#all this goddamn shit. and it's hitting me like a ton of bricks because i really saw him thru rose colored glasses.

[badcountryofficial]

I just really truly wanted a full long life w that person and I now have to accept not ONLY will it NEVER happen literally ever but that he didn't want it like I did even tho he said he did 🥲👍🏻

[snapghoul]

I gotta know the conversation where Kate sliped up to Jake about Tyler getting hurt, because now I’m curious

Also how did Jake confront Tyler about it?

Yes. Yes, you may know.

There’s not enough wind in Oklahoma

Alt title: til it’s all blown away

Note: Had a fun time writing this and it has obliterated my writing block. I’m still trying to get the characters right in writing so if it’s still ooc I’m sorry.

Warnings: foul language, discussion of near death.

Song: Blown Away by Carrie Underwood

Jake stood next to the bright yellow barrels, his mind reeling. He didn't know much about storm chasing, but he knew his brother had a penchant for risky ventures. What he hadn't known was that Tyler's recent foray was more than just another daredevil stunt.

“So it does what?” Jake asked.

This wasn't Tyler's idea at all; it was Kate’s—her ambitious tornado tamer project. She’d been explaining it to him with contagious enthusiasm.

“So the silver iodine makes more rain to increase the cold pool and my polymer absorbs the moister! It essentially cuts the fuel and the storm collapses on its self,” Kate said, patting the top of the barrel with a wide, excited grin.

“It worked the first time we tested it—well, the first time with version 3.0. The initial tests ended tramaticly, and the second one didn’t work at all. But this one did—on an EF5, no less! In El Reno. I managed to get my polymer deployed before the storm wreaked total havoc. In the end, everyone was safe; the truck got wrecked, and Tyler took a steel beam to the leg, but he’s alright,” Kate said, her back turned as she removed one of the barrel covers, wanting to show off the mixture.

Jake's smile slowly faded, replaced by a hard, cold look. Anger and concern warred within him. He had been told Tyler wasn't even near El Reno during the storm. Now, the truth was hitting him like a ton of bricks.

Jake’s voice was tight with suppressed emotion as he stepped forward. “So Tyler didn’t just happen to be in the area—he was in the middle of it?”

Kate turned around, her brows furrowed in confusion. She remembered Tyler talking on the phone with someone, was it Jake she didn’t know. “He said he called you…“

Kate wasn’t naive; it was clear Tyler had kept his near-death experience from Jake. The depth of Jake’s anger was evident, and she understood why.

“He didn’t tell you.” It wasn’t a question.

“No, he didn’t,” Jake said through clenched teeth. His voice was strained with fury. “Actually he didn’t call me, ma did. I was under the impression he wasn’t even near El Reno!”

Kate frowned, the barrel cover slipping from her hand. “I’m sorry. I thought he told you. I’m sure he just didn’t want you to worry—”

She trailed off, uncertain of what else to say, unable to speak for Tyler. Jake’s expression was a mix of anger and hurt, and she understood it wasn’t directed at her.

“No, you have no reason to apologize,” Jake said, his voice steadier now. “In fact, thank you for telling me.”

Jake’s jaw was clenched, and his green eyes were sharp and cold. He glanced at the barrels, managing a strained smile as he addressed Kate with an uncharacteristic politeness.

“I’m looking forward to seeing your project in action. But if you’ll excuse me, I need to have a word with my dear brother.”

Kate watched Jake struggle to contain his anger as he marched across the dirt driveway of her mom’s house.

“Shit,” Kate muttered under her breath.

Tyler, oblivious to the approaching storm, was engaged in a conversation with Bradley near the barn. Jake seized Tyler by the shoulder, spinning him around with a violent jerk that startled both Tyler and Bradley.

“You’re a goddamn bastard, Ty!” Jake erupted. “You almost died and didn’t tell me? Or Ma? What the hell were you thinking?”

Tyler wasn't usually aggressive, at least from what Kate had observed, but she had never seen his demeanor turn so icy so quickly. He shoved Jake away to create some distance between them.

"It's no different from your job," Tyler said defensively, it was pot and kettle to him. "I was fine. I didn't see any need to tell anyone. It was like the rodeo."

"My job? What does that have to do with this? Tyler, you were nearly killed by an EF5!" Jake shouted, his voice thick with frustration.

"Nearly! Just 'nearly,' Jake! Those are the key words," Tyler retorted. He had faced death in the face so many times, the close call seemed almost insignificant now.

"Exactly—'nearly' is the problem! You never really see how close you come to death until one day it finally catches up with you!" Jake yelled back.

"You do the same! Do you have any idea how terrified Ma and Dad were when you signed up? You treat that death trap like it’s a joyride!" Tyler pressed.

Jake took a sharp breath as Tyler shifted the focus of the argument onto him, trying to make his role as a fighter pilot the issue.

"This isn't about me, Tyler. You lied not just to me but to the whole family! Do you even understand what would have happened if you had died?"

Jake couldn’t fathom a life without his brother; they were two halves of the same whole. Tyler knew him inside and out, and vice versa.

Tyler fell silent, his jaw clenching as his eyes flickered with a mix of guilt and anger. He hadn’t considered the full impact of what might have happened, and he wasn’t sure he wanted to.

Jake pressed on, his voice rising with urgency. “You don’t get it! Losing you would tear everything apart. I know you push boundaries and take risks, but damn it, Tyler, you have to be honest with us! We’re your family, and you can’t just leave us in the dark about something this serious!”

Jake was panting, his shoulders heaving as his words echoed across the vast Oklahoma landscape. Tyler remained silent for a moment before turning and walking away. Unlike Jake, he didn’t lash out with venomous words when things became overwhelming; he simply withdrew.

In a fit of frustration, Jake let out a primal scream, his anger spilling over. He threw his hands up in exasperation and stormed off in the opposite direction, needing to channel his rage and confusion into something, anything.

[chungledown-bimothy]

top 5 video essays!!!

just 5?? okay, um. i'm gonna have to run my favorite video essays playlist through a few filters: minimum one hour, one video per creator, and no hbomberguy or defunctland. everyone here knows roblox_oof.mp3 and the disney theme, i want to show some love for other videos)

1- The man who tried to fake an element (Bobbybroccoli) He's a master of explaining just enough of the historical and scientific context to put things into perspective while keeping it interesting. The way he visually depicts what he's talking about is also always fantastic. This video is the pinnacle of both of those, I think.

Also it's a really interesting and funny story. How he thought he'd get away with it still baffles me.

2- FNaF & Undertale: How to/NOT to Tell A Story (Spaceman Scott) The thesis is perfectly unbiased. There's no objectively right or wrong way to tell a story, let's look at these two culture-changingly popular stories and how differently they were created and are told.

The other 75 minutes of the video are absolutely shitting on Scott Cawthon and talking about how much the attention, love, and care Toby Fox put into Undertale shows.

3- The False Evolution of Execution Methods (Jacob Geller) Incredibly well researched, thought out, and presented. It would have been easy for it to just be talking about the statistics, but he does a really phenomenal job of putting them in the context of societal and technological changes and not pulling punches or being too graphic when discussing what happens when things go wrong with the different methods.

I don't want to spoil the ending, but it hit me like a ton of bricks.

Honestly the only reason it isn't higher is because it is such a heavy watch. (yes it's technically 53 minutes but I had to pause and process shit for at least seven minutes while watching it. It counts.)

4- Who Is Nazeem REALLY? Skyrim's Most HATED Character (Camelworks) I've done some deep dives into incredibly niche things, but this takes the goddamn cake. I want to study the creator like a bug. No one asked, but my god they delivered a fucking masterpiece.

5- The Most Painful Death Ever (VIEWER DISCRETION) (Wendigoon) Nuclear physics and weird medical things are both interests of mine, so I found it fascinating. That said, oh my god take the warning seriously. It was all presented very respectfully and tactfully, but the facts of the situation are intense to say the least. I'm not squicked by medical stuff in general, but some of it had me feeling truly shaken.

honorable mention for This is Financial Advice (Folding Ideas) for making cryptocurrency, both the thing itself and the culture around it, make sense to me.

[fatherramiro]

anyways some final dark thoughts with some 1899 musings sprinkled in for flavor

definitely ended the show with my top five faves being noah, claudia, charlotte, hannah, and katarina. im also deeply obsessed with jonas (the teenager and eyk variants at least) and bartosz came in for a last minute win. 

probably controversial opinion but ulrich... i respect the tragedy but my buddy you could’ve solved a lot of problems by not banging everyone in sight

there are characters who i adored who i wish got a little more time to shine but overall a+ character development. leave me wanting more than overplaying it or adding in unnecessary plots

also, i do wish martha’s badassery had been brought out a bit sooner in season two because she and jonas were giving me charladay from lost vibes and that is not a compliment in this case. like i wasn’t sure what jonas was seeing in her and it felt like he was just obsessing over someone (in this case, his motherfucking aunt) and there was little support. season three... perfection though on that front.

holy fuck the cast overall was spectacular. ive never seen casting that perfect overall, especially for the younger vs older cast members

it was also interesting to me how the main cast mostly didn’t change throughout the seasons - bo and jantje were able to pretty much keep everyone for three seasons regardless of character fates in various timelines/words. that makes me feel like they'd have kept the 1899 main cast around for the entire show run if they’d had, you know, a seasons two and three.

as mentioned in other posts, love that they also stored the love in the fake priest here too. 

the entire show being about love - with the incident that creates the loop being born from love and the solution being conceived of by love is so important. also the fact that the solution isn’t to cause further harm but to save lives? incredible

overall, it wasn’t as nihilistic as i expected? i found the ending to be really powerful and bittersweet but also not quite as heavy on the bitter side as anticipated. 

the last line hit me like a shit ton of bricks.

it also thrilled me that katarina and hannah got to exist/be happy in the end. i know hannah is controversial, but both their deaths were the most viscerally upsetting to me so i was really glad that it didn’t just end there for them.

seeing the way they used every shot and word to convey meaning absolutely destroyed me. not a single goddamn wasted moment or throwaway line

my other minor complaints are that i think they needed 10 episodes per season for all seasons, and that i wish the unknown (aka the terror trio as i was calling them) had a name that wasn't just. the unknown.

the montages!!! fuck me up!!!

ive got so many thoughts about 1899 and where that was going based on this show but the only one ill share here is that im pretty sure that outside of the eyk/maura/daniel triangle, the endgame pairings had to be clémence/jérôme, ling yi/olek, and ramiro/ángel. there was too much emphasis placed on those relationships by the season finale that it would’ve been weird to like. swap out one half of a pairing for someone else. the set up felt very deliberate there, and overall bo and jantje do not waste moments like those.

why did it take me so long to watch this show???? it is perfect and i want to write a thousand essays on it

[pepprs]

hey so u know how today was supposed to be like an amazing day and i was supposed to make a ton of friends? yeah me too

[the-iceni-bitch]

I am loving the Wheel of Filth idea! Here's what I got

That last quote is so perfectly Lance 🤣 Maybe it should be used against him 😏

Wifey!! It took me a minute but the inspiration for this one just hit me like a ton of bricks!!

Cocky asshole smut (mentions of female masturbation, sex toys, fingering, unprotected vaginal sex, minor degradation), no minors!!!

Lance was exhausted and frustrated when he walked into your apartment.

He hated those goddamn PR tours more than anything, having to answer stupid fucking questions about the progress the women's team was making through the Olympic trials only serving give him a never ending headache. All he had been looking forward to for the past week was seeing you and losing himself in the soft, wet heat between your legs.

And you couldn't even do him the courtesy of being awake.

Granted, you looked fucking beautiful all spread out on the bed in that blue lace nightie. The way your limbs were splayed and the fact you were even wearing that thing making it pretty obvious that you had planned on waiting for him, and that did serve to soften his mood a little bit.

At least until he spotted the vibrator on your bedside table.

Now, he didn't consider himself a cruel man. He had never insisted that you abstain from your own pleasure when he wasn't there. Even if he had, he wouldn't be naïve enough to believe you'd actually do it. But that didn't mean he wanted to see the reminder of it as soon as he walked through the fucking door. Especially since the sight of it, combined with what you were wearing, made it seem like maybe you actually hadn't been planning on waiting for him, but rather fucked yourself to sleep even though you knew he was coming home tonight.

He growled as he started stripping out of his clothes, grumbling to himself about your lack of consideration before crawling into the bed next to you. His fingers teased over your thighs before gripping the hem of your nightie and dragging it up over your hips until he had a perfect view of your glistening pussy, the wet stains on your thighs confirming his suspicions that you hadn't bothered waiting for him.

Two thick fingers sank into your quivering hole and he smirked at the rush of slick that seeped out around them and soaked his hand. Always the fucking whore, he had yet to find a time when you weren't wet and ready for him.

Soft wet squelches filled the room as he continued stroking at your soft walls, your body slowly starting to wake up while he stretched you open. A sharp gasp ripped from your chest when he slid in a third finger, and he knew you were finally with him.

"Lance? Jesus." As soon as your eyes were open they were rolling back in your skull, your body arching into his hand as you brought a hand down to wrap around his wrist.

"Just look at you, all stretched out and trembling." His tone was slightly cruel as he looked down at you, his fingers still fucking into you relentlessly. "You forget I was coming home tonight, kitten?"

He knew you hated that fucking nickname, drinking in the scorn that was coming off you in waves as your body continued bending to his will. Even though you knew he was trying to bait you, you couldn't stop yourself from spitting venom back at him.

"How could I fucking forget when you've been texting me dick pics since 6 AM?" You moved your hips to match the movements of his fingers, groaning when he ground his palm into your clit. "Then you're four hours late and giving me shit because I had to take care of myself. You pissed I came three times from that vibe, Lancie?"

"I don't give a fuck when you use that thing, kitten, in fact, I encourage it." He sucked his bottom lip between his teeth when you dropped your head back against the pillow and let out a choked mewl. "I want you to make yourself come with that little toy, so you know I can do it better."

"Fuck you, Lance." You dragged his face to yours so you could hiss in his ear. "You better fucking prove it."

"Oh no, honey." He pulled away from you and dragged his fingers out of your soaked channel, bringing them up to his lips and sucking them clean and grinning at you. "I don't need to prove a damn thing to you. Tonight is all about me."

You had no time to prepare before he was flipping you over and driving into you, hard. One of his hands reached up to grip the headboard for leverage, the bed already starting to rattle as he fucked into you like a madman. He tried to use his other hand to force your face into the pillows so he didn't have to listen to that smart mouth of yours, but you propped yourself on your elbow and swatted him away before he got the chance.

Even as you drove your hips back into him you were glaring at him over your shoulder, the relentless rhythm of his thrusts bringing you to the edge alarmingly fast. He just grinned back at you, slapping your ass hard and making you hiss before reaching up and winding your fingers through his against the headboard.

"Jesus fucking Christ, I'm gonna come." He could feel you starting to clench down on him and let out a low growl before curling over you back and burying his face in your hair.

"I don't care." He purred, wrapping a hand around your throat and tilting your head back until could devour your mouth with his.

A wretched shriek ripped from your chest as you fluttered wildly around him, your release squirting out of you and staining the sheets before you sagged into the bed. His teeth moved to sink into your throat as his thrusts grew wild and desperate, his own pleasure so close he could feel it rising in his throat. Just another few shoves and he was one, filling you with thick, hot ropes of cum before releasing you with a sneer.

"Told you."

[vrisrezis]

What would the matsus gay awakening be like? And them finally confessing to their crush?

Thank u for this rq YOU HAVE NO IDEA

Kinda cw/tw for internalized homophobia?? Osomatsu is fucking stupid and gay, actually all of them are but the eldest is the worst abt it, anyways

In whatever way Osomatsu realizes he likes you, it hits him like a ton of bricks, he’s very dumb and clueless as well so it takes him so goddamn long to realize what it is he’s feeling. I swear to Christ he would have dreams about you two being in a relationship and then is just like, this is normal and totally doesn’t mean anything right? When he realizes he likes you, he internally panics because you’re his friend and he doesn’t even know how to act around you anymore. He’s constantly flustered and sometimes stammers. He ends up kinda freaking out and starts getting nightmares that you’ll hate him because he’s gay (the same goes for his family hating him cuz he’s gay) so he’s really freaked out over this and everyone notices it and they keep asking him what’s wrong but he keeps pushing everyone away. But you aren’t taking any of his shit anymore and finally you find him and tell him you’ve had enough. So he finally tells you.

“So… I’m like actually gay, crazy right?” He says on the verge of tears. “And I’m like… so in love with you… isn’t that hilarious?” he lets out a bitter laugh, “and I know you’re gonna hate me for this but please just don’t tell my family. I don’t need them to hate me too.” he simply says, ready to leave but you grab his wrist, he’s about to protest before you hug him. He was gonna push you off of him but he complies and hugs back, crying in your chest. He’s just thankful you don’t hate him.

Karamatsus awakening is a lot less angsty and dramatic, while he may be a bit clueless himself he’s not nearly as bad as his elder brother. In the past, he probably talked to you about how he wanted to help you out, help you get a chick because he had “loads of experience” but nowadays he finds himself not wanting you to even be interested in girls. In his mind they just aren’t good enough for you! You deserve the world and everything more! You deserve all that is good, you deserve so so much. And as he’s thinking about how you deserve the world and more he can’t help but wonder, who could possibly be worthy enough for you? Who would you decide was enough? And what would you do with them? He finds himself daydreaming about it, about how you’d hold their hand and how you’d kiss them and all of a sudden he’s imagining it’s him and holy shit I’m gay. And upon realizing this, he started acting strange and it made you suspicious. He would get overly nervous, mess up his words but then wave it off like he was fine. Like he was hiding something.

Telling you was something he knew he had to do. He didn’t know how he even told Jyushimatsu, maybe because it was easy to talk to him (even if he ended up telling the rest of the same faces), so when he called you for an important meeting he was practically pissing his pants. “I cant be friends with you anymore… I… have.. acquired some forbidden feelings that I can’t hold back anymore! I’m sorry!” Instead of being met with a punch to the face or something though he gets a hug, something he blushes deeply at but hugs back with a smile.. “does that mean..?” “Yes dummy”

Choromatsu ends up taking a long time to realize too, this is because he lives in a state of denial for a long time. When he starts having these gay thoughts about you, he tells himself that it’s not cause he’s gay, it’s cause he’s not used to having a friend. But his thoughts become worse and he starts to think about you all the time, so much it’s starting to drive him crazy. And what’s even worse, he doesn’t even mind? He just wants you next to him, all the time. He cannot imagine a future without you, and all of this horrifies him. Deep down, he knows he can’t hide it forever, he knows he can’t deny this part of him anymore. He needs to tell you how he feels eventually right? He’s becoming a bit more obvious, all that blushing and stammering, suspiciously putting his hands in front of his junk. He starts getting second thoughts though about telling you. What if it ruins your friendship forever and you never wanna see him again? He just couldn’t handle that, but at least he gathered the courage to tell somebody.. unfortunately this somebody being karamatsu. He doesn’t know why in his right mind he thought karamatsu was the good idea here, but he was just mindlessly trying to encourage him to tell you how he feels. Finally with a lot of convincing he texted you, asking if the two of you could meet up.

“L-listen… I… uhm…” he twiddles with his thumbs, looking down with a dark blush on his cheeks, making you told your head in confusion for a moment. “I-I…” “take your time” you said with a smile, half being serious and half teasing him. He sighs, taking in a deep breath and clasping his hands together, “Ireallylikeyousopleasegooutwithme!” he says so quickly, you almost didn’t catch it. After a minute or so, you finally figure it out and smile “oh.” You finally say, as you see him covering his face in his hands, you realize he probably thinks you’re rejecting him. “Sure dude..” you say, and he takes his face out of his hands “really?!”

Ichimatsu isn’t fucking dumb okay? He knows what it is when he starts getting the feelings for you. He doesn’t deny it or make excuses or act clueless, he knows. As simple as it gets. But he hates it. He hates liking somebody so much and he hates putting himself in such a vulnerable position. When he realizes he likes you, he’s so confused. Me? Gay? Unheard of. This is fucking weird. But he simply accepts that it’s a part of him now, it just makes him confused. He’s never been interested in a guy before, so does this mean he likes other guys? Would he get off to gay porn? He has a lot of other questions he’s gotta deal with himself. However, aside from self discovering other gay parts of himself, he tries to hide this from you. He doesn’t even tell his brothers. He starts to come to the conclusion (much like the eldest) everyone will hate him for being gay, but he starts to feel guilty because how dare he think so poorly of you and his own family. He has these kinds thoughts for awhile and finally caves in and tells Osomatsu what’s going on. A part of him feeling like he’d regret it (he was right) he didn’t stop teasing him for his gay little crush on you, but kept pestering him to tell you how you felt. Eventually Osomatsu said “I’ll do it for you then!” So ultimately of course he decided to visit your place so his big brother didn’t ruin his fucking life.

“Listen… I don’t know how you feel about this sort of thing..” he started.. “but… I’m gay… and I .. really.. REALLY.. like you..” he rubs the back of his neck with a blush on his cheeks, “I-I’m sorry.. I shouldn’t have said anything.. I don’t want this to ruin our friendship but I- mmf!” he was so rudely interrupted by your lips on his, but he didn’t mind. In fact he seemed to love it so much, when you pulled away he passed out. “Oh shit!” You say as he falls on the floor, “you okay man?” and when you get no answer you sigh.

Jyushimatsu is not as dumb as everyone makes him out to be (but still very dumb). He knows when he likes somebody, so he takes in all the factors. When he’s around you he can’t help but blush, he can’t help but get more excited than usual, he gets all giddy and he always wants to be around you, and the biggest indicator of them all, sometimes his dick gets hard around you. That is a dead giveaway. Seriously, what else could that be? This man obviously likes you. He never thought of himself as gay personally, he came to the conclusion he only likes women so long ago. However, he simply doesn’t care and as you’d aspect is fully accepting of this realization. He likes men! Good for him! When it comes to telling you, he mulls it over. He ultimately decides you’re a sweetheart though and it should be easy to tell you. Unlike his brothers, he is very accepting of his situation and adapts quickly, doesn’t dwell over you accepting him or his feelings, he has full blind faith and trust that you won’t hurt him. It’s a good thing!

“Heyyy! So..!” He starts, and you notice he’s kinda nervous, hand behind his back. However, he finally reveals some sunflowers and hands them to you. “I don’t know.. I picked them out cuz they remind me of you!” He said with a smile, and even with how kind your friend is with his gifts this one was a lot sweeter, you’re not sure what it is about this gift in particular. Maybe it’s cause boyfriends usually give flowers. “I hafta tell you something!” he said interrupting your thoughts. “I got you those flowers cause I really like you! So please date me!” you can’t help but blush at his boldness yet how innocent he seemed, who were you to say no?

Todomatsu would accept his fate when he starts to like you and he realizes pretty quick that he likes you too. He’s not an idiot and can recognize his feelings for somebody when he obtains them, doesn’t matter the gender. If he was honest, he had questioned his sexuality before but thought to himself, me? Liking guys? Silly! I like girls too much for that! But now he’s rethinking his life choices. He likes you, and that’s the conclusion he comes to. You’re a man. He likes a man. He’s gay. And it’s as simple as that to him. Again, he’s not an idiot. Okay he is but hear me out. He knows his family will accept him, but he doesn’t want to tell them. He doesn’t wanna tell his brothers. Imagine the teasing he’d get, that’d be so fucking annoying. He doesn’t wanna go through that. But as the feelings grow stronger and he realizes he’s probably in love with you he needs to tell somebody what’s going on with him. Ultimately he chooses one of the worst choices of his life, Ichimatsu. He certainly isn’t one for good advice, but it was a heat of the moment kinda thing! Even so, it felt good to get off his chest. Especially since Ichimatsu didn’t tease him about it, and didn’t seem to care too much. So with that out of the way, it was time to tell you how he felt.

“I mean I don’t even know if you like… men… but… I really like you..” he managed to finally get out, after kinda blushing and stammering for the past three minutes. You can’t help but chuckle, “hey! What’s so funny!” He pouts, and you shake your head, “nothing, you’re just cute. I’d love to date you.. I like you too..” you say with a laugh, and he somehow blushes even more.. “r-really!!? Wait… you think im cute?!” you were probably going to regret calling him that.

[fxckbuckyscoming]

I Can’t Do This Without You || B.Barnes x Reader

Requested by @momos-peaches: Okay here's another one 😭 (he really lives in my head rent free) So, the reader ends up getting pissed off and is scolding Buck with s a s s because he ended up get really beat up during a mission. She is just cleaning out his cuts and wrapping him up like 'you reckless little shit I cant believe you!-' all the while she gets more and more worked up to tears. This could have potential angsty ending or a more hurt fluff ending, it just depends on how you think Bucky would handle the situation!!!

Warnings: Angst, Hurt!Bucky, fluff ending, language!

Authors Notes: Thank you my sweet @momos-peaches for coming back for another request 😭 I love your requests and I hope you will send more!!! ❤️

Bucky couldn’t tell you how he managed to miss the sniper hiding up behind the derelict buildings ahead. How he didn’t hear their shuffling or the glass bottle that they accidentally knocked over and made it roll. And he didn’t know how he didn’t see the three men leap out from the overgrown grass and tackled him to the ground, knocking him unconscious and left him there with his few broken bones. And if it wasn’t for the quick work of his teammates, who knows what might have happened.

But he could tell you how he knew you were going to be upset with him, it’s the conversation the two of you have often. Your worries and fears of him leaving for a mission and one day he won’t make it back. It wasn’t irrational of you to worry yourself to death because he was the love of your life. Bucky just wished you wouldn’t worry so much. You had your own daily business to deal with, your own things, he didn’t need you to worry about him either. But you did anyway, and your heart fell into your stomach when knuckles tapped your door and you saw Bucky slumped against the doorframe holding his ribs, his face all bloody and battered.

It was a struggle, but when you eventually got him to the bathroom, you sat him down on the closed toilet seat and started removing his tactical gear. The cuts and grazes that littered his body was no joke and you were pissed he could be so reckless out on the field.

“You really had your ass handed to you.” You scoffed, forced to cut away some clothing that the zipper had jammed up on. “I suppose they want you on another mission as soon as possible too right?”

“Y/N please... I’m tired.” Bucky sighed, closing his eyes. He knew you would be upset and the last thing he wanted to do was argue with you when he was in so much pain.

“You’re tired?!” You yelled a little louder than you intended. “I haven’t slept for a fucking week Buck! A whole goddamn week because I’ve been so worried about you and you almost died!” Not only was your anger spilling out, but the tears decided to make an appearance too. Wiping them away angrily with the sleeve of your shirt, you grabbed the alcohol and pads to clean the wound on his chest.

Bucky winced from your heavy hands when you were cleaning out a particularly deep cut. You dabbed it harshly, a small reflection of pain to how you were feeling. The alcohol stung against the wound. “You’re fucking reckless. I can’t believe you’ve turned into a reckless little shit!”

You were struggling to see what you were cleaning behind your blurry vision. Fresh warm tears rolled down your cheeks, your heart absolutely shattered at the thought you could have lost him today. He could have died without you saying goodbye to him or tell him all the things you wanted to tell him. That opportunity would have been ripped from you.

“Doll, please.” Bucky’s breath hitched and through your own tears, you could see his tears too. “Nothing hurts as much as hearing you say that. I’m so sorry I let my guard down.” Bucky’s fingers were itching to reach out to you, he didn’t want to lose you, he couldn’t lose you but the conversation of how dangerous his job really was hit him like a ton of bricks. It’s what you’ve told him all along and he’s always told you it was fine and he was fine but maybe he really wasn’t.

“I just- I just can’t lose you Buck. You mean too fucking much to me.” You fell to your knees between his legs and rested your arms over his thighs. His itchy fingers finally stroke your hair out of your face. Guilt written all over his face and without any words spoken, you know he will do whatever it takes to fix this.

“I’m gonna take your advice doll. I’m gonna talk to Tony and see if I can work within the compound.” His smile that appears on his lips is a promising one.

“No more missions?” Bucky shakes his head and captures your falling tear with his thumb.

“No more missions. I can’t lose you either.” As soon as he tried to lean in for a kiss, he winced in pain and stopped halfway.

“Okay mister. Your wounds are cleaned out, take a shower and-,”

“Join me doll.” He interrupted, standing up but remained hunched over from the pain in his back and ribs. The serum should repair his broken body soon.

“Buck I don’t think that’s a good idea-,”

“I’m not asking for sex doll. That’ll come later, I just need you because I don’t do this alone.”

SSC Taglist: @nikkixostan || @indigo123789

[psycheshorror]

“Shut Up”

pairing: MCU!Brock Rumlow x reader

summary: smutty smut smut with tons of cursing. rough sex.

authors note: I’m new to the whole writing scene, critiques appreciated!

part two

God, Brock was so pretty when he finally shut the fuck up.

It started off small. Working as an assistant for Maria Hill meant you had to schedule debriefing meetings, hunt down agents for completed mission reports, and occasionally make small talk with the big guys - Captain Rogers and you were on first name basis and sometimes he even brought you coffee when turning in his reports. Neatly written, filled out properly, never a second late and somehow the coffee always tasted like it was just brewed.

But Brock Rumlow was something else.

Always wearing a shit-eating grin when he saw you, brown eyes full of amusement as he watched you disdainfully pluck the report out of his large hands. Messy as fuck handwriting as per usual, and no matter how many times you told him to remember to be thorough, there was always a detail missing that didn’t line up with the rest of his teammates. And no matter how small it was, it meant the process had to start all over again.

You tried to remain professional, but you were at your wits end. You wanted to be like Maria. Maria never gets her feathers ruffled, and sure as hell doesn’t over paperwork, but goddamn if it didn’t require a miracle for Brock’s report to be correct the first time around.

“Hey honey,” he said, mouth curling up into a catlike grin.

“Rumlow,” you acknowledged, trying desperately to keep your eyes fixated on your computer screen, almost effectively ignoring the flutter in your chest at the pet name. You reached for your coffee mug and frowned when the now-cold liquid hit your lips.

Licking your bottom lip when a stray drop threatened to dribble down your chin, you swore you heard the 6”4 man purr.

A shuffle in your peripheral vision and your desk creaking, you couldn’t help but to now look into the eyes of the absolute brick house of a man.

Both large hands placed flat against the edges of your desk, leaning down, he was only a few inches away from your face now. You could feel his breath on your lips and much to your embarrassment, felt a familiar stirring in your core.

“Do you wanna fuck?”

“Wh- what-“

All of a sudden he was chuckling, head bowing down to look at the floor and you could almost see a shyness you’ve never seen the agent express - ever. But then when he looked back at you, pupils blown wide and a different kind of smirk, you knew at that moment you were a goner.

Brock Rumlow was a wolf and you were a sitting duck, waiting to be eaten.

And eaten you were.

Brock currently had his face in between your legs, tongue mercilessly working your clit as his large fingers pumped into you. Threading your fingers in his hair, you cried out as the coil in your core wrapped so tight that you thought you were gonna die. Just a few more seconds and -

Brock’s head popped up and his fingers slid out to slap your pussy and you almost sobbed. “Brock!!” you whined, embarrassed at the desperation in your voice.

“Did I fucking say you could cum?” he gritted out, hands on your hips and fingers digging so hard in the flesh you knew there would be bruises the next day.

“You motherfucker-“ you yelped when you were suddenly face down into the mattress. Brock’s strength was insane on the field - you knew from

his bio that he built a reputation as being a huge asset to S.H.I.E.L.D., but you never expected it to creep into bed with him as well.

Well, you never expected to be in bed with him in general, but life is full of happy surprises, isn’t it?

You could feel Brock rutting against your ass, cock hard in his tactical pants. One hand firmly placed on the small of your back to hold you down, the other finding it’s way in your hair, tugging firmly. Nothing could have prepared you for how goddamn hot that was.

“Name calling ain’t nice, sweetheart,” he said, breath quickening as his hips rolled into your ass at a brutish pace.

“You’re gonna have to pay the price,” he whispered in your ear before licking the shell of it. You shivered, arousal completely dominating your mind and body. Fuck, you shouldn’t be wet for Brock Rumlow. You felt a tinge of guilt for Steve. You should be in bed with the guy that brought you coffee, not the one who couldn’t file a report properly because he simply didn’t care to.

A harsh slap on your bare ass brought you back to the situation at hand. You moaned as the hand in your hair switched to pinching your right nipple. Twisting hard, your eyes fluttered shut at the new feeling. You’ve never had it rough like this, but damn you were missing out.

You could feel your core starting to coil once more, on the precipice of orgasm just from Brock manhandling you and his covered cock rubbing against your cheeks.

“You like it rough, you little slut?” Another harsh slap from his right hand almost sent you over the edge. You moaned as his cock twitched in his pants, and knew how desperate he was for his own orgasm.

“I asked you a fuckin’ question,” he grunted, hands leaving your body to undo his belt and zipper. Your pussy quaked with the promise of being thoroughly fucked.

“Yes,” you moaned. “Now shut the fuck up and fuck me, Rumlow.”

You could feel the smile against your neck before he bit you, the full length of his cock slipping in until he completely buried himself in your core. You both almost keeled from pleasure.

“Oh fuck, sweetheart, you feel so good around my cock,” he groaned, dark eyelashes fluttering closed as he experimentally thrusted into you, almost savoring the sensation.

“Gotta let me fuck you all the time, I don’t know if I can get enough.” Finally slamming into you, you knew what true pleasure felt like.

“Rumlow,” you cried, tears prickling out the corners of your eyes as you angled yourself against him to feel his cock hit that perfect, magic spot in your pussy that made you see stars. He was merciless with his pace, his large hands digging into your hips once more, forcing you to take his full length and force at once.

The sound of his skin slapping against yours should have made you feel embarrassed. You weren’t supposed to be playing hanky panky with any of your coworkers, nonetheless an agent, but how were you supposed to resist his advances with his pretty brown eyes and that sultry smile?

And now with his cock buried so deeply inside of you, how could you ever stop?

He angled his hips upwards and you felt the underside of his shaft brush against your clit thrice and you were sent into one of the most powerful orgasms you have ever had.

Brock moaned feeling your walls close in on his cock and tugged your hair as you rode the waves of your orgasm. You cried when he slapped your ass, hard, and kept thrusting into you like his life depended on it. Your hands were shaking and you could barely keep your legs open, your orgasm turning you into a throbbing, helpless mess.

He came after a minute of reckless thrusting, the kind that said “I’m drunk off of sex” without anyone explicitly having to say it out loud. Spilling hot cum inside of you, you could feel him moan and a wave of pride washed over you. You could get used to hearing this more often.

Brock sighed and he gently kissed the dark marks he left on your neck, caressing your back and hushing your whimpers when he pulled out of your aching pussy.

Lips barely ghosting the angry red marks his hands left on your ass, he gingerly massaged your hips where he could see the bruises already forming.

After soft touches and tender kisses, he flipped you over, this time slowly as if you were the most valuable thing he’s ever laid his eyes on.

You could feel your heart swelling with affection when you saw his eyes were now full of pure satisfaction. Hush now, feelings.

It was just good, rough sex. No need to make it anything other than that.

“Gotta say, honey,” he said, voice still coated with lust as he tucked his body against yours, pulling the sheets over both of you.

“I’m glad I can finally stop fucking up mission reports.”

“You bastard!” you exclaimed, laughing wildly as he curled a forearm around your waist. “I can’t count how many times I’ve had to make you redo your reports.”

“Well, I tried to get your attention, but you were all business,” he chuckled, nose nuzzling in your hair.

“So I figured, I’m just gonna ask. And I didn’t think you were gonna say yes.”

“Ask and you shall receive,” you yawned, feeling the fatigue of the wild sex start to creep into your bones. Eyes almost fluttering closed, you basked in the warmth of the big, muscly body behind you.

“Well, since you mentioned it... can I get an extension on this next report?”

“Not a chance.” You grinned, just before dozing off.

[likeabxrdinflight]

infodumping a bunch of thoughts because I have too many in my head:

-reva is gonna me more complex than she appears. 99% positive she was one of the kids in the order 66 scene in the beginning. 99.9. I do hear peoples' concerns about how black people are treated by this franchise (especially after how they treated finn) and the concerns over casting a dark skinned woman as a villain, but I think I'm going to let this story play out before making a judgment call- I just have a gut feeling she's going to end up a much more complicated character by the end of this. -god, prequels fans finally get to win after being told for years and years and years how bad the movies were and how we weren't real fans for liking them as much if not more than the originals and enduring decades of nostalgia pandering to the original trilogy fans while our nostalgia is ignored and derided finally. finally we get a moment. we get to have our nostalgia for the trilogy we grew up with. sure it's pandering to that quite a lot, but we never get pandered to like this. feels good feels right. -obi wan in this show and luke in the last jedi have very similar vibes and I'm here for it. except honestly with obi wan? It makes more sense. it feels more earned. I liked luke's arc in TLJ, I think it made him an interesting inversion of what obi wan and yoda were to him, but this? this works infinitely better. with luke we didn't get to see the good times that preceded ben's fall, so the knowledge of what happened and how it affects luke doesn't hit as hard. but with obi wan? we saw him and anakin grow together. we saw them as mentor and student, as brothers, as the closest of friends. and if you watched the clone wars you got even more of that, you watched them go through the entire war together, so it just hits different. watching this man be so broken and crushed by his grief feels exactly as earned as it should. that this man let go of the jedi code in his isolation feels infinitely more natural than it did for luke. and again, I still liked luke's arc in TLJ. -a whole show about dealing with trauma and grief is the shit I'm here for. we all know I eat angst like pancakes, plus this is being billed as mostly a character study and so far it's delivering. I don't care how contrived or forced the plot may get, that doesn't matter so much- this isn't selling itself to me as a plot driven show- it's about character here. -I actually saw, months ago, a leak that suggested this show would be about obi wan and leia. and I didn't honestly believe it, especially after the trailers dropped- so I didn't let myself want it too much. but now that I know that leak was actually correct? oh my god I wanted it so much. leia gets so little attention and so little time from this saga. she took a backseat the entire original trilogy and most of the sequels. so let her take center stage for once, let her be the important skywalker for a change. luke has his story, leia deserves to be in the spotlight for one goddamn minute. let her be the one with the stronger connection to obi wan, let her be her father's daughter in the way luke has always been his father's son. let leia matter, let her be important to the skywalker legacy in a way the movies never let her be. I love luke but damn, you could almost forget leia is just as much anakin's child the way the movies treated her. justice for leia. -I know people are inevitably going to compare this plot to the mandalorian and see it as derivative of the relationship between mando and baby yoda, but honestly I do not care. there are similarities and it could be argued that disney is trying to capitalize on mandalorian's success but ehhhhh......I feel like any kenobi show was always gonna feature one or both of the kids considering that was like. his entire purpose after revenge of the sith. so. -obi wan realizing anakin was alive hit me like a ton of bricks to the chest because for one, I honestly thought he knew? and two, ewan's acting was just phenomenal. man deserves an emmy for that scene alone I'm not joking. that delivery of "anakin" just. ouch.

-very excited to see hayden as anakin again. I know his performance in the prequels wasn't always great, but that was still his role and he deserves some recognition for it. and him and ewan together again is gonna hit me in that nostalgic spot that most people seem to feel for the originals. and I'm very much looking forward to it.

[willowbird]

For the prompt thing, could you do 2 for au, 4 for trope and 5 for prompt with andreil?

Hogwarts au, meet messy, "you have the emotional capacity of a brick"

Dearest anon, how did you know that I have been literally aching for an excuse to do something with a hogwarts au?

For context, because idk if I'll be able to explain it in the ficlet, Andrew and Aaron have been raised by their real father, Joseph Minyard, and his wife, Betsy Dobson, since the twins were seven. Andrew instinctively retaliated against an abuser with magic when he was in foster care, bringing him to the attention of whatever the US's ministry of magic is called (I forgot). They found his dad, who is a British wizard, and also discovered Aaron's existence. The twins, upon meeting each other and finding out they were wizards, chose to stay together and go with their dad rather than risk potentially being separated in whatever system the US magic people has for orphaned magic kids.

(look, I've been thinking about this A LOT okay?)

The following scene would take place the summer before the twins' fifth year. They are fifteen, Kevin is sixteen, Neil is fourteen.

Please be aware that all these characters are a lot younger and significantly less traumatized. I mean, shit still happened to them, but they all get rescued from their abusive home lives a lot earlier than in canon.

---

Andrew Minyard had lost a bet.

It was a really shitty bet, and Andrew should have known at the time that he was being fucking set up. But, well - what was it that broody fucker always said? Oh. C'est la vie. Or something. Whatever.

Point being, Andrew made a stupid bet and then he lost and it was really his own damn fault. Now he was stuck going to stupid Kevin Day's stupid house to play stupid broom-ball over summer break when he could have been basking in the wonders of muggle efficiency like television and air conditioning. What made it worse was that his mom had been so damn delighted that he was going over to a friend's house, too, and Andrew didn't usually have it in him to smash her hopes and dreams when she was so genuinely happy for him.

So. Here he was, broom in hand (because if he had to do this he was at least going to suffer with the familiarity of his own fucking broom), staring up at obviously haunted creaky old manor house that Day apparently lived in.

"Great," he grumbled to himself. "Just.. great." Andrew did not like ghosts, did not like them one fucking bit. They always wanted to chat you up and had absolutely no respect for personal space.

The longer he delayed, though, the longer Day was probably going to force him to participate in his bullshit "training camp", so Andrew straightened his shoulders and trudged up the cracked stone staircase that lead up the hill to the front door of the house. The very second Andrew had both feet on the dilapidated front porch, one hand reaching for the knocker, the front door began to swing slowly open. You know, as they were wont to do in creepy old ghost-infested houses owned by wizards.

Without waiting for a welcome (because the door fucking opened for him, that was invitation enough), Andrew strolled inside. He didn't even flinch when the door slammed shut behind him.

(Okay, maybe he jumped a little bit. Just a little.)

No one was waiting for him in the foyer, because of course that would be too easy. At least the inside of the house didn't look as abandoned as the outside did. On the contrary, the foyer was well-lit and free dust and cobwebs. It opened up into a round sitting room that looked lived-in rather than haunted, personal affects strewn about here and there in vaguely organized chaos and family pictures on the mantle above the fireplace.

This, Andrew had learned quickly upon his introduction to the magical world about seven or so years ago now, was fairly common when it came to magical families living in and around muggle neighborhoods. Sure, there were wholly wizarding villages, but not a ton of them. Most of the magical community had to coexist or at least peripherally exist with the muggle one. With the work of a couple of charms and a heavy dose of aesthetic, a magical family could live comfortably without the muggles looking too closely - and even if they did look closely, it was the haunted old house at the end of the street so strange things were bound to happen around it, right?

Homey as it may be on the inside, it was still actually haunted, though. Andrew had a good sense about ghostly lairs and this was definitely one of them.

Heaving a sigh, Andrew moved through the sitting room and ventured deeper into the house. The sooner he found Kevin, the sooner he could leave.

The rest of the house, Andrew swiftly found, was an uncanny combination of the haunted image it presented to outsiders and the cozy haven of the front sitting room. The hall leading off the sitting room was normal when you looked down it heading away from the sitting room, but when Andrew looked back over his shoulder it was like looking into something out of a cheap horror film (of which Andrew had viewed many, much to his father and brother's chagrin, but his mother liked to critique them with him).

Andrew checked each door he came across. Some of them were locked. Some opened into perfectly normal coat closets and bathrooms. At least one of them opened onto an actual cemetery where a bunch of ghosts were playing croquet. Andrew quickly shut that door before any of them tried to talk to him.

It was when he came to the staircase, however, that he finally started to get somewhere. Voices could be heard when he hit the first landing, but they completely vanished when tried to move beyond it - either further up the stairs or out into the hall. Turning to inspect the walls, Andrew realized that one of them wasn't actually a wall at all, but an illusion -- his hand right through!

"This is getting ridiculous," Andrew grumbled to himself as he stepped through the goddamn fucking wall.

He found himself in a wide, clean hallway bathed in the bright sunlight that was streaming in from the skylights placed every few feet. From one of the open doors a bit down the hall, Andrew could finally make out the words of what was obviously an argument.

"How many times do I have to tell you that I'm not going to your bloody school, Day?!"

"You can't just not go to school, Neil! The Ministry will have your wand, and then where will you be?"

"Oh come off it, do you really still buy into all that regulatory shit? They can't track me if I'm not a student unless they have an open warrant out on me. I could turn the corner store into a giant anthropomorphic pig that pisses coffee and they wouldn't know it happened until the story hit the local news, and even then they'd have a hard time tracking me down, considering those lazy twats barely even know how to read let alone track a rogue wizard."

"Galloping Gargoyles, Neil. Where in Merlin's name do you come up with this shit."

"It's called an imagination, Day. I was able to foster one while not being indoctrinated into the sheep-brain miasma that is Ministry-approved wizarding society."

This 'Neil' was getting more worked up as he spoke, spitting out his words like he was crafting a very pointed hex. There was the scuff of footsteps and a shadow fell across the hall as someone stepped toward the hall. "I'll be leaving now, thanks. Have fun being institutionally programed to fit the conservative mediocrity."

A larger shadow blotted out most of Neil's. "You can't just go, Neil!"

There was a scuffle, then a short kid wearing oversized robes stumbled into the hall. "Try and bloody catch me then, you lumbering infant of a Bandersnatch!" And then the kid turned and bolted down the hall -- right toward where Andrew had paused to eavesdrop on their conversation.

Now, Andrew was all ready to step aside. This was none of his business, after all. If this mouthy kid wanted to run away and join the circus or something, more power to him. He, also, thought school was a nightmare. But then Kevin stumbled out into the hall and shouted, "Andrew! Block him!"

And, well. Look. This was all fucking Kevin's fault. Kevin and his stupid cross-House quidditch club and his obsession with running drills. It was also Nicky's fault, for forcing them all to go so they could bond or what the fuck ever the purpose was. But Kevin shouted 'block!' and Andrew had spent two years as a beater and one year as a keeper and, well, reflexes kicked in.

He blocked.

Except, he had spent two years as a beater, and he was holding a broom. So.

His arms moved on their own, and it was a mighty, vicious swing. The next second the kid was flat on his back, gasping to try and catch his breath. Kevin loped over on legs too long, shooting Andrew an appreciative grin that Andrew kind of wanted to punch off of him.

"What.. the.. actual... fuck..." the kid - Neil - wheezed from the floor.

Now that he was officially drawn into this mess, Andrew allowed himself to indulge his curiosity and slung his broom up against one shoulder to approach the fallen boy. He felt a little bad (okay, more than a little), so he figured he'd offer him a hand up at least. Except, when he got to the kid and looked down he was shocked to find just about the prettiest boy in the whole Nimue-cursed universe.

(Andrew's gay awakening had happened when he was twelve years old. The keeper of the Gryffindor quidditch team smiled at him and told him he'd make a pretty good beater. Andrew had tried out for his own House team the very next week, and it had all been downhill from there.)

Andrew cleared his throat and opened his mouth to say something cool and unbothered, because that's what you did when you met someone pretty and wanted to impress them. Instead, like the utter dork that he was, he said, "Red hair and a hand-me-down robe? You must be a Weasley."

"What the fuck is a Weasley?" the sharp, pretty boy on the floor shot back through gritted teeth, pushing himself up into a sitting position.

Kevin's obnoxious shadow fell across the both of him and he sighed, putting his hands on his hips. "Don't mind Andrew, he remembers everything he hears and has a tendency to regurgitate random lines from other things when he feels awkward or anxious."

"Don't mind Kevin," Andrew followed up conversationally, "he's an insufferable know-it-all with a tendency to overshare and force people to play stupid broom-ball when they should be having a perfectly air-conditioned summer break."

"You emotionally wound me."

"You have the emotional capacity of a brick, don't try me Day."

Kevin rolled his eyes. Neil honed in on Andrew with eerie intensity. "You have an air-conditioner?"

Aha! Mission accomplished: cute boy impressed.

Andrew smirked. "Yup." He popped the 'p', feeling quite good about himself, his earlier bumble placed in the back of his head where he could obsess about it later.

Neil's narrowed eyes scanned him up and down, then relaxed, the blue of them bright and intelligent. He looked like he was figuring something out about Andrew but Andrew had no idea what or why. It took some effort, but instead of squirming he met Neil's gaze full-on. After a long moment, Neil seemed to have made a decision. He pushed himself up to his feet and nodded. "Alright then. You play quidditch?" He gestured to Andrew's broom with the jerk of his chin.

He hadn't noticed it earlier because he'd been so fascinated with the argument itself, but now that he could focus on Neil's voice, Andrew realized that there was something of about his accent. It wasn't that it seemed fake but more that it... it reminded him of his own, back when he'd been younger and had only been in England for a couple of years. He remembered being teased for it, and getting into a lot of fights because of that. Well, he remembered getting into fights because Aaron was also teased, and no one picked on his brother but him.

"I thought you were going to run off and join the circus." Andrew arched a brow.

Neil wrinkled his nose. "No. I'm still not going to your stupid castle school." He paused and looked from Andrew to the broom back over to Kevin and sighed. "But... one or two games of quidditch before I go can't hurt."

Kevin looked overjoyed. He grinned at Andrew and Andrew supposed that they really must be friends now, because he felt quite pleased about that.

"Great!" said Kevin. "Let's go! We should be able to get in some warm-up rounds before the others get here!"

"Others?" Andrew and Neil said with identical inflections of disdain. The sound of an echo startled the both of them and the looked at each other. Then, Neil smiled.

Andrew supposed a day without AC playing stupid broom-ball wasn't so bad after all.

Fun little prompt things

[yikesharringrove]

I think slutty Steve wouldn't know how to process it the first time he really feel jealous. Like maybe Billy won't stop talking about someone and it's nothing on Billy's part, just a person he has stuff in common with, and maybe they're hot. And it bothers Steve but he can't figure it out because he can have threesomes and watch Billy with other people, and he's always talking about other people but this bothers him.

I’m combining this with another slutty steve request

anonymous asked: slutty steve au! what about billy and steve getting into some argument. they aren’t together,  they just fuck around a lot, but they both obviously have feelings. so, steve goes to get some guy and lets them fuck him in a place he knows billy will see them because he wants to make billy jealous and that’s totally what ends up happening. billy gets all possessive and goes to steve’s house the next day and they have hate sex, but one that ends up with them confessing their feelings and being soft

-

Steve was not pouting.

“Why you poutin’?”

He was not.

“I’m not.” Billy fake pouted at him.

“What’s wrong?” Steve squirmed. “You pissed at me for ditchin’ you on Friday night?”

Maybe that was the issue.

Billy had a date on Friday, the night they usually spent watching movies and fucking around.

Steve mulled it over.

He never minded watching Billy with other guys. He never minded when Billy watched him with other guys.

They had had more than a few threesomes, even a few group romps, and the idea of Billy with someone else in those situations was fine.

But this made him mad, made him uncomfortable.

But Billy was fucking with everything.

Yeah, he was just frustrated that Billy ditched him on their night.

Ditched him for Michael Brown.

Steve was way hotter than Michael Brown. Better at sex too.

Steve would know.

“I’ll make it up to you, Stevie. We can do movie night on Saturday.” Steve shrugged.

It should feel the same, but it didn’t.

Moving it to Saturday wasn’t their day. Billy was casting him aside for someone else and it made Steve feel fucking sick.

His chest felt way too tight, and his stomach was churning.

“Sure. We can do Saturday.” Billy smiled softly at him. Steve wanted to curl up and sleep forever.

-

“So, then we head out to the quarry, you know, and we’re making out-” Steve was staring straight ahead, grinding his jaw. “-but I cut it off. I kinda wanna take things slower, you know? Like sometimes I just rush into fucking.” Steve scrunched his nose. “I could kinda see this actually going somewhere, and I want to preserve it.”

“Right, because sex ruins everything.” Billy furrowed his brows.

“Stevie, that’s not what I meant.”

“No, get it. It’s fine, Billy. I’m just a tramp with absolutely no value as a human person.” Steve got up, tossing the pillow he was holding back onto the couch.

“Steve, what the fuck? That’s absolutely not what I meant! Since when did this become about you?”

“Since you said you want to preserve it by not having sex with him. What’s so wrong about having sex?” Billy’s eyes were wide.

“There’s nothing wrong if that’s all you’re looking for, but I want a relationship, like a fucking emotional relationship, and sometimes sex gets in the way of that.”

“So I’m just a fucking sociopath, then.”

“Steve, you’re acting fucking insane.” Steve snapped his mouth shut. He turned to go stomping up the stairs. “Wait, hold on.”

Billy shoved himself into Steve’s bedroom before he could shut the door.

“I’m sorry, I shouldn’t’ve said that.”

“No, Hargrove. It’s fine.” Steve had already pulled up his contacts, scrolling through the football team. He wanted a fat joint and and a fat cock.

“Look, I really wasn’t trying to say anything about you, or the way you live your life,just with me, I want to take this one slow.”

“Sure.”

“I’m sorry for saying what I did.”

“Thanks.” Steve had picked Jason Taylors, had already fired him off a text that read monday, after your practice, locker room?

He got a quick response, a series of emoticons.

Jason Taylors (7 inches, daddy kink): 😈🍆🍑💦

Steve rolled his eyes.

Billy was staring at him.

“What?”

“I asked you if you were okay.”

“I’m fine.” Billy huffed.

-

Steve was being held up against the lockers, his back banging into the could metal as Jason fucked into him.

“That feel good?” His breath was hot against Steve’s neck. It made him grimace a bit.

“Feels so good, Daddy.” He made his voice all high and breathy, knew how to play the game, even if he wasn’t totally into it.

But he wanted to not think for a moment, be reduced to a drooling little cockslut.

The door to the locker room gave and Billy came in, red faced and panting.

He had been running on the track, after his baseball practice. He had told Steve is dad made him go out for the team.

Steve looked right at him.

“Oh yeah, Daddy. Right there.” Steve tossed his head back, moaning real loud. “You have the best cock ever, Daddy. So big, makes me feel so good.” He glared at Billy.

Billy glared right back.

“Can I cum, Daddy?”

“Go ahead, Stevie.” Steve arched against the lockers, tightening up around Jason.

The good thing about having as many orgasms Steve has on a daily basis, is that sometimes he cums dry.

It makes faking an orgasm way easier.

By the time he opened his eyes, Jason’s own cum dripping out of him, Billy was long gone.

-

Steve was moping on the couch by himself when Billy let himself in.

“Steve, we gotta talk.” his mouth was tight, his brows drawn. Steve waved a flippant hand at him.

“Go ahead.” Billy rolled his bottom lip between his teeth.

“That was fucked up yesterday.” Steve sat up quickly.

“What the fuck?”

“I know you. I can tell that was fucking fake. You were just using him.”

“So what? Sometimes people use people. You and I have used one another, everyone in the fucking school has used me. I wanted some dick, so I got some.”

“No, you wanted to get back at me. You know I run after practice, you knew when I would be in there. You picked him specifically because of that fight he and I got into a few months ago.”

Steve had forgotten about that fight.

No, he hadn’t. He knew exactly why he had picked Jason.

“I apologized for all the shit I said, but doing that, throwing my fucking feelings in my face like that, that’s manipulative, and fucked up.” Steve scrambled to stand up.

“Wait, hold your goddamn horses. What feelings?”

Billy balled his fists, seemed to be fucking vibrating.

He launched himself forward, tackling Steve onto the couch.

He kissed him rough, kissed him dirty.

Steve moaned into his mouth, grinding his hips against Billy’s.

And then it fucking hit him.

He was jealous.

He was jealous of fucking Michael Brown going on a date with Billy.

He stilled, Billy pawing at his clothes, shoving his jeans down his legs.

He had fucking feelings for Billy. Like, romantic, emotional feelings.

It hit him like a fucking ton of bricks.

He had never felt this way about anyone before, like he couldn’t breathe without Billy, like he would die if Billy felt the same way about someone else, loved someone else.

“Stevie? You okay?” Steve was limp, staring off into space.

He looked at Billy, studying his face.

“I’m in love with you.” Billy choked.

“I, what?”

“I think I’m in love with you. But honestly I don’t even know. I’ve just never felt this way. I was fucking jealous thinking of you with someone else, but I don’t, I didn’t realize it.” Billy was staring at him. “I’ve never wanted to be with someone like that. In a romantic way.”

“Fuck, Baby. I thought, I thought you knew that I had feelings for you and you just, just ignored them.”

“No, I, uh, I just I don’t even know.” Steve’s mind was racing. Everything made sense. “Sorry, I’m just, thinkin’.”

“You wanna not think?” Steve grinned back at him.

“Of course.”

[needs-to-stop-looking-at-yigas]

I think that it’s about time Kohga and Sooga have a genuine heart to heart and discuss what their relationship really is, and to let Sooga finally properly discuss how he feels and his inferiority complex because poor baby

Oh we feel like feelings tonight? Aight, let’s fucking do it bitch. Some emotions and shit. 

Kohga realized something, just now, as he sat in his room. He was busy planning his stuff for the month ahead, when he saw his calendar. He had been dating Sooga for...a long time. The longest he had ever dated ANYONE actually. The realiztion shouldve been nothing, but it did in fact, hit him like a ton of bricks. Kohga put his planner down, and peeked his head through the little window of his room. Made from one way glass, it made it easy for Kohga to peer out without being seen. And of course, there was Sooga, ever dutiful by guarding his door. Kohga grumbled, scratching his head as if something was crawling on him. Jeez, why did this mess him up so badly? So what if they had been dating for so long? So what if he sat there, looking at Sooga, nearly swooning over him? It didn’t mean anything. Right?

“Sooga, I brought Master Kohga his snacks.”

Kohga looked outside, just in time to see Sooga talking with a Blademaster. He made the motion to come in, only to be stopped by Sooga.

“You may leave it with me. Only I am to enter his quarters.”

“For SOME reason.”

Sooga cocked his head as he was handed the plate of fruit.

“I beg your pardon?”

“You heard me. You’re so tight with Master Kohga, but I don’t get it. Why you? You’re just his lackey.”

“I...mean something to him-”

“Like hell you do. You’re just some plaything, we all know it. He’s only telling you otherwise to get to your ass. Face it Sooga, a guy like you can’t REALLY be with him. Sooner you face it, the less it’s gonna hurt.”

“You speak lies.”

“If you say so. But if one day you find him in the arms of another, don’t act surprised. Kohga could have any man in Hyrule. Why would he pick someone so lowly as you?”

The blade master turned, and walked off. Sooga could tell he knew him personally, hence why his shoulders looked so stiff. They were true words spoken by someone he had considered at least a friend at some point in time. Kohga could only imagine the pain in his chest. He watched as Sooga sighed, and cleared his throat.

“Master Kohga, may I come in? I brought you your dinner.”

“...Yeah. Come in, Sooga.”

Sooga entered the room, and closed the door behind him, handing him his plate. He was about to turn and leave, when Kohga reached out and grabbed his hand.

“Actually...stay with me a second. And lock the door.”

“Ah. In the mood tonight, I take it.”

Sooga obeyed, and Kohga scoffed.

“Well geez, don’t sound disappointed if I was. But no, I don’t feel like railing you tonight. I just wanna talk.”

Kohga patted his bed, and Sooga obeyed, sitting down on his knees. Kohga took a deep breath, not sure just why he was doing this. This was so stupid.

“So...we’ve...been together. For a while.”

“Quite.”

“Well...you’re the longest relationship I’ve ever had.”

“That’s nice.”

Sooga was distracted. The other’s words ran deep within him, and Kohga hated how much he cared about it. Kohga held onto his hands, rubbing his palms with his thumbs.

“I just...want you to know I’m serious about us. Really I am.”

No words. He didn’t believe him. Kohga got up, and grabbed a candle from his pile of crap. He lit it, and set it right between them.

“And...I can prove it. I’m going to prove to you that this is important to me. YOU are important to me. Take off your mask for me.”

Sooga hesitated. It was mandatory that Kohga sees everyone’s face at least once to enter the clan, but it was the same as being completely nude in front of a crowd. He obeyed, though he clearly didnt want to. He un did his straps, and fully took off his mask. Deep, brown eyes, high cheekbones, and a small bit of hair right on his chin. He was a very, very handsome man. His eyes looked him over, no longer ashamed, but full of curiosity.

“I...do not understand what this is for.”

Kohga sighed, in total disbelief that he was going to do this. He met his eyes, determined to prove himself to him.

“I’m gonna kiss you. I’m gonna kiss you with my mask off.”

Kohga was about to take it off, when suddenly Sooga leapt forward, putting his palm on his mask. Had it not been for the candle, he’d be damn sure Sooga would’ve pinned him down to the damn floor.

“M-master Kohga! No! I’m n-not allowed to see your face! No one is! I insist you can’t! I’m not worthy of-”

“SHUT UP!!”

Kohga swatted his hand away, growling at the surprised looking man.

“I love you! I love you so much, it’s stupid! You ARE worthy of me! It’s why I picked you! You’re handsome and stupid and nice and loyal, and I’m so damn in love with you!! Why do you ALWAYS think you aren’t good enough for me?!”

Sooga remained silent. His gaze removed itself from his master, to his knees, which he was gripping very tightly.

“I...I was told by my father, at a young age, that I was only worth a blade. When I refused my hand in marriage to a noble woman, he called me useless. He told me no one would truly have love in their heart for me. After months of him beating that point into me, I’ve come to accept that as truth. I ran away at a young age, but it did nothing to soothe my heart. I was always never enough. A failure as an only son. A mistake of my mother’s womb. I love you Master Kohga. And because of that, I deem myself unworthy of you.”

Shit. Shit shit shit. Major daddy issue territory. Kohga had a damn good relationship with his dad, so he couldn’t relate. But Sooga was clearly hurting. He was clearly under the impression that his dad’s words were law. Kohga sighed, reaching over to hold onto his shaking hands.

“Sooga...I can’t fully understand your situation. But I do understand that I know none of that is true. I love you, so much. I can’t live without you. Please. PLEASE let me prove it to you. By showing you something I’ve never shown anyone else. If you don’t want it, if you don’t think this’ll work, I won’t. But I’m serious about you. And you know I’m not serious about anything.”

Sooga hesitated. He stilled his breath, clearly tempted to cry, before he lifted his head up, and nod.

“I...I would honor this. If you promise it is not out of pity, but out of genuine respect and love for me.”

Kohga nodded. For a moment, they understood one another. Their hearts were one. And all that mushy gushy bullshit. Kohga un did the straps to the mask, and very, ever so slowly, he peeled his mask away. He met Sooga’s eyes, and he nearly wanted to laugh. Sooga was staring at him so bugged eyed, absolutely destroyed in blush. Kohga chuckled, rubbing the back of his head.

“So...feedback here, I’d love it.”

“You...are more beautiful than I ever could’ve imagined. I...never knew a face could be so...perfect.”

Kohga’s face was so soft, so smooth looking. A cute nose, cute cheeks, full lips, and his eyes. One held the calmness and beauty of the sea, the other held the deep, richness of the earth. It was a face that Sooga couldn’t have imagined in his wildest dreams. It was even more stunning when he grinned. His teeth were stunning, his cheeks were full, it radiated more beauty than the sun.

“Ha! You’re so full of it, Sooga. Lovesick puppy, you. You like my face so much, kiss it.”

“I’m….allowed to do that?”

“If anything, it’s an order.”

They chuckled for a moment, completely comfortable with one another. That was when Sooga carefully cupped his cheek in his hand, and leaned in for a kiss. It was soft, smooth, and very, very plentiful. Kohga had no idea how long he kissed him for, but he was certain it was quite a while, given how cold his snacks seemed to have gotten. Sooga parted the kiss after a while, eyes opening up in complete wonder.

“I...I never knew I could kiss an angel.”

“An angel who loves you. Very, very much. An angel who thinks you’re worth everything.”

“Even if I don’t find myself the same way?”

“Even then. Long as you know I do, that’s all that matters.”

Kohga put his bare forehead right onto Sooga’s, and for a moment, they just stared into each other’s eyes. It was so bullshit romantic, all that was missing was a goddamn piano in the background.

“Master Kohga?”

“Yeah?”

“May...may we stay like this? Just tonight? I never want to forget your face, even till we become dust.”

“Yeah. Just for tonight, we won’t have masks. Just for tonight, we’re...vulnerable. The both of us.”

“You’re a saint, Kohga.”

“I try.”

Kohga couldn’t believe it. He confessed his love for Sooga, and, to his surprise,

He didn't regret it, not for a second.

(also pls note these are headcanon looks, not canon. It’s a blend of stuff tbh)

[ramblinganthropologist]

MER Week 5 - We are Family

Summary: Visiting family can be tough sometimes, especially when your job involves being the only fucking hope for humanity. Alistair’s never sure what to tell his sister when he sees her, but at least he’s got Bo to remind him he’s an idiot when he gets back. Don’t you just love family?

(ME 2 setting)

---

“So… uh… how are things going?”

Ah, the question he had been dreading for the last hour had finally shown itself. Maybe this was a bad idea after all. Worst of all, his exit was cut off. No way out but through it…

Fuck.

Normally, Alistair Shepard didn’t mind going to see his sister Anora. After all, they had a lot of catching up to do what with 11 years of separation and all between them. However, they usually had his niece as a buffer. Kelly was great for that sort of thing, especially if she wanted to hear parent-approved stories. Unfortunately, her father had custody that weekend. So, it was just the two of them, sitting on the couch and making awkward small talk.

Did he mention it was awkward? Because it was so fucking awkward. Fuck, maybe he should’ve taken a preventative anxiety dose…

The Spectre took a tentative sip of his tea just to have something to do – gross. His sister liked this variety of tea bag that he just couldn’t stand, but she was trying. That was enough to make a good try of things as she watched him over her own cup. What she was thinking, he had no clue.

It was hard to read his sister. Maybe it was because he was so used to military types?

“I mean… it’s going?” He put the cup down. “We were on Illium before we got back to the Citadel.”

Yeah, he had been hunting down an assassin and a justiciar to add to his crew in order to survive killing a shit ton of Collectors. Thane was great – he lived in Life Support so he didn’t die before the Collectors killed them. He hadn’t even mentioned Samara and her centuries of baggage, that was the best part. Reflecting on that, he knew it wasn’t exactly something you told your older sister over really shitty tea. So, he kept mum on the details.

Most of his stories wound up like that. Was that bad?

“Illium… well, at least you’d be easy to spot among the asari with your hair and all.” Anora took a cautious sip. “Did you… need armor for that one?”

Need armor – that was their codeword they’d come up when he hadn’t been sure what to call what he did. Anora had a weak stomach, and he didn’t exactly want to drag up the gory details of his job. Though, was it technically a job at that point? They had literally brought him back from the dead for it – that was nearly a calling. More than that, he wasn’t really getting paid. Cerberus was in a weird gray area…

Either way, it was a useful code.

“Yeah. It got heated at points, but nobody died.” Well… nobody on his side anyway. There were plenty of dead mercs thanks to both his crew and his own two hands. This was something else he wouldn’t tell Anora, mostly to keep her mind at ease. Apparently, hearing your younger brother was really good at killing people tended to put people off.

Civilians, couldn’t live with them…  kind of turned into a war crime if you accidentally shot them.

“Oh… that’s good. I know it…” she paused, frowning. “I know you’ve had it rough lately.  I saw you on the news with your friend Garrus and it looked like half of his face was missing.”

Alistair took another sip of his nasty tea to give him time to think of how to best phrase his possible boyfriend taking a rocket to the fucking face after a goddamn siege. It wasn’t exactly polite dinner conversation as he made the mental edits.

“Yeah… kind of. The implants are healing, though. At least the mandible is still attached and all.”

Judging by the look his sister gave, that probably wasn’t the right answer.

“Omega is not a fun place.” Was his only justification as he took another sip. “I definitely don’t recommend the Terminus system for Kelly’s spring break.”

Another wince – he was just knocking it out of the park with today’s visit. Maybe he should just close his stupid mouth and drink his tea before he gave her a coronary…

Anora at least didn’t drop her cup. Concern was written all over her face though as she rolled it between her palms. There were probably a thousand thoughts running through her mind, and he just had to wait on the final decision. Lucky for him, he was good at waiting.

“I’ll keep that in mind.” A judicious answer. She sipped from her mug, face unreadable. “So… where are you going next?”

To hell in a fucking hand basket, or a least close enough when they managed to get through Omega-4. However, it wasn’t exactly something you shared over tea, especially with your older sister.

When he glanced away, Anora sighed. “Right… top secret Spectre business, then?”

“Something like that.” He frowned. What little good feeling between them was starting to wear down. Soon there would be nothing left but awkward questions and long pauses full of questions neither of them could answer. No doubt it would be time for him to go soon.

Lucky for him, his omni-tool started to beep. Someone was trying to communicate with him. Without thinking, he hit the button and his sister’s living room was soon filled with the sound of the Normandy’s cockpit. If he strained, he could hear EDI softly beeping in the background.

“Commander, you there? Sorry to break up the family visit, but we’re getting a message from Admiral Hackett. I think you’re going to want to hear this.”

Alistair could already feel his forehead throbbing at the thought. “I swear, he just bothered us…”

“Yeah, tried to mute him but you know how he does that thing to get it through anyway.” Joker was priming the Normandy for takeoff in the background. “You should probably get back to the Normandy in case we need to head out.”

Sweet relief.

“Yeah, I’ll be there in twenty. Knowing the admiral, we’re going to be in the ass end of nowhere, so start checking the relays.” He paused, sighing. “Thanks, Joker. See you soon.”

The call ended not long after. He finished his tea in one long swallow. Anora was watching him, impossible to read. She had long since abandoned her tea – it was growing cool on the table. Talk about a bad sign.

“Admiral Hackett contacts you directly?”

Alistair sighed a ran a hand through his hair. “Yeah, I’m kind of his go-to for confidential stuff he doesn’t want to do. Call it first human Spectre privilege I guess.”

Anora didn’t exactly look impressed. “I’m guessing armor is going to be needed then.”

“Probably.” He sighed again. “I should go. They can’t exactly leave the Citadel without a CO on deck, can they?”

His cup clinked softly as he placed it back down on the table and stood. Anora stood as well and walked him to the front door. There they hovered, neither really saying anything, eyes not really meeting.

It always ended like that. It was why he preferred Kelly there to help soften things between them.

Her hand reached out – maybe to squeeze his shoulder – but it didn’t make contact. Instead, it fell back to her side, limp. It was hard to read the emotion in her face then, but then again it always was. When it came down to it, Anora was a bit of a brick wall he wound up hitting his head against.

“Well… be safe. I’ll see you when you’re back on the Citadel?”

He nodded, already planning his route back to the ship. “Yeah. Thanks for the tea. Tell Kelly I said hi.”

She nodded, and that was it. No hug goodbye, nothing more than an awkward wave as he walked down the path. Then the door shut, and it was back to work. Maybe he felt bad about the relief that he felt as he turned to leave, like a weight had just been lifted off his shoulders. The more he walked, the easier it was to forget.

He had to anyway – he had work to do.

“Wonder what the fuck Hackett wants this time…” Alistair grumbled to himself as he aimed for the port that would get him back to the docking bay he had left earlier that day. By the time he got there, the Normandy would be ready to leave. Within the hour, he’d be shooting towards the relay. Then – who knew. With Hackett, anything was possible.

“Seriously? He wants something AGAIN? Didn’t we risk our collective asses for him last week?”

Probably because he’d be lost in his thoughts, but Alistair realized he was standing in shadow. He glanced up, unsurprised to find red eyes and a bored expression. Without much thought, he shifted his pace. He needed to – otherwise he couldn’t keep up.

Bo had a bag of snacks in her arms that jingled as she walked. From the looks of things, Joker had paged her during a grocery run. Hopefully she had managed to get the citric acid he had asked for – he was starting to run low, and without it he’d just be eating sugar. That was a line even he wouldn’t cross.

It wasn’t a big line, but every man needed one.

“Yeah, I have no idea what. Joker couldn’t tell me; I was still with Anora.”

His adopted sister winced. “So, which one would you rather have faced: her or first contact?”

“I’d say I’d rather see a turian’s face pointing a gun at me.” He winced at his own bluntness. “Sorry… have to watch my tongue around her. You know she worries.”

Bo rolled her eyes at this as she handed him a smaller bag to carry. From the looks of things, there was a massive container of citric acid inside, buried next to a candy bar he was definitely going to destroy within a few hours of achieving FTL flight. It was nice to have someone who thought of him.

“You’re a fucking N7 level marine, I think she can figure out you’re winding up in some pretty fucked up shit.”

That was another wince on his part. “Yeah, but… I don’t exactly have to tell her how I stood in the line of sight for Garrus’ rifle, now do I?”

His answer got him quite the shove forward – it was a miracle he didn’t hit the ground face first as Bo continued on ahead, bag still jingling. “I’m pretty sure she knows you’re a dumbass with a martyr complex, don’t worry.”

Ah, someone was still sore about that. Well, excuse him for using his head…

Still, attempted face plant aside, Alistair had to admit he felt a lot more at ease as he and Bo continued their walk back towards the Normandy and their continuing fight against Admiral Hackett’s to-do list. Maybe he should have felt bad about that, but he had enough actual bad things to worry about. Something like this, he’d be happy to let slide for the moment. It could get him later, when he was in bed and couldn’t sleep.

“Gee, thanks. Love you too.”

Bo flipped him the bird as he caught up to her. “Can’t help I have a dumbass for a commanding officer brother, now can I?”

“He didn’t shoot…”

“You still got in the fucking way of a sniper rifle, you moron. The ghost of Alec Ryder is going to chew your ass out when you go to bed tonight, and I’m pretty sure that bastard’s still alive.”

The last thing he wanted was Alec Ryder, corporal or otherwise, near his ass. No thanks. That was enough to give him a lifetime of nightmares…

His adopted sister nudged him again as they got closer. “Next time just… don’t be a fucking hero. I don’t even know why I’m saying it, I know you will, and it’ll piss me off and then we start all over again.”

Despite the lecture, he chuckled. “I’ll do my best.”

“No, you won’t. You’re a fucking boy scout and it’s the worst.”

At least they had at last reached the Normandy. The yellow still needed painting over, but it was a sight for sore eyes nonetheless. Alistair was happy to hop aboard as decontamination hissed around him. It was humming to life beneath his feet, almost as if it was welcoming him back.

He loved this part.

“Commander Shepard and Commander Shepard have returned. Agent Miranda stands relieved.”

EDI’s robotic voice echoed as they stepped out of decontamination. Off to the side, Joker swiveled around in his chair to greet them. His grin only got wider as he spotted the bag hanging from Bo’s arm, almost reminding Alistair of a kid in a candy store.

“Did you get it?”

Bo snorted as he pulled out a smaller bag and handed it over. “You’re worse than Saren when it comes to snacks.”

“Hey, leave my hamster out of it. Saren is a gentleman.” Alistair still chuckled as he looked out at the Citadel dock from the Normandy’s front window. Soon, it would all be the blackness of space rushing out to meet them.

“Well, can’t be too bad if I’m getting compared to that.” Joker swiveled back around, already starting the procedure for takeoff. “Hackett’s message is ready when you are, Commander.”

Right… ugh. Just thinking about it gave Alistair a headache as he watched Bo head off to distribute her snacks. Still, it was a headache he could tolerate as he felt his mind shifting back to mission mode. At least here, he was in his element.

“Go ahead and play it. Might as well find out what ass end of nowhere we’re heading to…”

And just like that, it was business as usual. Admiral Hackett needed help, and the Normandy was the only ship he could get to do it. Soon, Alistair would be back in armor and ready to face whatever hell awaited them.

In a weird way, it was good to be home. But how fucked up is it that home was a fucking bootleg Alliance frigate hotwired by Cerberus?

[petri808]

There Was Only One Tent!

@twinstarsweek Camping/hugging

“What the fuck do you mean, you forgot to bring a tent?!” Katsuki crosses his arms. “Guess you’re sleeping under the stars Deku.”

“But Kacchan, it might rain.”

“Not my problem.”

“Dude don’t be a dick,” Eijiro interjects. “What’s the harm in sharing a tent with Izuku?”

The glare that the blonde levels at his red-headed friend could normally kill a man. Eijiro knew damn well why he didn’t want to share a tent with Izuku and based on the fucking smirk the man was giving him, he was taking full advantage of the secret confidence he’d shared with him. “Then you share a tent with him!”

“No can-do K-man, I’m already bunking with Denki, so you’re it.”

“Please Kacchan? I won’t bother you. I swear. It’ll be like the sleepovers we used to have as kids.”

That brings on another snicker from Eijiro and Denki, triggering a growl from the blonde. “Fuck, fine! Just stay on your side!”

Three days and two night of hell. So much for a relaxing camping trip with the guys. His tent was a one-person tent, not designed to fit two! This became glaringly apparent when they’d tried to set up their sleeping bags and found it wouldn’t work unless overlapped by half. Katsuki groans internally, they might as well just share a sleeping bag too! He was really gonna have to control his emotions or risk sweating too much and setting off an explosion by accident. Fuck this sucks!

For the rest of the first day, Katsuki tries to ignore the impending dread of nightfall. The four friend’s hike for a few hours through the forest. It was nice and relaxing in the beautiful scenery with no other humans around, just the sounds of birds and woodland creatures. They end the day with some fishing and manage to catch enough for a meal. So, they gather up firewood and cook the fish over the fire.

Ever since graduating, the former classmates did their best to find the time to do these short outings whenever they could. It wasn’t often with how busier they all were, but it was the only way they could spend any significant time together. Sometimes the group was larger, but only the four of them could make it this weekend. Katsuki would pretend it wasn’t a big deal, when in reality, he appreciated these getaways… usually.

The conversations revolved around typical guy banter, catching up on what they were all doing, any interesting villains they’d apprehended, stuff like that. Eijiro and Denki were working for separate agencies, but Katsuki and Izuku were still working under Endeavor which kept them in the thick of a lot of major cases. There was even talk about the former classmates of A1 opening up their own agency one day.

“I’m going to bed,” the blonde announces around 9pm. If there was one thing that never changed about him, it was his sleep pattern. Early to bed, early to rise.

The three others bid him good night, planning to stay up a little longer. Katsuki gives one last onceover, holding Izuku’s eyes for just a second, before turning on his heel and slipping away to the tent. His plan was to fall asleep before the guy and alleviate some of the discomfort.

“Was Katsuki always like this?” Denki asks Izuku. “I mean I get it during school so he could get up in the morning, but still.”

“Yeah,” Izuku chuckles. “Even when we will little, Kacchan always went to bed early.”

“I’ve been curious…” Eijiro leans in, bringing his voice down low, “where’d the Kacchan nickname come from?”

“Huh? Oh,” the man shrinks and blushes. “When I was a toddler, I couldn’t say his whole name, so I called him Kacchan and it just stuck.”

Denki laughs, “I think it’s cute, but don’t ever tell him I said that.”  

“Personally, I think he likes being called that by you, cause he’s never corrected you.” Eijiro adds.

“Yeah, that kind of surprised me too,” Izuku shrugs. “Now it feels weird to call him Katsuki.”

Another hour passes by the time the trio decides to call it a night too. They put out the campfire and retire to their tents, but before Izuku pulls back the flap of the one he’ll share with his friend, he stops and looks up at the stars. There were a few clouds blocking most of them, but what he could see was still a lot brighter than you could ever see in the city.

He sighs, and slips into the tent, being as quiet as possible. Katsuki appeared to be fast asleep on his side, hugging to the edge of the tent to be as far away from his side as possible. A part of his heart sinks at the vision, wow, the guy really didn’t want to have anything to do with him and that hurt.

Izuku pushes the negative thoughts away and preps for bed, removing his shoes, and slipping into the sleeping bag. Because the two bags didn’t quite fit in the small tent, they’d turned one into the bottom and the other into a blanket. It stretched from wall to wall with their belongings either above their heads or shoved next to the opening. He turns onto his side facing away from the blonde and promptly falls asleep.

The next morning, Katsuki awakens at his regular time, before the sun had risen. His internal clock never failed. But the moment his brain registers life, a warmth and pressure hit’s him like a ton of bricks. It wasn’t coming from the blanket! His body stiffens up, arm and a leg... his own… wrapped over Izuku! Crap he was hugging to Izuku!

Quick as a flash before the sleeping male can register any change, Katsuki rolls off and over, scooting away as far to the opposite side of the blanket as he can. But the sudden loss of warmth causes Izuku to whine and follow the source. Now for the second time in a minute, his body goes stiff as a board with the other man spooning and hugging him from behind. He wanted to scream but bites his tongue for fear of waking up the others.

Great, just great, this is exactly why he didn’t want to share a goddamn tent! And to make matters worse a morning pitch twitched in response to his true feelings. Traitor! Could things get any worse? Yes, if the sound of pouring rain outside was any indication. Katsuki was stuck in a situation he’s long feared and desired with no idea how to deal with. Romance and love wasn’t exactly his strong suit.

“Shh, it’s okay Kacchan.”

The soft, quiet voice behind his ear sends an electric shock up his spine. Izuku is awake after all!

“Eijiro said… it’d be better if I made the first move.”

WHAT?! Fucking shitty hair is dead meat! Katsuki struggles half-heartedly out of Izuku’s grasp, but the man keeps his arm tightly wound around him. He grits his teeth. “I don’t know what that sonofabitch told you, but—”

“Everything.”

All the blood drains from Katsuki’s face. Everything?! He is so going to kill Eijiro if it’s the last thing he…

“Because he knew… I like you too.”

Hold up, did he just hear what he thinks he heard Izuku say? No way. Maybe this is a dream. This whole situation is just a dream, nightmare, pick one cause he sure was confused right now. “You’re lying.”

“Kacchan you know I wouldn’t lie about that!” Angry, Izuku lets him go and turns over putting distance between them. “I said what I needed to say, so, I’ll just leave it at that. You can go back to hating on me if it makes you feel better.”

Fuck!

“I don’t hate you, dumbass. But I don’t fucking know how to deal with this okay! Goddamn it Deku you should know I don’t do emotional shit well!”

“It’s fine Kacchan, really I’ll just forget about it okay.” He closes his eyes to the tears building in them. “You hugged onto me and I just hoped... maybe I thought wrong.” Izuku shakes his head. “I should have just given up on the idea of us a long time ago and taken-up Shouto’s date invitation.”

Izuku barely registered what happened next, when in a matter of nanoseconds, there’s an animalistic growl, orange flare of an explosion, and suddenly his body is pinned to the ground, with rain falling on top of them. His eyes flash open to see Katsuki’s red eyes staring wildly at him and the blind rage behind his expression. “K-Kach-chan?” He can hear Eijiro and Denki’s voices yelling, asking what the hell was going on, but all he could focus on was the panic building in his chest. “Kacchan what are you doing?!”

“Icy hot asked you out?! Does he have a fucking death wish?!”

“W-Why does it matter if he asked me out? You’re not interested in going out with me.”

Katsuki grits his teeth, “I never said that I wasn’t.”  

“Y-You want to go out with me?!”

“Of course, I do! I just didn’t fucking know how to ask!”

“Oh, Kacchan,” Izuku smiles, “I’d love to go on a date with you.”

The blonde’s cheeks feel like they’re on fire and all the anger rushes away replaced by a pounding in his chest. He’d let his anger get the better of him and snapped before thinking this through. Now he was pinning his love interest in the remains of their tent getting soaked from the rain. At least it wasn’t a total loss, but now he was speechless on what to say next.

“You’re welcome!” Eijiro snickers from behind him.

“FUCK YOU!”

“Um, Kacchan… can you get off me now?”

Oh, right! Katsuki rolls off of his love interest into a cross-legged position and scratches the back of his neck. “Sorry Deku.”

“It’s okay,” the man rubs at his wrists. “I-I know it can be overwhelming, s-so let’s just take it as slow as you need to.”

“You really mean it though… you wanna go on a date with me?”

Izuku smiles. “I’ve waited a long time to say… yes…”

[katiebruce]

adios, amigo.

Well, 2020. What is there to say that hasn’t already been said, tweeted or Instagram-ed a thousand and two times about you? I’ll save us all the generic stuff—“unprecedented,” “nightmarish,” “absurd”—yes, 2020 was all of those things, but on a deeper, more personal level, there is so much more I have to say that doesn’t fit quite into those clichés.

So, this will be my attempt to document and reflect upon one of the strangest years I’ve encountered in my thirty-one years on this planet. Buckle up, buttercup.

Like many others before me have frequently observed, the way I spend my New Year’s Eve has always set the tone for the year to come, and boy, was this year a picture-perfect example of exactly that. Because I had to work on January first, I spent my New Year’s Eve at home watching a depressing movie with T, quietly kissing on the cold back patio as fireworks went off in the distance. I remember feeling both happy and sad about this evening (a duality that was a major theme for me for the fifty-two weeks to come, if only I had known). I was sad not to be celebrating my favorite holiday and even remember telling T that I didn’t want the year to come to be one I spent not going out, staying home, and becoming reclusive as I finished up the stressful process of finishing my MFA thesis in the course of ten (or, what I thought would be ten) short months.

But on the other hand, being held in T’s arms, I remembered feeling so happy that I could have this little quiet holiday—something that felt so private and personal—so entirely our own. It really set the tone for our relationship for the year, and for the obstacles we not only overcame together but dominated, one right after the next.

January was cold, snowy, and full of flight cancellations, which I remember to be something worth celebration at the time. I stayed home and snuggled my way into Aquarius season, the time for me and my brethren to shine, feeling positive that I had lived my thirtieth year to one of great satisfaction and maximum travels taken. (If only I had known then that that late-January El Paso layover where my crew and I walked across the border into Juarez to eat street tacos and laugh over Mezcal would be one of the only times I would leave the country for the year, well, I might have taken a few shots of tequila and really enjoyed my stay abroad just a bit longer).

February came, and with it, the promise of friends. My darling Kristopher, as always, flew to Chicago on the day of (also the day I completed and passed my eighth recurrent [!]) and, thanks to my other darling baby, Nicole, scored tickets to one of the highly coveted format reunion tour shows happening in March* for me, her, and my momma.

(*It did not, in fact, take place in March).

I turned thirty-one in the way I’ve come accustomed too—surrounded by my favorite people (this year at Dorians—a jazz club to end all jazz clubs) too drunk and too smiley to even coherently remember the evening properly. As much fun as I remember having, I told T that I thought it was my last year to host some sort of birthday gathering, and to hold me to it come next year. (He did very well—a few weeks later, after spotting an ad in a discarded newspaper for the Chicago tour of Moulin Rouge happening on my birthday weekend, we bought tickets and I sat peacefully with the fact that one of my new year (or, new age) resolutions was so quickly and poignantly adapted).

By this time, I was already deep in the throes of my first thesis writing course, meaning that I was pretty stressed out all of the time and surely a misery to be around (sorry to those of you who were). Basically, in three semesters’ time, I was expected to draft, edit, and rewrite a fully formed novel (70,000+ words) and the idea of accomplishing such a feat felt like a ton of bricks being carried on my shoulders. I had at least four mental breakdowns in the beginning of the year (again, we all know what lays ahead for the year, I know—but at the time, this seemed like an unbearable amount of stress for one person to have to carry. The joke is not lost on me).

In the coming weeks, things began to get even weirder. Covid scares began sprouting up in cities all around us, and as the government asked people to stay at home, airline ticket prices became massively reduced, so more people began traveling. I mean, this shit was like spring break on acid—it was hugely stressful, and though the threat of the pandemic had yet to reach Chicago, I felt more and more at risk with each passing day as careless amounts of people cashed in on what they thought was the deal of a lifetime.

By the time March reached its midpoint, I, like so many others, was terrified. We had no PPE at work—literally nothing. No gloves, masks, or even hand wipes. Cleaning the aircraft still wasn’t considered a “no-go” item, as far as regulatory practices go. I remember watching the news on my layovers only to keep myself up at night wondering if the virus was going to take hold of me or anyone around me, and if so, how long until they would recover, or perhaps wouldn’t.

St. Patrick’s Day came, and after fighting about whether or not to go out with friends (we didn’t—and for the record, T and I rarely fight—but this was, after all, his first St. Patrick’s Day as a Chicagoan—so his resentment was more than justified) we saw a matinee movie (Onward) and while in the theater, read about how Chicago restaurants, as a precaution, were shutting down the next day due to rising concerns about the spread of the virus. We reacted by grabbing drinks & lunch at one of our favorite neighborhood eateries and tipping the waitstaff more heavily than I think I’ve ever tipped anyone in my life (not mentioning this to brag, or whatever—just remembering what it was like to feel utterly helpless and unsure of what to do or what was to come—we had to find our positivity in some way, and on that day, this was how we saw fit, and it helped).

Then it all sort of happened at once—Lauren’s store was closed with no impending reopening date. The grocery stores (and I swear to god, I will never forget this) became a madhouse—people taking things out of other people’s carts when they weren’t looking. I remember going into Mariano’s with T and insisiting we tie bandanas around our faces for safety, feeling like a goddamn bank robber about to make a heist. But there was nothing left to even take. Frantically, we got what we could and got out of there, and I went home to have a full-fledged panic attack about the state of the world we were currently living in and what we were going to do if things didn’t turn around quickly.

As if overnight, everyone cancelled their airline tickets. It was for the better, and though it put my job in serious jeopardy, I was in massive support of it but still felt an eerie sadness looming around the countless empty airports, airplanes, hotels and city streets. There were times when my crew and I were the only guests in a place—times when I had zero passengers on a revenue flight. And then came the mass flight cancellations—and I mean mass. Everyday became a battle of anxiety as to what was going to happen to my job in the next twenty-four hours, and then cooing my stressed-out thoughts to sleep, only to relive the anxiety with every phone buzz waiting to find out if I had lost my job overnight. By mid-spring, I was hugely considering dropping out for a period of time, just due to the stress of it all, but thanks to support from my friends, family and T, I chose to stick it out and roll with as many punches as I could until I was finally knocked-out.

Quarantines were happening all around me, and without the ability to travel or the (former) grueling expectations of maintaining a social life, I started to reconnect with myself in ways that felt both organic and new, yet much like returning home after a long time away. Lauren taught me to knit, and we celebrated her birthday on the floor of our apartment in an Indian-food induced daze renting Emma and making thousands of tiny knots onto needles that would eventually become blankets. We took walks, did puzzles, and Lauren drove me to and from the airport on the rare occasion that I actually had a flight to work, as the CTA had, unfortunately, become a cesspool of targeted attacks on flight crew members (seriously) because they were often the only person in any given train car.

A rare glimpse of optimism then presented itself via two different opportunities: a chance to take a ninety-day leave from work, and a job offer in the form of editing a book for publication. I said yes to both and hoped that I would be able to take a step back and deal with the crumbling world around me easier with both of these opportunities now on my horizon.

This period of the year (May-July) started off swimmingly. Knitting, reading, and even smoking weed for the first time in nearly a decade (I took two hits and spent the rest of the evening sinking into the couch painfully aware of how bad I am at breathing and worrying that I might stop at any given moment). I fell in love with yoga and felt myself loosening up parts of my body and my mind that had been twisted into a series of knots for god only knows how long. I spent days reading in the sun, baking bread like everyone else in the world, and learning to make my own pies. Things were going really well, and I was even ahead in school, now on track to graduate in August—when things started getting heated.

I’m not going to go on a rant about race, although I very much could, but I will say this—the fact that we are still in a race war in this country in the year 2020 (and even now, a few days into 2021) makes me so sick to my stomach I don’t know what to do. Every injustice that passes by us, overshadowed by the next untimely death or wrongdoing makes me angry in ways that I cannot even fathom putting into words. It burns the color red that is so hot and so vibrant that I can see it soaking through my eyelids even when I squeeze them shut. This country lost a lot of love from me this year, and even more respect. There are not only things we can do better—there are things we must change. And honestly, most days, I don’t think most of the country is ready to not only admit that but to also work for. And that not only sickens me, but depresses the living hell out of me. I feel so stunted all of the time when I picture a world so at peace with its own injustice. It’s just so unfair.

I watched as the world was (rightfully, although woefully) destroyed around me. My neighborhood turned into a desolate, looted shadow of itself—one where Lauren and I could sit on our back patio safely until dusk, when the crime and gunfire became so rabid that on occasions, we sat in the living room in total darkness, listening only to the radio, afraid to let anybody at street level see that we were, indeed, at home. The opportunists that took advantage of the message of this movement made me numb to such a large demographic of the population, and I found myself crying myself to sleep enough times that I thought it might be time to leave the warzone that had become Chicago for a little while as escape down to Florida. So, we packed our bags and left. It is not lost on me that so many did not have this option, and for so many minorities, just simply existing during this time was enough to cause assault. I know I am fortunate—I carry it like lead in my pockets every day.

While in Florida, the first retailers began to reopen and I found myself waiting in an hour-long line to buy soaps and hand sanitizers, and to get a glimpse of what this “new normal” might look like when things started picking back up again. Like many, it was jarring to see empty tables, capacity limits on items, cashiers behind plexiglass sheets shouting to be heard over both the physical barrier and the cloth one strung across their faces.

By the time T & I arrived home, Lauren was already making plans to reopen her store “safely” and I felt sorry for her. How could anything be safe when nothing had changed? Why were companies acting as if business could go on like before—even though nothing had gotten better?

My final months of my MFA were just ahead of me, and I had one month remaining free from work to finish my first full-length novel, and I all I really remember is stress stress stress.

And then Andrew, being Andrew, offered a glimmer of hope, in the form of a drive-in concert celebrating fifteen years of Everything in Transit in southern California, a mere matter of hours from where Nicole had been working. It took a matter of two or maybe three text messages to confirm that we would be attending, and once the ticket was purchased I practically packed my bags and headed off to visit her and try and make light of my heart.

As suspected, the trip was magical. Being around Nicole, per usual, was magical. My heart felt so fully aligned seeing a little piece of her story and getting to experience her way of life once more—drunken hot springs and all their glory. There truly are few things in my life I love more than sitting in the passenger’s seat as Nicole drives us all over the country, and experiencing it again felt so right and so perfect that I honestly thought it was one of the happiest experiences of my life. Because I had requested so, she drove me all the way to Venice Beach the day of the concert so we could see where the infamous album cover was taken. We ate cbd gummies and listened to jack’s and ate in-n-out burger like our lives depended on it. When the concert began, it was eerie, yet hopeful to see all the new protocols of something that had become so familiar to me in my former life. Drinks were ordered through an app and delivered, as was merch, and clapping was replaced by the exuberant honking of car horns. We streamed the sound through the radio and laid the in the back of Nicole’s converted SUV as we cried and sang along to the songs that made everything, even just for one night, feel like it was all going to be okay again. We ended the evening marking ourselves with our first stick and poke tattoos—hers a sun to my moon, positioned to kiss one another when we stand next to each other on our preferred selfie side (lol). I left worried about how long it might be before I could feel her warm embrace again, the embrace of one of the truest friends I’ll ever know, but also recognizing that we were lucky to have had such an experience at all during such an insane year and feeling eternally grateful for its memory.

The last weeks of what I referred to as my Rumspringa were ahead of me, and one sunny afternoon I wrote the final pages of my novel. In a mad rush to edit, revise and complete my portfolio for official review, I never really sat with myself and what I had accomplished or congratulated myself; I wrote a book in seven months’ time, and even though I am unhappy with it (more on that later) there’s no denying that I actually did it. I did it, and nobody can ever take that away from me; it’s an accomplishment I will forever have, and it’s all my own. And I need to remind myself of that. I need to let myself feel proud.

I was back to work in September and taking a huge pay cut, though working the same hours. It was stressful, but once I found out my portfolio had been accepted and I, indeed, would be receiving my MFA I felt a bit at peace for a while. I had let my hair grow long all summer, and all but stopped wearing make-up (mascara makes me feel entirely dolled up now). I felt in an odd way free—almost bare.

The fall came and went fairly quickly—the weekends alone at home and grocery-store-only outings feeling more and more like normalcy. It had been such a tough, trying year, that it suddenly felt nice to just stand still for a bit. So, I did.

In a brief amount of time, I watched (safely) as friends got married, got sick, got older and fell in love. I watched, with great anxiety, as our country voted in the most important election of our lives so far and took the deepest breath I’d ever taken as I watched that man face defeat—although he’s yet to swallow it. I watched as ex-lovers had babies, got engaged and never really stopped to think twice about any of it. I’ve said it before and I’ll say it again: the safety (and not in a lame, “safety-net” sort of way) of having T in my life has turned me into someone who not only craves quiet time at home, but really also sort of fell right damn into it very easily, though unexpectedly. I’ve heard the saying so many times before, but you really don’t realize everything is different once you find the right fit because that place feels like it’s always been home. I am grateful to not only have that now and moving forward, but most certainly throughout the trying, unstable times of 2020. In fact, I don’t know how I would have survived without it.

The holidays always creep up on me, and after being dealt a shitty hand from work (don’t even get me started, I’m still fuming) they came that much quicker. T & I were lucky enough to spend the holidays back home in the swamp, visiting my parents and his Dad. The time went by fast but was relaxing, fun, and reenergizing. We spent New Year’s Eve playing giant Jenga and yard Yahtzee with my parents in the cool, tropical winter of Florida. It was nice. We got tired right around 11, so we laid in bed until midnight talking, staying awake just long enough to share our new year’s kiss. It felt right—a proper send off to such a strange and unusual year. I was exctly where I needed to be—wrapped up in a blanket of T’s embrace, comfy in a bed in my childhood bedroom.

So now, here it is: 2021—the supposed upgrade to 2020, or so everybody secretly hopes. So now, as I sit here, drinking a warm, soy-chai latte (homemade!) I find myself having great difficulty setting an intention for the days ahead of me. I feel so beaten and bruised and physically fatigued for no reason but the experiences of 2020 and the courses they ran all over my life. I’m feeling reflective of having finished yet another year of my life (and my Saturn return! Halleluj!) and finding it hard to be anything but fatigued. I guess it’s from the year that’s just finished—more so than any other year it physically pained me at times to be alive at times. I’m missing so many of my friends who I haven’t been able to see for extended months at a time now. I am craving a sense of normalcy, of safety, so that I can feel better about making plans, but as for right now I just don’t have it. I am quietly trying to make subtle changes within myself and how I react to the world around me, but just like the start of this new year, that process is a slow one.

One of my resolutions (though I’m growing to hate that word more and more with each passing year) is to get back to writing. I had a good, albeit stressful, thing going while still in school, and after finishing my novel and receiving feedback, I couldn’t shake the feeling of absolute failure. It’s still there—it’s really hard to try and celebrate an accomplishment when you don’t feel like your work was good enough to warrant anything at all—especially not a fine arts degree. I never said I was a fiction writer—I just wanted to get better at writing fiction—so I need to remember that and allow myself to veer away from that for a while, to work on something new. Something I’ve been saying I’m not ready to write for many years now, something that when I now say that is just a plain old lie: My memoir. I’m ready to close the chapter in my life where I am a flight attendant, so the timing feels more than perfect.

I learned so much about what I want to do within my career and what sort of boundaries I don’t want to place on myself—and I’m trying, I really am. T gifted me with my own pottery wheel for Christmas and we are going to set it up this weekend and I am so excited to get my hands muddy and start creating. Until this year, I didn’t realize how much I needed a creative outlet other than writing—I had been depending on it for too long, my little cup felt bone dry. So, I’m excited to see where this new hobby takes me and how it influences my ability to return to the blank page—quite literally.

I know this year will not be the quick fix that so many are hopeful for—I think quite the opposite, actually. But here are some things I know for sure will happen: I will move out of my apartment and in with T. We will then, immediately get a dog and a new apartment. This, alone, feels like enough to fill the pages of the blank year ahead of us. I will go long periods of time without seeing my loved ones, and without traveling (bleak as this lifestyle may be). I will write, even when it’s hard to. I will publish something—I’m at work submitting pieces as we speak, and though the process is slow, I can tell this is my opportunity—I am ready t fight for it. I will turn 32, and the numerology of my life will seem more aligned. I will spend my birthday at home, alone, because of course Moulin Rouge has now been cancelled (I’m fine with it). I will learn more about myself the more I use my hands to create, to plant, to sculpt, to mold. I will love with fervor. I will smile more, because it’s actually healthier for you, even though my black heart hates to admit it. If I’m lucky, maybe I’ll get to attend a live concert, though I realize this might be wishful thinking at this point. I will do mushrooms and giggle with the colors. I will cry. I will hurt and I will cause harm. But through it all, I will persevere. Because if 2020 taught me anything, it’s that I am capable of regenerating into new versions of myself that I didn’t even have the time to dream up. I can adapt to whatever is thrown at me, though it will often times feel impossible. I can, and will, create. I can be reborn (as many times as I’d like to, too).

So, thanks, 2020, for teaching me more about myself than any other period of five years has ever taught me. I definitely feel like I’ve been through the ringer a couple of times, yet I find myself still standing day after day. It must be the way a domino feels, standing up, time after time, knowing that something right in front of you is about to knock you down. But instead of thinking about what I’m bringing down with me, I’m thinking of the entire collective as a whole—we are all experiencing this together. And maybe, just maybe, on the other side, there’s a kid with a smile waiting to do it all over again. And that’s perhaps where the beauty lays: we have to tear everything down in order to do better, be better, make change. Nobody likes to catch fire, but everyone loves rising from the ashes. We’ll all get to where we’re headed, one way or another. And eventually, I hope, we’ll see that the other side is better than we could have ever dreamt of.

I hope that 2021 is a bridge that brings us from destruction to creation. I hope the journey is long, so we all appreciate the outcome.

I love you all and wish you warmth and wellness into this year and beyond.

Happy new year—honor the circumstances you have around you and let them help you grow.