#and id forgotten how much i owed

[touyaspeach]

Well it's finally happened, and I've been turned over to collections for being unable to pay the sum of my emergency visit. The American Healthcare system is horrid and I do not know how I'm going to pay this 2k charge when I don't even have 200 in my account.

I have one more commission to take care of, and then I'm taking a few days off, then I'll see about opening more, I guess.

Best part about the whole thing, they didn't even fix the issue. I still have pain almost daily from the large cyst on my ovary and I owe 2k for them to tell me. "Yes that's a cyst on your ovary. It's about the size of an orange. Here's some Hydros, Merry Christmas."

Fucks sake I feel so dejected haha

[whomturgled]

:^(

[rafeandonlyrafe]

iou

words: 1.9k

warnings: 18+ only, smut, p in v sex, unprotected sex (but reader is on birth control), friends to lovers, college!au (briefly), kind of nerdy reader but like more studious, partying, drinking

“seriously, y/n. anything. id pay-shit, id do anything. please.”

the final word out of rafes mouth is finally what breaks you as you slump against your seat. “fine!”

“thank you, thank you.” rafe says, hand gripping yours.

“you know how much extra work i have already rafe.” you whine. it's your fault truly for being an overachiever in college. everyone knows getting paired with you means you immediately take over all the work, having to do double or triple what the other students deal with.

“and that's why ill do anything for you. tell me whatever you want.” rafe pulls his wallet out, thinking you'd ask for money.

in your twelve years of being friends, you've never really shown an interest in money, especially when your parents have enough to send you to the best university, just like the cameron family.

“i don't want your money, rafe.” you roll your eyes. “you just… you just owe me, okay? ill figure it out later, i need to get to work on your assignment now.”

thankfully it's just an essay for a subject you already know a decent bit about, and you don't want to make it too good to make people suspicious of rafe submitting work clearly not done by him, but at the same time you want to save him from failing the class.

“thank you.” rafe says again. “you're actually the coolest girl here.”

you roll your eyes. if only rafe actually saw you that way. he's turned out to be a great friend, especially now that you're away from the outer banks, but he's still the life of every party, the guy all the girls look to. 

it's lead to some uncomfortable moments of trying to figure out if the new friends you were making were just using you to get close to him. 

you realized long before college that rafe didn't see you like other girls. you were his friend first, and a girl his age second. he never once tried to hit on you, even though you desperately wished things would change when you both decided on the same college.

--

“you know, i still owe you.” rafe says, setting a glass of lemonade down in front of you. “never would have passed that class without your essay.”

you smile, taking a sip. “oh, i haven't forgotten.”

you're home for the summer, back in the outer banks with no stress of classes, able to truly relax and unwind.

“seriously, ask for anything, anytime.” rafe says, taking a sip of his beer, the bottle already dripping with condensation.

“ten million dollars?” you smile and tilt your head to the side, making rafe roll his eyes before laughing.

you've only grown closer to rafe since coming home. you thought he'd be excited to see his friends who stayed on the island, but hes more interested in hanging out with you now that you're not busy.

“you're coming to the party this saturday right?” rafe asks. “topper told you about it?”

“yup.” you nod. “he texted me.”

“oh…” rafe hums, suddenly feeling a bite of jealousy he didn't expect. 

“wanna help me pick out a dress to wear?” you ask rafe. you have girl friends that you could talk to, but honestly, the more time you spend with rafe, the more open he becomes, and the less you want to see anyone else.

“absolutely.” 

--

rafe admires his choice as you bring back a drink for him, having just emptied your own glass. 

“here ya go.” you hand him the glass of whiskey before setting your drink down on the table in front of you. you tuck the skirt under your bum as you sit down. of course rafe had to go for the smallest and tightest dress you own, claiming he just really liked the color.

“you're the best.” rafe smiles at you, a soft, slightly drunk, twinkle in his eye.

“yeah, yeah, yeah.” you roll your eyes, tipping your feet to the side to get some weight off your heels. it's been too long since you've worn anything other than sneakers and crocs.

“seriously.” rafe moves his chin to his knuckles, elbow resting on the side of the couch. “you helped me with my essay and so much more when we were at college and you're not even sick of me and telling me to fuck off now that we're back home.”

“id never tell you to fuck off.” you shake your head, taking a large sip of your drink, feeling it immediately add to your buzz.

“we should dance.” you suggest, looking at the crowd of bodies all twisting together in time with the music.

“is that you using the iou?” rafe asks.

you stand up, looking down at rafe. “i need to use an iou to have you dance with me?”

“nope.” rafe stands suddenly, making you aware of how close you are, chests practically touching, mouths hovering not far apart.

you hesitate, just as rafe seems to freeze, before you both move in, rafes lips smashing against yours as you kiss wildly, hands not shy despite all the people around as rafes large palms squeeze your ass, while yours dive underneath his shirt, feeling his muscles.

“fuck, upstairs.” you gasp, rafes lips moving to allow you to catch your breath, but only to kissing your jaw.

rafe doesn't speak, simply lifts you up and allows you to wrap your legs around his waist. you don't care that your dress bunches up and makes your underwear clearly visible to everyone passing by, now when your lips are on rafes neck while he carries you.

as he bounds up the stairs, moving as quickly as he can, you take a moment to suck a hickey into his tanned skin. no way you're going to let this moment go without claiming him for yourself.

rafe pushes into a random guest bedroom. the bed is stripped down to just a sheet, but it'll do as he locks the door behind him, hands fumbling briefly at the doorknob before securing it.

rafe lays you back on the bed, glad to have his lips reconnect with yours as you begin to kiss again, both completely unencumbered by what the kiss means with the alcohol flowing through your bodies.

rafe held himself back for so long, not wanting to ruin his friendship, that he has to force himself to not go wild and immediately tear your dress off.

“baby-” rafe gasps out. 

“if you want to stop, im using my iou to get you to fuck me.” 

“no.” rafe laughs and shakes his head. “save it for when we are arguing over where to eat or what we want to name our future child. im going to fuck you.”

you feel your cheeks flare up, clearly rafe is thinking of this as the start of a relationship, not just a one time hookup, and you couldn't be more happy and relieved.

“fuck me then.” it's all you need to say to get rafe moving again, hands pawing at your dress as you work it off your body, leaving you in nothing but a strapless bra and a tiny thong you put on hoping rafe would see it.

you pull at rafes shirt, a pout on your lips, asking him to take it off without using words.

rafe is quick to oblige you, tossing his shirt somewhere in the room as your lips reconnect, rafes hands gripping at your chest while you feel the muscles along his arms and shoulders.

“i-i need you so bad. i don't have a condom though.” rafe would go down to the party half naked begging for one if you really wanted him to.

“it's okay, im on birth control.” you take rafes hand and press it to your arm, allowing him to feel your implant. “and im clean.”

rafe nods, a smile breaking out on his face just at the thought of getting to have you bare. “im clean too.”

“what are you waiting for then?”

rafe is quick to finish undressing you, practically drooling when he sees your tits, teased so long by only getting to see them underneath sweaters and tshirts, teased by sneaking peeks while you were busy studying or deep in thought.

he takes a moment to press a kiss to each of your nipples, watching them bloom underneath the touch, but he will have all the time in the world to focus on them later as he moves to undressing himself, pushing his shorts and underwear down in one quick movement.

“oh.” your eyes widen when you see rafes cock for the first time.

“ill be gentle.” rafe says, pulling your thong down your thighs. “promise.”

“okay.” you nod, allowing yourself to relax as you rest against against the bed, feeling the way rafe positions himself until your eyes blink open and see his face hovering above yours.

“what?” you ask, suddenly feeling shy as you blush.

“nothing. you're just beautiful.” rafe bends down to kiss you at the same moment his cock presses against your entrance, his lips keeping you distracted from tensing up as he slowly pushes in, being as gentle as he possibly can with his length until he's seated fully inside of you.

“you're so-” rafe gasps out. “warm and wet.”

“of course im wet.” you giggle. “wanted this for so long.”

“wish i would have stopped trying to be the perfect friend and just did this earlier.” rafe shakes his head with a slight laugh. “you- you feel amazing.”

“you can move.” you nod to rafe.

he keeps his movements slow and steady, watching your face as he does, fully focused on just your pleasure.

“faster, it's okay.” you tell rafe, hands gripping his shoulders as he begins to move, hips swinging in faster, meeting yours in a loud slap until it's clear to everyone outside of the room exactly what is happening.

your moans grow as well until you're making constant noises, drowned out past the door by the music pumping through the speakers. rafe swears the way you sound right now is better than any other song.

he drops a hand to your pussy, shifting his weight onto one elbow as his thumb finds your clit, rubbing over it as he learns what you like, watching the way your face twists and contorts in pleasure.

“gonna-gonna cum.” you warn.

“im close too.” rafe says. he could have cum the moment he pushes inside you, but he's been waiting for you to be ready to release, wanting to meet your highs at the same time.

“inside me, rafe.” you don't want him to pull out, you want to feel what it's like to have him release inside of you.

he nods rapidly, breathing deeply as he focuses on your clit, ignoring the swelling of his cock until your head tips back and pussy tightens, and then he crumbles.

--

you never end up using your iou. not when you go back to college and you rope him into helping you study late at night. 

not even when planning your wedding where rafe jokes about you using it to have your first dance song be to taylor swift, but he concedes and agrees without you needing to use it.

not when you're raising your child together and you want to dress your daughter up in a pink bunny costume for easter, while rafe wants her in a more traditional dress.

you never need to use it when you want rafe to kiss you, to hold you, to make love to you, because that's exactly what he wants to be doing anyways.

[shalom-iamcominghome]

Hi Shalom, I am the anon who sent an ask about calling a shul last week. Before giving updates I would like to apologise for vomiting my anxiety all over the ask. We're strangers and you didn't ask for the job of calming my anxieties. I apologise for that.

Also, thank you for your faith in me, it gave me strength, because I did go to the shul. I was incredulous at myself, but I did do it. I had to go back to my home during the day as I had forgotten my ID but I still went back instead of giving up (the journey was one hour and a half total, next time I will remember).

The security literally used interrogator techniques on me, which I realised only later. I totally understand, I didn't know anyone there, I was not Jewish by my own confession, I could have been anyone. Anyway, I said if I shouldn't be here that evening it was fine (I didn't want to pose a security risk) he said "No! You can go tonight we talked about you."

What can I say about the experience but that it was- so much better than I expected. First, everyone was so opened and relaxed. I talked with two women behind me. I said it was my first time and asked some questions, and one of them was so nice. Said she couldn't read either the first time, that she had learned. Turns out she was a convert. I hesitated to tell her I wasn't Jewish, but I did. One thing I want to be is honest. Those people are literally putting themselves in danger, opening their space to a stranger, I owe them at least three time my honesty.

At one point during the office, I got teary eyes. The emotion of being there, honestly it surprised me, I don't really now what got me so emotional. Another moment, I felt like I was flying, wrapped in the singing of everyone around me.

Another thing is I was finally hearing people say Hashem, and Shma Israel and Shabbat Shalom and talking about the destruction of the Temple. It was as if I had finally found the correct dimension, you know?

It was so good. At the end the lady gave me her number told me I could text and we could drink coffee this week so that she could answer my questions.

The guy at the entrance told me to call the secretary to begin the procedure of conversion. I never said I wanted to, but apparently me wanting to assist to an office count as wanting to convert.

So, this has been a wonderful experience. I still I'm not sure if I want to convert or not. I will contact the lady. What I know is I want to learn everything, I want to go back to shul. What I don't know is, what level of observance can I sustain realistically over the term of my life? am I ready to confront my relatives reaction to this? And am I ready to put my children in danger over my calling to Judaism?

I will reflect and ask questions and think.

Thank you for reading, have a great day!

I want to start with: I am, genuinely, very proud of you. It might sound odd, but it is such an intimidating first step to take, and I can empathize with how scary it is. Additionally, I understand where you were coming from, and understood that these anxieties are hard to talk about with, really, anyone, but they need to go somewhere. Every step of the conversion process is a community project, even questioning if judaism is right will take a community to address. We can't survive alone in this, and I think part of exploring conversion is learning how to be in community. I think many of us grew up in hyper-individualistic communities to the point where we internalize shame by "stooping down" to seeking help. I don't want to assume what your situation is, but it's definitely been something I personally have had to contend with (and frankly, I still am contending with). So I truly understand why you went about your feelings the way you did - you didn't cause harm to me, I didn't feel like a therapist, and you it seemed like you needed community. That's nothing to be ashamed or guilty for. So long as we all remember that I am not an expert, I think we can at least have a heart-to-heart. My overall point is: I don't want for you to feel ashamed of needing community and asking for support, and I hope you don't feel that way. I'm glad you contacted me, and feel honored that you chose me to speak about it with. That's crazy to think about (in a good way, of course)!

I truly have so much faith in your path, and I found myself relating heavily in what you've expressed. I absolutely don't want to tell you what you ought to do, but I really hope you continue this journey no matter where it leads you. Keep asking those big questions - learning about what your needs are is so important. I can't answer them for you, and I don't want to assume that you want me to answer those for me, but if you ever want to talk, know that this blog is an option if you want it to be. All of this is a community effort. Chase the happiness. You deserve that, literally, at the very least

[breezy141]

༺♡༻ similar stories || simon ‘ghost’ riley ༺♡༻

༻✦༺ part two ~ basement ༻✦༺

“y/n!” you heard your name being called out from somewhere within the house, without being fully awake you hummed in response. the cosy duvet was so warm and soft, wasn’t like anything you were used to, you didn’t want to leave. as you were snuggling deeper into the warm bed you heard the basement door open and heavy footsteps getting closer to you.

“christ i’ve been calling you for ages, get up” the man was wearing the dressing gown and slippers but now he had blue joggers on. his loud voice startled you, but nonetheless you slowly sat up.

“i’m sorry, this bed is so comfy. ive never felt something so soft” he furrowed his eyebrows but nodded in response. “well, come on then. your breakfast will be going cold soon” you nodded and climbed out of bed.

“you can use to bathroom upstairs, the one down here doesn’t work to well. it’s on your left as soon as you walk up the stairs” you smiled as he walked off heading back up.

yawning, you grabbed an oversized jumper and some baggy jeans as well as fluffy socks. you cursed to yourself as you realised that through your frantic packing you had completely forgotten to pack a hairbrush. you attempted to use your fingers to brush out any knots, praying it would work, you made your way to the bathroom.

the bathroom was way bigger then yours, but not too big. you did your business, washed your hands and then headed towards the lovely smell of bacon. “do you want a drink? orange juice? cup of tea or coffee?” god what a luxury

“i’ll have orange juice please” you took a seat at the small dinner table that was in the kitchen, you mindlessly looked around. he had a few succulent plants dotted around, as well as an impressive rack of herb and spices next to his microwave.

“here you are” he turned around and handed you a plate full of different foods, as well as your juice. “thank you so much, although i may not be able to eat all of this if that isn’t to much of a problem. i’m not used to a big-ish portion like this” he nodded and took his own seat next to you.

“just eat what you can” you nodded and began eating the food, a small smile crept onto your face. it was lovely, the feeling was short lived before before he began asking you questions.

“what’s your plan?” he asked before taking a sip of his coffee, you swallowed and met his eye “i don’t really have one to be honest, i just had to get out of my home” he nodded.

“what happened?” he dove back into his food, eating slow and proper, unlike you. he could tell you were hesitant to explain. “i offered you a place in my home for the night, you at least owe me an explanation” you nodded.

“my mother wasn’t the kindest of people, and i don’t mean that in a bratty teenagers way. if you get me” he nodded waiting for you to elaborate.

“my mum used to make me cook all the food from a young age, 7 id say, it was only so she could bring another man home that she could have a quick one with and send home the next morning. sometimes..she would make me be apart of it. if i said no she’d beat me black n’ blue. my brother was forced to watch as it was to ‘teach him a lesson’ as she’d say. he was only young when it started”

the man seemed to actually listen to every word you said. although, he never responded. instead he waited for you to finish eating before he started talking.

“here’s what i’m going to offer you y/n, i don’t believe in all those camps for kids shit, yeah? they don’t work and they only care about money” you listened as he spoke.

“i’ll offer you a permanent place” eyes widening, you sat up straight.

“however, there are a few rules. one, you find yourself a job and earn some money, you can buy whatever your heart desires as well as pay me board. i could support the both of us however i want you to understand how life works. rule two, you look after my house while i’m away, which i’ll give you the dates for and that means proper cleaning, no friends around, and no snooping. rule three, you respect me and anyone else who walks through that door as well as the rules. we clear?”

it was a lot to take in however you were good at sticking to rules. “yes sir”

“was starting to get worried! didn’t think you were gonna make it, it’s your own celebration!” a cheerful voice shouted out to you. ah, gaz aka kyle garrick.

“i know i know i’m sorry!” giggling to yourself at the extremely energetic fella. you took a seat next to Cap, he flashed a cheesy smile to you, in which you returned one. “so, how did you manage to become to owner of one of the biggest cafes in this little town?” johnny asked plonking himself next to another one of his colleagues.

ghost. aka. simon riley. he doesn’t talk to you much, well, doesn’t talk to anyone much. but he seems to enjoy it when he’s alone.

“honestly i have no idea, but i do know i would not have do that if it wasn’t for the man sitting next to me!” you cheerfully said, looking over to the bearded man.

“don’t be silly, you did this on your own. proud of you kid. certainly different from the rest of us, but we get a free coffee when we go down there” he smiled down at you, clearly looking impressed. you, yourself, wouldn’t have even guessed you’d be sat here celebrating you becoming the owner of one of, if not the biggest, cafe in your area. it was a huge milestone for you.

“proud of you lass, came a long way” tears pricked at your eyes dont cry don’t cry don’t cry you kept saying to yourself. you were extremely sensitive, you weren’t used to this type of praise but you certainly weren’t against it.

“awhh don’t be all sappy johnny” he put his hands up in defense. “well, we are all thinking it. even this big pile of stone” he said flinging his arm around ghost.

“yeah” is all he said in response, you felt sorry for him in all honesty. you could tell he didn’t want to be here, which you had no problem in. not everyone is a huge fan of social gatherings, you certainly not a fan.

after a few more hours of chinwag and pizza slices, everyone decided it was time to turn in. saying your good nights and hugging people, apart from the obvious person, you made your way to the basement when your official room was.

it was 100x more cosy then what it used to be, you had added plants, string lights, endless amounts of decoration and a new lick of paint on the walls which were losing their colour.

you took of your makeup and got into something more comfy.

*knock knock*

“come in” a surprising face, well mask, approached you. “is everything okay?” you asked, while studying him. he was in a balaclava type thing, only his chocolate brown eyes on show, he had short-ish light eyelashes and freckles dotted sparingly over his nose and cheek bones. he nodded. he even studied you.

you watched as his eyes traced over the scar on your cheek, it went from the top of your temple to the bottom of your jaw. it was faded by now, but you couldn’t miss it.

“wanted to say congrats. was quiet outside” gosh he was blunt, but you understood it wasn’t something he could control.

you smiled “thank you simon” he nodded “it’s nice down here, cosy” he stated looking around “ yea, took me awhile to figure out just how i wanted it” he nodded.

“well, goodnight y/n”

[kerizaret]

since ur interested ill send a picture of gerald by the end of today probably!! depends on how fast i can get things done

and omg was popo a pillow pet??? and borys and nana are such lovely names too!! even when u were tiny your art still had so much personality, it’s lovely that you have records of how far youve come and how long youve been at it :3

giving them birthdays is so real . im sure some of my oldest plushies have them as well that ive just completely forgotten 💀 but which one is the one that has a birthday in a few days?? i know i already owe you a little art but id love to celebrate their bday somehow even though thats probably very silly haha

Yay!! Can't wait!!!

AND YES!! Popo was and STILL IS!! my pillow pet together with his sister Mumu!!

That's them :D

I also still have Borys! He is Big and was the biggest for some time so he was the King. And also the Dad (we have A LOT of dog plushies...)

Nana is at our grandma's for safekeeping along with many we simply didnt have space for 😭😭 (also it's a him which is funny to me)

And AWWWH THANK YOU! I keep all my old art!! Unless I gave it to someone. I have a whole box of old sketchbooks and full folders of loose papers from my drawings from all ages! Nor counting the folders my parents keep from where we were even younger 😭😭 art has always kind of been there!

AHDHAH you don't need to celebrate his bday (I also forgot them all, only have the ones I have written there 😭) HAHSH but here he is!!

This tiny guy's name is Dazzy and his bday is recorded as 4th August 2007 apparently! Funny that it's a few days before my own! He's been with me since like first grades of primary school, CHANGED GENDERS, joined me during a surgery AND lost his older brother twice only for him to come back different HDHS. God there's there's many stories to tell. It would take me a whole day I swear

Yes the hoodie is OBLIGATORY

[pwblogarchive]

December 2006

December 3, 2006

“status”

yesterday i fell backwards through a window- sure it was sugarglass and light wood.still felt the nerves slip.been sleeping 3 hour nights.i love watching people sing and speak and write about the people and things that they love.it makes me feel regular again.gave up on love when i started seeing about it in gossip rags.gave up on god when i realized one day my father was gonna die.gave up on myself too many times to count- you could trade mistakes for sheepand count me away forever at night.thanks for never giving up on me.even when you truly should have.and most of our incoherrent thought is wasted on whether it will mean more to stay or to go. if we can get home before the light hits our bedroom.

December 3, 2006

“a penny for your thoughts”

im sensing some antidote in the way the world has been speaking to me.but im all heart with these fingers stuck in my ears-playing scenes from my childhood so loud that i cant hear whats happened to me.you cant fly these wings, you cant sleep in this box with me.somewhere theres a backroom for us to be swapping spit in. a ditch for me to be forgotten again."there are plenty of fish in the sea" quip pretty fisherman on boats in stocked lakes and fish farms.do you think about me when you see the moon in the afternoon?"shape up or ship out"im nailed and boarded up in a box addressed to somewhere else.of all gods jokes, i am the most cruel- i will make you forget your headand your rulesand your friendsand your faithwe are bricks on gas pedals.we are the ink on forged checks.i will make you mine and then forget you.my head is too crowded for the company.can we go back to how it was?before there was a world out the front door that got off on being down.stockpiled good fortune and am ready to wait out the storm.i want you in my after 12am veins.lately it all just feels like looking up through ice in a frozen pond at red cheeked families skating, carefree.to be honest, even though im nodding off in airport lounges-id rather lay my head on a curb somewhere with you than any of the rest of it.and the universe doesnt care about luck or headlines.someone whispered "make yourself" in my ear once.steal me away from all of this.make yourself.

12/03/06 Q&A

question

I was just wondering, how much profanity can be expected on the new album?

answer

not too much more than what you hear in “arms race”- though i have a mouth like a sialor. i tend to write in more hyper sexualized metaphors- nothing that would warrant a sticker or anything tho…

question

who you like better.. old pete or new pete?

answer

people always seem to be in a constant state of flux. noone stays the same forevr but the change never seems to happen overnight. old pete got grounded alot and stuff but to tell you the truth ive never cared too much for either. in all honesty.

question

pete, you guys owe the midwest big time you tottaly skipped us on the FOE tour…you arent playing a show in iowa or chicago… =[

answer

duh like wed ever space out on our hometown, like we dont have something super special planned just for you that is NOT part of the tour—- that goes for a couple of places we are “skipping”- have a bit of faith. we try not to let you down…

question

Push-up bras: in or out in 2006?

answer

im not wearing them anymore this year, so i guess no.

December 4, 2006

i want to fall in love with someone who can speak parseltongue.

- xo

December 8, 2006

minus : bill and teds excellent adventure was almost halfway done when i got home. and i wasted my night thinking of someone who will never understand me.minus/plus:i cut off my hair and jumped through a sheet of glass for our new video. plus: when napoleon eats the huge banana split in bill and teds: ziggy piggy ziggy piggy. i got an igloo dog house and fake snow for hem to play in. way more fun than whatever else i oculd have been doing. going to see panic tommorrow.

- xo

December 12, 2006

5:31am

i cant explain the feeling that has been exactly the same since the first moment you bobbed your head, had your spit shoot out of your mouth when singing along, or been crush on the railing on the front of the stage.everything else aside. the flashes, the numbers, everything- i hope i am judged and remembered only by how you have felt and sung along.it is a testament to who i wish i was and am always striving to become. because as much as we saved you- you have saved me.the shows feel the same. i was worried. but a smile or a wink reminds me that we are still part of the same machine that noone else understands.sorry if this is corny but these were the thoughts going through my head as i iced my back today after the show. if i fall apart, if we didnt sell a single record- this was still the best adventure story ever written. and i am endlessly grateful for that. ill now go back to being a douchebag.i think youre gonna like the new video.... let us know if youre hearing arms race on the radio by you.... just putting the final touhces on the record- yeah we know its like shopping for presents on xmas eve. but oh well. we dont want to let anyone down, not ourselves or you.xo.sleep fast, dream hard.ps i miss my dog.

- xo

Dec 14 2006 

02:26:00

dear you,

sometimes we get caught up in riding the moment, good or bad. mental health or our bodies. usually its never as bad as it seems in our own heads or in those seconds when it seems like noone else can empathize. but the truth is, as reluctant as we are to admit it- there are strains inside of us that make us exactly the same. together and alone all at once. crashing thoughts like chemistry. playing these club shows has been like heaven for me- its the closest i can get to being that little band again- and i love every minute of it. its exciting and crushing- pins and needles everywhere in anticipation. seeing the same old faces on the barricades but with new smiles. i have high hopes that you will come with us on this record if only because i feel like i/we owe it to you. i listen to the songs over and over again and hope that they hit you in that same spot but in a brand new way.

post video: my back will be okay,so will my hair (haha as okay as it ever was), i am in love with my band more than anything else on the planet. i hope you like the video.

i feel like a hack giving advice to you on the q & a when the truth is, i dont really have a clue to get through life on my own.i havent been able to sleep since we left on tour this week- my question to you- what do you do to fall asleep?

thanks for always being there. even when you probably shouldnt.

it puts me at ease knowing that someone else doesnt get it as much as i dont get it.

December 14, 2006

“be my unholy, my one and lonely. (the inside of my head, unfiltered).”

computer broke. back broke. love broke.

but the ship is gonna look pretty at the bottom of this sea.

my memory is a steel trap.

your face has been filed away- to be scrutinized later.

to be despised.

to be loved.

to be sought.

to be dreamt of.

i am the inside of "i dont care".

right in the middle.

staring at you.

i have you read before you even say your name.

except when im wrong

and my whole world tips on end.

"i loved everything about you that hurts".

everything i love about you is a mess- is the reason you cant get through your days.

i keep the tv on loud in hotel rooms so i dont feel alone.

i wear scarves and hoods cause theyre the only poker face ive got left.

in my head i smash mirrors and break palm readers' hands.

i love to write of sex and bodies pressed against eachother- but i am not a closer and never will be, i cant get my mind to shut off long enough to make moves. id rather remember the smell of your hair and the way you faked like you were too drunk to drive home.

id rather break you down.

i dread human contact but cant stand to sleep alone- two parts of me that are constantly at war with each other.

every single mirror is a trick mirror. not just the funhouse ones. we see what we want.

i wish i could live a billion years just to evolve beyond love.

only the science of that doesnt really add up, and besides i am addicted to it.

if you cut me open i am the single most regular person that has ever existed.

it scares me.

it electrifies me.

i have put my belief in god in a sort of holding pattern- i close my eyes hard and want to believe. just because this cant be it. but im not ready to commit. keep flying. one of these days were gonna run out of fuel.

the famous < the infamous.

i want to become better than i am.

i want cures instead of houses.

and hope instead of hype.

only its all so big that i dont even know where to start.

birth and death are just the bookends, no one explains how to find happiness in between.

my mood changes before i finish whole sentences. hence the fragments.

if anyone ever knew the whole truth im pretty sure they would lock me up and throw away the key.

i dont like to talk or play certain songs because they are just an unhappy blur in my life when somewhere inside of me i was sure id be dead before anyone ever heard them.

i wish jimminy cricket was my best friend.

i think hed keep me on track.

its no fun hating someone who hates themself so much more.

youre just an amateur.

you cant complain about your back and then jump off of high things.

well you can but then you just look silly.

my attention span, my temper, my faith and my height are all pretty much just short.

if i ever really had three wishes i am sure id waste them on ruining three peoples lives.

disappointing people is my thing baby, find a new gig, this town aint big enough for the two of us.

i have a love/hate relationship with being forgotten.

i fall asleep on the keyboard all the time, i think it is of some comfort to me.

i cant wait to meet the person i will want to grow old with.

posted by xo @ 12:29 AM

December 16, 2006

2:57am

Have heart, willing to travel.

- xo

December 16, 2006

come on just let me make out with one of your friends and we'll call it even

caged all the free spirits.lets make them shiny so we see them glisten on the ocean bottom.well take your flaws and polish them as good as new-that is except for jealousy, theres been a recall on that one.expect version 2.0turned the corners of my eyes out as though they were my pockets, as i pass by men sleeping in boxes looking for loose change.fix me or forget me. at this point im going for whichever is easier.im guessing i look like i just got off a bender cause everyone keeps saying "you really should get some rest".like that was the problem.it feels like a surgeon who cant cut himself open to save his own life.going AWOL from ghost towns.look into mirrors-"wipe that smile off your fucking face."my dreams are all backyards in the suburbs and you.and whatever happens in between just make sure our plots are matching and next to eachother.its kind of tough being a people pleaser when you arent too fond of people in general.on steroids for the back- no, not the cool kind. though one of the side effects is dementia.living out of a suitcase changes your outlook on the world.its hard to imagine a time when any of this made sense.a flight.fizz of tonic water.clicking of hotel room keys."ive never done this before"s.you need oxygen tanks to climb the mountains i have made of these molehills.keep me away from the inside of your head.

December 16, 2006

here's to fresh starts

Today was one of the longest ever for me.I have no explanation. Except that relief can come from the last place you'd ever expect.Sometimes the people you expect to be there are no shows. Especially when you're on the tile floor heaving.I am ready to be me again.I miss my puppy. I think you dreamt me alive.

December 18, 2006

love/hate

I am sur ei have been loved. I have obsessed over love. the kind of love of getting in and out of trouible. I have hoped for love that is beyond you beiung caught by me or me trying to slip through the cracks. I hope for a love that is like astronomers who desribe distant planets. Even as experts it is a too far off to even properly calculate no matter how much you adore it. And I am no expert. When was the last time you felt proud of me? Ask myself when was the last time I did anything worth your pride? When was the last time I was moved, not like a piece in a board game but truly moved. When was the last time I didn't see the world in an "you always stick your neck out" or "can't catch a break" kind of way. You are the kind they cut off ears for and start wars over. You are a distant planet, noone would get from afar. You are the dream that I can't remember but can't forget. You are the trap door magicians never reveal. You're my last trick. You're my grand finale.

December 18, 2006

“diamonds into coal.”

i am a terrible typer on a sidekick as proven in the previous post.

i hate hotel room life.

i hate doing interviews.

i hate reading interview i have done.

i am overdramatic.

i am overly pessimistic. i only see the worst in everything.

but i smile and nod along anyway.

i dont believe a word anyone says to me.

but id really like to believe in everything.

this list is boring. i miss my dog.

December 19, 2006

being in new york brings back strange memories of fall. i am really excited for everyone to see the new video tommorrow. though i am completely bummed out to see people selling tickets for ridiculous amounts of money for the friends or enemies tour. the whole point of this tour was for us to play some small rooms with our dedicated fans. i dont really think there is anything we can do legally about people who are taking advantage of this. the only thing i can think of is that we will go around venues before the show and try to give out a few tickets for free (i doubt we will have many extra as most have sold out). dont feed into this. we will keep playing smaller shows and secret ones- as well as a bigger spring tour. i promise you will get a chance to see us. we are going to go everywhere. please dont let these vultures get you down.

- xo

December 20, 2006

to only you:there was this girl- a doll. hanging and dancing on strings. black hair and smiling. she lived just off of a town called naivety... some place i have driven through from time to time. and i never had an idea. cut the strings so we could run down the street under trees and roll in the grass. never meant for it to become what it did in so many different ways. never meant to always leave the driveway headed one direction and never knew what waited when i returned. only that her eyes were the lights in the windows that i pulled up to in the snow. slipping off the ends of icy roads at nights racing home through the night no matter what. and the miles got father and farther in between. and i couldnt ever figure myself out to save a thing. but now i cut those strings and she is forever dancing or lying or waiting in the lit windows for vans and buses that came less and less. and i wrote the harshest words and she wrote the harshest words. she turned from a doll into a girl and i from a boy into a monster and back into a boy now and again. eyes always red and puffy. pride always on the line. things were much simpler when she was on strings for her i think. things were much simpler when the van only went so far. before i had to press a picture of her and paste it on dashes and inside of bunks everywhere. i cant explain how i got here. it doesnt make any sense. she could follow the articles and videos or my pieced together stories. or a dog. or a dream. or words that make half sense sent in the middle of the night. and even when im telling the truth it doesnt matter cause the phone is always dead. and i am always 30,000 feet in the air flying somewhere. but i keep the warmest memories close to my heart even when im at payphones and want to cut my insides out,, dry them up and mail them to her. "im sorry" doesnt matter anymore. the words have no meaning. im sorry i cut the strings and ran away. now when i come to look for her i dont know where to begin. its hard to not say "its all my fault" but it goes through my head over and over so i cant sleep with out the AMBIENce of my bed and the puppy. bane songs. boomerangs. badnews. arkansas. goodbye love i didnt know you well or maybe too well.

- xo

December 24, 2006

they say this thing between us is getting old, but i think of it more like vintage love.

im like one of those movies you buy in a hotel with every button but rewind.have at it.your jokes.your ring tones.it doesnt matter.i cant ever get the right words to the right people.lying on the side, tears fall from your left eye into your right.filling it and spilling over. and so on.spilling out. but not pretty like in the movies.phones are always dead.white lights hanging on houses, breath in the air-everything about right now reminds me that i am all alone.and how terrible i am because of the thoughts that run through my head.like im pretty sure i could get some sleep if you were dead and gone.but not in a "drop dead" kind of way, more like you couldnt fuck with my head anymore.a snow day on giving a fuck about anything.sit here and stare at the television because thats what im supposed to do.forget to eat.sit in the roped off corner of a club because thats what im supposed to do.forget to care.and i just want to write a story or a song that makes everyone forget their troubles but im not too sure that i have it in me.hot spots become luke warm.i just want one person to know me completely before i die.i want maternity wards on stage for the delivery.spent the afternoon in an mri- its like preparation for lying in a coffin forever. it was a fear i havent experienced since i was young. the shaking and the sounds and the closeness of it all. everyone loves an underdog. every dog will have its day. top dogs. all dogs go to heaven and such....

December 25, 2006

he said "i brought the hoody back all them other boys dont know how to act"

when i was little i wanted to be max from where the wild things are when i grew up.kind of bonkers, cause he was just a kid too.

12/25/06 Q&A

question

is it true you and andy had a fight? and now fall out boy is breaking up?

answer

nope. not breaking up anytime soon. contrary to whatever stupid things have come out of any of our mouths near journalists. we are currently doing better than brad and angelina- no break up in sight.

12/28/06

question

dear pete i hope you liked your christmas i know i did i got the clandestine bag i wanted and tickets to the red hot chili peppers concert i just wanted to say i look up to you because you let me down every time i needed help i asked you because i didnt know who to turn to my older brother being the jerk he is never helped me in any way and you never answered any questions with any substance anyways i dont know how many times i posted my questions but i digress i learned that you cant depend on the people you look up to, to help you out with advice i learned to help myself out and just face my problems and if i make a wrong turn well ill learn from that too so i just wanted to thank you for making me that much more independent i still love fall out boy sooo much too much in fact or so ive been told im not just another fan that listens to you guys and asks you stupid questions i am a fan that loves your music and i know not to depend on you for advice cause you cant help me i can only help myself sorry if im dragging on but im trying to get my point across im not sure if you will ever read this one im pretty sure you wont and im okay with that cause that will prove my point ill give you three trys to answer cause i dont know how your answering process works three cheers for questions with no substance -sincerely me *strike two*

answer

glad you had a good christmas. as far as answering questions- i miss alot of them- either do to timing or that i didnt feel capable of answering or whatever. usually i answer whatever sticks out to me. sometimes goofy ones, sometimes serious ones. we as a band try to be role models the best that we can. im sorry that you felt let down. its great to be independent and i think its awesome that this question wasnt a “fuck you i hate your band cause you didnt answer my question”… it sucks to feel skipped over i know that. im glad that it sounds like youre doing well. hope your family situation has gotten better.

question

i was watching release the bats and was wondering if your parents had seen it and what they thought of it. i was oddly fascinated yet disgusted. nice job

answer

i think my mom thinks its funny. my brother and me have been doing stuff like that since we were little- so its not too shocking.

question

Since your famous to some people. Would you ever like Wierd Al to make a song about you and the rest of the band? If so, what do you think he would sing about you and the band?

answer

we grew up on weird al. we’d love the honor of being mocked in a song of his- i think maybe “where is your beer tonight? i hope it is a heineken”

[some-rando-with-internet]

I wander down this empty street, devoid of the common bustle of the smaller city, sun dipped well below the horizon, most sane people have placed themselves inside their homes, sheltered from the cold and harming elements. But not me. No, I’d never be sane enough to do that. Would a sane person be rooting around in the ancient secrets of the world, asking for the truth where none would reasonably go, search for the truest origins of the powers of the world and why all around us hold capabilities that defy all physics?

No one without a few screws loose, let me tell you. This has been such a problem for me. Too many contradicting facts, too many cryptic classifications, and much too many horrible accidents.

But, today had some findings at the least. A book, placed on a dusty pedestal in a long-forgotten corner of my local library. Illuminated by a singular shadow, only barely visible with the blaring fluorescent lighting. Odd. Especially so that no one else seemed to notice this large tome, even when I nonchalantly carried it out of the building.

The dusty eminence from the book, whose spine was so dated, the name was smudged into oblivion, almost produced an impenetrable fog. My sunglasses helped, certainly. But still.

I open the door to my small apartment. What meager furniture exists was shifted and moved, rearranged into a makeshift workspace, to allow me to more appropriately examine my new subject.

Cracking open this aged piece of shit to the first page started out great, with a solid fifteen pages of blank nothingness. Awesome.

But the first page with words was… concerning.

It only read one real word, surrounded by scattered letters, written as though someone used a typewriter to beat someone to death. A space in the middle of the page was a small border of empty space surrounding the word,

‘H E L L O’

So obviously I sarcastically answer back. I’m alone I’m kind of pissed at this whole topic, y’know. “Yeah hi, let’s skip the introductions and get to the lore please,” I said.

The next page read, “Don’t b e rud e. We wll g et to tha t. Firs , wh t is y ur name?”

“Well… call me Rando. Let’s go with that. How about you?”

“I am Alze. W4ht d o y u wish to k ow?”

…

“Tell me about other worlds.” The words were almost not my own. Erupting from my body like it was a command from the heavens. Sure id always been interested, and I guess this would be a good test run, so why didn’t I think of it before I said it?

…worries for later.

I turn the page, to let this book tell me a story.

[bonniebiess]

Courtney Love is my favorite scary rockstar broad. I dont care who wrote what for who I worship Hole and all things Nirvana. I loved her. She was nuts. It gave me so much permission to be. I was 26 here. Id never drank before a shoot but was so nervous that I did 2 shots of Bushmills right in front of my mother when I got the call that she was comin in. I was terrified and beyond excited.

She got there and I heard her bustin our director ladies’ chops and yellin for her Wednesday dose in the green room. My heart raced. I loved hearing her raspy unapologetic voice rehearsing through the wall. It was the anniversary of Kurt’s death. We didnt know what to expect

She needed an iPhone charger so I gave her mine. I was introduced as her photographer and the one charging her phone. Brownie points. She busted a few poses making sure her arm stayed connected to her guitarist to avoid edit and off she went. She left her glasses and lyrics on my gear.

Id realized Id forgotten to snap a polaroid for my collection. I knocked on the green room door. Told her assistant and handed her things in. Suddenly hear “oh I love Polaroids!” Into the den I go. “You gotta get me smokin! Smokin in the AOL building!” She just kept posing. I wasnt expecting it. “Lets do a Helmut Newton pose!” I think Id left my body at that point.

I snapped one and she blinked. “Oh I fuxkin blinked!” She rips the polaroid out of my camera. I go to shoot and it wont go. My heart sank. “Oh sh!tgirl I think Im outta film.” (I later find out I have film but Miss Love broke my camera.) She gives me a disapproving eye but doesnt lay into me. I think she liked me cuz I had a Radiohead tshirt on and she could smell the fangirl on me behind my cool girl bs.

“These are cute. These are cute. OK. You get this one. Im gonna give these to all my friends.” and drops em in her purse. I humbly say thanks and dip out of there with my head still attached.

I get back to my set and realize she threw the pulled polaroid across the room. I went back in to find it. Nobody in there. All are in the interview room. No luck. I look over. I see the purse.

I don’t know if was the high of the shoot or the pure raw feminine chaos energy in the air but I went for it. Past the smokes n over the lipstick I find my shots. I pull out 4. Put one in my pocket. Heart pounding out of my chest at the thought of her walkin in at that moment and mauling my face clean off. Im about to book it when I hear the voice in my head. “She gave you the one you want. You get caught and youre fuxked.” I took a breath, put it back and ran like hell.

My editor saw my face. I told her what was up. I thought she’d never put me on anything ever again. She put me on everything after that.

Happy Birthday Court. Thank you for teaching me how to rock and give less fuxks. I hope you enjoyed the polaroids. Sorry bout the purse fiasco. You owe me a camera. Love, Bon

[moonlit-imagines]

Misbehavior (Part 1)

Jason Todd x batkid!reader

warnings:

a/n: tysm anon!!

prompt: anonymous: “Hello Lacey! Hope your doing great! Could I please request a bat family x batsis!reader where the reader is Kind of the middle child (I was thinking older than Damian but younger than Tim) and she’s always forgotten and in the back. Maybe some scenarios can be that no one listens when she talks or they forget to invite her to do stuff. So then one day she acts up in school like maybe punching someone for no good reason because she’s craving attention but instead of Bruce showing up to get her Jason shows up and he sees that she’s actually really sad and starts to question her until she tells him everything and maybe spills some tears and it ends with just Jason comforting her and cheering her up. Just some soft Jason for my soul! Also have a great day and I hope that you feel better and more motivated now after your break! 😘”

part 2

No matter what you did, none of your deeds went unnoticed. Good or bad.

You always heard how Dick was so independent, the one everyone should use as an example.

You always heard how Barbara could do it all, she never failed to impress.

You always heard how Jason was reckless, someone who needed to get his act together.

You always heard how Tim was such a prodigy, he was one of a kind.

You always heard how Steph was so determined, she had such amazing goals.

You always heard that Cass was perfect, they’d never change a thing about her.

You always heard that Duke was so strong, he’d never give up no matter what stood in his way.

You always heard that Damian was dangerous, a kid that needed to be guided.

But what about you? What did they hear about you? Nothing. No one ever spoke of you, they didn’t have the time. It seemed as if you were just unimpressive, there wasn’t one thing that needed to be mentioned. Stuck in the middle of a bunch of bats and birds, no way to stand out in the crowd.

Maybe not in a mask or a cowl, a dress or a suit, behind a computer or among the darkness, but there was one place you couldn’t be ignored...

You sat at your desk, picking at old tape with the tip of your fingernail. The teacher had nothing interesting to say, so what was the point of being here? What made Gotham Academy so special that you just had to attend this place?

The uniform was overkill, the classes went nowhere, the students were too preppy, and you didn’t have a single thing in common with anyone here.

Anger was starting to bubble inside you as you continued your internal self-loathing. Your mind was only focused on the negative, but it was shifting from school back to home.

No one was ever there for you, not even on patrol. You’d called for backup several times on missions and nearly lost it all when you had to go in alone. If it were anyone else, a teammate would have met them in a heartbeat.

Your plans were always overshadowed whenever you tried to set up a mission or even just a day off. You wanted cookies? Too bad, Tim wants brownies. You wanted to watch a movie? Too bad, everyone chose a TV show. It was the little things that irked you the most. Half the time, you never even got the memo.

And what about when you all come back from patrol with all sorts of injuries and Alfred comes to patch you up? Well, not you. He’ll run to check on cuts and scrapes. Meanwhile, you had a broken wrist and a black eye.

You’d finally run out of things to pick at around your desk which resorted in you tapping instead. There was a brief bit of zoning out as you remembered the time that Damian’s plan for evading Killer Croc’s attack was to push you in the way. Or the time that Jason hid his guns in your bed for reasons he didn’t care to explain. Or when Dick drank the last of the milk and didn’t tell you until after you poured your cereal. Or when Tim told you that you weren’t fit for the mission he had been planning. Or when Bruce blatantly ignored the story you told out of pure excitement, giving you nothing but a “sounds like you had fun.”

While you were in a horrible daze, you felt a hand on your shoulder that snapped you out of it faster than the Barry Allen. Without even evaluating the situation, your reflexes caused you to turn and twist your classmates arm backwards as he screamed.

“Hey! Stop, ow, that hurts! Stop! Stop it!” You processed his words too late and knew exactly what was coming next.

“Y/N L/N!” You teacher shouted as you drew your hand back. “Dean’s office. Right now.” Her sharp voice sent a chill down your spine, not even the Joker could do that. You’d be able to explain the situation pretty easily, you just didn’t want to make it worse. But there was one ankle that sent you off the edge. Another student tripped you on your way through the aisles, and that student caught a fist to the face. The audience gasped and shouting from your teacher ensued, but you didn’t listen, you’d take the punishment at this point. So you walked right out and headed for the dean’s office without so much as a hall pass.

“Mx. l/n? What’s this about?” Dean Williams was surprised to say the least, you’d never been sent in for discipline before. Was there a certain way to do this?

“Well, I zoned out and some kid behind me grabbed my shoulder, I accidentally twisted his arm.” You retold your story, the abridged version. “But on my way out I punched a kid in the face because he tripped me. That one’s on me.”

“...Well,” the dean frowned at his obligations, but had to go through with some kind of punishment, “I’m going to have to suspend you for physical contact with a student. I’ll call your father to come pick you up.” You shrugged and slouched back in your chair, giving up on any hope of talking your way out of this. It might as well just happen. You listened to the clicking of the buttons on the dean’s phone as he typed in the Wayne Manor phone number, obviously reaching Alfred almost immediately.

“Wayne Manor.” You eard his faint voice through the speaker.

“Hello, this is Dean Williams from Gotham Academy, may I speak to Mr. Wayne? I have his child in my office.” Your dean explained over the phone, peeking back at your for a split second. You were completely unbothered, it was baffling.

“Is it Damian?” You heard him ask, causing an involuntary eye roll.

“Y/N, actually.” There was a long pause before someone else picked up the phone. “Mr. Wayne, this is Dean Williams at Gotham Academy. I have y/n sitting across from me right now, they seemed to have gotten themself into a physical altercation with two separate students, I have no choice but to suspend them.” You heard a deep sigh over the phone, then the handheld piece was handed to you.

“Bruce?” You asked.

“Really? Fighting at school?” He sounded unimpressed. Nothing new, even when you do something new.

“Something like that. Whoops.” He hung up on you right after that, so you handed the phone back and told your dean, “Guess they’ll get me soon.”

“You call your father by his first name?” Dean Williams had nosily questioned.

“I’m adopted.” He obviously didn’t know you as well as your more troublesome sibling, it was time he just minded his business.

After a good thirty minutes of silent waiting while listening to keyboard clacking and papers flipping by the front desk, the office door opened, and to your surprise, it was one of your brothers.

“I’m here for y/n.” He mumbled, signing the piece of paper and showing his ID.

“Alright, Mr. Harper, I just have to check some paperwork really quick...” The receptionist went into your file and checked for your emergency contacts. “You’re all set. Now, y/n has been suspended for two weeks. I suggest you get to the bottom of their little ‘outburst’ before they’re able to come back to school.” It actually pissed Jason off to hear her say that.

“I’ll keep that in mind.” His sarcasm wasn’t subtle. “Come on, kid.” Your brother gripped your arm and led you out of the office, noticing your bitter expression that he couldn’t even rationalize. Was that normal? “So what happened. Bruce just told me to come get you.”

“Of course he did.” You rolled your eyes on the brink of tears, he didn’t even come to get you himself. Jason opened the car door for you and nudged you inside, slamming it once you were clear.

“You better have a good reason,” he warned as he started the engine, “I was in the middle of a poker game.”

“Oh, yeah, ‘cause I’m such an inconvenience.” You were starting to remind him of himself. That was never a good thing.

“Okay, my bad. I didn’t mean it like that.” Jason began speeding down the block, you’d never once seen him obey a speed limit. You’d think someone with a fake ID and a death certificate would want to avoid any run-ins with the cops, but Gotham was just one of those cities.

“Yeah, right.” You reached for the radio knobs and felt Jason’s hand wrap around your wrist.

“No music until you explain yourself.” You fell back into your seat to pout, muttering some curses under your breath. “I won’t tell Bruce or anyone. I swear.”

“I just zoned out. Reflexes.” You bluntly replied.

“What?” He still didn’t have any context to go off of.

“I twisted someone’s arm backwards. Honest mistake.” Jason knew there was more to this story. “But on my way out of the classroom, I punched this kid who tried to trip me. That was on him.”

“As much as I condone payback, you can’t do that at school.” He sighed. “You’ve never been sent home before. That I know of. So why now?”

“Yeah, you know, maybe that’s the issue? You couldn’t tell me if I’ve ever gotten in trouble before. None of you could. You couldn’t tell me a definitive thing about me. When’s my birthday, Jason?” He was at a loss for words. “That’s what I thought.”

“So this was all for attention?” Jason asked. “There’s a hell of a lot of better ways to go about that.”

“Tried them all, this one barely even worked.” You replied with a crack in your voice. “How come none of you care about me? Why am I always looked over? I’m just like the rest of you. I put on that stupid suit every night and kick ass, I get my job done, I get good grades, I’m resourceful, I’m special—” You’d let that last one slip in your rant to your older brother, it shocked him so bad he stopped the car.

“I know what you mean.” Jason stared straight ahead at the empty road. “I felt the same way when I came back. After everyone was used to me being back, it was like nothing ever happened. Bruce just went back to calling me careless, irresponsible.”

“At least you get noticed, Jason. Your identifiable.” You turned to him with a pained look and he risked his confidence to look you in the eye. Once he did, he couldn’t look away. It hurt him to see someone so familiar to himself have tears running down their face because they felt forgotten. No kid should ever have to feel like that. That was why Bruce took him in. That was how Jason became Robin.

“Fuck this.” Jason hit the gas and turned the car around. “We’re getting ice cream. Do you like ice cream? That’s a serious question.”

“I...I guess.” You were somewhat confused by his sudden literal change in direction.

“Good. You’re my kid for today, all my attention goes to you. I’m sure Bruce won’t notice if you’re gone for a few hours.” Jason’s jaw dropped at his last comment. “I didn’t mean it like that.”

“No, you’re right and you should say it.”

taglist: @thatwaspossession // @ravenmoore14 // @thisetaernallove // @kinoko-kai //

[amysteriousmessenger]

‘Oh, to serve a Princess’ - Ray x Reader NSFW fanfiction

Pairing: Ray x implied female reader CW: Face-riding, fingering, slightly obsessive and a little more confident Ray who just wants to be used Word Count: 4.8k Rating: Explicit

You hadn’t seen Ray in a couple of days, almost a week actually. He said he’d been so busy doing another job for the Saviour that he hadn’t even had time to sleep and had been eating at his desk. He cried on the phone that every time he’d tried to sneak out to come and visit you, a Believer had been waiting outside for him to ask where was going. You missed him, that much was obvious from the ache in your heart, but the punch in your stomach was the worry you had for him. You’d been at Mint Eye for several months, but you had yet to see what tied him so subserviently to the Saviour, besides fear. You’d hoped that he’d at least been eating decently while at his desk, but the various candy bar wrapper sounds you had heard over the phone told you otherwise. You couldn’t help but sigh as you stared out of the window into the night sky. The garden was so beautiful, and you knew how much Ray cherished the flowers growing within it. And yet, it brought you little joy to be enjoying it without him.

Averting your gaze towards the small decorative birdcage that resided in the corner of your room, you couldn’t help but see Ray flash before your eyes again as you touched one of the thin metal bars. Even in the dark lighting of your room, the cage glinted a brilliant gold. You supposed that the cage was just like Magenta. It was so pretty and ornate that, surely, a bird would  want  to fly willingly towards the gilded embrace it to be loved safely from within its bars. A small bird that longed for protection, to live peacefully. However, it was only when that bird flew into the cage that they would realise it was exactly that:  a cage.  You felt sick, wiping your fingers against the fabric of your black dress. You’d previously been wearing the dresses that Ray had brought you but they were being cleaned and he’d told you he’d gotten you a new dress, but you hadn’t seen him since he mentioned it. So, you remained in the Mint Eye standard black dress, it was pretty, so you didn’t mind. You looked back between the cage and the garden and figured that the garden would be the lesser of two evils since you’d at least be able to get some fresh air. You grabbed your phone, ID card, and a light shawl just in case it was cold. You didn’t have many shoes with you, but the ground looked dry enough to just wear some light slip-on shoes.

You looked back at the cage once again before swiftly making your way to the door, pulling it open, and having your heart jump out of your chest immediately. Someone was on the other side. It took a second or two for your eyes to adjust and to realise that it was Ray. He hardly looked like Ray. His under-eyes looked practically bruised, he’d lost more weight and he was swaying slightly. He utterly looked  exhausted.

‘Ray, are you okay?’ You asked, taking in his appearance. He had brought you a bouquet of gorgeous red roses, but you were more concerned about having him get a little bit of colour in his  cheek  than the deep rouge of the petals.

‘Yes! I am fine, please do not worry about me, my sweet flower. Might I come in? I know it’s late… I’ve only just finished my work.’

‘Of course, you can but… Ray, you should get some rest first.’ You replied, very much wanting him to get the sleep that he had been so deprived of.

‘A-ah, yes, of course… I did not mean to be a burden, I just hoped I could see you. I went to pick these flowers before I came here, to make up for not visiting’ His half-gloved hands moved the flowers towards you, a pleading look sneaking onto his face. He knew exactly how to have you putty in his hands.

‘Oh, Ray. You’re not a burden. Come in, please, sit down and eat something. They’re so pretty, you know that red roses are my favo- A-ah! Ow!’ you flinched, pulling your hand back from the roses. You’d pricked your finger on a rose thorn. It was only a small drop of blood and didn’t particularly hurt after the initial sting. It was just a tiny dot of blood but, to Ray, it was as though his love had directly hurt you. You didn’t think it was possible, but the colour seemed to drain from his face even more as you watched the panic strike across his features.

‘My princess, I’m so sorry! This is all my fault, I should have de-thorned the roses! I’m so stupid! Useless! I didn’t think and now  you’re h-hurt!’   Tears began to well in his eyes, and you couldn’t help but think he looked beautiful, even then.

‘It’s okay, Ray! It’s just a little bit of blood, I just need to take the thorn out.’ You tried to console him as he blamed himself.

‘Please, allow me.’ Ray followed you into the room hurriedly, locking the door behind him. He took the roses from you and placed them on your vanity table. He knew his way around your room very well, since he had personally designed it, and retrieved a small first-aid box from your bathroom. You didn’t think he needed to go to such an effort for such a small, insignificant injury, but figured it would probably bring him a little bit of joy to let him care for you after not being able to see you for so long. He guided you towards your bed, as though you were mortally wounded, and sat down next to you as he fumbled through the small box. He set aside a small band-aid, disinfectant spray, tweezers, and cleaning wipe. You felt bad for worrying ray, especially since he’d had such a rough few days, so you wanted to try and lessen his emotional burden by taking the blame.

‘I’m so clumsy, I usually burn my hands a lot.’ You started before laughing and adding ‘Maybe I should get a pair of gloves like yours, so I stop hurting my fingers so much.’

‘My gloves stop me from biting my nails so much. I often don’t realise I’m doing it but sometimes I just get so anxious. My Saviour told me to wear them to stop biting at my nails and to hide them from her sight, she says my hands aren’t pretty to look at. That they’re a sign of my weakness… Maybe, when I get stronger, I’ll be okay without them. I’m sorry, I need to take the thorn out…’ He whispered as he used the tweezers to remove the thin spike from your skin, making the blood form in a little bubble on the surface of your skin. You could feel your heart clenching as you heard Ray speak about his gloves, and part of you wished you hadn’t mentioned it.

‘It’s okay. I like your gloves Ray, they make you look princely.’ You smiled, using your other hand to gently place your hand on his knee. You felt him tense up for a moment before ever-so-slightly moving closer into your touch.

‘Princely? I-I don’t think I’m good enough for that… but, I’d like to be your prince, if you’d let me, princess.’ Ray replied, averting his gaze back to your finger as he delicately wiped at your finger. Clearly, he was no stranger to disinfecting wounds.

‘You look just like a Prince. I was reading earlier, ‘The Happy Prince’ by Oscar Wilde specifically, and when I read about the Prince having sapphires for eyes, I pictured yours.’ You reached your hand up to stroke his cheek softly with the back of your fingers. You didn’t have the heart to tell him how sad the story of ‘The Happy Prince’ was.

‘Ah… I don’t really know what to say.’ Ray focused on cleaning your finger, his face growing warm under your affection. He couldn’t have hidden the light dusting of a blush even if he had tried.

‘Oh, I’m sorry! I didn’t mean to embarrass you… Your eyes are just pretty.’ You added, worried that you had somehow made him uncomfortable. It was unlike you to be so upfront with Ray, but you just had a pull, a need, to make sure he knew how precious he truly was. He’d never think it for himself, so you wanted to make sure someone told him, at the very least, that he was cherished.

‘P-pretty? I’ve never considered myself pretty, but I like pretty things, like you, and flowers, and the sky… Will you allow me to do something a little bolder than usual?’ He asked, pulling his icy eyes up to meet your gaze for a moment.

‘Of course.’ You knew he’d never do anything without your consent, and you trusted Ray to always treat you with tenderness, so even his ‘boldness’ was sweet. He took a quick intake of breath before bringing your fingertip up to his lips and placing the softest kiss upon where the small prick of blood had begun to reappear, leaving a tiny dot of red on his lips when they left your flesh.

‘I want to… be a Prince for you. They kiss their beloved’s hands, right? And uhm, they- they kiss their love to break the spell.’ He spoke, looking back at your hand as he cupped it with both of his own.

‘True Love’s first kiss? But we’ve kissed before.’ You added, a little confused. You’d done more than kiss before, you’d been with Ray for a few months and the intimacy had been forthcoming. Ray’s adoration was obsessive and, whilst he struggled to accept it, no amount of physical affection was ever enough. He always craved more from the second it was over. But he was uncertain and shy, so sometimes he didn’t know how to ask for more and would, in turn, suffer until you next bestowed it upon him.

‘I wasn’t a Prince then… I want to look after you and treat you like a Princess.’ He said, wrapping the band-aid around your finger and only released your hand to tidy the first-aid box away. You noticed that he hadn’t wiped the blood from his lips despite there being no way that he wasn’t aware of its presence. It was probably the most colour he had on his face at that moment, even in the dim lighting of your bedroom. Ray was almost ghostly in appearance, and yet, so beautiful. It pained you that he couldn’t see that in himself.

‘Okay, you can be my Prince, Ray.’ You whispered. It took a moment for him to hesitate before he tentatively pressed his lips against yours. You hadn’t seen Ray for so long, you had almost forgotten how much you craved his touch. His lips were cold and chapped, more so than usual because of having not looked after himself properly. There was a small tinge from the metallic taste of blood before it quickly vanished, and you could taste the hint of all the sugary snacks that Ray had been subsisting on in his IT room. He was quicker to deepen the kiss than usual, not that you were complaining, but at some point or another: you needed to stop to breathe. It was painfully obvious by the darkening look in Ray’s eyes that he’d have much rather given you his last breath than to pull apart for just a moment longer because as soon as he could, he was back to steal intoxicating kisses from you. You supposed it was due to the lengthy separation that had made Ray be this needy, almost to the point of  obsessive , but his kisses were like a drunken summer’s evening: warm and yearning. Yearning for the heat he was so constantly deprived of.

This wasn’t your first time together, so Ray knew what you liked. He knew you liked when he kissed down your neck, when his fingertips danced along your bare shoulders, or when you could feel him whispering into your ear. He was always so meticulously focused on pleasing you that always knew what to do even if he didn’t always have the confidence to execute it without coaxing. This was not one of those times. Ray felt this hunger for you each time, but this time, he didn’t feel the same level of uncertainty that he usually did. Perhaps it was the sleep deprivation, or maybe it was having not had his hands on you in almost a week, but at that moment: you were the drug that Ray was the most addicted to. As he kissed along your neck, your hands found their way into his soft, white hair. Without either of you mentioning it, you both fell back onto the bed together, with Ray leaning over you to continue kissing the sensitive skin on your throat. You couldn’t help but let out small gasps and whimpers under his touch, you really had missed him, after all.

‘Ray…’ You half said, half-moaned. You could feel yourself getting turned on, but the rational part of your brain was reminding you that Ray should get some sleep after having worked for such a long period of time. You wanted him to look after himself, even though that clearly wasn’t at the forefront of his own mind in that moment.

‘Yes, my Princess?’ He pulled away from your neck to ask, looking down into your face from above. He was panting slightly, and you didn’t think it was just from the kissing. Like you, he was flushed in the face and his eyes were half-lidded from sheer  hunger.

‘Don’t you think… that you should get some sleep? You were working for so long.’ You said, reaching a hand down from his head to cup his face.

‘D-do you want me to stop?’ Ray asked quickly, a moment of panic flashing that perhaps he had gotten too ahead of himself, that you didn’t want his touch.

‘No, but you’re tired and-’

‘This…is nothing. What kind of Prince doesn’t give his Princess the attention that she deserves, especially after he’s neglected her all week? I-I’ll do anything you ask of me, since it’s you.’ Ray was relieved that it wasn’t him misreading the situation, and you were just concerned for his wellbeing. This wasn’t the lost endurance test he’d had; he could stay awake a little bit longer if it meant getting to be in your company. That much he could manage.

‘A-ah…’ You gasped as he turned to kiss along your bare shoulder. You had missed the sensation of being underneath him like this. His cravat was lightly tickling your chest and you laughed involuntarily. He didn’t take his mouth off of you, but you felt him reach up to his neck with one hand and tug the cravat loose, so it didn’t tickle you as much. He also undid his top button, probably to allow himself to breathe better.

‘H-how do you want me to please you?’ Ray asked, still looking for the confidence to be bolder with verbalising what he wanted to say.

‘Mhm, touch me… Ray.’ You moaned into his ear. You decided that if he really wanted to spend the night with his first moment of freedom, who were you to deny the both of you that enjoyment?

‘Like- like this?’ He asked as he tentatively laid on the bed, half next to you and half on top of you. His gloved hand slowly moved up towards your inner thigh as you parted them to grant him access. Ray’s hand disappeared underneath the hem of your black dress as his fingers found the fabric of your underwear. His confidence seemed to falter for a moment of uncertainty until your own hands found their way into his hair again and you pressed a few butterfly kisses against his sharp jawline.

Usually, Ray took his gloves off to touch you since you wouldn’t actually see his hands in the darkness, but this time he kept them on, primarily because you said that you liked them, and secondly because he wanted to live up to the princely imagery you had described to him. His fingers pressed against you gently, moving in small circular motions up and down the length of you. He’d occasionally vary the pressure depending on which spot he was touching, since he didn’t want to accidentally hurt you. He was teasing you and he didn’t even realise he was doing it. Ray quickly found the spot which made you moan the most. Since he was wearing his gloves, he couldn’t physically feel how turned on you were, so he relied on the mewls you emitted to know that he was doing a good job.

‘More… please.’ You sighed underneath his touch. Ray’s hand found its way into your underwear and you moaned into his mouth as you continued to kiss him, It was safe to say that the situation that definitely gotten heated, but you couldn’t tell from whose face the heat radiated the most, ‘Yeah, just like that…’ You affirmed as his fingers circled around your folds, occasionally teasing at your clit. You briefly wondered why he’d didn’t keep his gloves on for this more often, it felt so good. It carried a certain emotion, being touched with leather gloves, that was making you physically weak at the knees. As much as you enjoyed the feeling of his skin on you, you couldn’t deny that the gloves were definitely doing it for you too. He could feel the slickness of your arousal as his gloved fingers slid along your folds until you were melting against his chest. Ray liked that he was in a position to be able to continuously kiss you as he stroked you, he needed all of you at once. He wanted to be in every single one of your senses, the same way that you were all-encompassing to his. His fingers left you briefly, and you mourned for the sudden lost sensation.

‘My princess, would you mind, uhm, lifting your hips up for me?’ He asked in a husky manner that was almost unlike him. He sounded so needy, you immediately complied and helped him to remove your underwear. While you were there, you also kicked off the slipped that you had put on for your long-forgotten walk into the garden. Once you laid back down, Ray’s obsessive hands soon found their way back to your body.

After another minute or so of circling your clit, his fingers lowered themselves to your entrance. He waited, asking for permission, before slowly entering you with his hand. As always, he was patient with your body, especially after having not touched you for a while. He added one finger at first, moving it slowly to let you adjust, before quickly adding another. You had missed the feeling of having him inside you like this. Ray had to adjust his wrist slightly before he continued to let him curl his finger against you, rubbing along your wall in a ‘come hither’ motion. While you had some lube in your bedside table, you didn’t think there’d be a need for it, since you could feel how turned on you were from the cool air hitting the wetness on your  thighs.  You moaned out affection and affirmations to Ray as he increased his speed as he let you pull him into kisses at will or held his head against your chest. However you wanted to hold him, he’d happily go along with it.

‘It’s so good, Ray- ah, right there!’ You choked as he hit the spot that made you almost see stars. He tried to focus on hitting that spot, again and again, his hand becoming wetter and wetter which each passing tap on your g-spot. You were somewhat embarrassed that you could actually hear the motion of Ray’s fingers moving in and out of you but it just seemed to spur him on more. He really was talented with those fingers.

‘I want... more. I saw something that I want to try. I-I promise I’ll do my best to make it feel good… I don’t quite know how to phrase it. I want to taste you, from above-’ He explained, slightly haphazardly.

‘Are you sure? Won’t I be too heavy?’ You questioned; a little bit uncertain of his request.

‘Of course not. In the video I saw, they used a pillow to support their neck and-’ He started, but you couldn’t help interject with laughter.

‘Ray, were you watching porn?’ It just seemed so out of character for him.

‘No! I mean, technically, yes. It wasn’t mine… I was checking that none of the Believers were trying to look at stuff they shouldn’t be and I… found a video. I thought it looked like you might enjoy it. I found that I… wanted to please you like that.’ His face flushed with embarrassment, even after everything that had just happened, he was suddenly embarrassed that he stumbled across and watched a porn video.

‘We can try it, if you want.’ The embarrassment spread from Ray to you, realising that you were, in fact, going to be sitting on his face. You were a little bit self-conscious about your body, so you said you wanted to keep your dress on, and Ray replied that thought you were beautiful, but he understood body issues and wouldn’t push you since this was already out of your comfort zone. Ray removed his fingers from you again and, with his other hand, he laid a pillow flat on the bed and positioned it so his neck was supported at a slight angle. You were a little nervous about hurting him, but since he wanted to try it, you were willing to give it a try.

You sat up, unsure how to how exactly you were supposed to get on his face without crushing him, but still equally as desperate for stimulation. You lifted your dress up and bunched it at your hips, throwing one leg over Ray’s chest so you were almost straddling him at the next. You waited for him to give the okay to move closer and put yourself in his mouth. You felt his hands steady your thighs as he nudged you close to him, clearly equally as eager to use his mouth on you as you were to have him do it.

Ray started with a few small, sensitive kisses along your folds, earning small shudders from above. You felt a little scared to move, in case you fell and hurt him, so you intended to just let him take his time in what he was doing, he was going you so much attention after all. You felt him stick out his tongue and run it in a line up and down you, your breath hitching in your throat when he grazed it over your clit again and again. And then, almost all at once, Ray pushed your hips into your face, so you were completely on his mouth. It was as though something took over him, a hungry desire that he didn’t verbalise, but you could see burning in his eyes as he took mouthful after mouthful of you, You threw your head back in pleasure and choked out his name in broken moans. You hadn’t expected Ray to be so upfront with wanting to do something like this, and then actually taking control with it.

His gloved hands were on your hips, moving you over his mouth with speed. He was practically  begging  you to use him, to let him make you feel good. Ray wanted nothing more than to be useful to you, especially like this. He  needed  that useless body of his to be good for something, to be good for you. He’d never want for anything ever again if you were to, at the very least, allow him to stay by your side like this. This much he could do. Was it selfish of him to think such a thing? Perhaps. But he decided that, with everything he’d endured in his life, he was allowed to keep that one selfish thought close to his heart. It was a little difficult for him to manage while you were obstructing his view, but Ray undid his trousers and began lightly touching his own erection since it had become uncomfortable to ignore, using your own arousal on his gloves as a lubricant. He was already painfully hard from pleasuring you, but he didn’t need any of the attention to be on him tonight, he wanted to be there just to please you, to  serve  you.

He stroked himself with one hand and continued to guide you over his face with the other. He  particularly  liked it when you found the confidence to grip your hands in his hair and start moving yourself against his tongue, using him in the way he wanted you to. You had already been starting to get close to an orgasm when Ray had had his hands inside of you, so it didn’t take very long for the sensation to start building once again. Personally, Ray didn’t have too much stamina so he had to delay his own orgasm for as long as possible to be able to continue watching the show above him to his utmost benefit. He preferred watching you as you moved against him, and he felt drunk when you made eye contact with him whilst you did it. He was the only one who got to see you like this,  the only one.  He didn’t care what he had to do to keep it that way, he’d be possessive, obsessive, compulsive if needs be to ensure that that would remain the case.

Above, you felt the pressure of an orgasm building quickly under the merciless assault of Ray’s tongue. You could feel that Ray was picking up his own pace and moaning onto you, which felt fucking  great.  He was starting to get close too, which made sense because of how aroused he had been just from touching you. Besides, he definitely hadn’t had any time to release himself all week, he was probably just a bit pent up too.   His lips were pursed over your clit, swapping between kissing it and sucking on it and then using his tongue when you picked up speed in order to let you fuck yourself on it, praises and prayers falling freely from your mouth.

‘Fuc- Ray! I think I’m gonna-’ You didn’t even have a chance to finish your statement before Ray picked up the speed he was moving your hips at, quickly sending you over the edge in his mouth. Did he stop moving you, just because you’d climaxed?  Absolutely not.  Through the blinding pleasure, Ray continued to use his mouth on you until your legs started to twitch from the overstimulation. It was watching you writhe above him, knowing that he’d done such a good job that allowed him to find his own orgasm too, quickly releasing over his hand. He touched himself through his peak, mentally visualising how both of your arousals must look mixed between his fingertips. He closed his eyes, feeling lost in the moment where all of his pent-up frustrations from the last week came crumbling down into a moment of practical peace.

When he was done, you removed yourself from his mouth and collapsed on the bed next to him. You were both panting heavily as you crawled to his side, placing exhausted kisses along his jaw and temple. His hair was a mess from where you’d run your hands through it, but you thought it just made him look cute. You weren’t surprised to see how quickly the exhaustion took over Ray after he caught his breath and you convinced him to take the risk and sleep in your room for the night, since you weren’t entirely certain he’d made it all of the way back to his own room without passing out. You took turns in the bathroom, cleaning yourselves up from the unfolded events of the night, and crawled into bed together.

‘I love you, Ray. I really do.’ You said, embraced in one another’s arms in the darkness.

‘I love you too, my sweet Princess.’ He replied, clearly trying to fight off the sleep to continue talking to you.

You pressed one more kiss into his pale cheek, ‘I wish you’d know how precious you were to me.’ You whispered, but he was already unconscious.

[flames-bring-a-ton-of-ash]

Irresistible Danger - Part 54

Synopsis:  After being caught outside the compound on your own, Negan decides to punish you in the best way possible ;)

Words: 3,305

Warnings: nsfw, smut, swearing

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Allies and Foes

You woke up the next morning to an empty bed, the cooled sheets and pillow telling you that Negan had been gone for a while. A quick glance at the clock showed it was almost 9am, and you lazily stretched underneath the red satin, enjoying the ability to sleep in. 

You vaguely remembered Negan waking you up with a kiss to the neck earlier, when it was still mostly dark in the room. He had murmured something about a meeting with his Saviors, and you had responded by turning over and grumbling for him to let you go back to sleep. The last thing you remembered was his low chuckle, and then you were out again. 

Reluctantly rolling out of the ridiculously luxuriant bed (seriously, where did he find such a soft mattress during the apocalypse?!), you started getting dressed. Unfortunately, you only had the outfit from yesterday, which wasn’t the cleanest after being out in the woods, but it would have to do until you returned to your own room. 

The intrusive thought hit that maybe you could leave a few items of clothing here, so that you had more morning-after options for next time. You quickly dashed the thought, not wanting to get ahead of yourself. Sure, you had now spent the past three nights in a row with Negan, and two of those nights had been in his bed, but that didn’t seem like long enough to start moving in items. Just the thought of Negan doing something so domestic as allowing you to start taking over his armoire and bathroom drawers made you chuckle at the ridiculousness of it. 

Though, doing so would mean more events like last night could easily occur, since you wouldn’t have to keep running back to your room for more clothes or other belongings. Your mind flashed to the shower, and what the two of you had done in it the previous evening. How you had gone to your knees and proceeded to blow both his cock and his mind. He had been particularly vocal, his sharp grunts and loud moans echoing off the tiles as he ran shaky fingers through your hair and made you feel like the most seductive woman on the planet.  

Still smiling at the memory, you finished zipping up the boots, grabbed Ricardo, and headed out of the bedroom and across his office to the door. Creaking it open a few inches, you peeked down the hall. Seeing that it was clear, you quietly exited the room, shut the door behind you, and speed-walked down the halls and to the stairwell needed to get back to your room. Letting out a little puff of relief when you made it to your own floor, you slowed down the pace a bit, no longer needing to scurry like a roach caught in the kitchen when the lights turned on. Honestly, the fact that you had yet to run into a Savior or wife while making the morning-after trek to and from Negan’s room was really damn lucky and-

“Hey!”

The sound of a voice just as your hand was reaching out for the door knob to your room caused you to jump about a foot in the air. Whirling around, you saw none other than Maria at the opposite end of the hall, waving her hand in greeting as she came towards you. 

Crap. Couldn’t the universe have at least let you put on clean underwear first? 

Much as you didn’t want to interact with someone at the moment, you couldn’t help but recall the last time Maria had tried to speak with you, in this very hall. It had been after Negan confronted you about the pregnancy test, and you had completely ignored her and rushed past without a word. At the time you had been too emotional to care, but now you knew that she was owed an apology, not to mention the fact that you hadn’t really chatted or hung out with her since the night out at the picnic table. Doing the mental math, you realized that late night conversation had to have been a little over two weeks ago. Yea, you had been a shit friend to Maria lately, and it was totally deserved karma to have her pop up when you weren’t really prepared for social interaction. Well, you would just have to get over it. She didn’t deserve to keep being pushed aside, and you wouldn’t do so to her again. 

Pasting on a grin, you opened the door and gestured for her to come inside. She preceded you into the room and settled on the rickety little bed. You tried to nonchalantly lean Ricardo against the wall, in hopes she wouldn’t ask why you were walking around with a weapon so early in the morning. Thankfully, she seemed too busy scanning the meager surroundings to notice. It had been a while since she was in your space, and you tried to take in the tiny room from her perspective, wondering if she found it lacking. You weren’t sure what the wives’ rooms looked like, since apparently Negan wasn’t keen on them having visitors up there, but if it was anything like the fancy clothes they wore then it was sure to be much nicer than your own room. 

Just thinking about them made a lump of discomfort form in your stomach. It wasn’t as if you had forgotten about the fact that the man you were developing feelings for had a harem of women he called his wives, but it had been a lot easier to push them to the back of your mind when one wasn’t sitting in front of you. 

Not wanting to waste time with small talk, especially when you both were smart enough to know it was a shallow distraction, you dove right in.

“I want to apologize for the other day, when I ignored you. That was shitty of me, and I’m sorry.”

She gave a tiny smile, and you immediately knew that she wasn’t mad. Of course she wasn’t. This was Maria, and she was one of the most forgiving and patient people you had known since the apocalypse began. The fact that she was still willing to even deal with your fickle ass, especially after your last couple of interactions, was proof enough of that. 

“It’s alright,” she replied. “You looked pretty frazzled anyways. Everything okay?”

“I don’t know about everything, but things are alright,” you mumbled, almost hoping she wouldn’t hear the words.

You started picking at a stray thread on the grey cotton sheets, unable to help but compare them to the luxury of Negan’s satiny red ones. Ugh, why didn’t you just stay in his bed all morning, instead. You could’ve enjoyed physical comfort and social isolation there. 

Able to feel the weight of Maria’s gaze, you lifted your head to look at her. As expected, she was watching you closely, the slightest ghost of a smile tipping one corner of her mouth. “What?” you asked, not rudely, but perhaps a bit impatiently. She looked like she knew a secret that you didn’t, and you wanted her to just spit it out already.

“You spent the night with him,” she stated in a gentle tone, and when you jerked in surprise and opened your mouth to say....well, you had no clue what you were going to say, but thankfully she cut you off. “Which means,” she continued with a raised palm, a silent gesture for you to not get defensive just yet, “that considering how negatively you viewed his multiple wives situation, you must also know he stopped sleeping with them.”

Mouth still hanging open, you stared her down for a few seconds before snapping it shut. Making a “go on” gesture with your hand, you waited for her to continue with wherever it was she wanted this conversation to lead. 

She then told you how she had suspected for a while now that the reason why Negan stopped coming to see the wives was due to his interactions with you. Her theory had been confirmed after your late night chat out at the picnic table when you admitted to being in his bedroom, somewhere none of the wives had been allowed to enter.

“Why didn’t you tell me?” you whispered, clutching the bedsheet so tightly your fingers were about to go numb. 

“Honestly? Because you weren’t ready to hear the truth, and I knew you’d have completely shut down at the very thought of it. You still wanted to see him as a monster, so I figured I’d just wait and see how things played out. See if he’d keep allowing you to get close to him, or if one of you would get spooked and run, so to speak.”

You mulled this over. Was she right? If she had told you a couple weeks ago that he had suddenly stopped sleeping with all of the wives, would you have believed it? Doubtful. And even if you had, never in a million years would you have listened to her theory that his drastic change in behavior was because of the few interactions he’d had with you up until that point. 

Much as you hated to admit, Maria had been right to keep quiet about it. Though you did wonder how she thought you had found out. Did she assume Negan had told you? Or maybe she was aware of how Amber had been using Trixie, and had come to the correct conclusion on her own. Maria was intelligent, so there was a good chance she knew more about the goings on around here than people gave her credit for. You wanted to ask how much she knew, but also didn’t want to risk outing Trixie, since she had told you that information in strict confidence.

Instead, you asked, “So now that you think I am ready to hear the truth, is there anything else I should know? Are the others coming up with a plan of how to quietly dispose of me, so that Negan will pay attention to them again?” 

You said it jokingly, but were honestly curious to know how they felt about these recent changes. Amber obviously wasn’t your biggest fan, but what about the others? Did they see you as a threat to the luxuries they enjoyed here? Honestly, if the roles were switched, and they were the ones threatening whatever you had going on with Negan, you’d be tempted to sharpen mini-Ricardo shanks and take them out one by one. Your subconscious whole-heartedly agreed, giving a battle cry and stabbing at the air, as if taking out imaginary opponents, while your brain sighed and rolled its eyes.

“Well actually, we did recently have a group conversation about you.” 

She said this calmly, but it still made your eyes go wide as you exclaimed, “You what?”

“It was a few days ago. Amber had been throwing a real tantrum after she tried to take Negan a dinner tray, and found him already in his office eating with you.”

Oh yea, you remembered that event, vividly. It had been about a week ago, before his last supply run. It was the evening he had confessed to you about his dead wife, and then Amber interrupted by knocking on the door with a tray. It had been apparent she wasn’t happy to see you there, nor to be sent away by Negan, so you weren’t surprised to hear she hadn’t handled it well afterwards. 

Nodding for her to go on, Maria continued. “We let her vent about it for a couple days, since I think we were all hoping she’d eventually let it go the way she does most things that get under her skin. But she was like a dog with a bone this time, and kept running her mouth to all of us about how you were stealing Negan from us, and that if we continued to just sit back and let this happen, we were putting our status here in jeopardy.”

Sweat broke out on the back of your neck at the possibilities of where this story could be going. Just the thought of the wives sitting around talking about you as a potential threat or enemy made your stomach flop, but you stayed quiet and let Maria finish.

“She was really trying to get the rest of us riled up, and then one evening she started telling us all that we better be prepared to start scrubbing toilets for points, since we were willing to just let him toss us to the curb. That was when Sherry finally stepped in and put her foot down.”

“Wait, Sherry?!” you blurted, absolutely shook at this turn of events. 

Maria nodded. “Yep. She told Amber that all she was doing was starting unnecessary drama, and that Negan had never given any indication that we would lose our privileges or have to start working for points just because he isn’t fucking us every night. Amber tried to argue at first, but Sherry held her ground. Told her that she’d gladly go get Negan, so Amber could tell him her concerns face-to-face, rather than continuing to make assumptions behind his back. That shut her up real quick, and she stormed into her bedroom and stayed there the rest of the night. I haven’t heard her say anything else about it since. She’s still sulking around a bit, but at least she’s been quiet.”

Your brain was struggling to take all this in, especially the part where Sherry had not only stood up for you, but done so against another wife. Crap, now you really felt like an asshole for being jealous and internally snarky towards her that day in the kitchen, when she took you to the medic after you cut your finger. 

“Do you actually think she’ll let it go now?” You had a feeling that you already knew the answer, but couldn’t help asking.

Maria sighed. “I can’t say for sure, but Amber doesn’t seem like the kind of person who is okay with not being doted on. I don’t think she has any particularly strong feelings towards Negan, but she enjoys the status of being a wife. It can be a bit of a power trip, to catch the attention of a man like him, even if for shallow reasons.”

“Yea, don’t I know it,” you mumbled under your breath. 

Maria raised an eyebrow, having obviously heard. “I don’t think I’d classify his attention towards you as shallow.” 

Giving a huffed laugh and shrug, you tried to play it off. “Yea, well, is anything about Negan easy enough to classify?”

“Probably not,” she said with a shrug. “But that’s part of what makes him so intriguing, right?”

“If by intriguing you mean confounding as hell, then sure.” 

Despite your annoyed tone, you were genuinely smiling at this point. Part of you wondered if this should feel more weird than it did, talking to a woman who was Negan’s “wife”, and had most likely slept with him, about whatever it was he had going on with you. 

As if reading your thoughts, Maria’s face became more serious. “I hope this doesn’t make you feel like you can’t still talk to me, or see me as a friend.”

If you were being totally honest with yourself, the whole situation didn’t make you feel 100% comfortable, but you were pretty sure that was because of the possessive part of you that wanted him all to yourself. But was that a realistic emotion to even have, with a man like him? Could you be okay with him continuing to publicly have “wives”, even if he wasn’t sleeping with them? And what if he later decided to go back to them? It’s not as if he knew that you were aware he wasn’t sleeping with them at the moment. 

Mentally shoving those questions into the padlocked box with the other unanswered questions, you honestly replied, “I’m not totally sure how I feel about all of this yet, but I definitely still see you as a friend, so no worries on that front.” 

“I’m glad,” Maria said with a nod. “And in case I didn’t make it obvious, no part of me will be upset if Negan decides he doesn’t want to give us the same privileges anymore. Well, so long as you promise to give me a spot in the kitchen, so I’m not stuck scrubbing toilets beside Amber.” 

“Deal,” you said with a laugh, glad that the air had been cleared between the two of you, and that she wasn’t harboring ill feelings towards you for taking Negan’s attention away from her and the other wives. Part of you even wondered if she had spent much alone time with him, since she hadn’t been his wife for very long when he stopped sleeping with them, but some things were just better left unknown. Besides, it’s not like he slept cuddled against any of them all night afterwards, or let them in his bed...or his shower.

Your subconscious was feeling awfully smug at that thought, nose in the air as it strutted around with a superiority complex. Meanwhile, your brain was pointing at the padlocked box of questions in annoyance, a motion which the subconscious purposely ignored. 

You chatted with Maria for a bit longer, the conversation much lighter and more frivolous than before. It felt good to just hang out and discuss random topics, the way you had when the two of you were surviving for weeks out in the woods together. You might’ve each taken very different paths when it came to Sanctuary life, but it was a relief to know that the connection you had formed prior to coming here surpassed those differences. You also appreciated that she didn’t push for more information about you and Negan, and didn't even mention his name again. 

When she left a little while later, a glance at your watch showed that dinner prep was in about two hours. Grateful for the chunk of alone time, you finally changed into fresh clothes and propped yourself up in bed with the copy of Harry Potter. You smiled when removing the little piece of paper you had torn from your notebook as a bookmark. While this one was blank, there was a second little piece of paper that was bookmarking a place closer to the beginning of the book. This piece of paper you had marked in pencil with the letter N, and it held the spot where Negan had stopped reading yesterday morning. You had stuck it in there after he left your room, the book having been face down on your side table where he placed it when you woke up and distracted him. Hoping that he’d return to reading it, especially if you kept his place, you couldn’t help but mark his spot. 

Just the thought of his possible reactions to some of the plot twists had you smiling, at the same time as a devious thought crept into your head. If you made sure to get him hooked on the first book, he’d definitely have to find copies of the other ones in the series to share with you, right? There’s no way someone can read the first book and not need to also read the rest.

Both subconscious and brain nodded in agreement at this theory before cuddling up on either side of you, so that they could also see the opened book. Diving back into the story with a contented sigh, you immersed yourself in the magical world, not planning a return to reality and all the awaiting unanswered questions until it was time to head downstairs for dinner prep.

~  ~  ~  ~  ~  ~  ~  ~  ~

[wistfulcynic]

from one minute to the next

A little something inspired by the prompts @winterbythesea posted here and here and here. This is not those prompts exactly (nor is it what I outlined on the discord, sorry guys) but I think it carries the same lighthearted dumbass energy as they do. 

Also, Killian Jones does not know what a ‘date’ is. Fight me, show. 

Summary: Emma’s not quite sure how it happened, but somehow she finds herself going from single and solitary in the city one minute to smoothly co-parenting with her ex, living with a pirate, and at home in a town full of storybook characters the next. 

Home. She never thought she’d have one of those. 

This is the story of how she got there. 

(also no! curse! renaissance! 3B divergence without Pan’s curse) 

<3k words  Rated T

AO3

-

from one minute to the next: 

Emma was never entirely certain how it happened. 

One minute she was telling Neal she didn’t want to get back together with him, that it was just too late for them now, and he was looking sad but in a resigned sort of way, as though he regretted the truth of her words while still recognising that they were true. 

“For what it’s worth,” he said. “I am sorry. I shouldn’t have listened to August. I shouldn’t have left you like that. If I hadn’t…” 

He didn’t finish the sentence, but he didn’t have to. They both knew how different things would have been if he hadn’t left her. And they both knew that it was far too late to undo what had been done. The only option left was to move on. 

“We found each other again, though,” she reminded him. “And we found Henry.” 

“You mean Henry found us.” 

“Yeah, that’s probably more accurate.” 

They shared a chuckle, and for the briefest moment the years fell away and she remembered why she’d fallen for him. And for the first time since she’d run him down in a New York alleyway, Emma looked at Neal and she felt hopeful.  

“Anyway,” she said, “Henry wants both of us in his life. He deserves that, and I think he needs it. And I think for it to work we need to try to be friends.” 

“No hard feelings, then?” Neal asked, hopefully. 

Emma hesitated. 

What did she feel for Neal? There was still affection, of course there was—the stubborn remnants of a passionate first love that she doubted would ever fully die. There was resentment too, a lot of it, and a lot of hurt. A fair bit of anger. So yeah, there were some hard feelings, but there also wasn’t much point in attempting to hash any of them out with Neal. Not when they needed to move forward.   

She produced a smile, slightly stiff at the edges but he didn’t seem to notice. 

“Sure. No hard feelings.” 

Neal’s face broke into a grin, the wide, happy kind that crinkled his eyes and once upon a time would have sent Emma’s heartbeat into overdrive. Now it just made her think of another crinkly grin, one far rarer and all too often tinged with sadness. 

“Neal,” she said. “I’ve got to go.” 

-

The next minute she was at the docks, breathing deeply and gathering her courage, looking up at the Jolly Roger and hoping Hook—Killian—would be there, in his cabin, maybe with his flask and one of the books that lined his shelves. More than once these past few weeks she’d caught him tucked up in a corner somewhere, reading, and Belle informed her that he actually had a library card. 

“He didn’t have the required ID,” she’d said with a little smirk. “But I think we all know who he is.” 

Emma was pretty sure she did know that, now, and the knowledge propelled her forward, onto the deck of the ship then down to his cabin where she knocked firmly on his door and shivered a bit when his voice called for her to enter. 

He looked up, surprise registering on his face followed swiftly by the delight he could never quite conceal when he saw her. 

“Swan,” he purred. “To what do I owe the pleasure?” 

Emma’s heart was pounding and her throat dry, and honestly it was ridiculous to be this nervous, it wasn’t like he was going to say no. 

“I’m, um. Heretoaskyouout,” she blurted. 

He frowned. “To what?” 

Emma drew a deep breath and tried again. “Ask you out.” 

“Out of where?” 

“What? No. What?” 

“Where do you want me to go out of? This is my ship.” 

Emma resisted the urge to smack herself on the forehead. Of course he didn’t know what ‘ask you out’ meant, he was like a thousand years old. “No, no, I mean out on a date,” she explained. Tried to explain anyway, though his confusion just grew more apparent. “Like, to dinner or something. You and me. Out.” 

“Ah. Ah.” 

She watched as he turned the unfamiliar phrase over in his head, watched his eyes brighten with interest at learning a new thing, then when he finally realised fully what it meant she watched a rosy pink flush creep across his cheekbones and up to the tips of his ears. 

He swallowed, and when he spoke again his voice was gruff. “Let me be certain I understand. You want us, as in you and me, to go someplace and eat dinner together. Just—just us?” 

She nodded. “Yeah.” 

“And in this realm that is called a date?” 

“Yeah.” 

“And am I to understand that there are… romantic connotations to these dates?”

‘Romantic connotations’, she thought, for fuck’s sake, and did her best to ignore the fluttery feeling she always got in her belly whenever he broke out the big words. Aloud she said “Yeah.” 

“I see.” He swallowed again. “And when do you propose we have this date?” 

“Um. Tonight?” 

Aaand there it was, that wide and crinkly grin that made the blood rush far too recklessly through her veins, this time with no sadness lurking behind his eyes. None at all. 

“Tonight it is, then,” he said. 

-

One minute Emma was alone and telling herself she was content to be so, the next she had parents and a son and an ex who was almost a friend, and she was dating. Dating Hook, which she told herself firmly was only weird if she thought too hard about it. She wasn’t actually dating Captain Hook, of course she wasn’t. That would be ridiculous. No, she was dating Killian Jones—who was surprisingly, endearingly, sweet and nervous about it at first, like he wasn’t entirely certain her interest was real and was doing his utmost to tread carefully.

Emma didn’t want him always on his best behaviour, though, and while Killian was wonderful she knew that both of them still needed at least a little bit of Hook. And so it was that after their third date, when Henry was with Neal and Emma had made it very clear to her parents that they were not to expect her home before morning, that she and Killian stumbled back to his ship tipsy on rum but drunk on each other, and she made certain he understood exactly how interested she was. 

It was very. She was very interested. 

And when they awoke the next morning and she groaned at the glaring sunlight and pressed her face into his neck, muttering that it was too damn early and she needed caffeine, he ran his fingers through her hair and informed her he had a coffeemaker in his galley. 

She pulled back and blinked at him. “You what?” 

He flushed slightly, though with a pleased grin. “I asked Granny and she showed me what I needed, and helped me buy it.”

“But why? You don’t drink coffee.” 

He shrugged. “It’s growing on me. And besides, I thought—well, I hoped—that you might want to spend some time aboard ship in the future and, well, I want you to feel comfortable here and to have the things you like.” 

She stared at him for a moment as his flush deepened, then surged forward and kissed him, wrapped herself tightly around him and kissed him and kissed him until they were both breathless and the coffee forgotten until much, much, much later. 

-

Another minute passed and they were marking six months together. Emma had rented a place of her own, nothing fancy but hers, and she and Killian were spending most of their nights there. Her bed was bigger than the bunk in his cabin, softer and with actual springs, and her parents, Granny, and Ruby had all chipped in to buy her an espresso machine. Small but serviceable, like her apartment. Granny taught both her and Killian how to use it—and honestly, Emma thought, you haven’t truly lived until you’ve seen a shirtless pirate with a hook for a hand whip up a latte on a Sunday morning—and she was, tentatively, happy. 

Very happy. 

She didn’t see too much of Neal. He spent time with Henry of course and with Belle, renovating the pawn shop and brightening it a bit, removing what traces they could of the Dark One’s influence. She also knew he was volunteering at the convent where the Lost Boys lived, helping them get accustomed to life in Storybrooke and make it their home. 

He might also, she suspected, have become somewhat more than friends with Tink. 

-

And then one night Emma and Killian had dinner at a new place by the docks, where they gorged on seafood and drank a bit too much wine and decided, for safety and for old times’ sake, to spend the night on the Jolly Roger rather than trying to get home. 

Home. She had a home now, and a man who as good as lived there with her. She should really get around to asking him to live there officially, she knew. She kept meaning to. She wanted to, she truly did. But as conversations go that one felt so weighty and so significant that she wanted to be sure to do it right and so in the end she’d done nothing at all—nothing except feel that little bit more guilty each time Killian asked her politely if it was all right for him to stay. 

Yes, she wanted to tell him. Stay forever. Soon she would. 

They stumbled onto the ship and to his cabin, foolish and messy in a way they hadn’t been for a while. Emma realised she had missed this a bit, the dark, almost feral look in Killian’s eyes when he was just this shade of drunk and she was naked in his bed on his ship. 

“You are… so beautiful, Emma,” he growled against her throat as his fingers tangled in her hair. “Have I told you how you steal my breath away?” 

“Not for at least an hour,” she teased. 

“Remiss of me.” 

“Mmm. However will you… ohhh… make it up to me?” 

He pulled back and looked down at her, his eyes glinting in the moonlight. “Oh, I have one or two ideas.” 

-

They woke late the next morning as was their habit on a Sunday, and Emma groaned as the light pierced her eyelids and straight through her throbbing head. 

“Killian.” She poked him in the ribs. 

“Mmphh,” he replied. 

“You still have your… thing. Right? Coffee thing? In the galley?” 

“Aye.” He rubbed his eyes and blinked. “I believe there’s aspirin in there as well.” 

Emma turned her poking finger into a caressing one, stroking him with the tip of it. “Killian,” she said again, in a wheedling tone. 

“It’s your turn to make the coffee and you know it, Swan,” he replied, in his pirate captain voice. 

She huffed. He raised an eyebrow. 

“Fine.” She flung the covers off and rolled out of bed, snatched his shirt from the floor and threw it on, buttoning it just enough to keep it from flapping when she walked. “I’m guessing you don’t have milk though.” 

“Certainly not any in a drinkable state. Though there should be some of that horrid creamer.” 

She perked up. “Cinnamon?” 

“What else?” 

In the galley Emma found the coffeemaker and an open packet of coffee that smelled surprisingly fresh given how long it had been since they’d last slept here. There was also the cinnamon creamer, unopened, and a big bottle of aspirin. One minute she was pulling everything off the shelves and turning to set them on the table, and the next the door was swinging open and a person walking through it, and Emma found herself colliding sharply with a bare chest. A familiar bare chest. A familiar bare chest that was not Killian’s. 

“Neal!” she shrieked, dropping everything in her arms. “What the fuck!” 

“Emma!” He looked equally stunned. “What the—what are you doing here?” 

“Here on my—on Hook’s ship, you mean?” My boyfriend’s ship, she wanted to say, but calling a 300-year-old pirate a boyfriend was something she still couldn’t do, however objectively true it may be. 

“The ship he said I could use whenever I needed it?” countered Neal. “Yeah, that one!” 

“He said you could use his ship?” 

“Uh huh, he did. When I, you know.” A shifty look crept onto his face. “Wanted privacy.” 

“Priva-oh!” Emma’s eyes widened as the penny dropped. Neal was still living in his father’s house. The house where Belle also lived. “Um. I see.” 

“Yeah.” Neal didn’t meet her eyes. “But why are you here, don’t you have your own place now?” he demanded. “I thought Hook lived with you.” 

“Not officially,” she muttered. “And we, um, had a bit to drink last night at that new seafood place and you know.” She shrugged. “The ship was closer.” 

“Huh. Well that explains those noises I heard last night.” 

Emma was just about to ask him what the fuck that was supposed to mean when the door opened again and a voice called “Why don’t I smell coff—oh! Um. Hi Emma.” 

Emma pressed her thumbs against her temples. “Hey, Tink.” 

The fairy was dressed identically to how Emma herself was, only the shirt she wore was Neal’s. An old Metallica tee because of course. 

“Well,” said Tink. “That explains those noises we heard.” 

Neal nodded. 

“What noises—” Emma began, then the door opened again. 

“Did you find everything, love—oh. Er.” Killian appeared in the room wearing only his jeans and without his hook. He scratched behind his ear. “Hello, friends and enemies.”

“Hook,” said Tink and Neal. 

“Killian,” said Emma. She crossed her arms over her chest. “You never told me you were letting Neal stay here.” 

“Ah. I did offer him use of the first mate’s quarters whenever he was seeking a bit of privacy, yes. If you remember, love, my quarters proved invaluable in that respect when you were still living with your parents.” 

Emma felt her cheeks grow hot. “Yeah,” she muttered. 

“I merely thought Neal and Tink could do with a bit of the same benefit. And you know the Jolly gets lonely if she’s left by herself for too long. Although,” Killian favoured Neal and Tink with a raised eyebrow and a smirk, “I did make that offer quite some time ago now. And I don’t believe I said anything about staying here.” 

“Yeah, well.” Neal’s face took on that belligerent look he got when he was feeling defensive. “I don’t want to move out of Papa’s place and leave Belle alone.” 

“Are you kidding me?” Emma demanded. 

Everyone stared at her. “What?” asked Neal. 

“Belle’s seeing Ruby.” 

“Ruby?” 

“Yeah. For like three months now. Ruby’s constantly moaning about how they can’t stay at her place because Granny’s got wolf hearing and they can’t go to Belle’s because it’s full of you. Trust me, Belle will be okay if you move out.” 

“Oh,” said Neal blankly. “Well. Fuck.” 

Emma looked around the room, at her current boyfriend and her ex-boyfriend and her ex-boyfriend’s new girlfriend who was also her current boyfriend’s ex… something, all of them in varying states of dishevelment, hangover, and undress, and she started to laugh. 

“Yeah,” she said. “That about sums it up.” 

-

So Emma never did quite figure out how it happened, but somehow she ended up with a home of her own in a fairy tale town with fairy tale friends and a pirate boyfriend, where one minute she was drinking coffee in a ship’s galley with a group of people who knew each other far too intimately for anyone’s comfort and the next her ex and his girlfriend were her neighbours and her pirate was living at her place for good—at their place, now—and her son was bouncing happily between the two apartments save at least one night a week that he spent at Regina’s. She and Neal co-parented better than she could ever have hoped, and every morning she woke up to blue eyes warm with love and lattes made precisely how she liked them. 

And, well. Emma’s happiness wasn’t tentative anymore. 

-

She was happy. Really happy. Truly happy. So happy that when she came home one evening to find the kitchen smoke alarm shrieking and Henry teetering on a stool waving a towel at it as Killian and Neal grappled with some foamy, hissing, smoking substance on the countertop, she wasn’t even mad. 

“What the hell do you idiots think you’re doing?” she demanded. 

“Ems!” 

“Mom!” 

“Swan!” 

“It’s not what it looks like!” they cried in unison. 

Emma shook her head. “I’m going next door,” she said. “To have a beer with Tink. This,” she gestured vaguely at the room, “had better be dealt with by the time I get back.” 

As she turned and headed back out the door, the last thing she heard were three furious voices. 

“Now look what you’ve done!”  

“What I’ve done! It was your idea!” 

“And I still don’t have a science project!” 

Emma grinned, and shut the door firmly behind her.

---

@thisonesatellite @ohmightydevviepuu @mariakov81 @stahlop @kmomof4 @optomisticgirl @spartanguard @shireness-says @thesschesthair @courtorderedcake @everything-person @katie-dub 

[perilousplatforms]

An Update and a Final Farewell

Wow, I haven’t touched this blog in years... hello to anyone who still follows this! It’s been a very, VERY long time since I’ve worked on this project in any capacity, and by now, it’s a relic of years gone by — just about 10 years, if my memory serves me well.

So, to commemorate that anniversary (which is probably not today), I wanted to properly share something to this long-forgotten blog: a project I did in early 2021 as a “final farewell” to this long-forgotten passion project.

[ RECREATING PERILOUS PLATFORMS ] is a recreation of all the levels from various complete(-ish) builds and demos of my old MLP Gen 4 fangame, Pinkie Pie’s Perilous Platforms - designed with the level-creation suite of Nintendo’s Super Mario Maker 2 video game. If you own SMM2, you can find the course world via my maker ID (DDH-165-L5G) or you can click the link to access its portfolio page that lists every individual level’s ID, a short explanation of my process, and a full playlist of my livestreams documenting the process to replay, recreate, and redesign the levels I made very long ago. Quality notwithstanding, I had a great time working on this. It felt very good to analyze younger-me and their level design philosophy at the time, and to critique my video game developer “debut” of sorts. Probably not a home run by any stretch, but a good first start. Depends, really. https://cargocollective.com/sylversedge/Recreating-Perilous-Platforms

I felt it was fair that I make this update to tell folks (or at least anyone remaining) that a lot has happened since I stopped updating the blog. That teaser from 3-4 years ago (this weird bit) was for another idea I had to finally bookend the development journey, but the RPP project ended being a much better sendoff than whatever I had planned years prior. Through random nostalgia flare-ups, storytelling of my personal lore on my Twitch streams, and tons of self-indulgent Internet searches, I’ve come to discover that a good handful of people have played Perilous Platforms in some capacity — via my itch.io page or the old DeviantArt page link, via downloads on Equestria Gaming’s Arcade, features on Equestria Daily, and other specific sites, via BlueMaxima’s Flashpoint app where it’s been properly archived, and by other means that even I’ve yet to uncover. 

Let’s Play videos, written reviews, entries on fan-related MLP wikis, re-uploads on seedy websites, you name it. Thank you so much for playing!

I felt really proud that the game was able to be experienced despite the constant unfinished/unpolished state that it was in, and I just wanted to personally thank everyone for indulging a young rookie game developer that just wanted to contribute so much to a fandom that helped spark their creativity even further, and to also humbly thank everyone for their patronage and support over the years. The last thing I intend to do besides this blog update is to archive the most “complete” version of the game on Flashpoint for everyone to play - at least one that isn’t horribly broken or unplayable. After that, I likely won’t update the blog any further as I don’t use Tumblr in any capacity these days, I’ve long since “left the fandom”, and this is how I’ll finally move forward as a creator. But at the very least, I owe everyone at least a little bit of nostalgia to remember these golden times by. Thank you, and may your lives be filled with as much laughter as Pinkie Pie would’ve wanted. Take care of yourselves. - Sylver P.S. You can watch the entire process of the recreation on my Twitch channel! https://www.twitch.tv/collections/Sn41hVNYehbjTA

[vidavalor]

SamBucky opinions & things...

I’m not going to say who people should ship as it’s everyone’s own opinions and it’s a tv show/film series so it’s not like this is the most important thing on the planet... That said, I’ve seen a few posts from Stucky people who say they actively want to understand what SamBucky shippers see in the pairing and since I’m gone on these two, here are some thoughts... 

If you take a long view-- which the MCU is having you do now because these characters are outlasting Steve Rogers in its canon-- Steve & Bucky, while fun to play with and full of a lot of really great yearning/angsty possibilities back in the day, are really just the formative chapters of Sam & Bucky’s romance. If we got more Sam flashbacks in the story-- and I really hope we do in his canon in the wake of the end of TFATWS (S1?)/CA4-- a Sam & Riley story would be the equivalent to The First Avenger, in terms of it sets up some backstory that leads to where the story is going, as opposed to is the entire story itself. 

A main factor for me in liking Sam & Bucky over Bucky & Steve is that Sam is a healthy, mature choice for Bucky-- a guy who has gone through a hell of a lot here and deserves all the good things-- whereas Steve, while not a bad man, is a regressive choice. It stems from the fact that Steve was never really comfortable with Bucky’s sexuality-- at least not when it mattered-- and that’s because Steve was not comfortable with his own... or much of anything about himself. This still wouldn’t matter so much in terms of who to ship Bucky with if it weren’t also for the fact that Bucky is perfect *for Sam*, who should get all the good things, and we’ll get into that a bit more below. Have to do Steve & Bucky first because chronology and also because that’s the other ship in question here, really. (Sorry, SteveSam people like if you are asking for stuff too and anyone cares, I don’t think I have enough for a whole meta post on why it’s kinda blah, if full of cute friendship moments, but I touch on it a bit further below.)

The entire plot of The First Avenger is about how Steve is obsessed with being Mr. America 1940-- and how he gets to that point is understandable. He was born with a ton of heart, a truly good man, but he’s small and sickly and he doesn’t love himself. He lacks confidence in himself because he holds himself up to a standard of masculinity put forth by a country on the brink of war-- and then, at war-- as physically strong and very, very straight. 

While Steve is desperate to change how he looks, Bucky hides behind how he looks. Steve might look at Bucky and see a lot of what he wishes he was-- the good-looking soldier with a dame on each arm-- but at some point, he becomes aware of how Bucky is playacting. He’s not as he appears to be. He’s a man trying to survive a world that does not accept him and working to pass in that society, all the while with an eye to the World of Tomorrow. Not just the technology that grips his imagination but the idea that things could improve, things could change and he’ll fight for America because he, like Steve and later, Sam, believes in it but while Steve worships it, Bucky can love it while looking at it critically. It’s not built for men like him. 

Steve never fully understands this because while Bucky is trying to show him some of the World of Tomorrow, he’s off making plans to get injected with super serum to fill in the gaps of what he feels he needs to become the man he is supposed to be. 

The key difference between them is that Steve will do anything to be that man-- and that includes shoving any potential feelings he has for Bucky so deep that he won’t even acknowledge them (if he has them at all). Bucky, on the other hand, even in 1940, had more strength. He wasn’t as tormented by who he was. I’m sure he had some of it at some point but by the time we meet him in the movies, he’s fine with who he is, even if the country he serves and the society in which he lives is not. He could basically give af. He doesn’t think in the ‘40s that he’s going to live to see an America that will ever really accept him and he fights for it anyway because Mr. America is really, fundamentally, more Captain America than The OG Captain America. 

Steve is not a bad man by any stretch of the imagination but it’s clear that, at some point, he began to understand that Bucky liked men and while he didn’t do anything horrible about it-- like have Bucky arrested or told anyone else, both of which could have destroyed Bucky’s life at that time-- he never completely approved of it, either. Guaranteed he told Bucky more than once that if he just stopped, if he just found the right woman, etc-- he didn’t mean any harm with it but he was happy to think the way of his era, whereas Bucky was born ahead of his time. Still, Steve is probably the only person that Bucky knew then who knew his secret and that he protected it earned even more of Bucky’s loyalty and devotion. 

Now, consider what happened when Steve Rogers was pulled out of the ice and found himself living in the literal World of Tomorrow. It’s imperfect, for sure. It’s overwhelming for him, especially at first, but it’s a world that he has to feel the wrong guy from the ‘40s has lived to see. How many times did Steve wish Bucky could see this world? How much was he thinking of Bucky when he met the literal son of the creator of the World of Tomorrow in Tony Stark-- a man who would challenge everything Steve thought was true about what it was to be a man? How guilty did Steve feel when he would sometimes get a little closer to being more open about himself in this world of Tony’s, when he’d think of how there had been a man who loved him in their own time, who was his best friend and gave him an unconditional love, even when Steve didn’t love himself, and how Steve just couldn’t love him like that in return? 

Then, Steve’s journey results in him meeting Sam Wilson. They have some things in common-- they both know war and what it’s like to feel like like they might sink to the floor through a mattress. They both know the solitude of the floor and have not seem to have figured out a way beyond that. They both are runners-- literally and figuratively-- as they try to outrun the men from their pasts that they left behind... the fellow soldiers that didn’t make it home and died before their eyes. Sam is a good listener and Steve is Captain America-- they are able to help one another. Steve needs some counseling and Sam needs to feel a connection to the country he’s feeling has left him behind but that he loves. So, naturally, this is of course when Bucky resurfaces in the story. 

The Winter Soldier’s existence breaks Steve in half because, for the first time, Bucky isn’t the strong one of the two of them. Bucky is in trouble and Steve never saved him. Have you all considered that The Howlies should have known Bucky was missing because back then, you left no man behind and they should have hiked down the hill for his body? If it wasn’t there, they should have realized he was *missing* and not *dead*? But they never did. Because, as crushed as he was by the loss of his closest friend, some dark part of Steve let Bucky be dead from that fall and couldn’t face seeing it for real because he couldn’t look at the unseeing, dead eyes of the man who loved him and accepted him, even when Steve was unable to give Bucky the latter in return. It was guilt and then that guilt pops up right as Steve is in conflict with Tony and has just met Sam not that long before-- these relationships with men in the modern era that challenge Steve to be a better version of who he was and who pops up but Steve’s living, breathing, prowling, raging guilt in human form. 

And, man, is it ever causing some serious havoc...

So, why is Sam ultimately better? The guy who advised Steve that sometimes you couldn’t save them all and Bucky might be gone now and just needed to be stopped? 

Steve couldn’t give up on Bucky because he felt he owed him. He had been on his own journey and realized a lot about how he used to think and act and here was Bucky again and a chance to make it up to him in some way. What’s of note, though? Steve does not act like someone who got a long-lost love back. He’s still running for Peggy the moment he has a chance. He’s still not capable of looking at Bucky as anything beyond his oldest, closest friend. What he wants for Bucky, though, is the World of Tomorrow. 

Suddenly, there’s a chance to give to Bucky the thing he’s been thinking all the time since he woke up-- that this is a world for Bucky Barnes. Steve, out of his sense of loyalty and his decades-long guilt, moves heaven and earth to give Bucky that chance and is grateful when T’Challa will help to bring Bucky back. The irony of all of this is that Bucky Barnes, the man who used to hide his true self beneath an exterior identity, is now a man completely trapped beneath The Winter Soldier and when Steve sees a glimmer of that, he *has* to save Bucky. 

What Sam learns along the way is that he and Steve have some things in common, sure, but he has more in common with Bucky Barnes. Sam is a man who understands what it is to have PTSD and the struggle to overcome it. He used to think he was the Steve of this story-- the one who watched his old soldier friend fall to his death-- but he has quickly realized he’s actually the Bucky... the guy who loved a man who couldn’t love him back and who was lost to him, leaving him spinning. Sam knows what it is to have to act in a different way to try to be accepted by a society that doesn’t have your back, even if you love the country with your whole heart anyway. He knows what it’s like to be a veteran who was left behind and forgotten about, discounted and forced to find his own way. For sure, Bucky has enjoyed more privileges in his day (pre-Winter Soldier) by virtue of being white than Sam has but neither of them are ever going to be what Steve Rogers wanted to be. Neither of them are that outdated ideal of 1940s blue eyed blond Star-Spangled Man with a Plan kind of masculinity. 

Sam is also something Steve still really isn’t, even in the modern era, which is a man who is comfortable with the fact that he is attracted to men. In this World of Steve and Bucky’s Tomorrow that is the present, that is something that is no longer needed to be kept as hidden as it once was. It is not an era of complete change, especially in places like the military and when it comes to celebrity-- the nexus of Captain America’s world, really-- but it is an absolutely revolutionary transformation from when Bucky was last in control of his mind in the 1940s. 

Sam is a quieter guy, even if he’s cheerful and amiable on the surface. He keeps a lot to himself. He’s clearly not gotten seriously involved with anybody in awhile when we met him and hadn’t between then and TFATWS, either, despite being a smart, gorgeous, kind and empathetic Avenger. The one who has caught his eye is the once-brainwashed assassin who keeps showing up to save his life (often from an annoying teenager with webbed fingers, much to their chagrin). It’s Bucky that he’s stuck with and that’s not just because he feels like Steve would want him to. Both he and Bucky think that the other might just be caring because of Steve but they prove to one another that this isn’t the case-- that their instincts that they have something that might be independent of Steve is true. They’re both afraid. They’ve both been through a lot and do not trust easily so it’s a thrill when they realize they really can trust one another-- and that they actually do *see* one another there. They don’t just see Steve’s shadow. They understand what the other needs and get better at it the longer they are together because they are fundamentally more alike and better suited than either of them are with Steve. 

TFATWS has Bucky telling Sam that he and Steve talked about giving Sam the shield and since Steve’s shield in the present was broken in the battle with Thanos in Endgame, it means that Bucky knew the plan in its entirety (which goes along with how he doesn’t seem surprised by it in Endgame as well.) It means Bucky knew that Steve was going to go back to the time they were from and find Peggy after he put the stones back and have that dance. It means that Bucky standing there while Sam spoke with Steve knew he would see Old Steve that day, knew the whole thing. Steve, being the fundamentally decent man he is, had to have offered for Bucky to come with him. He probably really wished he would because he would love to have his friend back then with him for the rest of their lives. It would be a way to do it all over-- to go back to where they began and this time, Steve would try to be more supportive. You know he would have tried to be different, even if he couldn’t feel any thing different than what he did. But Bucky...? 

Bucky had to see a life of more hell in that. What was the plan there for him? He goes back with Steve, they put the stones away, they find Peggy and then what? The rest of Bucky’s life is him married to some friend of Peggy’s they set him up with? Stolen moments with some man, if he was lucky enough to meet one? A family made not from love-- not the kind of love, anyway, that Bucky would like to have? What was waiting for him back then? Nothing. 

Because he’s been through sheer hell but, somehow, he’s been given something he never thought was possible then: the chance to not only see what the future might be like but to live in it, as a part of it. 

For sure, Endgame!Bucky, who had just gotten his mind back not that long before The Snap and just came back from dust to fight a battle and go to a funeral and that’s about it, hasn’t the first clue what the first step he should take to sort himself out enough to figure out how to live again is... but even then, even in that place of nothing but vulnerability and pain, he’s hopeful. He’s strong enough to say that’s what he wants. He wants what Steve wants, in a way-- to live in the time he belongs in and be able to find a life for himself. He wants the love and the family he never got to experience and wouldn’t in the same way in the era he was born in. Staying in the present to work though his pain and figure it out-- to have that choice-- means more to Bucky than following Steve because while Bucky believes in Steve’s goodness and would follow that to the moon and back, Steve cannot give him what he once might have wanted, which is to look at him the way that Steve looks at Peggy. Bucky wants that. Steve might not understand not wanting to live in the 1940s entirely but he wants Bucky to have whatever he wants. He feels uncomfortable not being there to see it through-- hence, that kind of awkward hug before he travels back in time. There are things that Bucky wants and needs that Steve doesn’t fully appreciate but he can appreciate him needing to make the choice to live the way he wants to live and deserving the freedom to do just that. 

Consider the rush for Bucky when he realizes that Steve’s snarky friend might have just looked at him when he thought he wasn’t looking, that maybe that heat between them isn’t one-sided. That they live *now* and while it’s not free of challenges, it’s paradise compared to the 1940s. That maybe, just maybe, he lived through all this hell because he’s supposed to be here now and maybe that also means he’s supposed to be with this man who not only understands him but who is everything that Bucky couldn’t have been in his day-- openly attracted to men? If you were Bucky, there’s no way you couldn’t be entertaining fantasies about being able to take Sam for a romantic walk by the water somewhere and no one calling the police if you were to kiss him at sunset...

Not to mention that if you’re Sam? Who is going to get your PTSD and understand when you get a little quiet more than the guy you met while he fell out of the sky and tried to murder you while brainwashed? Who is so annoying because he’s dryly funny and annoyingly hot and more good than anyone who has been through that amount of hell should have a right to be? Who is enough like you to be made for you but different enough that you’ll never be bored? Who makes you feel safer than you’ve ever felt-- safe enough to give over a lot of the trust you are hesitant to give much of anyone because you know he won’t abuse it? You have to be entertaining thoughts about spending a lifetime making him feel as safe and finding new ways to make him laugh...

Sam and Bucky are the ones that will protect one another’s hearts. Steve is a great guy whose arc with Bucky is about making up for hurting him and growing as a person as a result, not about Steve’s undying romantic and/or sexual love, IMO. Among other things, Sam is the first man Bucky has been able to consider building a life with and I’d wager it actually works in reverse for Sam, despite him being born much later than Bucky-- Riley could have been Sam’s lover but there is enough pining regret there that I think he saw Sam in the way that Steve saw Bucky. There’s enough there to suggest that Sam had not met someone he saw a future with until Bucky, which would also account for the occasional nervousness. They seem like opposites but, in many ways, they’re exactly alike and in the ways that they are not, they compliment one another. Sam and Bucky are each other’s chances at happiness and peace so if you’re still saying Bucky should be sobbing in Steve’s notebook waiting for him to come back from the woman he left him for... why are you wishing such hell on this poor guy? Bucky deserves the smiles and the lightness in his step and the sister and the nephews and the community cookouts and, most of all, *Sam*...

...and Sam deserves the sun, the moon and the stars and seems content having found his way to the shield and to Bucky so let them be happy for the hot minute they will be until their movie conflict. ;) Steve’s getting his dance-- Bucky and Sam deserve theirs, too. 

[ratherbefangirling]

Hello! (๑>◡<๑) Could request a BTS Ship game? Please and Thank you so much. Let me tell you a little about myself. My personality type is ENFP-A but I feel like I have a bit of INFP-A.( If that makes sense lol ) I’m also a Scorpio.

My height is 5’6 , brown eyes and a brunette. Kinda slim body. ( Tho I’m self conscious about my appearance) I’m a shy person at first meeting. But once I’m more familiar with someone I can express myself well and be more energetic with that person. I enjoy sometime out like a walk in nature, a small get together or a museum but some days I enjoy staying home reading a good book. I love to paint it really relaxes me. I don’t like it when the attention is all centered in me. It makes me a bit uncomfortable ( and I don’t think very highly of myself ) I’m also very soft spoken so I have been in many situations where people ask me to speak up more. ( also a bit naive but I’m learning to Stan up for myself) And boiii Am I clumsy. The kind of clumsy that you trip will walking in a straight line clumsy.

I used to play the Violin which I very much miss. I have also been in Theater activities when I was in school. I don’t shy away from deep conversation. I can go on and on in any topic and share my knowledge.( Tho I suck at studying Lol I get easily distracted) I also enjoy expand it more. My taste in music is Everywhere. From Old 80’s Rock to Pop Rap, Grunge to R&M and Indie/ Alternative to Synthwave. My favorite KDrama is My ID is Gangnam Beauty. It’s my comfort show it just love it ε-(´∀｀; ). I relate a lot to the main character and her experience. I’m also a Hopeless Romantic and Any gesture of affection like hugs from behind, kisses, holding hands ect. Just melts me . Well Thanks again! ♪( ´▽｀) I’m sorry if this was to long. I really enjoy your content!!💕💕✨

Hello @thenightbazaar01

K-Drama's always manage to get one in the feels.

The person I ship you with is Taehyung.

You have unlocked Soulmate AU.

In your world a process called soulmate manifestation occurs.

Which is basically at any point in your life the soulmates mark will make itself visible

Since its different for everyone and only matches with your soulmate. That's how you confirm that this is your soulmate.

For example your friend got an obvious mark her soulmates neck on her collar bone. Which she never failed to show off.

Another one could visit her soulmate in her dreams which helped them continue their long distance relationship.

Before you could figure out your mark you met Taehyung.

You met at the music room of the orphanage you both volunteered at to participate in the music event for a fundraiser and also so that the kids could have a good time.

You along with other volunteers taught the kids to play the instruments and dancing. Taehyung taught them the dance and you violin and another volunteer Yoongi guitar.

One day Taehyung cannot make it for the appointment because he is sick so you and Yoongi take up the class.

Except you start hiccuping. Since you were a kid you got hiccups at very inconvenient situations like that one time during exams when you had forgotten to bring your water bottle.

You would try everything to quite or end them but they always disappeared as miraculously as they came.

You and Taehyung started dating. It was all well until he had to go on a month long vacation with his family.

And you got hiccup stricken.

Your friend joked about it being your soulmate mark when the epiphany dawned.

You called Taehyung.

"Wah, you're really my medicine I was having these hiccups which made eating food difficult I might or might not have dropped my soda on my litter sisters dress." He tells you.

"Not the medicine I think I'm the cause of the hiccups."

"Is this what I think it is. You're not pulling my leg right?"

"It's exactly."

"I called it Jiminie and Jungkookie owe me 100 dollars each. I love you let me buy you a ring ok when I come back. .. I will get you the biggest rock in the shop love ..oh my mom's calling .. mom its my soulmate.. no not jimin .. ok bye love..."

I guess now you have a soulmate and soon a ring and a competitor?.. anyway I wish you have a happy time with your lovable soulmate.