#THEN WHY DID YOU ALLOW SHIT LIKE THIS?!?!??

[teaboot]

I feel like if you're using a lot of disposable plastic bags in your day to day life, you've gotta do something sustainable to make up for it. Like using bamboo toilet paper or eco friendly cat litter or something, yknow

Honestly I exaggerate for comedic effect, while I DO routinely use ziplock bags to hold spaghetti I cook maybe once a month and the bag itself is usually for freezer storage. I actually throw out maybe one bag a week? I DO hate washing plates and tupperware and junk but that usually just means I eat sandwiches without a plate.

I agree though that needless waste should be avoided, and I do avoid it- biodegradable bags and recyclables, empty butter tubs used to store leftovers, etc.

This said, though, not applicable necessarily for myself but for a lot of others- I feel that it's importat to remember that there are many people who legitimately NEED things like plastic straws, or catheters, or pre-packaged foods

And the idea that that's a moral failing that individuals need to personally make up for when a single billionaire blows out more CO2 in a long weekend than I will in my whole life on a superjet meet-cute in the Bolivian rainforest between humvee drag races funded by the river-polluting textiles plants they planted in a third world country to avoid EPA laws and give an entire village stillbirths and stomach cancer is an idea that those very same bigwigs have spent a LOT of time and money investing in planting in the public psyche.

Like- Glass bottles are infinitely recyclable, so why are so many drinks in plastic now? Loads of drinks manufacturers used to buy them back and clean them for re-use, so why did they stop? If they chose to make something out of a limited and environmentally irresponsible material, why is it my failing to track down a correct process of disposal for them? What if there are none in my area? Do I lobby for more recycling plants in my area? Do I set aside some of my limited time outside the pain factory of my job- which I have more than one of, thanks to rising costs of things just like that drink I just emptied- to properly dispose of this company's waste FOR them?

Say coca-cola just rolled up to your town and started dumping millions of empty plastic bottles in the street, going, "wow, you should really think about building and staffing a recycling depot, it would be really shameful of you to just put these in the trash." When companies purposefully use materials with limited lifespans- because yes, even plastic can only be reused so many times- and tell you it's your own fault if it harms the environment- that's essentially what they're doing, just with more steps.

Yes, its important to be as environmentally concious as we can in our day to day life, but responsible sustainability is not catholicism. We don't get good boy points from our lord and savior Captain Planet every time the average low-income household gathers together to hold hands and repent for a single-use plastic that allows them to access something they need.

Entire families could eat trees and shit dead lithium batteries for years and still not do as much damage to the planet as an average dye plant or braindead celebrity does in a week just for fun, and I'm mad about it

...this went on longer than intended.

TL/DR: DO recycle and minimize waste, but don't beat yourself up over the little waste you can't avoid, and follow the money.

EDIT: Part 2

[learningfromlosing]

This is the greatest lesson I've ever learned was from my father. I was going through a breakthrough at 17. Realizing some shit might be my fault. That even though I needed to be medicated didn't mean I was allowed to say or do whatever I wanted all the time. (Meaning vicious things, things I did on purpose out of hate and pain. Things I would feel bad for when the smoke lifted) And when I was going through that one of the first things I did was go hat in hand to the people I felt I hurt, and sincerely apologize. And that although I could mean it with all my heart, they did not need to accept it.

The thing about it though, wasn't that I was unforgivable, but that we both had the chance to heal by me saying it. And that mattered to me. That you can do as best you can, and that's all you can do.

The fact that it was interchangeable. That you can wish you had done better, while not forgiving the people who made you the way you were at that moment. That you can want better for yourself, while remembering why you need to want better for yourself. That's where the whole, I won't stoop to your level thing comes in.

I'm not religious, but I'd like to maybe point out that the point of confessionals is that you're supposed to have remorse. That you can be forgiven as long as you feel that remorse. That we are not immune to temptation in any sense. That anyone could fall, but as long as they get back up and realize what happened, they could carry on. And yeah you can lie in there and feel like you cheated everyone, including god. Say your 10 hail Marys and feel absolved. But in your heart of hearts you will know. You'll know, and in that sense so will your god.

All you need to do is feel bad, and try and remember that the next time it comes around.

I promise you, if you know what you did, you can stand next to it and say this isn't what I should have done, but I try to do better now, youre on the right path. And it doesn't feel as damning when you look at it again.

the concept and idea of “you can always start trying to be a better person” is extremely important to me both in media and irl and i continue to be deeply deeply disturbed by the trend on this site pushing that these ideas in media are bad writing or even morally reprehensible

because theyd rather someone stay terrible or just straight up die than become a better person 

from a compassionate point of view it’s deeply distressing and from a pragmatic point of view it’s outright frustrating

it’s fucked up. 

[archangeldyke-all]

I feel like Sev is a total dad in that any time she gets into an argument with one of The Kids (tm), she will absolutely never verbally apologize. She will, however, appear with ten crates of a fruit that they mentioned they liked approximately one time in passing or just randomly decide to take them somewhere fun. Just randomly…Totally not because she feels bad or anything…

AD:FAS:DF:ASJDF this is so sweet okay

men and minors dni

it's easier for her to apologize to isha.

the kid's so tiny, and her big gold eyes are so cute, and she doesn't have much ...history... with isha-- so when she accidentally steps on isha's fingers, or eats the leftovers isha was saving for herself in the fridge, or farts when isha's standing right behind her-- a quick "oh, my bad, isha" or "sorry, kiddo" slip off her tongue easily.

of course, this doesn't change the fact that she'll feel guilty as hell for the rest of the day and spoil isha endlessly. but still, it's a little easier for her to actually say sorry when it's baby isha.

it's different with jinx.

for one thing... jinx talks. and jinx talks back. sevika's good at a lot of things, but quick comebacks are not her strong suit. usually, she gets flustered and gruffs out a 'shut the fuck up' which leads to an even bigger argument.

for another thing, jinx and sevika have been squabbling for years. and sometimes those squabbles were... intense, to say the least. the recent familial feelings sevika and jinx have formed for each other have not always existed.

so... it's a little harder for sevika to apologize to her.

she always knows when she's gone too far. she's incredibly intuitive, she's able to read jinx's micro-expressions like an open book. so it's not like she needs help in realizing her mistakes.

it's just the apologizing for it that's hard for her.

about three months into the girls moving in with you, jinx and sevika get into their first real fight as family.

you and isha watch with cringes as they both fling insults and soft objects at each other-- fighting in the way people fight only when they've known each other forever.

it ends with jinx fleeing to her room and sevika reaching for her emergency cigarette stash. she only allows herself a pack a year, so you know she feels horrible when she grabs two.

isha rushes to comfort jinx. you rush to comfort your wife.

"you alright?" you ask as you step onto the back porch. sevika just shrugs.

"i'll get over it. she'll get over it." she mumbles. you wrap an arm around her shoulders, and sevika groans. "shit, i feel so bad. i shouldn't lose my shit with her like that anymore."

"...probably not." you hesitantly agree. sevika huffs and elbows you, and you just kiss her cheek. "but mistakes are alright, babe. we're still learning. both of us. yesterday i caught isha playing with one of our vibrators. she was using it as a mini bazooka in her game of doll wars--" sevika cuts you off with a burst of surprised laughter, and you smile. "point is we're figuring it out as we're going. and nobody's bleeding, so i'd count that as a win."

sevika sighs and agrees with you, stubbing out her cigarette and kissing you soundly.

you think that's the end of it until you're at the store with jinx the next day.

"did sevika say anything to you about... like... robbing a convience store or something?" jinx asks. you blink.

"what?"

jinx shrugs. "this morning she woke me up by shoving, like, an industrial sized box of flamers onto my bed. like fifty pounds of flamers!" jinx giggles. you smile. that explains her and isha's red stained mouths this morning-- and why sevika was out so late last night. "so i dunno. i'm just trying to figure out where she got 'em from."

"she bought them, jinx. she's saying sorry to you."

"...sorry for what?" she asks.

"for the fight you got in last night!" you giggle.

jinx blinks again, like she's never been apologized to before. it's likely that she hasn't. you sigh and wrap an arm around her shoulder. "...sevika's never apologized to me before." she says. you nod. "at least, not without silco threatening her job, or something."

"you weren't her kid back then." you say.

a smile ticks up at the corner of her mouth, and jinx giggles.

"why didn't she just say 'sorry?' she musta spent at least a hundred on that box--"

"she's not the best with her words, jinx, you know this." you say with a laugh. jinx cackles and nods.

taglist!

@fyeahnix @lavendersgirl @half-of-a-gay @thesevi0lentdelights @sexysapphicshopowner

@kissyslut @chuucanchuucan @badbye666 @femme-historian @lia-winther

@sevikaspillowprincess @emiliabby @sevikasbeloved @hellorai @my-taintedheart

@glass-apothecary @macaroni676 @artinvain @k3n-dyll @sevsdollette

@ellieslob @xayn-xd @keikuahh @maneskinwh0re @raphaellearp

@iamastar @sevikitty @mascdom @nhaaauyen @annesunshiner

@mirconreadzztuff22 @veoomvroom @lushh-s3vik4s @katyawooga @lesbodietcoke

@lavandasz @strawberrykidneystone @sevikasfan @fict1onallyobsessed

[the-froschamethyst4]

“We can’t keep him”

𖤐Pairing: Ghost x F! Reader

𖤐Pronouns: She/Her

𖤐Warnings: Fluff, angst, language, cowboy! Ghost, children, married couple, kissing, harsh background, mention of abuse, mention of a miscarriage and infidelity, happy ending (I promise),

𖤐Summary: Y/n has a family member that has been in the hospital for some time and this was the first time she sees them and finds about their secret child and brings them home to Ghost

————

————

Y/n Riley, a gentle and kind woman who's done no wrong in her life, but she's here at the hospital after being told her cousin was in the hospital after a fatal car accident, Y/n hasn't gone to see him in the 3 weeks she was notified, she was either busy or didn't want to see the person she called family all torn and beat up.

She stood in the doorway of the hospital room and saw her cousin, he was barely holding on, she couldn't even recognize him. She excused herself and heads to the small courtyard, tears running down her face, fists curled and pushed into her eyes wishing she didn't see what she just saw.

As she sat on the bench, she looks down at her feet, as tears land on her thighs.

"You stay here," a woman who sounded angry pushed a young boy on the bench Y/n was on, and she walked off. Y/n was still sniffling but wiped the tears from her face.

"Why are you crying?" The boy asked.

"What happened to your face?" Y/n tried to change the question. The boy has a bruised eye, a busted lip and some dried blood under his nose.

"Nothing," he says.

"Then I'm not crying," she says.

"My dad's here," he says.

"Oh yeah? What happened?"

"Car accident..."

"Car...accident?"

"Yeah," he says, wiping under his nose.

"W-What's his name?" She was scared for the answer.

"Martin L/n."

"Fuck..." Y/n then looks at the ground leaning back on the bench, she then turns to look at the boy. "How...old are you?"

"12," he says.

"Martin," she groans leaning back. "What about your name?"

"Silas."

"Who...who was that woman? Your mom?"

"No, definitely not," he says. "She's my caseworker."

"Caseworker? Something wrong?"

"...Guess you don't know anything about him."

"What did he do?" Now she curious but is also rightfully pissed off at Martin. He was usually a nice and caring man, why does his son have a caseworker?

"He-"

"Silas! Come on, you have to see him." His caseworker yells from the door. Silas doesn't say anything and gets off the bench and heads to the door.

Y/n takes a deep breath and walks to the door as well, going back to the room.

"Who are you? Why are you in here?" The caseworker says.

"Martin is my cousin," Y/n said.

"O-Oh," she doubles down.

"Can he have some privacy to say goodbye?" Y/n looks at the doctor.

"I mean we would but we have a policy that doesn't allow us to leave the room-"

"Your policy is shit and his son should be allowed to say his goodbye, without a doctor or caseworker around," Y/n says. The doctor just nods and motions the caseworker to also leave.

Silas looks at Y/n and then back at his dad on his death bed. Silas plays with his fingers and then looks back at him again.

"You suck as a father..." well that stunned Y/n. "Beat me, left me at school too many times then I can count, left me with that bitch of a caseworker...I hope you rot in hell, and if there's a hell on Earth, I'm already on it," he turns and walks out of the hospital room, Y/n could hear his caseworker call after him.

"Martin...I've don't know what you've done to that poor boy, but you...I'm glad you're leaving, I don't know what you've been doing for the past 6 years, but I know...you deserved this...I loved you, my cousin, but I hate you," Y/n grabbed her purse and walks out of the room, going to her car and starting it up, not before hitting her wheel and screaming out of anger.

--------------

Going home to her husband, Ghost, he sat on the front porch watching her walk up the stairs like she was tired and her eyes were red and puffy, and Ghost opened his arms for her to sit on his lap and she snuggled to his chest.

"Guessing it didn't go that well?"

"He has a son, Si."

"A son? Since when?"

"12 years. He's had a son for 12 years and didn't say anything to anyone, no one knew...he must have hurt that boy for too long."

"Why do you say that?"

"He has a caseworker, Si, no child has a caseworker unless something has happened to that child."

"What's the kid's name?"

"Silas...he's 12...and all I know from what he said to Martin as a good bye was that he basically hates him...and I do too, Si, Martin lied to us, he was never kind or gentle, he was monster behind closed doors."

Ghost held Y/n close and kissed her temple, he rocks back and forth on the rocking chair sitting on the front porch, the silent rain hitting the top of the roof and on the ground.

-----------------

It's been a week now, Y/n washing dishes as Ghost was getting back from feeding the cows, when he sees a truck pull into the driveway, he kept his composure hands on his belt as he watched the Sheriff come out of the truck.

"Evening Sheriff."

"Evening Ghost, I have something."

"What is it?"

"Not what, who."

"Y/N!!" Ghost yells from outside, Y/n stopped what she was doing drying her hands and coming outside.

"Yes?" She opens her door and sees Silas being held by the hoodie by the Sheriff. "Silas?"

"So you know him."

"Yeah...I do...he's my cousins son. I met him a few weeks ago." The Sheriff released Silas and he went to the tailgate of the truck.

"What did he do?" She asked.

"Stealing."

"Where's his caseworker?"

"Said he didn't want to call her, and said you're his legal guardian." He says. Y/n looks at Silas and takes a deep breath.

"We don't have kids, Sheriff." Ghost says.

"Si...can I have a word with my husband?" Y/n pulls Ghost to the front porch.

"So, that's Silas."

"Yeah...Simon, he doesn't have a home...his only family just died, and if they call his caseworker, he'll go to Foster care."

"Love, it's for the best he goes-"

"No, Simon...you've been in his position before," she taps her fingers into his chest.

"Don't do that."

"Do what?" She knew what she was doing.

"We can't...keep him, we know nothing on what a child needs."

"I know he needs a home, right now, parents to take care of him."

"What about his mom?"

"Doesn't know her."

Ghost then takes a deep breath as he looks at Silas swing his feet back and forth on the tailgate and then looks back down at his wife.

"If he stays here, he works," Ghost says.

"Fine, he could use some muscle on him anyways," Y/n walks off the porch and walks to the tailgate where Silas was. "You can stay...if you stay here you work on the farm with my husband, don't worry he's not as bad as he may seems."

The Sheriff had took off a while ago leaving Silas in the care of Y/n and Ghost. Ghost sees Silas at the porch, he seemed like he was going to follow Y/n into the house but stopped him from going in.

"Where you going?" Ghost asked.

"Inside, I'm cold," he says.

"Not just yet, I still haven't fed the pigs, yet, you get to help me with them, and from then on the pigs will now be your responsibility."

"Pigs? Yeah, okay-what I get to move up from the pigs whenever you tell me to?"

"You catch up quick, get your ass moving," Ghost says, showing Silas where he has to go.

Silas goes first walking to the pig pin, Ghost opens the gate and sends Silas inside.

"Grab that bucket. Fill it with slop."

"Slop?"

"That shit right there. It's kitchen scraps, rotten fruit and vegetables," Silas removed the lid on top of the bucket of slop, Silas gags at the smell and puts the bucket inside the slop and scooped out a full bucket full.

Silas continues to gag as he walks to the pigs that crowded around his feet, making him hard to walk around them.

"Push them."

"Push them? They're heavier than me," Silas says.

"Push them," Ghost repeats. Silas used his knee to push the pigs away so he could get to their bowl to dumb everything into it. Once he gets to the bowl and pours everything in, he drops the bucket and goes to the gate where Ghost was.

"Ah, who said you're done?"

"What?"

"You gonna wash Bessy over there."

"Bessy?" Bessy was a big Vietnamese pot-bellied pig. Ghost told Silas that she's probably had about 6 different liters and won 7 blue ribbons at the county fair, she is a force to reckon with, and gets the most dirty out of all the other pigs in the pin.

Silas grabs the hose from the side of the pin turning the water on and spraying Bessy with it, but what Ghost didn't tell Silas was that Bessy hates water and you basically gotta run after her and trap her to wash her.

Silas ran around the pin trying to block Bessy from running, Ghost just laughs at him, Silas then tackles the pig and ended up taking Bessy down with him, he curses and grabs the hose to wash Bessy.

"What the hell is going on? I called for dinner 5 minutes ago!" Y/n says, marching to her husband and Silas. She sees Silas all mudding and dirty, he kind of looks embarrassed to have Y/n looking at him like this.

Y/n slaps Ghost's arm, who wasn't fazed by her smack, but did look at her.

"Why is he in there with them?"

"Cause I didn't get to feed them, so he's doing it, he's now in charge of them."

"Silas, come on, go inside and clean up, dinner is ready." She says, looking annoyed at Simon. Silas walks out of the pin kicking his shoes off at the front door not wanting to trudge mug into the nice and clean house.

"Simon-"

"He's a boy, he's going to get dirty, weather he likes it or not, and the deal was, he lives here, he works here."

"I know that but-"

"But nothing, there is no but," he says. "Come on...thought dinner was ready?"

---------------

Silas took a nice hot shower, coming down in clothes Y/n could find for him, some old sweatpants and an old t-shirt.

"Thanks."

"Sorry, I didn't have any clothes to fit you, we can go shopping tomorrow, or do you have clothes back at your home?"

"I need new ones..." he picks at the food not wanting to talk more and Y/n didn't push him, but Ghost just stares at the boy and then at his wife, he sees how similar they look, same hair color, those same colored eyes, but Silas was more quiet, rebellious. Y/n gentle, can be stubborn, and a pain in Simon's ass sometimes.

"I need him around the farm tomorrow," Ghost jumps in and looks down at his dinner eating it.

"You have help. Thought Soap, Price and Alejandro were coming?"

"They are-"

"Then you can wait, it won't take long, he needing new things is a bit more important," Silas looks at the couple talking, he leans back into the chair not eating, it caught Ghost's attention.

"Eat kid," he says.

"I'm not hungry anymore."

"Why?" He pushes.

"Simon, enough...you don't have to if you don't want to...or if you want...we can eat in silence, no more talking about anything," she says, looking at Silas. Silas has never gotten that look before, it was the look of someone who cared, and not angry, Ghost wasn't angry nor annoyed, he's just not use to someone else in his home let alone a kid he's now responsible for.

They ate in silence like Y/n said, Silas had finished first and was excuse to walk around the house and explore if he wanted to. He stumbles upon a room, pushing the door open and seeing it was a nursery. Why would there be a nursery in the house with no kids but him?

He looks around the room was filled with pink things, the walls painted a soft pink color, he looks around when seeing the name 'Luna' on the wall.

"We were going to have a baby at some point," Ghost says, making Silas jump.

"I-I didn't mean to-"

"It's fine kid..." Ghost comes in slightly closing the door behind him. "My wife was pregnant a while back," he walks to the empty crib in the middle of the room.

"She had a miscarriage around 6 months...she has every right to be more upset than me, we've just kept this room shut and off limits, she was scared to remove everything, so we've left the room alone...we tried for another baby a while back but...my wife...she can't get pregnant..." he looks down at Silas. "Promise me, kid...you act and treat her like a mother, she's doing you a favor by staying here with us, she could told that Sheriff to take you to your caseworker, so be fucking glade," he says.

Silas nods and leaves the room. As Silas leaves and continues down the hall he sees another door opened and Y/n was inside setting up the bed for him.

"Oh, here, you'll be staying in the guest bedroom," she says. She leaves him alone in the bedroom as she makes her way down the hall and sees Simon coming out of the nursery, Y/n's heart clenched in her chest as she looks at him.

"He was in here."

"Oh." She looks at the door at the end of the hall slowly closing. Y/n looks up at Simon and felt tears in her eyes when she thinks about her baby. Simon knew what was coming and picked her up and taking her to their bedroom.

------------------

Silas woke up to a chicken near his window pecking at the glass and then hears the door creak open.

"Get up, Kid," Ghost says. Silas groans and sits up looking at Ghost in his doorway.

"Thought I was going shopping?" He says.

"Oh you are," Y/n pops her head in. "Simon is just being an asshole."

"Am not, we're up, so he can be up-"

"He can sleep in if he wants to," Y/n shuts the door and pulls Simon away from his door. "You have to leave him alone, he's a child, coming from a rough home already, he doesn't need you in his face or business all the time."

"Love-"

"Don't 'love' me, he's just a kid, you also have friends coming to work with you, you can wait till he gets back." She says, pushing him out of the hallway and onto the first stair.

"Sorry to interrupt but...I have no clothes," Silas calls from the end of the hall.

"I'll get you some," Y/n gives him a smile and then a quick glare at her husband, pushing past him and going to look for more clothes.

She brings up a t-shirt and some jeans. "I think the jeans might be a little big on you," he comes out of the bedroom and Y/n was right. She bends down on to roll up the pant legs and made them look good, then with a thud next to her, there were some old cowboy boots, Simon had found.

"Si."

"Found those in storage," he says. "Unroll that boys pants, he'll look stupid with his jeans tucked in." Y/n rolls her eyes and fixed them how they were before, once Silas got his boots on and put the jeans over the boots, he looked good.

"There," Y/n says. "Perfect, now, come on, let's go see what we can get ya'."

"The boy doesn't need more then 5 shirt, 4 jeans, 12 underwear and 15 pairs of socks." Simon says from the front porch.

"Why so many underwear?" Silas asks from the front seat.

"Because I said so," Simon says.

"I'll get him as much shit as I want to," Y/n says, pulling out of the driveway.

"You two got a kid now?" Soap asked from sitting on top of his horse.

"He's part of Y/n's family, so, I made a deal saying if he stays here, he works here, he doesn't have any clothes, so they're going, he'll be back to take care of the pigs."

-------------

"How do those feel?" Y/n asked, while she held shirts, and pants, in her arms, she looks down at Silas who was feeling around for his toe.

"They're tight."

"You're not use to them yet," she says. "Do you like them?"

"Yeah," Silas had picked out two pair of boots, a real fancy pair that he promised Y/n he won't wear out in the field but if they go somewhere fancy, then a pair that he'll be using in the pig pin.

"Alright, let's go pay," putting everything on the counter and Y/n paid, Silas looks around the store, seeing some belts, he doesn't have any, but Ghost's black leather belt was on Silas' mind.

He finds one, almost similar to Ghost's belt, he takes it off the rack and goes to the counter.

"And this," he says.

"A belt?"

"I don't have one..." Silas says.

"True alright."

"You want a buckle one it, son?" The old man ringing them out says. Silas looks at the glass case and sees the wide range of buckles.

"That one." Pointing to the one that just a long horn on it.

"Sure." Y/n smiles at Silas as she pays for everything.

-------------

"Don't let, Simon get under your skin, Silas. He's just not use to a kid being in the house."

"Is he always grumpy?"

"Yeah, just about."

"How'd you even marry someone like him?"

Y/n giggles. "He wasn't always like that," she says.

"He was nice?" Silas sounded shocked.

"He still is." She says, laughing.

"Nah, no, I haven't seen him been nice yet."

"It'll take him a while, Silas, it won't happen instantly."

-----------------

When getting home Silas sees the guys reangling up some cows, he looks at them and walks to the fence, sitting on it and watching them.

"Silas," Simon then points to the pigs. Without a fight Silas gets to the pigs, but he could still watch them.

Y/n walks to the pin and watches Silas, dumping the slop in the bowl and grabbing the hose for Bessy, Silas just knows he's going to hate doing this. He chases Bessy in the pin, she squeals loudly as Silas chases the pig, the guys all stopped to watch watch Silas, they either cheered for Silas or for Bessy.

Silas then tackles Bessy like last time taking her down and starts hosing her off. The guys all cheered and Silas felt slightly embarrassed but then felt great that he was getting cheers from the guys.

He looks at Y/n as she just gives him a soft smile.

"Come on, back to work," Ghost says.

------------

Silas helped Y/n in the kitchen, cleaning, washing dishes and then making dinner for them once Ghost was done with the chores around the farm.

Silas had looked outside seeing Ghost coming up to the house, he keeps washing the dishes as Y/n puts everything down to go to the front door and wait for Ghost to open the door. Once he did kicking his boots off at the front, his arms went around her waist and holds her tightly.

Silas watched them, he knew these two were a happy couple, and they were like every other couple, getting into fights and then making up, he watched how Ghost was gentle with her.

"What's for dinner?" Ghost asked looking at Silas and then down at his wife.

"Chicken and mash potatoes," she says. "Something simple."

"What clothes did you get," Ghost asked, looking at Silas.

Silas without another word went to the room he was staying in and brought down the bags. Ghost starts looking through them and pulled some of the shirts out along with some jeans.

"New belt?"

"Yeah, I need one."

"Looks like mine," he says.

"Yeah," Silas looks down and Ghost just smiles a little.

"Fine, looks good, more shirt then I said," he says, looking at Y/n who's back was turned to him.

"I'm allowed to get him as many shirts as he wants," she says.

"New boots, I saw," he says.

"And?" He doesn't say anything, knowing what he might say, she'll give him attitude and make a good point. "That's what I thought," she says. "Anyways, dinner is ready."

----------------

Silas and Ghost sat on the front porch together, it was silent for a long time but soon Ghost started talking.

"So, kid...how was your relationship with your dad?" He asked, he was blunt, and Silas learned that already.

"Not that great, I guess," he says.

"You guess?"

"My dad did drugs...chose drugs and women over his own kid, yet, I don't know my mother, if I knew my mother...I don't think I'd be here with you two, and there is no telling how crazy she is!" Silas says, leaning back in the rocking chair.

"That's like my dad...my mom was my...hero, I guess, she stood up for me all the time, my dad did drug and was an alcoholic...I never had a good relationship with him..."

"What happened to them?"

"My mom passed away from a heart attack, and my dad overdosed on fentanyl and my brother Tommy died from drugs as well...it's just me..."

"How'd you meet, Y/n?"

"Y/n," when Ghost said her name he smiled and looked at the night sky and bright stars. "She is my fucking world, even though he 'get into fights' she is my everything, I will do anything and everything for her...I met her by a friend of mine, Soap, he showed a photo of her to me because he said 'I needed to get out there' and he set up a blind date for us...we hit it off and got married to each other in 6 months."

"6 months?!"

"Yeah...crazy," he says, chuckling. It stayed silent again till Silas spoke.

"...Am I staying here?" He asked Ghost. Ghost took a deep breath and sighed.

"It's up to Y/n...you said she's your guardian...that's more up to Y/n then me," he says.

"And he is," Y/n came out of the house, she sits on the arm of Ghost's rocking chair, his arm wrapped around her waist and resting on her hip. "You will stay here...I don't want you going off to Foster care and not know anything about your family. I'm your family now, Simon is your family now..." she cups his chin getting him to look at her. "And I sure as hell will do everything in my power to keep you here, no one will come and take you from us, do you understand?" Silas nods his head.

"If you also stay here, we've got some ground rules for you," Ghost says.

"Like what?"

"One is no stealing, if you get caught again, we're not coming to get you," Ghost says.

"He is right, I don't want to see your mug anywhere," Y/n said.

"Got it."

"You work till I say you're done, you may have the pigs as a responsibility but you also have the goats, sheep and chickens, you pull your weight around here."

As Ghost talks with Silas about the ground rules, Y/n had gotten up and left them to keep talking. Ghost seemed to make a new best friend and Silas knows what love feels like now.

[imtryingbuck]

Not a dream

~ gif not mine credit to owner ~

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x fem!Reader.

Summary: she knew the Winter Soldier, only meeting again when she hears about Bucky’s pardon.

Word count: 7,479

Warnings: angst(?) murdering rapists. swearing. assaults. fluff. crying Bucky. past torture. suicidal thoughts. mentions of suicide. mentions of a sex ring (mentioned once.) mentions of rape (not Bucky or reader) 

Masterlist

“I’m innocent your honour.”

“You was caught with the murder weapon in your hands as well as being at the scene of the crime.”

“Would you believe me if I said that I found them like that?”

Y/n was sentenced to prison for twenty five years for murdering two men, she tried to justify her actions by telling the courts that she only killed them because they were rapists but apparently it was wrong of her to take the law into her own hands, who knew?

Little did they know that she had taken the life of just over sixty rapists.

What they don’t know won’t hurt them, right?

“So Y/n, when are you out of the shit hole?” Rogan asked as she sat at the table where Y/n was shuffling cards.

“Soon. Got twenty more years to go.”

“How long have you already done?”

“Five.” Looking around making sure no one heard her, she leaned further across the table to the woman. “Look RoRo first rule of prison is that you don’t ask people what they are in for or how long they are doing.”

“What really? I keep asking people.”

“It’s like pointing in cemetery, it’s disrespectful.”

“Oh… I didn’t know.”

“She’s fucking with you with.” Kandi laughed as she came over to the duo, a cigarette hanging out of her mouth.

“Not about the cemetery thing.” Pointing a card to Rogan. “Dis-respect-ful!”

Rogan had been in prison for six months, Y/n took the woman under her wing after seeing the poor girl getting harassed, everyone was quick to leave her alone. “Noted.”

“What about you? I’ve got three years left.” Kandi asked as she was pulling a card away from Y/n, just to wind her up.

“Hopefully next year.”

“NO!” Kandi laughed as Rogan jumped in her seat as Y/n screamed. “You two can’t leave me, I’ll be all alone in this big scary place!” She then throws herself onto the ground.

“L/n get off the ground!” A guard shouted, she does as she’s told and salutes the guy.

“Prick. Anyway I’m only joking, I can’t wait to see the back of you both.” Going back to shuffling her cards she looked up at Rogan. “You need to keep your head down and you might get an early release.”

They have a game of cards whilst Rogan and Kandi talked about their plans for when they get out. Kandi kicked Y/n’s leg and nodded in a direction, Rogan was confused but didn’t want to ask.

“RoRo.”

“Yeah?”

“Remember, always keep your head down.” Before the woman can answer Y/n stands up, fix her clothes and walks in the direction Kandi had nodded in.

Kandi quickly packs up the cards and shoves them into her pocket, swinging her legs over the bench. “When I tell you to get down, you do it.”

“Why? What’s happening.”

“Just watch our crazy little friend.”

Rogans eyes stay focused on Y/n as she makes her way across the yard and walks up to a woman that she knew had only arrived a few days before, with the distance between them she couldn’t hear what the two women were saying.

“Get… down.”

As the words come out of Kandi’s mouth Rogan watches as Y/n punches the woman in front of her, the two start fighting. Everyone begins to drop to the ground as the alarms started blearing, Rogan flinches when the guards start to shoot, not like Y/n stops her assaults on the woman - only stopping and throwing her hands up in the air when the other woman stops moving.

“We’ll she her in a month or two.” Kandi says quietly as the guards start rounding them all up.

Four months.

She was in solitary confinement for four months, Y/n was no stranger to the six by eight box, the warden had gotten fed up of her behaviour so he cut her yard time in half - only allowing her to have half an hour of fresh air a day.

Not like she cared.

The woman she had attacked played a role in the pain and suffering Y/n and many more had endured, she was a well respected agent who took great pleasure in hurting others especially Y/n. It was as if it was fate that the agent was being sent to the same prison as Y/n was in - not like she believed in things like that, but fate nonetheless.

“Y/n!” She only had that as a warning before Kandi jumped over the railing and landed on her. “Fuck I’ve missed you so much!”

“I’ve missed you too.” Y/n wheezed out. “But get your fat arse off me.”

“‘M not fat.”

“No but that arse of yours is.”

“Stop flirting with me, I’ll start thinking you’re in love with me.”

“We’re married…”

“Not anymore, I divorced you when you was in the hole. Sorry.”

“And there I thought you’d wait for me.” Finally standing up Y/n looked around, frowning when she couldn’t see Rogan. Asking Kandi where their friend was, she went from being happy to be back in the wing to angry.

“S-she was attacked two weeks ago, she’s in medical.”

“Who?”

“Y/n…”

“Who Kandi.”

“You’ve just gotten back.”

“I’m not going to ask again.”

Sighing and shaking her head Kandi said the name of the woman who had attacked their friend Y/n spun around in the direction of the woman’s cell. The alarms were quick to go off and the guards making their way in to the wing, an angry Y/n being dragged out.

“I’ll see you soon.” She shouted to Kandi, the latter just nods and makes her way back to her cell muttering idiot under her breath.

It’d be another four months since she’d see anyone again.

Y/n tiptoed her way over to where Kandi and Rogan was sitting at their bench, the other inmates raising their eyebrows as she puts her finger to her lips. They had all grown accustomed to her weird behaviour and how quickly she can go from laughing to beating someone up.

“Give me all your money!” She screamed behind the two friends, Rogan jumped whilst Kandi didn’t flinch.

Making her way to her seat she smiled at Rogan who happily returned the expression, she looked at Kandi and noticed she wasn’t looking at her. “What’s wrong?”

Kandi whispered into Rogans ear, Rogan then looked between her two friends nervously. “She said she’s not talking to you.”

“Why? Buttercup don’t be like this.”

“She said that you’ve been gone for a long time and things have changed.”

“Changed how? Nothings changed Kands, I promise I won’t go back in the hole.”

“You said that last time! And the time before that and the time before, oh and guess-“ Kandi snapped.

“I get it. I get it okay? I’m sorry alright. I just couldn’t let Anderson get away with hurting our RoRo.”

“I know but you promise all the time Y/n, you’ve been in the hole more times than anyone here and that’s saying something.”

“I like it, kinda feels like I’m home.”

“Don’t be such a dick Y/n, I’m being serious.”

“So am I!” It was her turn to snap, smoothing out her hair she apologised. “Look I’m really sorry Kandice, I swear to you I won’t do anything to get me into trouble- no I mean it honestly!”

“Promise?”

“Promise.”

And just like that everything was fine between the pair. Kandi and Rogan told her everything that had happened in the eight months she was in solitary, which surprisingly wasn’t a lot other than a couple of fights happening.

Y/n’s left eye twitched as she stood in front of her cell. Someone had come into her place and trashed it. The whole wing went quiet as they all saw her standing there still as if she was a statue.

“Who?”

“Y/n, remember what you promised me.” Kandi said from the side of her.

“Who Kandi?”

“Y/n-“

“WHO FUCKING TRASHED MY CELL!” Everyone flinched as she shouted. She was getting angrier the longer everyone remained quiet.

“That would have been me, sweet cheeks.” The voice made her skin crawl. As she turned around she saw the guard who made it his sole mission to torment her after she turned him down.

“You-“

“Y/n, you’ve just gotten out.” Kandi hissed under her breath.

“Fucking-“

“Y/n!”

“PRICK!” His smile made her want to kill him right there and then. “But… it’s okay, I get it. No I really do.” Leaning over the railing she smiled at him. “Since catching your wife getting her brains fucked out of her by the fucking mailman - the same man she left you for, you’ve been real lonely, I hope you enjoyed my underwear around that small piece of useless skin that you call a dick.” The whole wing erupts in loud cheering - even some of the guards laughing - Y/n walked into her cell and started cleaning up.

The next morning the trio made their way to the rec room after having their breakfasts, sat at a table playing a card game Y/n caught a glimpse of a familiar face on the tv screen from the corner of her eye.

Her breathing picked up and her palms started to sweat, all she could see was so many different memories flash in front of her. It was like she was right there in the base alongside him. Memories she tried so hard to keep locked up right at the back of her mind under lock and key came flooding back. She could hear someone call her name but she couldn’t pin point where the voice was coming from or who by. Only snapping out of her memories when she felt a hand smack her across the face.

“Shit… Y/n I-I didn’t mean to do that.” Kandi stuttered, looking between Y/n and Rogan fear evident in her eyes.

“It’s-I’m okay. You smack like a girl by the way.” Chuckling nervously Kandi apologised but Y/n waved her off. “I need to get out of here.” She whispered to her two friends.

“We can go outside.” Rogan offered.

“No I mean I need to get out of prison, preferably like now.”

“What are you going to do, walk up to the warden and ask if he can let you out earlier?” Kandi laughed.

“Do you think he would?”

“No you idiot!”

“Why? I’m well behaved.” The girls in front of her raise their eyebrows in unison. “Okay maybe I’ve not been the best inmate but I can be good.”

They all knew that was a lie.

“Y/n be rational, you escape you’ll be wanted, you’ll get caught and have more years added to your sentence.”

“No because I’ll leave and then I’ll come back once I’m finished doing what I need to do.”

“You-I-Rogan deal with her.”

“I erm… Y/n you’ll be in so much trouble.”

“I’m doing twenty five years Ro, can’t get in more fucking trouble than that. Look I’ll be gone for a few days and I’ll hand myself in, they’ll probably give me an extra year or two which is nothing really. But I need your twos help.”

Kandi knew her well enough to know that she was going to escape with or without their help, despite not liking it she knew Y/n wouldn’t do anything without a reason. “Why?”

“I need to see someone. Kands I wouldn’t be doing this if it wasn’t important. So please help me.”

“Fuck. Fine, okay I’ll help you.”

“I’ll help too.” Rogan smiled.

“No, you can’t ruin your chance at an early release.”

“I’m helping.”

As Y/n watched the two girls argue about whether or not Rogan was allowed to help she came up with a plan. Gaining their attention she told them the plan, and off they went.

“This is such a bad idea.” Kandi whispered watching Y/n climb through the tiny window of the guards locker room.

“It’s a brilliant idea.”

“Just hurry up!”

“Stop distracting me!”

Finding the locker she needed, she opened it up and searched for car keys, hanging them out of the small window to Kandi she climbed out. Kandi was about to unlock the car when Y/n wrapped her arms around her.

“I’ll come back I promise.”

“Why? You could be free and have a life.”

“Like you said, I’ll be wanted and I’ll end up getting caught. Plus all I’ve ever known is a life in prisons so I won’t do good out there in the real world.” She shrugged. “I’ll see you in a few days. Oh, Kandice?”

“Yeah?”

“Thank you.”

“Be careful.”

Keeping an eye out she helped Y/n get into the boot of the car and locking it again she ran over to the window and climbed in to put the keys back, Rogan was waiting for her when she came back out and made a phone call - using the phone that Y/n asked forced someone to borrow them.

“Hi, is this Mr Boyd? I’m sorry to say this sir but your apartment has been broken into. Your neighbour rang the police. Yes. That’s fine sir.” Not even five minutes ago by when they see the guard running past their hiding spot and driving away.

“The crazy bitch has done it.” Kandi laughed, wrapping her arm around Rogans shoulder she kisses her friends head.

Y/n had to bite her lip to force herself not to scream as Boyd drove like a maniac, she kept banging her head and it was starting to hurt. As the car finally pulled to a stop she slowly opened the boot door before he got out and locked her inside. Only climbing out when she figured the coast was clear, she falters when she makes eye contact with a child playing across the street - the kid waves and giggles at her. Putting her finger to her lip she smiles when the kid nods.

Hiding behind the wall she waits for Boyd to leave which wasn’t long, she breaks into his apartment. First thing she does is make herself a sandwich before sitting on the sofa, putting her feet on the coffee table and watch tv - it was nice to watch something without people talking loudly in the background. After showering she walked into his bedroom and went straight to the wardrobe in hopes there was still clothes from his wife. Luck seemed to be on her side because there was a few clothes left.

Looking at the photo of Boyd with who Y/n assumed was his parents she smiles. “You trash my place, I’ll trash yours.”

Within minutes the whole apartment was trashed. Not a single room was left unharmed by the bat she was using.

Stealing some money she found she left the apartment and made her way to the bus stop. Standing outside of the library with people walking around her not knowing who she was or the fact that she had broken out of prison, she went inside.

“Hi.” Leaning over the counter to see the name tag more clearly. “Paige, I would like to use a computer.”

“Do you have a library card?”

“I don’t I’m afraid.”

“You need a library card.”

“To use a computer?”

“Yeah.”

“But I don’t have one and I really need to use it.”

“I can give you one now.”

“I don’t want a card, okay. I’m never going to come back here so it’s pointless, I just need the computer for less than ten minutes.” Y/n had to bite her cheek in order to not shout at the poor girl who was just doing her job.

“But I’m not allowed.”

“I won’t tell if you don’t.” Paige nods and takes her over to where the computers were and used her login details, reminding Y/n that she only had ten minutes she rushed back to the desk.

She’s done within minutes.

Going back up to Paige she asks for directions which the girl offers, she thanks her and hands over twenty dollars that she stole from Boyd’s apartment. “For the computer.” She informs when the girl frowns.

The walk to her destination took longer than expected due to having to keep ducking down alleyways and into shops when the police went by, she knew the guards would have realised that she was gone by now and that there would be officers looking for her.

She had to admit the building was rather impressive.

“Excuse me miss, you need to sign in.” The man said from behind the desk.

“Oh silly me, my boyfriend told me that I could just go straight up.”

“Who’s your boyfriend?”

“Tony Stark.”

“He’s married…”

“Yeah, I’m his mistress. Don’t tell the wife though.” She winks and signs her name. “Can I go up now?”

“Y-yes miss.”

“Thank you. Oh, which button do I press? Normally he does it.” Thanking him once again she makes her way to the elevator and up she goes.

Following the voices she stood outside a room where the Avengers were sitting around laughing and talking. She sees him. She doesn’t realise that everyone sees her and stops talking.

“Who are you?” A red head said.

Taking that as her signal she walks inside, her eyes still on the man she broke out of prison just to see.

"I had to see this for myself. To know it's true.” All their heads snap to the person she was looking at.

Bucky.

“Buck… do you know who this is?” A blond man said as he sat further up in his seat.

“I-yeah, her names Y/n we were at the same base together. W-what are you doing here?”

“Like I said, I wanted to see this for myself.” A small smile on her lips, she started to pick at the skin around her nails starting to feel stupid for what she’s done because he didn’t seem too pleased to see her.

“You left me.” Bucky whispered.

“I-I know but I tried to get you out, I swear.”

“You left me there Y/n!” Before anyone could react Bucky had Y/n pinned to the wall by her throat and began squeezing. “We promised each other that we’d get out together! We promised.” His eyes filling up with tears.

“I tried James! You wouldn’t come with me.” Hearing that Bucky loosens his hold around her neck. “I got into your cell but you wouldn’t listen, I tried to get you to stand but you wouldn’t move, y-you broke my arm James. My opening was closing an-and I had to take it and I’ve regretted it every day but I did try I swear.”

His hold on her neck loosens until he’s just holding her, tears starting to fall from his pretty eyes, regret consuming him when he looks at the mark already forming on her neck, regret from hating her from the moment he found out she had left him there to rot, regret and anger at hearing he had broken her arm - hurting the one person even the Winter Soldier couldn’t hurt. “I-I-“

Y/n silences him by wrapping her arms around his neck and pulls him into her. Memories of her holding him in this way flashing through their minds as Bucky clung to her.

The only sound coming from the once lively room was Bucky’s muffled cries and Y/n apologising.

“Oh by the way Tony I’m your mistress.” Y/n informed him as she pointed her fork in his direction.

“What?”

“I told the guy downstairs that I was your girlfriend and he told me you’re married. Which honestly I don’t think I can be in this relationship anymore so it’s over.” Everyone chuckles aside from Tony who’s still trying to figure out what’s going on.

“So Y/n, what have you been doing since getting away from Hydra?” Natasha asked. Bless their little hearts they tried to introduce themselves to her but she knew exactly who was who beforehand.

“I-fuck this is the best meal I’ve had in five years, thanks Sam. But anyway I was moving around a lot, may or may not have killed some agents that I knew were Hydra. So yeah not much really.”

Ever since Y/n showed up he couldn’t take his eyes off her, she looked so different yet the same, she was still the most beautiful woman he ever laid eyes on. When he was told she had escaped he felt different emotions, he was proud that she had gotten away from the horrors they were subjected too and forced to commit, he was angry that she left him behind since they had promised each other that they’d get away together and try to live a normal life - whatever that meant for the two of them. He was devastated at the fact she had left him behind, he thought that everything they had gone through together and the feelings they had for each other was all lies.

He got beaten for days after she escaped because he attacked the guards when they tried to stop him from going to her cell, he stood there at the doorway expecting to see her sitting on the wrecked mattress with a pretty smile on her face or at least her laying there with bruises after a beating but it was empty other than the mattress and disgusting toilet.

Bucky started to believe that she was dead just because he couldn’t believe that she left him on his own. For the two years he was there without his partner, his only friend, the woman who he had fallen in love with despite their surroundings he never put up a fight, he did everything they asked of him and more, he didn’t care if he died on missions - hell he wanted to die just so he could finally see Y/n again.

But here she was, sitting right next to him laughing along with his friends, looking just as beautiful as the last time he saw her. All he wanted to do was wrap his arms around her and never let go again, he wanted to kiss her just the way they use to whenever they were alone and knew that no one was watching.

“Right, well I best be off.” Y/n spoke bringing Bucky back to the present.

“W-what?”

“Yeah sorry, I’ve gotta go somewhere before I head home.”

“I’ll take you.” Everyone could hear the desperation in his voice but he didn’t care, he wasn’t ready to say goodbye to her just yet.

“I-okay. It was nice meeting everyone.”

“You can come back whenever you want.” Steve smiled, Y/n nodded her head knowing that she couldn’t but what they didn’t know wouldn’t hurt them.

Saying her goodbyes, Bucky took her down to the garage and ever the gentleman he opened the car door for her. Telling him the address of where she wanted to go, he didn’t question it just driving to the destination. He noticed that every time a police car went by that she put her head down when he asked she just shook her head and smiled at him.

He followed behind her as she searched the rows of headstones, he sees her face light up when she spots the correct one she was looking for.

Kneeling down on the damp grass she placed her hand on the thick stone. “Hey beautiful, yeah I know I’ve not seen you in five years but I couldn’t get here. I’m sorry. Oh I want you to meet someone.” Waving Bucky over, he stands by her side with his hands in his pockets looking at the name, date of birth and death. “This is James, the man I told you about. Bucky this is Evie.”

“Who is she?”

“I found her two weeks after I escaped Hydra, she was along seven other women they… they were in a sex ring. I managed to get them all out and got them to safety, I know the other girls are in protection and are now safe.”

“W-what happened to Evie?”

“The dark thoughts got too much for her, I didn’t get there in time to save her. She had taken her own life. I let her down after I promised that I would always be there.” A dry laugh falls from her mouth as she wipes a tear away. “But then again I’ve never been able to keep my promises, have I?”

“Y/n-“

“It’s true though isn’t it? I’ve got two girls back at home expecting me to keep a promise I made and I don’t want to break it but I really don’t want to go back, you know?”

“You have kids?”

“Fuck no! Jesus Bucky, me as a mum? Can you imagine? Terrible.” She laughs though her heart aches at the image of her being a mother, she wanted kids but that was before Hydra, before being sent to prison for killing the two so called men who had took it in turns to rape Evie. Don’t get it wrong, she didn’t regret doing it and would do it again in a heartbeat but she knew she could never be a mum now.

“You’ve always been caring Y/n.”

“And? That doesn’t mean-you know what? It doesn’t matter, I need to go otherwise I’m going to be in even more trouble than I already am. But it was good to see you again James, it really was. I hope you all the best.”

Bucky grabbed her free hand as her other was on the headstone. “You don’t have to go! You can stay with me at the tower an-and you could be a part of the team.”

“I’m not a hero James. Never have been, never will be. I’m the person you and your friends go after, I destroy everything.”

“No, no you’re a good person Y/n, I know you!”

Putting her hand on his cheek she shakes her head. “No you don’t.” Her face lights up very quickly when blue and red lights go by. “I’ve gotta go now James. I’m sorry I didn’t get you out, I’m sorry I wasn’t strong enough to stay there with you. I hope you all the goodness in the world.” Standing on her tiptoes she presses her lips to his in a quick kiss. “One for the road.”

Bucky stands there motionless as Y/n presses a kiss to the headstone, giving him one last smile before walking off.

The warden went bright red in the face as he shouted at Y/n. She couldn’t see what the problem was as she came back. She went back to court and her defence lawyer told the judge that she had only escaped so she could say goodbye to a dear friend, and that she had come back willingly and she didn’t run like most would.

The judge handed her an extra eighteen months to her twenty year sentence.

Kandi and Rogan saw her two months later after she came out of solitary confinement, both of them instantly wrapping their arms around her and refusing to let go.

When Bucky got back to the tower that night he went straight into his room and refused to speak to anyone, he opened up the wardrobe and grabbed his backpack from the back, moving to sit on his bed. He found the dark red notepad and held it close to him, he remembered the day he got it - he was on a solo mission, as he was about to leave the office following the man that was trying to run away when a dark red notepad caught his eye, picking it up he flicked through the empty pages before putting it in one of his many pockets. Getting back to the base in the early hours of the next morning he kept it hidden along with a pencil he had stolen, once in the safety of his cell he began writing Y/n’s name over and over again, he then wrote all the little facts that he could remember from what she told him about herself. He kept the notepad with him at all times when he wasn’t on missions and when he was on ice he kept it hidden in his mattress.

Since Steve found him in that rundown apartment building and everything that followed Bucky didn’t read what was in the notepad, it was too painful for him but now that he knew she was alive he found himself reading what he wrote all those years ago.

He soon fell asleep with the notepad clutched closely to his chest.

A couple of weeks later the team were once again sitting around in the living room, when FRIDAY put the tv on and told the team they needed to watch the news.

“The prison behind me holds some of the most dangerous women in the country, one of the inmates who was sentenced to twenty five years for murdering two men escaped last month.” The reporter spoke, none of them understood why FRIDAY thought they needed to watch that was until a photo appeared on the right side of the screen. “Y/n L/n escaped and was on the run for two days, remarkably she walked back into prison and handed herself in. L/n has already served five years of her sentence when the esca-“

Steve paused the screen, all their eyes trained on the mugshot of the woman who showed up to the tower. A large smile on her face with no look of remorse behind her eyes as they took her photo. Bucky sits there and shakes his head as he remembers wondering why the meal Sam cooked was the best she had in five years, or when she mentioned that she hadn’t been to see Evie.

“Did you know?” Wanda asked him.

“No but it makes sense now though.”

“How do you mean?” Sam asked, so Bucky explains. “I wonder who she killed.”

“I don’t know but I’m going to visit her.”

Steve went with him to see Y/n but was turned away due to her being in solitary, the warden smirked as he told the pair that they could come back in two months to see her.

The trio was sitting in Kandi’s cell when a guard called for Y/n, with a huff she went to see what they wanted, her eyes squinting when they said she had a visitor.

“What do you mean?”

“I mean that you have someone here to visit you.” He said sarcastically, unlocking the door so she could come out. Putting the cuffs on her wrist he gave her no time to try and walk freely as he started to pull on the cuffs. Leading her down to a visit room he pushed her inside once the door was unlocked.

“There’s no need to keep pushing me you-“

“You, what?”

“If you hadn’t interrupted me you’d know I was going to call you a cunt.”

“You’ve got a fucking mouth on you, don’t you.”

“Me? Never.” He goes to open his mouth but closes it, he just smiles at her instead and leaves the room. Turning around she raises her eyebrow at seeing Bucky and his friends on the other side of the table. “Fancy seeing you guys here, did you get lost?”

“No, we didn’t get lost.” Bucky says fiddling with him metal fingers.

“Oh, it’s just because I don’t get visitors so.” She trails off.

“Why didn’t you tell me you were in prison?”

“Didn’t think it was important.” She shrugged.

“Not important? You murdered two men!” Y/n frowned at the way Bucky raised his voice at her, hating the way he looked at her as if she was a monster.

“Two men who deserved it! They raped Evie.” She snapped, smacking her hand on the table. “I’ve never killed anyone that didn’t deserve it and you know it.”

Bucky frowns and instantly feels guilty for raising his voice. “I’m sorry.”

“Whatever. Are we done here?“

“Did you really escape just to see me?”

“Yep, stupid I know.” Before Bucky could respond Tony spoke up and asked how long had been added to her sentence. “Eighteen months, why?”

“Cap, you thinking what I’m thinking?”

“Yeah but will it work?” Y/n frowns as Steve and Tony continued to have a conversation between themselves, giving Bucky a questioning look he shrugs - not once taking his eyes off her.

“What are you two talking about?” Bucky asked them.

“Getting mouthy here out of this place.” Tony points over to Y/n, raising his eyebrow. “In the correct way.”

The door opens and before anyone could speak the guard comes in and drags Y/n out of the room saying “times up.” Bucky clenched his fists at seeing her being manhandled, Steve put his hand on his arm in hopes to calm him down - giving him a look that asked him not to do anything stupid.

A week later Y/n was told she had a visitor, with an annoyed huff she followed the guards, not even making a single comment as they tugged on the cuffs wrapped tightly around her wrist. In the week that had passed since her first visit, she couldn’t understand what Tony said - why would they want to get her out? What would they want with her? What would be the point in letting someone like her out in public when all she’s done is kill people?

Once again she’s pushed into the same room as before when she looks up she sees Bucky clenching his jaw and another man sitting next to him. “Back again?”

“This is-“

“Nick Fury, yeah I know who he is.” She cuts Bucky off. “I was currently in the middle of finding out what kind of flower I am based on my personality, so can we speed this up?”

Fury chuckles whilst nodding, pushing a folder across the table he gestures for her to sit. “You need to sign these papers.”

“What are they?”

“You sign these, you’ll be agreeing to you coming into SHIELDS custody.”

“And why would I do that?”

“Y/n you’ll be free-“ Bucky says.

“But I wouldn’t be would I?”

“Alright you won’t be in prison-“

“Yet I’ll be in a cell-“

“You won’t be.” Fury cuts in. “You’ll do the rest of your sentence under SHIELD, meaning you’ll work for us, help us stop Hydra and other organisations that are threatening to our world. Sign this and we’ll get you out of here within a few days.”

Bucky gave her a reassuring smile and an encouraging nod but she wasn’t quite sure if she wanted to sign, she’ll just be moving from one prison to another regardless of how they dress it up of what she’ll be doing for them. “Y/n?”

“I have two conditions.”

Fury sighs and rubs his eyes. “What are they?”

“Kandi and Rogan.”

“Who are they?”

“My friends, I want them out too.”

“I can’t do that Y/n.”

“Then I’m not signing.”

“Y/n they’re in prison for a reason.” Bucky tried.

“Petty crimes, the both of them. Kandi’s got three more years and Rogan can get out in a few months, it’s not hard to pull some strings.”

“They’re criminals.”

“So am I.”

Fury looks at Bucky then at Y/n. “Alright. I’ll see what I can do.”

“If they aren’t following me out of this shit hole then I’m not coming Fury.”

“You’re already the biggest pain in my backside.” He mumbled, Bucky chuckled as Y/n smiled proudly. “I’m gonna make a phone call, what’s their last names.”

Telling him their names she watched as Fury left the room leaving her alone with Bucky who had yet to take his eyes off her. She looked everywhere other than at him. He squinted his eyes at her as she tried to suppress the smile that wanted to make an appearance. She wasn’t going to back down - she knew that, Bucky knew that - but she was cracking and he knew it.

“Just give in.”

“Nope.”

“Come on, you know you want too.” She didn’t need to look at him already knowing he had a smug smile on his lips.

“Don’t know what you mean.” Bucky rolled his eyes and leaned over the table, his hand reaching out to hold hers, her eyes snapped from the stain on the wall to him. “That’s cheating.”

“You’ve never been good at that game.” He smiled softly. “If Fury can’t get your friends out of here, you’ll be an idiot not to sign these papers Y/n.”

“I can’t just leave them here, not after all we’ve been through.”

“I get it, I do but you’ll be wasting your life away.”

“Never had much of a life before anyway.” She shrugged, flipping her hands over so their fingers would link together. “I’m really sorry James.”

“For what?”

“For leaving you there, for not going back to the base earlier, for not telling you the truth about.“ she gestures to the room they were in. “Just everything. I’m sorry for everything.”

Bucky feels his heart tug at her words, he forgave her the second he laid eyes on her again after seven years without seeing her. He forgave her when she explained, so he didn’t understand why she was apologising again. “W-what do you mean when you said for not going back to the base earlier?”

“I-I found us a safe place to call home it was off grid and in the middle of nowhere, it was perfect for us. I went back to get you, I hoped that you would listen this time.” She chuckled. “I got inside and it was chaos, the agents were dropping like flies and I wasn’t even the one doing anything, but anyway I get to your cell and it was empty, an agent shot me in the chest and told me that you had gone rogue, that it was a stupid idea to send the Soldat to kill his best friend but I thought she was lying and you were killed.” The agent she was talking about was the very same one she attacked in the yard, her face dropped as she came face to face with the person she shot in the chest and left for dead.

“You-you got shot in the chest? Y/n!”

“What? I’m still alive aren’t I?”

“But how?”

“Because the thought of you still alive kept me alive.”

“Funny.”

“Hilarious.” She winked at him, once again he rolls his eyes at her. “I’m joking, I don’t know why or how I survived but I did. But anyway a week later I find the two men who hurt Evie and killed them, then got caught, got arrested and then sent here.”

Fury comes back into the room just as Bucky was about to say something. “All three of you will be released tomorrow morning as long as you sign these papers.”

“Tomorrow? But it’s sponge cake for dessert tomorrow.” She frowns, both men give her a deadpan look. “Sponge cake!”

“Well don’t sign and stay here then.”

“You was meant to say ‘don’t worry Y/n I’ll get you a sponge cake’ and I’ll then go ‘oh no it’s fine Fury’ and then you was going to say ‘no, no it’s fine, you deserve it for being the absolute best’ but no you had to ruin it.” Fury’s lips twitched and she could see that he was trying not to smile, Bucky on the other hand was having to bite his fist in order to stop himself from laughing.

“You going to sign or not?”

“The girls walk free?”

“Yes.”

“Where do I sign?”

Kandi and Rogan looked confused when their cell doors were opened and the guards told them they have five minutes to get their things, thinking they had done something wrong and were getting moved they frowned when Y/n stood in front of their cells with her own backpack slung over her shoulder.

“What’s going on?” Kandi whispered as they stood behind Y/n, her and Rogan were holding hands, both nervous about what was happening.

“Do you trust me?” Y/n asked turning around to the pair.

“Of course we do.”

“Then don’t worry.” The doors came open and they were walked towards the large gates, the warden made a comment under his breath which Y/n raised her eyebrow to him daring him to say it louder but he put his head down. Y/n stepped outside first smiling when she saw Bucky standing there with the rest of the Avengers and Fury. Frowning when she realised that the girls weren’t right behind her. “Come on.”

“What’s happening?”

“You’re free.” Both her friends frowning in confusion. “I got you out. Fly my pretty butterflies”

“Is this a joke?”

“Nope. You can stay if-“

“No! We’re coming.” They both rush out and run up to her.

“So… now what?” Y/n asked Bucky who looks at Fury.

“We go to the tower and these two need to sign some papers and then they can go and live their lives.”

“Right. Well let’s go then.”

Sam and Wanda lead the two girls towards the jet with Y/n following when Fury calls her name and holds out his hand.

“Sponge cake! Knew you loved me Nicky.”

After a long hug and saying goodbye eight times Kandi and Rogan were taken to their families, leaving with a promise that they’ll see each other again.

Bucky couldn’t sit still as Y/n was in a room talking to Fury, his knee kept bouncing the longer he waited, he ran his fingers through the short strands of his hair tugging lightly in annoyance. Nearly four hours later Steve came and sat next to him, both sitting in silence - that was until Steve broke it.

“Did you love her?”

“I did. Still do I guess.” Leaning forward on his knees he looked to the side at his best friend. “Is that stupid?”

“No.” Chuckling softly, Steve leaned back in his seat. “I still love Peggy and she married someone else and had a family. It’s not stupid Buck.”

“They could never break her, you know? Even with the chair and I think that’s what drew me to her. She helped me remember things, always reminding me who I was after it was my turn in that fucking chair.” Bucky paused and wiped his hands down his face. “She told me she came back for me and this whole time I thought she was dead.”

“Buck…”

“It’s fine. I’m fine. I-I just wish things were different.”

Steve didn’t know what to say so he put a reassuring hand on his best friend back and let the silence take over once again. An hour later Y/n and Fury emerged from the room, Fury greeted the two super soldiers before leaving the three alone.

“Are you okay?” Bucky asked worriedly.

“I’m good, just had to tell Nicky Boo all my deepest darkest secrets.” She smiled although it wasn’t easy bringing up things that she had tried to keep hidden, Fury put his hand on hers when it started to shake as she told him the things she had done.

“Nicky Boo?” Steve questioned, amusement lacing his voice and face.

“Yeah, but I don’t think he likes his new nickname.” She shrugs, laughing along with the two men.

“Right well I’ll let you two catch up. Welcome to the team Y/n.”

“Thanks Steve.” As the blond walks away Bucky once again couldn’t take his eyes off her, and like last time Y/n looked everywhere other than him.

“You really have a staring problem.” She mumbled.

“I’m scared.” Bucky whispered, his hand reaching out to hold hers.

“Why?”

“Because if I look away I’m scared you’ll disappear and this is all a dream.”

Squeezing his hand Y/n steps closer and puts her hand on his chest, feeling his heart beating steadily. “It’s not a dream Bucky. I’m right here, I promise I’m not going to disappear.”

Bucky sighed a breath of relief at her words, putting his forehead against hers he closed his eyes. “I missed you so much.”

“I missed you too, and I’m still so sor-“ She goes to apologise again but Bucky didn’t want to hear it, so he kissed her. Both of them sighing softly as their lips finally touched after so long.

Slowly opening his eyes Bucky smiled. “It’s not a dream.”

“How’d you know?”

“Because normally I wake up just before we kiss.”

“Aw you’ve been dreaming of me?”

“Shut up.”

Y/n burst out laughing as his cheeks turned red, he rolled his eyes before pulling her closer to him and kissing her more passionately than before. Neither one of them knew really what was in store for them but they didn’t care about that, not now that they were back in each other’s arms.

Tags: @imcinnamoons | @pigeonmama | @capsbestgirl77

[candy-cloud-system]

Guess who’s back speaking their shit ! This guyyyyyy ! . Allow me to write a long ass paragraph explaining everything about why I am NOT going to take back what I said.

First off. Comparing anything I said in that paragraph to racism is wild. Not ONCE did I mention race, and it was a completely irrelevant and honestly just false comparison. Hating someone for being downright ableist is SO much different than being racist. And I can guarantee you, I will never hate anyone for their skin color or race. That is something they are born with, and cannot change. And the diversity of human beings is single handedly the most beautiful thing to me.

Now. A more accurate comparison, if you will, would be saying something along the lines of this: imagine you broke your leg because of someone else’s actions, and it causes you a lot of discomfort, pain, and changes the way you have to function. Often you get frustrated with things you’re unable to do the same as someone without a broken leg, or even get super angry at the person who was the cause of your broken leg, sometimes finding yourself daydreaming about how much better your current state would be if you hadn’t been around them or left the situation sooner. Now imagine the next day you see someone else with a cast on their leg, and you think “oh! Someone who may have a similar experience and understand my struggles!” Just for them to tell you their leg was never broken before and they simply “wanted” to have a broken leg.

Imagine the pure frustration that would give. All the thoughts of everything and all the pain and regret and rage you face daily now being mimicked by someone who woke up and decided to claim they had it simply because they wanted to. THATS what it’s like seeing an endo.

I will say this now. Plural means the exact same thing as a system. There is NO difference. There is no such thing as “systems have trauma, but if they say they’re just plural then they aren’t claiming to have a disorder!” Because that’s bullshit.

Endos cause a lot of harm to our communities, even if they aren’t aware. The misuse of terms and stealing of terms from cultural practices, invading our spaces sometimes with purpose to harm us, convincing actual systems their repressed trauma or even remembered trauma doesn’t exist or wasn’t bad, and wide spread misinformation highly effects people like me who have to live with the actual disorder.

I’ve seen a lot of systems (myself included) who are uncomfortable calling themselves plural. Although it is a correct, and sometimes more used in medical settings term for systems; the association of the word with endos who think slamming another label on themself justifies blatant ableism has made that term unbearably difficult to use on ourselves. I’ve seen the same with the words headmates, host, fictives, and other system terms.

“Tulpa Systems” are stealing a cultural term, AND misusing it at that. Tulpamancy is a term from Tibetan Buddhism. Original concepts of it found in the Buddhist Niramāņakāya, and later came into traditions of Mysticism. It is NOT when a 14 year old on tiktok decides they want a serious mental health condition and “creates an alter” for themself. Tulpas are part of a culture. And are spiritual practices.

Invading spaces that aren’t made for you can be very harmful. Even if unintentional or seemingly “harmless” those spaces are MADE for certain people. Those certain people need places they feel comfortable being themselves with other people like them. That’s very important. Something I’ll compare it to is this; I get very uncomfortable when an abled body person gets in the school elevator with me. The elevators at my school are made specifically for disabled individuals and those who cannot walk up stairs. It with the exception of escorts, when someone who is perfectly able bodied gets on, it creates a tension for me. They’re invading a space made for me and people like me, simply because they wanted to. I feel it’s unfair to me, because I’m not able to fit in comfortably in their spaces, I cannot walk up stairs with ease, yet they can, the elevator is a space where I can feel comfortable and capable with the abilities I have, and I feel very uncomfortable when that’s invaded by others. And it’s the same with system spaces. I’ve ranted to my friends countless times about how I never feel comfortable in the online system community. My spaces get invaded constantly by people who think they have a right to steal what should be a safe space for trauma survivors. I have grown accustomed to the reality that I will never have a space online that I will be completely safe from ableism in this community do to endos. Even in real life I have faced people in the eyes who faked my disorder just because they thought it was cool. They faked and copied my real struggles, lied about experiences and made me miserable. And I feel like i don’t even have to speak about the endos who come into spaces to harm us. We can all tell that’s fucked up.

CDDs are a trauma response. And something it does, and it’s whole point, is to hide your trauma. A lot of people with CDDs will not remember what happened. It’s what makes it so tricky to cope with and heal from. I’ve had a very close friend of mine ignore their plurality and not take steps to heal due to them being convinced they didn’t have trauma or wasn’t enough trauma and they were an endo. That is so incredibly harmful. I cannot stress that enough. Telling people they can have a CDD without trauma, even putting that option of being plural without trauma is SO harmful. Because young people who may realize they have a CDD and not be educated on them will brush it off as being an endo, spread that misinformation, and most dangerously; not be able to take the proper steps to heal. Lucky for me, I understood that it was a trauma related disorder, so I was able to get into therapy, get on medication to help myself combat my depression, and find coping skills that were healthy for me to work on growing and coping with my CDD and other disorders. Convincing someone their CDD isn’t serious, or that it’s not trauma related takes that away from them. It takes away the realization of the need to heal, it takes away the chance for them to cope with serious trauma. And it can even worsen it. People with trauma who categorize themself as endo or are categorized by others as endo may be even more effected, feeling like trauma is now a competition or that they aren’t enough to have a CDD that they may actually be struggling with and wanting help for. I hope you understand how harmful that is.

The spread of misinformation is WILD. One of the first things usually brought to me by my friends at school who don’t know much about DID is usually some misinformation they saw from an endo. And of course I don’t mind educating them properly at all, but it honestly hurts me a bit to see some of the crazy things I’ve seen them believe because of how much misinformation people spread on the internet about this disorder.

CDDs aren’t fun, they aren’t quirky. They’re serious trauma stemmed disorders formed to help someone survive. It’s not “having silly characters I like in my head”. It’s NEEDING them to keep you alive and as stable as possible when in horrible conditions whenever you are in the most vulnerable stage of your life.

Blah blah. Internet rant. Blah blah. I can already feel the comments calling me a loser and telling me to blow up or something 💀 like ima lowkey be mean for a sec but do y’all ever shut up? Learn to literally educate yourself instead of believing a 13 year old who wants the entire cast of Hazbin Hotel in their head cus they think it’s quirky (no shade to actual systems with hazbin alters)

Get ur ableist asses outta here fr 💀💀💀💀😭😭😭 making my life hell

Tw: syscourse ,

Endos DNI with this post.

Hot take; I shouldn’t have to be terrified to read / like posts. I should have to read the tags to make sure it’s not posted by an endo trying to infiltrate our spaces. I shouldn’t have to fear that the thing I’m gonna read is going to send me into a spiral because it’s gonna be some stupid ass shit about how “traumagenic systems are losers” or whatever the other stuff endos say about us is.

WE SHOULD NOT HAVE TO HAVE AN ALTER WHO SITS OVER MY SHOULDER EVERY TIME I OPEN THIS APP THAT CAN PULL ME AWAY INCASE SOMETHING GETS BAD.

THAT SHOULD NOT BE A THING I, A TRAUMATIZED SYSTEM, SHOULD HAVE TO DEAL WITH WHEN LOOKING FOR COMFORT OR SILLY CONTENT TO CHEER ME UP REGARDING THE TRAUMA FORMED DISORDER THAT WILL FOREVER MAKE MY LIFE DIFFICULT.

“Endos don’t hurt anyone🥺🥺🥺”

yes they fucking do.

- Sharkbite

[emchante]

I see you responding to all the divorced dad! Daniel asks with wonderful fluff and smut, and I raise you some angst.

How about Daniel taking on more co-parenting, so the kids are fully at his house for 2 weeks or more. And you love them, but your "babysitting" skills are more fun, rather than practical. You're playing with them when it's supposed to be quiet time, allowing them ice cream and more Ipad time, basically spoiling them rotten. So now Danny's looking like a "bad cop" and has to pull you aside and talk to you.

NONNIEEE oh my god, i’ve been looking at this for a few days !! i love some good angst.. bring me more..

and i LOVE this scenario, actually. this was originally a long ramble, but it turned into a drabble. enjoy<3

daniel doesn’t expect it at first, that you’d be so up for helping him look after his kids. it’s a discussion you both had early on, daniel curious why you’re so into him, when he’s literally just.. a divorced father. you’re quick to convince him there are many reasons but that night, only one reason gets brought into fruition— he’s fucking hot.

but anyways when the time comes that he has the kids more often, he mentions it to you and you’re overjoyed!! you love his kids, and they seem to have a decent liking towards you— so it’s a win! he’s happy to hear you’ll be around to help look after them, and he can’t thank you enough (or, he can. it’s just not a way he can thank you when kids are around).

so, when the kids arrive for their 2 week stay, you’re there with daniel to greet them. they hug their dad first, daniel nuzzling his nose into their hair before placing a kiss on their foreheads. then, they turn to you and give you a hug too. it warms your heart. really. you’re glad you’re developing somewhat of a relationship with the two, even if it was a slow start.

it doesn’t take long for daniel to realise that you and him have different parenting skills. i mean what did he expect, really? you— a young, childless woman vs him— an older, experienced father. it’s not exactly surprising, but he didn’t expect it to be so different.

when it’s time for them to calm down, get settled as it’s coming up for their bedtime, you’re still playing happily with them. the sight is heartwarming, he can’t deny that. but, he knows they’ll be hyper as soon as they drop into their beds. he hesitates to interfere, they look so.. happy. they’re enjoying themselves, running from you with giggles erupting as you chase them around. eventually, he stands infront of the doorway that his daughter is running into. she’s looking behind, trying to look for you when she bumps into daniel’s knee, and is scooped up into his arms.

“daddy, help! she’s—” she starts loudly, giggles bursting before daniel interrupts her.

“i know honey, that’s why it’s time to stop. it’s almost time to sleep, and you’re up running around,” daniel gently scolds, subtly eyeing you at the side of him. youre stood with his son, hand on his shoulder as you stare at daniel guiltily.

“sorry, it’s my fault,” you mutter, giving the little guy a squeeze. “i got carried away and didn’t realise the time,” you continue, and daniel swallows. shit. he didn’t want to make you upset.

“no no, you’re fine. nobody is in the wrong or in trouble,” he smiles weakly, blowing a raspberry into his daughter’s cheek as he changes the subject. “now, who’s ready for bed? i’ll race ya..”

it was fine. it was done. it was one night.

until it wasn’t.

you were allowing them more time on their electronics than he would. you were allowing them ice cream before bed. you were allowing them to run around when it was quiet time. you were allowing them to go completely out of routine.

and now he looked like the bad guy. he looked like bad cop. and he couldn’t handle it. they were growing more attached to you, starting to love you more as the days went on. but when he put a stop to your antics, they would deflate. they weren’t as happy. they didn’t want dad messing it up, they wanted you fixing it.

and that’s how you end up here.

daniel asks you to come with him as the two kids watch a movie in the living room, bundled up in blankets on the sofa. just five minutes ago, you were all having a pillow fight while daniel set up the film. but it was breaking point for him.

he shuts the door behind him, turning round to look at you smiling softly at him. your smile falters at the deep exhale that escapes him, and you move a step closer.

“danny, is everything alright?” you ask, tilting your head so you could see his face, try to read his emotions. you feel a pit in your stomach when you notice his tight lips, his dark eyes and furrowed brows.

“we need to have a talk,” he lets out, voice low. you gulp in response, nodding slowly. you ask him what about, and the response is “you.”

“me? dan, have i— have i done something?” you ask worriedly, wringing your hands nervously as he still doesn’t move.

a sigh escapes him this time, finally looking up and staring at you. you feel a shiver go down your spine at the look he gives you. “look, we need to talk about how you look after the kids,” he starts, making you tilt your head.

“oh? what ab—” “you’re too lenient on them, and you make everything a game. they can’t live like that, discipline isn’t necessary all the time, but sometimes it is,” he interrupts you, and your jaw falls at his words.

“i— i don’t make everything a game? i try to mark things a little more fun, make life a little less mundane. you’re strict on them, danny, a little too strict. i’m trying to balance that,” you respond, it was evident in your tone you were upset— offended at what he said.

“you aren’t balancing anything!” he whisper-shouts, leaning closer and your eyes widen at the sudden silent outburst. “you’re messing with the way they’ve grown up and lived their entire lives. let me parent them like they’re used to. keep your antics to yourself,” he tells you, coldly.

you feel an ache in your chest at his words, and his attitude. why was he so bitter? why was he so afraid of letting them have a little more fun? “they’re kids, danny. let kids me kids.”

for some reason, that snapped something within him. daniel’s face twisted before he scuffed loudly, pointing a finger at you. “you don’t have kids, so you don’t know anything about parenting, or what it’s like to be one.”

the silence after that sentence is deafening, and you can’t see momentarily due to the tears welling in your eyes. you shakily breathe, before letting out a wet laugh. “yeah, you’re right. i’m not a parent. but that’s not by choice, is it daniel?” you ask him coldly, before turning around to the coat stand, grabbing your own.

daniel’s heart drops when he realises what he had said, and the impact it had on you. earlier, when i mentioned the plethora of reasons you liked daniel and his kids? a big reason, and one of the main ones— you can’t have kids yourself. you can’t get pregnant, therefore biologically you cannot have your own kids.

daniel crossed a line— majorly— but he wasn’t able to fix it in time. he snapped out of his thoughts due to the front door slamming, and you were gone.

NONNIE OH MY GOD this gave me the opportunity to introduce some lore about reader 👀 divorced dad! daniel angst? mmm, yes please. send in any genre about this series as much as you like!

[venomwrites]

The second time CaitVi makes love

Warning: Spoilers for everything.

She stops responding to Vi. 

Every time she hears the name the voice fades into her sister screaming. One of the fancy doctors who come to examine her call it a trauma response. He says things like time and tries to hand her a bottle of white pills which she checks into the fireplace. It floods the room with acidic smoke that sets off one of the fancy alarms hidden everywhere. She can’t believe they were going to make her swallow those. 

Pilties can be so fucking weird. 

Everyone around her calls her Violet seamlessly. Thankfully they drop the ‘Miss’ just as quickly as the ‘Vi’. She’s not sure who she is anymore but ‘Miss Violet’ sounds like a cartoon character. Like one of the fancy ladies that come by in the first few days with armfuls of flowers and wish Caitlyn—and only Caitlyn—a speedy recovery. She hears one of them talk about how brave she is to have fought so many monsters. 

She doesn’t listen after that. 

When you stop using a muscle it atrophies. She blows out some part of her throat on that ledge. The less fancy doctors who triage her say she shouldn’t try to talk. She doesn’t. She has nothing to say. She knows if she opens her mouth she’s going to tell them—no beg them—to take her back to the ledge. To let her go the same way they went. Her entire life has been about getting back her family. She came so fucking close. All she had to do was fall with them and she couldn’t even manage that. 

“Good morning, Violet.” 

Caitlyn’s voice is soft when it pulls her. Everything, every fucking thing she’s willing to do, Caitlyn gets done. It makes her head spin. Care has always been a matter of money and resources. Usually when there are none. But Caitlyn doesn’t care. She would think it was because of money, but then she remembers this is the same woman who traded her one weapon for a potion to save her life. The money helps but she’s pretty sure this is just Caitlyn. 

Caitlyn’s a shadow in her peripheral for a long time. She’s so patient, so anticipatory, she can see why she’s a sniper. Caitlyn brings doctors to the house to examine whatever part of her she’ll allow. None of them push her to do anything. If they aren’t there one day, they are back the next and the day after. Until she pulls her shit together enough to let them poke at her shoulder or press a ball into her mangled fingers to build strength. 

She doesn’t know what that strength is for. 

She doesn’t know what’s changed today. But when Caitlyn greets her in the morning she manages to look up. Surprise makes Caitlyn’s eyes go wide. Or the eye she can see anyway. The corners her lips curl up but one looks normal. The other doesn’t go up as far. Before she can stop herself she’s on her feet. Caitlyn’s smile falls as she quickly steps forward as though to help and then stops herself. When she thinks about it, she can’t remember the last time anyone who wasn’t a doctor touched her. 

“You’re hurt,” she blurts out. 

Caitlyn’s stares at her in shock. Tears flood the eye she can see. Quickly Caitlyn turns around and mumbles something to herself. Some instruction she’s been given by one of the fancy doctors. They hover around here enough, though she never bothers with what they do when she ignores them long enough to get them to leave. 

“Yes,” Caitlyn says, plastering on a fake ass smile, “but I’m better now.”

“Liar,” she says and it really does fucking hurt to talk, “your eye.” 

“Gone,” Caitlyn says simply. Like she didn’t loose a fucking eye. How long did that take? It occurs to her that she has no idea what day it is. How long has it been since they fell? “I’m fine,” she says, “really. Would you like some tea?” 

When she first dragged Caitlyn home and tea was produced, she had no idea it was the solution to everything to the Kirammans. It appears after every doctors appointment, every nightmare. She can barely go to the bathroom without someone shoving a cup under her nose. 

She likes the dark ones the best. Even though sometimes they make her feel like crying. They smell like a fancier version of what Vander would drink on late nights. Fancier and stronger. Strong enough to make her shove her nose in the cup and inhale. Maybe if she breathes in hard enough she can will him back. 

The cup Caitlyn shoves at her isn’t that. It’s sharper and green. Caitlyn stares at her so she takes a sip. It’s familiar but she can’t place how. Caitlyn must have given it to her before. There’s something sweet in it that feels so good on her throat. She could care less about the taste when it seems to coat her throat like that. 

“Thanks,” she tries out and the word sounds something like her. Caitlyn inclines her head and lets out a shaky breath, “how long?”

“Four months,” Caitlyn says. 

It’s been four months. She went seven years without seeing her sister. Seven fucking years. But she had hope. There was a chance. It’s been four months and she will never see her again. Her stomach churns at the thought. Caitlyn is immediately there, one hand reaching for the fancy ottoman in front of her. Like she has no idea where it is even though this is her fucking house. 

“Was there—a memorial?” She asks. Did she miss it? 

“A public one,” Caitlyn says, “for the fallen. We thought we could do something for them when you’re ready.” 

Of course they weren’t included. Jinx helped but they didn’t save the world. And that thing that used to be Vander didn’t save anyone. But Jinx saved her. She sacrificed herself so she could live. She knows that counts for nothing compared to all the heroes out there, but the unfairness of it makes her chest twist. Caitlyn’s hand hovers for a moment before it settles on her shoulder. 

“Ekko took what he could find back,” Caitlyn continues, “he said to let him know when you were ready.” 

She’s never going to be ready. 

They are already on the wall. She is too. All five of them clustered together like it should be. But now they are gone and she is sitting here still breathing. Unable to even die right. She thought she was used to loneliness. She thought she even knew what it was to be hopeless. All of those were just light versions of the yawning hole in her chest. The only grounding thing is Caitlyn’s hand on her shoulder. 

Caitlyn is still here. 

She reaches out and Caitlyn immediately covers her hand, bringing it to her cheek. Caitlyn’s skin is smooth and warm and wet. Caintlyn’s been crying. She forces herself to take in the shadow under her eyes, the hollowness of her cheek. Caitlyn’s been worried and not taking care of herself. She wonders if it’s been worry about her. Given how relieved she looks, she thinks it might have been. 

“Sorry,” she says.

“Don’t apologize,” Caitlyn says, “for anything. Violet I’m so sorry.”

The words burn but she’s not a coward. Not in this moment. She cups the back of Caitlyn’s neck. Caitlyn leans forward and she tries to be gentle when she rests her forehead against hers. Caitlyn leans into the touch and lets out a shuddering breath. 

She was going to roll. Sister’s sacrifice be damned. She was. 

But Caitlyn. 

Caitlyn. 

“I couldn’t—“ she forces out.

“I know,” Caitlyn says, “Vi—“

The name slips out and burns across her skin. But it’s not her sister screaming it. It’s Caitlyn. Screaming and begging her to take her hand. To come back to her. To please, please come back. It would be so easy to roll over and fall. But she’s never done anything easy. So she lurches to her feet and staggers towards the sound of Caitlyn screaming. Their hands lock and Caitlyn pulls her back with a pained yell, right before the metal gives. 

Now she’s in Caitlyn’s arms and she doesn’t know how she’s supposed to reconcile that with wanting so badly to fall. 

“It hurts,” she forces out and Caitlyn makes a pained sound.

“I know,” she says. She does, “I know. It won’t always feel like this.” 

Caitlyn’s fingers dig into the base of her neck. When she matches Caitlyn’s next exhale, she realizes how tight they are. It’s several breaths before she can relax them at all. Four months. Four months and a lifetime more. She tells herself it’s another impossibly big goon. All she has to do is set her jaw and drive through. But driving through has always been for a purpose. If she’s strong enough, hits hard enough, she can get back to her family. 

But Caitlyn holds her there. 

And she lets her. 

She talks more, though not a lot. Most days she meets Caitlyn for all the meals. Some days they exist on tea and flat gold biscuits. One day the biscuits have chocolate on them. It’s creamier than any chocolate Vi has every tasted. She eats because if she doesn’t, they will get her nutrients through bags and tubes. But the chocolate explodes on her tongue and she reaches for another without thinking. 

“You’ve been holding out on me, Cupcake,” she says at Catilyn’s surprised face. 

“I have not!” Caitlyn objects, “I didn’t know you liked them.” 

It’s the most normal she’s felt in months. She can’t say she belongs here, but it feels damn close with Caitlyn looking indignant over her manners. The thought of doing something just to make her blush more crosses her mind. And for a moment, everything seems alright. Her mind doesn’t drag to the ledge immediately. To her sister staring up at her as she knocks out the gem. As she falls. 

Caitlyn’s thumb against her lip rips her attention back to the present. 

Their contact has been more frequent. To the point where stretches without brushing against Caitlyn’s hands or shoulders make her fingers twitch. But there’s been no contact like this. It catches her off guard and it seems to do the same with Caitlyn. Her eyes widen in surprise but when Caitlyn goes to pull he hand back, she catches her wrist and holds her hand there. Caitlyn doesn’t pull back.

She brushes her lips against Caitlyn’s hand. 

Caitlyn lets out a shuddering breath that stirs something in her. She tastes the chocolate from her lip that decorates Caitlyn’s thumb. Caitlyn’s fingers curl against her cheek, blunt nails against her skin. She remembers them digging into her back, clutching at her hair, clutching at her hand and screaming not to let go. To stay, stay with her. The screaming echoing in her ears makes her try to turn away but Caitlyn is suddenly on the same chair, her other hand on her cheek. 

“I keep hearing them,” she confesses, “I keep hearing you,” Caitlyn’s thumbs brush over her cheekbones, “I keep choosing--“ she forces her eyes open to look at Caitlyn, “it’s always you.” 

She doesn’t understand. All she ever wanted fell down that shaft. And every time, every time she thinks of Caitlyn. Thinks of all the blue haired soldiers she pulled off the field who made her heart seize. The ones who weren’t her but could have been. She thinks of how it would feel for Caitlyn to find her body at the bottom of the shaft. She thinks of the scream that always catches in her throat when Powder says she’s gone. She fell down a well. 

So she lets the scream out and stays on the ledge. 

“I don’t want to fall.”

“I won’t let you,” Caitlyn swears, her fingers sliding around her ears, cupping the back of her skull, “I won’t,” she says in the voice that moves mountains, “stay with me.” 

She nods against Caitlyn’s forehead. She is trying. Gods is she trying. Caitlyn is asking her to fight. Her partner is asking her to fight. Her will feels as atrophied as her muscles but she shoves at it with everything she can. She focuses on Caitlyn. Not the screaming one who pulls  her back. The one in front of her who has their foreheads pressed together so tightly she can feel the strap of her eyepatch digging into her skin. Who has given her the one thing she’s never had. A soft landing. 

She tastes tears on Caitlyn’s lips when she crushes their mouths together. Caitlyn gasps around her lips and she pulls the same breath into her lungs. It feels like the first breath she’s taken since the ledge. Maybe since the last time she kissed her. Caitlyn tries to follow but it’s only a moment before her lips turn greedy against hers. Something in her sings at Caitlyn doing something for herself after months. 

“Here,” she mutters into her skin. 

“Yes,” Caitlyn breathes. 

Her fingers hesitate at the patch straps. Caitlyn presses her fingers to it in silent permission, her other eye still closed. She guides it off carefully. There’s no eye left. Gold lines fan out around the skin. She brushes a finger against them and Caitlyn’s breath catches, her hips jerking. Silco’s mismatched eyes flutter though the back of her mind and she shoves the thought away. Instead she brushes her lips against the gold on Caitlyn’s skin.

“Vi,” Caitlyn moans her nickname into her ear and the thaw in her chest burns hotter. 

“Again,” she whispers against Caitlyn’s neck, half plea half demand. 

“Vi,” she repeats, “Vi, please.”

It feels like coming home. When Caitlyn’s under her like this, everything ceases to exist. Her world narrows until the only thing in it is the woman in front of her. Or underneath her. Nothing else matters. Only Caitlyn. It caries like a current. Like a promise. Everything has changed so much. She has changed. But that feeling still lives in her chest. Buried, frozen, but it is there. Caitlyn drags it to the surface with every sweep of her fingers and gasp of her name. She doesn’t know what this is, if this is love. If this has a name. 

She just knows right now it’s the only thing that makes sense. 

Later she inspects the new marks that litter Caitlyn’s body. The narrow line on her gut is the one that stands out. The others are mostly surgical but this one, this one is from a lethal shot. Someone wanted her to die slowly and painfully. Caitlyn has her own ledge. They all do. Caitlyn meets her questioning look as she thumbs the scar. 

“This before or after the eye?”

“Before,” Caitlyn says, “the eye was a—a calculated move.”

“It’s your fucking eye,” she points out. There’s a note of pride in Caitlyn’s voice. The kind of pride that comes with winning a battle, “that’s pretty badass, Cupcake,” she says. 

“I have a prosthetic,” Caitlyn says. She is still focusing on the gut wound, “if this makes you uncomfortable—“

“Why would it do that?” Caitlyn shrugs, “who said it makes them uncomfortable,” she asks, looking around as though the offending party might be in the room with them. 

“No-one,” Caitlyn assures her, pushing her fingers through her hair, “but you—“

“I don’t care,” she says. Caitlyn tilts her head, “I don’t fucking care,” she repeats, emphasizing the words like she did in the cell. She touches the gold lines, “what about these?”

“I needed to find you,” Caitlyn says. Like that makes sense. She blows out a breath and pushes herself up to her elbow, “I had Mel stop the bleeding.” 

When Caitlyn parts her eyelid the socket is laced with gold. She vaguely remembers the gold dressed counselor. Now with a lot more gold on her. She was there on the ledge. There during the fight. Gold light spills from her hands into a thousand different shapes. Caitlyn had her put that light in her eye. All so she could get to her. Caitlyn’s gives her a puzzled look. It’s been so long since she smiled but she feels her lips tug. 

“So you went from one tiny leg scar to getting your wounds magically cauterized to find me?” She says. 

Even though she’s naked under her, now Caitlyn goes cherry red. 

“Oh—“ Caitlyn starts. 

“That’s hot, Cupcake,” she cuts in. 

Caitlyn looks up at her and the burning thaw is back. It’s hot and it’s humbling. She’s spent her whole life chasing. Begging. Desperate for the ghosts to stay so things can go back to when they made sense. But everything keeps falling away. Except, except Caitlyn. Caitlyn shoves gold in her wounds and charges up stairs when she shouldn’t be walking. She’s seen Caitlyn climb. She sucked at it when she had two eyes. Several times she stopped and went pale at the manageable height. But none of that stopped her. She didn’t even know she was alive and Caitlyn did all of that on the chance she might be. 

“I think I was waiting for you,” she tries. Caitlyn drags her fingers through her hair. It feels nice, “no I was, I kept thinking of you finding me.”

“Thank you for waiting,” Caitlyn says. 

She thinks of the months it’s been. Of Caitlyn’s endless patience. Pulling her back time and time again. She thinks of the cell and Caitlyn’s smile. Not all the guards were needed back then but Caitlyn sent them away. For her. She’s always been the one to fight. It’s who she is. But for the first time it feels like she hasn’t been fighting alone. Like if her strength fails, the entire world isn’t going to fall away. 

For the first time, there’s someone to pick up the slack in the way she needs. 

“Can you get a message Ekko later?” She asks. Caitlyn’s fingers pause.

“Yes,” Caitlyn says, “it’s alright if you’re not ready.“

“I’m never going to be ready,” she admits, “but I need to,” she looks up at Caitlyn’s eye, “will you come with me?”

She knows it’s an ask. Despite the fragile whatever between them, Caitlyn spent so much time hunting her. But Jinx’s words echo in her ears. Be happy. Don’t worry about me. Even with everything her mind she saw that clearly. Salt stings her eyes. Even as she turns into Caitlyn’s skin and tries to ground herself, the gentle words echo in her head. 

Caitlyn’s warm pulls away momentarily. Only Caitlyn’s hand on her head keeps her from protesting. Then Caitlyn is behind her, folding herself around her. She’s safe and warm and home. Caitlyn slots their bodies together until there’s no space between them, even as she curls up. Caitlyn follows and bands her arms around her. 

“Of course I’ll be with you,” she swears, “stay here with me, Vi.”

So she folds her arms over Caitlyns and laces their fingers together.

And again she chooses to stay. 

[bullet-prooflove]

Broken Glass: Travis Wheatley x Reader

Tagging: @kmc1989 @trublu2u @yousigned-upforthis @gatefleet @pansexualhailstorm

Companion piece to:

Texas - Travis and you make a realisation about your relationship.

Broken - Travis recieves a phone call from Rip regarding you and Malcom Beck.

Maui - Travis adds some extra security measures to your new place.

Colt 45 - Travis doesn't mess around when it comes to your saftey.

Ride - Travis lifts your mood by taking you for a ride.

Wet - You and Travis discuss something you've been avoiding.

Travis’s secret comes out in the worst way possible, during a fight about him fucking another woman.

You’ve been quiet over the last few days, more withdrawn than usual. Sleeping on the couch instead of coming to bed. He thinks it’s because of the counselling session you’d had earlier in the week. You’re confronting a lot of tough stuff through EDMR therapy and it can throw you off a little.

“I gotta shoot out for my physio appointment.” He tells you, picking up the keys to his truck from the side table in the living room and that’s when he hears you say.

“We both know you don’t have a physio appointment.”

He freezes in that moment, his entire body shifting to look to you. There’s a fire in your eyes he’s not seen in a long time as you stand over by the bookshelf with his things on,  your fingertips trail over the glass trophy from his latest competition. You flick it forward and it hurtles off the shelf smashing onto the hardwood floor sending glass skittering in every direction. The dog barks from outside but you ignore it, your gaze fixed on him.

“You have five more of these fucking things Travis.” You say tipping over the next one and the crash reverberates through the house. “And lot more shit that I can break, so why don’t you tell me who she is?”

“Gina honey, I promise you…”

And down goes the next one, exploding into a million pieces.

“You’re a liar.” You tell him with a ferocity he feels in the very depths of his bones. “I called your physio to pass on a message last week but they said you haven’t been going for months. So I’ll ask you again who the fuck is she?”

You reach for the crystal decanter then, the one that’s been in his family for five generations and that’s when he snaps.

“I’ve been seeing a counsellor.” He shouts with an edge of franticness to his voice because your hand is already wrapped around the heirloom, your arm slung back ready to hurl it at his head. “It’s not another woman, it’s a counsellor!”

“What?” You respond, lowering the decanter, the amber liquid sloshing around inside. “But you said…”

“I know I said that cowboys don’t do therapy but I was having some anxiety about leaving you alone with the new season coming up.” He confesses as he approaches you slowly with open palms as if you were a skittish horse. “I didn’t tell you about it because I didn’t want to exacerbate the shit you’re already dealing with.” His hand clasps your wrist lightly, guiding it down so the decanter comes to rest safely back on the silver tray.

“When you say anxiety…” You begin and Travis releases you, rubs his palm over the nape of his neck.

“Panic attacks.” He tells you as he meets your gaze. “Whenever I think about leaving you, I get this tightness in my chest, my heart starts to palpitate and it feels like I can’t breathe.”

“Do you know…”

“Yea.” He tells you, his hands coming to rest on your hips, thumbs tracing soothing circles over as he swallows hard against the well of emotion in his chest. “I can’t get over what Malcolm Beck did to you, what I allowed him to do to you.”

You frown at his words and he purses his lips into a grim expression.

“The night you were attacked I was supposed to be there.” He reminds you, his voice rough. “But I wasn’t, I was in Texas licking my wounds because you decided to stay in Montana and I…” He trails off then forcing down the sob that threatens to erupt from his chest. “That choice, it haunts me because if I had stopped being such a prick there’s a chance that none of this would have happened.”

“Travis.” You whisper, cradling his face between your hands. “This would have happened whether you were here or not. Malcolm wasn’t the kind of man who can let his ex-wife be happy, it wasn’t in his nature.”

“But…”

“No buts. What happened to me is no more your fault than it is mine.” You tell, wrapping your arms around him, drawing him into your proximity. “And as for leaving me alone when you’re off showing the horses, that’s something we can work on, together. There’s steps we can take to make you feel more comfortable with it.”

Travis sighs, burying his face into the curve of your throat.

“I don’t know if I’ll ever be comfortable with it.” He mumbles against your skin, cradling you close.

“We’ll work on it.” You reassure him, your fingers carding lightly through his hair. “I promise you, we will.”

Love Travis? Don’t miss any of his stories by joining the taglist here.

Interested in supporting me? Join my Patreon for Bonus Content!

Like My Work? - Why Not Buy Me A Coffee

[carlos-in-glasses]

How are you dealing with Tarlos being over? I’m seriously not good. It helps that Ronen said they are best friends off screen but knowing that we will never see them together again is really making me sad.

Hello! Thank you for this question. Firstly, a huge internet hug for you because I really feel your pain 💔❤️❤️❤️❤️ and this is a topic we're all grappling with I'm sure. In terms of Tarlos as characters, I'm trying not to look at it as them being totally 'over' because they and the other characters can live on through art and fanfic, just like they did during the hiatuses between seasons. We didn't need 'new' canon content to keep creating. We just...kept creating. Although this was perhaps fuelled by looking forward to the show’s return, I don't see why that has to be all that different now. There are fandoms that revolve around single books, single movies, and thrive on a lot less content than we have to work with. 

However, I appreciate that you might not be a reader of fic, and indeed even if you are…..The show itself and the physical portrayal of these characters is certainly ending far too soon, and honestly I fucking hate that. I feel sad in my body. I'd go as far to say I'm actually bitter about it, and bitterness is a horrible, horrible feeling! I keep thinking – if we hadn't had a season 3, we'd have missed out on so many amazing moments on screen, culminating in the proposal. If we hadn't had a season 4, we'd have missed out on the soulmates scene and the wedding! No season 5, no seeing TK being flung onto a dresser, no dancing at the party, none of the Enzo/Jonah/Carlos' investigation stuff that I'm LOVING. Which leaves me with this strong ache as I wonder what we are missing out on with no season 6, 7, 8... 

So, the silver lining is that the fandom will make the best out of a shit situation creatively, but it is a shit situation in reality. I think it's absolutely fine for us to mourn this loss and be there for each other, because those of us who profoundly love this show and Tarlos are all in it together and understand the magnitude. I am certainly in a weird state of grief not related to death but related to this different kind of loss, and there will always be part of me hurting over this thing I love so much. I only found the show after season 3 and it just doesn't feel like I've had enough time with it. I haven’t had enough fun!

I hope we do get to see Ronen and Rafa reunite again from time to time. They’ll be at the Paris convention in December, and maybe others along the way if their schedules allow. I was lucky enough to go to the one in June last year and Ronen, Rafa, Natacha and Sierra certainly did appear to be very close irl, so definitely do take heart in that – it’s a reason to believe we’ll get at least glimpses of them together going forward.

So yeah. I’m finding good things where I can in all this, but the headline is that I really am sad and struggling too, and I’m so sorry you are and I hope you’re able to fill your day with things that help you to feel a bit better. I hope everyone who reads this is able to do the same.

[fyeahnix]

Ok lemme talk about this season of Arcane, the ending, and most importantly, Sevika. If you don't want spoilers, back away now but I'm leaving this open because people have a tendency to not open or read my posts with read more cuts after them 🙃

[SPOILERS BELOW]

[SPOILERS BELOW]

[SPOILERS BELOW]

[SPOILERS BELOW]

[SPOILERS BELOW]

First off, I will say that I like Arcane a lot. Like a LOT. I've watched the first season 4 times (rarely do I watch anything more than once) and I think it's a masterclass in adult animation. Fortiche really put everything into this series.

That being said...

While I did like season 2, I don't think it was enough. Animation wise it was phenomenal, writing wise...I think it could have been better. As I've learned through doing research for my Sevika fics, the League of Legends universe, lore, and worldbuilding is fucking MASSIVE and even if I don't give two shits about that community or game, I have to give it props in that department because they really put a ton of work into it to make it feel alive. Maps? Short stories? Timelines? Race and culture? Apex could never...

That ofc is why it's hard for me to say that the writing is amazing. We had far too many characters to keep track of in season 2 with far too many plot threads to finish in two seasons. I think ideally, this series should have been 3 seasons instead of 2. Acts 1 and 2 could have been its own season, and Act 3 could have been its own season. If not that, then at least one more episode per act would have helped a lot. Things just progressed and wrapped up far too quickly for my liking.

Also not a huge fan of how quickly video game related media tends to dip into the whole timeline and multidimensional business. It def works well for some games but here? Idk I guess it was bound to happen given some League character's abilities, but the stakes just elevated far too quickly for me. Not a fan of Viktor becoming one of the main antagonists at all, and DEFINITELY not a fan of the conflict between Piltover and Zaun being sidelined for an "enemy of my enemy is my friend" thing with the war against the Noxians. It makes sense, I just wish "war with the Noxians" came at a later date so we could focus on the twin cities.

And speaking of the generational conflict between Piltover and Zaun, let's talk about Sevika.

As I said before, Sevika is the most qualified person to become the leader of Zaun and I stand by that even after the ending. But first....what about her found family? Isha sacrificed herself and Sevika gets no on-screen reaction? The last two episodes just progressed SOOOO FAST that we and some of the characters didn't even have time to breathe. Did Sevika even get time to mourn for Isha? What about Jinx, who is now gone? Sevika barely even encountered Vander! I would have loved to see some of the aftermath there because I think season 1 did a better job of allowing characters time to process their emotions and grief, even if the pacing was still kinda fast. It was acceptable!

I am sad af she didn't get more lines, but remember, Sevika has always been a side character in this series. An important side character but a side character no less. The promo shot of her now feels like...what was the point? (more on that in a sec) but considering how many characters and plot points and plot threads they had to account for, I am not surprised she didn't get more screen time. Hell, Vi and Caitlyn didn't even get a chance to have a full conversation on eveything that happened and Caitlyn didn't even apologize on screen. The fuck bro.

Now about Sevika's ending....I am very happy she isn't dead. Like dawg, you have no fucking idea how happy I am about it. SHE FUCKING LIVED. But....

I am seeing some people saying they're not happy or they're confused or that her ending doesn't make sense. And I just disagree with those points. Let me explain why.

I posted something earlier today about it, but again, as people don't open my read mores, I'll repost it here:

We absolutely do not know how much time passed between the war and the final few shots of the season. So Sevika joins the council. I DO NOT THINK she would do this unless there's a good reason for it, and that's why I'm guessing she will be Zaun's ambassador on the council. That war probably significantly changed the relationship between Piltover and Zaun and while old wounds will take more than a fucking war to heal, her being on the council now means she directly has a say in Zaun's future. Remember, the council was literally about to hand Zaun their independence before Jinx blew it up, and Mel was in support of it. As I said before, Sevika is respected down there at a bare minimum with all the factions. She would know better than anyone how to lead Zaun at this point. So yeah I get the hesitation, but it makes sense in my eyes. And it makes it likely that Sevika could show up again in a future League animation, if not become a whole champion.

I like her ending. I am sorry but it just makes fucking sense. Sevika is extremely loyal to her home and her people of Zaun. We've seen that time and time again. She was willing to go to war and die for those people not just against Piltover but also the Noxians, so why on fucking earth would anyone believe she's making a bad choice here?

She is now in the best possible position anyone in Zaun could be to advocate for their independence and support their growth. She knows the chem barons and brought them to peace, she gained the respect of the Firelights with Scar leading them in Ekko's absence, and she even got the Jinxers together with them before the Noxian attack on Zaun. Sevika has experience, she has the ear of the people, she knows what it's like down there, she is made to lead and help advocate for them!!!!

Believe me I get that whole "changing things from the inside" angle doesn't work more often than not, but this doesn't feel like "changing from the inside," it feels like "let me advocate for my people's actual independence so we have a starting point to become self sufficient." Again, Piltover was literally about to let Zaun gain their independence, and while none of the previous council members that agreed to it are there, Mel is/was. Who's to say she didn't help negotiate for Sevika to sit on the council and start (or complete!) the Zaun independence process before she left for Noxus? I can't imagine Sevika would just show up to the table and sit there if she didn't have a damn good reason. Like come on now. This woman has seen first-hand what Piltover is capable of and does not like them nor looks like she wants to be there. But she's seen what Piltover has done to her people first-hand, and after learning from both Vander and Silco, this is how she feels she can best protect her people.

She IS the new leader of Zaun and their ambassador at the council.

And lastly, we've been told that some characters will be returning in future League animations. Mel seems like an absolute given, but what about Sevika? Zaun's story is only just beginning, and yeah they said they'd like to branch out to other regions, that doesn't mean a cameo or maybe another medium can't be used to continue that story (a book, perhaps??).

Anyway yeah those are my thoughts...

[hexedwinchester]

Supernatural S04E21 When The Levee Breaks

This my favourite episode ever! Can you guess why?

of course it means it will also be heavily anti Dean. Dean girlies, this ain't for you.

God, Dean getting pissed about Sam lying, as if Dean hasn't lied to Sam before is getting me pissed off

Sam's angry "Dean!" Is so hot

it makes me so angry that Dean and Bobby left Sam to deal with the detox all alone. How could they? And the fact that it didn't occur to Dean that Sam could die during that? Like wake up!

no Bobby, he is not here because you love him too much. He is here because you are scared of Sam!

Poor Sam, all alone, screaming for help, terrified of everything happening to him, not sure what's real what's not and they left him to rot in there! What's even worse? They cuffed him to the bed and left him to wake up alone again ?! 😤

at least Bobby had the sense to doubt their actions whereas Dean was busy being self righteous. Pull that stick Outta ur ass, Dean

ahhh Jared played the junkie role so well! The tremors, the trembling hands, the blinking eyes, the seizures, the agitation!!!

I know Jared's a professional but don't tell me he didn't have fun manhandling Ruby a bit!

Sam had no right sexualizing drinking demon blood 😍 sorry, I'll allow the demon blood drinking if it's this hot

Dean, honey, you did exactly what Ruby did. Left Sam alone. You're not better than her just because your eyes don't flash black. Yet.

that exchange between Sam and Dean is so important to me. Despite Dean locking Sam up, he is glad to see his brother and wants him to join him to bring down Lilith but Dean.. he just can't give up control, can he? The one time Sam's begging him to trust him but nope. Sam is still so understanding but the moment Dean calls him a monster..damn!

Woohoo!! That punch was so long overdue! Anyone else noticed that sexy roll of Sam's shoulders?

Dean should be glad Sam doesn't get physically violent as often as Dean does. He would get his ass handed to him

no matter how much of a dick Dean has been to Sam, the one thing that I never liked was Sam strangling Dean. Like, honey, no! You are better than this

seeing all the shit Dean has pulled through the seasons, i realised just how forgiving Sam is. He doesn't punch him back everytime Dean hits him. He never brought up Dean calling him a monster or the corrupted voice mail. He trusted him even when Dean said he was going to say yes to Micheal. He moved past Dean killing Amy. Sam is too good. Dean.. eh!

[leighlew3]

Overall, Agatha All Along was a nice watch.

I struggled to connect with a couple of the characters due to some of the writing, including William/Billy which made things a tad difficult as he was so central to the plot and reveal tbh, but oh well. The cast were ALL great in their roles though.

Overall -- I dug the show.

Felt at first like there was a lot more emotional depth to mine from and they only sort of scratched the surface in exchange for an easy to digest 'fun' tale for the casual Marvel viewer for most of the show, but they really got deep with it in the last three eps, to my surprise and enjoyment.

Sooo yeah, Agatha really is a tragic figure and sympathetic "villain".

If I'm remembering her backstory correctly (sorry, been a bit distracted with a lot of work and life stuff while watching this show and am trying to remember the specifics set up in WandaVision) -- her awful mother basically created a self-fulfilling prophecy, ffs.

Believing Agatha was incapable of good (we've seen otherwise) and thinking she had to DIE for the supposed betrayal of her coven by practicing dark magic.. it simply set in motion BY her mother. The series of events that pushed Agatha to go dark and fight back in order to survive after her own mother ignored her desperate pleas to spare her as she burned alive...

Everything Agatha did after that, while yes it was her own choosing at the end of the day, was ultimately the result of that trauma and hate for fellow witches. The ironic price she had to pay for seeking to take as much power as possible after hers was threatened by her own mother and fellow witches -- was her own child. So basically, she was harmed -- and she harmed back. Not okay, but empathy makes you try to at last understand why she did what she did and feel bad for what she went through, even if it's not an excuse for her actions. But either way, had to suffer for it. It's sorta like someone sucker punches you, so you knock 'em out cold, and then YOU go to jail. Sigh.

Also, it's petty tragic that the only genuine love she's ever known was Rio (death herself). And it seems they produced a child together (?) whom she then tragically lost. It's just irony and tragedy wrapped in irony and tragedy. Sad shit.

Anyway, I'm glad to see "Agathario" was full canon, however tragic (for now) their "ending" was. Hopeful for further exploration of them in the future. But for now, for Marvel/Disney of all companies to be the one to allow a LEAD sapphic ship with a complicated history and dark dynamics to be a canon thing? Surprising, and kudos.

[eerna]

everything your saying so true king shit keep talking. I felt what was so interesting about season one was how all the magic tied in to the bigger message like the magic tied into the class inequality and part of why victor was so interesting to me was because he was from the undercity but was feeding into the inequality. And I felt like they could have had something really interesting in season two where he realized that and went back to the undercity to help but no they had to do the glorious evolution thing which was just eek to me. Also the whole caitvi thing was a total nightmare ultimately the only plot line I really liked was Mel’s god the horror of realizing that your turning into your mother also ekko had some interesting stuff, but you’re so right that they toned him down because if they didn’t everything would fall apart around them. Anyway I love your thoughts and art and analysis and love to see you continue doing it. ❤️🧡💛💚💙🩵💜

Thank you so so so much for your kind words, it brings me joy to hear so 😘

Yes!! If you'll allow me to expand on your point about magic, bc I don't think I've talked about it yet. In s1 magic was a stand in for pretty much any technological discovery. It was supposed to make life easier, enabling easier production and preventing difficult working conditions... But instead, as technology always is used, it only served the upper class, while the workers stayed in the dust. Because no technological discovery can fix a broken system, the system needs to be changed and only then can the people be helped. That was the tragic truth Viktor didn't understand until the end of s1. His focus was on technology instead of the system, it did the Undercity absolutely no good and instead only widened the gap between classes.

S2 has none of that. In s2 magic is only magic. It is the freaky stuff that creates zombies and makes force fields. It makes absolutely no statements on society, on the people who use it, or anything. It looks cool and does cool stuff and has to be stopped because it's evil and wants to destroy Piltover. And its weapon is Viktor. Viktor. Is the final boss of Arcane. The guy who is chronically ill because of Piltoved's greed, who gave his entire life to the city and got nothing in return, is the biggest threat. It leaves such a bad taste in my mouth bro

[tightjeansjavi]

Et Auream - Act IV : Villain & Violent

A/N: this chapter is solely focused around Marcus and his deeply rooted trauma that I feel is not only important to his character, but also sets the tone for how he will act for the rest of the story. Before you read, please heed the warnings and remember that I am not responsible for the content that you choose to consume.

word count: 4.8k

Summary: Marcus is unaware at how much time has passed since his first meeting with Aurelia, and in his vulnerable state of mind, memories of his past begin to resurface. Pairing | Marcus Acacius x f!oc Warnings: DEAD DOVE DO NOT EAT! This chapter includes SA of a minor, loss of virginity, pedophilia, child murder, child abuse, child prostitution, enslavement, canon typical violence, alcohol consumption, mentions of whores, graphic depictions of violence, PTSD, trauma responses, hazing, minor character death, language, +18 minors dni! series master list

The Ludus Magnus

Marcus had no concept of how much time had passed since the night he first met Aurelia. It could have been days, weeks, months—for all he knew, which wasn’t much to begin with. The only time he was able to gaze upon the sun, and feel its warmth, was when he was in the Colosseum, and the only way he knew it was nightfall was through the sliver of moonlight that would trickle in through the cracks in the ceiling of his cell.

A small solace, a shred of comfort that was snuffed out when the evening hours would manifest clouds to cast shadows over the moon. He was used to the darkness, to the feeling of loneliness consuming him, and then she came into his orbit. And while their acquaintance was brief, he could not tear his thoughts from her even if he tried. 

“Rise and shine, scum,” Cato said from the other side of the iron bars. He wore a sneer on his face, and his tone was anything but kind. 

Marcus gave little regard to Cato and his distaste towards him. His mind was too preoccupied. He wordlessly rose to his feet, ignoring the dull strain in his back from sitting against the stonewall through the night. The lacerations along his shoulders and back had healed significantly, and there was no longer an uncomfortable sting when he would brush against a wall, or endure the weight of his armor. The freshly healed skin was just another testament that Aurelia’s existence wasn’t something he had conjured during his vulnerable hours. Infection did not spread through his body, and she was the reason he was still breathing, after all. 

The next time I am graced in her presence, I will ask her where she learned the ways of a medicus. 

“You look like shit, Acacius,” Cato pointed out with a wry grin. He unlocked the cell door, keys jingling before the door swung open against the wall. 

Marcus only grunted in response, still paying no mind to him. He crossed his arms over his chest and waited patiently for his ankles to be unshackled from the wall so that he could move somewhat freely. 

“Gone mute again, have we?” Cato said with a teasing hum. He walked into the small space, crouching down beneath Marcus’s feet and slipped a smaller shaped key into one of the locks. “You know, if it were up to me, I’d keep you chained here for eternity.” 

another wordless grunt slipped past Marcus’s lips,  his nostrils flared slightly. 

“Pinched a nerve, did I?” Cato cackled and twisted the key to the left, engaging the unlocking mechanism within it to release. 

“I can’t quite wrap my head around why the emperor's find you to be so…valuable,” Cato continued. “Why allow a traitor to live to see another day is beyond me,” he scoffed and unlocked his other ankle before rising to his full height. 

Marcus uncrossed his arms, holding his wrists out in front of him, waiting for the cold touch of iron to encase his skin, wordlessly. 

“It’s foolish, if you’d ask me,” Cato scoffed and placed the iron cuffs around Marcus’s wrists, securing them as tight as he saw fit. It was enough for Marcus to tense his jaw slightly from the sudden pressure. 

“Consider yourself lucky that you have never faced me in the arena, Cato. I’d drive my sword through that gaping mouth of yours in a heartbeat,” Marcus muttered under his breath. 

“I don’t doubt that for a moment, scum. Too bad you’ll never have the chance,” he bit.

“Nothing is permanent, Acacius. Remember that.” Geta’s charged words echoed in his mind. 

“Get moving, Acacius. We don’t have all morning, unless you want to miss out on breakfast,” Cato chimed in his ear. He moved alongside him, giving him a firm shove towards the opening of the cell. 

Marcus’s feet moved at their own accord, and the low growl of his stomach guided the way. The other cells had since been emptied, leading him to believe that he had already missed out on breakfast after all. 

Boisterous chatter could be heard down the narrow corridor and with another firm shove to his back, he was met with the many faces of the other gladiators scarfing down their piss-poor excuse of a meal. 

No one acknowledged him as he took an empty seat at the lengthy table. a clay bowl, containing mashed barley, beans and mixed grains was thrusted in front of him. His stomach growled, but he did not reach for the bowl immediately. 

He stared into the gray hues of nothingness, brows furrowed and lips pursed. A sour feeling washed over him, and his fists clenched so tightly, his knuckles turned stark white. It was happening again, the memories—

“What is all of that ruckus?!” Crassus, Marcus's Dominus, yelled into the thick night. The air was tinged in the stench of copper; bloodshed and the mortal cries of one of his boys meeting their brutal end. 

The grouping of boys, huddled around the fire quickly dispersed, revealing the violence that had ensued. The earth was soaked in rich crimson that flowed like the river of Tiberius. In the center lay one of the boys—what remained of him, and Marcus had fallen to his knees. His eyes were wild, his face stained in blood, his body shaking—trembling with unbridled rage that Crassus himself had never witnessed from him. 

“My, my,” he clicked his tongue against the roof of his mouth. “You have been holding out on us, Acacius.” 

Marcus snapped his head in the direction of Crasuss’s voice. His grip around the hilt of his sword did not falter, nor loosen. His facial expression turned from anger to confusion when he tore his gaze from his Dominus and looked down at the boy's corpse. His chest rose and fell rapidly, lips parting at the gruesome sight of the boy’s mangled face, and empty eye sockets staring up at him. 

“Peace, Acacius.” Crassus took a cautious step towards him, and the rest of the boys huddled behind him; they too were frightened.

Marcus stumbled to his feet, movements uncoordinated, knees shaky and unbalanced. His sword, dripping in congealed blood and flesh tissue hung heavy at his side. 

“Drop the sword, boy,” Crassus said sternly. 

“He killed him,” one of the boys whispered. 

“No, he—annihilated him,” another chimed in. 

“The sword, Acacius. Drop it.” Crassus was becoming impatient. 

Marcus’s bloodstained knuckles tightened reflexively around the hilt. His death grip was the only tangible feeling that was keeping him grounded, but the gravity of his actions began to sink into his conscience. 

“He’ll kill us all,” another boy shuddered, his voice trembling, and the rest murmured in agreement.

“Acacius, you are testing my patience, boy. I will ask this of you one last time. Drop the fucking—” 

His grip suddenly loosened and the sword fell to the sand with a dull thud as Marcus stumbled back, turning to flee, but a calloused hand reached out, gripping  his armpit and stalled his movements. He cried out, crying for his mother, for anyone—but no one came to his aid. His body went lax in Crassuss’s grip, slumping in his arms, finally. A well-known pressure point was activated with a firm hand and forced Marcus into an unconscious state. 

None of the boys moved from their protective huddle when their Dominus addressed them directly, “Clean up this mess,” he barked out an order with a pointed glare in their direction. 

They scattered like flies being swatted at and he let out a huff, lifting the dead weight of Marcus into his arms. 

When Marcus awoke, hours later, he was in an unfamiliar room. He shot up in a daze, eyes wide and stricken with confusion. He whipped his head around frantically for any sign as to how he ended up there. 

“Peace, Acacius,” a familiar voice addressed him from the opposite end of the expansive room. Crassuss’s back was facing him, and it appeared that he was writing something on parchment before he turned around in his chair, clasping his hands against his chest. 

Marcus struggled to form words, his mouth opened and closed but no sounds came out. He warily glanced down at the blanket that draped his body before he grasped its unfamiliar softness in his palms and threw it off in a haste. 

Crassus sighed through his nose, standing to his full height. “I need you to relax, boy. You aren’t in any danger, I assure you.” 

Marcus did not trust him, and why should he? He had no reason to. “Why am I here?” 

Crassus ignored his question and walked towards him. His footsteps were cautious, but determined. “Do you remember what happened?” 

Marcus shook his head and glanced down at his hands briefly. His knuckles were still stained in blood, although dry now. “Whose—whose blood is this?” his voice trembled. 

“Ah, so you don’t remember anything? How…fascinating,” Crassus mused. “I have trained many boys to become fierce gladiators, Acacius, but you, now—there’s something special about you.”

“Special?” Marcus echoed with uncertainty. 

“Indeed,” Crassus continued. “Your rage. What was it fueled by? A dozen boys, just outside these walls, are fearing for their lives because of you, and that very rage that you displayed.” 

Marcus’s face constricted as he racked through his brain for the answers to what took place hours ago. “Is…he dead?” 

Crassuss’s lips tightened into a thin line and he crossed his arms over his chest with a pointed look that had Marcus curling in on himself. 

“I-I-I didn’t mean to—I swear! I never intended to kill him, Dominus.” 

“No?” The question was rhetorical. “His face isn’t recognizable, Acacius. You gouged his eyes out as if you were scooping yolks from an egg. I’ve never seen so much blood spilled from one body.” 

Marcus winced from his words and he turned his chin into his shoulder out of shame and guilt. His hands wrung nervously in his lap. 

“Do not hide your face from me, Acacius. You have nothing to feel shame for. I imagine he deserved it. In fact, I’d go as far to say that you were merciful.” 

“I am not violent, Dominus. It is not in my blood,” Marcus bit back, feeling as if he were a cornered beast that had been prodded with a spear one too many times. 

“Oh,” he sighed. “But you are. Detest it all you wish, but your violent heart will only lead you to greatness. The false lions will torment you no longer, Acacius. Not when they fear for their own eyes to be gouged from their sockets,” he stopped at the foot of the bed, offering Marcus his bejeweled hand. “Let us get you cleaned up.” 

Marcus eyed his outstretched hand warily from where he sat. The same hand that would beat him repeatedly for insubordination, was now being offered for a different reason. He wasn’t sure what to make of it—any of it, really. He wished that his mother was there so that he may confide in her during his times of peril. He yearned for her motherly embrace, her soft-spoken words. 

“Take my hand, Acacius,” Crassus commanded. 

With reluctance, Marcus raised his own hand. His fingers visibly trembled, but Crassus paid no mind to his apprehension as he lifted him from the bed with little resistance. 

The tepid water acted as little comfort for Marcus, who sat on his knees along the tub. He quickly washed the dried blood from his hands and between the crevices of his knuckles under the watchful eye of Crassus. 

“Get all the way in, boy.” his tone was clipped, and the cold sound of it caused Marcus to flinch. 

“I—I don’t want to,” he whispered in a pathetic plea. 

“Didn’t ask what you wanted, now did I?” 

“No, Dominus,” he said defeatedly. His hands shakily moved towards the hem of his tattered tunic, hesitating before he slowly lifted it over his head and shoulders. His muscles had not yet formed, and his posture was rigid and sheltered. 

“All of it, Acacius,” he sounded annoyed, and his patience was wearing thinner by the second. 

Marcus squeezed his eyes shut and blindly reached for the loose knot of his subligaculum. When he pulled the knot free, he hastily climbed into the tub, nearly falling face first because he was so afraid. 

Water splashed along the rim of the tub, turning a deeper shade of pink from the remnants of blood being washed away. He instinctively wrapped his arms around his knees, pulling them protectively to his chest. 

Crassus stalked around the tub and crouched down so he was more level with Marcus. His hand reached towards his face, knuckles brushing the softness of his cheek where crusted blood still remained. “ever had anyone tell you that you have a pretty face, boy?” he sneered. 

Marcus shied from his unwanted touch, gnawing on the inside of his cheek to distract himself. He kept his eyes focused on the end of the tub. 

“I thought so,” Crassus said with a hum. “not only is it a pretty face, but a fuckable one, too. I imagine you could easily pocket extra coin with a face like that.” 

“I…don’t understand what you’re saying, Dominus,” Marcus whispered with uncertainty. What was he insinuating? His crude choice of words fell foreign to his innocent ears. 

“Ah, a virgin too? I have plenty of clientele that would gladly pay generously to lie with the likes of you, pretty boy.” 

“Acacius?” 

Marcus blinked rapidly, eyes darting to his left and then his right. He had been clenching his fists so tightly, that his blunt nails had left angry red marks in his palms. 

“Acacius.” The familiar voice to his left broke through the blockage in his brain. Cinna, a fellow gladiator, was the only one left at the table outside of Marcus. His eyes were as blue as the sea, or the sky on a clear day. It was a stark, yet beautiful contrast against his dark complexion. 

Marcus swallowed the heavy lump in his throat and finally released the tension in his fists. The bowl of porridge in front of him remained untouched and had since gone cold. 

“Are you quite alright, Acacius? You have yet to touch your food.” Cinna sounded genuinely worried. 

“I’m fine, Cinna,” he released a breath he didn’t realize he was holding and rose from the table. 

“You should really—”

“I said,” Marcus enunciated. “that I was fine.” Despite the empty feeling in his stomach, and the unease in his mind, he stalked off to the armory to get suited up for another grueling training session. Perhaps during that time he could clear his mind, finally. That, of course, was wishful thinking on his part. 

 When the iron cuffs around his wrists were removed, he flexed his fingers at his sides, tapping them against the hem of his tunic. His armor was soon fastened, and a sword was thrust into his hands. He tested the weight of it in his palm, like he always did, but something felt off when he stared at his reflection in the steel. Empty eye sockets stared back at him, and his palms felt clammy. He blinked as hard as he could before opening his eyes again and his normal reflection returned. 

“Get moving, Acacius. You’re already late as it is,” the armorer muttered. 

When Marcus stepped into the arena, he expected to be greeted by the sun, but instead was met with a gray, cold sky with clouds stretching to the heavens for miles. His sword fell heavy at his side, and when he looked up at the emperor’s viewing platform, he could make out the faces of Geta and Caracalla staring back at him. 

Geta gave him a curt nod of acknowledgement, and tipped the rim of his chalice in his direction before his attention was stolen by a feminine hand wrapping around his bicep and pulling him back down to his throne. 

The rest of gladiators had already begun to spar, their swords of steel clashing loudly. Marcus stood there, dumbly. His jaw ticked, and his ears were ringing. He was not focused, and when Cinna’s familiar hand clasped around his shoulder, he whipped around in confusion. His eyes were wide when they landed upon striking blue ones. 

“You are not well today, Acacius,” Cinna said in a low soft tone. 

“I—I’m fine,” Marcus insisted and brushed his hand from his shoulder. 

“Where are we going, Dominus? The hour is late, and I am quite tired,” Marcus trailed behind Crassus, rubbing the sleep from his eyes. 

“We are going to meet some of my very good friends, Acacius. You’ll be my cup bearer for the evening,” Crassus stated plainly, and he did not slow his steps so Marcus could keep up with his pace. Marcus frowned at this and took longer strides so he could keep up with him. He opened his mouth to argue that his sleep was more important, but one sharp look over Crassus’s shoulder had him swallowing his words just as quickly as they had manifested. 

“You’ll be on your best behavior, Acacius. Wouldn’t want to upset me, now would we?” 

“No, Dominus,” Marcus whispered and absentmindedly scratched at his arm. He looked over his shoulder, towards the distant flickering lights of the villa before facing forward. He kicked at a stray rock with the toe of his sandals, but Crassus did not notice, nor care. 

At the entrance to the town's brothel, Marcus was involuntarily glued to Crassus’s side. There was an array of people filtering in and out of the bustling establishment, and Marcus’s curiosity was getting the better of him as he looked up in wonder at each passing face. 

“You will speak only when spoken to, boy. Do you understand?” Crassus addressed him sternly. 

“Yes, Dominus.” 

His arm was tugged roughly inside and although it was too dim to see much of anything, he heard a plethora of sounds. To his innocent ears, he believed that people were wailing in pain and anguish, but one glimpse of bare skin on flesh moving rhythmically behind a sheer curtain had his cheeks burning from the sight. He looked up at his Dominus, expectantly, hoping that he would have the answers, but Crassus continued to drag him along with little regard. 

“How old is he?” a woman, twice Marcus’s age asked from her makeshift throne of pillows. Her eyes were enticing, and her movements fluid when she rose from her lax position. 

“Thirteen,” Crassus said with a grin. 

“A virgin, yes?” her question left a sour taste in Marcus's mouth, but he didn't dare speak up.

Crassus nodded and released his firm grip on Marcus’s arm finally. 

“I expect you’ll pay well for him. He is well mannered and docile, as long as he’s nowhere near a sword,” he chuckled. 

She simply smiled and reached for her chalice of wine on the nearby table, snatching it up with ease. She approached Marcus who was wringing his hands together nervously. She came to a halt in front of him, crouching down so she was more level and brought the rim of the chalice to her painted lips. “You do have quite a pretty face.” 

“T-thank…you?” Marcus wanted to be polite as his mother raised him to be. He eyed the contents of her chalice suspiciously, and his nose turned up from the nauseating sweet aroma that emitted from it. 

She looked up towards Crassus, her smile turning into a knowing, wry grin. “Payment is on the table, Crassus. Half to start, and the rest to follow…depending on how your boy performs.” 

“Oh, he will perform to your standards, Domina Vinicia, I am certain of this.” 

“Good.” her grin stretched across her lips and she took another sip of her wine before offering it to Marcus. “Ever had wine before, boy?” 

Marcus shook his head and took a step back, but Crassus’s hand was there to stop him and instead nudged him forward. 

“No, I have not,” he answered quietly. 

“Well, tonight will be a night of many firsts for you,” Vinicia said with certainty in her saccharine tone and she nudged the glass into his hands. He stared down into the reflection of claret, contemplating his decision for a moment before hesitantly bringing the rim to his lips. The small, meager sip he took turned into a larger one when Vinicia used the bridge of her pointer finger to tip the bottom of the chalice forwards, forcing Marcus to drink more of the scarlet liquid. 

He sputtered frantically, his eyes blurring with tears as he tried his best to quickly clear his airway, but most of the wine had ended up down the front of his tunic. He profusely apologized for creating such a mess, in fear that he would be punished. 

Vinicia’s cat-like grin did not falter, and she brought her hand to rest against his jaw, ceasing his movements when she brushed away a stray drop of wine from his lips. Marcus let out a sound of protest, but his words were muffled when her painted lips pressed softly to his. 

“Crassus,” she said suddenly and pulled back slowly from Marcus’s bewildered face, “you have yet to disappoint me, friend.” 

“W-w-wait—” Marcus tried to interject, but Vicinia was already rising to her feet and pulling him further into the room. “What do you call this one?” 

“Acacius.” 

“Acacius,” she echoed.

Marcus looked back at his Dominus, digging his heels into the intricate rug beneath his feet, but Crassus did not move from his spot to help him. 

“Peace, Acacius. There is nothing for you to fear,” Vicinia said sweetly from above. Her grip on his arm was far gentler than Crassus’s had been. The last thing Marcus saw before multiple pairs of hands, both calloused and soft, reached out from the darkness, was Crassus disappearing behind the door. 

Their voices were soft in his ears like a soothing lullaby. Their hands, feminine and masculine, pulled him further into the darkness. They were not like monsters that lingered in his nightmares, with sharpened claws and long, narrow teeth. He could not see their eyes, but their teeth gleamed through the darkness, stained in claret. Their breath on his skin reeked of sweet wine, and he hated the stench of it. 

“Peace, pretty boy. We’ll take good care of you.” 

Caracalla, grinning from ear to ear, was acutely tuned into what was taking place in the arena below. His brother, too distracted by his current vice, had not noticed Marcus’s distress, but the younger emperor took notice of it immediately. “Brother,” Caracalla said in a sickly, sing-songy tone. “Leave me be, Caracalla,” Geta clipped back, his words muffled as his lips were pressed against the juncture of the whore’s neck. Her nimble fingers threaded through the back of his brassy curls, giggling wildly when his teeth scraped her pulse point. Caracalla released an annoyed huff through his nose before he rose to his full height. His own whore was disinterested in the gladiators training, and she was far too busy observing her cuticles to notice that he was no longer at her side. He took a few confident steps to overlook the balcony, resting his gold-clad forearms against the stone railing. He peered down at the arena, paying no mind to a scuffle that broke out between four gladiators that had taken the training session a little too seriously.

“What a bunch of animals…” he chuckled in amusement to himself and raised his chalice of wine to his lips, taking a generous sip. He smacked his lips together and looked over in the direction of his praetorians standing by and awaiting his command. He contemplated his next decision only fleetingly and pushed his weight off of the railing, spinning around to face his guards directly. The glint in his eye was enough for them to read and understand what he would ask of them next, and they followed him wordlessly to the hidden stairwell behind the entrance of the viewing platform. Caracalla strolled right past his brother without the eldest emperor catching wind of his departure. Marcus and Cinna were still engaged in an intense conversation, and Marcus’s sword had yet to leave his side. His attention was drawn to the sudden circling of praetorians entering the arena. The sudden intrusion caught the attention of the rest of the gladiators who laid their swords down as quickly as they had been raised. Every one of them bowed in Caracalla’s presence, all but Marcus. Marcus could feel every hair on the back of his neck stand up when the group of praetorians parted in the middle revealing a smirking Caracalla to his eyes. He took a step back, fingers flexing along the hilt of his sword. “Acacius,” Caracalla said in an authoritative tone, his eyes filled with mirth. “Has my brother not yet taught you respect in the presence of your emperor?” he cocked a brow. Marcus’s lip curled upwards into a snarl, but despite his defiance, he reluctantly bowed. “That is better,” Caracalla chuckled and took a step towards him, stopping just under a foot away from him. “However, I'd much prefer you on your knees.” he snapped his fingers once, and two praetorians approached Marcus immediately. In truth, Marcus was not looking for a fight and had already begun to lower himself towards the ground when two pairs of hands forcefully shoved him down. His sword was wretched from his hand and tossed out of his reach. “You look quenched with thirst, Acacius,” Caracalla said with a wry grin. “How about some wine?” “I am not thirsty, your highness,” Marcus responded through gritted teeth. “No?” Caracalla walked closer, till he was towering above him. He raised his chalice of wine above his head and tipped it forwards, dumping the remaining contents directly over Marcus's head. Scarlet droplets coated Marcus’s cropped hair, dripped down the sides of his face, over his lips, neck and the crevices of his armor. The second he tasted the all too familiar sweetness on his tongue, he panicked. The stench was overwhelming and sent Marcus writhing in the praetorian's restraints. He yelled wildly, thrashing like a fish tangled in a fishing net, or a helpless rodent entangled in the coils of a snake.

Caracalla had not been expecting such a visceral reaction, that even he was left feeling stunned at the sight of Marcus reacting in such a crazed manner. He looked over his shoulder in the direction of the viewing platform to already find his brother staring back at him in bewilderment. Caracalla snapped his fingers once more and the Praetorians released their hold on Marcus, but the damage was already done. “What is the meaning of this?!” Geta’s voice boomed through the arena, echoing loudly in Marcus’s ringing ears. He was no longer thrashing wildly, but his breaths were coming out in rapid puffs and a layer of perspiration coated his face and neck. “Just having a bit of fun is all, brother,” Caracalla responded with a biting grin. He crossed his arms over his chest at his brother’s fury-filled approach. When Geta was within arms reach of his kin, he raised his hand towards the heavens as if he was about to strike Caracalla’s painted cheek, but he refrained, remembering the role he had to play. “Get him some water!” He barked out an order to his own praetorians that stood in a protective circle around him. “Who would have thought that the ever-so great and brave Acacius could break so easily,”  Caracalla said in amusement under his breath. He brought his hands to rest behind his back, his smirk only intensifying when he locked eyes with a trembling, terrified Marcus. Geta shook his head, biting the soft flesh of his cheek to keep himself from stooping to his brother’s level. He crouched down in the sand so he was more level with him. The other gladiators, except Cinna, had dispersed. “Don’t fucking touch me,” Marcus said in a biting tone, barring his teeth. He reeked of wine, sweat and something– “Gods!” Caracalla cackled. “He’s pissed himself!” His jeering laugh sent Marcus’s cheeks burning, turning as scarlet as the droplets of wine that speckled his skin. “Cinna, is it?” Geta said suddenly, peering up at the man standing nearby. “Y-yes, your highness,” Cinna stuttered out, quickly bowing.

Geta nodded, turning his attention to his guards. “You will escort Acacaius and Cinna to the thermae. Allow them as much time as needed, and leave them both in privacy. He has been humiliated enough.”

“Yes, Caesar,” they responded in unison.

Caracalla pursed his lips into a tight line, fighting the urge to roll his eyes at his brother’s softness. He turned his nose up in disgust at the stench of urine permeating the air. “Fucking freak,” He said under his breath, loud enough for Marcus to hear it. He turned swiftly on his heel and walked away from the scene as if it never happened. His praetorians trailed behind him obediently.

Marcus did not utter a cry of protest when the two guards on either side of him suddenly lifted him from the sand. Geta gave him a reassuring nod, one that was met with a blank stare of confusion. 

star banner made by the lovely @saradika-graphics 💗

follow @tightjeansjaviupdates for fic updates and notifications 🫶🏻

[donnerpartyofone]

I should really be ashamed to complain about this but since there's nothing left of this world anyway (TL;DR everything is so remarkably shitty now down to the smallest little annoying details, exponentially shittier than it was five and then ten years ago, and it's fucking crazy-making):

For work, I need to watch a movie that I know is on Prime. I go into Prime and look up the one-word title. It gives me a short list of "top results", not including my movie. Under "top results" is a slew of other lists of movies, broken down by varying made-up subgenres; at a glance, none of the titles even contain the word I searched for, and none of them have anything to do with what I specifically want. I close the Prime app and open Plex, whose search function immediately tells me that the exact the movie is in Prime, and links me to it. By clicking the link in Plex, I am able to watch the movie on Prime.

I don't know what Prime is thinking. There seems to be an assumption that when I look for one exact thing that I know I want, that that's not really what I'm doing -- I'm actually secretly saying "Uh, I dunno, just like, pitch me something, find something to sell me on, I don't really care." How the fuck is that better business? Because Prime refused to serve me something that I explicitly asked for, in favor of pushing a whole bunch of shit I don't want but that it assumes is more popular with other people, I almost didn't use their service at all. There was no world in which I was going to give up on my actual requirement and just allow myself to be forced into some other unrelated, unwanted waste of time. And this is not because I'm such a frugal and conscientious consumer, I'm not really that smart even, but I wanted A SPECIFIC THING and if I didn't get it, then that would be the end. Why is there no way for me to get the FULL MATCHING RESULTS, why is there only "top results" and then a bunch of shit I didn't ask for? When did the search function just become like a random, vaguely-related recommendations engine? How is this supposed to help Prime get my business? I mean really, I didn't enjoy this experience, but how does this strategy even serve their own corporate greed?

YouTube does a similar thing to me where it will notify me about a new video from one of my subscriptions, and if I click on that, the app opens with the video playing in a little tiny reduced window shoved to the side of all these browsing options. Like as soon as I say "yes, I want X," YouTube instantly doesn't care; it only wants me to keep shopping around for other stuff that I have not said "yes" to already. It's like a bad boyfriend who isn't interested in what you actually consent to, he's only interested in what he can bully you into, that you would have otherwise avoided.

(I guess the physical-world equivalent would be the type of consumer who is in a permanent, almost subconscious retail therapy spiral, where they do way more browsing and buying than they do using and enjoying. The person's home is full of unopened packages and they probably wind up re-buying a lot of stuff because they don't even know what they own. This is probably every company's ideal customer now, and maybe this is why if I order an item from an online store, that store will email me every single day to try to make me buy the same exact item again, as if the thing I want is only the pleasure of buying, rather than owning and using the item.)

It drives me crazy when I see these arguments online about how you're a stupid idiot if you think that the internet is shittier and more intensively commercialized than it used to be. I think it's often that the cohort of people who are really techy and net-savvy overlap with people who are a little conservative in that way where they are instantly enraged if they hear some soft-hearted rube complaining about the dominant system. If this type of person sees a post by some glum little liberal about how the internet used to be more fun and easier to use, they will immediately shit right on top of that guy's head just to be spiteful, often using a small armory of data to gaslight the plaintiff into thinking that their problems are imaginary. It's the same as that thing that happened recently where a bunch of mean-spirited libertarian-flavored blogs started making all these posts explaining that the American economy is doing awesome and anyone who thinks that inflation is happening is a stupid piece of shit. Which was like, OK fine, all those graphs and numbers you got from right-wing think tanks look great; I take it back, there's no inflation or whatever, but now you have to give me a different word to use to describe why I can't afford anything anymore and everyone I know is in a constant, desperate search for a place to live where they won't starve.