#and we didn't find out i was half deaf until years later

[mysdrymmumbles]

So I was born with windswept feet.

What that means is that when I was born, instead of having my feet point forward like they should, they both pointed 90 degrees to one side.

One of my feet was put into a cast to straighten it out because I guess it was a bit worse than the other, and the other one my mom had to do exercises with my foot every day, turning it the right way and holding it in place and whatnot.

My mom's told me the story many times over the years, but it's never really been a main focus because there were many complications with her pregnancy and my birth and my health afterwards, so it was always tucked into a long list of things that were happening all at once.

Well, at my last physical therapy appointment, the PT noted a few times how I needed to straighten out my right foot, and I actually couldn't do one of the exercises because my foot kept shifting, with my toes turning toward the right.

And as we gave up on that exercise, my mind went to how my feet were windswept when I was little.

Since, I've noticed that when I stop at rest, my foot automatically shifts toward the right and when I purposely turn it so my toes are pointing the same way as my left toes, I realized it stresses my ankle a little.

And now I'm wondering if that's the windswept-ness of it still around after all this time, or just something else.

idk.

[angelflms]

Cobra Kai has a tone-deaf problem.

Now, I am a Black woman so all of my observations are through the lenses of that. You can critique my words all you want, but don't be disrespectful because I will be equally as disrespectful in the replies.

I have this phenomenon that I've noticed for a lot of shows I have watched that I call "The Leo Dooley effect," inspired by character from the Disney XD show Lab Rats, where the main character, a POC who set the tone for the whole story, is surrounded by a white ensemble cast that slowly but surely pushes that character aside to serve their purpose.

Cobra Kai does the same thing with Miguel Diaz, as he seems to be the sole reason why any of these things on the show are happening (for better or for worse) and gets one of the worst character driven storylines throughout the series post-coma (I rewrote his story on my blog. Go find it under the Miguel or Xolo hashtags) to further make the show The Robby Show (we'll get into the tone-deaf writing of his character this past season in a minute). He becomes a shell of a character, empty, boring, and in the sidelines all up until the final season, where the writers seem to remember *snaps fingers* oh shit, Miguel's one of our protagonists, and writes an okay story for him. Better than his s5 plot, but not as good as the stuff we got in s1, 2, and the last half of 3 and 4.

Now, s6 has him in his true prime (not in the way people claimed he was in the past seasons). He's got a clear mind, he's goals-oriented, you wouldn't even be able to tell that this kid was paralyzed from the waist down a year ago (in-universe time). However, he's out-performing everyone, was single-handedly saving his team, and it wasn't even enough for Johnny. It was very interesting to watch as People of Color, especially Black and Brown people, tend to have to go above and beyond to prove that we're the shit, but it'll never amount to anything if our white associates (minus Devon in this case - more on her later) aren't doing anything. But the second they do, everyone is getting praised. Miguel knocked his opponent out in forty seconds. FORTY SECONDS. But because the team wasn't doing good overall, he got no attention. I know that feeling all too well and it sucks.

As much as I thought Johnny's "Miguel is our anchor" line was powerful, it also didn't at the same time. The Magical Negro is such an annoying stereotype, as well as the Strong Black Woman/Man, and the Brown and Asian variations that come with it.

Miguel is the Brown equivalent of the Magical Negro, trying to tell the white Johnny what's right and wrong. Teaching him what's okay to say and what's not, despite Johnny being grown enough to probably understand shit on his own. He basically is teaching Johnny in a sense despite the fact that it should be the other way around. And I know that's a typical mentor/mentee thing trope but with how the show goes out of its way to show how self aware of modern problems it is, it's hella tone-deaf.

In terms of the Strong Black Man trope (or in this case Brown), Miguel isn't always strong. He breaks down and cries pretty often but it's viewed by the fandom as annoying, weak, and pathetic, as well as not manly which pisses me all the way off because every time he gets emotional, it's with valid reason. Losing his girlfriend (both times), finding out he's paralyzed, apologizing for running away, his mom possibly dying, not getting into Stanford (tho this would've had more of a punch if Stanford actually mattered but it doesn't whatever). Also, he's a 16/17 year old Brown kid in poverty who was embarrassingly bullied MULTIPLE TIMES. You're telling me you didn't cry as a kid? But when Robby cries every once in a while (which is also equally as valid because he was also a kid in poverty who was bullied), everyone holds his hand and says "it's okay."

"He's our anchor." It just sounds so off to me. Like has to be the one to help everyone else, when you have two Captains who can do the exact same thing. We as POCs have to be the ones to hold down the fort and keep things steady on our backs while white people can settle for mediocrity and not have to do to much because "hey, the POCs got us." It's just like that "if you're in danger, find a Black woman" thing. Because we're expected to be the ones to save y'all when y'all are in trouble. But when the roles reverse, we're expected to save ourselves because we're strong. Y'all don't like it when Miguel isn't emotionally or physically tough because y'all expect him to push through since he's the main character, but it also feels like he's expected to push through because he's a Brown boy in poverty so he's been through enough.

Tory's "we have to fight to get a spot in life" speech was well performed by Peyton List but it felt strange to see a white woman explain privilege to a Brown boy who has less privilege in comparison to her. I have always had a problem with that scene and I never won't have an issue with it.

Moving on to Kenny. Kenny is the only Black character of current time to be in the ensemble. Aisha was on the show but left ofc. Kenny, like Miguel was brutally picked on, primarily by white kids, especially by white rich boy Anthony LaRusso. In the fandom Anthony tends to be the more favored overall. Kenny is primarily favored on the Black side of the fandom (much like Miguel). Similar to Miguel, there was a moment in s6 part two that may have not been intentional but in my eyes, felt very racially targeted.

Hawk and Demetri were very skeptical towards Kenny because they assumed that he was working with Silver despite the fact that Kenny didn't even want to do the Sekai Tekai to begin with after he became publicly bullied again. During a round of tag-teamed fighting, the boys refused to let Kenny in, causing them to lose the round due to Robby not being prepared to be tagged in (he thought they were gonna tag Kenny). Kenny gets mad, rightfully so but the boys didn't back down on their theory (the only reason this theory was even a thing was because they say Kenny and Silver talking and assumed the worst). It took the team's "anchor" to give Robby a pep talk to lead and the others will follow (you know, something a Captain should already know) for Kenny to get the attention he deserves. And then Hawk and Demetri finally accept Kenny. All because the white guy said "hey, we should tag him in."

That sounds so off in so many ways.

It wasn't intentional, I know. But the fact that this was something that happened and the boys didn't even apologize to Kenny after for the assumptions they made only furthers my point on how tone deaf this show can get. Amanda, Miguel, and Robby are literally the only people who see Kenny as more than just a Silver puppet and it sucks because Hawk and Demetri were in the same spot as Kenny once upon a time.

And then there's Devon, the overworking, overwhelmed Asian girlie who tries her hardest to seek validation and gets overlooked. Similar to Miguel in this new part, Devon got ignored badly in the first part. It was so bad that she cheated to get into the Sekai Tekai and got her ass handed to her. And like Miguel, it takes her to have to explain to her white sensei that she's being ignored for him for her to be taken seriously. She's not the best fighter by any means but I thought we were done with this Asian stereotype years ago. And the way Sam talked to her after literally celebrating her victory with all smiles and everything in the first part??? Like it felt so fake as hell.

Finally, Robby. Robby is written well, we all know that. But this shit that they did to him in the second part pissed me off, especially since it's not gonna get addressed apparently. So Robby gets drunk at a bar and basically follows Zara back to her hotel room. Next time we see them, he's disoriented, and she's kissing him. I'm sorry, but that's sexual assault, yes? Robby was drunk and didn't remember anything. So that's her taking advantage of him, yes? Well the creator apparently doesn't think so and is saying that Robby made a mistake and that the interaction won't be talked about next part.

Bitch, Robby is a VICTIM.

Zara sexually assaulted him. Just because he's a man doesn't change the fact that the man got taken advantage of by Zara.

Like did we watch the same scene?

This show has so many problems and I feel like since it's a show about fighting no one cares. But as a Black woman, I see this shit and in between the lines, there's so many issues that won't even get fixed because the show is over.

[izzysarchivedblogs]

SHOULD HE BE CONSIDERING THAT ⸻ MARRIAGE ⸻WAS ON THE TABLE?

⸻ or should be?

Considering, he got married to Bobbi Morse after nine days, and half the reason he had agreed was that hi hearing had been blown out and hadn't come back. NOT THAT HE EVER HAD GREAT HEARING. He's been deaf since he was a little boy, things over the years had just made it worst, made him lose more until he wished he could hear music like he did he was twenty.

So the fact that he and Peter had mad it two years, in arguably one of his better (possibly best, and at the very least, healthiest) relationship and he's crazy about the guy. They've managed to make it work, find a rhythm with their lives and what's the future to hold for them? Clint could see himself going on INDEFINITELY with how their lives were.

Should he give a call to Bobbi and ask her to coffee, ask her what he should do because marriage was kind of this whole thing? Plenty of (admittedly younger) couples got engaged at two years as a reasonable time frame. SHOULD HE PUT HIS OWN HUNGS UPS DOWN AND CONSIDER IT SERIOUSLY ⸺ TAKE A LEAP OF FAITH WITH PETER PARKER?

Peter's crouched, like the gremlin that he was. One of the typical Spider On A Perch poses, that even Clint knew if he sat like that without stretching in the morning, for long periods of time his old man thighs would start to burn. SHOW-OFF. (it would take a while for it to burn for him but that's besides the point). HE'S TO, AND HE'S GOING TO, CUP THAT STUPID PRETTY PETER FACE.

He's getting distracted, and he turns to do exactly as he thought about and cup his jaw, kiss him. Whine to him later that the mayor's office will be sending a complaint later, (sorry helen and luke, you try having spiderman as your boyfriend ⸻ actually didn't peter say, though he's not sure if it was a joke, that luke cag had a man crush on spiderman apparently?) for Clint ditching paperwork he's already avoided for a few days now. SORRY DUTY CALLED FOR SOME ARROW SLINGING.

LIPS PRESS TO PETER'S, A SMILE AND A LOOK INT HIS EYE ⸻ "Liiiiisten, a catch like you? Can ya blame a guy for wanting to make double sure before he gives up the lease to his apartment next month?" ⸻ GODDAMN DORK.

❝ Yeah, sure, Peter. ❞ He says, not fully certain of what he was agreeing to getting a little distracted by HIM. Could his lips convince Peter to make dinner tonight, because he really should ⸻

WAIT A MINUTE. That needed some interruption, carefully considered thought. LEASE ⸻ WAIT A DAMN MINUTE. What lease whose lease? HIS, which coming from Peter means, Peter. Peter's lease. GIVE UP ⸻ LEASE ⸻ NEXT MONTH. Was his lease really coming up, he thought that Peter liked his place pretty well. It was nice place, no loft bedroom and it's not in Brooklyn where arguably the better food places were; or at least the places with good grease. WHY WOULD HE ⸻ OH

⸻ ❝ Oh. . . oh. . . OH! Uh, you mean that ⸻ like you, in Bed-Stuy, all the time. ❞ MOVE IN IS WHAT HE MEANT. Like Clint hadn't thought about it, because really it's so much of a mess now going between place to place. Double double the groceries, and sometimes they were messy and forgetting stuff at the other's. ❝ There's an apartment identical to this one, on the top floor, still vacant. I figure either the neighbor next door to apartment H ❞ ⸻ he knows Peter will cringe at how Clint still label apartment ⸺ ❝ might be convinced to move up a floor, but come on, I think the better bet is I convince one of the neighbors up a level, to move down to here, and we move H up, cause like who wouldn't want less stairs for getting groceries up. . . Knock a wall down, somewhere. Room for Mayday. ❞

The reaction, if not obvious, is that he's all for Peter moving in with him and has even been thinking about A BIGGER PLACE. Namely an apartment with at least two, maybe three, bedrooms, so Mayday would have her own.

@oceansfirst I'm just gonna come in here and [ Cont. ]

OH HOW HE LOVED HIM...

Peter squatted in his weird little position as he looked at the older man he was so DESPERATELY in love with. Things were going good, SO GOOD?? like Peter actually felt like he could breathe?? and like things weren't just going to EXPLODE in his face and that was really nice.

He wasn't ALWAYS a complete idiot, he knew that they were dating. Hell they just had an anniversary not that long ago.. but the two of them were NOTORIOUSLY BAD when it came to talking about their feelings in any real way, and that INCLUDED saying the labels like boyfriends out loud to one another or to other people while in ear shot of one another.

But it had been TWO YEARS, and it was safe to say that they could do it right? Say it out loud? Maybe it was a little silly that Peter wanted the extra confirmation. So he had come up with the silly little idea of ring pops. It was WILDLY on the nose and almost kind of subtle all at the same time.

"Liiiiisten, a catch like you? Can ya blame a guy for wanting to make double sure before he gives up the lease to his apartment next month? " That's how normal people ask to move in right? It was a GAMBLE and he knew it.. but there was just SOMETHING about Clint that made him want to just DIVE OFF head first into BIG decisions.

[timextoxhajima]

Nevertheless: Wishful Thinking [1]

[completed] [1] [2] [3] [4] [5]

synopsis: why would the college flirt want anything to do with the innocent heartbreaker? a [somewhat] nevertheless au featuring tbz's eric son young jae

genre [per chapter]: suggestive material, mentions of alcohol, SMUT *this series is a smut series so* please don't read if you're uncomfy. if you're underaged and you still wanna read, i'm not stopping you. i don't care because that's your responsibility to know what's fiction and what's not.

word count: 2.8k, half of which is probably filth

taglist: @from-xero

{this is a work of fiction}

"i'm sorry, i just... i just don't see you that way."

the boy tries his hardest not to choke (or sob) as he lowers his head, the bouquet of flowers in his hands crinkling when he brings it down to his side.

he huffs, using his tongue to poke the inner sides of his cheeks as his grimace pulls out into a smirk.

you look at him with utmost guilt, fingers awkwardly intertwined with one another as you scan the distraught on his face.

"so..." he slowly nods, looking up from the floor. "not even the most popular person on campus can win you over, huh?"

the label strikes a chord in you.

honestly, you were just waiting for him to say those words. you hadn't expected the campus star boy to confess to you tonight, much less at his own graduation party.

he was two years your senior and frankly way out of your league - leaving you with absolutely no clue how he came about to develop feelings for you.

you had wondered if he was merely capitalising on your growing reputation as the 'innocent heartbreaker'.

the pretty, new, freshman who just couldn't seem to stop heads from turning.

one of those heads was his.

wooseok scoffs, obviously unhappy and dissatisfied with your response.

how dare the pretty freshman reject the hottest boy on campus?

"okay," wooseok nods, still holding out the flowers to you. "at least take the flowers, would you?"

grimly picking the golden-wrapped roses from him, you scan his eyes, glossed with a layer of tears as his nose sours.

"wooseok-"

"no, don't," he interrupts you, sucking in a deep breath as he puffs out his chest. the yelling from outside his bedroom door calls the both of your attention.

"the party's still going on until morning, are you staying?"

with a light shake of your head, you hug the flowers close to your chest. your heart slows down, calming from the fact that he had brought you in here just to confess and not something else you were afraid of.

the guilt sinks in when you realise you didn't trust wooseok all that much.

"okay, well..." he clears his throat, rubbing the back of his neck. the silver shine off the school's logo on the varsity jacket glimmers under the room's ceiling light. "at least stay until we finish the first bottle of vodka? we have games later."

"oh, wooseok, i can't-"

"come on," he reaches forward and grabs your hands, his hands hot and warm. probably from the adrenaline he had to give himself to make this feat. "the first bottle."

you look up from his fingers and at his face, his fringe covering his eyes and casting sharp-angled shadows all over his lids.

your lips part, but before you can even utter a sound, he hops right in and exclaims with a grin on his face. "great! i'll see you around and come find me when you're leaving, okay?"

the smile lines extend from the sides of his nose and down to his lips, the shadow lines on his cheeks shifting as he turns on his heels, hands sliding off yours.

"i'll-" he points to his door, already reaching for the handle. "yeah. bye."

wooseok pulls the door open for him to exit, and right before he can shut the door behind him, his eyes come between the gap to take one last look at you.

the door clicks shut after he moves off first, and you're left with the roses in your arms, standing in the middle of his room, having just rejected the most sought-after bachelor in the school.

looking down at the roses once more, your finger-pads rub against the velvet petals, heart aching for him.

the neon lights in his room were casting a bright blue hue all over the walls and the carpeted ground, trophies for baseball and customised bats decorating almost every corner.

you turn to his bed, thinking of leaving the flowers on the cushion and leaving quietly through his window.

but your train of thought violently snapped into two when the party outside yells, followed by the loud thunking of the bass throughout the house.

the flowers are a reminder of how shit of a person you are.

you didn't ask to be a heartbreaker.

people tend to think you find joy in rejecting the brave ones who get their feelings across but you don't. not at all.

carefully laying the bouquet of flowers back onto his bed, you pull the door of his room open and step out into the hallway, the music blasting like everyone was deaf and hard of hearing.

the crowd in the living room comes into view when you start walking down the stairs - everybody jumping on beat to the likes of superbass and people yelling the all-time classic rap.

your knuckles whiten from gripping onto the wooden railings, unable to return yourself to the party when you've done broken the heart of the host himself.

so you turn on your heels, deciding to return to his room and crawl out through his window - only to be met by someone else.

"party's downstairs."

if you were the innocent heartbreaker...

then eric son was the vicious one - the male, sluttier equivalent of you.

"oh, well... party's not for me," you offer a tiny smile, slightly embarrassed to be caught making a u-turn.

eric tilts his head to the side, holding out an arm and resting it on the wooden railings. you lower your head, taking a step to your left in a bid to walk past him.

but you're stopped yet again by his arm reaching out, palm pressing flat into the concrete as he looks down at you.

you don't realise your fists are clenched (and sweating) until you rub them onto your dress.

"look, eric- i- i had a bad day and i just-"

"so walk out the front door," he raises a single brow, taking a step down and removing his hand off the wooden railing.

your feet fumble around each other in a bid not to topple down the stairs. turning to face you, he forces you to step back to maintain the safe distance between you.

"i don't want to make a scene-" the bad habit of picking your nails returns when your back hits the wall, and eric's standing an uncomfortable distance from you now.

"oh," he lifts his free hand and mirrors the other, keeping your neck between his forearms. but you are the scene. you can't just... leave."

a flustered chuckle runs through your throat as you lean your head back against the wall. "i don't have the time for this."

"make time for me," eric cocks his head to the side and glances down near the bottom of your face. "you can tell me about your bad day."

"i think i'll be fine on my own, thank you," carefully squatting and trying to shrink out from the wall-eric sandwich, your brows furrow as you shift.

but eric son buckles his arm and halves the distance he has between your faces, the sudden surge forcing you back upright.

now his breath is hot on your jaw and you turn away from him, lips pursed into a thin, tight line.

"the 'innocent heartbreaker'," he gently hums, fingers reaching up to play with the curled locks fallen around your upper arms. the fleeting brushes of his skin across yours draw out chills, and a harsh inhale twitches your facial expressions to his liking. "i can see why boys would fall for this."

with your eyes still glued to the party downstairs, you part your lips, wanting to explain yourself.

then eric, with the weight of feathers, reaches up to your chin and tilts it towards him.

his lips are parted as he slides his tongue across his teeth. he sighs softly, eyes travelling from yours to your lips and back up.

by now, you can feel his breath on your philtrum.

"you're pretty," he whispers, almost against your lips.

and your stomach plummets when he pulls away completely, the cool air rushing in to replace the bodily heat.

without breaking eye contact, even for a single second, eric pushes himself off the wall. lips drawn out into a wide smile, he adjusts his jacket and runs his hand through his hair.

"but not that pretty."

you don't realise your heart's racing until you feel your chest heaving, unknowingly panting from the unruly interaction the vicious heartbreaker has just provided you.

the world finally seeps back into view and into complete perfect audio, the music finally rumbling through you again when your eyes trail after eric, walking into the crowd jumping in the living room.

the taste of iron seeps out from the inside of your lips, and you dart your tongue across the mark that your teeth have left on your flesh.

clearing your throat and shaking the thought of eric out of your head, you turn back up the steps and head back into wooseok's bedroom.

the blue hues of the room start to sink into your consciousness again, the yellow shade of the bouquet wrap looking more like green under the lighting.

you take a moment to fester - over wooseok, over your reputation, over eric.

college just started and here you were, feeling guilty over something that wasn't even your fault.

the final decision comes to rest on your fingers in the form of pulling wooseok's window open, carefully lifting your feet and crawling under the glass.

now, troublemaker was playing, muffled but definitely loud enough to be heard at least 3 houses down the road. you climb onto the roof of his garage, eyes scanning to cars parked outside and along the road.

you stride to the side where you know wooseok had a wooden plating attached to one of the walls, fake vines intertwined between the planks.

it's a relief when your feet meet the concrete ground, and nobody was in sight - until you back up into someone's chest and you turn to find eric, again.

"what in the world-"

he cuts you off by grabbing your waist, slotting his lips between yours and holding your chin to align your faces.

you were nearly bought into it, but the consciousness seeps back into you and you rip your face off his, palms one his chest with his hands still on your waist.

"what do you think you're doing?"

"i could ask you the same thing."

"you already know I'm leaving."

"you can't leave just yet."

"why the hell not?"

"because I'm not done with you."

with a low huff, he hoists you up onto his hips, lips crashing onto yours as he walks you backwards, your shoulder blades hitting the wall where you had climbed down from.

there's a gentle rattle when he keeps you up against the wooden planks, his palms riding the skirt of your dress up and over your hips.

his fingers slide under the material of your underwear hugging your pelvis, hot skin gripping onto the flesh of your rear.

then you hear a tear amongst the mess he's making on your lips, and the material of your underwear loosens.

"what the-"

"shh," he smirks, now turning his head into your neck to nip on your jaw. your chest heaves from the sensitivity, the fluttering sensation of his lips on your neck drilling chills all through you. "make a sound and everyone will know you couldn't say no to me."

conscience returns to you for a split second.

"eric- we can't-"

before you can finish your sentence, eric drags the thin material out from under you and dangles it before you, his eyes clouded and dark.

the darkened patch of material on your underwear washes your face in pink and heat.

"you were saying?"

your stomach plummets, and you now register the coolness on your core. eric smiles, rolling up the material to shove it into his pocket.

"eric-" your fingers dig into his left forearm as they return to the wall by your head, his right carefully undoing his belt.

the clink of the metal followed by the zipper coming undone forms a knot in your stomach already, then his fingers coming to spread your neediness all over you forces a sharp whimper up your lungs.

"I've done nothing..." he shakes his head, sliding a single finger up and down your core. "and you are so wet."

he lifts his finger from under your skirt, his fingers glistening under the sharp, fluorescent lighting.

your hooded lids are just about tearing with the overwhelming ache that's throbbing through you, and he makes it worse by running his tongue all over his finger.

eric's pride swells when a whine escapes your throat, and he presses himself into you, chest against yours with his hands digging into your thighs. your arms circle around his shoulders, pulling him closer for a deep, slow kiss.

he prods against you, the throbbing ache spiking when his manhood rubs against your core. groaning into the kiss, your entire being squirms between him and the wall with the muffled music still blasting from the living room.

he doesn't bother to wait for you before he finds his manhood and aligns it with your entrance, gently prodding before sliding himself in like it was meant to be.

he buries himself inside you by holding your thighs around his hips even tighter, drawing a low and prolonged moan from your lips.

eric pulls away, pressing his forehead into yours to let you breathe. but he finds some kind of sadistic pleasure when he pulls his hips away, only to slam right back in, earning a sharp yelp from you.

"go any louder, princess, and i won't be the only one enjoying this."

he grins to himself, licking his lips before diving into your neck and picking at all the right spots. every kiss and nibble earned him a moan or a mewl and it ruins your pride over and over to know that you had just broken someone's heart tonight.

yet you were outside that someone's house, letting eric rail you like he owned you.

your fingers claw and grip at his shirt as you feel your back jerk and rock against the wooden plank. with every thrust he offers you, he sounds like he's laughing and panting at the same time, the hot breath on your neck making you writhe in a guilty pleasure.

he offers a few slower thrusts before grabbing your chin to look at him, eyes slightly fucked out and your thighs tired from keeping your body locked to his.

slowly pulling out and sliding back in, he takes the time to revel in the way your brows furrow and your lips fall apart, your curled hair now a mess around your chest and shoulders.

"that's it, princess," he leans into your ear and coos. "tell me how good that feels."

unable to form a coherent word in your head, you whine in response, pulling his face to yours and planting your lips onto his with every ounce of energy left in you.

his hands fumble under your skirt and find your sensitivity, pressing his thumb flat onto you. the pressure jerks you upwards and he takes the opportunity to reposition himself, changing the angle ever so slightly.

by some miracle, the tip of him buried inside you finds the magic spot, and when he picks up his pace, the knot starts to find you in eternal bliss.

eric pulls away again, huffing as he thrusts himself into you, fingers flicking and abusing you as if your legs weren't already shaking and convulsing around his hips.

"good girl," his breath is heavy on your jaw as he plants a few wet kisses there, his pants bringing you to some newer heights. your vision starts to fade into white with a few more thrusts and his fingers dig into your thighs when your lower body starts to spasm.

muscles flexing, your entire body squirms and trembles as you meet your high.

then eric hurriedly pulls out, the hot fluid dribbling all over the ground under you.

while you come down from your high, eric's strained grunts rumble through his torso under your arms. the vein that popped out on his neck was still there, and your senses only allow enough for you to focus on eric now.

he bites on his bottom lip and pushes his hair back with a deep inhale. he turns to you, eyes wide open and clear.

"not such an innocent princess now, are you?"

[one-sad-human]

•Pinky Promises• Steven Adler

Pairing: Steven Adler x Reader, Axl Rose x Sibling! Reader

Requested? Yup! By an anon

Theme: Angst(?) to fluff

Warnings: Language, sexual references but nothing explicit

Word Count: 1.8k

A/N: Fic 1 of 2! Hope you enjoy! Also, the makeout near the end gets sorta hot and it was pretty fun to write? Like I’m considering exploring into writing smutter pieces. I didn’t want to originally because I thought I’d cringe all the way through and hate the result but I might try it out in the near future. Nothing too crazy but it’s something for me to think about.

     You step off of the large bus, your combat boots hitting the ground as you adjust the bag slung over your shoulder. It's stuffed to the brim with whatever you threw in, you're surprised the zipper did burst.

     You take a deep breath of the LA air. It's hot and humid and despite the thick air pollution, you can breath easier than you did in Indiana.

     You grew up in Lafayette, Indiana with your older half-brother William. You were raised in the hellish house with your shared father, which you finally managed to escape.

     William left right at eighteen. He tried taking you with him, but you didn't want him to be charged with kidnapping and have the cops on his ass. Now, two years and your father's stolen wallet later, you're finally in the city of dreams.

     "Will!" You yell out, spotting your redheaded other half.

     "Y/N!" He mocks, catching your figure in a crushing hug. He's taller than you, so you have to stand on your tippy toes during the embrace. "Thank God you're alright."

     "I'm fine, I'm happy to finally see you again," you say, a huge grin on your face. "How's the band? Everything going well?"

     "Well enough," he says with a shrug, grabbing your heavy bag and slinging it around his shoulder. "Come on, I'll introduce you to the guys. You already know Izzy of course, but the rest of them."

     The walk to the 'hell house' as Will had called it is filled with catching up. He made sure to keep in contact with you, but the phone calls were always short. It felt nice to have a full length conversation in person with your brother again.

     "Welcome home," Will says, leading you into the house. You grimace when you catch a whiff of stale beer and weed.

     "You seriously live here? This place should be condemned," you say with disgust.

     "And then where would we live?" The oh-so familiar voice of Will's best friend meets your ears. You whip around and fly into his arms.

     "Jeffery! I missed you so much! You really should've tried calling, you ass!" You exclaim. Izzy rolls his eyes but smiles nonetheless, patting your back during the hug.

     "Who's this?" Another man enters the living room— if that's what it should even be called. He's blonde, taller than you but shorter than the other two men in the room. He has kind eyes and the smile he has on his handsome face leaves you speechless.

     "U-uh, hi. I'm Y/N," you say after a moment of shameless gawking. If he noticed, he doesn't mention it.

     "Oh that's right! Axl talks a lot about you! I'm Steven," he says and bounds up to you, catching your hand in a shake. You don't question who the hell 'Axl' is, but you smile stupidly at him and bite your lip with a blush staining your face.

     "No," Will says, glaring at the cute blonde you've taking an immediate liking to. "Absolutely not."

     "William!" You squeak out, pinching his shoulder harsher. He yelps and swats your hand away. Will glares further at you as he ushers you up the creaky stairs to your room. "Nothing happened! And who the fuck is 'Axl'?"

     "I saw how you were looking at him! I'm not naive, Y/N. You were giving him the 'fuck me' eyes! And me, everyone calls me Axl here." You give him a look. "Except you, of course. You can call me Will."

     You don't give him another word as he leads you to your bedroom. He was the one who didn't have a roommate before, and he'd have to share with Slash now but he was determined to give you your privacy.

     "This is the only room with a working lock, use it. Especially when your changing! Three horny men in a house with one you isn't a good combo." You make a face and shake your head, but you can't really tell if he's being overprotective or if his band mates really are pigs.

     "Are you not including Izzy?"

     "Please, he's the only smart one besides me. He knows I'll rip him a new one." You laugh and give Will another hug.

     "I've really missed hanging out with you like this, and thank you for letting me stay here." He nods and rubs your back.

     "No problem, we have each other's backs, always." You nod and release your bother from the hug. "One rule though: no hooking up with the guys. One time thing or not, you don't know them like I do, I won't let you get hurt. So don't even try anything with Steven!"

     "Even if it's nothing sex?" Will levels you with a look that would make you sweat if you were anyone else. You sigh and roll your eyes. "Fine! I promise."

     "Pinky promise?" He asks, holding out his pinky finger. You shake your head but comply anyway, hooking your pinky on his.

     "Wow, bringing out the big guns, pinky promises," you tease.

     "Bitch," he mumbles. You gasp sarcastically.

     "Asshole!" You reply. William takes his leave with another slew of insults under his breath but none to be taken seriously and all with a smile. You shut your door after him and lay on your bed, content with how things are finally beginning to look up.

If you knew where you would be in just a few months of living with your brother and his band, you never would've agreed to the naive promise Will had forced on you. You think back to the day with a frown.

"Whatcha thinkin' about?" Steven asks, pecking your bare shoulder as he lays behind you on your bed. You both lay naked and damp with sweat, glowing from the moonlight streaming in the room.

"William," you say with a sigh.

"We just had sex and your thinking of your brother? Should I be worried about you?" Steven asks teasingly. You fight the smile growing on your face and lightly pinch the his arm tightly wrapped around you. He never fails to make you laugh.

"I just feel bad keeping this a secret from him." You turn around to be face to face with Steven. "It's been months of sneaking around. I'm always nervous we'll get caught together or I'll blurt it out to him."

"Then why don't we just tell him?"

"Do you want to die! Steven, honestly, do you have a death wish?"

"No, but—"

"Then we can't tell my brother we're together. He'll murder you, and then probably me one he finds out how long I've been lying to him," you say and move your head in the crook of Steven's neck.

"Then we can be together in the afterlife!" Steven folds his arms around you even tighter. "Seriously though, we can't lie to him forever. We've been together for six months already, surely he'll see how much we care about each other and not want to kill us."

"Yeah, maybe," you say halfheartedly and close your eyes, finally letting yourself fall asleep.

The next night, Guns has a gig at the Whiskey A-Go Go. The ritual goes like it has been, they play the gig, you wait for Will to get drunk, and you and Steven sneak out to the back of the club to make out and maybe get felt up a bit before returning like nothing happened.

It isn't different this time. Steven's hands leave your skin ablaze as he lets them wander down your sides and up your thighs. His lips don't leave yours, even as he squeezes your ass and you let out a moan. He grins on your mouth and presses his pelvis up to your stomach.

His mouth leaves yours to press feather light kisses to your cheek before trailing down your jaw and onto your neck, where he sucks nips at. You have to press a hand to your mouth to stay quiet.

"Don't leave marks," you remind him through batted breath.

"I won't," he reassures and silences you with a chaste kiss to your swollen lips before returning his attack on your neck.

You hear footsteps fast approaching, but as quickly as you hear them, Steven is ripped away from you. He's slammed into the brick wall next to you harshly and groans. You jump away and gasp.

"What the fuck do you think you're doing?" William asks, his voice lower than usual. His green eyes dark and downright scary.

"Will! Let him go, come on. Stop fucking around, you didn't have to slam him into a wall," you say, but your shaky voice falls on deaf ears as Will doesn't move. Your hands grasp at his arm and try to yank him away from Steven, but he's stronger and taller than you and doesn't budge, he just keeps his eyes focused on Steven.

"Nothing!" He squeaks out. Even in the dark, his kiss bruised lips and flushed red face is obvious.

"'Nothing?' That's why you were ten seconds away from fucking Y/N?" Will asks.

"William stop it! You're scaring me! Leave him alone!" You push him again and this time, he relents. Will paces and runs his hand through his red locks while you rush to make sure Steven is ok.

"I'm fine, I'm fine," Steven mutters and presses a kiss to your brow to comfort you, sending you a smile when he pulls away. He keeps his hands on your arms and rubs circles with his thumbs.

"How long has this been going on?" Will asks, crossing his arms as he finally stops his pacing.

"Six months..." Steven says nervously. William scoffs and shakes his head. "But it isn't just fucking around! I love them, Ax. Really."

You smile bashfully, biting your lip to try and contain it. You knew you felt strongly for Steven and that he returned the feelings, but you haven't outright said you loved each other— until know of course.

Will stays silent for a few beats, staring contemplative at Steven. He finally sighs, bring a hand up to rub his temples like he has a building headache.

"Yeah? And you love him, Y/N?" He asks. You nod, reaching out to grab Steven's hand. Steven lets a grin creep on to his face. "Then I guess I can't stop you. But if you ever break their heart, I'll fucking gut you, Adler."

If Will makes Steven nervous, he doesn't show it. He gives him a salute with his puppy dog like smile before sticking out his pinky.

"I promise I'll never hurt Y/N purposely, ever." Will rolls his eyes, the irony makes him nearly groan aloud. He sucks it up anyway when he sees your hopeful expression, hooking his pinky onto Steven's.

"Don't make me regret this, Steven," Will grumbles before leaving and walking back into the crowded club. Steven lets out an exhilarated laugh and kisses you, hard.

"Told you he wouldn't kill me!" Steven exclaims, making you laugh out of surprise.

"And we don't have to sneak around anymore!" Steven kisses you again, and again and again until you're breathless.

"I'm so in love with you," he mumbles between his attack on your lips. You smile, tangling your hands in his aqua-net filled hair.

"As I am with you."

[imtryingmybeskar]

So I'm sure we have all seen Pedro in the overalls today and my beautiful friend suggested a farmboy fic and I couldn't rest until I made it a reality.

*Disclaimers* I know nothing about farming, nor am I from the US. I imagined him as having a softer version of the Whiskey accent.

18+ only! You know the drill. 3.9k words.

The first time you saw him he was striding along the dusty road to your farmhouse, the sun at his back, his shadow stretching long ahead of him. Only someone looking for work and out of luck with it would be approaching at this late hour. From your perch at your bedroom window, you could look down and see the fatigue in the set of his shoulders, the dejection in the bow of his head. As he neared he stopped and dropped his pack to the ground before attempting to make himself presentable - raking his hand through his dark hair before setting his cap back on, dusting the legs of his overalls free of as much of the dirt of the road as he could, and finally straightening his back, righting his posture to make himself look strong, tall, not as hard up as he was. His rap at the door came as you were nearly at the bottom of the stairs and your dog, who had been peacefully sleeping at his approach finally woke and defended in a storm of paws and tail and barking.

"Hey! No!" you told her, and she quietened down and stayed where you told her to, in the line of sight from the doorway but no immediate threat to anyone on the other side. Opening the door you were greeted by the sight of a not-so-young-anymore man. Despite his efforts to clean himself up, his arms were streaked with grime and sweat and you could see the stains of his exertion under his arms and at his neck. His head remained bowed as he began to speak and you got the feeling he had replayed this spiel many times recently.

"Ma'am, I'm very sorry to trouble you. I'm here to see if you are lookin' to take on anyone at the farm at this time?" His voice was deep and rich with an enticing southern twang, sweet as honey whiskey.

"What kind of work can you do?" His eyes raised to your face and the hope you saw in their soft, dark depths almost melted you. As if he hadn't even gotten this far along with anyone for a very long time.

"Just about anything," he answered. "I can drive - harvesters, tractors. I can take care of all kinds of animals, muck 'em out, feed 'em. I've helped birth 'em too, though I know that time is passed for this year. I can sow and harvest by hand too if that's needed. And I can mend things, fences, roofs, you name it." Looking at him appraisingly, your curiosity got the better of you.

"Why are you on foot? Must have travelled an awful long way to get all the way out here." He looked down again, presenting you with the brim of his cap to look at instead and shuffling his feet awkwardly.

"I uh...I lost my own farm. Not too long ago. Sold everything I had to try and keep it afloat. Even my car."

"So, if I were to take you on-" his head snapped up eagerly again. "IF" you emphasised, "Would you be needing a place to stay as well?"

"If you had anywhere that could accommodate me, I would be most grateful for that, yes Ma'am."

"I want you to know that I've been out here on my own for a time. I know how to take care of myself. And I'm sure you heard and can see Tank behind me there." He was nodding as you spoke.

"I don't want no trouble. Just a job and a roof over my head." You eyed him for a few seconds more before stepping back from the door to let him in. He entered gingerly, staring around wide eyed as if he hadn't been inside a house for a long time.

"You hungry?"

"No...I mean, I don't wanna impose-"

"No imposition. If you're gonna work for me, you need feeding. Come with me." The dog whined a little as you approached, and you stroked her head. "Come!" you commanded the dog and she raced away ahead of you. Checking to see the man was following, you led him past the stairs and through the living area to the back. Here you had a small extension set up, with a bathroom and shower and a small room with a sofa which opened out into a bed, ostensibly for guests, though you hadn't had any for years. "You can get yourself cleaned up here. Any clothes you want to wash, you can do in the morning. There's no door to this room, so the only privacy you'll get is in the bathroom I'm afraid."

"This is...fantastic," he said in a low tone. "I've slept outside for a week or more, so this is just...Thank you ma'am," he finished, humbly. You left him to it and went to prepare him a plate of leftovers. When he finally emerged, scrubbed and fresh half an hour later, you bid him sit at the table and presented him with it. Without all that dirt streaking him and without his cap on you could finally see how good he looked and you had to tear your eyes away from the fullness of his lips before you went too far down that rabbit hole. The man was clearly desperate, hanging on to the shreds of the dignity of his old life by his fingertips. There was no way you were going to make him feel like he owed you anything by taking him in. You left him be until you heard him hum with satiated pleasure about ten minutes later.

"Better?" you asked.

"Better," he smiled.

"I see you've made a friend," you said wryly, gesturing to the large hairy head currently resting on one of his feet. You trusted your gut about this man, you didn't imagine him to be anything than he had said he was. But you had to be cautious for obvious reasons. The dog, however, had proved to be a truly excellent judge of character in the past and it warmed you to see her take to him so readily.

"I think I may have bribed my way into her affections. Chicken," he clarified.

"That'll do it," you smiled. He insisted on washing his own plate and then there was an awkward silence between you for a time as he stood in your living room, not really knowing what to do with himself. "Hey, you can sit and watch TV with me, or you can hit your bed if you want. I won't be offended either way."

"I...I think I will go to bed. I'm kinda lookin' forward to it."

"I can understand that," you said as you handed him pillows, blankets and fresh sheets to make it up with. "Just so you know, the dog sleeps down here too. She shouldn't wake you. And help yourself to water in the night, coffee in the morning. Whatever you want."

"Thank you," he said again, his eyes catching yours and looking happier than you had seen them thus far. "Goodnight."

The man worked like a machine. Having lived this life for many years, you were accustomed to being up before dawn, but he beat you to it the next morning, greeting you with a soft "Good morning," and handing you a cup of coffee that he had prepared. He kept up a pace all day, and you moved around each other around the farm, lifting your hands or voices in greeting when you passed. You couldn't help but notice how the soft cotton of his shirt creaked at the seams when he moved his broad shoulders, nor how deft his hands were at every task he set them to. The dog had begun to follow him everywhere and you found yourself liking that too, despite the mild sting of betrayal. He came in to help with lunch and after he washed up, set to chopping salad and buttering bread.

"This is gonna sound weird, but erm...your dog...she ain't partly deaf or anything is she?"

"No, why?"

"Its just, she comes when I whistle, but not when I call."

"Ohhh," you said, realisation hitting you like a wave. "Yeah, well, last night I might not have told you her proper name. I er...I wanted to make her seem a little more intimidating than she is. Just in case, you know. Hence Tank. Though she ruined that when she drooled all over your shoes." He gave a small chuckle, his eyes sparkling.

"So what is her name?"

"Cookie." At this, you heard the tell tale sound of Cookie's claws on the kitchen tiles. "Good girl," you threw over your shoulder at her.

"Well, that suits her a lot better'n Tank. She's so friendly."

"Only to the good ones. You should have seen her with the last man that came in here. She knew he was a wrong 'un. Took me a while to catch on, but I get there in the end." You turned your head to find him looking at you with sympathy and a touch of anger. "Like I said, I can take care of myself," you added and moved on with your day. In his first week staying with you he managed to do most of the little jobs that had been irritating, but not bad enough to address. The tap in the kitchen no longer dripped. All of the fencing was entirely without holes for the first time in forever. The roof of the chicken coop was renewed. You decided to celebrate by breaking out some beers in the evening and sat with him on your porch, watching the sky slowly turn from gold to apricot to scarlet. Once he had started to feel less awkward around you, you found him to be good company - intelligent and curious and with a good sense of humour and even your silences were now companionable, especially a few beers in.

"Need to plant some more things in the garden," he grunted, slurring a little. "Maybe some beets and some radishes?"

"That sounds good," you agreed, "but for tonight, just switch off a bit. Enjoy the beer and the view. You've more than earned it."

"Oh, I'm enjoyin' the view alright," he said. There was something low and sinful in his voice that made you turn your head to him in astonishment and definite interest, but as you did, his eyes grew wide and he started to splutter. "Oh God, I apologise. I haven't had a beer in months and I guess my tolerance ain't what it was. I...I didn't mean to offend. I didn't mean to say that."

"Didn't you?"

"No, I-I'm sorry." Putting your beer down, you came to stand in front of him, placing your hands on his knees and running them up his thighs.

"Are you sure you didn't mean it?" And suddenly the realisation of your own drunkenness came crashing around you. What were you thinking? You couldn't take advantage of him like this. He had nowhere else to go and he had said he wasn't interested. You straightened abruptly. "No, I'm sorry. This is wrong. I'm...I'm going to bed." And you did so, walking swiftly away before he could see the redness of your face.

The next morning, your coffee lay on the counter and you could see him outside the house pottering around. Berating yourself for an idiot for ruining the good feelings you had built up between you, you went about your own tasks in a crotchety mood. He didn't come in for lunch either, and you began to get a little worried about him. Deciding to tackle the problem head on, you brought him out a Tupperware with some food and some water. Eventually you found him in the barn, measuring some of the beams. He hadn't noticed you come in and you stood and openly stared for a moment at the sight of him with no shirt on under his overalls. It was pretty warm in here - you were starting to feel the effects yourself. His back was broad and muscular and his shoulder muscles rolled as you watched him reach up to measure something above him.

"Er...hi," you ventured, a little shyly. He whirled to face you, looking as if he had been caught doing something he shouldn't. "I'm sorry to bother you, I just thought you might want some lunch." You deposited it on the hay bale closest to you and carried on, keeping your voice light, "And to say that I'm sorry about yesterday. You said no and I shouldn't have pushed it. I don't want you thinking you have to do anything like that to stay here!"

"Thank you," he said softly as he made his way over to you. "But..I said no because we had both been drinkin' and because I didn't wanna take advantage of anythin' I wasn't bein' offered freely and honestly." His eyes raked over your face, black and piercing in the half light inside the barn. He was so close to you, you could smell the lemon scent of his soap and the musky smell of him underneath. There was a sheen of sweat across his chest and before you could stop yourself or think too deeply about what you were doing, your hands were upon him, feeling the taut, strong muscles of his pectorals. You bit your lip a little as you raised your eyes to his.

"You're not taking advantage," you whispered. "I want this." That was all the invitation he needed to crash his lips upon yours with a fervent desire. His big hands circled your waist and roved your back as his tongue begged entrance at your mouth. Your own hand moved down his overalls to where he was starting to bulge, massaging his length and making him moan into your mouth.

"Christ, I...I've not been with anyone for so long. That feels so good, don't stop." You heeded him, but also brought one of his hands from around your back to your breast where he began to knead it intensely and he groaned again, in between peppering your mouth and neck with kisses. "Fuck, you're so pretty. I thought so from th' first moment I saw you. I didn't know how to say..." For someone usually so reticent, he was on a roll now he had your tit in his hand and you were palming him through his overalls.

You snaked your hands up his body again and undid his overalls, letting them fall and pool around his feet where they landed. His body was gorgeous, broad and muscular with a little fuzz over his chest and running down his stomach. You ran your hands all over it, feeling the slickness of the sweat beading through his hair under your hands and feeling your own body begin to heat and respond in earnest, your clit throbbing a little between your legs. He kicked off his boots, and took off his socks and overalls in one swoop before taking you back in his arms and kissing you ardently again. His hand slid up your shirt and hiked it up, the sweat at your back making it stick to you a little. You broke the kiss to hurl it from your head and away, closely followed by your bra.

"Oh fuck baby, your tits are so beautiful. Lemmie taste you." He got on his knees in front of you and did just that, taking your nipple in his mouth and sucking on it harshly whilst rubbing your other nipple between his thumb and forefinger. Exhaling a moan of pleasure, you tangled your fingers into his dark waves and pulled him even closer, feeling his smile against your chest as his free hand undid the buttons on your jeans. You could feel the wetness in your underwear now, the telltale stripe of moisture under your cunt as he coaxed that sweet feeling all through your veins with his tongue and fingers on your nipple.

"I want you to fuck me," you gasped. "Need you to fuck me hard."

"Oh don't you worry, baby, I'm gonna take good care of you," he murmured against your skin as he pulled the material down your legs. "Fuck, you're so wet already. I can see it on your panties. I wanna taste you there too. Can I?" His big dark eyes looked up at you with pleading and what you would have called innocence had he not already been flicking his tongue back over your nipple, making you squirm and huff with the pleasurable tickle of it. In reply you pulled the rest of your clothes away from you, but before he could reach his prize you took his jaw in your hand and brought his head up to look at you. He was instantly attentive and alert, looking slightly worried, as If you might have changed your mind in the few seconds it had taken for you to remove your clothes.

"You can taste me, if I can taste you afterwards," you offered.

"Hell yeah you can," he muttered appreciatively as he got to his feet and lifted you on to a haybale. The straw poked you roughly and mercilessly, but you forgot about that when he leaned over you and kissed you deeply again. "Gonna make you feel real good, honey," he promised again before kissing a path downward. He hooked your legs over his biceps and ran his forearms up to your breasts, teasing your nipples again before diving right in to lick warm, wide stripes from your cunt to your clit. It had been so long since anyone had been intimate with you, your head felt dizzy and overwhelmed, but he took it to another level with the enthusiasm he brought to the task. He lapped at you and what you were leaking as if he were a man starved, pushing his face into you, so you could feel his patchy stubble rub against your inner thighs, and sucking gently on your clit. It took an embarrassingly short time before your breaths came stunted and your voice rose in a wail of pleasure as he drove you to your peak, the red hot lava of it flowing from your core throughout your body. He ripped a second from you when he pushed two thick fingers inside and curled them wonderfully to strike against that part inside you that you yourself could never reach. His eyes glittered with lust as you came down from your high and you swore you could come again just from the look he was giving you from between your legs. He kissed your inner thighs and wiped his mouth as he came in for another kiss, your taste all over his tongue and lips.

"Your turn." you announced breathlessly, as you got down from the bale on shaky legs. Not breaking eye contact, you knelt in front of him, the straw on the floor not much of a cushion for your knees. He moaned loudly as you raked your nails down his side, catching them on the waistband of his underwear and pulling them down, allowing his cock to spring free and bob up toward his stomach. You had felt that he was well endowed, but seeing him was something else entirely and you couldn't help the hum of appreciation that escaped you before you leaned forward kissed the reddened tip, his precum brushing over your lips. You looked up at him as you licked it off and could see his breaths coming heavy and wild, his shoulders and chest heaving in anticipation. His hands came around to tangle in your hair as you licked a swirl over his tip before taking it in your mouth and sucking gently whilst moving down his shaft.

"Fuck, baby. You're so good. C-can I move?" You brought your hands around to the firmness of his ass and moved him forward a little to give him permission and saw his head roll back in pleasure. He seemed to not want to hurt you and fucked your mouth much more gently than you thought he would. Your head bobbed further and further down his shaft until he was striking the back of it, making you gag a little. Raising yourself back off, you pumped him with your hand while swirling your tongue over his tender head. When you brought your other hand to cradle his balls he trembled a little under your touch. "Honey, I do not want you to stop, but if you don't I won't be able to fuck you before I come." You removed your mouth from him slowly, hollowing your cheeks and sucking hard as you progressed.

He helped you to your feet and reached down to stroke your clit again while he kissed your lips, the taste of you both mingling in your mouths. Turning your back to him you bent over the hay bale, presenting yourself to him and you heard a guttural sound of arousal behind you before the head of his cock was notching at your entrance and pushing in all at once, stretching you and making you whimper as he bent over your back and kissed your shoulder. "Are you ok, baby?" he muttered. "Does this feel good?"

"Yes," you whispered. "Now fuck me hard."

He bit down a little on the meat of your shoulder and whispered a low "Yes, Ma'am," before standing fully and beginning to piston his hips into you with forceful, firm strokes, his cock pushing further within you each time. It was overwhelming and even more so when he pushed down on your back further so that he was fucking down into you and sliding over your spot with each thrust. The change in pitch of your gasping moans and the wetness that you could suddenly feel around the tops of your thighs encouraged him to fuck you even harder, his cock swelling as he got close to his release and filling you up beautifully. "Like that, honey? Right there?" he grunted as you started to feel yourself lose control around him.

"Yes, there, please, don't stop, please," you begged. He captured your arms and pulled you further back toward him, and suddenly he was striking something white hot and golden inside and you were gone, your cunt pulsating around him and flooding him with you. Your head was so dizzied that you only noticed he had pulled you flush against his sweat-sticky chest when his arms were around you, grasping greedily at your breasts and the hot breath of his rich, deep voice was beside your ear.

"Where-"

"inside." He drove into you half a dozen more times before he cried your name aloud and you felt him pulsate strongly within you, jettisoning his spend into you with groans muffled against your shoulder. As he withdrew, he held you up gently before turning you and lying you on the bale he had just taken you over, coming to lie down beside you with his big eyes searching your face and his big calloused hands stroking the soft skin of your belly. The sweet summer sun was slanting over his face, turning his black eyes amber in its glow and you felt a welcome twinge in your heart as you took his face in your hand and kissed him.

[dyker-farmer]

Ok this was supposed to be a quick draw and a description to go with, that blew into a full chapter and now it's also on Ao3 SO happy reading ig idk

I never see Shane works that don't go all in for romance nor explore the more realistic ugly parts of recovery, and I kind of crave That TM. So let me have at it too with the self-insert whump mumbo jumbo; no romo version.

Set post-8 hearts event, Farmer Uidelsib is two years or so in, full house built and married to Emily. They/them pronouns, same as me.

Diverges from then on, Shane-centric from an outside POV for the most part.

[[MORE]]

Take that can away if you can.

Gulp it down. Chapter 1/2/3/4

There's a few to-know to survive life in society, in the valley; there's no good way to comment on the age nor weight of both resident housewives, you can't say no to Evelyn's homemade cookies- and why would you, you fool-, you do not fight at the Saloon or you'll get no cheese anymore on your pizza and only sparkling water for drinks, and-

And you don't mess with Shane's alcohol related ritual.

Except I did, that night, because you do that, when your two-years long friendship with the guy taught you better than letting his impulses overcome yours, when your buddy is trying to recover from teenage long-lasting into early adulthood, trauma-enhanced heavy addiction, and you know, you know tomorrow he'll feel like absolute shit and question his right to therapy the moment he'll stop his pounding skull from splitting. Wonders what a three-dosage paracetamol can do. 

At least he doesn't drink it out anymore.

So yeah, when you're in my shoes, you get that Joja store-bought crap out of Shane's hand, and you brace yourself for the incoming lash out.

The first fractions of seconds are always those to look closely into most. It's only a glimpse, but before the scowl slips on like a well-worn boxing glove ready to strike, there is always this open page I learned I needed to decipher as quick as I could.

Tonight, it's heartbreaking. When I peck his forehead- doting big sibling habits die hard, even when you're actually the youngest of the pair- the eyes I catch looking at me are so confused and bare of any emotion, except for the sorrow that goes beer-soaked tears, it pangs. I get used to the breakdowns, working in the fields I do when I'm off the farm's, but it's not the same when it's a friend.

When I straighten back, offensive beverage in hand, it's already gone in a flinch, away from the empty space behind the chair and onto the table, as he snarls.

"Wha- giv'me back- 's mine!" I don't know how much he drunk before he met up with me, but from the slurring, it's a Lot. A season and a half into sobriety. That's harsh.

I ignore him and walk behind him, pondering where to put the beer for now.

"Y-you can't just do that! It's my booze I got with m'money, not some- who d'you think you are?-" He sputters indignantly, angry tears fewer than the sad ones but still there. He tries to turn around and grab behind his back, but the wild movement is way off and only gets the chair to nearly topples down. I rush in time to stabilize it, and profit off the moment to set a strong hand on his shoulder.

"I can just do that, 'cus it's my house I got with my money, and I think I'm your pal who knows when you've had enough. Dude, I trust you to be an adult, but minutes before, you were already so torched I had to keep your neck upright so you didn't faceplant into the table, and you nearly just kissed my floor good evening. Not to mention you clung to my arms the whole way from the little entry stairs to the kitchen because, quoting, 'If I don't I'll fall in the hole and won't get up'."

I turn to the fridge again, going to open it, before I think better of it. Likely enough, we'll both forget it was there in the first place, it'll stink up my fridge- it's Joja's- and it'll be money out of Shane's pocket for nothing. I set it on the counter, with the rest of the pack. He'll put it to cool down when he's back to Marnie's. Or he won't, probably. 

That's not a worry for now.

When I caught up with him, it was a few feet below my doorstep; he'd probably slipped up trying to climb the three steps up to it, and settled for it. He was nursing that same can, muttering to himself, head down, curled up on himself. Except for that leg sticked out, he probably hurt it when he fell, I'll have to look at that and work on it if it's too swollen. Hopefully that'll spare us from a visit to Harvey's.

Bad memories. Not mine, and it's warm and not raining outside, but. Déjà-vu.

Anyways, he looked the picture of "help I've fallen and I can't get up- and even if I can I won't because Fuck You", and it's been a hassle to have him cooperate. But when I asked if he wanted to leave, he shook his head with a fervor no somnolent drunk should have. That resulted in a lovely streak of vomit down the wall right next to the door. That's also for later. If Eryza doesn't lap it up. Ew. This cat's never predictable.

Now, he's staring at his hands, sitting at my table, contemplating something too far down for me to see- or maybe just zoning out with a sleeping brain. Then he mumbles. "Sorry."

I get back to the table and sit at arm's length across of him. "Nah, 's okay. I don't mind being a helping hand or touchy-feely, must be the frog-eater in me. Not for the helping part." I'd chuckle but my quip falls on deaf ears.

I go to put my hand over his. When he doesn't blink at it, I try and shake a reply out of him, gently. He startles and hawkeyes our joined fingers. When he's finally looking at me, I raise a single eyebrow. He doesn't say anything, but when he pulls back his arm, I let him. We both straighten up, and it's hard to keep up the eye contact.

"So…" There's a heavy air on us. Suddenly, like the last year didn't happen, we're sitting a stride away of each other, and yet it feels like he's all the way back to the forest, looking down at waves.

"Do you want me to do something?" I bend myself a little closer to him, not moving otherwise.

He puts his head in his hands, shivering. Can't tell if it's the AC or his system kicking the alcohol out, or itself, in stress. I think I hear something, but it might as just be his shuddering breath.

"Shane" I insist, voice level, not pressing. "I need words. I want to help, I truly don't mind, but I need words to know what to do." He's never shown signs of going nonverbal before. If he does, I'll improvise. Until then… I need words.

Time ticks slowly as we wait. Then, with great effort and deep fatigue, he drags his palms up from under his nose to his temple, spreading some snot and wet tears across his face from his scrunched shut eyes. Lips trembling but finally showing, that attempt to let out a sound that's not too garbled. He coughs, sniffles a bit, breathe in again, sounding like a sick dog, and blows through gritted teeth before his jaws go slack. Eyes still closed, he whispers, and I have to lower myself some more toward his crouched form to catch it.

"Can I get something to drink…?" His voice is hoarse.

The demand could be comical, if we were into sour humor. And we usually are. But right now, we're not finding the joke in the lines. I stand silently, and as I walk to the fridge again, I let my hand brush his shoulder- same spot as before.

I take a minute to choose, look into the pantry. When I'm back at the table with my items of choice, he's still sitting there, his cheek is cushioned on his arms, face hidden from view. His shoulder, except for the occasional tremor, rise and fall in rythm with his snores. Breaks my heart to interrupt that, but not really. Hangovers are mean bitches with the sharpest nail art on the blackest of boards.

"Psst, dude. C'mon." I rustle his hair backward. He hates when I do that, says it tickles, and it makes him sneeze. So I obligatory do it once a day if I can. Let's say today's my late quota for the last four days I haven't seen him.

He gruffly tells me to kindly refrain from such pleasantries, and raise bleary eyes back up at the table. I can also guess he tried to bat a hand at me, but his coordination is off and he slaps himself lightly on the ear. Then he glares bewildered at his hand for a few seconds, obviously insulted. I profit of this moment to grab a small basin from under the sink, on second thought.

When he brings his attention back to me, I'm sitting again. Between us, a jug of fresh milk from this morning, a small sack of peppers, and a juice carafe sit aside a green glass bottle. There's also some bread, mostly for me to munch on. Because, hmmm dough. He squints at it all, especially at the bottle. Probably trying to read the label.

"Yeah no, didn't get you one of my best wine, not sorry."

"Hot pepper… juice?" He looks at the actual peppers next to it. "With actual peppers?" And then I get the squint too.

"Hmph, I know you like your elongated hell tomatoes, man, what can i say."

At that, a feeble snort.

I decide that it is the highlight victory of my soirée.

"Welp, have at it." I gesture to the half-liter liquor glass right by his left.

He fumbles with the drinks and some splashes around, but I lay back on my chair, arms crossed, letting him do his thing. While I don't hold back from growing downright doting on him when I got to- or even when I don't- I don't see how more devotion right now would be not smothering. He can break my fancy glass cups if he wants and spill my milk, so long he doesn't cut himself or cry over it.

Now, you could be thinking that plain water would have done the trick just fine, if not better, in rehydrating him. Here's the thing, though; going from booze to tasteless liquid, for Shane, that's a sure way to puking his heart out. And I'd rather not have us deal with an acid bile throat burn on top of near alcohol poisoning. Sorry to not spare you the squeamish details, but his oesophagus is pretty sensitive ever since that stomach pumping back at the clinic. Hot fiery hell fruits he can do just fine, with relative moderation and hydratation- hence the milk and juice- but liquor bursting its way back from his guts? Nuh uh. 

It had taken lots of coaxing, but he'd explained the plain tastes, or lackthereof, were very hard for him to deal with, especially when contrasting with strong ones like beers and whiskeys. I'd shackle it to gustative hypostimulation, but I don't know enough about him that way to say. He'd said sparkling water was a good compromise.

But I don't have sparkling water, because I do not like suffering.

I might buy a pack for when he visits though.

And I do know a handful about him already. Shackle that to perceptiveness and a stubborn streak on top of a year and so long camaraderie.

And having a certain uncontrollable fear of failing to act quick the next time coped with by accumulating information and patterns compulsively.

I shake my head to focus on the present again. He's switched from juices to soaking bread in milk to eat it small portion after small portion. He pauses in mid-bite when he catches me staring. He's still hunched on himself and red-faced and a tad bloated. His cheeks are drying and he's blown his nose. I smile calmly. Worst of the storm passed, unless I screw up and blow it.

"Ywou wan' chom'?" He offers a dripping piece of bread. In moments like this, when he's sobering but not quite, the resemblance with Jas are unmistakable. The glint in his reddened eyes that open wide, and his blank-but-not-quite wondering expression, it's all here to paint a scrutinizing but vulnerable picture of tired but bright minds.

"Nah thanks. You done with that milk?"

"...Sure." He eyes it, wary. He knows where this is going, and he doesn't like it. I take the drink off the table, and his gaze follows my movement until I bring it to my lips.

He frowns. A silent warning. 

And as I lock onto him with a dead stare, not blinking a millisecond, I down the rest of the 2 liters jug in three, five gulps. I even take the time to lick my new mustache away, and close my mouth with a click of my tongue.

His expression is the macabre marriage of beffudled horror and pure affliction, disgust if you will. The face of someone who doesn't hate milk, but has grown out of it enough to not be able to live off the stuff like the brave souls I'm apart of. And probably with reason, as I actually can't, like most 20+ years old, digest the liquid in large amount. But I smile like a smug cat, perfectly content.

Cats really can't digest milk once adults, it's all social mythos.

We silently judge and fuck with each other like that for a while more, as more time passes, until the room's elephant gets it all humid with its prancing around. Enough that tears and nervous sweats start again, for no apparent reasons but the residual anxiety from the whole chain of events that led to this.

"I think we should talk about this."

--- to be continued.

[littleliv1]

I Was Born To Love You- Part six

Such an overwhelming amount of support for this series! I’m almost done writing it, I’m on Part 9 and I think I’ll try to end it there. Maybe one more. I have some ideas for the ending, but who knows! Thank you all so much xx

Summary: Leah goes home to a shocking surprise. Flash forward and she’s 7 months pregnant.

Warnings: death of a dog, adultry, lots of tension.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Three weeks had passed since the party, and the next thing we knew, we were done with filming Live Aid. The guys did wonderful, but I was ready to see my little baby again. I missed Lola so much. The flight back was full of jittery guys, and and excited Lucy who never left my side. The absence of the baby daddy drove her into protective mode. She and I became very close throughout the weeks.

Once the plane landed, I drove everyone home, taking the rest of the next few days off. Bryan wanted me to get my new motherhood life situated before I came back. Two days was plenty for me. I was only about 6 weeks pregnant, so I wasn't showing yet. Austin's car was in the drive way, which was weird because he's usually at work at this hour. I opened the door, greeted by silence. Where's Lola? "Darling, I'm home," I said, setting my stuff on the coffee table. I looked in the kitchen and living room, Lola was no where to be found. I went into my bedroom to find a sleeping Austin. I smiled at the thought, but I quickly went away, I remembered what I had to do. I knocked at the door as he sprung up. "Leah," He said, getting up and wrapping himself with sheets. "You're home early," He said, not breaking eye contact.

I looked behind him to the bathroom door. Someone was in there. God this cannot be. My heart sank. I gave up. "Who's in there?" I said, defeatedly. He looked down in shame. "Shelly," He said. I threw my hands up in a I-should-have-known way. I walked out, as he chased behind me. "Dear, come back let me explain." He said. I held my forehead, looking at him. "I want a divorce. I have some lawyers in mind. Keep the house. But where is my dog?" I said, not looking at him. He looked around. "I didn't tell you?" He said. "No, you hadn't called me for an entire month. Where's my dog?" I said, angrily. "She, she died. She was struck by a car." He said, as if I should have known that. My heart was no longer in my chest. It had exploded. My baby, my life. "How could you have not told me?" I said, very quietly, crying to myself.

I left the house, getting into my car. I sat there and sobbed. I called Brian. "Hello, dear! How are you?" He said. I found a break in between sobs to tell him what happened. "I'll get you the number to a really good divorce lawyer. You'll be able to walk away with everything." He said. I shook my head. "I don't- want- everything!" I half way screamed. "I'm pregnant- with a baby- who's father- doesn't want us!" I said. "Drive to the studio. Roger and I are up here working on some stuff, we will find you a place to stay." He said. "But calm down first. Everything will be okay. Stay on the phone with me until you get here.

It took a bit, but I calmed myself down, enough to drive. "Okay, I'm on my way there." I said. I drove off.

I was there in about 15 minutes, walking in. I was a complete mess. All of the guys where there, including Lucy. They all wrapped their arms around me. As loved as I was, I had never felt more betrayed in my life. My heart ached. My dog was gone for god knows how long. The only good thing happening was my baby. I felt my face in a familiar chest. Ben's. I held onto him so tight and just let it out.

-6 months later-

I stayed with Brian and Roger for a few weeks before I found my own place. It was a very nice house. Still one story, but it had a basement, it was pretty big, a pool. And I had it all to myself. I really didn't mind living alone, it was actually kind of nice. Ben was with me all the time, helping me with the house and taking care of my crazy pregnancy needs, coming with me to the doctor appointments. The only problem being, the media thought this baby was his. The divorce was near finalized as he still hadn't signed the papers. I was 7 months pregnant. I started to enjoy the silence. But at one point or anther, I missed my girl very much. I called up Ben on this day.

"Hey, so I think I want to get a dog. Come with me to the Shelter?" I asked him. We all had Sunday's off. "Absolutely! I love dogs." He said. "Alright, I'll pick you up in about thirty minutes or so." I said, with that I started to get ready. Being pregnant in the fall is hard. I just bought these new maternity jeans, and a shirt that showed my bump. I had to say, this pregnancy was going well. The baby has been super active the entire time. But I'm sure it's a girl. I put on some comfy slip ons and left to get him.

We got to the shelter and I explained how I wanted a dog of any size. I told them about my house size, yard size and occupation. "Well, Mrs. Hardy," she said, she recognized Ben. I guess she didn’t know that wasn’t his real last name. I raised my eye brows and I was about to correct her, when she spoke again. "I have the perfect set in mind. Follow me." She said. We walked through the loud barking of dogs, once we got to a pair of border collie Siberian husky mix pups. "Two?" I said, questionably. "Well it sounds like you'll be gone a good amount, you'll want to make sure they have company so they don't get lonely. They're very smart and protective dogs," she continued, patting my belly. "And your house size sounds perfect for them." She finished. I smiled, she knew how to tug at my heart strings. "The price is around $500. But you'll be getting two-" "I'll take them!" I said eagerly. She laughed, as we filled out the paperwork.

"I'm very happy for the two of you," she said. I let it slide again. The thought wouldn't kill anyone, would it? The two beauty's came with leashes. Ben held the both of them as we buckled in. "Where to now?" He said, fighting his giggles back as the pups liked his face. "Doggie store!" I said, driving off. We got to my favorite store, 'Mulers'. It was an animal company that fought against animal cruelty. 50% of their earnings a year went to finding good homes for animals throughout California. They had organic treats, you were able to read exactly what you were feeding your dog, natural dog soaps, things if that nature. Sure it was expensive, but it was worth it. We let the pups out, and walked in. "Let's put them in the cart!" Ben said. He put them both in like little babies. One of them was black, white and silver, with a green eye and a brown eye. He was a boy. The other was all black with white around her eyes and belly. She has two bright blue eyes, but she was deaf. He looked cute with them. I couldn't help but to snap a picture with my phone. I posted on my Instagram.

"Welcome to the family! What should I name these beauties? Boy is on the left, girl on the right!"

Within minutes, comments of names emerged. I smiled at some of them, but I put my phone away. "How much do you have to spend?" He asked. "We will see. I had an extra thousand to spend from my last pay check, plus the money I'm getting from the divorce." He helped me pick out dog beds, with cages, puppy pads, little dog cloths, all things of that sorts. I had to put them in the cutest little shirts that said "Mommy's little diva" and "mommy's little prince". I held them with their backs facing out, as Ben snapped a picture himself. He posted it on his Instagram.

"Look who added to the family! @Joe_Mazello when can we start our own family?!?"

All of the young girls were a bit jealous, but I know they'll be okay. "I love them!" I said, putting them back. I picked out some dog food, a few different treats, some dishes and toys, and we were on our way. As I pulled into my drive way, I saw a lot of cars parked. My drive way was rather large, there was a spot titled "The Mother To Be". I giggled. "What's this?" I said. I took the girl pup, and Ben held the boy and we walked in. A group of balloons and confetti surprised me. I laughed at the startle. "You guys! You shouldn't have!" I said. Lucy approached me. "And who is this?" She said, holding the pup. She lost her mind when Ben walked in with the other. I laughed at her reaction to the two pups.

My closest friends threw me a baby shower. Lucy, still holding one of the pups, sat me on their make shift "Throne" (which was just a rocking chair they had gotten me), and placed a rather large crown on my head, with nipples sticking up, and she placed a sash on me that said "Soon to be mommy". I was so happy, this was so amazing. They had gotten me gift cards to places for paint, and baby stores to decorate the room whenever I decided I was ready to do that. They got me a changing table, crib, carrier, car seat, all of it was so beautiful. Lucy walked up to me, sneakily whispering in my ear. "I did a little snooping, and..." they brought out a box. I hadn't even thought about the gender, but I did really want to know. I don't even want to know how she got it.

Rami started to record. "Start!" He said. I giggled, standing up- or attempting to with the aid of Lucy- and wobbled to the box. "Before you open it, what do you think it is?" I heard Gwilym say. "Mmmm, I really think it's a girl. Every dream I've had it was a girl, so I think girl." Everyone had their bets, as it was displayed on the chalk board. Most thought it was a girl, too. I slowly cut the tape off, and opened it as different shades of blue appeared, balloons, all of it. It was a boy. I was having a boy. I started crying, happy tears. While I thought it was a girl, I felt so blessed to be carrying a little baby boy in my belly.

Lucy hugged me. "I'm so happy for you , Leah!" She said. The furniture that had already been bought was unisex, so it was up to you for decorations. As the party winded down, the guys had cleaned up, and everyone left, you held Bens hand as he started to leave. "Stay," I said. "For a little longer." He nodded. "So where's the nursery going to be?" He asked. I guided him down the hallway, the very last room. It was pretty big, had a rather large closet, and big windows. It was facing the back, though, so no one could see into his room. He smiled, walking in. "If I know your taste," He started. "The chair is going to go, here," he said pointing to an area that was surrounded you windows. I laughed, nodding, as I started to rub my belly. "And his crib will go, here, of course." He said, pointing against the wall. I smiled, nodding again, and walked in. My smile dropped. While I knew I had help by the dial of a phone, I could shake the feeling that I was alone. He could see it. He wrapped his arms around me, attempting to comfort me. "Hey, it'll be alright. This baby will be so loved, and I'm sure you'll met a man who will treat him like he was his own son. Hell, I'll teach him how to play catch. Brian can teach him how to sing-" I stopped him, pressing my lips against his. His hands held my elbows, as mine held his waist.

I pulled back, looking down. "I'm sorry," I said. He smiled. "It's alright, love. I was wondering when that was going to happen." He said. I took a deep breath, and cleared my throat. "I'm feeling a bit tired," I said. "Let me stay with you. You seem like you need a friend." Friend. Yes I needed him. But not like a friend. Something in me so wished this baby was his. I nodded. He had some cloths here from times that he and the guys got drunk and had to stay here. So he changed into what he had here, as did I, which was just a Queen t-shirt and shorts, and we both brushed our teeth. We walked into my room, boxes still packed up from the move, but I just never found the time to unpack them. My bed was across a wall of windows. It started to storm, which I liked the sound of rain when I slept, so I didn't mind. I maneuvered into the most comfortable position to sleep in, with my belly so big. Ben came up behind me, and wrapped his arms around me and rubbed my belly. It felt nice. Normal, really. He started to press kisses on my cheek and neck, which caused goose bumps to trail along my body. And we slept like that. All night.

Taglist: @amy-brooklyn99

@florenceivy

[boneandfur]

Riding Lessons [2]

CHAPTER TWO

Rating: for mature readers only // Words: 2388 // Summary: Juniper gets ready to ride in the rodeo, and unexpectedly sees a face from her past.

•••

"If yer still hellbent on this damn fool idea of yours, you gotta wear something else." Cliff coughs delicately, moving his finger up and down to indicate the dress. They're standing under the pines, killing time. A blush creeps up his neck. "Just think what kind of example you're settin' for Duke's girl." 

"I think it's mad cool, grandpa!" Brooklynne squeals, hugging Juniper around the waist. "I'm gonna vlog the whole thing!" 

Juniper looks at Cliff, though she doesn't need his permission, she feels chastised all the same. She looks to Brooklynne. "Brook, what size shorts are you wearing?" 

Cliff's eyes bulge. "Oh, hell no. Duke would never forgive me if I let --" but Juniper is already tugging Brooklynne towards the bathrooms.

"This dress would look real pretty on you, Brook. In fact, if you like it, I'll let you keep it." Juniper keeps talking as they head into the bathroom and surpass the line, going straight into two neighboring stalls. 

"They're actually a little too big?" Brooklynne squeaks from the next stall. 

"Perfect." Juniper may have her mama's hips, but she can make it work. "Shirt too." Brooklynne's shirt and shorts sail over the partition, and Juniper passes Brooklynne the dress. She stole it from Caitlín before she left, hell, she stole Caitlín's boyfriend, Sully, too. But he didn't touch me the way Dick Mulligan... She pushes that thought away, but the memory of his touch is branded on her skin, she's aching all over with the need for him to touch her again, Just like that. 

Seven minutes later, Juniper is in Brooklynne's hacked off jeans, now a pair of teeny tiny Daisy Dukes that hug her curves like a second skin. The tank top might be a problem, she acknowledges grudgingly to herself as she looks in the mirror. My breasts are the problem. She's wearing a red lace balconette bra that seemed like a good idea at the time, but is completely out of place under the black tank top, which barely skims her belly button.

"Here, Juniper." Asha appears, looking her critically up and down before passing her a plaid shirt, and Juniper rolls the sleeves up, tying it under her breasts. 

"That's not what I..." Asha's eyes bug out. "Never mind. Looks cute, I guess. You might even pass for one of us, if you wore it the way God intended you to." 

Is that supposed to be a compliment? Juniper doesn't answer, intent on braiding her hair, out of her face. "Thanks, babe." She blows an air kiss, and Asha recoils like she's been slapped. 

"How's this?" Brooklynne taps Juniper on the shoulder, and she hears Asha suck in a horrified breath. 

"Oh, sugar, ain't you a picture!" Her mama's words come out of her mouth before she can stop them, and Juniper coughs to cover her slip. "You look beautiful. Don't she, Asha?" 

Asha is staring at Brooklynne like she's somehow become wild, feral. "You'd better cover yourself up! Juniper," she continues in a dark, urgent whisper, "I'm surprised -- no, shocked at you! You can't let that baby girl go out in the fair looking like, like -- that." They both look at Brooklynne, who is twirling dreamily in the mirror, the skirt fanning out around her knees, looking five years older already, the kind of girl who runs off with a carnival boy and never looks back. "When her pa sees that he's gonna --" 

"What's Duke gonna do? Oh, hell." Juliette pops her head in through the door to the cement washroom. "Asha, you better take that kid to get a cover-up on before Duke and Cliff see her. Juniper, you come with me." 

"And where the hell are you taking her?!" Asha demands, exasperation coloring her tone. "The rodeo starts in..." she checks her clipboard. "In less than fifty minutes!" 

Juliette ignores her, pulling Juniper out into the sunlight. She takes a good look up and down at the tied plaid and the Daisy Dukes, letting out a wolf whistle. "Damn, girl! They gonna let you ride in that?" She waits until they're out of earshot, then her face splits into a big grin. "You're riding in the rodeo! Sawyer told me," she goes on, unaware of how her face lights up when she talks about him, like no one can tell how she feels inside. 

If this wasn't all a means to an end, Juniper would let herself give them both a little push in the right direction, but she can't let herself get attached -- it hurts too much to say goodbye that way, and she never says goodbye, not if she can help it. "What else did he say?" Juniper plays with a loose thread on the shorts, which threaten to cut off her circulation at the hips. When all of this is over, and she's made it safely over the border, she's going to take a long soak in a copper tub, sloughing off this false identity like the dirt from the road. But until then, she's here in East Podunk, lying low, safe from the long arm of the law. "What?" 

Juliette waves a hand in front of her face. "You in there, June Bug? I said that Sawyer was real worried about you, but I told him I'd take care of it. And first order of business is gettin' you some ridin' boots and a hat. You're representin' Oakley Ranch, after all." Juliette winks at her. "What size shoe you wear?" 

"Six." But Juliette is already handing Juniper her boots.

Juliette runs a hand through her dark curls. "The toe box might be a little wonky, but I think you'll be all right. Those are five and a half's. They okay?" 

The boots fit like a dream almost to the toe box, which pinches. But it's only for a few hours. Juniper feels a warm feeling of gratitude bubble up in her chest, but she pushes it away. The less beholden she is to these people, to this place, the better. She wiggles her toes. "Thanks, I think these will be fine."

By the time they finish, Juniper is wearing a red hat edged with cheap silver ribbon, and there are only fifteen minutes left before the rodeo starts. Juliette leads her to a roped off area near the gate, crowded with people and press milling around. "You just go over there and find Asha. She's probably by thie chute. She'll assign you your number. You want me to come?" 

"Nah, I got this. Thanks again." Juniper hugs Juliette quick, kissing her on the cheek. Juliette smells of bourbon and green apple shampoo. She gives a little wave to Juniper.

"Good luck!" 

•••

With a swing in her hips and a confidence she doesn't feel, Juniper waltzes up to the crowd of cowboys.  Even in Juliette's boots, it's hard to see over the bobbing sea of ten gallon hats. There are rodeo cowboys and rodeo queens with spangles on their boots, there are little boys and girls in chaps leaning on the fence watching, and teenage boys swaggering around. 

She's never seen so many girls in painted on jeans, sparkly cowboy hats, and push up bras in her life. Somewhere in the crowd, she can hear Dick's deep baritone, and the high pitched giggles of girls. She looks for a familiar face, but she's hemmed in on all sides. She spots Dick, surrounded by several stage five clingers, all spray-tanned and bleached blonde with their hair teased to high heaven. They're pouting, trying to get his attention, but he's busy talking to some dark haired guy who's dressed as casually as the others, yet looks somehow out of place. As if he can sense her eyes on him, the stranger raises his head, scanning the crowd, and Juniper ducks down, frantically backpedaling. 

Dave Reyes. The long arm of the law has found her at last. I'm not ready. Not yet, please, not yet! She feels like she can't breathe, and sucks in several deep, rapid breaths, her heart rate speeding up. Her vision swims with black spots, and as she tries to fight her way back out of the crowd,  she feels a wave of dizziness slam into her. 

"Hey now, what do we have here?" A guy with a blonde crew cut, press badge, and a blue vest over a short-sleeved flannel shirt that looks like it came from the Sprawlmart clearance rack grabs her arm, smacking his lips as he surveys her. She's too out of it to slap him the way she yearns to, and instead a feeble protest leaves her lips as he hauls her forward. 

"No!" Juniper tries to tug her arm back, but the guy isn't listening. 

"A buckle bunny! Martin, look! I got us a real live buckle bunny!" he leers in Juniper's face, addressing her breasts. "How-de-doo, little bunny. I'm TJ." He snaps a selfie with a full flash, blinding her, and then gropes her ass. "Maybe you've heard of--" TJ has barely opened his mouth to start his spiel when Dick shoves his way through the crowd to step between them, his body shielding Juniper. 

"The lady said no. Are ya as dumb as ya look, or are ya deaf, too?" Dick snarls menacingly. 

With an irritated scowl, TJ puts his hands up like he'll shove Dick in the chest, then some sense of self preservation kicks in, and he steps back. "Get your own buckle bunny, man." 

"Back off," Dick growls. "You really wanna test me, city boy?" 

TJ mumbles something Juniper can't hear, and she whimpers. Dick whips around so fast she swears she can hear his spurs jangle, and then his arms are around her and he's carrying her through the crowd, all the way to a quiet corner in the back of the barn. 

Dick sets her down on a crate, rubbing small circles on her back. He clears his throat. "He didn't hurt ya, did he, Goldilocks?" 

Dizzy and nauseous, she shakes her head, and Dick passes her a flask from his pocket. She can't even touch it, too intent on trying to breathe. 

"Good. I thought..." Dick shakes his head, then starts rubbing her back, his deep voice low and soothing in Juniper's ears. "Put your head between your legs, cup your hands over your mouth, and take some nice, easy breaths," he murmurs, beard tickling her earlobe and setting off butterflies in her stomach. "I swear to God, if I see that city boy with his hands on you again --" she hears the sound of Asha's irritated voice, and then Dick's big, warm hand leaves her back as he stands up. She can hear Asha upbraiding him for "harassing the press". 

"You okay?" Asha crouches down near her, and Juniper nods, focusing on each small breath. Asha stands up, apparently satisfied with that answer, because she pats Juniper's shoulder awkwardly, and then fades back into the crowd when someone calls her name. 

From the corner of her eye, Juniper sees Dave again, and she ducks her head beneath the brim of her hat, hoping against hope he hasn't recognized her. She starts sweating, and then she's shaking uncontrollably, trying to fight the wave of blackness that threatens to engulf her. Voices swim around her in the darkness, and then she feels Dick's hand on her back again, tethering her to the here and now. 

"You clean up real good, Goldilocks," he whispers. "Knew I was gonna have to fight 'em off the minute I saw ya in them Daisy Dukes." When she looks over at him in surprise, he tips his hat and winks at her, then stands up, holding out a hand. "Ain't you gonna wish me luck?" 

Juniper stands up, the world righting itself again. She scans the crowd for Reyes, but he's melted away, as though he never was. She bites her lip. Maybe she was just imagining things. Maybe... "Good luck? Shouldn't you be wishin' me luck, cowboy?" she pokes Dick in the chest, and then he's pressing her up against the barn, their lips a hairsbreadth away. She feels drunken, dizzy, though she hasn't touched a drop. Dick tilts her chin up with two fingers, and just as he bends his head, his breath warm on her lips, she hears Asha calling her name. 

"Juniper!" Asha's voice, so close, makes her jump, and she wriggles past Dick, making her way towards Asha, who rubs the bridge of her nose in annoyance. Did she see Juniper and Dick, so close they almost could have kissed? Undoubtedly. Asha's voice is colored by something deep and green when she speaks again, and Juniper shifts uncomfortably in Juliette's borrowed boots. Her feet are beginning to hurt. "It's not too late to back out..."

Just lay low as long as you can, honey pie, Opal Mae's voice whispers in the back of her mind, as though her mama is standing right beside her. It's living out in the open that'll get ya. Ghosters are livin' dead people's lives for 'em. If the Feds don't know where ya are, they'll never catch up to ya. 

But the money... they can start over with that kind of money, they can stop running for good. Three notes, Ellie. She thinks of the last postcard she sent, musical notes interspersed amidst her cramped handwriting. Ellie remembers, right? She must. It was all Opal ever whistled when it meant You're safe now, little chicks, the coast is clear. 

"June?" Asha touches her shoulder. For a moment, Juniper loses her train of thought as she hears the national anthem start up, and Dick Mulligan swaggers past her in his chaps and black hat, raising his brows at her and giving her a nod as he passes. 

One last con, one last game, you can do this, she tells herself. "I'm not backing out. I can do this, Asha." 

Asha exhales through her nose. "Right." She hands Juniper a number on a piece of paper. "You're after Mulligan. Remember to mark the horse out, or you'll be disqualified on the spot." Her fingers brush a stray curl that's come loose from Juniper's braid. "Lucky number seven." 

Lucky number seven. That's gotta count for something, right? 

Tag list: @walkerismychoice @lizeboredom @debramcg1106 @darley1101 @youwontlikewherewewillgo @choiceslife @regrettingnathan @viktoriapetit @thatcatlady0716 @breaumonts @blackcatkita @enmchoices @llamasgrl @littlecrookedheart @nazariobae @tmarie82 @gardeningourmet @anneross41 @ritachacha @cora-nova

(part one is on the choices archive - choicesfanfic.com under the same name. eventually i will make some new masterlists with the external links.)

[cslupus]

Seeds

FACEPLANT

Hello! It's Lupus. Here to put the chronic into the Chronicles. I don't own anything by C.S. Lewis but I believe he would smile on fanfiction and that he fully intended the reader to finish his world. I don't own anything by Tech N9ne. The italics are lyrics from his song "Einstein".

Christmas day. Topeka, KS. 2414 Se Colorado Street. Dale's house

"So, fucking Egypt, right? Yknow, I was there and damn it, I wanted to try some of that local hashish." John said this while gesturing with the hose of the hookah in his hand, half remembering to finally take a hit. He blew the next words in clouds, "It was back in late 2011 to early 2012 and they had that revolution, right? Well..." John paused to take a drink from his tall natty light and coughed. Scarlette sat inconspicuously at the end of the couch, a worn and gorilla taped hookah hose in hand as everyone listened to the man sitting cross-legged on the floor. She'd been at job Corp for a year and a half and was finally free to smoke. She was lit as fuck and did her best to follow along. He continued, "So I found some guys who put me in contact with a dealer. And this wasn't something like here in the states where you go to the place, take it home and, yknow. No, this dude led me and about 3 other guys to this fucking warehouse. There was literally this big ol' switch breaker, like 'Egor, flip the switch' style thing that they pull down to turn on this one bare bulb hanging over this circle of chairs. At this point I'm thinking, yknow. 'Yeah, I might die, but fuck it. Yolo. Let's see where this goes.' and besides, they already had my money. So we go and sit in these chairs and they break it out and we're passing it around when one of the guys there starts to speak. He said," John paused. The look in his eye had shifted to a sadder gaze. "He said he was with the Egyptian guard or military or whatever. I don't remember his rank, just that he gave orders. He told us his rank and he told us his job during the revolution. Keep in mind that this shit just happened, like, within a year of him telling this story. His job was to tell the armed soldiers guarding some building what to do. The protests were crazy and a few times, yknow, his men got nervous, and he got nervous. He finally ordered the men to fire into the air to scare the crowd back, and so they did and the crowd dispersed. Just a couple days later they were back, and after a bit he had his men fire in the air again and the crowd dispersed and backed up, but slower this time. And sure enough, a day and a half later, they're back. So he has them fire into the air again. But the crowd isn't dispersing. He's telling us about fucking hundreds of people calling his bluff and his superiors were putting pressure on him and then, for whatever reason, he looked ME in the eye, dead in the eye, and said 'So I ordered my men to fire into the crowd.' and the only thing I could think right then in that moment was 'I am so fucking high right now.'"

The room was quiet. This quiet was comically broken with the sound of someone sucking the last icy bit of fountain drink through a straw, and everyone suppressed their laughter until finally Scarlette let hers go. The rest of the room followed suit. The tension broke and Dale, the host, slid over to Scarlette and asked her to pass the Playstation controller. She handed it over and he proceeded to put on some YouTube. Music filled the spaces left by people trickling towards the kitchen where the liquor was.

If you got scratch nigga, get the fuck up Throw your hands up, if you hella fucked up Einstein, tech n9ne, two triple zip Crack a jaw, whip 'em all, if they wanna trip Ladies with the bar codes, meet me after this

Maybe you can show me, the meaning of abyss Everybody on the wall momma is a bzzz Had her at the budgetel stroking on my dzzz This ones for the psychos gang bangers and sluts Bumbs holding the pipe those college graduate fucks

Scarlette stepped out onto the front porch to smoke a cigarette.

As she untangled her ear buds, a second person came outside and lit a clove cigar.

"Sup, Eddie." Scarlette said. She looked at him and noticed his clean cut appearance and his absence of cornrows. "You look nice. Your hair is really short, though. Beard looks good."

"Thanks, clove?" he offered the little black pack over and she saw a lighter and a chillum in it with 3 black wrapped cigars and three little nugs of weed in the cellophane of a cigarette pack burned shut.

"Everything's coming in threes. Nah. I don't want one after that hash."

"Threes?"

"Three cloves. Three nugs. Three days."

"So it's true. You're going to London to live with your dad." replied Eddie.

"Yeah, got the ticket with my Job Corp. money."

"You went for culinary, right? Are you sure they'll take your certification in the U.K.?"

"There's plenty of places that pay under the table. Skill is skill and I have it. I'll start there." she said a little defensively. She didn't like to talk about her reasons for moving, but the truth was, she felt called. London was calling and she was going to answer. She just was.

"I wish you'd reconsider." Eddie said sadly. "Do you at least have some money left after the ticket? Probably just a couple hundred dollars. What if things don't go your way and you end up homeless?"

"I'm sorry, Eddie, but I'm..." she was cut off by a series of gunshots from a few blocks over. "No, seriously! Who the fuck gangbangs on Christmas?"

"Keep it classy, Topeka." Eddie replied. The put out their half smoked deathsticks with reluctance and headed back inside.

Kc mo roll Kc mo roll What do we say to haters off top Haters got beef they thinking we got We gon' get postal if it don't stop You can get ghost or you can get shot

Scarlet sat down on the sofa and looked at her novelty yo-yo/mp3 player she was given as a fare well gift from her Job Corp. friend, Sylvester.

"I wanted to, just, curate and give you the best techno and trap and dubstep playlist ever, but a bunch of shit went down at my house I had to deal with, so I ended up not having time and I was just going to give you the yoyo and let you put on whatever juggalo shit you wanted, but then my buddy gave me acid. While I was peaking, I suddenly decided to work on this list, so I'm just ripping songs off of YouTube based on how they made me trip and, if they didn't make me trip right, it was like there was this lion, this fucking golden ass lion, looking in at me through a door in my chest and it'd growl. I'd feel it growl. It was insane. But I did fill it for you. So, it's all techno. Pretty random. Glitch Mob, Timmy Trumpet, some Diplo. Give it a chance before you delete it all."

She didn't say anything but she'd been seeing a huge lion in her dreams climbing the rocks on top of Echo Cliffs as the sun's rays slanted beneath a great, black stormcloud. Then it would look at her and she'd realize something so shocking it would wake her up but she could never remember what shocked her awake. She rolled her ear buds around the yo-yo and put it back in her bag. She headed into the kitchen to find Eddie.

"No dude," Eddie said, red cup in hand "you should not learn how to crip walk. You shouldn't even say crip walk. Say C-walk. And don't do it."

"Man, I do not, for the life of me, understand why a dance should be off limits. I just don't." said Tommie. "Man, I don't give a fuck, I'm graduated! Oh damn, sup Scarlette!"

"Sup. Shit, I'm graduated, too." she said as she grabbed a cup.

"From Job Corp. Not the same. Come back when you been to college, then law school." Tommy said as he leaned forward and smiled arrogantly.

"Man, chill out you cocky motherfucker. You ain't passed the bar yet. You are not a lawyer yet. You're a juris doctorate having motherfucker. Let Scarlette have hers, man. It takes nothing from you." said Eddie.

Scarlette glared at Tommie and poured herself some soda. She didn't really feel like drinking tonight, not after her mom's drunken bullshit earlier. She was thinking about being home as little as possible until her flight. She had lots of people to visit and say goodbye to, so it felt doable.

London, U.K.

Tears flowed down her face as she picked through what was left of her belongings on the terrace outside her father's flat. Her father's girlfriend, Debra, didn't like Scarlette and exactly one week after Scarlette started her hotel job, Debra planted a chequebook in Scarlette's trunk and claimed it had been stolen. So, without a word, Loren took his daughters belongings and put them outside while she was at work. He'd never been a brave man.

Scarlette made her way down the water-stained concrete stairs, out through the courtyard, and on into the streets. She walked aimlessly, hungry but too cautious to spend anything. She thought of all the groceries she joyously bought for herself just days before. They'd all be eaten up by that treacherous bitch and her lapdog boyfriend. More tears came. She sat on a swing and cried as hard as she'd ever cried.

When she finally stopped, the world stopped with her. It was dead silent. No horns, no machines, no people. She heard herself breathing hard so she knew she wasn't deaf. Suddenly, a great shadow crawled slowly over her from behind. She looked up and saw the buildings, streets, everything, peeled up in a big wave and curling over her. She didn't understand. She didn't think. She ran.

She ducked between pedestrians, having to take great care to avoid them so they'd stop knocking her down. It was like they couldn't see her. She eventually found an alleyway and ran down it. She leaned against the wall to catch her breath. To her left she saw a window, with a man staring out at her, though it wasn't a man exactly. He had sharp features, a pointed beard and ears, and two small horns coming from his forehead. She began running again.

This happened over an over. She'd see something utterly impossible, run away, stop to rest, and see something else. A half man half horse, a dancing tree, a squirrel the size of a medium sized dog holding quill and parchment. She couldn't run anymore, but she pushed herself down a narrow corridor back to the street where she saw a boarding bus. She barely made it, almost payed the fare til she realized she still couldn't be seen, found a seat and hoped to not get sat on.

After sneaking onto busses for a while, she found herself near the center of the city. She realized how tired she was. Thoughts of food again tormented her, til she finally got off the bus to track down some fish and chips to steal. She walked with purpose and rounded a corner to come face to foot with a giant. She whimpered as she began running again.

She ran across a vacant lot and saw a tree sprout, grow big and robust, fill with apples, the split in two and decay right in her path. She tried to go around and felt her foot snared by an ancient prehensile root. She struggled as she found herself falling down a sinkhole. She felt dirt in her mouth as the Earth swallowed her and her screams. Roots scratched her face and arms. Soon she felt light through her eyelids and felt leaves along with branches. She was still falling. No matter how she tried, she couldn't keep hold of any branches. It was all she could do to cushion each collision with each ever larger branch. All too soon, she ran out of branches. She fell a whole story and a half and landed on a small boulder jutting from the flowing roots that gripped the ground with her shin taking all of her weight. She both felt and heard her bone snap and, with a wet pop, rip through the skin. She was on hands and knees. She didn't feel anything until she foolishly tried to stand. That's when the world spun out of control. She stumbled to the ground; the pain in her leg was so intense she could almost hear it. She vomited and collapsed into unconsciousness.

Not far from her, in the brush, waited a watching satyr. He nimbly negotiated through the tangled roots of the great old tree and picked up Scarlette's bag. He looked around where he saw objects from her bag fall with her and gathered what he hoped was everything. He briefly examined the contents. He picked up her phone, thinking it was a very dark mirror for scrying, and he almost let out a yelp when the screen lit up. He put it back and donned her purse with the strap across his chest, leaned down, and lifted Scarlette up in a dead man's carry. He was a simple satyr who only did simple magic, but he knew great magic when he saw it, and he knew the High King at Cair Paravel would want to make this his business.

If you wish to read more, cash me on Fanfiction.net and wattpad

[creek-cryptid-deluxe]

WARNING: this is a sad post disguised with humor. Long and sad. My apologies for any tears you shed, any heartstrings that are pulled.

TL:DR at the bottom

Long ago, in an ancient time known as 2008, i journeyed to our local animal shelter looking for a murderous fluff ball, known as a cat. In order to make my way to the delightful little critters, I had to cross an open yard space that was fenced in so that dogs could frolic. As I crossed (slowly because i clearly needed to pet all the dogs, it was obviously the task i had to fight my way through to reach the cats), the beautiful creature pictured above trotted up to me, slamming her face into my leg. As I pet her, i noticed her bunny-like tail wiggling furiously. A shelter employee walked by, so i asked him about her and so i learned of her backstory:

Her name was Sarah. She was a poorly bred Australian Shepherd, as some absolute dumbshit had decided to breed two merle Aussie Shepherds together. Now any breeder (and even most non-breeders) have the good sense to know that you always breed merle colored dogs of any breed with a different coat color because there are a great many genetic risk factors that will adversely effect the pups resulting from that union. Sarah was one such pup. She was born entirely deaf, completely blind in her right eye (the one surrounded by white fur), and seemed to be able to see shadows out of the left but couldn't entirely see out of it. This made for a high energy, very intelligent working breed dog that was nearly untrainable due to her disabilities. It was these factors that had caused this beautiful baby to be surrendered to the shelter 5 times in the two years she had been alive. She was scheduled to be put down the next day as she was 'unadoptable'.

I couldn't let that happen, so I ended my quest for a cat, and brought her home for my father instead. The above pictures were from the first 9 months we had her. She was mischievous and incredibly nosey. She was definitely a challenge compared to a dog with all of its senses in tact. We essentially baby proofed the house, installed a doggie door to the backyard, & took her on loads of walks. We spent time with her to learn her quirks and preferences (like that you don't sneak up on her blind side to pet her because she will bite you, or that she will try to heard anyone under 4 ft tall by nipping them). She was a wonderful dog if you were willing to put in the work.

About a year after the adoption, my dad came home to find her barely concious, shaking in the yard. He immediately hoisted her into the care & rushed to her vet. After loads of testing, the vet discovered that she had experienced a massive seizure followed by a multitude of tiny seizures. They couldn't tell exactly how many. The vet told us that we could attempt to control them with medication, but at best she probably had 2 years left and that she'd never be her old spunky self, that she wouldn't behave like a dog at all because there was a very high chance she was brain damaged from the seizures. He said putting her down was a good option, but we didn't want to give up without a fight. So we started meditating the seizures (with monthly bloodwork) and working with her to give her a sense of normalcy and let her know we weren't giving up on her. We did the right thing because...

within about a year and a half, she was a dog again. A few things had changed permanently thought. She no longer vocalized at all (unless you rubbed her ears a certain way, the she made a deep moaning growl sound that let you know you were petting her ears properly), no longer licked anyone, was much more calm, and had put on some weight. We tried putting her on a diet per the vet's recommendation, but when we did she began to eat her poo, so we gave that up after about a week. She still loved pets, waited for my dad to get home by watching for the shadow of his car pulling in through the small gaps in the back fence, hit you with her face when she wanted attention, lived for walks, and was always very interested in what the people were eating.

7 months ago, I moved back in with my dad due to my declining health & an abusive (now ex) boyfriend (that's a can of worms that I'll open at a later date). I had put my service dog in the care of the lady who was my home aide at the time because Sarah was no longer dog friendly. She became my constant companion, looking out for me in that way dogs do when they can tell you aren't well. She only ever left my side to go outside, greet my dad, go for walks, eat, or go to the bathroom. She had begun having hip problems, so she wasn't allowed upstairs anymore (much like myself). We even had a nigh time routine. I would turn off my living room light, start steeping my bedtime tea, then take her for a short night walk, & give her a cookie as I finished making my tea. Then when my tea & reading was done, there was a 30 minute bedtime pet session, I'd get into bed, and she'd snuggle up in her bed. Then it got harder and harder for her to get up. A few days ago, she started having small seizures again.

Which brings us to today. The pictures above are from a few days ago. My beautiful girl would have been 10 in February. But this morning I woke up to hear her coughing, gasping, and gagging. I sat with her, petting her, as I called my dad at work. She was struggling to breathe. We took her to the vet immediately (well, as immediately as possible since it took us about 20 minutes to get her off the floor and into the car). The vet said it sounded like fluid in her lungs. She had a very high fever & really high blood pressure. They said even if they could figure that out & get it under control, they wouldn't be able to get the seizures under control again or help her with her legs because the front ones were starting to give as well. So we had to make the impossible decision to have her put down so that she wasn't in pain anymore. We sat and pet her, talking to her despite the fact that she couldn't hear a word, until she went to sleep. During the consult with the vet, my father's voice started to crack. I could tell I needed to be stoic & be there for him, so I was & reassured him that it was the right thing to do, that she wouldn't be suffering any more. By the end, he was sobbing. I'd never seen my father break down like this. Not even after his 4th wife passed (yes, you read that correctly FOURTH WIFE, but that's a story for another time). As we left, he tried to thank the staff because she's been at the same vet's office since we got her 8 years ago, but he couldn't get the words out. Instead he asked for pen and paper and wrote them a note (later he wrote an email).

Knowing how my father handles unpleasant matters, including grief, I knew he'd go back to work to distract himself and I offered to take care of cleaning out all her things. He dropped me off at home, and I sobbed as I gathered up all her old bones and toys that were beyond use. I gathered her beds, blankets, unused toys, and unused cookies & biscuits, called my grandma with the news and had her take me to the animal shelter we adopted her from so I could donate it all. When he got home, he thanked me for taking care of it all. I could see him breaking again (after all, his best friend wasn't here to greet him today), so I ordered pizza and ordered him to plant himself on my couch so we could watch silly shows and eat junk. He seemed ok, as long as he was distracted. Tomorrow, after my doctor, I may take him to play Pokemon Go. More distractions.

So there you have it. The beautiful tale of Sarah Hall, the blind deaf epileptic rescue Aussie. We made those last 8 yrs count & she made those last 8 yrs undoubtedly brighter. RIP Bunny Butt. ♡

TL;DL: rescued a deaf & visually impaired dog who was on death row, 8 yrs pass & today her reign as queen of our home and hearts has ended.

[padawanlost]

That quote you reblogged, Rise and Fall of Darth Vader, made me think what exactly were Anakin's issues with Obi-Wan? We know both hadn't chosen each other, only grew close coz of war, but respected each other. But how much did Anakin accept Obi-Wan in his life? He wanted a father figure, which Obi-Wan wasn't, even if he saw him as friend he didn't trust him with his personal life, so where did Obi-Wan stand in Ani's life? Idk if my que is clear..what do you think? Did Ani just put up with him?

The coreproblem between Anakin and Obi-wan was communication. The both loved each otherbut had no idea how to express it and that put a strain on their relationship.Since you asked about Anakin feelings on the matter, I’ll only talk about itfrom Anakin’s perspective so it doesn’t get too long :P

First ofall, we need to understand who Anakin was when he met Obi-wan: he was a nineyears old former slave who had just been removed from everything he knew and loved.His childhood heroes had humiliated and rejected him. His was forbidden to seehis mother and terriefied he’d never see her again. The only Jedi who seemed tocare about his wellbeing was dead. And his new friends were left in Naboo.

Obi-wan wasthe most familiar thing in Anakin’s life at the end of TPM. And Anakin, as achild, needed that familiarity and security to grow up healthy. But Anakin, asa traumatized child and former slave, required more attention than most. Hegrew up with the knowledge that his life and everything and everyone on itcould be removed and destroyed at the master’s whim. All he had was his motherso he attached himself to her and blindly trusted her to take care of him.

[Anakin] told himself he had not seen [Shmi’s]vulnerability. His mother could not be vanquished. She could not be taken. Shecould not be hurt. The core of her was strength. She could keep them both safe. That was his reality. Somehow Anakinknew that if he acknowledged Shmi’s fear he would close the door on his ownchildhood. He wasn’t ready to do that. Hewas seven years old. He needed her too much. [Jude Watson’s Path to Truth]

Anakinneeded Obi-wan, his only friend and protected, to that for him. But Obi-wan,due his own youth, inexperience and emotional issues, couldn’t give him that. sothey grew distant. The more the Jedi order and Palpatine hurt him, the moreAnakin turned inwards and the more the gap between Obi-wan and Anakin grew.

Obi-Wan had tried to talk to him about it, butthe boy would just shut down. His eyes would turn opaque and the corners of hismouth would straighten into a thin line. He would seem very far away. Obi-Wan did not know how to reach him atsuch times, but they were infrequent and passed as quickly as a rainshower. When they’d met, Anakin had beena warm-hearted nine-year-old boy with an open nature. He was twelve and a halfnow, and the years had changed him. He had grown to be a boy who hid his heart.[Jude Watson’sDeceptions]

Obi-wanloved Anakin:

Obi-Wan reached out, then hesitated. He felt astrong urge not to wake the boy, to let him sleep like this forever, to foreveranticipate a great adventure, forever dream of personal triumph and joy. Thisfeeling held too much sentiment and weakness to be allowed, but he allowed itnevertheless. This must be how a fatherfeels, looking down on his son, worried about an uncertain future, Obi-Wanthought.  I would hate to see him fail.But I would hate far more to lose this boy. I would almost rather freeze timehere, and freeze myself with it, than face that. [Greg Bear’s Rogue Planet]

But Anakindidn’t feel secure about his role in Obi-wan’s life:

Perhaps he would never have a Master-Padawanrelationship as deep and trusting as Obi-Wan had with Qui-Gon. Perhaps Obi- Wankept his as a Padawan in order to fulfill a dying wish. But maybe it didn’tmatter how it happened. He should not focus on what he didn’t have. He hadthis. This was his. And that was something. He would work hard. He would be agreat Padawan. And Obi-Wan would come to love him. He would make him do so. [JudeWatson’s The Trail of the Jedi]

Obi-wan,despite his love for Anakin, still trusted in the judgment of the Jedi Counciland was aware of their concerns. that influenced how Obi-wan treated Anakin. AndAnakin resented that and he felt like Obi-wan didn’t understand him or had hisback (the way Shmi did).

For ten years I have been a Master to Anakin,and all that got me was defiance. The more I criticize him, the more he turnsaway. The more I withdraw, the angrier he becomes. More criticism, moreemotional distance, isn’t the answer. He’s not a typical Jedi. He never hasbeen. Yet I have tried to turn him into one. I’ve tried to contain him. Controlhim. For his own good, it’s true … but even so. If he’s to be a JediKnight soon, that has to end. [Karen Miller’s The Clone Wars: Wild Space]

Anakin looked down at Obi-Wan’s hand on hisshoulder and shrugged, trying to dislodge it. “Don’t touch me. Are you deaf? Isaid leave me alone.” Still Obi-Wanignored him. Of course. Because that’s what he did. He gave orders, he neverlistened. [Karen Miller’s The Clone Wars: Wild Space]

It wasn’tuntil Anakin became a Jedi Knight and started to emotionally rely more on Padmé(and Ahsoka) that Anakin and Obi-wan finally became friends.

As a childAnakin needed Obi-wan to be his protector and provider. When Obi-wan failed to fulfill that role Anakin grew resentful and distant. But the love between themwas always there. They just din’t express it frequently enough or in a health manner.

But howmuch did Anakin accept Obi-Wan in his life?

Completely.Despite their complicated relationship, Obi-wan was all Anakin had growing up. Hewas his only close friend. The distant between was a result of the Jedi Order’steaching methods and Palpatine’s influence. But at the beginning of their relationshipAnakin was more than ready to accept Obi-wan as a master and friend.

Did Anijust put up with him?

Anakin wasa child. He had no real choice in the matter. He didn’t even know what it meantto be free before he “chose” to become a Jedi. Obi-wan was the only Jedi whowanted Anakin, so leaving him would mean leaving the Jedi. by the time he wasold enough to know better it was already too late. It’s the same with all theJedi, they are taken as children and when they are old enough to think aboutleaving are already in too deep to want to leave.

Also,Obi-wan, despite his many flaws, wasn’t cruel. He was misguided but never deliberatelyabusive or distant. He was well-intentioned, the problem was thatwhat Obi-wan wanted for Anakin and how/what he believed he should teach Anakinwere actually harmful to Anakin.

To makethis easier, I’ll separate their relationship in four stages:

Acquaintances

At this point, Obi-Wan turned to stare at boy,giving him a look that demanded in no uncertain terms, What do you mean, “we”?The boy caught the look and stared back at him, expressionless. “We will bepatient,” Qui-Gon advised, straightening himself, drawing their attention backto him. “Anakin Skywalker, meet Obi-Wan Kenobi.” The boy beamed. “Pleased to meet you. Wow! You’re a Jedi Knight,too, aren’t you?” The younger Jedi looked from the boy to Qui-Gon and rolled his eyes in despair. [Terry Brooks. The Phantom Menace]

From thevery beginning their relationship was marked by their inability to find commonground. Where Anakin was happy about meeting another heroic Jedi and maybe makea new friend, Obi-wan was already dismiss this pathetic life-form Qui-Gon hadfound.

Anakinbeing an incredibly sensitive child picked up on Obi-wan’s behavior and understoodwhat it meant. It’d later make him insecure about his importance in Obi-wan’slife and the love his master had for him.  

Master & Padawan

The phasewas marked failed expectations and communication issues. They both wanted toplease the other and do a good job but the Jedi order’s ideology and Palpatine’smanipulations made it impossible for them to find common ground. Their relationshipwas unstable. They had good moments when they talked and worked well togetherbut most of the time their buried their feelings and hurt each other.

Friendship

Away from the Jedi Council (and Palpatine), andwithout them the strain of the Master/Padawan rules they finally started to seeeach other as equals/partners. Obi-wan no longer had the Council breathing downhis neck and Anakin no longer resented Obi-wan for his teaching methods.

Enemies

This iswhen all the bad stuff comes up. Over a decade of buried anger, resentment and disappointedis now out in the open.

Here,Obi-wan is filled with regret for not seeing all the little signs about Anakin’s“darkness”. And Anakin is filled with an unhealthy need to really kill Obi-wan:P

Every stageof their relationship has its own issue but the underlining issue remain: miscommunication.Which is why they only began to understand each other after their were dead. Theywere on each other’s mind the whole time – even when they were enemies – butthey never understood each other because they never talked to each other.