#but like stand UP teresa /your/ man is drowning

[lostandbackagain]

resa and dustfinger never fail to make me scream. she's on a rescue mission for her husband but finds dustfinger's body and just puts her face against his and goes "I should die here too" GIRL

[iambic-stan]

The Day After

Ugh, I'm so depressed and needed this escapism.

Why did I allow myself to have hope, I wondered, tossing around the last few sips of my drink at the bottom of the glass.  Brooks & Dunn's "Neon Moon" was playing quietly. The bright pink lights over the bar and emptiness of the room created just the right ambiance for me to cover myself in melancholy.   Living in a red state, I had to find myself a gay bar to sulk at, even if I'd never patronized this one before.  Anywhere else, I risked witnessing people celebrating. It was just the day after and nothing else felt remotely safe--physically or emotionally. 

I guessed the bar was really only empty because it was 8:00 p.m., not because everyone queer was hiding at home.  I simultaneously wanted to be alone but also wanted someone to talk to, even if it was just venting.  Or they just vented to me.  I didn't think I could stand to talk about anything else as if it was just another day instead of Day 1 of a jarring acceleration to the death of democracy as we all knew it.  There was a hurricane in the Gulf.  I had a class to teach the next day.  Chappell Roan sang a new song on Saturday Night Live.  They'd just released a new teaser trailer for season 5 of Stranger Things.  Quincy Jones died a couple of days ago.  But who the fuck could care?  Maybe I would've said as much to the bartender, but he was outside for a smoke break.

My head was buried in my phone and I was doom scrolling when a voice I knew but didn't said, "Come on, twink--you're at the Pink Pony Club but you're not dancing!" and laughed obnoxiously.  My head popped up and I took in the heavy clown makeup, boat-neck lime green dress and Fifth Element wig with so much volume you could hide a family of rats in it. I blinked several times.  The blinking helped lubricate my eyes with the tears that had settled in them but I still couldn't believe what I was seeing.

"Yes--it's me, Bianca Del Rio," she continued.  "For once, I'm not the biggest bitch around.  I take it you heard that over 70 million Americans put the 'cunt' in 'country' yesterday.  They make me look like fucking Mother Teresa, hahaha!  Just kidding--she was actually kind of a cunt, too--read the Christopher Hitchens book.  Oh fuck I almost forgot--I don't read!  Now where is the bartender who gave you that martini you're drowning your sorrows in?  No one wants to work anymore, you know?"

"I love you," I choked out.  Well that was embarrassing.  In a sense, it was true--I was obsessed with Bianca Del Rio and had met her at a show in El Paso--a moment I had replayed in my mind dozens of times though she surely didn't remember it.  She met more people than anyone could remember.  But also, Bianca Del Rio was not a real person but a drag persona, and I didn't know the man behind her personally, so I couldn't really love either one.  But I was shocked, angry, and sad and my social filter was malfunctioning.

"Oh, that's the booze talking," she dismissed, waving her lemon yellow nails at me.  "What are you so down about, white man?  Didn't buy what he was selling?  My whole family's getting deported tomorrow.  But Trump does love white men, almost as much as he loves grabbing 'em by the pussy.  But maybe you've realized that being white won't help you when people find out you're sticking your dick in some other man's ass."

"I have a vagina," I said, as though it was any of Bianca's or Roy's business.  I looked at her face to see the recognition, but it didn't appear to be anything she hadn't heard before, so I kept going.

"So if some asshole rapes and impregnates me, I have to scrape together the money to travel several states over for an abortion...if that's still legal.  But it's not just that...it's everything.  It's worrying about Obergefell v. Hodges being overturned, the tariff proposals, Ukraine, climate change....the continual funding of Israel..."  

She sat down at the bar next to me, nodding solemnly.  Slowly, her demeanor changed and I guessed she was slipping out of character, which, even in my despair, melted my heart because she was just so adorable.  She reached out and touched my hand, and I took hold of hers.  It was so incredibly soft--I wanted to ask if she used some expensive creams, and I never wanted to let go of it.  "You're so beautiful," I said, remembering I had said the same thing that night in El Paso.

She jerked her phone out of her purse and said, "Let me get you my opthamologist's number, because clearly you can't see a GODDAMN THING!"  I let out a laugh.  "There it is!" she said, pointing at me.  "I made you laugh.  And your name is?"

"Sebastian."

I had barely uttered the last syllable when she retorted, "Faggot," which made me chuckle again in spite of myself.

"Listen, Fag--I mean Sebastian, this is a pretty nice bar--maybe you should go out more and talk to people instead of moping about your useless vote in a sea of red, huh?  I try to visit this place whenever I'm in town, though not normally this early.  But this way I get to chat with a loser like you and feel better about my pathetic self, you know?  And the coming years look bleak, but think about it this way--we'll all die anyway!  There's no way out except under...the ground.  We're only particles of change orbiting around the sun.  That was poetic, right?  It wasn't me, though--that was Joni Mitchell."

"I know!" I said, getting a bit excited.  "From 'Hejira.'  I love that song, and the album."

The bartender walked back in, looking unfazed that a celebrity was sitting next to me. He and Bianca nodded in some unspoken language at one another and he started to make what I guessed was her usual drink.

"What else do you love, Sebastian?" she asked, with a smile that looked quite sincere but comical at the same time with the exaggerated fuschia lip and raccoon eyes.

"Oh, I love heartbeats," I blurted out.  Really? I thought.  Couldn't go with chai lattes or Cher?  Had to go straight to cardiophilia?

"Guess we kind of need them," she said sarcastically.

"Sorry I'm being so weird.  I'm a HUGE fan.  I just meant I love listening to heartbeats, and having mine listened to.  Wow.  I can't believe I told you that.  Like, I have a stethoscope collection.  It's a thing."

When she raised her eyebrows a bit, I knew she'd never heard of this before, which made me feel embarrassed.  But she didn't say anything unkind; she just listened.

"Do you want to listen to my heart?" she asked, as the bartender handed her a martini.  My eyes traveled to her chest and I watched it rise with an intake of breath.  I thought about how strange it was to be so attracted to someone whose public image was meant to be ridiculous rather than sexy.  But I still pictured her smile and played the same bits from The Pit Stop in my head whenever I couldn't sleep.  I had imagined her heartbeat many, many times.

Bianca didn't wait for a response before opening her arms.  "It's nice to meet you again," she said as I leaned toward her, my head landing on her chest just above the collar of her dress.  At once I heard the heart of the man behind this larger-than-life queen, thumping loudly--yet slowly and steadily.  I focused on his relaxed breathing, tried to allow it to calm my own.  I was near Erb's point and could hear every second heart sound clearly, and it was musical.  For a moment I forgot why I was so distraught.  When I remembered, I let out a long sigh, but I kept my arms wrapped around his waist and listened as long as I could.  I knew none of this would be fixed overnight, and maybe some of it never could be fixed.  But I had this night, and for now, that would have to do.

[illuminatedquill]

Nevertheless, An Analysis

Do Hyeok vs Jae Eon

Hello, again. Today I’m going to talk about Do Hyeok versus Jae Eon; specifically how love affects both of their characters relationship with Na Bi. Love, as presented in Nevertheless, is the driving factor behind nearly all the actions and dialogue between our main leads. In this post, we’re going to focus on our two male leads and how love acts as a megaphone for their personalities.

Park Jae Eon, Frankenstein’s Creature

“I have love in me the likes you can scarcely imagine and rage the likes of which you would not believe. If I cannot satisfy one, I will indulge in the other.”

- Mary Shelley, Frankenstein

Jae Eon, at this point in the story, is a man undone. The smooth playboy, content with keeping a safe distance from the women he chases, has crossed numerous lines and broken all his rules for Na Bi. All in the name of love. And Na Bi burned him for it. It was a long time coming and much needed for his growth as a person. Time will tell if he learns from this experience and moves on to a happier, healthier version of himself.

Love, as some people say, is a transformative emotion. I don’t really believe that. I think people can change but not their entire personalities or the core of who they are. I think back to one of my favorite shows, Modern Family, where one of the characters says that people in a relationship can change maybe fifteen percent of their personality. But that fifteen percent can be enough.

Maybe that’s right. But, in my opinion, love is less a transformative element rather than it acts like a megaphone for your personality. It doesn’t give you the ability to do things you couldn’t before but instead allows you to be more of who you are. And that holds true for Park Jae Eon. Love unlocks these deeper parts of him, shedding light on thoughts and emotions long buried from whatever trauma (we still don’t know, thanks writers) he’s experienced.

But does that make him a better person?

No.

It makes him worse. At the end of episode 9, we see him at his lowest; his most manipulative, toxic, and cruel. What he did to Do Hyeok, and how he used Na Bi to do it; it’s not something I could say the Jae Eon from the first half of the series would do. But love makes him desperate and drives him to act on his darker impulses.

He’s become a monster, single minded in his pursuit. He can’t control himself when he’s around her and that does lead to acts of genuine sincerity and kindness. But when she’s not around and spending time with Do Hyeok, that loss of control cuts the other way, leading into possessiveness and rage. There’s no balance with him; it’s all or nothing to get Na Bi back to his side and away from Do Hyeok.

These toxic qualities were always a part of him but they were reigned in because he had not acknowledged his feelings. Jae Eon always kept his distance, preventing something like this. But now he’s drowning in them, lost as Na Bi was (but she had a life raft, a way out: Do Hyeok).

All this leads to his undoing. And the end of his relationship with Na Bi.

Maybe, for a time, his relationship with Na Bi was exactly what she needed; something passionate, stormy, and tumultuous enough to wipe away her pain from her abusive ex. But while storms can clear away anything in their path, they do so by causing massive damage to anything they touch; reducing structures to rubble or uprooting trees from their places and flinging them away. The cure for Na Bi’s pain ended up being worse. She only just managed to avoid the worst of it.

Ultimately it was not meant to be for Jae Eon and Na Bi. They were two people who were unable to find balance with each other and did irreparable damage.

Let’s talk now about his rival, Yang Do Hyeok, and what love’s megaphone reveals about his character. How does his love succeed for Na Bi in a way Park Jae Eon’s didn’t?

Yang Do Hyeok, Love’s Paradox

“I have found the paradox, that if you love until it hurts, there can be no more hurt; only more love.”

- Mother Teresa

Yang Do Hyeok is the embodiment of the above quote. He unwittingly joined the rollercoaster ride between Jae Eon and Na Bi but it’s not until episode 8 that he willingly chooses to go for another round. He’s quite possibly the craziest character in the drama; in a sane world, we’d all be advising him to run for the hills while he still has a chance and let Na Bi and Jae Eon’s train wreck of a relationship continue to it’s inevitable conclusion.

But, he’s Do Hyeok and he loves Na Bi. So, he must try.

We see Do Hyeok at his lowest in episode 9; in a similar position to his rival, jealousy and insecurity threaten to overcome him. He can’t focus on his cooking and he’s irritable; his trademark smile is not present. He thinks to himself whether he should give up. Jae Eon’s little trick is hurting him bad and he doesn’t know how to handle it.

So, like Jae Eon, he falls back on what he knows. The hurt is there, but he accepts this is part of the risk in loving Na Bi and he continues to be there for her when she needs him. The megaphone lets Do Hyeok be more of himself, just like Jae Eon, but the qualities that are magnified are his kindness, his sincerity, and his pure, unconditional love for Na Bi.

He bites down on his hurt and continues to love. Where Jae Eon’s hurt poisons his love for Na Bi, Do Hyeok lets the hurt inform of what’s most important to him - Na Bi - and it sharpens his focus and allows him to move past Jae Eon’s trick. He doesn’t hide or shy away from his pain; he reveals it to Na Bi. This further strengthens their friendship to the point that Na Bi, upon discovering Jae Eon’s manipulation, finds the resolve to end it with permanently or else further risk more harm to her relationship with Do Hyeok.

The megaphone reveals something essential about Do Hyeok’s character to us and Na Bi; that in the face of heartbreak like this, the solution isn’t to hide away or hurt those who hurt us. It’s to love more. Trust more. And that’s what he does.

It’s what he’s always done. Because it’s what Na Bi needs and deserves. A partner who reassures and comforts in the worst moments and lifts us up when we feel down.

If Park Jae Eon’s love is the thunderous storm, relentless and all consuming, then Do Hyeok’s is the gentle green of rolling hills and pastures. The storm may come and threaten to shake apart everything but it always passes. And the hills and pastures are still there. And they endure, to grow again and again, no matter the damage.

That is what Na Bi needs. The promise of spring. That life can be good again and that she can be happy, that she deserves to be happy. And her friendship with Do Hyeok is the biggest indication to me that she is going to make it. With him by her side, she can get through this last hurdle.

Do Hyeok’s love is big and selfless. Where Jae Eon wants to possess Na Bi, Do Hyeok wants to simply be the one by her side. And that’s why he’s the last one standing in this rivalry.

[gotnofucks]

Parts of Whole

(No images are mine, but I did edit them. If anyone knows the owners, do let me know so I can credit them)

Pairing: Sam Wilson x Bucky Barnes, Sam x Steve (platonic)

Summary: Steve would see his OTP’s ship sail, even from across the grave.

Words: 3.9k

Warnings: mentions of death (nothing graphic and not very sad), language, angst + fluff

A/N: I saw the trailer for tfatws and I just had to write this. This is also my entry for the amazingly talented @sagechanoafterdark and @sweater-daddiesdumbdork challenge (pic prompts above). Thank you for hosting this and being wonderful. The beautiful dividers are made by @firefly-graphics . Huge thanks to @the-inquisitive-hobbit for beta reading and giving me her very valuable insight.

 It never felt right in his hands. It was his to wield, his to claim, and yet it never felt more foreign. The concentric red and white circles with the star embedded in the blue center glared back at him from the mirror. It had been months, but Sam had never taken this shield with him to any mission. He couldn’t.

It felt starkly cold in his hands, lifeless and materialistic. It was Steve’s symbol of strength and hope. It used to hang on his back, warmed by his body heat. Now, it seemed like the shield only existed to remind him of Steve’s absence. This shield was made for Steve. It belonged to him, it always would. How could he ever stand where he stood? How could Sam ever be the captain that Steve was, take this shield that held more power than a crown on a head?

He put it down again, covering it with a cloth before shutting the door on it, leaning heavily against it. He missed him, he missed him like a throbbing wound that refused to heal. If only he could see the sun shining on those golden locks again, have those baby blue eyes smile at him again. What wouldn’t he give for that.

He didn’t notice he wasn’t alone until a heavy hand was on his shoulder, squeezing gently. Sam didn’t open his eyes, just let the weight of it anchor him, let it bring him back from the chaos that was his mind. The cold metal hand felt like a relief against the overwhelming burden of grief that penetrated his being whenever he touched the circular shield.

“I miss him too.” Bucky said, and Sam opened his eyes. Bucky’s eyes were blue too, slightly grey where Steve’s were green. He could see himself reflected in them and he straightened, looking away, hiding his weakness.

This mantle of Steve Rogers that he was supposed to assume, this legacy he was supposed to take forward felt like cheating. His friend, his mentor, his brother was no more. How could people just expect him to move on? But they did. It didn’t matter he was emotionally compromised, it didn’t matter he wanted to drown, like Steve nearly had at the Potomac all those years ago. The world didn’t wait to create one disaster after another. They needed Captain America then, and they needed him now. Like Fury said, trouble always sticks around.

Sam cleared his throat, making sure he was collected before looking at Bucky again.

“Everything loaded in the Quinjet?” He asked and Bucky nodded. They’ll be leaving for another mission soon, and Sam was glad he’ll have the sounds of battle to drown the war in his heart.

“Sam.” Bucky said once Sam started leaving. “Take it.”

Sam looked at Bucky over his shoulder, his gaze equal parts pain and accusation. Of everyone, Bucky shouldn’t be the one telling him this.

“I’ll meet you in the jet.” He said firmly and quickly marched to his room, shutting the door behind him. He hated coming back to the compound, the lingering memories of their fallen warriors whispering in his ears every time he was here. He preferred his little house in the woods where it was only Bucky and nature with him.

He took out his tactical gear, laying it on the bed and getting out his wings when he heard it.

“You are punishing yourself Sam.” Came his voice.

It was this moment where Sam broke, sliding down the wall and letting a few tears escape. He was gone but he never left him.

“How could you have been so selfish Steve. Why?” He asked, looking up to glare at Steve. Even dead he looked so handsome, so put together with his hands on his hips. He didn’t look like the old man they had buried a month after the battle. No. He was their Steve, their young, beautiful Steve who left them behind.

Sam didn’t know why he saw him. He didn’t know if this was a ghost or a creation of his mind. To him, it was Steve. It was Steve and it was a beautiful suffering to see him again every time he reappeared.

“I am sorry.” Steve said and knelt before Sam, looking apologetic. Sam didn’t try touching him. Not when the first hundred times his hand just went through him.

“You are? What for?” Sam asked. “For leaving behind your shield and title, for leaving me behind, or for abandoning a best friend you promised to walk till the end of the line with? What are you really sorry for Captain?”

Steve didn’t answer, he never did. He let Sam take out his hurt and anger, and Sam cried. In the privacy of his walls, he cried. He was so tired of pretending to be strong, to be happy. He hid behind his jokes and smiles, fooled the world which was so ready to move on while Sam was buried somewhere with Steve in the cemetery, half dead, half alive.

“I am sorry Sam, for everything.” Steve insisted. “But you need to stop punishing yourself for mistakes you never made. You can’t live this way.”

Sam snorted a laugh for even in death Steve was a humanitarian bastard. He didn’t come back to haunt his enemies; oh no the centenarian came back to help his friends. Why didn’t people see that he could never be Steve? That Sam Wilson can never, won’t ever be the Captain that Steven Rogers was.

“I hate you so much Steve, I really do.” Sam whispered, wiping his nose and getting up. Steve watched him getting changed, no barriers of shame between them from that side of the grave.

“You always said that. I have never heard a ‘I love you’ more pronounced than I do in your hate.” Steve commented with a soft smile, it widened when Sam gave him a half-hearted glare. It was amazing how they could go from having a painful conversation to joking, but that was how it worked with Steve. He knew Sam, he knew everything that made him laugh and made him smile.

“What are you doing here anyway? Don’t you have a tea party with Gandhi or some other do-gooder like you in the afterlife?” Sam grumbled, tightening the belt in his suit and attaching his wings to it. Steve chuckled, sitting on the chair and watching Sam with a relaxed smile.

“They are too uptight for me. Mother Teresa tried to adopt me the other day” Steve said, and Sam laughed. His wings were the colours of American Flag, a new change. He grabbed his weapons and fixed Steve with a look, hating and loving him for being so him.

“I’ll see you after the mission?” He asked tentatively. He would never admit it, but he feared one day Steve would disappear again. It was crazy, it was not normal to see dead people, but Sam would rather have a shadow of Steve than just a memory.

“I’ll be here as long as you need me Sam. Always.” Steve said, a sad smile on his face when he saw Sam leaving without the shield.

Sharon greeted him in the jet, talking to Bucky and the other agents over the blueprint spread before them. Sam nodded his hello, snatching the half empty pack of Cheetos from Bucky’s hand and munching on it.

“So now you want to steal the show and my food. You’re such a dick Wilson.” Bucky said, poking Sam in his shoulder and Sam poked his tongue out at him, a gap-toothed smile on his face. Their previous somber interaction would not be mentioned, filed again like so many inside the neglected corner of their minds.

“Bitch, I paid for grocery this month. This is technically mine.” Sam replied, making Bucky scowl. Sam knew there was a 70-30 chance he’ll find his bed crawling with centipedes when they got back home.

“Charming, boys.” Sharon remarked rolling her eye. “What are you guys doing for Christmas? Must be nice to have a holiday.”

Bucky shrugged, sharing a look with Sam. It was their first Christmas without Steve, a 6 feet 2-inch void always between them.

“Nothing special. Stay home, watch movies, eat a lot.” Bucky said. A lot remained unsaid, but they rarely needed words to communicate anymore. Sam bumped his shoulder in his, offering him some Cheetos to munch while he silently grieved.

“Well, I’ll leave my address here for you to deliver your presents to me.” Sharon joked and Sam laughed softly, mentally making a note to get her something.

“Alright then, and I’ll just casually remark that my phone and laptop are both in serious need for an upgrade. Just saying.” Sam said. “Hey Buck, what are you going to gift me?”

Bucky crumpled the empty chips packet before sending Sam an amused glare, flipping him off.

“A ball gag, so that I can hear something other than your stupid voice.” He snarked.

“Damn dude, at least ask me out for dinner before getting kinky.” Sam winked and Bucky swelled with indignation, pointing an accusing metal finger at Sam.

“I cook dinner 3 times a week you bastard, and I don’t even burn it!” He protested making Sam laugh louder than ever. He loved making Bucky mad, teasing him into an incensed rage that usually ended in a pillow fight or sometimes with Sam’s head in a headlock.

They straightened as they saw the incredulous looks on the new agents’ faces, baby agents as Bucky liked to call them. It was times like these, when both the battle-hardened veterans missed their lost teammates, the inside jokes that were shot around with as much precision as bullets and arrows on the battlefield.

They got to work again, discussing the mission and its details with the other agents. Sam would run point on scaling the territory and fly down to the enemy base with two agents while Bucky would guide him from up here and take out potential threats. They just needed to secure a technological innovation and it didn’t seem too like much work. As Sam poured over the briefing, his eyes subconsciously went over to Bucky who was fiddling with the equipment, making sure everything was in working condition.

If someone had told him a few years ago that Bucky would become his anchor, his solace in his darkest hours, Sam would have punched them in the face. But as it happened, they came to lean on each other, the only unchanged part of their older lives, the only person who made each feel that were still real, still alive. They were still annoyed by each other, but the arguments were more of a routine than an actual expression of resentment.

He didn’t realize he was staring until someone deliberately coughed behind him.

“He is so pretty, isn’t he?” Steve asked, though it was a rhetorical question. Bucky Barnes was a beauty, from his blue grey eyes to the new golden streaks running through his new arm. Sam tried not to notice the way Bucky’s armor clung to his muscles, his face looking almost boyish as he forgot the world and focused on his task.

“I thought you said I’ll see you after the mission.” Sam muttered, taking care that no one noticed him talking to air. He hurriedly looked away from Bucky when their eyes met, a heat rising in his cheeks that made Steve chuckle.

“I said I’ll be there when you need me. And it seems like you do.” Steve commented. He took the seat next to Sam, so near that Sam swore he could feel the heat emanating from his body.

“I don’t know what you mean.” Sam snapped, the smug look on Steve’s face making him wish he could touch him if only to be able to punch him. Stupid blonde best friends with perfect teeth and beautiful smiles and an ass that looked just as round after being dead.

“Oh, I think you do.” Steve said, shifting his gaze to Bucky. “I liked his hair longer but the shorter is going well with the new arm. Don’t you think?”

Despite himself Sam found himself nodding, admiring Bucky as he’d done a thousand times before. He liked his longer hair too, but without them falling in his face, he could see him better. And the arm. The new arm that gave Sam tingles in the most delicious ways, it had him flustered for three whole weeks after Bucky first showed up with it on him.

He didn’t know when it started, but Bucky had somehow become the most beautiful person to Sam. From the way he would make him the perfect mug of coffee to their little kitchen garden they started to keep themselves busy, he loved everything about him. Those moments where he would sense the turmoil inside Sam and silently slip his hands in Sam’s to assure him that he was there, these little moments endeared him even more.

Sam had lost count of how many times Bucky and he had woken up on the couch, sharing a blanket, both silently afraid to sleep alone. He had forgotten how many times he had spent kneeling at Bucky’s bedside, coaxing him out from a nightmare. Every moment spent in each other’s company, laughing, joking, mourning together, it brought them together in a way Sam had never imagined before.

“Tell him” Steve said, a wistful look on his face as he looked at his best friend. “He feels the same. I know.”

Sam shook his head, tearing his eyes away from Bucky with reluctance. He’d already lost so much, he wouldn’t lose Bucky too. Not because he has a minor, very minor teensy tiny crush on him.

“Man, shut the hell up.” He snapped.

“Who’re you talking to?” Bucky called out from across the jet and Sam’s head snapped up, mouth parting a little before he mumbled out a ‘no one’ and focused on the papers in his hand. Sometimes he felt guilty for keeping Steve a secret, for keeping Bucky away from his best friend. He knew Bucky cried into his pillow at nights, he knew because he’d held him then, tried his best to fill the cracks that appeared in the walls of Bucky’s heart as well as his own.

But then, Steve chose to come to him. Chose to talk to Sam. And he was afraid that telling anyone would disturb this magic, whatever this was. That he would once again have to bury Steve. So, he kept quiet. He buried this secret in the deep recesses of his mind, the initial worry of insanity long forgotten in favor of seeing his friend again.

“Do you even have a plan?” Bucky questioned, watching him prepare for the jump. Sam had a job for every agent accompanying him, but the idiot had not outlined anything for himself.

“I do.” Sam said, and when Bucky looked unconvinced, he lightly punched his shoulder. “You’re my plan, my backup. I scream, jump down and get my ass back up.”

Saying this, Sam jumped, the exasperated look on Bucky’s face imprinted behind his eyelids as his wings flared out and he floated.

Everything that could have gone wrong on this mission did, and Bucky was hysterical even before Sam’s call for backup came. He was going to kick Nick Fury’s ass, but before that he was going to bring his friend back in one-piece and chew him out for giving him a heart attack.

Sam’s wings took most of the weight of the fall, so he came back with a sprained ankle and bruises. Bucky was getting increasingly irritated when they came back home, their little secluded spot in the woods welcoming them with the smell of pine and wild grass.

“It’s not my fault Fury gave us shitty intel.” Sam groaned, “You can stop being salty now.”

Bucky remained quiet, the silent treatment going for almost the third day in row and Sam was at his wits end. It was stupid and ridiculous because Bucky almost always pulled the stupidest moves in the field, like stopping a bomb with his hand or listening to the villain’s evil monologue.

Steve was grinning as he leaned against the edge of the table, and with every suggestive wink he gave Sam, the new Captain America resisted the urge to throw a vase at him.

“He cares so much that he’s speechless.” Steve commented and Sam flipped him off. Dickhead has been giving running commentary of the thick tension in the air since they came back, and Sam was on the verge of calling for an exorcism.

“Why do you do that?” Bucky asked suddenly and Sam was so glad to hear him talk again it took him a while to understand the question.

“What?”

“This thing, looking somewhere and talking to yourself, or – I don’t know, you keep being weird.”

“You’re the one with the cyborg brain and arm and I’m weird” Sam tried deflecting. Bucky frowned, coming closer to sit near Sam, leaving abandoned Christmas decorations scattered around them. Clint had delivered it for them but neither had the heart to put them up.

“Sam.” Bucky deadpanned, and Sam sighed, resting his head back and avoiding eye contact. He looked at Steve who was still smiling, his beautiful face like a slap on the face and caress on the head at the same time.

It was more difficult than one would assume to explain. Why did Sam see Steve, and why did only Sam see Steve? Was it a hallucination, or his spirit? Would Steve go away if Sam confided in Bucky? Would Bucky be mad he didn’t tell him? There were so many questions, so many doubts, and yet as Sam looked into Bucky’s eyes, shining like sapphires, he couldn’t keep it to himself.

“Its…Its Steve.” He said, looking down and playing with the soft lint on his blanket. He didn’t hear Bucky say anything but moments later a metal hand gripped his, stopping its nervous movements.

“Steve?”

Sam gulped, the coolness of Bucky’s hand in his warming his heart, swelling it with hope and an emotion Sam was too afraid to acknowledge.

“Steve, he – he talks to me.” Sam confessed and tentatively looked at Bucky whose eyes were brimming with emotion. He expected him to call him crazy, or to get mad, but what he did not expect was Bucky to shift closer and take Sam’s other hand in his too.

“He talks to me as well.” Bucky said. Sam was breathless, both by the slight smell of cinnamon that came from Bucky and the way Bucky came even closer, close enough that he could count the flecks in his eyes.

“He does?” Sam asked and Bucky nodded.

“I don’t know how he does it with you, but whenever I need him, miss him, I feel him speak to me from here.” With this Bucky placed one of Sam’s hand on his chest, the beating heart under thumping strongly. Unconsciously, Sam’s hand caressed Bucky’s chest, mapped its muscles and the jagged scars that bulged under his left shoulder.

“I see him.” Sam admitted, unable to look away from Bucky. “I can see him”

Tears blurred his vision until they dropped on his cheeks, sliding down, and forging a river down, leaving a trail of hurt, betrayal, and loss in their wake. Bucky’s hand came up to wipe them away, staying on Sam’s cheek, playing with the soft hair on his chin.

“I see him too. In you.” Bucky said and they didn’t know who moved first, but their foreheads were touching and then their lips met in a chaste, hesitant kiss. Sam melted into his touch, molding himself to fall into Bucky’s larger frame, his arms circling his waist and pulling him closer. They kissed as if they had walked a hundred miles just to kiss each other, as if they had saved every last breath just to live this moment.

“I – I, Buck –” Sam began but Bucky shushed him, pulling him into another soul-searching kiss before pulling away.

“I know.” He murmured.

As Sam relaxed in Bucky’s warm embrace, lost himself in the blues of Bucky’s eyes, he noticed Steve from the corner of his eyes. There was sadness on his face, the pain of a goodbye in the creases around his eyes. But when he smiled, he smiled with genuine love and happiness. The two parts of his soul he’d left behind seemed to have found themselves, and with them Steve felt himself complete.

“Till the end of the line pals.” He whispered.

Sam never saw Steve again.

Their Christmas was not very festive in terms of decoration. There was still too much pain, too much suffering in their hearts. Steve and Nat’s pictures beamed at them from the walls, and Sam sent Pepper the confirmation that they’ll come over for New Years.

It was a beautiful thing about human nature, about how one rises from the ashes to become stronger. Sam and Bucky lost someone, but they found each other. In the shared grieve of their hearts, they discovered the love long buried in there, eagerly waiting to be spread and shared.

They stayed warm under the blanket, wearing oversized sweaters that they wouldn’t be caught dead wearing outside. The sweaters may or may not have been Steve's; the soldiers mutually decided to hold Steve close in this way. Sam’s heart was tripled in size, as his head rested in the crook of Bucky’s neck, the smell of chocolate and cinnamon melting together to make a little world of their own. Sam wondered if he would mind growing out his hair again.

“So, what did you get me?” Sam asked, knowing he wouldn’t mind if Bucky did get him that ball gag. Part of him almost hoping for it.

“How rude Wilson, here I’ve given you all of myself and you still thirst for more.” Bucky mocked and Sam tackled him into a hug, peppering kisses all over his face.

“Bitch, you’re lucky I lo-” Sam cut himself off, suddenly shy. The smirk on Bucky’s face melted into a smile, a hungry look in his eyes.

“Say it” Bucky ordered. And Sam did. The Captain obeyed his Sergeant without hesitation.

“I love you. I love you so freaking much! I got us the cheesiest gifts.” Sam said in excitement. He pulled away long enough to grab his gift from under the bed, giving it to Bucky to open. He watched with his bottom lip between his teeth as Bucky opened the box to pull out two chains, each dangling with a rectangular pendant.

Dog tags.

Their dog tags. Bucky raised his eyes to Sam’s, fisting his hand in Sam’s t-shirt to pull him closer into a searing kiss, all tongue and teeth and moans, hips grinding as passion merged with love and emotion.

“I love you!” Bucky growled and kissed Sam again. “And I got you chocolates that look like dicks. I didn’t know this would happen between us when I bought them, and I was going to give you a hint with them.”

Sam’s laughter echoed around their small house, the dopey smile on his face remaining intact as they ate candy and burnt sparklers into the night. In the colourful light that played on their faces, they held hands together, filling the void that was there with the warmth of each other.

“We can use the shield as a sleigh until you’re comfortable using it as a weapon.” Bucky mused and Sam smiled into his neck, thinking of a certain blond asshole who may have gone away, but will never be lost.

Permanent Taglist: @what-is-your-wish @shooting-star-love @stanmysoul @sweeterthanthis @scentedsongrebel @muralskins @rayofdawnworld @donutloverxo @just-one-ordinary-fangirl @angrythingstarlight @rockyrogers @slothspaghettiwrites @nerdygirl8203 

CE & Steve : @littlegasps @bluemusickid @harrysthiccthighss @abeyyaaar @slytherinandoutasgard @empath-bunny 

SebStan & Bucky : @sebastiansthot @its-izzys @harrysthiccthighss @empath-bunny

For this fic : @barnesandco​

[jawritter]

Saving Grace

Summary:  Some things are worth fighting for, even when they think they’re not. You can either roll over and die, or you can pick yourself up off the ground and go get what you want. That’s the place Y/N now finds herself in.

Warnings: Angst, so much angst, heartbreak, breakup, language. 

Word Count: 1335

Pairing: Dean Winchester x Reader

Prompt: 15: The red tail lights was the last thing she saw.

A/N: This fic was written for @jay-and-dean 2k To Be Continued celebration! Congrats on your new milestone hun! Since this challenge is called the “to be continued” challenge. I thought it best to leave this one in a bit of an open ending **Inserts evil laugh here**. This fic is totally unbeta’d and all mistakes are my own! Please do not copy my work! Feedback is golden! Hope you guys enjoy this one!

Want more? Check out my Masterlist! If that’s not enough join me on Patreon, and get exclusive fics and series first!!

**MASTERLIST**        **BECOME A PATREON**

The red tail lights was the last thing she saw. Still, Dean saw a much worse view. The view of her tear-streaked face cast with an almost eerie red glow as he pulled out of the mud slick driveway, and onto the main road. He watched the rearview mirror until he couldn’t see her anymore. 

His dad had always taught him never to show emotions. “Real men don’t cry,” he’d said. It took everything in Dean to hold the burning wave of tears back as he refocused his eyes on the road, leaving yet another piece of his heart behind. 

Sam watched his brother closely. He could see the strain in his neck and shoulders and he kept a white-knuckled grip on the steering wheel and a death glare on the road. Dean could feel Sam’s eyes on him, even though Sam dared not say anything to his older brother. 

That was the longest drive to the bunker he’d ever made in his life, and fighting the inevitable breakdown was getting harder and harder with each passing mile. All he could see was her. That hurt look on her face. Her heart, breaking into pieces. He’d done that. He’d caused her more pain. He didn’t want to cause her any more pain. That’s why he fucking told her they couldn’t keep doing this. That’s why he told her that it was over. 

“It’s for the best, she’s safe now,” he told himself over and over again, but it was getting harder and harder to convince himself of that right now. 

With each step he took into the grave-like silence that filled the bunker his chest felt heavier. He got as far as the map table before the first tear slipped down his face. He refused to acknowledge the weakness, and when Sam’s hand came to rest on his shoulder, he jerked away hard, murmuring something about getting some sleep. 

Sam wanted to help him, that’s all, but there was no fixing this. There was no putting Dean back together this time. He didn’t really let himself cry in earnest until he was safely locked in his room, with an open bottle of Tennessee's finest. 

This was it, his curse. Some cruel joke Chuck had slapped on him his whole life. Loneliness. He tried to drown it in alcohol, and when he was younger he tried to drown it in young women. It never filled the void the way Y/N did, it never will. 

Dean pulled out his phone and started looking through the photos of the two of them over the last six months, and damn if that didn’t rip yet another fresh whole in his chest.

Her smile was his everything. It was his reason for getting up in the morning, and the only reason he’d kept going this long, and not given up and taken the easy way out. She loved him, really loved him. She’d woken a part of him up that he never knew could exist inside the fucked up, broken shell of the former man he once was. 

Now… Well, now that man was dying, and fuck if that didn’t hurt worse than anything he’d ever lost in his life. 

Over two hours south of where Dean was now, Y/N sat in the driveway with the rain beating down on her already soaked clothes as if it could wash away the crippling heartbreak she felt right now. 

The mud she was kneeling in from where she hit her knees the moment those horrible red taillights were no longer in sight. She’d been there for almost two hours. She couldn’t cry anymore. She couldn’t move, she couldn’t even think clearly for nearly two hours. She just knelt there in misery. 

If he would have been man enough to just pull his gun and shoot her in the head it would have been more merciful than what he’d just done to her. It would have been quick, painless even. But no, he decided to leave her a half-dead shell of a human, kneeling in the pouring rain, unable to even pick herself up from where he’d left her standing. 

“It’s better this way sweetheart,” he’d said. “You’re safer without me. I'm poison baby, you don’t deserve to follow me down this road that’s only going to end up in more hurt and heartache. You don’t deserve that.”

Well, fuck if he wasn’t wrong. She would have taken death for him, and taken it gladly. Torture couldn’t put a dent in what she was feeling right now. She feared no monster, no demon, she could and had faced all those things, and came back stronger. This was different. This was inescapable. This was going to kill her. 

“No,” she finally said, grabbing the tale gate of her old Nissan V6 that she’d been kneeling by and using it to force herself to stand.

She knew Dean was hell-bent on “keeping her safe,” but dammit she’d been keeping herself safe for the last 15 years she’d been a hunter. So what gave him the right to make the decision that he wasn’t worth whatever pain was to come? 

Once she was inside the house, she quickly changed her clothes into something dry and dialed Sam’s number. She knew Sam almost as well as she knew Dean, and she knew he thought his brother deserved to be happy. He was happy with her. Sam had told her so, and Sam wouldn’t lie about that.

She’d just slammed the door to the old truck, and pressed the clutch to the floor, starting the engine with a roar as she tried to force the old truck in reverse quicker than what it really liked when Sam answered the phone. 

“Y/N, are you okay?” he asked as you pulled onto the blacktop, shifting gears as you gained speed, heading for the bunker as fast as the old truck could go.

“I’m fine, how’s Dean?” she asked, her chest tight with panic. She knew him, her Dean, and if she was in this bad of shape, then she could only imagine what he was going through. 

“Not good,” Sam answered simply. That was it, all she needed to hear. 

“I’m on my way Sam, he’s not going to get rid of me that easily.” 

Sam let out a huff of breath that you could tell was the first real one he’d taken all night long. 

“Thank God,” he breathed as she hung up the phone, that old truck roaring in the background as she sped their way as fast as it could carry her. 

He knew his brother was hurting more than he’d ever seen him hurt. He’d been sitting in the hall or almost an hour listening to him cry himself to sleep, something he’d rarely ever heard him do maybe only once, and that was when Mary had been taken away from him the second time. He needed Y/N, and she needed him. 

Thankfully she seemed stubborn enough to keep him from destroying the only good thing he’d ever had. So he pulled himself up from the floor and cracked the door open to see Dean on his stomach with an empty whiskey bottle in his hand, and his mouth slack with sleep. He slipped inside, and removed his boats, and put them down beside the bed, pulling the covers over him knowing Y/N would take care of the rest when she got here.

This life wasn’t easy, and Dean didn’t need to make it harder on himself when there was finally someone that was willing to fight for him the way he deserves, and Y/N was just that person. 

“Hang in there Dean. She’s almost home,” he said as he tucked the covers around his brother’s sleeping form and went to wait in the library for what he was convinced would be his big brother’s saving grace.

Forever Tags: @deanmonandnegansbitch @hayleeharling @flamencodiva @coldmuffinbanditshoe @bxbyizzy @rain-dance-goblin @itmejado @supernatural3002 @teresa-67 @deanwanddamons @rvgrsbrns @bi-danvers0 @onethirstyunicorn @i-love-superhero @akshi8278 @lyss-dw79 @magssteenkamp @lemondropirwin @squirrelnotsam @hobby27 @spnbaby-67 @mrsjenniferwinchester @defenderrosetyler @screechingartisancashbailiff @thecreatiivecorner  @aflamboyanceofgays @vicmc624 @busy-bee-angel-misska @justanotherwinchester @brilovesdeanwinchester @idksupernatural​   @lyarr24 @amandamdiehl​ @love-jackles @miraclesoflove​  @Waywardsistershay @emoryhemsworth​ @dean-winchesters-gardian-angel​ @softsebastian​ @tatted-trina6​

[the-bee-graveyard]

The Fine Line: Chapter Three

Other Chapters

Summary: The Gladers (+Brenda, and Group B members) try to make up for the grave mistake made during their plans by throwing a party. Vince can be bribed with cookies. Brenda does not like party games. Jorge ships Newtmas.  Thomas makes a not shocking realization. Everyone wants to slap Newt and Thomas.

Sorry if there are any grammatical/spelling errors I proofread but that’s quite ineffective.

I dedicate this chapter to @madmathis18, sorry about your paper Madalynne

Tag List (let me know if you want to be added): @izzymultifan

Chapter Three: The Fine Line Between Friends and Lovers

Part One: Minho’s POV

Say they screwed up would be an understatement. They didn’t screw anything up. Screwing something up implies that it can be salvaged.

And Minho had no clue how the hell they could possibly salvage this.

“How the hell can four people be so stupid?” Sonya ranted, they sat in their circle going over their failure. The four people she spoke of were Minho, Gally, Newt, and Thomas. Newt and Thomas for not realizing they were madly in love with each other, and Minho and Gally for making everything worse.

But Minho had a new plan, a new plan to replace their old plan, which now laid in metaphorically shreds scattered across the beach on the safe haven.

“Shut up Sonya, I have a plan,” Minho said. Sonya, Frypan, Harriet, and Brenda all groaned, which Minho found ridiculous since he always had flawless plans. He glared at them before he spoke again. “Phase one: Minho goes and tell’s Newt he’s absolutely not attracted to him. Phase two: we convince Vince to let us throw a party tomorrow night. Phase three-”

“Phase three of what?” A voice interrupted. Minho spun his head around to see Jorge standing there. 

“Nothing,” Minho replied.

“We’re trying to get Newt and Thomas together,” Frypan said at the same time.

“May I join?” Jorge asked.

“Of course,” Minho said. Jorge sat down in between Brenda and Teresa, who weren’t sitting as far apart as they were at the last meeting but still pretty far apart. “Phase three: we start up a wild game of truth or dare-”

“Absolutely not,” Gally interjected, Frypan had opened his mouth to protest to.  They used to play truth or dare in the glade, and the games always got so out of hand Alby had to shut them down. Once Gally had been dared to bathe in his own drinks, and another time Frypan had been dared to eat two sticks of butter.

“I think it’s a great idea,” Teresa said. Minho almost said something mean, but he bit his tongue. He really wanted to try to get along with Teresa for Thomas’s sake, even if he still sort of hated her guts. “We won’t give anyone else anything too extreme, just stuff to sell the game to Newt and Thomas before we attack them with dares.”

“I like the way you think Teresa,” Harriet said. “So how do we get Vince on board?”

“I have an idea for this,” Jorge spoke up. “How quickly can you whip up a batch of chocolate chip cookies Frypan?”

-Time Gap, an hour-

“Heyyyyy Vince,” Minho said cheerily, Sonya and Frypan at his sides. They were all there for a reason: Frypan because he made the cookies, Sonya because she insisted on coming and Minho was too afraid of her and her girlfriend to say no, and because they all agreed that Minho had the least shame out of all of them and could easily bribe a resistance leader with cookies.

“Oh god,” Vince muttered, pinching the bridge of his nose. “How can I help you three?” 

“We just wanted to let you know Frypan just finished making a batch of chocolate chip cookies,” Minho said, holding the plate of cookies so Vince could smell them. Their leader reached for a cookie but Sonya slapped his hand before he took one.

“They come with conditions,” Sonya snapped. 

“There it is,” Vince sighed. “What?”

“We want a party tonight. On the beach. We’ll plan everything, all you have to do is sit back, relax, and eat your cookies,” Minho said. The look on Vince’s face said no, but Minho didn’t take no for an answer, escipecally not when his friend’s whole relationship rely on this party. They didn’t call Minho cupid for nothing (he could hear Sonya’s voice in his head saying no one called him that, but Sonya’s voice could shove off). He held the plate closer to Vince’s face, and he saw the mans face soften.

“Fine,” Vince grumbled, snatching a cookie from the plate. “If anyone dies it’s on you.” Sonya and Minho high fived.

Part Two: Teresa’s POV

They sat in another circle, but this time Jorge was missing and Newt and Thomas filled his place (sitting quite close to each other if Teresa did say so herself, which she did). Teresa took a sip of Minho’s special drink.

“So may I ask why we’re gathered here?” Newt asked Minho.

“We’re going to have a nice fun game of truth or dare,” Minho announced. To say Newt looked horrified would be an understatement.

“There’s no buggin’ way I’m playing, nope,” Newt said, his arms crossed and his expression firm.

“Please Newt, it’ll be fun,” Thomas pleaded, giving the blonde boy puppy dog eyes. Newt sighed, clearly giving in.

“Fine,” Newt grumbled.

“Great,” Gally said. “I’ll go first. Minho, truth or dare?” Teresa already knew how this first part would play out, they’d planned it out.

“Truth,” Minho said.

“Is it true that you’ve got a thing for Newt?” Gally asked.

“Nope, I’ve only got eyes for you babe,” Minho said, before leaning in and kissed Gally, resulting in a gagging noise from Brenda (Minho flipped her off).

“If you’re so eager to move on, Brenda, truth or dare?” Minho asked, a mischievous gleam in his eyes. Teresa didn’t expect to get heated this early in the game, but then again, she should never underestimate Minho and his competitive agenda. 

“Dare,” Brenda said, leaning back.

“I dare you to kiss Teresa,” Minho announced. Teresa swore the words echoed off of something. Everyone quickly turned to Brenda, waiting to see her reaction. 

Brenda said nothing, grabbing Teresa and kissing her quickly before pulling away, the sudden movement shocking Teresa. Her lips immediately felt cold once Brenda pulled away.

“Thomas, truth or dare?” Brenda said as if nothing had ever happened. Teresa couldn’t tell if she wanted Brenda to act like nothing happened, or she wanted her to be mad, or what. 

Teresa used to think she knew everything.

But if she knew everything then why didn’t she know why she wanted to kiss a girl who hated her so much again?

Part Three: Thomas’s POV

Thirty minutes later Thomas and Newt had swapped shirts, Aris was soaked from running in the ocean, Sonya and Harriet were “glued” to each other, and Minho had to end every sentence with “bubbles”. 

“Thomas, truth or dare,” Harriet said. 

“Truth,” Thomas said. His last dare was to go over to the bonfire and compliment Vince’s shoes, so he decided he’d take a break from dare’s for a little bit. 

“Who’s the most attractive person in this circle?” It wasn’t a hard decision, even though it should be. They were all very attractive individuals, but Newt outshined them all with his fluffy blonde hair and deep brown eyes Thomas could and would drown in.There there was his smile and his hands and the way he never let anything get him down.

And most importantly, the way he said Tommy. He could never say the words with anything but affection, even if he was pissed, and Thomas loved it.

Then it hit him. Like a brick.

Thomas loved Newt. Like, loved loved Newt.

Shoot.

“Earth to Thomas, you gonna answer or not?” 

“Oh yeah, Newt,” Thomas said. Newt grinned and patted Thomas on the back. “Minho, truth or dare?”

“Dare. Bubbles,” Minho said.

“I dare you to come up with a compliment for everyone in this circle.” Minho mumbled something under his breath and then began unenthusiastically.

“Frypan, you can cook like a saint. Brenda, you have the second best hair, besides me of course. Bubbles. Harriet, you’re absolutely terrifying. Bubbles.  Sonya, you’re a great plotting buddy. Bubbles. Aris, I don’t think you’re a creepy vent-kid anymore. Bubbles. Teresa, you have nice eyes. Bubbles. Thomas, you’re not the ugliest shank I’ve ever met. Bubbles. Newt, you’re the nicest person I’ve ever met. Bubbles. Gally, you’re the second hottest person here, besides me of course. Bubbles. Newt, truth or dare?”

“Truth,” Newt said. He’d only did one dare, which resulted Thomas wearing a shirt too tight and Newt wearing a loose shirt that looked good on him, everything looked good on him.

“Have you ever been in love with anyone in this circle? Bubbles.” Thomas followed Newt’s gaze as it landed on every single one of them, before his eyes met Thomas’s and lingered longer than they did on everyone else.

“Yes,” Newt said, looking away from Thomas, blushing. Thomas may be going out on a limb, but maybe, just maybe, there was a one in a million chance that Newt returned a small amount of his feelings?

“Really, who is it? Bubbles.”

“No, no, no,” Newt teased. “One question per turn.” Thomas’s heart sank, he wanted to know too. But he couldn't say that, then they’d all knew Thomas wanted to know and then they'd figure out he was utterly and hopelessly in love with Newt and always had been.

[aaronpullinteeth]

This is something new for me. I'm gonna do a full album review for YUNGBLUD - WEIRD. I'll be going track by track, giving a rating out of 10 and a short review. Then I'll give the overall rating at the end. So here we go.

YUNGBLUD - WEIRD

Track 1:

teresa

9.5 / 10

This song is one hell of an opener. It has that anthem like feel to it. A sound that hasn't really been captured this well since My Chemical Romance did it with The Black Parade. You can hear the influence of that album on this track. It's pure emotion and scream along rock opera goodness. The lyrics hit a special place as they tell a real story too.

Track 2:

cotton candy

7 / 10

The most "pop" the album really gets. It has a very easy to listen to and boppy sound. While the theme of the sound isn't really PG it has that sound. Something YUNGBLUD is very good at. It's one of my least favourite songs on the album but for a pop song, it's still head and shoulders above most of what's out there right now.

Track 3:

strawberry lipstick

8.5 / 10

Making The Clash and The Sex Pistols proud. This song is full on classic British punk rock with a modern twist in the chorus to make it more accessible for a modern audience. If you want to get a nice introduction to the punk scene from the UK, you can do alot worse than this song. Truthfully, this was the first song by YUNGBLUD that made me fall in love with him. Just go listen.

Track 4:

mars

8.5 / 10

This song is all about the story and the message. The music can take a backseat to everything else. But that backseat is still awesome. A mark of a true artist is to stand up for what you believe in your own way. Making an anthem like this is something special.

Track 5:

superdeadfriends

7.5 / 10

An influence I wasn't ready for was Beastie Boys. Although this does have a bit of a throwback sound to the likes of 21st Century Liability it's a little more Beastie Boys. This one doesn't hit the same as some of the others but it's a great way to break up the album and is full of energy. A hell of a shot of adrenaline.

Track 6:

love song

8 / 10

The lyrics tell a darker story than you'd expect with a title like that. It's YUNGBLUD once again showing the world his heart. He can make himself vulnerable in songs like this. You can tell he wanted to have this build into something explosive by the end. That feeling of inner struggle with love as a reject is perfectly explained in this one. In a word, relatable.

Track 7:

god save me, but don't drown me out

10 / 10

The best song that has been released this year. When I said that Dom's great at making himself vulnerable, nothing shows that better than this song. Self acceptance and knowing that life is shit but you can get better. Suicidal thoughts and getting through it. "I won't let my insecurities define who I am." I can't say enough about this song. This album could have been this 13 times and it'd be great. Plus, that video! If you take anything from this, if you haven't seen the video, go watch it now. I'll wait.

Track 8:

ice cream man

8.5 / 10

Brit-Pop is back in full force with this one. This feels like it's right out of the 90s rivalry between Oasis and Blur. This is a good thing. This is a party song if I ever heard one. But at the same time, as is the norm with YUNGBLUD, the lyrics tell a much deeper story.

Track 9:

weird!

7 / 10

Joint with cotton candy for the lowest rating on the album, again for a similar reason, it's just a little too pop. The saving grace in this song for me are the lyrics. Which are nothing short of fantastic. The music just doesn't grab the same way as the rest of the album. However, again, far from a bad song. I'm talking by YUNGBLUD standards here. Which still puts it above most.

Track 10

charity

9 / 10

I don't know why, but I love this song. It's again very Brit-Pop but with a more Pop-Punk chorus. This is pure sing along energy. You hear this and automatically want to start jumping around the room, no matter who is in the room with you. You just get dragged along on this tidal wave of energy fueled by Dr Pepper and cheap beer.

Track 11:

acting like that (ft MGK)

9 / 10

How to do Pop-Punk in 2020. Whenever YUNGBLUD and MGK get together, it's magic. On top of that, they have the greatest drummer in the world (IMO) Travis Barker. There is nothing complex about the lyrics in this one, but there doesn't have to be. It hits all the right places and keeps you moving. The energy is straight early 00s in the best way. Can these 3 just do a full album together already?

Track 12

it's quiet in beverly hills

8.5 / 10

If you wanted something to take you on an emotional yet calming trip through the mind of an artist, this is it. There's something hypnotic about this one. It reminds me of some of the stuff Good Charlotte used to do, but with YUNGBLUD's own twist on it.

Track 13:

the freak show

9.5 / 10

This is how you rap up an album like this. A whole album about self discovery and acceptance in being fucking weird and proud. This sums it all up perfectly. Think of the album as a musical on stage. This is the last song they hit you with before sending you home. The freak show is like 2 songs mushed together but it works so well. Just get your best eye liner, your best lipstick, your best fishnets and vibe.

So, the whole album is amazing. There isn't a song that gets lower than 7 / 10 for me. I thing the overall grade I'll give the album is 9 / 10.

This is my favourite album of the year. I cannot recommend it enough.

[despairforme]

[[ Aloe & Basil ! ]]

    ASK MEME ; 𝐁𝐎𝐓𝐀𝐍𝐈𝐂𝐀𝐋 𝐇𝐄𝐀𝐃𝐂𝐀𝐍𝐎𝐍𝐒 . ( accepting! ) aloe:   how does your muse handle grief? basil:   does your muse have a love - hate relationship with anyone or anything?

     ❝ Grief, huh? ❞ He tasted the word, as if to test if it was familiar to him. Considering how much Nnoitra ( internally ) complained about his life, one would expect him to have experienced plenty of grief in his life. However, those times in his life when he had LOST someone, it wasn’t GRIEF that had been the most prominent emotion. Only TWICE in his life had Nnoitra lost someone who was close to him. He didn’t really think the first one could count as him losing someone, seeing as he had been the one to deliver the strike. Grimmjow hadn’t died that day, but Nnoitra hadn’t known that. For seven years, he had thought of himself as his best friend’s murderer. Had he grieved Grimmjow? No. If there had been any grief there, it had been drowned by all-consuming GUILT. Nnoitra pushed the thoughts aside with the turning of his head, as if he wanted to look away from a scene only he could see. Yeah, Grimmjow had survived, but that didn’t make Nnoitra’s actions any less horrible. 

     The second person, and really, since Grimmjow was alive - the ONLY person who Nnoitra had actually lost was his mother. She had passed away from lung cancer the year Nnoitra turned 18. He hadn’t even known she was ill, and he wouldn’t have learned about her death if he hadn’t tried to get in contact with her. It was right after the time when he had lost his eye, and he felt truly helpless. The only person he could think of to turn to for help was his mother. Of course he had known that he didn’t deserve her help, but he hadn’t known what else to do. When he tried to get in contact with her, he learned that she had passed away a few months prior. There was a lot of GUILT tied to his mother’s death as well. Nnoitra hadn’t been personally responsible for it, but he still felt bad. He hated the thought of his mother having died all alone in hospital, without him ever telling her thank you for everything she had done for him.

     When he had recovered from his eye injury, and felt ready for it, he had visited his mother’s grave. He remembered he had thought he would cry. Almost HOPED he would, as if it would prove to him that he had a soul. He remembered standing in front of her grave and reading her name. He had placed flowers there just because that was the proper thing to do. And he hadn’t cried. Not a single tear. That had made him almost more sad than seeing the grave. Being delivered yet another proof of what a horrible person he was. Nnoitra hadn’t seen her for years, so maybe that was why? Maybe. Either way, he didn’t think he could say he had grieved her. He had... Gotten his tattoo for her though. The ‘ Santa Teresa ‘ beneath his collar bones. Did that count?

     ❝ I ain’t ‘da kind’a person who grieves. ❞ As tragic as that was to admit. 

     Thankfully, the second question wasn’t as dramatic as the first one. Did he have a ‘ love-hate ‘ relationship with anything? Hm. Nnoitra tapped his index finger against the dip between his collar bones while he thought about it. He was a pretty black and white person, he thought. If he truly hated something, then he hated it. ❝ I don’t think I got no love-hate relationship’ with anyone or anythin’. There ‘s a lot of stuff I just simply hate. ❞ Yeah, there was a long - LONG list. As for the things he loved? That was a not-so-long list. Unless it included food. In which, it would be a mile long. When it came to people, he was even more defined in his opinion of them. If he disliked them, he wasn’t going to be around them at all. It was kinda boring, wasn’t it? That he didn’t have anything that he had conflicting feelings about? He looked up at the sky, as if for inspiration. A little guilty pleasure crossed his mind. It probably didn’t count as a ‘ love-hate ‘ relationship, and since it was pretty embarrassing, he wasn’t going to mention it either. Nnoitra really disliked the fact that his nipples were sensitive to touch. He felt like that wasn’t an area that should be sensitive on a man. But, yeah, since he was so sensitive there - it did feel good to have his nipples touched. That was probably the closest thing to a ‘ love-hate ‘ thing he could get. UGH.

[sexygarbage]

1:20am

Have I written about how I realized that I have a hometown murder???! I recently finished every episode of MFM that isn’t a live show and isn’t a minisode. So, now I’m going down the list of minisodes. Which, are just as entertaining, if not more so than the good ol fashioned shows. And every time I hear these hometown murders I am like so jelous that I don’t have a story to tell! I mean, people are writing about close encounters with famous serial killers or even unknown killers. Or like not even murder related but touching and thoughtful or about ghosts or the super natural. And I wanna be featured on it so bad. I was listening to them talk about a mother who had murdered her own baby or something and how it’s the lowest of the low in prison if you’re a mother who murdered your baby. And then it all came back to me. I had a middle school/high school friend named Barbara Ramirez Sufuentes who drowned her two twin babies in her bathtub like 4 years ago!!!!!!!!! I honestly thing I repressed this memory because at the time, she had started posting more on her facebook about them and also she had commented on a depressing instagram picture I posted of a bb gun to my head. She was like “are you okay? guns are kinda serious” And then she straight up murdered her two twin daughters!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! At the time, I just could not believe it. It was a numbing time, a depressing time. Me and Barbara had fallen out of touch. It was weird of her to even ask me anything about myself because we had not spoken for years. So, I’m sure at the time I just repressed it. I wasn’t into true crime shit just then. And when I was listening to MFM I re-remembered. I wrote to them but I doubt that it will get read because sometimes I feel as if I have to dumb myself down a little bit and I probably did that in the email, causing it to probably be boring and I don’t think it would make the cut :/ 

But! It was interesting to re-remember something from my past. Barbara was like one of those girls who were super intimidating and like really pushy. And you kinda just had to feed into their delusions in order to maintain peace you know. There was something about her that was always a little unhinged, or like off... I always thought that... which is why I wasn’t so committed to staying friends with her after middle school yanno. But upon my research, she was arrested on mothers day and she claimed it was a horrible accident. She started the twins bath and was listening to music very loudly and the next thing she knew they were dead... She was also seen smiling when she got arrested! She was found guilty and is serving a 6 year prison sentence. People in the fb comments were heavily debating. A lot veer into the side of it just being a crazy accident and then some people are too ragefilled about it. Also upon researching, I discovered a prison penpals website where she wrote an ad seeking friends while she was in prison. And it was very strangely written, she only said she was in prison for a crime that was due to recklessness on her part and that she hadn’t done anything wrong before that. She also used a lot of quotes and named the bands she listened to... It just seems so creepy to me. Because with all the red flags, it’s so obvious that she totally killed her babies and it was not an accident. But this was a girl I basically grew up with!! We might have even had a sleepover or she at least came to my house once or twice!! She was someone that I knew. Someone that I had study hall with, someone that influenced me as a kid and she totally fuckin murdered her own children!!!!!!! I mean, it’s crazy when I think about it now. Now that I am so invested in crazy shit like this and have heard so many fucked up stories. And the thing that baffles me is that when you’re in school, it feels already like a prison. And everyone around you can bond over the fact that you are all pretty much miserable. And Barbara was def not a student who stayed out of trouble. She was always in trouble. She was fuckin crazy! School is like baby prison. Prison is like real life adult serious prison!!!!!! Like, murderers, rapists, unfathomable, unforgivable crimes is where prison is! And I already empathize way more than I need to so when I realize the legitamcy of it all, it fuckin freaks me out. Ofc I didn’t write anything as poignant and personal like this when I wrote the email for MFM. But, I still shared the small barely interesting story. 

I keep thinking about it and I just wanna know that they read it. But I can’t count on that outcome. I’ve just listened to like 5 minisodes in a row and they have all made me laugh and cry and scream and get goosebumps. They make me feel so many emotions, and they trigger me and I begin to feel genuine feelings which is so hard to come by especially because the people close to me are a majority of sociopaths. And when I listen to the stories and the carmraderie and the sense of belinging, it just warms my heart. I mean I hate to be so cornball about it. But shit, I’m mostly having a bad day and I’m mostly secretly struggling and feeling out of place and uncared for and this just totally turns me around and I become intrigued, I am put in a trance where things are just not so shitty and the hottest of tea is being spilt in the most twisted of ways! It is everything I live for! 

So yeah, I’ve been emmersed in these crazy stories, I might be gong insane a little bit. I also wanna write about my thoughts on my therapist because I don’t write about it that often. Me hanging out with Coco so much and hating it is an indication that I, too, am quite insane. Because I have no where else to go. And so I keep going back to Coco when I know she makes me feel like shit. It’s not normal that every time I call Sas, we have to have a Coco complaints hour. I know it’s fun to talk about the dysfunction of others. But at a certain point, it is spilling onto me. And look, the situation is not easy for anyone. Idk if anyone would care, but I would be certainly sad if I just straight up ghosted everyone cus I couldn’t stand Coco. No, I love everyone else, that’s why I have to put up with Coco. And when I go to my therapist about it, I could be talking about so many other things... My committment issues, my daddy issues, so many other issues but all I wanna talk about is how many times Coco has rubbed me the wrong way within two weeks! And I tell my therapist how shitty I’m feeling, and it upsets him to know that I’m upset so then I feel even more shittier. And we know the only solution is to get rid of her but it’s not easy and it’s not realistic. And I’m kinda just looking for a scientific explination of my dynamic with Coco, of my reasoning for my own attachment. But we never get there. With my therapist, he never gives me a scientific explination as to why I am the way that I am with certain people. He praises me a lot, he tells me positive things about myself and shitty things about everybody else. And on one hand, I do need to hear good things about myself because not many people are praising me and I need validation. But on the other hand, I am uncomfortable about it and I don’t know how to make that clear. I just think my therapist is way too emotional. Way too empathetic. And way too on my side! I mean, I know I’ve been gaslighted to believe everyone should be mean to me, but I need someone who is unfeeling. Someone who will give me scientific explanations. I’ve been kinda wanting to break up with my therapist :/ Which sucks because I love him so much. And part of it is me. Because I just don’t know how to deal with someone who sees me for me. I only know how to deal with people who make me the butt of the joke or something like that. I’m not used to people being so nice to me and it freaks me out and it makes me uncomfortable. And I know I shouldn’t feel guilty about it. But idk what to do. Also, my therapist is good at taking this into accountability, but it is different to have a white therapist when I’m not white. And he’s like super aware of racial differences, super understanding. And sometimes I just feel like I need a person of color therapist you know. Maybe not straight up filipino because you know pinoys are judgemental and hella religious. But at least just another person of color and a woman, so we’re all on the same page. Like, my therapist is an openly gay trans man and you could not ask for a better sense of open mindedness and a radical stance on politics. But, I am already so emotional. My therapist cannot be more emotional than me. It makes me feel like I have to retaliate and so then I become unfeeling. 

And also, the thing about therapy is that your therapist is always gonna be on your side. I was talking to Sas about what Coco’s therapy is like and it’s true, you can just straight up lie the whole time. And that’s probably what Coco is doing. She is doing her mother teresa act, crying her crocodile tears and her therapist has to buy it, her therapist has to be on her side and tell her the things she thinks she wants to hear. But her therapist is missing a huge chunk of Coco herself because therapists will only ever get your side of your story. I have probably hurt a lot of people too, and it’s not supposed to matter to your therapist. But sometimes I just wish it would so I could know how much of a shitty person I am. The way Coco’s therapist would never tell her. I wanna know all the bad things about me. A stranger just can’t know that about you because ofc I’m seemingly nice, and so are the thoughts that come out of my mouth and into my therapists’ ear. Ofc, he’s not gonna tell me all the bad things about myself. Ofc it’s just me finding new ways to hate myself even when I try to get better about it... Sometimes tho I feel as if I don’t even need therapy when I know so much shit already. But that’s just me being cocky and stupid... Anyway, idk! Imma just ride it out. I still have writing. And I still have my podcast and other creative endeavors. 

Actually, you know what I think this is me just like dealing with the fact that therapy is really that hard. I mean, you tell everyone to go to therapy but it’s only if theyre willing to work at it. Because it is a constant constant battle. And it’s never gonna be easy. And it’s so hard for me to like not feel bummed out about it because life is so hard. And then sometimes I just feel like there is no hope at all. Even when I put myself in a position to see that there is.. 

[krissysbookshelf]

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  Diced: Charlie Cooper Mystery (Book 3) by Deany Ray: Charlie’s new life as an undercover detective sounds more glamorous than it actually is. Her next case seems simple enough until she stumbles upon a dead body. Between solving the case, going to cocktail class with her mom and saving a disastrous dinner with the hottest cop in town, it’s time for Charlie to step up before everything comes crumbling down.

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  The Sun God’s Heir by Elliott Baker: For three thousand years a hatred burns. To defeat a brutal pharaoh reembodied in 17th century France, René Gilbert must fight his way through pirates and slavers to Morocco and reclaim the power of his own ancient past. To protect those he loves from one he once called brother, he must remember…

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