#*replies at 3 am* it's f i ne

[thewordypeach]

Flesh Without Blood

Flesh without Blood (Forbidden Fruit)

pairing: Joel Miller x fem!reader, Tommy Miller x fem!reader word count: 5.6k warnings: 18+, smut!, no use of y/n, incest (stepsibling!!!), threesome, oral (f and m receiving), unprotected penetration x2, little bit of voyeurism, maybe some cuckold, mentions of punishment, implied rape, slight uncaring/cold-hearted... summary: There’s something beneath the surface, something that has been waiting to be unleashed. Something dark and feral. author's note: hello, this is my third story I've posted! and oooof, yeah... it is incest. but between stepsiblings (as if that makes it better??!?) i couldn't help myself okay! i know you want to be sandwiched between Tommy and Joel Miller as much as i do. also, i am sorry that the summary sucks - i'm not very good at them lol. umm, anyways, i hope you enjoy because i might have another incest-y story in the works... ;) xoxo the wordy peach <3

Joel Miller’s rough exterior speaks to the life of survival the three of you’ve endured since the cordyceps outbreak. You watch as his chest expands and his shoulders pull back, making his already physically imposing body even more domineering than before. His face, rugged and weathered, twists into a scowl. Meanwhile, Tommy Miller’s exterior is merciful, exuding a softer, more lenient temper. His body language is casual. Less rigid. But his face is stricken with disappointment.

“I’ll give you a cut of whatever I make!” The contrast between the brothers makes you nervous, and you slowly start backing away. A sense of urgency makes you blurt out a new, better offer, “Whatever I make, I’ll give you a quarter - no! Half!”

Joel remains stoically hardened, but Tommy gives a disarming smile and barks a laugh, “What the hell are we going to do with the money?”

You shrug, “Buy some more guns?”

Tommy laughs again, and his entire face lights up. Tommy’s laid-back nature has always made him the easygoing of the two brothers, and even now, as they confront you about your secret business dealings, he seems to trust that you aren’t a threat. You might be slightly stupid, but you certainly aren’t dangerous.

“Oh, Nic,” Tommy shakes his head, and his face darkens as he approaches you. The sudden change in his demeanour makes you confused, and your body stills, becoming rigid and tense. His hand is quick, clamping down around your throat. Your breath hitches, and you reach up, grabbing his wrist. His hold on you is firm, and you struggle to remove his steellike grip.

“You think we’re fucking stupid?” He hisses, voice full of venom. He doesn’t squeeze, but his fingers flex around your throat, sending the message that he could easily choke you out. Your eyes dart to Joel, who isn’t stopping any of this - in fact, it looks like Joel is enjoying it. 

“Don’t look at him - look at me,” Tommy barks, “I’m the one who has you by the throat,” 

Your eyes snap to Tommy, and you squirm, trying to step back. Tommy glares, spitting out, “Never thought you’d be the one who would betray the family, Nic,”

“I wasn’t -” You grunt, still trying to pry his hand off your throat. By a fraction, Tommy’s grip tightens. “I wasn’t trying to fucking betray you - I was trying to fucking leave this shit hole,” 

At the admission of your actual plan, Tommy stops. His face softens ever so slightly, and his eyes, once hard and emotionless, shift into concern. His brows knit together, and he whispers, “Leave?”

You nod, eyes still panicked as they peer at Tommy. You know he’s the one you want to be bargaining with, but it’s still hard to admit the truth to Tommy. You reply, “I-I-I’m joining the Fireflies,”

Confusion floods Tommy’s face, and he presses, “You need money for that?”

Momentarily, you feel bad. It wasn’t money that you were after, but rather, you were gathering supplies for a mission which just happened to belong to your stepbrothers. You shake your head and bite your lower lip, considering your words, before cautiously speaking, “I needed the supplies for a mission Marlene is sending me on,” 

“Oh, that’s fucking rich, Nic - stealing from your own brothers,”

“Tommy, no - it’s not like that,” You say, voice breaking in the process. Tommy shakes his head, and the muscles in his hand, still holding your throat, flex and shift. 

“Then what’s it like, Nic?” Tommy asks. He sounds hurt; however, his neck is corded with tension and his lips are twisted into a wryly sneer.

“I know neither of you wants me around,” Your voice quivers as you speak, the weight of past rejections and present isolations bearing down on your heart. You know deep down that Tommy and Joel Miller, your brothers only by marriage, have never entirely accepted you as one of their own. 

There has always been a palpable tension that never seems to dissipate; something is always simmering beneath the surface. And now, decades later, that same tension remains in a world ravaged by a deadly fungus. Tears gather in your eyes as you confront the bitter wound that has never fully healed. 

Tommy’s tongue clicks against his teeth, tsking in disapproval, “Poor little Nicky thinks we don’t want her around, Joel….” 

You shake your head, “Tommy - please, don’t,”

Tommy glances at his older brother, “What do you have to say about this, Joel? Do we want little Nicky around?”

From the expression on Joel’s face, you think he is being asked what he thought of the weather because it is so casual, so aloof. Completely unaffected. You watch as Joel’s mouth moves. His voice is cold and detached: “You know what, Tommy? She is stupid for thinking that we don’t want her around, considering all we’ve done for her….”

Joel casually walks over, his brown eyes staring blankly at you. That is until a strange look flickers across his face. It’s a warning - you’ve seen it before. Your stomach drops, and you’re suddenly desperate to escape this situation, so you try to bargain with them, “Just let me go, and we can pretend this never happened, okay?” 

Still holding your neck, Tommy sweeps his thumb along your jaw and strokes little circles into it. It’s almost comforting. His head tilts to the side, and he peers at you, eyes blazing. It’s the lapse of silence that has you panicking again. His face tips down, and he presses his nose into your cheek, his hot breath cascading across your skin. 

“Oh, Nic…” Tommy murmurs, his lips flush against your cheek, “I know it’s hard to believe, but everything we’ve done, we did it for you,”

The implication makes your skin crawl. Lips quivering, you ask, “What are you talking about?”

Tommy’s voice is taut, filled with annoyance, “Stupid bitch doesn’t even know how many men we’ve stopped from ripping her apart -” His hand has moved from your throat to your jaw, holding it tightly between his fingers. He’s gazing at you with expanded pupils. There’s something beneath the surface, something that has been waiting to be unleashed. Something dark and feral. 

That’s when Joel presses his body into your back, and you realize you aren’t going anywhere. Your stomach twists and floods with despair, body submitting to him instantly. With a taunting undertone, Joel says, “Oh, Nicky… how can we convince you that we want you around?”

Tommy disagrees, huffing out, “Speak for yourself, Joel - Nicky has always been a pain in my ass,”

“Tommy,” Joel warns. The energy has shifted. It’s no longer hostile, but something taboo between the two brothers is unfolding. Tommy’s mouth twitches, and he sighs, relenting as Joel recounts a memory: “Remember that one summer when she wore that tiny bikini and paraded her body all around the yard? Like some goddamn peacock.” 

Tommy licks his lips, smirking at the memory. A prickling sensation shoots up your spine, and alarms start going off in the back of your mind. Frantically, you glance around the room. You already know there isn’t a way out of here, and even if there were, Joel and Tommy would never let you go. 

With a gruff voice, Joel asks, “Tommy, how does it feel having your fantasy come true?” 

A dreadful expression crosses your face, but underneath, there’s curiosity as bewilderment floods through you. Thinking of the past and present, searching for the signs of their secret desire - can it really be true? Tommy mumbles, “It only took a decade for it to happen,”

You shake your head, refusing to believe such things, “N-no, no….”

Wickedly, Tommy grins, “What, Nic? Are you trying to tell me that you never thought of us this way?” He cocks his head to the side, entertained by the defiant glare you’re giving him. It reminds him of the times he spent teasing you as a teenager; he had fun bullying you in those days.  

Firmly, you state, “No, I haven’t.” You’re disgusted by his insinuation: “It’s wrong,”

Tommy scoffs, laughing, “So, you didn’t write in your diary about how badly you wanted Joel to take your virginity?”

You stop, eyes blinking with disbelief. Your jaw slackens, mouth opening in shock. Tommy loves this look - he loves how you’re pretending to be all innocent when you are just as dirty as he and Joel. 

“I never wrote that,” You lie. Tommy rolls his eyes and gives you a playful look before his eyes travel down, taking inventory of your body. A possessiveness settles on his face as he hungrily gazes at your chest. He knows you hate wearing a bra, and even now, he can tell you aren’t wearing one. It’s in how your tits bounce and your nipples, perky and erect, poke through the fabric.

Tommy can’t stop himself and just has to reach up and pinch one. The pain is sharp and quick, making you squeal in surprise. You try to twist away, body turning, but Joel’s hands cinch around your waist, and he holds you against his solid body. Your attempt to fight back is futile. Utterly useless. You try to think of ways out of this, but your mind is giving up, and your body is giving in; Joel touching you makes you realize that the infatuation you once felt for him has never really gone away. 

“I…I was young and stupid,” You hastily admit to the secret you’ve been harbouring for decades, “I … I thought it’d be hot to fuck one of you - can you blame me, though? Both of you were constantly bringing girls over to fuck -”

“Aw, Nicky. Were you jealous?” Tommy coos as his finger completes a circle or two around your nipple. The sensation is causing pressure to build in the crest of your crotch, and you hate yourself for it. It’s wrong, totally wrong -

“If I’m being honest, Nic… I was jealous of your little boyfriend - what was his name again? Gregory? Geoff?” 

Joel says, “Garret,”

“Ahh, yeah. Garret. He’s the one who popped your cherry,” Disappointment lines Tommy’s voice, and he pouts, jealous that it wasn’t him. Unhurried, Tommy drags a finger down, down, down and slips his hand underneath your shirt. You inhale sharply as Tommy’s hand dances across your stomach, tickling you. Goosebumps explode across your skin, and you struggle to remain indifferent, but his touch sends mixed signals to your brain. 

Teasingly, Tommy presses, “Whatever happened to Garret? Hmmm, Nic? What happened to him?” 

You bite your lip, trying to remember. Garret was your first boyfriend. Your first love. Or so, that’s what you thought. Teenage boys can be so fickle. “He… he broke my heart - cheated on me with some dumb whore,” 

“Do you regret him being your first? Do you wish it was Joel or me who took your precious little flower?” Tommy circles back to your old diary entry. You refuse to admit it, mouth clamping shut. But it’s the way your body presses into Joel’s body that gives your secret away. Intrigued, Tommy studies your subtle movement. He knows that you’ve always had something for Joel - after all, Joel is the protective older brother who’s reliable and stable. Always has been.

“Well, Nic…” Tommy’s voice fades off. His hand underneath your shirt trails up and cups your breast. It’s soft and pillowy, exactly how he imagined. His voice is low, but his intentions are evident as he speaks: “What if you got the best of both worlds? What if Joel and I take you….” 

He’s massaging your tit, kneading the plump flesh. He tweaks your nipple, softer this time, and a little gasp escapes from your throat, betraying you. Traderous sparks begin to envelop your body. Your breath hitches as you ask, “And what happens if I refuse?” 

You know you won’t be backing out of this because Tommy’s words are true. You’ve been lusting after Joel for years, and if the world hadn’t gone to total shit, you wouldn’t be standing here, considering Tommy’s insane offer. But in this post-apocalyptic world, nothing matters, not even the familial bonds you share with them. Your eyes shutter closed as you try to steady your breathing. The anticipation and nervousness are unbearable. 

“Nothing bad, if that’s what you’re wondering, darlin’...” Joel assures you in a calm, steady voice. His hands haven’t moved from their spot on your waist. The grip he has on you is gentle, reassuring. It's as if he’s trying to comfort you, and in some weird, fucked up way, it’s working. There’s no aggression or force in his touch, and the proximity of his body makes it hard for you to ignore the bulge pressing into your back. 

“Nothing bad?” You repeat. 

“Nothing bad,” Tommy and Joel say in unison. Their words soothe your nerves, but only a little. You take a deep breath, trying to settle your racing heart. You know that you can trust them and that they won’t hurt you. But still. The idea of being intimate with them is overwhelming - 

“Get on your knees -” Tommy instructs. 

Joel interjects, “Go slow, Tommy - we have all night with her,”

Tommy scowls, annoyed with his brother. However, you are already sliding down to the floor. A smug look flickers over Tommy’s face, and he unbuckles his belt and pulls down his jeans. To your surprise, he’s not wearing underwear, and his cock falls out. It’s big, and it points right at you. You peer at it, frozen in shock. You aren’t sure what you were expecting, but suddenly, you’re left wondering if Joel is also blessed with a gift of this size. Or maybe, Tommy is the one who lucked out in the genetics department -

“You’ve sucked a cock before, haven’t you, Nic?” Tommy asks as his fingers touch your chin and his thumb swipes across your lower lip, opening your mouth. You nod, and slowly, Tommy’s cock replaces his hand. He makes a soft hissing sound as your lips slide down his shaft.

“Fuck,” Tommy threads his fingers through your hair as you babble around his cock. It’s a bit too deep for your liking, but a switch gets flicked, and all you want to do is prove yourself - you want to prove to your brother that you can suck cock. You hold his hips and bob your head, working your tongue against his arousal. But apparently, it’s not enough for Tommy because he starts thrusting in and out of your mouth, his cock reaching a dangerous depth, which causes your eyes to swell with tears. 

“I’ve dreamt of this filthy little mouth,” Eyes narrowing into slits, Tommy completely immerses himself into the fantasy. He can’t believe you are here, on your knees, sucking his cock. Joel loves it too, admiring how well you are doing, but he doesn’t like how rough Tommy is - he’s practically yanking your head down his shaft, making you gag and sputter. However, you don’t seem fazed by it. 

Joel can’t help but wonder if you’re genuinely enjoying it, and he knows the answer lies between your thighs. He kneels, hand snaking around your stomach and shoving into the waistband of your pants. You let out a muffled gasp of surprise but continued to gag and sputter around Tommy’s cock. Joel’s fingers are slow, but they move with purpose, and he teasingly presses them into your panties. He whispers into your ear, “You’re so fucking wet… does sucking your brother’s cock turn you on that much?” 

He taunts your clit, fingers circling it but never quite touching it. You’re gasping for air, hot tears tracking down your cheeks. Tommy quickly wipes them away, a tender action that leaves you feeling cared for as he continues to fuck your face. Joel senses your discomfort and tells Tommy to ease off. 

“Fuck, just let me -” Tommy groans, a familiar ache in his balls. He’s so fucking close; the tension is becoming unbearable. However, Tommy has to resign himself because he still wants to fuck you, and hastily, Tommy removes his cock from your mouth, groaning as a trail of spit dangles between your mouth and the tip of his well-sucked cock.

You greedily suck the air back into your lungs, chest heaving. Your eyelids flutter as Joel continues to apply pressure through the fabric of your panties, but you need more. You need him inside. Daringly, you ask: “Can we move this to the bed?” 

Tommy and Joel share a look. It’s so quick that you almost miss it. Joel stands, lifting you in the process. He twirls you around, places his large hands on your hips, and kisses you like a man starved. Joel doesn’t give a damn that you had Tommy’s cock in your mouth because Joel has been waiting for this and doesn’t want to hold back. He gives it all to you, nipping and sucking your lower lip. When Joel’s tongue touches yours, you groan. 

As your heart thrums wildly inside your chest, liquid heat pools in your core. It’s so wrong that it’s right. Any morals you once had are long gone. They don’t exist anymore. Joel cups your ass, gripping the fleshy mounds. You gasp, and Joel smiles before his lips travel down your jaw, planting kisses down to your neck, where his teeth graze your collarbone. His hands move up and play with the hem of your shirt, and in one swift motion, he lifts it off your body and tosses it to the side. 

Joel’s mouth continues to travel downward, and he closes his mouth against your tit. He’s all teeth and tongue with continuous suction — meanwhile, his other hand twists and tweaks your other nipple between his thumb and finger. Little mewls spill forth from your mouth, and your hands are groping Joel’s bulge through his jeans, desperate to feel his cock. 

“Take your pants off, Joel,” You demand, and to your surprise, he obeys. Joel strips and tosses his clothes. Unlike his brother, Joel wears underwear with a humorous pattern of hearts. It’s quite the contrast to his imposing physical ruggedness. It makes you smile and giggle - Joel’s eyebrow lifts quizzically. You shake your head, and the next thing you know, Joel is helping you out of your pants and lowering you down to the mattress where Tommy is already lying, waiting. His clothes have already been discarded. 

“I want to taste you,” Joel murmurs. You watch as the slightest tinge of pink rises to his cheeks. It makes you giddy. Only in your dreams has Joel said such things. Joel hovers, pushing your thighs open with his palms, kneeling between them, sliding lower and lower. He hooks a finger on your panties and glides them off your hips; they join the rest of the forgotten clothes in the room. 

Joel marvels at your glistening pussy that’s so swollen from having been kept in a state of anticipation. His fingertips sink so easily into your folds, parting them and gliding his digits through the slickness of arousal seeping out. Your head tilts back, eyes closing from the pleasure steadily streaming through your body. Joel lowers his face, inhaling your tantalizing scent, which unleashes a throaty moan from his chest. He’s gentle when carving a path through your arousal with his tongue, noting how your thighs twitch ever so slightly when he glides over your throbbing clit. 

“Mmm, how does she taste, Joel?” Tommy asks, voice breaking through the silence between the three of you—Joel answers by grunting. He’s a man of few words, even now. The vibration makes you clench and groan as your hands thread themselves through Joel’s hair because you need something to hold onto. His tongue circles your clit before licking downward and dipping into your wet hole. 

You hiss at the intrusion, “Fuck, Joel,” Never fucking ever did you think your brother would be this fucking good at eating pussy -

“Joel has quite the tongue, doesn’t he, Nic?” Tommy hums as he shifts his body, lying down next to you. His mouth hovers above your shoulder, and his warm breath strews across your skin as he lowers to your breast, tongue flicking your nipple. You groan as your brain goes hazy at the dual pleasure that is coursing through your body.

You don’t know what to focus on: Joel, who is ravaging your pussy, eating it like it's his last meal on earth, or Tommy, who is manhandling your tits, biting, sucking, and marking his territory by breaking your skin’s capillaries. 

Your chest heaves, and your teeth sink into your cheek. Liquid heat blossoms in your core, and your fingers grip Joel’s hair, practically ripping it out as his tongue takes a long, broad stroke up to your clit. You gasp as he sucks it into his mouth, “Fuck, fuck, fuck!”

“You like that, Nic? You like it when Joel sucks your clit?” Tommy has quite a filthy mouth on him, and you nod, eagerly agreeing with his statement.

“Need more, though,” You murmur, and you watch as Tommy’s eyebrows shoot up.

“Oh, yeah? Little Nicky needs more?” Tommy teases before instructing Joel to add a finger or two, and just like that, Joel’s middle finger is circling your tight, wet hole. Tapping at it, applying the lightest pressure before it sinks inside. You’re shifting continuously, trying to adjust and make room - you can't remember the last time someone penetrated you, and Joel’s finger is so thick.  

“Relax, Nicky,” Joel rasps out, “I’m not going to hurt you….”

You order yourself to relax, but Joel can tell it’s still too much for you because he has to hold down your hip, stilling it, with his other hand. Once more, Joel latches his mouth to your clit, and twirls bud tongue around it. When Joel adds a second digit, you give a half-yelp. And when Joel curls his fingers, hooking them inside, pressing against that sweet spongy spot, heat floods your body.

Your hips grind into his face, desperately wanting more - no - needing more. Joel knows you are close to releasing because your walls clench around his fingers, and your moans have become more frequent and erratic. You’re begging, pleading, to cum.

He closes his eyes and plunders his way through, lapping and sucking your every fold. He’s tuning you to a rhythm that has your hips rising to meet his pistoning fingers, and that’s when Joel hits that perfect combination, unleashing a wave that swells and rolls across your body. Your back arches off the mattress, squealing, “Oh, fucking hell, Joeeeeel-” 

Your core tightens, and your toes curl as bright lights burst across your shuttered eyelids. Sticky wetness pours out, covering Joel’s finger and mouth, but he doesn’t stop until you’re thrashing beneath him. Unable to take any more, you gently push him away; otherwise, you know he won’t be stopping anytime soon. 

Having denied his meal, Joel gives you a sullen look with pouty lips that glisten with your nectar. You shudder at the sight and reach for Joel’s body because you need him and his cock. You tug off his boxers, springing free a heavy and lengthy cock, similar to Tommy’s. At the sight of pre-cum dribbling down from his slit, your mouth waters. 

“Like what you see, Nic?” Joel rasps as his hand reaches down, closing his fist around it. He pumps it once, twice, and you swear, it’s bigger than before. Your eyes widen, thinking it’s too big - this is something you haven’t considered before. Your past partners definitely did not measure up to what your brothers are packing. 

“It’s so big….” Your voice trails off, heat blossoming across your cheeks. You feel silly for asking, “Is it even going to fit?”

Joel smirks, “Oh, darlin’... that’s why Tommy goes first -” 

“That’s fucking right,” Tommy growls. Suddenly, Tommy’s hands groped your body, pulling you up the mattress so you’re in its center. Joel sees your disappointment. He knows you want him to be the first, but Joel and Tommy prefer it this way. It’s not only better for them, but it’s also better for you. Tommy’s cock is the perfect starter. Meanwhile, Joel’s cock is the perfect finisher. 

Tommy looks elated as he positions himself between your thighs, cock in his hand as he nudges it through your slick, wet folds. A deep, throaty moan spills out of his mouth, and he pushes his cock into your entrance. Your cunt is pliant now but still not loose enough, he comments, “Ah, what a tight fucking cunt you got, Nic,” 

It hurts, but it’s a good hurt. The type that makes you want more, and so you open your thighs, making room for Tommy. His body vibrates with tension, and he glides his cock forward, sinking into wetness with a sudden thrust. Your mouth falls open, “Shit, Tommy -”

“Fucking hell, Nicky,” He groans, rolling his hips back and snapping them forward as your velvety hole welcomes every inch of him. His throat bobs, sucking in a sharp breath, “Fucking better than I could’ve ever imaged,”

“Yeah?” You reply breathlessly. You hate to admit it, but dirty-talking Tommy is doing inexplicable things to your body and mind. You need to hear more; his encouragement alone could easily drive you to another orgasm. 

“Yeah, Nic - fucking perfect cunt,” Tommy drops his head against your shoulder, his cock nuzzled deep in your cunt. He’s trying to catch his breath, and he’s trying not to spill his entire load right then and there. But having you in this position, your walls suctioning all around him, is making him disintegrate. 

His stomach flexes, struggling to remain composed - fuck. The lack of pussy has him weak, skirting the edge of an orgasm all too soon. He’s barely even fucked you. He’s disappointed in himself. You feel Tommy’s embarrassment, and you wrap your arms around his torso, whispering into his ear, “C’mon, Tommy… don’t you want to make my pussy feel good?”

You start rocking your hips, needing more friction than what he can give. He hisses at the movement, body trembling against yours, “Fuck me, Tommy - fuck me,” Your legs shift around, locking Tommy in place as your pussy clenches around his cock, coaxing him to move. To do something. 

“You feel so good,” You lick and nip at his earlobe. He hisses in response, his hips slowly bucking to meet yours. He’s trudging forward, head hanging low, trying not to blow his entire load. 

“Mmm, do you like my pussy -”

“No more talking,” Tommy tries to quell you. Eyes closed, jaw straining, “You’re gonna make me cum, talking like that,”

Cockily, you continue to spew filth at him, “Oh, yeah, Tommy? Are you gonna cum in my pussy - are you gonna come in your sister’s pussy?”

Heart pumping wildly inside his chest, Tommy’s body seizes, and his orgasm punches through. A shaky groan, gritty and low, escapes from his chest. The room fills with ragged breathing as he ejaculates his sticky seed in your cunt. As his cock twitches and empties, Tommy shudders and gasps into your shoulder. 

His body presses against yours, needing momentary support as he wrestles with himself, feeling mortified at his lack of stamina. He used to go for hours; hell, girls would line up for a chance with Tommy fucking Miller. So, it takes him an extra moment to convince himself that this was just a one-off. 

“Next time?” He whispers, hoping - what is the likelihood you’ll be down for another round? You plant a tender kiss against his chin, hands sweeping across his sweaty temple, repeating, “Next time,”

His eyes, full of potential, snap to yours. He gives you a sheepish smile. You know you will want more after tonight because what else is there to do in this post-apocalyptic world?

Tommy moves, and as soon as he does, Joel is there to replace his brother. You barely have time to think before Joel is raising your knees, angling them apart.  Joel’s movements are quick and precise. He’s been restlessly watching you get fucked, and he’s relieved that Tommy only took five minutes because now, it’s his turn. Joel feels like he has been waiting his entire life for this moment; now, it’s here. It’s actually happening. 

A giddiness rushes over Joel, and his stomach flutters with anticipation as his eyes hungrily glaze over. He’s ready, so fucking ready to give you what you deserve. Teasingly, Joel glosses the tip of his cock past your poised entrance and rubs it against your delectable wet folds that have unmistakable evidence of Tommy. Your response is a throaty groan, watching Joel mix the precum leaking from his cock with Tommy’s leftovers.

You’re feeling lightheaded, dizzy with desire. Oh, how you’ve craved Joel. You spent decades yearning for him; you went far too long feeling like a depraved little slut for wanting to fuck your step-brother. Your perverted little fantasy is finally coming true - you have him right where you want.

Joel takes the plunge, his cock nudging into your cunt. It’s almost too much. Without Tommy’s cock to start you off, Joel would’ve never fit. You peek at the point of penetration; the sight is better than anything you dreamed of. Except his cock isn’t entirely inside - not even half. Joel definitely has an extra inch or two than Tommy. You wiggle and squirm, breathing out a scattered whimper that exudes impatience.

“Joel,” You mewl, hands groping his neck and chest. You need something to hold onto because he’s starting to push against the resistance. Joel grunts as your tight velvet walls keenly greet his cock, welcoming him inside. He doesn’t stop until he has bottomed out, cock buried to the hilt. Splitting and spreading you open, almost until a breaking point where you’re gasping at being so filled. He barely moves an inch, and your walls automatically clench, sealing around him. 

“Shit, Nic - Tommy’s right. Your cunt is so fucking tight,” Joel pulls out, and his hands slide to the small of your back, lifting into your body as he pushes back into molten wetness. He does this over and over, rubbing against the spot in your velvet channel. Your thighs tremble as a blissful pleasure travels up your spine. However, you ache for more friction. 

Noise pitches from the back of your throat, “Harder, Joel - fuck me harder,” 

And he does. He pushes your knees against your chest and tilts his hips, snapping forward with such force that you cry out, your nails digging into the side of his torso. In a matter of seconds, Joel’s thrusts have become exploratory - going from shallow to deep, reaching a point of no return as he plunders forward.

Your entire body begins pulsating, a feverish wave rolling through. A second climax is upon you, the throes of euphoria building inside your body as Joel swiftly continues, elated that he’s about to give you what you deserve. You are panting incoherent nonsense as Joel relentlessly drives his cock in and out, in and out. 

He slides a hand between your bodies, quickly finding your clit and tweaking it between his finger and thumb. Your pelvis canted upwards to meet his touch. Urgently, you gasp, needing more pressure because it’s insufficient. Joel, somehow an expert in your body, does precisely that.

Joel palms your clit, sending continuous shocks across your core, making it impossible to ignore the building pressure. When you hit the peak, it’s an endless stream of obscenities. “Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck!”

You thrash beneath him, thighs squeezing shut, but Joel rips them open. He charges his hips into yours, riding your orgasm out; he loves how your smooth walls flutter around his cock, milking him. Cock drenched with your juices, Joel plows, his thrusts becoming shallow and rough. He grabs your hips, trying to control them, but you continue to undulate beneath him, desperately trying to meet his rhythm because you want Joel to fill your cunt with his cum. 

“Fill my pussy, Joel, fill it -” You coax him, voice reedy, hitching on the last word. Joel’s eyes shuttered close, his lashes like dark half-moons against his skin. Your pussy is persistent, swallowing his cock without resistance now. 

A rush of ecstasy flits through Joel’s body, and within seconds, the tension of the coil is snapping. He loses control, and his strokes stutter out, cock surging with a powerful load of spunk that paints the inside of your cunt.

“Holy fuck, Nic,” Joel’s head snaps back, his throat shuddering as he tries to calm the carnal rush raging through his body. His cock twitches and convulses as it continues to empty weeks' worth of pent-up frustration. You marvel at the feeling of being stuffed with your brother’s warm seed, legs locking around his waist because you need every single drop. 

As it ends, Joel’s energy drains. The excitement has dulled into the tranquility of release. As he gently pulls out of the warmth, his movements are sluggish. You feel the remnants of your brother's love seeping out of your gaping, used hole. Your taboo appetite has been satiated, and you’re excited about the prospect of what will happen next time. You are thinking of taking both their cocks at the same time when Joel’s voice interrupts the daydream: “Still thinking of leaving us, Nic?”

You give a breathy giggle, "No, I'm thinking about what it feels like to fuck the both of you at the same time,"

[sorcerersofnyc]

The Last Thing Left (Zemo x F!Reader) 3/9

If it wasn’t so painfully ironic (and hilarious to watch,) Helmut would find the relationship between Sam and James a little sad.

Ghosts weren’t enough to hold two people together.

While they wait for Torres to locate Donya Madani, Zemo brings Sam and Bucky to the home he once shared with you.

You reunite and he reflects upon his relationship with you (his wife's friend and his friend's wife) and your journey from being people with mutual friends to partners.

Chapter 3: Sam and Bucky try to understand your relationship with Zemo. It isn't complicated, but he remembers a time when things very much were.

Angst, various mentions of death & mourning, Zemo's wife's name is Heike because of comics.  The reader likes waffles (this is a non-negotiable fact)

Note: Main Character is neutral in most regards, but the story was written with my own cultural background in mind. (In other words, I won't say what she looks like but I envision her as being black.)

First Chapter | Previous

***

A fresh breeze filters in through an open window, swaying the room as Helmut’s words take root.

“Partner?” Sam leans forward in curiosity. “You mean like a life partner or a partner in crime?”

“Yes,” is Helmut’s unhelpful reply. He sends you a conspiratorial smile, one you return with a roll of the eyes.

“Helmut and I are engaged in a… civil partnership,” you explain, “for legal reasons.”

“Amongst other things,” he adds.

“Yes, amongst…other things.” A deep honey-like scent wafts into the room from the kitchen as you share a fleeting glance, a private moment despite the scrutiny of James and Sam. You must have put on a pot of tea.

“That should have been in the reports,” James narrows his eyes and examines the room carefully. “Why doesn’t anyone know about you?” Despite his position on the other wall, he angles his body toward Sam, ready to defend against any traps you might spring.

"Well…" you tilt your head in contemplation, "there was a significant delay in the processing of our paperwork. Nothing was documented until after Helmut’s prosecution."

"How much of a delay are we talking about here?" Sam asks, turning his assessing gaze toward Helmut as if to ask, ‘did you do something?’

"Around—what was it, Helmut? A year and a half?"

"18 months," he agrees. “Our paperwork seemed to have gotten misplaced. It's so difficult to find reliable lawyers these days.”

Sam didn’t seem to believe him.

"I'm his spouse on all official records,” You cut in before either of the two to speak, “but I'm sure you understand why privacy is important to me.” When he testified to his crimes, he made it clear that he had no accomplices and the investigation proved the same. The lawyer ‘misplaced’ the paperwork long enough for public interest in his case to die.

You didn’t need that sort of public scrutiny.

Sam seems to agree.

“We would never compromise your safety,” He assures you. He has his own family, people he loves with targets on their backs. He thinks of them as he addresses you.

The teapot whistles in the background.

“Thank you.” You smile and excuse yourself from the room. “The tea is ready.”

Helmut wants to pull you back to him, but he settles on meeting your gaze as you make a hasty retreat through the archway.

You’re gone all but a few seconds before James begins to speak.

"OK Zemo,” He says, his voice low and threatening, “it's about time you tell us what's going on—your partner? Really?"

"I’ve no reason to lie, James—but perhaps you’re not used to honesty,"

“Not from you," James lurches forward like a beast seeking prey. He glares down at Helmut, a mere arm's length from Helmut’s chair.

Helmut doesn't doubt Jame's violent intent, but he isn't particularly afraid. He settles back in his chair, moves his hands along the length of the arms, and brushes a thumb across the cool metal of the gun strapped beneath.

"Simmer down, Buck.” Sam lifts his hands. “This is weird enough as it is.”

James hesitates but relaxes his defensive stance.

"She doesn't seem to like me and Sam," James continues, reclaiming his position on the wall. “I don’t plan on waking up with a knife in my back.”

“She would never do such a thing, it's far too messy." Unbothered by their altercation, Helmut rises from his chair. He moves toward the bay window and liberates a copy of  Arsène Lupin, gentleman-cambrioleur , from the floating shelf.

Before James can say whatever it is he wants to say,  Sam intervenes once again.

“What I think he means is, 'how do we know we can trust her?'”

"You won't come to harm under her care, you have my word."

His word.

James scoffs at the mere suggestion. Trust isn't something that exists between them and it never would.

But the air is so thick with tension and he can hear the unspoken words that linger in the air: ‘What about your late wife?’

So Helmut flips through the book absentmindedly, stopping at a dog-eared page.

“My companion,” he begins to explain, “she was my wife's dearest friend.” He glances up from the pages of the book to meet Sam’s gaze. “She lost her husband when your friends made Sokovia into a battleground so I found it prudent to ensure her wellbeing.”

They're quiet—finally—and Helmut finds their discomfort pleasing.

Turning his attention back to the book, he reads a line you underlined.

'Quel dommage que je ne sois pas un honnête homme!' What a pity that I am not an honest man!'

“Would you like some honeybush tea?” Your voice cuts through the silence a few moments later. You stop at the threshold and gaze back warily gaze wary.

“I expected Helmut to be alone, but I have other drinks too.”

“The Tea is fine, thank you.” He sets down your beloved book and walks across the room to meet you. Ever so gently, Helmut coaxes the tray from your hand and sets it down on the center table.

“I made lunch as well... si comes ese tipo de cosas .” You mutter, leaving the room once again.

Helmut pours himself a cup before gesturing toward the tray.

"Please, you are guests; have a seat, enjoy some tea." Grabbing the book with one hand, Helmut returns to his favorite chair.

James doesn’t move an inch but Sam takes the seat near the window. His body sinks into the fabric with a sigh.

“Hopefully Torres finds Donya soon. I don’t want to impose for too long.”

“She really is a lovely hostess.” Helmut takes a seat and returns the book. “I intend to enjoy her hospitality while I can.”

***

At first, living with you was easy; Helmut stayed out of your way, he spent his time conducting research and it was quiet.

But the walls were thin and noise echoed through the open vents—He could hear you crying late at night.

He wanted to help, but he had no temporary comforts to offer. The only thing he had was his anger and his plan. You’d rest easier with the Avengers buried in the ash heap, he told himself. That day, when you hugged him, he felt as though you encroached on something, something that would break if he failed to tread lightly.

When you looked as though you wanted to talk or share a fond memory, he mentioned something about the old-fashioned décor and suggested that you change something. He bought you books from the shops he passed on the streets, jars of pigment, and blocks of clay.

He observed you, found what you liked, and got them for you.

“Thank you,” you’d say with a smile, and that was more than enough for him.

He didn’t expect you to return the favor.

But then you’d do things like make him breakfast (always with black coffee and a side of bacon, his favorite.) You’d buy pillows in the same specific shade of burgundy to accent the walls. You’d leave the paper on the kitchen island and kept a jar of honey with the tea.

And he hated you for that, for doing the things Heike would do, for sharing her habits, humor, and sensibilities.

‘Good morning, Helmut,' you would say in the morning, 'Would you like to visit the market with me?’ or, ‘Helmut, you can’t survive off coffee, aren't you hungry?’

He’d refuse you every time.

It was difficult, disappointing you,  but the thought of enjoying a pleasant breakfast, or taking a stroll through the market hurt even more.

He could still feel their bodies buried beneath his feet.

So he opted for uncomfortable silence, and unsteady peace, the ghosts of your loved ones a wall between you.

*

Weeks went by and he continued his research. It took a while, but Helmut could see the steps of a plan unfolding in his mind.

He wouldn’t be the one to send the Avengers to their graves, he’d make them kill each other—and for that, he would need the Winter Soldier, James Buchanan Barnes.

So one day, after reading and rereading the S.H.I.E.L.D.  files he managed to decrypt, he told you he was going on a trip.

“There’s business that I need to attend to.”

“You’re leaving?” You looked up from the clay you were molding. It hadn’t yet taken form, just a sad lump of grey. “For how long?”

“Not long.” He promised, “I’ll be back soon.”

But he returned two weeks later.

Exhausted, Helmut had just taken off his shoes when you walked upstairs to meet him, red power on your hands.

“Helmut! Where were you?” You demanded before you took notice of your tone, the accusation present in your voice. You amended your words quickly.  “I was worried... I missed you while you were gone.”

“My apologies,” was his unsatisfactory reply, his back still turned.

When he finally turned to look in your direction, you wore a troubled look upon your face, and the look reminded him of Heike.

It was the worry of a soldier's wife, of someone waiting by the door to greet an unknown future.

“I’m sorry,” he offered, genuinely this time, and placed a hand on your shoulder.

For a moment that you would reject him. He was certain you considered doing just that, but when you didn’t move or knock away his touch, a strange sense of relief filled him.

You sighed.

"When you've gotten settled, come down for dinner.” It was an order, he realized, not a request.

"Of course." An amused smile tugged at his cheeks.

"Where did you go?" You asked, lingering by the door as he set down his bag. He wasn’t dressed for business in his drab gray jacket and worn shoes.

“I visited an auction house out east."

“An auction house?” You tilted your head and assessed his clothing again. “To bid?”

“Not exactly."

Not at all, really.

He tracked down information about an auction where fanatics were gathered to bid on HYDRA paraphernalia. He hoped to find the book that once belonged to the Winter Soldier's handler, but it wasn't didn’t exist amongst the garbage he found there.

The trip hadn't been a complete waste, however. He managed to rid the world of a few dozen agents and others who would support their cause—but he wouldn’t tell you that.

"What I hoped to find wasn't there.” He settled on saying.

“It took you weeks to do that?”

“I needed to visit Berlin as well. My family collected many cars over the generations. I’ll take you to see them one day if you like.”

Helmut had no plans to get you involved in his plan to end the Avengers,  he couldn't. But he remained true to his word and joined you for dinner that night.

He helped you set the table and you ate paprikash (which, he assumed, you made for his benefit more than your own.)

"Ozenik suggested I make it," you explained. "It was never my favorite but it was fun to make."

"You did a good job."

"Thanks...I thought was time to try something new."

He agreed.

You ate dinner together the next night too, and the next, and the next night after that.

Helmut grew to enjoy the time you spent together—it was a pleasant change of pace.

Even so, he had his ‘business’ to attend to. He would still have to leave.

Sometimes he would go for hours, sometimes he’d be gone for days, and sometimes entire weeks would go by and Helmut wouldn't call or even text you.

And you were frustrated.

Once he returned home to find you painting angry red lines across what might have been an abstract swirl of blue and gray.

One evening discovered you rearranged the dining room completely.

Then one day, during dinner, you attempted to bridge the gap between you once again.

"I received a message last night," You began, "a reminder that I purchased tickets to see a play last year.” It was summer, but the season had been unusually rainy, confining you inside for most of the week. “I’d have to travel to see it but it might be fun. Would you like to see it with me?”

"I'll be gone again soon," Helmut told you. “My apologies.”

You frowned.

"I haven't even told you the date. How do you know you’ll be busy?"

"I have plenty of work to keep me busy through the end of the year." His reply hung in the air for what felt like an eternity. He didn’t even bother to look up as he continued. "If you need to travel, I'll speak with Oeznik about arranging that for you."

You looked down at your plate, sighed, and set down your utensils.

"It's fine." You told him, but it wasn't. You were angry at his rejection, at his nonchalance.

"You know...you don't need to force yourself to be here with me, Helmut." You stared directly across the table at him, meeting his gaze. "We don't have to stay together if you don't want to. I have my benefits from the veterans association now so...if there's somewhere else you'd rather be-"

"There isn't." Helmut looked at you, his eyes dark piercing. "How could you think that?"

“How could I not when I never know if you're going off to the market or leaving for weeks?” A dangerous edge crept into your voice and you didn’t bother to amend it. “What sort of 'business' are you conducting? You won't even tell me."

"You don't need to worry," he tried to assure you, but his weak appeal only seemed to make you angrier.

And that anger, your anger,  frustrated him to no end.

Who were you to question what he did with his time?

Heike always understood when he was gone for longer than expected. When he returned, she greeted him with joy and relief, not accusation and scorn.

But you...he didn't know what he expected from you.

You weren’t his wife, you weren’t involved romantically. You weren't even friends, not really.

So really, what tethered him to this place?

What he planned to do was dangerous; he might not even survive. He fulfilled his promise to see after your well-being, did everything he said he'd do, and yet...and yet…

You sighed, huffed really, and gathered your plates quickly.

“I’m trying, I’m really trying but I’m tired, Helmut,” you told him. “You go and move us to this...this ritzy tourist city and what am I supposed to do? Find friends with similar life experiences? I can’t even sleep through the night and you...you just...” You take a breath as you turn away, leaving with your half-eaten plate.

“I don't... I don't fit in here.” You confess resignation carried in your voice. “I don’t think you understand that and I don’t think we’re good for each other either. ” You decided. “We’re too different. I appreciate you trying to help me, I do, but… but maybe I should leave.”

***

Thanks for reading! You’ve come so far and soon you will be rewarded. Next chapter we’ll see the steps Helmut took to amend your relationship. And in the present timeline, we get to see something super cute (something that involves hand-holding, perhaps?)

Feedback is very much appreciated. Please tell me what you think!

Tag list: 

@actuallyanita

@fillechatoyante

@viviace 

@buckyandlokicanhaveme

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[skgway]

1823 Aug., Wed. 20

8

11 1/2

Soon began on the erotics last night. Her warm, then [e]ncouraging. I said this was not like keeping our promise. She answered, ‘no’ and reached a towel to put under us to keep the bed clean on account of her cousin. I had retired too early for her. ‘Am I too soon for you?’ ‘Yes, rather,’ said she, and I resumed, determined she should have a sufficiently good kiss before I had had one. She said she had and we fell asleep. 

Both awoke at five in the morning and talked till seven. Asked if this was not better than my sleeping in Micklegate. ‘Yes,’ but it was prudence # on her part. She had a feeling she could not describe. Would make any sacrifice rather than have our connection suspected. She seemed very affectionate and fond of me. Said I was her only comfort, she should be miserable without me. 

Lou has got rather out of ∂ [Charles]’s good books she – Lou never got up to breakfast living with her uncle has given her very independent notions – He waited for her – Consulted her in everything – She told C– [Charles] one morning, she got up at the hour that suited her convenience – ∂ [Charles Lawton] has therefore been sadly out of his best humour this summer and π [Mariana] sadly fidgetted –

Told M– [Mariana] that she did not understand one 1/2 my letters, and misunderstood the other – That my aunt said (speaking of the regard between us), it was “much more on one side than the other���, – On my side then hers – Miss Pattison had blushed up to the sears, and told her at Manchester that ∂ [Charles Lawton] complained of her being cold and she wished she would try to be warmer when she returned. π [Mariana] said she and ∂ [Charles Lawton] very well knew the reason of that that she could not seem warm if she did not feel so. 

π [Mariana] once sat next Miss Pattison’s uncle at dinner there and he said of her she looked like one who could love. I agreed, then reverting to ourselves, ‘this is adultery to all intents and purposes.’ ‘No, no,’ said she. ‘Oh yes, π [Mariana]. No casuistry can disguise it.’ ‘Not this then, but the other.’ ‘Well,’ said I, choosing to let the thing turn her own way. ‘I always considered your marriage legal prostitution. We were both wrong. You to do and I to consent to it. And when I think of blaming others, I always remember nothing can at all excuse us but our prior connection.’ 

I did not pursue the subject, nor did π [Mariana] seem to think much of it. The fear of discovery is strong. It rather increases I think. But her conscience seems seared, so long as concealment is secure. She said yesterday of Harriet, if she had never liked Milne I could have made more excuse for her. Thought I to myself, if none but those who were without sin threw the first stone.

Harriet, like the woman taken in adultery, might escape – Told her she needed not fear my conduct letting out our secret. I could deceive anyone. Then told her how completely I had duped Miss Pickford # and that the success of such deep deceit almost smote me, but I had done it all for her, π [Mariana]’s, sake. ‘Why should it smite you? ‘It is deceit that does no one any harm.’ 

I made no reply, but mused how sophistry might reign within the breast where none suspected it. How might not this argument best retched from one deceit to another. Mary, you have passion like the rest, but your caution cheats the world out of it. Scandal and your courage is weak, rather than your principal strong. Yet is it I who write this. 

She’s true to me, yes, but she has not that magnanimity of truth that satisfies a haughty spirit like mine. She is too tamely, worldly, and worldliness is her strength and weakness her foible and her virtue. She loves me, I do believe her, as well as she is capable of loving. Yet her marriage was worldly, her whole conduct is worldly to the farthest verge that craven love can bear. 

How often has it struck me that years ago when once talking to Lou about this marriage and the powerful circumstances that almost compelled it. ‘Well,’ said she, ‘you do not know π [Mariana]. She is worldly and the match was worldly altogether.’ This did indeed strike me at the time but it never struck me as it does at this moment – (Thursday 21 August 3 55/60 p.m. 1823) – 

It now opens upon me as the key of all that all I have never yet been able to comprehend in her character. I have doubted her love, I have doubted her sincerity. How often with an almost bursting heart have I laid aside my papers and my musings because I dared not pursue inconsistencies I could not unravel. I could not deem the dial true, I would not deem it false. The time the manner of her marriage to sink January 1815 in oblivion. Oh how it broke the magic of my faith forever. How, spite of love, it burst the spell that bound my very reason suppliant at her feet. I loathed consent but loathed the easing more. I would have given the yes she sought, tho it had rent my heart into a hundred thousand shivers. It was enough to ask –

It was a coward love that dared not brave the storm; and, in desperate despair, my proud, indignant spirit watched it sculk away – How few the higher feelings we then could have in common! The chivalry of heart was gone – Hope’s brightest hues were brushed away – Yet still one melancholy point of union remained – She was unhappy. So was I –

Love scorned to leave the ruin desolate; and time she has shaded it so sweetly, my heart still lingers in its old abiding place, thoughtless of its broken bowers, save when some sudden guest blows thro’, and scrunching memory is disturbed – But oh! no more “the heart knoweth its own bitterness,” and it is enough – “Je sens mon coeur, et je connais les hommes. Je ne suis fait comme aucun de ceux que j’ai vus; j’ose croire n'être fait comme aucun de ceux qui existent.” Rousseau's Confessions volume and page first.

She loves me. Tho it is neither exactly as I wished, nor as I too fondly persuaded myself. ‘Ere years had taught me to weigh human nature in the balance or unlock the loveliest of bosoms with the key of worldliness. Yes, she loves me. My own feelings shall descend to hers. They have done so in part. How I could have adored her had she been more of that angelic being my fancy formed her. No thought, no word, no look, had wandered then. Surely my every sentiment towards her had had less of earth in it than heaven –

How like “the visions of romantic youth”! I know she might have realized then – Je sens mon coeur – But no more – No more – I seem unable to return to the dry detail of a journal –

At seven an hour before getting up asked her to get out of bed and wash. We both did so. Then got into bed again and had a long quiet good kiss and then a comfortable nap. Got up at eight. I laughed and said we must really both of us get well as soon as we could. We owned she thought I was worse than she was, and said jokingly ‘do you forgive me for it?’ ‘Of course.’ I set her at ease on this point, but yet the characteristic difference between us always strikes me. I am sure I should even shew twice as much as she really feels –

Went downstairs at 8 1/2 – Breakfasted etc. etc. Sat next Mrs Milne. Had been very properly attentive to her. Asked π [Mariana] if she was satisfied etc. etc. Said I would act as she liked but I could not decidedly change my manners to Mrs. M[ilne] unless my real acquaintance with her conduct might be acknowledged. She has been foolish again in corresponding with her cousin, Mr. Dannett. This was the thing Eli [Eliza Belcombe] alluded to when I was last in York –

Took leave, and off from the B– [Belcombe]’s (Dr. B– [Belcombe] had had rather a restless night but was nevertheless no worse). As the minster clock struck 10 found the horses to the mail at the Tavern door, to start at 10 1/4 instead of 10 3/f as I supposed – Asked the coachman to wait a minute or 2, and hurried into Micklegate – Only just time to wish then good by, and say I should be passing thro’ again in a fortnight or 3 weeks to spend a fortnight with M– [Mariana] at Scarbro’ –

Did not see Mrs. Duffin this morning – Miss M– [Marsh] whispered last night, she had had a paralytic affectation about a fortnight ago, and had been almost gone – I perceived no difference in her as I saw her sitting round the table last night – She did not attempt to move, but this being unnecessary, did not strike me – 

Got into the new mail, and drove off from the D– [Duffin]’s door at 10 1/2 – Only 1 gentleman besides myself – Beyond Tadcaster took up a nice decent elderly woman – I never uttered all the way – Wrapt in musing – Thought of π [Mariana] and the three steps business, then about my manners and appearance. Building castles about their improvement, elegance, engagingness, etc. etc. The good society I hope to get into, etc., etc. 

Thought of consulting Mr. Simmons, the surgeon. George Streetman, Chester. π [Mariana] consulted him. He feared some uterary of or belonging to the womb. Determine yet might judge from the effect of Scarbro whether Steph was right in supposing it merely weakness. He had treated her judiciously. She ought to be examined, but would not submit –

At Leeds at 1 – Got out for 1/4 hour and off again (from the Rose & Crown) at 1 20/60 – Beautiful day till we got to the New Dolphin Clayton heights, and from there to the Pine-apple

H–x [Halifax], a smartish, sunshiny shower – Got out at the Pine apple at 3 40/60 – Fair and fine immediately –

Got home at 4 – Went into the stable for a moment – Caradoc had gone on well – Then went into the house, and sat talking to my uncle and aunt till 5 40/60 – Then dressed for dinner – My father and Marian called in the evening, and staid till after 8 – I was absolutely asleep almost all the time –

Came up to bed at 9, at which hour Barometer 1 1/2 degree below changeable Fahrenheit 60º – Put by my things – Read the 1st 13 pages volume 1 Rousseau Confessions –

A bowel complaint. Dawdling to stick the pot up the chimney to prevent smell. Could not manage it. All this hindered and kept me up. E [three dots, times treating venereal complaint] O [three dots, signifying much discharge] A great deal on my linen. Saw it when I washed thoroughly before dinner, first with water then alum lotion –

[in margin] 

#Tuesday morning 26 August 1823 This is very well in its way, but she has more of it than love –

# Did not give the slightest hint of P[ickford]’s real character, nor does π [Mariana] at all suspect the truth. I merely said she was the most learned woman I knew and had therefore more penetration than the world in general – π [Mariana] thought she should feel under restraint before her –

[neerasrealm]

Oh no your story is to good now I want a pt 3 laughing jack x reader (;_;) Is it ok to ask for more? If not, why not a Slen x LJ secreat relationship? since I saw you made a post about it

I’m glad you liked the story so much! Unfortunately at the time I couldn’t think of anything for a part 3, but I COULD think of plenty of stuff for a secret relationship au so...here you go. consider this a part one of a series that I’ll work on when y’all give me the time

also a couple things I wanna clarify; one, this takes place in the late 1800s - early 1900s, and two, LJ is a fallen angel in this story, but in my regular hcs he’s a regular angel- just- didn’t want people to think that shfgsha.

Slender awoke feeling groggy and stiff. His head ached and there was a rotten taste in his mouth. He groaned gently and blinked in the morning light streaming in through the window. He slowly looked around. He was in an unfamiliar room, with pastel orange walls that were covered in sheets of paper that had crude pencil and crayon drawings all over them. There were toys scattered around haphazardly along with balloons and paper garlands. The room looked...childish. But the furniture was ornate, and fit the room like it had always been there.

However, Slender’s attention wasn’t on the room for long, because he quickly realised he wasn’t alone in the unfamiliar bed. His arms were wrapped around someone big and soft. Their body was thick, and their arms were wound tightly around his own thin, frail body. Slender couldn’t see their face, but it was definitely pressed into his chest. He couldn’t see much of them below wispy black hair, but it was certainly enough for Slender to tell two things. One, they were a stranger, and two, however he had gotten here had involved something removing his suit jacket and unbuttoning his shirt, followed by the two of them curled up together in bed, hugging each other tight.

Panic set into Slender quicker than you could say ‘’good morning’’. As Slender lay there trying not to hyperventilate his mind raced and scrambled to remember anything leading up to him getting here. The night before- what had happened? He remembered yesterday clearly enough. His father had spent the whole day pestering him about his future wedding, which meant Slender hadn’t a single moment to rest and relax. So after dinner, he snuck out and down to earth. He soon found himself in France, and later, a bar. And that’s when things got blurry.

Oh his family was going to be so angry-! He was supposed to be the responsible one! He never broke any rules, he didn’t just- get drunk! He didn’t run off in the night and end up shirtless in beds with people he didn’t know! He was enga- well technically he wasn’t, the marriage wasn’t properly arranged yet, but still! This wasn’t him! Oh he was going to be in so much trouble…

As he was trying to figure out how to get out of this situation without having a panic attack, the person on top of him shifted. He froze, his blood running cold. ‘’Please don’t wake up please don’t wake up please do-’’

‘’Mmmnnghh…’’ the person shifted, their arms uncurling from around him. One of their hands instead lay atop Slender’s bare- er- breast, and leaned against it for support as they sat up. Slender’s face flushed an extremely dark grey. The person shook their head, messy black hair falling around their face, obscuring it. Slender could see them better now. Their sleeves were striped black and white, and they wore a short grey shirt. One of their shoulders had a feathered shoulder pad on it. The second one for their other shoulder was probably on the bedroom floor somewhere, along with Slender’s jacket. ‘’Ungh.’’ they grunted. Slender stayed still as he could just waiting for the moment the other person realised their situation. It was definitely far worse for them than it was for him. Slender only had to worry about his family being angry at him. This person had to wake up in bed with a faceless monster. ‘’H-hah?’’ yep. They had definitely realised. That noise of confusion was all the confirmation Slender needed.

They slowly looked up, their eyes trailing up Slender’s thin, white body. Their head raised and stared at Slender in shock and confusion. Their face was white, just like him- but they had a face- and a pretty one at that. They had thin, black brows, and lips that were covered in smudged black lipstick. Their nose was- shaped- like a cone and it was striped just like their sleeves. Black and white. But their eyes...oh gods their eyes. They were big and round, and the colour of ice. Their eyes were bright and innocent looking in their haze of confusion. Slender blushed harder. Great, he was in bed with someone attractive.

"...w-who th' fock are ye?" The very attractive stranger asked. Slender's brows raised in surprise. Their voice was deep and gravelly, and they had the thickest accent he had ever heard. 

"I-" Slender's brain was completely fried. Whether it was from panic, the hangover or total fear induced by this attractive stranger with an intimidating voice, he wasn't sure. "My- My name is Slender." He finally stammered out. "I-I'm so sorry about all of this I don't usually-" he was cut off by the other person shifting and instead sitting on top of Slender, effectively straddling him. Oh. Oh he didn't like this position at all.

"I'm Jack," the attractive stranger grunted, rubbing at his head with a bandaged black hand. "Ow'd we ge' 'ere…?"

"I um- I'm not sure…" Slender murmured. Jack...he remembered that name. "We- met at a bar last night, I think I recall you sitting next to me. I- don't remember much besides that I'm afraid…" Slender looked Jack over now that he could see him better. His hands were bony and black, wrapped in bandages. His torso was also wrapped up for some odd, unknown reason. He wore a short grey shirt that really only covered his chest, suspenders that were striped various shades of black, white and grey, and shorts. Shorts! His pants were still on thank the gods! "Is er- is this...your room…?"

"Yeh, yeh tis." Jack nodded as he squinted at the window. He reached over and pulled the curtains shut, muttering something about how it was too early to be awake. He looked back at Slender. "So we me' a' a pub?"

"Yes." Slender nodded. He paused before asking the next question. "Why...why aren't you um- f-freaking out?" He tilted his head. "You do realize I'm...not human…?"

"Tha' wuz g'nna be me next quest'on." Jack looked up at him. "Ye're bluddy 'orrifyin' bu' I didn' wanna say anyfin'. Tha'd be rude."

Oh. How polite. Slender coughed, clearing his throat. "I- well it's a little...difficult, to explain, but erm-" he hesitated. "I'm a- well I'm a fae- well partially, I'm fae on one side and then my father is of angelic nature so-"

"Ye're an angel?!" Jack cut in. Slender recoiled in surprise and gave a meek nod. Jack grinned. "I am too! Fockin' 'ell, after Jill I though' I wouldn' find another 'ne, bu' 'ere ye are!" He looked thrilled now, seemingly forgetting all the negatives of the situation.

"...no you aren't." Slender looked Jack over. Looking at him now, it was easy to see he wasn't actually human. His proportions were too off for that. He certainly had the makings of an angel, the eyes of one and the friendly tone of voice, but there was too much throwing it off. His black and white colour scheme, his bony black hands that were tipped with claws, and his teeth...looking at them now, they were sharp. Dangerous. "I think it's more accurate to say you're a fal-"

"I'm no' fallen!" Jack interrupted him. His friendly demeanor was gone now, replaced with an angry glare. "Sure I've lost me colours an' I'm no' th' 'oliest bloke around, bu' yes're 'ardly perfect yerselves, now are ya?" He snapped. Slender recoiled defensively. "I'm an angel. Always wuz an' always will be."

"Okay, okay." Slender replied quickly. He didn't want to get on Jack's bad side. Fallen angels were known for three things. Their lack of colours, their cunning intelligence, and their anger. Thinking about it now…could it be that Jack had known he was an angel last night…? Had he sensed it and targeted him?

"Well er-" Jack broke him out of his thoughts. He had seemingly calmed down a bit. Slender looked at him. "Can I offer ye breakfas'?"

"I- well I don't think I should, I should really...get home…" Slender glanced aside. Home...god his family was going to kill him.

"Ah c'mon, i's still early!" Jack reached down and grabbed Slender's hand. "c'mon, ye're in Paris! Nobody does breakfas' like th' french!" 

Before Slender could protest, Jack hopped off the bed and tugged his new faceless friend up off of it. He grinned. His free arm stretched out, grabbing Slender's jacket from where it had been dropped on the floor. Slender watched the clown's arm in fascination. It could extend and curl as if he had no bones at all. 

"Ere ye go!" Jack handed Slender his jacket, then grabbed his own missing clothes from the floor. "Th' bathroom's across th' 'all. I recommen' cleanin' yerself up." He added before shrugging on his shoulder pad and cheerfully striding out of the room with his shoes under his arm. 

Slender sighed and fixed his clothes, buttoning up his shirt and slipping on his jacket. He left the room and found himself in a cherry red hall. The walls were again decorated with well- anything. Mostly paintings. He opened the door across from him and found it led to a bright blue bathroom. Jack was certainly fond of his colourful walls. It was a cramped room, decorated with a nautical theme. Toward the back of the room was a bath with a shower head. Slender squinted for a moment. The bath had an absurd amount of children's toys in it, and on the shelf in the corner he could see a bottle of...fabric softener. No soap just fabric softener. Did Jack wash himself with fabric softener???

This entire place was messy and unkempt. Did Jack ever clean? At least it meant one thing. Jack most certainly wasn't Slender's type, and this whole thing wouldn't go further than one drunken night and a hungover breakfast. He turned his attention from the decor, to the mirror.

Oh. Oh lord. His face and what he could see of his neck was covered in smudged black lipstick. The same smudged black lipstick that had been on Jack earlier. His face flushed such a dark colour it was practically black. 

"There y'are! I almos' bluddy fell asleep 'ere!" Jack exclaimed as Slender, now lipstick-free, walked into the pink living room. Slender frowned, looking Jack over.

"You're...wearing the same clothes?"

"Yeh." Jack looked down at himself. "Somefink wrong wiv em?"

"Well I thought you'd- I don't know, change? Don't they smell bad?"

Jack shrugged. "They smell like me, an' I don' swea' so…" he looked aside. "I changed me shoes though!" He stuck out his leg to show Slender the long black boots he was wearing. They had pointed toes, raised heels and showed off how slim and long Jack's legs were. Slender blushed. 

"...I see."

Jack stood up off the couch and looked at Slender, swinging his arms and smiling. "Ya ready?"

Slender sighed. ‘’I suppose…’’

While Jack had his back turned, Slender shifted into his human form, then followed after him. Jack paused, looking him over once he realised Slender had changed. His human form was tall, and extremely pale, with blonde, nearly white hair. He looked up at Jack with small, brown eyes. Jack blinked.

‘’...Slen?’’

‘’Yes?’’

‘’...ye changed.’’

Slender looked unamused. ‘’It’s called blending in. We’re among humans?’’

‘’Oh. Righ’.’’ Jack looked at him, then closed the door to his apartment, not bothering to lock it. He walked past Slender and down the stairs. ‘’Ye comin’?’’

Slender followed after him, frowning. ‘’What about your disguise?’’

‘’Don’t ‘ave one.’’ 

‘’You don’t?’’

‘’Nah. I can’t do any ‘f tha’ shapeshiftin’ stuff,’’ he shrugged. ‘’I jus’ tell every’ne I’m a mime an’ they believe me.’’

Slender nodded slowly. Huh. That was...surprisingly smart. The two of them stepped out of the building and Slender looked around. The area around them was run down, dirty, a slum. Slender looked around. ‘’You live here…?’’

‘’Yep.’’ Jack walked along, not a worry in the world. ‘’Livin’ is cheap over ‘ere.’’

‘’You left your front door open- in an area like this?’’ Slender tilted his head. Jack shrugged.

‘’If some’ne needs somewhere warm ta stay they can jus’ slip in, an’ i’s no’ like I ‘ave anyfink worth stealin’. Nofink I can’t jus’ replace a’ least.’’

‘’That’s…’’ Slender blinked. ‘’That’s...really kind…’’ 

Jack smiled a bit and glanced at him. ‘’Eh, I’s th’ least I can do.’’ he murmured. ‘’Lo’a folks are ou’ on their own, ‘ungry an’ cold. If I can give ‘em somewhere safe ta stay fer a li’le bi’, I’m ‘appy ta do i’.’’

As they walked, Slender listened with interest as Jack shared his stories of guests he’d had in his small apartment and friends he’d made from just calmly talking with those that often went ignored. It was fascinating to Slender, how Jack seemed to just emit an air of relaxation and cheer. How someone could just- start a conversation with a stranger, how he could consider so many people his friends and how he just gave them all he had merely because he felt it was more important they had it than him. There was something about Jack that Slender just...couldn’t explain. Something drew him in and made him feel...different, from how he felt at home. Being with Jack was unlike anything else he knew.

‘’Ere we are, china pla’e!’’ Jack exclaimed, running ahead of Slender. He hopped into the air and landed on the base of a streetlamp, hanging onto it with one hand as he leaned off of it. He laughed as Slender ran to catch up to him. He stood up and turned around, looking behind him. ‘’See tha’?’’

Slender looked up. In front of them was a busier, more built up street, bordering a massive canal. Up in the distance, Slender could see the Eiffel Tower, looming over everything. Jack turned and grinned down at him.

‘’I know th’ bes’ bluddy place by th’ river, ye’re g’nna love i’.’’ he hopped back down onto the ground and started walking again. "C'mon!"

Slender followed Jack to a small bakery on a street corner. Though it looked small, and not that wealthy, the smell coming from it was heavenly. He paused for a moment, admiring how quaint the little place was, before following Jack inside.

"Bonjour madame! Comment ça va?" Jack greeted the owner in a very bad french accent. She did not look pleased to see him.

"Bonjour Jack. Petit dejeuner?" She asked tiredly. Jack nodded.

"Oui, merci." Jack turned and smiled at Slender. "I come 'ere all th' time. Real good place."

"Mmm," Slender looked around. "Your french is terrible."

"Oi!" Jack glared down at him. "Rude!"

"I'm just saying."

"Well- I'd like ta see you do be'er! Ye 'aven't spoken a lick 'f french since ye woke up!"

Slender gave him an unamused look, then turned to the owner. "Madame," she turned to look at him.  "Je voudrais dire que c'est un endroit charmant et que votre nourriture sent délicieuse."

The owner blinked in surprise, then smiled. "Merci monseuir!" She chirped. "Puis-je vous offrir quelque chose?"

"Non, non. Jack est paie pour moi." Slender shook his head. He looked up at Jack and smiled smugly. "How was that?"

"...Oh fock off ye cheeky codger."

Slender snorted, then broke into a fit of laughter. He had no idea why that was so funny to him, but when he heard Jack chuckling along beside him, it made him grin even wider.

"Monsieur, ton petit dejeuner." The two of them were interrupted by the owner putting a small white box and two coffees onto the counter. Jack grinned and took them, handing the owner some francs before turning and walking toward the door.

"C'mon, Slen."

Slender smiled and followed after Jack. He tilted his head. "Aren't angels supposed to be good at languages?" He asked with a sly smile.

"I am good a' languages! I's jus' speakin' em tha's 'ard." Jack replied defensively.

"Ah. So that's why your english is so bad too."

"Oi!" Jack turned and glared at him. "I'm a born and bred englishmun, excuse you!"

Slender laughed. "Sorry, sorry." He murmured. The two of them crossed the street and walked along the canal. Jack led him to a bench and the two of them sat down. The morning sun was warm. Bright and welcoming. Jack set the box between the two of them and sipped his coffee. Slender looked out at the large river in front of them. "Wow…" he murmured. "...it's beautiful."

"It is, innit?" Jack smiled. "I luv ea'in' 'ere. I's so peaceful." He opened the box and revealed it was full of pastries. Croissants, pain au chocolats, madalines, eclairs and more. Slender stared in surprise. The smell coming from the small box was heavenly. His stomach growled. 

"Go on, ea' up. Ye're a stick." Jack said through a mouthful of croissant. Slender smiled a bit and daintily grabbed a pain au chocolat, taking a small bite. The taste was heavenly and sweet. He hummed happily. Jack watched him and smiled, pleased. "Been a while since I a'e wiv some'ne." He murmured. He looked back at the river. "Much less some'ne I'm after sleepin' wiv."

Slender coughed loudly, choking on his breakfast. Jack reached over and lightly smacked his back. Slender coughed and looked over at Jack, blushing a dark red. Jack tilted his head.

"Ye okay…?"

"Y-Yes just-" Slender glanced away. "I...almost forgot about how we met."

Jack laughed. "Almost?! I can't remember a single fing from last night!" He exclaimed. "Well- act'ally…" he paused for a second. "I do remember one fing."

"Hm?" Slender looked at him.

"Ye're a bluddy good kisser."

Slender made a feeble squeaking noise and quickly looked away. Jack laughed quietly at how hard he was blushing. The hand that had been patting Slender's back reached over and squeezed his shoulder. ‘’Eh, relax china pla’e…’’ Jack tilted his head and cocked a brow, smiling.

‘’Don’t get the wrong idea,’’ Slender muttered. ‘’I’m- not available.’’

Jack retracted his hand and looked at Slender in surprise. ‘’Ye- ye’re da’in’ some’ne?’’

‘’Well- no not- not exactly.’’ Slender fidgeted nervously. ‘’I’m- supposed to get married soon. My parents want me to. They’re going to...arrange it. I’m not technically engaged yet.’’

‘’Ohhh….’’ Jack nodded in understanding. ‘’So- ye are available.’’

Slender looked at Jack, blinking in surprise. Did- did he really just- Slender looked away quickly to hide his blush. ‘’Technically yes b-but-’’ he gulped. ‘’This- this is a once off! We hardly know each other.’’

‘’Then…’ow abou’ we ge’ ta know each o’her.’’ Jack scooted closer and rested his hand on Slender’s. He gave him a friendly smile. ‘’No kissin’, no da’in’, jus’ us bein’ buds.’’

Slender paused. ‘’...buds?’’

Jack nodded. ‘’Yeh! Me an’ you. Pals.’’

Slender paused for a moment. Jack’s smile widened. His eyes were big, kind, welcoming. They were innocent, friendly. Like all he wanted from Slender was just his company. He glanced away before he could get sucked into them. 

‘’Well I...suppose a quick walk to the Eiffel Tower after breakfast wouldn’t hurt.’’

[your-fav-my-chem-imagines]

gerard x f!reader || midnight visit

Imagine, your very close friend Gerard Way visits you in the middle of the night - cold, lonely, maybe a little drunk?? Song recommendations: The Sharpest Lives, Sleep, I Don't Love You, This Is How I Disappear Word count: 1,205 TWs: SAD GERARD AHEAD, Self harm, lots of blood and lots of crying.

Clink, clink, clink, clink.

CLINK CLINK.

You're startled awake from a noise coming outside of your bedroom window. Either someone is trying to break in (why on the second floor???) or you're hearing things. You slide your phone over towards you to check the time. It's 2:36 in the morning. Why the absolute FUCK would someone be doing this at this time??

There's another loud clink.

You grumble and take all your blankets off of you and pull your blinds up.

There's a blurry silhouette of someone outside of the window, backlit from the street lamps behind them - they wave??? You have no idea what the fuck is going on and you're absolutely too goddamn tired for this. Stumbling over to the light switch, you swiftly flick it up. Going back over to the window, the person is much more identifiable. Although you have no idea how he got up here - and is STILL up here, there's almost no foot room out there. You struggle to open your shitty window but you get there eventually. Yup, it's him. The man who has NO goddamn boundaries obviously. Mister Gerard Way.

"Jesus Christ, what took you so long?" he says, shooting you a grin. "Was starting to get cold feet, quite literally." You sigh as the ink haired man climbs into your bedroom through the open window, a cold draft flowing through your room now.

"So, care to explain why you're knocking on my bedroom window - which keep in mind, is on the second fucking floor - in the middle of the night?" Your tone of voice is clearly agitated as you cock an eyebrow, looking him dead in the eye. His eyes are red and puffy, yet somehow sunken in at the same time. They're dull. Empty. Tired.

He shifts uncomfortably, looking away. "..Shit, dude, you really put me on the spot here." "Answer honestly, Gee." His voice is offputtingly monotone. He hesitates, but smiles sadly at you, finally making eye contact. "I don't.. feel comfortable being alone right now," he pauses, his voice wavering slightly. You can hear his breaths become shaky. "...and you're the only person I can really trust to hang out with me at this time, y'know?"

Shit, was not expecting that. There's an awkward silence between the two of you as you ponder what to reply with. Gerard fiddles with his sleeves, tugging them down every single time he moves or fidgets. "Fuck, alright, okay, I'm definitely not going to be able to sleep now, so.. what do you wanna do till morning?" You finally speak up, rubbing your eyes as they're still foggy.

"Ah, well.. Maybe we could play video games or watch some shitty tv shows?" He says, still struggling to make eye contact with you, as he fidgets with his hands nervously. "But first, mind telling me where your bathroom is? I really need to take a piss." Gerard grins as your face scrunches up. He's so descriptive, isn't he? "God, it's the second door down the hall." He nods, giving you a slight smile as a silent 'thank you', hopping off your bed to find the bathroom. You hope he's okay. (he's not. trust me.)

------ POV CHANGE .. Gerard's PoV ((SELF HARM WARNING!!! pls pls be careful here!!!)) ------

Fuck. Shit. Dammit, that's not the bathroom. I don't even remember what she said, why wasn't I listening? I open one of the doors, FINALLY finding the bathroom. Shit, okay. Have to be stealthy about this. Don't get blood anywhere. Don't- Wait, should I really be doing this? Here? (Y/N) would admittedly fucking destroy me, and not in a good way. My hands are shaking. My chest hurts, it feels like I can't breathe. God, I really didn't wanna cry here. I manage to (somehow) raid the cupboards for.. that. Thing, that thing I need. I found it. I roll up my sleeves. Scars, fresh and old, cover my arms. All she had was a package of shitty dollar store razors, but.. I'll use what I can get. My hand won't stop shaking.

"Answer honestly, Gee." "Gee."

..I put the razor to my arm, somewhere that hasn't already been sliced open. (recently, at least.)

And I..

..there's blood running down my arm now. At this point, there's a pool of tears mixed with my fresh blood. How truly, fucking pathetic am I?

"Gee? You doing alr-" FUCK. The door the door the door the door the door-

-- POV CHANGE .. Third Person (limited) PoV --

'It's been a while. Is he doing alright?', you begin to wonder. Is he sick or something? Maybe you should check up on him - wouldn't hurt, right?

You walk over to the bathroom door, putting your ear up to it and knocking on it lightly. "Gee? You doing alright in there?" Shuffling and the closing of cupboard doors is heard from the other side. The door becomes locked- did he forget to lock it? Who forgets to lock the bathroom door? You can hear him breathing erratically and franticly, mumbling things you can't make out under his breath.

"Gerard. What the fuck are you doing?" It stops. The noise stops. He stops. There's only.. one noise now. It's worse than the others, it's worse than any other noise you've heard. He's sobbing.

"Gee.. Can I come in?" It stops for a moment, only hiccups are heard. The door unlocks. You open the door, to be met with a frazzled Gerard sitting on the toilet, sobbing silently with his hands through his hair. The bathroom is a mess - looks like he didn't do that great of a job cleaning up after himself (you were kinda sudden though.) God, he looks up at you, smiling. Fucking smiling. You feel... pity. He's pitiful, he's.. broken. You always knew Gerard was kinda kooky, maybe a little fucked up but.. Guess you two weren't that close after all. There's blood on his face, all over his arms. He's just looking at you, neither of you can talk. You're shocked, he's heartbroken. Finally, the sobbing (and or laughing noise) coming from Gee is cut off by a loud SNIFF. "So. Should we.. talk about this sh-shit or what?" His voice is still wavering, hiccuping through his sentences. He looks as if he could break out in tears at any moment. "Yeah, I think that'd be smart," You reply, walking over to him and somehow sitting next to him on the edge of the toilet. "..Can I?" You gesture to his arms. He lets out a shaky sigh and flips them over, wrist side up, hands shaking.

That's a lot more than you were expecting. There are lots of scars, but the most disturbing part is the fresh ones are still gushing out blood. "Gerard..." You start, but you're cut off by his breath hitching as he starts crying again, laughing through his tears.

"F-Fuck, god I'm sor-sorry, (Y-Y/N)," He says, struggling to get through his sobs. "I ne-never meant for this t-to happen. I.." You just shush him, rubbing his back to comfort him. "It's okay. I'm not going to lecture you, I just want you to know that I'm here for you okay?" He looks up at you with that same, sad smile from earlier, and those same eyes. But maybe, just maybe there's a little bit of hope in there.

"Thank you. (Y/N), I.. I love you so, f-fucking much," he replies, wiping his eyes and nose. You two just share a moment in silence. You loved him too, but he already knows that. "We'll get through this together, one step at a time."

--

((a/n: AHHHH my first story... i hope u liked it :3 IT MADE ME SAD READING IT SO II HOPE IT MAKES U SAD!!!! ty for reading ^^))

[sarasa-cat]

phdfan

replied to your post:

“Cannot decide if I am grumpy about the epic backlog of Adulting(tm)...”

:

Oh wow the latter just isn't me at all!

Keep in mind, just about everything I post on mbti is tagged with #mbti-nonsense because the system is a clusterfuck irregardless of anything interesting about the theory. The constructs are difficult to define and very difficult to measure in a simple questionnaire style test. Test validity? What test validity. ;)

(actual mbti-nonsense behind the cut)

As for how good of a representative I am of intj types who have made it to middle adulthood, well, idk. 

Something I have noticed among people who know me well in day to day life -- and by “know me well” what I really mean is that they correctly predict my motivations rather than process me and my life at face value -- is that if I decide to do something completely different for instance, with my career, the first question they ask is this:  So... whhhhhy are you doing X?

And what they really mean is “So, tell me, how does X fit into a much larger life plan that you’ve mapped out and only you can see?”

The reason I know this is what they really mean comes from how they respond to any answers I give them.

I sort of hate the “mastermind” moniker that one of those mbti people gave the type but, honestly, I think this is where it comes from and where it fits in. INTJs tend to treat all of life as a strategy game because they have very large goals to create/make/bring-into-existence THINGS (products or processes = T, especially Te) that do not currently exist (N), and their sense of purpose in life (Ni) is tied to and driven by this desire.

xNTJs, especially INTJs, do not truly have hobbies or passtimes. They have a collection of activities and interests that all work together toward orchestrating some larger long term goal where “long term” means thinking in time blocks of 3-10 years at a time with each time block builds or, more accurately, tetris’es together with other blocks. Something I have noticed among the xNTJs I have known is that, whenever possible, we outsource everything that isn’t a goal-directed use of our time. 

...

I was first introduced to mbti long before the online mbti fandom and, at that time, there weren’t poorly designed mbti quizzes on websites nor was there a weird internet-driven mystique around xNTJ types, INFJs, etc.

These days, I get the feeling that a lot of what people say ONLINE about the INTJ type is highly conflated with ISTJ, slightly conflated with INTP, and a bit mixed up with pretty much every INxx type, lol. lol. headdesk lol.

All that said, N+T, and, more specifically, Ni+Te appears to be very purpose driven. Morality and matters of social/societal significance (F territory) are ... flexible. Never the driving force as in the force that is literally DRIVING the person forward. Of the four NT types, INTJ has the “strongest” moral signal; ENTP has the “strongest” social/societal signal. But in both cases, “strongest” is only among the NT types. INTJ’s Fi is a hill compared to an FP’s Fi mountain. Same for ENTP’s Fe vs an FJ’s Fe.

And this is why ENTP’s Fe can come off trollish and INTJ’s Fi can come off as oh so conveniently self-serving (Fi as an excuse rather than a moral stance.

INTJs are pretty morally flexible because their extroverted Thinking is just so much stronger and pulling in the Exact Opposite Direction, so it speak (from a jungian standpoint).

I just reblooped a few posts that summarize Dario Nardi’s research findings on the types and how he has translated it back to the cognitive function model while still staying in line with Jungian theory.

Unlike a lot of stuff on the web (mbti fandom), I feel that Nardi’s succinct wording of the functions along with a completely different read -- his cogsci research -- gives a much better picture of the differences between Ne and Ni, and Ni and Si, while making Te, Ti, Fi, and Fe more clear.

(because, lolooololol Te is not not not not getting out a calendar and planning your day/week/month oh fuck no. and whenever someone in mbti fandom says this, they have no clue what Te is >_<).

Nardi Post One

Nardi Post Two

[fan-fantasies]

Strange? (Jonathan Byers)

A/N: This is part two to Artist. I really wanted to name it something different but I will leave a link for the first part if you haven’t read it yet. (If I continue with this it will just stay these name) I also enjoyed writing this part just cause I love Jonathan. Like Heather had stated we have started college classes, so we both will hopefully be keeping up with updates. I’ve been queuing things like crazy but, of course, that will only last so long. So we appreciate all of you hanging around and enjoying our stuff. Don’t forget! We love feedback so please leave some in our inbox or if you want to request go ahead. Makes it easier on us to write. Have a wonderful day! ~Breezy

Warnings?: Slight(very minor) spoilers of season 1,  this is long >< (yet there may be a part 3 >>)

Artist (part 1)

The day seemed to pass slowly, even though you were looking forward to meeting up with Jonathan, even if he was just bringing you home. That just gave you more of an opportunity to talk with him and get to know more about him. When the final bell rung you rushed to your locker to pick up all your things, your heart raced, why were you so nervous? Did you actually have a crush on Jonathan Byers? Was that an actual question you were asking yourself? 

You closed your locker and sighed heavily, maybe you had a tiny crush. You looked away from your locker and saw Jonathan walking down the hallway, he stopped beside you and smiled, 

“Ready to go?” he asked with a small smile, you nodded happily before following him out to his car. You both shared small talk as you walked towards his car and it continued while he drove. Your love for art seemed to peak Jonathan's interest and his love for photography peaked yours, it was funny how cliche this was. The two of you laughed at all the crazy things you talked about. You had never seen this side of him before, he was smiling, laughing, being social. This was something different for the both of you. 

The drive was shorter then you wished, you wished to talk more to him but you knew he had to get home, 

“We should hang out sometime,” you say with a small smile, “I would love to look at your photos,” you tell him, you could have sworn you had seen his cheeks turn pink, 

“Yeah, I would love to show you my photos,” he began, “That is if you would show me your sketches,” you giggled softly, 

“I think I can do that,” you went silent for a moment before looking at him, “Thank you for the ride Jonathan, I will see you tomorrow,” you say, he nodded, 

“If you want, I can pick you up and bring you to school,” he suggested, 

“I would love that.” 

The rest of the night you spent doing your homework and thinking of the day you had with Jonathan. Though you had only really spent a few hours together, it was great how fast you two became friends. The two of you may have been the quiet ones of the school, maybe fate wanted this? You shook the thought from your head. Fate, really? Was that what you had turned to? Fate? You laughed at yourself, really (Y/N)? You laid on your bed and sighed before you knew it you fell asleep. 

You woke up to your parent screaming at you to wake up, rolling over you groaned, 

“I’ll be down in a second,” you yell back before pulling yourself from bed. Dragging yourself across the room, you threw on a pair of clean clothes, brushed your hair before leaving your room with your bag slung over your shoulder. You ate your breakfast until you heard a car honk. That had to be Jonathan, you grabbed your bag before heading out the door but that wasn’t Jonathan's car... 

“(Y/F/N), what are you doing here?” you asked slightly confused as to why your friend was here,  

“I’ll tell you on the way, Jonathan told me to come pick you up,” you felt your heart sink, did something happen? Maybe your feelings were a bit too strong... You got into the passenger side of the car, you couldn’t help but think maybe Jonathan didn’t want to be friends, 

“(Y/N), I know what you’re thinking. Jonathan wanted to pick you up... I know he did,” he really hadn’t told them that, they had just assumed, “His brother went missing last night,” your eyes snapped up to them, 

“Will?” you question, you hadn’t met Jonathan's brother but in the short amount of time you talked he had spoken about him. It was clear the two siblings were close. 

“Yeah,” they began, “Jonathan wanted to stay home with his mom,” you felt relieved that Jonathan didn’t hate you but upset that his brother was missing,

“But why didn’t he tell me himself?” you question softly, your friend sighed, 

“I think he was nervous, yeah his brother went missing but he didn’t want to disappoint you,” they said glancing at you, there was silence after that. You thought for a moment, you weren’t mad at him, just upset that he didn’t tell you. You shook the thought from your head, now wasn’t the time to be thinking about that. Now was the time to be there for Jonathan. 

The two of you arrived at school, it was as if nothing had happened. Everyone went on with their life, but you remembered the Byers weren’t exactly the talk of the town. 

Half the day had already passed, it was crazy how fast the day was moving but today you didn’t have Jonathan to sit with. Joining your friend for lunch was always an option but you always felt uncomfortable around their friends. Not that they were mean but you being your socially awkward self, you found that sitting with a few new people wasn’t exactly on the agenda. Today was a drawing kind of day. 

Finding a nice spot outside, you sat with your sketchbook on your lap. Without thinking your hand just began to move, drawing random lines and shapes in hopes to come up with something. Often times this was a good warm-up for you but it never really amounted to much, just something to keep you busy for a few minutes. Though it wasn’t your favorite thing, you began to draw the landscape and all the things you saw in front of you. You would do anything to take your mind off of Jonathan. You just couldn’t. 

Before you knew it the bell rung, packing your things up you went back inside and to your class. 

The end of the day came slower then you wanted, your thoughts were occupied the entire time. Once again, you met with your friend who would give you a ride home, 

“(Y/N), you need to stop worrying about him. I’m sure he is fine,” they tried to calm you down but nothing seemed to work, 

“His brother is missing (Y/F/N), that’s a lot to take in,” you say softly, “I’m sure both him and his mother is worried sick,” you state, you fought back the urge to go to his home and check on him but that would be creepy. Wouldn’t it? When you pulled into your driveway your friend sighed, 

“Just don’t worry about it okay, they will find him. I promise. Then everything will go back to normal.” You hesitated and nodded, maybe they were right, maybe things would be alright.

It wasn’t until a few days passed when you realized that things were not okay. It had turned into a full search party. Will was truly missing. Day by day, you tried to stay by Jonathan but he pushed you away. You knew that this wasn’t your fault but you also knew that this was a hard time for him. Seeing him in such a state honestly hurt you more than anything, then hearing how Carol and Tommy talked about him made you angrier. Why did they have to be so rude? He didn’t do anything to them. Today was the day you weren’t going to back down, you were going to comfort Jonathan, whether he wanted you to or not. 

When the lunch bell rung you followed Jonathan outside, 

“Jonathan,” you called, he stopped in his tracks and looked behind him. You walked up to him casually, he was quiet. 

“I just wanted to make sure you were alright,” you say softly, “I’m worried about you,” you whisper looking down at your hands. He was quiet for a moment before he spoke up, 

“I’m fine, (Y/N). Don’t worry okay,” he replied causing you to sigh, 

“I can’t help but worry Jonathan,” you looked up at him, your eyes locking almost instantly, “You don’t talk with me anymore, I miss having our conversations,” you whisper, he saw the sadness in your eyes. You had made friends with a few people but only a few of them truly understood you. You held back your tears as you looked back down to your feet. You just didn’t want to lose a friend.  You heard shuffling then felt him wrap his arms around you gently pulling you into a gentle hug. You wrapped your arms around him burying your face into his chest. You desperately tried to hold back tears but you couldn’t, a few tears rolled down your cheeks. You stayed together for a few minutes until you were able to calm down, you looked up at him, gently you wiped a tear from your cheek. 

“I’m sorry, I’m just so worried,” you say softly, he chuckled softly as the two of you looked up at each other. 

“Don’t apologize,” he sighed, “I should be apologizing, I’m sorry I worried you. I’m not exactly used to others being worried,” he admitted, you nodded slightly, 

“Just remember I am here for you Jonathan. No matter what,” he went silent for a moment, you were curious what he was thinking. 

“I know (Y/N), but I can’t drag you into this. I don’t want you to get hurt,” you became confused. Extremely confused. Why would you get hurt? 

“Jonathan? What’s going on?” you ask softly, he seemed to be conflicted before he leaned down kissing your lips. You were shocked by this motion but quickly responded. You were nervous and unsure, this was your first kiss after all. When Jonathan pulled away the two of you looked at each other, your heart was pounding and your mind was racing. 

“I’m sorry (Y/N),” he walked off towards his car and drove off. You were frozen in place still a bit shocked. Jonathan? What did this mean? Your heart swelled but it shattered as he drove away. Was this actual rejection?  Not bothering to go back to the school, you just walked home. Your parents weren’t home and wouldn’t be until later. You flopped onto your bed, you let out a soft sob as you laid there. What had just happened? 

Over the next few days you avoided everyone, your feelings were still a bit confused. Jonathan had been around but he had been hanging out with Nancy. You saw them together and your heart broke, the way he looked at her and the way she looked at him. It was clear that he liked her. You avoided him like the plague, he was your only friend but you couldn’t bring yourself to face him. Your lips still tingled from that day even though your mind had convinced you that the kiss meant nothing.  You couldn’t believe you had been played so easily. You couldn’t believe you fell for it. You wouldn’t let that happen again.

[atmilliways]

Stuck on the Outside Failing to Look In (Just Like in Real Life)

This @mtl-trick-or-treat​ fic is for @tanyonlee​, who asked for either a treat of “Very cute Skwistok!!” or a trick of “Skwisgaar and his gmiltf girlfriend XDDD.”

It’s your lucky Halloween dude, because I wrote BOTH. In five parts. I hope you like 8300+ word fics. 💩 

Here’s part one! (1412 words)

~

Excerpt from Skwisgaar Is Ams Dick by T. Wartooth, chapter four (“Skwisgaar Is Ams Slut”), pages 132-133:

Everyones knows that Skwisgaar will does just abouts anybodies. That ain’ts the halfs of it! Every times ol’ Toki starts talkings to a beautiesful girl, Skwisgaar rolls right ups and starts the whisperings horny nothings to her ear what’s like I’m not theres. Fucking rudes! Then he goes and screws thems. Sometimes they don’t even bothers to leaves the room! And it’s not evens like whats the ladies are really sluts. Some ofs them ams real nice, whats have hopes and dreams and real goods teeth and everything. Some even haves the boobs thats am all naturals, just like mothers makes ‘em, though nots veries often ‘cause most groupies gets them sized ups whats to catch our attention betters.

But anyways, the ladies ain’ts the sluts, Skwisgaar ams. The ladies only wants to sleeps with likes four, maybies five guys, because we ams super mega famous. Skwisgaar ams the ones who doesn’ts cares whos he puts the you-know-whats sausage into sides of as longs as he gets to does it! You barlies ever see his ass with the sames lady twice!! He ams physicallies uns-capable of even gettings that close to settling downs and I can proves it. Ins this chapter I wills...

~

“... In other news, Toki Wartooth seems to be on the Toki Warpath! He’s been arrested seventeen times in the last two months alone, and at last night’s Dethklok concert in Washington DC actually lept from the stage and started it all-out brawl. The incident ended up outing several ultra-conservative Senators and House Representatives as closet Dethklok fans, despite having made so much effort to distance themselves from the group in the past. Thanks to the staff at prominent DC hospitals that leaked copies of the intake forms to the press, they’ve got quite a bit of explaining to do to their constituents.

“And that’s the Dethklok Minute!”

~

Groupie Debriefing Transcript

ID: 174849464438

               [ x] Returning                [ x] Approved for return

On file:

    [ x] Pain waiver     [ x] STI screen upon arrival     [ x] STI screen prior to debriefing     [   ] Paternity waiver     [ x] Medical record of infertility due to                [   ] Hysterectomy                [   ] Tubal ligation                [ x] Menopause                [   ] Other: ________

Name: Beulah Rosenberg

Rating: GMILF

Debriefing Agent: 7982

7982: Please state for the record which members of Dethklok you interacted with on this visit.

ROSENBERG: Just Skwisgaar.

7982: Skwigelf?

ROSENBERG: Is there more than one Skwisgaar floating around here, dear?

7982: Just being thorough, ma’am.

ROSENBERG: Oh good. I don’t think he would like that, he’s a very sensitive boy you know. Being unique is very important to him.

7982: I’m aware, ma’am. And what was the purpose of your visit?

ROSENBERG: I don’t kiss and tell, dear.

7982: Um, okay. And you were with him from approximately 3:15pm yesterday to 8:45am this morning, is that correct?

ROSENBERG: That sounds about right. And we spent most of that time talking, for your information.

7982: Talking? With Lord Skwigelf? Instead of, uh... I mean, isn’t that a bit unusual? In your experience? Which... you’ve been on file here for several years now.

ROSENBERG: Eight years, nine next September. It is a bit of a change, but not necessarily a recent one. He’s been more introspective ever since... I’d say a little bit before his little band mate got kidnapped, but definitely more so after that.

7982: And I see from our records that he’s been requesting your presence more often since roughly that time. Was all that, uh, mostly taking as well?

ROSENBERG: Well... mostly.

7982: Grandma!

ROSENBERG: Oh for god’s sake, don’t be such a prude, Denis.

~

Therapy session transcript 5-625148-TW, excerpt:

TWINKLETITS: So what’s been on your mind lately, Toki? What’s going on in that noggin?

WARTOOTH: Nothings.

TWINKLETITS: Toki, Toki. You’ve got to be honest in this room, okay buddy? It’s been a big year. Lots of things going on. Lots of things that sooner or later you’re gonna have to face head-on one way or another, and wouldn’t it be nice to do that in a safe, supportive environment?

WARTOOTH: Not reallies.

TWINKLETITS: I know what’s been going on. You’ve been picking fights, breaking windows... you’re scaring people, Toki. All your friends are worried half to death about you.

WARTOOTH: [unintelligible]

TWINKLETITS: That’s a big load of bull pats. Why would they go through all that trouble to get you back if they didn’t care?

WARTOOTH: The bands—

TWINKLETITS: They found you. Do you think that was easy?

WARTOOTH: [unintelligible]

TWINKLETITS: Toki, have they talked to you at all about what it was like getting to you?

TWINKLETITS: Toki?

WARTOOTH: [unintelligible]

WARTOOTH: Noes.

TWINKLETITS: Well they told me. They didn’t have any idea what they were doing, but they went anyway, and followed any crazy idea they could pull out of their asses to do it. Pickles guessed they should look in the place where you played your very first gig as a member of Dethklok—

WARTOOTH: The Depths of Humanities? That shitshole?

TWINKLETITS: Exactly! And Skwisgaar—

WARTOOTH: I don’ts wants to talk about that asshole! Fucking bastards don’t gots no time for anything but sluts—

TWINKLETITS: Toki, no!

WARTOOTH: [unintelligible yelling, smashing furniture]

~

From: c.f.ofdenson@mordhaus.metal.dk

To: s.skwigelf@guitargod.metal.dk

CC: n.explosion@brutal.metal.dk, p.the.drummer@fuckoff.metal.dk, w.murderface@planetpiss.metal.dk

Subj: Consider this a band meeting

Skwisgaar, I don’t know why Dr. Twinkletits is still calling me, but can you think of any reason Toki might be angry with you?

Kind regards,

Charles F. Ofdenson

~

From: p.the.drummer@fuckoff.metal.dk

To: c.f.ofdenson@mordhaus.metal.dk, n.explosion@brutal.metal.dk, s.skwigelf@guitargod.metal.dk, w.murderface@planetpiss.metal.dk

Subj: Re: Consider this a band meeting

uSUal reason right? not giving hm sodas? back ne up her gays

8=====D doodily doodily dooo

~

From: p.the.drummer@fuckoff.metal.dk

To: c.f.ofdenson@mordhaus.metal.dk, n.explosion@brutal.metal.dk, s.skwigelf@guitargod.metal.dk, w.murderface@planetpiss.metal.dk

Subj: Re: Re: Consider this a band meeting

SOLOS!

8=====D doodily doodily dooo

~

From: n.explosion@brutal.metal.dk

To: c.f.ofdenson@mordhaus.metal.dk, p.the.drummer@fuckoff.metal.dk, s.skwigelf@guitargod.metal.dk, w.murderface@planetpiss.metal.dk

Subj: Re: Re: Re: Consider this a band meeting

No. He’s just still fucked up from being kidnapped.

Hey Charles, you ever going to fucking visit us man? Thought you were hamburger time again. Answer your phone when I text you. Dick.

~

From: w.murderface@planetpiss.metal.dk

To: c.f.ofdenson@mordhaus.metal.dk, n.explosion@brutal.metal.dk, p.the.drummer@fuckoff.metal.dk, s.skwigelf@guitargod.metal.dk

Subj: Re: Re: Re: Re: Consider this a band meeting

Hey fuckfaces,

You’re all wrong!!! Take it from me, a real lady’s man. He’s upset over some chick who went and broke his stupid heart!!! I’ll take some booze over to his room later, we’ll talk it out, problem solved. Nailed it. ;)

—WM

ps, What’s with the “kind regards” signoff, Charles? Pretty gay.

~

From: p.the.drummer@fuckoff.metal.dk

To: c.f.ofdenson@mordhaus.metal.dk, n.explosion@brutal.metal.dk, s.skwigelf@guitargod.metal.dk, w.murderface@planetpiss.metal.dk

Subj: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Consider this a band meeting

ahahahahha mface thinks charlies pretty

cuz hes gay mface is gay THATS THE JOOKE

8=====D doodily doodily dooo

~

From: c.f.ofdenson@mordhaus.metal.dk

To: n.explosion@brutal.metal.dk, p.the.drummer@fuckoff.metal.dk, s.skwigelf@guitargod.metal.dk, w.murderface@planetpiss.metal.dk

Subj: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Consider this a band meeting

OK, thank you for all your responses.

Pickles — That’s a good idea, it could be the lack of solos. I appreciate your input.

Nathan — Recent trauma is also a strong possible explanation as to why Toki has been acting out lately. Also, I am sending you a text right now. Please text back whenever convenient, and perhaps we can schedule an actual call.

William — I’m not sure alcohol is necessary in this situation, but otherwise I agree, Toki would probably benefit from having a friend to talk to right now.

If anyone could advise me as to why Skwisgaar is not replying to emails, that would be appreciated. Good afternoon, gentlemen.

Kind regards,

Charles F. Ofdenson

[fantrollcharity]

ninja-kitty-more-like-no submitted to fantrollcharity:

For @lemon-king I love your trolls!

CP: You realize we would be 7he alien5, righ7?

You lean back in your chair as you wait for Dakoro to respond. You glance at your prosthetic, lying on the table, considering whether or not you should put it in to type faster. The warm water gently plucks at your clothing as your friend replies.

TA: yeah thatz kind ☆f the p☆int TA: were alienz to them, theyre alienz to uz TA: itz why theyre danger☆uz CP: 7hey’re dangerou5?

This is new. You haven’t heard this particular theory before.

TA: everythingz danger☆uz when itz afraid TA: im n☆t zure if y☆uve n☆ticed but were pretty zcary I mean hell☆ have you zeen an imperial dr☆ne? TA: What am I zaying ☆f c☆urze you’ve zeen an imperial dr☆ne TA: y☆ure a zeadweller y☆u know what a dr☆ne lookz like

You frown a little. Dakoro doesn’t usually go off topic like this when he’s talking about his theories.

CP: When wa5 7he la57 7ime you 5lep7? TA: excuze me? CP: when did you la57 5leep? TA: um TA: h☆ld ☆n TA: well zhit CP: I5 every7hing okay?

Well, now it’s out in the open. You fiddle uneasily with the end of your sleeve as you wait for a response.

TA: yeah I’m g☆☆d juzt TA: ive been buzy y☆u kn☆w? TA: and um TA: I waznt zleeping well bef☆re that z☆

You sigh. You love this man, honestly, but he is a disaster.

CP: I can come over, if you wan7. Maybe having 5omeone near you will help. TA: yeah ☆kay

He must really be tired if he’s not arguing with you. You stand and stretch before grabbing your bag. You swim towards the exit of your hive, then stop and grab some fresh fruit. If he hasn’t even sleeping, odds are he hasn’t been reliably feeding himself either. You shoot a quick message back to him, then pause with your fingers over the keys. After a moment, you take a deep breath and send another message.

CP: I’ll be 7here 5oon CP: <3

You grimace at that. That was super forward. He knows, right? He must know. You told him, right? Wait. Nope, Oh god, he didn’t know. Okay, well then, time to go find a new place to live and then never resurface again. You close your husktop and bop it against your head. You hardly notice that you have a notification, and you brace yourself for his response.

TA: <3

You pause for a second before smiling in disbelief and sheer, childlike excitement and putting your closed husktop in your bag. You captchalogue it as you swim for your door again, finally on your way to see your best friend. You don’t think about every implication of that little heart (liar) and you certainly don’t think about the implications of him feeling flushed for you as well (liar!). You just hope he’s okay.

And if anyone sees you with a dopy grin on your face- well. They certainly don’t stop you to ask.

[whoacanada]

NHL!Bitty, Part XVI - Breakdown

Long distance relationships have their fair share of difficulties. When a mid-season medication switch-up has Jack crashing hard with unexpected side effects, Bitty deals with being a world away.

Jack feels like he’s been drugged. 

He tells Marty as much and the man laughs it off with a cheeky wink to the glass in Jack’s hand. “I made your drink, I think I’d know if I’d put in a little something extra.”

He dumps out the rest of the cocktail and switches to water. The euphoric feeling doesn’t leave, though it’s now tinged with something else. Exhaustion maybe? His vision is fuzzy at the edges and his reaction time delayed. He’s not drunk, it’s something else.

It takes a while to realize what this is, ‘danger’ not quite humming at the back of his mind. Not yet.

His hip is killing him and when he gets home he takes another pill so he can at least walk without debilitating pain. He decides to sleep it off, which proves to be a mistake when he wakes up with a migraine. A small, hopefully, manageable thing at first that morphs into a blinding pain. Before he can think better of it, he takes another half pill but immediately knows there’s more at play when his stomach rebels at the two meager sips of water it takes to wash the thing down.

He can’t be sick. He has practice. He has a game in two days. 

Just like that, panic settles in between the pain and nausea, his mind running in abnormal circles because everything fucking hurts and he can’t focus.

He’s itching to call Bitty, desperate for some small measure of comfort; but he can’t because Bitty is gone, a realization that hits with a sudden, inexplicable anger. 

If Bitty really loved him, he’d already be here. He wouldn’t have taken the Schooners offer, wouldn’t have left Jack alone in Providence. It’s not fair - Jack stayed close for Bittle, why couldn’t he return the favor? He could end this right now, all of it. Spare Bitty the pain of spending his prime years with someone as fucked up as Jack Zimmermann. He’s sick, maybe he’s dying? He’s already so far away, what would it really change? Bittle already doesn’t give a shit about them, or he wouldn’t have signed an extension.

Foreign words are resting on the tip of his tongue like poison darts. A finger hovering over a button to launch a nuclear warhead. 

He’s alone. He’s always alone. He’s going to stay alone.

(Are you crying, or is that just the headache?)

I’d be so easy to say such terrible things—things that no apology could take back or undo. There’s an entire continent between them, if he did it right, Bittle would never take him back.

(You’re circling, you need to call someone.)

Who is he kidding? Even if Bittle stays, Jack will never come out of the closet on his own; TMZ will beat him to the punch. Post some terrible photo of an intimate moment and the world will forever see Bitty as Jack’s dirty secret. They could never have a love story like his parents, even if they were out people would talk, throw insults, it wouldn’t be better, it’d be worse. So much worse.

(Stop, this isn’t you, it’s just your neuroses.)

Maybe he should have tried harder last time. He should have locked the door, should have texted Kent beforehand to say he was fine, told his parents to go to dinner without him; no one would have come looking. If he’d done it right it would have just taken a few minutes longer and —

(SHUT THE FUCK UP)

Jack rocks back on his heels and presses his palms against his eyes. There are a dozen voices in his head and none of them are right.

“Siri…” Jack hisses, “…call Doctor Whitman…”

‘Calling Dr. Samantha Whitman…’

“Jack?”

“Something’s wrong, I can’t think,” he chokes, pressing harder at his eyes trying to relieve the pressure, “f-fuck it hurts.”

“Jack, breathe with me, in and out. Are you injured?”

“No,” he bites, “a headache.”

“Have you taken any medication?”

“Y-yes,” Jack sobs, curling into himself at the foot of the bed. “S'il vous plaît . . . je ne veux pas mourir comme ça . . .”

“Jack, listen to me, I’m going to send someone to pick you up. Do I have your permission to do so?”

It takes everything Jack has to say ‘yes’.

It’s an otherwise unremarkable day when a Google Alert notification interrupts Eric’s workout playlist. He doesn’t pause his rowing instead asking Siri to read the message to him.

‘NHL Injury Report - Falconers: J. Zimmermann (undisclosed) out for Friday game against the Blackhawks.’

It’s concerning, but not wholly unexpected. Jack had a rough go of it the week prior, Eric’s more concerned that Jack didn’t say anything about being hurt. But, honestly, they haven’t really talked about much of anything these past few weeks, other than contract renegotiations, tape comparisons, recipe suggestions. 

It’s also one of the longest stretches they’ve had between seeing each other since the wedding, and it’s been grating on Eric’s nerves like nothing else. They’re up to eight weeks now. Two whole months. 

He looks around the gym and, finding his scattered teammates otherwise occupied, tells Siri to draft a text to ‘Jay-Z’: 

‘Hope you’re feeling better, I’ll call when I can <3′ 

Jack doesn’t respond immediately, nor does a read receipt pop up. No further notifications roll in, and Eric is able to finish his workout uninterrupted, which is somehow more stressful than if Jack had texted him back.

After he showers, he texts again. After dinner, he calls, twice, and leaves a voicemail that he hopes doesn’t sound too whiny.

Then he texts Tater: ‘Is there a team event tonight? I can’t seem to get in touch with Jack. Just wanted to make sure everything is okay.’

Eric doesn’t receive an immediate response and assumes his first guess was correct. The Falconers have a season ticket-holder event, or a team dinner, or something, so he’s not going to worry. Jack’s an adult, with a whole team to support him. Eric doesn’t have to worry about his whereabouts from 3,000 miles away.

Of course, then his phone lights up across the room with an incoming text from Bob Zimmermann: ‘Call me when you get this.’

He doesn’t need an invitation, and after two rings, Bob barely gets out a greeting before Eric interrupts, “Is Jack okay?” 

“Easy, son, easy, Jack is fine.”

“But he’s not, or you wouldn’t be talking to me.” 

Eric feels sick - twenty minutes ago he was halfway asleep, now he’s wide awake, sitting upright in his bed with the comforter rucked-up around his waist.

The general anxiety he’s been writing off all day as unnecessary worry has blossomed into a nauseous terror and he’s alone while Jack is god knows where and Bob said he’s okay, but what even is okay and is he lying to me why would he lie?

The room is too big, the bed too hot, his heart is beating too fast and he doesn’t know what to do --

“Eric,” Bob barks over the line, startling him. “Breathe.”

Oh. Breathing. He needs to do that.

“Did I just . . . have a panic attack?” Eric gasps, trying to catch his breath. “It feels like it.”

“Sounds like it,” Bob affirms. “You alright, son? Do you need a minute?”

“No, no, just tell me what happened before I continue to assume he’s dead.”

“Jack had an adverse reaction to the muscle relaxant he was taking for a sprain. He recognized he wasn’t thinking clearly and called his personal physician. He’ll be under observation for a day or two, but he’s going to be fine.”

Maybe Eric did need that minute because his stomach drops to somewhere several floors below his apartment.

“Was he . . . is it . . . did he try again?” Eric whispers, mind jumping to the worst possible scenarios before Bob curtly says ‘no’. 

“But he was thinking about it,” Eric pushes, rolling out of bed. “Or he wouldn’t be under observation.”

“I trust his judgment in asking for help,” Bob says, not answering the question. It occurs to Eric that Bob may not know what happened. “

“Where is he staying? I’ll fly out tonight.”

“We’re at the airport now,” Bob says, “but we have this handled. You have a game tomorrow --”

“Fuck the game, fuck the Kings. Let them scratch me.”

“Eric-”

“What if it was Alicia?” Bob goes silent and Eric knows he’s gotten his point across as he pulls on a pair of jeans. “I’ll be there by morning.”

“I’ll message you the details.”

“Merci beaucoup, Papa.” Eric says, fully aware he’s playing his Zimmermann trump card. 

“Bonne nuit, mon fils,” Bob replies softly.

Eric hangs up and makes three phone calls while he throws toiletries into his prepacked travel bag: Delta, to get on the next Boston red-eye because Providence doesn’t have a direct until 7 am tomorrow morning. His mother, because he needs to talk to someone about the fact that his boyfriend just hospitalized himself because he was maybe feeling suicidal; and finally April, the head of Schooners public relations.

He keeps everything short and sweet, mostly since his voice is shot from the violent, surprise crying bout he’d only recovered from about ten minutes prior. 

The distance has always been hard, but Eric’s not ready to put hockey above family.

Not yet.

[veryfineday]

Sunday 7 October 1832

7 1/4

12 1/4

Vc  V

rainy morning Fahrenheit 55 1/2�� at 7 1/4 – breakfast with my father at 8 20/.. – talKing to him – looKing again at last nights paper and the last gardener’s magazine – off to church with my father at 10 down the old bank – 1 of the curates preached 28 minutes (stupidly) from 2 Corinthians iv. 3. returned up the new banK – home at 1 10/.. – 2 hours musing in the library passage how to fit it up – at 3 10/.. my aunt and I read the evening service to my father –

Off to Lightcliffe at 3 50/.. – sat 1/2 hour with mrs. Priestley to say good bye, and excuse myself from going to breakfast tomorrow – she said miss WalKer was not at church in the morning – I observed all the blinds down – she must be ill – I said I would call and inquire after her – mrs. P-[Priestley] proposed going with me, and off we went about 5 – mrs. P-[Priestley] sat a few minutes and would leave me there – Tea – then cold tongue and bread and butter and wine at 9 – and staid till 10 and home in 1/2 hour – my father gone to bed – my aunt waiting for me – had been frightened but said she would say nothing – I must stay all night in future –

very glad to see me began again about wishing me to have no hope but that she had now said enough and would day no more about it   I had declared I had given up all thought of the thing  had positively no hope at all  in fact considered the decisive no as good as ssaid   no she replied I did not say that  I will think about it  but dont go on hoping  I declared on my word I di[d] not do so   thinking to myself after much pretty talk  I care little about it  anyway will do  it seems I can have her as my mistress  and may amuse myself  she kissed me and lay on my arm as before evidently excited tho talking of her coldness which I never contradict  said a little French countess had taught me much of foreign manners and court scandal  my aunt afraid of her for me  to prove I had no hope said I hda told my aunt so  yet I kissed and pressed very tenderly and got my right hand up her petticoats to queer but not to the skin  could not get thro her thick knitted drawers for tho she never once attempted to put my hand away  she held her thighs too tight to together for me  I shall manage it the next time 

she said she had now begun with fires in her room  said I would sit by it with her laughed and said the dressing room do or should have opened into the the bedroom  and finding my conversation needed not be so strait laced as for Catharine Rawson  hinted at the only use of pocket holes abroad  etc. etc.  and quizzed her for thinking we might be as comfortable she at Cliffhill and I at Shibden as if we were together – in fact I may certainly have my own way she all the time telling of her coldness  she asked me to s[p]end the whole day and stay all night on Tuesday I said I would breakfast with her  I wonder what she will say when I have once fairly done my best for her  it will be odd enough then to talk of no hope  if she really continues to excite and amuse me  well and good I will take her on her own terms  and when I am tired the no hope business will always be a plea to get off  how little she dreams of all this  she thinks me over head and ears past recall  her mumbling kisses and anything but coldness have done a world of good   she thinks me the only one in danger  if I am I the greatest she has not much to fear  she owns she cares for me   she consulted me again tonight about the Atkinsons I shall soon get quite into her confidence     I wonder whether she is too deep for me or I for her –

very fine delightful, moonlight night – fine morning at 6 – rain from soon afternoon more or less till almost church going time and a slight shower met us at the top of the banK – afterwards fine day – Fahrenheit 56 1/2º now at 11 1/2 p.m. till which hour wrote all but the 1st 2 lines of today – John came for me tonight and went first to the Priestleys  they will talk us over and think something is in the hind  Mrs. P[riestley] said yesterday my going to her Miss W[alker] so much  was a good thing for her –

[cicinicole-14]

coco’s college story

I just need to vent and get things off my chest. this is going to be quite long, and I’m going to add more to this, but we’re starting a new segment on this blog called #coco’s college story. I’m going to get personal and real and you don’t have to read, but I just need to write it all out. feel free to come talk if you feel inclined to. and since this will be long, I’ll put it under the cut. lets hope everything is spelled right...

college really sucks sometimes. I’m really stressed out from it and I have no idea what to do or what I am doing. 

I’m going to start at the beginning, or try to at least. which, brings me to grade 11. I think this is really where it started. everyone was starting to take the ACT/SAT (American standardized tests required for most college admittance) and I hadn’t even begun to think where I truly wanted to go for college. yet some kids in my class had already started applying wtf. all I thought I knew was that a. I wanted to go out of state and b. I wanted to go far from home and c. I wanted to be a doctor. 

summer of 2016 (summer after I finished 11th grade) I was in Virginia visiting my best friend Autumn (she plays a huge role in this). Autumn is 6 months older than me and would be at this time starting her first semester at GMU in the fall of 2016. so she asked me where I wanted to go to school. my reply? “haha that’s a great question!!! I have no fucking clue.” (literally word for word) and she was like “apply to GMU!!!” and I was like, “dude, Noah fence but you’re going there to be a hISTORY major and I literally slept thru that class for all of middle and high school. nah fam” and she’s like “yeah, but they have a great science program and then you can go to Hopkins after.” so I was like ok maybe. so I did what everyone does best: listed my pros and cons

pros: 

going to school w/ bff since age 3

1,025 miles from home and from my mother* 

good science program so I can be a dr?? 

location wise: gr8 bc autumn’s fam lived 2hrs north and my stepsister (who I’m close with) lived 2hrs NE and its a 2hr plane ride home to florida

cons: 

is hella expensive**

1,025 miles from home 

current number of people I know going to this school: 1 (and pls note: I hate doing things alone even tho I love to be alone. idk how to explain this but like like I enjoy being alone but I don’t like being alone. I know some of y’all understand this?)

leaving friends I have in florida

tbh, the pros outweighed the cons and I applied to GMU and I was accepted. (I applied to other schools and got accepted to one and denied at another because they closed the program I was applying for but I can assure u had they not, I would’ve gotten accepted)anyway, I took my ACT in October of 2016 and got accepted to gmu in December of 2016. I think that’s really when the stress started kicking in, because while I was happy to be accepted to my dream school, I had a lot of emotions I wasn’t ready for and then later on experienced them. 

2017 started off decently. I went into the second semester of senior year knowing I was accepted and 100% planning on going to my dream school, ready for a new future, ready to leave Florida, excited about going to Italy that march with my class etc… 

but it also brought hard times because I ended my friendship with one of my best friends in the whole world: olivia. we were inseparable and had been for 8 years and knew each other for 13 years. it was seriously really hard, especially because not only was I close to her, I was close with her mom, little brother, big sister, niece and nephews. it really sucked. 

and, I had the daunting task of telling my mother I was going to Virginia for college. 

now, as some of you may know, my relationship with my mother is very strained. and whenever I refer to my “parents” on Tumblr, I’m talking about my dad and stepmom, because I always refer to my mom (as mother) separately. and add to the fact, my mother flipped out on autumn’s mom a few years ago and told them to never speak to me again. so, since I was 12 years old, my mom has had no idea I’ve kept in touch with autumn and still has no idea I go to school with autumn. (my dad and stepmom love her family and her and see no problem with them same as me and she’s my best friend and my mother has issues we will not be addressing rn) anyway, so I didn’t tell my mother I got accepted to GMU until April of 2017. (mind you, I found out mid-december and my dad found out when I got the email because I made Claudia stop the car before we headed to a Christmas party lol) and so I told my mom in April that I was going to GMU and she asked me if autumn went there and I lied right thru my teeth and told her I had no fucking clue because we weren’t friends, remember? and that was one big thing that really started the stressing because a. I didn’t have olivia there as my bff to help me thru the stressful time, and b. I so badly wanted my mother to be happy for me but I knew deep down she really wasn’t because she also flipped out a bit and was like “wtf ur going to college? u leave in august?” and I was like yeah, what did you expect me to do?” and honestly, she was angry about it, but I was an adult, its my life and she had no say in where or whether or not I was going to college. 

so, fast forward to college. idk how chronological this will be so we’re just going to list some stressors I’ve had with college. 

it’s 1,025 miles away from home

I grew up in a town in Florida, in the same neighborhood I was brought home from the hospital in (I almost said same house, but I moved down the street long story…) I went to a preschool from ages 2-4 and then started elementary and middle school ages 5-13 at one school and then half of my eight grade class went to my high school. and I was there for four years. these people were family. out of the 7 people who went to high school with me, 4 I knew since kindergarten, one I knew since fifth grade and the other since sixth and the last one was me. and I made two friends (chelsey and Claudia) in ninth grade who are my sisters. I love them both so much. I would talk thru fire for them (and autumn, Robyn and belle ofc but we’re talking about my friends at home) anyway, I grew up there. Florida is my home. I like small places. I lived in a kinda small city in my two bedroom condo with my parents and doggo and I had neighbors who I’d known most of my life. my whole family was in Florida basically, minus my aunt (dad’s sister who we visit in NY or she’d visit us).

I was leaving my friends

I went from seeing Claudia every day in school, and once every two weeks during the summer or a few times a week because of our movie dates lol, and chelsey who graduated the year before me and lived an hour away from me at home, made it a point to still come to my school to see me and sleep over at my house, and then during the summer she came over once a week and stayed over. I saw them all the time. we’re three peas in a pod. I saw them a lot. and I only have 5 really close friends. friends I would walk thru fire for, and trust with my life. mentioned above: Claudia, chelsey, autumn, Robyn and belle. and we all have different relationships. autumn moved away when I was 11 and I coped with that in middle school (another dark time in my life) and I learned to live with that. Robyn and belle I met over Tumblr, so I’d never entertained the prospect of seeing them regularly. (tho Robyn and I have kinda made a pact of visiting each other during the summer and thus every other summer I get to see belle when Its my turn to visit Canada) but chelsey and claudia? I saw them a lot, and I hadn’t had to cope with a friend, who I saw a lot and was inseparable with, be away from me for a huge long period of time in a long time (age 11). and to add to the fact, both chelsey and Claude go to school at home and they became close with my family too so like idk it all just kinda fell apart 

I get really homesick/leaving my parents and dog

this one wasn’t as bad solely because, I left home august 2nd. I was traveling by myself most of this month. I saw my parents at the end of the month when they held me move in for college. then, I got a surprise visit from them and my doggo in September because they drove up to my sister’s house 2 hrs from my school to escape the hurricane that was to hit Florida (bless, my house was fine). then I saw them again in October, because my sister got married!!! and thanksgiving I saw them again, November, because ofc its thanksgiving ill see them, even though it flew by. and now here, its December and I’m going home for a month. so I’ll see them thru January. and then lbr, because my dad works in Maryland a lot, he’s probably gong to be up north most of 2018 too and he vowed to visit me when he could because he’s a mush and misses his kid even if he denies it. also, the homesickness; I don’t like being away from people/be by myself in a house for an extended period of time, but I kinda built up my tolerance because my dad travels a lot and I have speration anxiety from it (he travelled all my life and I was left with my mother for a lot of it so stress but I built up a tolerance for it when I was like 15 and my homesickness started getting better from then on out) and like I did really well when I spent 8 days in Italy without my parents etc which I only had 1 tiny little freak out and Claudia helped me thru it and was proud at the fact that I only had one like 2 days in to the trip and was fine after that. 

my life plan

holy f u c k. ever hear the saying like “you plan and god laughs”? well, holy fuck, it can’t be more true. I don’t care what god or thing you believe in, its fucking true. I’m a planner. not a detailed one, but its a rough outline, I have a plan of my life, roughly outlined; its got a few bullet points mainly looking like this:

my life:

go to college out of state

make money

be a doctor in the nicu

be a mom/foster/adopt kids

own lotsa pets

have enough money to build my own house

were going to focus on the “be a doctor” point. because this is where everything got fucked. 

since I was five years old, five. I wanted to be a doctor. since that age, I narrowed down the specifics and specialty etc. I picked out what school I wanted to go to for medical school and whatnot. I’ve wanted to be a doctor since I was five fucking years old. 

college has since changed that plan...

about a month into school this semester, I changed my major of–––biology degree> medical school> be a doctor to uh, now I’m currently in the pre-nursing (BsN) program at my college (and I’m minoring in photography, but that I knew about and hasn’t changed). I remember this day very clearly when I decided. it was a Monday. idk the date, but it was Monday and I was sitting in the JC (the main campus building) with autumn eating food and I was like “I’m having a crisis and I want to change my major to nursing” and so then I called my dad and told him I was going to do it. thankfully my while family was very supportive (minus my mother I have not talked to her since September[?]***)

so that happened, and threw me for a loop. 

college is just extremely different in general.

I really don’t even know how else to categorize this. so here are just random things. 

professors are weird. all of them. no matter their age: which this ranges too because I have some that are like two coughs away from dying and others who are literally only like 5 years older than me… fucking weird. 

your syllabus is your fucking roadmap. don’t fucking lose it. 

nothing ever gets graded at a decent time. I literally got two papers back without grades on them and they aren’t online either but the prof said that they’re recorded in the gradebook he has so like????

I grew up going to private christian schools since I was 2… which means no cussing in class and wearing a uniform and your parents drive you to school, we don’t have busses. 

college: no dress code. I wore pj’s (with jack skellington on them) to class and Christmas and halloween printed leggings and hoodies with just a bra underneath and fucking whatever the hell I wanted to class, strapless/sleeveless dresses, whatever. my professors cusses in classes/lectures. I was taken back by this at first. but thoroughly loved the chillness and laid-backness that classes had tho because I could say whatever I wanted (vulgarity wise). and I now blame my worsening swearing habit on college because I’m not in christian private school or nannying 3x a week anymore so I haven’t needed to curb my language… walking…everywhere… I live on campus in a dorm without a car (autumn has one but we really only use it to run errands on Fridays) and damn that was a shock. because while yes, I lived in a smallish city and there was a Walmart and dollar store close to my house to walk to if I was bored, I didnt really walk much, we drove a lot. because my school was 15 miles away. and like idk nothing wasn’t super close. and now here that I live on campus, my whole life is here. I eat sleep and breathe campus, so I walk everywhere. to all my classes, to get food, well thats basically it because thats all college leaves you time for… 

college is stressful. 

and finally, here are more things that I wasn’t expecting. 

I didn’t realize it was going to be this difficult. Im currently taking 6 classes (16 credits altogether) and out of those 6 classes, I’m currently passing 2 I think? college is fucking hard. it didn’t help that I had a few major major major anxiety attacks and literally disassociated with everything for a week, two different times, plus I got sick with a nasty ass cold, and like idk, just it sucked. I moved 1,025 miles from home and then homesickness an that reality of “I’m living a thousand miles from home by myself” hit me. and I literally know no one here except autumn who I see once a week on Fridays. (because we both have off) and like it killed me. I left my only home I’ve ever known. I moved my whole life here. and I had a shocking realization that yeah, I’m going to Florida during breaks and whatnot, but I left Florida August 2, 2017 and I knew it was for good. I packed up my whole room last summer and knew that when I got on the plane, I wasn’t going to ever be coming back home home for good. I left my keys on the kitchen counter and said goodbye to my room. and yes, its still my room, but it’s been a guest room for the past few months and its not my room anymore. I did move out. and so that hit me too. 

and I’m alone here. I had a mental breakdown one day when I was texting chelsey and Claudia and all I really wanted was a hug from them but they’re a thousand miles away and couldn’t give me one, so I was stuck crying in the middle of our campus chick-fil-a. and so I texted autumn at 9am on a Thursday and she came in her pj’s and walked across campus to give me a hug so I could hug her, cry on her shoulder and breathe a little easier. 

and while I know this decision to move states away and leave everything I’ve ever known was hard, I know it was the right decision and the best decision I ever made, and the scariest.

I know that because if I went to school at home, I would Never have ended up moving out. I know I needed to experience college dorm life, and living by myself more, and being independent. I know for my health––mentally, physically, spiritually and emotionally––it was for the better. mentally: I am able to escape my mother being here where she can’t visit me or I won’t run into her here. physically: I walk everywhere and I’m attempting to eat healthier etc… spiritually: I’ve had a rough time with my faith, but I’m a christian and like autumn helps me a lot with this in strengthening my faith etc etc, (I’m more spiritual than religious) and emotionally: I’ve been able to heal and accept who I am, and I came out as bi to my friends, currently 4/5 of them and all of you guys. its a new zone here and I can live and be free and be me. I don’t have to worry about the people I knew from high school judging me because I’m bi and we went to a christian school etc. I’m who I am here and my decision to move here has helped me grow. 

and also, yeah, I’m stressing currently about my future, but I’m going to take it a day at a time. I’m failing classes right now, but I’ve realized thats because I haven’t been on my A-game. I went thru a major life change, I’ve had a bit of family health issues, I’ve had to deal with a lot of issues and stress surrounding my mother and my relationship with her since starting college, and like a lot more, and so I have decided that while I had a mental breakdown about not making it into the nursing program, I’m going to take it slowly. fuck doing this all “fast and in four years and yada yada”. Its only been one semester, this is a whole new ballgame for me. college is so different from high school. so, I’m going to be better next semester, focus more on my passions, maybe take summer classes, and not pressure myself to be in the nursing program in my 3rd year, take my time. there’s no rush. 

notes:

*– mother and I have a very strained relationship due to her years of mental abuse (and very little but still prevalent physical abuse) towards me. I’ve been trying to get out from under her thumb since I was 10. moved in with my dad when I was 12 but since he travelled for work a lot, I stayed with mother etc until I was about 15 when I stayed with friends or by myself. and so being away from her like this has only brought peace and less fights because I don’t have to see her or talk to her

**– college out of state tuition is hella fucking expensive, but thankfully, my granddad had set aside money for his grandkids (there’s only 2 of us, me and my cousin Kiersten who is out of college now) and has put us thru school (private school) our whole lives. we have been blessed so very graciously with being able to go to any school we chose debt free because our grandpa has it covered no questions asked and truly its the best thing ever because while I grew up not worrying about tuition, I still grew up with a tight family income because mom had a fixed income and then when I moved in with dad, he worked for himself, so he has seasonal work… some months its great, other months were scrounging for the last few dollars to put food on the table… 

***–since moving to college and being out from under my mother’s thumb, I’ve been talking with my parents (again remind u this means dad and stepmom) about me needing to learn to heal and forgive and just live my life and I can’t do that if I keep having my mother call or text me or expect me to visit her etc… I’m an adult. I’m going home this Christmas to tell her that if she wants to be my mother in the long run, she needs to play by my rules, and this is now going to happen my way. I need to cut contact with her for however long. and she’s not to reach out to me. I need to be the one to do it because if she pushes it, our relationship is so strained right now because of her actions, if she attempts anymore, she’s going to lose me forever as her daughter and deep down, we both don’t want that. so I need space and need to learn how to forgive her. and she needs to get help and learn to be a better person herself. she needs to do a lot of things I’m not going to get into here but yeah, basically. 

so that’s it. this was really long and I’m sorry about that. if y’all feel inclined to talk to me about any of this, feel free to do so. I needed to talk through this. I’m probably going to talk about #coco’s college story a bit as my life goes on. I will keep everyone updated. college is stressful, and crazy, and scary and wild and fun and terrifying and a lot of emotions mixed in one

xx cici 

[itbeajen]

Tsukishima Kei | More Than [2/4]

I have no idea why, but I think tumblr ate this post.  More Than - Hybrid!AU - Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Sweets | Feather Light | Not Choosing | Crows

"Hey, who is that?" "He came in with Iwaizumi-san." "A transfer? At this time?" "Look, he's a hybrid.." "He's a really pretty hybrid though." "He's an avian hybrid too!" "Aren't those rare?!" "What if he's a..." "Oy oy, don't say those stuff in front of Iwaizumi-san, she'll get upset you know." You ignored the whispers as Tsukishima trailed behind you lazily. He looked good in the school uniform, but what caught everyone's attention was his wings. How was it that such a rare type of hybrid was found in a school like this? "Oh! [F/N]-chan!" a small petite blonde girl and a freckled boy waved at you. You waved back, before glancing back to Tsukishima to make sure he was following you. Tsukishima's eyes narrowed at the freckled boy before his eyes widened in surprise, "Yamaguchi?" Yamaguchi's bunny ears perked up momentarily, before his eyes widened and a bright smile was on his face, "Tsukki?!"

You glanced between the two, clearly obvious to see that the bunny and the crow knew each other and you asked, "Tadashi-kun, you know Tsukishima?" Yamaguchi nodded eagerly, his bunny ears flopping along, and he smiled, "We were in the same adoption center. It's been six years though. Woah, Tsukki you grew so tall!" Tsukishima nodded and he asked, "You've been here this whole time?" "Yup! I haven't left Miyagi, and well," Yamaguchi let out a small laugh before glancing at Yachi, "She's my ma-" "F-f-f-f-friend. I'm Y-Yachi. Yachi Hitoka, and you?" Yachi nervously butt in. Although the shorter girl was clearly a nervous wreck to be meeting someone new, and that someone had to be as intimidating as Tsukishima the shorter girl was more for the idea of sounding like a nervous wreck than to hear what Yamaguchi was about to say. It was obvious what Yamaguchi wanted to say, but it seemed as though Yachi was like you, absolutely against the idea of someone "owning" a hybrid. Tsukishima blinked at the petite blonde and he mumbled, "Nice to meet you. I'm Tsukishima Kei, a De-" Tsukishima never got to finish that sentence as a hand covered his mouth. He glared down to see you on your tippy-toes, blocking him from saying the last syllable and Yamaguchi and Yachi looked at the two of you in confusion. You glared at Tsukishima and he glared back and you hissed, "Can not call yourself thatfor once?!" Tsukishima glared and growled, "I am a defect." His golden orbs pierced through yours and you were close to flinching before looking away. You quickly mutter out an apology to Yachi and Yamaguchi before dragging him away from the duo and you mumbled, "Do not ever call yourself a defect." Tsukishima raised an eyebrow and asked, "Why? It's a fact." The moment you looked up and made eye contact with him, Tsukishima flinched. Your normally bright [e/c] orbs were now filled with dislike and slight irritation, and you repeated, "You. Are. Not." Tsukishima swallowed his words, and nodded before he looked away. Your gaze lingered on his for a bit longer before you sighed, and quickly mumbled an apology. You back away from him and run a hand through your black locks of hair. The tall blonde noticed the change in the atmosphere around you, but before he could say anything, you push the taller male towards your friends before you walked the opposite direction, claiming to have something to do. Yamaguchi exchanges a glance with Tsukishima. He gives his old friend a small smile, "Don't say things like that Tsukki." Yachi nodded in agreement, and Yamaguchi continued, "Or you'll end up making her cry."

Tsukishima sat next to Yamaguchi and listened to the latter catch him up to date about what happened during the time period they were separated. Yamaguchi has been living in peace with Yachi. Yachi wasn't actually the one who adopted him, but she was the one who ultimately saved him from the adoption center, since he was too shy, too timid, too much of not what they expected; a disappointment basically. At those words, Tsukishima looked at his friend and asked, "But you look a lot happier now." Yamaguchi was slightly shocked and he laughed, "Yup! Yachi-san and Iwaizumi-san are really nice to me and," Yamaguchi paused, a wistful look in his eyes, "they make me feel alive." Tsukishima's eyes widened at the term. It wasn't something he could relate to, and the unfamiliarity of it made him curious. As though testing it on his tongue, he slowly asked, "Alive?" Yamaguchi nodded, his eyes now closed, a fond smile on his face, "Yup. Alive." Yamaguchi lazily opened his eyes and asked, "What about you Tsukki?" "Me?" Yamaguchi nodded and Tsukishima sighed, "I've been fine." "Are you staying with Iwaizumi-san?" "Mm," Tsukishima nodded, "More or less." "She didn't... Did she... She didn't adopt you, right?" Yamaguchi hesitantly asked, and Tsukishima's eyes widened, "No." Yamaguchi laughed out of relief, his bunny ears flopping around, "That sounds like Iwaizumi-san." "Does it?" Yamaguchi nodded, "Yeah," he had a fond smile on his face, and for some reason Tsukishima was increasingly more intrigued by you as his old friend continued talking, "Iwaizumi-san doesn't treat us like we're hybrids. She sees us as equals. You see, she's the one who keeps pushing for all the equality in this high school, that's why so many of us are here." The freckled boy tilted his head, indicating the other hybrids that were attending school normally. Tsukishima looked around, and he softly mumbled, "I see." You're nothing that I'm used to. Why are you so different? 

"Iwa-chan," a male voice rang out, and Iwaizumi flinched, "What do you want, Shittykawa?" "Ne, ne," Oikawa continued, "Is it true [F/N]-chi adopted a hybrid? What kind is he?" "Not adopted. She found him. And he looks like a crow," Iwaizumi responded dully, still wondering about how long that hybrid was going to stay with them. It's been several weeks now and although Tsukishima has shown signs of warming up to you, he's only been polite and distant to the rest of the family, nothing like that Iwaizumi was used to when it came to hybrids. Oikawa's eyes narrowed, "A crow?" "Yeah." "With blonde hair?" Iwaizumi's eyes widened, and he softly mumbled, "Yeah, why?" "He was abandoned right?" "Not sure, [F/N] found him at the bus stop." Iwaizumi and Oikawa exchanged a look and Oikawa sighed, "You know, I only know this because of social media, but he's really popular, that hybrid. He's one of the few avians that came out like expected. The only con is his personality. He has nothing that he's supposed to have when it comes to full obedience to their master." "Yeah, kind of noticed that," Iwaizumi mumbled, "He only listens to [F/N]." Oikawa smirks, and Iwaizumi scowls, "He only listens to her half the time." The scowl on the older Iwaizumi lightened up though, and he softly mumbled, "It's only been a couple of weeks and she's already so comfortable around him though." "[F/N]-chi is?" Iwaizumi nodded as he continued cleaning up the gym with his best friend and Oikawa paused, a soft smile on his face, "Isn't that a good thing then?" "Not if he leaves," Iwaizumi curses underneath his breath. Oikawa sees the look of anguish that briefly flickered across his friend's face, and softly mumbled, "Iwa-chan."

"Why am I here again?" Tsukishima asked as he watched two idiotic duos, not one pair, but two, scream across the court about a receive that had a weird name.Something along the lines of, ROLLING THUNDER, but that wasn't any of his business, now was it His eyes narrowed at the short orange haired wolf-child who was literally like a piece of the sun bouncing around. Too bright, don't want to deal with this. He scoffed before sitting down on the bench beside Yachi, who immediately flinched. Yachi was definitely not used to Tsukishima's brashness, or his cold demeanor, but she couldn't do much but smile as he saw how intently he watched over you and Yamaguchi. Especially you. If Yachi were to describe it, Tsukishima's vision of you was a student to a teacher, he was mildly interested in the way that would be considered, "learning", but at the same time, was slightly irritated with the way you were. Tsukishima couldn't help it though, in all his years, he has never been treated as anything more than a defect, so why was it that someone like you was so kind to him? It made no sense to him. "Ne, [F/N]-chan!" The short orange hair 1st year called out. His tail was wagging at the speed of light, catching your attention as you were addressing the volleyball manager, Kiyoko. You looked over, giving Kiyoko an apologetic nod and replied, "What's up Shoyo-kun?" "Who's the tall guy?" Tsukishima's scowl deepened and you glanced over at him, stifling a giggle at the blonde's unwilling nature to meet others and smiled sweetly at Hinata, "He's Tsukishima Kei. A friend of mine." This time Tsukishima's eyes widened and an eyebrow was raised in even more confusion. Since when were we friends? I'm a Defect, and to top it off, I'm not even human. "Ooh," Hinata's eyes glimmered with interest before he casually asked, "Is he going to join the volleyball club?" "Hah?" / "I didn't think of that." Both of you responded at the same time, and you turned to him, "You don't want to Tsukishima?" "Tch." I don't belong here. You pouted at the taller male's scowl, but it was quickly wiped off your face and you said, "It's his choice. I make no decisions for him." Tsukishima looks at you from the corner of his eyes, clearly curious about how indirectly direct you were about your standing to him. So we're friends, and not in an owner-pet relationship? His scowl lightened subtly and he was about to say something, but was cut off by that orange ball of sunshine. "Eh, but last time you brought in a hy-" Hinata's mouth was clamped shut by Tanaka and Nishinoya as they saw you flinch and you subconsciously took a step back. You give them a weak smile and a bow before quickly grabbing your bag. You slung it across your shoulder and announced, "Have a nice day." Hinata broke free and cried, "Wait! [F/N]-chan!" But you paid no mind to him as you exited the gym, the door shutting close not-too-gently and the atmosphere inside the gym dropped below zero. "Hi-na-ta," a low voice growled out. The short boy flinched and cowered behind his setter. The volleyball captain, Daichi was making his way towards the short first year, but only to be stopped from going into full on lecture mode by the vice captain, Sugawara. The silver haired fox smiled warmly at him before turning to Hinata and he said, "Hinata, you know how [F/N]-chan is when you call us that." Hinata pouted, "I didn't mean to. I just..." His ears drooped and his tail went slack as it swished back and forth to show how guilty he felt, and he mumbled, "I'm still not used to how nice everyone is." Tsukishima silently agreed. He could relate to that. He was also not yet adjusted to the kindness you had shown him. After all, in the past, it was always the same treatment. Bare minimum amount of food, water, and occasional new clothes. But whenever it was showcase time, he was given the best treatment. Any other time, he was literally hung in a cage above the lobby rooms. Unknowingly his fists were clenched to the point his knuckles were white, and Yamaguchi noticed, gently placing a hand on Tsukishima's shoulder. "Tsukki," Yamaguchi called out, pulling him out of his dark thoughts, and he hesitantly said, "I think... you need to find [F/N]-san, before you get left behind here." It hit Tsukishima immediately that you were the only one with the keys to the house, and the tall male bowed and bid his farewells to the volleyball club as he rushed out, looking for you. But he didn't have to look too far, you were waiting against the railing, your eyes downcast, a sad glimmer in them. No longer were they the bright [e/c] orbs that normally shined with life, they were dull, as though plagued by thoughts that swallowed all the life in you. "Oy." You looked up, and the life came back, a bit duller than normal, but it was better than what Tsukishima just saw. That was a part of you that the tall blonde was not quite ready to confront. Although he was curious as to what it was that was haunting your thoughts, he wasn't quite sure on how to approach that, and avoided the matter. "Let's go home." The way back home was silent, not an uncomfortable or awkward one, but one that was shared between the two of you comfortably. Neither of you complaining about it at all. But at the bus stop where you first met, an unpleasant sight awaited Tsukishima and the taller male stopped in his tracks, his eyes narrowed as his fist clenched. You noticed your taller companion stop, as you look between him and the male at the bus stop. "Kei." "Nii-san." Your eyes widened, but the moment Tsukishima's 'older brother' glanced at you, Tsukishima grabbed your wrist, pulling you behind him. And you don't make a single noise as you felt the pressure on your wrist. There was something about the male that put the normally indifferent blonde into agitation. "You need to stop running away from home and just come back." "I was abandoned again, you call that running away from home, Nii-san?" "That's not what Master told us.." The older Tsukishima responded. His eyes narrowed at you and he asked, "Did you get a new Master, Kei? Is she the reason you ran away?" "She's not my master," Tsukishima pauses when he feels you grab the hem of his shirt and he continues, "Besides, I'm a defect, unlike you Akiteru." No one wants me, not like you. Everyone takes good care of you cause you're so devoted to your owners. But I was never like that. Akiteru sighed and he asked, "I see. So? What are you going to do now? Live with her? Master got rid of his proof that you were ever his, so you could." He paused, and in a sad tone, "If you wanted to." Tsukishima's eyes widened. It was one thing knowing about it, but hearing the fact from his own brother's mouth was a lot to take in. Tsukishima truly was abandoned with no where to go. He didn't belong anywhere, and- What's the fucking point of living if one flaw in me means that I'm not worth anything anymore?! That one flaw, my personality, for f*ck's sake, is all they need to deem me a defect. Something useless. I'm still alive aren't I? Just because I'm not everything they had expected me to be. Because I am a disappointment. He clenches his fists even tighter, but a smaller hand that was once on his back gently took a hold of his. Unknowingly, he relaxes slightly as he glances back at you and he freezes. Why? Why are you looking at me like that? It's not pity, or sadness. Why do you look like you're upset for me? We haven't even known each other for so long, yet why? Why are you looking at me as though you care? Tsukishima's hands relaxed and you slipped yours into his, before standing beside him and you softly state, "Please leave." Tsukishima and Akiteru look at you in shock and you repeat, "Please leave. You're agitating Tsukishima-kun, and as his friend I don't appreciate that." You frown and softly mumble, "And if you really are his brother, wouldn't you want him to be happier? If he's happier here, then let him stay." If he really wanted to leave, he would, but he didn't. He hasn't. A small part of you whispered to yourself, He won't. Both of their eyes widened and Akiteru sends you a small smile before fondly turning to his younger brother, "You found a good Master." "I'm not his Master," you corrected him. And Akiteru's eyes raised, you reassuringly squeeze Tsukishima's hand before letting go and you smiled brightly, "I'm his friend." Akiteru mimicked a fish before he smiled, "I see." He laughed, before asking, "May I ask for your name?" "Iwaizumi [F/N]." "Iwa-chan, then," Akiteru smiled, and you pouted slightly cause that nickname belonged to your brother, not you, and he bowed, "Thank you for taking care of Kei. I'll come back to visit every now and then." Akiteru left just as suddenly as he came, but as you watched him walk away you softly asked, "Are you okay?" "Tch, mind your own business." Tsukishima looked away from you. He still felt the warmth from your hands and it bothered him. It bothered him how much that simple gesture had effected him. But what bothered him most was the fact that he was truly abandoned. Something within him told him that it wasn't okay, that he had to find a new owner. However, that part wasn't him, it was what those scientists had programmed into his DNA. But a very small part was cheering for joy. The part that indicated that Tsukishima was a defect. I'm free. The idea of being free was so much that he stood there in a daze, before realizing that he was zoned out while staring straight at you. Your [e/c] eyes still holding his gaze, and you cutely tilted your head to the side, confused as to why Tsukishima was so silent, yet looked so peaceful. "I don't have an owner." "No, you don't." you easily responded. Still confused as to why Tsukishima's demeanor was so strange, almost as though there was both conflict and peace raging within him. And then you softly added, "You don't need one Tsukishima-kun." His eyes widened as he heard your last sentence, and a small smile graced your features and you continued, "You are your own person, Tsukishima. Don't let anyone else tell you otherwise."

Upon arriving home, you noticed the second pair of shoes and you unconsciously let out a groan, causing the blonde male to look at you weirdly and before you could respond you hear a familiar, "[F/N]-CHII!!" Oikawa peeked his fluffy brown head into the doorway and you lazily greet, "Hi Tooru-nii." "Don't call him that [F/N]." "Oh ho!" Oikawa's eyes narrowed as he examined Tsukishima. Both of you visibly stiffen before you toss your schoolbag at his face. Oikawa doesn't dodge it, as he was too engrossed with Tsukishima's wings, and gets hit straight on his face with your bag, causing Iwaizumi to laugh and Tsukishima to smirk while you glowered at the taller male. "Can you stop staring at him like that Tooru-nii," You slowly ask. You were obviously unhappy with the tall brunette and Oikawa holds his hands out as an apology, and you sigh, "I'll be in my room." You gave him a strained smile before going up the stairs towards your room. Tsukishima hesitated to follow you upstairs to seek his own little safety in the bedroom he was given, but Iwaizumi shakes his head and he asks, "She seems more irritable.. what happened?" Tsukishima didn't respond right away. Do I tell them... do I not tell them? But before Tsukishima could say anything, Oikawa asked, "Did someone come for you?" Tsukishima narrowed his eyes and Iwaizumi muttered a quick and harsh, "Oikawa!" And the former nodded his head, and Oikawa whined, "I don't want [F/N] to get hurt Iwa-chan! What if he leaves her?!" Why would I...? I have no where else to go. Tsukishima tilted his head in confusion and Oikawa sighs, "Sorry, I get protective of [F/N] too. She's like my younger sister too." Oikawa gives Iwaizumi and Tsukishima a weak smile and Iwaizumi let's out a breath of relief and mumbles, "Don't worry about that, Tsukishima."

Tsukishima laid sprawled out on the guest bed, wondering if he truly was allowed to stay. They seemed okay with him being here, but... What if they got sick of him? What if they want me to leave? That I'm being a burden. He stared blankly at the ceiling before he closed his eyes. Why is this such a pain? Should I not stay longer? I have no where else to go. And I feel so empty, as though all purpose in my life is gone because I was abandoned. But am I really alone, I'm with the Iwaizumis and- "Tsukishima?" You softly called out from the other side of the door. The male sat up, and mumbled an almost inaudible 'come in' and you slowly opened the door. You were wearing one of Hajime's old sweaters and short shorts, and Tsukishima had to fight the urge to stare at your legs as you came in, closing the door behind you. Before the tall blonde could say anything to you, he held it all back as he saw the way you were leaning against the door. You lowered your head, and he saw your lips move but he didn't hear exactly what it was you said. "What did you say?" "I'm sorry." "For what?" "I... I basically forced you into adjusting to a new life and I didn't even ask for your opinion or consent. I didn't ask if you wanted to go to school, I just kind of strung you along. And even if I give you so many of your own choices, I'm limiting you to what I do and-" "You have nothing to apologize for." You lifted your head as you noticed how the distance between the two of you had shrunk. And that small part of him tells him to stay with you. Protect you. Hold you close. And he immediately looked away from you. A small 'tch' leaving his mouth and you flinched, "Sorry for troubling you Tsukishima." Once you closed the door, you mentally berated yourself. What was I thinking? I got so invested in trying to make his life better, yet all I did was make him even more confused. I'm not supposed to hold him back. What am I doing?... saying I want all hybrids to be capable of making their own choices and yet here I am, forcing one to follow my pace. I'm such a hypocrite... I'm doing nothing more than repeating the same mistakes as before.

[sakurazawamidori]

tagged by @megane-thirst and @galacticplum! These were 2 different memes but I’m replying on a single post because I’m Very Lazy. Not tagging anyone but if you wanna do them go for it!

Rules: Copy and paste the questions, answer them in a new post, and tag some blogs to do it afterwards.

Age: 24 Birthplace: Rome, Italy Current Time: 8:30 PM Drink You Last Had: a smoothie Easiest Person To Talk To: a friend from middle school and another one from high school, both girls Favorite Song: nothing ever comes to mind when I gotta answer questions like these lmao... Grossest Memory: that time we were throwing out the trash and there were some white bugs??? they were so gross Hogwarts House: Ravenclaw In love with: the general concept of shipping, food, my cat, Jealous Of People: who know what they want to do w their life Killed Anyone: ???  Love At First Sight or Should I Walk By Again: I gotta walk by many times to even get a slight crush lmao Middle Name: Marta Number Of Siblings: 1 One wish: currently I would really want to go to therapy again, but that comes after getting a job Person You Last Called: my grandma Question You Are Always Asked: soOOooOOoo ANY BOYS IN YOUR LIFE??? Reasons To Smile: getting digital cards of your best girl on stupid mobile games (I know...) Song You Last Sung: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=3YcNzHOBmk8 Time You Woke: 10 AM Underwear Color: black Vacation Destination: Dublin this coming month Worst Habit: procrastinating, going to sleep at ass o’clock X-Rays: yeah like 2 years ago to check if I had pneumonia (I did) Zodiac Sign: Virgo

Name: Silvia

Nickname: silv, susu

Height: 1,76 cm (5′9′’)

Orientation: bisexual

Ethnicity: white european (italian)

Fav Food: I will eat everything and anything but I love pasta al pesto, anything w pumpkin (esp the lasagna my mom cooks), all kinds of sweets/cake but esp ones w fruits

Fav Season: S U M M E R

Fav Flower: Tulips!

Fav Scent: new books, the sea breeze

Fav Color: Green

Fav Beverage: Tea, Chinotto

Fav Animal: cats, frogs

Average hours of sleep: 6-8h

Fav fictional character: I guess it’s still Alice from Aria just in terms of how long she’s stuck with me...I should reread actually

No. of blankets I sleep with: virtually nothing in the summer, 3 + the sweater I wear right after I get out of bed so it’s easy to reach

Dream Trip: Japan, Canada

Blog Created: August 2011...GOD THAT WAS SO LONG AGO...

No. of Followers: 786 and wondering if I’ll ever get past 800 lmao (I won’t unless I start posting more frequently)

[garrydenke]

Fwd: Re-Report Tabernacle (Mishkan) @ Stonehenge Heelstone (1960)

Original Message

Message ID <CAAs8han_hyX15t4GH5_xnnV5d3DWxRr5jAa__RM+75SA3hJowg@mail.gmail.com> Created at: Wed, Jul 10, 2019 at 12:02 PM (Delivered after 0 seconds) From: Garry Denke <garrydenke@gmail.com> To: hilary.mcgrady@nationaltrust.org.uk, kate.mavor@english-heritage.org.uk, admin@cprewiltshire.org.uk, wiltscpre@btconnect.com, contactus@biblesociety.org.uk, office@hopetogether.org.uk, mail@licc.org.uk Subject: Fwd: Re-Report Tabernacle (Mishkan) @ Stonehenge Heelstone (1960)

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Re-Report Tabernacle (Mishkan) @ Stonehenge Heelstone (1960)

---------- Forwarded message --------- From: Jesus Christ <JesusChrist@inorbit.com> Date: Wed, Jul 10, 2019 at 9:41 AM Subject: Re-Report Tabernacle (Mishkan) @ Stonehenge Heelstone (1960) To: <WSCoronersOffice@wiltshire.gov.uk> Cc: <chiefcoronersoffice@judiciary.uk>

Re-Report Tabernacle (Mishkan) @ Stonehenge Heelstone (1960) _________________________________________

THE COMPLETE HISTORY OF STONEHENGE EXCAVATIONS

1611. King James VI and I investigated Stonehenge to see "The stone which the builders refused", "The stone which the builders reiected", and "the stone which the builders disallowed". King James Version: 1611

1616. Doctor William Harvey, Gilbert North, and Inigo Jones find horns of stags and oxen, coals, charcoals, batter-dashers, heads of arrows, pieces of rusted armour, rotten bones, thuribulum (censer) pottery, and a large nail. Long, William, 1876, Stonehenge and its Barrows. The Wiltshire Archaeological and Natural History Magazine, Volume 16

1620. George Villiers, 1st Duke of Buckingham, dug a large hole in the ground at the center of Stonehenge looking for buried treasure. (Diary)

1633-52. Inigo Jones conducted the first 'scientific' surveys of Stonehenge. Jones, I, and Webb, J, 1655, The most notable antiquity of Great Britain vulgarly called Stone-Heng on Salisbury plain. London: J Flesher for D Pakeman and L Chapman

1640. Sir Lawrence Washington, knight, owner of Stonehenge, fished around Bear's Stone (named after Washington's hound dog). Bear's Stone profile portrait a local 17th century attraction. (G-Diary) The Wiltshire Archaeological and Natural History Magazine, Volumes 15-16

1652. Reverend Lawrence Washington, heir of Stonehenge, commissions Doctor Garry Denke to dig below Bear's Stone, reveals lion, calf (ox), face as a man, flying eagle, bear (dog), leopard, and hidden relics. Bear's Stone (96) renamed Hele 'to conceal, cover, hide'. (G-Diary)

1653-6. Doctor Garry Denke auger cored below Hele Stone 'The stone which the builders rejected' on various occasions. Gold, silver, brass, iron, wood, bone, concrete discovered at 1-1/3 'yardsticks' (under flying eagle). Elizabeth Washington, heir of Stonehenge. Denke, G, 1699, G-Diary (German to English by Erodelphian Literary Society of Sigma Chi Fraternity). GDG, 1-666

1666. John Aubrey surveyed Stonehenge and made a 'Review'. Described the Avenue's prehistoric pits. (the 'Aubrey Holes' discovered by Hawley, not Aubrey). Aubrey, J, 1693 (edited by J Fowles 1982), Monumenta Britannica. Sherborne, Dorset: Dorset Publishing Co

1716. Thomas Hayward, owner of Stonehenge, dug heads of oxen and other beasts. (Diary)

1721-4. William Stukeley surveyed and excavated Stonehenge and its field monuments. Surveyed the Avenue in 1721 extending beyond Stonehenge Bottom to King Barrow Ridge. Surveyed the Cursus in 1723 and excavated. Stukeley, W, 1740, Stonehenge: a temple restor'd to the British druids. London: W Innys and R Manby

1757. Benjamin Franklin observes the Hele Stone (96) "Seven Heads": lion, calf (ox), face as a man, flying eagle, bear (dog), leopard, and sardine; "Ten Horns": Altar of Burnt Offering (4 horns), Altar of Incense (4 horns), and Torah scroll (2 horns); and all of the other 'hidden' relics buried there. (Diary)

1798. Sir Richard Hoare and William Cunnington dug at Stonehenge under the fallen Slaughter Stone 95 and under fallen Stones 56 and 57. The Ancient History of Wiltshire, Volume 1, 1812

1805-10. William Cunnington dug at Stonehenge on various occasions. Cunnington, W, 1884, Guide to the stones of Stonehenge. Devizes: Bull Printer

1839. Captain Beamish excavated within Stonehenge. (Diary)

1874-7. Professor Flinders Petrie produced a plan of Stonehenge and numbered the stones. Petrie, W M F, 1880, Stonehenge: plans, description, and theories. London: Edward Stanford

1877. Charles Darwin digs at Stonehenge to study 'Sinking of great Stones through the Action of Worms'. Darwin, Charles, 1881, The Formation of Vegetable Mould, Through the Action of Worms, with Observations on Their Habits. London: John Murray

1886. Kaiser Wilhelm Society founder 33° mason Friedrich Wilhelm Denke confirmed with his auger drilled core samples (under bear, leopard and calf) Gold, silver, brass, iron, wood, bone and concrete 4 feet (1.2 meter) beneath Stonehenge Hele Stone base. (FW-Diary)

1901. Professor William Gowland meticulously recorded and excavated around stone number 56 at Stonehenge. Gowland, W, 1902, Recent excavations at Stonehenge. Archaeologia, 58, 37-82

1919-26. Colonel William Hawley extensively excavated in advance of restoration programmes at Stonehenge for the Office of Works and later for the Society of Antiquaries. Hawley excavated ditch sections of the Avenue, conducted an investigation of the Slaughter Stone and other stones at Stonehenge, and discovered the 'Aubrey Holes' (misnamed) through excavation. Hawley, W, 1921, Stonehenge: interim report on the exploration. Antiquaries Journal, 1, 19-41 Hawley, W, 1922, Second report on the excavations at Stonehenge. Antiquaries Journal, 2, 36-52 Hawley, W, 1923, Third report on the excavations at Stonehenge. Antiquaries Journal, 3, 13-20 Hawley, W, 1924, Fourth report on the excavations at Stonehenge, 1922. Antiquaries Journal, 4, 30-9 Hawley, W, 1925, Report on the excavations at Stonehenge during the season of 1923. Antiquaries Journal, 5, 21-50 Hawley, W, 1926, Report on the excavations at Stonehenge during the season of 1924. Antiquaries Journal, 6, 1-25 Hawley, W, 1928, Report on the excavations at Stonehenge during 1925 and 1926. Antiquaries Journal, 8, 149-76 (Diary) Pitts, M, Bayliss, A, McKinley, J, Boylston, A, Budd, P, Evans, J, Chenery, C, Reynolds, A, and Semple, S, 2002, An Anglo-Saxon decapitation and burial at Stonehenge. Wiltshire Archaeological and Natural History Magazine, 95, 131-46

1929. Robert Newall excavated Stone 36. Newall, R S, 1929, Stonehenge. Antiquity, 3, 75-88 Newall, R S, 1929, Stonehenge, the recent excavations. Wiltshire Archaeological and Natural History Magazine, 44, 348-59

1935. Young, W E V, The Stonehenge car park excavation. (Diary)

1950. Robert Newall excavated Stone 66. Newall, R S, 1952, Stonehenge stone no. 66. Antiquaries Journal, 32, 65-7

1952. Robert Newall excavated Stones 71 and 72. (Diary)

1950-64. A major campaign of excavations by Richard Atkinson, Stuart Piggott, and Marcus Stone involving the re-excavation of some of Hawley=E2= =80=99s trenches as well as previously undisturbed areas within Stonehenge. Atkinson, R J C, Piggott, S, and Stone, J F S, 1952, The excavations of two additional holes at Stonehenge, and new evidence for the date of the monument. Antiquaries Journal, 32, 14-20 Atkinson, R J C, 1956, Stonehenge. London. Penguin Books in association with Hamish Hamilton. (second revised edition 1979: Penguin Books)

1966. Faith and Lance Vatcher excavated 3 Mesolithic Stonehenge postholes. Vatcher, F de M and Vatcher, H L, 1973, Excavation of three postholes in Stonehenge car park. Wiltshire Archaeological and Natural History Magazine, 68, 57-63

1968. Faith and Lance Vatcher dug geophone and floodlight cable trenches. (Diary)

1974. Garry Denke and Ralph Ferdinand set out to confirm Sir Lawrence Washington, knight and Reverend Lawrence Washington's revelation (G-Diary). Auger cores 1.2m (4ft) below Heel Stone 96 (under face as a man). Gold, silver, brass, iron, wood, bone, concrete confirmed. No coal in cores. Stonehenge Free Festival. Denke, G W, 1974, Stonehenge Phase I: An Open-pit Coalfield Model; The First Geologic Mining School (Indiana University of Pennsylvania). GDG, 74, 1-56

1978. John Evans re-excavated a 1954 cutting through the Stonehenge ditch and bank to take samples for snail analysis and radiocarbon dating. A well-preserved human burial lay within the ditch fill. Three fine flint arrowheads were found amongst the bones, with a fourth embedded in the sternum. Atkinson, R J C and Evans, J G, 1978, Recent excavations at Stonehenge. Antiquity, 52, 235-6 Evans, J G, 1984, Stonehenge: the environment in the late Neolithic and early Bronze Age, and a Beaker burial. Wiltshire Archaeological and Natural History Magazine, 78, 7-30 (Diary) Alexander Thorn and Richard Atkinson. NE side of Station Stone 94. (Diary)

1979-80. George Smith excavated in the Stonehenge car park on behalf of the Central Excavation Unit. Smith, G, 1980, Excavations in Stonehenge car park. Wiltshire Archaeological and Natural History Magazine, 74/75 (1979-80), 181 (Diary) Mike Pitts excavated along south side of A344 in advance of cable-laying and pipe-trenching. In 1979, discovered the Heel Stone 97 original pit (96 original Altar Stone pit). Survey along the Avenue course identified more pits. In 1980, excavated beside the A344 and discovered a stone floor (a complete prehistoric artifact assemblage retained from the monument). Pitts, M W, 1982, On the road to Stonehenge: Report on investigations beside the A344 in 1968, 1979, and 1980. Proceedings of the Prehistoric Society, 48, 75-132

1981. The Central Excavation Unit excavated in advance of the construction of the footpath through Stonehenge. Bond, D, 1983, An excavation at Stonehenge, 1981. Wiltshire Archaeological and Natural History Magazine, 77, 39-43.

1984. Garry Denke (and Hells Angels) seismic survey. Auger cores 1.2m (4ft) below Heel Stone 96 (under lion head). Gold, silver, brass, iron, wood, bone, concrete reconfirmed. No coal in cores. Stonehenge Free Festival. Denke, G, 1984, Magnetic and Electromagnetic Surveys at Heelstone, Stonehenge, United Kingdom (Indiana University of Pennsylvania). GDG, 84, 1-42

1990-6. A series of assessments and field evaluations in advance of the Stonehenge Conservation and Management Programme. Darvill, T C, 1997, Stonehenge Conservation and Management Programme: a summary of archaeological assessments and field evaluations undertaken 1990-1996. London: English Heritage

1994. Wessex Archaeology. Limited Auger Survey. Cleal, R M J, Walker, K E, and Montague, R, 1995, Stonehenge and its landscape: twentieth-century excavations (English Heritage Archaeological Report 10). London: English Heritage.

2008. Timothy Darvill and Geoffrey Wainwright set out to date the construction of the Double Bluestone Circle at Stonehenge and to chart the history of the Bluestones, and their use. Darvill, T, and Wainwright, G, 2008, Stonehenge excavations 2008. The Antiquaries Journal, Volume 89, September 2009, 1-19 (Diary) Mike Parker Pearson, Julian Richards, and Mike Pitts further the excavation of 'Aubrey Hole' 7 discovered by William Hawley, 1920. Willis, C, Marshall, P, McKinley, J, Pitts, M, Pollard, J, Richards, C, Richards, J, Thomas, J, Waldron, T, Welham, K, and Parker Pearson, M, 2016, The dead of Stonehenge. Antiquity, Volume 90, Issue 350, April 2016, 337-356

2012-3. Stonehenge A344 road excavated and removed. (Diary) _________________________________________

HISTORICAL TIMELINE OF CONCRETE

9600 BC Gobekli Tepe terrazzo floors (enclosure B layer III) and rectangular buildings of layer II. Mesolithic to Neolithic type of concrete in Anatolia (western Asia), constructed of burnt lime and clay, with aggregate. 6500 BC Nabataean geopolymer type of Stone age concrete in Syria, permanent heating and cooking fire pits. Primitive form of calcining on exterior faces of limestone rocks lining the fire pits. 5600 BC The earliest concrete yet discovered in Europe was developed along the Danube River in Yugoslavia. Stone age hunters or fishermen mixed red lime, sand, gravel and water. 4400 BC Stonehenge builders mixed Ancient concrete, pulverized Bluestone volcanic ash and tuff (Pozzolan) together with crushed in situ Calcium carbonate (CaCO3) lime. 3000 BC Chinese used cementitious materials to hold bamboo together in their boats and in the Great Wall. The Chinese used concrete in Gansu Province in northwest China. 2500 BC Egyptians mixed mud with straw to bind dried bricks. Also furthered the discovery of lime and gypsum mortar as a binding agent for building the Pyramids. 800 BC Babylonians and Assyrians used a bitumen to bind stone and bricks. This allowed them to combine both large and small stone objects together. 601 BC Stonehenge Altar of Burnt Offering (containing 7 gold relics) Topfill, 0.4 metre of pulverized Bluestone (volcanic ash and tuff) aggregate and lime, 3.7 metre Southeast of Heel Stone (under Anatolia's olivine-rich Altar Stone base). 600 BC Greeks discovered a natural Pozzolan on Santorini Island that developed hydraulic properties when mixed with lime. This made it possible to produce concrete that would harden under water, as well as in the air. 400 BC Petra (Greek, "city of rock"), also known as Sila, ancient city of Arabia (now southwestern Jordan). The stronghold and treasure city of the Nabataeans, an Arab people. 300 BC Romans used slaked lime and volcanic ash (Pozzolan), found near Pozzouli, Italy by the bay of Naples. Pliny the Elder reported a mortar mixture of 1 part lime to 4 parts sand. Vitruvius reported 2 parts of Pozzolan to 1 part lime. 193 BC Porticus Aemilia made of bound stones to form concrete. 75 BC Romans use a pozzolanic, hydraulic cement to build the theater at Pompeii and the Roman baths. The cement was a ground mix of lime and a volcanic ash containing silica and alumina. 44 BC Palatine Hill (Latin: Palatium), the centermost of the 7 hills of Rome, one of the most ancient parts of the city of Rome, Italy. It is some 70 metre high. 25 BC Ancient harbor at Caesarea, Israel built by Herod the Great. AD 24 Stonehenge Altar of Burnt Offering (containing 7 gold relics) Backfill, 1.6 metre of pulverized Bluestone (volcanic ash and tuff) aggregate and lime, 1.2 to 2.8 metre below Heel Stone base. Eastern bottom of Scroll Trench. _________________________________________

Re-Report Tabernacle (Mishkan) @ Stonehenge Heelstone (1960)

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<div dir=3D"ltr"><div dir=3D"ltr"><span style=3D"font-family:Verdana;font-s= ize:12px;line-height:18px">Re-Report Tabernacle (Mishkan) @ Stonehenge Heel= stone (1960)</span><br><br><div class=3D"gmail_quote"><div dir=3D"ltr" clas= s=3D"gmail_attr">---------- Forwarded message ---------<br>From: <strong cl= ass=3D"gmail_sendername" dir=3D"auto">Jesus Christ</strong> <span dir=3D"au= to"><<a href=3D"mailto:JesusChrist@inorbit.com">JesusChrist@inorbit.com<= /a>></span><br>Date: Wed, Jul 10, 2019 at 9:41 AM<br>Subject: Re-Report = Tabernacle (Mishkan) @ Stonehenge Heelstone (1960)<br>To:  <<a href=3D"m= ailto:WSCoronersOffice@wiltshire.gov.uk">WSCoronersOffice@wiltshire.gov.uk<= /a>><br>Cc:  <<a href=3D"mailto:chiefcoronersoffice@judiciary.uk">chi= efcoronersoffice@judiciary.uk</a>><br></div><br><div><div style=3D"font-= family:Verdana;font-size:12px"><div>Re-Report Tabernacle (Mishkan) @ Stoneh= enge Heelstone (1960)=C2=A0</div>

<div>_________________________________________=C2=A0<br> <br> THE COMPLETE HISTORY OF STONEHENGE EXCAVATIONS=C2=A0<br> <br> 1611. King James VI and I investigated Stonehenge to see "The stone wh= ich the builders refused", "The stone which the builders reiected= ", and "the stone which the builders disallowed".=C2=A0<br> King James Version: 1611=C2=A0<br> <br> 1616. Doctor William Harvey, Gilbert North, and Inigo Jones find horns of s= tags and oxen, coals, charcoals, batter-dashers, heads of arrows, pieces of= rusted armour, rotten bones, thuribulum (censer) pottery, and a large nail= .=C2=A0<br> Long, William, 1876, Stonehenge and its Barrows. The Wiltshire Archaeologic= al and Natural History Magazine, Volume 16=C2=A0<br> <br> 1620. George Villiers, 1st Duke of Buckingham, dug a large hole in the grou= nd at the center of Stonehenge looking for buried treasure. (Diary)=C2=A0<b= r> <br> 1633-52. Inigo Jones conducted the first 'scientific' surveys of St= onehenge.=C2=A0<br> Jones, I, and Webb, J, 1655, The most notable antiquity of Great Britain vu= lgarly called Stone-Heng on Salisbury plain. London: J Flesher for D Pakema= n and L Chapman=C2=A0<br> <br> 1640. Sir Lawrence Washington, knight, owner of Stonehenge, fished around B= ear's Stone (named after Washington's hound dog). Bear's Stone = profile portrait a local 17th century attraction. (G-Diary)=C2=A0<br> The Wiltshire Archaeological and Natural History Magazine, Volumes 15-16=C2= =A0<br> <br> 1652. Reverend Lawrence Washington, heir of Stonehenge, commissions Doctor = Garry Denke to dig below Bear's Stone, reveals lion, calf (ox), face as= a man, flying eagle, bear (dog), leopard, and hidden relics. Bear's St= one (96) renamed Hele 'to conceal, cover, hide'. (G-Diary)=C2=A0<br= > <br> 1653-6. Doctor Garry Denke auger cored below Hele Stone 'The stone whic= h the builders rejected' on various occasions. Gold, silver, brass, iro= n, wood, bone, concrete discovered at 1-1/3 'yardsticks' (under fly= ing eagle). Elizabeth Washington, heir of Stonehenge.=C2=A0<br> Denke, G, 1699, G-Diary (German to English by Erodelphian Literary Society = of Sigma Chi Fraternity). GDG, 1-666=C2=A0<br> <br> 1666. John Aubrey surveyed Stonehenge and made a 'Review'. Describe= d the Avenue's prehistoric pits. (the 'Aubrey Holes' discovered= by Hawley, not Aubrey).=C2=A0<br> Aubrey, J, 1693 (edited by J Fowles 1982), Monumenta Britannica. Sherborne,= Dorset: Dorset Publishing Co=C2=A0<br> <br> 1716. Thomas Hayward, owner of Stonehenge, dug heads of oxen and other beas= ts. (Diary)=C2=A0<br> <br> 1721-4. William Stukeley surveyed and excavated Stonehenge and its field mo= numents. Surveyed the Avenue in 1721 extending beyond Stonehenge Bottom to = King Barrow Ridge. Surveyed the Cursus in 1723 and excavated.=C2=A0<br> Stukeley, W, 1740, Stonehenge: a temple restor'd to the British druids.= London: W Innys and R Manby=C2=A0<br> <br> 1757. Benjamin Franklin observes the Hele Stone (96) "Seven Heads&quot= ;: lion, calf (ox), face as a man, flying eagle, bear (dog), leopard, and s= ardine; "Ten Horns": Altar of Burnt Offering (4 horns), Altar of = Incense (4 horns), and Torah scroll (2 horns); and all of the other 'hi= dden' relics buried there. (Diary)=C2=A0<br> <br> 1798. Sir Richard Hoare and William Cunnington dug at Stonehenge under the = fallen Slaughter Stone 95 and under fallen Stones 56 and 57.=C2=A0<br> The Ancient History of Wiltshire, Volume 1, 1812=C2=A0<br> <br> 1805-10. William Cunnington dug at Stonehenge on various occasions.=C2=A0<b= r> Cunnington, W, 1884, Guide to the stones of Stonehenge. Devizes: Bull Print= er=C2=A0<br> <br> 1839. Captain Beamish excavated within Stonehenge. (Diary)=C2=A0<br> <br> 1874-7. Professor Flinders Petrie produced a plan of Stonehenge and numbere= d the stones.=C2=A0<br> Petrie, W M F, 1880, Stonehenge: plans, description, and theories. London: = Edward Stanford=C2=A0<br> <br> 1877. Charles Darwin digs at Stonehenge to study 'Sinking of great Ston= es through the Action of Worms'.=C2=A0<br> Darwin, Charles, 1881, The Formation of Vegetable Mould, Through the Action= of Worms, with Observations on Their Habits. London: John Murray=C2=A0<br> <br> 1901. Professor William Gowland meticulously recorded and excavated around = stone number 56 at Stonehenge.=C2=A0<br> Gowland, W, 1902, Recent excavations at Stonehenge. Archaeologia, 58, 37-82= =C2=A0<br> <br> 1919-26. Colonel William Hawley extensively excavated in advance of restora= tion programmes at Stonehenge for the Office of Works and later for the Soc= iety of Antiquaries. Hawley excavated ditch sections of the Avenue, conduct= ed an investigation of the Slaughter Stone and other stones at Stonehenge, = and discovered the 'Aubrey Holes' (misnamed) through excavation.=C2= =A0<br> Hawley, W, 1921, Stonehenge: interim report on the exploration.=C2=A0<br> Antiquaries Journal, 1, 19-41=C2=A0<br> Hawley, W, 1922, Second report on the excavations at Stonehenge.=C2=A0<br> Antiquaries Journal, 2, 36-52=C2=A0<br> Hawley, W, 1923, Third report on the excavations at Stonehenge.=C2=A0<br> Antiquaries Journal, 3, 13-20=C2=A0<br> Hawley, W, 1924, Fourth report on the excavations at Stonehenge, 1922.=C2= =A0<br> Antiquaries Journal, 4, 30-9=C2=A0<br> Hawley, W, 1925, Report on the excavations at Stonehenge during the season = of 1923.=C2=A0<br> Antiquaries Journal, 5, 21-50=C2=A0<br> Hawley, W, 1926, Report on the excavations at Stonehenge during the season = of 1924.=C2=A0<br> Antiquaries Journal, 6, 1-25=C2=A0<br> Hawley, W, 1928, Report on the excavations at Stonehenge during 1925 and 19= 26.=C2=A0<br> Antiquaries Journal, 8, 149-76=C2=A0<br> (Diary)=C2=A0<br> Pitts, M, Bayliss, A, McKinley, J, Boylston, A, Budd, P, Evans, J, Chenery,= C, Reynolds, A, and Semple, S, 2002, An Anglo-Saxon decapitation and buria= l at Stonehenge. Wiltshire Archaeological and Natural History Magazine, 95,= 131-46=C2=A0<br> <br> 1929. Robert Newall excavated Stone 36.=C2=A0<br> Newall, R S, 1929, Stonehenge. Antiquity, 3, 75-88=C2=A0<br> Newall, R S, 1929, Stonehenge, the recent excavations.=C2=A0<br> Wiltshire Archaeological and Natural History Magazine, 44, 348-59=C2=A0<br> <br> 1935. Young, W E V, The Stonehenge car park excavation. (Diary)=C2=A0<br> <br> 1950. Robert Newall excavated Stone 66.=C2=A0<br> Newall, R S, 1952, Stonehenge stone no. 66. Antiquaries Journal, 32, 65-7= =C2=A0<br> <br> 1952. Robert Newall excavated Stones 71 and 72. (Diary)=C2=A0<br> <br> 1950-64. A major campaign of excavations by Richard Atkinson, Stuart Piggot= t, and Marcus Stone involving the re-excavation of some of Hawley=E2=80=99s= trenches as well as previously undisturbed areas within Stonehenge.=C2=A0<= br> Atkinson, R J C, Piggott, S, and Stone, J F S, 1952, The excavations of two= additional holes at Stonehenge, and new evidence for the date of the monum= ent. Antiquaries Journal, 32, 14-20=C2=A0<br> Atkinson, R J C, 1956, Stonehenge. London. Penguin Books in association wit= h Hamish Hamilton. (second revised edition 1979: Penguin Books)=C2=A0<br> <br> 1966. Faith and Lance Vatcher excavated 3 Mesolithic Stonehenge postholes.= =C2=A0<br> Vatcher, F de M and Vatcher, H L, 1973, Excavation of three postholes in St= onehenge car park. Wiltshire Archaeological and Natural History Magazine, 6= 8, 57-63=C2=A0<br> <br> 1968. Faith and Lance Vatcher dug geophone and floodlight cable trenches. (= Diary)=C2=A0<br> <br> 1974. Garry Denke and Ralph Ferdinand set out to confirm Sir Lawrence Washi= ngton, knight and Reverend Lawrence Washington's revelation (G-Diary). = Auger cores 1.2m (4ft) below Heel Stone 96 (under face as a man). Gold, sil= ver, brass, iron, wood, bone, concrete confirmed. No coal in cores. Stonehe= nge Free Festival.=C2=A0<br> Denke, G W, 1974, Stonehenge Phase I: An Open-pit Coalfield Model; The Firs= t Geologic Mining School (Indiana University of Pennsylvania). GDG, 74, 1-5= 6=C2=A0<br> <br> 1978. John Evans re-excavated a 1954 cutting through the Stonehenge ditch a= nd bank to take samples for snail analysis and radiocarbon dating. A well-p= reserved human burial lay within the ditch fill. Three fine flint arrowhead= s were found amongst the bones, with a fourth embedded in the sternum.=C2= =A0<br> Atkinson, R J C and Evans, J G, 1978, Recent excavations at Stonehenge. Ant= iquity, 52, 235-6=C2=A0<br> Evans, J G, 1984, Stonehenge: the environment in the late Neolithic and ear= ly Bronze Age, and a Beaker burial. Wiltshire Archaeological and Natural Hi= story Magazine, 78, 7-30=C2=A0<br> (Diary)=C2=A0<br> Alexander Thorn and Richard Atkinson. NE side of Station Stone 94. (Diary)= =C2=A0<br> <br> 1979-80. George Smith excavated in the Stonehenge car park on behalf of the= Central Excavation Unit.=C2=A0<br> Smith, G, 1980, Excavations in Stonehenge car park. Wiltshire Archaeologica= l and Natural History Magazine, 74/75 (1979-80), 181=C2=A0<br> (Diary)=C2=A0<br> Mike Pitts excavated along south side of A344 in advance of cable-laying an= d pipe-trenching. In 1979, discovered the Heel Stone 97 original pit (96 or= iginal Altar Stone pit). Survey along the Avenue course identified more pit= s. In 1980, excavated beside the A344 and discovered a stone floor (a compl= ete prehistoric artifact assemblage retained from the monument).=C2=A0<br> Pitts, M W, 1982, On the road to Stonehenge: Report on investigations besid= e the A344 in 1968, 1979, and 1980. Proceedings of the Prehistoric Society,= 48, 75-132=C2=A0<br> <br> 1981. The Central Excavation Unit excavated in advance of the construction = of the footpath through Stonehenge.=C2=A0<br> Bond, D, 1983, An excavation at Stonehenge, 1981. Wiltshire Archaeological = and Natural History Magazine, 77, 39-43.=C2=A0<br> <br> 1984. Garry Denke (and Hells Angels) seismic survey. Auger cores 1.2m (4ft)= below Heel Stone 96 (under lion head). Gold, silver, brass, iron, wood, bo= ne, concrete reconfirmed. No coal in cores. Stonehenge Free Festival.=C2=A0= <br> Denke, G, 1984, Magnetic and Electromagnetic Surveys at Heelstone, Stonehen= ge, United Kingdom (Indiana University of Pennsylvania). GDG, 84, 1-42=C2= =A0<br> <br> 1990-6. A series of assessments and field evaluations in advance of the Sto= nehenge Conservation and Management Programme.=C2=A0<br> Darvill, T C, 1997, Stonehenge Conservation and Management Programme: a sum= mary of archaeological assessments and field evaluations undertaken 1990-19= 96. London: English Heritage=C2=A0<br> <br> 1994. Wessex Archaeology. Limited Auger Survey.=C2=A0<br> Cleal, R M J, Walker, K E, and Montague, R, 1995, Stonehenge and its landsc= ape: twentieth-century excavations (English Heritage Archaeological Report = 10). London: English Heritage.=C2=A0<br> <br> 2008. Timothy Darvill and Geoffrey Wainwright set out to date the construct= ion of the Double Bluestone Circle at Stonehenge and to chart the history o= f the Bluestones, and their use.=C2=A0<br> Darvill, T, and Wainwright, G, 2008, Stonehenge excavations 2008. The Antiq= uaries Journal, Volume 89, September 2009, 1-19=C2=A0<br> (Diary)=C2=A0<br> Mike Parker Pearson, Julian Richards, and Mike Pitts further the excavation= of 'Aubrey Hole' 7 discovered by William Hawley, 1920.=C2=A0<br> Willis, C, Marshall, P, McKinley, J, Pitts, M, Pollard, J, Richards, C, Ric= hards, J, Thomas, J, Waldron, T, Welham, K, and Parker Pearson, M, 2016, Th= e dead of Stonehenge. Antiquity, Volume 90, Issue 350, April 2016, 337-356= =C2=A0<br> <br> 2012-3. Stonehenge A344 road excavated and removed. (Diary)=C2=A0<br> _________________________________________=C2=A0<br> <br> HISTORICAL TIMELINE OF CONCRETE=C2=A0<br> <br> 9600 BC=C2=A0<br> Gobekli Tepe terrazzo floors (enclosure B layer III) and rectangular buildi= ngs of layer II. Mesolithic to Neolithic type of concrete in Anatolia (west= ern Asia), constructed of burnt lime and clay, with aggregate.=C2=A0<br> 6500 BC=C2=A0<br> Nabataean geopolymer type of Stone age concrete in Syria, permanent heating= and cooking fire pits. Primitive form of calcining on exterior faces of li= mestone rocks lining the fire pits.=C2=A0<br> 5600 BC=C2=A0<br> The earliest concrete yet discovered in Europe was developed along the Danu= be River in Yugoslavia. Stone age hunters or fishermen mixed red lime, sand= , gravel and water.=C2=A0<br> 4400 BC=C2=A0<br> Stonehenge builders mixed Ancient concrete, pulverized Bluestone volcanic a= sh and tuff (Pozzolan) together with crushed in situ Calcium carbonate (CaC= O3) lime.=C2=A0<br> 3000 BC=C2=A0<br> Chinese used cementitious materials to hold bamboo together in their boats = and in the Great Wall. The Chinese used concrete in Gansu Province in north= west China.=C2=A0<br> 2500 BC=C2=A0<br> Egyptians mixed mud with straw to bind dried bricks. Also furthered the dis= covery of lime and gypsum mortar as a binding agent for building the Pyrami= ds.=C2=A0<br> 800 BC=C2=A0<br> Babylonians and Assyrians used a bitumen to bind stone and bricks. This all= owed them to combine both large and small stone objects together.=C2=A0<br> 601 BC=C2=A0<br> Stonehenge Altar of Burnt Offering (containing 7 gold relics) Topfill, 0.4 = metre of pulverized Bluestone (volcanic ash and tuff) aggregate and lime, 3= .7 metre Southeast of Heel Stone (under Anatolia's olivine-rich Altar S= tone base).=C2=A0<br> 600 BC=C2=A0<br> Greeks discovered a natural Pozzolan on Santorini Island that developed hyd= raulic properties when mixed with lime. This made it possible to produce co= ncrete that would harden under water, as well as in the air.=C2=A0<br> 400 BC=C2=A0<br> Petra (Greek, "city of rock"), also known as Sila, ancient city o= f Arabia (now southwestern Jordan). The stronghold and treasure city of the= Nabataeans, an Arab people.=C2=A0<br> 300 BC=C2=A0<br> Romans used slaked lime and volcanic ash (Pozzolan), found near Pozzouli, I= taly by the bay of Naples. Pliny the Elder reported a mortar mixture of 1 p= art lime to 4 parts sand. Vitruvius reported 2 parts of Pozzolan to 1 part = lime.=C2=A0<br> 193 BC=C2=A0<br> Porticus Aemilia made of bound stones to form concrete.=C2=A0<br> 75 BC=C2=A0<br> Romans use a pozzolanic, hydraulic cement to build the theater at Pompeii a= nd the Roman baths. The cement was a ground mix of lime and a volcanic ash = containing silica and alumina.=C2=A0<br> 44 BC=C2=A0<br> Palatine Hill (Latin: Palatium), the centermost of the 7 hills of Rome, one= of the most ancient parts of the city of Rome, Italy. It is some 70 metre = high.=C2=A0<br> 25 BC=C2=A0<br> Ancient harbor at Caesarea, Israel built by Herod the Great.=C2=A0<br> AD 24=C2=A0<br> Stonehenge Altar of Burnt Offering (containing 7 gold relics) Backfill, 1.6= metre of pulverized Bluestone (volcanic ash and tuff) aggregate and lime, = 1.2 to 2.8 metre below Heel Stone base. Eastern bottom of Scroll Trench.=C2= =A0<br> _________________________________________=C2=A0</div>

<div>=C2=A0</div>

<div>Re-Report Tabernacle (Mishkan) @ Stonehenge Heelstone (1960)=C2=A0</di= v></div></div> </div></div></div>

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[certainheartrunaway]

A.R.I. International DX Contest 2019

1. The Associazione Radioamatori Italiani (A.R.I.) has the honour of inviting radio amateurs from all over the world to participate in the ARI International DX Contest.

2. Aim: It is a world-wide competition: everybody can work everybody.

3. Date and time: The contest will be held on each first full week-end of May starting at 1200Z Saturday and ending at 1159Z Sunday. In year 2019 the dates will be May 4-5.

4. Categories:

I. Single Operator – CW – HIGH/LOW POWER II. Single Operator – SSB – HIGH/LOW POWER III. Single Operator – RTTY – HIGH/LOW POWER IV. Single Operator – MIXED – HIGH/LOW POWER V. Multi Operator – Single TX – MIXED & HIGH POWER only VI. Multi Operator – Multi TX – MIXED & HIGH POWER only VII. SWL – Single Operator – MIXED

Notes:

a) For Single-Operator, only one signal is permitted at any time.

b) Use of packet cluster, skimmers or any other alerting system is permitted for all entrants.

c) Self spotting or asking other stations to spot you is not allowed.

d) Multi-Operator Single TX stations must adhere to the 10 minutes rule (both runner and multiplier station). Only one band can be used within a 10 minutes period, while another band can be used only to work a new multiplier. The 10 minutes period starts when the first QSO is logged on that band. QSO in violation of the 10 minutes rule should be left in the log and they will be automatically deleted by the Committee but no extra penalties will be applied. Be aware that an excessive number of violations may lead to the disqualification of the entry.

e) LOW POWER category entrants can use 100W maximum total output power.

f) It is forbidden the dual-CQ on the same band.

g) For Multi-Operator Multi-TX stations only one transmitted signal per band is permitted.

5. Bands: Bands from 10m through 80m, except WARC bands, are allowed according to IARU Band Plans.

6. Exchange: Italian stations will send RST and two letters to identify their province. Other stations will send RST and a serial number from 001. The serial number will NOT restart from 001 on each band/mode except for the Multi-Operator Multi TX stations. Multi-Operator Multi TX stations will have separate serial number for each band.

  7. Multipliers.

each Italian province (110) count 1 (one) multiplier,

each DXCC country (except I & IS0 & IT9) count 1 (one) multiplier.

The same multiplier (country/province) can be counted once and only once for each band. The 110 Italian provinces (by call-area) are the following:

I1: AL, AT, BI, CN, GE, IM, NO, SP, SV, TO, VB, VC.

IX1: AO.

I2: BG, BS, CO, CR, LC, LO, MB, MI, MN, PV, SO, VA.

I3: BL, PD, RO, TV, VE, VI, VR.

IN3: BZ, TN.

IV3: GO, PN, TS, UD.

I4: BO, FC, FE, MO, PC, PR, RA, RE, RN.

I5: AR, FI, GR, LI, LU, MS, PI, PO, PT, SI.

I6: AN, AP, AQ, CH, FM, MC, PE, PS (or PU), TE.

I7: BA, BR, BT, FG, LE, MT, TA.

I8: AV, BN, CB, CE, CS, CZ, IS, KR, NA, PZ, RC, SA, VV.

I0: FR, LT, PG, RI, RM (or ROMA), TR, VT.

IT9: AG, CL, CT, EN, ME, PA, RG, SR, TP.

IS0: CA, NU, OR SS, SU

PLEASE REMEMBER that I (Italy) IT9 (Sicily Island) and IS0 (Sardinia Island) are NOT country-multipliers.

8. QSO/Points:

QSO/HRD with own country counts 0 (zero) point but is good for the multipliers credit.

QSO/HRD with own continent counts 1 (one) point,

QSO/HRD with different continent counts 3 (three) points,

QSO/HRD with any Italian (I & IS0 & IT9) station counts 10 (ten) points.

The same station can be contacted on the same band once on SSB/CW/RTTY but only the first QSO is good for multiplier credit.

9. Final score: The Final Score is the sum of QSO/points from all bands multiplied by the sum of multipliers from all bands.

10. SWL Stations: Listeners are required to log both the callsign of the station heard and of the correspondent station. Score is calculated based only upon the station heard using the same rules as per the transmitting stations. A callsign may appear NOT more than 3 (three) times on each band as a correspondent station, regardless of mode. WARNING/EXCEPTION: SWL log must be submitted within 60 hours after the end of the contest  (2359Z May 7, 2019)

11. LOG instructions: ATTENTION PLEASE – LOG WEB UPLOAD ONLY

a. Only CABRILLO log will be accepted

b. LOG must be WEB-Uploaded at www.ari.it. A direct link to the upload page can be found here

c. LOG must be web-uploaded no later than 5 days after the contest (2359Z May 10, 2019)

WARNING/EXCEPTION: SWL log must be submitted within 60 hours after the end of the contest (2359Z May 07, 2019)

d. The Web-Uploader (or Robot) will send a confirmation on the log submission.

e. A list of the received LOG will be published on www.ari.it site. A direct link to the received logs page can be found here

f. If you are not able, for whatever reason, to submit a CABRILLO log, please contact the A.R.I. HF Contest Manager at <hfcontest.ari(at)gmail.com>

g. Submitted LOG may be made open to the public. Thus, by sending in your log, you implicitly agree that your log may be made open to the public.

12. Penalties and disqualifications: Logs will be carefully checked by the Contest Committee and mistakes may cause a score reduction. There are no penalties applied to erroneous QSO, but unsportsmanlike conduct may lead to disqualification of the entry. Unsportsmanlike conduct may be found in the LOG data as well in any other recording mean available to the Committee. All Contest Committee decisions are official and final.

13. Awards: A plaque will be awarded to the top scoring station in each category. Special plaques can be awarded by the Contest Committee if country/continental/call-area participation can justify such a decision. A digital award/certificate will be awarded to all stations and will be either sent by email or downloaded from the web-site.

14. Implicit Declaration: by submitting an entry in the ARI International DX Contest you agree that:

a) you have read and understood the rules of the contest and agree to be bound by them; b) you have operated according to all the rules and regulations of your country that pertain to amateur radio; c) your log entry may be made open to the public; d) all actions and decisions of the A.R.I. HF Contest Committee are official and final.

On behalf of A.R.I. HF Contest Committee

Filippo Vairo, IZ1LBG A.R.I HF Contest Manager

CABRILLO STANDARD for the ARI International DX Contest

  START-OF-LOG: 3.0 CREATED-BY: CONTEST: ARI-DX CALLSIGN: CLAIMED-SCORE: NAME: ADDRESS: ADDRESS: ADDRESS: LOCATION: nnnn / NM (ARI Section Number, field not needed for DX entries) SOAPBOX: CATEGORY-OPERATOR: SINGLE-OP / MULTI-OP CATEGORY-TRANSMITTER: ONE / UNLIMITED/ SWL CATEGORY-ASSISTED: ASSISTED CATEGORY-BAND: ALL CATEGORY-POWER: HIGH / LOW CATEGORY-MODE: SSB / CW / RTTY / MIXED CATEGORY-STATION: FIXED CATEGORY-OVERLAY: ROOKIE/YOUTH QSO: END-OF-LOG:

START-OF-LOG: 2.0 CREATED-BY: CONTEST: ARI-DX CALLSIGN: CLAIMED-SCORE: NAME: ADDRESS: ADDRESS: ADDRESS: LOCATION: nnnn / NM (ARI Section Number, field not needed for DX entries) SOAPBOX: CATEGORY: SINGLE-OP ALL HIGH/LOW SSB/CW/RTTY/MIXED CATEGORY: MULTI-ONE ALL HIGH MIXED CATEGORY: MULTI-MULTI ALL HIGH MIXED CATEGORY: SWL CATEGORY-OVERLAY: ROOKIE/YOUTH QSO: END-OF-LOG:

See More: http://www.ari.it/

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