#reckless

[simplyholl]

Reckless

Summary: When you act recklessly on a mission, Bucky gets mad at you.

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x F. Reader

Warnings: Smut. 18+ ONLY. Minors DNI.

See My Masterlist Here

You had really done it now. You made Bucky so mad, he couldn’t even look at you. You were paired together for a mission, and you acted recklessly. You got separated from him and instead of waiting for him, you found the Hydra bunker where they were hiding.

You burst in without a plan and they would have most likely killed you. But Bucky came in and saved you. On the way back, he wouldn’t look at you, speak to you, or even acknowledge your existence.

It took a lot for him to get angry. So you didn’t know how you could fix this. You were such good friends, and he always made time for you. It was going on three days and he ignored every text, call, FaceTime, and knock on his door. You didn’t even know why he was so upset with you. You had done stupid stuff during missions before.

Finally you had enough of the silent treatment, so you waited until it was his normal time to train. He liked to work alone, so you didn’t have to worry about anyone else being there and interrupting you. You made your way to the gym, disappointed that he wasn’t there, nobody was.

You were just about to leave and come up with another plan when you heard someone in the men’s locker room. You hoped it was Bucky as you entered, the smell of soap filled the steamy room. Your sneakers squeaked with every step on the wet tile floor.

You heard Bucky singing some old fashioned song. Following his voice passed the lockers, you step over Thor’s discarded shorts. You shake your head, feeling sorry for the cleaners Tony hired. You see Bucky’s head peaking over the shower door. For a split second, you debate turning around. But you want your friend back more than anything, so you continue all the way to the showers.

“James, we need to talk.” Bucky jumps at the sound of your voice. “What are you doing in here? This is the men’s locker room.” He rolls his eyes, turning towards the spray of water. “You wouldn’t talk to me, I didn’t know when I’d be able to catch you.” He doesn’t answer, instead he picks up the shampoo bottle squirting some into his palm.

“I’m sorry for what I did. I just want you to talk to me.” He reaches up to wash the shampoo out of his hair, eyes closed. “I know you can hear me. Bucky, please?” You beg him but he continues ignoring you. He could be a real asshole when he wanted to. You set your phone down on the bench beside you. You reach down to take off your shoes then your socks.

You grab the handle to the shower door, letting yourself inside. Bucky’s eyes widen as he sees you in the shower with him. He makes an awkward attempt to cover his self. “Get out of here!” You walk over to him, “No! This is the only way to get you to pay attention to me!” You walk closer, “Tell me why you’re so mad at me.”

Bucky watches as the water sprays you, making your already tight workout clothes cling to your body. His throat bobs as he finally answers. “I’m not mad, I’m furious. You weren’t thinking. You never do. You went by yourself when you were told to wait, and if I hadn’t been close by, you would be dead.”

“I do stuff like that all the time, Buck. Why did it make you so upset?” Bucky takes a step toward you, removing his hands from his hardening cock. “Because I care about you! If you were mine, you wouldn’t be able to sit down for a week after that stunt you pulled.”

That was just the answer to send all your worries about crossing boundaries out the window. You press yourself against him, standing on your tiptoes to kiss him. When his lips met yours, it was like you were the only people in the whole world.

His metal hand makes quick work of your sports bra, ripping it right off you. The warm palm of his flesh hand meets your breast. He groans against your neck as his hands travel lower. He jerks your leggings off in one swift motion, throwing them to the side with a wet thud.

You were never so thankful that you didn’t wear panties as you were today. He reaches between you, long fingers dipping into you. You were so wet just from arguing with him, and he knew it. “All this from fighting with me, doll?” He smirks, knowing the effect it will have on you. You clench around his fingers as he curls them upward, his palm gently brushing your clit. “James” you moan, grasping his shoulders for support.

He removes his fingers from you, turning you around so fast that you don’t have time to register how empty you feel now. Bucky presses his body to your back, trapping you between him and the shower door. The cool door makes your nipples harden against it. You feel Bucky’s hard cock rub against the curve of your ass. You try to move to create some type of friction between you, but you can’t. His big body doesn’t budge. He uses his leg to spread you further.

You gasp as he thrusts into you, not giving you any time to adjust to his size before he plunges deeper, bottoming out. You claw at the shower door, as his thrusts grow brutal. His metal arm wraps around your waist, holding you where he wants you while his flesh hand grabs your chin. He tilts your face to look at him, “Are you going to do anything that stupid ever again?” He asks, his cock brushing that spot inside of you that makes your vision go blurry.

You can’t form words, it feels too good. “I expect an answer when I ask you a question.” Your eyes are glossy, you try to answer but you only make sounds. “My pretty baby, she’s too cock drunk to talk. Is that it, doll? Is my cock too much?” You manage to whisper yes, sending his ego into overdrive.

“That’s right, nobody will ever make you feel like I do. I’ll never touch you again, if you don’t follow orders. Am I understood?” Visions of his old army days flood your mind, the band in your stomach threatening to snap. “Y-yes sir.” You stutter. He seems satisfied with your answer, holding you closer to him. His fingers dig into your hip, no doubt leaving bruises, marking you as his.

He snaps his hips one last time, burying his face into your shoulder as he comes inside you. He stays like that for a minute, catching his breath before turning you around. He checks all over your body, his forehead wrinkling as he notices the multiple marks he left behind. “Was I too rough? I didn’t mean to hurt you. I was just so caught up in the moment-“

“It’s okay. I really liked it.” You confess. Bucky sighs in relief, bringing you back under the water, he starts to wash you. “Hey what about me?” Bucky smirks, “What about you, doll?” He washes down your arms. “I didn’t get off.” You state matter of factly. “Oh, I know. Only good girls get to cum.”

Tags

@cindylynn @wheredafandomat @multifandom-worlds @loz-3 @megharat-barnes-reid @kats72 @crimson25 @mochie85 @cakesandtom @lokidokieokie @theallknown213 @alexakeyloveloki @tmilover1993 @yeaiamme2 @pigeonmama @yeehawbrothers @lokischambermaid @fictive-sl0th @nomajdetective @goblingirlsarah @foxherder @weirdothatwritess @silver-tongue-taken-to-bed @freegardenbanananeck

[f-thot-f1tzgerald]

probably the saddest feeling i have ever experienced is knowing that i will likely never find a man like the ones i read about in my books. not because i don’t deserve it but because those men don’t exist.

[evafoxz]

— powerless headers. 🪙

like/reblog if you save or use.

[federaliszt]

Reckless

Dialogue Prompts for reckless self-sacrifice:

"Did it just not cross your mind that some of us care about whether you live to see next week or not?"

"...Hey, no - don't try it. Just, just stop, I know what you're thinking, but please don't--"

"You're walking a thin line between casual self-endangerment and reckless self-destruction."

[defaultsour]

like or reblog if you save

[lingeringmirth]

don't talk me out of this

Stranger Things | Platonic Stobin | Rating: T | Words: 674 | Angst, Omegaverse, Self-sacrifice, Emotional hurt.

Written for @whumpril day 5. reckless | Also here on AO3.

Steve’s movements were jerky, his voice clipped as he spoke. ‘You can’t talk me out of it, Robbie, so don’t even bother trying.’ He flung his backpack over his back, his trusty nail bat sticking out of it, visible over his back.

Robin hated seeing him like this, shut off and determined to just push on because he thought no-one else couldn’t possibly achieve what he was setting out to do. He often acted almost like he was expendable, taking the beating (and worse) from the Russians so she didn’t need to, always protecting everyone at his own expense.

Why he wasn’t doing it now frightened her, because it meant that he was lost to his instincts, that his need to go back and find Eddie was clouding his judgment. Because right now Steve’s instincts should have been screaming at him to keep himself safe, to keep them safe.

She’d heard what he’d said loud and clear, but she couldn’t not say something, she wouldn’t be able to live with herself afterwards if something did happen, and something likely would, because she had lost her belief in happy endings. Nothing good could come from going back to the Upside Down, they should leave well enough alone unless something came out of there. But she had to try and make Steve see sense first, no matter what he’d said. So she faced him, hands crossed and face serious.

‘Would Eddie want you to risk yourself like this?’

Steve snarled at her, more than half feral, his scent so mixed her nose couldn’t make heads nor tails out of it, it had been like that ever since...

‘He’s my mate and he’s alive down there!’ Steve’s scent spiked acrid with distress, through everything else. ‘We--- I left him there. He was alive and I left him there, Robs.’ His hand settled on his midsection, rubbing over the roundness there restlessly.

Robin didn’t think he’d ever heard him sound so broken. She knew that what he was saying was the absolute truth, Eddie’s mating mark was still clearly visible on Steve’s neck as the day he’d put it there and she knew he’d sense if he was gone. But he was also pregnant and more than a little bit hormonal, with the anxiety of Eddie being lost somewhere in the Upside Down it wasn’t a good combination.

‘But you can’t, you’re…’ she gestured her hand over all of him. She didn’t say that it was because of it all that Eddie had gotten left behind, because they’d needed to get Steve away, injured as he’d been, that Eddie had screamed at them to go, that he’d hold the demobats off. Steve had screamed harder as they’d dragged him away from his alpha, had snarled and raved and fought to get back to him… had needed to be sedated for his stay at the hospital just so they didn’t need to physically restrain him.

‘I know I am and it doesn’t…’ Steve looked away from her face and down, rubbed at his pregnant stomach, the contrast of it and the nailbat at his back was stark. He looked back up and at her, his face set, she knew there was no convincing him otherwise. ‘I’d rather we all die in the attempt than having to live without him knowing that I might have been able to save him.’

She swallowed, hoping her face didn’t give anything away. It was last resort time. ‘Alright. I don’t agree with you, but I guess I can’t stop you.’ She was pressing down the talk-button on the walkie in her hands, hoping that this worked. ‘I’m coming with you and we can try and get him.’

Steve didn’t notice her deception, just fussed with the rest of his preparations as she hoped it worked and that Steve would forgive her, eventually.

His eyes as he turned to look at her when Dustin jabbed the sedative into his neck once they were walking out the door would haunt Robin for years to come.

[pandoramoments]

Tech fell to his knees as he reached Wrecker, taking a moment to push the fear from his mind to deal with later. Wrecker was often reckless with his own safety, using himself as a barrier to protect his smaller brother, and now Tech had to help him in return.

[adedarma]

NEW HAIRSTYLES FOR SIMS 4 AT THE SIMS RESOURCE!!!

Hairstyles:

Reckless Hairstyle (Style 1) with Bangs

Reckless Hairstyle (Style 1) without Bangs

Reckless Hairstyle (Style 2) with Bangs

Reckless Hairstyle (Style 2) without Bangs

Reckless Hairstyle (Style 3) with Bangs

Reckless Hairstyle (Style 3) without Bangs

Reckless Hairstyle (Style 4) with Bangs

Reckless Hairstyle (Style 4) without Bangs

RIbbon Bow:

Reckless Ribbon Bow Accs (Hat)

(Bow is designed to fit these hairstyles only, might also work with some other hairstyles - Can be found under hats)

By Downloading any of my stuff you have to agree with this T.O.U.

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[blackrosesandwhump]

Whumpril Day 5: Reckless

CW: stress position, chains, throat whump, magic whump

In the sorcerer’s dungeon, the knight kneels in a circle of torchlight, the dim glow glinting off his chains. A thick iron shackle rings his neck and wrists, each attached to a taut line of links forcing him to stay on his knees, unable to stand or shift position. His raised arms form a T on either side of his bent neck, and as the sorcerer enters, the knight manages a single whimper of pain.

“It’s no use blaming me,” the sorcerer admonishes. “Your own recklessness landed you here.” He steps close and raises the knight’s chin with a gloved hand. The man's mouth opens slightly, saliva beading at the corner.

“Tight, is it, that neck thing?” the sorcerer asks, then laughs. “No, don’t bother answering. Save your breath.” He lets go, and the knight’s head falls forward with a low groan. “I’m sure you know by now that it was all a trap. A trap to catch you. I want you as my champion.”

The knight’s chains shake a little as he tries to move, but the sorcerer grabs hold of his neck chain, pulling it backward until his throat bulges and he struggles to breathe.

“But first, I have to break you.”

[foxhole-pipe-dream]

The hardest part of writing this kid fic has been deciding whether Andrew should be called dad/daddy or papa by their kid.

I had a mini crisis before when I was rereading the series and realized he and Neil predominantly use the words 'father' and 'mother' in convos. And I refused to accept a reality where they make their daughter address them that way, that's where I draw the line.

Neil says mother/father 99% of the time unless he's lying (like to Bee) or speaking to Mary aloud as mom. So Mary was definitely mom, Nathan ??? Who knows.

Anyway, mini poll ☝

[warriorowan]

theowinter headers. please like or reblog if you save.

[rizlowwritessortof]

Reckless

Just some Dean smut, because I miss him. A lot. (Obviously.) Dividers by @firefly-graphics​ 

Pairing: Dean Winchester x Reader

Word Count: 1065

Warnings: Smut, PWP

“Dean… I can’t… get the door with you…”

He has you pinned, his kiss stealing the breath from your lungs. He stops long enough to grab the key card from your hand and slides it through, shoving you with the door into the room.

You stumble back a little, and he reaches an arm back to swing the door closed with a solid thud. “C’mere,” he growls, and you meet him halfway, your bodies slamming together and your hands tearing at each other’s clothes.

He’s rough, reckless – he’s rarely like this, and it has you so tightly wound that you’re trembling, anticipation burning hot through your veins. He has your shirt and bra off before you manage to get his buttons undone, and he pulls you backward, dropping down to sit on the bed and hauling you up to straddle his lap as he bends to take a rigid nipple into the warmth of his mouth. It startles a little cry from you, and you wrap an arm around the back of his neck as he sucks and tugs at your breast, sharp little nips of his teeth sending pain-edged jolts of pleasure through you.

He moves to the other side, his hands moving to your hips and yanking you tight against his erection, straining at the zipper of his jeans. You whine his name as he groans at the added pressure, abandoning your nipple and attacking your lips again, desperate and demanding.

Just as your chest begins to burn for need of oxygen, he turns, flipping you to your back on the bed, dropping to his knees between yours and ripping your jeans open. He tugs hard, pulling them to your hips, and then removing your shoes and socks, tossing them behind him before he finishes stripping you down. He tears his shirt and t-shirt off over his head, then loops his arms beneath your knees and spreads you open to his ravenous gaze, his chest heaving. He hesitates only a moment before he descends on your pussy with a hunger that makes you gasp and clutch at the bedding, your head thrown back, your mouth open at the intensity of sensation.

“Deeeeannn!” you shout, your hips bucking up beneath him, but he just shifts your leg over his shoulder and moves one powerful forearm across your body to hold you down, his tongue spearing into your cunt as your back arches off the bed. He tongue-fucks you for a glorious few seconds, then moves to firmly lick his way to your clit, sucking it into his mouth with a filthy moan as he frees his other arm and slips two fingers inside you deep, stroking in time with the movements of his tongue.

You are losing your mind, thrashing your head and keening as your body thrums with almost unbearable pleasure. His fingers seek and relentlessly assault that sweet spot inside you, sending you screaming over the edge, pulses of aching ecstasy throbbing between your thighs as you come.

You are vaguely aware of him slowing, gentling his touch as you come back to yourself, lying limp on the bed as he stands, scrubbing his shirt over his face before shedding the rest of his clothes. “You are so fucking beautiful,” he says, his voice gravelly and low. He crawls up onto the bed above your head, his hands gently moving the hair from your face. “Come up here, baby.”

He shoves a couple of pillows behind his back and then helps you get to your knees to move closer to him. “Turn around, sweetheart, back to me.” He puts his hands on your hips, guiding you until you are positioned over his lap. “Think you can ride me this way?”

You let out a soft little whine, nodding, and he gets a hand on his hard, leaking cock, holding it in place while you move over him on your knees, your feet tucked in beside his hips. You lower yourself, slowly taking him in until you are flush with his tensed thighs, and he is so deep inside you that you can’t breathe for a moment.    

He swears softly, his lips on your shoulder, your neck, sucking softly right below your ear, and he moans as your cunt clenches around him. “You feel so fucking good, baby.”

“So do you,” you whimper, your body quaking, on edge.

“C’mere. Lean back on me.” Every bit that you move makes him pierce deeper into your core, and you are struggling to keep yourself from coming undone again already. You finally settle back against his chest, your face nestled into his neck as he brings his hands up to cup your breasts. “Fucking beautiful,” he mutters again, then begins to move his hips as he rubs at your nipples with his calloused palms.

With a soft, strangled cry, you begin to move with him, raising and lowering yourself in tandem with him. The slow, tantalizing rhythm begins to pick up speed, his thrusts more powerful, his fingers now pinching and tugging at your nipples as your back arches into his touch.

You feel yourself begin to fall just as he loses all control, his teeth latching on to the slope of your neck, sucking a mark there as he fucks up into you with everything he’s got, twisting at your nipples and sending you over the edge again with a wordless cry. You clutch wildly at the covers, every muscle in your body seizing, and you feel him pulsing inside you, flooding you with heat as your cunt spasms around him.

You whine weakly as he loosens his grip on your nipples, and he rubs over them gently, soothing. You collapse bonelessly against him as his lips caress your neck and shoulder, his arms cradling you close as he relaxes back into the pillows behind him.  

Drifting in and out of sleep, moments come in hazy flashes – of Dean lifting you off of him and the feeling of loss that you express with a quiet whimper; of him gently cleaning you up with a warm, wet cloth; of him making you drink water before he tucks you beneath the covers. The next thing you know, you are in his arms, your head on his shoulder, his lips pressing a kiss to the crown of your head.

He doesn’t get like this often, but when he does… it’s amazing.

Tags for my lovelies:  @saenalife    @deanscarlett    @jensensgotyoudean    @jinkieswouldyoulookatthis    @deansdirtylittlesecretsblog    @geeklibrarian    @leatherwhiskeycoffeeplaid        @mrswhozeewhatsis    @littlegreenplasticsoldier    @sleep-silent-angel    @darcia22    @winchesterprincessbride    @ellen-reincarnated1967    @eyes-of-a-disney-princess      @deanslittleangel2y5    @melanie451        @spectaculacular-sammy     @bookchic20    @jodyri    @selma-jean-blog           @savingapplepie-eatingthings    @kittenofdoomage    @masked-maiden42    @lean-mean-deanwinchester    @ericuhlorain    @undecided-garden    @ceeceewinchester    @typicalweirdbookworm          @callmesweetheartifyoumeanit    @youtoldalie    @tanithlowisabamf-blog    @deandoesthingstome    @jxackles    @nerdwholikesword    @soivebuiltupaworldofmagic    @kreweofimp  @gabavaldman    @chaos-and-the-calm67-blog    @darkx143    @disassociativedogma    @ioanashalala    @jencharlan    @deansthirstblog     @dorky-and-i-know-it    @mischief-maker1    @winchestersandwordprocessors    @percussiongirl2017    @bringmesomepie56   @akshi8278    @torn-and-frayed    @sandlee44   @wingedcatninja  @evansrogerskitten   @emoryhemsworth  @peaceinourtime82  @dean-winchester-is-a-warrior  @sarcasmqueen74   @maliburenee      @mrsjenniferwinchester   @yeehawbitchs   @emily-winchester  @hobby27

[excitementshewrote]

[mondfahrt]

"Heute wären nicht mehr alle Wilden Hühner weiß"

Cornelia Funke hat mit den Wilden Hühnern schon vor 30 Jahren von Queerness, Klassismus und Feminismus erzählt. Dass sie dafür nun auf TikTok gefeiert wird, ist ihr neu.

Interview: Alisa Schellenberg und Meret Weber (23.07.2022)

Wenn sie die Wilden Hühner heute noch einmal schreiben müsste, wären sie nicht mehr alle weiß, sagt Cornelia Funke. Die Jugendbuchserie machte sie in Deutschland berühmt, heute ist Funke eine international bekannte Jugendbuchautorin. Jetzt sollen die Hühner 30 werden – das Drehbuch gibt es schon. Ein Gespräch über Liebe, Identität und Mut

ze.tt: 1993 erschien der erste Band Die Wilden Hühner. Bis 2003 folgten vier weitere Bücher. Wie geht es den Wilden Hühnern heute?  

Cornelia Funke: Frida feiert ihren 30. Geburtstag. Außerdem hat sie sich mit Fred verlobt, das hat sie Sprotte aber noch nicht erzählt.  

ze.tt: Warum sind ausgerechnet Fred und Frida verlobt, Fred war doch mit Sprotte zusammen?  

Funke: Sprotte ist mit ihrer Mutter nach Neuseeland gezogen und Fred ist gerne in Norddeutschland. Der ist gar nicht so ein großer Reisender. Das wird auch kein Drama werden, denn Sprotte wird sich in jemand anders verlieben. Wilma ist mit ihrer Freundin Ayesha zusammen. Aber sie traut sich nicht, sich zu outen, weil sie als Schauspielerin arbeitet. Sie weiß nicht, welchen Effekt ein Outing auf ihre Rollen haben könnte. Ihre Freundin findet das ziemlich unmöglich.  

ze.tt: Sie wollen die Geschichte der Hühner als Film weitererzählen, nicht als Buch. Warum? 

Funke: Ich schaffe es derzeit nicht, einen weiteren Band Die Wilden Hühner zu schreiben. Aber eigentlich habe ich die Geschichte in meinem Kopf schon immer wie einen Film gesehen.

ze.tt: Wussten Sie, dass Die Wilden Hühner auf TikTok sehr beliebt sind? Da überlegen sich viele, wie es mit den Hühnern wohl weitergeht. Oder machen zur Filmmusik der Wilden Hühner Videos mit schönen Erinnerungen, mit ihren Marmeladenglasmomenten.

Funke: Wie fantastisch ist das denn? So was verpasse ich, auf TikTok bin ich nicht. Wenn ich mich auf all das einlassen würde, würde ich keine Bücher mehr schreiben. 

ze.tt: In den sozialen Medien finden viele Menschen gut, dass es bei den Wilden Hühnern queere Personen gibt. Sie haben die Entscheidung für einen lesbischen Charakter in den Neunzigern getroffen. Wie kam es dazu?

Funke: Als ich die Wilma schrieb, habe ich darüber nicht nachgedacht. Wen man liebt, ist mir so egal. Ich glaube, im Moment haben wir eher das Problem, dass politische Korrektheit in Filme und Bücher reingepflanzt wird, ohne dass den Autoren wirklich was am Thema liegt. Ich war es damals leid, diese klassischen Liebesgeschichten zu schreiben. Sprotte verliebt sich in Fred, Melanie verliebt sich in… Und ich habe gedacht: Wilma könnte sich doch jetzt ja mal in ein Mädchen verlieben. Gleichzeitig war mir wichtig, dass sich nicht immer alle mögen.  

ze.tt: Was meinen Sie damit?  

Funke: Die Wilden Hühner haben sich zusammengetan, weil sie eine Bande gründen wollten, auch wenn es Probleme zwischen den einzelnen Mitgliedern gibt. Wir alle wissen, dass das realistisch ist. Als Wilma sich in ein Mädchen verliebt und die anderen das erfahren, benimmt Melanie sich daneben. Ich glaube nämlich nicht an diese politisch korrekten Geschichten, wo sich dann alle nett verhalten.  

ze.tt: Zurzeit wird, vor allem in den USA, darüber gestritten, ob Kindern in Büchern überhaupt von Queerness erzählt werden darf. Haben Sie negative Kritik zum Charakter der Wilma bekommen?

Funke: Im Gegenteil: Mich haben Bibliothekarinnen angeschrieben, die sagten: Jetzt traue ich mich, meine Freundin zu heiraten. Ich habe 16 Jahre in den USA gelebt. Ich bin unter anderem nach Europa zurückgegangen, weil ich das, was in den USA politisch abgeht, einfach unerträglich finde. Das darf in Europa nicht auch passieren. Ich habe zum Beispiel gerade einen Musiker zu Besuch gehabt, der trans ist und fantastische Saxofonmusik macht. Es ist wichtig, dass wir offen und laut darüber reden. Wir sehen ja, was in den USA geschieht. Dort ist das in einigen Staaten vielleicht bald nicht mehr möglich. 

ze.tt: Anfang Juni ist in der Welt ein Meinungsbeitrag erschienen, in dem es heißt, dass die Medien Jugendliche mit Themen zu sexueller Orientierung und sexueller Identität, vor allem auch Transidentität, indoktrinieren würden.  

Funke: Da weiß man gar nicht, wo man anfangen soll. Aufklärung als Indoktrination zu bezeichnen. Als ich jung war, hätte ich nie gedacht, dass man mal Geschlecht diskutiert. Dabei ist es eine revolutionäre Erkenntnis zu sagen: Was haben wir denn als feststehend definiert? Vielleicht begrenzen wir uns auf eine Weise, die überhaupt nicht der menschlichen Existenz entspricht. Ich glaube, dass die Diskussion um Transgender dafür sorgt, dass wir vieles infrage stellen. Und das müssen wir. 

ze.tt: Sexismus, Geldprobleme, Klassismus, Gewalt: Bei den Wilden Hühnern geht es auch darum. Sind das Themen für Jugendliteratur?

Funke: Ja. Ich bin kritisiert worden, weil ich Kindesmisshandlung in einem sogenannten leichten Buch vorkommen lasse – Willi wird von seinem Vater geschlagen. Da habe ich gesagt: Aber so ist doch das Leben. Kinder sind auf der einen Seite bei TikTok und machen die Marmeladenglasmomente nach und auf der anderen Seite gehen sie nach Hause und da ist vielleicht Misshandlung. Kinder leben nicht nur in der einen oder in der anderen Realität. Ich glaube, gerade die leichten Bücher müssen harte Themen bearbeiten.

Schreiben über Schlimmes 

ze.tt: Woher wussten Sie, wie weit Sie gehen dürfen?   

Funke: Das habe ich alles den Kindern zu verdanken, mit denen ich als Sozialarbeiterin zu tun hatte. Ich hatte Kinder, deren Eltern sie permanent ins Heim schickten, wenn sie ein Eheproblem hatten. Väter, die ihre Töchter in die Prostitution schickten. Junge Faschisten. Kinder, die mit ihren Geschwistern losgeschickt wurden, weil die Eltern sich nicht kümmern wollten – sie durften erst im Dunkeln nach Hause kommen. Ich komme aus einer behüteten, mittelständischen Familie. Was ich bei der Arbeit erlebt habe, war, als ginge der Boden unter meinen Füßen auf. Ich hatte plötzlich mit einer sozialen Realität zu tun, die ich überhaupt noch nicht gesehen hatte. Das hat mir beigebracht, Die Wilden Hühner zu schreiben.

ze.tt: Wie weit ist zu weit?

Funke: Ich denke bei einigen Bildern schon nach, ob ich sie Lesern ins Gedächtnis pflanzen sollte. Es gab in den Tintenbüchern eine Szene, in der ich die Opfer eines Massakers im Wald schildere und ja, natürlich wären die Krähen da schon dabei gewesen, die Augen auszuhacken. Aber muss das für die Geschichte wirklich sein? 

ze.tt: Wie bringt man schlimme Themen einer jungen Zielgruppe nahe?  

Funke: Meiner Meinung nach sollte man so nicht darüber nachdenken. Wenn ich Geschichten erzähle, dann will ich das für alle tun. Die Eltern, die das Buch vorlesen. Die kleinen Geschwister, die dazukommen und das Hörbuch mithören. Großeltern, die sich auf das Buch einlassen. Meine Geschichten spiegeln wider, wie ich das Leben sehe. Ich werde immer blinde Flecken haben, nicht alle Sachen wissen. Als Geschichtenerzählerin muss ich damit leben.  

ze.tt: Zum Beispiel?

Funke: Ich bin eine weiße, 64 Jahre alte deutsche Frau. Kann ich zum Beispiel einen Charakter wie den Schwarzen Prinzen in Tintenblut schreiben, obwohl ich diese Wirklichkeit nicht kenne? Mir hat ein afroamerikanischer Junge geschrieben: Danke für den Schwarzen Prinzen, der ist mein Held. Da dachte ich mir, okay, das habe ich wahrscheinlich richtig gemacht. Als Geschichtenerzähler muss man sich zutrauen, ein Gestaltwandler zu sein. Sonst könnte ich ja nur weiße, 64 Jahre alte Frauen schreiben. Ich muss mich trauen, Wilma zu schreiben, obwohl ich nicht lesbisch bin. Als Geschichtenerzählerin muss ich daran glauben, dass ich in jedes Alter, jede Identität und jede soziale Realität schlüpfen kann.  

ze.tt: Das funktioniert?  

Funke: In Die Farbe der Rache, dem neuen Tintenherz-Teil, wird der Schwarze Prinz eine der Hauptfiguren sein. Meine Schwarzen Freunde werden mir vor Veröffentlichung sagen müssen, ob ich irgendwas schlecht gebaut habe. Ich habe Schwarzsein als meine Wirklichkeit nie erlebt. Ich habe alltäglichen Rassismus nie erlebt.

ze.tt: Wurden Sie dafür kritisiert, aus anderen Perspektiven zu schreiben? 

Funke: In Reckless gibt es einen japanischen Charakter. Dazu hat mir eine andere Schriftstellerin gesagt: Cornelia, ich würde dir raten, dass du keine Figuren erzählst, die einen anderen kulturellen Hintergrund haben. Aber es hat einen japanischen Korrekturleser gegeben, ich habe zwei Jahre zu Japan recherchiert. Außerdem ist es eine magische Figur, weil ich Fantasy schreibe. Ich finde, dass das in Ordnung ist. Meine Kollegin hatte sich auch daran gestört, dass der japanische Charakter einer weißen Figur hilft, als sei er ihr Diener. Ich hatte es aber so gedacht, dass er ihr Beschützer ist.  

ze.tt: Welche Rolle können Geschichten in einer Welt spielen, die immer komplizierter wird? 

Funke: Ich stelle für meine Leser Fragen, die wir alle haben. Ich glaube nicht, dass ich Antworten finde. Aber ich glaube, es ist wichtig, die Fragen zu stellen: Wieso ist die Welt zugleich so schön und so schrecklich? Gerade während Covid habe ich das Gefühl bekommen, dass Geschichten auch Hoffnung geben müssen, sie müssen den Leser mit mehr Kraft entlassen.

ze.tt: Das heißt, Ihre Art zu schreiben ist durch das politische Klima beeinflusst?  

Funke: Ich hoffe, dass meine Geschichten sind wie die Oberfläche von Wasser. Sie sollen das spiegeln, was in der Welt passiert.  

ze.tt: Wären Die Wilden Hühner anders, wenn Sie die Bücher heute noch mal schreiben würden?  

Funke: Ja, ganz anders. Als ich sie geschrieben habe, gab es eine andere soziale Realität in Deutschland. Die Geschichte spielte auf dem norddeutschen Land. Das war kein bisschen multikulturell. Heute würden nicht alle weiße Hautfarbe haben, nicht alle würden einen norddeutschen Hintergrund haben. Außerdem hätten sie jetzt alle Handys, es würde soziale Medien geben. Das allein würde schon alles ändern.  

ze.tt: Warum ist Ihnen wichtig, dass sich die Dinge ändern?  

Funke: Was in Deutschland in den vergangenen 20 Jahren durch Immigration und die bewusstere Auseinandersetzung mit deutscher Identität passiert ist, ist für mich die Hoffnung, dass sich ein aufregenderes Land entwickelt. Eins, das kulturell reicher, humorvoller, interessanter ist.

ze.tt: Warum, glauben Sie, kommen Ihre Geschichten auf der ganzen Welt an?  

Funke: Ich will nicht, dass sich nur deutsche, englische und amerikanische Leser in meinen Büchern zu Hause fühlen. Ich möchte, dass Kinder aus aller Welt in meinen Büchern etwas finden, was an ihre Welt erinnert. Ich hatte gerade eine junge ukrainische Schriftstellerin zu Besuch, die sagte: Cornelia, du kannst dir nicht vorstellen, was es für mich bedeutet hat, dass im dritten Reckless-Buch ukrainische Märchen vorkommen. Es gibt so viele verzauberte Orte auf dieser Welt, erschreckende Orte auch. Deren Echo soll sich in den Geschichten finden.

Quelle: ze.tt

[yronig]

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