn’t care about these things in the first place.” 

“Hate to break it to ‘ya, bud, but see this?” You showed him your phone, the screen showing Twitter’s trending tab and there it showed over a hundred thousand tweets about you two. “People made it already their business.” 

Tom massaged his temples. “What, are you on board with this idea now?” 

“Fuck no,” You hissed. “As much as I hate to say this but Holland’s right, we don’t have to anything about this.” 

“You two don’t have a choice,” Matthew commented. “If you two chose to disregard this, the people wouldn’t let this go. It will always be asked in interviews, they would only speculate more.” 

“God, why did you even go to that specific club.” You grumbled at Tom. “Of all clubs in Los Angeles.” 

“Why are you putting this on me? None of this would’ve happened if it wasn’t for you!” Tom argued. 

“I wouldn’t have done what I did if it wasn’t for your stupid mouth!” You were fuming. 

“Look, it’s a win-win for both of you. Tom will clear up his image by giving an impression of how your little couple’s argument escalated. As for Y/N, she’ll be receiving a lot of publicity for this. It’s good for a rising-star to have this much publicity.” Zoë proclaimed. 

“Jesus, you really are a leech,” Tom mumbled under his breath. However, you still caught it. 

“Call me that one more time and I swear you’ll be going home with not only ruined clothes but also with a bruise on your precious face.” You threatened, narrowing your eyes at him. 

“So it’s settled then?” Matthew asked, “You two are going to do it?” 

Tom just shrugged, probably defeated knowing he won’t stand a chance in this argument. He does have this reputation to uphold and he’s not going to let someone ruin it. 

You, however, felt too brave. You shook your head no and said, “You can’t make me.” 

Zoë raised her eyebrow at you, taking it as a challenge. “Try me.” 

“Remember to hold hands, kids!” Zoë said giddily as she waved goodbye. 

“I am going to kill her,” You gritted in between your teeth as you left the building with the devil quickly fixing his hair. 

“I might actually take you up on that and add my manager into the mix,” Tom grumbled and adjusted his shirt. Tom decided to leave his jacket at the office and figured that a white shirt paired with denim pants was enough. He claims that he looks toned down and his outfit is so casual that people might not notice him. 

You begged to differ. Even if he is just wearing a plain shirt and the most basic denim pants, Tom will still attract people’s attention. The fabric of his shirt clung to his body like second skin. It shows how fit he is and you weren’t one to deny that. 

No matter how little effort Tom puts in regards to dressing himself, he still looked good. That annoyed you. 

“Okay, so the first thing to get this ship sailing-” Zoë stopped and turned to Matthew, “Hah, get it, Matt? I learned it from the internet. Apparently, a ‘ship’ is slang for relationship.” She raved. 

“Oh, that’s sick.” Matthew agreed. 

You let out a huge groan. “God, it’s like watching my parents learn internet lingo all over again.” Not to mention having flashbacks of your early internet days, stumbling over Tumblr with ‘Destiel’ mentioned everywhere. What a time.

Tom, on the other hand, had his face buried in his hand. He seemed like he was equally embarrassed and frustrated with this entire situation. 

“You two are going to have lunch together at this newly opened restaurant. It’s not far from here, don’t worry.” Zoë stated. She mentioned the name of the place, also adding the fact that you and Tom had to walk there. 

“You want us to walk?! This whole area is crawling with paparazzi.” Tom noted. 

“You two will be fine, they can’t hurt you.” Zoë dismissed you two. 

“The restaurant is a couple of blocks away,” You pointed out after searching the place on Google maps. 

“See it as a quick exercise,” Matthew implored. “You two are young, you’ll manage.” 

So here are you both now. You were walking with a complete asshole, who’s apparently now your boyfriend, on the way to this restaurant and waiting to be devoured by paparazzi. 

It was a quiet walk if you two were being honest. You expected more irritating remarks from Tom and you were ready to give out your snarkiest replies, however, you two were now walking in silence. 

It was actually a nice day in Los Angeles. It wasn’t too hot and humid, unlike most days. It wasn’t also that busy in the streets, which is odd, you thought. The day was perfect-too perfect.

Well, it was until you saw a man with a camera hiding behind one of the parked cars along the street. 

Tom seemed to take notice of the figure you just saw and put on a neutral face. “It’s showtime,” Tom said under his breath, loud enough for you two to hear. 

You two were walking alongside each other with close proximity, yes, but you weren’t going to hold hands. As much as to Zoë’s dismay, you thought and restraining yourself from rolling your eyes. 

You could hear the clicks of the camera and with every step, it seemed like the number of clicks multiplied. It only made you feel uneasy, you felt your chest tightening. 

You suddenly wished that you never agreed to this, no matter how much they pressured you. You didn’t mind your state of fame before. A handful of people recognize you from the Sci-Fi Thriller, Alchemist. You were also known for your Twitter and how you absolutely gave no fucks with whatever you tweet. Zoë had a problem with that before, but she just let it go since your account says a lot about your personality. 

However, none of that bothered you. You liked that people recognized you but still managed to get on with your life without getting disrupted. 

Tom glanced at you, noticing how you seemed like you were out of it. He could sense that you were taking deeper breaths than you did before. He frowned, Is she not used to this? Tom wondered. He carefully thought of what to do and just mumbled “Oh, fuck it,” and reached for your hand. 

It caught you off-guard. Oh boy, did you react so rashly. 

“What the hell are you doing, Holland?” You asked as you yanked your hand back. 

“I’m trying to help you,” He grumbled as he took your hand again, holding it firmly this time. “You looked like you were about to have a panic attack. I figured you’d rather have your attention somewhere else.”

“What if people see and-” 

“And what?” Tom cut you off, “They assume that we’re dating? Aren’t we supposed to be, princess?”

You weren’t expecting Tom to wrap his hand around yours nor did you expect him to help you ease your nerves down, so you ended up staring at him. You were trying to figure out what kind of stunt is he trying to pull now. 

He turned his attention to you, his brows knitted slightly. “Why are you staring, princess?” He chuckled softly, amused at the confusion painted on your face. 

What are you trying to do, Holland? You thought. 

TAG LIST:  @thomasthetankson @autty0314 @marvelous-tswiftfan @averyfosterthoughts @theolwebshooter @jackiehollanderr @sltwins​ @herondalescecilys​ @notjustpenandpaper​ @ihopethatwemeetinanotherlife​  @sectusempried​ @gothicwidowsworld​ @heartofholland​ 

[thefantasygirl3]

Negaverse stories: Quakerjack's backstory

Genre/warnings: Comedy, Slice of life, Action, Drama.

Word count: 3 080

Summary: After the events of Darkwing Duck coming to the Negaverse and helping the now called “Darkwing Ducks” save st. Canard, the four heroes decided to adopt the adorable little Gosalyn, buy a house and start a life together. But the little duckling is curious over how all her dads became heroes to start with, so she asks them to tell her that story.

Notes: The second story out of four, featuring the friendly four. This one came out a little later than expected, but it’s finally here now. Link to other parts of the story: 1 - Megavolt. 3 - Bushroot. 4 - Liquidator.  

Gosalyn let out a heavy sigh as she stepped off the school bus, standing by the bus stop as it drove off. "Haaaaaa�� camping… never again" she muttered grumpily as she began trudging along down the road towards her house. The duck had just made it home from her field trip, where they had been camping out in the forest for one night. It was AWFUL! It was cold and wet and the boys kept throwing mud everywhere. Plus there were bugs crawling everywhere, even inside the tent as she tried to sleep. She could have sworn she saw Honkers try to eat one. Made both her and Tank want to throw up.

She soon reached the door to her house, turning the door handle and dragging herself inside with a big pout on her face. As soon as she made it inside, she was suddenly swept up off the ground and quickly placed onto the shoulders of her kooky dad, Quackerjack. "My little doll! Welcome back home!" he cheered as he then started running into the living room with her, not bothering to let her remove her shoes before starting to run around the couch with her. 

Gosalyn just giggled at her daddy's excitement, feeling much better already. 

Quackerjack pulled his daughter off of his shoulders and plopped her down onto the couch, falling down right beside her with a small chuckle. "So! How was the school trip? Did you have fun TOUGHING it out in the forest and surviving on only berries and beaver meat?!" he questioned her as he made gestures with his hands, as if struggling to choke out a snake or something.

"Daddyyyy! It was just one night! We had lunches with us! YOU were the one who snuck those cookies into my lunch box!" she answered him back with a whine and laugh, giving him a weak shove. The colorful duck started giggling softly as he muttered a small "Oh, that's right". "You did what...?" A quiet growl was heard from behind the two. They looked up and saw Liquidator towering over them, holding a stack of papers while wearing a suit, hat and a sour face. 

"Um… nothing, bud" the duck said nervously while sinking down into his seat. As the dog made out of water glared him down, Megavolt put a hand on his shoulder and pulled him back. "Come on, Bud. One cookie isn't going to kill her. Now weren't you and your fedora going on an online meeting for your ad thing?" he commented with an obviously self-aware tone, knowing exactly what the so-called thing was. "It's a homburg! Not a fedora!" the dog corrected before storming off upstairs to his online meeting.

As Gosalyn watched her rat dad walk off, she remembered what he had said two nights ago, after telling his backstory. It made her shoot up in her seat hop onto the jester beside her, yelling excitedly. "Hey, daddy! Can you tell me your backstory?! Tell me why you and the other Darkwing Ducks decided to be heroes!" she kept demanding answers, overwhelming the poor, confused dad underneath her. 

He was flabbergasted by her request and just stammered nervously. "U-umm… I-I-I'm not sure it would be a very interesting story to tell! It would be very boring for a kid…" he explained anxiously as his eyes drifted away to the side, soon thereafter adding on a quiet "and I… rather not dig up all that stuff again…".

"Huh? Why?" the little duckling asked confused as she moved off of him, tilting her head curiously. "Well… it's the lowest point of my life, so I'm kinda touchy about it. Plus it involves a lot of complicated business talk" he explained to her as he sat back up, rubbing his neck awkwardly. She just tilted her head more with a confused look, not understanding how business problems could lead to someone fighting crime. Quackerjack noticed the look on her face and gave away a sigh. "I guess I could try to tell it in a way that you can understand, if you really wanna hear it" he murmured softly and smiled an awkward smile. She nodded excitedly, and he pulled his legs up, taking a moment to recollect his memories again.

I used to be the owner of one of the largest toy companies. It was called QuackWerks! We were big in the classic, retro toy market, making a lot of simple little playthings. Dolls, action figures, rocking horses, building blocks, board games! Anything and everything! We were a pretty close-knit company. All of my workers enjoyed working for me and cared about our business. I even considered them my friends, always being so nice to me and complimenting me! They used to say things like "Nice work, Boss! Today's toy ideas were great" and "This is the best company I've ever worked for!". 

We were giants for some time. But then things started to change as the times did. Toys started to advance and become more complicated than we had been prepared for. But our company wasn't willing to get with the times. We stuck with our old-timey toys, as of the rest of the employees' wishes. 

They were all very adamant about not changing our products and to keep them the same as we always had. I, being a nostalgia lover, was more than happy to obey their wishes. They all seemed to appreciate that decision, a lot of them saying things such as "it's so great that you're keeping it simple and not selling your soul to the mainstream". I'd always respond with something like "Well we don't want to… conform to the norm, now do we?", just joking around and such. 

But… things started to get really rough for us during the years, as our sales started to drop. Not a lot of people wanted regular toys anymore, not when there were moving and talking action figures and video games. Video games… the beginning of our downfall.

"What's wrong with video games? I like video games! I play Pet Town and Fertile Farm, and they are a lot of fun!" Gosalyn interrupted his story, seemingly offended by his tone of voice when talking about games. Quackerjack snapped himself out of his little daze and realized how emotional he had probably gotten already without realizing it earlier. "Oh! Well… I didn't mean to say anything bad about them. The games you play are very cute! But at the time, I really hated them because of what it did to my company" he explained with an embarrassed look on his face, attempting to save the slip up. He just gets a suspicious pout from his daughter as she crosses her arms in front of her. "... A-anyways!" the duck said abruptly, so he could return to the story. 

As video games started to get more and more popular, we just kept losing money. No one was interested in boring toys that didn't do anything special when they could be going on an adventure in the virtual world. It was starting to take a toll on me. Our products weren't selling, and we would soon have no more money to buy new products or keep QuackWerks up and running. I had to do something in order to not lose everything!

Then it happened. One day when I was looking through our mail, I found a fascinating one. It was from the Wiffle Boy company, the one that made those Wiffle Boy games the kids were so into. It came as a shock to me, that they would be sending me a letter. So of course I had to see what they wanted. Their message read something like "Hello sir! We heard that you made some nice quality toys. We here are a big fan of your G.I. Melvin toys and were hoping you could make us some Wiffle boy merchandise. Please respond as soon as possible". I couldn't believe it. A game company wanted to join a partnership with us, a well-known old-school toy company that hasn't upgraded their products for years. But despite my dislike for video games, the offer was very tempting. It would boost our sales quite a bit, so I was completely onboard and decided to call everyone to a meeting to announce the news.

I gathered everyone into the meeting room, having this big grin plastered on my face. I thought they were all going to be happy to hear that we were finally going to up our numbers again, so I was feeling very excited.

"Everyone! I am so glad you all came here today. I have very exciting news for all of you!" I told my staff happily. My employees seemed to all be delighted to hear me say that, one of them saying "Well spill it then, boss! What's the news?". "Glad you asked! Because I just found a way for us to increase our sales! We can finally make money again!" I explained to the room while trying my best to not start bouncing in my seat. They were all interested by then, listening very closely to what I had to say. "See, I just received a letter from the Wiffle Boy company, saying they want US to make their new merchandise! The most popular game company in st. Canard wants OUR business to make them toys of their little game character! This is amazing! We will definitely be making loads of money from this!". 

The room got completely silent after that, you could hear a pin drop in that packed meeting room. The tension was so thick you could cut it with a knife. One of the employees finally broke the silence by saying "You're kidding, right? Tell me this is a joke". I was so confused. I didn't understand why they were acting so on edge when I thought this was wonderful news. "You're serious?! You're going to be business partners with people who make mindless dribble for a living?! I thought we had standards in QuackWerks!" Another of the guys yelled at me, scaring me pale. All I could do was stutter and stare in shock. But another one of the employees spoke up, shouting "I thought we weren't like the modern garbage business owners! We didn't conform to the mainstream trash!". "B-but… I thought… it would help us earn more money…" I tried to explain while shrinking together in my chair.

"OH! So you're also a sellout?! I thought you were different…" this other girl said while turning her head away from me angrily. I just sat there stunned, trying to figure out what I should do. "I… come on! If we don't do something about this, I will lose my company. All I worked for, my hopes and dreams, completely gone! I gotta do something if I wanna stay afloat!" I pleaded with my now furious workers, but they didn't seem to care at all. "That's a lot of me and I. What happened to us? Tsk. You know what? I'm out! I'd rather work somewhere that got higher standards than this!" the first guy barked as he slammed down his nameplate and stormed out. Not long thereafter, the rest of my employees did the same, leaving me to sit all alone in the meeting room. No workers, no partnership, no company.

"Wow… that's so sad. They just left you because you needed money" the little duckling sighed sadly as she was laying against her daddy's side, giving him a comforting hug. "Yeah…" was all the jester had to say, his head hanging low and his bells jingling somberly. Gosalyn then tilted back, asking "Theeeen… you decided to turn to crime fighting to stop their injustice?". "Um… no. Not exactly… I actually got very sad and had to give up the company" he muttered softly, avoiding using the word "depressed". The girl's smile turned back to a frown as she gave him another hug. 

After I had done the paperwork to sell the company, I decided to head down to our product storage. I couldn't stand the thought of all my wonderful, lovely toys going to waste. I couldn't leave that building without bringing some of my treasures with me. There was one in particular I just couldn't leave behind. It was a prototype doll I would consider my favorite creation. I would have long conversations with him while I worked in my office. Mr. Banana brain. There was only one of him and I would not leave him behind. I packed up all my favorite toys into a bag, including Mr. Banana brain, and headed out the front doors. I said goodbye to the building and headed out.

But I couldn't bring myself to go home, I just wandered around the streets aimlessly, suitcase and paper bag in hand. I just couldn't believe I just lost everything. My brain was swarming with all the things I could have done to stop it. But after a while, my legs were feeling tired. So I just sat down on the curb of the sidewalk, letting out the saddest sigh ever. I just sat there for a while, beak in my hands and a sad frown on my face. After a while of doing nothing but sitting, I looked over at the bag and saw Banana brain peeking out. So I started talking with him. 

"What now? I just lost everything. I'm ruined!" I cried out and covered my eyes with my hands. "Hey, come on! Don't cry, pal. I'm sure you'll be able to fix this!" he tried to comfort me while I was bawling my eyes out. "How?! How am I supposed to fix this?! Mr. Banana brain! I have no employees, almost no money and no one would want to work for a business that's as outdated as mine! It's… it's over" I muttered quietly and hung my head with a soft sob. "You're a creative guy! I'm sure you can figure out something! You started that company all on your own, so fixing it should be no issue for someone like you!" he kept encouraging me, making me feel a bit better. "Yeah… I'm sure I can… think of something. Maybe I can do something with this offer" I tried to reason as I pulled out the letter from the game company.

As I did so, this random cat guy suddenly ran right past me, grabbing my suitcase and bag before continuing to run. "H-hey! Give that back!" I yelled after him, but he just shouted back "Take it back yourself, if you can!". I was panicking, sprinting after to catch up with him. "Mr. Banana brain!!! MR. BANANA BR-Oof!!!" I shouted as I ran, until I tripped on the sidewalk and landed on my face. I looked up and saw him disappear around the corner. All I could do was watch as I had lost pretty much everything. I felt completely defeated. I felt like nothing. So of course I started crying on the ground.

But only a few seconds later, I heard a scuffle from where he had run. Then I heard a loud ZAP, followed by a thud. Though I was confused, I started feeling scared when I heard footsteps coming closer to the turn. I could only yelp and hide myself under my arms, probably shaking in fear. I soon heard the steps stop right beside me. I couldn't bring myself to look and see what or who was there, until I heard a voice. "Hey, Don't be scared. I'm back!". I lifted my arm and peeked out to see Mr. Banana brain right there in front of me. Immediately, I shot up and shouted "MR. BANANA BRAIN!!!" in relief. I then saw ha was being held by this weirdly dressed rat man. He was wearing yellow overalls and what looked like a plug on his head. He was smiling at me while holding all my stuff that that other guy had stolen. "Don't worry, This guy just saved me!" Banana brain told me before the rat guy handed over all my things. I held Banana brain close while staring at my savior. "Who are you? I mean- thank you! Thank you so much! Um… what's your name?" I asked him before wiping away my tears. "I'm Megavolt! St. Canard's hero!" he announced in this heroic way. I was stunned. A hero? In st. Canard? Seemed impossible to me. 

"Hey… how about I'll help you home? It's not safe to wander around alone this late" he suggested to me and then offered me his hand. I didn't even hesitate, I grabbed it immediately and squeezed as close as I could, saying "yes please!". So Megavolt helped me home and on the way I explained everything. I explained my current situation and how bad everything was for me. So he offered me some help, saying that he could need some help to cleansh the streets of crime. It was a wonderful offer. I could use my creativity and craftsmanship for good! I could help people! So I started working together with Megavolt, forming a great crime fighting duo.

"So that's what dad meant? You started fighting criminals because of him?" Gosalyn asked while looking up at Quackerjack with expectant eyes, having listened intently while he told his story. "Yes, he did. If he hadn't shown up, I would have probably ended up either in a boring desk job or as another thug on the streets. So I have to thank him for what he did for me" he sighed while looking over at the stairs, seeing Megavolt walk down them and heading over to the kitchen where Bushroot was. He had been listening in on the story, forgetting the food that was set on fire. Megavolt helped him put it out. "So… what happened after that? How did papa and father join?" the little girl asked while watching the disaster go down in the kitchen. "I think you will have to ask them about that. I'm sure they know the details and can tell it better than me. But how about we forget about that now and play with Mr. Banana brain instead?" Quackerjack said excitedly while pulling out the banana toy. "Yeah!" she cheered happily as they both ran off towards the backyard, ignoring the two men who had finally put out the fire.

[sonicringbond]

Sonic Ring Bond: The Journey - Scene 40

XD

It’s been a while since I wrote one of these and I feel like I forget everything I said last time. Oh well. Rosy and friends are actually in Radio Point for this scene, and it’s a bit of a long one. They may be here for a reason, but I still had to throw in some Rosy sightseeing to keep the traveling theme going. I hope everyone has as much fun in Radio Point as Rosy in...

    “Oh my, I hadn’t expected you to get into Radio Point, before I arrived.”

    It was hard to tell with Blister’s deliberate and sleepy sounding way of speaking that she was actually surprised, but she did seem energetic enough for it to be believable. Rosy however, with her waging tail and nigh inability to stand still was far easier to read. “Well, we just had to!”

    “Though they got mad at us for running up the cables,” Draw made sure to dampen Rosy’s enthusiasm with a reminder of the trouble she caused. She puffed her cheeks up at him, but it was Sonic who spoke next in the airship port at the top of one of Radio Point’s many towers.

    “I’m not too fond of waiting, and as she says,” Sonic explained as he pointed a thumb back at Rosy, “we had a reason to come up here quickly.”

    “I bet you were disappointed when you found out the trains are entirely for the maintenance crews then,” Blister the Mouse allowed herself a chuckle at the group’s expense.

    “It’s a good thing you have an airship,” Sonic agreed, though Rosy got mad at him.

    “Hey, we may have had to wait, but even you can’t argue there was plenty to do while we did!”

    ~Radio Point was a really unique town. Asides from the trains, which Blister already pointed out weren’t for tourists or civilians, there was movement all through the air as airships came from far and wide to reach the city. Of course, the locals used them too so they could get around between towers.

    ~Outside of the internal steam works, which I bet Tails was able to visit, there were spectacular views no matter where you went in Radio Point. From the airship docks to as close to the treads as the villages went down towards, there was either a view of the crystals jutting up out of the lava belching grasslands or a view of the pit itself where an even more enormous number of crystals erupted out of the earth. It looked kind of like the pit was full of rows and rows of scary giant teeth. Hee-hee! It’s a good thing it’s not a big mouth.

    ~The ground wasn’t the only pretty thing to look at either. Thanks to all the airship traffic, the skies above the pit were an array of shimmering confetti. At least from the lower levels. Up here in the airship dock it was clear to see all the ships that carried advertising banners as well as those that offered in flight services, like dining and cleaning. There were even hotel airships that were designed to stay in the air for weeks. It was the most airship friendly city I had seen since wandering around in the lands under Yolk.

    ~As advanced as the city was though, there were still plants growing nearly everywhere. Most of the moving equipment that I saw was relatively clean, but the steam pipes and buildings all throughout town were still covered in a wide array of plants. It’s just so weird to me how even on these big moving towers of metal, plants found a way to grow. I wonder if there is a reason for it.

    ~That’s a mystery I’ll have to wait another day for. Today, the opportunity to find my best friend has appeared before us and I can’t wait to meet the man who Tails helped out. Hopefully, he’ll be friendlier than the last member of the Engineers I talked with.

    ~Oh, I hadn’t mentioned that, had I? Oops!

    ~Well, from Blister’s airship, which was like a cut in half avocado in shape with the main balloon comprising the body of most of the vessel, it was easy to see the Engineers’ banner flying. The white and blue flag with the gear and wrench on it was almost everywhere. The pirate flag that Blister flew almost matched it, except hers was a blue flag with her gear, two wrenches, and a human skull set on a white stripe that ran from top to bottom. It really makes me feel uncomfortable flying on a pirate vessel and I’d really like her to give it up. But… well, she’s helping today even though she was supposed to be looking for her friend who is supposedly a Ring expert. And the Engineers are still mad at me, I think, so having her introduce me to Tails’ friend is probably for the best.~

    The Dish that hung above the pit, supported by the giant radio towers and spikes that anchored it, had a similar tower of its own in the center of it. But it was the underside of the dish where the next dock awaited Rosy and her friends. Here, the facilities that monitored almost every radio signal under Yoluku were situated. The utilitarian design stripped the facilities of any comforts, but it was natural considering the location of them above the pit.

    “I wonder how they account for Ring Shifts,” Rosy mused while poking her cheek as they were led into the facility’s inner workings. As she had a clear view of the pit below the metal grating that made up the catwalk floor they walked along, it was little wonder that she would be curious to how they managed not to fall in.

-|-

    “Sure enough,” a rough looking sapient grizzly bear remarked as Rosy and the others were led into his cage like office. Even his desk was little more than a plank of wood laid across pipes and conduit. “You really are from the picture. But what about the other two?”

    “Draw and Blister here are friends,” Sonic introduced the koala and mouse, respectively. “One’s a troublemaker and the other’s a pirate. I’ll let you guess which is more trouble.”

    “Sonic!” Rosy chastised her blue companion and he smiled at her playfully.

    “And that would make you Rosy then,” the grizzly concluded at Sonic’s unplanned introduction. Standing up, he revealed he inherited the tremendous size of his non-sapient cousins and offered his own name. “I’m Over, chief communications technician here at Radio Point. It may not look like it from here, but I’m pretty respected among the Engineers. Pretty high ranking too. I carry enough weight in actuality that even those troublesome Preservers acknowledge me.”

    Rosy stared intently at the grizzly bear’s round form and quietly agreed with him that he carried a lot of weight. His massive arms assured her though that it was likely all muscle. As much as her attention was on his girth however, his was on her.

    “A pink hedgehog…”

    “Eep!” Rosy squeaked and earned a curious look from Sonic. It was Blister though who provided the next words of their budding conversation.

    “I’ve heard she was supposed to be doing a seven-day Ring gathering job for the Engineers when she up and disappeared. I wonder if you can really help her…”

    “Blister, please!” Rosy pleaded with the pirate and their playful smile.

    Draw held no fear or wisdom that he perhaps should and addressed Over bluntly. “It was a boring job anyway, and we ended up saving a bunch of fairies from some autogolems after we left.”

    “You what?” Over questioned in surprise looking at Draw. “If the autogolems weren’t powered by Rings… Those would have been Preserver autogolems. And near a lookout and Ring gathering sight no less. Do you have any proof of what you’re saying?”

    “Just this little weirdo.”

    Opening his fur coat, Draw allowed the yellow fairy he had a Ring Bond with, Mote, to peak out from within. The look of disbelief on Over’s face worried Rosy a fair bit.

    ~And then he laughed. I hadn’t been expecting that. It didn’t clear up the suspicions that the Engineers have of me, but it was enough to convince Over that we could see the Ring Radio that they used. And it was amazing. Amazingly big that is.

    ~Unlike the ones in the wrist devices that Sonic and I wear, this one was a massive room full of machinery, and a ceiling of shifting, glowing geometric lined blocks like in a Ring Gate Beacon. It’s obviously much more primitive technology than what I’m used to using, but due to the nature of our world that doesn’t tell me a thing about how old it is. But…~

    “Wow! Tails really made this work!”

    “That he did,” Over stated, proudly putting his hands on his hips. “He also taught me how to maintain it while he was here. Since then, I’ve been growing more and more familiar with it. It’s kind of become like an old friend.”

    “So, it’s been sometime since Tails was here?” Sonic asked as he folded his arms, recognizing the telltale speech that marked a passage of time beyond what could be properly observed under Yoluku.

    “It has been,” Over nodded seeing Sonic’s impatience. “Long enough that I probably would have forgotten him if not for the picture and notebook we filled out together while working on this wonder. He’s as much a part of my life as anything now. Unlikely I’ll forget him as long as I live.”

    “That’s wonderful!” Rosy chirped up, adding some good cheer to counter Sonic’s souring mood. “It’s great to hear Tails made a friend! He’s normally so bad with people!”

    “Yeah, but him having already passed through, and some time back, means we’ve missed him, kid,” Sonic ignored Rosy’s positivity to get his complaint out.

    “Well, we can still try to contact him,” Over suggested surprising everyone in the group.

    “How’s that?” Draw won the question race and followed up with more than he should have. “These two have really good Ring Radios that are a lot smaller than this one and they can’t reach anyone but each other.”

    “Tails had the same problem,” Over managed to dismiss Rosy’s fast growing concern by revealing that he already knew about her and Sonic’s. “It’s part of why he left. He spent a good while here trying to boost the signal using the crystals.”

    “The crystals?” Blister poked her nose into the conversation. “I thought they must have been rather valueless considering no one seems interested in gathering them.”

    “On their own they are,” Over agreed with the mouse’s presumption. “But gathered together like they are here, and according to Tails likely amplified by the pit, they are able to drastically improve radio signals and their distances. It’s why Radio Point persists here. If not for this pit radio communication would be far less reliable than it is.”

    “Not like Tails to give up on tech,” Sonic remarked wondering what was going through the fox’s mind.

    “He didn’t actually. He left with the goal of finding another pit, or perhaps meeting up with the Queen of the Sky and brainstorming with her about a solution. I’ve no idea if he’s achieved either goal though. The pit is pretty unique, and the Queen of the Sky is a she-devil who even the clouds part for when she races.”

    “It sounds like Zooey’s been having fun,” Rosy laughed nervously. “But if you can get in touch with Tails…”

    “Don’t worry,” Over reassured Rosy of his intentions, “we’ll be trying to now.”

    Per his word, Over began working countless buttons and knobs around the room. From a console with a handheld mouthpiece and a speaker, a horrible static sound came across and filled the room.

    “Static? Sonic verbalized his curiosity. “Ring Radios work across dimensions. What could be causing the interference.”

    “Maybe that thing in the sky,” Over hinted at Yoluku, but offered nothing more as he worked some more dials.

    A high-pitched sound came across the speaker and cut the static for a moment, but the static soon settled back in. However, a green light lit up on the console and Over smiled. “We’ve got him!”

    “Really!” Rosy jumped up with her question and stared at Over with urgent pleading.

    “Go ahead and see if he can’t here you.”

    With Over’s permission, Rosy dashed to the console. After only a moment of studying it, she picked up the hand piece and depressed the button in its side. From there it was a moment longer as she fought to contain her excitement and actually managed to speak. “TAI~LS~!!!!!”

    -…o…sy- -I… …at y…?-

    “Ah, ah, ah… TAI~LS~!!!!!”

    ~It was really him. It was really Tails! I was so happy I could cry finally hearing Tails’ voice again after so long. But… Well, unfortunately the signal wasn’t good. We could hear each other, but it was impossible to hold a conversation. I just couldn’t make out what Tails was saying through all the static. Sonic checked to see if our Ring Radios could connect to Tails’, but they didn’t even pick him up like the one connected to the big dish.

    ~Ooh! It’s so frustrating. I finally had a lead on Tails, but he was out of reach and I had no idea what to do. Over tried to improve the signal, but in the end, we lost it and any chance to find where Tails was. Still… Still, we actually talked to him. He was alright.

    ~The last time I saw Tails he was fighting those mean old pirates who want revenge against him. But he wasn’t there when I found Sonic and helped him beat them. And even though pirates like Blister are inspired by them, as far as I can tell, Tails hasn’t gotten involved with any more pirates. And while that’s good, it means we have no leads again.

    ~But you know, I was able to talk to him and that means Tails is okay. As long as Tails is okay, Sonic and I can find him. And we will! Sonic promised after all. He was going to get all of us home!

    ~…Though, I’m actually enjoying this little adventure and don’t feel the need to go home yet.~

Scene 40 · CLEARED Radio Link, End

-----

How’s that for a little treat! Tails has finally appeared for the first time since the Prison Prairie chapters. Well, at least over a really shaky radio connection XD I also introduced an OC I expect to be a one off, but I’ll see if he gets any positive attention and demand to see more of him. For now though, this scene wraps up the last of my survey based scenes. The next one is going to be purely off the top of my head. So that means adventure, mystery, and maybe some plot progression. Please look forward to it!

-----

Special Thanks to Cutegirlmayra Story by @JoshTarwater/SonicFanJ Inspiring Song – Lumacie Archipelago: Mystic Woodland – Tsutomu Narita – Granblue Fantasy Original Soundtrack

Fair Use Disclaimer

Sonic the Hedgehog and all affiliated characters and logos are the express property and Copyright© of SEGA SAMMY HOLDINGS used without permission under Title 17 U.S.C Section 107 of the Copyright Act 1976 in which allowance is made for “fair use” for purposes such as criticism, comment, news reporting, teaching, scholarship, and research. “Fair use” is use permitted by copyright statute that might otherwise be considered copyright infringement. The Sonic Ring Bond: The Journey alternate universe (AU) consumer written work of fiction is a non-profit transformative work primarily for personal use and can and will be taken down without warning or prior notice at the request of the copyright holder(s) should it not be recognized under “fair use”.

*Sonic Ring Bond logo created by DEE Art – twitter.com/daryliscute.

Sonic Ring Bond AU and Sonic Ring Bond: The Journey are the creation of Joshua David Tarwater/ynymbus/sonicfanj/@Joshtarwater and is to be, including all contents herein considered for all legal purposes the property of the Sonic the Hedgehog intellectual property (IP) and copyright owners, SEGA SAMMY HOLDINGS. All story contributors via prompt, suggestion, written scene, art, and all and every other contribution acknowledge that all contributed material is forfeit for legal purposes to SEGA SAMMY HOLDINGS upon official request from SEGA SAMMY HOLDINGS.

[fvrxdrm]

Prove It

Leon x Reader

Movie: RE: Vendetta

Warnings: Smut/Cussing/Blood and Gore/ Probably sucks 'cause it's my first time/ Long

"Y/N!" The mutated monster threw you of the building you were currently on. This was it. You were going to die after years of fighting off real life nightmares. That was until you landed on something but it wasn't concrete. You didn't splat.

"Thanks for the save"

"No problem. Can't let our favorite agent die now can we?" D.C. replied through the radio.

Scanning through the plane you found a grappling hook just sitting on the floor waiting to be used. Perfect.

"Nadia, cover me. I'm going back there"

"Roger that, Y/N"

Nadia positioned herself at the entrance of the plane on her stomach with a gun in front of her.

"D.C., position the entrance facing Arias"

"Copy"

The plane rose up as it turned for the opening to face the mutated Arias.

"I am going to spill your guts all over" Arias' claws grew longer and sharper slightly caressing Leon's stubble.

"No time for shaving off beards, partner! Yeehaw!" You grappled your hook on an edge of the building and threw yourself, not forgetting to kick Arias on the face and grabbing Leon off of Arias' grasp. A white light struck Arias and the neighbouring buildings causing you to squint your eyes and fall down.

"You okay?" You breathlessly asked Leon who also fell beside you.

"I should be the one asking you that"

Glenn ran, jumped off the building and grasped to the left wing of the plane causing it to slightly spin.

"Shit" Nadia mumbled a cursed.

After the monster was kind of comfortable to do something else he grew his claws again passing through the plane, stabbing Nadia in the process. There was a roar all of a sudden, something coming from an engine. It was Leon on his bike, ready to do whatever he planned to do. He rode off and jumped his bike as it smashed through balcony to hit Arias.

Leon drew his gun "Catch!" and shot the motorcycle causing it to explode and detach a part of the beast's body. Arias lost contact with the plane and fell off but it didn't end there. He grew his deadly claws again and grasped to a building and the plane.

You grabbed a gun and ran off to the edge of the building where you can see Arias.

"Bye, dad", you whispered to yourself and pulled the trigger. It was gruesome. Blood everywhere with the bits and pieces that were once part of your dad's body together with a wedding ring.

You never even noticed a tear slipped through your cheek until a hand was put on your shoulder. You wiped off the tear and turned around to see Leon with concerned eyes.

"You alright"

"Yeah, I'm okay it's just...it shouldn't end like this. I never thought that I would meet my dad this or even thought of having a dad like him"

Leon didn't say anything else and just pulled you in a rather comforting hug. Grasping the back of his jacket tighter, burying your head on his chest as you sobbed harder. Him caressing your hair while kissing the top of your head. His actions were enough to calm you down a bit and cause you to flatter.

☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️

You held onto your left torso as you watched Rebecca inhaling and exhaling the vaccine that would help her turn back into a normal human. When veins returned to being invisible, eyes turn back to their natural color she looked at you and Chris and gaveyou both a weak thumbs up. The plane rose up to where you were. Nadia pressing her hand to where she was stabbed and D.C. saluting you...kinda. Anyways, Leon walked up beside you with his left hand holding his right arm.

"One more thing left to do"

"So, let's do it"

☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️

The vaccine was deployed around the city, removing the virus from each of the citizens' body.

"And once again, we find ourselves back where we started" Rebecca broke off the silence that was surrounding the plane.

"Yeah. Kind of. First I want my naturally wavy hair back, my top, my shorts, and my cardigan back, these earrings off, this stupid dress off, this cakey makeup off, and these fucking heels off" you retorted furiously at what that asshole made you wear.

"You look great in straight hair" Rebecca chuckled lightly at you.

"Um...do you know how much I took care of my hair only to be ironed like a million times? My hair's already damaged!"

Leon ran his fingers through your hair.

"Looks and feels healthy to me" he stated.

"Whatever"

"We got the bad guys. Hope we made the world a little safer"

"Yeah. I finally met my dad. Ended up brutally killing him. I don't know if I'll ever forgive him for killing my mom and now...attempted to kill all...even his own daughter"

You felt Leon's hand on your shoulder giving it a little squeeze.

"Just take your time. It'll be alright"

You placed your hand on top of his and smiled sadly at him.

"Yeah, thanks"

Silence surrounded us again until Leon spoke.

"Hey, Chris!"

Chris turned his head to Leon's direction.

"How much longer can we going on like this?"

"I don't know...I never make plans that far ahead"

Leon smiled at shook his head at how Chris retorted back what Leon said at the bar.

Rebecca and I looked at each other and smiled at how they were starting to grow on each other

☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️

The next day, You were writing a report when a knock was heard on your door. You looked through the peephole and saw Leon standing there with his hands in his pockets. Opening the door, Leon pulled his head up to look at you. He was flustered and he seemed nervous.

"Hey, Leon! Come in"

You stepped aside to let him in and closed the door behind you.

"Do you want anything? Water?"

"No, I just came here to talk to you"

"About?"

"Um..."

"Leon, just spill it"

"I love you!"

"What? But you already established that you don't have feelings for me"

"I know, I just"

"Leon, you can't just toy my feelings around. You said it already. You're in love with Ada ever since you met her back in Raccoon City. You can't just say you love me just because Ada isn't around"

"I'm not. I asked Chris for help and that's when I found out I was just blocking off my true feelings for you. I don't love Ada. Heck, I don't even like her that much. I just thought that I had feelings for her when she kissed me back in that cable car. It's dumb. I've been really complicated since then. But after everything that we've both been through, it's hard not to think about you anymore. I've tried to stop it but I just can't. Y/N I really really...really love you"

There was silence between the two of you for a second until you stepped a little closer but still far from feeling his breath.

"Prove it"

He didn't waste his time and closed the gap between the two of you. He cupped your cheek and passionately kissed you. You put one hand on his chest while the other slid up from his shoulder and onto the nape of his neck. His left hand slowly slid down from your waist and grasped your ass. You gasped at the sudden action and he took this opportunity to slide his tongue. Your tongues fought for dominance and the kiss was growing heated every second. You removed your jacket and threw it without caring since you'll find it later anyway but for now, you just focus on ehat was currently happening. He removed his jacket also not long after, tossing it just beside to where jacket laid. You pulled him closer and he pinned you to a nearby wall while wrapping your legs around his waist. His lips parted from yours and started kissing your jawline, your neck and down to your collarbone. You started gasping at how gentle his touch was.

Sure he may be one to be really hard and aggressive when it comes to enemies but when it comes to this type of stuff, it would feel like a feather was caressing you.

You ran your fingers through his as your left hand held on to his shoulder for dear life. It feels rather...amazing. Perfect to be exact. He found your sweet spot and started licking, biting and sucking it, making sure to leave a very visible mark for everyone to see.

Once he was satisfied, he put you down and started kissing you again but there was something more in it. Lust. You were both experienced, that's for sure, but it felt like it was your first time again.

He pulled away for a second and looked directly into your E/C eyes.

"You sure you want to do this?" He softly asked.

It's something like this he does that make you fall in love with him even more. He wasn't demanding when it comes to sensitive topics like sex. If you were okay with being rough then he'll go for it but otherwise he'll make sure to be tender. If you want to do it he'll go for it if not then he won't force you to it.

"Yeah. I want you"

He closed the gap again while heading to your bedroom. It was a struggle really. Bumping into things. You were sure you'll get a couple bruises because of it.

Once you got to your bedroom you closed the door behind you. He intertwined your fingers together and held them above your head. He was back on kissing your neck again.

Getting impatient, you slid your hands down and held onto the hem of his shirt. You broke the kiss and pulled his shirt off revealing his toned torso.

You gently pushed him to your bed while you got on top of him. You copied his previous actions and kissed his jawline, neck and collarbone. You also made sure to mark him yours by biting, licking and sucking his weak spot. It was gratifying to hear his groans and gasps as he becomes weak into your touch. He held onto your hair as you continued to lick down from his chest, abdomen and finally to his v line.

He pulled you up again to meet your lips. He caressed your hips and then ran his hands under your tank top, pulling it up to remove the the piece of clothing and tossed it somewhere in the room. You resumed your make out session while his hands roamed around your body until he reached the clasps of your bra and unclasped them, letting them fall down your arms.

He flipped the both of so he now was the one on top and started leaving wet kisses throughout your chest. He moved to suck on one of the buds leaving you weak under him. You tugged his hair and dug yourself further onto the pillow under you.

"Leon" you breathlessy moaned at the attention your chest was receiving. Your core grew more heated and you started sweating more. He groaned at how you said his name. In all honesty, he likes--no--loves it when you call his name. May it be to comfort him, argue with him, or even just normal conversations but this one, he found it foreign yet really arousing at the same time. It sent a jolt down to his manhood.

He removed his mouth from your nipple and did the same thing to the other one.

You have to be dreaming, right?

Last time that you checked you saw him and Ada kissing. It's either that or-

"Ah, fuck!" You didn't even notice Leon already removed your pants and underwear and was already licking your slit. You held onto his tighter as he began to nibbling and licking your clit.

"L-leon, shit!" Again, he groaned at the mention of his name and you felt the vibration to your core sending you off the edge. He licked off your juices and then climbed up to your eye level. He connected your lips again, the parting and meeting of your lips breaking off the silence together with gasping and panting from the both of you. He took his time exploring every inch of your body. It made you feel loved, protected, safe, something you didn't know you were wanting for a while. You glided your hands through his torso and to where the belt of his pants were, quickly unbuckling it. He sat up and removed the button and unzipped his pants, too slow for your liking. You quickly sat up and wuickly pulled his pants down together with his boxers revealing his *cough* long, hard and throbbing dick. A nice sight to see actually.

"Desperate are we?"

"It's not like you aren't either"

He pulled you again for another kiss and settled you down on the bed again.

"You ready"

"Ready when you are" you stared up to the ceiling as he steadied himself to your entrance. Once he entered inside of you, you gasped at how big he felt, bigger than how it looked like you fluttered your eyes shut and curled your toes. Leon groaned at how tight you were. He let you adjust to his size before slowly moving in and out of you. He took your hands and intertwined them together above your head just like before before slowly picking up his pace. You wrapped your legs around his waist helping him push deeper into you.

"Fuck, f-faster, Leon"

He placed a quick peck on your lips before moving thrusting faster. The air smelled of sex, skin slapping, profusely sweating, groans, grunts and moans leaving your lips. You grasped tighter to his hands while screaming profanities and his name over and over again. It was music to his ears. He wanted it. He loved it. He leaned down to your lips and kissed you hungrily again. It was hard to keep up to the motion of his lips because of the pleasure he was giving and the attention your sex was receiving. You leaned back and he started kissing your neck. Then there was this feeling of a knot forming inside of you.

"I'm gonna come"

"Do it with me" you nodded in response.

You hissed, moaned and screamed as his thrusts became faster and deeper than possible. Fuck, you haven't had this feeling ever. Sure you had sex before but it wasn't like this. Those felt wrong to you and this? This felt really right.

His thrusts became sloppy and not long after he released his seed inside of you and you followed suit. He rested slowly dropped his body on top of you, careful not to put all of his weight on you. You were both breathless and tired. Both processing what just happened.

Using all of his energy that was left, he pushed himsilf up fell beside you and you closer to him while you rest your head on his chest and placed an arm on his abdomen.

"Have I proven it already?"

"Yeah, you did" you gave him a quick peck on his lips before drifting of to dreamland.

The end.

LOL this was long. Now I'm lazy to read it all over. If there's any grammatical error just message me.

[luobingmeis]

For the fluff/angst prompt thing, 85 and/or 40 for fargo? 🥺🥺

A/N: anon thank you for my life these prompts are a gift and i would lay down my life for you……………… i’m still playing around with ship dynamics and grad characterization but this was a lot of fun!!!! and also this feels a lot more pre-fargo still in that “what are we” stage

post-writing note: i ended up not being able to fit #40 in, but i still hope you enjoy!!! ....... might try to find another fic to work that prompt into

(also just thought i’d say to the general public that, while im doing a lot of taz grad shipping w/ fitzroy/rainer and fitzroy/argo, i am not looking to force anyone to ship anything nor am i looking to start any “””ship wars””” omg, this is all just for fun!!!!)

(so anyways!!!!)

——————————–

85) “Don’t lie to me.”

——————————–

Sir Fitzroy Maplecourt, Knight in whatever-the-fuck in the Realm of It-Doesn’t-Fucking-Matter-Right-Now was an idiot. A fucking idiot. Only he would get himself stabbed on a mission miles away from the school. Only he would run into the fray of chaos to stop it. 

Sir Fitzroy Maplecourt was an idiot and a bad villain.

But Argo wasn’t panicking. Not panicking at all. 

He was just near dragging Fitzroy down a dark, damp alley as blood seeped through his robes and into Argo’s own tunic. Which would be a bitch to get out. Blood always was. But it was okay. Fine, even! Because Bud had been able to heal Fitzroy… kind of. Not much, because spell slots were an issue, but, hey! It was probably enough to keep Fitzroy from bleeding out within the hour! 

And, yeah, they were supposed to be trying to work out a deal with two rivaling guilds and not getting ambushed by a group of bandits larger than the party they came with, but it was all good! And, sure, Rolandus, Rainer, and Bud might have had to run distraction while Leon and Buckminster try to get in contact with the school’s emergency hotline, and Argo might just be getting more and more lost as he pulled Fitzroy’s semi-conscious body through streets that he already didn’t know, but it was fine!

Completely, and totally, and absolutely, and… and…

Fuck, why did he have to get hurt?

“Argo,” Fitzroy, voice strained, managed out. He was barely walking already but, even so, his feet stumbled over each other and Argo had to secure him tighter. “Wait… hold on…”

Argo wanted to deny him, wanted to say that they needed to keep moving, needed to get somewhere they knew, but he looked down at Fitzroy’s grimace and the sweat on his brow, and found that he couldn’t.

“Okay, okay,” Argo said quickly, his eyes darting around for anything that could support Fitzroy, though the sentiment was short-lived as Fitzroy began to become dead-weight in his arms. “Okay, wait, wait, wait-” And, as carefully as he could (and trying to still his shaking hands), he helped lower Fitzroy down onto the cobblestones and watched him wince as he leaned back against the wall “-I, uh, are you- where does it hurt?”

Fitzroy, as Argo kneeled down in front of him, shot him a tired, pained grin. “What d’ya mean? I’m doing just fine.”

“Don’t lie to me,” Argo hissed, flashing his eyes from Fitzroy’s face to the ever-growing dark patch on his shirt. He ghosted his hand over it, wanting to see the damage but too scared to face it. “Not-” He cleared his throat, shaking his head “-not here.”

Fitzroy watched his face and, after a moment, let his head fall back against the brick wall as his eyes slipped shut. “Everywhere.” He swallowed thickly. “But maybe I’m just dramatic.”

“We already know that,” Argo murmured, hands moving to the buttons at Fitzroy’s collar and then freezing. It was silly, almost: Fitzroy was wounded and bleeding before him, yet Argo froze to unbutton his shirt, but-

“It won’t be a pretty sight,” Fitzroy said.

“Is this okay?” Argo asked, quietly.

Fitzroy nodded.

Argo was careful. He had to be; tact was integral in his line of work before the school, both in stealing and in patching up his own wounds, but now he found himself praying that his hands were defter, gentler.

Leave it to fucking Fitzroy Maplecourt to turn him gentle.

He had been right, though: it wasn’t a pretty sight.

The biggest problem was the actual stab wound in the left side of his stomach. Not particularly large and, wracking his brain, Argo couldn’t think of any organs that the wound would’ve hit (plus, Bud’s healing probably helped in that aspect), but, nonetheless, the wound was still bleeding much more than probably wanted. The rest of his stomach and chest, though, was marked with slash wounds, all varied in length and depth, and even some bruising already beginning to purple along his side.

“Shit,” Argo whispered.

Fitzroy was caught somewhere between a smirk and a grimace. “So, what’s the verdict, doc?”

“That you’re an idiot,” Argo said, though he was already tearing off parts of his own tunic for make-shift bandages. “Fucking villain rushing in to de-escalate a situation. That’ll show up in your report card, don’t you think?”

“Good to know that you care, Argo.” Fitzroy hissed as Argo pressed a bandage to the deepest wound, and Argo tried to not think about it too much.

Of course I do, Argo said, except it came out as, “Well, first time for everything.”

His relationship with Fitzroy was complicated, as most things involving Fitzroy were. The two cared for each other more than either would admit, not necessarily out of pride, but out of the rocky road it took to get them there. Working through their rivalry and stubborness had taken time, taken work, but, before long, Argo found himself willing to do what it takes to help Fitzroy, and, well…

Fitzroy threw himself into the bandits after one barely missed Argo with a throwing knife.

It was a devotion that the school almost expected of them: kicks and henches throwing themselves forward in defense, heroes and villains throwing them into the midst of it all for some big showdown. And, in practice, it was fun. The three of them laughed when Bud used his imposing form to simply block the two of them when Rattles rushed them with a dulled rapier. Argo found joy in sneaking around corners to catch Rainer and Fitzroy off guard in practice scrimmages, only for them both to laugh as Fitzroy charged him and missed at the last moment.

Practice was always fun.

It was when it was real, when there were no do-overs, that Argo realized it wasn’t always such. Maybe Fitzroy did, too. Maybe they realized, too, that the two of them—three of them—were stronger fighting together instead of letting one take the brunt of the damage.

Hell, Argo didn’t want Fitzroy to get hurt while rushing in for some final showdown.

Maybe Fitzroy didn’t want Argo sacrificing himself to take the damage, either.

As Argo’s hands finished tying a secure knot in the make-shift bandage, Fitzroy watched his movements. Even though blood still seeped through, he hoped that it was enough to slow it. All he could do was hope.

“It’s a knight thing,” Fitzroy said, tired, and Argo eyed him, confused. "Rushing into battle. I’m trained to protect people, so... that’s what I did.”

“That’s some pretty sidekick thinking for a villain.”

Fitzroy laughed slightly before quickly, painfully, catching himself. “Well, maybe those stupid human shield games stuck.”

Argo, barely managing a smile, shook his head. “You… you didn’t have to do that. You’re hurt now and… you’re gonna be fine, we’ll find the others, but… you’re hurt.”

“I know,” Fitzroy said. “But…” He released a breath and let his head fall back again. “I just couldn’t hold myself back. They attacked first, attacked you first, and I just…”

Argo wanted to say that he could handle himself, but he knew that wasn’t the point Fitzroy was making.

“Well, thanks,” Argo said. “But next time you’re about to go rushing in, at least give us a warning? A codeword, perhaps?”

“Come up with a cool pirate one and we’ll be golden.”

Argo nodded and, worrying his bottom lip, studied Fitzroy quickly. He was still looking a little pale, and his eyes were scrunched up tight, but his breathing was decently okay, and-

“I can feel you staring,” Fitzroy murmured. “My half-elf senses are tingling.”

“That makes no sense,” Argo mumbled, but didn’t deny it.

Fitzroy cracked an eye open. “Thank you, though, Argo,” he said. “For… helping me.”

Complicated or not, whatever their relationship was, first and foremost, Fitzroy was one of his two closest friends at Wiggenstaff’s, and the last thing he wanted was for his friends to be hurt.

Argo flashed a smirk. “Is that a proper honoring from Sir Fitzroy Maplecourt?”

“Think of it as me, Fitzroy, your roommate, your-” Their eyes, for just a second, caught each other “-friend, appreciating what you’ve done for me.”

Seeing Fitzroy pained like this, vulnerable like this, made Argo realize that he wanted two things: something more, and to never see Fitzroy hurt again.

Argo felt his face heat up, and was almost thankful of the darkness for hiding his flushed face before remembering that Fitzroy had darkvision.

“Well, of course, Fitzroy,” Argo said. “I would never leave you.” He swallowed, his eyes quickly darting around the alley. “Not to bleed out, that is. Or be stabbed by a bunch of sneaky bandits.”

Fitzroy cracked a smile and opened his mouth to say something before he was interrupted by a voice calling out, “Argo! Fitzroy!” which was followed by another saying, quieter, “Where the fuck could they have gone?”

Argo, nearly unable to measure how relieved he was, called back to Buck and Rolandus, “We’re over here!”

“Oh thank god,” Fitzroy breathed out and, at the thought of being able to return to the school, he seemed to sag further against the wall, almost as if he had been trying to hold himself together up until this point.

“You’re hurting, aren’t you?” Argo asked, quietly.

“Terribly so,” Fitzroy whispered. Footsteps, not too far away, could be heard hitting the pavement.

“We should probably get you up, though,” Argo said, feeling ready to hoist Fitzroy over his shoulder and walk back to campus if it was needed. “We… we have to get moving.”

Fitzroy sighed but, upon Argo standing, accepted his outstretched hand, and let himself be helped.

[blankdblank]

Caves of the Forgotten

…

“Unless you are ME, in MY position, don’t EVER try to tell ME how to FEEL.”

“I don’t run from my feelings, I get drunk and ignore them, like a normal person.”

…

‘Caves of the Forgotten

Is Back!’

The posters were up everywhere and the century odd long running show was back for yet another season, its hundredth, and the big kicker, you were coming back with it. Marya, the little girl, one of two children born and raised on the show. Decades until you reached your late teens you had been a part of it until you wanted to go to school. But that isn’t important, the degrees, the modeling, the movies and shows you had been a part of, to them you would always be precious perfect unpredictable Marya. Which was why this season was such a big deal. Your parents had moved on and eventually back to Valinor, though you felt you had to step back into this role after the personal hell your personal life had been lately. Just like the other stuff none of that mattered either because this was a new beginning, and with it came Korko back into your life.

Korko, played by the boy born and raised on the show Marya was destined to ebb and flow with for the rest of time. Always so adamant you hated one another, glares, faces made, tongues stuck out and yet as you grew into your teens it shifted that only Korko could ever make you angry. He was the one to throw your first bully into a locker, he was the one demanding none of the ‘hot’ guys he hung out with tried anything with you when he knew how they treated women. He was the one to set you up with your first real boyfriend, a great guy who ended up breaking your heart anyways and received a broken arm for it. He was the one in your final episodes that was racing to the airport on your gap year vacation before university to beat you there only to learn you had taken the train when the flights were grounded then flew off to a school halfway across the world leaving you both with so much left unspoken. The only thing being it hinted that your train crashed and his plane was picked up by a hurricane, a series of freak accidents taking out all the teenage cast in one full swoop.

But now, now the show would pick right back up in the Caves of the Forgotten, a series of islands connected by caves in a sort of sci-fi mystery kept for only your people to know, a ridiculous yet convincing enough explanation how the show could have tropical to winter scenes in any episode they wished regardless of the time of year. Right in the middle of the annual Parade of Swordfish, in honor of your founder’s crest, a boat washes ashore and when the ferry docks from Aquilonde the assumed lost generation are discovered and the return changes everything. It was meant to be a single season arc but honestly you didn’t care if you got pulled back into a decade long run, just as long as your Korko was there.

…

All you had to do was fly out to Lindon to sit for the convention where the show would be promoted and you would have your first press panel for it. Your characters weren’t that big on the show but your fan base was the largest as they’d seen you grow up in front of their eyes and loved you the longest. So just confirming your places on the cast had the convention booked to max. You’d kept up with everyone, maybe not in touch but had seen from afar what they had gotten up to and still you ached to see just how the always shirtless flexing teen had grown up. Clearly he had married and had a son according to his social pages yet as soon as that divorce was signed the rumors kicked right back up that it was to be with you and you were one big happy family again. Wishful thinking on their part, and yours, you were painfully and idiotically in love with him as kids and hated to leave but in the end it worked and now at least you could listen as the fans no doubt would ask if he might have possibly had a crush on you in return.

You hated flying private, if you were going to hurl yourself through the air in a tin can you needed some support, even if it came in silent company of strangers. First class was booked full, again, didn’t care cuz you preferred to be near the middle anyways. Entering your gate however a high pitched scream sent you wide eyed crashing into the chest of the talk figure to your right you had kept pace with absently since security. Even over your rock music you heard it and a joint removal of ear buds you blinked through the flashes as the red headed teen blurred out, “Marya! Korko!! I can’t believe we’re going to be flying together!!!”

At the same time in her squeeze between you your eyes met and bashful grins were eased up at her extending her camera phone as far as she could reach to snap the picture you both leaned in around her for. The crowd eventually waned in security coming to help move them along to where they were going. In a set of seats you both chatted catching up on old times until you were called to board, both chuckling at your place in the middle of the plane. An open mouthed stare from a pair of women watching as you both went to the rows around them more women realized who you were and a pair willingly offered to move so that you could sit together, all so certain that it was some computer error splitting you apart.

In your window seat you inhaled shakily and in a stolen glance at you his hand meshed with yours with fingers interlocking to help the both of you through your wariness on flying.

.

Surprisingly the flight went quickly yet by the time you had landed realizations that your hands were still locked came only when you went to grab your suitcases. A split set of cars left the crowds deciding that you had desperate carpet events explaining the split all heavily flooding the social pages. The convention went on and if they had hoped for reunions for the full cast they were disappointed. To please everyone and focus on each person for a decent amount you were set to groups that rotated around until finally you all found yourselves from the revolving doors and into the elevator heading up to your rooms to collapse onto your beds.

Only when you had walked into your assigned room your lips pursed at seeing Thranduil relaxing on the couch. At the door opening he had sat up and when he saw you his jaw dropped in seeing you look at the number on the key card sleeve and then step just out the door to look at the number making you huff.

“I must have gotten the wrong key…”

Wetting his lips hastily Thranduil stood shaking his head, “No, um,” your brows rose as the door closed behind you in your shifting the strap on your shoulder to your bag, “Well, it’s a suite. I wondered why I got bumped up. They must have seen the press or something, spare bed’s all yours.” He said pointing to the door on his left making you nod.

“Thank you.” You sighed out and turned to go put your things down with him following after you without any reason even for himself to explain it. Sitting on the foot of the bed you raised your leg and untied your boots you removed and set aside, “I can’t remember the last time one of my press events got a crowd like this.”

Lowly he chuckled watching you ease out of your jacket forcing himself not to stare at you while he missed you doing the same for him to keep things casual, “Well, we’re back, bigger than ever. Tons of drama.” You nodded and he said, “I was just about to order something, you can pick the show if you like.”

With a giggle you reached to your bag pulling out a box set of your seasons together making him laugh, “If you’re up for some cringing we can catch up. I don’t think I’ve ever seen the full episodes before.”

He nodded, “I do need to brush up. I got the details I just never got how everyone said there was so much tension when we rarely had scenes together in the end.”

You giggled again, “From what I’ve heard it had something to do with those tiny glowing frogs following us around.”

Chuckling in a shake of his head from the nonsensical reason he offered you his hand to help you up for the walk to the living room. It was a week long convention and from there you would fly out to the islands where you would film for the next six months.

.

Giggling to yourself with a cardboard box of take away in your hand you were curled up beside Thranduil’s former spot as he answered his son’s call between classes at his own university asking, “Have you asked her out yet? You’re all over the internet as a couple!”

Thranduil rolled his eyes then looked to you smirking at your full mouthed chewing giggle at the drama building in the episode playing after you both had gotten hooked onto the show yourselves. “Not yet, but I will. You focus on class.”

“Oh!!” You cried out at a slap sounding in the room making Thranduil tilt on his feet to see what he had missed, his mother slapping yours saying sarcastically after being accused of being too emotional, “I don’t run from my feelings, I get drunk and ignore them, like a normal person.” Jabbing at her alcohol problem.

To which your mother shouted back, “Unless you are ME, in MY position, don’t EVER try to tell ME how to FEEL.”

His mother rolled her eyes and delved into the world of mistakes her friend had made affecting everyone’s lives. The dramatic moment however ending when Marya and Korko team up to take down the kids from down the block bringing Thranduil back to your side grinning wildly after Legolas had to rush off to his next class. You had time to catch up finally, with the show and each other.

A flicker on of the timed lantern lights in the room came when a call came in on the room phone saying that a bad storm was rolling in on the final day of your trip that would be leaving you both stranded in this island city when the bridge was too dangerous to cross. Prepped generators got you through the worst of it in relatively few limitations and when it had passed it was just the task of waiting for the bridge to be cleared again when the waters receded. Though neither of you really minded having to wait, as by the time you had made it to set it wasn’t just fan fiction anymore, your real life coupling. Six months on a set might be hard but after binging all you had missed of the show you were eager to see just where Marya and Korko would be heading to next.

 All –

@himoverflowers​, @theincaprincess, @aspiringtranslator​, @sweeticedtea​, @ggbbhehe4455​, @thegreyberet​, @patanghill17​, @jesgisborne​, @curvestrology​, @alishlieb​, @jogregor​, @armitageadoration​, @fizzyxcustard​, @here2have-fun​, @lilith15000​, @marvels-ghost​, @catthefearless​, @imjusthereforthereads​, @c-s-stars​

Hobbit/LotR – @abiwim​, @jotink78​, @pastelhexmaniac​

X Thranduil - @evyiione​, @sweetlytenacious25​, @tigereyesf​, @pastelhexmaniac

[hotoffthepressfics]

Broke But Not Broken: Chapter 11

MASTERLIST

Part XI

Previous | Next

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Female Reader

Word Count: 2,764

Summary: The reader deals with the aftermath of Bucky’s incident. Will the strain be too much for their budding relationship?

Warnings: Angst, slight violence

Inspiration/Chapter Soundtrack:

“1000 Times” - Sara Bareilles

“Tell Me How” - Paramore

“River Flows In You” - Yiruma (Bucky’s Song)

A/N: This update isn’t too exciting, and is probably a little depressing. But it has to be done! The next update will be better, I promise. Thank you guys for sticking with the story! I often fear it’s getting redundant and boring, so I hope that isn’t the case. Please let me know what you think?

Y/F/N - Your fake name

It’d been nearly twenty-four hours since you’d found Bucky on the bathroom floor of his apartment and called the ambulance. Blood alcohol poisoning. His blood alcohol content was 0.274%. Bucky had almost killed himself trying to drink away his problems.

Steve had arrived about ten minutes after you did. At the time you weren’t really sure about Bucky’s condition. All you two could do was wait. An hour and twenty-seven stitches to his temple later, you could see Bucky. He rested comfortably in the hospital bed. Now you and Steve waited and hoped Bucky would wake up.

You yawn, stretching out your arms and legs from your cramped perch from a chair. A firm hand rests on your shoulder causing you to flinch. You look up into Steve’s face.

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to scare you. Why don’t you go walk around and get something to eat? I’ll take it from here.” He suggests.

You worry your lip, glancing at Bucky’s prone form. Indecision plagues you. You didn’t want to be gone if he awoke. As if to weigh in on the decision your stomach gurgles loudly. You sigh.

“Okay. I’ll be back soon.” You say, rising to your feet.

Down in the cafeteria you purchase a chicken salad sandwich and water, taking a seat at a table near a large window. You half-heartedly unwrap the sandwich, pushing it aside after a moment. While your body insisted you needed to eat, you just didn’t feel like it. Your spirits were pretty low.

All the time you’d known Bucky he’d been happy and seemingly carefree. You’d taken solace in his laidback manner, finding it easy to trust and relax near him. Seeing Bucky now after his episode and subsequent binge drinking left you on shaky ground. You didn’t blame him for what happened, but perhaps you’d opened yourself up to him too quickly.  

Bucky’s cell phone rings. You still had it from when you found him. You dig it out of your pocket, picking at the crust of your sandwich.

“Hello?”

“Hey Sug, how’s our boy doing?” CiCi’s voice came on the line. Hearing her voice caused the lump to form in your throat again.  

“Uhh… he’s stable… The drinking did a number on him, and he hit his head so hard he’s a bit concussed, but the doctor said he should recover… Given that he wakes up.” You inform her. She tuts.

“That boy has been on some benders but nothing this bad. He was certainly trying to escape some demons…” she sighs. “I have to head to work now, but you text me when there’s news, alright hon?”  

You promise to update her and say goodbye. Slipping the phone back into your pocket you dutifully eat your sandwich.

Your mind wanders as you make your way back up to Bucky’s room. The closer you get you can hear shouting. A commotion has stirred. Right in Bucky’s room. Your heart clenches and you pick up the pace.

“Where are my clothes?! I want to leave now!” You can hear Bucky yelling as you come up to the door.

You jump back as a harried nurse dashes out, muttering about security.

“You can’t leave, Buck! You nearly succeeded in turning your blood to sludge, they have to make sure you’re gonna be okay! Now shut up and lay down!” Steve shouts back. His large frame blocks the doorway, back facing you.

You peer around him into the room. Bucky paces the floor from the bed to the opposite wall like a caged animal.

“How’d I even get here? How’d you know where I’d be? You can’t get after dodging your calls and visits I don’t want to see you?!” Bucky works himself up a bit more; his pacing quickens.

“You need to calm. Down. Y/N called me. She’s been looking for you ever since your…episode with her. She found you passed out and bleeding on your bathroom floor. You’re lucky she did otherwise you’d be dead.” Steve says.  

Bucky scoffs, “She should have just minded her damn business. Ironic that the girl who never speaks about her problems would go diving headfirst into mine. I didn’t ask anyone to save me!” He grabs the dry erase marker from the board on the wall and hurls it towards Steve.  

Steve ducks, unaware you’re standing right behind him. You flinch just enough for the marker to pelt you in the arm. You yelp, a little too loudly for the object’s size, as it bounces off. Like the flip of a switch memories of Colton come flooding back. Him throwing things, screaming in your face. Hurting you as the wave of his anger rose. Shaken, you glance up at the two men.

Whereas Steve’s face was a mask of shock, Bucky’s was one of horror. He took a step towards you.

“Y/N… shit!” He falls back, the IV pulling against its connection to him.

Hysteria bubbles up. Your panicked mind sounded a warning bell. Run. Get away. You couldn’t do this again. Steve reaches out to you. You pull away. A small whimper escapes your lips.  

“I’m sorry…” you moan before turning and sprinting down the hall, both men calling for you.

•••

You felt so stupid for fleeing the way you did the evening before. The flight response had just been so strong. You sweep up more of the broken glass, dumping it into the garbage can you’d brought in from the kitchen. You couldn’t bear going back to the hospital, so you decided to do the next best thing and clean up Bucky’s apartment.  

Someone clears their throat while you scrub at the linoleum floor. You start, whirling around. A curvy, red-headed woman stands just outside the bathroom.  

“Uh, hi. Who are you? Bucky sent me to get some things for him.” She explains as you continue to stare at her open mouthed.  

“Oh! I’m Y/N… his downstairs neighbor I guess…” you say, awkwardly sticking out your hand as you stand.

“Nat.” She offers her hand and a friendly, if a little standoffish, smile. “You don’t need to clean that. That’s what Clint is here for.” She gestures behind her.

You look and see a stocky man with short hair and a grim expression. He purses his lips and gives you a two finger salute when he sees you staring.

“Oh… is Bucky not coming back?” Your heart sinks.  

From the way she spoke it sounded like Bucky would be gone indefinitely. Had you really upset him that much? And who was this woman? She was rather pretty, and seemed very self – assured. You fiddle uncomfortably with your pruned hands. Did Bucky and her have a thing?

The woman called ‘Nat’ shrugs. “Not really sure. Steve wants him to stick around the VA center for a while. I can’t believe he actually got him to agree this time.” She turns to look at Clint as if seeing if he agreed with her.  

“Okay. Well I’ll just... leave you guys to it.” You mumble unsure of what to do with yourself.  

Disheartened you head out the door.

•••

“Oh Sug, he doesn’t hate you. Why would you say that?” CiCi caresses your head as she brushes out the tangles in your hair.

You’d been hiding out in your apartment the last day, slipping further into a reclusive state. You had called off work, determined to shut out the world. You knew you were being silly. You couldn’t stay cooped up forever.  

“Because he was so angry to be in the hospital. He said I should just mind my business… I just –“ you stop talking, your throat closing off as you attempt not to cry again.

“That doesn’t sound like he hates you baby. He’s sick and scared. He wasn’t thinking straight. People say things all the time they don’t mean. He just needs time to get his head straight.” She urges, plaiting your hair into a neat braid.

You shake your head slightly, guilt eating at you. “He was right, I shouldn’t have gone digging when I’ve kept my secrets so close to my chest.” You reason, talking more to yourself than to CiCi.

CiCi stops fussing with your hair and walks around to face you. When you refuse to look up at her she crooks a finger under your chin, tilting your head upward. Reluctantly you meet her eyes.

“Now you listen to me. You both have had your reasons for keeping your secrets. Yours were just to preserve yourself from a mad man. Buck’s were going to keep destroying him until there was nothing left. You saved him, Y/N. He will see the good in that someday.”  

You doubt her words, images of Bucky’s angry face flashing in your mind. You tried to remind yourself that there had been remorse in his face just before you’d fled, but you couldn’t be sure if it’d been from being caught expressing true feelings or because he’d regretted speaking without thinking. You’d just have to live with not knowing. As it stood you didn’t think Bucky would be coming back. You smile up at her sadly.

“It’s probably for the best anyways.” You say, waving CiCi off as she begins to protest. “I better get ready for work.”

•••

Talking to Maggie had been slightly less terrifying than you thought, though it was still painful.  

“Really, I wasn’t upset with you. Naomi has always been a bitch. I was just surprised it was you to put her in her place. I only sent you home because I felt you needed a break. Which...if I’m being honest, you still look like you need? Is everything okay?” Maggie’s eyebrows knit in concern.

You give her a wane smile, “Yes, it’ll be fine. I just want things to go back to normal.” You admit exhaustedly.

So the days went. You’d go to work; you’d come home. Sometimes you’d spend the day helping Tía around her apartment. Occasionally CiCi and Damien could coax you out for lunch. The days turned into weeks with no sign of Bucky. The owners of the building hired a temp to care for its maintenance. It hurt to see a stranger everywhere you’d grown accustomed to seeing Bucky. You tried to push down the pain. You didn’t want to examine why it hurt so much.  You kept reminding yourself this was for the best. This was safe. The quicker you could move on the better.  

If you allowed yourself to be honest, though, you knew you missed him. The nightmares had returned in full force, keeping you awake most nights. You missed the comfort of his presence. The way his steady breathing had grounded you, promising you’d be safe. You’d taken to sitting in front of the piano, the one Bucky had gifted to you, and thought of him. Alone in the dark, early hours of morning, it was the only time you would let your mind wander to him. You played the pieces he loved, the ones that reminded you so much of his smile. When those songs began to run low you’d absently play, letting your fingers run along the keys, writing their own song. It was a melody they played often enough you didn’t need to write it down.  

The evening that marked three weeks since you’d last seen Bucky you go to check on Tía Maria. You knock on her door once before letting yourself in.

“Tía? I’m getting ready to head off to work. Are you set for the night? Do you need anything?” You call out to the little, old, blind woman.

“Oh mija!” she feels her way into the living room. You meet her halfway, bending down so she can kiss and pat your cheek. “How are you? You don’t sound well.” She asks, holding your face in between her hands.

You sigh. It was getting tiresome, being asked so many times if you were alright, but you knew they meant well. “I’m doing just fine Tía. I’m just leaving for work. Do you need anything?”

Tía releases you and claps her hands as though she just remembered something important. “Oh yes! I want to make some cookies tomorrow, but I’m out of flour. Would you mind picking me up some on your way home? If it’s not too much trouble!”

You smile, planting a quick kiss to her cheek. “It’s not a bother, I would be happy to get it for you.”

You bid her a good night and headed off to work.  

Your shift starts out pretty normal. Naomi continues to go between sneering at or ignoring you, but she keeps her distance like she’s done since your fight. This you can handle. You mill about the tables and get lost in the monotony. Not surprisingly, the club is quiet. Michael never showed to start his shift. Maggie entreats you to play and you agree. You start off with the normal set, playing jazzy, upbeat pieces.  

You aren’t sure why, perhaps it’s your flagging spirits, or the somber cloud that seems to constantly hang over your head these days, but as the last song ends and you begin the next you tap out the first notes to Bucky’s song. You pour yourself into it, bleeding all the anxiety, hurt, and loss you’d felt the last couple weeks. For the first time since the night in the hospital you allow yourself to feel everything you’ve kept bottled in, momentarily forgetting the small, crowded club of bargoers.  

As the song ends you jump from the clamoring patrons. You laugh a little at the whooping and whistles as you give your audience a small bow. You glance over to Maggie and your smile falters a bit. Marcus had apparently decided to make an appearance tonight during your song and his eyes were locked right on you. You swallow nervously as you keep playing, very aware of the eyes observing you. As the night draws to a close, you step down from the stage. Marcus and Maggie wait at the bar, the brief smile she gives you doing little to put you at ease.  

“Umm... Marcus, I know I’m not supposed to play but - “You try to explain, but he interrupts.  

“I know what I said, however... I’ve reconsidered. It seems you have a very special gift, Y/F/N, it wouldn’t do to squander it.” Marcus says, giving you a wink and placing his hand on your shoulder.

If you didn’t like the way Marcus had looked at you on days he wasn’t interested in speaking to you, you really didn’t like the way he looked at you now. You try your best not to shudder but pull yourself out from under the weight of his hand.  

“Thank you.” You say quietly, trying to make the step you take back seem casual.  

“Work with Maggie on a schedule around the times Michael is supposed to play and we’ll get you back up on that stage. Good work tonight!” Marcus turns and heads out, waving goodbye dismissively as he leaves.

Maggie rolls her eyes. “As if you haven’t played most nights you’ve worked since you started with us!” She laughs and you can’t help but grin. She sobers. “Seriously though, you do have a wonderful gift. That song you played was amazing! I’ve never heard it before!”

You laugh a little, “That’s because it’s never been played to an audience. It’s my own song.”

Maggie continues to fawn over you, making you blush. After you help close up you bid them all goodnight and head to a supermarket that was still open. You’d told Tía you’d get her flour and you weren’t going to disappoint the woman.

Bag of flour acquired you make the journey back to your apartment building. The night air is cold, a forewarning to the snow that will soon fall as the winter months start rolling in. You pull your coat tighter around you. A little worry starts to niggle at the back of your mind. You can’t shake the feeling like you’re still being watched. A tendril of fear coils its way up your spine, but you try to push it away. You sneak a glance behind you but don’t see anyone.  

Stop being paranoid. You tell yourself, but the feeling persists. As the building comes into view you breathe a little easier. You pick up your pace, eager to get inside. Just as your about to enter the front entry a firm hand grabs your shoulder.  

You scream.

EVERYTHING TAGLIST:

@booktvmoviefangirl @lowkeybuckyb @mrsdaamneron @xxashy999xx @c-ly-g @coal000 @rroguebones @ghostlyrose2 @part-time-patronus @emelielwh @peaceinourtime82 @buckysforeverprincess @geeksareunique @amnahs9695 @v-2bucky @scarlet-skywalkers @lokilvrr @thisismysecrethappyplace @sacre-bluhm @tatertot1097 @until-theend-oftheline @amoonagedaydreamer @marvelouspottering @thatfanficstuff @chuuulip @littlemarvelfics @averyrogers83 @ellaprime68 @shield-agent78 @jewels2876

BUCKY BARNES TAGLIST:

@bloodiedskirtts @igotkatiepowers @misplacedorphan @superwholockwannabe @moonstruckhargrove @ladysergeantbarnes

BBNB TAGLIST:

@imaginecrushes @that-bearshark @jademox @theraputicwritings @marvel-fanfiction @aubri1313 @xcriminalmastermindx @regulusirius @jacquelineisawkward @lostinspace33 @directionerfae @rainbowkisses31 @marie-is-in-the-dark @msgrungie @mrsbarneswillseeyounow @getmedeacon @owhatshername1 @drunkinthemiddleoftheday @mizzzpink @aveatquevale- @sweetlydecaf @absolukeyrh  

[tempestshakes01]

happy and anxious. 

happy because i love my apartment and i love Lil Cup of Joe. he is a terror and the sweetest boy ever, and i feel so much love for him. this is why i can’t be around an animal for an extended period of time. i will die for any creature i get attached to and lil joe is now my baby. 

but i am anxious because i put of working when my brother brought home a puppy. he didn’t ask me to, but he’s an idiot who’s never home and bought a puppy to make him come home. i gave him 3 days and when his habits didn’t change, joe was being left alone and untrained, and i needed a running buddy--well, i took over. joe’s now potty-trained and knows a few (one) command. i take him everywhere to socialize him. he’s mine. but i’ll never say that to nick. who still needs to go therapy. i don’t know him. i don’t know what goes on in that head of his. it’s like we switched personalities in our 20s. i went from the quiet, serious type to basically a manic 13 yr old boy. he went from a wildly charismatic clown to a brooding hipster. what makes him laugh? what is he thinking? what is he passionate about? how does he talk to other ppl for hours but he can barely speak to his family for more than half of one? what did we do?

i got really angry the other night thinking about the fights i’ve had with my parents this past year. 

1) washington d.c. - mom and i got into to it in front of the fuckin white house at dusk. i was so emotional and upset at being there, right there where trump fucks over our country, and my mom was being...well, the woman fox news molded. i was furious and trying to keep it nice, so i asked if we could just stop. stop talking. i was gonna blow up. and my mom was like, “why do we stop when you say stop, but when i ask to stop, you continue?” which...is it true? i didn’t think so, and because i can’t keep my mouth shut, i argued until i walked away. i walked into the crowds and then i kept walking. i kept walking. i kept walking.  

it was terrible. i texted her “i’m gone” and i left. 

i forgot the details but i wandered that area of d.c. got a coffee. tried not to cry. and then...remembered how much trouble my mom’s phone was giving her, that her gps apps weren’t being accurate, that she wasn’t confident at the metro, and that it was now dark. that she was alone in an unfamiliar city with a camera bag strapped to her screaming “i’m a tourist!” 

i felt like utter and complete shit. it was one of the most despicable things i’ve ever done. later, i told some people and they were like “she’s a grown woman! you were both upset!” but no. i can’t make excuses like that. i knew that my mom was scared. i burst into tears. a crazy sobbing girl in the middle of d.c. i immediately texted her and told her to get back to me when she got to the hotel. 

an hour later, back at the hotel, my mom couldn’t even look at me. couldn’t speak to me. i knew i had to apologize and i did, wording it carefully because i walking on a minefield. i again blocked out most of the conversation, but it quickly dissolved into a mess of confessions. i was wrecked. at first because of what happened, but as our conversation turned into an argument, i became furious again. over how she interpreted some of our interactions. over how i “blamed” her for my anxiety and anger. i told her i got my anger from her. that i was slow to it like my father, but when something lit inside me it burned bright and hot and deadly like her. that her grudges and cold shoulders hurt me so, so badly when i was a kid (which she then explained wasn’t a grudge, just her processing her anger...but that was way, way into the night). oh god, it was so bad. so bad. she confessed how she felt about all us kids. told me about her problems with andi and nick. told me she wanted to move away from us. told me she didn’t want a relationship with me or them if it was going to be like this. 

i didn’t sleep. just cried and cried. like i did when i was a kid. sobbed in the bathroom and then under my covers. we barely talked the next day, but it slowly became okay. i didn’t know how to explain how much i loved her, so i tried to show her.      

in the end, we were ok enough. 

2) driving 30 hrs across the country - my dad and i were talking and he told me how he didn’t get us, and that we were hurting mom by rejecting her or something. he was upset and my dad doesn’t get upset, so i got upset and moody. and he was like “why are you like this? just with me? just with us. you’re so cruel.” and i knew it was true but it still took me an hour to snap out of it. and i apologized. 

--

but i feel sometimes angry bc i got the emo dump from both my parents. about both my siblings! and they don’t even talk to them about it! my parents don’t even touch nick anymore! they leave him alone because it’s easier that way and he wouldn’t listen even if they tried to talk to him! and my sister would get super huffy and feel judged and act out in some way and take the kids! so. i get it but i hate it!!! because i got the feelings dump! i got the tears and the hours of psychoanalyzing why we are the way we are! and i hate that i feel burdened by it sometimes?

 i want to be there for my parents but sometimes i’m that petulant child that still wants a mommy and daddy, not two parents who are human and exist with their own emotional life. and that’s so unfair to them and wrong of me, but i feel that way because i’m the child that gets this brunt of this side of them.  

but it’s because in my own way im the most difficult and this shit spills out when i push them. 

--

my parents (mostly mom) are only getting more set in their ways and defensive of their opinions. my mom...my mom who taught me so much about art and the world and appreciating different cultures and music and lived life with such vigor and wonder...i can see that fading and hardening. she’s stubborn about what she like and doesn’t have much interest in anything new. she’s offended and hurt when i gently bring up her how she used to be. 

my dad’s always been this way. very traditional, but kind. spoiled, but hardworking. likes what he likes. but he’s eating more greens. he’ll try what i make because i made it. we listened to latino usa and old radio lab podcasts that whole drive from wa to tx, and he loved it, and we discussed the episodes. and i loved him so much because he gave them a shot and we connected. 

but my mom. my mom. i miss her and she’s right there, but she’s not. and i know i’m part of the reason she’s retreated into herself and her more ‘sturdy’ beliefs and the friends who share them. she’s so quick to judge and harsh about it these days. is it age? is it us? is it this horrible world?

--

i came home to this. i came home and how quickly people change bc i didn’t expect my mom to be so old. in spirit. she’s tired. she doesn’t trust me. we’re working on being gentle. i’m working on not being so quick to anger.

my dad and i...i’m thrilled we’re getting along so well after i treated him like shit during the ~separation years~ between my parents. i was awful to him and he knew why, but he never called me out on it. 

my sis and i are fine. i’m so relieved she got out of that last relationship with that TERRIBLE PERSON and came to her senses, and somewhat grew up. we kick it. she cooks for me. we don’t completely jive cause she’s hood, but can code-switch between worlds, and i’m suburban through and through, so i’m not as cool or smooth as she is. i’m her dorky weird little sister and i appreciate her love for me. 

my brother? a mystery. a complete mystery. 

and i’m reminded of how he called me on my birthday and started weeping and asking about therapy and saying he’s sorry he never believed in my anxiety because it’s true--you don’t ask for, you don’t know why it appears, and it wrecks you. and he deals with it now for no discernible reason and he sounded so, so broken over the phone that i was shaking and crying when we hung up.

but now he’s as chill as ever and takes minimal care of his puppy because the 1st dog he got was pretty hands-off from the jump, but she was grown and pooed and peeded everywhere for months (he says no, but that’s selective memory), so now lil joe is mine and i need to get a job because the lack of structure is killlllllllllllllingggggg me. but i don’t want to leave lil joe :( 

--

it’s funny how i never set out to write all this shit, but it comes spilling out. 

huh. wait.

i left and i worked on myself but then i missed my family.

did i come back to work on the family? to work on my relationship with them? is that my purpose here and why i felt compelled to return?

--

went climbing with GA. i was totally afraid of falling and bouldering isn’t as fun to me as top rope, but i wanna keep at it. 

trying to set something up with B and A. my buds. i love em. 

gotta set something up with L because I have a feeling we’ll be good friends here. and weirdly, BG contacted me even though I haven’t talked to him since college? and even then we weren’t that close. he was just inching toward asking me out and never managed it.

--

fav emmy looks: zendaya (obviously. omg, whatta babe), maisie williams (whatta look, suits her perfectly, killed it), gwen christie (whatta jesus babe), that girl in the billowing mint green dress, anddddd clea duvall (a babe in a tux). 

vm continue to make me sad and hopefully things go well with tour for them. it’s nice to see them getting along with charlie and tanith. with bby charlie and tati and max’s kid coming along...oh boy for scott’s emotions. he’s gonna ignore the HELL out of those sad feeling for what couldvebeen with tess and he’s gonna plan hard for his and j’s future offspring instead. (can i also predict that i think one thing scott’s gonna have trouble with in his marriage--oddly enough--is keeping the marriage a partnership and not bulldozing over his spouse with his wants and needs ...wait, that’s not odd lol) 

--

anyway, gotta take joe out to pee. gotta get to bed soon because i wanna be on the trails by 7am and then maybe to the climbing gym. this face maybe a potato but my body can improve! (i’m thicc at the moment thanks to texas food 🤧) 

[builder051]

Both sides now

A Clint/Laura angsty sickfic.

_____

Bows and flows of angel hair and ice cream castles in the air And feather canyons everywhere, I've looked at clouds that way But now they only block the sun, they rain and snow on everyone So many things I would have done, but clouds got in my way

--Joni Mitchell, Both Sides Now

_____

It takes Clint an extra 20 minutes to detour to CVS and pick up cold medicine. He walks down the aisle in front of the pharmacy and grabs every box and bottle that looks enticing, stacking them between his forearm and his chest like a misplaced Jenga tower. It wobbles dangerously when he bends his knees. Who thought it was a good idea to put the lotion tissues on the bottom shelf?

He admits it’s worth it to pay extra for premium Kleenex and maybe save his already-raw nose a bit of torture. He should save himself the torture of trying to balance his load, too, but using a shopping basket is a different kind of defeat. One of the packages of pills falls to the ground as he straightens up, but Clint’s head is spinning. He doesn’t feel like figuring out what to set down in order to retrieve it. He probably doesn’t need Benadryl anyway.

He leaves it in the middle of the aisle and dumps his purchases on the checkout counter, then wipes his dripping nose on his sleeve as he reaches for his wallet.

“Can I help you find anything else today, sir?” the cashier says in a monotone.

Clint’s fever has reduced his brain to the speed of an outdated laptop running a security scan. He blinks at the wall of alcohol and tobacco products behind the register. He wouldn’t mind a bottle of Crown, something to put him to sleep that doesn’t taste like artificial cherries.

But it’s one in the morning and he’s still grimy from the mission and dressed in the old sweats he throws on when he doesn’t bother to shower before hitting the highway for the commute back home. And he’s probably already buying two or three things that contain codeine. No need to arouse suspicion.

“That’ll be $35.15, man.” The kid’s high as fuck, and Clint probably could’ve gotten away with half the liquor cabinet and not so much as an ID check. But he’s missed his opportunity. His mind finds a new state of awareness, realizing time is dragging and hating it, but still missing power to change course. So he just hands over his credit card and tries not to gag on his own snot.

Clint slides into the car, trying to get comfortable in his seat. He thinks about drugging up then and there, but he still has a ways to drive. He doesn’t trust himself to read the fine print and figure out what causes drowsiness and what doesn’t. And he neglected to buy anything to drink. His throat’s too swollen to dry-swallow pills, and his taste buds too sensitive for liquid medication without a chaser. Maybe he should’ve bought the Crown after all.

It isn’t till five minutes later when he’s back on the highway that the thought really sinks in, and Clint feels stupid again. His body aches something fierce, and the seat bites into his spine. He just wants to lie down. Maybe shower first. But he’s not sure he feels up to it, and Laura will probably have given up on him and gone to sleep.

He glances at the clock. It’s almost half an hour after he said he’d be home. She drinks wine and watches sitcoms for a couple hours after the kids are in bed. When Clint’s home, they do it together, working their way through Seinfeld and Cheers and Friends, then going back to re-watch their favorites. Sometimes Laura giggles at the wrong time, engrossed in text conversations with Nat. Sometimes Clint plays Nintendo. Lately the iPad set up on the bed between them has been running through the queue automatically, neither of them looking up when the next episode starts.

Laura texts Nat when Clint’s not home, too. She used to text Clint, but now he only gets responses. She doesn’t reach out first anymore. Clint only gets his wife’s jokes and goofy stories when he catches a grinning Nat checking her phone under the table in the boardroom and asks what’s so funny.

Clint stops at the red light at the bottom of the off ramp and digs his phone out of his pocket. Laura’s last message is still on his lock screen. He’d read it, but never opened it. So maybe he’s just as guilty. But it doesn’t take much effort to read and comprehend “K.”

The light turns green, and Clint drops his phone in his lap. He repeats the word over in his head, trying on different inflections and emotions. It’s not even a word. Just a letter. Is it any better with disappointment? Resignation? Sadness?

It has to be one of those. Clint doesn’t know for sure, but he knows his wife well enough to tell an acknowledgement from something else. If she had on a lace bra and expensive perfume, she’d have added a smiley face. If she was digging in the cupboard for chicken noodle soup, she’d have added a question mark.

But just a period? That’s I have to be up in under six hours to get the kids to school. And you’re late. Again.

Clint’s stomach turns with guilt. Pinpricks of sweat break out over his forehead, and all emotions are placed on hold for more physical feelings. He’s a mile from the house and abjectly against pulling over. But it’s already clear he’s not winning anything tonight.

He makes it halfway up the bumpy driveway before the gag hanging in his throat becomes more than just an urge. Clint throws the car in park and opens his door, hanging over the gravel to spit up mucous that tastes like bile.

It’s just nauseous sputtering, the kind that comes from problems with his head and throat, not with his stomach. It’s a useful excuse when, say, the kids still end up at school despite the mess in the backseat of the car. But for Clint, it’s another failure. He can’t even throw up properly. There’s no sense of relief when he’s finished.

He tears open the box of tissues to wipe his mouth and blow his nose, then he collects the loot from the drug store and trudges up toward the house. It’s a small bright point that he didn’t bring up much; Clint doubt’s he’d be able to see a puddle of vomit on the uneven ground in the dark.

The front door is unlocked, which means Laura hasn’t turned in yet after all. Clint wants to sing her praises. He doesn’t realize how much of a hassle it is to fumble keys with cold, shaky fingers until he suddenly doesn’t have to do it. Maybe he does have enough energy left in his drained batteries to shower before he passes out.

Clint toes off his shoes and kicks them roughly in line with the row of boots and sneakers beneath the coat hooks. He shuffles into the kitchen and grabs the first water bottle he sees in the door of the fridge, not caring that it’s pink and covered in butterflies. Water’s water. They have a dishwasher to kill the germs before he gives it back to Lila. Clint takes a sip as he heads down the hall.

The lamp is on in the master bedroom. A pale yellow glow feeds out into the hallway. They don’t keep the light on when they watch TV, but the fact doesn’t exactly compute.

Laura sits in bed, glasses perched on her nose, stitching a patch onto the knee of Cooper’s jeans. Clint drops the plastic CVS bag on top of the comforter, and Laura looks up at him.

“Hey,” she says. She makes two more neat stitches, then ties off her thread and snips it. She folds the jeans and arranges her supplies neatly on top of them on the bedside table.

Clint watches her, stuck on the carefulness of her movement, the set of her mouth. She keeps the house running with a mix of focus and fun. She rolls with the punches. She only retreats into this mode of somber productivity when things aren’t right with her. Or more accurately, around her. Clint’s having difficulty separating tiredness from truth, but he can’t think of a single time Laura’s fucked up.

He needs to ask if she’s ok. Not that it makes much sense, because Clint’s beginning to feel like he could throw up again while his wife seems physically fine, just pissed. But unlike Laura, Clint makes bad choices a lot. Especially today. So he just says, “Hey,” back. Then he coughs. Pitifully.

“I was thinking we should talk.” Laura folds her hands in her lap. She’s an expert at ripping off Band-Aids, even when a fever makes the pain worse. “About you never being home anymore. But, you know.” She laughs humorlessly. “You’re never home anymore.”

“Yeah, hon,” Clint sighs. “I’m really sorry.” He doesn’t know what else he can say. Any promise to do better won’t hold water. His schedule won’t change unless he has a serious talk with his superiors. Which he can do. Maybe. Eventually. But it doesn’t solve the problem of tonight.

Clint’s head throbs. He dumps the array of medications out over the foot of the bed and searches out the strongest, longest-lasting thing. Something good for headaches and stomachaches and snotty noses and being a bad husband.

He should’ve asked if Laura was ok, kept up the pattern of initiation-response. Maybe she would’ve lied and said she was fine, and he’d be that much closer to sleeping it off.

Laura’s not ok. She’s already made that clear. But Clint’s not ok either. He gets that she’s not wild about him right now. He wants more than acknowledgement, though. Not an argument, not exclamation points. Happiness is too far in the other direction. But perhaps a question mark? Is it too much to crave a little care?

Clint picks up the box of Tylenol PM and squints at the directions on the back. His throat feels tight, either preparing to dry heave or anticipating the ordeal of swallowing pills. He takes a small sip of water, then tries to insert his fingernail under the sharp flap on the top of the box. “Sorry,” he murmurs again. “Can we…talk about it later?”

“When, Clint?” Laura shakes her head. “I’m gonna take the kids to school tomorrow, and you’re gonna sleep in, then I’ll get back and have an hour to feed you and start your laundry before you have to go back and have a debrief or a board meeting or supervise training or whatever it is you do out there…”

“I’ll find time. I’ll get up with you.” But he won’t. Clint backtracks. “I’ll call in sick tomorrow.” That’s more like it.

“What if you get called for a mission?” Laura’s volume rises. She’s not shouting, but she wants to be sure Clint hears her. “What if you take a bullet while you’re saving the world, and you realize the last time you sat at the table with your kids was over two weeks ago?”

Clint lets out a slow breath. His vision shimmers around the edges. He blinks hard, but the apparition doesn’t fade. He clutches the water bottle and the box of Tylenol together as he slowly turns and sits on the edge of the mattress.

“Honey.” Clint looks down at the carpet, hoping a singular visual focus will keep disaster from happening. Or not happening. If he barfs, maybe Laura will turn her sympathy back on. He fights a hiccup. “Can we not do this right now? Please?”

“You’ve been putting this off. Maybe you don’t realize it, but you have.” The bed shifts as Laura stands up. “You can’t do that, Clint.”

“I know, babe. I hear you.” He can’t hold down the hiccup this time. Clint’s hands are full, so he presses his wrist over his mouth. A drip shivering at the end of his nose soaks into his sleeve. “I just…I can’t right now. I really can’t.”

There’s a beat of silence. Then Laura sighs, the sound impossibly drawn out. But maybe Clint’s just losing track of time again.

The ends of Laura’s hair twitch into Clint’s peripheral vision as she kneels in front of him. “Didn’t you get a flu shot?” she asks. There’s still irritation in her voice, but its intensity has lessened.

“Yeah.” Clint swallows hard. “I don’t know what this is.” He hiccups again.

“Please don’t throw up in here. We have kids for that.” Now a hint of a smile.

“No, I’m not…” Clint breathes down the sick feeling, willing his headache to go back to just a throb. He can handle that. “I already did. Well, kinda…”

“In the car?” Laura wrinkles her nose. “I don’t wanna know.”

“Hm.” Clint’s not eager to retell it anyway.

“Looks like you really bought out the pharmacy.” Laura takes the box of pills from Clint’s hand. “But I’m gonna have to dose it for you, aren’t I?”

“Yeah, I’m…” Clint lifts his head and fixes his glassy eyes on hers. “A hopeless mess. You know?”

Laura makes quick work of the blister pack and drops two tablets into Clint’s palm. “Yeah. You kind of are.” She leans in to kiss his forehead. “You’re really cooking, too.”

“I really don’t feel good,” Clint admits. “But…I’m sorry, babe.”

“We’ll talk,” Laura says. “When you’re patched up a little. You really planning on a sick day tomorrow?”

Clint nods. He tosses back the pills and chases them with a draught of water, triple-swallowing to make sure they go down.

“Good. You need it.”

“Yeah,” Clint says. “We both do,”

[fletchlingfletcher]

Acceptance -Part 2

Miahtoux was still tensed up over on the sofa, wrestling with his own internal conflict. 

Little pieces of past memories were coming up where he had let his anger get out of control. Not just to him though. Those emotions had found an out of their own and now they were taking it all the way to Corinne. Familiar scenes. Dead Imperials. Dead Ixali. Then flashes of scenes she wouldn’t recognise. Heated arguments turned to actual fights with Eaumoix and Soma. That room in the repository… and then… nothing… That small flow of memory and emotion stopping. It soon became apparent why. 

Corinne held her eyes closed tight. Heartbreak wasn't such an unfamiliar feeling to her, but this..this physically hurt, not in her chest but in her head. Pounding, pulsing, things she shouldn't be seeing and had no right to! Why did..? How did..? Before she could get any resolution, she was staring into the blackness of her eyelids again. Her head still pounded, feeling heavy in her hands, but it wasn't so unbearable or intense anymore. 

 Over on the couch, Miah had slapped himself. Hard. But as the burning sensation on the side of his face started to recede so did the anger. He took a few deep breaths before looking up to find Corinne curled up on the edge of the bed. 

He did that… didn’t he? But the real question was that now the torrent of anger had closed...what was left? 

He stood up. Kneeling on the floor in front of her. At first, he was about to reach out, but then thought better of it. If she had just felt all of that….as he suspected, then his touch would probably be the last thing she wanted. Again, he remembered that conversation from before, and what she had insisted. 

She still felt hurt, frustrated, confused, but now those emotions had simmered down to where her shaking had softened and she could pick her head up just enough...to find Miahtoux not on the couch where she'd left him but surprisingly close and..on the floor.

“I………… You… you said once… that you thought I was… strong… to have been through everything… but… but I told you… it's not that………… I have, a great weakness in me… it opens the way for… terrible things……… but… when you’re around… when I think of you… of letting you down… I’m afraid… afraid but not… with you around… I feel like… I can face the darkness that’s lurking there… in that weakness of mine…I feel like I can face myself…I want you to stay… because… I don’t think… I know how to be… that strong on my own anymore… or maybe I do… and I simply don’t have the energy left to hold myself up… to stop myself drowning…” 

He leant low and forward, head almost to the floor. “I’m… sorry… that I keep doing this… letting what happened to me… hurt you… you don’t deserve that… my anger… or my avoidance… you… speak from your heart… listen to it… that’s… a good thing…” He took a few deep breaths. 

“You can’t love…. A person like me… because I don’t know… what that is anymore… my fiancée left… because I had forgotten… forgotten what it meant to feel that way……… that’s why… it would be so unfair… if those were the feelings you had… you deserve… better… you deserve more than me.”

His voice sounded far with the lingering sensations in her head, but she still heard every word, and for once held her tongue to not interrupt or interject, not until she was sure he'd finished speaking. And when she was sure he'd finished, Corinne willed herself to slide off the bed, with a soft thud on the floor in front of him, reaching out with unsteady hands to pick his head up from the floor. She'd already forced them both to this point, and now she was forcing him to lift his head and look at her. She looked..tired, though to be fair, she'd had a pretty rough day even before this, but she was trying, trying so hard to find a steadiness and sincerity to speak without letting emotions swallow her up. Her hands fell to her lap.

Miahtoux made as if to pull his head from her hands as they fell. To look away. There was a voice gnawing at his thoughts too. A voice he always tried to block out but that was coming through anyway.

“I would avert thine eye from the holy, my dear Miahtoux… the gods don’t look too kindly on a sinner’s contempt.”

"If I...had..any control..over this...I-I..I could probably just..turn it all off...like a switch, but I..I don't know...what to do or..how to..do this." Her bottom lip quivered in an effort to hold back tears. "And..and I feel....like I..should...I don't.." Her voice cracked. "I don't..know..anything, I don't..I can't..."

He screwed shut his eyes, willing that voice away. His shaking matched hers though. 

“You… don’t know… either?” 

She shook her head and tried to blink away some of the steady stream of tears. What was he expecting her to know? How many times had she professed how stupid and silly and naive she thought herself and all of her problems? And she was what? She was supposed to just...know and understand everything she felt and why? At the moment, and for many moments before, and days before even, the only thing Corinne knew at all was that she liked the way she felt when she was with him, or thought of him, and for all the times she considered returning home, there was a budding hole in her chest.

Still quivering, he placed his hands on hers, as if he didn’t want her to let go. That warm field covered in light… the beauty of flowers without the scent… Fresh air… from everywhere… such a contrast to the mind he had described to him… But both devoid of others… uncertain how to reach out anymore… What she had… what she had was what he needed… 

Maybe she didn't need him in the way he needed her, but she wanted to be there, anywhere, with him that she could. She didn't need to cling to his hand when he placed it over hers, but she wanted to hold it, hold on, still half expecting him to leave. And when one hand slipped away, she held tighter, not ready, not willing to let him run if she could help it.

On the verge of tears himself, but with that red eye impassive as always, he faced another choice. Pull away… safety in being alone… a feeling cultivated in the darkness of that cell. Or… reach out… open up… share… 

It wasn’t really a choice. It was a choice he had already made. Days ago. When he had shared those darkest memories, let her into that dark, cold and very lonely place. He still wasn’t sure if this was what she wanted. But if it was here in private... Just them, still alone in a fashion. Safety in being alone… together? He held her hands tighter. The decision being so difficult… Nightmares clawed the back of his mind but in front… that thing most holy… he just needed to reach out of the darkness. To her sunlight. 

Miathoux slid a hand out from under hers, reaching to pull their heads together similar to how he had before. Except this time, it wasn’t just their foreheads...it was their lips as well.

Before, Corinne had only barely touched him before shying away. This time there was no regret in leaning into him, sharing warmth in a breath, one hand still holding on for life, the other cupping his cheek to keep him just there a moment longer.

And keep him there she did. 

There was still overwhelming hesitation, a tension in him that spoke, even now, that such tenderness should be forbidden to him, a sin. Tension that seemed to indicate him wanting to pull away, while at the same time not wanting to. But it couldn’t last forever. 

Corinne's touch of his cheek softened, feeling the tension underneath. If he was still so convinced that she couldn't..or shouldn't...or that he wasn't deserving, perhaps a softness, compromise, an allowance for him to stop whenever he chose to would be the slightest relief. Not that she'd let go entirely, her thumb seemed content to brush his cheek, pick up and swipe away some of his own tears- she wasn’t the only one who had started to cry. Even after their lips parted, he lingered, his forehead pressed to hers, shaking a little. 

But there they were, heads pressed together still. Tears from both her eyes, tears from his blue one. He had a hand on the back of her head, the other on top of her hand. Yes, he wanted her to be there. To be the warmth in the cold. The sun in the snow. The stars in the night… the beauty once more in the flower. 

He chuckled softly to himself barely audible. It was nervous, fearful and happy all at the same time. His eyes met hers and he spoke again. Soft. Barely more than a whisper. Just for them. 

“I’m going to hell, aren’t I?”

The pained frown, the confused expression on her face had settled into peace, lips curled to a relieved smile. She shook her head lightly against his, sharing in the nervous laughter before eyes, tired but brightening, met his. 

"No, not if I can help it."

[paganchristian]

Here is the pink and yellow thistle we saw at a park recently.  We also saw at another place, purple thistles that are some different kind, I think, very round seedheads and smaller flowers than the giant purple thistles I’ve seen more often.  Anyway, we gathered some of the seeds to try planting it in our garden because we have many painted lady butterflies and that is a host plant of theirs apparently, but there are plenty of thistles nearby and mallows, and other things they apparently eat.  I’m no expert, but that is what the website for the butterfly kits said they eat, and a few other things.  I just wanted to grow some in our own yard so maybe we can have local caterpillars we see every day.  My daughter has also found numerous four leaf clovers, now, and apparently they are abundant in our yard and she’s found a couple here and there at parks.  I guess they’re more common than they say or maybe most don’t look for them that often or both.  And she’s found a two leaf and a one-leaf clover.  The clovers end up put in different books to dry and it’s interesting seeing which books they are put in.  The one-leaf clover, found at a park, was put in a book about Waldorf education, The Heart of Teaching, it was called.  I always carry at least one book with me in nature, in case I feel able to read while we walk or sit and rest.  I really do think they are real one and two leaf clovers, as far as I can tell, that is, not eaten by bugs till there is only one or two leaves but that way inherently.  Because there are no leaf bud spots where the leaf would grow out of the bottom of the stem, as it looks when you pick off a leaf (we investigated to see).  Anyway, one leaf clover, maybe could represent oneness.  It could represent unity with God.  It could represent the Father?  It could represent faith?  If two leaves can represent hope (as in faith, hope and love, the second one usually named), then it got me thinking.  Because lately when she found that clover, I’d been thinking and experiencing different things that made me think of stuff that seemed fitting for that and then the book, too, seems, about teaching her about these topics, which was related to something I’d been thinking about at the time.  It seems random and perhaps.  But if it helps me then it works. 

Anyway, growing thistles, it makes me think, I’m on the path to gaining gifts no one wants or they think they want but they don’t really.  Because the real expression and action of those gifts is too taboo.  Too outside the norms, too rejected.  At least, often it is.  But it feels like my life is growing thick with thistles and I don’t mind.  I finally find that my answers are being found.  I meant to say that yesterday, but kept getting derailed where I would just say things that sounded a lot more vague and undefined, a lot more like I was probably more on the path to failure than any real answers.  Which is weird that it kept coming out that way.  And I think the reason it did was because there is part of me that just shies away from speaking about the answers I’m finding, even when I feel like I’m m mostly talking to my own mind, my own memory’s sake, to write in a blog that is mostly meant to be for me, so that I can remember and reflect on the journey that’s been before for me.  Anyway, in some way too it’s just that it really is just so very hard to call it answers, to call it solutions.  Maybe it really will end in defeat.  How long will the full unfolding be even if successes are met?  And if some successes are met, will it be far outweighed by the failures in most people’s eyes?  So much so that is’ hard for me to speak about successes, even in my own blog meant for me?  Yet even if it looks like failures overshadow successes to such a great degree I might feel that it’s not as it looks, not as my words and worlds can convey.  But still language is usually used to communicate with others and so much so it is that way, that even when i try to talk jut to myself I find my words and thoughts getting swept into the swirl of trying to be understandable to other people, and my thoughts get clipped away and quelled down and then they are gone, so when I really need to remember something important I have to be careful when I am trying to write it down because my mind has a way of shuffling hard to understand thoughts out of expression, thought, or memory.  If I want to stay conscious of what is going on for me for real, then I have to be careful about communicating and writing, even when I do it for my own sake nd I need to do it for my own sake, and even when others also need to hear the things I’ want to say, and I think they need to hear what I have to say.  These truths are often not appreciated, spoken or only half spoken and then contradicted, quickly, given la brief mention, praise and importance, but hypocritically denied and argued against more or overpowered by opposite attitudes, by the very same people. I want to be one voice in the many, even knowing that my own voice might become just a background indiscernible and unimportant voice, yet some things require one to speak even if you might not be heard, just in case you are.  So it’s all these things that make me speak but often I prefer silence, just like I was saying.  

And that silence in God and my own heart, my own mind, my inuitions, and subconscious, my heart and meditativeness, all that, in nature, in resting in being, in nonresistance and patience to wait for God’s answers, the taboo God, to trust, to hope, to believe that he might eventually answer me, t seek answers in new places than before,.. that’s the kind of silence I’ve been sinking in. 

God is giving me answers, he is helping me piece together the view of my reality, my problems, the problems with myself, my family, my friends, the world, my child, my homeschooling and ways that I raise and teach my child, and my health, and religion, and spirituality and other belief systems, alternative medicine (and mainstream conventional medicine as well), parenting theories and approaches, and the views of God that people generally have, and the approaches to God, and problems with the ideas and approaches and biases in the field of psychology, and problems then also with my own psychological problems that are blocking things from moving forward and falling into place, ...  and problems with my history, that of my family, my closest loved ones, society, so many people in the world, and throughout time, and religion, and ideas everywhere.  

And yet also, the taboo God is helping me to see the undiscerned, unrecognized, denied, or minimized good things... the strengths and truths of myself, others, religions, other belief systems and spirituality and new age, complementary and alternative healing, energy healing, spiritual healing, and secular or mainstream societal or subcultural values systems too,, and societies, psychology and individuals, and my family, and my husband, and my child, and my life and ways of raising my daughter and books and new ideas I’m finding in the online library I have oodles of books that are like a whole nother world of possibilities excessive and unbelievable (and way more books and ideas than I could eve really read so it’s hard to see where to start and I know that many of the books there would sound much better than they really would be once I read them, because so it seems often in my experience, thinking something will change my life but no, it’s much fluff or just the wrong angle for me or whatever.  Anyway, all the while it feels like I’m having to come to terms with the reality that everything and everything altogether is way more fragile and flawed than I ever wanted to realize it is.  Though if it’s that fragile the only grace in that is that once I see things for their true reality then I can do what has to be or can be done and let go of what can’t be done and it’s an ever changing possibility, day by day and moment by moment and in that space of knowing how flawed everyone and everything really seems to be, and all the held up ideals are flawed too, religions, and philosophies and psychology and all these different things are so very flawed I am seeing, but in that knowing, knowing that the cultural norms and moral ideals held up by the average person too are full of holes and wrongness and denial and distortion, but through all that there is a strength in seeing that we don’t need to be what we cannot be and we cannot be it, of course.  And what slim sliver of possibility of what we can be or the road less taken that lets us transform things with possibilities that are far outside the ideal, that is slowly being found.  The field of thistles is a field of wishes and possibilities.  But it might fall through.  Living on the outskirts of society, a cast off being, between the seams of life, unwanted, taboo and transient, that is how I feel.  Such a life is insecure by nature and might fail ant any time.  Fail irreparably and yet, maybe, hopefully not, so that is where I am.  If one gets strong enough and gather the resources needed you can live on the outskirts of normalcy yet still be very safe, healthy, and well and stable, in some cases so it’s my hope for my future, just so that I can keep my heart and the hearts of my loved ones from bein destroyed.  It’s all I want, just to not have our hearts and souls destroyed, no trace of pride or arrogance here, but in my desire to stand alone, to succeed and be so strong it’s taking a stance against overpowering odds to try to just keep our hearts and souls from being permanently decimated.  The security and certainty that we won’t be lost causes forever.