#That goat better pay my insurance

[getranched]

Analog horror this. The moon is alive that. What about the sun and how it crashed my car in a Game Stop parking lot?

[suzukiblu]

Day seventeen of fic NaNoWriMo, obligatory sugar daddy Tim/sugar baby Kon AU.

“I think it's pretty normal to give someone a phone when you want to talk to them,” Tim lies. Bruce gives the other Bats burners sometimes, though. And also communicators. And Robin’s loaned plenty of allies communicators before, including Superboy. So it's normal in their circles, whether Kon actually knows they're both in said circles or not. 

“. . . I like the green one,” Kon says after a moment, which is a little bit of a surprise. It's a nice sort of deep, leafy color, Tim guesses, but he would've expected Kon to go for black or red or blue; maybe yellow. 

He wonders how green Hawaii is, come to think of it. 

And how much green Kon regularly sees these days, living underground in a lab. 

“Okay,” he says, then gestures towards the phone case display with his smoothie. “Let's get you a screen protector and a case too, just in case.” 

“You don’t have to,” Kon says. “I mean, I am gonna have my TTK on it.” 

“Yeah, but that only works if nobody knocks it off the table or something when you’re not holding it,” Tim says. “Besides, better safe than sorry, right?” 

“Um, okay,” Kon says. Tim leads him over to the phone cases, and Kon glances them over indecisively, clearly paying more attention to the price tags than personal preference. Tim decides distraction is the better part of valor, in this case. 

“I don’t recommend anything superhero-themed, for the record,” he jokes. Kon snorts. 

“That’s called a feint, thank you very much,” he informs him mock-primly. “Nobody’d think a superhero would actually have the balls to go around with a superhero-themed phone case.” 

“They’d think Superboy would,” Tim says in amusement. 

“. . . okay, fair,” Kon allows, making a face at himself. Tim laughs. 

“How about that one?” he suggests, pointing towards the second-most expensive one on the rack–so Kon will know money isn’t a concern, but also so Kon won’t realize he’s specifically doing it to make sure he knows money isn’t a concern. 

“It looks like a tire tread,” Kon says wryly, which is a fair assessment. It’s one of the heavy-duty cases, so it’s pretty bulky as it is, and the pattern on it is a little tire-like. 

“The ones down here have glitter, if that’s more your thing,” Tim replies in amusement, pointing again. 

“Glitter is more my thing,” Kon says, leaning over to peer down at the indicated row. Tim probably should’ve expected that response, considering, except also he would absolutely never have expected Kon to willingly admit to liking glitter. At least not without being concussed first. “Hmmmmm.” 

“That's a nice one,” Tim says. Kon’s looking at a green and blue case with bright gold glitter swirled all over it in abstract designs; it looks a bit like ocean water, if you look at it the right way. It’s definitely not going to be anywhere near as durable as the tire tread one would, but Tim isn’t particularly concerned about that anyway. He was gonna get accident insurance no matter what. Statistically speaking, Kon will probably go through more than a few of these. He hasn't had the same phone for longer than three months since starting up as Robin. Something always seems to happen to them. Usually a supervillain. 

“Too bad they don’t have anything with a cute little goat on it,” Kon jokes as he straightens back up, regrettably letting go of Tim's hand to take the green and blue glitter-case off the wall. “You know, commemorate our first date and all.” 

“That was not our first date,” Tim says, mildly disgruntled but mostly flustered by the idea. “I'd have planned a date a lot better than those morons planned their dumb heist. And bought you something from the gift shop, if nothing else.” 

“Could've just kept the goat, I guess, but Superman would've made me give it back anyway,” Kon muses idly as he looks over the case in his hand and takes another sip of his smoothie. “This is for the right model, right?” 

“Should be,” Tim says, though he double-checks anyway. “Yeah, no, you're good. Lemme go grab a clerk so we can get the plan set up. We'll just go through my name, I can probably set up autopay for the bill easier that way.” 

“Um, sure,” Kon says, biting his lip for a moment and then glancing sidelong at him. “So is this our first date, then?” 

“No,” Tim says, though technically it probably is. But given how Kon’s been acting about the idea that Tim would actually be interested in dedicating actual time and attention to him–“I'll take you somewhere nice for that.” 

“Somewhere nice?” Kon says, hiding a very unsubtle grin behind the phone case. It'd work better if his stupid pretty eyes weren't sparkling for it, Tim thinks in resigned accusation. Kon doesn’t ask what “somewhere nice” means, but Tim is already trying to figure out what restaurants he knows that might appeal to Kon’s palate. If he likes Hawaiian flavors . . . there’s some Asian influence in that, right? He thinks, anyway. Japanese, at least. Maybe Filipino? Polynesian? Any other influences or parallel cuisines he’d have to look up to figure out, though. 

Tim knows absolutely no Filipino or Polynesian restaurants, much less actually authentic Hawaiian ones. He could definitely do Japanese, though. Japanese would be easy. Just going to a restaurant isn’t much of a date, probably, and he can’t take Kon on patrol or anything like he and Steph used to do, but they could maybe go shopping in a nicer boutique or something? Or go to a museum for actual entertainment instead of just business, if Kon would be interested in something like that. Admittedly, it’s hard to picture him being particularly into museums as a concept, but it might be worth a try. 

Maybe he’d like the aquarium or planetarium more than something involving art or history or science, though. Those are a little cooler than just wandering through a bunch of random exhibits, Tim thinks. Or at least, they might appeal more to Kon. The ocean, or stars and planets, or . . . like, whatever, he guesses. 

He’ll have to do some recon, probably. Light interrogation. Figure out what Kon would be the most interested in. 

Or they could just go to the beach. It’d require a little bit of travel on his part, but likely wouldn’t be a big deal for Kon; he could just fly. Though in retrospect Kon’s probably spent about half his life on a beach, so maybe that’s not interesting enough. And the Jersey Shore probably wouldn’t measure up to Hawaii in his eyes, either. 

Hm. Yeah, Tim's definitely going to have to do some recon. 

Tim is possibly putting in too much effort here, considering Kon is going to lose interest in actually flirting with him in about five minutes. Kon never seems to really properly date anyone, as far as Tim's seen; just flirt around a lot. So he should be prioritizing shopping and apartment hunting, really, before Kon gets bored of the flavor of the week and wanders off. 

Tim Drake is not exactly an exciting date, so . . . yeah, Tim’s not expecting Kon to stay interested for long. He’s just got to take advantage of it for as long as it lasts to leverage Kon into letting him buy him that cul-de-sac and go from there, that’s all. Kon seems to stay friendly with the girls he flirts with even after things fizzle out or fail to go anywhere, so he assumes it won’t be any different with Tim Drake. As long as Kon’ll let him keep paying his way, that’s all that’s going to matter. 

Tim is really going to need to frontload that, though. Establish him paying for Kon as the new status quo very quickly and get Kon used to it before he loses interest in him, so he won’t feel awkward about accepting it by then. Or so Tim will already have signed all the paperwork and it’ll be too late for Kon to protest; whichever. 

He’s definitely going to have to frontload it.

[misspetsyourcats]

Things men have offered me in exchange for ownership, a nonexhaustive list:

- goats

- heroin

- “as much alcohol as I want”

- “the good weed”

- a farm full of goats

- a house

- a cruise every year

- shoes

- an apartment

- legal guardianship over said man

- more goats

- dabs

- “you’ll feel better trust me”

- enlightenment and the knowledge of gods

- weed and a massage

- $5

- a boat

- canadian citizenship

- the truth behind the CIA

- goats but only 3 this time

- a nice fish

- a truck

- also a truck but it was a toy and he was 6

- 16 alpacas and 2 goats

- plumbing work

- a space on his private bunker homestead

- sex with his wife

- a nice rifle

- the blessings of the old gods on my womb

- the “joys of birthing the next aryan generation”

- an enchanted knife and spoon

- a gold thumb ring with some sort of spirit in it

- not making me pay for condoms

- a whiskey tonic

- carrying my bag

- a tick

- “my heart”

- his virginity

- 150 goats

- tricare

- a house in Canada

- the position of holy whore in his totally-not-cult

- a joint that was 90% sage

- “the privilege of being owned by a true alpha”

- a collection of automatic rifles

- position as head of the harem he did not have

- “it’s a secret drug formula from the russian mafia, just lick the powder off my hand”

- goats AND the pen they live in

- he will make me toast

- airfare to his apartment

- “if you never have to be sober you’ll be happy by my side regardless, just pick your poison”

- free tattoos

- a coffee

- a coffee and a trip to france

- just the trip to france

- a cell phone that he would pay

- a single goat

- pretty rocks

- “I won’t hit you”

- a whole group of goats and a nice dress and wellies to tend the goats

- 40 acres of logging and gravel pits

- his dad’s house

- a few goats and some sheep

- to never give me a traffic ticket

- a nice pocketknife

- his ex’s lingerie

- as much vodka as I want but no jäger

- a four course homecooked meal

- everything in my etsy favorites

- his sister

- his FAVORITE goat

- a beach house

- position as his first wife

- position as his second wife

- a firearm he made in his garage delivered to me every few weeks

- protection from his militia

- the blessings of a god from dungeons and dragons

- to never need to see him again (as long as we had sex)

- only 8 goats (the ninth was his mother’s)

- health insurance

- use of his home gym

- literal godhood, as in he would bestow the power upon me

- meth.

- him stabbing me 37 times (not 81, that was for more important people)

- I could meet his ghost

- he would keep the ghosts away

- psychic powers

- keys to a nissan altima currently located in a ravine 20+ miles offroad

- his plug’s phone number

- cheese

- a pen

- a goat pen *but not the goats in it*

- his dad’s house (don’t worry the dad will die soon)

- an illegally imported russian sniper rifle

- a dog

- flowers once a week forever

- “if you don’t marry me my mom will be sad”

- a horse

- country club membership

- shrooms

- his left kidney

- a few acres of forest and pasturelands

- a new iphone

- good grades in x class

- a baby goat

- a tractor WITH the gas in it

- cocaine

- a free tattoo (but only one)

- a plant (iirc a lily)

- a gangbang every month

- a cashew farm

- a room in his house to be mine forever

- goat cheese

[jodilinbio]

Part 41

NOTE: This section updated in March 2010.

It has been nearly two years since we left the motel and moved into the secluded little trailer in the woods. I was battling a bad case of post-traumatic stress disorder, while he held onto hopes of a better future for us. It wasn’t that I lacked hope; I just approached it more cautiously, knowing our plans rarely materialized as envisioned—sometimes for the better, sometimes not.

Living in this trailer with Jesse as our landlord has been both good and bad, but mostly good. Until November of 2008, it was the quietest place we’d ever lived, with only a few scattered barking fits, engine-gunning sprees from Jesse, and occasional gunshots. The neighbors’ pit bulls were a problem until complaints forced them to keep the dogs tied up after they tried to attack one of Jesse’s dogs and someone’s goat.

Jesse can be a pest, and his dogs, Whiskey and Brandy, drive me crazy. They weren’t much trouble until November, when they would go crazy whenever Jesse left, barking for hours. This persisted until mid-April, quieting down only to repeat the following November.

During our first four months here, Jesse was a constant presence, always coming down to tell us something, work on something, or address plumbing issues. I wished he didn’t live here, especially when our repeated requests to call first for non-emergencies were ignored. Though he still visits more than I’d like, it’s less frequent now.

Jesse went from always being home to never being home, with his incredibly loud motorcycle being more disruptive than his dogs. I have to crank up the sound machines to sleep during the day.

We’ve made some progress since moving to California, but we haven’t achieved what we came here for. We’re still broke and uninsured. Obama’s healthcare reform bill was signed into law today, but we won’t benefit from it for four years. Few jobs offer insurance, and Tom, despite his optimism, remains jobless in a collapsed economy. He thinks the election year will bring jobs this summer, and I hope he’s right because, without jobs, we’ll never get ahead.

The recession changed things. I stopped winning sweepstakes and contests, despite my efforts and spells. I felt it was time to move on to something new, which happened when Tom read about a site paying people to perform AI tasks. We started relying on these tasks after he was laid off, initially fearing a bigger nightmare than the motel ordeal. Despite our efforts to pawn items to survive, we never seem to get ahead, no matter how hard we try. We’ve had to accept what we can’t change. Even though we haven’t saved money or bought a house, at least Jesse lets us pay rent when we can without late fees, unlike a management company. Nearly a year later, we bought back the TV and iMac.

I grew tired of collecting dolls, a habit I was glad to let go of since they were expensive and a pain to dust. So, I retired my collection and even sold some of it off.

After reaching a record high of around 150 pounds by the time we left the motel, I started dieting and exercising, dropping down to 125 pounds—not the 110 I’d ideally like, but good enough for now.

I cut my hair to shoulder length, tired of the weight of overly long hair that had started creeping past my butt.

I found out that my parents hadn’t cut me off entirely. After months without hearing from them, I received a reply to one of my letters. I wouldn’t have minded if they had chosen not to associate with me since I wouldn’t want anyone in my life who didn’t want to be there. But as long as they don’t drive me crazy, they’re welcome to stay in touch. I think we get along better by not “mixing” family members and thereby avoiding he-said/she-said conflicts. My sister and nieces nearly drove a wedge between my folks and me until my father confronted her, and she backed off the cyberbullying. I try to send my folks a letter each month and call every few months to let them know we’re alive and see how they’re doing.

Despite the economic struggles, we found ways to have fun. I started learning Italian through a language site someone recommended and even took their Portuguese and German courses. Now, I’m fluent in three languages and am slowly gaining fluency in three others.

Social sites became a major craze. Initially, I joined sites like Facebook, MySpace, and Kiwibox mainly for their occasional contests.

One day, while entering a contest on an old social network, I noticed they had a section for journals. Wow! I thought to myself. People actually shared their journals with the world?

Then again, why not? This wasn’t the 50s. It was the 2000s when most things were aired out in public, and few things remained private. Most topics were hardly unheard of. People didn’t gasp in shock anymore if a gay person walked into the room, as they might have 40 or 50 years ago. People discussed sensitive topics like sexual abuse as casually as Christmas shopping. This openness suited me, as I saw no reason why life should be kept secret. Life—everyone had one, and we all experienced ups and downs, made mistakes, celebrated achievements, and had regrets, embarrassing moments, fun times, sadness, happiness, and fear. Did we really need to be ashamed of it? To each their own, but I saw nothing wrong with public journaling, so long as no one threatened anyone or revealed private information. The idea of sharing my entries with the public amused me, though I’m not sure why—it just did. But I would write for myself, as always, and not cater to an audience. The audience would simply be an afterthought. If anything I wrote happened to enlighten, inspire, amuse, or give someone food for thought, that was fine by me.

So, I went “live,” sharing my daily life and sometimes some of my short stories. In the last couple of years, I’ve met many people online. Some have been kind and insightful, while others have been rude and obnoxious. But I understood that in a network where millions interact, there would be some bad apples along with the good, which was to be expected.

I knew there was always the chance of being contacted by someone I didn’t want to hear from on major social sites. And I was.

[snapthistiger]

Happy Sun Dog

me and Annabelle rode across town and visited my mom.  she seemed to be doing well.  the last couple of times i have gone over, she has been asleep at 10am and then at 2pm.  i know she stays up late because she posts to FB at about 3am or so.  mom told me she is selling my dad’s truck to my sister.  i think that’s good because my mom doesn’t have any use for it and is just paying insurance on it.  i’m pretty sure my sister will let her son use it for work.  he has never held down a job long and has been in trouble a couple of times.  hopefully this help will get him on his feet.

my mom’s roses look much better than mine.  i just put some rose food out for my roses this morning so maybe that will help.

Annabelle got to visit the goats from across the fence.  this is the 1st time she has seen a goat.  like a tall dog with horns.  she was curious from a distance.  not sure how AB would have reacted up close.

hope you have a peaceful afternoon and evening..

[jerseydeanne]

I’ll be praying for you. I’m 50 and I’ve dealt with inflammation for sure. For me, cooking from scratch, trying to stay away from preservatives has really helped me. If you can maybe make a tomato soup or vegetable soup from scratch eat all of that also infusing water with fruits and vegetables to flood your system with some good nutrients to address the current inflammation that you’re dealing with right now.

As of 2011 I’ve been on a bit of a weight-loss journey so definitely keeping my weight down has helped. I’m down to a size 8 to 10 now. If I get sloppy and deal with any type of heartburn or acid reflux in the morning, working on my core and my abs with just weight bands helps me too.

Lots and lots of water with lemon. Stay away from any alcohol until you’re much much better.

Of course walking and lots and lots of sun but I think since you’re in Florida you probably already get lots of sun.😊

I take supplements also magnesium calcium vitamin D, two of those a day, from vitamin shop. A multi vitamin. My husband got this liver support supplement—I take two of those a lot of the time. we need the liver to be flushing out the impurities better.

I am on Metformin and one of the statins for cholesterol so I do need the supplements to offset what metformin might deplete for me. Such as b12. Oh extra b12 has been good for me.

Of course I’m not a doctor so this is just what I’ve been doing to help. I also was dealing with frozen shoulder for two years so I really had to figure out what was causing issues for me. (I can also deal with headaches so I’m trying to stay in tune with my body for sure.). Oh also in an effort to have remove more chemicals from my life, I don’t color my hair anymore so I’m all white hair pretty much.😂. and I usually use a bar soap made out of goats milk from this farm in Wellsboro PA although sometimes I still use other things in the shower.

Be careful of all the anti bacterial stuff and wipes I think we’re probably using that stuff too much and who knows what’s seeping into our skin?

Just stuff I do.😊

I always try to give a shout-out when anons describe products.

I just came back from pain management, and it looks like I'm getting Tramadol 50mg and increasing my gabapentin by one hundred mg😉That will work, not LOL. My insurance company is giving Walgreens a hard time. I'm not going to be able to afford it.

Why? Because they can't do anything for me at C-4-5 because I had disc fusion. You know, when you hit your funny bone, that's what feels like all day long. Pins and needles.

Doc will try to see if insurance will pay for scatter shots. They are cracking down big time!

I take most of what you recommended. I can tell you might have two baskets of meds, herbs, and supplements like me. I have a big aloe plant. I'll add that.

I eat tomatoes, which are terrible if you eat the skin and seeds. It causes inflammation.

I'm from Jersey. We love our tomatoes!

I do like to cook as much fresh as possible. Times get tough; those things that are good for you become expensive.

Thank you for taking the time to help me. It's thoughtful and very appreciated.

Love, JD 😜💋🤟🏻

[verai-marcel]

The Light That You Shine (RDR2 Fanfic, John Marston x F!Reader, Chapter 3 of 6, 18+)

Tags, Warnings, & Notes in Chapter 1.  |  Chapter 2

AO3 Link is here.

Chapter 3 - Gravity

Word Count: 2130 

You were absolutely humming and dancing around your shop the next day. The date had gone brilliantly; the two of you talked about the town and how much it had changed in so little time; he hadn’t been back for a year, and you hadn’t been back for two years, only having returned a week ago. He talked about living in the big city, but was vague about where he lived. You were surprised that he’d drive all the way over here to see you.

“40 minutes ain’t that far,” he had said. To you, the 20 minutes to your aunt’s place was an eternity. But you also hated driving. Or being in cars in general. Part of the reason you picked the place you lived was because just about everything you needed was within walking distance.

He had bought you dinner last night at your favorite little burger place. You had decided that if he was going to get to know you, then you might as well be up front about your eating habits. As you happily devoured your double burger cooked with onions and mustard mixed into the patties, you had looked over to see him watching you, a grin on his face.

“What?” you had asked, your mouth stuffed with burger.

“I love a woman who enjoys her food.��

You had nearly choked. Instead, you had taken a sip of your neopolitan shake and continued to eat, ignoring the heat suffusing your cheeks.

Tonight, he said he was going to let you pick the restaurant again, since you were paying. You had argued that since you had picked when he was paying, it was only fair that he picked this time. 

But he was savvy; he told you that you’d know the area better than he did; he trusted your judgement.

So tonight was going to be the flip side of your food habits; a vegetarian place. It was a small place that specialized in veggie bowls with a grain of some kind. You wondered how he would handle it. You knew some guys were picky about this sort of thing, and while you had a fleeting thought that it might not be fair to judge someone based on their eating habits, you also knew that you wouldn’t have fun with someone who wasn’t as adventurous as you were.

When he showed up at 6PM again, just as you were wrapping up your work, he walked inside and looked around, marveling at your work. You had taken today to decorate the shop, put up signs, and make sure everything was beautiful and presentable. When you started, you weren’t sure you were going to be ready in time for your Saturday grand opening, but with John’s help the other day, you had a bit of time to spare.

“Place looks real nice,” he commented as he leaned closer to one of the display benches. You watched as he leaned in and sniffed the peony blossom, closing his eyes. It was such a contrast to how he looked. His biker boots were worn and scuffed, and a green plaid flannel wrapped around his waist. His hair was damp, looking black as if he had just gotten out of the shower. He wore ripped black jeans and a black button down sleeveless shirt that showed off his muscles perfectly. 

“So, where we goin’ tonight?” he asked.

You grinned.

***

To your surprise, he didn’t complain; he only nodded and went with you, walking the three blocks to The Green Grill. You helped him order, and he didn’t try to mansplain or anything of the sort. He was just a down-to-earth, humble guy, and you could feel yourself falling for him more, even though it was only the second date.

Dinner. The second dinner.

Afterwards, like a gentleman, he walked you back to your place, holding your hand, intertwining his fingers with yours. He had wrapped his flannel around your shoulders when you had shivered.

“That wasn’t too bad,” John said as the two of you reached your place. “Better than what I was expectin’.”

“And what were you expecting?”

“I dunno, goat food, I guess.”

You laughed at his answer. “Well, I’m glad you didn’t hate it,” you teased. Then you looked at him for a few moments. “You’re not just saying that to be nice, are you?”

He pulled you close. “I ain’t a nice man. But I’m always honest.” He cupped your cheek as he spoke, making sure he had eye contact with you so you knew his words were true.

Your heart beat stuttered at how close he was.

“Can I see you again?” he murmured, his raspy voice sending electric tingles down your spine.

“Of course,” you breathed. “If you want, you could come to my grand opening tomorrow morning.”

He suddenly looked a little sad. “I can’t, I have work.”

You nodded. “That’s alright. So do I,” you said, one side of your lips quirking up in a joking grin.

“Dammit, you’re so cute.”

He tipped your chin up with his forefinger and slowly leaned in. You gravitated towards him, closing your eyes as he closed his.

John’s small moan of pleasure as his lips met yours shot a zing of desire through your body. He stepped forward, pressing you up against the glass door as he kissed you more, his body covering yours, his hand gripping your hip and pulling you against him.

Then he pulled away, leaving you both breathless, pupils dilated with desire.

“Sorry, I got carried away,” he said, even though his face clearly said he wasn’t sorry.

“No, it’s fine, you.. That was nice,” you finished lamely.

He softly smiled at you before he took your hand, raised it to his mouth, and kissed the back of your knuckles. “I’ll call you when I’m free. I promise.”

You nodded, surprised by his touching gesture. He caressed your face delicately with his fingertips. “You get some rest. You got a big day ahead of you tomorrow.” He kissed your forehead. “See you later, sweetheart.”

As he walked away, you realized, with the pounding of your heart, that he could have easily continued to make out with you some more and you would not have stopped him. Instead, he hadn’t even given you the option to ask for more; he had stepped away to let you rest.

You went into your shop and turned in for the night, but couldn’t stop thinking of stormy grey eyes and a wry smile.

***

“That was barely enough to cover the work it took to get those cars,” John grumbled as he stuffed his cash into his wallet. Dutch had come by, dropped off the envelopes of money for the gang, and had taken off, claiming he had more work to find for them.

Arthur shrugged, but his face showed creases of worry on his forehead. “Dutch said it’s gettin’ harder to sell these days.”

“Then maybe we should find regular jobs.”

Arthur stopped walking and turned to John, who had continued to walk to his bike.

“What?” John asked when he finally noticed that Arthur wasn’t next to him.

Deep in thought, Arthur looked up at the ceiling and sighed. “This ain’t the way we was. We used to ride around for fun, took on jobs that helped others. Now, well, now we just use our bikes because they’re good for gettin’ away from the cops.”

They were both silent. They knew that the others had part time work, or worked a series of gigs to make money besides their work with the gang. For John and Arthur, the gang was all they had. Dutch was all they had, for the longest time. They were two orphans with a charismatic man for an adopted father who was changing more and more by the day.

Perhaps the silence was to mourn the loss of the life they had. But it hung in the air like a hangman’s noose, threatening to cut off their air.

John took a deep breath. Let it out slowly. “I’m goin’ for a ride.”

Arthur just nodded. “I’m gonna make a couple of deliveries,” he said as he walked towards the Sprinter van.

John knew what those deliveries were. He didn’t have to like it, but the pay provided for them, so he said nothing. He knew Arthur felt the same.

Hopping onto his bike, John took off to let his mind wander, letting himself ride with no destination in mind.

He found himself in a familiar town, on a familiar street, near a familiar storefront.

***

It had been a few days since you had seen John. He had called you at least once a day, asking you how your day was, asking how you were feeling. You didn’t ask when he could come see you; you didn’t want to seem clingy. He hadn’t said anything about when he’d be coming back; you assumed it was work that was keeping him away, and you understood that.

He had yet to call you tonight, as you sat at your work bench, putting your tools away.

Someone knocked on your door.

You saw a couple of older men in biker jackets, holding their helmets under their arms. Coming up to the door, you hesitated to open it after seeing their stern expressions.

“I’m sorry, we’re closed for the night,” you said through the glass.

“You new around here?” the taller of the two men asked gruffly.

You furrowed your eyebrows. Technically you grew up here, but then you left two years ago. “What do you want?” you asked, ignoring his question.

“Insurance funds. To protect your shop against vandalism.”

“I already pay insurance,” you said, ignoring the fact that this was clearly an extortion attempt.

“This is different. Call it a special insurance.”

“I’m calling the cops,” you said, pulling out your phone to call 911.

“Hey now, no need for that,” the shorter man said. “If you don’t think you need it, we’ll be on our way.” He nudged the other man with his elbow and together they walked off.

You looked at the back of their jackets; in large letters, ODB written across the top, with a green skull inside of a four-leaf clover below it. The letters MC were on the right of the symbol.

A biker gang.

You quickly googled ODB MC, to find that it was the O’Driscoll Boys Motorcycle Club, and they had recently started moving north. They had members known for extortion and money laundering, but the club itself had never been shut down, since it was the members and not the actual organization that did any of the crimes, or so the news said.

Shit. You wanted no part of this.

You called the police station to report the incident. Afterwards, as you attempted to put your phone back into your pocket, you realized you were shaking.

“John…” you mumbled, knowing that you could just call him if you wanted to hear his voice. How had he become the first name you thought of?

In your head, you heard his voice saying your name.

Then you heard a knock on the glass and turned around.

“John!”

You ran to the door and unlocked it quickly, throwing it open.

He looked at you, his eyes taking in your state in a heartbeat. “What’s wrong, sweetheart?”

You crumpled to the ground and started shaking again.

“It’s alright, it’s alright,” he coaxed, kneeling down and holding you in his arms. He rubbed your back soothingly. “I got you.”

***

You told him about the men, about the symbols on their jackets. John’s expression turned dark as you told him everything. 

“They won’t quit, they’ll keep comin’ back. It ain’t safe for you here all alone.”

“I called the cops, they said they’ll put some extra patrols around here for a while.”

John let out a snort. “They’ll just wait’em out, then they’ll come back.” He suddenly gripped your shoulders. “You have any problems, you call me, you hear?”

You nodded. “Okay, John. But you’re 40 minutes away, I don’t expect you to just come riding in if I call you.”

John hung his head. “I know. But I’ll try to be here as often as I can. Alright?”

The conviction on his expression was touching, but you were a practical person. Unless he moved to your town, you were mostly on your own.

“Why don’t you stay with your aunt and uncle for a while?”

The thought had crossed your mind, but you had dismissed it pretty quickly. “I don’t want to trouble them…”

He shook you slightly. “This is your life we’re talkin’ about here! Troublin’ someone is the least of your worries!”

You nodded. “Okay, okay. I’ll call them.”

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

Chapter 4

[twitintraining]

My fiance worked at a hospital that was state funded (and therefore had state retirement) for six years. I started working there as well in December, leaving a good job for better money and a more secure retirement. Prospects bright. Getting married next year. We're about three years into the mortgage on our home. We'd been together five years.

The hospital laid off 250 employees in May, including the both of us. I've never been fired before. I've always been so anxious at the thought and so dedicated at my work that I always dreaded the idea. I always believed (feared) I'd kill myself is such a thing happened, so have my worth rejected so completely in the only sphere of my life I'm willing to accept judgement.

I didn't though. I've been depressed and anxious since I was 12. I don't think I've ever gone a whole week without lying in bed at the entrance or exit of sleep and thinking "everything would be so simple if I didn't exist anymore." Usually it's at least half the days in the week. I'm thirty now. That's a lot of weeks, and a lot of days. There's so many more to go. But I'm accustomed to that kind of fear and dread. I miss my amazing job. I miss my fiance having the position he had justed moved into. Being laid off was horrible. We were so angry, hurt. I can't describe how alien that drive home was.

Unemployment rates are at an all time high. My fiance's retirement was matched by the state by like 17%, but since he was there only six years and not eight, all of that is swept away. Poof, gone. We have a mortgage to pay, and our one goal was to find jobs that would help us keep our house. Can't do that working for the $7.25 minimum wage in this state. My last job offered me a position back, but it was temporary, and and it wasn't going to meet the house note alone, and my fiance is still hunting for work.

So at the start of July I went back to the company I was at before them - because they pay enough that I can fund the house while my fiance hunts for something halfway lucrative. I worked here for five years before, and while I was at this company last, I became a heavy drinker and was regularly bullied and sexually harassed. I've never seen a place so tolerant of physical violence, predatory business practices, and proud of psychological abuse. I hate being back. I've been there for a month and I'm already back to spending my lunches crying in my car, and wasting most of my free time being angry and upset at what I see done there. Oh yeah, and now they terrify me too by refusing to keep distance and wear masks and everyone in my department has been to the beaches in Florida within the month I've been here.

We're going to have take away my grandmother license and put her in an assisted living place soon. She keeps running off the road. But she already can't breathe well and has major heart problems. I've got friends that are immunocompromised. My fiance no longer has health insurance, and we're thinking about getting secretly married so I can add him to my insurance. The wedding is indefinantly postponed due to Covid and financial confusion. We're thinking about selling the house at a severe loss. We're finding new ways to be thrifty. We're only seeing our loved ones and friends on screens. And let's not even talk about the news, which I don't know how to stop reading anymore.

I've been depressed and anxious since I was twelve. I compare it to being a mountain goat living on a craggy rock face. Covid and unemployment and isolation and money troubles are all producing a familiar kind of anxious dread, but this is all cumulative, not redundant. The rock face has been getting more and more shear this year, and I'm just a damn goat here. I'm scared of what's going to happen next. I'm scared of this rock face losing even more footholds, and I'm scared of slipping, and I'm scared of getting tired and giving up.

I think both optimism and pessimism are forms of self delusions, methods of blinding yourself so you can repaint a situation as something predictable and under control and make the unpredictable world a little easier to stomach. So I'm trying very hard to be neither optimistic or pessimistic. There is no blindfold that promotes survival. I'm trying to count my resources, I'm trying to look for the next thing to jump to before what I have dissolves. I'm terrified, and I'm trying to harness that in every way that I can. That's all the damn goat can do. Ba ba ba.

[wild-aloof-rebel]

When David steps into the motel, everything is almost disappointingly ordinary. The room looks the same as it had when he’d left it yesterday afternoon. An empty cinnamon roll box still lies open on the table. His overnight bag still sits atop the cedar chest. An army of nail polish bottles are still strewn across the nightstand. Alexis is propped up in bed, nose buried in her phone, and their mother is screeching something about "the wrong shade of black" on the other side of the connecting door.

David has walked in or woken up to a similar scene nearly every day for the past few years, and yet he’d expected today to be different somehow: a different room with different faces to greet him. Because today he is different. Because today he’s not the lonely and friendless misanthrope he’d been the day they’d moved in. He’s not even the hopeful and happy boyfriend he’d been just yesterday morning, excited about an afternoon picnic and wherever the evening might lead.

Because, today, he’s engaged.

How could anything possibly be the same?

Still in a bit of a daze about it all, he manages to make his feet carry him around his bed so that he can sit down. What he's supposed to do next, however, he isn't sure.

He’s engaged. Patrick had asked him to marry him. He’s engaged to the absolute love of his life, and they’re going to get married. They’re going to have a wedding. They're going to spend the rest of their lives together.

The full weight of the realization hits him like a truck, and he buries his face in his hands, overwhelmed and happy and relieved and embarrassingly, giddily, stupidly in love. He wants to cry. He wants to scream. He wants to laugh until his stomach aches. He's getting married.

“David?” comes Alexis’s voice from the other bed. “Are you oka– What are THOSE?”

He lifts his face to find her mouth open comically wide in shock, one accusatory finger pointed straight at his left hand. He hadn't been sure his family would even notice, wondering if he'd have to all but slap them across the face with them to get anyone to pay attention, but he should have known Alexis would sniff out new jewelry in a heartbeat. A glance at the four gold rings adorning his fingers sets his whole face twisting to hide the wide grin threatening to break free.

“David,” she says again, keener this time. “Are those what I think they are?”

He manages to move his head in a little tremor of a yes that grows and grows into an exaggerated, exuberant nod. “Yes,” he replies. “Yes, Patrick asked me to–”

“DAVID!” She launches herself off the bed, nearly toppling him over in excitement as she bounces onto the mattress beside him.

“Shhhhhh.” He glances toward the connecting door. “I am not telling mom before her afternoon valium kicks in."

"God, can you imagine?" she says with a grimace. “Let me see!” He holds his hand out to her and watches as she runs a gentle finger across his rings. Despite her obvious excitement, there’s something a little longing in the touch, something a little sad, and for a fraction of a second, he wants to pull her into his arms and tell her that she’ll have another chance at this. But then she opens her mouth again. “Are they 24 karat?”

“Fuck off, Alexis!” He snatches his hand away, but she just shimmies it right off of her shoulders.

“So did he get down on one knee? Did he do something super cliché like putting them in a glass of champagne? Oh my god, did he sing? Please tell me he sang something super embarrassing. I need the deets!”

“Okay, don’t say ‘deets.’ This isn’t 2005.”

David pushes himself to his feet. There’s too much excitement thrumming in his veins. He needs to move, or he might actually explode with joy, which would be the most embarrassing thing to happen to him in this room since his dad had walked in on him and Patrick celebrating their baseball win. Still, a soft smile slips back onto his face as he walks circles into the carpet, remembering the way Patrick's face had lit up when David had said yes.

“If you must know, he took me on a hike, and–”

“A hike? I thought you said you were going on a picnic.” Her look of surprise melts into a pout. “You poor thing.”

“Shut up,” he snaps, though there’s hardly any bite in it. He’s just too damn happy to really mean it. “We did have a picnic. It was just on top of a mountain. And it was perfect, okay?”

When she doesn’t tease him or press him for more details, he stops pacing to find her looking at him with some unfamiliar mix of emotions.

“What?”

“I just--" She shakes her head. "You’re engaged, David."

"I know."

"No, like, you're actually going to get married."

"I know."

"But you, David. Of all people."

“Um, there's a lake just up the highway. Can you drive into it please?"

She scoffs. “I didn’t mean it like that. It's just, like, I always assumed that I would be the one to get to have that great big dream wedding we used to plan when we were kids." Her fingers absently tangle in her hair, her eyes unfocused now as she gets lost in some thought that makes her smile. "Do you remember when we broke apart mom's pearls to use for the seating chart?"

David remembers it well. That had been back when Alexis's modelling career hadn't yet taken off and her only trips around the world had been on family vacations with the rest of them. Back when breaking into the wig room just to have a look around had been the most dangerous thing they'd ever dared to do. "Adelina thought she was going to be furious."

"But when we told mom, she just said to use the sapphires instead next time because they better complemented the color scheme." They both laugh at the memory. Things had been so much easier then, back before they'd both gone out into the world and let it make things hard.

Happiness had been easier.

Love had, too.

"You just never really seemed interested in all that," Alexis says. "The planning part, yes, but not the part where you get yourself a cute, little husband.”

David can’t stop the smile that blossoms across his face at the word. Patrick is going to be his husband. He buries his face in his hands again, feeling the way his skin heats against his fingertips at the thought.

“I wasn’t,” he admits through his fingers. “Interested. Before.”

“Patrick’s changed you, David.” The smile that she gives him is strangely proud. “You’ve let him change you.”

There are so many things he's done in the last year that he'd never thought he'd do in his life. Things he'd never wanted to do. He's hiked up a mountain, and he's hit a homerun, and he's clambered across shaky boards thirty feet in the air. He's learned about tax brackets and insurance premiums. He's gotten up before 9 a.m., when the occasion has called for it.

"I know," he says.

Patrick has taught him to compromise, has shown him that sometimes you have to give more than you take, has shown him that sometimes trust and contentment and unconditional love can still be easy.

Because at the end of the day, all he wants is to make Patrick happy. It's as easy and as hard as that. He wants to give back every single ounce of joy that Patrick has given to him, and if that means that sometimes he has to move the lip balms a few inches down the counter, then that's something David can do. Because Patrick--because his fiancé--is worth it.

"I kind of think--" Alexis says, frowning a little like the words taste sour on her tongue, "I think I want to hug you."

"I'm sorry?"

She stands up and steps closer. "Can I hug you, David?"

"Oh. Um, o-okay."

Her arms are around him before the word is all the way out of his mouth. She squeezes him tight, hands clasped together behind his back, and he wraps his arms around her shoulders, closes his eyes, and breathes.

It's been years since they've done this, standing in nearly this same spot after she'd broken up with Mutt, and David isn't the only one who's changed since then. Alexis has pushed herself to be better in nearly every area of her life. She'd gone back to high school. She'd gotten her certificate. She'd turned down a job offer that would have taken her out of this town. And in the most un-Alexis move of all, she'd let go of Ted--chosen his happiness over her own--only to find him choosing her in the end. David is fiercely proud of her. Even if he'd never say it.

"I can't believe you're getting married," she mumbles into his sweater.

He holds her a little closer, ignoring the tears threatening to form. "I can't believe you're leaving."

"I'll be back in six months."

"You better be." He pulls back with a watery little laugh, blinking against the sting of his eyes. "Who else is going to help me arrange all those diamond-studded floral centerpieces?"

She rubs a hand across a wet cheek and chuckles. "I think the diamonds are gonna be hard to come by these days. You might have to settle for cubic zirconia."

"Ew. Why would you even say that to me?"

"And since Elton probably isn't an option anymore, maybe you can just get mom and the Jazzagals to sing a little medley for your first dance."

"Oh my god. Stop!" He swats a hand at her, but she dances out of his reach.

"Instead of the horse-drawn carriages, there could be, like, goats pulling a wagon."

His horrified gasp is drowned out by her gleeful cackle, and she bounds across her bed as he lunges after her, chasing her around the room as she continues to hurl increasingly disgusting suggestions his way.

"The cocktail hour can feature sangria with that gross fruit wine mom filmed that commercial for. The dinner can be a barbecue. Oh! The ceremony can be at town hall. You can get married at Roland's desk!"

"I hate you."

He does. He hates that she knows exactly what buttons to push, and he hates that she could push them with her eyes closed. He hates that she's reminding him in this otherwise happy moment of everything that they've lost. But most of all he hates that she isn't even going to be here to help with most of the planning. All those fantasy weddings they'd imagined as kids, they'd dreamed them up together. How is he supposed to plan his real wedding without her?

She pouts at him, but her eyes are still shining with glee. God, he loves her. He's gotten so used to having her around, he really doesn't know what he's going to do without her for six months.

"Oooh," she squeals. "You and Patrick can rent suits from that menswear store in Elmdale."

Okay, he takes it back. He does hate her after all.

"I hope you get eaten by a tortoise."

[geminimoonbeamx]

Home, Again: Chapter One

A/N: Soooo, if you know me at all you know that thick Bucky is my religion and I love him with all of my heart. These new pictures of Sebastian on the set of ‘Devil All The Time’ have got me twisted. Literally I’ve been fawning over them for days. That man is too much for me and my libido and this is the product of that.

Word Count: 2k+

Rating: This particular chapter is pretty mild, lots of cursing mostly- the next chapter, and the ones to come after that will be extremely explicit though so get your bodies ready.

Summary: Moving back home was never in her itinerary, but after the loss of a family member and being fired from her job, she finds herself back in the town she grew up in and face to face with the man who’d haunted her teenage wet dreams. Now in her early twenties, maybe she can do something to make those dreams a reality.

A Plus Size Reader x Dad!Cop!Thick!Bucky Barnes story

It’s a surreal moment for you- waking up in your old room. The one that you’d grown up in, that you hadn't spent more than a couple nights at a time in- in the last six years.

Like some weird, out of body experience. Looking at the ceiling through blurry, sleep bogged eyes, with the sun shining clear and bright through the curtains fills your stomach with nostalgia that makes you feel like you might barf. 

You sit up, trudge to the bathroom, half feeling like you’re about to get ready for school or something- about to but on your Volleyball uniform or something.

While you're brushing your teeth you can't manage to drag your eyes away from your reflection. The bags under your eyes, that are ever present, seem to be deeper. Probably from all the moving you’d done in the past couple of days.

Picking up your entire life, and moving it from Brooklyn all the way back to Springs Port had not been easy.

Luckily your friends had been game for the three hour drive, and the little bit of heavy lifting(Pietro and Quill we’re life savers) when it came to your bed and room furniture. You’d sold your couches and tables. You didn't have your own place anymore, didn't know when you would again and since you we’re currently unemployed, you could use all of the extra cash that you could get.

That was you:

Living back at home. Job less. And broke- because you used that almost all of that furniture money to rent the U-Haul.

In that moment, with those harsh truths, you can't manage to look at your reflection anymore.

After taking a shower and getting ready- contouring and highlighting and concealing all of your self hate away, you do feel a bit better. It was a coping mechanism, yes. But You needed to be presentable anyways, you think.

You’re fine. You are fine, Y/N. Everything’s fine.

If you keep repeating it, and accept it as your reality, you’ll feel better, right?

You linger on that thought as you eat breakfast, which is a definite perk of being back home. Your grandmother stands near the stove- a pan hot and the kitchen full of the delectable smells of not only the omelets she was stirring up, but the crock pot that had who knows what already brewing.

Also, the ever present, and pungent herby smell of marijuana that followed her ever since her accident undercurrents that.

It sure beat the instant oatmeal you used to eat mornings back in the city.

“That smells so ridiculously good” You start as you slide onto one of the chairs at the kitchen bar “Also, good morning, Grams”

“Good morning, baby bird. You’re up early” She comments, as she gives you a knowing side eye “Or did you not sleep at all last night?”

There's honestly no use lying to her. She’d always had this sixth sense when it came to that- it had made your childhood a bitch.

“I slept. A little bit” you defend yourself, pouring yourself the cucumber orange juice she’d made. Sounds weird- is actually extremely refreshing. She likes to make weird concoctions with the fruits and vegetables she grows in her garden.

You get another one of those all knowing looks.

“Okay I didn't sleep as much as I could have, but I was just getting everything else unpacked. I’m finally done” you punctuate with an innocent shrug.

“You unpacked all those boxes? Y/N Y/M/N, there was about twenty of them. You’re not supposed to get unpacked in 24 hours, you need to give yourself time to process this change in your life. I really thought that indica was going to help. You should’a been knocked on your ass” She tells you as she plates up your food and sets it in front of you.

You thank her, and bite your tongue about the whole “processing” thing. She’d been all about that lately- since Grandma Vee died a few months ago and she’d started her group therapies; she’d become some kind of self made, self help guru.

You figure it’s better that then her falling apart.

You’re all kind of waiting for her to fall apart.

“I was thinking i’d go into town and job hunt today” You bring up the topic softly, both of you most of the way through your spinach, bacon, mushroom and goat cheese omelet.

She tutts at you, of course she does.

“I invited you to come back and live with me, I’m not expecting you to pay for anything, you know that” You love the way she words it. You wonder if she really thinks of it that way, that you’re here for her benefit and not the other way around.

“Grams, I get that I really do. But I have like fifteen bucks to my name right now. Even if it’s just something part time, I need to work” You tell her, in complete seriousness.

You’d had a job, steadily, since you were fourteen years old and the broke bitch life wasn’t for you.

She fussed, tells you that you that she is very capable of helping you with whatever you need. Promptly informs you that Grandma Vee’s life insurance will hold both of you down for a long while.

You don’t get how she can talk about her death so easily. Calm and level headed. It’s still that iron hot pain that comes from losing a loved one that burns for you. You’d felt it before and yet it didn’t dull one bit this time around.

“Yeah, that’s gonna be a fuck no from me. You have to use that money for you, grams. You know she’d want you to” is your blunt reply and she chuckles and throws her napkin at you as you stand.

“You watch your language in my fucking house, girl. You’ve always had such a bad potty mouth”

It’s inherited, you don’t tell her.

With a few more words of dissuasion from her and a kiss on the head and the reassurance that you’d still help her with her garden, even if you were working from you, you grab your keys and walk out into the already hot, New Jersey air.

--

It’s summer, mid June and Spring Port is and has always been a resort town. Sea side and picturesque- people flood in during the summer season.

It doesn’t surprise you that the towns square is currently a tourist trap and that parking is hard as shit to find. No matter, you find a space eventually.

Your turquoise Jeep Wrangler is the same one you’d driven before college, that you hadn't taken to the city with you. It has some  issues sometimes- the starters a little finicky and has to be worked on every six months or so, but it honestly still runs like a charm. Can get you from A to B just fine now, and you guess it is way better than subways and busses.

You end up walking around the entire towns square, and you’re glad you’d gone with slides instead of wedges. Everyone seems to be hiring, tourist season and all. And in the end you fill out four applications- handwritten at that which you think is a little funny.

It’s not that Springs Port is tiny really- with a population of 12, 000, there are definitely smaller places. Towns square is actually pretty decently sized- about twenty five or so tiny stores and restaurants scattered along main street. There’s a theater. Three gas stations. You guys don't have a Walmart in the towns perimeters technically- but there's one just a few miles away. And everything's waterfront, the docs a skip away. The Atlantic a continual backdrop.

Compared to New York though, it’s a blip on the map,. It feels smaller to you now that you’ve lived in the big wide world.

You’re walking down the cross of Harbor and Main- on your way to Goodies- which you hear Angie now owns, to meet Wanda and B for lunch when your feet get stuck where you are.

Frozen on the spot.

As you look at the flower shop, that’s overflowing with greenery across the street.

Infinity Flowers-

You can't help the draw to the store. Your feet seem to have a mind of their own- and you end up inside before you can really think of it.

Hell, it smells just like it used to. You haven't stepped foot in here since…

It’s pretty busy in the shop- it always was though. Best flower arrangements in the whole Garden state was it’s slogan, and it only exaggerated a little.

“I’ll be with you in one sec- Oh! Y/N” The bleach blond head that belongs to none other then Mantis bobs as she comes over and envelops you in a tight hug “I heard you we’re back in town! I was wondering when you we’re going to come in. I haven't seen you in so, so long”

She says all of this without letting you go and you chuckle and endure it because this was Mantis. Always such a hugger.

“Yeah, I was just job hunting in town and I thought I’d stop by”

“So you’re back for good then, yes?” She asks, after letting you go. Going to greet another customer warmly, while still managing to small talk to you. She’d always been good at making people feel at ease.

You tell her not really, just for the moment, as you fix the hydrangeas in the window display. They have them all wrong-

“Those we’re always her favorite” Mantis tells you what you already know and you nod and swallow the bit of sadness that bubbles up.

This. Is why you tend to stay away from this store. Thoughts of your late mother assault your psyche here, always- but also...you can't help but feel like you’re supposed to be here. Some of your happiest childhood memories we’re in this shop, surrounded by flowers. You can recall the sound of your mother’s laughter best here…

You leave the shop, after you’ve filled out an application.

You don't know why you did it but-

“I’m pretty sure I just got a job at Infinity Flowers” You inform Wanda and B, who are already sat at a booth in the little pub waiting for you when you get there. Sharon couldn't get a break from the station to come, but you couldn't hate her for it. She was just living her dream.

“Really?” Wanda asks, attempting to choose her words wisely “That's- I would never expect for that to be where you’d decide to work”

“What she means; is do you think that’s a good idea? There’s ghosts for you in there girly” B, Brunhilde(she’d kill anyone who used her full name though) has always been the bolder one in your group of friends. And that would never change.

“Mmm, I don't know what I think. Wanna day drink about it?” You suggest with a shrug as you go to wave down a waitress. One of their house made hard lemonades we’re sounding real good right now…

��Bitch, some of us have to go back to work” Wanda argues while B excitedly agrees, telling you that she’s already started.

Two and a half house lemonades later you are sufficiently buzzed and feeling better. Wanda has to get back to work at the antiques gift shop though, you you leave Angie a hefty tip(or rather your employed friends do) and head out.

It’s hot as hell, honestly and you think you might go sit on the beach for a while until you sober up enough to drive- you’re telling your friends that when you see a patrol car roll up to the bakery on the corner.

Out of the driver's seat exits one Bucky Barnes. AKA your teenage wet dream.

And holy god, does he look good. He’s flanked by a tall dark skinned man who you don't recognize, but who is also pretty damn fine.

You know you’re ogling, and your friends are laughing at you and taunting you, but in that moment you really don't care.

“Hot damn, he is still so fine, oh my god” You groan and Wanda chuckles as she lights up a cigarette.

“Yeah? The dad bod doing it for you?” She questions on an exhale of smoke.

“Totally. Is it possible that he got even more attractive? Like? How? And why did Sharon not tell me about this” You try to pull your eyes away from him, you really do.

But you’re a little drunk and the feelings you’d harbored for the older man come trickling back. Yeah, he’s gained some weight. Is broader- his shoulders big. His whole frame hulking. But he still has that swoon worthy dark hair, and that jawline you could see even from here. You wonder if his eyes we’re still that stormy blue color that you’d spent literal years dreaming about...You desperately wish you could go up and take a closer look.

“He’s really been hitting those doughnuts since the divorce, huh?” B snarks and you turn a cold glare at her.

“Don't body shame him. That’s disgusting” You snap and she holds up a hand.

“Jesus, you know I’m just kidding. I forgot how fucking touchy you are about him” She defends herself and you try not to go on a rant about how talking about anyone's body, male female or anyone in between.

You end up doing it anyway and the whole time Wanda grins and tells you how much she’s missed you, and B tells you how much of a sensitive cunt you are.

All in all, it’s good to be home. Even if you are a total failure of a human being at the moment, your brain can't help but tac on to the end. As you watch the police cruiser pull out of the parking lot, and think about the man that sits inside- you think about the fact that you aren't sixteen anymore. And he’s not married...

And in that moment- you realize just how good it is to be home. 

And there it is. If you'd like to be tagged in future chapters, please let me know! I’m thinking, and have this planned out to be about five chapters. Just a sexy, juicy, emotional quick read. Some Angst ridden smut coming your way!

Also- I appreciate reviews and reblogs more than you could imagine. They are literally fuel for me- so if you can spare some time to give me your opinion, I’d love you forever!

@gifsbysimplysonia @peacefulwriter88 @prettybubblesintheair @lostinthoughtsandfeelings @lostinspace33 @4theluvofall @plumfondler @tatathekissypotato @jaamesbbarnes @jalapenobarnes @siren-kitten-his @brieannakeogh @skishenanigans @paulxrudd

[layesica]

2019: It was a year that ends tonight.

2018 was rough, right? Well, so was 2019!

I did not feel like writing this, but it’s a tradition now, so for the fifth year in a row, here’s what I did all year with some of the crappy crap that made it not the greatest. I can’t promise an unwavering sense of optimism, but it’s okay. I’m okay. Here we go!

JANUARY Went to The Not Inappropriate Show at UCB curated by the Odenkirks, then Spent New Years Eve at Dynasty Typewriter with Ian & Emily. It was fun, but... eh. Home is better, y’all. Home is always better. Did a couple performances of a show at Second City – A Fonzie Scheme. It was fun. I was in an improv class at The Pack. I think it was Improv 4. The last weekend of January, Very Famous went to Sketchfest, which was super amazing. That’s, like, a goal. And even though it had pretty much nothing to do with anything I did, it was cool. And it was fun. And I was at a party with Neil Patrick Harris and I was SUPER cool about it.

Went to stuff: LA Times screening of Spider-Man: Into The Spider-Verse. It was free, and I would have never seen it otherwise. I enjoyed it. It was good.

Salt & Straw Flavor: Toasted Coconut Milk & Cookies (V)

FEBRUARY Made a return trip with Ian & Emily to San Francisco. Well, Oakland with an SF jaunt. I don’t have any cool stories, but Emily fought a seagull for her cookie and won, and that was pretty badass. On the drive back, there was a ton of snow just on the other side of the Angeles National Forest. I wasn’t excited enough to get out of the car, but snow is nice to look at. Oh, I had lunch with one of the head writers on my dream show that my old roommate met at the gym. I am terrible at networking.

Went to stuff: LA Times screening of VICE. It was free, and I would have seen it... eventually. It was... a bit... self-indulgent.

Salt & Straw Flavor: “The Chocolatier Series” = Jeni’s Coffee & Sweet Cream

MARCH Auditioned for a house improv team at The Pack. I didn’t mention working with a practice group all of February & March to prep for that. The biggest bummer about not getting on a team may have been the loss of that practice group. It was fun while it lasted.

Went to stuff: Saw comedy dads, Bob & David, at Largo. They asked for volunteers, and I almost passed just thinking about it. Ian & Emily jumped up there. Good for them!

Salt & Straw Flavor: Smoked Sea Salt & Chocolate Crack

APRIL Interviewed for a new job at one of the guilds. HEY! I owe the government $3700. That’s fun! I went ahead and added a good purse to my new 0 APR card.

Went to stuff: Dana Gould Podcast at Dynasty Typewriter. Panel with Conan Writers at Lyric Hyperion. For some reason, I saw Avengers: Endgame. I dunno. I feel like I should see it through for some reason. Deadline did their day-long FYC event, The Contenders, at Paramount, so I spent all day seeing so many people from TV and eating so much yummy food in between. Amazon FYC at Hollywood Athletic Club – went mostly for the building. Prime seat at Conan taping.

Salt & Straw Flavor: Wildflower Honey with Ricotta Walnut Lace Cookies – I wait all year for this to roll around again!

MAY We were supposed to have a call for a travel show on Buzzfeed, but they ghosted us. I went camping with a huge group at Idyllwild, which would have been fun, but it was FREEZING and I got SUPER sick on the second day. After a few days, I got better and got the guild job. Free insurance, baby! (More on that later.) Bought a Universal pass.

Went to stuff: A UCB show with people from Chicago. Free Booksmart screening with Q&A. Such a good movie! LA Times panel for Broad City. I never really watched it, but I would love to have a partnership like that! Netflix FYSee for Nanette. Guys, people are like vultures for the passed trays. Adam Sandler at Dynasty Typewriter. Attended the actual red carpet, fancy-pants premiere of Amazon’s Late Night. It was enjoyable and not at all realistic, and I could not stop staring at John Early in the theater. He glows!

Salt & Straw Flavor: Pear & Blue Cheese

JUNE Went to stuff: FYSee for Dead To Me. I had not seen it yet, but then I watched it and it’s good. JV show at UCB with Paul F Tompkins. Did a lap at the AT&T Shape event that is always free. I only go to be on the WB lot where I would like to be more often. Like, 40+ hours a week more often. That’s it. I just went to stuff.

Salt & Straw Flavor: Campfire S’mores (with Brian)

JULY SO. MANY. EARTHQUAKES. After the third one, it stopped being cute. Went for a drive to the Angeles Forest and hiked to a waterfall. Did a sketch with Very Famous at Packcon. It was a small group, so I got a part! Huzzah!

Went to stuff: Saw Once Upon a Time in Hollywood at the Cinerama dome. (First visit!) Not a great idea because I kept trying to pick out the scenery and got a bit of motion sickness. Shirtless Brad Pitt on a roof in the ‘70s is nice.

Salt & Straw Flavor: Goat Cheese Marionberry Habanero (2x)

AUGUST Went on a random overnight to San Jose. Time to get panicky about Pack Sketch Teams! I did what I should have done last year and requested to be moved. I loved the people on my team, but I wasn’t getting a return on investment for myself. And that’s no fun. Did a show called Gibberish with Duckboi as Sharon Osborne and wore a great wig. Sketch is fun. Fell off my bike & got bruised legs.

Went to stuff: Mike O’Brien & Friends at Lyric Hyperion. Saw some Pack shows to be a supportive. Put up a sketch at GSY.

Salt & Straw Flavor: Green Fennel & Maple

SEPTEMBER Started working tech at UCB. It’s pretty easy. I get to see new faces... and old faces, too. I have no more comedy theaters to work at. Well, unless someone is going to pay me real money. My vision has been getting blurrier, so I went to the eye doctor to get new glasses. Ended up getting referred to a specialist for a “freckle” in my eyeball, but had to wait a month to go. Submitted a character video for Pack Sketch performer auditions. Got a callback! That’s one step further than last years attempt, and I actually came up with characters and I was pretty proud of it. Came up with more characters, then faced the fear of being on a stage all by myself while trying to be funny. I felt good about it. It used to take a day to find out, but not this time...

Link to Character Audition Video

Went to stuff: Got an AMAZING ticket (location & price) to see Skintight at the Geffen with friggin’ Idina Menzel. She is a queen! It’s a cute theater I should go to more stuff at. Saw Scott Thompson as Buddy Cole at the Lyric Hyperion. So good! I think I’ve seen the evolving show every year I’ve lived here. My face hurts for several days after. Lyndsey got a fancy job and invited me to the Dreamworks Friends & Family screening of Abominable. Would not have seen it. It was cute. Thanks, Lyndsey!

Salt & Straw Flavor: Forgettable

OCTOBER Flew to Denver for my cousin’s wedding. I almost typed, “weeding.” That’s Colorado for you. It was my first time to see my family all year. The time just got away from me. I got a late flight out and spent the day walking around Denver on my own. Went to a good bookstore. Ate some Giordano’s. Left my luggage in a van. Found out I got cut from Very Famous – also, Very Famous got cut from sketch night – and I didn’t make a new team. Started watching new season of Mr. Robot and felt so lost, so started it from the beginning. The new Almodóvar came out, so I bought one of those expensive Arclight tickets. It was very, very good. Maybe my favorite Almodóvar film. Worth it! Saw the specialist about my eye. They dilated it, took a bunch of pictures, did a closed-eye ultrasound (Yeah, they use jelly for that!), and refereed me to another specialist. Hunter picked me up, and I ate at Canter’s for the first time. The specialist’s office made the appointment for me at an oncologist. Guys, I just wanted new glasses and now can’t stop Googling some pretty scary stuff! Lyndsey took me to USC & hung out with me for a while. They dilated my eye, took a bunch of pictures of it with a bunch of different machines, performed an OPEN EYE ultrasound, saw two trainees and then the doctor. She said she is not diagnosing me with melanoma. BUT it has the orange color and a sliver of the fluid that are “concerning.” The pictures of the tumor weren’t as large at the ophthalmologist’s pictures made it look. So... bright side, I guess. I go back in January to check for changes. Margot scooped me up and brought me home. Baby’s first root canal! 

For our very last Very Famous show, everyone got to put up a sketch they wrote. My favorite had too much production, so I did a black out. It turned out great, and I felt loved. It was a very nice way to go out.

Went to stuff: Two weeks after the Arclight screening, the LA Times invited me to see Pain & Glory with a Q&A, so I finally got to be in a room with my favorite director. I may have cried... slightly more than I did just seeing the film.

Salt & Straw Flavor: Black Cat Licorice & Lavender (2 cones, 1 pint)

NOVEMBER It was time for Penelope’s annual visit to the vet, so I rented a car for the weekend and took her. She had lost quite a bit of weight. I sprung for all the tests, and she has kidney disease. Her numbers aren’t terrible, but there’s not really treatment for it. We switched to a new kind of prescription food. All I can do is be good to her and try to keep her hydrated & happy. So... yeah... September – November have been... uh... not so great. On the bright side, I got invited to be in the Night Cap with Stacy Rumaker show as a character! I love this show so much - and when you read a thing in December, this show is the exception to that. I was so nervous, but I pulled it together and think it went very well. It felt good! Also, I am so emotionally invested in Mr. Robot! Mom & Dad came to visit for Thanksgiving and that was a nice relief. It rained most of the time, but we got out at about a bit.

Went to stuff: Vulture Fest screening of MacGruber with Will Forte & John Solomon.

Salt & Straw Flavor: Spiced Goat Cheese & Pumpkin Pie (with Mom & Dad)

DECEMBER Fell off my bike, bruised my legs, and scraped a chunk of skin off my hand. Finally: I left my mark on this town! I was not in the mood to plan a birthday thing, but rented a car to take Penelope for her health certificate she might need to fly home with me, then went on a showtune-belting drive on my birthday. Not the best drive ever, but it was nice to just drive aimlessly. Margot went with me to dinner at an Italian place in Los Feliz. In other news, Penelope gained some weight. Then I flew home for Christmas. I’ve just been sitting around with Mom & Dad, and it has been great. I had lunch with Justin & traditional margaritas & Tex-Mex with Lindsey. I finally did an entire month of morning pages after 4 years, so I may be done with that. Oh, and I (temporarily) quit comedy.

Went to stuff: Saw CATS (can’t hate on a bad movie with bad source material) & Little Women (I cried so much!)

Salt & Straw Flavor: Apple Brandy & Pecan Pie (with Brian), but I’m in Texas now, so I’m ending the year with some Blue Bell Homemade Vanilla. Do better, Tyler!

So, that’s it. I was not looking forward to this, but it did make me feel a little better since the crap at the end has just felt like it has beaten me down. I’m not a quitter, but a breaker is maybe a good idea for a bit. I don’t have any resolutions for 2020.

If you’re still here, THANK YOU for reading my yearly download. I hope that you are doing well.

You’re great!

I love you!

Have a great 2020!

[cowboyjen68]

Hi! I’m a youngish (31) butch and I’ve been doing some restoration work with my dad on what’s left of my family ranch. living outside of town w/a garden and livestock and reasonably self-sufficient appeals to me, but I’m not very good at making friends and I’m worried if I go this route I’m going to be alone forever. Maybe we need a farmersonly for lesbians lol. Advice?

Well it is true that it becomes hard to meet people in isolation. I live 12 miles from CR and 35 from Iowa City so I am not super isolated. BUT you can put some things into place. 

Make sure you can get high speed internet.. satelite can be an option and pricey but better than none.  This will help you find others. 

Think about renovating a bunk house or making sure you have several guest rooms. ACTIVELY seek lesbians to come stay at your place. They can pay or exchange for work or a little of both. Advertise in places like http://www.lconline.org/ or other places on Tumblr or in festival programs. Lot of women LOVE visiting women’s land.. even if only for a weekend. I have a friend with a goat farm. She throws a camp out two times a year and the lesbians come to her  20 to 35 each time.  Make your own community. It can  be a simple gathering. 

ALSO find some one nearby or teach a college student to caretake for your animals for up to a week. This gives you a chance to get away for vacations or just weekend trips to the city. Some people will take partial trades on things like eggs or meat in exchange for watching your place. Some crazy city folk will come just to “enjoy” the chores.. 

Invite groups to camp on your land.. local girl scouts or maybe women’s book club.. You might have to get a small umbrella insurance policy (check with you home owners) Maybe look at rentable port o potties and put up a fire pit. Access to fresh water..This takes a bit more work. YOU CAN just have a casual campout with adult lesbians as you find more rural lesbians around your area. They exist. 

County life does not have to equal isolation.  

[laketaj24]

Gladiator IV

A/N: It’s back! I hope you enjoy the update! Taglist open and please let me know what you think! 

Gladiator I, Gladiator II, Gladiator III Vikings MASTERLIST

Warnings: SMUT, SLAVERY. 

Ubbe wades through the water in the barracks alone, a privilege given only to the Champion of the Ludus. Ubbe sits upon the steps washing his body with sponge and then dipping it back into the water. There was little peace to be obtained in the days of late. He’d won over ten victories in the past three months, rising Dominus Aurav to fame and hearing his name chanted even in his sleep.

“Gladiator Ubbe.” Aurav enters the bathing chambers with his guardsmen not too far behind. “You fought well last week.” He smiles. “And now you are needed in a different form tomorrow. The Senator’s daughter has taken interest in you, beyond the arena. And it is to my understanding that my sister Y/N and you have been spending time together. Nothing will ever come of it. She cannot marry property.”

His words sting Ubbe’s ego for a moment, but it was not something foreign to him, he knew the law just as well if not better than Dominus Aurav. “Dominus.” He pauses sitting back in the water. “I am here to serve.”

“Precisely, clean yourself and become well rested. I order you to not mount my sister until after you have bedded this senator’s daughter for my sister fucks you for free and she has offered 100 denarii. Is this understood?”

“Yes.”

“Nice speaking with you, granted you had little to say. The guardsmen will have their eye on you two, as they do always, do not defy my orders and I might let her watch.” Aurav waves over to one of the younger gladiators. “You will do for tonight. Guards.” He leaves the barracks bathing pool just a quietly as he arrived taking a gladiator with him.

 ***

“Are they all topless?” Hvitserk grinned biting into the pomegranate. He nudges Bjorn taring down at the women. “I could get used to this.”

“I am sure it appeases you Hvitserk, it is likely the only way that you can see them.” Ivar eyes watch the marketplace for her figure. He had seen her a day before tagging along the works of a slender gentleman and now today she walked through the place unaccompanied. “I will take my leave.” Ivar smiles fixing his royal blue tunic.

“We are to meet here at high noon Ivar.” Bjorn wipes his face. “We are not here for leisure, and bare in mind this is the same place you referred to as the scourge of the earth.”

“I have yet to take back my statement, brother.” Ivar hops onto the steps. “But why not bask in the place of filth while we are required to be here.” And with that he takes his leave merging into the flow of traffic far beyond the eyes reach of his two older brothers.

Hvitserk’s hair drapes among his shoulders. “His name has only been stated in among the peasants, brother.” He spits the seeds to the ground tearing off another piece of the pomegranate. “For all we know they murmur the name of a legend.”

“The Ludus is ten miles south of the city, but half a day’s journey. You will present yourself to the Lanista and declare your desire to become a gladiator.” Bjorn perches against the wall rolling his eyes at his younger brother who chides the women below. “Hvitserk the Younger, will you listen. This gladiator task is endearing, but we must have eyes on him before we proceed to call upon father.”

“I hear you Bjorn. I unlike Ivar do not have the attention span of a child. I fully understand my role within this plan of yours.”

“Perfect, then I shall spare myself the wasted breath to explain it to you once more. When Ivar returns we will send you on your way and we shall see you at the games within a fortnight if you progress as you say you will.”

“I have slaughtered hundreds of men in battle, you doubt me Bjorn?”

“I doubt all of you.” He says sucking through his teeth, “Find Ivar, he’s had enough time.”

Atria was rarely allowed into the city without supervision but having been the slave of the house for so long Aurav nor yourself did not think ill of her intentions. She paced through the city collecting everything on the list. There were to be guest tonight and the Domina had plans to make sure they were well fed and fucked to insure patronage to the house.

The hot sun beamed upon her exposed shoulders, the nearly sheer dress done nothing to protect her tawny skin from the searing rays of the sun. She takes to the merchants beneath the awnings picking her needed things from the list. “Four pomegranate and ten plums.” She smiles at the merchant and watches him bag the items for her.

“You are the first beauty I have laid eyes upon in this dreadful place.” He leans against the table in front of her. His veined arms are revealed beneath the white toga. He bit into the plum wiping the excess juice from his face. “And I have traveled far and wide across this wasteland called Rome.” He grins, and she pays him no mind moving to the merchant with busy eyes. He growls in frustration sifting through the traffic of people. Rudely he shoves and moves ahead until he is by her. “What is your name?”

“Five pears please.” Atria says ignoring him.

He groans in frustration stopping in front of her. He accesses her from head to toe. The curly head woman before him was like unlike any other woman he had seen before. Her hair rung in tight coils that draped to her shoulders, with lips pink like a rose. Her beautiful sun brazened skin nearly glowed against the sage colored dress and then her eyes twinkled like starlight. He was not going to have her ignore him. “I would have your name.”

He steps in front of her halting her stride and smiling at her with wide blue eyes and a smile. “Have I been rude or disrespectful to you?” He asks.

“No sir you haven’t. I am simply buying food under the order of Dominus Aurav.”

“Dominus Aurav is not my concern.” He pauses. “I am Ivar.” Ivar announces himself with a mischievous grin and wide eyes. “Why are you barred?” He touches the metal brace around her slender neck and steps back. “Are you enslaved?”

“I am, Ivar. And being such, if Dominus Aurav is none of your concern than neither am I, May the Gods bless you and may you stay out of my way. Ivar.” She feels the heat radiate her face as the crimson color flushes her body. Never had she taken the eye of a man so handsome.

“Why the aloofness? I simply wish to make my time here in Rome better.”

“What brings you here?”

“That is a private matter.” He reaches into her bag and grabs one of her pears tossing it above his head and then back into the bag. “You shop for your master, yet you get nothing that will sustain or nourish the body, only entertain. Fruits, nuts and wines. Do Romans not eat meat?”

“I cannot and will not cart goat up to the villa, there are men there for that purpose. You ask many questions and you have not yet stated from where you come? Why should I bestow answers about my master to you, a stranger of Rome?”

“But not a stranger to beauty and the finer things of life. Everything is crueler here in Rome. The arena, the sports,” He pauses giving her a devious eye. “The women.” Ivar walks beside her. “How long will it take for your master to search for you while you are absent from him?”

“My absence?”

“Yes,” He removes the hair from her shoulder and his finger traces along her collar bone. Ivar wets his lips and shakes his head. “You are going to be busy for a few.” He takes her hand leading her from the busy streets of the city and to the catacombs of the city. He looks up at the busy movements of the people smiling. “I think you deserve a moment away from it all,” He whispers leaning in closer to her. “Just to breathe.”

Atria shifts her weight swaying listening to the people pass above her and Ivar’s deep breaths. He steps closer to her and she swallows hard. “I have to leave now, Ivar.”

“Ivar, son of King Ragnar, Prince of Athens.” He smiles. “I fair that this is not the last time that we shall see one another, no?”

“If the gods will us seeing one another again, Prince Ivar… then it will be.”

“The gods tend to shine their favor upon me. I am confident I will see you again.”

***

The Recruits line the center of the small arena, it was nothing new to you watching them get whipped into shape. They were feeble compared to the men your Ludus had produced, all but one. He stood at the end with his crooked smile jarring at the experienced gladiator in front of him. You watch intrigued, wondering what Ubbe would do if he had a chance at the exuberant character in the rink. You fan yourself reaching for a glass of water from a quiet Atria.

“How was the marketplace?”

“Pleasant Domina.” She said with a subtle smile.

You pay her no mind. There were other matters of pressing concern. The senators daughter, Aurelia a close friend of your brother had purchased a session with Ubbe. This was customary. Women far and wide would travel to the villa just to be bed by them, but this was treachery, for Aurav knew the closeness of Ubbe to you. You hadn’t spoke to him really but in passing, thinking of ways to strip power from him seemed pointless except but by marriage, and you would rather be chained to your brother than remain miserable in the rest of your days.

The quick recruit springs out jabbing his wooden sword knocking the trained gladiator down before him and giggling as he won. The others watched intrigued, it was told he volunteered, it didn’t surprise you. This one looked accustomed to the madness. “Atria, where are they preparing Ubbe?” You whisper pulling her near you.

“Aurelia and Aurav are approaching Domina, I dare say you are too late.” She takes the goblet of water from you and nod over to your brother and the young blond. She approaches you smiling. “Speak Domina.”

“Aurelia, a site for sore eyes.” You grin kissing each of her cheeks before taking her hand from Aurav. You walk to the edge of the balcony. “See our fine recruits today.” You nearly sit staring over. “The youngest one at the end is quite a site.” And he was, the long hair clearly showing he was not from your barracks and his grin. He had a maniacal grin. His eyes stare up at the balcony and Aurelia turns to you. “Ubbe awaits you.”

“Is he as energized as he?”

“I do not know, I do not mingle with slaves.” You smile. “That one is not a slave, but a free man. He came here willingly.”

Aurav cut his eye over to you nodding his head indiscreetly. “Ubbe awaits you.”

“I want him.” She smiles. “He is a savage, and I personally am ready to be ravaged I will wait in the chambers Aurav. Do not keep me waiting. You know how I am about waiting.” She kisses your hand parting from you with her servant.

Aurav seethes beside you. “He has not been washed like Ubbe. I had plans.”

“Aurav, remember who put you in charge of this villa, whose money you sit on. Whose house you dwell in,” You pull him buy his shirt. “No one will fuck him but me. Is this understood? I would hate for you come up missing and I have to find another Dominus.”

“Keep your fucking filthy slave, sister.” He whispers. “One day soon he will be a distant and faint memory as the prior gladiators in his status, the new recruit already looks promising.”

“Good clean him, I hear he is already swelling your pockets.” Once he leaves you turn to Atria with a wide grin. “Fetch me a cloak and see that Ubbe is sent to the chambers upstairs please?”

***

Aurav had Ubbe sent back to the Barracks which meant you had to cloak yourselves. You await him at the bottom of the steps away from all the gladiators in their quarters patiently. And finally, he appears around the corner with a furrowed brow and yet a smile. “Domina.” He smirks. “What are you doing here at such hour? You will surely be seen.” He whispers peaking through the flow of linens hanging from the wash area.

“I nearly lost myself today. The thought of you with another woman,” You pause trying not to tell all of your faults to him. “You look well cleaned. How many servants did Aurav send to clean you?”

“Jealous, are we?” Ubbe peers up the stairwell. “We have but a moment, I am expected back a training. I must prepare the new recruits for the test.” Ubbe backs you into the corner lifting your dress. “Won’t it be brave of you to return to your friends freshly fucked by the man she desired? Smiling at them while picturing me between your legs.” He whispers as he places you on the stone counter. You remove his subligaria (roman underwear) without hesitation. “You mustn’t make sound, I could end up with lashes on my back.” He says lifting your legs to pull you closer to him. “Can you handle that?”  

You whimpered biting your tongue as his calloused fingertips kneaded your thigh. Of course not. He made you lose control of yourself but that wasn’t important now. Ubbe shakes his head already predicting the outcome. He enters you sharply, pressing his cock deep in you and muffling your cries into his chest. Every thrust is intentionally meant to rile you there quickly. He slams his hips against yours and then winds it giving friction to your clit only to slam back into you over and over. Your legs wrap around his waist pulling him deeper and a moan escapes. He covers your mouth pumping into you faster and faster then snaking his hand between the two of you to rub circles on your clit. “Cum for me. I can hear them approaching.” He warns. He circles faster and faster combined with the thrusts of his hips and you come shaking into him allowing him to finish himself.

He was right down the steps marched the recruit and the guardsmen throwing him into the common room. You pull Ubbe closer to you and he peppers kisses down your neck listening for the guards to leave and stands. “Good woman you, you can be quiet.” He kisses you once more. “Take your leave. The senator’s daughter will be in search of you.”

“Have you seen the recruit, he is fearless. More so than you I fear.”

“I fear nothing, not even death Domina.” He assists you to the floor and fixes your dress for you. “Sleep well, and may your dreams be of me.” Ubbe watches you up the steps and turns back to the barracks fixing his subligaria.

“We come to save you, and here you are fucking your owner.” Hvitserk smiles with wide eyes at his brother.

“Hvitserk the Younger.” He beams. “What are you doing here? Where are the others?”

“Come, I have plenty to tell you brother. But first,” He pauses. “Are all their women here as unexpectedly wild in bed as Aurelias? I might have to stay here a while.”

@ivarsshieldmadien@equalstrashflavoredtrash@whenimaunicorn@akamaiden@siren-queen03 @titty-teetee@sparklemichele@greennightspider@tomarisela@scumyeol@raindrop-dewdrop@naaladareia@vikingsmania@readsalot73@oddsnendsfanfics@amour-quinn@wheredidallthedreamersgo@unsure-but-trying@leaderradiante@microsmacrosandneedles@valynsia@captstefanbrandt  @therealcalicali @lol-haha-joke @b-j-d @cinnabearice@cris101071 @ivarswickedqueen @cheychey10142@ilvebeenabad @starrmoondaisy @kissedbydragonfire@ceridwenofwales @imgoldielikehawn  @ilooklikeididyesterday@grungyblonde @tephi101 @leaderradiante @selenedarkbloom@bang-kim-bap @rekdreams247

[rystalwope-blog]

prime time boost

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It recuperates the body quicker than different items and encourages the body to remain solid and shielded from various hurtful issue. Insurances to be utilized while utilizing this enhancement The client ought to pursue play it safe before utilizing this enhancement as can hurt the body if not devoured appropriately. The item ought to be taken distinctly by the recommendation of a specialist dietician. The client should repel the item from daylight and in a cool and dry spot. The item ought not be kept open for quite a while. It ought to be avoided the range of the youngsters and it ought not be expended in an over the top amount.

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Great. I can't sleep. I was all comfortable and ready to pass out and then my thoughts turned towards the nightmare I had yesterday.

Grrr I'm so MAD. I dreamed about my mother and our move and my sister(s) and family... There was randomly a carwash involved, but mostly our old place with an Alice in wonderland/Willy Wonka twist... just Uck all around.

There were so many duplicates of my blanket (with different colors and sizes and patterns) that it seemed null and void... I couldn't pack all of them.. I wanted just the original, just mine, but with time constraints and stress I couldn't remember and ended up shoving too many of the damned things into the limited space.. plus too much crap I didn't want or need.. just wanted to be rid of it all but I couldn't risk going without insurance or comfort.. I'd either go mad or be in danger... And it was frustrating. I had to pack it all myself too or lose.

My mother was there... My sister ended up trapped by her in glass tubing wrapped around her like rope and it was just bad. If it broke wrong it would shatter altogether and hurt my sister... Shatter incorrectly in a different direction and we would all be hurt.. and I was so mad. It was supposed to 'protect' her my mom claimed... But it was so stupid. My sister was scared and crying. Didn't care if we hurt her, but was so worried we'd get hurt and it was so wrong because she didn't care about herself... Uuurgh.

All kinda true here.. metaphorically.

And it's got me thinking... My mom is the annoyingly self destructive type... ESPECIALLY if someone isn't there to frigging BABYSIT her. She'll drink or smoke herself silly. She'll starve herself and work herself to the bone and SOMEHOW manage to be unproductive while doing so. Basically it won't make a single God damn difference. She'll still be broke and poor and miserable.. plus you know.. literally dying the whole time.

And I'm just so IRRITATED Because it is NOT my responsibility to stop her or babysit or take care of her.... But I can't just SIT here all cushy and comfortable while she kills herself.. believing she's all heroic and 'deserving' and better for it... Cuz she's N O T.

God.. that woman needs so much gd help yet is the ungodly-est mother fucking stubborn ass goat of all time. *Muffled scream*

I want to shake her so bad. Right down to her very core ... So bad I knock THAT sort of stupid RIGHT OUT OF HER. To where if she EVER even THINKS of doing something like that EVER AGAIN she whips right back around and walks out that metaphorical door, slamming it shut behind her.

...

Everyone who's seen her lately had done me the 'kindness' of telling me she looks like a fucking crack addict. Like she's going to snap in half at any gd moment. I had reports previously (from her) of her working 4 different jobs and not caring of the toll and bullshit it caused... Yet HOW. How in God's or any dieity's good flipping name does she owe people collectively over $800 dollars????? Not including the $3000 she's trying to pin on me (the loan she swore and swore was fine/paid for time and time again and that is, guess what? Not in my name at ALL. I'm NOT paying that shit!!).

I. Don't. Get. It.

Yeah, sure, I KNOW she's not been working for the past month because of 'needing to be there' for her bf's son. He's away on a job after hernia surgery.. but seriously... Him doing stuff like that should mean that HIS bills are taken care of.. and she literally lives under his roof soooo... Not like she should be wanting for food... I KNOW she's not wanting for her two major addictions- cigarettes and mtn dew. Saw her smoking away and drinking the stuff as I hauled shit out of our old place...

So why TF would she be in such disgusting (sorry I'm angry and by the descriptions, it's really not pretty) shape?

Even before I dropped the damned bombshell of the move... What is she DOING to herself? And bloody W H Y?

....

Idk what to do.. god I hate her and her damned guts.. but DAMN IT I WILL NOT BE BLAMED FOR HER SHITTY CHOICES. URGH.. yet it feels like we're there in a way.. that if I or SOMEBODY doesn't step tf up.. she's gonna finally succeed in becoming her damn martyr...

Maybe this is how people like her get ya...

You know it's not your fault. You KNOW their choices are their own... But they play that damned fiddle... They sing a song of woe and sorrow so gd deep you somehow actually become the bad guy... Doesn't matter the damned evidence. Doesn't matter how you stand up and shout 'NO'.. if you don't DO something.. it's on you.

...

You know what she did the last time I saw her? You know what she did right in front of me? She threw out her back... I was right there. I told her to ask for help for ANYTHING. I had a 'big strong guy' with me RIGHT THERE too- MORE than willing to help out. And she REFUSED. Refused to ask for help.. and moved the wrong gd thing by herself.. and injured herself so fucking BAD she could hardly stand or breathe... Yet then when I was right there ACTUALLY helping her with something AFTER this, she INSISTED on lifting a 20 gallon fishtank with enough water still in it I could barely lift it.. while bent over. What the actual... *Ahem*

...

I've done this to people. I've played that fiddle.. hurt myself and told them it was their fault. Starved and worked yet bore no fruit.

I've been abusive. I've been this creature.. I am so ashamed, but I will never, EVER do it intentionally again. I will never forget what I've done.. how many people I hurt doing it. It will never go away.. and I don't expect forgiveness.. yet have been lucky enough to receive it from so many. There are still more I wish to apologise to and may never get the chance.... Whether they would forgive me or not.. I still wish I could.

.. I know now where I learned it... Why it was all I knew for a time.. But I know not just how to deal with it in another person. When it's all this person ever knew...

I hate her. I hate her so much.. and yet I pity her.

[angelicdemonx13-blog]

My n Nana’s story long version

Most of the things in my life I only explain ever once in a while, when i’m ready because in transitioning from young adult to adult we sometimes feel like we need to prove things or defend our choices or actions. When we don’t. There are very few ppl that are entitled to information or have your best interest at heart. The fact that they are trying t force information out of u, manipulating, n making u feel bad for nothing u did wrong, for information that is none of their business, shows that.

I’ve even had some doctors be insensitive, u know ppl u think know better, or would have more tact or care. ““I have a fur baby” “ehhh that’s not the same really”  

I came home from deployment n got a truck, my first rented home, n I went to get my dog oreo who had been boarded all deployment. I had paid throughout deployment, but even returning it’s a costly thing. I still owed 2,000$ I paid 1,000$ til I could pay the rest.

Soon after that I was invited to a family mountain trip camping, and I took oreo, n she did great n had a good time, I left early for a relatives wedding and to visit a bf/ old friend of mine n brought oreo home.

Soon after that, my rented home, was not fenced n sat on a 5 lane highway. It was middle of the night early morning, 12am -5am n she was out pottying, n got a wild hair up her butt n ran across the street, no traffic. I called her, n she was on her way back across, when a black truck hit her, I don’t know what happened after that. She didn’t come t my side. N I looked fir her for days, n talked to neighbors. I didn’t find her.

I was distraught, I had recently lost my biological mother, n it hit me hard, I barely had her back.

A military friend had a puppy that they couldn’t keep, asking 400$ for her, I gave them 300$ intending t pay the rest, but that friend has never faulted me for that 100$.

A pure bred shepherd months old puppy, whose mom was a prize winning show dog n dad was a police dog.

Nana came into my life when I needed her most. N that started our journey together taking her on walks at the park. We hadn’t gotten her vaccinated yet cuz we just hadn’t gotten to it yet. She got parvo.

Again I just lost my biological mom, that I don’t feel like I got enough time t get my shit together so I could spend more time with her, oreo was gone,n now my saving grace was about t b taken too. Dogs surviving parvo is slim.

But I cleaned n sanitized, figured out what it was, n one evening decided to take her to the emergency animal hospital, bleeding all over the back seat of my truck, sat for hours for them t tell me they were keeping her over night, n sending meds home, for maybe...n it would  cost 600$.

I didn’t have pet insurance, I paid the 600$, n went home n waited. I came t get her the next day. Brought her home with meds. N continued to clean n sanitize, n crush up her pills in water t get them down her throat with a syringe, n keep water in her with the syringe.

n she lived. She is such a fighter.

Potty n poop accidents, trying t train her t potty, her eating everything because she thinks she’s a goat, the fire mantel bottom bricking, the side of doors like cribbing, she ate my chair, like ppl had reapolstered it, n she ripped the back out n chewed on the old wood, the metal brackets, n there was even a sowing needle that fell out, thank goodness I got it before she tried t eat that, her being afraid of a feather, because she’s not ok with anything, until she can put it in her mouth. She has ruined, eaten, or broken cuz of her energy tons of special things t me, but that’s just stuff n she’s a living breathing, once ever thing that I only got a number of days with.

Soon after that, I lost my home. N that started me n her bouncing around from relatives n friends, areas I could keep her, trying t get on my feet. A pampered expensive dog went from nice surroundings to areas where it’s outside encloses that I come every couple of days to feed her n exercise her. N I know she thought she did something wrong, but I kept coming back. Long nights n hours in her crate bouncing around.

Her taring up other ppls stuff, that were helping us out. During my stay in transitional housing, in advocating for emotional support animals and educating, it’s a fight. My first peer support counselor, which is the person who is supposed to help u find housing prospects, n drive u there n help you navigate the rental interview process, did not want to back me up on my pet needs. He told me a story about his son having a shepherd n loving the dog n training it n they moved n had to shelter the dog, n tore his son up n decided they could keep it, but by the time they did, the dog had been homed.....so his story was that, it’s a nice breed it will go fast....sure she looks like a nice dog, but with her behavioral issues early, I knew ppl would not anticipate how much care she needs and she would bounce around n b in danger. With that in mind, here specific needs, the fact that I’ve invest money, time, n care into this animal, makes me the right care taker.

At a relatives house, I was trained her and taking long walks into downtown, taking her into post offices to teach her to sit quietly. N we had just come from a walk down town in my truck, I thought I had tired out n she usually did good with staying in a home yard but once in a while she’d get a wild hair up her butt, n run off, n she did that this night. She bolted off n I went after her calling her, n the same thing only in reverse. I heard her. I heard her get hit, I didn’t see it, and I found her. I picked her up a good size shepherd at 3-4 yrs. old. N carried her across a field as far as I could. N almost out of the field I put her down n told her ur gonna have t walk n she walked the rest of the way to the shed I was keeping her in. My cousin, a nurse, helped me get the bleeding t stop, n bandage her n give her meds. She does not like t stay down, it wasn’t long before she was back up n seemingly walking like normal, n I didn’t think anything was wrong.

We wouldn’t take quit as long walks and at her pace.

After this, when Nana n I were living in the trailer, before transitional housing, I noticed after our long walks, that here leg would be tender n ginger. She started getting red hairless areas that she chewed that no matter what I did,changing her food, put on it, I didn’t know what it was or what t do. But we were getting whatever food we could at that time too. It was during this time, a really low point, that anything I did was for her. I got up n dud stuff for her, I stayed positive fir her, I went t work no matter what was going on to provide for her, I stayed healthy n fit with n for her. I was in this position b/c any affordable housing option in this area either didn’t allow dogs, or didn’t allow her breed. N I, have no children, I’m a adult can fend fir myself. She’s a responsibility that I said yes to. I would rather live in a tent with my dog than not with her. Whatever food I had, she’s getting some. If we had McDonald’s, she’s either getting half of burger or she’s getting nuggets n water. No electricity, some running water but no hot water, we had heat, n food. N I could go t a near friends house to shower, wash clothes n bring back water n food for her. I worked a lot n she would b coupled up in the trailer fir 8 hrs at a time not using bathroom n no safe large area fir her t play n run. I would come let her out fir a bit n put right back, or I worked 7pm -closing shift n I’d bring her in my truck, windows down, dark evening, with water in a bowl n her food or treats for the evening. So after work, I could take her t a near by park which was still across town, to let her run n exercise, b/c no safe area at our trailer park. Before going home, eating something, washing up, n bed. N us sleeping, letting her out real quick, n after work was all the time we got together.

Soon after this, I decided to do something to get in a better position to care for both me n her. I put her in Guardian Angels for soldiers pets, so I could come to Charlotte n get on my feet. Everything that I did staying focused, completing it as quickly as I did, was motivated by wanting to get situated to get her back. It was in this n her intake vet exam that I found out the red spots were her being allergic t gluten, I also found out that her leg had grown it was a bit dislocated, n some muscle had grown between to pinch, but there wasn’t much to do about it at this point. She runs n does like normal but it needs t b rested some, n t watch her. 

All these factors, along with I don’t like to be away from her for extended amounts of time, anything is better if she can be there. I do pay attention to her, I take information about her seriously. She is a investment, she is a support system that is always here. She isn’t 9-5. She makes me smile even recently when I’m crying, she laid in the cold with me at my lowest point heating me. She is not optional. This is why I fight for animals, for animal support. I get it if your not as committed as I am, it takes a certain type of person to advocate constantly. But my dog is worth it.