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givemethatgold · 4 years

Text

Fix’er Upper Pt. 6

Pairing: Frankie Morales x Reader

Warnings: Angst, morning wood

Length: 1.5k

Notes: Back at it with their bullshit! Finished this and even though I’m not as ahead as I’d like to be with this fic I have a general idea where it’s going so I’m posting this before I feel like I should? Enjoy! Divider by @firefly-graphics 💛 Header by me 💋

Parts ONE, TWO, THREE, FOUR, FIVE

Sleep slowly faded away, like a heavy fog evaporating in the morning sun, and your consciousness was becoming aware of a few things all at once. You were unseasonably warm, you had a raging headache already, and you really needed to pee. The arm slung over your waist was doing nothing to ease the latter issue, but it was also the reason for your warmth.

This was the first morning, since moving into the drafty old farmhouse, that you had woken perfectly cozy and warm. You could say it was due to the fact that you had passed out in your leggings and hoodie but you didn't even want to pretend it wasn't because of the living furnace currently snoring softly into the back of your neck.

Normally, as a morning person, you would jump out of bed and be putzing around the kitchen by now. However, you had no desire to disturb the peaceful atmosphere that waking up cradled in Frankie's arms had created. Morning light was already streaming through the edges of your curtains, casting your room with a warm glow. You watched dust motes dance in the air as you relaxed and matched your breathing with Frankie’s even as his mustache tickled your skin with each of his exhales.

Deciding to give yourself another ten minutes you carefully, as to not wake the grumpy farmer behind you, pulled up the blankets and wormed your body further backward so his curved fully around yours.

Frankie hummed in his sleep as his arm subconsciously tightened around your waist, his large hand spreading out so that his pinky was touching your hip bone and his thumb caressed just under your breast. His mind was still deep in slumber but his body was, er, waking up.

Visions of last night bombarded your mind as you laid there, body frozen and barely breathing to avoid waking Frankie.

Opening up to Frankie, and he to you. Crying, him making you tea, you asking him to stay so you wouldn't be left alone with the ghost of Brad to haunt your dreams... Frankie had surprised you both, if the look on his face was anything to go by, when he had agreed. The initial awkwardness of laying in your bed together, fully dressed. He had eventually started telling you stories of his childhood friends and their adventures and his soft, raspy voice had lulled you into a peaceful sleep.

All of that, however, had been more intimate and exposing than you'd ever been with anyone. Having Frankie wake up, after all of that emotional intensity, to having his boner pressing into your ass? It would be too much, you didn’t want that level of awkwardness detracting from how each of you had let down your walls for each other.

Slowly, very slowly, you rolled to the edge of your bed and slithered to the floor, avoiding the creaky floorboards on your way to the bathroom.

As you stood at the sink, gazing at your reflection, you were pleasantly surprised by your complexion. No bags, no dark circles under your eyes, just a bit of smeared mascara that was quickly wiped away. Last night's slumber had done wonders for your body. Before this morning you hadn't realized how much tension you had been carrying, or how your poor nights had been weighing on your mental state.

One great night's sleep, the best night's sleep you'd had in a long, long time, had completely restored you. Just sharing a bed with another person, nevermind the fact that he was extremely sweet, thoughtful, and hot as hell, had given you the tranquility you were missing. You instantly craved more.

It killed you to acknowledge it but a battered, bruised, yet healing part of yourself cried for independence. Reminding you how little of it you've had. It wanted you to be happiest on your own and not need someone else to feel comfortable and safe.

Hating to agree, you knew that bitch was right. For however nice that sleep had been, and however much you craved it again, you knew that you also needed to find happiness in yourself first. Brad had done so much damage, you needed to heal yourself and find yourself again before adding another person into the mix.

Taking a deep breath and coming to terms with your new resolve, you finished your morning routine before exiting the bathroom. Seeing that Frankie was still snoring away, you decided to run to town for coffee, thinking it would be a nice way to thank him for his kindness and company.

Writing a quick note and leaving it on the table, you stepped outside into the beautiful Autumn morning. Grabbing your bicycle you made the short trek to town, unable to wipe the smile from your face.

Town was busy for such an early house, and you were met with a line of customers in the bakery when you entered. The din of chatting friends nearly drowning out the bell chime above the door. Agnes, the owner ‘for over forty years!’ gave you a wave before giving her attention back to the tourist family at the counter. The smell of cinnamon, coffee, and yeast instantly enveloped you and your stomach growled making you want to order everything they had to offer behind the counter.

Knowing it would take a while before you could place your order, the owners of the place liked to stop and chat with customers, you meandered over to the community notice board that hung on the wall near the little bistro tables that graced the front window.

Amidst the notices for lost dogs, babysitting services, church service meetings, and town hall meetings was a poster for a fundraiser that caught your eye. The local youth group was organizing a county fair to raise money for a skateboard park to be built near the school. Visions of cotton candy, excited girls bursting with glee, and purses bursting with prizes flooded your mind. You had loved visiting the fair when you were younger, and decided that helping out would be a great way of experiencing that excitement again.

Grabbing a phone stub you called and signed up as a volunteer. The lady you spoke to was ecstatic and your offer to help and couldn’t wait to meet you. This was a great opportunity to meet more people in the community as well, you realized. You’d been so busy working at Morales Acres and then on your home, you hadn’t put very much effort into getting to know anyone else.

On the bike ride back home, you felt like you were walking on sunshine. Not only was your bike basket laden down with sweetbreads and a new French coffee press, which Agnes had sworn was foolproof, but you had also convinced Jacquie to volunteer for the fundraiser. It hadn't been hard as her eldest child, Cole, was very keen on becoming the next Tony Hawk.

Your future was looking so bright. There was guaranteed girl-time with your new best friend, meeting new people doing something that sounded super fun, and while you had decided to not dive into anything romantic with Frankie, you were looking forward to spending more time with the grumpy guy hiding a heart of pure gold.

Regardless of the crick in his neck, his belt digging into his hip, and his feet sweating from sleeping with socks on, Frankie woke with a smile. He couldn't remember the last time he'd slept so well. Despite the discomfort, he'd had a dreamless, deep slumber and woke fully rested.

He could try making excuses for it, blame it on the cider, the tiring workday, the spent emotions, but deep down he knew it was due to you. You, who had asked him to stay. You, who had given him so much comfort by just laying next to him. Not only that but he felt like you truly saw him when he spoke. He had opened up more in the last twenty-four hours than he had in the five years since he'd moved here.

He hadn't told you everything yet, the last time he'd done that he had scared away his wife and lost his daughter. He feared that he could lose you too if he told you about Columbia, Tom, the money, and how it had brought out the worst in him.

Frankie had felt safe enough to share his struggles with cocaine, his failed marriage, and losing custody of Annie. You had only shown sadness and concern, there had never been pity or judgment in your gaze.

Coming out of his inner reflection, Frankie soon became aware of just how quiet your house was. He could tell you had left the bed a while ago, as the space you'd occupied had gone cold. There was no usual humming or singing, no footsteps or signs of life. Slightly mystified and erring on the side of caution, Frankie slipped silently out of bed and began sweeping your house room by room.

By the time he made his way into your kitchen, his heartbeat had gone from a panicked staccato to a slow beat heavy with dread. The truth slapping him in the face: you had left. You'd woken before him, slipped away without saying anything, and left your own house in order to avoid him. Frankie couldn't help but wonder if you regretted your plea for him to stay.

Had he taken advantage of your emotional state? Was staying the wrong thing to do? Even though nothing sexual had happened he still felt like he had done something wrong, and felt horrible for it. Had he talked in his sleep, or maybe lashed out from a dream he didn’t remember?

Should he leave and give you the space you seemed to want? Should he stay and apologize? Glancing between the stairs that led to your bedroom and the front door, Frankie hesitated while weighing his options. With a sigh, he shook his head and made up his mind. Grabbing his coat from where it rested on the table, he told himself he was doing the right thing. You’d call when you were ready to see him again.

The lightness in your heart very abruptly turned to confusion when you arrived back home, just shy of an hour after you'd left. Frankie's truck was missing from your driveway.

Walking inside, you placed your breakfast and coffee on the table and had a quick look around for any signs of Frankie. When your search turned up nothing, not even a note back, you slumped down onto a dining room chair with a huff.

Had Frankie just got out of bed, grabbed his coat, and left? You tried to not read too much into it. Maybe he had run home for a shower? Or new clothes?

After finishing off your third cinnamon twist, you pushed the bag away from you in disgust with a little too much gusto and it thumped onto the floor. Heaving a dramatic sigh, you reached down to grab the muffins that had spilled out of the paper bag, and that's when you noticed the note that you had written to Frankie had fallen under the table.

Despite yourself, and what your therapist had cautioned you against, your mind automatically conjured up a scene. Frankie waking, glad that he was alone. Making his way downstairs, reading your peppy little note and throwing it away with a scoff. Leaving in a hurry, glad to be free of you and your issues.

Your heart sank, even while your brain fought against the imaginary scenario. Eventually, just barely, your head won.

When he hadn't shown up after two hours you began to worry. The two extra-large coffees in your system, why let his go to waste? didn't help matters.

By dinner, you were miserably painting the guest bedroom, alone. You told yourself he just needed some space as he had opened up his heart to you in a way he probably hadn’t in a long time. You decided to wait for him to call you once he felt comfortable enough.

Part Seven

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tardis-ghost-blog · 4 years

Text

Mind’s spark (The Master x Reader)

CW: Sexual content

The past year had been a wild ride. Not only had your learned that there really were aliens visiting earth, but also that they came there regularly. Somehow you had ended up travelling with the Doctor and Martha for a time. Then the year that never was had struck. You had been a prisoner on the Valiant, only a servant.

But the insane Time Lord had proven to be... not as insane as he made people believe. You had learned about the drums, when you had found him, one day, curled to a ball on the ground, shaking. You had shown him kindness, despite how you had been treated there. Somehow it had ended in the two of you becoming something like unlikely friends.

And then he had died.

And then he had returned.

You remembered the white light, the pull of the vanishing time war. You saw how the Master came way too close, maybe even intentional. So you ran and grabbed his hoodie, tore him backwards. Since then he was travelling with the Doctor and you, even though he kept mostly to himself.

The drums never vanished. And the Master took his time to figure out where his place in the universe was. After having learned how his own kind had used and abused him, he needed a break. A break from everything, including himself.

Aside from you. Being together made him forget about the drums for a while. He even agreed to follow on a few adventures without sowing (much) chaos. If your perception of time wasn't completely off, it had to be roughly half an earthen year until you had stormed out of a dangerous situation, soaked by an ongoing rainstorm - and he had grabbed you, pulled you closer the same moment you grabbed his jacket, your lips had met, rough, hungry, then passionate, gentle. Soft and heated kisses through smiles and the falling rain.

-oOo-

This morning you slipped out of your dreams with ease, feeling as if you had the best night's rest in a while. A small ray of emulated sunlight bathed the blankets with warmth as did the arm that held you tight. You lay on your side, snuggled up against the Master's chest. It was rising and falling regularly, indicating that he was still asleep. You smiled, cuddled a little closer. No wonder you slept so well.

It also meant he had been up all night, only finding rest in the last hour or so. Time Lords didn't sleep much, after all.

Still, You decided not to wake him, lay still and listened to the soothing double heartbeat against your ear. Never would you get used to the strange sound, never would you get tired of it.

The Master shifted a little, without waking. Only his arm gripped you a little tighter, pulled you closer against him. He was practically curling himself around you, both in a protective and possessive manner; quite as if he wanted to make clear that you were his, and his alone. Even in his dreams.

Your heart jumped and sped up a bit at the thought. It was weird and unexpected, but somehow you loved the idea of being owned like that. It meant you were valuable, worthy to be treated like a treasure; to be treated like no one else in his life.

It was then that you got aware of something else, something you had been a little curious about, if you were honest, and that now made you grin.

Apparently, Time Lords did indeed get morning boners.

There was just no way you could keep yourself from giggling a little, although feeling horribly childish at the same time. He didn't wake up, so you silenced yourself to a mean smirk.

Now, though, it was almost impossible to ignore the slight pressure against your thigh any longer, even when you tried your best to concentrate on his heartbeat again. The Master shifted slightly, almost not at all, but it was enough to make you grit your teeth.

It really was annoying to have a human body, you pondered, breathing deeply to get yourself to calm down. You watched the Master's sleeping face. He looked so peaceful, almost innocent. Obviously the drums weren't bothering him, right now. You thought about those, how there might not be a cure, now that the Time Lords were gone for good, and it was a sad thought.

You watched him just breathe. It was still fascinating that Time Lords slept at all. For the longest time you had been convinced they wouldn't. Well, you also hadn't know they could get a...

Nope. You forced your thoughts away from that. He smiled. You frowned. The smile faded slowly, but his expression stayed somewhat serene. What you would give to know what he was dreaming. If only he wouldn't hold you so tight you might be able to reach up your hands. Could you initiate mental contact when he was asleep? Would that be an invasion?

Probably.

You decided to try it out another time, when he was awake and could help. You remembered the first time you had slipped into his mind, some time ago. Ever since, there was an unfamiliar craving to melt your minds together. It had felt amazing, like a rush, a dance, a gentle caress, like a deep, longing kiss. And so much more.

You groaned almost silently into his shirt, clutched your hands around the cloth.

Wrong train of thoughts.

The hand at your back twitched a little, stilled. Some seconds passed, then it pushed your lower half slightly closer. Your breath shuddered involuntarily. You looked up and met a pair of hazel eyes. His gaze was still a bit foggy from sleep, but his lips already twitched in amusement.

"D... did I wake you?" you asked, trying to keep your tone of voice neutral.

"No," he mumbled. "Close, though. Your scent is... vibrant."

You flushed bright red. It didn't help that you felt him press against you some more the closer he drew you, neither did that the only cloth between you were your T-Shirt and knickers. His mean chuckle gave away that he was fully aware of this. Then, suddenly, he moved again, and it took you completely by surprise how quick he was. You landed on your back, the Master kneeling above you, face split by a grin and so close to yours, your noses almost touched.

"There must be some nasty thoughts running through your mind, little one," he purred and leaned closer, brushing your lips lightly.

"N... none of them were particularly nasty." Which was the truth. Sort of. "But..." you smiled impishly, bringing up a hand to drag him closer, "since you're awake now..."

You closed your eyes when your lips found together. His fingers roamed over your sides, his hands wandered around your middle, to your back, pulled you up against him. Through the thin cloth of your shirt your breasts rubbed against his chest. Just enough to spark a new wave of heat between your legs.

You arched against him some more, one of his hands holding you in place at the small of your back, the other slipping under your shirt, trailing over bare skin. You moaned softly when he twirled one nipple in his fingers, then the other, then wandered higher slightly. He left a tingling path between your breasts, barely touching you with his fingertips, slid the same way back, lower, over your belly, just close enough to the rim of your underwear to make your squirm.

A soft chuckle slightly dragged your thoughts away from what his hands were doing to you. "You have no idea how much I love what I can do to you with just a few touches."

"Then don't stop."

A new shiver of pleasure went through you when he started to trail hot kisses over your belly, dragging your shirt up in the process until he had reached your breasts again, sucking the left one in and driving you crazy with his tongue.

You moaned when he pushed his arousal against your core. Even through all the fabric you were still wearing, it made you unbelievably lightheaded. You arched against him again, aching for more friction. The Master gave in, rocked his length against you, let himself slide over your clit with just enough pressure to make your shiver in his arms.

His forehead dropped against yours, his breath ghosting your lips. You reached up, hesitantly placed your fingertips near his temples. The Master stilled. His eyes bore into yours for a moment, hungry, craving.

"You want that?" he asked, unable to hide his ragged breathing from you, the excitement that came with the thought alone.

"I... if you don't... mind?" You wasn't sure whether it was appropriate or not.

The Master stared down at you as if you had said something extremely stupid. Then a grin split his lips and the hand on your back pulled you with him as he sat up. He pulled you into his lap, one of your legs on either side of his. You felt him press hard against you through the thin fabric of your knickers.

"Go on then." His voice was reassuring and challenging at the same time.

You swallowed and nodded, raising your fingers to his temples once more, your eyes seeking his. So far you had only initiated this once and felt a little uncertain. There was a half teasing smile on the Master's lips and he closed his eyes, waiting. You took a breath, tried to ignore the slight pressure against your damp underwear, tempered down the urge to rock against him a little. Instead you focused on your fingers, imagined your consciousness flowing through them into his mind.

Something... clicked.

You fell inside your own mind, no, inside his... yours. The border blurred. He panted out a soft groan, pulled you closer against him. A warm stream of energy engulfed your thoughts, intertwined with your essence. You reached out, drove deeper, carefully, but determined. For a moment you felt like a tiny candle in the vastness of space, got aware of how much more the Master was. His essence slowly enveloped your own, carefully slipped between the spaces of your awareness, until you could no longer tell where you ended and he started.

A shuddering breath escaped your lungs. "I think that's too much for me."

"We can end it," the Master offered softly, his thumb stroking over your side.

You felt the sincerity of his words, knew he wouldn't risk harming you. "Not what I meant." You chuckled and fed his confusion through the mental connection with your own emotions. Or tried at least. You had no real clue what you did there.

It seemed to work though, as his sharp inhale implied, and the grin you saw through half opened lids. The Master guided your minds like interlaced fingers, his lips found Yours again and each touch was amplified, felt like fire and ice at the same time. You groaned into his mouth, chased his tongue. Your hands slid from his head, knowing your connection would stay in place now. You roamed your fingers over his chest, traced down over his abdomen and teased the tip of his prominent erection through his boxers.

Like a small spark you could feel a wave of arousal that wasn't your own. Not that it mattered. It felt as if you were right on the edge anyway. Your intermingled minds had long set your whole body on fire, made every thought so intense you briefly wondered if you could orgasm without him even touching you. There was a smirk against your lips, then a tug at your essence, and suddenly you felt touch where none was, the Master igniting your nerves with his mind alone, making you squirm and almost tip over the edge within seconds. But he held your there, just close enough. His enjoyment at your mewls sparkling through your mind.

"Fuck," you hissed out and grinned at him. "Damn you."

He chuckled, dragged you against him and started to trail down a line of hot kisses from your neck to your collar bone. One of his hands slipped under your shirt, only to draw small, agonizing circles directly below your navel, decidedly staying far away from where you most wanted to have him.

You shuddered under his touch, cursed him for teasing you like that. You took his head in both hands to drag him up for another kiss, wanting to savour the intensity of the moment. Then you slipped a hand into his shorts, gingerly skimming your fingertips over his whole length. A new wave of arousal hit you, rumbled warm and deep in your lower abdomen. It was almost addicting to feel what you did to him, how his essence flared. You craved to have him lose control, wanted him to melt under your touch. So you stopped the teasing and took him in your hand, firmly stroking up and down, heard (felt?) the low growl deep in his chest.

He pressed his lips harder against yours, his tongue demanding entrance that you granted all too willingly. Your thumb slid over his tip and something lit up inside your mind, made you almost yelp in surprise. The Master chuckled at your reaction, but it was weak and short and interrupted by a breathed out groan, when you repeated the motion.

His hand had long stopped teasing you, but now he slipped it into your knickers, one finger firmly circling your clit. You broke the kiss, sucking in air. Your forehead dropped against his and you stayed like this, both panting, both halting all your movements for the briefest moment, allowing for a blink of silence in your minds.

He trailed lower, easily pushed two fingers inside you, eliciting a gasp from your lips. His touch and his mind together almost let you shatter, right here and now. Your own hand started to move again, and it became almost impossible to distinguish between your own pleasure and his. It was so bloody good to actually feel how you brought him closer, how his mind flickered from time to time.

The Master's essence wrapped around your own more firmly, slipped into every corner he could reach, filled out your awareness. The flow of energy in your head felt raw and almost overpowering. His breath ghosted hot against your lips and your eyes crept open, when you somehow realized he had stopped moving inside you altogether, his fingers had left, instead digging into your sides.

Good. You smiled, stroked more firmly, felt him shiver with every move. The feedback loop in your minds dragged you right along, ignited the wish to have him inside you. But having him at your mercy like this, feeling how he surrendered himself to you, how his awareness was solely on your hand around him, it was almost too much to bare already.

He was so close, his breath ragged, fingers digging into your sides. You gently nudged your thoughts against his and his eyes crept open, iris swallowed by his wide pupils. He let out a breath that sounded like your name, then captured your mouth, let his lips sensually move against yours. A pleasant shiver went down your spine, made you ache for him even more. You could wait, though, savoured every second, every spark in your head that told you he got closer. The kiss got sloppy, stopped, your lips only lingering, now. Your whole body was shivering and with a last stroke the Master panted out his release, spilled himself hot over your hand and flooded your mind. You gasped at the sensation, trembled as you felt him nudge against the spot in your head he had teased before, and within seconds you cried out as you came undone, shuddering, clenching around nothing and still feeling amazing in ways you had never experienced before.

Somewhere through the dazed fog you got aware of lips on yours again, slowly dragging you back to consciousness. The kiss was slow and intensely tender. Along with it a gentle warmth pooled into your mind, wrapped around your thoughts like a blanket. You sighed content and reached out, tried to give something back, something you had no name for, but was still a truth in itself.

The Master raised his hands, cradled your face in them and slowly stroked his thumbs over your cheeks. It was so hard not to get lost in the shared connection, not to drown in the vastness it offered. Eventually you got aware that your hand was still in his boxers and you got it out, wiping it clean on his shirt in the process.

"Oi," he protested, smirking.

"Guess you'll have to change anyway," you quietly teased back.

The Master chuckled, dropped his forehead against yours. "I was more thinking about getting rid of those pesky clothes. Especially yours."

His mind gave a slight nudge that made you gasp and clutch his shirt. A new itch of arousal pooled warmly into your lower parts, reminding you of how little time the Master needed to recover. But for now he didn't move, just took in your presence, the mere sensation of your mind.

Faintly, somewhere in the far distance of your awareness, you thought to make out a rhythm of four beats. But that might have just been his hearts, drumming under your fingertips. And you were quite determined to silence the former and speed up the latter. If only for a short time.

#simm!master #doctor who #reader insert #fan fiction #the master x reader #smut #the master #second person pov #doctor who master

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i-will-physically-fight-you · 4 years

Note

Thrown from a horse Roman?

Title:��These Bones Never Rested While Living

Summary: Roman used to think that dying falling off a horse was the dumbest way for important historical figures to go. An almost mundane, dismissive way, one not deserved by anybody much less those glittering flawed idols of the past. They survived through so much, yet it was a mere fall that caused their end? It didn’t seem right to Roman. Not a grand way to end their stories at all.

Pairings: Platonic Creativitwins

Word-Count: 1.1k

Warnings: Angst, Guilt, Blood Mention, Possibly Fatal Injury, Ambiguous Ending (Interpret it however you like)

Just want to say, I hope you knew what you were getting into when you sent in this prompt :)

The gentle last rays of the setting sun painted the sky in shades of glistening gold and placid pink; it was beautiful, Roman thought. So much more beautiful than a sight of tree roots or the ground that was coated with his own blood.

Roman couldn’t move. It wasn’t to say he didn’t try to move but even the thought of attempting to move caused an electrifying jolt of pain to shudder through him. He laid flat on his back, arms limp at his sides. Tears hot like candle wax streamed down his face.

He could hear his noble steed Philip neighing in the far-off distance. Normally Roman would be delighted at hearing this for he loved and cared for each horse he rode off to great, fantastical adventures. Today it struck a wild fear into him, rapidly accelerating his heartbeat.

He couldn’t shake the images from his head. They cycled through his head like a never-ending merry-go-round. The way his fingers grasped Philip’s mane tightly one moment and then nothing the next. His arms flailing in the air, nothing to grasp onto to break the fall. The seconds that felt like hours until he hit the ground and several somethings inside of him shattered to pieces.

It was stupid. So, so incredibly stupid. If he could, he’d laugh until he started crying again. He couldn’t do that or much of anything really. He could only stare at the fading sky, eyes hardly ever blinking, as air pushed through his lungs in and out.

He used to think that dying falling off a horse was the dumbest way for important historical figures to go. An almost mundane, dismissive way, one not deserved by anybody much less those glittering flawed idols of the past. They survived through so much, yet it was a mere fall that caused their end? It didn’t seem right to Roman. Not a grand way to end their stories at all.

It made him think about a memory, just as faded as the sunset before him.

When Roman and Remus were young and still believed that they’d be best friends forever, they’d sit under their favorite oak tree and trade off telling a story. One twin would start with a few sentences and the other would interrupt midway and share their creative vision.

This generally worked out rather well, until it came to the ending. Roman, of course, liked for Prince Charming to find a happy ending. Meanwhile Remus liked to see him meet a tragic, sometimes utterly meaningless, ending.

“The Prince rides atop his noble steed, Rainbow, an unicorn pegasus with rainbow mane and tail, off into the sunset--”

“And suddenly Rainbow got spooked by a glittering grocery bag and rears--and the Prince falls off, snaps his neck and dies!”

“What? NO!” Roman screeched.

“YES!” Remus screeched back, kicking his legs in the air.

“R-rainbow would never get scared and--and you can’t just kill the Prince! He’s the hero!”

“Heroes can still die!”

“NO THEY CAN’T!”

“YES THEY CAN!”

“NUH-UH!”

Remus launched himself at Roman, snarling, with the intention of biting because he always resorted to biting when words failed him. Roman hissed, his limbs frantically lashing out to keep his brother away. They wrestled, earning grass stains and muck in the same spades as cuts and bruises along the way.

Roman couldn’t remember how it ended. Did Patton find them and chastise the two, pulling them apart to spend alone time away from one another? Did they tire each other out and end up falling asleep in a pile? He couldn’t remember and he doubted Remus himself would. If he remembered it at all. It was so funny, one remembered that another would not. If he was Logan, he could wax nerd poetry about the peculiarities of the inner-workings of how the mind preserved memories.

He blinked slowly, the act of breathing feeling like shards of glass grating across his throat.

This wasn’t supposed to be possible. Roman was Creativity, the idealized good Creativity. He was the hero and heroes are supposed to get happy endings in his make-believes. But then--

“I thought I was your hero.”

Roman wasn’t a hero and maybe, maybe he’d never been. Perhaps he’d been a villain in hero’s clothing all along. And villains? They didn’t get happy endings, they didn’t save the day and get the love of their dreams. All that met them was death. Sometimes even insignificant, pathetic demises such as falling off their horse.

“--aaaaan!”

Roman tried blinking. Did he imagine that?

“Romaaaaaan!”

There it was again, this time much louder. Roman made a pitiful growl, his fingernails digging into the dirt. He didn’t care who it was, he didn’t want anyone to see him like this. Never like this. Princes strived for perfection not imperfection. The only thing he could do was lie still and hope he could die in peace.

“ROMAN!”

They wouldn’t give up though. They kept calling his name for what felt like an eternity. Roman couldn’t understand it--he thought everyone hated him after the wedding fiasco. Even though he’d only been doing what Thomas asked for him to do. What more could he possibly have done?

“-maaan!”

It was dark now, a pitch black sky with no moon or stars. Roman almost thought he’d died if it wasn’t for the hemorrhaging pain that occurred with every breath he took. The voice sounded distant--good.

Roman wondered what it’d be like to die.

Sides couldn’t truly die, of course, as facets of one’s personality couldn’t die on their own. It didn’t mean they couldn’t become dormant or merged with the subconscious. The Sides had their own bogeyman tales. Even Roman could remember the day Instincts was there and then suddenly wasn’t.

He hated to think it--but perhaps Remus was the Creativity Thomas needed. He’d been apparently wrong about everything else it seemed.

Roman wheezed, a cough rattling in his throat. Flicks of liquid flew out, blood no doubt. Bright flashes of white swarmed his vision.

The voice had stopped.

Roman felt numb, the pain slipping away entirely. Was this it? Was this the end of Prince Roman, a hero to no one?

“WHAT THE FUCK?” A bioluminescent green light overtook the flashes of white. Tentacles floated into Roman’s vision, encompassing him. His face squished against a frill of sequins as a pungent smell invaded his nostrils.

“R-remus?” Roman managed, the word twisted in a strangled croak of a whisper.

Remus stared at him, his lips quivering with the beginnings of a syllable. Strange, he seemed almost at a loss for words. Remus was never at a loss for words.

The corners of Roman’s mouth twitched upwards. He supposed if anyone had to see this moment, at least it was Remus. It thrilled his brother to catch him being anything less than a perfect prince. And this? This was an ending that Remus could celebrate with glee--the disgraced hero falling off his high horse at last.

So why was Remus still not saying anything? It concerned him a tad.

Isn’t this what Remus wanted? All this time, he strived to prove that Roman was the inferior of the two. He insisted Roman was too hopelessly lost in his childish flights of happy endings. He attacked Roman at every opportunity, willingly admitting he wanted Roman dead. So isn’t this what his brother wanted?

Or had Roman been wrong one last time?

And with that final thought, Roman slipped from consciousness.

#thomas sanders #sanders sides #roman sanders #remus sanders #creativitwins #kat writes

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mchalowitz · 4 years

Text

the woman is the king, part two

summary: a throughline of the matriarchal scullys; be they ethereal, sharp-witted, and ill-omened.

thank you to everyone who enjoyed the first part of this story! writing again has been so great and i’m excited for everyone to read where it goes from here!

part 1: melissa

part 2: dana

———

The exam room is harshly lit, brutally overclean. When the doctor gives the diagnosis, it knocks the breath out of her, and she has the audacity to declare her gratitude. How could she.

The fragility of her age comes to mind on the drive home; her eyes prickle watching her copy of her oncology referral slide across the dashboard.

Dana is only thirty-three. Melissa was only thirty-three. She ponders her mother, Maggie, at thirty-three. Her destiny already decided; along for the military ride. She was carrying the fifth Scully child that year. Their matrarical line is cursed by the thirty-third year.

She simmers with the news for a few days; plotting methods of delivering impending doom. Mulder, the usual harbinger of bad news, is the one she tells first, and she believes using a clinician’s touch might soothe her.

The pronoun that binds them, the “we” travels from his vocal cords to their air between them. When he pauses, she can fill in the blanks of how he wants the sentence to end. We can do something about this or we can fix this. The problem is, there isn’t anything to be done.

Inside her head is a glass and cancer is the water from a faucet turned all the way on. They are merely waiting for the overflow.

Tara is pregnant; she is having a boy. Her brother’s wife is thirty-three. It must be so nice, to be dubbed a Scully, and yet remain so blessed at this foredoomed age.

An appointment to be pumped with poison and Tara’s baby shower fall in the same week. What a scheduling nightmare, she jokes, when she declines the invitation with warm regards. Bill does not laugh and he buys their mother a plane ticket.

The total lack of skeletal structure takes her over, has her melted into the couch. Scully finds the initial nausea passes quickly this time. It is the wave of self-consciousness from Mulder bearing witness to this betrayal of her body that lingers.

“It must be kind of exciting,” Mulder comments. She is watching him wipe down the counter and she doesn’t remember a single time she has seen him willingly clean anything. He is not half-assing any of the responsibilities bestowed upon him by the Mrs. Scully.

“It might be more exciting if it were someone else,” Scully responds, forgoing her usual diplomatic response on the subject.

Mulder pauses, focuses in on her eyes, and in unsaid words, he nods in agreement. He throws the wet rag into the sink with a stomach-churning squelch and falls beside her on the couch.

“You know,” she adds, “Melissa always said she wasn’t going to have kids until she was forty.”

Melissa would goad her into increasingly ridiculous futures; nothing is more ridiculous than futures that will never exist. Neither of them could have predicted such an outcome.

When they were young, one Scully sister was rarely found without the other. It was only the intricacies of adult life that would split them apart. Melissa yearned for adventure; to shed ideals and expectations from their youth in far off places. Their parents envisioned a certain fate for their children, and Dana followed it, until she didn’t.

As she conjures up those conversations about where their lives would go, she realizes she cannot even remember her voice. It rolls over her like a wave, the awareness of fading memories, and it cracks her guise held barely together.

Her glassy eyes brim and she finally crumbles, feeling wholly pathetic. She lacks her usual resiliency that he is accustomed to seeing from her as she weeps, “My sister is gone and I have cancer, Mulder.”

“I know,” he says.

“I’ll miss everything,” she whimpers. The weight of mortality hits her; the decades worth of wasted holidays and the lost memory of her nephew’s birth. Scully will never stand in resolution with her partner after their tireless work for the truth. The loss of an uncomplicated life feels enormous.

She laments what she was never sure of even desiring; the two-story in the suburbs, the babies of her own, the one true love...

“Let’s get married.”

His offer hangs in the air. Scully cries a bout of nausea and bolts for the bathroom. When she emerges, Mulder is there to tuck her into bed.

The sun sets and it rises again on a new day. She comes out of the bedroom apprehensively. Finding Mulder on one knee in her hallway isn’t an idea she can rule out completely. It wouldn’t even come close to the craziest thing she has seen him do.

Sitting at the kitchen table, Mulder rubs circles into his forehead with his cell phone pressed to his ear. She gets close enough to vaguely hear the caller on the other end, listen to the outrage behind, “I couldn’t even put the kettle on without her standing right behind me. In my own home, Fox,” and making it seem as though this is the only issue in the world that matters. And Scully kind of wishes that was true.

“That’s her job, Mom,” he replies. The tone of his voice almost makes her laugh. A polite but clear get me out of here she knows well that comes out during conversations with authority figures, midwestern cops, and not unsurprisingly, mothers.

Their eyes meet, he looks at her as though she is his unsurpassable savior. He begs off the phone, making the usual adult child promises, and sets his cell phone down on the table.

Scully commends Mulder for trying to be more involved with his family since his mother’s stroke. But what a fate he has, caring for the medically and emotionally broken women in his life. He gives her a tight lipped smile and she asks, “Is everything alright?”

“Jury’s still out,” he declares with a shrug. He stands and starts walking toward the kitchen. “Can I get you anything? Water, toast, a ring?”

A certainly interesting turn of events for them, a question that could develop into an actual conversation about the night before.

“Mulder.”

“We could get married, Scully.”

“This is so like you, Mulder. This is your stream of consciousness decision making,” she counters. Scully flattens her hands on the table, takes a breath, and attempts to change her tone to sound a little more kind. “I know the idea that I’m dying is bleak. But there are implications to getting married. I couldn’t do that to you.”

Scanning Mulder’s eyes, Scully can see he understands what she means by implications. “Don’t think about that,” he tells her finally, “If you really believe this is the end, what do you still want to experience?”

Scully’s eyes flash away, toward the door. Four years ago, she stood in that spot, and assured her sister unequivocally of her absolute disinterest in dating her new partner. Even if he were just a guy.

Selfishness has often forced a wedge between them; a precursor to many experiences they would have as partners. His brilliance and humanity drew her in then, not unlike the way it does now. When the question was posed--just any guy--their debates were thrilling, a little flirtatious even, and now they can absolutely infuriate her, but she respects his ideals, and she knows that sentiment is reciprocated.

On occasion, Scully is even a little selfish, and allows herself to appreciate just a guy with a little flop of hair that falls onto his forehead, and with the most charming smile.

Whether it be guilt or admiration, Mulder wants her to experience everything before it gets taken away. She can admire the altruism.

Mulder doesn’t ask again, he only suggests. And she accepts.

The commencement of their marriage is without fanfare in a government building on a Friday afternoon with grocery store flowers and a safe kiss on the cheek to clinch the deal. There are no rings but he holds her left hand as they bound down the courthouse steps. During their late lunch at a local diner, the waitress notices their attire, and offers them a free slice of pie, any flavor they want, because it is a special occasion.

A few paces ahead of her on the way to the car, Mulder opens her door. “Your getaway car, my bride,” he teases. The smile on her lips quickly fades. His jovial face morphs to confusion.

But it’s the drip. Blood splatters on the clean, clear plastic protecting their chocolate cream. She tries to maneuver for her purse but he quickly procures tissues from the inside pocket of his jacket.

He squats next to the passenger side of the car and holds tissues to the nose of his bride.

Something is weirdly, intangibly incorrect.

It starts with weekend plans. Mulder is already well aware of her singular escape, her monograph for the Penology Review, with its looming deadline coming up.

He normally makes comments about her unwavering professionalism. It is a mutual agreement to keep their marriage to themselves. The federal government has no investment in the inner workings of their lives; they are legally married and they both know that could easily mean reassignment for both of them. It doesn’t stop him from sneaking in a few witticisms for his own amusement.

Mulder knocks. That’s weird.

The wine is truly suspicious. Except for the occasional beer, Mulder was never much for alcohol to begin with, but what is especially bizarre is the sudden lack of concern over her doctor’s recommended meal plan. He had been following it down to the last letter, and while a glass of wine is not exactly forbidden, it is not the first item on their shopping list.

“We never really talk much, do we?”

Admittedly, the shared looks and delicate touches of silent communication is where they excel, but the question is still somewhat puzzling. Since beginning a routine of casual marital cohabitation, she believes they talk quite a bit. The minutiae of everyday life is often a topic of conversation in ways it never has been.

Scully still plays along by agreeing that, no, they don’t talk. She sips wine and tells him true-ish stories of Marcus, the prom date of a Scully, but not herself, and the infamous pumper truck scandal involving her brother Charlie.

Romantic intimacy has not exactly been a component of their marriage and she has found that cancer does not make one feel like the most desirable of specimens. He has never expressed anything to make her believe he feels anything for her beyond friendship, despite the deep affection they share.

He leans in now; his eyes closed and head cocked. Kissing him isn’t a repulsive idea, but it just seems off, because Mulder is acting so strangely out of character.

Scully scrambles off the couch to get away from the man that is so clearly not her partner. Absolutely horrified, she stares at Mulder, and has no reservations when he steps forward to cuff the pathetic and vile man that invades her living room.

Many lines have still not been crossed and she doesn’t think they ever will be. The cancer is still aggressively present with the treatments doing very little.

Scully prepares herself for the eventuality of hospitalization, potentially for good, and it is very tempting to keep that from Mulder, to allow them to remain in their bubble, but she knows that isn’t fair.

Her car idles on the street outside Harold Spuller’s care home and three soft raps sound on her driver’s side window. She sucks in air deeply and wipes the tears from her cheeks before rolling down the window.

“I didn’t mean for things to get so heated back there.”

“Me neither,” she agrees. When her eyes flash up to his, so guilty and fond, her words fall out in a tumble, unable to prolong this evasion of the truth any longer. “I don’t know why I lied to you. I’m not fine. My treatments aren’t working and my doctors don’t think another round will change that.”

“I’m in this with you, Scully.”

“I know you are,” she affirms. She ducks her head down toward the steering wheel, like a little girl caught eating dessert before dinner. “I’m tired, Mulder.”

“I’ll follow you.”

His headlights shine in her rearview mirror, trailing behind all the way back to where they began this night in Georgetown. Arriving in the apartment, she shuts the door behind them, and informs him, “I’m going to take a shower,” and he nods, reaching forward to squeeze her shoulder. He loosens his tie and starts meandering toward the bedroom.

The phantom ghost of his touch remains on her shoulder and it reminds her of his romantic soul that she is only now been introduced to. Mulder is more emotionally open and affection than she is. He treats her like a wife. They are married, after all.

Their marital bliss is of their own design; enjoyably innocent with its lack of certain intimate elements left largely undiscussed. However, there is delight to be found in mere shared company. With a no-work policy now enacted in her home, the opportunity to see funnier, more relaxed, and domestic sides of each other often makes it feel as though their marriage could be real.

An unspoken agreement to live this arrangement without rules creates something representative of authentic matrimony. Ignoring the initial awkwardness when sharing a bed leads to the normalization of pressing into his warm side each night; falling asleep faster and deeper. Leisurely playing with his hair while reading on the couch one evening introduced a few form of relaxation they both enjoy. He even calls her “honey” occasionally, and she must admit, it makes her feel pleasantly warm to hear it.

It wasn’t right to keep him out of the loop.

Sitting on the tile shower floor, Scully washes the last six hours from her skin. In an attempt to prove to herself, to everyone, that she can still do this, she pushes herself too far. The best decision for the case was to take down the nurse. For her fragile body, not as much.

A small box sits on top of her towel. She picks it up, weighing it gently in her palm.

Mulder already lies innocently under the covers and appears deeply enthralled in his nighttime reading. He looks very youthful and sweet in his wire-framed glasses and his large feet poking out at the end of the bed. She presents the box in question and inquires, “Mulder, what’s this?”

“Hmm?” he murmurs. He glances up briefly, taking off his glasses. “Oh. Wedding present.”

Eyebrows drawn together in confusion, she sits down on top of the comforter, and cautiously opens the box. Her eyes fall on a gorgeously dainty bracelet with a small diamond affixed to a silver chain.

“I don’t know what to say,” Scully finally admits. Mulder smiles, wordlessly leaning forward to close the distance between them. His kiss finally comes with soft lips and firm resolve.

A keen ear kept on the exchange occurring in the hallway, Scully hears the malice in “let her die with dignity,” the intense intent to guilt. Since childhood, Bill has been masterful at identifying a scapegoat.

Appearing at her bedside, Scully takes her brother’s hand. It has been quite some time since they were together in person and she is aware she should focus on the grand gesture of his presence. But they have always sparred on injustice and she just witnessed him as the purveyor.

“I don’t want you to talk to him like that,” she tells him.

It takes almost nothing to generate a quarrel between the two of them. “You keep defending him, Dana, and I don’t see what there is about him to protect,” Bill argues. “You wouldn’t even be in this situation if...”

“Fox has been very helpful,” Maggie interrupts. Their mother is well versed in deescalating the disputes of Dana and Bill; the oil and water of the Scully children. “Bill, sit down and be civil.”

Where Mulder pushes, Bill pulls, and Dana is left somewhere in the middle. Something akin to a jealous feud brews between the two men in her life; each vying for the role of ultimate fixer. It is only when Mulder orchestrates the impossible that her brother cannot deny the miracle.

Most conversations were plans for a comfortable end or perhaps a prolonged, managed experience. The concept of remission, a life without the dark cloud of cancer, was a possibility never even considered.

The day of her discharge finally arrives after a final weeklong observation of her progress, and Mulder, as a now regular fixture of the post-critical care ward, shows up to her room early as usual. He drops a bag on her empty hospital bed. “I brought you some clothes from your apartment,” Mulder informs her. “Unfortunately I couldn’t find anything as uniquely versatile as the hospital gown.”

“I appreciate the effort,” she smiles, ripping open the plastic bag.

Scully can feel an awkwardness emanating from him with three feet between them. She is taking stock of the items he provided when he finally speaks, “Listen, I can be out--”

With a week to discuss the topic, neither of them were brave enough to allow it. The last thing Scully wants Mulder to believe is she married him to take advantage of a kindness he extended to her. It was done with such a different outcome in mind; a selfless act with an outcome to be bathed in heartache.

Now, there is no plan on how to approach where things will go from here. Scully didn’t ever think she would be in a position to have to consider it.

At the very least, they deserve time to enjoy a lack of this particular impending doom.

“Should we get dinner tonight?”

If there is anything they deserve more of, it is time.

It is health.

It is stability.

#x files #xf fic #dana scully #fox mulder #msr

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boxedblondes · 4 years

Text

killing eve fic recs

since we’re all yearning HARD after the s3 finale, i thought i’d share some of my personal favorite ke fics (in alphabetical order by author) to maybe, possibly, help fill the void until season 4!

we tried the world; good god, it wasn’t for us by agentpolastri (@topeve)

rating: G

warnings: major character death

summary: They jumped together. When do they not?

↳ i never ever ever read fics with a major character death warning, but mei is just such a fantastic writer i had to give it a try. this fic is SO exquisitely beautiful and heartbreaking. i’ve read it several times and it never fails to punch me square in the chest. i don’t have enough words to express how much i love this piece.

i don’t have a choice (but i’d still choose you) by agentpolastri (@topeve)

rating: T

warnings: major character death

summary: It’s the ending they didn’t want, but knew was coming anyways.

↳ well....... she did it to me again. idk what else to say about this except the line “she feels like a sunset.” makes me craaaaaazy

(if you need something a little happier after these fics, i could be your excuse for a lover is also wonderful)

this is what you wanted by dollsome (@dollsome-does-tumblr)

rating: T

warnings: none

summary: Villanelle goes to Alaska. Set after the season two finale.

↳ essentially v goes to alaska and absolutely hates it. a creative, funny, and lighthearted take on what could have happened post-s2.

you know i'm such a fool for you by dollsome (@dollsome-does-tumblr)

rating: T

warnings: none

summary: Eve waits. Villanelle hallucinates. Set after 2x02.

↳ this was one of the first KE fics i ever read, so it holds a special little place in my heart. short, sweet, and very, very gentle.

Tell Me by dollsome (@dollsome-does-tumblr)

rating: T

warnings: none

summary: Eve and Villanelle catch up on what they've missed. Set right after 3.08.

↳ essentially, the girls FINALLY have a conversation about everything they haven’t talked about. a soft, cathartic little fic to fill the post-finale hole in all of our hearts.

touch and go by etymology

rating: not rated

warnings: none

summary: “Why are you in my hotel room at 3 a.m.,” says Eve. “I could not sleep,” says Villanelle, shrugging. Eve narrows her eyes. “Are you kidding me.”(Or, the one where Eve keeps hiding Villanelle from the authorities.)

↳ also one of the first KE fics i ever read. this one is short, soft, and gets their dynamic just perfect.

there are no rules when you show up here by glitteration

rating: E

warnings: sex stuff, dubious consent (kind of), ambiguously violent ending

summary: this is why we can't have nice things, darling. (eve goes ahead and hops out of the frying pan only to launch herself straight into the fire. post-s1 fic, told entirely through phone calls. working title in my gdocs was "the one with all the problematic phone sex")

↳ there is a lot of phone sex in this which, although problematic, is also very hot. the characterization in this fic is so on-point, and the dialogue is both funny and believable – which is often a delicate balance.

your body hurts me as the world hurts god by GucciAspirin

rating: M

warnings: sex stuff

summary: "I think of you when I look at the sky. I think about how we share it with so many other people - when it was clearly meant for just the two of us." // Villanelle wants closure

↳ another entry into the collection of lovely, sexy villaneve fics. this one also deals with the aftermath of the s1 finale.

tie me to your longing, I'll tie you down to mine by nextgreatadventure (@next-great-adventure)

rating: M

warnings: sex stuff

summary: These are all things Villanelle remembers. She doesn’t know if any of it meant love, but surely it meant something. It was not nothing.

↳ my comment on ao3 for this fic is: “I’m officially quitting my fic writing career because this is THE best villaneve fic out there, goodbye. :’)” and i think that’s all i need to say.

this dark world is precious to me by nextgreatadventure (@next-great-adventure)

rating: M

warnings: sex stuff

summary: Eve dreams of so many things after Rome.

↳ this is the kind of fic that leaves you wanting more once you’ve finished reading it. it is sexy and complex and extremely well-written. i’ve reread it so many times in the past year and it’s just as good every time.

If at last we be true by pengukat

rating: E

warnings: sex stuff

summary: My contribution to the "Eve doesn't stab Villanelle, they bone instead" repertory of works.

↳ i am.... suddenly realizing how many of the fics on this list are explicit. anyway, this one is perhaps the best sexytime villaneve fic of them all.

two wills (one mirror holding us dearer now) by poiesis (@weirddyke)

rating: E

warnings: sex stuff

summary: "I don’t want to be around you. / I don’t want to drink you in. / I want to walk into the heart of you / And never walk back out." Nico Alvarado, 'Tim Riggins Speaks of Waterfalls' – post-series, eve waits for the inevitable

↳ idk what to say about this. sometime after the s1 finale, v breaks into eve’s house (again) and they finally give into their mutual sexual attraction. it’s both hot and incredibly well-written – aka the best kind of fic.

of villages, and other places that villanelle would like to burn to the ground by silent_h (@yesokayiknow)

rating: T

warnings: canon-typical violence/death, animal death summary: canon divergence au, of course (but maybe not in the place that you were expecting)

↳ after the s1 finale, eve and v go on the run and “accidentally” take irina along for the ride. this fic is written in second person pov, and the stream-of-consciousness style is just gorgeous.

feedback loop by silent_h (@yesokayiknow)

rating: T

warnings: none

summary: (season 2 episode 2 spoilers) the person you have called is not available. please try again.

↳ a lovely, dreamy look into eve’s mental state after 2x02. second person pov again!!!!

One Hundred Minutes of Normality by variousflumps

rating: M

warnings: none

summary: In which Eve and Oksana watch a movie. Finding Nemo, to be precise. "For the next" – Eve checks the back of the DVD case – "one hundred minutes you and I are going to pretend that the following things are true. One, neither of us is a psychopath. Two, we both strongly disapprove of murder. Three, I never stabbed you, four, you're not even thinking about stabbing me back, and five, we're dating and have a perfectly normal, healthy relationship. I need one hundred minutes of normality or my entire head is going to explode. Do you want popcorn?"

↳ THEY FINALLY WATCH A MOVIE!! (but they mostly ignore it in favor of having the world’s most chaotic get-to-know-you conversation.) funny, sexy, and incredibly full of life.

and of course! what’s a reclist without some self-promo. my own KE fics can be found right here. comments and feedback are ofc always appreciated ♥️

#FINALLY done with this #please let me know if any of the links are broken :)#killing eve #fic rec

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maximumninjavoid · 4 years

Text

Mining for Unobtanium

Chapter ELEVEN

And bless you all for coming on this ride with me.

18 and over.. NSFW

SMUT, and adult themes and that sort of thing

The next morning there was an email.

"The other thing I rather dislike about current technology is that I would have preferred to write this to you on proper paper. With an actual pen. There is something about the right paper stock, the feel of it, how the ink glides along the page. I do so love handwritten correspondence. Perhaps we can make that part of our dynamic. That is what we are constructing, is it not? I would hate to think we were not, for I feel as though we are, and I find myself floating in it, and at the oddest moments.

I spend, as you might guess a great deal of time in make up and hair, and I use the time to go over lines and scripts ,changes, fight choreography, and then I see your eyes, laughing, with me, and I feel warm inside, and content. In a way I can't quite put into words, but I definitely want more of, and soon. I think of things I want to talk to you about, and there is so much that I don't know. I really should start keeping a list. I think about how your hair fell in front of your face during dinner, and the way that your voice changes in tone and how that does something to me. I want to lose myself in you. Can I do that? Will you allow me that?

The difference in our age doesn't make a DAMN bit of difference to me. I find you captivating, elegant and so very real. You intrigue me and I need more. I suppose you may already know I had a relationship of some importance with a woman older than I, when I first came to the US. It's odd, talking about it, now, with you, and when I think back to almost being cast in '50 Shades', well, it's rather ironic, isn't it? And, oddly no one batted so much as an eyelash when I was romantically involved with a girl not old enough to drink in a pub.

I would love to be able to run away with you. Please let's make that a reality. I have about four more weeks here and then I could get away. Anywhere you like. I want to be able to court you properly, hold you, kiss you, feel your hand in mine. If you leave in two weeks, your quarantine will be completed by the time I arrive.

Are you up for an adventure,y/n? Take a chance, on us? On this?

I'm certain the word I was looking for was gobsmacked.

I had a difficult time staying focused all day and started and rewrote at least seven or eight emails in response. But my mind kept wandering off of its own volition.

He and I laying in the sun, laughing, Kal playing in the shallow end of the pool, secluded enough that I was working on an all over tan, and didn't feel the need to dress. The kitchen was stocked, so we had no need to go anywhere and were free to enjoy each other's company.

I got up and walked to the outdoor honeymoon shower to cool off and Henry came over and stepped behind me. He wrapped his arms around my waist and placed his head on top of mine. He pulled me into his embrace and we were both standing under the fall of water. I turned, and lifted my face to his. He gently brushed his lips with mine and I pressed my lips to his and leaned into the kiss. His tongue darted between my lips and I moaned, my nipples pebbling with desire and the added friction of the hair on that rock solid wall of a chest. My hands slid up his back and I pulled myself closer to him, still kissing, our tongues dueling for dominance and I can feel Henry getting hard.

"You're incorrigible, like some randy teenager, aren't you?"

" And maybe I'm just happy to see you"

"Maybe you're just like Big Dick Richie and you finally found the pussy that fits that monster.How long has it been since you didn't have to hold back?"

"About an hour or two" and he picked me up and slowly impaled me, inch by delicious inch on that weapon he calls a cock.

In between clients and panty dampening daydreams, I managed to formulate a response.

Ok, Hero,

Somehow, I knew you'd be a pen and paper sort of gent. And I would wager you're particular about your choice of pens. Has to have the right heft, glide just right across the paper. I have specifications about pens myself.

Somewhere secluded. No press. I can go anywhere, and no one will notice me. You, on the other hand will cause a stir anywhere you go. Has to be someplace Kal can go. This isn't going anywhere if the baby bear decides I'm not ok. I wouldn't have anything to do with someone my dog didn't trust.

I've probably spent more time than I should have thinking about kissing you, holding your face in my hands, losing myself in those eyes, and building this whatever this is. We will need some ground rules, safe words, and I would imagine your preferences, needs, wants and requirements will come into play. You'll need to keep up your training, I'll need to be aware of any dietary issues. There's probably someone you trust enough for me to coordinate with on this, I would imagine.

I apologize. This is rather choppy, stream of consciousness, isn't it? Multitasking, let me show you it. Or, maybe you just want to go home? Simple enough to get me into the UK, stick me in a hotel for two weeks and then it's done and you have all the comforts of home. I can bring what I need and with minimal fuss, we can begin.

Your choice.

#henry cavill fanfic #henry cavill smut #henry cavill x reader #hxldmxdxwn #indigosaurus #thiccgeralt #fishcustardandclintbarton

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badbitchwhomeditates · 4 years

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Who the fuck is this bitch?!

Read that again.

The answer is complex, not simple, which is what complex means you dumb fuck ( beep language kiddo). Ok, lets try that again...

Bad Bitch Who Meditates, a 23 year old singer with dreams bigger than the world itself, which is both a good and a bad thing, we will get to the importance of duality later. Either way she´s been struck by lightning and pushed into a corner loads of times in an industry where you have to fight to be heard and seen through the smallest of cracks. And yes I might also speak about myself in third person a lot, simply because I'm practicing being the main character from all perspectives, telling my story but also making everyday feel like an adventurous movie ( therefore the narrator vibes help).

Complaining, complaning, victim mindset bla bla bla you might think, im not gonna bore you, you know that things can be quite shit and you’ve probably heard about the `struggling artist” and all of that before.

Lets spread some more negativity shall we ey?

Maybe not that either, im just welcoming you in to my brain and my stream of consciousness on the journey of becoming or remaining? we shall see.

Im not gonna be here being all fairy lights and glitter in my eyes either, I am tho some days, but lately I’ve been bad, not a bitch cause I would never, slightly a bitch towards myself and I haven’t really done my meditation, its like the second I put down ” bad bitch who meditates, thats my slogan” in a song, I was like, cool its in a tune now so I’ve done the work I can relax.

Nope, it doesn’t stop.

Consistency in self care, healthy habits and your mental diet, the way you speak to yourself, it doesn’t stop. And its fkn annoying sometimes, especially when your chemical imbalance is so imbalanced that you don’t wanna get out of bed. Ive probably dealed with anxiety and depression since my debut on X-factor, oh yeah shit sorry, I have a name too, Im Awa and I won X-factor Sweden at 15 years old, completely changed my life like a marriage, for better or for worse. In that marriage I found myself, lost myself and now im kind of finding myself again...

Ok this is the part below where you get to knoooow me or something...

I guess why I wanted to start blogging again is A) I need to hold myself accountable to remain consistent with my glow up, cause I can proudly say I’ve really done some amazing progress and inner work B) I need to continue doing that and find my healthy balance and not put too much pressure on myself, ya get me? C) maybe help take away the stigma regarding mental health, and I wanna focus on the solutions, thats my whole new life concept 10 % problems, 90 % solutions, like if we are discussing something thats the ratio. Cause how can we ever see a solution if we go slow dancing w the problem for ages?

I know it can feel fkn amazing and cozy, like when you’ve been in bed w someone thats clearly not good for your heartstrings but you stay there anyway because for right now it feels all warm and fuzzy.

Oh silly girl, I mean forgiveness, forgiving other people and forgiving myself that is def something we are going to have to discuss as well, its one of the things I’ve tried to commit to this year. Ive come to the conclusion that its harder forgiving yourself after being too nice, theres only so much space on the scale for resentment, but you go to bed with you all the time and you beat yourself up on why you allowed that to happen? (Did that make any sense??)

Again, another lesson, feedback that we can grow from. Mind management, one of my fav terms, mind over matter. Damn sure that can feel extremely provocative said in the wrong situation. Im gonna be honest on here, ill make an oath or whatever its called ( oh yeah im also Swedish so we will have communication problems here and there, but whatever, I call that acceptance) ill be honest, personal but not private cause I need to protect my energy.

I would declare myself a self care queen but babe writing this, I just had a massive argument w my friend, that made me sad ( oh im a cry baby too, thats even the title of my EP lol), I hate conflict but im really trying so hard to stand up for myself and understand that my feelings are valid too and that uncomfortable situations are growing pains for our souls. I had my first panic attack in ages because this year is just shit and things that I’ve worked on for so long just crumbled down in front of me and I just felt like I was again taking two steps forward and one step back but at least we are moving.

Im not all sad, I’ve rightfully so have had a few bad 72 hours I would say, I don’t like this time of the year that much. But I know why, because I've been slacking w my routines, the ones we´ve carefully selected through trial and error inna real life and w my therapist ( she's real too but you get what im sayin) , it's ok not to be ok either but we have to put some kind of time limit on it so we don't sink into that deep hole again, i don't wanna go back there and I know what keeps me with my head above water and sometimes even frkn flying. We wanna stay consistent w the flying, that feels good, that's a goal now ok? Cause I used to fall into that trap of the deep hole until the pain of the known got far greater than the fear of the unknown.

Im happy we are here today, because as I said 10/90, nothing last forever, good or bad, which is comforting. Things will get better and we hold so much more power in our minds and souls than we realize that ultimately will mirror how we experience life. So im going to be on here, at least once a week, my therapist tells me not to set up crazy goals that I know I might not do because then it will make me feel shit etc so once a week feels reasonable.

Im open to suggestions about what we can chat about, ill share my 10/90, I want my clever friends to maybe drop a quote or blog here and there, Im good on camera, like vlogs or some shit. I probably wont bring you around all the time cause I don’t have the technological brain cells for that to be very honest with you. Maybe ill just come up with cute formats to the camera, thats a word you are going to hear a lot, ”format”, I have a concierge business w my friend Amy on the side of my music career called ” Pure Intuition”, basically we create events, formats and campaigns for brands and make them come true with the right profile etc and we create FORMATS, but if you missed it or if I was unclear Im a super cool singer signed to Columbia UK which was my childhood dream, so we are going to make Columbia our BITCH in 2021 hihi <3 <3. I studied economic entrepreneurship in college and im very business savvy, I love creating formats lol. Im slowly but surely building my fempire. What else, boys, I like boys, men, cute ” god spent some extra time on you”- looking boys, I mean men. I guess we will touch on that in the most anonymous manner, maybe ill just share some past flings cause you know, they’re in the past, passé. So yeah who the fuck is this bitch? you will find out alongside me, myself and I

get ready for the ride

love and light,

badbitchwhomeditates

#badbitch #spiritual development #self improvement #selfcare #main character #music #singer #aestheitcs

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lubbuthedigitalnomad · 4 years

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A PERFECT PLACE

Happy Bob Marley BD (it was Feb. 6), Tibetan New Year (Feb. 12) and Valentine’s Day week! I hope you and yours are happy and healthy. Communications from America say that things are a little less crazy now that the election is over. That’s good. Even the most pro-American Asians were thinking we went a little wacky!

With any luck, folks in the USA will continue to take deep breaths and calm down. With a little effort, things will become less hateful and more loving as both the reds and blues start to realize that working together is the only way things will ever work at all. With that sentiment in mind, this week’s 1000 words are from the Fearless Puppy On American Road book, and about a time and place that remembers the more beautiful part of the American experience.

Once something changes, it can never go all the way back to what it was. In many ways, that is a good thing. We can preserve some better parts of the life we already had while allowing room for new and improved ideas. Insisting that both those new ideas, and the parts preserved from the old, are employed as actual improvements that benefit the vast majority of us has become the non-negotiable, essential responsibility of each and every citizen. Like it or not, it seems we will have to stay actively, consciously, and intelligently involved in order to insure success.

Please be well & stay well. Love, Tenzin and the Nepali Crew

FEARLESS PUPPY WEBSITE BLOG

FEARLESS PUPPY ON AMERICAN ROAD/AMAZON PAGE

REINCARNATION THROUGH COMMON SENSE/AMAZON PAGE

FEARLESS PUPPY ON AMERICAN ROAD WEBSITE

Rural Vermont

Helpfulness. Tribalism at its best. Everyone works together on everything. Lives depend upon each other in temperatures well below zero.

Hitchhiking is no longer just getting from here to there while barely knowing my host. Nearly every ride establishes or increases a friendship.

More cows per square mile than people, more open space than cows, and more forest than open space. Pronounced seasons and cycles. Cold, white winters. Muddy springs. Vibrant green summers pulsating with life that knows it only has a few months to do what needs to get done. Rainbow autumnal foliage so brilliant that guests come from continents away to view it. Streams clean enough to drink from.

Eggs come from happy chickens — not from the cruelty of large “animal production” warehouses.

Everyone waves hello to anyone driving by.

There’s always time to speak with whomever you meet at the General Store or Post Office. There’s always time. No hurry. Life comes first. Being is more important than doing (once the doing gets done).

The only store in town is the size of five closets but has everything — food, hardware, videos, clothing, beer, and more. A giant empty cable spool acts as a table around which to enjoy coffee, home- made donuts, and the company of neighbors. A best friend makes maple syrup. Everyone grows incredible gardens.

I have spent a lot of time with four other people and five beers staring into the open hood of a pickup truck that was not in need of repair.

Wood keeps you warm three times — once when you chop it, again when you carry it in, and the third time when you burn it. Overflowing abundance lives here. Some folks want more. Few need more.

Theater groups that produce professional-quality plays thrive in the forests of nearby vest-pocket towns.

The purity and clarity of omnipresent Nature rubs off on its human inhabitants. Crime, violence, and assorted hatreds appear only in newspapers and on TV stations. No one here has seen those things in person.

The Town Treasurer has a sign on his office explaining, “It’s very hard to get away with anything in a town this small.” Live and let live. If it hurts no one, it’s legal.

Resourcefulness is a way of life. Anything you need can be built from left over parts of things that you don’t need anymore. If you don’t know how, someone will show you. They’ll be happy to help — even happier if you bring a beer to say hello and thank you.

Deer hunters and trout fishermen deny slaughterhouses and corporate supermarket chains their abuses and profits. Unprocessed foods, hard exercise, low stress, clean air, and clean water deny the medical industry their profits from unnecessary surgery and drugs.

Awe inspiring natural beauty excludes land developers and their profit-over-people motivation. Their concrete and steel are not welcome here. The industrial decay that would lead to profits for a large assortment of unethical folks in fancy suits is denied entry by the conscious decisions of simple, intelligent farmers in overalls.

There will never be a Wal-Mart or a crack house here. There are many guns. They are never used for anything but hunting food. People are constantly helping each other to build a barn or house, dig out snow and mud, care for the children, cook, clean, weed the garden, and feed the animals. Anything that can be done at all is usually done by a group, even if it’s actually a one-person job. Folks enjoy each other’s company. Except in the most extreme circumstances, everyone deserves inclusion.

Parties get thrown together instantly for no other reason than that someone feels like being the host.

On a Tuesday, my friend Mike told me that he was having a party at his house on the following Saturday.

“What’s the occasion, Mike?”

“The occasion is that I just came up with the bright idea of having a party. I’ll get out a side of venison and buy a keg of beer. Tell everyone you see to tell everyone they see. If anyone wants to bring more food and drink, that’s good. If not, we’ll be fine with what we’ve got, I figure.”

“OK, Mike. I’ll get everyone but the assholes informed.”

“Inform the assholes too, buddy! Who knows? Maybe if they got invited to more parties, they’d figure out how to act better and wouldn’t be such assholes.”

It was hard to argue with Mike’s logic, but then again it is hard to argue with much of anything in a clean, friendly village.

During those years of having a home community and base station, a lot of work got done elsewhere. Rest time there made hitchhiking across nearly every inch of road in Northeastern America possible. I probably hitchhiked as many miles regionally during this period as the number of miles that were traveled in all the previous cross-country trips. Each full month of whistle stops working for environmental groups and charities included many towns and cities. It included talking to independent business folks all day about various causes, sleeping wherever possible, and celebrating whenever plausible. At the end of road tours like that, staring at mountains in between long naps was more of a necessity than an option. It is a lot easier to burn yourself up on the road when you know that a perfect place to revive is waiting for you.

The focal points of the road binges included Greenpeace, Citizen’s Awareness Network, and self-organized efforts to help support a Mexican orphanage, raise awareness and funding for American homeless folks, and help the victims of a very severe African famine. The results varied. My little part as a team member in the environmental efforts worked consistently for over a decade at each. The orphanage and homeless projects I organized worked minimally. The famine relief effort worked very well. It involved a governor, two senators, labor unions, school systems, businesses, major league sports teams, rock bands, and more. Thousands of people in the Northeastern section of America gave massive help.

This is a short chapter, but it covers a long period of years. Eventually, my good friend who allowed me this cabin in paradise had to liquidate his properties. This put me back out on the street at age fifty. But for a while, my life was as close to normal as it had ever been. It included long term friends and neighbors.

Those years seem to have gone by very quickly.

About the Author

Doug “Ten” Rose may be the biggest smartass as well as one of the most entertaining survivors of the hitchhiking adventurers that used to cover America’s highways. He is the author of the books Fearless Puppy on American Road and Reincarnation Through Common Sense, has survived heroin addiction and death, and is a graduate of over a hundred thousand miles of travel without ever driving a car, owning a phone, or having a bank account.

Ten Rose and his work are a vibrant part of the present and future as well as an essential remnant of a vanishing breed.

Follow him on Facebook, Doug Ten Rose

Travel Adventure Books can be an excellent gift to your friends and family, buy from Amazon.com

#traveladventurebooks #keepreading #kindlebooks

The books Fearless Puppy On American Road and Reincarnation Through Common Sense by this same author are also available through Amazon or the Fearless Puppy website, where there are sample chapters from those books. Entertaining TV/radio interviews with and newspaper articles about the author are also available there. There is no charge for anything but the complete books! All author profits from book sales will be donated to help sponsor an increase in the number of wisdom professionals on Earth, beginning with but certainly not limited to Buddhist monks and nuns.

If you missed the Introduction to the new book that will be titled Temple Dog Soldier, or would like to see several chapters of it that are available for free online, go to the Puppy website Blog section. This is a book in progress. You will be reading it as it is being created! Just like you, I don’t know what the next chapter is going to be about until it is written. As the Intro will tell you, this is a totally true story — and probably the only book ever written by and about a corpse journeying completely around the world!

#reading #adventure books #travel adventure books #travel adventure book #fearless puppy on american road #Reincarnation Through Common Sense #buddhism #buy books online #buy books #buddhism books #amazon kindle #amazon.com

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nad-zeta · 4 years

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Good evening, luv! Can I have a matchup, please? I love to take care of my siblings, and to play with children a lot. I love playing flute and sing to them so they can sleep peacefully. I take my responsibility very seriously. Though I rather play in the mud with street children than to dress up beautifully. I love to travel, and have adventure. I find it hard to understand and grasp the concept of 'love' in a romatic relationship way. Thank you and have a good day!

Hi there Love! Thank you so much for your matchup request!😉 I hope you enjoy it!^o^ And sorry for taking so long! So without further ado <3

I match you with................. Nobunaga

Honestly, it was between him and Yukimura for me, but ultimately I thought Nobu would be a better fit for u!

You actually didn’t get along with Nobunaga right off the bat, but instead took quite a liking to Hideyoshi. Both of you were extremely passionate about taking care of people, more specifically, your siblings, and that caused you to form a quick friendship with him.

You were incredibly hard-working and took your responsibilities very seriously; thus, when one of the warlords would mess in one of your freshly cleaned rooms, you couldn’t help but scold them like a mother would. You also have slowly taken on the role of an older sister to the warlords and would often give them sisterly advice and ensure all of them were eating a healthy balanced diet. This older sister's duties extended all the way to Including Nobunaga himself.

Although you had to admit you couldn’t help but fall into a bit of nostalgia observing the way Nobunaga stole candy at night. It reminded you of the times you and your own siblings would find crafty ways of snaking in your favorite foods when your parents weren’t around, or devising clever plans to convince mom that takeaways were the best option for dinner on some night. You couldn’t help but want to be part of the candy stealing adventure that Nobunaga was on every night. So, one night as you were getting a glass of water, he appeared from the shadows like clockwork. Haori thrown over his head like the cloak of invisibility from Harry Potter. He didn’t even notice you as he climbed up onto the counter like a little boy and reached to the back of the topmost highest cupboard shelf to look for his treasure. Only it wasn’t there! You smiled to yourself, knowing Hideyoshi had moved his precious candies to a new hiding spot earlier that day. “Need some help?”. He muttered something under his breath and gave you a small nod. Carmine eyes watched as you lifted up one of the floorboards to retrieve his lost treasure. The two of you went back to his room to munch on the little star-shaped candies together. When the jar was empty , Nobunaga stated that he would reward you by allowing you to warm his bed. U refused obviously and glared at him. He just chuckled as you reminded him to brush his teeth before promptly left his room.

The next night instead of seeking his beloved sugar candies as he did most nights, he instead sought after you. You were summoned to his room. He commanded you to entertain him for the night. “Fine,” you said, “I will entertain you but not in the way you expect.” You ran back to your room only to reappear in his a few minutes later carrying a flute. You scolded him for sleeping only 4 hours a night (which is information you had heard from Hideyoshi) and decided that you would for one night only help him fall asleep. This would be the so-called entertainment you were expected to provide. He was quite amused by both the fact that you had now rejected him a second time and by the strange object you held in your hand. He let you tuck him in the same way you would your siblings back at home. You told him to close his eyes as you started to play. Beautiful music filled the room, a sound like no other. Nobunaga listened until he couldn’t fight the battle of the slipping of his consciousness anymore and fell asleep. You smiled at him, kissed him on the forehead, and went back to your room to turn in for the night. Little did you know this wasn’t going to be a onetime event anymore.

You and Nobunaga became good friends; your nightly visits often resulted in long deep conversations with the man and both of you got to know and understand the other better. He found out that you like him, enjoyed traveling and going on adventures. The two of you would sneak off unnoticed and ride to all sorts of places to spend the day. He would take you to see all his different territories while playing road games along the way. The two of you would build sandcastles on the beach, swim in lakes and streams, hike up mountains, you name it, and it will probably be done. Sometimes your adventure was a bit more peaceful like when he would take you to old parts of the gardens to have a picnic with you.

One day after heavy rain the previous night, the two of you were on your way back from your latest adventure of checking up on one of his territories. While he stopped so you could stretch your legs and take a bit of a break, you saw some kids playing with wooden swords. You couldn’t help but join in on the fun. You hiked up your fancy princess dress and ran over to them. At first, they were shook that such a beautiful princess wanted to join in, but in the end, they thought it to be fun. Nobunaga was looking around for you with a slight frown, he had turned his back for two seconds, and his lucky charm had already run off somewhere. He saw you playing with the children in the distance and couldn’t help but smirk at his amusing fireball, laughing and playing without a care in the world. Nobunaga called you over, and as you turned and started to walk towards him, you slipped in the mud. You had completely lost your footing, and before you knew it, you fell on your rear in the mud. Nobunaga had never laughed so hard in his life. He extended a hand to you while still chuckling at your clumsiness when you decided to take down the great Nobunaga with one swift pull of the arm. He came tumbling down into the mud next to you. It was now your turn to laugh uncontrollably. You continued to laugh while gathering up some mud and dumping it on the top of his head. “This means war fireball.” The both of you and the children continued plying in the mud until late into the afternoon. You and Nobu waved the children goodbye and was back on your way to the castle. Careful planning had to take place between then and now because both of you knew, there would be hell to pay if Hideyoshi spotted you two coming back covered in mud. He wouldn’t be happy to see the once beautiful princess dress now turned to rags and ruins. You couldn’t help but smile, you certainly did love going on adventures with Nobunaga, not just that, but that day will be marked in your memory as a special day forever. As it was on that day that he confessed his love for you and kissed you amid your mud battle.

It looks like at this point, the older sister has now turned into the younger sibling at Nobunaga’s side. The two of you would often get into a little spot of trouble, especially when returning late from adventures. Nobu loved his little fireball, and each day with you was filled with new experiences and light. If the two of you weren’t traveling to some far-off place, you were snuggling up to each other. Nobunaga could often be found with his head on your lap fast asleep listening to the sound of your beautiful singing. You looked down at him and thought no matter how far you travel or on how many adventures you go, your favorite will always the one where you conquered the great warlord Nobunaga’s heart.

Other potential matchups……….Yukimura

I hope you enjoyed it and have a super good day!

#ikemen sengoku nobunaga #ikesen nobunaga #oda nobunaga #match ups #matchups #nobunaga matchup #nobunaga oda #ikesen matchup

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darkpoisonouslove · 4 years

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2020 in Words

After the total exhaustion and lack of motivation of the last few months, I have finally found the strength to review 2020. In terms of writing, that is. Otherwise, we ain’t touching that with a 100-foot pole. But anyway, let’s get to the actual good part of 2020 - the writing.

Word Count:

678, 105 words

And that isn’t actually all. I have started various things that 2021 caught still in progress so there are more words to be added to that number but I’ll count them towards whatever time frame I finish them in (I do not even dare assume that all of them will be finished this year).

A little over 1/7th of that word count was accomplished only in March when I wrote over 100k words. Wow, productivity where did you go? I know that the world is going to hell but do you mind coming back? I can use you. I have so many new ideas that I am really excited about but totally lack the energy to actually get to. Hope that will change in the next weeks because there is A Lot going on in my head that I am actually dying to share.

Fandoms:

Winx Club has totally taken over for me. I have barely written five works this year that are not about that show and I just don’t know what is happening anymore. I have so many thoughts and things to discuss and fix about it and I have a feeling that some upcoming events will only reinforce that position. But what truly matters is that it has truly made 2020 more bearable to be in the fandom and write fic. The interactions with other fans have been lovely which is totally worth the brain damage that some experiences over this show have inflicted.

Once Upon a Time lurked until about the half of the year but I can’t say that I have been actively interested in it. I just rewatched 4A for the Frozen Swan interactions and 4B for Cruella De Vil and that was pretty much all of it this year. I think it’s safe to say that at this point I have more or less moved on from the show and I do not expect a miraculous comeback to it. Which leaves my rewatch dangling over the chasm of uncertainty but I have projects I am far more interested in rn to be thinking about that.

I actually joined the Lucifer fandom this year, though I cannot say that I am active in it at all. It was nice to challenge myself with the small contribution I made to the fanworks in the fandom so I am putting it here because I am not done with watching the show even though I don’t think I have a good enough grasp on any of the characters in order to actually write them.

Ships:

Well, 2020 definitely delivered on that front. I have found myself piles of new ships to ship the hell out. Some I am more grateful about, others leave me slightly bitter over not knowing what to do with them but it certainly hasn’t been boring. Because this is my wrap-up and contemplation, I get to list them and maybe say a couple of words about some of them.

Griffin x Valtor - Not new but it was definitely the biggest part of that year.

Griffin x Valtor x Faragonda - New in the sense of me having written a fic about this now... and having several more ideas on my drives so... beware, future!

Griffin x Faragonda - Also not new but when the feelings catch up with me, they really mean it. Two major bursts of inspiration about them have left me with interesting results and I am looking forward to finding out where this goes.

Marion x Oritel - That was new. It was the first new ship of the year. I have more ideas about them but the muse has not visited lately. I am not giving up, though. Sometimes you gotta sail the ship even when there’s no wind.

Flora x Icy - That was definitely a surprise. I don’t know what happened but I do know that a goddamn look at Pinterest has brought on an entire epic about them (and the other Trix and Winx) so... thanks for that, Pinterest. I wish you could pin free time on Pinterest and go consume it later so that I would actually have the time to work on all of this.

Layla x Stella - Oh, yeah, baby! I have feelings and I really want to do at least an outline of what would be too long to actually write as a fic, especially since I have A Lot on my plate rn.

Griffin x Griselda - Well, that... happened. I have no idea where any of this is going, only that it is a major part of Griffin’s arc in my most major series so... I guess it’s headed somewhere. Just have to stay along for the ride.

Zarathustra x Griselda - So totally trashcankitty12′s fault... But I guess I am the one responsible for actually including it in already ongoing stories.

Ediltrude x DuFour - Okay, that one I totally roped myself into. Do I regret it? ... Maybe a little because it may need to remain just background thanks to everything else that I have going on.

Griffin x Marion - Almost forgot that which is a damn shame because it is one of my absolute most favorite ships.

Griffin x Valtor x Marion - Not gonna lie, this has been sneaking into some stray ideas too repetitively to be an accident. Will it ever exist outside of my head, though?

Samara x Erendor - I just wanted to make them more likable to me because they were my least favorite characters on the show. Worked too well and now I am in fic hell.

Bloom x Sky - I got ONE idea, okay? Too bad that I love it too much for my own good, especially considering that it is sort of a rewrite of the series. Like I didn’t have enough of those already.

There are more, actually, but we will be here all day if I have to list every stray idea that I have entertained so let’s just move on.

Stories:

Winx Club - 80 (4 unfinished and 3 that I have been dragging with me since 2019 for a total of 7/111 incomplete.)

OUAT - 3 (all finished but I have two collections that are still open from 2019 and 2018 respectively)

Lucifer - 1 (it was a one-shot but I am glad that I managed to write it at all)

Original works - 1 (poem that I came up with at 4am)

That makes a total of 85 written works this year which is honestly astounding! My brain has been harping on me about not being productive since June but I have actually gotten quite a lot of work done! (Fun fact - my total for 2019 was 58 stories, and for 2020 it is 85 XD. We’re gonna need some new numbers in 2021.)

First fic of the year - Gold and Purple (Griffin x Valtor AU inspired by a Bulgarian folk tale)

Last fic of the year - New Warmth to Weave in Your Garden of Shine (Samara x Erendor + New Year traditions and worldbuilding on Eraklyon)

Favorite writing moment - that has got to be coming up with a wild idea for my season rewrite that I will not be spoiling now. It was also inspired by Bulgarian folklore and I am so excited to reveal it (because it is so fucking grand) but we will all have to be patient.\

Wildest writing experience - definitely the entirety of chapter 4 from A Home You Never Knew How to Have. Man, that was... a goddamn ride. In every sense of the word. I still haven’t reread that bitch after posting it even though I have opened it probably a hundred times.

I launched several series this year that will need a lot of work to be brought to completion. Naturally, my focus is not on finishing those but on starting new things. Because of course it is. So here’s a heads-up for another post that will be coming shortly with announcements of my ideas. I would like to call it a plan for 2021 but I fear that will be too presumptuous of me so I will say that it is my hope that those are things that are to be released this year but I will only lapel them as projects that I am looking forward to rather than “upcoming”.

Other Works:

This year actually bore a couple other forms of art so I am going to list my creations in other mediums below because they deserve the attention.

Aesthetics:

Icy

Darcy

Stormy

Marion

Ediltrude & Zarathustra

Siren AU:

Griffin

Ediltrude

Zarathustra

Icy

Darcy

Stormy

Magic-Swapped Transformations:

Griffin Winx

Ediltrude Winx

Zarathustra Winx

Griffin Chamrix

Ediltrude Chamrix

Zarathustra Chamrix

Griffin Enchantix

Ediltrude Enchantix

Zarathustra Enchantix

Videos:

Griffin/Valtor - The Devil I Know

Winx - Trouble

Marion x Oritel/Griffin x Valtor/Faragonda x Hagen - Savage

Bloom/Mitzi - Wicked

Samara - You Should See Me in a Crown

Bloom/Sky - Kerosene

Winx Rewatch:

I actually rewatched all 8 seasons of the show + the 3 movies and I have written out my thoughts on all of them. You can find them here:

Winx Club Season 1 4kids (Stream of Consciousness) (I am actually considering redoing this one because it wasn’t in-depth like the others are)

Winx Club Season 2 4kids Part 1 (Stream of Consciousness)

Winx Club Season 2 4kids Part 2 (Stream of Consciousness)

Winx Club Season 3 4kids Part 1 (Stream of Consciousness)

Winx Club Season 3 4kids Part 2 (Stream of Consciousness)

Winx Club: The Secret of the Lost Kingdom (Stream of Consciousness)

Winx Club Season 4 Part 1 (Stream of Consciousness)

Winx Club Season 4 Part 2 (Stream of Consciousness)

Winx Club: Magical Adventure (Stream of Consciousness)

Winx Club Season 5 Part 1 (Stream of Consciousness)

Winx Club Season 5 Part 2 (Stream of Consciousness)

Winx Club: Mystery of the Abyss (Stream of Consciousness)

Winx Club Season 6 Part 1 (Stream of Consciousness)

Winx Club Season 6 Part 2 (Stream of Consciousness)

Winx Club Season 7 Part 1 (Stream of Consciousness)

Winx Club Season 7 Part 2 (Stream of Consciousness)

Winx Club Season 8 Part 1 (Stream of Consciousness)

Winx Club Season 8 Part 2 (Stream of Consciousness)

Winx Club Special 1: Destiny of Bloom (Stream of Consciousness)

Winx Club Special 2: Revenge of the Trix (Stream of Consciousness)

Winx Club Special 3: The Battle for Magix (Stream of Consciousness)

Winx Club Special 4: The Shadow Phoenix (Stream of Consciousness)

I will not be writing any takeaways because I already talked about some of those in an ask and my brain is too fired at the moment to pull off some actual analysis and compose a proper conclusion. To be perfectly honest, I prefer not to think too much on 2020. It brought a lot of good things along with the bad but I still prefer not to look back on it if it isn’t necessary. I think it received enough of my energy already.

#my writing #my fanfiction #my fanfic #about me #personal #2020 #in retrospect #2020 in words #winx club #winx club rewatch #winx rewatch #links #long post #aesthetics #videos #visuals #reviews #thoughts

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lady-wallace · 4 years

Text

Unbreakable (JoJo’s Bizarre Adventure)

(Diamond is Unbreakable) Recovery is never easy, but it’s better with those you love around you. Josuke knows the bonds he made on this journey will never be broken. (spoilers!)

Read on Ao3

Read on FF.net

~~~~~~~

It was a shock, seeing Kira die like that, but Josuke, though he was sickened by the act itself, couldn’t really help but feel relief simply that the man was gone. For good. After everything Kira had done, everyone he had killed—he had gotten what he deserved. Frankly Josuke was kind of glad he hadn’t had to be the one to kill him. He would have done it to protect his friends, his family, but he would have taken no pleasure in it.

Now that it was all over though, the adrenaline that had been holding him together was leaving him and he was on his knees before he knew it, feeling the pain crashing down on top of him, weighing him down. He choked, and could taste the metallic blood in the back of his throat.

“Josuke! Hey!” Okuyasu cried, gripping his arm. “Come on, buddy, we have to get you to the ambulance!” He tugged, trying to get Josuke back onto his feet, but the movement only caused the pieces of broken bannister in his side and thigh to shift, causing agony to course through him. Josuke cried out.

“Okuyasu, careful!” Koichi cried, kneeling on Josuke’s other side, eyes wide as he couldn’t seem to take them off of Josuke’s wounds. “Just stay still, Josuke, you’ll be all right.”

He was trembling now, their words in the background as he felt his friends grab his arms in silent support to keep him from collapsing completely.

“Where are the damn doctors! Kira’s dead! Stop messing with him!” Okuyasu shouted, his eyes frantic, his hands clutching Josuke’s arm too tightly.

“Easy.”

Jotaro’s shoes stepped into Josuke’s line of vision, and he mustered the strength to look up at the older man’s concerned eyes. Josuke was so tired. He’d never used Crazy Diamond like that before, and everything hurt so bad, not to mention the shock of everything that had happened, of thinking he had lost Okuyasu…

He clenched his jaw, fighting back the lump in his throat but swallowing only made him choke on blood and he gagged, some dribbling from the corner of his mouth as pain ripped through his middle. Okuyasu was here, was safe, bruising his arm due to his own worry.

“Good grief,” Jotaro said softly and knelt. He extricated the younger man from Okuyasu and Koichi, wrapping one of Josuke’s arms around his neck before he lifted him bodily. The shifting hurt and Josuke groaned in distress, but Jotaro kept going, heading toward the ambulance that had finally rolled off of Kira’s body.

“You can rest now, kid,” he said kindly. “You did good.” Then he added, “The old man will be proud of you.” Josuke felt the lump in his throat again and turned to press his face against Jotaro’s shoulder.

He heard the activity, the paramedics finally getting over what had happened to Kira, and hurrying to help Jotaro with Josuke. He was laid on a gurney and stabilized, but he was already pretty out of it by that time.

“Josuke!” He blinked his eyes open and saw Okuyasu and Koichi hurrying toward them, but Jotaro stepped in front of them.

“I’m riding in with him, you two can meet us at the hospital later. Rohan can drive you.”

The mangaka, who was still standing off to one side, glowered and folded his arms across his chest but didn’t protest. Josuke’s friends stepped back, worried, as he was loaded into the ambulance and he tried to smile to reassure them, but just started to cough up more blood.

“We need to go now, he’s suffering from massive internal bleeding,” one of the paramedics said.

“What even happened to him?” another asked Jotaro.

Josuke didn’t hear any more though, because consciousness was finally leaving him. The last thing he saw was Crazy Diamond staring down at him worriedly before he too faded away.

***

Kira’s laugh echoed through his head and Josuke could only watch in horror as the bodies of his friends fell to the ground, torn apart by Killer Queen’s explosions. He was the only one left and he couldn’t move, his body broken. He tried to summon Crazy Diamond to heal them, but as he touched Okuyasu who was closest to him, he could already tell his friend had no life left in him.

“You’re too late, they’re all gone,” Kira said with satisfaction, grinning nastily down at him. “You can do nothing, and I’m going to make sure you suffer greatly before I gift you with death, Josuke Higashikata.”

Josuke felt hot tears stream down his face as Crazy Diamond disappeared into oblivion; he no longer had the strength to manifest his Stand and he was going to die.

Though with no one left and no way to save the people he loved, maybe it was a mercy…

***

Josuke gasped awake, eyes fluttering open as he fought to pull air into his lungs. His hands reached up to grasp at his throat, but he was fine, he was just panicking. Pain tore through his side because of the heaving breaths and he struggled to sit up and figure out where he was.

It took a couple seconds to realize he was in a hospital room, bandages bunched under the pajamas he wore and he stopped trying to sit up almost instantly as he realized how much it hurt.

The panic left over from the nightmare dissipated almost instantly the second he turned and saw the figures sitting beside his bed.

Okuyasu and Koichi. Josuke breathed a sigh of relief.

Okuyasu was slumped over in his chair, one arm folded against the bed, his head resting on top. Koichi was lolling out of the other chair, sleeping against the other boy’s shoulder.

“H-hey,” Josuke croaked.

Both his friends stirred and blinked up at him blankly for a second before recognition set in.

“Josuke!” they cried at the same time.

“You’re awake!” Okuyasu added, relief obvious in his tone.

“What happened?” Josuke whispered, his voice raspy.

“You were in really bad shape,” Koichi told him. “That first day…the doctors weren’t sure you were going to make it.”

Josuke realized they both had dark circles under their eyes as if they hadn’t slept. He swallowed hard, realizing he’d worried his friends.

“We were really scared, bro,” Okuyasu said, his lip trembling. “You’ve been out for almost a week, but they say you’ll make a full recovery.”

“Y-you’re both okay,” Josuke whispered, ignoring what they were saying, his throat closing up as he felt a sting in his eyes.

“Of course, don’t you remember?” Koichi said. “You—”

Josuke reached out and grabbed them by their jackets, yanking both of them to him desperately as his tears spilled over. None of them said anything as the three young men simply held on to each other, crying on each other’s shoulders in relief and probably a little remembered trauma and shock that they hadn’t really had the time to work out yet. Josuke was so grateful his friends were okay and that all those nightmares had been only that.

He finally drew back, exhausted more than embarrassed as he wiped his eyes, clenching his jaw against the pain in his body. He instinctively reached for his hair and felt it falling across his forehead.

“Aw crap, my hair…” was all he was able to say. “It’s a mess.”

For some reason that set all three of them laughing, even though it hurt a lot with the injury to his side. It was Koichi who produced a comb and hair gel.

“We knew you’d say that, so we brought you these,” he said kindly.

Josuke didn’t know what to say. He just knew he didn’t want to start bawling again. With a little help and a mirror, he managed to fix his hair, which instantly made him feel better.

“Your mom and Mr. Jotaro and Mr. Joestar will be here in the morning,” Koichi said.

“Yeah, and Rohan came to visit too,” Okuyasu said.

“He did?” Josuke said, surprised.

“Yeah, he brought you some of his manga, said you should take the time to read it now that you’re laid up,” Koichi said with a smirk.

Josuke rolled his eyes. “Figures.” But he was still grateful that he had so many friends. Despite all the bad that had happened, the events had undeniably brought some wonderful people into his life. The kind of bonds that could never be broken even by the most wicked humanity had to offer.

He sighed and lay back against the pillows, exhausted. Okuyasu patted him on the shoulder. “Get some rest, buddy. We’ll still be here when you wake up.”

Josuke cracked one eye open. “Promise?”

“Promise,” Koichi added.

And with that reassurance, Josuke was able to fall into a mercifully dreamless sleep. He didn’t know what would happen now, but he was sure that with the friends he had, anything would be possible.

#jojos bizarre adventure #jjba fanfiction #my fics #ficlets #diamond is unbreakable #hurt josuke #recovery #caring koichi #caring okuyasu #friendship #jjba part 4 #gen

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hilllsnholland · 5 years

Text

Bucket List - (3)

Pairing: Tom Holland x Deaf!Reader

Wc: 3.5k

Warnings: mentioning of depression and suicide

Summary: Car lights are not good for signing

A/N: Yes Bucket List is finally coming back!!! I’ve actually been working on this all summer but never posted it because people didn’t seem interested in it. BUT I don’t care anymore. I love this fic more than anything and it means so much to me so if you’re here to read it then I hope you enjoy :)

Brant slammed the ice cream machine off while whistling to himself a song that Tom did not recognize. He always had a song on his mind, singing or humming at all hours of the day. Even at one of the football games Tom attended he heard Brant singing to himself. And like most days, Tom was fucking sick of it.

Tom’s eyes were burning from the long day in the sun and scanning the bucket list Y/N had handed him. Not to mention the lack of appropriate sleep Tom was getting, he was a wreck. The sun was setting though, meaning that their shift was over and Tom could retreat back into his house for the night. He could plan out what to say and do with Y/N, and figuring out what he wanted to do for his own bucket list.

“You wanna kick back at my place tonight?” Brant dangled his keys from his finger, showing off the BMW symbol.

“Not tonight,” Tom threw his badge onto the back desk. “Haz and I are going to do stuff tonight,”

“If I didn’t know any better I’d say you two are fucking,”

Tom faked a laugh, rolling his eyes at the immature joke.

“Not my type, mate,”

Brant said something unintelligible and left out the backdoor leaving Tom to finish closing. Thankfully Milky was a small place, cleaning took maybe twenty minutes tops, and Tom had been keeping up with chores for the whole day. After some last-minute sweeping and soaking, Tom locked the store and went out to his car, throwing the bucket list onto the dash.

Everyone had a bucket list, that was obvious. Most people had things like, ‘go to Disneyland’ or ‘visit the Grand Canyon’ and even ‘climb Mt. Everest’. These adventures scaled from tangible to daydreams. Yet, reading Y/N’s was different. It was a look inside of her mind, a puzzle of sorts of what she wanted. It was an amalgamation of things she wanted and loved, so Tom should do the same. He racked his brain for the entire drive over to his house of things he wanted. His seemed so insignificant to the grand scale that Y/N had shown him. Tom wanted this summer to be legendary, like all young people do. But to write it down and not make it cheesy, that was the ultimate battle.

Yet, the only quests he could think of were basic and ordinary. It had dawned on Tom that maybe he was boring. That would explain why he couldn’t pick a major, or why he only had one friend he truly trusted. Maybe his whole life was just that. A simple, non-important stream in a universe of many others. It was days like this Tom wished to turn his brain off. Maybe he should study philosophy because all he did was dread the unknown and unimportance. That doesn’t pay bills though.

Tom turned into the driveway of his rented home, almost unaware that he arrived there. He sat in a trance, staring at the bucket list over and over again. Why did this paper have so much power over him? It didn’t matter. It shouldn’t matter. But Y/N had made out to be some sign from God. That was the thing about California, the girls were crazier than back in London.

“Mate, you look like you’ve seen a ghost.” Harrison’s voice spooked Tom from his daydream.

“No, but I did spend six hours in hell with Brant,”

Harrison shudders dramatically while Tom slides out of the car holding back a laugh. The two enter the home where Tom can tell Harrison had been cooking because the batteries are out of the fire alarm and there’s an aroma of burnt batter. There’s colorful frosting smashed into the granite countertops with glitter sprinkles everywhere.

“Uh ...did a unicorn explode in here or?”

“LJ needed cupcakes for a sorority summer fling,” Harrison starts to wipe the stained counters with a wet rag while he tries to hide his embarrassment. “Moving on, what’s that paper in your hand?”

“What paper?”

Tom slides the list into his pocket as he nonchalantly strides to the fridge and grabs a beer. Harrison folds his arms over his chest and leans into his back leg, staring at Tom like he’s a child who broke something. Maybe Brant was right. They do act like a couple sometimes. Tom rolls his eyes and throws the list onto the island counter. Harrison reads it while mouthing the words like a child learning to read.

“So...a bucket list?”

“Y/N’s bucket list,” Tom prodes the paper with his finger. “She came to Milky with her friend from the party. We talked...and she was all mysterious you know? And she gave me this list and told me to read it.”

Harrison nodded slowly and tried to put on a supportive front for his best friend, but honestly he was sure Tom lost his marbles.

“Is this like some treasure hunt for her hand in marriage or something?”

“No you div!” Tom takes the paper back in frustration. “I don’t...I just...I don’t know Haz. She makes me happy. And this list makes her happy, so ergo, I need to make a bucket list too,”

Tom had never felt this way before. He was logical of course, but fuck this was driving him to hallucinations. Something about Y/N made him go crazy with the need to find himself. Maybe it was her whimsical being, or the fact she was so confident with herself, but it made Tom want to pursue this more.

“Tom, are you sure this doesn’t have to do with school-”

“Haz, we’re not talking-”

“Your parents called me. They said you haven’t returned any of their calls. They want to figure out their plans when they come to visit and they’re worried about you. Tom, why won’t you tell them the truth? Or me? What are you ashamed of?”

It felt like a sour ball was stuck at the base of Tom’s throat. He wanted to throw up, cry, and scream in the same breath. For a while, he’d been sending his parents calls to voicemail. Then the twins. Even Paddy he barely messaged back. But it hurt Tom too much to talk to them. He couldn’t face them without feeling like a complete failure. Now his own best friend was looking at him like he was a child. Always, Tom felt like a child in a world of people who had their shit together.

“I’m not talking about this-”

“You fucking have to! Are you depressed? Suicidal? Why are you drinking so much Tom? Seriously, what is your deal and why won’t you talk to us?”

Tom looks at the unopen bottle of beer in his hand. Maybe he did come home and drink more often now. Maybe he did stay secluded to his room and not talk as much. But he didn’t want to die and he didn’t need beer to live. It just filled him with something other than anxiety. Or maybe it was a feeling of being lost? Tom was a whirlwind of emotions, unsure of what was actually going on in his own head, except for wanting to see Y/N.

“Here, I don’t want it,” Tom slides the bottle across the kitchen counter to Harrisons.

“Stop avoiding me Tom,” Harrison warns. “Stop using that girl as an excuse to fuck off. If you need help or a friend, I’m here. You don’t need to chase her around like she’s the most amazing thing on this planet,”

“Maybe she is,”

“Well, you don’t fucking know that because you don’t fucking know her!”

Harrison had yelled so loud that even he was shocked. He never raised his voice, Tom had only known a handful of times that he has and it was all at parties or during a bar rumble with drunken dicks. Both men stood in the kitchen staring at each other, waiting for the other to make a move, but it didn’t happen. Both felt the anger of Harrison’s words and that was all Tom needed.

“I’m...gonna go for a drive,” Tom said flatly.

“Tom…”

“No, we just need to cool off.”

Married couple indeed. Tom grabbed his keys again and walks out the door without looking back at his best friend. He didn’t know where he was driving, but he knew for sure he needed at least an hour to calm down before facing his friend. That was the problem with Harrison, he was always so emotional and took everything to heart. Nothing could be grey, it always had to be black or white. Harrison had always pushed Tom to make a decision, ‘now, now, now’. It always had to be now.

Tom takes a right turn through the residential, turning the radio down so it was softly playing a Lewis Capaldi song. He scanned the neighborhood for any kids playing late night hide and seek. With the city-wide curfew, the kids had to be smart with how they would have their nightly adventures. Tom watched a few kids dive behind a bush as he slowly rode down the street, his mind consumed with words that didn’t connect.

It was a lot of angry words, a string of consciousness of things that Tom couldn’t shake. There were too many things happening at once and he didn’t know how to handle it all. Fuck, it was a never-ending cycle of thoughts. To turn his brain off would be a miracle, just for a day to know things were exactly where they needed to be.

Tom blinks himself out of frustration to find himself turning down Mainstreet. It was frightening how far he could go without realizing it. The subconscious can do amazing things really. Tom huffs, trying to take in the beautiful scenery of the hanging lights down the rustic buildings. The college kids stumbling from parties or the dive bar at the end of the street. Older couple racing to their cars from their expensive dinners. Creekview never faltered from this. Any night of the week it would be the same old thing.

Except for pink. There it was again. Now racing down the street in a snug ponytail. Tom catches Y/N’s figure as she runs through Mainstreet in athleisure attire. Would it be too creepy to pull up? To ask if she needs a running buddy or a ride? Tom slows the car down as she comes to the crosswalk. Y/N runs past, looking at his bright headlights and then stops. A smirk appears on her lips while her eyes squint at the blinding light. She continues her spring up to the side of the car.

“Hello, stalker,” She greets.

“This is definitely a coincidence,”

Y/N pulls on the handle of the car to try to open it. Was she really trying to catch a ride? Tom unlocks the door and Y/N hops in, clicking the roof light on so she can watch Tom talk.

“Yeah just finding me right after dark and picking me up so no one will ever see me again,”

“I never invited you in. You’re trespassing,”

Y/N laughs, nodding in agreement. She signs something which Tom’s guesses means ‘true’ and then unties her hair. It was faded now, returning to the original color. The remains were a pastel pink, kinda like the sky. It was soft, wavy from being put up for the run. Y/N turns the radio up and places her hand on the speaker, humming along to the bass.

“Is this Bay Area music?”

“Yeah, I leave it on because the other channels are Spanish or Country,”

“Interesting,” Y/N raises an eyebrow as Tom tries to think of a non-sketchy route to take. “So, the list,”

That was why she entered the car. To test him to see if he actually read the note or made any attempt to decode it. She analyzed him, looking for any trace of confusion or understanding. Tom reaches into his pocket and throws it back to her.

“I like it a lot. I want to add to it,”

“Good, I was hoping you would,” Y/N smiles at him. “Go to the Bridge,”

“The Bridge?”

“I thought I was the Deaf one. Yes, the Bridge by Canary Street.”

Tom motions a yes and takes the side street down to head towards the Bridge. The Bridge was an old road that barely anyone took anymore. Now there were freeways that connected Creekview to everything, while the Bridge became a site for teens to fuck in their car or people to hide out. There are even ghost stories about a woman in white haunting the area. Tom had only been there twice before with Brant and Ty so they could drink. It was isolated and dark, probably not the best location to get to know Y/N but it was a start.

“Why were you out on a run this late?” Tom asks.

Y/N watches his lips move and shrugs.

“I got into a fight with my parents so I went on a run. Creekview is usually fine after dark.” Y/N states as she runs her finger down the gear panel. “Why were you driving around?”

“Got into a fight with Harrison,”

“Is that your friend from the party?” Y/N motions to her hair. “The blond? Crazy blue eyes and eye-fucking Lauren J all night?”

“That’s the one,” Tom laughs.

He turns into the abandoned Bridge site, parking off the side of the road and putting the car in park. He triple checks the doors are locked and turns to Y/N. She’s looking over the list again and holding out her hand.

“Pen?”

Tom scrambles in the center console for a pen, knowing Harrison always stashed them away because he could never remember one. Tom pulls out a blue pen and hands it to Y/N and she instantly starts writing Tom’s name under her list.

“So fate has brought us together much faster than I thought,” Y/N stifles a laugh. “This summer, Tom….”

“Holland,”

“Tom Holland, I want you to join me in making this summer our very best. We complete everything on our To-Do list without a single fuck about anyone else or anything else. We have until August 2nd, if you choose to take on this task,”

Y/N raises her pinky finger up, her face in the most breathtakingly beautiful smile he’s ever seen. She exudes confidence. She is the grace that Tom has always wanted. He bites his lip and connects pinkies with her.

“I accept this, under one condition,” She quirks at him. “You teach me sign language and everything about Deaf…”

“Culture?”

Tom nods.

“I would love to,”

Y/N’s cheeks perked into a darker color as she pursued her lips together in a poor attempt to hide her smile. They disconnect pinkies and Y/N holds the pen to write, her eyes hover over Tom expectantly.

“So, what is your bucket list?”

Tom swallowed hard. Hours of thought was put into this exact moment but he couldn’t think of a thing. His mind was consumed with wants that were juvenile compared to Y/N’s. Or what he thought would be unsatisfactory.

“I’ve been thinking about this all day and I can’t think of anything as cool as yours,” Tom shrugs. “I don’t want you to waste your summer with dumb things,”

“Tom, I have 'getting into a fistfight' on my bucket list. Nothing is stupid.” Y/N bops the pen on the tip of Tom’s nose. “You overthink too much. Just live, you know? Whatever is your wildest dream we’ll do it. Or something small that you’ve always wanted to do. Stop imaging this inconceivable life and start enjoying the one you can have,”

It felt like he was smacked in the face. Y/N’s words made more sense to him than anything Harrison or his parents had ever said to him. Although it was an echo chamber, Tom believed Y/N more. Whether it was her amazing charisma or the fact his brain was controlled by his dick, he listened to her.

“I want to get kicked out of a diner,”

“What?”

“Kicked out of a diner,” He said again a little louder. “In Pulp Fiction the cops get held up in a diner and then Samuel L. Jackson’s character talks the robbers out of shooting everyone and then him and Travalto leave the diner, guns tucked into their belts, and they look really cool,”

“So what does that have to do with getting kicked out of a diner?” Y/N laughed, following along as best as she could.

“Well I don’t want an actual diner to get robbed so I think best-case scenario would be to get kicked out and leave all cool like they did. Minus the guns. It doesn’t make any sense but it will if it happens.”

Y/N looks at him cluelessly, trying to follow the mangle of words that spilled out of his mouth in an embarrassing fluster. Tom bites his tongue and takes the paper out of her hand, scribbling down the other items on his bucket list. Tom leaned over the middle console and opened his dry mouth to speak.

“I’m sorry,” He looks up so she can see his mouth. “I don’t know how to...be better? I don’t want you to feel lost or confused,”

“That’s my entire life,” Y/N dryly chuckles and shrugs. “We’ll meet each other in the middle. You sign and I talk,”

Tom could smell the peach shampoo in her hair as she moved closer to his face. The dim light in the car was not ideal, but the shadows played tricks on Y/N’s face. Tom saw the darkness emphasize her full cheeks and the curve of her lip as she forced a smile. Her eyes were dark as they met his.

“I want to sign, not talk,” Tom stated. “I really like the way you and Tejas talk...sign...uh you know what I mean. I love the way your hands move when you sign my name and how…”

Tom paused, looking to her hand that was gripping the leather of the center console to settle her nerves. She was nervous, just like him. Y/N hid it well. She looked down at her hands and flushed, looking back to Tom and swallowing hard. Their faces were so close, just like the party, and Tom missed the way her lips felt. He almost forgot how that kiss felt, almost. He remembered the silk of her lips and his heart exploding out of his chest. Tom remembered wanting to kiss her again and again. Yet, he also remembered the insane guilt that buried him alive after realizing she was just trying to read to his lips.

Y/N seemingly moves in closer but stops before meeting his lips. Both hold their breaths, scared of who will make the next move. Tom flinched forward, so close to grasping the euphoric taste of her lips, but retreats back. He didn’t want to make the same mistake. He doesn’t want to push it too far so he sits back into the drivers chair and finishes the last item on the list. Y/N stares at him in surprise. She’s quiet, watching him etch the last letter into the page.

“Here,”

Y/N looks over the paper, making a confirming ‘hmph’ noise as she reads the last four items.

“Hike through the hills of Creekview?”

“I’ve never been,” Tom shrugs.

“Crowdsurf?”

“Looks fun,”

Y/N laughs at the fourth one.

“Set something on fire? Pyromaniac much?”

“Nothing too big and not a firepit. Think ...artistic.” Tom explains.

“I’m starting to think you’re a psychopath,”

Y/N quips and gains an easy laugh from Tom. He decided on adventures that were close to his heart but also possible. In the time he’d live in Creekview he’d never been near the popular hiking trails, and it would also go great with Y/N’s first item, swimming in Creek Lake. Crowd surfing was something that is one everyone’s bucket list. Simple. Y/N looks at the last item and pauses, looking Tom straight in the eye.

“...deciding your future,” Y/N says. “What does that mean?”

The most important one of all. The one that Tom had bookmarked in his subconscious for this list. Through these adventures, he’d hope to find his meaning or what Y/N called her purpose. Most importantly, Tom wanted to find his passion and he believed Y/N would be the right person to help.

“I guess we’ll figure that out together,”

Tom extends his pinky again, to close the promise they made before. The rest of the summer was going to be the two of them against whoever stood in their way to finish this glorified piece of paper. Maybe it was a dumb idea, like Harrison had inferred it to be, but Tom saw it as his answer. And a way to find out more about this mysterious pink-haired girl. Y/N connects her pinky, kissing her hand as they touched.

“It’s a deal,”

Taglist:

@screeching-student-unknown / @nyctophilicstyles / @vintage-moonlight / @breadbudzo / @h-natale / @originalpinkpowerranger/ @happywolves81 / @drunkgreek / @iamnida95 / @sydthekidsloth / @spiderboytotherescue / @laureharrier / @starksparker / @madon566 / @nophunleague / @itsbrittneynicoleee / @hereiamhereigo / @kkaup04 / @way-ward-whale / @thewackywriter / @safarimama / @watermelonfruitsalad / @ceciliaromeroo / @lovely-luke / @ninjalex1d / @captainbuckyy

#Tom Holland imagines #Tom Holland fics #Tom Holland imagine #Tom Holland blurb #Tom Holland blurbs #Tom Holland fluff #Tom Holland angst #Peter Parker imagine #Peter Parker imagines

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roswellroamer · 5 years

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Day 2. January 31, 2020. Christchurch to Leithfield to Governors Bay. 142kms.

This morning was leisurely. Laundry was done during the night and so ready to leave tomorrow with bags full of clean duds. Enjoying a French Press coffee ☕️ on the balcony with a cool and steady breeze my first entry was completed this morning to get back into the flow. I always have some mixed feelings regarding the commitment to the written word. It would be so much easier to jot down some quick thoughts, words and stream of consciousness but I much prefer to look back and read a product that has a bit more polish. The only real price is the time it takes to do it but once again on such a journey of length and expected grandeur, I fear details will blur and fade if not captured here on a daily basis. So, off we go. It surely makes me appreciate the process which authors and even bloggers/vloggers have to generate content flow. And this effort on Tumblr is by no means in the ballpark of authorship!

Nursing a nascent but relatively small blister after traipsing around CHC yesterday in new and a bit tight pair of Sunuks, I opted for the BMW riding shoes of Southern Africa "fame". What a comfortable option and waterproof too. Summer is in full swing here and a bright and breezy Friday morning accompanied us down Papanui Rd. towards the central district. A brief stop back at the Carlton found Ted's motorcycle baseball cap tucked securely behind the bar. 🧢 About a twenty five minute walk then took us to the central district and we enjoyed watching the ducks dive and paddle their way on the small but swiftly flowing Avon River with a Chinese orange dragon sculpture mid-stream likely placed in the river to commemorate the Chinese New Year which just started. New Zealand gets a lot of Chinese tourists. Soon we were distracted by the display of chocolates and the appealing menu at She, a chocolatier. Within minutes chilled chocolate beverages were ordered and we sat outside taking in the pedestrian traffic adjacent to some fancy shops and a large indoor food/market space. We were keen on a Malaysian place to lunch when we received a call from Kiwi motorcycle rental shop. Someone had forgotten a jacket at a nearby hotel and if we were available they would pick us up and take us to our bikes around 12:15 as opposed to the 6:30PM plan we had previously discussed. We grabbed some Asian food to go (dumplings, fried noodles/shrimp) and then hustled back to our hotel. Soon we were met by the owner and she drove us and our empty luggage the 46km out to Leithfield where they are located. I found waiting for me a basic 2015 GS800 with over 89,000km but with new tires, a fresh chain and in good operating condition. Thought I had pre-ordered a GPS but they only had one and Ted's bike has it. NP. We sorted out the final paperwork, got some tips about some gravel scenic cut through roads and had a run through regarding the bags on our bikes and off we went! Great to be back on two wheels. Always have to remember twice to stay left for the first day or so when riding in current or former 🇬🇧 Commonwealth countries and turns are strange so some attention is required not to fall back into our "right side" of the road norms... No cruise control but heated grips which may be needed in the Alpine highlands and also on the windy and rainy south/west coasts. But for now, I was glad to have my Klim mesh jacket and vented/mesh Alpinestars gloves as the sun warmed the day up to 74°. We decided to ride out to scenic Sumner Beach skirting CHC and had an expanse of the bay exposed due to low tide. Breakers were rolling in the distance against an unseen sand bar. We stopped to admire the scenery and some windsurfers and a few beginner kite boarders. I then spied a small restaurant stand selling "Trump's American Hotdogs". I was curious and of course had to order one! A heated stick cores out and heats a bun which is then filled with chili, ketchup, mustard, mayo, onions. Then a dog is stuffed in the middle. It was good! 🌭 Also took a picture of their published online response dealing with detractors regarding their use of Trump's name. They said it was better than "Hitler's Hamburgers" or "Mao's Milkshakes"! 😂

We then found our way to the winding road headed to the Godley Head Park and saw some hangliders soaring overhead. The wind socks were horizontal and along the coast winds have been steady and strong. After we ran out of road at the summit, we backtracked and proceeded to ascend Sumner Rd. It was wiped out for 9 years following the quake described in yesterday's post. The slides on a sheer cliff side took that long to be replaced. Beautiful new road with a few overlooks as you approach Lyttelton was fun to ride overlooking the turquoise sea. Lyttelton was a bit industrial and we continued down the coast to Governor's Bay. A few side roads were explored including Jetty Road (not much of a surprise where that one led) and then a turn around to ascend once again to Dyers Pass, 1,048' in elevation. On the other side now away from the ocean, you are met with a sprawling view of Christchurch with a complex network of mountain bike paths crisscrossing the hills to your left. The Christchurch Adventure Park is 880 well designed acres for sightseeing and zip lining and mountain bikes. A long chairlift was operating and ferrying outdoor enthusiasts to the top for a fun descent of about a thousand feet. We didn't stop at the Christchurch adventure park cafe/bar but that area seemed very popular. Some switchbacks as we descended through a fancy neighborhood a la Hollywood Hills down to the nearly sea level altitude of CHC. We opted to aim back to the hotel and dine in the village of Merivale. It's all good because we dined at "Tutto Bene"! Good food and then some nice locals directed us to No. 4 for a nightcap. Tomorrow begins our journey southward into the Southern Alps and details to follow regarding that interesting area. po mārie, which is good night in the language of the indigenous people from New Zealand, the Maori. 🇳🇿

#advrider #new zealand #motoadventure

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goodvibesatpeace · 6 years

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Astrology: Eclipse Aspects to Natal Planets

In astrology, a natal chart is a map of where all astrological bodies—or planets—are located at the time of your birth. The time, date, and place of your birth determine your natal chart. In turn, the natal chart can tell you many things, including which planets fall near your house.

To clarify, the 12 houses in astrology are not the same as the 12 zodiac horoscopes. Your zodiac is based on the Sun's location during Earth's yearly orbit around it. On the other hand, your house is determined by Earth's rotation around its own axis over the course of one day.

By looking at where an eclipse falls in the houses, you get a sneak preview of what's to come (or already in progress). If an eclipse falls within 5 degrees of a natal planet, it alters the planet's traits. When an eclipse affects any of your natal planets, there may be changes in your mood, ways of thinking, life direction, or the life events of those around you. Thus, how an eclipse affects you depends on your birthdate, birth time, and birthplace.

Although changes can be drastic, dramatic, or shocking, that will not necessarily be the case. Changes can often be subtle and inward. Sometimes they can happen over a period of time (six months is the rule).

Eclipses That Affect the Sun

The Sun brings out your ego, willpower, and decisiveness. So when the Sun engages with eclipses, that marks significant milestones and moments of action. You could be faced with a crisis that you have to overcome or come across a big revelation in terms of identity. A speedy leap of growth professionally or personally is possible as you ride a surge of your solar energies, like a wave rider. Essentially, it's a time for you to shine and take action for yourself.

The Moon

Hits of your natal Moon to the eclipse bring emotionally churning events or atmospheres. When mother Moon's light is obscured, you may feel exposed and vulnerable. Events related to your mother, mothering, home, the past, and stability may occur and cause emotional triggers. There could be disruptions on the homefront—something unsettling—that takes time to restore equilibrium.

In a physical sense, that could mean moving homes, going to college, or another symbolic break from "home" and its influence happening. In terms of spirituality, it could mean feeling comfortable in your own skin. There can be epiphanies about the emotional matrices that make up your being, and any breakthroughs take months to integrate.

Mercury

Mercury is the god of definition. A Mercury touched by an eclipse can mean a change in your professional title or how you define yourself. In the extreme, an eclipse could take you to states beyond your "right mind." There could be a mental crisis but one that eventually leads to more tools and awareness of mental health. There can be amazing dreams, ideas, streams of consciousness, and insights.

This could be a time for communication. Or, you might realize that it's wise to wait until the fragments of the mind are reordered. In his trickster guise, Mercury could scramble things in a way that takes a while to unravel.

Venus

Venus is usually associated with confidence, love, and financial excess. A contact with Venus and eclipses can either weaken or strengthen these traits. Perhaps there will be financial issues, relationship challenges, or uncharacteristic self-esteem issues.

On the other hand, your love life could be charged up. A new romance that starts now could have a fated feel—like it came at just the right moment in time. Other big bangs can happen with money, unexpected assistance, new friendships, or a heightened sense of well-being. Also, you could have sudden inspiration to pursue your artistic and creative side.

Mars

If Mars is triggered by an eclipse, there can be outbursts, both constructive and destructive. The raw energy of Mars rushes out, and if there are underlying conflicts, this could be a time of getting into it. You might have to stand up for yourself if under attack or find yourself initiating a confrontation yourself.

You could have a surge of physical vitality with a Mars hit. It could be diverted into arguing or an ongoing frustration that reaches a breaking point. If a situation comes to a head, it could be explosive. And yet, that might be the cosmos' way of provoking change that wouldn't come otherwise. Any eruptions of raw emotion and subsequent actions could take months to sort out.

Jupiter

An eclipse meet and greet with your natal Jupiter could give you the travel bug. You may be itching for an adventure or to take a risk. Events may happen that widen your world and sense of possibility. You may meet someone from another culture or be drawn swiftly toward what's been foreign and far-flung.

An eclipse hit to Jupiter could expose you to a higher ideal that takes a while to see as a real possibility. The flash experienced could lead to sudden changes or be a light that guides you on the next stretch of the journey.

Saturn

If the eclipse engages your Saturn, be open to lessons of a teacher or mentor. If you're wisely using your gifts, this could involve reaching a milestone. You could be recognized in some way or be ready to take a step that comes only from being seasoned.

Also likely, you experience hitting walls. Perhaps life has become too narrow and is not the right structure for whom you're becoming. This could be painful, especially if you are deeply set in your ways. But recognizing this is the first step to change. There could be a shift with responsibilities—whether it be more burdens or fewer. The subtle or extreme shifts in life structure can take months to play out.

Uranus

Uranus is the planet of waking up to more expansive realities, a stroke of genius and breaking free. When an eclipse affects Uranus, the restlessness of this engagement could be felt for a few days or weeks prior. What's odd or eccentric about you has a chance to shine, and this could throw others for a loop. This eclipse is a shout out to your inner wild child, free spirit, and original genius. Ride out this creative wave, see what there is to experience, and jot down any ideas, as they're sure to be inspired.

Neptune

With Neptune affected by an eclipse, the veils drop. There can be disillusionment or relief as you realize something about yourself or others that you hadn't understood before. There can be a sense of betrayal by another, or maybe you see where you've been fooling yourself, such as being someone you're not in order to get approval or have status. The realization can bring satisfaction but not before taking you through the states of death, including coming out of denial. Take heart that you'll emerge with a clearer understanding as soon as the fog clears.

Pluto

It's time to take a walk on the dark side. When Pluto is engaged, inner demons get the best of us. Perhaps a mental trauma is exacerbated and cripples you with fear or you develop an inexplicable compulsion to obsess.

This is also the time when you can gain the strength to face that inner shadow. Or perhaps an event could force you to confront yourself. An eclipse event could be a trigger for overcoming personal challenges, which could last as long as six months or more.

Much love to all... go in peace my friends

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