#comment or reblog if you have any ideas i should add or remove to my main characters

[ferdihound]

Alton OC lore/facts thing :3

at alton towers (fictional one in my head), there are human versions of the rollercoasters that are AI android things. they are all sentient.

from the thrills to the family attractions, there are androids for the rides. (i have yet to design them, trust)

their bodies were built during their construction

every android is sentient AI, some know that they're ai and accept it, some dont know. they get in relationships with eachother, they have friendships, siblings, and enemies, rivalries, ect.

they also get phones... but have restrictions on what they're allowed to say sometimes

more is under the cut incase anyone wants to read. tw for mentions of death

the androids CANNOT leave the park.

why? because they'll either die, or get shut down until retrieved... and there have been many cases of the androids trying to be free.

the known cases of escaped androids are: (these are the coasters i know abt)

oblivion - the old body was never found, just rebuilt into the oblivion we know now. (this is reference to the the queue line video where a ride-car thing went missing) this was before smiler was built.

enterprise - ran away because she heard she was gonna be taken down... but she didnt know that she'd die anyway if she tried to escape. this happened to the old rides at the x-sector too.

nemesis - ran away, was found, and rebuilt into nemesis reborn. her old memories of nemesis is hidden somewhere.

air - the second he left the alton grounds, he died. body was found when galactica was being made.

thats all i have for the deaths for now :3

anyway time for me to yap about my main characters Oblivion and Smiler and how being trapped at Alton effects their mental ai health... and facts about them. time for absolute nonesence because i wanna talk about them

tw for alcoholism

Smiler handles being trapped at Alton since birth kind of well. he has everything he needs. he has the Ministry, his secret lab that not even Alton knows about (because they'll take it away), only Oblivion and the Ministry know about it. in the lab he does actual marmalisation, medical malpractice, ect... yeah he's evil sorry guys. so since he has everything he needs, he's pretty content... at first.

he started getting tired of being treated as an attraction (which he is) and wants some fucking respect (he gets respect from the Ministry, thankfully.), so he started being a bit rude after a year of living. as the years went on, he acts like how he does now.

Smiler snaps often when ordered around by anyone because he has a big ass ego and thinks he deserves respect and thinks hes better than everyone becasue he's THE Smiler.

his AI mind has been around before the rollercoaster was built, so he's alot older because it was kept somewhere by the Ministry for years. (im working on it)

he barely gets a break, he has to work everyday and literally gets paid nothing because he lives at Alton (in the x-sector).

now onto how Oblivion handles shit.

Oblivion... he's been around for 26 years. everything gets boring for him, guests feel the same, everything feels the same. he wants to be outside of Alton because he has places he wants to go. he wants to be able to go to pubs, concerts, raves, ect.

after being at Alton for like years, he picks up drinking because he wants to feel something... the same thing everyday really dulled his emotions. ever since the others at the x-sector died, his drinking has gotten WORSE. and smiler does NOT help with his constant bitching. (smiler did actually kind of help but still, oblivion is too addicted)

oblivion, after the park closes for the day, often sits ontop of his rollercoaster, sitting on the edge of the drop just to see over the treeline, wanting to see the world outside of Alton. he just sits in silence, drinking and smoking until he gets tired/bored and goes to bed.

after him and smiler started dating, oblivion eventually decided to bring smiler up ontop of his ride for their date. its to show he sees smiler as someone important to him.

their usual dates would be walks around the park, feeding the ducks and wildlife there, going in the rollercoaster restaurant, going on other rollercoasters (they arent allowed to do it, but they do it anyway. they get the androids of the rollercoasters to operate the rides for them safely.)

they're only allowed to do this when the park closes for the day, of course.

if you want a silly bits of their life, check out my ask blog

they're keep eachother from going actually insane and attempting to run away because they love eachother <3

anyway, oblivion is an alcoholic and a heavy smoker, there you have it. smiler doesnt drink alcohol, he dislikes it. tried it once and never again... though he does smoke sometimes, only with oblivion on their dates <3

THATS... i think thats all i have for now. its just waffling i wanted to yap about, now yous can go back to your doing your thing

the end

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

the girl next door 5

Warnings: this fic will include elements, some dark, such as age gap, manipulation, chronic illness, noncon/dubcon, coercion, and other untagged triggers. Please take this into account before proceeding. It is up to curate your online consumption safely.

Summary: A new neighbour moves in and upends your already disarrayed life.

Author’s Note: Please feel free to leave some feedback, reblog, and jump into my asks. I’m always happy to discuss with you and riff on idea. As always, you are cherished and adored! Stay safe, be kind, and treat yourself.

This lewk but silverfox

As your mother waits in her chair, watching the window, dolled up in her nicest skirt, with her hair pressed and her eyes lined, you follow the directions on the containers of the premade grocer meals. Roast the potatoes, veggies too, and heat up the chicken. It’s very easy, even for you.

You set the table as the oven warms up and put out the nice plates you never touch. You fold napkins under the cutlery like you’ve seen on television and in restaurants, not that you ever go anywhere by the drive thru. It looks nice. Sort of.

You hear the recliner creak and your mother get up. The doorbell rings and you jump. You rush into the entry way as your mother looms in the front archway. You look at her and she sends back and expression with deadly venom. You go to the door and steady yourself, slowly turning the latch.

You pull it open and muster a smile which must appear closer to a cringe, “hello, uh, hi.”

“Hello,” Steve smiles, a bouquet of sunflowers in his hands. “How are you?”

“Mm, good,” you mumble.

“Great, I brought you ladies some flowers,” he looks between you and your mother as she steps into the hallway. “Something to brighten up the place.”

“Oh my, thank you, Steve,” your mother rushes forward, her left foot thumping a bit heavier than the other, “that is so sweet of you.”

As she snatches the bouquet, a petal flies loose from her tremor. She brings them to her nose, nearly crushing them into her face as her cheek quivers. She’s overexcited and her symptoms more obvious. You step aside as she beckons in your guest.

“You two look nice,” Steve comments as she stops to remove his shoes. His hair is combed tidy back and he wears an oceanic button-up with khakis. He is indiscernible from any other suburban dweller.

“Thank you,” your mother preens and you echo her softly. “Please, come in. I think dinner’s almost ready.”

She glances at you and you nod, “yes, uh, I’ll... go do that.”

You feel Steve watching you. You shrink down and cross your arm over your middle and back away. You turn and shuffle down to the kitchen. You feel how the skirt and sweater let in the breeze around your thighs and reach to tug the hem.

“Grab a vase for the flowers too, honey.”

You let her words trail after you. Honey. The epithet isn’t dripping in her usual poison. You go and open the stove, letting out the aroma of seasoning. It should be almost there.

You search under the sink and find an old mint green vase. You wash it out and fill it with cool water. You bring it out to the dining room and set it on the table. You can hear your mother and Steve in the next room.

She shoves the flowers at you before you can say a word. You take them as she keeps her attention on your guest.

“How’s the house coming along?” She asks in a singsong, “you’ve been doing so much work, I’m surprised you could make the time for us.”

“Of course. Nice to have a few friendly faces around. Not gonna lie though, I do have fridge full of casseroles already.”

You go back to place the stems in the vase. You linger there, safely away from their conversation. You have nothing to add anyway. You’re best to keep an eye on the food.

“Ugh, really? Let me warn you about this place, those bleach blondes aren’t as chipper as they put on,” your mother sneers as you wait for the gravy to simmer.

You don’t think the people around the neighbourhood are bad. They’re just different. Besides, you can’t blame them for their judgment. You might feel the same if you were like them. If you were pretty and perfect and rich.

You hover by the stove and stop the timer before it can buzz. You take out each pan and transfer the contents to thick porcelain serving dishes. You bring them to the table, one at a time.

“Mom, er, Steve?” You peer into the front room, “dinner is ready.”

“Oh, finally, I’m starving,” your mom sighs.

“Smells good. What are we having?” Steve gestures your mom ahead of him, waiting patiently as she moves stiffly. You can see the struggle in the stitch between the brows as how she stops herself from bracing her hip. She’s embarrassed.

“Roast chicken, potatoes, and grilled broccoli,” you explain, watching awkwardly as he pulls out the chair for your mom.

Your mom sits and Steve tucks the chair in. He surprises you as he rounds the table towards you and slides out another chair. You stare at him and your lips part.

“The gravy,” you squeak.

You quickly retreat to the kitchen. You pour the gravy into the spouted dish and balance it by the handle. You carry it carefully through the door and trip on the slightly crooked divider on the floor. The contents slosh and a splatter lands on your white sweater.

You frown and put the grave dish on the table. Steve lingers as he was. You look down at your sweater and he reaches for one of the spare napkins, holding it out to you. You thank him and sit, letting him push the chair in under you. You dab at your sweater but the brown stains remain.

As he sits, just by your mother, she was sure to sit where she would be next to him, you put the crumpled napkin by your plate. Your mother arches her brow at the front of your sweater. You raise your shoulders and give an apologetic look as you slip the cardigan off. You untangle your arms from the fabric and let it droop to the seat.

Steve smiles at you again. Your face is on fire, your chest too. The dress really doesn’t fit right.

“You made all this?” He asks.

“Heh, she bought it and put it in the oven,” your mom tuts. “She’s not the most gifted cook and... and my hands aren’t steady enough for that anymore.”

“Ah, well, food is food,” he shrugs, “regardless, it looks delicious.” He reaches for the plates of chicken and catches the tongs before the can fall, “may I?”

Your mother’s lips curl and she nods, “by all means.”

He puts a piece on her plate, then his own. He sets it back before he grabs the bowl of potatoes and scoops up a heap besides the marinated breast. Finally, he shovels on the broccoli.

You meekly fill your own plate, though you leave it sparse. Just a piece of chicken, a tiny bit of potatoes, and some broccoli. Your stomach is uneasy. You’re not used to company. You poke around with your fork.

“You know, Holly, I finally got all the furniture where I want it but I don’t know,” Steve begins, cutting into his chicken, “I think it needs something... a woman’s touch, maybe?”

“Mmm,” your mother nods and squints.

“I wouldn’t mind picking your brain. Maybe you have some suggestions. I got all these paintings but not really sure where to put them, you know?”

“Right,” she put a sliced potato in her mouth and chews thoughtfully. She swallows and takes her napkin, shakingly blotting around her coloured lips, “well, suppose I could give you a few tips.”

“Really?” He asks, “that would be amazing.”

“Not a problem at all,” she grins, “I could drop by tomorrow.”

“Yeah, that will be nice,” he agrees.

You sit quietly, keeping your face blank. You won’t mention how your mother complained when you tried to hang some of your drawings just in your same room. She always said art was a waste of time. No, you’ll say nothing. You’re better off that way.

“And uh, you’re welcome too,” Steve offers across the table and your eyes flick up to meet his, “if you want. Don’t want to leave you out.”

You glance at your mother. Her eyes narrow and you gulp, nearly choking on the potatoes. You take a breath and push your shoulders up, “actually, I was planning on... uh, I’m busy.”

You can’t even come up with a lie. Not a solid one. Just busy. Busy being alone. Busy hiding.

“Ah, that’s too bad. Well, how about once I get the barbecue fired up, you both come over for a cookout?”

“Lovely,” your mother chimes. “But tomorrow, I’ll swing by,” she squeezes her fork as it tings against the plate. Her tremor is getting bad. “Be nice to get out.”

[teecupangel]

Writing this as my pinned post since I have a bit of free time anyway.

Introduction:

Hi. You can call me teecup or angel. This is primarily my AC and writing tumblr blog.

I post my fics in AO3 as teecup_angel.

I also have this tumblr blog that’s mostly me reblogging other stuff and very rarely I post something personal, I guess.

I have a twitter too but I haven’t used it in… I wanna say nearing a year? Maybe??? Yeeaaahhhh…

I’m currently writing fics for Assassin’s Creed and my primary focus is Desmond Miles because he deserves better.

Warnings:

I will pair Desmond with anyone (and I mean anyone) and my OTP is AltDes. I also do write gen so if you want to look at my tumblr but you don’t ship Desmond with any of his ancestors, I suggest blocking the following tags (altdes, ezides, condes, haydes, eddes). I also use those tags even when it’s just hinted at just to be safe.

While I cannot stop any minor from looking at this blog, please note that this may contain nsfw posts and I curse like a repressed catholic who was not allowed to curse when they were young. Also, I use 'dumbass' affectionately.

For Asks and Requests:

My ask box is open for nonnies and I try to answer every ask I get unless they specify that they want to keep it private.

Also, if you left me a suggestion or request in AO3, I do try to keep notes of them.

If you do request something or just leave me a plot idea, the most you’ll get from me would be a rambling of how it could work and possible subplots we can add to it. I tend to write whatever strikes my fancy and I’m hesitant in posting too many wips in AO3. Here on tumblr though… short fic and drabbles galore. The only reason why I wouldn’t answer your ask is if I couldn’t get to it in time as I allot a specific time for all asks and reblogs I get. If you don’t see it answered, it only means I’ll get to it next time.

I'm also fine with anyone using any of the posts/fic here or in AO3 to write or draw something as long as the post is linked and I'm informed :)

Also, you can request any crossover ideas with Assassin’s Creed and I’ll find a way to kick Desmond into it. I am a big believer of Desmond is the ultimate isekai protagonist. XD

Concerning the tags of this tumblr:

I got lazy later on in tagging posts I reblog (mostly fanworks from other people) but:

Any ask I answer will have the tag: #ask and answer or #submission for long asks.

Any fic idea I write will have the tag: #teecup writes/has a plot or/and #fic idea: assassin's creed (note: this one usually does not get used for any reblogs with additional ideas so I guess check the reblogs and the replies? This also sometimes does not get used if I'm butting in on other people's posts because it kinda feels wrong to add it? I know I should add a different tag for that but we'll see if I do down the line XD)

Headcanons and analysis (they're sometimes the same???) have #teecup analyze more than necessary and/or #headcanon: assassin's creed

Sometimes I make edits with varying success of humor: #teecup edits (sometimes I do screw up use '#teecup edit' instead XD)

I also draw rarely: #teecup draws

AO3 Stuff:

At the moment (and this part will be updated if necessary), the following have a weekly Monday update:

Eagle of Alamut (Desmond gets thrown back to 12th century Jerusalem in his 16-year-old body, endgame: AltDes)

I also sometimes suddenly post sometimes 2 or 3 more fics all at the same time and it’s kinda my modus operandi to 'coincide' it with important AC dates.

(Also, for those asking me if I need a beta, yeah, most probably but then I would be obligated to remove the "No Beta We Die Like Desmond" tag and the tag is too funny for me to give it up. XD I'd appreciate any comments that tell me if I've written something wrong though, especially the non-English words I sometimes use.)

[spaghettificationandpretzels]

About me and my blog

Hello all,

I hope you find the below information helpful (thank you to @thegayhimbo for providing a template on how to do this)

Below you will mostly find information on my writing but I want you to know who you're following so I'll let you know a little about me too.

All about me

I'm a twenty-four-year-old woman living in wonderful Australia (AEST). I have had this blog for a very long time but only became active over the last three years and only started writing early last year. I'm also busy studying to get a bachelor's in a helping profession. I have a dog and a cat and I love them more than anything.

My blog

First and foremost, please don't follow me if you're under the age of 18. I don't want you here, especially considering the content of what I post. I do not make exceptions even if you coming to talk to me about something that is safe for work.

I am passionate about many social issues and will share posts about them from time to time. I have been told from knee-high that I'm opinionated and I'm very happy to share said opinions. Bigots of any shape will be blocked.

I love talking to people about their passion, ideas and thoughts so if you're having to urge to info dump about anything, please say hello.

My writing

Main Masterlist

I write for lots of fandoms for both men and women. I do both reader and OC although I'm moving towards OC more and more. I only do requests very rarely, mostly for milestones. I prefer to use canon as a starting point and most of my work deviates very heavily.

What I write:

One shots Series Fluff Smut Angst

I write for:

Sons of Anarchy

Jax Teller Lyla Winston

Mayans M.C.

Guero Manny Angel Reyes EZ Reyes

Law & Order: SVU

Terry Bruno Joe Velasco Mike Duarte

The Punisher

Karen Page Billy Russo Frank Castle

Call of Duty (Video Games)

Simon 'Ghost' Riley Valeria Garza Phillip Graves Kate Laswell

The Gentleman

Raymond Smith

Peaky Blinders

Alfie Solomons John Shelby

Gangs of London

Sean Wallace

Many of my fics have very dark themes, and I fully believe that fiction should be used to explore the worst parts of humanity. However, it needs to be done well.

I will not write:

Any form of violence against women for the sole purpose of furthering a man's story. Violence against animals or children. Sexual assault smut. All my smut heavily features enthusiastic and mutual consent

General things for readers

I am more than happy to talk about my work, I will give spoilers and talk about my process if you want. Just ask!!!

I have a tag list and I'm happy to add you but if you are inactive for five posts, I will remove you.

You are under no obligation to read my work so please do not struggle through anything.

This is a hobby and I do this for free, I do this for myself so I'm happy to receive feedback but please don't complain.

Comments and reblogs are loved and cherished.

Thank you for reading this far, I wish you fun on your journey through my blog.

[streamafterlaughter]

Fundamental Differing

Chapter XIV: Away To Nowhere Plains

nav | master list | playlist | pin board | chapter XIII

summary: a welcome home party in hawkins, a break from the whirlwind of rock n roll fame.

tags/warning: flirting, consumption of alcohol, weed, swearing, normal chill stuff nothing insane, LOTS of use of Y/n sorry guys nicknames are for couples!!!!! slow burn, mutual pining, tension as per usual

a/n: I MISSED YOU GUYS. i’m so sorry this took so long to update, i was following paramore around the east coast for a few weeks like a crazy person. should be posting waaaay more regularly now. please enjoy! Disclaimer: I do not give permission to have my work reposted on other sites. Reblogs are more than welcome, but please inform me if you find my work elsewhere unless otherwise stated. please reblog and comment to support the author!

—

December 1986

You rub the sleep from your eyes as you wake, Eddie’s pretty face slowly coming into focus. “Hey, sleepyhead. How’re you feeling?” His voice is soft, soothing to your ears.

“Better this time around. I think you chased the nightmare off, I dreamt of you instead.” You weren’t planning on telling him, you blame your fatigue for the confession.

“Yeah? Was it hot?” He jokes, and you bite your bottom lip because yeah, it definitely was. “It was, wasn’t it?!” Eddie hops out of bed and starts pacing the floor. “Let me guess, we were somewhere cool, like the woods. We were camping! Yeah, and you forgot your tent, so we had to share, and bing bang boom we’re waking up the wildlife.” He looks back to you, eager for your confession.

You cackle at his guess. “Not even close, man. You were a fucking rockstar. Got up on stage at The Garden, and everyone was there for you. Kicked some fucking ass, might I add.” You leave the part where you jumped on stage out, not wanting to give Eddie any ideas for future Corroded Coffin shows.

“Can I tell you something?” He plops back down next to you, shaking the bed. “Remember the party? When you told me the band could be something, and I told you that was never really the plan?” You nod, and he sighs, “Well. I was lying. It’s been the only thing I’ve wanted to do since I was a kid. What you said meant a lot to me, and I wanted to believe you, but we’d just met, and I wasn’t sure if you were being serious or if you wanted to get in my pants.” He grins, and you know he’s joking.

“It was both, obviously!” You backhand him, and he fakes being hurt. “But mostly the former, I really meant it. I do mean it! You’re talented, you’ve got a great group of friends.”. You open your arms, and he scoops you into his, wrapping his legs around your waist like a koala. He mumbles something into your neck, sounding embarrassed. “What was that?”

He removes his head from your shoulder. With his legs still curled around you, he grasps you by the shoulders, as if to steady your already unmoving frame. He looks deeply into your eyes, and though he looks exhausted, he is absolutely stunning. You fight everything in you to jump him there, forget about a night out with friends, and just ravage the boy in your arms all night instead.

“I love you.”

You swear your heart stops. In fact, you are definitely dead. You died, flew into some deluded version of Catholic Heaven where you get everything you want, no consequence. Eddie tries to read your expression, and you hope to god he can because you sure don’t know what the fuck to feel. “You don’t have to say it back, in fact, don’t. Not yet. But I mean it.”

“I-“ Eddie cuts you off with a kiss, and you let him. You close the tiny gap between his chest and yours, and kiss him to convey all the feelings your words aren’t capable of.

“Now, put on something sexy, we’re going out tonight.” Eddie rolls off of you, snatching his towel from his chair on the way out of the room.

Holy shit.

-

Your POV

“Is anyone here to pick us up?” You ask, linking your arm with Steve’s as you exit into the terminal. The airport is bustling with families on their way to Disneyworld and Martha’s Vineyard for their summer vacations, meanwhile you’re about to spend a week in one of the most traumatizing towns of your young adulthood.

“Yeah, Nance and Jonathan are- and speak of the devil!”

Nancy and Jonathan approach from the other side of your gate, and you take off running. Nance catches you in her embrace, squeezing you tightly as you fall into her arms. “Hi, baby!” You squeal, keeping your old friend close.

“Hi, honey! It’s so nice to see you!” When she lets you go, you move to hug Jonathan as Robin and Steve say their hellos. Eddie and the guys are further back, sending waves to them. Nancy doesn’t accept that, though, and throws herself into Eddie. “Hey, Ed.” She mumbles into his shoulder.

-

Eddie’s POV

“Hey, Nance. Long time.”

“Too long!” She separates herself from him and backhands his chest. “Visit more!”

Eddie scoffs. “Hey, you’re in Boston now, don’t give me that shit!”

“Sure, but I come home every summer. I know you’re big and famous, but this is still your home!”

“How is the big guy?” He’s talking about Dustin, eyes betraying a glimpse of who Eddie used to be.

“He’s good. He misses you. We didn’t tell him, or any of them actually, that you were coming.” Nancy’s shy, suddenly.

“Because we weren’t sure if you actually were.” Jonathan explains, and Eddie nods, pressing his lips together. It makes sense, he’s made plenty of empty promises to visit already, only finally pulling himself together because of you.

“But you did! You came! Both of you came, which is even crazier. But it’s great! We’re having a party tonight, Steve’s hosting, we can all drive over together.” Nancy blurts, her mind moving faster than her mouth can.

“A party?” You ask, voice raising an octave higher than it usually sits. You sound nervous.

“Well, what us casual folk consider a party. You guys will probably see it as a pathetic attempt at one.”

“Oh, please!” Steve interjects, “My parties are never pathetic. I was the king!”

Eddie groans dramatically. “Yeah, yeah, man. We know, you peaked in high school.”

“I did not.” Steve crosses his arms, and your laugh draws Eddie’s attention back to you.

“I for one would love a Hawkins style party.” You add finally, a real smile spread across your face. “It’ll be nice to see everyone.”

Nancy nods, taking your carry on from your grasp. “Great! Let’s get you settled.”

“Did you book us a hotel? Eddie asks, surprised. That’s above any level of friendship he’s had with these two specifically.

They both laugh. “A hotel? You’re staying with us!” Oh, fuck.

—

Your POV

“So, my parents happen to be away for the week you’re all here,” Nancy starts, unlocking the door to her childhood home, a building that housed many a party, many a D&D game. “so we have it to ourselves! The couches up here and downstairs, the guest room, and obviously Robin and Y/n will be sleeping with me, to catch me up on the Hollywood Gossip.” Nancy winks at you, and you smile. You’ve missed her, missed Hawkins, despite everything.

“When are the kids getting here?” You ask. You mean Max, specifically. You owe her some money. Eddie and the guys make their way downstairs before Nancy answers,

“They’re at Dustin’s, they’ll be over later today. Something about needing to catch up on the news?”

You bring your palm to your face. “Shit. I was gonna tell you over drinks, lots and lots of drinks, but uh, there’s a rumor flying around that Eddie and I are, y’know,” You trail off, fidgeting like an embarrassed child.

Nancy brings her manicured hand to her open mouth, quick to hide her pity. (It doesn’t work.) “Oh, god. Are you? Sorry, that was rude. How are you handling it?”

You laugh, unfazed by her curiosity. “I don’t really know what we are right now,”

“So you’re something?” She smirks.

You roll your eyes. “We’ll always be something.”

She shrugs, a truce. “What are you gonna tell them? Tell Dustin? You know how he gets.”

You shake your head. “That’s Eddie’s problem.”

Nancy chirps a laugh, placing your suitcase at the end of her bed, and Robin’s backpack beside it. “Fair enough. But didn’t Max bet you the break up wouldn’t last?”

You snort, “Yeah, I owe the kid fifty bucks.”

“If I’d known we were putting money on it, I’d be freaking rich!” Robin teases, and you try to smother your grin. She’s right, she’d been betting on you and Eddie reconciling for the past two years.

“Sorry, Bob. Ya snooze, ya lose!”

“Speaking of snoozing, I need a nap before this party. Pretty sure I broke my neck on the plane.”

-

Nancy rouses you and Robin from your slumbers gently, shaking your shoulders while whispering that “It’s time to get up, rockstars!” The time on her old alarm clock blinks 4:15PM, both you and Robin had slept the day away. You take your time getting up, stretching your limbs slowly as your eyes adjust to the sunlight, streaming through the blinds. Your stomach growls loudly, and Nancy chuckles. “Pizza’s on the way! We’ll eat before we go to Steve’s. For now, though, go get dressed. Remember your bathing suits!” She’s in Mom mode, taking care of you and Robin while running around like a crazy person.

You dig through your suitcase, coming up empty handed. “I don’t have a bathing suit.”

Robin rolls her eyes. “Yes you do!” She takes your suitcase from you, pulling out the skimpy bikini from beneath your piles of clothing. It’s black with cherries on it, and teeny tiny. You bite your lip in embarrassment. It’s a cute bikini, but it’s super inappropriate to be wearing around the kids.

Robin seems to read your mind, though. “They’re all adults now, y/n. You don’t need to walk around in a mumu. Plus,” she wiggles her eyebrows teasingly, “we both know who’ll love this number.”

You groan, snatching the fabric from her grip. “Fine! But you have to wear your yellow one. I’m not gonna be the only one walking around almost-naked.”

She giggles, agreeing. “Doesn’t bother me!” She finds her suit in her backpack and leaves the room to let you change.

-

Eddie’s POV

“So, why are we staying here if we’re having the party at your place?” Eddie asks before biting into his pizza.

“Because Nancy insisted on staying here, but she can’t host a party to save her life. Plus, I have a pool.”

“Your parents have a pool. You live in a tiny apartment in Seattle with two other people.”

Steve shoves Eddie’s shoulder. “Man, shut up. At least I have friends to live with.” Eddie’s face falls, and Steve notices immediately. “I’m sorry. That was too far.”

He shrugs. “It’s alright, you’re not exactly wrong.” He’s glad he’s not home right now, it gets lonely there. The thought of seeing all of his friends again, though, is still overwhelming him. He has no idea what he’ll say to Dustin, or worse, what Dustin will say to him.

Before Eddie can panic further, though, you and Robin enter the kitchen. You’re in shorts and a tight black t-shirt, the strings of your bikini visible underneath. Your short hair is clipped to keep it out of your face, the vibrant color having faded since the beginning of the tour. You send a small smile his way, melting Eddie’s insecurities, even temporarily. He can’t seem to peel his eyes from you as you walk over to the counter, helping yourself to a slice of pizza. He has to fight the urge to walk over to you, wrap his arms around your waist, rest his head on your shoulder. It practically pains him, when you’re out of his reach.

“Eds?” You snap him out of his trance, waving a hand in front of him.

“What?” He shakes his head, as if to rid the image from his brain. “Sorry.”

You grin shyly, and Eddie could melt at the sight. “I asked if you’re ready to go?”

“Oh, yeah. I’m all set.”

Your smile widens, and you hold your hand out for him. He takes it, expecting you to drag him out to the car, but you pull him hooking, hooking your arm around his. “Okay, then. Shall we?”

He can feel the eyes of the room on the pair of you, his cheeks warming. You don’t seem to notice, only looking up at him, your eyes shiny and warm.

-

Mere hours later, Steve’s parents’ house is full and loud, music bumping through the surround sound speakers. Eddie’s in the kitchen nursing a beer when Dustin enters. He’s grown taller and more muscular since the last time Eddie’s seen him, and the beginnings of a beard pepper his face, making him look more like a man than the last time he’d seem the boy. Susie’s on his arm, smiling kindly when she meets Eddie’s eyes. “You wanna drink, Dusty?” She asks sweetly, and Dustin nods. She exits the kitchen, leaving the boys alone.

“What’s up, Dusty?” Eddie tries to joke, extending his hand for Dustin to shake. He swats it away, instead pulling Eddie into a much needed hug.

“Hey, Eddie.” His greeting is muffled by Eddie’s shoulder, and Eddie returns the hug without shame, wrapping his arms around Dustin’s shoulders. The two stay like that, long lost brothers seeing each other for the first time in years.

“Missed you, man.” Eddie finally says when Dustin breaks the hug, holding Eddie at arm’s length. “You're lookin’ great.”

“I’ve been hittin’ the gym a little, check this out,” Dustin flexes a bicep, the beginnings of muscle protruding from his arm. Eddie chuckles, nodding an approval.

When the small talk dies, neither speaks at first, unsure of where to take the conversation besides the elephant in the room. “How’s tour treating you?” Dustin finally asks, taking a seat at the kitchen island. Susie returns with two sodas, handing one to Dustin and sipping the other.

Eddie shrugs, taking another sip of his beer. “It’s been alright, pretty standard stuff.”

Dustin chuckles, and the sound is deeper than Eddie’s used to. “Standard, huh? Touring with the ex love of your life?”

Eddie rolls his eyes. “Right to the point, huh?”

“Obviously, man! I haven’t seen you in years, and the one time you come back, it’s with all this new information I’m not aware of! You know I hate being out of the loop!”

“I know, and I owe you a lot of information. Trust me, I wanna tell you everything,” Before Eddie can continue, you’re stumbling into the kitchen, giggling drunkenly with Robin as you wobble to the coolers in the corner.

“Hi, boys! Oh my god, it can’t be. Is that Dustin freaking Henderson?!” You gasp dramatically, pulling a big smile from Dustin as he approaches you. You swing your arms around his neck, having to get on tiptoes now to reach him. He wraps his arms around you, and you sway as you hug him tightly.

“Hey, Y/n.” He greets warmly, then releases you to hug Robin with the same welcoming arms. “Hi, Bob.”

“Hey, buddy.” Robin hums, rubbing Dustin’s back as she hugs him closely.

“Sorry to interrupt, I know you guys have a lot of catching up to do. But we’re about to play chicken, and I need a partner.” You look from Dustin to where Eddie is, leaning against the counter, opening his fourth beer of the night.

“What, me?”

You roll your eyes. “Obviously, silly. C’mon! It’ll be fun.” You’re wasted, eyes glazed over and posture loose. It’s impossible to say no to you.

“I’ll be out in a second.”

“Okay!” You sing, hooking your arm through Robins again. The two of you exit the kitchen, into the back yard. Eddie can’t look away as you peel your shirt over your head, revealing a tiny black bikini top.

“You haven’t changed a bit, Munson.” Dustin taunts as Eddie pulls his stare from your silhouette.

“What are you talking about?”

“Seriously? You can’t tell me that is how friends look at each other,” He mimicks Eddie, staring open mouthed at the wall, eyes wide and unblinking. “It’s pathetic!”

“This is why I haven’t come back here, Henderson.” Eddie teases, backhanding the kid’s stomach. “Can’t deal with your know-it-all bullshit.”

Dustin snorts a laugh. “Hey, man, I'm just callin’ it like I see it.”

-

Your POV

You dip your toes into the cool water while you wait, letting the feeling contrast with the alcohol induced warmth of your body. You feel a presence sit next to you, another pair of feet meeting yours under the water.

“Hey, kiddo.” You greet her, leaning your head on her shoulder.

“What’s up, big shot?” Max leans her head on yours, her way of hugging you without committing to it. She looks the same, despite being a little taller, and maybe her hair’s gotten a little longer.

“Oh, y’know. Same old.”

She snorts. “Word on the street is you owe me some money.”

You groan, pinching the bridge of your nose. “Yeah, yeah. I’ll get that to you this week. Nice to see you, too.”

“Hey! It is nice to see you! I haven’t in a while, I’m sorry.” Max wraps her arms around your shoulders. “I missed you, y’know.”

“I missed you too, Maxie. How are things?”

“They’re alright. I don’t live here anymore, that’s a big plus.”

“Oh yeah?”

She nods. “Moved out after college, got a place in the city with Lucas. I’ll show you some time this week maybe?”

You nod. “For sure.”

“But enough about my endeavors, how are you? Y’know, with all this shit going on?”

You shake your head. “I dunno, dude. Weird, I guess. Everything’s weird.”

“I take it you and Eddie aren’t officially back together, then?”

“Not exactly. But not, not together. Does that make sense?”

“Not at all. Good to see you two haven’t changed too much.”

You giggle, nudging her shoulder with yours. “What is that supposed to mean?”

“Oh, c’mon! You two used to dance around the idea of dating before you started. You think we didn’t notice? I was fifteen, not stupid! It took you so much time to admit you liked each other, then even more time to figure out you needed to break up. Now here we are again, watching Eddie and Y/n tiptoe around their feelings for each other.”

You sigh, the alcohol not letting you fully grasp what she’s saying. “I hate when you’re right.”

She grins smugly. “I know, and I’m sorry. It happens a lot.”

Before you can respond, Eddie throws the screen door open. “Who’s ready to play some chicken?” He’s very drunk, but not in the sad and angry way you’re used to seeing him lately.

Max gives you another grin, and you roll your eyes before getting to your feet. “You’re in for it now, team Scoops.” You point across the pool, where Robin and Steve stand in their bathing suits discussing strategy. Eddie shoves his pants to the ground, revealing a too small pair of swim trunks you're sure have belonged to him since freshman year. He tugs his shirt over his head, discarding it with his pants in the grass. You do your best not to stare at the tattoos scattered on his torso, littering his arms. You refuse to look further than his chest, not risking even a glance at his waist, his hips. Instead of gawking like you want to, you pay close attention to undoing the button of your cutoff shorts, shimmying out of them and tossing them onto the chair beside you.You’re completely exposed, standing only in the tiniest bikini you own because it was the only one you could find before leaving.

As much as you don’t want to draw his attention, the feeling of Eddie’s eyes on your body surges your confidence. Without looking back, you get into the pool, taking each step slowly to adjust to the temperature. It’s fairly warm, and you say a quick thank you prayer. You definitely cannot be walking around with pointy nips right now. Eddie wades in behind you, splashing you in his wake, steps clumsy. Once he’s settled, he turns to face you, squatting so the water reaches his chest.

“You ready, sweetheart?” You try not to seem fazed by his slip. He stopped calling you that after you broke up, and the only times he has since then, he’s apologized for it. Now, though, with his guard down and his judgment obscured, he smirks at you like he knows what he’s just done. You pretend you don’t get it.

“Sure thing, Munson.” No pretty boy, not even this drunk. He’s not yours, not now.

If he notices, he doesn’t let it show, keeping the same expression as he motions you forward. You’ve done this hundreds of times, over the course of the few summers you had in Hawkins. You and Eddie used to drive over on Fridays and stay the weekend with Rob, Steve, Nancy, and Jonathan, babysitting the kids and enjoying your time as immature adults while you still could. It feels the same, even after all those years have passed, you’re still in the same small town, with the same group of friends, playing the same stupid games. You climb onto his shoulders, and try not to react when his hands grasp tightly on each thigh, locked on either side of his head.

“Alright, listen up!” Dustin has gathered the rest of your friends beside the pool, while scattered guests you barely remember from your semester in high school crowd around to spectate. “This is Drown The Chicken. The first person to fall off of their partner loses. There will be three rounds, each one five minutes. A shot of liquor will be taken by the loser after each round. If both opponents fail to knock the other off of their partner, a tiebreaker will take place. Today, the tie breaker will be…” He pauses for dramatic effect, and Mike takes the opportunity to slap his legs in a drumroll. “A shotgun race!” The whole backyard cheers, and you groan. The worst thing about these kids being in college, is that they’re too young to realize drinking is not the only thing adults do. It is one of the most fun, though.

“Both members of each team will shotgun a malt beverage of their choosing. First one to finish wins the tiebreaker for their team, and therefore the round! At the end, the losers will have to drink a shot of the winners’ choosing!” The four of you nod in understanding. Regardless, you know you’ll have to drink at some point. “On your mark, get set, GO!” Will clicks his timer, and the party guests start cheering, egging you on. You hear shouts of, “I’ve got ten on Munson and L/n!” and “Kick his ass!” and Robin reaches for you suddenly, catching you off guard. The music is cranked through the speakers, giving the match a soundtrack of Pixies’ Here Comes Your Man. Steve wades toward you, Robin clutching a handful of his precious hair to keep her balance. You take advantage of his winces of “Ouch, Rob, not the hair!” and shove, sending Robin almost entirely backwards. Steve catches her at the last second, wobbling as he tries to keep her out of the water.

“Lucky shot!” Robin shouts, stretching her arms out toward you. You lean back, and Eddie catches you, gripping your thighs tightly on his shoulders. He moves with you, saving your equilibrium, and you stretch towards Robin. The two of you tangle your arms, while the boys below you swat at each other, hurling meaningless insults and taunts. Finally, you gain the advantage, shoving Robin’s shoulder with enough force to send her backwards, slipping quickly from Steve’s grasp. She splashes into the water, submerged up to her neck. “Shit.”

“That’s one for team Hellfire!” Dustin claps his hands loudly as he hands your opponents each a shot, and you giggle as Robin struggles to climb back onto Steve’s back, their skin now slippery with pool water.

“Nice moves.” Eddie cranes his neck, and you meet his eyes. His face is soft with intoxication, his guard lowered. Yours is higher than ever, though, and you look away before he can reel you in any further.

“Round two!” You repeat the motions, this time while Smells Like Teen Spirit blares from the radio, and your former classmates yelling and cheering for their preferred team. Robin catches you by surprise, kicking one of your knees enough to throw you off balance, then shoving you to the side. You topple off of Eddie’s shoulders, into the cool water. You stay there for a second, keeping your eyes closed to avoid looking at Eddie’s surely disappointed expression.

But when you dare to peek through one eye, the other still tightly shut, he’s smiling at you. Not his usual toothy grin, the one he gives to his friends. His smile is soft, lips pressed together as if to stop them from quivering with a rogue giggle.

He’s drunk, you remind yourself. You have to remember he’s drunk.

“What now, Munson?!” Steve sends a splash at Eddie, and he scoffs in mock disgust.

“Boys, please, you’ll have plenty of time to play mermaids after Eddie and I kick your ass.” Eddie giggles as you climb his back, repositioning yourself on top of him. It’s more difficult, now that both of you are soaked from the neck down. Dustin hands you both a shot, Eddie’s whiskey and yours vodka, and you both down them easily.

“Final round, people! This round wins it all! See Max to confirm your bets. Are the teams ready?” The four of you give variations of a confirmation, and Dustin shouts, once again, “On your mark… get set… GO!” You square your body to hold better balance, as Eddie and Steve approach each other slowly. Eddie’s hands grip your thighs tightly, and you hope he can’t feel the heat growing between your legs. Not now.

You continue to dodge and dance around each other, narrowly missing one another as you swing your limbs, stretching and reaching for Robin as Eddie tries to sneak around Steve’s guard. After five long minutes, Dustin startles you with the newly found volume in his voice. “TIME’S UP! WE HAVE A TIE!” You can hear the conflicting emotions of the crowd, probably correlating to their own predictions. “Y’all know what that means!” The four of you sulk as you leave the water, defeated by the dreaded tie breaker.

Lucas passes you each a can and a miscellaneous tool to puncture it with. You’ve barely grown to like beer, even after months of being surrounded by it, but it’s the only thing available that you’re physically able to shotgun. You’ve chosen a Red Stripe, in honor of your teammate.

“The rules of the tiebreaker are as follows: You will puncture your can when I say go, and you will chug for thirty seconds before opening the top. The first person to finish their beverage wins the tiebreaker for their team. Got it?” Eddie groans a confirmation, while you and Robin nod and Steve taps each side of his face lightly to psych himself out. Dustin counts you off again, and you each stab your cans, quickly rushing the liquid into your mouth. Will counts from 30 out loud as he watches the timer, and the crowd is eerily quiet, focused on the race in front of them.

“30! Crack ‘em open!” You do as you’re told, quickly snapping the tab of the can to relieve the pressure. You can tell you’re slowing down, grossed out by the bread flavored piss water sliding down your throat. Luckily, though, Eddie is devouring his own, his head tilted to make sure he’s getting all of it. The feeling between your legs has returned, and you quickly shoot your gaze to Robin, who’s also struggling to finish her beer. In reality, this is a race between Steve and Eddie, winner takes all. All in this case is bragging rights, and probably a horrible hangover.

Eddie is the first to finish, lifting the can above his head in celebration. Thank god, too, because you definitely shouldn’t consume another shot.

“We have a winner!” Dustin runs between you and Eddie, hoisting each of your wrists to the air as the backyard guests cheer and boo and yell. You chance another look in Eddie’s direction, admiring his whoops of victory as he high fives his bandmates.

_

Eddie’s POV

It’s 3AM as the party starts to die, and people he’d never spoken to in high school approach him to say their goodbyes. Eddie is pulled into hugs, handshakes, and conversations with his former bullies, and girls that never looked at him twice. Though his eighteen year old self would be relishing in this sudden change, he’s tired. He knows it’s not real, that none of these people even care about his art. They care that he’s famous, and that they know someone famous. But the only person in this room that knows him is behind him, falling asleep on the basement sofa.

“Hey, Y/n?” Eddie is finally able to approach you, after breaking away from another pointless conversation. “You wanna get going?”

Your eyes slide to his face, glassy and warm with inebriation. “Aw, you’re leaving?” You pout, staring up at him, and he could melt. You’d been talking about going home not five minutes ago, but it’s clear your brain has stalled.

“Only if you wanna. We can stay as long as you want.”

“I can come with you?”

He can't help but laugh, you’re so cute like this, so soft. “Of course you can.”

“I thought you were sick of me.” Your face slips slightly, lips twitching into a frown.

“What?” Eddie shifts so his whole body faces you. “I could never be sick of you.”

You shrug, clearly not understanding the gravity of his words. “I dunno, we’ve been in close quarters since tour started, I don’t mind giving you space if you need it.”

It’s Eddie’s turn to feel his own drunken insecurity surface. “Are you sick of me?” It’s barely a whisper, but you hear him.

Your eyes widen quickly, shocked at his words. “No! Eddie, of course not.”

“Okay, good.” He flashes you what he knows is an unconvincing smile. “You wanna go home?”

You shake your head. “Can we go for a walk?”

-

Predictably, you end up back at Hawkins High, the parking lot pitch black in the buzz of a summer night. Even looking at it, Eddie feels the chill of his memories washing over him. This is where he was stuck for six years, where Steve had shoved him into a locker their freshman year, where Jason Carver had made his final senior year miserable. It is the building that harbors Eddie’s darkest thoughts, where the seed of his shame had sprouted from. Where he had to deal with Chrissy’s death, and being framed for it.

But it was also where he met you. Where he’d introduced you to some of his closest friends, where he sat with you at lunch every day, dancing around each other until after midterms. As much as Eddie still hates to admit it, and as horrendously tacky as it sounds, high school is where he’d fallen in love.

Eddie lets his eyes wander in the darkness, knowing you won’t catch him in your hazy state. Your arms hang limply by your sides as you stare up at the school building, seeming to admire it. He wonders how being here must make you feel, as someone that left as soon as they could. It hadn’t been easy for you either, restarting your entire social life in your senior year.

“Do you ever miss it?” Your words catch him off guard, your voice almost inaudible even in the quiet.

“Hell no,” He scoffs, and feels you shift beside him. “I spent way too much extra time here to even think of missing it.”

“Okay, maybe not the actual, physical place. But, don't you miss how easy it was?”

“You’re joking, right? We fought an underground of Hell Monsters, Y/n, that wasn’t what I’d call easy.”

You groan, and he chuckles at your drunken frustration. “Christ, okay, I mean how small our world was, before all that hell monster shit. We didn’t have to worry about people outside of Hawkins, outside of the little bubble of our friends.”

“And you miss that?” He’s genuinely curious. You had always been looking to move, spread out beyond the small town your parents dragged you to. He never expected you to miss it.

You shrug. “Sometimes, yeah. Despite everything that happened, I was happy here. I had a home.”

Eddie’s vision blurs with the implication of your words. Of course, you’d had a physical home, but you'd also had him. And Steve, Robin, Nance, the kids. You’d never had a solid friend group in Boston.

“I miss parts of it,” He finally confesses, turning his head to fully look at you again. “Some more than others.”

You look for him, finding his eyes easily in the dark, and he adjusts quickly to see you better.

“You think things will ever be that easy again?” There’s a hint of optimism in your voice, and it begs him to join it, just for a second.

“I really, really hope so.”

-

Your POV

Somehow, you and Eddie find your way back to Steve’s, tiptoeing clumsily through the front door to a mass of passed out Hawkins alum. Steve is sprawled on the couch, while Dustin and Mike are on the floor beside him. In the basement, Will and El are cleaning the empty bottles and red solo cups from the absolutely destroyed basement, bobbing and weaving around members of Corroded Coffin and DDA, and they inform you Lucas and Max have gone back to Nancy’s already. Upstairs, the rest of your friends are in respective bedrooms, sleeping to prepare for their unavoidable hangovers.

“There’s one room left.” Eddie leads the way to Steve’s parents’ bedroom, the only one left untouched by party guests.

You peel the heavy comforter back, shimmying off your shorts, so tired and so absolutely plastered at this point, you don’t realize he’s watching as you untie your bikini top, letting it fall to the floor.

“Whoa! Um,” Eddie spins himself to face the window, losing his balance as he does. Even though he can’t see you, he still smacks his hands over his eyes. “I, uh, I’m gonna go find a spot on the floor.” He begins to sidestep towards the door, still refusing to look at you without a top on.

“Eddie,” You know the alcohol is making you flirty, and you’ll probably regret this tomorrow, but fuck it. You’re on vacation. You tug on Eddie’s shoulder, turning him to face you. He keeps his eyes glued to your face, barely blinking, definitely not letting them wander. “Stay here.”

He clears his throat, wincing. “Y/n,” Your pout cuts him off. “What’s that face for?”

“It’s weird, hearing my name out of your mouth. It was always sweetheart. Or baby, or pretty, or love. Now I’m just Y/n.” Your words slur together, exhaustion taking hold. You let your fingers dance up his bare arm, his shirt still somewhere in Steve’s yard. Still not daring to move his eyes from your face, he has an answer almost immediately.

“You’re not just Y/n, you’re Y/n! The Y/n, actually, a songwriting, vocalizing, rockstar badass. I’ve seen it firsthand.”

“Well then, the Y/n wants the Eddie Munson in bed with them.” It’s a bold choice of words, but you don’t care. You need him right now, even through the thick fog of the liquor.

“I want to, you have no idea how badly i want to, Y/n, I promise you that,”

“Then why won’t you?”

“Because I shouldn’t. I can’t.” He’s blunt. There is no arguing, he’s made up his mind.

And still, you prod him with inquiries. “Is it because we’re drunk? Because I trust you. I know you wouldn’t hurt me, Ed.”

He sighs, his hand finally moving to caress your burning cheek. “It’s because we’re drunk, but not because I'm scared of hurting you. I can’t let our first time together in two years be something you’ll regret tomorrow, but I also can’t chance either of us forgetting it.” He says it quietly, like he’s had the volume on himself turned down. You’ve heard him anyway, but it takes you a second to digest what he’s said.

“Okay,” You accept his answer, and before he can turn to leave you add, “Can you just sleep next to me?”

Eddie hesitates for a second, searching your expression. He must find an answer, because he nods. “Okay, sweetheart. But I gotta have you put a shirt on. For my own sake.”

You giggle, the satisfaction of hearing your nickname making you malleable to his words, nodding in agreement. Eddie exits the bedroom, and returns a bit later with a piece of fabric in his hand. His shirt. Of course it’s his shirt, what was he gonna do, give you Steve’s to sleep in?

You’re surrounded by his smell, his warmth, instantaneously. You crawl into the king sized bed, pulling the covers up to your chin. You hear Eddie’s pants drop to the floor, before he climbs into bed, hoisting the covers to slide underneath them. You scoot back, and he knows now to wrap his arm around your waist, without the weird hesitation and awkward shuffling before you give up for the sake of comfort. Eddie rests his face behind your neck, the warm exhale of breath tickling your skin.

“Goodnight, baby.” He mumbles into the fabric of your-slash-his shirt, and your body vibrates with glee.

“Goodnight, baby.”

-

tag list: @children-of-the-grave @five-bi-five @wiildflower-xxx @beebeerockknot @champagne-glamour @xxgothwhorexx @therensistance @chonkzombie @brxkenartt @sidthedollface2 @gaysludge @poisonedluv @eddiesguitarskills @kellsck | send a message to be added🫶

[bullet-prooflove]

Previous anon here sorry it came across as rude. I really enjoy your work but honestly even after being on the tag list I'm not notified of all the works idky.

Ofcourse I understand everyone has jobs which was why I wanted to know if you'd you know have a select system or something to make it easier to write.

And if I should be even be putting in requests if you already have so many and there are high chances that my request couldn't be done.

I know you do it of your own voilition and take out your time to give us this fics which I'm so grateful for it.

And now I'm thinking if that was the case you'd have your requests closed pretty clearly.

I'm sorry now I know should have fully thought out what exactly I was saying before I posted that.

I really, really adore your writing and assure you this won't happen again.

Best wishes!

No worries, I’m glad we can cleat it up.

The thing with the taglist is, if you haven’t interacted for a certain amount of time you get taken off it so that could be what’s happened. The thinking behind that is, I have a LOT of people to tag and it can take ages with a post, so if you haven’t liked, commented or reblogged on my posts for while you may have been removed. You can add yourself back on. However if you are  repeat offender you stay off. Also if you clicked the just reading button, I don’t add those people because at the end of the day how hard is it to actually click a like button of you’ve enjoyed something, it’s not fair to the writer.

At the moment I've running a little behind on adding people to the tag list (probs 2 weeks) as I usually do this on weekends, and I was super ill last weekend so it could be that too

I don’t really have a select system, it’s more like I scroll through and see what sparks an idea.

Anyone can put a request in any time, I would just close them if they weren’t open.

I don’t mind you popping in for a chat if you’re not sure of anything it just came across as a little agitated but that’s the thing about the internet you can’t read body language such.

[thedickgraysonrp]

I have some new followers recently, so to y'all out there, both new and old: Hey there and Welcome (back)!

Below the line are some questions answered to get you started:

How do I interact with your muse?

You can send me an IM if you have any plot or idea you had in mind and we can discuss something out. You can also send an IM just to say you're interested and we'll work something out.

You can send any meme or ask you'd like that I reblogged here, they will be under #rp memes or the 'memes' section in my blog.

You can also send headcanon requests, questions or dash games if you want to get to know the muse better.

If you're shy or unsure, you can also send me anons.

I will be working on updated open starters soon, so you can keep an eye out for that as well.

Please make sure to read the rules before you interact.

You are not following me back, does that mean you don't want to interact?

No, that's not the case. I usually follow blogs who I've already had interacted with for some time, or blogs I had interest in and followed first. If we've never interacted before, I don't follow back. I also unfollow blogs who I am no longer interacting with to clean up my dash. This blog is semi-selective, but it's not mutual exclusive. We can talk and RP together even if we're not mutuals. Neither you or I have any obligation to follow each other for the sake of being mutuals if either of us don't feel like it. That being said, if we already have some interaction and we wrote a little together and had something good going, I'll likely follow you back. Please pay attention that I do not interact with muns who are under 21 and their age (or age range) is not stated in the blog.

We roleplayed in the past but our thread died/you didn't reply/I didn't reply/etc., do you still want to roleplay?

First and foremost, if we had a thread going and I didn't reply for a while, please do let me know. I might have forgotten, given that I both study and work at the same time and my head isn't always here. That being said, sometimes I do prefer replying to some threads first than others, but I eventually get to everything. You can always send me an IM about picking up an old thread, trying something new, etc. I no longer use a RP thread tracker because I keep forgetting to add or remove threads from there. If you haven't replied for a long time, I'm not going to pester you. I just assume you are very busy, prefer to reply to other threads first or just no longer interested. In either case, there's no judgements or grudges held, and I don't keep anyone here by force.

Everything else should be written in my carrd and rules, which you can find in the pinned post. If you still have any questions, feel free to ask me in the comments or an IM.

Thank you for following and I hope we can make some amazing roleplays together!

[thecreativeforge-a]

I have some new followers recently, so to y'all out there, both new and old: Hey there and Welcome (back)!

Below the line are some questions answered to get you started:

How do I interact with your muses?

You can send me an IM if you have any plot or idea you had in mind and we can discuss something out. You can also send an IM just to say you're interested and we'll work something out.

You can send any meme or ask you'd like that I reblogged here, they will be under #//memes or the 'memes' section in my blog.

You can also send headcanon stuff, general questions or dash games if you want to get to know a muse better.

If you're shy or unsure, you can also send me anons.

I will be working on more open starters soon, so you can keep an eye out for that as well.

Please make sure to read the rules before you interact.

You are not following me back, does that mean you don't want to interact?

No, that's not the case. I usually follow blogs who I've already had interacted with for some time, or blogs I had interest in and followed first. If we've never interacted before, I don't follow back. I also unfollow blogs who I am no longer interacting with to clean up my dash. This blog is semi-selective, but it's not mutual exclusive. We can talk and RP together even if we're not mutuals. Neither you or I have any obligation to follow each other for the sake of being mutuals if either of us don't feel like it. That being said, if we already have some interaction and we wrote a little together and had something good going, I'll likely follow you back. Please pay attention that I do not interact with muns who are under 21 and their age (or age range) is not stated in the blog.

We roleplayed in the past but our thread died/you didn't reply/I didn't reply/etc., do you still want to roleplay?

First and foremost, if we had a thread going and I didn't reply for a while, please do let me know. I might have forgotten, given that I both study and work at the same time and my head isn't always here. That being said, sometimes I do prefer replying to some threads first than others, but I eventually get to everything. You can always send me an IM about picking up an old thread, trying something new, etc. I no longer use a RP thread tracker because I keep forgetting to add or remove threads from there. If you haven't replied for a long time, I'm not going to pester you. I just assume you are very busy, prefer to reply to other threads first or just no longer interested. In either case, there's no judgements or grudges held, and I don't keep anyone here by force.

Everything else should be written in my carrd and rules, which you can find in the pinned post. If you still have any questions, feel free to ask me in the comments or an IM.

Thank you for following and I hope we can make some amazing roleplays together!

[hottakehoulihan]

Tumblr is different

I'm volatile and not in the best mood right now, so I'll avoid doing anything for a couple weeks until that settles down.

But before I got The Bad News I was musing about how Tumblr's mechanics are different.

If I spent ten hours on a forum, I'd read/skim a few hundred posts, respond to a dozen threads, and maybe I'd start one thread.

Months later, maybe I'd go back and tidy up by deleting any empty or dead threads, or any of my comments, that didn't seem needed for posterity.

I like the tidiness of this. I like reducing my internet footprint or at least putting as much of it on "darkweb" (not on search engines) as possible. (something I've avoided doing on Tumblr thus far, but it's been more than a year since the Reddit API bullshit and it's time to stop pretending I can keep 19684 alive by myself on Tumblr or that the 196 folk are still rejecting Reddit (some are, and cheers and love to you for your principles. I begin to accept that the only actions that work aren't polite ones, and that you get a lot more done with peaceful protests while holding a brick)

Anyway

On Tumblr, those same ten hours? I'll read/skim a few hundred posts--as before--and I'll maybe make a handful of original posts and add a handful of original comments and even some add-on comments on reblogs, but also I'll reblog a whole bunch without adding any information.

Those ten hours, instead of generating maybe a dozen or so in my "history", will generate ten times as many things.

And it's super inconvenient to go through and selectively modify or remove individual posts. They're more graphics-intensive, so they take a long time to load and the mass-handling tools are clumsy.

I spent more time than I should have, and well over ten hours in the last few days, just trying to pare and curate my old blogs and reblogs.

This is silly, but it's a bit of a compulsion and I don't like how untidy it is.

The obvious thing to do is

to not care so much about having a history and just leave it there.

to have less activity so there's less to tidy up.

to stop being so choosy about what I delete and just mass-delete anything I post that is older than a couple months old.

And since 1 requires a change in my personality and 2 requires a change in my willpower, it's a good idea for me to at least acknowledge that odds are high I won't accomplish either.

So I'm doing 3. With, maybe a bit of skimming important tags (wormblr, wormfic, poetry, and HHH.txt with the lattermost being whenever I start chattering about things in a confessional/revelatory way.

(I can't be "Hot Take" Houlihan without sincerity, since a hot take is--for me--flawed in that it is not a carefully considered and digested and couched view, but it is an honest if clumsy representation of what one feels in the moment) ...and sincerity has a critical mass beyond which one has to either reduce one's burden or collapse, even if one is blessed with feet that are not clay.

If any of my sincere effortposts, my casual shitposts, or my casual reblogs are dear to you, reblog them or save them or something, because I'm gonna start deleting anything older than two months gone on this account. I *might* reblog or queue favorites first.

tl;dr: In a couple weeks I'll start deleting anything I posted that is more than two months old. Just a heads-up.

[sister-dear]

2021 Writing Wrapup!

This year I wrote 147,712 words and 20 stories.

My total Ao3 wordcount more than doubled this year! With chapter stories accounted for, that's 39 posts, an average of a story update every 9 - 10 days. Which means I exceeded my goal of posting every two weeks!

Thank you to everyone who read, left kudos, reblogged, commented, beta’d, rec’d, acted as a sounding board, chatted in discord servers, or otherwise provided the encouragement to keep writing. You all are what makes this fandom so fun to create for. <3

Gonna combine this with the Writer Year in Review Meme suggested by @wutheringmights and include a little excerpt from one of each month's stories.

January

They all look worried. Serious. Not quite meeting his eyes. Sky thinks they’re afraid for more than his health. No, actually, he’s sure of it. They’re waiting for some kind of negative reaction.

So Sky gives them his gentlest smile, and summons the strength for a full sentence, searching for something that will ease the tension. What makes it past his lips is, “The name Four makes so much sense now.”

-Handle With Care (This year’s most popular oneshot!)

February

Vio nods. Blue points an accusatory finger at his brother. “You’re manipulating me and it won’t work.”

-Keep From Cold

March

Hyrule sighs. It’s full of understanding. Legend wishes he could say the same of himself. Light pressure returns to the back of his head. “Legend?” Legend shakes his head as best he can without removing his face from the safety of Hyrule’s hip. All his biting words dry up, wither and die in his throat.

-This Will Be My Monument

April

Legend crouches by Sky to pass him a potion, stiff and moving like a man three times his age. Sky frowns at it. “Is there enough?” He knows as well as Legend does that potions are like gold when they have no idea how long they’ll be down here or what they’ll encounter.

Legend makes an exasperated noise. “Sky. You can’t walk. I’m not carrying you through this dungeon.”

-My Heart’s Forsaken Me, chapter 3 (Most popular story of the year!)

May

Four is slow to look up at him, distant and guarded.

“Unless you have any objections, I would very much like to hug you.” Four blinks at him. Dips his chin in the tiniest of nods.

Time picks him right up off his feet. His armor is in their room, so there are no harsh lines of hard metal between them, only Four’s ribs under his hands and his head tucked in next to Time’s. Four hugs back, his arms hooked around Time’s neck, one hand curled around the back of Time’s head, just as fierce. “You already had my respect.” Time says the words low, his head near Four’s, just for him to hear. “But it’s doubly true now.”

-My Heart’s Forsaken Me, chapter 6

June

His smile is twisted, a little bitter. Not an expression Wild is used to seeing on Hyrule’s face. “It’s not like I’ve got much else to offer. Just a cave. Who wants to live in a cave?” The words are sharp little things for all that they’re quiet. Prickling, drawing little drops of blood out from Hyrule’s heart and putting them on display for Wild to see. They should be out of place in this kitchen full of welcome and warmth, but they’re not. They fall into place like the knives in the block, encouraging Wild to respond in kind.

-I Got You, Chapter 2

July

There’s a trick to knocking back a potion. Straight to the back of the tongue to minimize the taste, swallow as quickly as possible. Hyrule has plenty of practice at it by now. That doesn’t mean the bitterness disappears as it’s going down. Hyrule lifts his head, wiping at his mouth with a grimace, only to find Zelda doing the same.

“Oh, that’s foul,” Zelda breathes.

“This,” Hyrule raises the empty bottle in one hand, pointing at it with the other, “is disgusting.”

-Tea for Three

August

He leans forward, hands clasped in his lap, searching Sky’s face with intent. “How do we heal it?”

A sinking sensation adds to the disquiet in his middle.

“You don’t.” Sky tries to say it gently. Hyrule frowns. Sky thinks he sees a flicker of panic behind the focus.

-I have no fear of drowning; it's the breathing that's taking all this work

September

“What is that?” Fascination coats Sky’s voice. It doesn’t take much to get that one’s attention. Legend figures he’s safe to ignore it.

“Does it have fur?” Four sounds horrified. Slightly more worrying.

Then, a noise at his back Legend’s only ever heard in a dream.

-Meet the Family, chapter 4

October

Four freezes. Shock and disgruntlement war for space on his stunned face. The whites of his eyes show all around the edges of his irises, eyebrows a pair of arching curves, mouth all knotted up on itself like he just ate something nasty. His elbows lift away from his sides as if that’ll somehow help alleviate the feeling of wet clothes sticking uncomfortably to skin. Water drips off everything: the tips of his dangling fingers, his hair, his nose. He looks like nothing so much as a wet cat that someone’s picked up under the armpits in an attempt to keep it from scratching.

Wind’s cheeks ache with how his wide grin threatens to split his face. “Got you!”

-Ruckus and Rapport

November

Legend turns back to Twilight. “What,” he says, in a voice that doesn’t sound like his. It’s far too small.

His teeth are chattering.

Twilight squeezes his wrists and lets go, steps around Legend to dig through the chest at the foot of the berth. He comes back up with a thin blanket bundled in his arms and sympathy painted across his face.

“Don't,” Legend says.

-Nothing You Keep

December

Time looks him over. He’s gone very quiet. Hyrule finds himself reaching out to say hello in the fairy way before remembering that Time won’t hear him. A dozen different verbal apologies and greetings play through his head, none of them quite right.

Please Don’t Come For Me, chapter 5

[pixie88]

Southend

Chapter 2 - Yours truly.

A/N | So I have been slacking in writing recently, so I’m sorry! This chapter I’ve been editing over and over again. I don’t feel its up to my best standards, but I don’t know what more to add.

Comments & reblogs welcome! Let me know what you loved and hated about this chapter!

I understand if you don’t want to be tagged so just pop me a message to be removed, but also let me know if you would like to be tagged!

Summary | Its lads and ladies weekend, but things go south.

Check out previous chapters here - HERE.

Wattpad | Here.

Word count | 1.5k

Warnings | 18 + Only! Angst, Fluff & a little NSFW.

Pairings | Adam x Ellie.

Enjoy!

His mind was racing with thoughts - Who were they? How did they know where they lived? It had to be someone close to them. He quickly made the kids breakfast and raced upstairs to Ellie, who was just coming out the bathroom in her towel. "You were too slow if you were trying to catch me in the shower!" Her smile soon disappeared when she saw the panic on his face. "Adam, what's wrong?" He handed her the note, she gasped with shock.

"W-what? How?" she knew this was harder to ignore, "I honestly have no idea! Ellie, I think you and Delilah should come to Southend!" taking her eyes off the note "What? No!! This is yours and Charlies weekend!" he took her hands in his "I can't leave you both here...not after this!" he knew it would take some convincing knowing how stubborn she was. "We will report this, but I'm not letting this low life ruin our weekend!" he sighs, "Ell's please! I would feel safer having you both with me!"

"NO! I'm not letting them win! If they want to try something let them! I've faced worst demons, than a poison pen letter!" His hand runs down his face, "Why are you so stubborn?!" she laughs, "I thought that was a trait you liked!" she winks, "If it makes you feel better I'll get mum and Neil to stay the night?" she says as she's dying her hair.

"Hey, I can even ask Tom! You know he'd never let me come to any harm!" he shook his head at his wife knowing he was losing the battle. Downstairs Delilah had woken up Alexa and started playing their weekend playlist - Spice up your life by The Spice Girls played through the speakers. They could hear Delilah sing along, Adam laughs "Get Justin, your mum and Neil round too! That's the deal!"

She rolled her eyes at him "OK, fine! Now you better get in that shower!" she kisses him on the cheek before leaving on the landing as she gets dressed.

[Adam]

A few hours later...

"Ready Daddy?" Charlie looks over his shoulder at his Dad "More than, kiddo!" he smiles at his son. The swing ride goes up and slowly round before it moves faster and faster, making the pair laugh and howl as it moves.

As the pair move to the next ride Adam's phone buzzes. Looking down at the screen, it's Ellie video calling him, he quickly answers thinking the worst.

As her face appears on the screen he can see the worried expression on her face "Ell's, what's up?" He asks, "Is mummy OK?" Charlie looks up at his Dad with the question. "I'm fine sweetie. I just wanted to ring Daddy to ask him a question..." she calls out from the phone. "Hmm?" He hums at her.

"Mum has taken her to the toy shop so I can talk to you in peace.."

"You're on your own right now? Ell's, what did we agree?"

"I know, but I'm in the middle of a busy shopping centre nothing will happen...anyways the thing is Delilah seen a shop that does ear piercings and she really wants it done. I wanted to see what you thought?" She looks down at him.

"What do you think? Is she old enough? You know more about these girly things than I do." He smiles at her.

"I think if she's old enough to ask then yeah? But I didn't want to just get them done without speaking to you first." She tried to hide it, but he could see her looking round at people.

"I'm cool with it if you are? Are you ok?"

"I'm fine with it. She's going to be so excited! Yeah, I'm fine, just a little wary after this morning, but it's fine." She tries to put a brave face, but he could see right through it.

"I should have brought you with us!" He shook his head.

"Adam, it's fine! Promise! Oh, here come mum and Delilah, shall we tell her together?" He nods, "Delilah, look its daddy and Charlie!"

Adam crouches down so Charlie is in the frame, "Hi, gorgeous girl! You having fun?"

"Yeah, Nana just got me slime! Glittery slime!" She holds up the pots to the camera. "We got Charlie slime too!" She says, smiling brightly at the camera.

"Thank you, Nana!" Charlie calls out "That's OK, Charlie bear! Are you having fun with daddy?" Charlie nods.

Charlie goes on to tell them about the rides he's been on. "Bet daddy was scared Charlie!" Ellie teases Adam making Charlie laugh. "I was not!" He hisses playfully as he begins to tickle Charlie, who is now in fits of laughter.

Finally stopping Adam turns back to the camera "Delilah, Mummy and I were talking and she said you wanted your ears pierced?" Delilah nods shyly. "We have spoken and agreed you can have them done, but you need to look after them!"

Delilah jumps up and down with joy "Yes!!!!!" The pair of them laugh at their daughter "I need to go now we have a date with a roller coaster, but I want a photo of you after its done!"

"OK! Thank you Daddy!" She says still jumping on the spot. "We better go and choose your earrings we will see Daddy and Charlie tomorrow! We love you both!" Ellie blows kisses into the camera and Delilah mirrors her.

"Bye! We love you both too! See you tomorrow!" He blows them a kiss back before hanging up.

[Ellie]

She couldn't believe how fearless, she was the whole time, even when the gun pierced through her ears she didn't flinch. "Let me get a photo for Daddy!" Delilah smiles proudly, "Cheese!" she smiles towards the camera. 

A little later, Delilah is snuggled into her mum while they are watching The Little Mermaid, Tom and Justin weren't able to make it and Neil has fallen asleep on the sofa. "Ellie, I made a tea do you want one?" Mel calls from the kitchen "Yes, please!"

Mel hands her a tea and takes a seat next to her, "You know Delilah is asleep?" Ellie tries to look round at her daughter, but she can't see "Is she? I better take her up. I might go up myself!" Ellie yawns. "OK, darling, I might follow you up!"

"I'll grab the spare duvet for Neil and Charlie's bed is ready for you!" she says as she picks up Delilah and takes her up.

After tucking her in, Ellie takes a quick shower and heads to bed.

She texts Adam good night..

He puts in his headphones "Hey beautiful! I see you've stolen my pillow again!" he chuckles, "Hiya, you know it's the only way I can sleep without you here!" she smiles at him. "I'm missing you too." he gives her that smile that melts her every time. "How much?" she winks, "You know exactly how much! I can't show you right now, especially with a sleeping Charlie in the same room, but I will show you tomorrow!" he winks at her.

"How exactly?" she giggles, he shook his head "Stop trying to tempt me, beautiful!" She huffs "But I'm all by myself!" she pouts. "I might not be able to....but it doesn't mean you can't!" he winks at her "I'll wait until you're home. It's no fun without you!" she snuggles into his pillow.

"Maybe I should've brought your pillow to cuddle up with!" he chuckles, "Yours smells of you! Sweat and drool!" she teases him "Oh really?!" he laughs, "No, I'm just joking. It smells of your aftershave and shampoo." she yawns. "Maybe I should let you get some sleep!" she nods sleepily. "I guess I'll see you tomorrow! Ring me in the morning, so I can wish Charlie good luck!" she smiles, "I will, night beautiful! I love you!" he blows her a kiss "I love you more! Night handsome!" she blows him a kiss and the pair hang up.

[Adam]

The next afternoon...

Charlie's team won five - one, the team head back to the hotel for lunch before heading home. As Adam walks into the hotel the receptionist calls him over, "Charlie, you go ahead, I'll be there in a minute!" he walks over to the desk, "I'm sorry this was delivered for you this morning, but I missed you before you left!" she hands him a large envelope.

"Thanks, do you know who it's from?" he asked her "Sorry, a courier delivered it!" he smiles "Thanks!" as he makes his way to the restaurant where Charlie and his teammates are he opens the envelope.

When he sees the contents it feels sick and pulls out his phone dialing Ellie's number.

"Come on!! Answer the phone....Ellie, thank god! Where are you? Is anyone with you?! Tell them not to leave! Ellie!!! I'm being serious! Because I just got back to the hotel and there was an envelope waiting for me! It was a photo of you sleeping in our bed! They've been in our house!!!"

Chapter 3

@lem-20​ @aussieez​ @secretaryunpaid​ @khoicesbyk​ @irisofpurple​ @gloriousalmondvoiddreamer​ @palmaviolet​ @rookiemartin​ @wombatsxkookaburras​ @beautifuluknownvoid​

[yukipri]

Hi, I notices you put "do not translate" instructions on your art. In my entire life I have never ever seen anyone do this so I want to ask, like, why?????????????

Hey there! I have those instructions on my art because most people who are interested in translating comics are also interested in reposting the translated versions onto their own blogs/sites. I've already personally experienced many situations where a group has taken my art, translated it into their own language, put it up on their own site (oftentimes with no credit/no trackable credit), it spreads and gets edited/altered and I have no control over it because it's no longer on my site, my watermarks are erased, it's posted without tags/warnings and people get angry at me for a site that I'm not even on, sometimes it's translated back into English by people who have no idea where it originally came from, I have no way of judging the quality of a fan translation and it ends up saying something not at all in the original and I'm blamed for something problematic that should have never been in it, etc etc etc...

People often also feel that they have a claim to the art if they alter it and add something of their own, such as a translation. It becomes "their translated version," and it becomes justification for them to do whatever they want with it, and I'd prefer to avoid that scenario entirely.

In the end, it comes down to me not wanting anyone to repost my art. This is both because I want full credit and visibility for my own creation (I'm the one who spent hundreds of hours on it, it really isn't fair that someone else gets the attention for it), and also so that I have control over it. My work is a reflection of myself, and when someone else alters it, that comes back to me, and that's a very dangerous power to give a complete stranger. Likewise, I need to have control so that I can remove it if the situation calls for it, such as if a rights holder demands it. All of this is essential for my own safety, as well as comfort in how I engage with fandom, and you'll find that many artists (especially Japanese ones) have similar strict rules.

If anyone was hypothetically interested in translating without reposting the image itself, I have the following section in my FAQ section:

Can I translate your comics?

I currently do not allow hard translations (this is when you edit translated text directly onto my art and then repost the images). If you wish to translate, please only do soft translations (text only) and link to the art on my blog. Do not repost my images onto your own blog/site for any reason.

This means that if someone wanted to reblog and put a text translation in the comments--knock yourself out! If someone wanted to make a text post on facebook with just translated text, and link to my post for the image (again, NOT editing onto and reposting the image itself), that's totally fine!

Basically, the disclaimer I put on all of my art posts has evolved during the 9 years I've been on Tumblr. And everything that's on it, I added specifically because a situation arose where I regretted not having stated it before ^ ^;;;

I hope this explains my reasoning! In the end, everyone who posts their own content has their own reasons for doing things the way they do, and their own comfort zones. These are mine. Thank you for understanding.

❀ ❀ Send YukiPri an Ask! ❀ ❀

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

To a Tea 1

No tag lists. Do not send asks or DMs about updates. Review my pinned post for guidelines, masterlist, etc. 

Part of the Sweet and Spicy AU 

Warnings: this fic will include dark content such as dubcon/noncon, and other possible triggers. My warnings are not exhaustive, enter at your own risk. 

18+ only. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you. 

Summary:  A demanding customer grows increasingly needy.

Character:  Raymond Smith

The title is a pun, don't @ me.

Please comment and reblog if it’s not too much. I always love getting to chat about these stories and hearing all your ideas! You all are wonderful and loved. 

“He’s here,” Jenna’s warning brings you attention away from siphoning what’s left off the peppermint leaves into the fresh tin. 

You glance over without any other directive. He always waits in that same spot. Even if the table’s empty, he doesn’t sit right away. You give you co-worker a look and smile as you put the lid on the tin and slide it out of the way. 

You wash your hands thoroughly before you grab the cylinder of disinfecting wipes and sweep around the end of the counter. You step out onto the tea room floor as his eyes find you, expecting you. You’ve adjusted to his ritual, almost compelled to it. 

“Hello, Raymond,” you great as you approach the empty table for two where he sits with his back to the wall and his eyes towards the door. 

“Miss,” he greets in his way. 

He’s a bit uptight. Others might say worse but once you learn his quirks, he’s very human. Even if everything else about him is mysterious. 

Sometimes you build stories about him in his head. His glasses, his neatly styled hair, and his combed beard suggest a man with an eye for his appearance. His suits might be better fit to library or a professor’s podium. Not sleek enough for a board room. Then you think he might be a writer of sorts but you’ve never seen him with a laptop or pen and most of the local authors don’t show up without one or the other. 

You take out a wipe and take your time in getting every inch of the table. You back up as he removes his jacket and you back out of his way. He sidles around the and sits, shoulders set as he grips the table and straightens it. 

Whoever he is, he’s very precise. 

“Usual?” You ask with a smile. 

He looks at you and reaches to pinch the arm of his glasses. The first time he came in, you remember you could’ve melted at his gaze. So stony and unyielding, you wondered why he was even there. Now, there is an ease to it. He prefers the familiar and you have become that. 

“Yes, usual,” he agrees. 

You nod and swiftly turn on your heel. You go back behind the counter as Jenna snoops from behind the cookie display. You shake your head at her as you wash your hands a second time. He will certainly note that as well.  

You go to steep his cup of English Breakfast as the other woman nears and watches the steaming water at your side. 

“Don’t know how you do it. He should just have tea at home.” 

“Can’t complain for business,” you shrug. 

“Why bother? All that fuss for a cuppa.” 

“Maybe he likes the ambience?” You suggest. 

“He said the lights give him headaches.” 

“Oh?” 

“Well, he pays his bill. That’s all I ask for,” you add a teaspoon of milk, measuring it out exactly and you move the tab of the bag to hang to the left of the handle. 

“Mm, and he sures asks a lot of you, don’t he?” She crosses her arms. 

“Jenna,” you look towards the till where a customer waits. 

“Ugh, you’re such a bore,” she chides. 

You go back into the tea room and cross to Raymond’s table. You set the cup and saucer before him. 

“Enjoy,” you insist. 

“Cheers,” he hooks his finger into the handle and turns the cup to an exact angle. 

You lean back on your heel and he raises his palm, “do you... have any suggestions?” 

“For?” You wonder. 

“I thought to try something with my tea today. What do you recommend?” 

“Well, were we thinking something savoury or sweet?” You reply breezily, “our cheese scones are delicious, and there is the chives and onion bake. I sneak one every Friday. Erm, there are the white chocolate shortbread on special and I think we’ve sold out of the cherry tarts. Oh, if you’d like a combination, there is the cranberry cheddar scone. I don’t mind it but I hate the crumbles.” 

He considers you thoughtfully and crosses his arms. He mills the decision with his lips clamped. His blues eyes narrow behind his lenses. 

“Do you have plain shortbread?” 

“Of course,” you chime, “two for a pound.” 

“Two will do,” he agrees. 

You hold your smile and once more set off on your mission. He might be stringent, a bit repressed, but you’ve dealt with worse customers. More demanding, sometimes outrightt rude.  

You dip behind the counter and grab a plate. You use the tongs to take two of the shortbread biscuit and place them on a clean plate. You take a napkin with you and once more emerge from behind the displays. 

You approach Raymond as he sips his tea. You put the plate and serviette before him. He thanks you and adjusts his tie, letting his hand drift down his vest. 

“Is that it, sir? Tea alright?” 

“That’s it,” he affirms. 

“Great, you know where I’ll be,” you chirp and spin.  

You stop before you can bring your foot down as he calls your name. He’s only ever said it once. The first time you met. It’s always ‘miss’. 

You turn to face him, “yes?” 

“Your apron strings are uneven...” he says. “Just figured... I’d warn you.” 

You nearly laugh. What an odd thing to worry about. You reach back behind your waist and feels the lengths. Sure enough, you’ve tied them entirely off kilter. You suppose you don’t pay too much attention to that. 

“Thanks for letting me know.” 

He nods and examines one of the cookies. Then his eyes flick up and keep you from another retreat, “I could fix it.” 

“Oh, er, that’s fine,” you wave him off, “not a big deal.” 

“It doesn’t bother you?” He wonders. 

“Not really,” you shrug, “does it bother you?” 

His brows raise slightly and he taps the cookie, shaking off the crumbs as much as he can. He leans forward and nibbles over the plate, making certain not to litter over the edge. He puts the biscuit down and wipes his fingers on the napkin. 

“It does,” he says. 

You won’t laugh at him. It would truly be at his expense, it’s just a very unexpected offer. You put your arms straight, “if you want.” 

You near and turn your back to him. You sense him leaning forward as you stand stalk straight and watch the tea room. The smell of cinnamon and cloves fills the warm space, the shades giving an orangish hue to the din. There are low tables near the center with pillow seats, and the high tables along the walls. You know all the creaks and cracks better than your own home. 

You feel him tug the knot loose and his fingers work agilely to tie a new knot. He lets it hang but just as quickly looses it again. You try not to move as he does it several times before he relents. 

“There, ears and tails match,” he declares. 

You step away and turn to send him a smile, “thanks.” 

He doesn’t say anything, only raises his cup and doffs it in a kind gesture before he sips. You twist away again. You should help Jenna before the rush begins. That’s the only thing about Raymond, he does take up a lot of time. 

[wicked-mind]

Remember Me: Chapter Seven

Summary: Y/N and Bucky were the unlikely match when it came to love, but they were inseparable since they met. After a fight, Y/N left to be a trauma surgeon in the military and returns without her memories. How will Bucky remind Y/N how she is the fire in his bones?

Word Count: 4.4k

Warnings: Swearing (I like swearing. Adds character and sounds pretty to me lol), mentions of surgical procedures, car crash, miscarriage, John Walker, slight bit of PTSD.

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All Writings Masterlist

As always, any likes, reblog, or comments are appreciated (:

*gifs not mine

Previously

Y/N removed her eyes from his face, listening to the story. Her forehead creased a moment as she thought about all that was said before meeting his gaze once again. A small smile curved on her lips and she leaned towards him, kissing his lips softly before pulling away slightly to look at him, “I forgive you, Bucky."

Bucky felt relief flood through him at her words, smiling down to her. He couldn’t find any words to say to her so instead he returned his arms around her body and pulled her closer, kissing her deeply. Those were words Bucky had waited to hear for so long and for a while he didn’t know if he would ever hear them from Y/N. Everything seemed right in the world for now, and even though he was worried about what was written in those journals John had given her due to what Steve had said, he hoped that whatever else it was would be forgiven also.

Truth was, Y/N always had forgiven Bucky for what was said the moment she left. She knew it was from his own fears. But what had broken her heart was hidden in the pages of those journals.

Chapter seven - The truth in the writing

Y/N wasn’t supposed to be back to work until noon, but she got called in early due to an apartment fire that would lead to multiple traumas coming in meaning it was all hands on deck. Bucky watched her pack the yellow folder John had given to her last night into her backpack before taking her to the hospital. He came back to Steve’s to find him and Peggy having some coffee. Bucky grabbed himself a mug of the dark liquid before leaning against the counter, “She took the journals with her.” He said over to Steve.

Peggy narrowed her eyes as they flickered between the two, “What journals?”

Steve sighed, sitting at the dining table next to Peggy, “Y/N’s friend, that blonde guy named John, brought some of her journals that were left behind at her base camp. Says there’s everything in there.” He informed.

“Yeah, including something we don’t know about.” Bucky grumbled out, “Something that made our break-up worse than just the words that were said.” He would be lying if he said he wasn’t worried. He replayed that night so many times in his head that every moment was burned into his brain and he couldn’t think of anything other than what was said before she left, “We gotta figure this out. So I can at least try to make it better after she reads whatever is in there.”

Peggy set her glass mug on the table, “Okay, then let’s walk through it.” She said helpfully, “Y/N came here that night after her shift and showed us the deployment papers with the date for her to leave set in a month, June 7th. She was so excited to tell you that she left immediately after. What happened at your house, James?”

Bucky sighs, setting his mug down on the counter to run a hand through his dark hair, “She came in all excited and jumped into my arms. Everything was fine and then she showed me the papers. We argued about it because I didn’t want her to go. I told her if she walked out those doors I wouldn’t be here waiting for her and not to come back. And then she left.” He flinched at his own words. He hated that he had said that to Y/N.

Steve leans back in his chair, “Then she came back here in tears and frantic. We tried to get her to talk to us about what happened but she just packed her bags, got in her car, and left.” He sighs, “I called her everyday for about four days until she finally picked up and told me she was fine, just needed some space, and she would be back soon. After that, I didn’t hear from her until she was deployed.”

Bucky cocks his head to the side at Steve, narrowing his eyes, “You never told me that.”

Steve scoffs slightly, “Yeah, well, you made my sister run away, we weren’t exactly on the best speaking terms, Buck.”

“So we have no idea where she was or what she was doing for a month before she was deployed?” Peggy interrupted, watching Bucky and Steve shake their heads to say no. She bit her bottom lip for a moment, “Maybe something happened in that month.”

Bucky looked over from Peggy to Steve, “What did she say while she was deployed?” He asks curiously, folding his arms as he leaned against the counter.

Steve looked from Peggy to Bucky, picking up his mug and bringing it to his lips for a drink before setting it back down, “Y/N called me when she got to the base, told me she made it safe and she was sorry she didn’t come back before she left, that she couldn’t come back. I asked her what happened between you two and she told me what was said. I told her you didn’t mean it and to at least give you a call.” He watched Bucky’s features soften for a moment, “There were a few more phone calls. She told me what you said hurt, but that she was okay and there was another reason she couldn’t come home or talk to you. We didn’t really talk about you two after that.”

Bucky groaned slightly. What had happened? The more he thought about it the more the timeline didn’t make sense. Everything had been fine between them the days, even weeks leading up to when she ran away were fine. He sighs looking back to Steve, “I don’t know, man.” He said, “Everything was great. We made cookies together, went on rides, had a Star Wars marathon. Everything was perfect… So perfect in fact I bought a damn engagement ring.”

Steve looked at Bucky with almost fully wide eyes before looking at Peggy who was sipping her coffee avoiding eye contact, “You knew about this, Peggy?”

Peggy put her coffee down, pursing her lips a little before speaking, “Of course I knew! Who do you think had to help him pick out the damn thing?”

Steve nodded and turned his attention back to Bucky, “Wow.” He said still nodding, “Well, now I really wish things would’ve gone differently. She would’ve been so excited.” He said with a small smile towards Bucky. Steve had always trusted Bucky with Y/N. The way he treated her was like a queen.

Bucky’s lips twitched into a small smile for a moment at Steve’s approval before it faded back into a stern line. He was going to ask Steve for help with the proposal when Bucky eventually figured out how to ask, but hadn’t gotten around to it before it all went to shit, “So nobody knows what the reason is…”

Steve nodded slowly, “Well… none of us know. But there is one person who does.”

Bucky groaned a little again and rubs his hand along his face, “God, I really hate John Walker.”

—

Y/N dealt with the wave of incoming traumas from the apartment building fire, running point on sorting patients by the degree of their injuries to create a steady flow in the operating room and emergency room. Once everything had died down, Y/N sat in the attending’s lounge eating a sandwich and starting to go through yellow folder from her backpack. There were photos of Y/N with Bucky and some of her with Steve and Peggy as well of her with John. There were also photos of her while she was deployed mostly doing silly poses in the middle of nowhere. She placed the photos back into the folder and pulled out the two notebooks next. They were leather-bound full sized journals. She opened the first one that looked just a bit more well used, figuring it was the first one. Her brow furrowed when she turned to the first page. It was dated at the top, May 15, 2019 but the rest of the page looked like the words had been gone over with permanent marker. Y/N turned to the next page and the next but for about ten pages over the next ten days from May 15th, all the words had been scribbled over with permanent marker, “Well, that’s just great.” She mutters out to herself softly, “Thanks me. Super helpful.”

Y/N finally found a page with actual words instead of just a page of black marker, the date read May 25th, 2019. It was filled with the words repeating ‘I am not my trauma.’ over and over again until the last line that read:

I’ll forget the piece that was taken away from me.

She frowned a little. What trauma did this refer to? What had happened? She turns the page quickly to read the next page.

May 26th, 2019

I leave in eleven days.

I want more than anything to call him. I don’t know what I would say. How do I explain what happened. Where do I begin?

He told me if I leave to never come back. That he won’t be waiting for me.

A part of me knows that’s a lie. I know he’d be there with open arms if he knew what happened.

I found that ring after all…

Y/N had to read the line over again a few times. Ring? There was a ring?

But how would he feel if he knew how ruined I was?

His sun swallowed into a dark pit.

He loves me. And I don’t think I’m me anymore.

Nobody wants broken things.

May 28th, 2019

I want to feel safe again.

They say writing down what I feel is going to ground me to reality. They also said I should call somebody. I can’t do that. I can’t let them know how much I hurt. I just want to run as far away as possible and that’s what I’ll do. I need to get out of here. It feels like I can’t breathe and everywhere I look I’m met with eyes filled with pity. It makes everything worse the way they look at me and stare. I get released tomorrow, I’m signing out AMA. Then it’s just nine more days. Maybe it’ll replace my trauma with a different trauma. Anything would be better than this.

I miss Bucky. I miss running my fingers through his hair and the way his stubble would brush against my skin. I miss being in his arms the most. They were so safe like nothing could ever hurt me. I wish I would’ve stayed then none of this would’ve happened. We could’ve just fought about it then go to bed and sort it out until I left. At least then I would’ve felt save and would’ve been safe.

I think the worst part about our fight was that I knew about the ring. I found it in his boxer drawer when putting away his laundry. You’d figure he would’ve picked a better hiding spot, but nope. He’s never been good at hiding things from me. I was halfway expecting him to propose when I showed him my deployment papers so we both had something to look forward to when I came back. I would’ve said yes in a heartbeat if he did. After all, James Buchanan Barnes is the man I want to spend the rest of my life with. But that’s not what happened. And here I am stuck in pain and guilt.

Y/N shut the book when she heard someone come in, wiping away some tears she hadn’t noticed falling from her cheeks. She looks over and put on her best smile for Chief Miller, “Afternoon, Chief.”

Miller had his hands tucked in his pockets, “Everything okay, Y/N?” He asks gently, nothing the tear brimmed eyes.

Y/N nodded, keeping the same smile on her face, “Yeah, everything’s good. A friend brought me some journals to see if they’ll help me remember. It’s just confusing and a lot to read.” She said softly, “Were you looking for me?”

Miller nodded at her words, “I’m sorry, that must be hard.” He said with a reassuring smile, “I was just getting all your medical records transferred over and one was locked from a hospital in Queens. I just wanted to ask if you wanted to unlock it so we have that information on file in case it’s needed in the future.”

Y/N tilted her head at him, her brow pulling together in confusion, “I don’t remember what the nature of that visit would be… Did it have a date? I can call the doctor from the hospital to get it unlocked if I know the date.”

“May 14th, 2019.” Miller replied, “The doctors name I think was Wanda Maximoff.”

Y/N nodded slowly at the date. It was the day before her journal started with the scribbled out pages. She pushed the journal into her backpack, “Thanks, Chief. I’ll give them a call.” She said with a small smile before standing and leaving the room. She found an empty office with a computer, googling the hospital in Queens and asking for Dr. Maximoff.

“This is Dr. Maximoff.” A woman with an accent said over the phone when Y/N was connected.

“Hi, this is Dr. Rogers from Brooklyn Mercy. I was calling about a locked file in my health records.”

“Oh, Y/N! How have you been? Are you back from deployment?”

“Been better… And yes, I am. I was calling because a medical report of mine from May 14, 2019 is sealed and I don’t remember the nature of the visit. I lost a lot of my memories due to an incident overseas and I’m trying to put pieces together.”

“I see.. I’m so sorry to hear that. Our hospital isn’t too far from Brooklyn Mercy, I think we should talk about this in person given the situation. I’ll drive down and meet you in about forty-five minutes, would that work?”

“That’d be perfect, thank you Dr. Maximoff.” Y/N said before enhancing goodbyes and hanging up. It felt like her heart was going to beat out of her chest with how fast it was racing and she felt sick to her stomach as she tried to remember what happened. Whatever happened, it was bad enough that Dr. Maximoff was coming to tell her in person.

Y/N asked Chief Miller if he would be there when she went over the information with Maximoff, wanting some sort of support in case whatever happened was really bad. She kept adjusting herself in the chair in front of Chief Miller, nervous for whatever information was about to come out. She put on a small smile when Dr. Maximoff came into the office holding a medical file, shaking her hand and watching her take a seat in the chair next to her, “Nice to meet you again, Dr. Maximoff.”

“Oh call me Wanda. And again, I’m very sorry about your memory loss. I want to start by saying that we have support groups I can recommend after we talk about this information. Given that you don’t remember, it is possible you’ll go through all the emotions and grief again.” Wanda said before placing the file on Chief Miller’s desk and opening it slowly, “The night of May 14th, 2019 paramedics responded to an accident involving two vehicles. You were in one of them. It was determined the other driver was driving under the influence and had a large amount of alcohol in his system.”

Y/N nodded slowly, watching Wanda instead of looking at the file. Her eyes were full of kindness, even maybe a little pity, “What happened to the drunk driver?”

“He died in surgery. With the amount of alcohol in his system, the bleeding couldn’t be controlled and the damage was too severe.” Wanda said before continuing, “It was later determined that he was going forty miles per hour over the speed limit and from your statement, he was driving down the wrong side of the road with his headlights off. You didn’t see him coming until it was too late.”

“How bad was it?” Y/N asks softly, picking at her fingers nervously as she listened.

Wanda sighs, flipping through pages of the file on Chief Miller’s desk, “You sustained abdominal bleeding, two fractured ribs, and superficial lacerations that our head of plastic surgery took care of which is why there is no scarring. You made me promise not to call your emergency contacts.” Wanda paused, observing Y/N’s reaction but she was just sitting there nodding, “We took blood samples to cross match your blood so we couldn’t have to keep giving you O-negative blood. Those blood tests showed trace amounts of the hCG hormone. After we took care of the abdominal bleeding, you miscarried from stress. You didn’t know you were pregnant. You asked me to seal the records of the accident and you signed yourself out against medical advice.”

Y/N took a deep ragged breath, looking down at the floor in shock. The writings in the journal were making sense. She could hear Chief Miller and Wanda asking if she was okay but they sounded distant and like they were underwater. Flashes started coming back in her mind of that night. She was driving down the road back to her hotel she was staying at, crying and listening to sad songs on the radio when the crash happened. Y/N put her hand on her chest as her breathing became more erratic, it was like she couldn’t get enough air. She could see Wanda and Miller trying to ask if she was okay and calm her down but their voices were so different and everything around her was swaying. She remembered sitting in a hospital bed and crying over the news and the guilt she felt for leaving the safety of Bucky, “Can’t breathe…” She whispers out, trying to stand slowly from the chair. Y/N remembered the day after it happened, Wanda brought the journals to her hoping it would help to write what she was feeling since she wouldn’t contact anybody. She remembered the grief she felt as well as the shock and pain. This was the reason she didn’t come back to Bucky and avoided him, she didn’t know what to tell him. The world was swaying like she was on a boat and it felt like she was underwater, unable to get air in her lungs or hear the muffled sounds coming from Chief Miller and Wanda. She stumbled around at the room spinning, blinking rapidly before the world around her started fading to black and she fell onto the floor.

——

Steve, Peggy, and Bucky were still all trying to figure out events that lead up to Y/N running away a month before her deployment, trying to think of any clues that would help put the puzzle pieces together.

Steve’s phone starting ringing and he excused himself from the conversation to take the call, “Hello?”

“Hi, this is Doctor Miller, Chief of Surgery over at Brooklyn Mercy. Is this Steve Rogers, Y/N’s brother?”

“This is Steve. Is everything alright?” “Yes, everything is alright. I’m just giving you a call to ask you to come in. Your sister had a pretty serious panic attack and lost consciousness. I think it would be good if you came in.”

“What? Yeah, I’m on my way.” Steve said, walking back into the kitchen, “We have to go, Y/N’s been admitted to the hospital for a panic attack.”

Bucky frowns, “Probably read those damn journals.” He growled out, turning immediately and walking out the front door to his motorcycle and speeding down the road towards the hospital with Peggy and Steve right behind him in their car.

When they arrived at the hospital, Chief Miller was waiting for them at the front doors. He lead them up to the room Y/N was in where she was talking to Wanda with the door closed and crying, pulling an oxygen mask up to her mouth every so often. Bucky looked through the window to the room before noticing that none other than John Walker was standing a little bit away from the room leaning against the wall with a frown. Bucky immediately felt rage consume him, stomping over to John and pushing him against the wall, “What were in those journals?!” He yelled before landing a punch to John’s cheek.

John winced at the hit and pushed Bucky away from him, “She knew about the ring, asshole! She thought you were going to propose that night but instead you broke up with her!”

Chief Miller and Steve quickly pulled the two apart, Miller holding John back while Steve held Bucky back, “That’s not what it was about! Now knock if off before I call security.” Chief Miller said, moving to stand between the men, “Due to her privacy, I can’t tell you what it was but it wasn’t about a ring.”

“She knew about the ring?” Bucky said, wide eyed as he processed the words. No wonder she had been so mad at him and what he had said. She thought she was coming home to a potential proposal and instead he told her if she left to never come back.

Peggy had separated herself from all the testosterone and walked into the room Y/N was in, shutting the door behind her, “I’m Peggy, her sister-in-law.” She told Wanda before she took a seat on the edge of Y/N’s bed, gently taking her head, “Are you okay, honey?”

Y/N shook her head rapidly, keeping the oxygen mask pressed to her mouth and nose as she cried into it. She remembered the pain when Wanda had told her she miscarried and feeling alone due to the fight she had with Bucky. It was the reason she had ran- she didn’t feel like she had a home to go back to and she wouldn’t know what Bucky would think if she told him she had lost their child. All Bucky had wanted was to grow up and have a family with her and she ruined that. Her gaze set on Bucky through the window and she pulled the blanket on her legs up over her head, sobbing loudly underneath the blanket. How could she even look at him knowing what she knew now?

Wanda got up to close the blinds in the window before returning the chair placed next to the bed, “Y/N,” Wanda asks gently, reaching out a hand to rest reassuringly on Y/N’s leg over the blanket, “You’ve dealt with this pain alone for a long time and you’re going through it again like it’s fresh. You should talk to someone about it, you need support.”

Y/N pulled the blanket off her head at the sound of the blinds shutting, looking at Wanda through her blurry tear filled eyes, “I can’t…You… You tell Peggy… I can’t… I can’t.” She sobbed out, dropping the oxygen mask to her lap and putting her face in her hands.

Wanda looks over to Peggy who was eyeing her curiously, “The night of May 14th, 2019 Y/N was brought in after her car was hit by a drunk driver. We took care of all the injuries… But we found out she was about six weeks pregnant. Due to the stress of her injuries and the stress she was already under, she miscarried.”

Peggy’s jaw dropped at the news, slowly looking over to Y/N. She quickly adjusted herself on the bed to scoot closer to Y/N, pulling her into a secure hug and stroking her hair softly, “Shh… It’s okay… I’m so sorry, honey…I’m here…” She soothed gently. It all made sense of why Y/N didn’t come back before she was deployed and why she never talked to Bucky.

Eventually Wanda offered a light sedation for Y/N since she couldn’t stop crying and keep her breathing under control. Y/N drifted off to sleep from the sedative, her mind finally calming but the ache in her body didn’t fade. When she opened her eyes, it was nighttime. She looked over to the window to see Peggy and Steve talking to Wanda and Chief Miller outside of the room. Her attention was take when she felt a soft squeeze of her hand, looking over and seeing Bucky sitting in the chair staring at her with a small smile. The sight of him almost made her break again, pulling her hand out of his grasp and pulling the blanket up over her head to hide from his face.

“Hey, Y/N,” Bucky said with a small frown when she hid away from him under the blanket, “Baby, come on look at me. Talk to me.” He pleaded, trying to pull the blanket away from her face, “What happened, doll?”

Y.N eventually quit fighting the tug of war with the blanket, letting him pull it away from her face. She didn’t meet his gaze though, staring into her lap as tears started to roll down her face. She was amazed she still had any water left in her body to cry, “I can’t… You should go…”

“Fuck that, darlin. I’m not going anywhere when you’re crying.” Bucky told her, moving himself from the chair to sit by her bedside. He wrapped an arm around her shoulder, leaning close and kissing her temple softly, “Talk to me, please.”

“I can’t.” Y/N replied, still not meeting his gaze as she shook her head, “I was finally feeling like everything was right in the world… Like I was back where I belonged with you… Safe.” She took in a sharp breath, releasing it slowly, “Now, it’s just all going to be ruined again. We’ll be ruined. You’ll leave.”

Bucky’s frown deepened at her words as scenarios ran through his mind of what Y/N could be talking about, studying her features intently, “No we won’t. I told you that you are the love of my life, Y/N. Nothing is going to change that.” He told her, moving his position to take her face in his hand and forcing her to look at him, “Now talk to me.”

Y/N stared at Bucky for what felt like forever, studying his face. She wondered what would reflect back to her in his eyes when she told him. Right now his eyes were pooled with concern for her but once she would tell him, they knew that concern would leave, “The night we fought… May seventh right?” She watched him nod, “On May fourteenth I was driving and I was hit by a drunk driver. I was taken to a hospital in Queens where I was treated.” She watched the concern grow in his eyes at her words, “I didn’t know I was six weeks pregnant and I lost the baby… Our baby… I would’ve came back if I knew, never left… But after I couldn’t come back to you.”

Bucky’s mouth parted slightly at the words, his eyes moving across the features of her face watching the tears leak down her face. He hadn’t even noticed his own tears starting to fall at the news. Guilt raked through his body at the words he had said that made her leave, put her in that position to get hurt. It would have never happened if he would’ve swallowed his own fear and anger at her deployment. He wrapped his arms around her and pulled her into a tight hug, “I’m so sorry, doll.” He said through his own shaky breathes, trying to control his breathing as he cried, “I’m sorry, Y/N. I did this, it’s my fault… I’m so sorry.”

_____________________________________________________________Taglist: @vicmc624 @buckypops @shawnie--jo @ahahafudge @intothesoul @austynparksandpizza @stcrryslibrary

Shout out to @shawnie--jo for having a big brain and guessing correct (:

If I missed anybody on the taglist or you would like to be added, send me a quick message, comment, or ask. Thank you for the support (:

[inevitably-johnlocked]

anyone interested in becoming a part of a Johnlock Podfic Club?

Summary of the question: anyone interested in becoming a part of a Johnlock Podfic Club? 

Dear Inevitably-Johnlocked, (I hope I am sending this to a right place. I value your work so much and think you are truly a huge asset to this community so I thought you might be able to help) 

I was wondering if you have any suggestions / thoughts about this. I love Johnlock podfics. I have listened to probably a hundred already and regrettably I feel like I am coming to having listened to all of them on Soundcloud and most on AO3. I understand that there are only so many people who can and want to record podfics. But I am sure there are many, many listeners who would love to have a larger supply of podfics. I was wondering if there might be a group of people among perhaps your audience that would like to form a sort of a Johnlcok Podfic club. As members of the club, we could each find fanfics we like and record them to share with the rest. (With the fic author’s permission of course) Provided there are at least a few (10ish?) people in the group, there will always be plenty of podfics to listen to. This way each person contributes a little and benefits a whole lot, and we can all make sure that the Johnlock Podfics never end. Literally for 1 podfic you record, there will be 10 more to listen to from other members. Plus we benefit the larger community by creating a larger audio archive of stories about our two idiots in love. 

Would anyone be interested in doing this with me or maybe such groups already exist or is it a bad idea? I also own www.johnlock.net website (currently almost empty) where we could host all our podfics (and anything else really) as well as on Soundcloud or anywhere else. 

(sorry if I am sending this into a wrong place, I am still not quite sure how the whole ask/submit thingy works on your blog… Please excuse me if I am doing something wrong here. I see that you are doing so much work for the community and you were the first person I thought of to ask. Thank you so much for doing all this work. It is extremely valuable for us!!) 

(Submitted by johnlocky)

--------

Hey Lovely!

Oof, when I went to edit this, the formatting went all weird so I hope it’s okay :P

First off, thanks for the lovely comments, I’m so glad you enjoy my blog!! <3 I try my best to be a place everyone can find whatever they need :)

Ahh, this is a beautiful idea; I know for sure that a lot of people are always looking for podfics, and I think a one-stop resource like this would be a good thing :)

Just a word of note though (and I know you know, but I just want to reiterate because I’d be a bad supporter of creators if I don’t LOL): don’t host podfics without the podficcer’s consent; they absolutely have all the rights to where their podfics are “reposted” so that they can remove all of them if they happen to want them offline. LINK BACK is okay, unauthorized hosting is not. So yeah, if you have a list of podfics already, have them link back to their original hosting sites until you gain permission to host them. :)

And as you said, you can maybe have a list of fics that people would like podficced, and then you after getting permission from the authors, have a section on the site of “author-approved fics to podic” and volunteers can pick and choose what they would like to do. 

BUT AGAIN, I’m very much a virgin to the podfic world, but I know some podficcers and authors do follow me, so it is their opinion that hold more weight than mine. As a FAN of creative things, I think it’s a lovely idea, but I think we should see what authors and podficcers think of this. 

I think as long as it’s an archive like I have, where it’s all link-backs to podfics and only NEW submissions are hosted, then I don’t think there would be a problem. I think some worry someone will try to pass off someone else’s podfic as their own and then we end up with another Goodreads situation where 95% of the website is plagiarized. I think ensuring you have some trusted moderators to help you filter submissions SHOULD help with that aspect of it.

Anyway, like you, I’m interested in seeing what people think. Feel free, my lovelies and creators, to leave your commentary in reblogs/notes and I’ll add them to this post for @johnlocky to see :)

[copperbadge]

listeningboy on this post: 

Were there other comments on the post? They might have not wanted to include those and couldn't remove them without removing the image description. Otherwise tho, dick move

Nah, it was me reblogging my own post from a while ago, I just happened to add a description. They stripped the original attribution too; I think they were going for an Aesthetic. If you can edit posts to remove other comments, though, you should be able to leave in the description, you know? I don’t know why you wouldn’t be able to remove one and not the other while still reblogging from a person -- you’d just go back to the post and reblog an earlier version without those comments if you want to do that, which I have less objection to. 

storieswritteninthesand on this post:

Mostly off topic, but for the most part, I find image descriptions very offputting, and on a bad day they can be enough to trigger me. Your descriptive approach (super counter to current “advices” circulating, are about the only ones I’ve come across that I can read. I’m all for accessibility, and I’m glad people are thinking about screen reader contexts (and doubly glad to have a middle ground example from you that I can tolerate). All of this is a long winded way to say that I can see a possible reason someone may have deleted the image description to reblog, although I totally agree that it can be v disheartening, especially after the added effort you’ve invested in the quest for accessibility

Oh, I don’t think that’s off-topic at all to be honest. Absolutely feel free not to answer any or all of this but your response has made me very curious -- can you explain what’s offputting/triggering about descriptions generally? I’m not trying to gotcha you in any way, I just want to make sure my descriptions are as helpful/nonharmful as possible. Readers, feel free to chime in as well in comments (maybe don’t reblog this post given the discussion of triggers). 

I’ve never seen any advice on how to do descriptions, so I have no idea what other people might be doing that’s unhelpful (other than overly-long descriptions, which I deduced on my own). My focus is always on confining the description to what will provide context in understanding the post, since that’s what I want in a description when I can’t see the video/image for whatever reason.