#alex ring gray

[miareadsbooks]

The song of achilles (A Playlist)

Fuck it I love you - Lana Del Ray

“Dream a little of me, Make me into something sweet.”

The red means I love you - Madds Buckley

“My insides are red and yours are too, and the red on my face is matching you, and goodness you’re bleeding what a wonderful feeling.”

Applause - Lady Gaga

“I live for the applause.”

As the world caves in - Matt Maltese

“As the Atom bomb drops in, oh boy it’s you, I lie with.”

The archer - Taylor swift

“Cause cruelty wins in the movies, I���ve got a hundred thrown out speeches I almost said to you.”

First love/late spring - MITSKI

“Lately i’ve been crying like a tall child, So please, hurry, leave me, I can’t breathe. Please don’t say you love me.”

Falling - Harry styles

“What if i’m someone you don’t want around, i’m falling again, im falling.”

Cardigan - Taylor Swift

“You drew stars around my scars m, and now i’m bleeding.”

Memories - Conan Gray

“I wish that you would stay in my memories, but you showed up today just to ruin things.”

Mr Loverman - Ricky Montgomery

“I’m Mr Loverman. And I miss my loverman.”

Somewhere only we know - Keane

“Oh simple thing, where have you gone, i’m getting tired and I need someone to rely on.”

Paper rings - Taylor Swift

“I hate accidents except when we went from friends to this, uh huh, that’s right darlin, you’re the one I want.”

Body paint - Arctic Monkeys

“Still a trace of body paint on your legs and on your arms and on your face.”

I see the light - Tangled cast

“And at-last I see the light, and it’s like the fog has lifted.”

Enchanted - Taylor swift

“A playful conversation starts, countered all your quick remarks, like passing notes in secrecy.”

505 - Arctic Monkeys

“But I crumble completely when you cry, it seems like once again you’ve had to greet me with goodbye.”

Matilda - Harry Styles

“Not invite your family cause they never showed you love.”

A glimpse of us -Joji

“And sometimes I look in her eyes and that’s where I find a glimpse of us.”

Summertime sadness - Lana Del ray

“I think i’ll miss you forever, Like the stars miss the sun in the morning sky.”

[bloodgutsangelcakes]

intro 𝜗𝜚˚⋆

⋆ hey! my name's sadie, and i'm a 15 year old australian girl ⋆ you could probably find me in my room rotting on my bed or choosing a record to play

⋆ dni: men (18+), nsfw blogs, zionists, misogynists, racists, homophobes, transphobes, and anyone who's just going to hate ⋆

⋆ dms are open to anyone who's going to be respectful - i love talking to my moots so don't be afraid to message first ⋆

𝜗 about me 𝜚 ⋆ i love lana del rey, my year of rest and relaxation, girl blogging, buying records, thrifting, crying, mini skirts, coquette in a fawn way, cillian murphy (daddy), reading, writing poetry, chewing gum, everskies, taking insta worthy photos but never posting them, scrolling through pinterest, making playlists, and mia goth!

⋆ my favourite:

𝜗 music 𝜚 ⋆ lana del rey (obviously), ethel cain, marina, david bowie, phoebe bridgers, deftones, mitski, black box recorder, lorde, sky ferreira, suki waterhouse, hole, alex g, cigarettes after sex, fiona apple, tv girl, grimes, the smiths, mazzy star, grimes, the neighbourhood, la femme, tv girl, arctic monkeys 𝜗 books 𝜚 ⋆ my year of rest and relaxation, the picture of dorian gray, the bell jar, the perks of being a wallflower, carmilla, bunny, the virgin suicides, cleopatra and frankenstein, the outsiders, circe, house of hollow, fairytales for wilde girls, chlorine 𝜗 movies and shows 𝜚 ⋆ girl, interrupted, perks of being a wallflower, skins uk, jennifer's body, the craft, promising young women, palo alto, lady bird, amelie, the queen's gambit, kill bill (vol 1 and 2), thirteen, the virgin suicides, pulp fiction, fight club, twilight, the bling ring, black swan, pearl 𝜗 lana unreleased 𝜚 ⋆ gramma, back to the basics, prom song (gone wrong), summer of sam, the lolita demos, wayamaya, queen of the gas station, velvet crow bar, all of the national anthem/want it all demos

𝜗 socials 𝜚 ⋆ pinterest: bloodgutsangelcakes ⋆ everskies: cherry_chic ⋆ spotify: ༺ sadie ༻ ⋆ letterboxd: sdie

tysm my dolls for 1.3k xxx

[themultifandomgal]

Sister Shelby- Fainting

All YN's life she has struggled with fainting. The first time she lost conscious was when she was only a year old. The baby had been crying none stop, then in Polly grays arms the little one passed out. The doctors had said it was because of her not able to catch her breath but as the years went on the fainting got worse, especially when YN started going through puberty.

13 Years Old

"YN your gonna be late for school" Tommy scolds the youngest Shelby storming into her room. YN groans throwing her bed sheets over her head "now YN!"

"Don't feel well"

"You just want to get out of school" Tommy rips off the quilt

"Fine" YN grunts and gets out of bed. But as quick as she's up, she's back down passed out on the floor. Of course Tommy panics and calls for Polly who runs upstairs. Only a minute later YN is awake again

"Ok no school today" Polly places her arms on her hips as Tommy helps his sister back into bed

"I think we need a doctor Poll"

The doctors checked YN out and found that her heartbeat is irregular which is what has been causing her fainting spells.

15 Years Old

YN can now tell when she is going to faint and what could trigger it. One of them being excessive exercise. Now it's no secret YNs teacher, Mr Jones doesn't like her just because she has the Shelby name. The teacher had announced that they would be running around the field at the back of the school, YN immediately protests saying she can't run that far, but the teacher had said if YN didn't partake then she could expect 100 lines and the ruler across the hand. So YN begin running.

After running once she was told to run again, and again and again. No matter how many times YN said she needed to stop Mr Jones threatened the poor girl and so she carried on. She did this until she passes out on the field, thankfully her friend Eleanor saw and ran to Mr Jones, but he didn't believe her.

When YN came around she decided to just walk out of the school and head home

"What are you doing home from school?" Arthur scolds seeing his little sister walk through the front door

"Mr Jones made me run even when I told him I couldn't. He said it was either run or have the ruler. I passed out but he didn't believe Eleanor when she told him" Arthur's eyes widen

"Go to bed and rest. Let me speak to Tommy and Aunt Poll"

This caused the Shelby brothers and Aunt head to the school and Tommy even got the teacher fired!

18 Years Old

It's a hot day in Birmingham and YN is sat in the betting shop helping Arthur with the books

"I'm gonna get a Drink" YN sighs feeling the heat. Arthur nods his head not looking up. YN stands up but immediately her eyesight starts to disappear and a ringing starts in her ear. Before she can even sit back down Arthur finds his sister on the floor passed out. Knowing exactly what to do Arthur gets up from his seat and first of all checks that YN hasn't hurt herself on anything. He then rolls her so she's on her side. Tommy walks out of his office and frowns

"Has she fainted?" Tommy asks looking at Arthur and YN

"Yeah" Arthur sighs

"When she walks up take her home. It's so hot in here"

"Ok"

22 Years Old

YN is now an adult who has just moved into a house with her boyfriend Alexander. At first the Shelby's were not happy about this and they worried for their sister especially since Alex has yet to see one of YNs fainting episodes as she is now more aware of her body and when she may pass out. YN comes home from a long day of shopping when she begins to feel faint. Placing her bags down in the kitchen she slide herself down the kitchen counters and sits on the floor. Normally this would do the trick, but today this isn't what happens. Alex knows about his girlfriends irregular heart and he knows that she faints because of it, but he's always had one of her brothers or Polly around. So when he walks through the front door and into the kitchen, panic sets in seeing YN on the floor. Immediately he runs up to her and starts to try and wake her up, but it doesn't work

"YN. YN can you hear me?" remembering Tommy once checking her over for injury's he does the same. Then he remembers that Arthur would check the time to see how long she was unresponsive for, so he does just that. Unbeknownst to hun Tommy has also entered the home of the young couple and is watching Alex tend to YN "ok come on YN isn't been a minute since I've come home. I need you to wake up"

Luckily it's not to much time later, maybe about 20 seconds, YN finally starts to wake up

"Hey YN, how you feeling?"

"Tired"

"Ok. Let's get you a drink and put you to bed" this is when Alex notices Tommy stood watching the interaction "Tommy what are you doing here?"

"Was coming to see if YN wanted to head to the Garrison but I can see that's going to be a no"

"Sorry Tom"

"Don't apologise. Your in safe hands here. Take tomorrow off" with that Tommy leaves.

For YN hearing her brother is ok with her relationship means the absolute world to her.

[nopecho]

LI Book Headcanons

I've had this thought in my mind all day and NEED to get it out there.

(content warning: mentions of JK Rowling. Not to worry, it's bad mouthing her.)

Eden: his favourite damn series is Lord of the Rings. My man started with The Hobbit, then dived into Lotr. He's read EVERY. SINGLE. Elf song that the book has to offer. He's a fantasy nerd. However I would also see him read Pride and Prejudice. Perhaps some Terry Pratchett, too.

Avery: she grew up reading her parent's notes and bank account details. HOWEVER she's also read 50 Shades of Gray, and gave her the idea in mind that if she has enough money, she can acquire any lover she wants. REFUSES to acknowledge that it's Twilight fanfiction.

Kylar: speaking of Twilight, he is a FANATIC. adores the idea of being the misterious vampire, that attracts Bella in his unusual charm. He's read every book. And I mean every book, he's read the genderbent version, the Edward POV, anything written by Meyer he's read. He was neither team Jacob or Edward, he was team Kylar. Drew his self insert vampire oc with Bella NUMEROUS times.

Robin: he used to be a Potterhead. He was SO into it. Identified as a Hufflepuff, did the patronus and wand quizzes, his favourite book is the first one. He was in SHACKLES when JK Rowling came out as a gross terf. The level of betrayal he felt is indescribable. He woved to never touch the books again.

Sydney: do you know those books Christian oarents give to kids to let them know about Jesus early? Yeah, Sidney's read them. However, when she got freedom to grab her own books, she discovered that she DIGS Greek Mythology. She has a whole collection of Rick Riordan's books on the shelf, has attempted to draw her favourite characters. The movies don't exist to her and whenever anyone brings them up, she death stares them.

Alex: you know the Grimm fairy tales? Those are his favourites. Just the dark forest themes, the magic, the horror aspect of it... It just works for him. He's lived his whole life in the countryside, so he can fantasize about getting lost in the woods and finding a gingerbread house.

Whitney. I saved the best for last. So in hus childhood, in my headcanon he could never really afford to buy books, let alone his parents giving them to him. He read a bit of Dr Seuss but that was it. NOW that he can actually afford some stuff, he discovered the duality of man. Comics.

On one hand, he absolutely LOVES thise cute, kid friendly comics. Peanuts, Garfield, the Disney Mickey Mouse comics. On the other, he absolutely digs the over-the-top action manga shit. I'm talking Chainsaw Man, DevilMan by Go Nagai, Hells Angels by Shinichi Hiromoto. He doesn't have enough attention span to read a whole book, but he absolutely LOVES comics.

Thank you for coming to my Ted Talk!

[snixkers]

Wrinkles like Rivers

Pairing: Alex Blake × Fem!Reader

Hurt/Comfort

For: @olderwomenaremyfavs

Content Warning: References to canon violence (drugs/crime), age gap (reader is in her 30s, Alex is in her 50s), very brief suggestive comment, insecurity over appearance

Summary: At a work function, Alex feels like the other agents have her beat, in more ways than one.

Author's Note: Omg! This is my first fic posted on this site, so I'm super excited! Hope this is what you were hoping for!

Feedback is always welcome!

Requests are OPEN

It was another Bureau function, and the atmosphere was relaxed and casual. Agents usually consumed with the worst of humanity were able to escape, just for a bit, and find comfort in a night out. You mingled with some people, recognizing names but not faces from your girlfriend's stories.

For some reason, these events seemed to have the opposite effect on Alex, who usually ended up silent and brooding in the corner. You could tell she was thinking about something, but she always brushed it off so confidently that you were certain you were imagining it. After all, she was the profiler, not you.

Tonight was a different story. You could see it in her tense shoulders, her narrowed eyes, and her half-smile. Her glass was still full, although that wasn't unusual for her. Even though it wasn't your profession, you were certainly a profiler when it came to her.

You excused yourself from an agent telling you stories about her escapades busting a drug ring, making your way back to the woman watching you with rapt attention. She blinked out of her stupor when she noticed you, quickly throwing on a smile and wrapping her arm around you. It was a nice attempt, but you couldn't be fooled.

"Alex," you began, "is something bothering you?"

She shook her head, although you anticipated that reaction. Alex always kept her emotions sealed away in a vault that you rarely were given the key to. You sighed, wrapping your hands around her wrist gently and leading her off to an empty hallway.

You decided to try again, within the comfort of your sole presence.

"Alex, I know something's bothering you. And I'd appreciate it if you'd let me help."

She let out a sigh, her smile fading slightly as she fiddled with the ends of her hair.

"It's not important."

You had to resist the urge to roll your eyes. Alex *was* important. She could tell you that the sky was green and you would agree.

"Alex, please. I want to know so I can fix the problem."

She sighed, avoiding your gaze and taking a small sip of the wine provided by a rather wealthy colleague of hers.

"Watching you talk to all of those other agents, it's just hard for me. They're young, they're good in the field. Their stories are more exciting."

Your heart melted in your chest, trying to soothe any insecurities she might have.

"I don't care. You've been in longer than they have. You're more smart logical and strategic. Plus, I like a woman with a little experience."

She held back a snort at your words, but her eyes still held traces of doubt.

"It's not just about the brains. Just look at me. I mean, you could date anyone you want. There must be someone out there who's younger and prettier."

You frowned, the warmth in your chest quickly evaporating. "Alex, no. I love you. I love everything about you. I love the way your eyes crease when you laugh. I love the wrinkles on your forehead. I love the gray hairs you're hiding. Do you know why? Because to me, that stuff makes you even more beautiful."

Her gaze softened, and you could practically see her trying to come up with another excuse for why she wasn't good enough. You shook your head, leaning in and pressing a gentle kiss to her lips.

"I'm always going to pick you, Alex."

She nods, taking a deep breath and kissing you back a little deeper, trying to convey the gratitude she felt. Luckily, another part of being such an expert on how she felt was that you already knew.

You smiled back, glancing over at the party.

"Should we head home?"

She nods in agreement, wrapping an arm around your waist and leading you back out to the party, the both of you clinging to each other the way you always would.

"Absolutely. Garcia told me about this game called 'Wordle', and I want to try it out."

[koiimii]

𝐀𝐥𝐞𝐱 𝐓𝐮𝐫𝐧𝐞𝐫 𝐇𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐜𝐚𝐧𝐨𝐧𝐬

𝘾𝙖𝙩𝙚𝙜𝙤𝙧𝙞𝙚𝙨 𝙄𝙣𝙘𝙡𝙪𝙙𝙚…

- 𝙉𝙎𝙁𝙒

- 𝙁𝙡𝙪𝙛𝙛

- 𝘼𝙗𝙤𝙪𝙩 𝙃𝙞𝙢

- 𝘼𝙣𝙜𝙨𝙩

————

𝐀𝐛𝐨𝐮𝐭 𝐇𝐢𝐦

- Alex loves reading. Both books and the paper. He carries his reading glasses on the collar of his shirt, or in his coat pocket.

- If he weren’t in a band, he would own a really nice bar and lounge. Live music, a reading area, and he’d be a bartender as well. It would probably have a soft of rustic, modern-baroque style.

- He chews cinnamon gum. He enjoys how it makes his tongue burn a little.

- Alex sometimes prefers for feminine scents when picking perfumes. They mix well with his natural lingering cigarette scent.

- He always keeps a cigarette tucked behind his ear.

- Twisting and tugging his rings has become a coping mechanism for his anxiety.

- Alex has a big sweet tooth for desserts and pastries. Especially homemade ones. Red velvet is a particular favorite.

- Aside from his favorites, a guilty pleasure of his when picking films are period pieces. He adores them. Pride and Prejudice, Little Women, Dead Poet’s Society, Dorian Gray…

- Alex really wants to learn French.

- He loves vintage pieces when choosing fashions. Jewelry, leather, belts… he likes the timeless feel.

- Alex is actually a very good cook. Baking, and bartending too! He loved a homemade margarita or a Moscow Mule

- Usually in an interview where Alex is wearing sunglasses, he’s dozing off.



𝐅𝐥𝐮𝐟𝐟

- Alex loves when you wear the things he bought. He absolutely adores it. Especially things like dresses or lingerie.

- Alex secretly has a bit of a green thumb and loves to keep plants around the house, all named after his band mates, and you.

- He has a very naturel pout when he’s deep in thought, and likes when you kiss it to snap him out of it.

- Alex secretly enjoys being the little spoon when the two of you cuddle. He’s want you to press your chest to his back, and wrap your arms around him.

- Alex always likes to keep some extra sweaters, hoodies, and dress-shirts out for the finding of you. He loves seeing you roam around his house in his clothes. Drives him crazy.

- Alex loves making you worked up and mad. He likes your little bossy fits and your silent treatments, because then he can go out and fix them with gifts and things.

- Alex stutters quiet a bit when it’s just the two of you. He says it’s because no matter how long the two of you have been together, your still make him so very nervous.

- His favorite thing about you is your legs. He loves when you oil them on date nights, and they shine. He love how soft they are. He loves when your thighs thicken when you sit down. He loves when you wear heels. He likes to kiss your calves and up when you two are in bed together. He just loves your legs.

𝐍𝐒𝐅𝐖

- Alex is very hyper-sensitive. The little things turn him on or arouse him.

- if you could photograph Alex after sex, you’d have multiple photo albums. You’ve never seen such a pretty afterglow..

- His hair is disheveled and sweaty, stuck to his forehead.

- His lips are glossy and parted while he tries to catch his breath.

- His eyes are sleepy and low, yet they still get all big and doe eyed when you speak to him…

- Alex gets super lazy after sex. His aftercare is cuddles and kisses. - He just gives soft, dazed praises while you clean the both of you up, patting your thighs and kissing your exposed parts.

- His flush cheeks and nose are heart wrenching. You especially like how flushed he gets while he’s buried between your thighs.

- He loves when you caress or scratch his chest and back. Especially with longer, freshly done nails. If you don’t do it yourself, he’ll take your hand and guide it down his body to where he wants it the most.

- Alex has two very different moans. Usually, they’re very vocal. Long, drawn out groans and strained curses under his breath, or there’s the more breathless, whiny like moans you’ve come to favor. The way he cries out your name and his voice cracks before he hits that pinnacle of pleasure.

- Your neck is his go-to, especially your collarbone. It’s always his first target. Kissing, biting, licking, he just loves your reactions.

- There was no in between when you and Alex made love. In the mornings, soft sex was perfect. Both still very sleepy, his strong arms holding you close, holding your leg in the air as he buried his nose into your neck. Keeping his thrusts slow and lush. His cheeks puffed and rosy, fluffy disheveled hair and doe eyes staring up at you as you ride him lazily, or sometimes he’d hold you close to his chest until you both spilled over. Soft breaths and whimpers exchanged, the sweet nothings he whispered in your ear when he got close. It was all amazing.

- Rough sex was another story. When Al was pent up or frustrated, that’s when you knew you were in for it. Your wrists clutched firmly in his hands as he pounded into you. He especially loved it when you started to cry from the overwhelming pleasure. He’d kiss your tears but his rhythm never faltered or softened. He loved taking you from behind too, forcing you down into a cat-like arch and gripping your hips so hard he left imprints.

- You two came to agreement and made your safe word “Rosie.”

- Knee socks. You thought they were childish at first, but when Alex first saw you wear them to one of his concerts, he took you right there in his dressing you. Now you have a thousand pairs.

- On the rare occasion that Al us still energized after sex, he’s the King of Aftercare. Water on a tray, tea, a warm bath, a hot meal on the way, his clothes freshly out of the dryer so they’re warm when you wear them, he wants nothing more than to make you feel completely safe with him, especially after more intense love making.

- On stage, Alex is very immersed in his performance. When on-stage, he transforms. There was something erotic about the way his body moved, usually on its own. Grinding and rolling his hips, caressing his mic stand, getting down on his hands and knees… Alex couldn’t count the amount of times he’s found himself turned on during a performance or concert, having to quickly hide his erections the best he can.

𝐀𝐧𝐠𝐬𝐭

- When you first made it official, Alex desperately tried to get over it, but there was this mind eating feeling he had that he didn’t deserve you.

- After disagreements that are exceptionally bad, he’ll come find you afterwards like a timid child.

- “Are you still upset with me, love…?”

- He hates waking up alone. He just feels like once he’s off stage, no one cares for the real Alex. He always need you in bed with him.

- He’s a terrible sleeper. He gets no where near enough sleep and so he tries to nap whenever he can.

- He’s tried to stop smoking so many times, but he really struggles with anxiety.

- You had been shouting at him once and quickly stopped when you realized he was having a panic attack.

- “I’m not good at this relationship thing am I?”

- When Alex realizes his accent is “too much”, he tries to correct so it’s easier to comprehend.

- When faced with chances to open up about his own emotions, he automatically brushes it off or gets distant.

- “I don’t know, does anyone really care what I think?”

- “I’ve just gotten used to not having the last word…”

[in-death-we-fall]

Out Of The Shadows

Since his shock exit from Slipknot, Joey Jordison has remained silent. For the first time, he opens up about the split, the debilitating condition that left him unable to walk, and how he's been reborn anew

Words: Dom Lawson • Pics: Travis Shinn

Metal Hammer 285 - August 2016 (google drive link) Full disclosure I pasted the main article from Metal Hammer's awful awful website because my hands are sad (from doing things like this, yes. Don't keep doing things if they hurt, yes even if you're super super excited about a guy.)

There is life after death. First, there’s Hell.

When the news first broke that Joey Jordison was no longer in Slipknot, it sent shockwaves around the world. Here was this icon of our world and one of the founding members of one of the greatest bands to emerge in all of 30 years suddenly, inexplicably gone. In the heavy wake of Paul Gray’s passing it seemed almost too great a blow for any band, even one with nine members. Anyone who knows their travails understands that they’re less a band and more like a dysfunctional family – had their problems caught up with them? But reappear they did, to the sound of a rapturously received album, and the three-ring circus of Knotfest, and yet still questions remained about the circumstances of Joey’s departure. Slipknot were tightlipped, and Joey? It was anyone’s guess.

I’m humbled to say that we now have Joey’s side of the story, and this month’s world-exclusive journey to Des Moines is one of the most powerful, saddening and inspirational stories you’ll read in these pages. Sure, there are the new records – Vimic and Sinsaeneum (sic) herald one of our world’s greatest musicians returning to the fold and from the sound of things we’ve some tremendous records ahead of us.

More importantly though, we have one of metal’s greatest figures back, and we couldn’t be more delighted to see him back on his feet – literally. To read Dom Lawson’s tale of a man who’s truly been there and back again, see p.38. Make sure you’re sitting down, because Travis Shinn’s remarkable photography is as stark as it it worth not one, but over 3,000 words.

Thank you for reading, and… Stay metal! Alex, Editör-In-Chief

Out Of The Shadows

Since his shock exit from Slipknot, Joey Jordison has remained silent. For the first time, he opens up about the split, the debilitating condition that left him unable to walk, and how he's been reborn anew

Words: Dom Lawson • Pics: Travis Shinn

Joey Jordison unmasked: the ultimate interview

Part One - Revelation

“This is very important to me. You’re getting something that I have not told anyone. It’s very emotional. It’s fucking hardcore, man.”

Joey Jordison has got a few things to get off his chest. More importantly, the world has got a few questions for the erstwhile Slipknot alumnus and the 21st century’s most celebrated percussive polymath, not least because he has been resolutely off the radar for the last few years.

The last time Metal Hammer spoke directly to Joey, he was promoting his then-newly-formed band Scar The Martyr, who released their self-titled debut album in September 2013. Three months later, he was seemingly dismissed from Slipknot, the band he had enjoyed huge global success with ever since they exploded into our world back in 1999.

Since that startling news broke in December 2013, Joey has been conspicuous by his absence from our ears, eyes and screens. This being the age of endless social media speculation, his disappearance and departure from Slipknot have been widely discussed online, one commonly espoused theory being that the diminutive drummer had gone spectacularly off the rails and was simply unable to fulfill his usual duties, thus prompting his bandmates’ decision to effect an unexpected lineup change.

In truth, only Joey’s closest friends and business associates know what he’s been up to for the last couple of years, but as he warmly greets Hammer at the door of the house he shares with girlfriend Amanda in Des Moines, it’s immediately apparent that today’s interview is much more than just an opportunity to herald the arrival of not one, but two new bands and Joey’s wholesale return to action. Instead, this is what he describes as “an opportunity to tell everyone what the fuck has been going on”. And it’s almost certainly not what anyone is expecting.

“It was at the end of the memorial shows we did for Paul,” Joey begins, referencing the death of bandmate Paul Gray and the subsequent world tour that began in the summer of 2011 and continued until August 2012. “We were in Canada, at the end of my last run of shows with Slipknot, and something happened to me but I didn’t know what it was. I was super ill. You can be sick and still play, but this was something I’d never felt in my life before.

“We found out that what I have is acute transverse myelitis. It’s a neurological condition that hits your spinal cord and it wiped my legs out completely. It’s like having your legs cut off, basically. I played those last couple of shows and it scared the living shit out of me. I didn’t know what it was. Everyone thought I was fucked up, but it wasn’t the case. I wasn’t even drinking. Everything was straight-laced and fucking perfect. Everything was on point. But I had to be carried to the stage…”

Joey pauses, wincing at the memory. “The pain was something I’d never experienced in my life before, and I wouldn’t wish it on my worst enemy.”

When he arrived home from the Slipknot tour, Joey could barely walk. On August 21, 2012, he was admitted to Mercy West hospital in Des Moines, diagnosed with some form of leg paralysis but unaware of exactly how or why this was happening to him. Ten days later, he was transferred to the neurological unit at University Of Iowa Hospital in Iowa City, understandably terrified and extremely confused about his physical deterioration.

“It was fucking bad, dude,” he recalls. “My lady has everything documented. I got struck with this fucking thing that I couldn’t control. The doctors said I might not be able to walk again. Today, I can almost run, but back then I couldn’t even stand up. I was bed-ridden. If I wanted to turn over in bed, I had to move my legs with my hands. I was in and out of the hospital for months.

“Some beautiful people have helped me out and got me back stronger and taught me how to walk again, but at that moment my whole life was screwed, man. Acute transverse myelitis is a fucked-up disease and a lot of people don’t recover from it and they’re paralysed forever.”

After having braces fitted to prevent his weakened legs from buckling, Joey was finally discharged from hospital in October 2012. Thus began an extremely lengthy, challenging and physically exhausting regime of physical and occupational therapy, as Joey tried to summon the energy and determination to beat the bizarre neurological condition that had wrenched the carpet from under his feet and left him both horribly vulnerable and understandably bewildered.

Early in 2013, work began on Scar The Martyr’s debut album, as a further batch of Slipknot shows in Japan and Europe – including a headline slot at Download – loomed over the horizon. Still recovering from the worst of his illness, Joey somehow managed to recover to the point where he was able to perform at those gigs, after which he threw himself wholeheartedly into launching Scar The Martyr by hitting the road as main support to Danzig in the US.

All the while, of course, his global army of admirers remained entirely in the dark about the turmoil and trials going on behind the scenes. It was widely noted that Joey was looking overweight and far from healthy during Scar The Martyr’s debut UK tour, but the conclusions that most people were jumping to – in essence, that he had a problem with drugs and/or drink – were completely off target. Unfortunately, when Slipknot announced on December 12, 2013, that they were to forge ahead without their talismanic drummer, those rumours seemed to gain a little extra momentum.

“Yeah, and that’s why I love being able to do this interview, because finally I get to tell the fucking truth!” Joey declares. “It’s been really frustrating, but I can only bless the people that have been around me and helped me to get back to this point. And this is what I want to clarify for my fans…” – he punches his hand to emphasise the importance of this statement – “…it had nothing to do with fucking drugs or fucking alcohol!”

Several times during our interview, Joey’s eyes fill with tears. It’s abundantly clear that the extraordinary effort required to confront acute transverse myelitis and doggedly chase a light at the end of a seriously dark and bleak tunnel has taken a lot out of him, particularly on an emotional level. But now that he is about to click into top gear once again, via new bands Vimic and Sinsaenum, Joey is channeling his energies towards a cathartic clearing of the decks, and setting people straight about his life over the last five years is top of the agenda.

“Life takes you on weird trips and you just have to hold on, ride the wave and be as strong as you fucking can,” he shrugs. “I’ve been through so much fucking shit over the last few years and people just don’t know.”

Part Two - Struggle

The news that Joey had seemingly been sacked from Slipknot came as a huge shock to everyone, even without the additional knowledge of his devastating health problems. From the band’s enormous fanbase, through to many of us in the metal world that have always known him to be, at the very least, a wholly dedicated and passionate member of that 18-legged, arena-smashing entity, it was a wildly unexpected turn of events.

The band’s own public statements at the time took a predictably passive course, the relatively benign implication being that Joey and his former comrades were simply heading in different creative directions and could no longer work together effectively.

On January 2, 2014, he made his own statement on Facebook, making it plain that as far as he was concerned, there was no mutual agreement and he had been fired from Slipknot for reasons unknown.

“I was laying in bed with my lady, I’d been in rehabilitation for my health issues but everything was good, and the next thing I know…” he pauses, visibly upset. “No band meeting? None. Anything from management? No, nothing. All I got was a stupid fucking email saying that I was out of the band that I busted my ass my whole life to fucking create, you know?

“It was the weirdest fucking thing. I can’t imagine just sending Corey or Shawn or Mick a fucking letter, without a band meeting. We’re friends and we’ve been through so much shit together, but that was all it was, a fucking letter. That’s exactly what happened and it was hurtful, man. I didn’t deserve that shit after what I’d done and everything I’d been through.”

In light of revelations about his state of health at the time, it does seem an unusually abrupt way to bring such a longstanding partnership to an end. Joey even claims to have written and demoed a batch of new material, aided by Slipknot’s then-touring bassist Donnie Steele, and circulated it among his bandmates in an attempt to get the compositional ball rolling. But, according to the drummer, no one got back to him to discuss the new songs: subtle evidence, perhaps, that wires were distinctly crossed.

“They got confused about my health issues, and obviously even I didn’t know what it was at first,” Joey sighs. “They thought I was fucked-up on drugs, which I wasn’t at all. I don’t blame them for being concerned, but when you’re friends and you’ve been through so much stuff, you fucking talk to each other. But I harbour no bad feelings toward them at all, because I’ve moved on with my life. I’m happier than I’ve been in years. You need to move on, close the fucking chapter and, in the end, it is what it is.”

It is a testament to the positive way Joey has endeavoured to overcome his severe health problems that today, even after having been unceremoniously ejected from one of the biggest metal bands on the planet, he is hearteningly sanguine about the way things have turned out.

During our conversation, he repeatedly declares how grateful he is for the friends, family and life that he has, and even when discussing the end of his tenure as Slipknot’s drummer, he is eager to state how much he still loves and admires his former bandmates. What is perhaps more surprising is that Joey not only made a point of checking out .5: The Gray Chapter, the album Slipknot made without him and released in 2014, but is also effusive in his praise for it.

“Honestly, I have a long history with those guys, so I give them the respect they deserve and I listened to the whole record multiple times,” he smiles. “And I think it’s great! It’s fucking cool and I’m glad they moved on. I’m not like, ‘I’m not gonna give them respect!’ – I’m not a coward like that. I’m glad they’re carrying on the name, because what’s important is the fans. There’s no stupid battle going on. There’s no point in saying, ‘Fuck them!’

“No, I’ve been through so many things with those guys and I love them very much. What’s hurtful is that the way it [being fired] went down was not fucking right. That’s all I want to say. The way they did it was fucking cowardly. It was fucked up. But the love in my heart for those guys, that stays the same.”

It is at this point that Metal Hammer asks the inevitable and unavoidable question: despite everything that has happened, would Joey be willing to rejoin Slipknot further down the line? As much as his successor, Jay Weinberg, has acquitted himself brilliantly while filling the shoes of a contemporary drumming legend, it’s hard to deny that most Slipknot fans would be beside themselves with joy if Joey were to return to the fold. He takes a deep, measured inward breath and fixes us with a stern stare…

“Let me think about how to answer that, because it’s a big one,” he nods. “Honestly, I’m not trying to be dramatic, but if that was brought up, what I’d want to do would be to get together. Not just have a phone call or some stupid email. I’d want to see them, just hug it out and feel that energy that we had when we were fucking young and hungry and all that shit. They’re my brothers. We’d hug and talk and do shit like we used to do. We used to sit up all night long planning this shit and what we wanted to do. So that’s how I’d wanna do it. It’d have to be in person. If it happened, that would be fucking awesome, but only time will tell.”

Part Three - Rebirth

Back in the here and now, Joey Jordison is well on his way to being fighting fit once again. His recovery is still ongoing, of course, and daily trips to see his trainer at the local gym have now become an essential part of his day-to-day schedule, but as he speaks, he radiates sincere positivity. That said, the effort it has taken Joey to get from suddenly and horrifyingly being robbed of the use of his legs to a point where he is able to unveil two brand new albums with different bands is etched into his subtly expressive face.

He and better half Amanda have kept a detailed scrapbook of photos and other memorabilia from the long, hard road back from the onset of transverse myelitis. They allow us to leaf through it, and it brings the jarring reality of Joey’s last few years vividly to life. It’s a litany of woes, pain and frustration that many of us would regard as insurmountable, but even when faced with yet another grim obstacle, when he fell and broke his leg while in the studio recording Vimic’s debut album in the autumn of 2014, leading to his leg being cut in half and the insertion of steel rods and bolts, Joey’s determination to prevail and come back stronger than ever has been unwavering.

“I did question everything, like, ‘What am I going to do?’, not knowing if I was going to recover,” he admits. “It hurt a lot. It was a big question. But there was a definite point where I thought about all the blessings I’ve been given in life, being part of Slipknot and playing with Korn and Ministry and Rob Zombie and doing Roadrunner United and all those things, and you look at that and you’re grateful, and so you bust your ass to get back. I didn’t feel sorry for myself. I do not quit. I’ve got fans I’ve got to take care of, you know? So there’s no hiding right now.”

If you want to know what the opposite of hiding sounds like, you need only lend an ear to either or both of the new records that Joey is releasing this summer. The first is Echoes Of The Tortured, the debut album from Sinsaenum, Joey’s collaboration with Dragonforce’s Frédéric Leclercq and a host of underground luminaries. A monstrous but eminently accessible death metal record, its jaw-shattering eruptions of blastbeats and epic fury showcase the full extent of Joey’s physical recovery in no uncertain terms.

The second is Open Your Omen, the first album from Vimic, which is essentially Scar The Martyr with a new vocalist, former Korn percussionist and back-up singer Kalen Chase. It’s a sharper, more focused record than its (sort of) predecessor, planting Joey firmly back in belligerent mainstream metal territory, with plenty of the huge hooks and irresistible riffs that his loyal fans will be feverishly anticipating. But beyond the new music itself, Joey’s true focus is on the unparalleled joy he is currently experiencing as he escapes the nightmare of the last few years and returns to what he does best.

“This is a rebirth, and reaching this point is the ultimate reward,” he states. “It’s like having the ultimate trophies, having these two bands. These opportunities are coming back to me and it feels like a complete renewal. These are real bands, not side-projects. Everything I do goes at 100%… maybe even 666%, ha ha!

“At a certain age, a lot of people] become vegetarians or they find religion, but I’m never gonna stop being a fucking weirdo and a fucking metalhead! You wake up one day and you realise that nothing’s ever gonna change and you’re fucking committed. I’ve been like that since I was five years old, man.

“Right now, I just want to keep creating. These bands are two huge fucking journeys for me. It’s like when you see a rollercoaster that you’ve never ridden before, and you’re fucking scared, but you’re in line and waiting, like I am now, and then once you step on? You’re in!”

There are a few lessons to be learned from the story of Joey Jordison’s last few traumatic years. Firstly, maybe we should all be slightly less eager to jump to hasty conclusions when faced with only one side of a story (or, indeed, no verified information whatsoever). Secondly, never underestimate the strength, persistence, passion and potential of the human spirit.

“The most pertinent lesson of all, however, is one we all should have learned a long time ago: Joey Jordison is an unstoppable force of nature and, after fighting the toughest battle of his entire life, he’s primed and ready to make up for lost time and to remind the world that loud, angry, fucked up and furious music remains the best medicine of all.

“I have this weird-ass condition, but it doesn’t limit me and I’m getting better all the time,” he concludes with a confident grin. “I can play just as fast, or faster, than I ever have. Everything is fucking cool and I’m at the gym every day and it’s all going well. That helps me out so much.

“I went through some serious fucking shit. People didn’t know and I can’t blame them for that. But the thing is, you get up in the morning and you look in the mirror, and then you go off and fucking do it. You live your life the way you want to, and get the work done! What else can I say, dude? It’s good to tell my story. I’m fucking back and I’m ready to go full force. This is the best fucking job in the world. I’m never gonna stop.”

What Is Transverse Myelitis?

We spoke to Lew Gray, secretary of UK charity the Transverse Myelitis Society, to understand what Joey’s batling…

Can you explain what the condition means? Lew: “Transverse myelitis is an inflammation of the spinal cord. You have a lot of nerves doing different things in your spinal cord, so the facts of each case depend on which part of the spinal cord is affected. It can be high in the spinal cord affecting the arms, or you may struggle to breathe because the muscles in your lungs don’t work. It could be lower, affecting different sensory nerves. Some people with transverse myelitis can walk but can’t feel the floor beneath their feet, or they can’t feel hot and cold or pain. We think there are about 250 cases a year in the UK.”

Does it typically come on quickly or is it more of a gradual process? “It can be either. A lot of people are paralysed within an hour or two. But then for other people it can be very gradual and come and go over a period of months. It takes some people years to get a diagnosis.”

What treatment is available? “Really, the only treatment is to dose you with steroids. They will reduce the inflammation, and therefore you’re not curing it, you’re minimising the damage until it goes away by itself. Physiotherapy is very important. Almost everyone gets some spontaneous recovery over time after transverse myelitis, but the body and mind ‘forget’ how to use muscles and nerves that are not working, so the purpose of neurophysiotherapy is to ‘guide’ the recovery.”

What is the long-term prognosis for someone with transverse myelitis? “The nerves are capable of regenerating themselves. Nobody can predict though how well they will regenerate, how long it will take, or if they will at all. The majority of people get improvement, but there is no cast-iron guarantee.”

How common are relapses? “We do know people who have had recurrences, however that is rare. Sometimes a reoccurrence of transverse myelitis leads to a diagnosis of MS [multiple sclerosis].”

For more on the Transverse Myelitis Society, visit www.myelitis.org.uk

Beating The Odds

How Joey Jordison fought his way back from paralysis to prosperity

The full extent of Joey’s arduous battle with acute transverse myelitis is brought into sharp focus when we visit Absolute Performance Therapy in Waukee, Des Moines. Joey spent months here, working on his recovery, and the mere fact that today he is able to walk through the front door without assistance speaks volumes about what he has achieved. His therapist, Alyssa Subbert, has nothing but praise for his determined approach.

“Being stubborn helped the most!” she laughs. “To go from being someone who could do anything to not being able to get out of a chair, then to get back to being able to do everything again, it was a huge process. He wanted to drum again so bad, and as long as we made every exercise about drumming, he’d do it. He was very stubborn and very ornery, but he’d work and work until his body was too sore.”

Gruelling physical work aside, it is obvious that Joey’s time at APT was also hugely emotional. He hasn’t been back since finishing his treatment, and there are tears as he and Alyssa recall the intense therapy sessions and ferocious perseverance and teamwork that were needed to make each successive triumph a reality along the way.

“This was a huge wake-up call to Joey’s health and lifestyle, and how physical his job is,” Alyssa states. “When you’ve done something like that forever, you have no concept of it. He has to play in a drum set that rotates and goes upside down?! It’s not a regular job, sitting at a computer. We even practised mobbing him! Does he have balance when a whole bunch of people mob him, you know? It’s a whole different life, and very physical. So this was a completely unique process we went through.”

Joey’s physical therapy may be over, but his daily trips to local gym Life Time Athletic are an essential part of his recovery, not to mention his ability to play drums with the power and skill that fans have come to expect. His personal trainer, Caleb Herman, is a Slipknot fan who’s full of admiration for his client’s dedication.

“When Joey came in, he could hardly walk,” Caleb recalls. “Now he’s pressing 700lbs and he can do a step above what most people can do. He’s got one of the strongest back muscle groups I’ve ever seen. He couldn’t stand without help, but now he can stand up by himself, so his progress has been awesome. When he sees progress, he becomes motivated, and he tells me he gets the chills, and that gives me the chills. It’s really exciting to see him get to this point.”

Battle Of The Bands

After a long absence from our world, Joey’s returning with two new projects. But how do Vimic and Sinsaenum stack up against each other?

Vimic

Members: Joey Jordison (drums), Kalen Chase (vocals), Matt Tarach (keyboards), Jed Simon (guitar), Kyle Konkiel (bass). Sound: Crunchy, state-of-the-art modern metal with big, anthemic melodies and plenty of snotty aggression. Image: Lots of black leather, long hair, beards and menacing scowls. Sample lyric: ‘Simple skeletons, playing God again/We’re getting higher, we’re getting higher, and the truth will set us free’ (Simple Skeletons). Drumming: Lashings of classic Joey, from that Slipknot stomp and big, muscular grooves to bursts of high-velocity blasting. Joey says: “Scar The Martyr was the blueprint, but we wiped the slate clean. This is heavy shit. Kalen killed it on this record.” For fans of: Slipknot, Disturbed, Fear Factory. Check out: Earth Stood Still. Lurching, syncopated grooves and soaring, post-grunge melodies collide in a brutish, multi-tempo anthem that deftly showcases singer Kalen’s versatility.

Sinsaenum

Members: Joey Jordison (drums), Frédéric Leclercq (guitar), Heimoth (bass), Attila Csihar (vocals), Sean Zatorsky (vocals), Stéphane Buriez (guitar). Sound: Epic, imperious, blackened death metal with tons of eerie atmosphere. Image: Classic, dark, extreme metal attitude with a dash of theatrical corpse paint and a blood-splattered logo. Sample lyric: ‘We are the pain inside your head/We are the sorrow in your soul/We are the fire/We are the rusty nails’ (Army Of Chaos). Drumming: A masterclass in death metal precision and power. Proof that Joey is back and blazing. Joey says: “Sinsaenum is probably one of the most extreme and proficient bands I have ever been in. These guys are fucking on point at all times. We’re a fucking army!” For fans of: Morbid Angel, Dimmu Borgir, Behemoth. Check out: Inverted Cross. It’s blistering, heads-down death metal grandeur with anti-Christian lyrics, fret-melting solos and countless warped twists and turns.

Sin City

As well as making his comeback with Vimic, Joey Jordison’s taken up the drum stool for death metal project Sinsaenum. Mastermind and Dragonforce bassist Frédéric Leclercq explains how it came thundering to life

Words: Dayal Patterson

While Vimic represents a beefed-up reboot of Scar The Martyr, Joey’s also been behind the kit for a second, brand new band - Sinsaenum. The brainchild of Dragonforce bassist Frédéric Leclercq, it’s a more murky blend of death and black metal, featuring the twosome alongside some of the leading lights of the extreme scene, including dual vocals from Mayhem’s Attila Csihar and Dååth’s Sean Zatorsky. We asked Frédéric what the supergroup have planned for their dark future.

How did Sinsaenum first come about? Frédéric: “Oh Christ, even I have trouble remembering when it started! I always wrote death metal songs. I started to write in 1998, then I was doing something else [he played in the French bands Memoria and Heavenly], and I’m still doing something else, with Dragonforce. The first person I spoke to was Stéphane [Buriez, guitar] from Loudblast. It must’ve been in 2010 that we said, ‘Let’s really do something about it.’”

How did Joey get involved? “I kept writing more songs, and one day in 2013 I got a text from Joey. We call each other ‘Morbid Angel” – don’t ask why – so the text said, ‘Morbid Angel, what you up to?’ I was like, ‘Well, I just got back from tour… talking about Morbid Angel, I have these death metal songs.’ He was like, ‘You should send them to me!’ Two days later, he came back like, ‘Fuck yeah, that’s really cool. Who’s playing drums? I want to do it.’ So I started to ask more people that I had in mind.”

How did you guys meet? “We did the Mayhem tour together in the US, in 2008. One day drinking we were talking about death metal, and then we got to talking about it more and more. That’s how you get to know people – you find what you have in common. We had drinking and Morbid Angel.”

What about the other guys? “Stéphane I’ve known for 20 years. I played in a band in my hometown, Charleville-Mézières, and we supported his band, Loudblast. They were a big influence, and the first death metal band I heard. We kept in touch because France is a small country when it comes to metal. With [bassist] Heimoth from [French black metal band] Seth, it’s the same – there’s a small metal community. Dragonforce and Mayhem did a festival together, and Attila came onto the bus and said: ‘My son is a fan and would love an autograph – by the way, I’m the vocalist of Mayhem.’ He’s such a nice person – maybe you shouldn’t write that, keep the mystery! Sean and I met when Dååth was opening for Dragonforce in 2009. I really liked his voice and his attitude.”

How much music was written before you started working with them? “When Joey sent that text, all the songs were half-written, because I’ve a tendency to write a song with just a verse and a chorus, maybe a mid-section, because I know the rest is in my head. So when he said, ‘I’m interested,’ I was like, ‘Oh shit, I have to finish the songs!’ I sent out files, because it was clear that people trusted my ‘vision’. They didn’t want to change too much. I had to finalise lyrics with Sean and Attila, and Stéphane contributed to the structure. Joey added some fills. I decided to make it a concept album using interludes like Tiamat, or Pestilence, or even Type O Negative did to create atmosphere, so I had to write those.”

What was it like working with your heroes? “I felt like a kid in a toy store! Being in a studio with Attila singing songs that I wrote, and saying, ‘Oh, you should do this song like [Mayhem’s] De Mysteriis Dom Sathanas, and him being like, [adopts a Hungarian accent] ‘OK bro’, it’s like ‘Fuck, this is happening!’ I shouldn’t sound so excited, ‘cause this is black and death metal, but I had a big smile during the whole process – we all did. On Army Of Chaos we have Schmier from Destruction and Mika and Mirai from Sigh. Mika and Mirai are good friends of mine and are doing the big choirs, the choruses… like Sepultura’s Stronger Than Hate [from 1989’s Beneath The Remains]. I remember reading the booklet as a kid… they had the guys from Obituary and Atheist on it, and I was like, ‘Fuck, that’s cool.’ And it’s Schmier who’s singing on the last pre-chorus.

Did Joey’s health battles affect Sinsaenum? “Not at all. He speaks about it way better than I, so I won’t comment on that. I’ve kept away from all the troubles. I was like, ‘I’m a friend. If you want to talk, I’ll listen, but I just want to make sure you’re happy.’ As far as health problems, he was fine – he killed the drums. I don’t know how he did it, but he said, ‘Dude, I’m on fire.’ He was angry, I guess.”

Will Sinsaenum tour? “It’s definitely something we want to do, but there’s no rush. I want to do everything the same way I lived it as a kid. These bands I loved, I loved their albums, but I didn’t see them live for a long time and it didn’t bother me. I want people to digest the album – there’s a lot of information on there. Plus, we’re all busy; it’s difficult to get us all in a room. We rehearsed before doing the videos, and being in the same room, it was like, ‘Fucking hell.’”

What’s happening with Dragonforce right now? “We’re doing summer festivals and writing the new album that will come out next year, so I have to juggle between doing Sinsaenum stuff and writing and recording with Dragonforce. So my head is about to explode, but that’s fine!”

What do you get from Sinsaenum that you don’t get with Dragonforce? “This is really the music I love. I like Dragonforce stuff, and I write more of it now, but sometimes I don’t agree with all the decisions. With Sinsaenum, from A to Z it is exactly what I want. I guess it’s my baby. It gives me a way to express the dark side of myself and show it to people – if they care or not, that’s another issue!”

Sinsaenum release Echoes Of The Tortured on July 29 via Earmusic 

[ramblingsfromthytruly]

hiii ⸜( ˃ ᵕ ˂ )⸝♡

name: mithi - not really, just family nickname

she/her

16 years old

ethnically & ancestrally indian (live in karnataka)

technically american (born in michigan)

lesbian

questioning demi/gray-aromantic

11th grader in cbse science stream (subjects: physics, chemistry, biology, psychology, english)

intj

mostly post & reblog stuff related to marauders, lgbtq+, literature, feminism, girlhood, desi culture, mental health & other general stuff & a couple other fandoms (pls stick by if i seem ur cup of tea)

dni: sexists, homophobes, racists, transphobes, ableists, anti-choice-ers, anti-palestine supporters, any bigots really

rules: don't be any of the above mentioned, don't be creepy

fun fact!: i was born exactly at 11:11 p.m.

studyblr sideblog: @academicgremlinhehe to keep my procrastination in check

mental health/vent/ranting sideblog: @thyhonesteheorte cuz i'm too scared to be especially depressing on main

libra sun, gemini moon, cancer rising

mental: unstable, go through depressive phases, gritted-tooth optimist, mayhaps have depression & ocd (but prolly just another lazy kid wrongly self-diagnosing)

physical: brown skin, black hair, v dark brown eyes, 5'6/168cm, glasses-wearing girlie

feel free to check me out on :

blog - like an actual site, not this beauty chaos

ao3 - solely marauders content

that odd melancholy feeling - current ongoing marylily fic on ao3

wattpad - same content as ao3

that odd melancholy feeling - on wattpad

life goals :

become an academic weapon once again - summoning pre 9th grade me

plan a - iiser bs-ms course with major in biology & minor in humanities; plan b - bsc biotechnology/biochemistry + masters neuroscience/astronomy/evolutionary biology abroad

phd astrobiology/neuroscience/evolutionary biology abroad

multiple degrees?? yes pls to being disgustingly over-educated

work in research + part time writer

independence

travel the world

tagging system! :

#mithi's own - all original posts

#she communicates oh my! - answering asks, communicating with other users, tag games

#poetic lil mithi - original poetry

#mithi's marauders - all posts relating to my marauders fanfiction

#wishful necromancy - all posts relating to the marauders fandom hehe get it?

#slightly less beloveds - posts about fandoms apart from the marauders

#musings from thy truly - journal extracts, vents, stuff that should be in my journal but i was too lazy to write with my hand, shit posts, life updates, literally anything that isn't studying or poetry or fandom-related

#mithistudies - studyblr posts made until 10th october 2024

current read! : jane eyre, a curse for true love

current watch! : dickinson, lord of the rings: rings of power

current obsessions! : hurt/comfort prongsfoot fics, dreaming of an academic comeback, commentary videos on youtube about niche tiktok drama

hobbies! : sketching, chess, photography, writing (poetry, lyrics, fanfic, novel, etc), recording vlogs, crafts, listening to music, reading, watching movies & shows, piano, and many many more!!

music! : gracie abrams, lorde, olivia rodrigo, chappell roan, cavetown, clairo, hozier, phoebe bridgers, mckenna grace, conan gray, chloe ament, mitski, tv girl, beach bunny, girl in red, lana del rey, wallows, alex g, florence + the machine, boygenius, and many many more!!

books! : solitaire, heartstopper, pjo, hoo, toa, soc, p&p, wuthering heights, jane eyre, great gatsby, sherlock holmes, agggtm, and many many more!!

shows! : heartstopper, atypical, lotr: rings of power, pjo, young royals, dickinson, sherlock, s&b, and many many more!!

movies! : lady bird, p&p (2005), the perks of being a wallflower, dating amber, little women (2019), lotr & hobbit trilogies, thg, dead poets society, and many many more!!

followers: 293

last updated: 28th november 2024

[azusaluvclub]

Hello it’s me again uwu because I have no sense of boundaries and I love your writing for The Boys ™️ 😔🤠 [sad yeehaw]

can I please request the eungang + ranking union stinkers: how they would act if their crush made the first bold move?

hi!! thank you for the request! it means a lot that you like my writing, i really appreciate it <3

this was really interesting to write, especially for the union boys lol- also, some headcanons are longer than others, just based on how many ideas i had for each character. regardless, hope you enjoy :D

gender neutral as always~

weak hero reactions; you make the first move

eunjang —

gray yeon / yeon sieun

⋆ Sieun had liked you for weeks now. You sat in front of him at cram school, yet he hadn't noticed you until recently when you'd asked him to help with a question you didn't fully understand. The smile you wore made his heart flutter. Since then, he's looked forward to seeing you each day — more eager to attend school than he'd been

⋆ In some ways, Sieun is still reserved, so while he wants to reach out, not knowing if you feel the same holds him back. Unbeknownst to him, you've noticed Sieun, too, much sooner than he did you

⋆ He was smart and cute and you liked that about him, but you were tired of keeping it to yourself. Trying to grab his attention by asking for help wasn't getting you anywhere, either. Now you'd have to take a real initiative

⋆ After cram school, you stop him on his way out the building. "Do you want to study together?" you ask, hoping he'll say yes. It was a simple request, yet subtly Sieun's face lights up. He agrees and you slip him a note with your number on it. The whole way home he smiles, for the first time in a while~

ben park / park humin

⋆ Humin is such an outgoing and confident guy that it's a total suprise if you make the first move- He would absolutely love it, though

⋆ You're part-timing at the pool hall Humin and Hyuntak frequent, and it's obvious from the start that Humin is into you. He'll often throw cheesy compliments your way or watch you work — smiling when he catches your gaze. But, he still won't approach you, no matter how much acknowledge him. You thought it was pretty obvious that you liked him too, yet he kept acting so coy- It was really aggravating you

⋆ The next time he came in, Humin greeted you as usual ("Are you a fart? 'Cause you blew me away~"). You stopped him before he could escape to the pool table, grabbing his wrist gently. "I like you," you say, and it's a relief to get it out. Humin stares at you in shock, though he wasn't oblivious to your crush; hearing it from you was a whole new experience

⋆ You wait for a response and, for a second, you think you got overenthusiastic. But all that fear vanishes with a few simple words from Humin: "Do you know how to play Tekken?"

alex go / go hyuntak

⋆ You went to the same boxing ring as Hyuntak, where you'd initially met. When he first started boxing, Hyuntak struggled more than he'd like to admit; it surprised him to see that you were much stronger despite your appearance

⋆ He was content admiring you from afar, but you're bold and you see potential in him, so your connection starts as small as you showing him how to fix his form and hand placements

⋆ From then, Hyuntak and you start hanging out often so you can give more pointers. Your personalities mesh well, plus he's super cute~ But he's too shy to make a move on you, wanting to be a stronger, cooler Hyuntak first (even though you already think he is-). He won't say it, but he can be pretty insecure at times; he really wants to impress you, regardless of whether he needs to

⋆ During your next boxing session, you're helping him with a move he can't quite perfect. Hyuntak is frustrated and you think he'll give up, but he has you in the corner encouraging him. In a few more tries, he gets it right and you rush over, kissing his cheek before you can even think — "That was amazing! I knew you could do it!"

⋆ He blushes, the tips of his ears a cherry red; your excitement boosts his confidence. While he wished he'd gotten a chance to confess first (and he may still get the chance), it's a relief to know you feel the same~

gerard jin / jin gayool

⋆ Gayool met you at one of Slam's first concerts. You were one of few middle-schoolers in the crowd, so you stood out — especially when you were waving a sparkly fan sign over your head. You were enamored by his voice, having discovered the band when they were just busking. They inspired your love for music, but, more importantly, your crush on Jin Gayool

⋆ You spoke a few times after shows, mostly interview them for your blog. Gayool liked your charm, however, and found himself drawn to you. Many of the girls at Slam's shows were older women who'd stalk him out of the building, or ask to take him home; though you were a fan, you were normal in comparison, and treated the members as people — not objects

⋆ Still, approaching you was difficult. You live in a different town, so it's not as easy as running into you on the street; and Hyeonjin doesn't give him much room to socialize before or after concerts (your interviews the only exception). Gayool's stuck on what to do- But you want him too, and aren't letting it go. The next time they perform, you have a sign with you, as usual. Instead of your normal encouraging words, however, the sign says something a lot bolder: Jin Gayool, will you go out with me?

⋆ When Gayool sees it, he stops singing, eyes wide in shock — the good kind, of course. Some of the aunties in the crowd glare at you, and you consider putting the sign away before you regret it; besides, Gayool couldn't exactly say 'yes' mid-performance without it causing a scene. But any concern you have about his feelings washes away when he begins to speak: "This next song is dedicated to someone very special~"

union —

jimmy bae / bae jihoon

⋆ You and Jihoon knew each other since middle school, having followed him to Yoosun as well. Though you wouldn't say you were the closest, you considered him a friend. Often, you'd hang out with him and Jeongyeon or bum cigs off Jihoon between classes; you'd buy extra snacks at the convenience store to share with him, so your relationship was mutually beneficial

⋆ Still, you always felt like you wanted more. Jihoon was rough, yes, but with you the wall he'd put up came down, just a bit. He would tease you, but it was different to how he'd tease Jeongyeon, as though he were cautious of your feelings (though Jihoon has never been one to care for them before). Still, Jihoon is too busy with his own melodrama that he doesn't think he can pursue you — at least not in his current state

⋆ However, you've devised a plan. The three of you had plans to see a movie together, but Jeongyeon has "mysteriously" gotten sick. So now it's just you and Jihoon, side-by-side in the theater, watching some sleazy horror movie that you're regretting buying a ticket for

⋆ Afterwards, Jihoon walks you home. "He's not actually sick, is he?" Jihoon asks, and you pause, embarrassed that he caught your lie. You shake your head, but this is your chance and you can't waste it. "I wanted to be alone with you," you explain, and he cocks his head in confusion. "Bae Jihoon, I really like you."

⋆ Jihoon is taken by surprise, but a feeling of excitement bubbles within him. He won't say it back, yet, but the smile he wears the rest of the night is all you need to see~

jake ji / ji hakho

⋆ You and Hakho met at an anime con. You had a small Two Piece cosplay account, and he was a bit starstruck to see you running a booth at the convention selling fan zines

⋆ Hakho bought one, immediately falling in love with your creativity. He reached out to your account to lend his praises, and it wasn’t long before a friendship sparked between you two. Not only were you the same age, with similar interests, you shared Hakho’s sense of humor. Plus, you were very attractive (of course)~

⋆ It was easy for him to fall in love, but the Union always seemed to get in the way. Hakho didn't want to burden you with his life, because you were the most peaceful and constant part of it; despite this, you'd fallen just as hard for him

⋆ The two of you were binge-watching Two Piece, bowls of popcorn and sweets scattered on the couch beside you, and a few bottles of soju you'd stolen from your mom's closet. The sun had long since gone down, and you could feel your eyes grow heavy with sleep. Hakho shifts beside you, preparing to leave, but you grab his shirt to stop him

⋆ "Please stay," you beg, "just a little longer." There's a sparkle in your eyes that makes it hard to say no, so he doesn't, even when you doze off on his shoulder, drunkenly whispering a confession against his skin. You'd forget it in the morning, but Hakho would hold onto that memory forever~

wolf keum / keum seongje

⋆ Seongje was interested in you from the start. You'd met through your childhood friend, Hwangmo. You were wary of Seongje at first, as you hadn't heard much good about him. His personality was brash and wild — even his smile sent a shiver down your spine. But it intrigued you, just as your quiet demeanor intrigued him, too

⋆ He was in your class, though you never spoke to him when Hwangmo wasn't there. You were smart, often getting top scores in the class; not only that, but you were kind, always offering help to others. Many people liked you, and that popularity made you stand out more to Seongje, as most popular people he knew used that power as a weapon, unlike you, who used it to lift up those around you

⋆ Maybe your humility was why he fell for you. And he was everything you weren't (bold, honest, and exciting), so you felt drawn to him, too. However, Seongje is romantically inept, so he doesn't know how to confess. Plus, he thinks you might be too good for him, and that leaves him hesitant; what if you truly change him? Or hold him back from his duties as Ganghak's leader?

⋆ After class, Seongje is assigned to cleaning duties with you. The light hits your face just right and he finds himself mesmerized, not realizing he's staring until you flash him a smile. "For a Union leader, you're pretty weak around me," you tease, and his ears redden, trying to shake off the remark. "You're seeing things," he shoots back

⋆ "Maybe. Or maybe I like you, too," you say, and Seongje really turns red. You exchange numbers on the walk to your bus stop; it's a strange feeling, but Seongje is hopeful to see what being with you does for him

forrest lee / lee sehan

⋆ Though he's a Union leader and can be as much of a dick as the rest of them, Sehan (when it comes to romance) is a man of tradition who was raised to be gentlemanly- So when you made the move on him? It threw him for a loop

⋆ He'd been crushing on you for ages. You're working part-time at the convenience store he frequents, so you two often chat during your breaktime. Though it was small talk, he'd look forward to it every day and visit you even if he didn't have money for snacks

⋆ While Sehan wants to confess, or get your number at least, he struggles- Partly because he's worried about you getting too close to the Union, and partly because of his own insecurity. Talking with you was easy when you made him feel so normal, even in the short moments you shared, so he grew afraid to ruin your friendship if you didn't feel the same

⋆ Still, it's worth a shot! During one of your meetings, he plans to get your number — key word: plans. Before he knows it, you're asking him on a date-

⋆ Sehan's pretty flustered, as he was hoping to ask you first, but seeing the gleam in your eye makes up for it. After stumbling over his words, face totally flushed, he gives you his number and the two of you make plans to catch a movie that weekend, Sehan blushing the rest of his walk home~

donald na / na baekjin

⋆ To Baekjin, you're something of an enigma. Not many people got as close to him as you were, and yet, without him realizing, you'd gone from being someone who he caught glances with in halls and the library, to a constant figure in his life

⋆ It's easy for him to fall for you. You're funny and easygoing, but reliable; even though you knew about his role in the Union, you never saw him as a villain or someone to fear. It was strange to him initially, because Baekjin was so comfortable holding power over those under him, yet you acted as though you were already his equal

⋆ Even so, he couldn't tell you about his feelings — until it was the right time, at least. Between school, the Union and business affairs, he never had time for crushes before, and he wouldn't let himself falter now. The Union needed a strong leader, not someone who could surrender to love so carelessly

⋆ When you burst into Baekjin's office and blurt out a confession, however, his composure slips- It's bold in a way he's not accustomed to, but he can't stop thinking about how cute you are, tumbling out every emotion you'd been holding onto between a few deep breaths. Honestly, he can't say no — nor does he really want to

⋆ Baekjin stops you with a hand on yours, looking at you with the softest smile. He wonders if he'll regret it someday, when the Union inevitably falls and all he has left is you; but a simple life may be what he needs, more than omnipotence and riches. "Don't worry, Y/N. I like you, too~"

[rambleonwaywardson]

Clegan Astronaut AU - Part 15

Masterpost Read on AO3

AU Summary: the boys as modern day NASA astronauts. Taking place in 2025, Bucky is about to head to the moon as mission commander of Artemis III while Buck is CAPCOM at NASA. Established relationship (obnoxiously in love).

Author's Note: We may have been shorter last week, but we are longer this week. Good news is, the boys are heading home! Heads up, I am looking at probably two more chapters after this one(?) Who knows, but that's my current idea.

---

Is it possible to be nowhere and everywhere at the same time?

You’re driving on the flat open road of the west, not a single car in sight, nothing but nowhere spread across the Earth on all sides. Or you’re on a boat in the middle of the ocean, calm waves rocking you up and down, knowing that the world is at your fingertips even though you can’t see a single thing other than the water meeting the sky. You’re in a plane, soaring through the clouds, no worries, no pain, almost everyone who ever lived below you and endless possibilities ahead. Or you’re in a space capsule above the Earth, and you look into the star-spotted blackness out your window and you know. It looks like nothing, but in reality, there’s nothing but everything. An infinity that rests just beyond your reach. 

There’s something about being adrift in the great wide open that makes you throw your arms out to the wind, yell into the universe to let them know you’re there, you’re not afraid. Way out in the middle of nowhere, the great wide everywhere that you can’t see but you can feel in your heart.

John has spent his whole life chasing that feeling, grin on his face, cheeks reddened by the wind. His feet could never settle on the ground, always trying to reach the sky above, the moon, the stars, the infinity that dared him to hold on for the ride. Wild child, they called him. He wanted to find the top of the world, see it all stretched out before him.

The king of nowhere and everywhere all at once.

—

November 23 Somewhere between Earth and the Moon Or… somewhere between nowhere and everywhere

“Hey astrofag, welcome back.”

Bucky’s eyes open slowly, as if his eyelids don’t remember what their job is. Everything is blurry and unfocused, watercolor grays and whites. His body doesn’t feel right, adrift in a sea of nothing. Everything feels wrong wrong wrong, and his head feels tight and heavy, his eyes irritated, his face stuffy and sore.

Everything hurts. He blinks, and his vision assembles into something semi-coherent, shapes and lines that don’t make sense but at least are staying still for once. Someone is standing over him, a grin across their face.

Not standing. Floating.

Alex. Alex wasn’t here before. Bucky hasn’t seen Alex in…

When? When did he last see Alex?

Bucky’s eyes dart around the small crew cabin, but it sends a sharp pain through his head like needles poking at his brain, carving into his skull. He can hear his own heartbeat in his ears. Getting faster, too fast. Nausea is rolling through him. Panic.

“Hey, take it easy.” Rosie’s voice. 

Bucky can’t breathe. Or is he breathing too fast? His lungs burn. 

He gags on the air that tastes like metal in his mouth, feeling that sour acid creeping up his throat as his stomach tries to flip inside out. He tries to turn over, but he’s stuck. Something is holding him in place, and he doesn’t understand how that can be possible when it feels like all the pieces of his body have been disassembled. Weakly, he tries to break away from the restraint. Need out need out need out. 

But he can’t. He doesn’t understand how to move his body when his body is nothing. He is nothing. 

He wonders, if he believes hard enough that none of this is real, will he wake up whole again?

He might scream in pain when he tries to move his leg, but that might only be in his head. It’s hard to tell, when he woke up with a head-splitting ringing in his ears. 

“Get him up, get him up,” Rosie is saying. The panic in his voice sticks in Bucky’s mind. Two of a kind. 

Alex leans over Bucky, working to free him. He and Rosie pull him upright just before he spits the bile out of his mouth. It floats in front of his face, making him feel sick again as he stares at it, wondering why it’s doing that. He doesn’t know where he is. Or why. Or how. 

He wants to go home now. 

“Curt?” He whimpers.

“He’s sleeping, bud.”

Bucky doesn’t like that. Curt has been the only constant in this painful, pieced together existence he’s been living. He blinks, and everything goes all blurry again.

The last thing he hears before he passes out is someone saying Gale’s name.

—

“Gale isn’t here,” Rosie tells him.

He was. I heard you talking to him.

“You wanna talk to Helen about something?”

Bucky shakes his head. That movement alone sends everything spinning around him. His nose is all stopped up and his throat feels tight and sore. His stomach feels like it’s twisted all in knots. Rosie keeps trying to give him water, but he’s having a hard time swallowing, more often than not choking or spitting it back out, and he feels tears leaking onto his hot cheeks. He groans and curls in on himself, hoping that maybe if he closes his eyes, all of this will just go away.

“Hold on,” Rosie says, his voice muffled as he leaves Bucky’s side.

He mourns the loss of company, and he pulls his shaking left hand up to his mouth, pressing his wedding ring to his lips for comfort. Everything feels funny. There’s too much pressure in his head, and he doesn’t know why.

His limbs won’t listen to his brain, and he feels like he’s floating in the worst way. And he doesn’t know why.

Everything hurts so bad. And he doesn’t know why.

He feels like he’s gonna throw up. And he doesn’t know why.

Gale isn’t here. And he doesn’t fucking know why.

His whole body feels like it’s buzzing, like an electric current gone haywire. One wrong move and he might go up in flames. His heart is beating too fast and it won’t slow down. He can’t breathe. “Hey, hey, it’s alright.” Rosie’s voice is back. A warm hand rests on Bucky’s shoulder. “You’re fine. I’m right here.”

He really wishes it was Gale, but he just doesn’t want to be alone. He’s scared that if he falls asleep alone, he might not wake up. Somewhere deep in a memory he can’t trust anymore, something tells him that someone out there doesn’t want him to wake up. Would that be better?

Something soft is touching his hand, rubbing across his knuckles. Rosie gently pulls Bucky’s fingers away from his mouth, helping him stretch them open and close them again around the object.

“Open your eyes, John. Take a look.”

Bucky does as he’s told, even though it makes him feel sick, and he lifts his head as much as he can to look down at his chest. There’s a small stuffed bear with soft brown fur gripped in his fingers, pressed against his heart. It’s wearing a NASA shirt and a name tag that says “Beary Egan” in a messy scrawl that Bucky would know anywhere. His heart jumps.

“Gale,” he whispers.

Rosie strokes his hair back soothingly, and Bucky falls asleep without feeling panic in his chest for the first time since he woke up on the moon.

—

“Gale isn’t here.” Curt strokes a strand of hair away from Bucky’s face.

Bring him back, Bucky thinks desperately. Tell him I need him.

He picks at the needle in his arm, but Curt swats his hand away. Get it out of me. He doesn’t know what it is. He doesn’t want it there anymore. He doesn’t want to be here. He wants to go home.

“Quit that,” Curt says, grasping Bucky’s fingers in his own to keep them still. Bucky struggles, but eventually goes lax when it takes too much energy that he doesn’t have. “It’s already all red, John. You’re gonna hurt yourself.”

“Buck,” Bucky whispers insistently.

He searches Curt’s face, and all he sees is sadness as the other man sighs deeply and squeezes his fingers. “He’ll be back tomorrow,” he says, letting go of Bucky’s hand.

Bucky hugs Beary Egan tight to his chest and imagines Gale’s arms wrapped around him. He imagines the heat of his body protecting Bucky from the world, the strong set of his shoulders ready to take on anything that threatens to hurt him. He imagines his smile and his laugh and the fierceness and love in his eyes. He imagines his voice in his ear, the warmth of his breath, the feeling of his lips kissing the top of his head. 

If Gale were here, he’d make all of Bucky’s pain go away. If Gale were here, Bucky wouldn’t have to worry about anything at all.

—

“... Vertigo… TBI… bad combination.”

“What do we do?”

“... keep him comfortable… hope…”

“...ain’t happening.”

Bucky’s head hurts too much to even open his eyes. When he tries, pain rings in his ears like a physical thing hunting him down in this never-ending nightmare. He has nowhere to turn, no way to escape it. It’s already got him in its teeth. 

Voices drift in and out, but he doesn’t know who they are or where they’re coming from.

“Gale,” he tries to whisper, but his lips are dry and his throat is dry and his brain won’t form the word – the only word he knows. Gale. No one can hear him. Beary Egan has drifted away, somewhere he can’t reach, leaving him all alone in the darkness of this place he doesn’t know. He tries to reach his hand out, tries to open his eyes to look, but it all makes him feel sick.

Come back. Please.

Bucky turns his head to the side and coughs out the burning acid forcefully ejecting itself from his body. Somewhere, distantly, he’s aware of someone wiping his face. “Here,” they say. “We don’t wanna lose this guy do we?”

His fingers are being pried open, and he closes them around something soft. Something safe. He pulls the bear back to his chest, and he sniffs against the stuffiness clouding his head. He imagines the unknown voice belongs to Gale, even though it’s not even close.

—

Rosie feels a deep pain in his chest every time Bucky wakes up and asks for Buck. Every time, Rosie has to tell him “Gale’s not here right now, John. He’ll be back in the morning.” And every time, Bucky frowns, and he disappears again. Like Gale is the only reason he’s stayed alive this long and there’s no reason to exist if he isn’t here.

Rosie is a medical professional. And yet even he doesn’t wholly understand the role that love plays in an intensive care patient drawing in the next breath, and the next, and the next. In a matter of life or death, Rosie used to be inclined to say that, no, love doesn’t keep patients alive. The heart is no more than a muscle that pumps blood through your body, and your body is no more than a vessel for your brain. Your brain is no more than a collection of neurons that, through some miracle of life, let you think and interact with a complex world. Love is not a direct power source.

That’s not to say that the existence of human life isn’t beautiful. And that’s not to say that the existence of love isn’t worth living for. It’s just to say that the human body is going to do what it’s going to do, that intense feelings of love pulling a coma patient back to the surface is something straight out of a cheesy romance movie. 

But it’s possible that John Egan alone will change Rosie’s mind.

“He’s regressed since docking,” he tells Helen. It’s late on November 23rd, nearing midnight for the crew – 8pm in Houston – and they are well on their way back to Earth. It’s been 24 hours since Starship rendezvoused with Orion and Rosie and Alex had to pull John’s unconscious body through the hatch. He only woke up once Gale’s entire shift, which Rosie knows tore Gale up inside even if he won’t admit it to anyone. Bucky has woken a few times in the four hours since. Every single time he asks for Gale. 

“Buck said he’s been unconscious much of the day?” Helen asks.

Rosie rubs a hand over his eyes. He’s floating in the middle of the cabin next to John’s hammock, where he’s been stationed basically since they got the commander settled there in the first place. As he talks, he’s adjusting Bucky’s IV fluid. NASA asked him to ration it, but Rosie is terrified that decreasing the amount of fluid Bucky receives will mean he won’t regain enough strength. He’s become more and more concerned throughout the day, as the Earth becomes larger and larger through their window. Atmospheric re-entry and splashdown will be harder on Bucky’s body than even the Starship launch was.

Rosie’s worried that Bucky’s heart, his brain, his body won’t be able to handle the stress. If they can’t get some of his strength back, the intensity of their return to Earth might crush the life right out of him like a shoe to a bug. So how in this godforsaken universe is Rosie supposed to tell Gale that, even though they’ve gotten his husband this far, there’s still a chance he dies during re-entry?

“Rosie?” Helen says. Rosie squeezes his eyes shut and shakes his head to re-center himself.

“He asks for Gale a lot,” he recounts. “He expresses pain – and as far as we can tell, he’s in a lot of pain. He only seems partially aware of what’s happening to him at any given time, but he won’t stay awake long enough for us to tell.”

“What changed?”

Rosie scoffs, even though he doesn’t mean to. It’s just that this whole situation is basically their worst case scenario – the kind of thing that they don’t even plan for much less practice coping with. They’re all just trying their goddamn best up here even though their best means subjecting their commander to baseline torture. 

“His body is having a really hard time adjusting to zero gravity.”

It’s funny, actually, because Major John Egan has never had a single problem with space sickness before. Even when the majority of astronauts experience symptoms of Space Adaptation Syndrome when first exposed to zero gravity, Bucky has never reported more than some congestion from the headward shift of fluids that they all experience. He’s never experienced nausea or vomiting, malaise, or loss of appetite. Hardly even a headache. Many of the other astronauts were jealous of him for that. 

“My best guess is the extra pressure in his head after a TBI is causing more problems than we can really anticipate,” Rosie explains as he tries to massage the tension out of his brow. He hasn’t slept in over 24 hours now, and it’s starting to get to him. “He’s extremely congested. Seems to be experiencing vertigo, headaches, confusion, a lot of nausea. His motor control has regressed. His ability to communicate has regressed.”

He can hear Helen typing away on her computer, recording this information for their records. “What are the odds it corrects itself the longer he’s on Orion?”

Rosie shrugs as he double checks that the IV is still properly inserted into Bucky’s arm. It made him feel like an absolute monster, but he had to restrain Bucky’s hands an hour or so ago because he kept pulling at it, obsessively trying to remove it. The only reason he hasn’t succeeded is because he can’t get enough control over his own fingers to grip something so small as the butterfly needle. Bucky tried to fight the restraints, and Rosie was impressed with the strength he exhibited for having almost no nutrients for days on end, but he was still too weak and gave up after half a minute. Rosie tucked Beary Egan into the sleeping bag with him, right over his heart, to keep the bear from flying away. 

“I’m hopeful,” Rosie admits hesitantly. “Usually SAS goes away within a day or two. But as I said, this is… a unique case.”

He floats his way over to where his laptop is stored by the main console so he can update the log he’s been keeping on Bucky’s condition. Things like Asks for and accepts water; Asks for Curt and Gale; Responds to pain stimuli; Complains about head and leg pain; 0800 - vomited bile; 1100 - vomited bile; 11:30 - Trouble swallowing water; 1300 - vomited bile; 14:30 - vomited bile; 1600 - scratching at head wound; Keeps trying to remove IV; 22:30 - restrained hands.

23:45 - decreased IVF.

Early this morning, Rosie was able to use their X-ray machine to check Bucky’s leg. He was happy to report that Curt managed to set it properly, and it should hopefully heal well enough once they make it back home. If they can keep Bucky from messing with it and potentially re-injuring himself.

Silver linings.

“I’m worried about the IV fluid.”

“I know,” Helen says.

“I was hoping I’d be able to get him eating solid food once he was back on Orion, but at this rate, I’m lucky if I can get him to swallow water without coughing it back up.”

There’s a brief silence before Helen comes back. “We think you should try giving him something easy tomorrow. Cereal or soup. You should have enough food rations to sacrifice some, if he can’t keep it down.”

Rosie watches the steady rise and fall of Bucky’s chest. Even in sleep, he looks pained. “I can try.”

—

Nassau Bay, TX

Gale has given up even considering sleeping in his bedroom. He spent last night tossing and turning on the couch, even though he knew he’d wake up with all sorts of pain in his neck and back. He has to admit, he isn’t twenty-two anymore. But the thought of sleeping in that too-big bed without John’s arms around him is too much. He’s forcing himself to stay in the living room, even though he’s terrified to be alone. Even though the darkness closes in on him, making him feel like that lonely child afraid of the night. He doesn’t want to bother Marge again; she’s spent too much time trying to hold him together. 

John’s pillow smells less and less like John. When Gale woke up far too early this morning, the creeping fear from a forgotten nightmare crawling over his mind, he cried into the pillow, mourning something that he nearly lost but hasn’t yet found again. Mostly, he shoves his nose against the pillowcase and tries to find the last remnants of that smoky-sweet scent that he would give anything to smell again. Counting the minutes, the seconds, until John comes home.

Before and during rendezvous, Alex and Rosie adjusted Orion’s course to drop from NRHO into LLO, so that they would dock with Starship and remain in low lunar orbit rather than continuing on into the much longer near-rectilinear halo orbit. The original flight plan called for continuing in NRHO for a few days before performing a burn that would essentially slingshot the crew around the moon and back towards Earth. But with Bucky still in critical condition, they simply don’t have that kind of time.

Early this morning, Benny walked Curt through a trans-Earth injection burn, kicking the crew out of LLO. If all goes to plan, the new flight path will bring them home in 3.5 days rather than the roughly week-long journey that NRHO would have necessitated. 

All that to say, Gale will be with his husband again in T-3 days. 72 hours. 4,320 minutes.

259,200 seconds.

About 260,000 heartbeats. 

One. Two. Three. Four…..

He’s given up trying to look through the wedding pictures. Sometimes he opens the tab on his phone and simply stares at that first look photo, the one of John seeing him in his wedding suit for the very first time. He imagines Bucky’s hands on his waist, the softness of Bucky’s hair beneath his fingers, that wayward curl over his head. He thinks about Bucky’s smile – perfect, carefree, beautiful, something sent by the angels.

Sometimes it hurts too much, and all Gale can do is try not to chuck his phone at the wall. He actually did once, when he stupidly gave in to the urge to go on social media. He had to relocate one of the framed photographs on their living room wall to hide the dent he made.

“Fag’s coming home,” people on social media say.

“I vote we leave him up there.”

Gale wonders how people can be so cruel to a man that has given everything for his country time and time again.

During Gale’s shift today, Bucky only woke up once. For eight hours, Gale stood or sat at his desk, wedding ring pressed to his lips, coffee clutched in a death grip, guiding the crew through cabin checks and correctional burns. And Bucky only woke one time, screaming in pain. Rosie and Dr. Huston both tell Gale that the Starship launch was a lot for John’s brain and body to handle, and they aren’t surprised he needs time to recover. They tell him that it isn’t really a step back, that it isn’t anything to worry about. But Gale knows they aren’t telling him the whole story.

What if they ruined his chances, strapping him into that rocket? What if it was too much for him to handle? What if he doesn’t recover? What if he’s made it this far, and he’s not strong enough to finish the journey home? And now, when they’re running out of IV fluid…

Gale’s whole life feels like a what if. He’s so, so close to having his husband back, safe in his arms. And yet they have so terribly far to go.

Minimal consciousness. Minimal consciousness. Minimal consciousness. That’s what everyone keeps calling it. That’s the official statement that Marge gave in the press conference that aired this afternoon. “Major Egan remains in a state of minimal consciousness… Hard time remaining aware… basic communication… vertigo… brain fog… confusion… pain…” 

That’s the purgatory that Bucky is in. 

“We’re hopeful he will continue to improve… we are doing everything we can to bring our boys home.”

The TV clicks off. Gale looks up from where he’s sitting on the floor, alone, holding the pillow in his lap. He changed out of his work clothes when he came home and is wearing the Yankees sweatshirt and a pair of black joggers, his socked feet tucked beneath his crossed legs. Marge sighs deeply as she looks at him, remote in hand. “You’re just torturing yourself.”

“You’re the one who did the press conference,” Gale mutters.

“It’s my job, Gale.” She frowns as she sets the remote on the coffee table. “Go get your dogs. It’s a nice day, and you need fresh air. I can come if you want company.” She’s slowly starting to trust him again.

Gale shakes his head and gets to his feet, carefully placing the pillow back on the couch. “I’ll go.”

Marge is right, it is a nice day. Cool, but not cold. The bite in the air makes Gale pull the sleeves of the sweatshirt over his hands, and he thinks about walking through the neighborhood with John when they first moved here, almost exactly four years ago. He thinks about Bucky’s warm hand in his, his wild grin as he pointed this direction and that, pretending to be a tour guide of this place that he’d never so much as visited before. “To your left, you’ll see a wild seagull in its natural habitat…”

Benny answers the knock on his door faster than Gale expected him to, and when he meets Gale’s eyes, his face is filled with a worry that punches Gale right in the gut, a worry that Gale is simply not equipped to handle right now.

“What’s wrong?” he asks. 

Benny runs a hand through his hair and motions behind him, where the dogs lay on the hardwood instead of greeting Gale, tails wagging, like they normally do. “Pepper won’t eat. Did she eat breakfast?”

Gale feels his heart drop. The happy memory of John is replaced by dread washing over him. Suddenly, it feels far too cold outside after all. He rubs a sleeve-covered hand over his eyes. “I… I can’t remember,” he realizes. He bites at his lip, furrowing his brow. “Marge fed her. I can’t remember.”

He vaguely remembers Marge saying something about Pepper this morning. She looked concerned. He was so exhausted though, so drained. He remembers tightening his tie around his neck, feeling it choke the air from his lungs, adjusting the collar of his shirt as he nodded. He muttered something along the lines of “I’m sure she’s fine.”

How could he have neglected his baby girl? How could he have ignored something that was so obviously unlike her? How terrible of a pet parent is he?

He rubs his hand over his mouth, and Benny must see the distress clear as day all over his face, because he puts a gentle hand on his shoulder. “Hey, it’s okay,” he soothes. “It’s okay.”

“Why can’t I remember?” Gale whispers.

Benny chuckles softly and pulls him into a hug. It makes Gale feel pathetic, the way tears well up in his eyes so easily, and he holds his breath to stop them from spilling over. “If those bags under your eyes are anything to go by, you’re not sleeping,” Benny points out. “And Marge says you’re barely eating.” He sighs, holding Gale tighter. “Breathe, Buck.”

Gale struggles to draw air in through his nose, and Benny rubs his back. “What are we gonna do with you?”

“Send me to the moon, apparently,” Gale mutters. “Didn’t you hear, that’s where America wants to send us fags to die.”

He feels Benny go stiff, tensing at his cruel words. “Buck,” he breathes out, his voice full of sorrow.

“It’s fine,” Gale insists. He wriggles out of Benny’s hold and wipes his eyes. “I’m fine. I-I’ll take her to the vet tomorrow, if she doesn’t eat by the time my shift ends.” 

He walks past Benny into the house, kneels down next to Pepper as she lays on the floor. She whines and presses her cold nose against his arm, and he smiles sadly as he strokes her ears. “Pep, don’t do this to me, sweetie. I can’t…”

He sighs and closes his eyes. It doesn’t matter if he can or not; he has to do it all anyway. He has to keep them all afloat. Absently, he rubs his thumb over his wedding ring.

“That’s it,” Benny says. “Have you eaten dinner?” 

Gale shakes his head. Marge made pasta, but he could only stomach a few bites. She told him he’d have to try again later. “You’re supposed to be sleeping before Blue Shift,” he reminds Benny.

Benny motions to the door, referencing how quickly he opened it. “Does it look like I was sleeping? Now come on. I’m gonna heat up some soup and you’re not leaving until you eat it.”

—

November 24

Sometime in the middle of the night, Rosie wakes up to Bucky making panicked noises somewhere along the lines of “Uh??? Uh? Uhm…” his voice pitching higher and higher. Despite getting basically no sleep at all, Rosie scrambles at top speed to disentangle himself from his sleeping bag of a hammock, which is strapped vertically to the wall of Orion, and he fumbles with the switches by the main console to get the overhead cabin lights turned on. Curt, in the horizontally strung up hammock beside Bucky, mumbles in displeasure as he wakes and has to squint against the fluorescent brightness assaulting his eyes from above. Alex does the same from his sleeping bag, also secured to the wall, on the other side of the cabin. 

Rosie rubs at his own eyes as he pulls himself down to Bucky’s level.

“What’s wrong with him this time?” Curt asks through a yawn. Rosie knows it isn’t meant to come out as annoyed as it sounds. Curt, after all, has been the one dealing with every bullshit twist of fate the universe has thrown Bucky’s way this entire time.

Bucky’s eyes are wide as he looks up at Rosie, then down at his hand, which he’s holding in front of his face. Rosie doesn’t know how the hell he managed to break free of the restraints, but on some level he’s actually relieved. Because that means there’s no point in restraining him again. His breathing isn’t well controlled, shifting from quick gasps to hardly breathing at all and back. Rosie takes his shaking fingers gently and tries not to wince when he feels something wet against his skin. 

Red.

“He’s got blood on his hand,” Rosie tells Curt.

“The fuck?” Curt sits up and looks at Bucky. “What did you do?”

Bucky just keeps staring at his hand. He rubs his thumb over his forefinger, watching the red smear across his pale skin. He scrunches his nose.

“Bucky? Where did that come from?” Rosie asks. “I need to know.”

Nothing.

“John, can you look at me?”

Bucky looks back up at him, his eyes unfocused. “Huh?”

“The blood. Where did the blood come from?”

Bucky frowns and seems to notice the blood on his hand all over again. He grimaces and gags a little bit, making another kind of “uh” sound. Rosie braces himself, waiting for Bucky to throw up again, but he doesn’t. 

Rosie tries asking, “John, what hurts?” Since asking where the blood came from didn’t work.

Bucky tries to rub his eyes with his bloody hand, and Rosie has to catch his wrist to stop him from smearing it all over himself. “All’ve it,” he slurs. 

Rosie nods and takes a deep breath. He should’ve expected as much. “Okay, come on, let’s sit up.”

Bucky doesn’t protest when Rosie unzips the side of his hammock halfway and helps him sit up, but he does whine when the movement jostles his leg. His non-bloody hand tries to grab onto Beary Egan as he floats away, released from the sleeping bag, but he doesn’t have the coordination. Rosie plucks the bear out of the air and tucks him down into Bucky’s lap. 

“I know, I know,” he mutters as Bucky tries to reach towards his broken leg. He secures both of Bucky’s hands in his own to hold him upright and keep him from messing with anything else. “Curt, help me out here.”

Curt crawls the rest of the way out of his own hammock so he can hover beside Bucky.

“I’m gonna sit with him like this,” Rosie explains. “Can you check the back of his head?”

Curt nods and puts both hands on Bucky’s shoulders, using them as leverage to pull himself closer to his commander’s backside. Gently, he brushes aside the short strands of hair that are slowly growing back after Curt had to shave off the patch around the head wound. 

“Bingo.” His own fingers come away bloody, and he shows Rosie. “He broke open the stitches.”

Rosie frowns and looks pointedly at Bucky. “You’re not supposed to bother those.”

He can’t stay mad, though, when Bucky mutters a quiet but intelligible “Sorry,” even as his eyes are so unfocused that Rosie has no faith he knows what he’s apologizing for.

“I’m gonna have to wrap it all up again, you know.” Rosie tries to catch Bucky’s eye, but the other astronaut won’t look at him. Whatever thoughts are floating around his addled brain are somewhere far away from here.

Rosie asks Curt to update Houston. Then he tells him, “Get me some disinfectant, a rag, a water bottle, and some gauze.”

“Hold on,” Curt calls back as he floats towards the console. “Gotta change our wake-up song first.”

—

“As the sun comes up shining down on the ten, I did too much living and I’m dying again…”

Bucky wakes groggily to the sound of a tired, monotone chorus of his crewmates’ voices, a song blasting in the background. He feels hot and cold at the same time, and a shiver racks his bones, sending pain coursing through his leg. Nausea rolls throw him, and he bites his tongue to hold it back. Slowly, his eyelids peel open. They feel all sticky and wet, like when he wakes up with a fever in the middle of winter and Gale brushes his hair off his forehead with gentle, soothing fingers.

Gale isn’t here, though. They keep telling him that.

He squints through the bright lights of the cabin, despite the heavy ache in his head and sinuses. He can see the others starting to stow their sleeping bags around him, going about their morning. They all look as exhausted as he feels, and they’re all quietly mumbling along to the lyrics of a song he doesn’t recognize.

“I guess I lost my head at the Holiday Inn, but my blood run red, my blood run red.”

“What the fuck,” Bucky mumbles.

Curt’s face appears in his field of view, making Bucky flinch. “Hey! Astrofag!”

Bucky blinks slowly up at him and raises a hand to the side of his head. It’s all bandaged up again. He remembers the blood on his skin. Thought it was a dream. His fingers trail towards the back of his head, and he scrunches his nose at the sharp, stinging pain on his scalp, the pounding that intensifies as he touches the wound through the gauze.

Curt smacks his hand away. “Leave it alone, dude.”

“Shaved my hair,” Bucky mutters. He raises his hand in front of his face, studying the little bit of dried blood still stuck under his nails.

Curt chokes on a laugh. “You almost died. I think you can deal with a little hair loss, my guy.” He cocks his head. “Wait, did you fuck up the stitches cause you were mad about me shaving your hair?”

Bucky frowns. “Dunno.” He doesn’t even remember messing with the wound.

Curt pokes him lightly on the cheek. “I didn’t bring you all this way for you to get your scalp all infected, so leave it the fuck alone, yeah?” 

Bucky sticks his tongue out, and Curt rolls his eyes with a fond but annoyed smile that can only be accomplished by someone who knows you like the back of their hand, a sibling or best friend who you’ve been with through everything. Bucky, through the haze of his memory, remembers Curt starting to crumble in the lander. It feels good to see him smile like that again. 

Curt pats Bucky on the shoulder and floats away, leaving him alone as life goes on around him. His head spins, and he finds Beary Egan tucked back into the sleeping bag against his chest. He holds on tight to the bear as he tries to look out the window on the side of the capsule, his eyes struggling to focus. Earth is visible, an unassuming blue sphere rising out of the black nothing.

Alex appears next to him, and they meet each other’s gaze. “Want a better look?”

Bucky takes a few seconds to process that question, but his eyes flick back to the planet out their window, and Alex pats him on the shoulder. “Come on,” he says. He unzips Bucky’s sleeping bag as far as it’ll go, and he gently eases Bucky out of it, which is made easier by the zero-g. “Leg feel okay?”

“No,” Bucky grits out.

“Stupid question,” Alex agrees. “Good enough, though? I’m gonna take you to the window. Is that okay?”

Bucky nods, his eyes already locked on the window with a strong determination to orient himself in their solar system, see the view he’s been longing for, feel something other than half dead despite the pounding in his head. Alex grabs Beary Egan and helps Bucky wrap his fingers around him. “Hold on tight to this guy, alright?” Then he gently guides Bucky across the cabin to the little window that they’ve been using as a secondary position indicator. Curt follows with Bucky’s IV in tow.

“Would you look at that,” Alex breathes as they stand by the window. Bucky grins at him, and Alex grins back. He points. “Look at all those clouds.”

Bucky clutches Beary Egan to his chest with his left hand, so hard he feels his wedding band digging into his finger. And he presses his right to the cool glass of the window. It's even more beautiful than he remembers. “Home,” he whispers. “Goin’ home.”

He hears the click of a camera shutter behind him. But all he’s thinking about is Gale, asleep in their bed. Bucky wants to wrap his hands around his husband’s waist, bury his nose in his hair, inhale the scent of him. Sweet and earthy, like sandalwood and salt water. He wants to rest his head against Gale’s chest and hear the beating of his heart. 

He wants to go home. 

Once the cabin has been swapped from strange dystopian slumber party to astronomical work environment, Rosie helps Bucky complete any necessary sanitary tasks – a process which results in a lot of swearing, angry grumbling, pointed silence, and, eventually, a total loss of consciousness. 

Once Bucky comes to again, he refuses to return to his hammock, which they kept set up in the middle of the cabin, even though he’s so exhausted he can barely comprehend anything anyone says to him. Rosie sets him up next to the window again so he can stare out at the stars while they prepare to follow NASA’s orders.

Food. Attempt number 1. 

Curt hands over what Rosie can only describe as “goop” – rehydrated milk and wheat chex.

“There’s no way he’s gonna eat that,” Alex says.

They all turn to look at Bucky. His eyes are open, alert, but glassy. His cheeks are flushed in a way that Rosie is concerned about. He’s less lucid than he was an hour ago, when he first woke up, but Rosie isn’t surprised. His body doesn’t have enough energy to keep him going, especially with the lower amount of IV fluid. Bucky turns his head and raises an eyebrow when he realizes they’re all staring at him,

“We’re gonna try some food, okay?” Rosie holds up the package of soggy wheat chex. Bucky used to snack on it dry, but it’ll be too hard to swallow that way.

Bucky frowns. Shakes his head. “No.”

“We gotta get something into you, John.”

“No.”

“Can we try?”

Bucky looks back out the window, honest to God pouting. He crosses his arms protectively over his chest, the bear still clutched in his hand. He protested when Rosie tried to take it away to make their morning tasks easier.

“Please?” Rosie adds.

Bucky looks back at him, then holds his hand out, a scowl still on his face. Rosie nods and moves towards him. “Just nice and slow,” he says. “You wanna try holding the spoon?”

Bucky reaches up to take the little metal spoon from Rosie, but his fingers are too clumsy to hold the handle, sending a clump of cereal drifting into the air. Rosie takes it back, and it takes another minute of convincing for Bucky to recover from that embarrassment. “You’ll be able to do that in no time,” Rosie reassures him. “But only if you eat something.”

Bucky takes a long-suffering breath, but he lets Rosie feed him like a toddler, slipping a small spoonful of soggy cereal between his lips as Alex and Curt watch. He immediately starts gagging at the taste and the cereal pops back out in a glob that floats in front of his face. Rosie re-captures it inside the wheat chex package.

Bucky glares at him, and Rosie wants to laugh at the same time he wants to swear.

“Benny, wheat chex are a no go,” Curt informs Houston.

Bucky turns away and leans his head against the window, staring out into the darkness until his eyes drift closed, a frown on his face. “... and he’s out,” Curt reports. Alex and Rosie gently guide Bucky back to his hammock and get him settled into it. Bucky opens his eyes once and makes a confused, startled sort of noise. He asks for Gale.

Rosie tells him Gale isn’t here yet, and Bucky drifts away again. Rosie presses the back of his hand to Bucky’s forehead, and frowns when he realizes it’s starting to feel too warm.

—

Gale is going to need a hell of a lot more coffee if he has any hope of getting through today. It’s 8am, he’s just taken over the console from Benny, and his first cup is already empty. 

Reportedly, Bucky has woken up periodically since his last shift. Sometimes he seems aware of his surroundings, and sometimes he doesn’t. Sometimes he just stares at nothing, won’t talk, won’t move. Sometimes he asks for Gale and goes quiet when Gale isn’t there. Sometimes he’s almost capable of conversation. 

Most often, he complains about pain and nausea, and he keeps coughing up bile. Rosie is able to administer some pain medication through the IV, but the only anti-nausea meds they have need to be taken orally, and Bucky either won’t or can’t swallow them.

He broke his head wound open, but he didn’t seem to remember doing it or really understand that he did it at all. That’s what Gale hates to think about most: John, unaware and disconnected. Just floating in space, not comprehending or understanding anything that’s happening around him, because that state of nothing is the perfect antithesis of Gale’s energetic, carefree, competent husband.

On top of that, they’re concerned that Bucky is developing a fever. In space. After the whole crew quarantined for days before launch, and they’ve been staying in crew capsules assembled in clean rooms. There is no reason John should be getting sick now, three weeks into the mission. The flight surgeons all agree: there’s only two possibilities. On one hand, it may just be psychogenic, a spike in his temperature due to extreme stress. On the other, it could be neurogenic, resulting from the TBI, which can easily be fatal if not treated properly. Gale tries to take deep breaths and not think too much about that. 

Bucky won’t eat either. Just like Pepper won’t eat. Just like Gale himself can barely eat. Together, spread across 230,000 miles, they’re just a dysfunctional little family trying to survive to the next day.

“Get any sleep?” Croz asks him.

Gale shrugs.

“Bags under your eyes are lookin’ lighter today.”

Gale rolls his eyes. “Thanks, Croz. I’m flattered.”

He’s starting to review the course correction burns that Curt and Alex need to perform today when a muffin and a cup of coffee land on his desk.

“Eat,” Marge instructs him. When they arrived at JSC this morning, she headed off to yell at more media outlets to leave Gale the fuck alone after a reporter accosted them on their way in. He gave a brief comment, mostly because he was too tired to run away, but Marge took it upon herself to continue waging war. Apparently, yelling at the media to get a goddamn grip and chill out is a major part of her job right now. And apparently, yelling at the media includes getting coffee and pastries.

Gale reaches for the cup of coffee in relief, but Marge smacks his hand. “No. Not until I watch you take at least four bites of that muffin.”

He glares at her. “What if I don’t want a muffin?”

“It’s chocolate chip.”

He looks at it skeptically. But he picks it up, aggressively peels the wrapper away from one side, and shoves a bite into his mouth. “Where’d this come from?”

“The cafe, where else? You’ve had them like a hundred times.”

Gale stares at the muffin. “I don’t remember them being this good.”

“That’s just ‘cause you haven’t eaten anything in three days.” She flicks him on the arm. “Now finish that. And don’t drink your coffee too fast, okay?”

Croz scoffs, and Gale and Marge both look at him with an unamused scowl. He puts his hands up in surrender. “Hey, don’t look at me like that. We all know the coffee’ll be gone in 15 minutes.”

Marge flicks him on the shoulder and walks away, standing tall in her heels, chin held high. The only thing to give away her own exhaustion is the way she can’t stop tapping her fingers nervously against her arm.

Gale shakes his head as he watches her go, takes a long sip of his coffee as Croz stifles a laugh beside him, and he turns on his coms. “Good morning Orion crew…”

—

“Operation get John to fuckin’ eat something, take four.” Curt makes a motion with his hands like he’s closing a film clapboard.

They tried more food about an hour after the wheat chex failure, but Bucky promptly threw up the first bite of soup he took. After that, he adamantly refused to let any of them get anything remotely close to his mouth that wasn’t water. Every time Rosie tried, Bucky would shake his head and close his eyes, wrapping an arm across his stomach. 

“Think he’s still feelin’ sick,” Rosie told Benny.

This time, Bucky’s cheeks are still red, but his eyes are brighter. “Fuck off,” he tells them, in a voice that has a vague semblance of its old strength back.

Rosie’s been trying to talk him into at least trying the chicken noodle soup for about five minutes now. Just the two of them in the middle of the crew cabin while Alex and Curt try to ignore them, going about everyday Orion tasks. Alex is using their little exercise box to do some rowing, while Curt checks the calculations for their next burn.

“Bucky, I really need you to at least try.” Rosie mixes the soup around in its container to keep it from settling. “I promise, this is better than the cereal.”

Bucky shakes his head. “No chex. No soup. No.”

Rosie is, at the very least, proud of the longer sentences Bucky is starting to manage during his more lucid periods. 

“Ok, hold on,” Rosie says, pointing at Bucky as he floats away towards the console. He returns with Bucky’s coms, which they’ve kept off of him since he’s been back on Orion. They were just another thing that Bucky kept messing with, and they don’t fit quite right over the bandage around his head. 

Rosie situates the headset over Bucky’s head anyway, pushing up the gauze to make sure the earpiece sits right. Bucky raises a hand to adjust the headset himself. Another silver lining Rosie has noticed: although it took longer for Bucky to adapt to being in zero gravity again, as he gets used to it, zero G makes it a bit easier for him to move.

Rosie: “Buck, I’ve got Bucky on coms here.”

Gale: “... John? Can you hear me?”

Rosie watches Bucky carefully, watches his lips move, his eyes go wide, his breathing pick up.

Bucky: “Gale?” His voice sounds soft and strangled all at once. It tugs at Rosie’s heart as he sees Bucky’s reaction to finally hearing his husband’s voice after asking for him over and over again.

Gale: “I’m here, John.”

Rosie: “He doesn’t even wanna try eating the soup I made for him. How rude is that?”

He watches Bucky roll his eyes, the hint of a smile teasing at his lips.

Gale: “John, can you at least try to eat a little?”

Bucky: “No.”

Gale: “Why?”

Bucky: “Bad.”

Gale sighs. Bucky looks at Rosie petulantly with his arms crossed over his chest and a look of disgust on his face. Rosie glares right back. A battle of wills.

Gale: “John, I really need you to eat something. Please, darlin’.”

Rosie can hear the tired pleading in Gale’s voice, and he knows Bucky can, too. He watches Bucky’s expression of contempt falter, melting away as it’s replaced with worry for his husband.

Gale: “If you eat, Rosie might be able to get rid of that IV soon. I know how much you hate that thing.”

Bucky shifts uncomfortably, but he uncrosses his arms and looks skeptically at the soup. Major Beary Egan drifts away from his hand, and Rosie catches him, returning him to Bucky.

Rosie: “I think we’re getting somewhere, Gale.”

Gale: “John, can you eat for me, honey? Please?”

That does it. Bucky looks up at Rosie expectantly and says “Fine.” He lets Rosie spoon some of the lukewarm soup into his mouth, and he swallows it this time.

Rosie: “Good. That’s good, Bucky.”

Bucky manages a few spoonfuls, grimacing when he feels the chunks of chicken and carrot sliding down his throat.

Bucky: “Yuck.”

Gale: “You’re doin’ alright. I’m proud of you, John.”

They get about halfway through the pouch of soup when Bucky pulls away and shakes his head in refusal, his brow furrowed. He lifts a hand to press against his stomach as he closes his eyes and scrunches his nose.

Rosie: “Shit.”

Gale: “He okay, Rosie?”

Bucky tries to cover his mouth with the hand holding Beary Egan, and Rosie lunges forward to grab the bear just in time. Much of the soup comes right back up, making even Rosie grimace with a heavy sigh.

Rosie: “Couldn’t keep it down, Buck.”

Bucky: “Bad.”

“Gotta say,” Alex mutters from behind them. “I preferred it when all he was coughing up was bile.”

—

That evening, Gale sits in the back seat of his own car outside the vet’s office, Pepper curled up tight as can be beside him, her nose pressed into his thigh. They’re waiting for Marge to finish with a phone call, and he watches her pace around in the parking lot outside. He feels bad that she had to chauffeur them here just because she doesn’t trust him on his own.

He doesn’t trust himself either, really. His head feels too muddled, his lungs too overtaxed, his body just dragging through the motions with no real life in it.

There’s nothing wrong with Pepper. A perfectly healthy one year old husky, the vet said.

“Her other daddy’s in space, isn’t he?” she asked. Gale nodded tiredly – because of course she knows what’s going on, just like everyone else on this planet – and he tried not to show contempt when the look on her face turned to sympathy. He doesn’t want sympathy. He’s tired of everyone looking at him with sympathy. Or disgust. Or like he’s a good story that’ll get viewers.

Then the vet said, “Sometimes dogs get depressed when their people leave for a long time. It’s a common reason for them to refuse their food.” He had to fight to hide the way those words dug into him, adding to the pit of fear and exhaustion deep in his soul that only grows by the day.

She told him to try giving Pepper a lot of attention and encouragement when he’s home. Make sure she knows she isn’t alone. As if Gale doesn’t feel like he’s drowning, too. As if Gale is even capable of taking care of himself.

He gently strokes the dog’s head as they sit in the car. “I really need you to eat something, baby girl,” he says, just like he said to John earlier today. “Please.”

He rests his head against the seat and closes his eyes. John’s temperature is too high, and it isn’t responding to medication. It plateaued around 100 degrees, though, and he continued improving overall in spite of it. By the end of Gale’s shift, John finally managed to keep down a packet of chicken noodle soup. Mission control celebrated that victory with no less enthusiasm than they would a successful launch, getting to their feet and clapping and cheering, high-fiving each other. Croz patted Gale on the shoulder with an ecstatic grin. 

All Gale could do was tilt his head back in relief. “Good job, darling,” he said to his husband.

“Happy?” Bucky’s voice came back.

“Yes.”

“Good.”

While he and Marge sat in the waiting room with Pepper, Benny texted him. J wants you to know he drank orange juice. No vomit.

Gale allowed himself a small smile and texted back, Tell him I’m proud of him.

The response was, He said “fuckin’ better be.” And Gale burst out laughing in the middle of the veterinary office. He had to apologize to the old lady sitting across from them, holding an ancient-looking terrier on her lap. “My husband might not die,” he explained, and the lady stared at him like he was insane.

His phone buzzes again just as Marge opens the car door and slips into the driver’s seat. “Ready?” she asks. When he doesn’t respond, she looks over her shoulder at him. “Gale?”

Gale’s eyes are wet, and he rubs at them, but it doesn’t stop the tears from falling. 

“Honey, what’s wrong?” Marge asks.

He shakes his head with a small smile as he turns his phone to show her. It’s a picture of Bucky that Curt took this morning and managed to send through to Mission Control. Bucky, looking out the window of Orion at the beautiful Earth in the distance. His head is all wrapped up, but he’s holding Beary Egan tight to his chest, and he’s grinning from ear to ear as he presses his other hand to the glass. On top of the world.

The accompanying text reads: “‘Goin’ home’ -John”

—

November 25

Curt is worried that Bucky is having another seizure when he first notices the way his body is trembling in his sleeping bag. “Rosie?” he calls out as he gets himself out of his own hammock. He doesn’t know what time it is, but their morning alarm hasn’t gone off yet. His mind flashes back to being on the lander, his heart pounding in his chest as he remembers pinning Bucky’s unconscious body to the cot, not knowing if or when the violent jerking would stop.

In a panic, he pulls himself over to Bucky’s side and puts a hand on his shoulder. “Rosie?” he says again, fear rising up in his voice as his throat goes tight and his lungs struggle to take in air.

“I’m coming,” Rosie replies. The lights flick on. “What’s wrong?”

He reaches them before Curt can find the words. Bucky is shivering uncontrollably, but it’s different. Not like the seizures Curt had to hold him through on Starship. The tension doesn’t leave Curt’s body, but he feels the nightmare memory slowly recede.

Rosie presses the back of his hand to Bucky’s sweaty forehead. “He’s burning up.”

Bucky’s eyes open, glassy and dazed. “Rosie?” he whispers. “C-cold.”

Rosie strokes his hair back gently. “You’re burning up, John,” he repeats. Curt hands Rosie a headset as he pulls his own over his ear.

Rosie: “Benny, do you copy?”

Benny: “Loud and clear, Rosie. It’s too early for you to be up.”

Rosie: “Do the bio-sensors have a good read on John’s temp? He’s running pretty hot up here.” They wait for Benny to check with Smokey.

Benny: “Still hovering around 100.5.” High, but manageable. And most importantly, stable.

Curt: “He’s shakin’ real bad, Benny.”

“P-please?” Bucky whimpers. His hand weakly grabs at Curt’s arm, and Curt searches his face for any sign of a way to make this better. He puts his hand over Bucky’s and squeezes gently.

“We’re right here with you,” Rosie soothes, putting a hand on Bucky’s shoulder. “You’re gonna be alright, John.”

“‘M cold,” Bucky mutters again, pulling Beary Egan close so his nose is buried in the soft fur.

“I know,” Rosie says. But Bucky’s eyes are already closed again. All Curt and Rosie can do is sit there and reassure themselves that Bucky is, at least, still breathing, still talking, still fighting to get home.

—

Later in the morning, while Rosie gets in his mandatory workout for the day, Curt and Alex review the flight plan for the remainder of the mission. They’ll have to perform another mid-course correction burn in the afternoon as they approach Earth, and they’ll enter Earth orbit overnight to prepare for atmospheric re-entry bright and early tomorrow morning. 

“These numbers look right to you?” Curt asks as he chews on a mouthful of dry wheat chex.

Alex glances over at the telemetry data on the console, which Curt is comparing to the burn they have planned. “You’re the pilot,” Alex reminds him, shrugging even though he’s the one who’s been doing the Orion orbit calculations since Curt abandoned them for the lunar surface.

“Sorry, why are you on this mission again?” Curt shoots back with a teasing smirk. Alex flips him off and pushes him away from the console so he can review the data.

“Curt?” 

They both turn around at the sound of Bucky’s gravelly voice, and they see the commander watching them. “What’s up astrofag?” Curt asks as he pops another piece of cereal into his mouth.

Bucky sticks out his tongue at the name and Curt does it back to him, making Alex laugh. They’ve collectively determined that, while Bucky’s hands are still shaky, sticking out his tongue is his new equivalent of flipping them off. He and Curt do it to each other constantly when Bucky is awake. 

“More orange juice?” Bucky asks.

“Yeah, bud. I’ve got more orange juice.” Curt motions to Alex to go retrieve it while he helps Bucky to sit up. “How ya feelin’?”

“Like shit,” Bucky mutters. Curt double checks that the IV is still in place. Bucky hasn’t been able to eat reliably enough to have it removed yet, but they’ve lessened the amount of nutrients he receives through it. His temperature hasn’t changed, and he’s drenched in sweat no matter how much they try to cool him off. But he’s become far more coherent, even if it isn't consistent.

Alex returns with a pouch of orange juice, and Curt holds onto Beary Egan so Bucky can reach for it. He manages to hold onto it with both hands, his fingers shaking, but he can’t keep it steady enough to get it to his mouth. Alex helps him hold it, letting Bucky sip at the juice.

Curt watches Bucky’s eyes widen as he pulls away from the straw, staring in alarm at his own hand. “You good?” Curt asks.

Bucky rubs his thumb over his wedding ring, trying to tug it upwards on his finger even though he can’t accomplish that any better than he could accomplish holding the juice pouch. “Gonna lose it,” he mumbles. “I-I want this… I…” He squints as he loses his train of thought, staring dumbly at the ring.

“Want me to get that on a chain for you?” Curt asks him. Bucky nods, still looking confused and startled. Curt hands the stuffed bear to Alex and heads off to find Bucky’s PPK kit, where he put the chain after the initial accident. When he returns, he feels stupidly proud to see that Bucky is managing to hold the juice pouch on his own, sucking on the straw. His face is flushed, and he looks like shit, but for a second, Curt can almost believe that everything is normal. That Bucky’s just a little sick, nothing to worry about. That the danger of getting him through re-entry isn’t looming over them all like an incoming storm.

“Here, give it to me,” Curt instructs, pointing to the ring. Bucky holds out his left hand but has to stop drinking the juice when his right isn’t controlled enough to hold the pouch on its own. Alex reaches forward to catch it when it slips out of Bucky’s grip. Curt slides the silver band off Bucky’s finger and onto the chain. Then he secures it around Bucky’s neck. “There you go.”

Bucky reaches a hand up to clutch at the ring. “Better.” Then he looks at Alex and demands, “Bear.”

Alex obliges and hands the bear back, then offers the juice again. Bucky shakes his head in refusal, and Curt decides that they shouldn’t push their luck. From across the cabin, Rosie, ever the doctor, calls out, “Those are some good words, John! Gale’ll be proud.”

—

“Good morning, Artemis 3, how do you read?”

Gale settles in his chair and sips his coffee as he waits for a reply. When there isn’t one, he frowns and sets the cup down. “Come in Artemis 3, how do you read?”

“Loud and clear, angel.”

Gale freezes, his lips parting as he tries to process the beautiful sound of that voice, strong and intentional. “Come again, Orion?”

“Y-you heard me…” Bucky coughs a little as he stutters through the words. “The first time, Gale.”

“Well I’ll be damned,” Gale says, and he can’t stop the smile that breaks out over his face. Beside him, Croz is grinning at him. Everyone in mission control has stopped what they’re doing, and for the first time, they’re staring at him not out of pity, not out of fear, but out of hope. 

“Ready to come home, John?” Gale asks.

“Eh, think I might just s-stay out here. G-good amenities.” 

Gale laughs and hides his smile with his hand as he stares at his computer. Bucky’s vitals are displayed on one side of the screen. He’s running hot, but his heart is strong.

He only stays conscious for about twenty minutes after that, and speaking soon becomes too tiring for his fever-addled, space-sickened, TBI brain. But hearing his voice, those words, made Gale feel like he could take on anything for the rest of the day.

About halfway through his shift, he thanks Croz when he hands him another cup of coffee, and he flips through the notes he’s been given.

Gale: “Alright Orion, we’ve got a minor change here on your flight plan whenever you’re ready.”

Curt: “... Thought the numbers looked a little fucked here this morning. Glad to hear your people caught on, Buck.”

Gale rolls his eyes and he and Croz share a look. It’s good to hear Curt getting back to normal, rather than being angry and anxious all the time. Gale gave up pointing out foul language around the time his husband almost died, and even after returning to Orion, Curt has taken full advantage of his moral leniency.

Gale: “Sure, Curt. Croz has new numbers for you.”

Curt: “Alex I fuckin’ told you.”

Alex: “Hey man, I agreed.”

Gale: “Whenever you’re ready boys.”

Curt: “... Hold on Buck… John, fuckin’ quit pickin’ at that. No. I know you don’t like it but I’d rather you stay alive, okay?”

Gale: “Okay, Curt?”

Curt: “Your husband’s new favorite pastime is trying to tear out his IV.”

Gale takes a deep breath and sips his coffee. He asks Curt if he wants him to talk to Bucky.

Curt: “…He’s passed out again, little asshole. Ready for the new numbers whenever you are.”

Gale: “Okay, we’re lookin’ at changes to your final mid-course correctional burn. The NRHO abort is causing you to come in too high.”

Curt: “Copy. Let’s make sure we don’t burn up on re-entry.”

Gale gives them new positional targets and a longer burn duration.

Alex: “And are we still on time for that burn?”

Gale: “Affirmative, Orion. Coming up in… 52 minutes.”

An hour later, when the burn is complete, Croz informs Mission Control that the crew capsule is perfectly on target for re-entry, and Gale grins as he sips his coffee. It’s the end of his shift, and Helen is standing by to take over the console.

Gale: “Orion, you are on target now. Trajectory nominal. Systems nominal.”

Curt: “Good to hear, Buck. Wouldn’t wanna come this far to fuck ourselves now.”

Gale: “We’re gonna get y’all home.”

Just as he’s about to inform the boys of the CAPCOM switch, Curt says, “Got someone who wants to talk to ya, Major. He’s been all antsy about it this entire burn.” Gale blinks and a smile lifts the corner of his mouth, but it runs away again when he hears the nervous tone of Bucky’s voice.

Bucky: “Gale?”

Gale: “I’m still here, darlin’.” 

Bucky: “You married me…”

Gale quirks an eyebrow, a huff of a laugh passing between his lips at the out-of-the-blue statement of fact. But before he can say anything, Bucky is pushing through.

Bucky: “I-I know…” Bucky takes a deep, shaky breath. “Was ‘cause you were worried somethin’d happen.”

Gale: “Don’t strain yourself, John.”

Bucky’s barely said a word since he greeted Gale this morning. It takes too much out of him. Orange juice and half portions of soup can only go so far, and they don’t do much of anything for the brain fog or TBI symptoms. Bucky ignores him, though. His breathing sounds distressed, and his voice is quiet and mumbled. Gale can see his heartrate on his monitor, beating too fast, but John gets the words out.

Bucky: “Was it ‘cause y-you loved me, too?”

The question slams right into Gale’s chest, knocking the breath out of him. He feels the eyes of every single person in Mission Control shift his way, and he forces himself not to pay them any mind. He doesn’t want to see the looks on their faces. He doesn’t want to know if it’s pity or echoes of John’s question or incredulity at the mere concept of Buck not loving Bucky so much he thought he might vanish from this existence the moment his husband did.

Sure, the reason he finally popped the question after months, even years, of thinking about it was because he was worried his worst nightmare would come true. And, well, here he is. But how is it possible that Bucky can sit there and think even for a second that Gale didn’t also do it because he loved him?

He tries to tell himself that Bucky is all sorts of mixed up right now. That he’s been passing through intense stages of fear and pain and confusion. That he’s not thinking straight. Random things have been popping out of his mouth all day, and he hardly seems aware of what he’s saying. Gale thinks about Helen and Benny telling him how much Bucky would ask for him when he wasn’t on shift, and Gale wasn’t there. He wasn’t there for his husband when he needed him.

Sure, giving Gale 24/7 access to the console would be a one way ticket to actual psychosis. Chick denied his attempts to sleep on a cot at JSC after Bucky first got hurt, and Gale is honestly glad for it now. But to Bucky, who has been in and out of consciousness with little sense of time or continuity?

Did he think Gale abandoned him?

“John,” Gale says, his voice thick. He flexes the hand he tore up on the mirror, what feels like forever ago now. There’s hardly any scabs left to pull at the skin, and he’s surprised at the lack of pain. He presses his wedding ring to his lips instead, and he takes a breath to pull himself together. “Of course I married you because I loved you. I love you so much, sweetheart. Couldn’t stand not bein’ married for one more second.” He rubs his hand through his hair and tries to steady his heart. “I did love you. I do love you. I will love you. Okay?” 

Bucky makes a noise that sounds like something between an okay and a satisfied hum. Like this question that just sent Gale into a tailspin wasn’t monumental in any way. Like he got the answer he wanted and now, as far as John’s concerned, everything is okay.

Gale: “To the moon and back, John. I can’t wait for you to come home to me tomorrow.”

Bucky: “Tomorrow.”

Gale nods, blinking back the wetness in his eyes. He smiles again.

One day. 24 hours. 1,440 minutes. Only 100,000 heartbeats. He pretends he can feel John’s heart beating in time with his own, and he watches on the monitor as it starts to slow.

Gale: “Yeah, John. Tomorrow.”

---

---

Part 16

Big thank you to everyone who has been reading this AU for a while and also everyone who has picked it up in recent days. People telling me you read it all in one sitting, y'all are crazy and I love you ❤

[softboynick]

sentence sunday - 7/7/2024

happy sunday! thank you for the tags @basil-bird @henryspearl @doublecheekedkinard

@eusuntgratie @wordsofhoneydew & @sheepywritesfics <333

now that i'm finished with my big bang i can finally focus on my other wips (please please please check out my fic for @aroyallybigbangrwrb if you haven't already hehe)!!! sharing two excerpts because i'm so proud of myself.

excerpt from untitled george x henry x alex abo fic:

Alexander is drunk.  “My sweet wife has come to join us!” He exclaims in his drunken stupor, spilling brandy all over the front of his shirt and staining it a rich ruby-brown. Laughter and intoxicated jeers ring throughout the room as he stumbles from the dais, his unstable gait taking him down the steps and towards Henry. He laughs and sweeps him into his arms, swallowing the omega’s protests with a heated kiss.  Henry is not amused. He places his hands on Alexander’s chest and pushes him away, but the king is unrelenting. He circles his arms around his waist and keeps him close. Henry wrinkles his nose at the scent of him. “You reek of brandy.” He glowers at the king and nearly growls, “Unhand me, alpha.” Alexander backs off almost instantly as though his hands have been burned. A wounded expression clouds his expression, his honey-brown eyes wide and watery.  “And you are angry,” he replies, small and chastised.  “I am so grateful that you have finally noticed,” Henry says tightly. His darkened eyes scan the room until they finally land on Lord Ramos, his wife, plump with child, sitting prettily on his lap. “You.” He pushes past his husband and stalks over to the man. “I told you what would happen if you ever dared to harm my George.”  Ramos stares at him as though he were some scum underneath the sole of his boot. Not a person but an inconvenience. His eyes are covered with a glassy sheen. “I haven’t touched him.” “He told me what you’ve done. What you have all done to him,” he addresses the other lords and gentlemen, his voice rising above the rest.   Ramos’ gaze is cool when it meets his, but there is a slight tick in his jaw. “He is a liar.” Henry frowns. “My dove is no liar.”  “Then, perhaps it is pox. It is making him delirious.”  He shakes his head and laughs, ugly and sharp. “You have the fucking gall to come here, look my husband in the eye, and pretend that you haven’t orchestrated an entire smear campaign against our George. You are a pathetic excuse for a human being, Lord Ramos.” He spits at his and his wife’s feet, satisfaction curling at his chest when he sees the stunned looks on their faces. 

excerpt from taynick rpfeet fic lmao:

The door swings open, and there is Taylor, fresh from a shower and giving him that smile that always makes Nick’s knees feel a little like jelly. He is similarly dressed in a pair of joggers and a t-shirt, but the pants are slung low on his hips and are gray in color, showing off the obvious imprint of his— “You’re late,” Taylor says.  “I think I’m right on time actually,” Nick retorts with a grin.  Taylor lets him inside and heads for the couch on the other end of the room. He breathes out a sigh of relief as he plops down onto it and props his bare feet up on the coffee table in front of him.  “Jesus Christ, my feet are killing me,” Taylor groans, and Nick can’t pretend he isn’t filing that sound away for later. “Thanks for offering the massage, by the way. You’re truly a lifesaver, babes.” Nick thinks he might actually combust - or bust in his joggers, which will just be embarrassing for all parties involved - under the sheer weight of Taylor’s praise and attention, but he quickly pushes past the weird feelings in his chest (and his groin) and clears his throat.  “You got, uh, any lotion or something, mate?”

OPEN TAG + tagging the usual suspects bc i love u

@almightaylor @anincompletelist @bigassbowlingballhead @blueeyedgrlwrites @captainjunglegym

@duchessdepolignaca03 @firstprincehornyramblings @fivequartersoftheorange @fullerthanskippy @henrysfox

@heysweetheart-writes @insecuregodcomplex @judasofsuburbia @lfg1986-2 @meraki-yao

@mylucayathoughts @priincebutt @remembertheskittles @stratocumulusperlucidus @taste-thewaste

@thinkof-england @seths-rogens

[wifeofnatasharomanoff]

Say Yes To Me (chapter 3)

Series Masterlist

WARNINGS: memory loss, angst, slight fluff

WORDS: 1,328

PAIRING: Natasha Romanoff x f!reader

A/N: hi my darlings! it's almost been a month since i posted chapter 2, but i hope you like this! take care of yourselves and get rest if you need to <3

It was cold. Freezing. The weather, your hands.. the winter took a toll on you. The summer breeze was gone. That terrible day was during summer. Oh, but you loved summer. You were the sun and they were the moon. But who are they? Someone, a woman who your mind is telling you that you know loves winter. She hated summer. She loved summer for you, but who was she? Your memories were scattered, you remembered very few things. Important things. But she was important, why couldn't you recall who she was? Two children.. a baby girl and a little boy, they loved autumn. The faint heat in the air, the slightly chilly wind. You loved autumn, and so did she.

“Mrs. Romanoff? ma'am are you okay?” you look up to face whoever or whatever spoke. Nothing. Everything seemed like a blur, or was it just you? “Mrs. Romanoff?” you snapped out of your thoughts and looked up at the figure in front of you. You could see it clearly, an older man with glasses on, the glasses were black and gray. A lab coat. He was a doctor. Were your ears ringing? You couldn't hear properly. Maybe it was just your head blocking unnecessary noises.

“uh.. yes doctor?” you said as you played with your fingers, your gaze back onto your lap. “Do you know who these people are?” the man questioned, holding up a picture of 4 people. You, a little girl in your arms– your daughter. A woman, and a toddler on her shoulders, your son. You knew three of the people. You and your children. “I.. can recognize 3 of them, i- it's me and my children. Is it not?” he sighed and nodded his head. “The woman next to you, do you remember her Mrs. Romanoff?” there it was again. Red hair, green eyes, pale skin. The woman from your dream, what was she doing in a picture with you and your kids? The silence was unbearable, you hated going to the doctors, it had this depressing feel to it. But she'd always take you whenever you'd get sick.

“Okay,” the doctor sighed, “how is your physical pain? Are you feeling any better?” you nod. “Your bruises seemed to have healed up. Thankfully for the healing pod and Starks tech, that terrible scar on your abdomen is gone as well.” he said, noting down on a piece of paper. A report for your recoverments, maybe. “Have you been able to contact your children recently?” he asked, keeping his eyes on his notes. “hm.. y- yes I have. I saw them yesterday.” you began to poke at your skin with your fingernails. She used to scold you for it, but it happened whenever you'd feel nervous or uneasy.

“Good, good. What were their names?” you dug your nail into your palm, “Alex, my son, and Aliana.. my daughter.” you narrowed your eyes to focus on his writing and noticed him putting down a check mark. “u-um sir, doctor. When am I able to leave the hospital?” you ask. “Just as soon as your mentality recovers. Your head got hit pretty badly, causing you to forget things. Don't worry, we'll do our best to help you remember.” he said with a small smile. You wanted to leave. The walls felt as if they were closing in. You couldn't breathe properly, and your headaches worsened day by day. “oh okay.. thanks.” he put down his notepad, and you assumed he would ask questions again.

“Mrs. Romanoff, the front desk just said that your children are here to visit you. We'll finish speaking later alright? Have a nice day.” you stayed quiet as he walked out of the room. The clock wouldn't stop ticking, it was so noisy. It bothered you, but you couldn't do anything about it. The door opened with a click sound, two little kids stepped into the room, and you looked up behind them to see that woman again. She looked drained, tired. There were visible dark circles under her eyes, and a strained smile on her face.

“Mommy!” the little boy ran up to you, tightly clasping his tiny arms around your legs. “Alex! Sweetie, mommy missed you so much!” you smiled at him and picked him up in your arms. He buried his face in your shoulder, “mama's here too!” your smile falters, replacing it with a confused look. “Mama?” the redhead glances at you from across the room. “I– I don't..” he kisses your cheek, cutting you off from your words. “Alex.. honey, lemme go see your little sister okay?” he pouts, climbing out of your arms. “Fine..”

“mmomm'y!” Aliana jumps out of the woman's arms and into yours, “Ali,” you press your lips to the top of her head. “I missed you so much cutie!” she nuzzled your cheek with hers, relaxing herself in your hold. “Mama, aren't you gonna say hi to mommy?” Alex said, lightly tugging on Natasha's shirt. She put up a smile and pinched his cheek. “I will buddy, in a few minutes alright?” he frowned, “but– mommy's gonna be sad if you don't say hi right now.” she sighed. “Fine, I'll say hi to her. Okay?” he smiled, “okay.. you should hug her too. You always hug mommy.” she chuckles, regretting coming with the kids to visit you already. She wasn't fully prepared to see you after–

“Who are you? W-Where am I..?” the lost look on your face terrified her.

You lock eyes with the woman approaching you, and so does the baby in your arms. “Mama!” she babbled out, almost jumping into her arms, “d- do I know you?” you asked as you set the baby down on the bed, and focused your attention on the red-haired woman. Her face seemed more familiar the longer you looked at her. She sucked in a sharp breath, “God please.. please let her remember.” she thought to herself before moving closer to you. She pulled you in for a hug, tightly holding onto you. “Hey detka– it's me, your ‘Tasha bear’.” she said with a nervous laugh. She hated that nickname. But loved it because of you. “N- Natasha..” you sobbed into her chest. You remembered.

Her green eyes, her red hair, her hands. That ring on her finger. The ring that you both shared so many memories with. A proposal, your future wife down on her knee, holding up the ring that you had on your finger. Moonlit nights in bed.. your wrists held down, her lips on yours, bodies colliding in the darkness. The sunlight came, tears of joy streaming down both your faces, her hands in yours. Left on the nightstand were two pregnancy tests, both positive. A hospital room, surrounded by nurses. Your wife by your side as you clutched onto her hand, the cries of a newborn. A pained smile on your lips, your hold on her hand loosened.

She sighed, holding onto you as if the world would end right this moment. You remembered her, you remembered the life you had together.

She felt a light punch on her shoulder, “what did I do? Natasha?” another hit on her chest, and tears glazed over your eyes. “What did I do? hm?” a weak slap on her arm, this time the tears spilled out. “Why didn't you tell me! Why? It took you 3 months to tell me. You– Natasha..” your voice cracked as you scolded her for not telling you who she was earlier. “shh.. it's going to be okay moya lyubov.” she said, pulling you back into her arms. “N–Natty I-” she kissed the top of your head, “I know baby.. I know. I missed you too. So much.”

You two were more than happy that the children were oblivious to the whole situation. You wouldn't know what you'd do if they knew.

But nobody was prepared for what was to happen next. Not even you and Natasha.

A/N: stan Alex for telling his mama to hug mommy.

@lovsalvatore this isn't the last chapter, not yet at least. ;)

[strawberryys-stuff]

𝘿𝙄𝙎𝙍𝙀𝙂𝘼𝙍𝘿𝙀𝘿 | Percy Jackson x Ares!oc

Introduction

The midnight blue umbrella snapped closed, releasing a gravity defying plume of small droplets. The defeated elementary school student pulled down her hood and tucked a lock of red hair that barely reached her shoulder blades behind her ear.

After she leaned the overflowing cloth bag of groceries against the brick wall beside the entrance to the block of flats that she had recently moved into with her step-family, Alexis shrugged her rucksack off her aching shoulder to fish her keys out of the front pocket.

"Crap," the redhead squeezed her dusty teal eyes shut and threw her head back with a groan, "not again.."

She pulled out her dying cellphone and unlocked it, sighing. Alexis dialed her step-brother while she was collecting her stuff from the muddy ground and blew strands of hair out of her face.

"Hugo?" she called out to her sibling when the obnoxious ringing got replaced by awkward silence. The young boy on the other side of the line hummed as he rubbed one of his squinted eyes and stifled a yawn. "Could you come down? I forgot my keys."

Hugo grumbled and pinched the bridge of his nose, slightly annoyed. "Come on, Alex.."

"I know and I am sorry, okay? Just-" the red-haired student exhaled heavily and glanced to the side- "come get me, alright? I'll make you a cup of hot chocolate in return," Alexis suggested.

"With marshmallows, though."

She pursed her chapped lips, unamused, but had to agree with his request in the end because she did not want to turn into a popsicle before the eyes of the entire neighborhood.

Alexis chewed on her bottom lip as the early humid autumn breeze swept past and tickled all the exposed spots of her pale skin. She continued to shiver and grew impatient.

"I will murder that boy," Alexis stated with a sarcastic smile as she searched in her jacket pocket for her cellphone once more.

While she was entering the password, a boy her age approached the entrance to the block of flats with earphones in his ears and a skateboard in his hand. Unlike Alexis, the blonde hadn't forgotten his keys at home before he left for school that rainy morning.

The jingling of keys startled the frustrated girl. She stumbled backwards with a shriek when the boy appeared out of thin air beside her. He was taken aback by her reaction, also flinched and dropped his keys in the process.

"Shit!" Alexis covered her rapidly beating heart with her ice-cold hand, her breath sharp and fast.

"My bad," the blonde apologized with a quick nod her way and bent down to pick up his keychain. He inserted one of his many keys into the keyhole, unlocked the door and held it open for Alexis to walk into the warmth of the building.

"Thank you." She bowed her head and gladly stepped out of the autumn weather with the boy on her heels.

The blonde pulled down his drenched hood in the lobby and shook his hair to gain some life back into his messy and undefined curls. With her adventurous spirit and undying curiosity, Alexis searched for his eyes and when their gazes collided, her jaw went slack.

"Oh.." The boy breathed out and scratched the back of his neck after he connected the dots and put a name to her imperfect face. "It's you."

Alexis laughed nervously and shrugged her shoulders. "Yep, it is me! The girl you spilled your apple juice on at lunch.."

"It was an accident," he clarified, "I swear!"

Alexis arched one of her eyebrows at that and looked down at her outfit. Instead of her favorite light blue jeans, she was wearing baggy gray sweatpants along with a black T-shirt that did not belong to her, but to the boy standing in front of her.

After he spilled his drink and some of his leftovers on her clothes, the blonde offered her his clothes, which he planned to change into for his PE class.

"I really didn't mean to-"

"Hey." The redhead placed her hand on his shoulder to stop his upcoming rambling with a tiny smile on her lips. The boy screwed his mouth shut. "I am just messing with you, blondie."

Her smile was contagious. She also had dimples, he noticed. "Yeah," he chuckled and shyly broke their eye contact, his cheeks flushed, "okay."

His gaze trailed a tad bit lower, to the handmade necklace she had around her neck - a thin leather string with three differently colored balls. It looked familiar, he was sure he had seen it before.

"Well," Alexis broke the awkward silence and adjusted the cloth bag that hung loosely on her shoulder. "I have to go.."

"No yeah-" the blonde shook his head slightly and brought his pure blue gaze up- "of course."

"Thank you for the clothes by the way," Alexis gestured to his gym class outfit with a smile. "I will give it back on Monday if that's okay."

"Sure, yeah. Whenever it's convenient for you."

"Okay.." She nodded and bit the inside of her cheek. "See you on Monday then?"

"Yeah.. See you on Monday.."

They shared one last awkward smile before she turned to the elevator and disappeared behind its doors.

The blonde squeezed his eyes shut, regretting that he decided not to follow the red-haired girl he found quite intriguing into the elevator. He was captivated by her playing the electric guitar and musical talent in general.

Alexis Driscoll was a hot-tempered, mysterious and brutally honest elementary school student with a passion for music, who also lived in the same block of flats as Percy Jackson.

Percy could tell she had an enormous amount of secrets and trouble hiding behind her in her shadow, but that was one of the reasons why she had caught his eye.

He didn't know her name nor why her cool grey gaze seemed to be something he would recognize anywhere in a heartbeat, but he knew one thing..

she had been haunting his dreams for quite a while.

How did he know?

Percy Jackson would recognize that necklace blindfolded.

That piece of handmade jewellery was what he had been wearing around his wrist in every dream and every spine-chilling nightmare of his.

For some unexplainable reason, Alexis Driscoll was the key to most, maybe even all, of his unanswered questions.

[pinchofhoney]

every single one of my works can be found in the list down below. if you enjoy any of these, please consider reblogging ♡

last updated on: 19/02/2024

most recent work: perfectly flawed, bridgerton

my request mailbox is closed

request rules: the only thing i do not write is smut!! while requesting, please choose an actor that i write for or/and character they play from the list. if you would like me to write about someone not included in the list - please contact me with all the details, we'll see what we can do! don't forget to summarise the main plot so i know what you expect from my work

─ you can also join my taglist by filling in this short form so you don't get lost ♡

disclaimer: my works are intended for entertainment and do not represent any real person in any way!!

special events masterlist

ALEXANDER CALVERT

alex calvert as...

BELPHEGOR

on the verge of a fever - ever wondered if hell hosts monopoly nights?

JACK KLINE

like real people do - ever had one of those days when life just can't get any worse?

BEN BARNES

off my mind (part one) - you’re crazy in love with ben, but what if deep down he knows he still has feelings for his past lover? he’s trying to convince himself he is over the past, because he doesn’t want to hurt you, not knowing you’re already hurted┆︎angst

the sun is up but you’re not shining (part two) - although taking a break from a relationship is generally not recommended, what if you suggested it as a way to cope with your own intrusive thoughts? unfortunately, this approach ended up having the opposite effect┆︎angst with happy ending

valentine's day special: unexpected valentine - how would ben barnes confess his feelings to his love interest?

yellow lights - recently, ben has been burdened with an excessive workload. despite appearing tired and agitated, he attempted to conceal his feelings. due to his busy schedule, he could not even take a day off. what will occur when, after a challenging day at work, he returns home and a trivial question leads to an argument that would not typically happen?┆︎angst with happy end

invidia - initially, your former boyfriend appeared to be the perfect partner, and the time spent with him felt like a fairy tale come true. however, your intuition proved accurate as he eventually revealed his true colors. following the breakup, he struggled to cope and became envious upon discovering you were dating famous ben barnes┆︎fluff

my own worst enemy - sometimes all you need is to lie in silence as your person holds you together. especially when the world is once again flooded with gray and you see nothing on the horizon to herald a uncloud┆︎hurt/comfort

fou amoureux - in a world where you respect everyone and where you treat everyone the way you would like to be treated yourself, it's hard to get under your skin. for some, however, it comes with exceptional ease, as if they were born with this gift. one of these people is ben's former partner, whom you had the (un)pleasure to meet at a party celebrating the success of the yves saint laurent fashion show in which you played the first fiddle

white lies - the saying goes that a lie has no legs, and this rings especially true when it is caught on camera┆︎fluff

BRIDGERTON

BENEDICT BRIDGERTON

perfectly flawed - finding love as a princess comes with its challenges, but becoming a mistress was never part of the plan┆︎hurt without comfort

MARAUDERS

SIRIUS BLACK

pretty please - in which sirius doesn’t take no as an answer

searchin’ for understanding - maybe there are wounds that prove resistant to the time

MOON KNIGHT

just one word - you may not be aware of their existence having only met steven, but no marc spector alter will let anything happen to you┆︎hurt/comfort

PEDRO PASCAL

the last goodbye

the last goodbye, part one - can love really be turned off just like that?┆︎angst

the last goodbye, part two - all men do is messing with your head┆︎angst

pedro pascal as...

JOEL MILLER

love don’t last in the dark (part one) - being alone for the last few years, you haven't had the opportunity to fall in love, so it's not your fault you developed feelings for a man who showed you at slightest bit of care┆︎angst

the warmest light is you (part two) - there is no such thing as right person, wrong time because with a right person you are able to surmount all the difficulties┆︎fluff

six feet in the ground - during a difficult time when your partner has let you down and broken your trust, it's reassuring to remember that you have other people in your life whom you can rely on no matter what┆︎platonic relationship

spring is a season when more than just flowers bloom - spring brings with it more than just the beauty of blooming flowers. as the sun starts to shine a little brighter, it also has its own way of awakening deeply hidden emotions. the world feels brighter, and everything seems a little bit more beautiful. especially in the right company┆︎fluff

SUPERNATURAL

castiel...

at day's close

dean winchester...

honey pie - amidst autumn rain and a cozy cottage, a honey pie surprise kindles love and warmth in the perfect moment

frozen fear - life has a way of humbling even the bravest, and it's not always a gentle lesson

THE HUNGER GAMES

the ballad of songbirds and snakes...

broken promises - in snow's world, only one thing mattered more than his family's reputation—you. but that was before he met lucy gray

part one

part two

part three

crack in the mirror - many cling to the belief of their own goodness, until they meet someone who's just like them

be careful what you wish for - turning in a district boy to the authorities felt like the right thing to do for coriolanus. but what if, in doing so, he betrayed you as well?

THE TWILIGHT SAGA

carlisle cullen...

the broken self - if i could start again, i would find a way. now, you've been given the chance, so what's your next move?

THE WALKING DEAD

rick grimes...

tell me that you'll keep me safe - you're not the one who needs to be helped, yet pretending you do? surprisingly fun

[glassy-eyed-poet]

Songs dedicated to my fav Riordanverse ships!!! (I'm obsessed with this trend)

Percabeth - Choosing a song for this ship is quite difficult, especially because they are just THAT couple, but I think Dandelions by Ruth B just gives Percabeth

Solangelo - My personal favourite ship, I think THE LONLIEST by Måneskin or Sweater Weather by the Neighborhood

Frazel - I was just thinking about this, and I feel like Paper Rings by Taylor Swift is so them coded. Especially the line "I like shiny things but I'd marry you with paper rings", like C'MON?!

Valgrace - I feel like Heather by Conan Gray or Fix You by Coldplay are quite Valgrace coded

Zia x Carter - This ship is basically the Percabeth of the Kane Chronicles series, so it was quite difficult to find songs that match their dynamic. But I really think Until I Found You by Stephen Sanchez is great for describing how Carter felt after Zia went missing

Fierrochase - Magnus and Alex are so adorable together istg <3. A good song for them would be What Is Love? by Haddaway (I couldn't think of anything better I'm sorry 😭)

Thoughts?

[eqt-95]

like we're made of glass (excerpt)

“Jess?”  Lena had been nose deep in her tablet. She’d been walking - walking out of her office - walking to get another mug of tea before settling into her next four-hour marathon of work. She’d not bothered looking up when the small rustle of paper came from her secretary’s desk. “I thought you left-”

Until she did.

“Hi.”

Lena blinked and felt the tablet slip from her grip. Her fingers fumbled to keep it from crashing to the floor, and in that distraction she was able to keep her mouth from plummeting open in shock.

“You didn’t have a terrace.”

She knew this day might come. Would come. She’d worried through countless hypotheticals and iterations of hypotheticals and versions of those hypothetical iterations. She’d imagined the good, the bad, the painful, and the words she might say to soften the blow. There was only one constant in each and every version: it wouldn’t be easy. It would be hard. It might even be impossible. 

It already was.

“How long have you been back?” Lena choked, carrying on like the cascade of blonde curls, piercing blue eyes, and a red cape appearing outside her office were a regular occurrence. Like it hadn’t just completely uprooted her life. 

She set the tablet down and ignored the weight of a stare that could scorch the earth. It was a stare that tracked her like she might suddenly disappear. Lena didn’t blame her - she’d already done it once. What she needed was a minute to organize her thoughts and steel herself from the confusion, pain, and hunger bound to be layered within that same stare.

“Not long.”

“You should be resting. The protocol-”

“I slept plenty on the ship.”

“Have you seen Alex?” Lena continued, hoping faux normalcy might elude the elephant standing behind her wife’s shoulder. That it might grant her another few seconds to brace for the oncoming battle.

“She can wait a minute longer,” came a reply edging toward frustration. Lena knew because she knew this voice; knew its wavers, inflections, and hesitations like the back of her hand. That knowledge didn’t stop her from staying the course.

“She’ll be relieved - excited, and Esme will just gush; you should call her at least-”

“Later-”

“You can borrow my cell-”

“Lena.”

And the force of her name on Kara’s tongue dragged Lena’s unwilling eyes to the woman standing in front of her. She looked exhausted and war-battered; of course she would. She lacked the wisps of gray that interrupted Lena’s own long strands of hair, but Kara’s kryptonian genes couldn’t hide the warryness in her eyes or the prostration of time in her shoulders.

But of course all of these changes were expected - five years could do that. What Lena didn’t expect was the intensity of Kara’s gaze. Behind the tired was a scowl of confusion. Behind the confusion were walls cautiously being erected at what she surely had begun piecing together.

“You’ve been to the house.” It wasn’t a question; Lena already knew this as the answer.

“You mean the one in National City or the penthouse in Metropolis? Because last time I checked, we only had one home, Lena.”

Unable to look any longer at Kara’s penetrating stare, Lena’s eyes fell to the gold band twinkling around Kara’s left ring finger, and she subconsciously clenched her own bare hands into fists.