#him: why do you care you live in california it won't affect you

[tokruta]

Do you ever just think about your conservative family members who support things that would harm you directly if they got their way and just want to SCREAM?????

[bthebeachboi]

B, listening to a meeting of states for more than 2 seconds: I hope you all know that literally anything, and I mean anything, could replace ya. You are no better than a chewed gum, even worse! It is better than you all because it was used at least once by someone.

Gov, who daily handles both his version and California, making sure that Texas won't kill Florida at the moment: Ok edgelord, do I look like a therapist to you? I am in the middle of something.



Beach Cal is a cryptic mf, in canon he shows up once and if we ignore Florida's jokes (probably in bad taste but lot's of his jokes are if we are thinking about other states), it is not a fun meeting.

California looks spooked, hurt or at least not happy about him getting out, which I noticed is way different than most of the fandom that likes the whole idea of "south and north california" which I personally am not a fan of. I don't mind it that much, but in the whole "California joins the table" I'd say it's explained why, but I think it was always quite clear why.

California's main "character trait" is that he is lonely. He has no-one fully, even if he's not in bad place with everyone.

Having another California would just,, ruin it. They aren't that different, not enough at least. Their both main flaws would be their pretentiousness and the fact that one of them "would have friends" (press x to mf doubt), it would just make it boring. It's like it would give you a "better" version of California, because there is practically nothing to really cling into. California is shown to be quite fluid in his personality until B came to the picture (and after he got forgotten) and he came to just show that there is a small amount of people that don't think like normal California, opening the beaches and not caring. He is hurt by him showing because he stands against his beliefs and I think that's why he shouldn't actually be a "different California". In Texas's situation, Austin is a normal occurence, he knows how to deal with it, because it's his city - someone who he knows about, he knows him rather well.

B isn't a specific area, he is people and people mostly, but who? They are probably so "watered down" by everyone else in their cities that it's everything but easy to say. Beach California isn't moved by Cal being hurt, he doesn't care about the others or the fact he is on a meeting, he isn't like Austin.

He is representing a group California hates because it's a part of him he can't get out and he is a "living" reminder of it, but even though he “is” the people, he isn't half as human as the states even with how cryptic they are themself.

California's spooked because that means he is strong enough to show, but he doesn't look in any way affected by their quick changes, so it's not a mental bound, unless California took actual physical dmg by him taking control.

That means that he isn't "bound" to being a part of the state in any actual way other than physical, because he is only people but yet, at the same time I call him Beach California not "a Texan in disguise" or "a red lil pimple on all blue Cal" because if he would really be tied to people, only to them at least, he would be shown more I think. It would add some bitterness to California's whole blue state thing.

He is there only because people he talked about opened beaches, he shows up only when they are open and I like to think that's because he is stronger then. He is annoying but he isn't really tied to people by anything else than choice, choice that states and cities don't have. He isn't moved because he doesn't care about anything above himself and I think if I'd tied him to an area, he is just the beach - not caring for actual people and taking advantage in a situation like that from some of those people.

In a darker turn, we know that "places" hate being trashed or hurt in a way, since he isn't actually in any way part of all people, he wouldn't mind them dead. It would actually be better for him, more peace, less messes.

But Cal cares, he cares because those are his people, wanted or not, he needs them safe. He knows that Beach doesn't, he knows him.

<333 did I take it from solid two ep. and one of them was straight up just the whole welcoming Cal to the table and second being the solid 5 sec of B? AYUP. I hope it is easy enough to understand and I hope yall know that this is just my way of reading him. Also, while he talks mostly only to DC, Cal who is trying to talk to him is ignored completely which is just such a disturbing little thought since he would have to kind of “live” in California’s head <333333

I might have fucked up my sleeping scheduel just bc im shit at it n write that tired af so point out mistakes yall, just be gentle /hj :')

[imaginationintowords]

Folklore [song series]

this is me trying

Modern Day AU! Steve Rogers x OC!Reader; Bucky Barnes x Natasha Romanoff

Plot: Inspired by Taylor Swift’s new album folklore. The story follows the timeline of Bucky and Elizabeth’s life throughout the years.

word count: 3592

[a/n: I’m so sorry that it’s taken me so long to update this and my other story. i’ve been busy with school and work. thank you for your continued patience and support]

previous part

Series Masterlist

Age: 20 Year: Dec. 2014 Location: Brooklyn, NY

"How have you been James?”

Bucky looks out the window to his right. Hands grasped together in his lap as he sits on the dark green sofa across from the woman he's been seeing for the last 5 months.

He ponders the question, making sure to answer it honestly. He looks back at her giving her his full attention again.

"Good," he answers truthfully, a small smile planted on his face. Life has been good. School is going incredibly well. My job is going better than I could've imagined. Really learning a lot."

"How are things going with Natasha?" The older lady asks.

“Great. Really great," Bucky says with a slightly bigger smile.

"Good. I'm glad to hear that," she smiles back, proud to the see progress James has made since his first visit moths ago.

After the blow up he and Steve had, Bucky fell into a depressive state. He refused to talk to anyone about what had happened. It wasn't until his younger sister Rebecca came to talk to him:

"I get you don't want to talk to any of us about what happened last week," she said as Bucky laid in bed looking out the window, his back facing her, "But you can't just stay in bed, hiding for the world. Starving yourself isn't going to solve anything.

"Sulking is only going to make you worse. It's not healthy, Buck. We're all worried. Ma is incredibly worried. She's barely been eating. I hear her wandering the house at all hours, because she can't sleep."

"You don't want to talk to us, fine. But you need to talk to someone. If not for yourself, but for Ma. Please," she begs, before leaving Bucky alone to ponder what she said.

He knew he wasn't coping the healthy way. He hadn't realized how much he was affecting his family by shutting down. The last thing he wanted to do was worry his mother. So he got himself up, took a shower, ate breakfast with his family. They were surprised to see him come down, but tried not to draw any extra attention to it. Rebecca gave him an understanding nod, which he reciprocated. After breakfast, he began his research. He decided to listen to Rebecca's advice and find someone to talk to someone to help him make sense of what is going on in his mind.

And that's how he ended up in Dr. Abraham's office.

"Have you contacted Steve yet?" She asks.

"No," he answered fiddling with his fingers, "I feel embarrassed about the way I reacted."

"That's normal, James," she assured him, "But in order to repair any damage that's been cost, you need to talk to Steve. To move forward. From what you've told me he's a very understanding person. I'm sure once you've apologized and explain to him the steps you've taken to help your mental health, I'm sure he'd be willing to accept you back into his life."

"I'm not so sure," he looked down at his hands.

"You won't know until you've tried. Listen, I'm not here to tell you what to do or what not to do. I'm just here to help you navigate your thoughts a little better. In a more healthy way. If you're really serious about living a more healthier mental life, I think you should talk to him. You don't want to really throw this lifelong friendship away, do you?"

"No, I don't," he shakes his head.

"Good. Remember to be honest," she tells him, "Vulnerability isn't a bad thing. Your feelings aren't a nuisance. it's how you handle them is what matters. I'm not saying you have to talk to him as soon as you walkout of here. I just want you to start making the notion of doing so. Our time is just about up, how about we do this. Some homework for the week.

"I want you to write a letter to Steve. Bring it in next week, you don't have to read it. But I would like to discuss it. What do you say?"

"Okay, I could do that," he agreed.

Christmas week

Steve and Elizabeth flew back home a few days before Christmas. They put their bags in the trunk of their rental car.

The car ride was silent for awhile, both tired after a long flight, now sitting in traffic on their way back to their parents' place. This would be their first time back to Brooklyn since the whole Bucky situation. The road trip back to California was fun, but there was a looming sadness over Steve. It's not like he regrets standing up to Bucky he doesn't. He just wishes thing would've played out differently. He really wished Bucky would've talked to him before he left back to California.

"How are you feeling about being back?" Elizabeth asks, while they sat in traffic.

"I don't know," Steve sighs, "Feels weird going back home and not talking to Bucky."

"Maybe you should try calling him. It's been a few months. I'm sure he'd be willing to hear you out," she said, rubbing his right arm.

"I don't want to push him," Steve said through gritted teeth, his grip on the steering wheel getting tighter.

Bucky had been a touchy subject the last few months. During the first month Elizabeth would ask Steve if he'd heard from him, the answer always being no, followed by Steve shutting down. After that Elizabeth stopped asking, noticing how much it was affecting Steve, but the constant reminder of it wasn't helping. She knew that if Bucky ever did call, Steve would tell her. The only thing she could do was be patient and be there for Steve whenever he needed her.

The holidays kept everyone busy. On Christmas Eve. Steve spent it with Elizabeth's family at her grandma's house. Elizabeth found herself watching Steve play with her younger cousins, she couldn't help but giggle when they roped him into a tea party. She found herself imagining a future where Steve would do the same with their own children. She quickly shook the daydream away. Reprimanding herself a little for even thinking about kids at their young age.

On Christmas morning Elizabeth and Steve spent it with his parents. It was a nice peaceful day just lounging around in their pajamas. For dinner, Elizabeth's parents went over to have dinner at the Rogers' house. It was a nice little send off dinner for their parents who were leaving for Mexico to spend the New Years for a couples' getaway.

Elizabeth and Steve were heading to the Hamptons to spent NYE with Wanda, Thor, Loki, and Scott. They had planned to have a nice, peaceful trip.

While Steve and Elizabeth were at the Hamptons, Bucky and Natasha were spending their NYE at his family's beach cottage in Port Washington.

They were cuddled on the couch surrounded by take out containers, watching the New Years Eve special waiting for midnight to happen.

Bucky got up about 15 minutes to midnight to grab something from the kitchen. He walked back into the room with a new bottle of champagne and two champagne flutes.

"Got some champagne," he said holding it up for Natasha to see.

"Um," Natasha awkwardly shifted in her seat, "Actually about that."

Bucky looked at Nat confused, putting the bottle and flutes down on the coffee table before sitting back down next to her.

"What's wrong" he asked, grabbing the tv remote to mute the tv, and give Natasha his full undivided attention.

"So there's something I haven't told you," she says looking down at her fidgeting fingers.

"You're worrying me Nat," Bucky said, grabbing her hands to help ease her nerves

She looked up to meet his worry filled eyes.

"I'm pregnant," she announced.

Bucky eyes widen at her announcement, instantly dropping her hands. The look on her face showing she was telling the truth.

"How is that possible?" He asks in disbelief, "We've been so careful. We use double the protection. Condoms and you're on the pill."

"Actually about that," she nervously shifted under his intense gaze, "I haven't been on birth control in a little over two months."

"What?" Bucky yelled, quickly rising from his seat, "What do you mean you haven't been on birth control in a little over two months?"

"I got off of it," she shrugged trying to play it off, "It's my body and I can do what I want with it. And I just wanted to give my body a break, I've been on the pill since I was 15."

"I get it's your body, Natasha, I'm all for you doing whatever you want," he stresses, "but you should've told me. I'm your boyfriend, we have sex frequently. You should've at least had the respect of your sexual partner, letting him know that you were no longer on birth control. So in that case I could've been a tad more careful."

"We were using condoms," she half heartedly defended herself.

"They aren't 100% effective Natasha," he gripped his hair, in complete disbelief over this entire conversation, "You even know that. That also doesn't defend yourself for not telling me. You should've told me."

"I'm sorry. It's not like I was planning for this to happen," she yelled.

Bucky just stared at her like she just grew two heads. How is she not freaking out, he thought. They were clearly way too young for this. Which is why they took precautionary measures.

After a few moments of silence Natasha spoke up, "I'm keeping the baby."

Bucky didn't know what to say. He felt the room closing in on him. He started having a hard time catching his breath.

"James," Natasha quietly said, getting up to check on him. He raised his hand, silently telling her to stay where she's at.

He headed for the back door, the house felt too suffocating for him. He walked through the the small yard to the gate that led to the beach. Stumbling around.

To a stranger they would just think he's drunk. In reality he was just having a panic attack.

It was all too much. His mind was racing.

She's pregnant. With a baby. My baby. I'm going to have a kid. I'm going to be a dad. I'm not ready to be a dad. My dad was shit. God I can't be like my dad. I'm not ready for all of this.

He put his hands on his knees, hunched over trying to catch his breath. But he just couldn't. He did the only thing he could think of. He pulled out his phone and dialed the only person he knew would help.

Steve and Elizabeth were laughing with their friends, waiting for the countdown to begin. Steve felt his phone vibrating in his pocket. He moved his shoulder off of the back of the couch, where Elizabeth was cuddled up against.

He pulled his phone out and his heart dropped at the name that appeared. He quickly got up and walked out of the living room and upstairs to the room where he was staying in for the week.

Wanda raised her eyebrow at Elizabeth, who just shrugged her shoulders, equally as confused.

"Bucky?" Steve answered the phone, closing the door behind him. He could hear Bucky hyperventilating on the other side.

"Steve," he tried to get out.

"Buck, what's wrong?" Steve asked, pressing the phone even closer to his ear the sound of everyone downstairs counting down to midnight.

"Steve, I-," Bucky was struggling to get out.

"Buck, please try to calm down," Steve stressed, "Inhale, hold it for a few seconds and then exhale. You need to calm down. I can't help you, if I can't understand you."

Bucky tried his best to calm himself down, with Steve talking him through it.

"Now, can you explain to me what's wrong?" Steve asked, hearing Bucky's breathing leveling out more.

"I-I'm not re-ready Steve," Bucky stutters, sniffling his nose.

"It's okay take your time, I'm here whenever you're ready."

"No, it's Natasha.”

"What's Natasha? Is she okay?" Steve questioned, getting more concerned.

"Yes, she's fi-ine," he stuttered again, trying to say the words.

"Where are you Buck?" Steve asked, looking around for his shoes and keys.

"I'm at the beach cottage."

"I'm in the Hamptons. Is there any way you can meet me back at my place?"

"Yeah, I think I can," Bucky said a bit more calmer now.

"Okay, I'll see you soon."

When midnight struck Elizabeth went upstairs to check on Steve, making sure everything was okay. She could hear him on the phone talking to Bucky, trying to calm him down. She waited outside of the door to give them some privacy.

Twenty minutes later Wanda went to go check on them, to find Elizabeth sitting on the floor.

"Is everything okay?" She whispered.

"I don't know," she answered, "I'm waiting for Steve. You can head back down, I'll be down shortly."

"Okay. We're here if you guys need anything," Wanda said before walking back down.

After another 25 minutes Elizabeth heard Steve hang up the phone. She softly knocked on the door, and let herself in. She walked in to see Steve frantically going around the room collecting his things.

"Steve is everything okay?"

"It's Buck. He called me while he was having a panic attack. Something about Natasha," he tells her.

"Is she okay?"

"I think so. I was able to calm him down. I need to get back home," he said putting his things in his suitcase.

"Okay. I completely understand. Do you want me to go with you for the drive?" She asked.

"I don't want you to have to cut your time here short," he says, feeling guilty for bringing this on her.

"Steve, something is clearly going on with Bucky. I want you to go to him, but maybe it's best if I drove. I haven't had a drink in hours, and you seem too frantic. Please let me help," she pleaded, placing her hand on his stopping him.

Steve looked up and noticed the worry on Elizabeth's face.

"Okay," he gave in, "We'll need to leave as soon as we can."

Elizabeth nodded, quickly grabbing her weekender bag and start shoving things in. If they forgot anything's he knew Wanda would bring it back.

They said their quick goodbyes and were on the road within 5 minutes, with Elizabeth behind the wheel and Steve fidgeting in the passenger seat.

Bucky took a few minutes to himself on the beach, trying to make sure his anxiety was at rest before he headed back inside. When he entered the house, Natasha shot up from her seat.

"Happy New Years," she awkwardly said, trying to cut the obvious tension.

"Umm," Bucky scratched his head looking everywhere but at Natasha, "We need to leave."

"What?"

"I mean, you can stay if you want and I'll pick you up tomorrow," he rephrased, "But I can't stay here. I need to go. Steve is meeting me at his house."

"Steve?" She was taken back by that mention, not expecting to hear Bucky say his name. He hasn't mentioned Steve in months.

"Yeah, I called him," Bucky says rubbing the back of his neck.

"Well that's good right?"

"Yeah, listen. I really need to go, so are you going to stay or come with me?"

"To see Steve?"

"No. I would drop you off at your place," he tells her, "I'm seeing Steve alone."

"Will she be there?"

Natasha didn't really know exactly why Steve and Bucky weren't talking, at first. Then she heard that Steve and Elizabeth were dating, and it all made sense. The only person that could tear Bucky and Steve apart. She never told Bucky that she knew. Figured it wasn't worth the fight. Especially not now when she was carrying his child.

To an outsider it might seem like she got pregnant on purpose, but that wasn't the case. She knew they were too young for this, at least that's what she thought when she first found out about the pregnancy a week ago. But now that she's sat with it she's taking it as a sign that this is meant to happen. She's just really hoping that Bucky would see it, if not now but eventually.

"Listen, Natasha, I don't have time for this," he looks her in the eyes, "Are you coming or not?"

"I'll get my bag," she remarked with a snark tone, walking passed him to their shared room.

A couple of hours later Bucky was pulling up in front of the Rogers' house. 2:15 am read the clock in his car. He looked to his right, out the passenger side window to see a dark figure sat on the front steps of the house.

Bucky took one last breath before exiting the vehicle.

As soon as he opened the front gate Steve stood up from where he was sat on the stairs.

Once Bucky approached him both young men threw their arms around each other. Gripping each other tightly, fighting back the tears that threatened to fall. They stayed like that for awhile. Relishing in the comfort of being back in each other's arms. Their silent fight no longer important. All they knew in that moment was everything was going to be okay, because no matter what they'll always have each other.

Steve walked into his parents' living room holding two mugs of coffee. As he rounded the couch, he handed one to Bucky.

"Sorry, if I ruined any of your plans," Bucky apologized, "Tell Elizabeth I'm sorry for taking you away."

'Buck, don't worry about it," Steve waved him off, "She completely understands. And truth be told, I wasn't necessarily feeling in the New Year's mood."

"Yeah," Bucky sighs.

"Do you want to talk about what happened tonight?" Bucky nods his head, placing the coffee mug on the coffee table in front of him. He shifted his body to the left to face Steve.

"She's pregnant," he announces.

"What?" Steve asked, not expecting that to be the reason, he quickly placed his mug next to Bucky's.

"Yeah, my reaction exactly," Bucky said.

"What? How?"

"Apparently Natasha hasn't been on the pill in a couple of months," Bucky explains, "And even though we always used condoms, they aren't exactly 100% effective."

"Did you know she wasn't on the pill?"

"Nope," Bucky tells him, "If I knew I wouldn't been a bit more cautious."

"So she told you she was pregnant?" Steve said getting back to it.

"Yeah. She was so nonchalant about it. Like it was no big deal," Bucky stressed,

"How is she just so calm. We're not prepared for this. I'm not ready for this Steve. I can't be a dad. I don't even know how to be a decent human being."

"That's not true Buck," Steve disagreed.

"Come on Steve, we haven't talked in months, and we both know it's not because you didn't try," Bucky says, "I was so caught up in my own jealousy. And selfishness, that I never even considered your feelings or Elizabeth's. And I don't think I can ever make it up to you for treating you like you're nothing to me."

"You were hurt," Steve tried to excuse.

"Doesn't excuse the way I behaved," Bucky says, "I know that now."

"I've been seeing a therapist," Bucky informs him, "I never realized how much my mental health was taking a toll on those around me. So after our fight, I found someone to talk to. To work through the shit that's going on in my mind."

"How's that been going?" Steve asked.

"Good," Bucky gives a half smile, "Really good. She's good. I've realized a lot about myself that I didn't know. Working through all the issues I've had with my father leaving."

"That's good Buck. I'm proud of you, truly," Steve beamed, patting Bucky on the shoulder.

"I really am sorry for the way I behaved," Bucky repeated again.

"Buck, you really don't have to apologize again," Steve told him.

"I need to Steve," he said, "I can't believe I acted that way. I should've been happy for you and Elizabeth. I'm glad you two have each other. Seriously. I couldn't imagine her with anyone better, same goes for you. I won't cause any more issues for you two. It's not worth not having you in my life. You're my brother Steve, and I don't want to miss anything."

"Thanks, Buck. It really means a lot to me to hear that," Steve smiles, "Because I don't want to miss anything in your life also."

"Yeah, especially now," he says, the reality of why they're there dawning back.

"How are you feeling now about the baby?"

"I don't know, man," Bucky shakes his head, "I'm afraid I'm going to screw this up, like everything else."

"But now you're working on that," Steve reminds him, "And you're not going to be doing this alone. You have people who are always going to be there. I may be in California now, but I'm just a phone call away. You're not alone. But you do have to try Buck. That's all that you can ever do. Try your best, no one's asking you to be perfect, but as long as you're trying your best, that's what's important."

Age: 21 Year: 2015

The sounds of a baby crying woke Bucky up from his sleep in the early depths of the morning. He quietly and quickly got out of bed, making his way to the small New York kitchen to make a bottle.

He walked into the small nursery where the two-month-old baby wailed from hunger.

"It's okay," Bucky shushed gently, picking up the small baby, "Daddy's here."

He adjusted the small baby in his arms before placing the bottle in the baby's mouth.

"There you go," he encouraged the small one, as soon as he heard the sounds of the baby drinking.

Bucky sat down on the chair in the corner of the room, opposite of the crib. He just stared as the newborn drank their bottle, while simultaneously falling asleep. Even though he was completely exhausted, he had never felt more happier. More at peace with where his life was at.

As long as he kept trying his best, he knows he can do this for the rest of his life.

[everyhowlmarksthedead]

“KINDA CRAZY”

Obispo “Bishop” Losa x Reader.

Anon #1 asked: Hey girl, I wanted to request and imagine with bishop losa. You Two have a fight and makes you cry and he leaves your home and you think he break up with you. Really angsty.

Anon #2 asked: helloooooo love❤️ I would like to request a writing for bishop. The plot about you think he is cheating you but in fact is something completely different. like so so angsty at first but then so so fluffy

Word count: 1.8k

Thanks to my lovely beta reader @chibsytelford 💘

Author comments: I hope you all enjoy. English isn’t my first language, I’m sorry if I have some mistakes with grammar. Gif credits: @thedevilsmoonshine.

Tag list: @starrynite7114 @chibsytelford @dazzledamazon @mara-mpou @sammskellington @arvedua 💥 (if you wanna be tagged, send me a message!)

After almost five days out of Santo Padre because of a meeting with your boss in New York, you're back to southern Cali. You didn't tell Bishop when you were arriving, 'cause you prefer to give him a surprise. So, there you are, walking through the front yard straight to the clubhouse, after greeting Chucky. Your silent footsteps end by the front door. You're nervous, because it's the first time you're out of California, since you two decided to make your relationship something more serious. The MC calls you “Old Lady”, which is pretty fun to you.

But, when you're about to open the door, your hand gets stuck on the knob. Inside the clubhouse, there's a conversation happening that it makes you frown with anger and sadness mainly.

“It's easy, prez. Go and tell her”. Angel's voice of wisdom, note the irony, talks first.

“No, it's not. 'Am sure she's gonna freak out and it's gonna be the death of our relationship”. Bishop sounds upset.

“Well, it isn't something you can hide from her. She's pretty smart”. The scratchy voice of Taza makes an appearance, and by that you know what happened in your absence.

Your eyes are full of tears and your whole body is trembling. You run away from there, without looking back. You don't even know where to go, but pack your things and leave the town sound like something you should do as soon as possible. Your friends told you. Your friends told you that Bishop wasn't someone good for you, that sooner or later he would break your heart. And he did. You don't even know why the hell you're surprised about it, with all the hours he spends in Vicky's place.

Pulling a suitcase on the bed, you take all your stuff putting inside without caring if your clothes could wrinkle or not. You just want to leave. And your heart jumps when you hear the front door getting opened. For a second, you stop everything you're doing thinking that he should explain himself, but you don't wanna hear him, so you continue with your last task in this house.

It takes you some seconds to put the key inside the lock, opening the door of the house that has been your home for the last year. Now, all you wanna do is burn down this place. With the tears running your cheeks, leaving a wet trail on your skin, you walk towards the main room. It smells like him. But you can't feel anything good anymore. There's no affection, happiness or joy. Only pain. Many times you've imagined a possible future together in your head, and how it would feel to have a family, or move into a bigger house.

“(Y/N)? What 'you doin' here?” At first, he sound excited and happy, until he sees that you're packing all your stuff. “The hell you doin', querida?”

“Go fuck yourself, Obispo”. You yell without looking at him, with all the anger that resides inside your chest. Your cry gets louder when he tries to walk next to you, raising both hands straight him to stop his steps. “I trusted you! I gave you the best of me! I never asked about anything! Your loyalty! It was everything I asked for! And you... you betrayed me!”

You're really mad as obvious, pushing him once and again with your hands on his chest. He doesn't move an inch of his body, truly confused because of your words and the reprimands that you are spitting.

“What... the hell?”

“Yes! That's what I said!”

“Who the fuc' told you I cheated on you?” He rubs the bridge of his nose, with a heavy snort.

“I didn't tell anything about cheating on me. So, you did? Right? You couldn't keep your cock inside your fucking pants!” You're about to punch him in the face, when he catches your wrist in the air.

“I didn'! I didn' cheat'! What the fuc' is wrong with you, (Y/N), ah?” Bishop shouts at you full of fury, before you push him away again. “You know what? Fuc' you! Call me when you're not that fuckin' crazy. I have bigger problems to attend than your fuckin' paranoia”.

The door is slammed shut seconds later, leaving you there completely alone. Then, you fall apart supporting your back against the wall until you meet the floor. Your legs curled against your chest, and your arms wrapping them, before you're able to hide your face between both. The tears are soaking the fabric of your jeans and you feel like the shortness of breath in your lungs won't let you breathe.

You don't know how long you've been like this, till you feel some pain in your lower back. Getting up of the floor, you close the suitcase zipper, before rolling it to your car. The other stuff, he can burn it or throw it to the trash, you don't care.

━━━━━━ ﹅ ━━━━━━

The sun is falling down when you pass the welcome sign of Santo Padre. Maybe you shouldn't drive in that kind of condition, with all the pain pressing your body and the eyes full of tears. You don't even know where to go, but driving to nowhere doesn't sound that bad. You turn on the radio, looking for a channel without interference, with maybe some good music. But there's an annoying buzz that doesn't stop chasing you. Looking through the rearview mirror, you find Tranq and Taza on their motorbikes and even if you're not about to stop, you finally do it to a side of the road. You stay inside the car, pulling down the window when the oldest walks towards you.

“Come with us”.

“I'm not, Che. I'm leaving Santo Padre, and I'm not gonna come back”.

“(Y/N)...”

“Bishop cheated on me, probably with one of Vicky's girl, and then he broke up with me by saying that I was fuckin' crazy”. You interrupt him, raising your reddened gaze at the man.

“Chucky told us you were at the clubhouse. And... by the things I think you heard, yeah... It's what seems like. But he would never be with another woman that isn't you, believe me”. Yes, you do it. You know he can't lie to you. So you're doubting, with your eyes on the horizon. “It's exactly the opposite. Come with us. Bishop is devastated, I assure you”.

Taza hits softly your car twice, hoping you will do it. And when he's back at his motorbike, starting the engine, you sigh with your head supported against the steering wheel. You punch it with anger, making the horn sound, before turning back the wheels to Santo Padre. Probably, if Bishop had sent other of his men, you wouldn't stop. But even Tranq seemed upset with the idea of you leaving the town.

Behind both men, you cross the alley from Romeros and Brothers to the clubhouse. The Mayans president is sitting on the stairs, with a beer between his hands and his head down to the ground. Four hours have passed since he left the house, and now he looks like a mess. Getting out of the car, you raise your eyes to the men that, now, are at your back pushing you softly to start walking. Your steps are slow and you keep your hands on both pockets of the jacket, with pursed lips. You're actually intrigued of what he has to say.

But there are no words from Bishop, drinking of his beer before getting up from the stairs and walking inside the club. You follow him, keeping silent.

“I didn't”. He says, once the door is closed. And for the first time, you notice the redness in his eyes.

“Then, what is that, that would be ‘the death to our relationship’, uh?” He laughs bitterly 'cause of your words, shaking his head and leaving away the beer, to free his hands. Then, he looks for something inside the pocket of the leather vest.

“I was about to ask you 'marry me. But I thought it was too soon, and the guys said that never is too soon”. He answers, putting the black and small box on the bar. “I thought you could say that... I'm crazy... or you don't want to marry me, or something like that. And I was fucking scared”.

It's like as if your vocal chords have frozen. You don't know what to say, feeling like the most stupid person on earth. Biting your cheek inside, you take the small box, opening it to see the ring. A fine gold ring with a diamond, something simple without being over the top.

“I know what you have... could hear, but it's not. I couldn't”. He sentences, before your cry appears again. You're sobbing, covering your mouth with a hand. Bishop hugs you tight against his body, hiding your head on his neck. “I'm sorre' about what I said. I just... was stressed because of asking you. And you were... there. Packing your things. At first I thought you didn't tell me when you were coming back, just because you wanted to finish us and you didn't know how to tell me”.

“It's my fault, baby”. You say after some seconds in silence, looking at him. “I acted like a crazy chick. I should have asked you, and I didn't. I was excited with the idea of... giving you a surprise and... I heard that, and... and...”

“It's ok, mi amor”. He whispers, leaning towards you to leave a dearly kiss on your lips. “Just tell me you want. And that you're not leaving, 'cause... shit, I don' know how to live without you, baby”.

You nod with energy. You can't leave him. You can't imagine a life without him. The man takes the ring, putting it on your finger and having a look of how good its looks on it. He holds you, making your legs get wrapped on his waist, before he's able to walk to the nearest sofa. You're clinging to him, while your tears begin to be smooth and are less constant. Having a seat there, you put your arms around his neck, lying against his body to enjoy the closeness between both, that you've missed so much.

“I love you, Bish. I love you more than anyone. And I'm so sorry”.

“You don' have to. It was my fault too, let's leave it in a tie, ok?” He chuckles, cupping your cheeks with his hands.

[askthetrad]

Your ask won't let me submit a question.

It says you’re from the East Coast of the States. WHat spirits do you “work” with(for lack of better term) and how did you come into contact? I ask because I live in Northern California and although I have Cherokee ancestry there are little references to local spirits save the wetlash and the tribal spirits are not ones of my Nation.Besides I’m mostly European.

[We’ll look into why it wouldn’t let you send an ask!]

Mother Mercy here, speaking as someone with tangential Cherokee heritage myself. I would not count myself as Cherokee unless you can name the ancestor in your bloodline who makes you so. This is the basic requirement to gain your tribal card. (Even with the ability to get my tribal card personally, I hesitate. I haven’t lived on a reservation. I don’t know the language. There is no current relationship with that heritage for me.) If you’re “mostly European,” and don’t or can’t trace that heritage with confidence, I’d say let it go. Regardless, pursuing a connection to Northern Californian spirits with Cherokee heritage is fruitless. The Cherokee Nation never lived so far west or north.

Father Farthing here! Mother Mercy covered the native blood part, which is something I have no experience with, so I’ll focus on the other. The spirits I work with – which, I personally would consider “work” to be an appropriate term, because our relationship is one that is based on reaching goals – are land spirits. These go by a variety of names, the most popular of which are genius locii and landvaettir. The latter is a Norse term, the former with Roman origins and more commonly used.

Each place is influenced deeply by its ecology, environment, and history – both human and natural, and these shape and give character and form to the spirits that inhabit and oversee them. They are everywhere, in every city and every field and every biome. A land spirit may be that of a forest or of a single city block, and are tied to an animistic perspective of the world. Just as each stone, book, card, and home has a spirit, so does every place.

I’ll be publishing a post on calling and courting spirits in my practice sometime soon, as my work allows, but the shorter version is two-fold. 

First, I have (and you have) always been in contact with land spirits by virtue of living, working, sleeping, and interacting with the places you do on a day to day basis. You share the same home. You have never truly been alone.

Second, to call and formally meet for the very first time, I had spent a great deal of time researching and reading texts on spirits and in particular familiar spirits. I purchased a small jar of local honey and some full fat milk and mixed a portion of the former into the latter. I chose my place, with the spirit I felt closest to from my affection for the area and for my learning and understanding of it and its seasons and processes, and I sat in a place where water met land and sky.

 I poured half of the mixture to the earth and offered it, and sipped the other half myself, a sharing and a savoring. I fell into a trance state after a couple of attempts at meditation, watching the ripples on the water, until I felt the spirit come. A pressure that welled up, and shadows across my mind’s eye, and an unmistakable presence. I greeted it, and I claimed kinship with it and I bound it by things we shared and things we did not share. 

I asked it for three gifts and I made it three promises.

I also shared and gave away a piece of my soul for a piece of its own. I tell you this as a cautionary point. Land spirits are not so easily researched and read as Goetic ones, and some would argue that they are not so strong. I personally disagree, based on my experiences. I would warn those who seek land spirits that while they can offer great gifts, it must always be remembered that they are and will always be first and foremost of their land. 

They are wild. Some are more human in mannerism than others; some are more curious or more bold or more apparently friendly; some are malicious. I do not regret the deal I made with my devil, but it has had consequences and continues to have consequences sometimes when I least expect them. I was significantly younger, and more foolish. I am still humbled by the things I did not and do not yet know, so I tell you this: be bold and seek them out if you wish! Bring milk, and honey, and eggs, and apples, and sweet things or fresh meat or strong drink – coffee, tea, or liquor dependent upon the spirit in question – or smokes. Ask and receive. But take care to know what exactly you have traded away for your power and your sovereignty, and learn how to manage the consequence. 

I currently work with two land spirits, primarily. One presides over my bioregion, and the other is sunken deep in a very human place near my home, seeped into the earth and pervading the air and pounded in by the intensity of human life during World War 2.  They are very different creatures. Others I have met and greeted and started and been startled by on my travels and around my home, and we pass amicably or one of us respectfully keeps our head down. The world is wide and deep and rich, and I love it. Find your ancestral roots if you wish, and learn about the ways that they went about interacting with spirits – look to the myths and legends and little scraps of folklore and idiom that you have lived with and never thought twice about! Or grab a book or three and see how people you don’t know have done it, and dare to try.

Fair fortunes.

Mother Mercy here again. I just realized I’ve been sitting on this for a while like a derp. Sorry about that!

As for me, I’ve had great experiences with the Irish pantheon. But when I worked in Ireland, the deities that were loudest there were Norse gods. (I was in Dublin most days, so that made sense.) That experience illustrates an interesting point. You’re so used to the gods and spirits that already walk your world, you probably aren’t even noticing them. Open up your mind to what the sensation would be for you if you were able to look up and see writing in the tree branches. Don’t assume that everything will be loud and flash. You’ll know in your bones when you’ve made a connection. There is no denying it.

As for me now, I’m slowly building a good flow with the Black Man (or Man o’ Black, as I prefer to call him), the local devil around my neck of the woods. I definitely work more with historically attested gods and spirits right now, because of where I am in my research and practice. 

Not to plug books, but I’ve seen good reviews coming down the pike for Besom, Stang and Sword, which hopefully will speak to your plight. 

Best of luck!