#My lovely partner reminded me that I hadn't written anything this year for my little meow meow

[thefollow-spot]

"Untitled" (Medraut)

Mordred & Arthur ● WC: 100 ● Canon Character Death // Written for @merlinmicrofic 2024, for the prompt 'Try Again'.

---

In the panicky bluntness of impalement, Mordred never looked at his own blade, burnished in Arthur’s blood. Still, as rock and his knees collided—a painful shockwave—his name began tolling: a bell in black sky.

Lodged in history like chipped sword shrapnel: the Druid who forgot he was one. Mordred, killer of Camelot’s glittering king. The one true thing he ever did.

Emrys forsook him: jealous, paranoid. Morgana was vengeance-mad. Mordred never chose right whom to love.

Fainting, it was summertime.

“Nearly flawless, Mordred!” Training in sweet air. Though Mordred’s clumsy blade struck wrong, Arthur beamed. “Now, try again.”

[yazzwrites6962]

Second Chances ♡ Shuntaro Chishiya

˚ʚ♡ɞ˚ Shuntaro Chishiya x GN!Spouse!Reader ˚ʚ♡ɞ˚

Author's Note: UNEDITED! This is a Chishiya POV post. I haven't written anything like it before, so bear with me. Also, I know it's super short. It was a quick little thing I wrote between lectures. I don't own any characters/images.

Genre: Fluff/Angst

Summary: CHISHIYA POV! Chishiya's motivation for making it through the Borderlands was returning to his partner and being the best husband he could possibly be upon coming back.

Word Count: 1362

Warnings: Angst, OOC Chishiya, brief mentions of blood, injury

-ˋˏ✄┈┈┈┈

The wedding band was small, and lacked meaning to anyone who would've passed it by on the street. Just a simple ring of silver, scratched in a couple places from years of wear. It always sat in Chishiya's pocket for his fingers to brush over when he needed a reminder of what he fought for. The band became heavier now, as he recalled why he had taken it off.

He slipped it off in anger, a petty response to a fight that had spiraled out of control. While his partner shouted and cried with a voice trembling, begging to be heard, he remained calm. He was always too calm, too cold, using his composure as a weapon. This only infuriated his spouse more, and that's how he liked it. He liked watching them stumble over their words, struggling to claw their way through his defenses. It was not fair to them. He had never been fair to them.

"I can't keep doing this, Chishiya. I can't be the only one trying." They had tears rolling down their cheeks, arms waving emotionally. They were always just too emotional. "This is unbearable." Their voice cracked with pain.

"If you think it's so unbearable, then maybe we should not have done this in the first place." His voice was flat, lacking feeling, as it always was. He regret saying it the moment the words slipped from his lips. Their hurt expression was too much, but he wouldn't dare apologize now. "Don't you think I already have enough on my plate? I don't need this right now."

He slipped his ring off his finger, pinching it between his thumb and index, flashing it to his lover. Why would he do that? He questioned the act almost immediately, but it was too late. They had already turned away, sobbing and slamming the door to their shared bedroom.

They'd been so full of love before, back when they were both young and reckless, defying the world together. Nobody believed they would last. They were simply too different. Teachers, parents, friends: They all advised against the relationship. They were both stupid and stubborn enough to believe love was all they needed. Even Chishiya believed it.

The moment he saw them, their gleaming eyes and electric smile, he was intrigued. Infatuated. Then, he knew their soul. He learned how truly good they were, and he realized there could never be another person so different from him. He loved it. He loved them, truly. That's why they married so young, despite the protests of everyone. Unfortunately, life had a way of wearing things down.

He began to pull away under the weight of his new expectations in his career. Affection became a distraction he couldn't afford. Their open, unconditional love became something he resented rather than cherished. They simply expected too much. He grew distant, believing he would be stronger for it. He hadn't even realized how manipulative he had become until that fight. He had become cruel, like his father. Everything he hoped he would not be.

They didn't speak again, that night. They didn't speak the next morning either. Chishiya was forced to sleep on the couch, which put him in an even worse mood once he woke. There was no breakfast waiting for him, like usual. His spouse was still locked in their bedroom. Chishiya slipped the ring into his pocket, opting to get some fresh air.

The Borderlands gave him plenty of time to think, though he hated it. He hated the quiet moments between games, where his mind wandered back to their face. Their smile. The way it felt when they kissed. When was the last time they kissed? He couldn't even recall. He hated remembering the last look they had ever given him: So hurt, broken, and full of love.

What if they were here too? Playing these deathly games? Risking their life in hopes of finding him? A worse thought bubbled up into his mind: What if they were already dead? It would have been his fault. He left them vulnerable, and unprotected. He was too wrapped up in his own pride to fix what he had broken.

Now, laying bloody, leaned up against a car, Chishiya toyed with the thought of returning home. He told himself they may be better off without him. He fought so hard to make it to the end, only to question himself the most now. Maybe they'd be happier if he didn't come back.

Yet, his hand drifted to his pocket. The smooth ring which nobody knew he had was still there, fortunately. He couldn't let it go. As much as he tried to convince himself he didn't deserve them. The truth was, he wanted to go back. He wanted to fix it, even if he didn't know how.

As the Borderlands dissolved, he was faced with a simple choice: Return or stay. If he went back, he would have to face everything he had done. If he stayed, he would have to endure whatever came next without them.

"I think... I'll decline."

-ˋˏ✄┈┈┈┈

The familiar beeping of hospital monitors and fluorescent lights is what Chishiya awoke to. There was peace, and silence, despite the strange man he shared a room with. They weren't there. Minutes passed, and they simply were not there. Chishiya's heart sank, realizing it may have been too late.

Suddenly, the door flung open and they dashed to Chishiya's side, eyes full of tears. Their arms wrapped around him tightly, as if fearing he might disappear. For the first time in a long time, he returned the hug.

"T-This was such a mess!" They began, and Chishiya let them speak. "I-I had no idea where you were! Our apartment is completely wrecked!" That's when Chishiya noticed the bandages his partner was littered in. He was about to ask, but they continued. "You walked right into the worst place you could've possibly been at the time of the strike! You were dead! Then they wouldn't tell me where your room was, and they wouldn't let me visit! I'm sorry! I shouldn't have yelled at you-"

"No, I'm sorry." Chishiya spoke calmly, finally sneaking a word in through his spouse's flurry of panic. His voice sounded weaker, scratchier than he wished it were. "It's okay. I'm alright. Are you alright?" He relaxed into the hug, smelling their comforting scent.

"I got trapped under some rubble, but it was no biggie. You're the one who's heart stopped!" They finally began to pull away from the hug, worried they would hurt Chishiya, but he tugged them back into his arms. He missed this. "I'm so sorry. You never would've left the apartment if it weren't for all my whining. I thought I lost you."

"I'm here. I won't leave you, ever." Chishiya remembered their vows, the ones he recited so eagerly on their wedding day. Even then, his partner was crying. They were always crying. He chuckled. They were so emotional, and he realized how fond of it he was.

Chishiya noticed his ring on the table beside them. Finally, he released his spouse from the hug, reaching to put the jewelry back on. Though it had been less than a day, he felt like it had been off for much longer, and he couldn't bear another second without it. He slipped it back over his finger, flashing a rare smile at his lover.

"I love you." He said for the first time in a long time. He meant it. He was no longer unsure of affection from his partner. It was as though this near-death experience brought him a revelation that he was all too grateful for. "I will prove it to you. I cannot take back much of what has already been said, but I will prove it again."

"Oi, can we tone down the sappy shit?" A gruff voice from behind the curtain hollered. "We get it, you lucky bastard. You've got someone to love you." Chishiya chuckled, his eyes on his partner. His hand intertwined with theirs, squeezing it tightly, like a promise that he wouldn't let go.

"I really am a lucky bastard."

[sillylittlegay]

Resident Evil – Oneshot [Leon S. Kennedy X GN!Reader]

Pronouns used for Reader; You [2nd person view]

Warnings; 18+! Smut content! Just straight up Porn with minimal plot!

Summary; Rookie Leon is so very desperate and the Reader is more than happy to help. (Usage of Pup/sweet boy as pet names, Sub!Leon because he's adorable)

Authors Notes; I'm simply a silly guy. A little guy even. A silly little guy if you must.

Insomnia has taken over and I can't sleep so I wrote smut because why the fuck not. It is Midnight and I feel miserable because I have to get up early. Ignore that I said I don't write smut. I wanted to write this so I did.

Also it's short but in my defense I haven't written smut in years and I still can't write porn without plot. I apologize for any mistakes!

Also some of my Leon Screenshots at the End because he's such a pretty boy in RE2

Nothing during this week prepared you for tonight.

Man-made horrors, the government acting like nothing happened, your boyfriend nearly dying – nothing prepared you for how pretty he sat in front of you right now, looking up at you, begging with just his eyes. Leon wasn't one to normally be this submissive, sure he was on the softer side, but since Raccoon city he hadn't even been interested in anything sexual, which is why you were even more surprised when the dirty blonde had shyly asked you to help him. Only shortly after, the two of you had moved to the bedroom of your small apartment, soft kisses and touches had been shared, yet both of you somewhat held back, wanting to take your time.

»You're so pretty like this Leon.« You mumbled, watching the other whine and blush. Your hand softly cupped his face as you slightly rubbed your thumb across his cheek. You could feel the heat radiating from his body, could see the way his whole being begged for you to touch him more, but you weren't going to give in that easily. »C'mon boy, be a good little pup and tell me what you want, mkay?« You grinned, enjoying how shy and pathetic your boyfriend was being. Normally he'd never let you tease him like this, he'd probably already have you bent over the nearest surface to remind you how to act around him. Yet tonight wasn't normal and you loved seeing your partner as whiney mess. Leon huffed softly, mumbling something about being touched, way too silent for you to fully understand. »You gotta speak up pup, I can't hear you.« A sigh fell from your lips, watching as Leon pouted softly, getting more embarrassed by the second. »Jus'.. need you to touch me.. need to feel you.. please..« He huffed, just loud enough for you to hear. You grinned in response, softly grabbing his chin as he whined once more.

As much as you wanted to give Leon just what he wanted, as much as you wanted to kiss and grab every inch of his body, you also knew just how to drive him crazy. Tonight you wanted to toy with him, get him closer and closer to the edge until he couldn't bear it anymore, until he was nothing but a sobbing and begging mess, with the only words he was able to form being Desperate pleas. »Get up here love.« you hummed, patting on the bed while scooting back to lean against the strong wood. Leon obliged happily, intrigued on what you were going to do. You smiled at how pretty he sat once again, looking at you with wide eyes, somehow still having that begging look. He truly was too pretty to be true. »Touch yourself for me, can you do that sweet boy?« You smiled, coating your words in the sweetest tone as you watched Leon's eyes widen even more. His cheeks started to burn and he fumbled with the hem of his boxers – he had lost the rest of his clothes a long time ago already. You waited patiently, showing him you wouldn't change your mind about it. If he wanted you to touch him he had to earn it.

With another whine Leon got rid of his Boxers, shyly looking down on the bed. It was adorable just how he got so cute and innocent, even though both of you knew just how filthy his mind really was. You swore he was an angel sent by God, just by the way his mouth stood slightly open and the softest moans left his lips once he wrapped his hand around his cock. You could watch him for hours. The way he shuffled around to give you a better view, the way he looked up at you to make sure you were watching him at all times – you were sure this was heaven. Leon's heavy pants and whimpers filled the room, the lewd sound of his steady pace of bucking his hips against his hand, everything felt like heaven to you. Leon soon was begging for some sort of release, for you to finally touch him, but you just sat there, watching your pretty angel satisfy himself as best as he could, knowing full well a simple touch of you would send him over the edge right now.

As Leon's moans started to grow in volume, you were quick to sign him to stop. The quiet sobs and whines from him told you he'd be closer to begging for release than you thought – you already heard him mumbling about how good of a boy he had been and how unfair you were being. Though this wouldn't be the last time you'd hear those words. Over and over again you allowed Leon to keep going, over and over again you told him to stop once he got close to his orgasm. By the end of it Leon was sobbing, desperately begging you to let him finally cum, to finally touch him, to do anything but just watch. The view was so pretty, you wished you could take a picture to always take with you, to show others how beautiful your boyfriend was when begging, but for now you'd just have to keep said picture mental.

»Fine, you were a good boy, good enough for now at least, you can continue. And you better cum for me my sweet angel, got that?« you murmured, watching Leon's eyes light up as he eagerly nodded, quick to wrap his hand around his cock again, picking up a much faster pace than before. His moans were needy and he chanted your name in-between whimpers – you were more than happy at the way he looked. »So pretty, such a good boy.« You praised him, noticing how the dirty blonde bit his lip to keep a louder moan inside, yet his movements became sloppy within seconds. A grin grew on your face as you quickly crawled over to your lover, pressing a soft kiss against his cheek, tasting the tears that had been shed during his begging. Your hand soon found his thigh, tightly holding onto it as you whispered praises into Leon's ear.

He came undone seconds later. Praises and your touch were heavenly to him, nothing could get him more riled up. He pressed kisses against your cheek, shakily wrapping his arm around you, not wanting to spread the mess he had made on his hand and the bedsheets. »Wanna get you cleaned up pup? Think you can go shower? I'll get the bed ready.« Leon nodded softly. »What 'bout you..?« He then asked softly, his mind already drifting off to sleep. »Don't worry about me sweet boy, just watching you was enough for me, angel.« You smiled. Leon let his head fall against your shoulder, indicating that he, in fact, would not be able to hold himself up in the shower. The poor thing was way too tired.

Luckily you were more than happy to help him get cleaned up and ready for bed after he had been so good.

Leon Screenshots <3

He's so pretty omfg

All screenshots made by me because I totally did screenshot every single time Leon was on screen during a cutscene. He's such a cutie like I'm screaming, this game is supposed to be scary but he just makes it seem like I'm supposed to simp the entire time like??? Capcom??? Give me some time to work on the fact that Leon is the prettiest guy to ever exist.

[irrlicht-writes]

Hello, first of all, I love your writing, I wish I could write like you ;u;, I really admire your dedication. I used to write on AO3, but I haven't done it for 5 years.

Anyway, I just wanted to express my opinion that, Vox doesn't deserve to be with Alastor because he is not a good partner for him. He always claims that he loves Alastor with all his heart, but it seems superficial, and here are my point

1. Vox almost abused Alastor in *Etched* if it weren’t for Alastor ripping his cables out. Maybe he would have succeeded.

2. Vox never sacrifices anything for Alastor. Even though Alastor doesn’t admit that "he loves him," he always gives him everything and sacrificed even his heart for him. And Vox didn’t even bother to defend him, nor did he care to believe him. He’s too selfish and delusional to admit any fault. I feel like he's the kind of person who feels guilty but believes that feeling bad is enough. He has never apologized to Alastor face to face while he's awake.

3. He never apologized for cheating on him with Elliot, Valentino, or Tornado.

4. He keeps being an idiot and supporting Redfall BOTH TIMES. My theory is that Redfall reminds him of how he was when he was alive, so he normalizes and justifies this type of person.

5. He left Alastor starving at his house and decided to ignore him, trying to convince himself that Alastor doesn’t love him, even though he kept his damn company. And then he abandons him again because obviously, his company is more important than Alastor.

6. VOX GOT A MINIMUM AMOUNT OF RECIPROCITY, AND ALASTOR TRUSTED HIM ONCE IN HIS LIFE, AND VOX JUST... ruined it.

7. He didn’t wear the ring Alastor gave him, and from what I’ve seen, as long as he’s satisfied and nothing happens in front of him, he doesn’t care about Alastor’s well-being. Then he did the "r-word" to Alastor (I’m not comfortable saying it) MULTIPLE TIMES (although I could somewhat understand it because he swore there was consent, but still, I don’t justify it). And he didn’t apologize either. He only realized something was wrong during the abortion scene (my theory is that in Alastor’s hallucinations, he was afraid the baby was Redfall’s). Anyway, THAT HAD TO HAPPEN FOR VOX TO REALIZE, and still the only one suffering is Alastor

I'm not saying it's poorly written, because it’s established that Vox is a bad person—with his ex-partners, with other people, harassing girls from what he talked about with Redfall, and being a coward, of course he is a terrible person. And if Alastor has never turned to him for help or much else, and still hasn't bothered to tell him what the hell happened in those 7 years he disappeared, it’s just that it bothers me that, as a character, Vox always claims to love Alastor, but never follows through with actions after those declarations. Maybe Alastor is better off without Vox. .

Hi! Thank you, I really appreciate it! You should get back into writing, it doesn't have to be good! I certainly cringe reading my old stuff. This is honestly the longest and most consistent I've been in years.

True, if Alastor hadn't stopped Vox, who knows what would've happened? It's possible Vox would've stopped on his own, but I think it'd be mre likely he would've gone too far before realising that Al doesn't actually *do* this.

Alastor is probably the one thing that Vox really truly cares about, and so is: he fucks up. A lot. He doesn't want to do anything wrong, and in so doing, he just makes it worse. Also Vox is usually with people that are very straight forward with what they want (like Val) so having someone like Al who just won't say what he wants, Vox is usually at a loss for what to do. Not that that justifies his behaviour, he should be able to pick up context clues :p

I'm impressed you remember Tornado... my little shark... rip him in pieces. Also, I don't think Vox *really* counts it as cheating. Val happened while Alastor was away, Elliot was technically assisted cheating and they had a fight (sort of) so Vox was justified. And Tornado; well, I guess you could say Vox wasn't sure if he and Al were in a relationship or not? And then you'd need to define what cheating would even entail because even if it might sound different, Alastor doesn't care if Vox has sex with Val. He cares whether or not Vox loves someone else, and those are two different things.

Yeah, Redfall def reminds him of himself a little. He ahould've taken Alastor's initial reaction to heart and kick the dog out, but he didn't.

To be a bit fair: Vox didn't think it would be so bad. All his life, Al had been this pretty untouchable thing that was just always going to be fine. The first month was put of his hand, and the second month was him being petty. And barren Elliot, when they had their fight, Alastor *was* fine.

Yeah.. yeah, he ruined it. But as always - Alastor will just forgive him.

Vox didn't wear the ring because he doesn't have it on his person. It's back at the tower, and Vox didn't want to go back to get it at that point, especially because Redfall came in right after. He didn't wear it beforehand because he was't sure if it was okay to do so, even though Al gave it to him. (Also it's a bit too tight because Al only had his own finger for comparison) To Vox, it really wasn't assault. Sure, he absolutely should've checked if Al was really okay, but all the signs he could see pointed to yes. Also in that timeframe, he believes that what Redfall did wasn't *so bad*. Sure it wasn't okay, but as an singular action existing in a vacuum, it wasn't the worst that could've happened. (He's wrong, of course, as Niffty basically tells him point-blank.) And yes, that's exactly what Alastor is believing in that scene :)

To be fair... Alastor hasn't talked about what happened in the seven years because... I don't know what happened? :P I like to stay as on-canon as I can, and we have no crumbs to go on atm. And I mean - that's why love isn't enough. He says he loves him, and he DOES, but there's nothing else. There's just love, and that's just not enough. Yeah, Alastor might be better off without Vox. But that's not really the thing that's gonna matter, is it? We don't always get what's best for us; or what we deserve, sometimes we get the thing we want, even if it's bad for us. And Alastor knows what he wants, and not much else will suffice. Vox might not redeem himself to Alastor, because in the end, the one person that matters won't ask it of him. He still can; and he still should, but he won't have to. We'll see what happens. Everything's still up in the air, and maybe Vox and Alastor will surprise all of us! :D

[hawkeyefrommash]

10 and 29 for the fic asks?

10. Is there a fic that got a different response than you were expecting?

mmm yes and no? i generally have a good idea of what reception a fic will get, and i also only really write for me and like maybe one other person Sometimes so it doesn't bother me if a fic doesn't get a good reception or something. i was surprised that other people really loved maneuver one into place because i hadn't posted in a long time (i had posted two fics the year before and none for two years prior to that) so i was really reminded that like yeah i know how to write actually. i was also surprised by how quickly responses rolled in to the 911 book club fic I wrote because i'd written 911 before and it hadn't got as much of a response -- even the long fic my friend and i wrote didn't get as much of a response, i think because it was long and also the tags were scary. this one was a crowd pleaser for sure but we got a LOT of comments in the first few hours.

29. Share a bit from a fic you’ll never post OR from a scene that was cut from an already posted fic. (If you don’t have either, just share a random fic idea you have that you don’t plan on getting to.)

i have a disease where i think i'm going to post everything i start. i have like four sg1 fics i want to write and two i've started and i am convinced i'll finish them. i did say a few days ago that someone should write a specifically lesbian la'an/jim fic but it won't be me. someone should though! ok after searching in all my little fragments i found something that i both likely won't post and serves as a teaser for a fic my friend and i have discussed doing. it's a 911 fic and originally was a christopher centric outsider pov fic but has changed course slightly, this is basically shannon's conversation with his principal back in s2. i also threw in another scene that is meant to be a little later

alright before the break with the fic stuff: send me questions! :)

It’s obvious by the third question that Shannon Diaz isn’t in her son’s life. 

“So – tell me a bit about Christopher,” Principal Amy Summers prompts, and Shannon freezes. 

“He’s a great kid,” Shannon responds after a second. “He loves art and drawing, always has. He – well, he –”

Shannon trails off, clearly trying to think of something that doesn’t sound generic, and so Amy takes pity on the other woman. “You and his father are separated, I take it?”

“That obvious?” Shannon asks with a grimace. “Sorry. There isn’t a formal custody arrangement so Eddie didn’t know what to do, but I haven’t been around in… a while. But I trust him if he says this school would be amazing for Christopher, and I hope that us being –” she makes a vague hand motion that Amy takes to mean complicated, “– doesn’t hurt his chances.”

Amy gives her a practiced, reassuring smile. “We have a lot of different types of families at the school. All we care about is if our kids are loved and supported.”

Shannon lets out a shaky breath. “And Christopher is. Eddie told me that everyone at his job love Chris and have been helping out.”

“That’s wonderful to hear.”

Principal Summers isn’t surprised when, after Christopher is accepted and the paperwork comes back, Shannon Diaz is listed after a home care aid on his emergency contacts.

“Hi, this is Christopher Diaz’s father, Eddie.”

The receptionist, Jody, types that into the computer system quickly and finds Christopher’s file. “Hi Eddie, how can I help you?”

“I’m stuck at work and won’t be able to get Christopher at pick up time. Can I add someone as an authorized person?”

“Of course. What’s their name and relationship to Christopher?”

“Buck – Evan Buckley, he’s my partner –” Eddie is cut off by the sound of an alarm blaring in the background. “I’m sorry, I have to go. Do you need anything else?”

“That should be fine, Mr. Diaz. Have a good day.” Eddie barely says goodbye before hanging up and Jody sighs before adding the information to Christopher’s file – Evan Buckley (father’s partner). She’ll have to go by his classroom later and have the teacher add it to the pick up sheet, since those were printed off in the mornings.

[willow-salix]

The Shirt

This little thing is for @misssquidtracy and @soniabigcheese and was supposed to be a ficlet (tell that to the 2.5k that came out). It came about after a throw away comment to Sonia last night and then John ‘helpfully’ dropped the whole thing in my head fully formed. Enjoy!

Thanks to the awesome @myladykayo​ for the gorgeous shot of this dude!

"I don't need any new clothes, I told you that."

"And I didn't listen. Come on, John, you haven't bought anything new since college."

"And I'm happy with that, all of my clothes are perfectly serviceable," John continued to argue as Gordon towed him into yet another shop. 

As always they drew attention, Gordon because of his loud voice and, according to him, his swimmers body that the women loved. Gordon had always loved to be the center of attention, he'd reveled in it back in his Olympic days, proud of the knowledge that his promotional pictures had graced many a teenagers phone backgrounds and lock screens. 

John, on the other hand, had no idea what people saw in him and why they still watched him even when he was with his brothers. He knew his hair always drew looks and over the years he'd heard more than a few people whispering something about checking if he was a natural redhead, although he'd never wanted to stick around to listen too closely and had gotten out of there sharpish. He'd much rather just be left alone to fade into the background where his introverted wallflower tendencies could be appeased. 

"Well, I need new clothes and you can't leave a man to shop on his own, it's just not done," Gordon continued. 

"I'm pretty sure there's no such rule."

"I'm making it a rule, it's part of the bro code now," Gordon shot back, flicking through yet another rack of eye-wateringly bright shirts that even Hawaii would have disowned. 

"I reject your rule."

"You can't, I'm your baby brother, you have to be nice to me, that's in the bro code too."

"I demand to see written proof of this rule book that you seem to keep pulling things from whenever it suits you."

Gordon glanced at his brother, seeing his lips twitch as he fought valiantly to keep any display of amusement firmly at bay. John didn't often get the chance to hang out with his younger brother but he always enjoyed it, not that he'd ever admit that out loud, that would only encourage Gordon to up his annoyance level by at least five points. 

"Ha! You smiled, I'm off the hook!" 

"I did no such thing."

"You did, I saw it! The robot had a feeling- ow!" Gordon ducked out of the way, avoiding another cuff around the back of the head from his, far too lanky for his own good, brother who apparently had the reach of an orangutan. 

"I'm not a robot, you little jerk. Stand still so I can hit you properly." And there went the warm fuzzy feelings. Back to reminding himself just why said hang outs didn't happen more often. 

"Yeah, right! Like that's gonna happen." Gordon shimmied backwards through the rack of shirts that made the sun look dull and out the other side to freedom. "Too much time in space has made you slow, bro!" 

"What? HOW DARE YOU!" Without thinking John dived around the side of the rack, stretching out to grab at his grinning brother. "I'll show you who's slow!" 

"I am lightning, I am the wind!" Gordon dodged aside with perfect ease, avoiding the grasping fingers of his brother. 

"Full of wind, more like! Stand still!" How was the squid so fast? 

"Come on, old man, keep up!" 

John made another grab at the back of Gordon's shirt but the little shit wiggled out of his grasp like an eel. 

"Ha! Victory is mine!"

"I wouldn't be too sure about th-" WHUMP! John spluttered, screeching to a stop as he got a face full of fabric, evidently thrown by Gordon who'd decided that weapons were now in play. 

He flailed, tripping over the leg of a clothing rack as he stumbled blindly. He made a grab for the first solid feeling thing he could find, although his judgement of solid was woefully inadequate. He landed on the floor in a tangle of limbs, both his own and plastic, as the mannequin he'd inadvertently grabbed fell with him. 

"Gordon," he gasped, winded from his tumble, but the sound of his brother's hysterical laughter was all that he received by way of an answer. 

He yanked the material off his head, a shirt of some description by the looks of it, and staggered to his feet, dragging his dance partner up with him. 

He managed to get her upright and back on her stand after a great deal of huffing and many swear words muttered under his breath as Gordon continued to howl like a hyena, hanging onto a mirror to stop his own downward descent. 

Yanking her skirt back up where he'd accidentally yanked it down, John finally got the mannequin back in place and decently covered up. 

"Gordon stop laughing!" he ordered as he bent to pick up the shirt that had assaulted him before angrily turning to face his brother. 

"What a clumsy idiot," he heard someone whisper a few rows over, stopping him in his tracks. "Keep out of the way, he'll take us down with him next."

John ducked his head, his cheeks as red as his hair, wishing the ground would open up and swallow him whole. He hated being the center of attention and now, he risked a peek to confirm his suspicions, yep, now the whole store was looking at him. Great, just perfect. 

"I'm never coming shopping with you again," he hissed in Gordon's direction. 

"Too right. Did you see the shirt he's holding?" the woman's friend whispered back. "Anyone that picks out something like that should be avoided at all costs."

"He's looking, quick, pretend you haven't seen him!" Both women quickly looked away, suddenly extremely interested in a nearby coat. 

What were they talking about? John glanced down at the pile of fabric still clutched in his clenched fist. It was definitely a shirt of some description, beigey-brown in colour, but not just one shade, oh no, this monstrosity had at least four other shades of brown thrown in for good measure, all coming together in wavy lines of what-was-this-designer-thinking to form some kind of texan nightmare, complete with gaudy gold piping. It truly was hideous, quite honestly the most disgusting thing he'd ever laid eyes on and he'd trained with astronauts who didn't have control of their digestive systems yet. 

He looked around desperately to find somewhere to hide it away from his sight, ignoring Gordon who was taking deep breaths in an effort to calm down. 

There! He spotted a convenient looking pile of sweatpants on a shelf and moved over to stuff the offending article back into the depth of hell from whence it had crawled when a single, solitary thought tickled at the back of his brain. 

He paused, thinking, his brain hamster now awake and racing at top speed around its wheel. He glanced from the shirt to the women who had spoken before, then back down to the shirt. 

"I'm going to try this on," he announced to his stunned brother, marching past him to the changing rooms. 

He quickly stripped off his T-shirt, the one that declared that he was a communications engineer not a magician, and pulled on the horror shirt. Surprisingly enough it was actually made of quite a soft material, something his overly sensitive, due to time spent in low gravity, skin really appreciated. 

He pulled it closed and buttoned it up, rolling his shoulders to allow it to settle into place. It was remarkably comfortable, actually long enough in the body. He stretched out his arms, pleased to see that the cuffs didn't immediately hike up to his elbows. All good so far, but only one thing would assure its purchase…

He pushed open the changing room door and stepped outside. The effect was immediate as two men, three women and a toddler that had been independently milling around near the entrance took one look at him and, as one, turned as quickly as they could in the opposite direction. 

Grinning to himself he tugged the tag off the sleeve, grabbed his T-shirt from the changing room and headed to the counter. 

"I'll wear it out," he informed the cashier, loving the way he not so subtly averted his eyes, unable to look at him. "And I'll take as many as you have in stock in this size and the next one up too." The cashier rushed to do his bidding, desperate to save what remained of his eyesight. 

"See, I told you coming shopping with me was a good idea," Gordon grinned as they made their way back to the parking lot, their arms filled with bags. 

"I will admit that it had its advantages," John answered as they strode easily through the crowd that parted like the red sea, unwilling to risk being contaminated by their fashion flu. 

John breathed a sigh of relief, feeling like he could relax for the first time since they'd gotten there three hours before. 

"That shirt is magical," Gordon declared, watching in astounded awe as eyes all around them shifted to avoid looking in his brother's direction. "It's like a people repellent in clothing form, it's….it's…" he groped around for the right words. 

"It's perfect," John declared, lovingly stroking a sleeve like one would a beloved pet. And it truly was. It was like people had a filter, an ugly shirt firewall in their heads that made them avoid it at all costs.

He couldn't remember a time that he hadn't been stared at since the year he'd turned seventeen and hit his second growth spurt. In that year he'd shot up six inches, his lanky frame had filled out a little, his weedy arms turning into tightly packed muscles and he'd developed abs and a voice that had deepened a few octaves. Then, for some reason, his anxious aura with its go away vibes had become nothing but a challenge for most people, acting as a kind of siren call for them to latch on to him and decide that he needed to be included, chatted to and made the center of attention. 

Now it was like he was practically invisible and it felt amazing. Even with the neon orange shirt Gordon was wearing, people were mostly ignoring him. 

"I'm never taking this thing off again."

       ***

"Why am I always the one doing the laundry for you lazy arses?" Selene bitched as she dragged a massive basket of assorted Tracy clobber into the lounge where the assorted Tracys owners sat around in various states of lazy. 

"Because you love us?" Gordon answered, grinning cheekily. 

"Nope, that can't be it," Selene retorted, sitting down on the steps of the seating area to begin the mammoth task that was sorting and folding. She dragged out one of Virgil's plaids and folded it into some semblance of order and dropped it on the floor to start his pile. 

"Let me help," John offered, moving to sit beside her and take some of the pile from her lap. 

"Thanks, gorgeous."

"Whipped," Scott teased, reaching for his coffee cup. "Hey, Sel, if you're the only one doing the laundry as you claim, how comes you haven't managed to wreck John's ugly shirts?"

"Why would I?" she shrugged, balling up a pair of Scott's socks. 

"Because I know you. Any excuse to shop, right?" 

The socks made a handy projectile as she threw them at his head. 

"Thanks!" Scott grinned, effortlessly plucking them from midair. "Seriously though, look at it."

Selene looked at the shirt that was currently hiding the delightful chest of her even more delightful husband. 

"I fail to see the problem with it."

"Really?" 

"Hey, leave my shirt alone, it's perfectly serviceable, thank you."

"It's old, it has to be at least seven years since you bought them," Gordon joined in. "They probably don't even make them any more."

"They don't," John said, concentrating on folding one of Alan's T-shirts into a perfect square. "So nothing had better happen to the ones I have left."

"Now's your chance," Alan whispered to Selene. "Kill them with fire and you'll never have to see them again."

"Yeah, you know that he's got much nicer clothes in his wardrobe," Scott added. 

"I've actually grown quite fond of them," Selene answered, carefully folding one she'd plucked from the depths of the pile, smoothing it out like it was something precious. 

All three Tracys, minus one Virgil who was down in the hangars no doubt creating more washing for her to do by getting covered in grease and muck, stared at her like she'd just announced that she was going back to blonde. 

"What? How? You said that he's never looked better than when he's wearing a decent shirt, I had to give you a drool cloth at your wedding."

"All true," she shrugged, folding one of Virgil's vests to the best of her ability. 

"Yet you continue to let him walk about in, what was it you called it, his rodeo clown shirt?" Gordon asked, completely bemused. "Are we missing something here?" 

"I'm a witch," she started by way of explanation. 

"Duh," Alan snorted. 

"And I have a healthy respect for glamour magic, and that right there," she continued as if she hadn't just been rudely interrupted, pointing at the shirt that John was wearing, "is the most magical thing I've ever seen in my life." 

All three of them burst out laughing, unable to believe what they were hearing. Selene waited patiently for them to finish cackling like they had just cursed Macbeth. 

"Allowing the shirts to live is doing the world, and my arrest record, a huge favour. Now, if you'll excuse us…" she got to her feet, relieved John of the socks he was busily matching and dragged him to his feet.

"OK, OK, I'll bite," Scott continued to chuckle, wiping the tears from his eyes. "What makes you think it's so magical?"

"That should be obvious, nothing short of a miracle could hide that amount of sexiness. Why do you think I'm good with him hiding in Five when he's wearing that space suit?" She dumped the half folded pile of washing back into the hamper.

"I've decided that you lot can sort your own laundry, because I've got the sudden and overwhelming urge to see that shirt on our bedroom floor. Later, fashion rejects."

John put up zero resistance. 

"I love this shirt," he grinned, waving a cheerful goodbye to his stunned brothers as his wife yanked on his hand, towing him bodily from the lounge and on to far more pleasant things than chores. 

[1lostone]

ao3 wrapped

Here's my tweet, but you can read it under the cut, too. (ps I'm kind of awkward on twitter so if anyone wants to follow me and help me be less dumb I'm down!)

1. yearly wc is 150833

2. It is this one, surprisingly. #sterek https://archiveofourown.org/works/35054479

3. Dream of Life Again by Barlowgirl https://archiveofourown.org/works/826746 Resurrected Laura.

4. Tie between Sterek, Star Trek and Rickyl. I can't decide sorry.

5. Oh, that's easy. Bones. (Which is weird because I'm probably more of a k/s shipper but there ya go.)

6. Clementine snorted. “Are you kidding me? This is like the happy ending shit I live for. I couldn’t be happier for you, man. I take it, this is your son and. . . partner?” At her innocent question, Daryl felt like every bone in his body snapped to attention. Negan made a sound that sounded a lot like a smothered guffaw, and Daryl really was gonna maim that motherfucker one of these days. He felt his cheeks absolutely burn with a blush that made him feel lightheaded. https://archiveofourown.org/works/23761204 #Rickyl okay that was probably supposed to be shorter but fuck it. I love that part. 😅

7. 2016-03-20- Published. 2021-11-18- Completed. IT TOOK ME SO LONG BUT I DID IT GODDAMNIT. #spirk, #kirkxspock, Conscience and Concern https://archiveofourown.org/works/6305983

8. Well, I started a fic a few weeks ago that is my only WIP- https://archiveofourown.org/works/35318314

9. & 10- Um... Shook Me Cold, https://archiveofourown.org/works/18933100

11. Again and Again

12. Shook Me Cold is from a David Bowie song - She Shook Me Cold https://youtu.be/o_Cv_rmz8zs

13. That I was writing! I know the word count is a lot but I go through these weird dead phases where my RL gets so busy that I can't do anything else. So, when I see that I've finished a lot of something I'm like, 'well damn. Go me!'

14. This one was hard. "I'm LOVING IT! It's actually inspired me; I've had a huge dose of the dreaded block throughout lockdown, and have only written a few drabbles, a few poems and one oneshot! Ugh. But the Huddling For Warmth trope in your fic reminded me of how much I love itand have never actually written it before! So, THANK YOU bc I've just posted chapter one of a new story, huzzah! I'll be writing in between finishing Shook Me Cold :)" by all-or-nothing-baby (BundleOfSoy)

15. I haven't read a tremendous amount of fic this year. Or rather, I looked up a bunch of fic and added it to my 'Marked for Later' but it's still Later and I haven't gotten to it. Fave author tho is #mojoflower. I read their stuff over and over.

16. Total # of fics 4. Total # of chapters 32.

17. Oh, that's easy. I was in a writing slump and hadn't talked to my friend @twdobsessive in a while, so we both decided to work on a little sumpthin sumpthin and it's awesome because there's no pressure and no stress and just whenever one of us can bang something out we call it a win. It probably won't be done for a hot minute, but I'm very excited.

PS If you read all this, you're a trooper <3

[thejosh1980]

I was lookin' back...

As I prepare for my first live concert in over 12 months here in Australia, I think back to my last live concert, The Josh Fest 2020 in Dresden Germany.

The Josh Fest came together thanks to Mirko Glaser and the guys at the US Car Convention. Mirko and I had discussed having some kind of small live stream show at his jazz bar, The Blue Note, as we were trying to find a way to make it happen with the COVID restrictions. Then it became a bigger show, because the Groove Station was interested in putting something on. A few days later the US Car Convention people contacted Mirko, and it all came together as an even bigger live outdoor concert event, with all my main bands together, and US muscle cars surrounding the stage.

They called it "American Car Day", but we all know what it really was....

The Josh Fest.

It meant quite a bit of work for the bands. Some of the bands had already been on forced hiatus for several months due to COVID. We had to relearn songs that we hadn't played in many years!! Eddy and I hadn't been on stage together in 8 years, and it was only Blues Over Coffee's 2nd show!!

Old meets new!

I was also busy packing up my life, selling off my guitars, car, and studio equipment. After 18 years in Europe, there were quite a lot of items to decide on; what to sell, keep, and pack ready for the moving company, which was scheduled for a couple of days after the big show. It was an emotional process; a life time of memories coming to an end...

Dresden adopted me 12 years previously, and it was becoming clearer and clearer to me that I would miss my step-hometown deeply.

Germany, the UK and Europe gave me a lifetime of memories and experiences. So many I've forgotten, due to the alcohol induced memory losses, but many many many of those experiences, laughs, good times, challenges, and rounds of shots are permanently written and imprinted on my heart.

I love my European friends, fans and band mates, dearly.

My band mates and I have been through a lot together over the years. There's a type of brotherhood that only band members can experience, on and off stage. In some cases, I knew these men (and a few girls) better than I did my own family or partner. I cherish the late night discussions, the crazy shit that happened on and off stage, and the memories of everything that happened in all that time on the road.

I also cherish my wonderful fans, who, even now, keep surprising me with their love for me. Actions speak louder than words, and some of those actions shocked me, some of them humbled me, and many showed me that while the music spoke to you in one way, your responses spoke to me in another. I can't count the tattoos with my name on them, the gifts I have received, the love we have shared and the music we have made together.

Oh My Josh!

I have made some amazing and deep friendships along the way. Some were forged even before I moved to Germany, some of them deepened, some drifted, but all of them ever so important to who I am today.

What can I say about Guss Brooks? He stands out mostly cause we met before I moved, and he was with me every step of the way; from the first show to the last, in some form or another. In fact, right now, I can't think of ANY show I performed during my 12 years in Germany that wasn't affected by him in some way. You might think that's a bit of a stretch of the imagination, but there was always some connection, whether it was people we knew at the gig, the place we played, the bass I was using (thanks GB!), or the songs I was playing...

We were connected.

On stage, with a wink, a flick of the wrist, a nudge, a look or a glance, we could tell each other anything and everything... If one of us got lost in the song, the other had his back, and could bring him back with a lift of the elbow. There were no words, it was all feeling. It was all feelings... When we did the shows with The Go Getters, it really stood out to me then, that we were interlocked, engaged, and entangled musically, and well, spiritually. I'm sure he'll disagree, but that's just because he's so humble. That connection also transferred to the fans, who could sense our communication. That’s what made playing together so special, every time... We have a deep connection, personally and professionally.

When 100s of people travel miles through COVID restrictions to come together to say goodbye to some ausländer, when band mates come together for one last show, it really shows me, how much I was loved. I didn't realise until that day, really until the end of the show, how deep the love was felt and what I would be leaving behind. Those deep and meaningful friendships carved from the experiences we've had together will stay with me forever.

The festival was a culmination of all that was good in my European adventures.

I know over the years I burned a few bridges, but it felt like those had been fully rebuilt, renovated and reinvigorated. We've all made mistakes, but that was all in the past, and the friendships grew stronger. It felt amazing. I felt like by the time The Josh Fest began, I’d come full circle with all my enemies and demons…

Alex got to meet many of my friends, fans, and band mates too. The pandemic meant very few chances for her to see me in action, but that all changed that day. Alex got to connect with folks who have had a tremendous influence on me, and I’m really thankful for the opportunity to share that part of my life with her before we left. I knew that coming back to Australia I wouldn't have the same opportunities that I had in Europe.

I've been looking back at photos and videos of that special day, and I am reminded of how important you all were—and still are—to me. I was reminded of how I looked out from stage to see so many of my wonderful fans and friends, no, I mean family. On stage, I felt a brotherhood like nothing else I have ever felt before…

It made it just that little bit harder to leave...

You know, I arrived in my 20's and left in my 40's!

It's been a year since I played my last song on stage with my brothers to my family. I sit here and miss it. But I also feel gratitude. I feel lucky to have made an impulsive choice when I was 22, and still have had the chance to enjoy that choice 18 years later. I just wish I could go back and soak it all up again, deeper and slower.

It all went by so fast, didn't it?

Thanks for reading,

The Josh

If you'd like to watch the bands, you can view the live stream here:

https://youtube.com/playlist?list=PL15P5AADkIPxEFip17KYypZQWSJ9t-g4J

The Lazy Boys

Eddy and the Backfires

The 2930s

Rosis Rockets

Hot Rails

Blues Over Coffee

Johnny Falstaff

11th July 2020 – American Car Day – The Josh Fest – Dresden - Germany

[rogue-barnes-16]

SECRETS (part IV/?)

Summary: Detectives James Barnes and Y/n Y/l/n never really got along, despite being partners for seven months. You could say they hated each other, however, when James’ past shows up threatening to break him all over again, the truth about their feelings comes to the surface.

Pairing: cop!Bucky Barnes x cop!Reader

Genre: angst-ish

Tags:

Secrets: @just-add-butter

Permanent taglist: @notexactlythatgirl @thisismysecrethappyplace @sofreakinmanyfandoms @pizzarollpatrol @bubblycypress87 @sinviix @loislp @lovenaturefirst @dyanna-corona @2ptonpt @goodnightmode @disneyprincessbuffyannesummers @mannls @cutie1365 @catch22inareddress @mybooradley @sebastianisasnack @butifulsoul125

Warnings: psychological and slightly physical abuse, language, angst (probably some typos, since I wrote this in 2 hours)

A/N: I'm alive (surprisingly) yayy! Please, remember to reblog the fics, because you're making me a huge favor if you do. Enjoy this part of Secret (which, like I predicted, it's not the last one) <3

Rogue-barnes-16 masterlist (you'll find the rest of the parts here)

BUCKY'S P. O. V.

Since I had woken up earlier due to a nightmare, I went to the living room carrying some files to keep working on the case until Y/n woke up.

The past few days had been really good for the both of us. I would even dare to say that the hate had turned into some kind of friendship.

Okay, maybe it was more than friendship when it came to my feelings, but that wasn't anything new. Since day one I had felt something that drew me to her, however, I had never let those feelings grow any further for several reasons. During these days, though, Y/n somehow helped me to loosen up a little, which was enough for me to stop fighting what I felt.

The fact that, somehow, she was making me feel safer also helped me to be more confident about my feelings.

While I started to display the files, the extra time I had recently been spending with Y/n came to my thoughts, and with it, the question I had been asking myself for the past two days.

Did she liked me the way I liked her?

Sometimes —most of the times— our interactions would seem friendship-like, with, of course, our considerable amount of teasing.

But other times, the times we were all alone in her apartment, when we would stay up until late hours of the night, the way she acted towards me, the way she talked to me... it was almost as if she wanted something more than a friendship between us.

It was probably just my imagination, playing wicked games on me. Sigh. Even if it's true, I thought, what would you do? You can't do anything, I reminded myself. You're broken.

You're not ready.

You're not good enough.

She deserves better than-

A few angry knocks on the door made me come back to reality, a bit more tired, and a bit more hurt.

I took a couple of deep breaths to regain my composure again. It was amazing how a couple of thoughts crossing my mind could trigger all the insecurities Y/n had been helping me to overcome.

Another few knocks, this time stronger and quicker. "I'm coming" I announced, being careful not too be too loud, since Y/n was still asleep. I grabbed the knob to open the door, not even think about how odd was that someone came to visit at 5:40 am. "Wait a sec..."

Before I could even freeze due to the panic, Dot's hand slapped my face. After all this time keeping up with her, after all the abuse, retreating myself to a safer position was an action I did by inertia.

The thought of shutting the door for her not to enter hadn't even crossed my mind before I was backing out from her reach.

"how dare you?" she questioned, poison dripping from each one of her words. "you can't even wait until we're divorced, right?! First the damn lawsuit, then you cheat on me?!"

"H-how- why- what are-" words came out as a stuttering whisper since I wasn't able to form a single sentence "y-you can't be here"

"why? Are you gonna call the cops, baby?" I frowned and stepped back when she stalked towards me. "You're a cop, honey, if you didn't arrest me it's because no one is going to arrest me."

"what the-" I shut my mouth when she gave me a dead glare. "how did you get here? Who- you have to leave. Now."

"she's still here, isn't she?" Dot huffed, "that bitch is gonna get it" when she attempted to make her way to Y/n's bedroom, I didn't think twice before gripping her arm and tugging her back.

Dot gasped, probably not expecting the amount of strength I had just used to stop her. "don't get her into this"

"so it's true? You're cheating on me with that fucking. dumb. petty. bitch?" with each word, she pushed me back until my knees hit the edge of the couch and there was no way left, but to sit down.

"she's none of that." I managed to say, after gathering all the courage I was capable of when it came to the woman in front of me.

"And now you defend her?" she scoffed, letting out a dry laugh that sent shivers down my spine. "You're so desperate for some kind of affection, baby. It's pathetic" I sat there, trying to digest those words that seemed so real to me. "You're so damn stupid. She's probably just using you- I mean, have you looked at yourself?" she started to pace. "you really don't know what you did by dumping me, love. No one is going to love you. I gave you everything, goddammit! I gave you fucking everything!"

"Stop" I muttered, leaning over myself to rest my face over my palms "Stop it"

"after all I did to you, you're dumping me for some random slut. For a quick fuck" another dry laugh. "YOU'RE SOMEONE BECAUSE I DECIDED TO GIVE YOU THAT PRIVILEGE!"

"I'm gonna say it once" I thought I had imagined it, so I didn't look up the first time Y/n spoke, more like growled. "I'm not even gonna ask how did you get here. Just get the fuck out of my damn house"

"And the slut's here" it was then that I lifted my gaze to stare at Y/n, who looked like we had shaken her awake —we probably did—. "I'm leaving when I finish talking with-" In a swift movement, Y/n had her gun aimed at Dot. "woah woah woah- I can sue you for this" the latter stated, visibly nervous. "are you gonna fucking shoot me?"

"get out" when Y/n spoke again, I tensed. "before I solve this problem with a bullet in your skull"

Dot hesitated for a moment before speaking again, using with Y/n the same tone she used to use with me. "You're not gonna shoot, you fucking crazy bitch"

The problem was that it wasn't me.

It was Y/n. A really, really mad Y/n.

Dot gasped when Y/n, without breaking eye contact with her, deflected her gun to the side and shot.

"Did I fuckin' stutter?" Y/n asked, calmed and collected. "Leave. Now"

After a few seconds that seemed a thousand years to me, Dot gathered her bag and jacket before turning to me. "we're not finished yet"

All from sudden, Y/n was in front of me, grabbing Dot's arm and dragging her away "yeah you are"

READER'S P. O. V.

"I don't want to see you near him ever again" I hissed, dragging the woman to the front door.

"what are you gonna do if I do, detective?" She taunted.

"let's say" I opened the door and, instead of leaving her in the landing, I kept dragging her downstairs "I don't mind going to jail if I know you're gone for good" before she could speak, I threw her to the lobby and went back upstairs.

"how the fuck did she get my direction?" I asked rhetorically, entering into my apartment, where I had left Bucky. "She's fuckin' nuts" when he didn't answer anything, I turned around to check on him, just to see his eyes red. "Hey..."

"I'm sorry"

"what- no!" I wouldn't have realized I had yelled if not for Bucky’s flinch. "this isn't your fault, don't be sorry, okay?"

"I just-" his voice faded, and instead, he took a deep, shaky breath. "I don't know what- I mean- she w- I-I'm sorry"

I made my way to Bucky, careful not to startle him, and I crouched in front of him. I took a moment to check on him before slowly placing one of my hands over his. "this is what we're gonna do" I whispered, as tender as possible. "you come back to bed and try to rest. I'll call sick at work for you."

That made his gaze shoot up at me, panic written all over his face. "nonononono don't-"

"Listen, you gotta rest," I replied, stopping him before he could get up. "and you gotta calm down."

"don't Y/n for fucks sake don't leave me here" he tried to get up again. I could practically hear his heart stammering against his chest. "what if she comes back?"

"she's no-"

"you don't know that!"

The terror in his voice broke me more than I expected it to do it. "Okay... Okay, what about this" I got up, not letting go of his hand. "we both go back to sleep. I'll call Steve- Steve knows, doesn't he?" Bucky nodded. "Okay, I'll call Steve and I'll tell him we'll be late to work because you need to rest"

After a second, Bucky nodded again and followed me to the bedroom. "don't leave without me, 'kay?"

"I won't, I promise" I replied, squeezing his hand.

[xtruss]

Which Players Have Been The Biggest Losses to Cricket This Century?

Mohammad Asif, patron saint of what-could-have-beens Getty Images (A Boak Bollock who involved himself in a match fixing crimes and killed his own promising career. Otherwise he would be the most fiercest, formidable, intimidating and dangerous fast bowler of the Cricketing World.)

— Jul 9, 2020 | ESPN Staff

In this edition of Rabbit Holes, Osman Samiuddin, Andrew Fidel Fernando and Sidharth Monga gather for a round of lamentation and breast-beating over cricket's greatest unfulfilled talents and shed tears over what might have been.

Andrew Fidel Fernando, ESPNcricinfo's Sri Lanka correspondent: So, the biggest losses to cricket this century. I think given the people involved in the conversation, this will quickly degenerate into a Mohammad Asif support group. But there are so many others who've not had the careers we all wanted them to have.

Osman Samiuddin, senior editor: Wait, what? This is not the Asif Anonymous Group already?

Fernando: "Hi, I'm Osman, and it's been ten years since I last watched Asif bowl. (breaks down sobbing uncontrollably)"

Sidharth Monga, assistant editor: And the thing is, Asif don't care. Or at least doesn't seem to care.

Samiuddin: Although the thing is, I think Asif does care. In that interview with Umar Farooq it was clear he cares about how people remember him. Maybe just not enough to get bogged down by it.

Monga: He has moved on better than us. Which is him being kinda, "Yeah, this is life, what are you going to do about it?" But I also like that he is turning out in domestic cricket despite there being no hope that he will ever bowl at the highest level again. This is every ball of his first two spells of the QeA final in 2017-18. Cruelly, captained again by Salman Butt, who chose to field first, which is something you don't do in Test cricket these days. And the first two comments on the video!

Samiuddin: For the longest time - and even now - I believe that the careers of Kumar Sangakkara and AB de Villiers would have turned out different had they had to play Asif often.

Fernando: Sanga would have got out cheaply to Asif five times in a row one series and retired in shame in 2012 - that's how your fantasy goes, right?

Samiuddin: Earlier, ideally.

Monga: Hashim Amla, AB and Kevin Pietersen didn't even play him that much, but the little that they did was enough to convince them he was the best bowler they faced. Ahead of all the other legends of the time.

Samiuddin: But with the advances in batsmanship - though, I guess mostly in white-ball cricket - how would Asif have responded? It's not a bad time to be a Test bowler though, so he probably would have been okay still.

Remember when Asif took 6 for 41 in Sydney in 2010, in a losing cause? Getty Images

Fernando: I do think Asif would have loved some of the tracks Pakistan have played on in the last five, six years.

Samiuddin: The UAE? I mean, imagine Misbah captaining Asif - would he have turned him into an offspinner?

Fernando: Hah, true, but I meant more outside the UAE. Those New Zealand greentops where you can only see the batsman from the helmet up, because of the grass cover. He would also have adored a lot of the tracks Pakistan played on in Sri Lanka, in the middle of the last decade, when they were visiting every other weekend.

Samiuddin: Also can't help but think how he would have gone in Australia. He had one great Test there - in Sydney - but that surface was green that first morning and it had rained and clouds were around, so it was ideal. I think that's probably the last time Australia had anything other than a flat track. His set-ups were like Warne in conception - this one of Clarke especially. He bowled four-five balls to Clarke before this, all good length, on off-stump line, either not seaming or seaming away. Two-three he left alone to keeper. One he drove. This one he tried to drive again and it was the first one that seamed in. So, so, so simple.

Monga: Did you say set-ups? And he did it all without a perfect upright seam the way Mohammed Shami's is. Or maybe bolt upright is not perfect, who knows. Also, Marcus North getting out in three balls reminds me of Asif once saying he is sometimes disappointed with batsmen who don't let him set them up properly and get out before the payoff.

Samiuddin: There was also a great set-up of Shane Watson in a previous Test, where Asif bowled to an 8-1 off-side field for a couple of overs and well wide of off stump. Like, really wide outside. Almost unnoticed he was pulling Watson further and further out to the off side. And then suddenly, when literally nobody was expecting it, he bowled one a little straighter, quicker, it swung in a fair bit. Watson had moved out to off stump in anticipation and the ball ended up missing Watson's leg stump by millimetres. I don't think I would ever have seen a dismissal like that. All that work for one ball and it only narrowly didn't come off.

Fernando: I feel like we could be on Asif all day.

Samiuddin: The point of all of which is that I don't think I have regretted not seeing more of any cricketer than Asif. So that's decided. How about some others?

Though, I mean, Pakistan could put out three XIs of these players who were lost and they could play a pointless tri-series among themselves. Like Mohammad Zahid. Fastest four balls Brian Lara faced in his life.

Monga: Would Umar Akmal qualify?

Fernando: And if we're doing a long Pakistan lamentation, is Fawad Alam in the mix?

Samiuddin: Hundred per cent. Not lost so much as ignored. Overlooked. Spat upon. Trampled.

Monster on a monstrous pitch: Jesse Ryder cut, drove and hooked to 83 in the 2011 World Cup quarter-final in Mirpur, while other batsmen struggled Getty Images

Monga: But we're drawing the line at Ahmed Shahzad?

Fernando: I'd like to throw two Kiwi names into the mix. Both of whom played 18 Tests. Both players of extreme quality. Lost to the game for reasons very different to Asif.

Samiuddin: Martin Guptill?

Fernando: Hah, no one so painfully vanilla. The first I'm thinking of, of course, is Jesse Ryder.

Samiuddin: Did you not once spend an entire six-month period of your life trying to chase him down?

Fernando: For a potential feature, yes, highly unsuccessfully. He was still playing. And still burning bridges. It was like the story hadn't actually stopped unravelling, so no one really wanted to talk about it.

Ryder just had such an instinctive feel for the game, whichever format he was playing. A rock-solid defence, a brutal pull shot, threw all of himself into those drives. When he middled it, you couldn't actually see the ball before it reappeared outside the boundary rope.

Monga: Underrated bowler and exceptional catcher to go with it. And he sold out stadiums. People came to watch Jesse Ryder.

Fernando: He was a monster at backward point.

Samiuddin: In that 2011 World Cup quarter-final in Dhaka, pitch like porridge - that was the only time I saw Ryder play and, my lord, if that wasn't the innings of that tournament. His timing that day was freakishly good. On that pitch - and the thing is, it's difficult to articulate - the difference in watching him bat and others that day was just so, so vast that you had to question yourself. Like, were you assessing the pitch wrong and were the rest just crap?

Monga: New Zealand is so not the country for Jesse. I remember him scoring a flawless double-century against India in Napier, and then breaking a chair or something in disgust when he got out. You can guess what got reported the next day.

Fernando: So I remember this crazy Ryder innings, where again, at the end, a chair got smashed (after a lot of Sri Lankan bowlers had also been smashed).

Samiuddin: I'm seeing a pattern here...

Monga: If I were the coach I would carry extra chairs.

Fernando: It was in the 2009 Champions Trophy. Ryder pulls a hamstring or a calf very early in this match. I think he was 7 off 7 or something like that. Basically can't run. And so he just starts blasting boundaries. Ten fours and a six - 74 off 58 balls.

Monga: He wasn't much for foot movement anyway, but somehow always played close to his body.

Forget the batting for a minute: Ryder also took blinders, like this one to dismiss Upul Tharanga in the 2011 World Cup semi-final AFP

Fernando: Opening partner Brendon McCullum, who is supposed to be this shining paragon of Kiwi aggression, ambles to 42 off 74 at the other end. Eventually Ryder gets out, and he's clearly not happy. Just when he thinks he's out of view of the cameras, he absolutely lays into a plastic chair. Just destroys it with his bat. Except, of course, he wasn't out of view. This was seen and replayed many times. I'm sorry but I loved everything about that.

Samiuddin: Actually more than anything else, New Zealand need(ed) Ryder in their team to shed themselves of the "nicest guys in cricket" tag. I mean, yeah, of course, runs and stuff, but they need a guy in that side who does things like that.

Fernando: The New Zealand hill I will absolutely die on is that they would have converted one of their two World Cup finals into a win if Ryder was in the team. I don't blame the people who kicked Ryder out, really, because he's been given chances by many coaches in various continents - both domestic and international - and he's not managed to rein his behaviour in. But if Ryder had managed to improve the behaviour to juuust within that line, I think we would think of New Zealand as one of the great teams of the last decade, instead of just a very good one. And also just the thought of Williamson trying to captain Ryder - there could have been books written and films made just on that relationship.

Monga: I just feel cricket, especially the international variety, is very tough on someone like Jesse. It would have been a miracle if he had survived. Ross Taylor and Ryder were both discovered together. Neither came from a privileged background, but Taylor's privilege was that he had his act together. Mark Greatbatch, one of their earlier coaches, I remember, told me how Ryder was more skilled but Taylor was more rounded as a person. Ryder would throw up in the bin at the nets, Taylor would come home with a bottle of wine.

Samiuddin: Without knowing the details and insider stuff, was he so, so, so difficult to handle that they really couldn't find a place for him in the team at all? Or make it work somehow?

Fernando: They didn't throw him away lightly, tbf. They gave chances. And many people - agents, coaches, mentors - have tried various approaches and it's not worked out.

Samiuddin: I think that is the other point about these players, that they make so much of an impression, you're always left feeling somehow if the others - boards, teams, managers, agents - had just done something else/more he would have been okay.

Monga: More than anything, they also tell us that sometimes you have to accept things as they are. Especially when a team such as New Zealand does all it can get to keep you in. What joy it was to watch him in full flow. But it wasn't meant to be.

Samiuddin: Who was the other Kiwi?

Fernando: Okay, yes, enough Ryder. Someone who was at the other end of the spectrum in terms of temperament, but also glorious to watch in full flow. Guesses?

Samiuddin: Bond. The name is Bond.

Fernando: Nailed it. Like, Shane Bond with his yorkers.

Samiuddin: Bond is long gone as a bowler, but I feel like he's everywhere in the actions of so many modern fast bowlers.

Shane Bond, destroyer of Australia, failed by his own body Getty Images

Fernando: Huge influence on Tim Southee and Trent Boult.

Monga: Strike rate of 38 but couldn't play enough to get more than his 87 wickets.

Samiuddin: Adam Milne, Matt Henry - all their actions. Naseem Shah.

Fernando: And if we agree that aughts Australia had assembled the greatest ODI batting line up, Bond was the greatest destroyer of that top order. Seventeen matches v Aus: average of 15.79, SR of 21.4, economy rate 4.41 - there's no touching that in ODIs

Samiuddin: Bond, in a very different way, is the epitome of what Monga said earlier, about how it's just meant to be for some. No off-field issues (that I can think of), great guy to have in a team. But just had a body that couldn't sustain it.

Monga: In a way I agree, but you can continue working on the body, you can even come back as a bowler with less pace but more wiles, you can still cut yourself a career, but it is different with mental health.

Fernando: Bond just was incredibly, incredibly fragile, though. I'm not sure even turning himself into a medium-pacer - which he has said he was never interested in, btw - would have worked. There were unusual things as well: I remember he once went off the field in a match with a migraine and couldn't bowl, and caught absolute hell on talkback radio in New Zealand for being soft.

Samiuddin: Incidentally, Bond talked about the injuries stemming - ironically - from that action, in this great piece on him by Rahul Bhattacharya, at the 2007 World Cup. He talks here about losing a little of that pace.

Fernando: His last Test, which was a fantastic game against Pakistan in Dunedin, he blew them away with pace in the first innings, iirc.

Monga: It was a great Test. Akmal was unleashed in this game, right?

Fernando: Yes, Asif took 4 for 43 as well. Pity Ryder didn't play. It would have been the poster Test for everything we've talked about.

Monga: Ryder was a veteran of wistfulness by then.

Fernando: Fawad Alam was in that Test as well! Here's the wicket description from the first dig: "Bond's breathing fire here, he hits the deck hard from over the wicket, lands it short of a length on middle and Fawad barely had time to react and fend it off, he fails to drop his gloves down and the ball shaves his glove before landing safely in McCullum's hands."

Underrated, but celebrated: would Ryan Harris have had a greater impact had big names not kept him out of the Australian team early in his career? Getty Images

Monga: While sticking with fast bowlers, I have a name that I am not sure you will agree with. It is more down to having been kept out by big names throughout his 20s, but what we saw of Ryan Harris in 27 Tests in his 30s (also cut short by a back surgery, which he went to after taking a last wicket in the dying moments of a momentous Test) makes me wonder with a little disappointment what a great bowler we lost out on.

Samiuddin: Absolutely, only four more Tests than Asif.

Monga: And what an Asif-like bowler too.

Samiuddin: But I also feel with Harris that Australia celebrated him so much, that he was part of so many big moments against South Africa and England - big series - that he kind of lived a full career… which, of course, he never did in reality

Fernando: And I guess that the injuries came at an age when you expect those things to happen to a quick. Whereas Asif's exit seemed so premature.

Monga: His wrist admittedly did less magic than Asif, but his accuracy was stifling. He lived by the Asif philosophy: if I beat the bat, I should be hitting the pad or the stumps; if I take the edge, it should go to keeper or first slip

Samiuddin: Except, quicker than Asif. Always felt Stuart Clark was the more like-for-like Asif bowler

Monga: We love Asif for the highlights reels his wickets make it to, but arguably Harris has provided us with better seam porn. Have a look at this. This also reminds me, I recently saw Harris seam a ball in the IPL. That I would never have believed had there been no video evidence.

Samiuddin: Asif seamed some balls in the IPL too - 2008.

Fernando: What a trip it is now to think that Pakistan players actually took part in the IPL.

Monga: The greatest loss to cricket: Pakistan players missing the IPL.

Samiuddin: Snap.

Fernando: Genuinely, though, they would have changed the dynamic of that tournament so much. And you suspect the IPL would have changed Pakistan cricket as well.

Samiuddin: But the PSL may not have happened also... Or maybe it would have happened earlier.

Fernando: Umar Gul would have cut it up.

Samiuddin: And Sohail Tanvir as the greatest T20 bowler ever?

Chris Lewis: the blueprint for Jofra Archer? Getty Images

Fernando: Lasith Malinga would still have crushed it, let's not get ahead of ourselves.

Samiuddin: I know I'm being old and boomer-y but Malinga in Tests, I feel, is an unfulfilled thing.

Monga: Malinga would have made a bowler of great spells in Test cricket. Innocuous for long whiles, but then a switch would flick on and he would run through three-four guys in one three-over spell on a humid day at the SSC.

Samiuddin: Yes and that three-over spell would have turned the day, the Test, even the series.

Fernando: If you can hustle a fantastic batsman with a bouncer in Galle, you're a decent bowler. But then with Malinga, it's kind of a double-edged sword. You don't have Malinga if you don't have that action. And you probably can't have that action and a long Test career. What makes him is what breaks him. Unlike, say Bond, who could conceivably have had a long career with a better body.

Samiuddin: Before starting this I had made a list of all the players that would feature here: Shaun Tait, Vinod Kambli, Mohammad Zahid, Asif, Ryder, Wasim Raja, all of South Africa before return, Chris Lewis…

Chris Lewis, man. I watch Jofra and I get strong Lewis vibes. Not in terms of the pace or anything, but in how easily he did things, without showing any signs of the strain and toll it takes on a body. Though who knows how quick Lewis was - no speed guns in his time and he was never celebrated for his pace. But he could bat a bit, great in the field, loose and easy action.

Monga: Did we get enough of Steve Harmison?

Samiuddin: Yes. Harmison played 63 Tests.

Fernando: But I think we've mostly exhausted this chat now. We're dipping into the '90s, and now discussing players who actually had decently long careers. We'll be talking about Kevin Pietersen next. I've just sat in on too many conversations in England about what a loss KP was. And he played 104 Tests.

Samiuddin: In England if you don't play 150 Tests, you ain't nothing.

Monga: And now the rhinos have him. Poor rhinos. Though I think he is actually doing something for them.

Fernando: He's probably trash-talking them behind their backs. Anyway, I think this conversation has degenerated. Like the actions of so many fast bowlers gone before their time.

Osman: Yeah, I think we're done.

Fernando: Let's call it. I don't know about you guys, but I'm going to put on some Asif highlights reels, eat huge quantities of ice cream straight from the tub, and cry myself to sleep.