#so as I am meeting and clicking with several people. I am simultaneously aware that it is. entirely likely that this is temporary

[bookwyrminspiration]

hey

how r u? anyways i drew a kitty :)

hey! I'm doing alright, all classes are now in session so little less free time, but I like learning so that's okay. Have been a little wired recently because I have met a lot of new people and formed a lot of new connections all at once! Which is a little overwhelming but not necessarily bad!

thank you for sharing the kitty with me! i'm quite fond of cats and would replace my dog with another cat if I didn't know that was a mean thing to do and would upset my mother. this one looks very polite :)

I hope you're doing well!

[firefly464]

Hey look at that I wrote a Bear SMP oneshot :D

Basically I was bored the other day so i asked the discord for writing prompts and the prompt I got was:

“Jonah visiting R for the first time, to welcome them, and to also inform them of the walls. R questions the safety and friendly nature of the smp, but jonah defends it”

~~~

Jonah took a deep breath, staring up at the dark, imposing castle that sat above his house. His task was simple. Go inside, talk to the new person, and inform them of the rules that Bear had set in place for the smp, as well as the new towers that had sprouted from the ground. 

It was supposed to be easy, something that he could have done in his sleep. Hell, Jonah was about 99% sure that Bear had already told her all of the rules and expectations, so it really shouldn’t have been that big of a deal. All he needed to do was reiterate what she already knew, and perhaps introduce himself in the process. 

He just needed to make sure that this new person was actually safe. After all, that was his job, wasn’t it? Keeping everyone else safe. He had sworn to it when he had decided to become a knight. 

What he couldn't understand was why this was so damn difficult. He had done this several times before, and he’d never had trouble with new people. Hell, he rather enjoyed learning about others and hearing stories of their adventures. 

So why was this time so much harder?

It’s because you’re scared, a small voice in the back of his mind muttered gleefully. You don’t know if this person is dangerous or not, and you’re scared that you’re not going to be able to protect everyone, just like what happened with Bill and Neptune. 

“That’s not true,” he said aloud, trying to silent the thoughts that wouldn’t leave him alone. “I can protect everyone just fine. I’m just… worried, that’s all. I can do this.”

Jonah closed his eyes briefly, taking a final deep breath, before stepping towards the castle. 

Each step forward felt like a step towards his demise, his boots growing heavier and heavier with each passing moment. Perhaps it was just his anxiety and fears getting the better of him, but he could have sworn that the air got colder and colder with each step, biting into his skin naturally.

Jonah shook his head, trying to clear his thoughts away. He was on a mission. Make sure that the new person didn’t try to do anything stupid, and make sure that Bear wasn’t making a mistake by letting them stay. That was it. Nothing more, nothing less. 

The dark, wooden door towered above him, almost taunting him in a way, calling him weak, pathetic. A large, golden knocker rested in the middle.

With a trembling hand, Jonah raised the knocker, and let it fall. 

Three thundurus crashes echoed across the valley as he repeated the action, letting the knocker fall twice more. The only response he got was a deafening silence. Nothing moved, the entire world holding its breath, waiting to see what would happen to the foolish mortal who dared to intrude on the newcomers' peace and quiet. 

A minute passed. Then two, then three. Jonah let out a small sigh of simultaneous relief and despair. On one hand, this meant that he didn’t have to actually talk with the new person, but on the other, he was supposed to be checking on them, to make sure that no one would get hurt because of them. 

He was about to turn around, to determine that his journey had been a waste, when the silence was broken by the hissing of gears and pistons all firing at once. It was a subtle sound, one that easily blended into the background sounds of wind and nature, but it stuck out to Jonah like a sore thumb. 

The hissing was quickly followed by the sound of wood creaking and groaning, along with the squeaks of hinges that weren’t quite strong enough to support the weight they were given. It was enough to send a shiver of apprehension down his spine.

Jonah wasn’t sure what he was expecting. An imposing warlock, perhaps? Or a terrifying creature of the night, that preyed on anyone unlucky enough to cross their path. He didn’t know.

Regardless, he hadn’t been expecting this. 

Standing in the now open door way, was a woman. Her skin was pale white, creating a stark contrast with the dark hair that framed her face. A dark dress swept across the floor, hiding what Jonah assumed to be a pair of heeled boots underneath, just based on the sound that they created when hitting the floor. 

What stood out the most, however, were her eyes. Piercing red, they seemed to stare into Jonah's soul, picking apart every possible weakness and secret that he hid. It made him squirm, uncomfortable under the sudden scrutiny. 

Still, despite her terrifying appearance, there was something… strange about her. Perhaps it was the curiosity that sparkled in her eyes, or the glowing fire that crackled behind her, at odds with the coldness of the rest of the castle. 

It was odd. Jonah hadn’t been expecting this. 

“Hello? May I help you?” The woman asked, her voice deep and rich. 

“Ah! Yes, um, hello! My name is Jonah, I just came to introduce myself and to welcome you to the Bear SMP.”

The woman gave him a small smile, though it didn’t quite reach her eyes. “Oh, hello. It’s a pleasure to meet you. You may call me R.” 

Jonah couldn’t help but let out a small huff of laughter at the exchange. Everything felt so… formal. It was almost like he was suddenly a knight again, introducing himself to the lords of neighboring kingdoms, trying not to make a fool of himself. 

But that wasn’t the case here, was it. This wasn’t some court gathering, it was just him going to meet his neighbors. He tried to smile, to show that he meant no harm. 

He wasn’t sure if it worked. 

“It’s wonderful to meet you R. How are you settling in? Is everything going alright?” 

“Hm? Oh, yes, I’ve been settling in just fine. It’s been a rather nice change of pace from what I’m used to.”

“Ah, well that’s good. It’s always nice to break away from the norm once and a while.” Jonah tugged at the sleeve of his coat, unsure how he was supposed to breach the next topic. So far, R seemed to be rather lovely. 

But so had Bill and Neptune…

“I-” he started, trying to figure out the right words to say. 

However, he was quickly cut off. “Excuse me, Jonah?” R started, staring at him with a strange mixture of curiosity and apprehension in her eyes. “I apologize if this sounds rude, but may I ask a question?” 

Jonah shook his head, trying to catch up with what was going on around him. “Wh— I— Sure?” 

“Why do you carry your sword and shield on you at all times? Why is it that you always seem to be wearing your armor? Is there something that I need to be aware of concerning my safety?” She asked, gesturing to the metal plates that always seemed to be present. 

Well shit. At least Jonah didn’t have to worry about gently breaching the subject now, right? R had taken care of that problem rather quickly. 

He was silent for a minute, trying to figure out the right words to say. 

“I’m a knight, it is my job to protect people.” There. That was good, right? Simple, straight to the point. 

His words seemed to have the opposite effect of what he wanted. Instead of calming her down, the woman’s eyes narrowed, the red glinting dangerously. 

“You’re a knight?” 

“Yes, I am.” 

“And who exactly are you a knight for? Who is it that you are protecting? I was not aware that there were any lords in this place,” she drawled, her voice now holding a threatening edge. 

Jonahs hand drifted towards his sword, preparing to pull it out at a moments notice if anything happened. “There are no lords here. I simply protect the people, that is all. It is my job to make sure that no one gets hurt, whether it be from an outside threat, or an internal one. That is why we have the towers in place.” 

“The towers? What towers?” 

“The ones that border our lands. They are to help ensure that no one comes in with the intention of hurting our community.”

R took a small step backwards, her tall heels clicking against the floor. “You have towers, ones that are designed to keep people out?” 

“Yes, that is our intent.” Jonah couldn’t help but shudder at how formal he had gotten. It was so… unlike him. It didn’t feel right, not anymore. But it was his default state of being whenever he felt like he was being interrogated. 

“So it isn’t safe here, is it?”

“No, I never said that. There are simply things that Bear would like us to keep an eye on, and this is the best way to do that. The SMP is perfectly safe, I promise.” 

She took another step back, the sound echoing throughout the great hall. “Sir Jonah, I think it’s time you left. I need some time to myself.”

“I-” Shit. He really fucked this up, didn’t he? Still, he gave a deep bow to R and stepped back into the cold air. “Of course. I will leave you to it. Have a wonderful day, R.” 

She didn’t answer him, only turned her back and walked away. 

The final thing that Jonah saw was a pair of dark, heavy doors slamming closed, sealing the woman inside. 

[anika-ann]

The Recipe for Love

(aka The Making of Love)

Type: One-shot, Reader Insert               Word count: 4530

Pairing: Steve Rogers x Reader

Characters: Steve Rogers, Reader, Bucky Barnes

Summary: The words Bucky said were nothing but innocent, truly. Except they wormed their way into your brain and now you’re worried you’re not enough. A proper woman should be able to cook for her man. Too bad you’re a walking kitchen disaster; you’ll just have to try in favour of your relationship with Steve flourishing, won’t you? What could possibly go wrong?

Warnings: fluff, light angst, crying, gender stereotyping, self-doubts, more fluff

I’d say I attempted this to be short and it turned out longer than excepted, but seeing as that is a recurring theme with my fics, it seems ridiculous to point it out. Heh, done it anyway.

Also, due to unbearable fluff in this fic, I consider it my annual Christmas fic, because my brain is too in scrambles and there’s no way I’m gonna write anything else that would actually be Christmas-themed.

Enjoy :))

-.-.-

He had been gone for a week now, in the middle of nowhere in Bulgaria, while you stuck to your paper-pushing as you sometimes jokingly put it. And the truth was, you were truly missing him.

You always did.

It had been a year since your occasional meetings in the hallways of SHIELD’s headquarters, where you worked as a part of the surveillance and decryption team, turned from small talks to something much more. That charming smile of his could get him just about anywhere; and your heart was no exception, letting Steve Rogers in with a welcoming drumroll and fireworks, because he was such a gentle soul despite what he had been through that you let yourself fall in love embarrassingly easily.

Steve surely didn’t seem to mind, working his way deeper and deeper into your heart, owning it all and giving you his own in return.

He was everything you could ever dream of; not a perfect man perhaps, but an undeniably good one.

You were far from a perfect woman; however, Steve was always the one to tell you that you were perfect for him, making it so clear that you couldn’t but believe him. When he had offered to move in together only four months into your relationship, you hadn’t even hesitated, reassured by his confidence in what you two had. It didn’t even seem too fast, considering how seriously he was meant to take a relationship given the time he had been born into.

Considering all of this, there was little space left for doubt; you hadn’t been so happy in a very long time.

And then Bucky Barnes opened his big fat mouth and messed it all up; not that you could blame him, because he was only being honest, giving you the piece of information without a single drop of foulness in his intention.

“So, Steve’s coming back,” he threw into a conversation you had fallen into after a random encounter (or was it? With him, you were never sure anything was random) and you felt your lips automatically curl up in a smile.

“So I heard. He should be here in the late afternoon, but he told me I shouldn’t expect him home till eight. He even asked me not to wait up for him here,” you said, not finding anything strange about it.

Steve was considerate – one could never tell how long the debriefings would get, so sitting in the office chair, waiting possibly for endless hours, that was simply something he wouldn’t allow.

Plus, he apparently enjoyed coming home and finding you there, which was more than okay with you – you could understand. Home tended to feel warmer when there was someone waiting for you; when he could, not being away on the mission god knew where, he would make sure to wait for you as well. It was the sweetest thing to come back home to him after a long day; imagining being on a mission for a week or longer, it must have felt like heaven.

Bucky chewed on his apple, nodding thoughtfully. “Smart man. What you’re cooking?”

You froze, only your eyelids fluttering in confusion at the question, to which Bucky was completely oblivious.

“Huh?”

“Pasta? Steak? Oh, god, casserole? Man, I would kill for a casserole… hell, any homecooked meal…” he muttered under his breath, causing your blood turn to ice.

A homemade meal.

Hell yeah, that sounded nice. A perfect thing to come home to as well… except that never happened to Steve. You always… ordered take-out, for very valid reason. You were a terrible cook. Granted, Steve never complained, so you never gave it too much thought.

Perhaps you should have? To be fair, you had informed Steve about your skills in the kitchen on like date number two. He had admitted with a sheepish grin that he probably wasn’t much better and you laughed it off.

As it replayed in your head, you cleared your throat awkwardly, your smile at Bucky straining.

“Right.”

“Christ, I need to get one. It used to be a real deal-breaker, you know? You find a girl, you make sure she knows how to make a good casserole before even considering marrying her…” he sighed regretfully, eyeing his snack with a slight disappointment as if he was hoping it could magically transform into a four-course meal. “Times definitely changed. Man, sometimes I wish I lived back in the forties…”

Ignorant of your inner turmoil, he stalked away, mumbling under his breath.  

You stood there in the middle of the hallway, utterly dumbstruck and horrified.

A deal-breaker? Before marrying her? A good casserole?

A horrible realization struck you, your heart pounding in your chest with rising panic.

Steve moving so quickly in your relationship.

The others mocking you when the proposal would come.

You both always laughing it off, because it was too soon.

Was it though? You had utter belief in your relationship; there was no one else. For you, you couldn’t imagine anyone but Steve as your future partner. You loved him more than anyone else in your life, ever. He was it.

But… were you it for him? You must have been so far from what he used to dream of… so far from a good housewife and you prided in it or at least never felt ashamed of it. You had other qualities, important too, and you focused more on your career path, which was alright, but… was it the same for Steve?

All of sudden, the doubts that had only bothered you once or twice in your darkest moments resurfaced. Who would want a woman like you? You couldn’t even fix a decent meal, for god’s sake! What kind of a message it sent to a man from the thirties, forties?

So far, Steve had never complained… but what if it would become the thing standing between you two and the happy future? What if… what if Steve never even considered marrying you in certain time horizon, because he could barely imagine you as his wife? He was taking your relationship so seriously, it probably wouldn’t be so surprising if the proposal came any day now – it would be a proper thing to do, according to the conventions of time he had been raised in. But so far, there hadn’t even been a hint, not a mention.

What if… what if you had never had a conversation about it, because it would never be on the table? What if… what if who you were wasn’t enough…?

Springing from your spot in a speed you didn’t know you could possess, ache in your chest, you strode towards your desk to pack up your stuff.

You were done for the day.

You had a fucking meal to prepare.

-.-

You were an analyst.

You could analyse hours and hours of footage in a way that took people’s breath away; even Steve’s.

You were a highly capable, efficient and dare to say a very intelligent person.

And you couldn’t figure out a fucking recipe.

Finding the recipe was alright. So was the shopping. But the cooking.

“I am a rational person. I analyse things. I am a capable person,” you chanted under your breath over and over like a mantra, putting the roasting pan in the oven. The result of your hard work looked… interesting, but you had faith (you prayed) that once it would be done, it would turn out okay… -ish.

“Nailed it…” you mumbled as the door of the oven clicked shut, simultaneously with another door opening.

A wide smile spread on your lips as Steve’s keys hit the counter.

“Evening, sweet,” came his voice from the hall and you rushed to greet him, both excited to get your hands on him after a week and utterly relieved to see with your own eyes that he was not severely injured. “I’m home!”

You nearly stumbled over your feet as you finally spotted him, simple t-shirt, leather jacket and jeans; a little miracle in your apartment. He welcomed you with a tiredness and light to his eyes and curiosity to his smile.

“Hey!” you welcomed him breathlessly and all but jumped into his arms.

He chuckled, engulfing you in his embrace, his face nuzzling your hair.

“Hi,” he whispered softly, placing a chaste kiss to your temple. “What smells so good?

You grinned up at him, replying with pride. “Casserole.”

Steve’s eyebrows jumped nearly to his hairline in surprise. “You cooked?”

Too delighted to see him, you took no offence – to be fair, he had a point and his tone danced on the edge of amusement and fondness, so you didn’t even bother to swat his chest with your hand.

“Shut up, smartass… and kiss me,” you pleaded, peeking at his face from under your eyelashes, too aware of what it did to him.

His smile grew wider and softer on the edges, before he obliged happily, his lips meeting yours in a tender slow kiss. He captured your lower lip between his, pulling at it playfully, while his fingers drifted into your hair, cradling your head as if you were the most precious thing he had ever held in his hands.

You sighed into his mouth contentedly, sinking deeper into the kiss, your body melting against his, nearly blending in one. Your palms travelled from his chest to his shoulders and impressive biceps, caressing and gripping when he grazed your lips with his teeth, causing your belly to catch fire.

Withdrawing reluctantly to catch your breath, Steve moved to continue his ministrations on your cheek and your jaw, drawing a breathless chuckle from you.

“I’m so happy to have you home in one piece,” you cooed, capturing his lips with yours again, blissed out.

“I am happy to be home,” he breathed into your mouth. “I missed you.”

Life had a funny way of showing its imperfections. Because a second after that statement, Steve’s stomach made its own.

Blood flushed Steve’s face and you snorted unattractively, retreating for a bit.

“I missed you too. Come on…”

He discarded his shoes at the door before led him through the living room and the kitchen, hand in hand.

“So… why did you decide to cook? Is it… any special occasion?” he pried carefully and it struck you how it actually had to freak him out.

His girlfriend cooking freaked him out. What the hell did that say about you? Swallowing the uneasy feeling of insecurity and shame that rose to your throat, you shrugged it off.

“I just thought you might appreciate a homecooked meal for once. I mean, god knew what you had to eat on the mission…”

Frankly, you weren’t sure that your creation would be any better than the horror you imagined Steve had had to force into his mouth, but hey, you had tried.

Using your hand as a leverage, he pulled you back to his embrace, resting his backside against the counter. One arm sneaking around your waist, his eyes searched an explanation as they locked with yours.

You charmed a smile for him, pretending you weren’t suddenly feeling shaky on your feet. What if you had messed it up?

“Can’t say I don’t. Just surprised, is all. How were you doing the whole week, mm?” he asked and you instantly started going on about your (for once) uneventful days, grateful he let the topic be.

The time seemed to fly, your set alarm announcing that the meal should be ready. You kissed Steve’s nose, twisting out of his arms.

He went to set the table, his confusion apparently returning and you followed him with the pan in your oven-mitted hands.

Serving the dinner appeared to be easy enough and you couldn’t help the sense of pride despite the fact that the result of your efforts didn’t look perfect.  

Steve dived in first and you, afraid of watching his face if the casserole didn’t taste as good as it was supposed to, fixated your gaze on your own plate and started eating as well.

The taste was… peculiar to say at least.

Nope, scratch that, the food tasted… bad. Like… your-taste-buds-possibly-hurt bad. You couldn’t put your finger on it, you were not a cook after all, but… the sensation in your mouth was downright terrible.

Your stomach twisted in a tight knot; you liked to think it was because of the disappointment in yourself and not the food.

Yet, Steve didn’t utter a word, apparently deciding to please you and look grateful. Squeezing your eyes shut tightly, your fingers curled around the cutlery with force.

It took you about a minute to gather the courage and look up at Steve’s expression. He sent you a brief smile and the pit in your stomach deepened. What a brave man he was. And he was doing it for you.

He adored you. He was suffering though this, because he just wanted not to upset you. And you couldn’t even cook for him for once. Tears stung in your eyes as you slowly set the cutlery down, inhaling shakily as your heart hammered in your ribcage painfully, anxiety crushing your chest.

Steve followed your example and stopped eating, his brown furrowing in concern when he saw your expression.

“Are you alright?” he asked quietly and you gulped against the lump in your throat, shaking your head and chuckling wryly.

“Me? How are you not on the floor yet, dying of food poisoning?” you questioned, your voice cracking at the end, much to your embarrassment.

It was his turn to swallow nervously, guilt crossing over his face since he had led you on.

“Hey now, it’s not that bad…”

“My taste buds might be scarred, Steve,” you noted coldly, icy fist closing around your heart as you pushed your chair back, fleeing to the living room to sink into the couch.

You covered your face with your palms, hiding your tears as you heard Steve follow.

“I can’t even make a casserole,” you mumbled into your hands. “Christ…“

You more sensed Steve moving around than heard him as he crouched in front of you, his fingers wrapping gently around your wrists to pull your hands away. You stubbornly kept them in place, terrified to look at him.

The feeling of shame at your incapability, embarrassment about your outburst, fear of Steve thinking less of you... it all mingled in you and made it hard for you to breathe. Worries that you were not enough to keep him happy, horrified that he might stay with you out of pity, just like he had been ignoring the disgusting taste in favour of your feelings, because he was simply that good of a man--

The pad of his thumb traced the sensitive skin of your inner wrist, coaxing you into giving in; he wouldn’t use blunt force on you, as much as he possibly wanted to. No, he was too gentle for that.

The thought caused the sobs finally escape your chest.

“Hey, hey,” Steve whispered, panic finding its way to his pleading voice. “Look at me. Come on, sweet. So it didn’t work out, it’s not like a five-star restaurant meal. It’s not the end of the world.”

You sobbed again, stupidly and very much irrationally thinking it just might.

But it wasn’t, right? People were falling out all the time. Relationships didn’t always work out. It would not be the end of the world if Steve decided you were… not the right partner for him.

Your shook your head, sighing simultaneously with another sob choking you.

Resigned, you let Steve to look at your damp face, but couldn’t meet his gaze. One of his hands let go, wiping your tears instead; yet, you bullheadedly stared at the carpet under his feet. He caught you chin between two fingers angling your head slightly so you faced him.

The alarmed expression on his face only added to your overwhelming inner turmoil.

“What’s all that tears about?” he wondered, bewildered. “Why would one failed meal matter so much?”

Failed. What a fitting expression.

“I-I know it‘s- it’s s-stupid,” you hiccupped, averting his gaze again. You faced the ceiling, blinking in attempt to stop the stupid tears. “Fo-fo-for god’s s-sake! I don’t ev-even know why I’m- I’m crying over it.” You were most definitely not crying over a fucking casserole, it was about something much, much worse, but you couldn’t spit that out. “It’s just- Buc-bucky said— and- and I-”

Steve’s sigh was weary as it interrupted your senseless stuttering.

“What did that stupid piece of jerk say to you?”

You quickly shot Steve a glance as his tone carried a certain amount of menace. It wasn’t Bucky’s fault!

“It’s- it’s not im-important-“

“Seeing as you’re upset about it, I beg to differ,” he grumbled, but his tone softened. “You can tell me, sweet. Please?”

Damn his interrogation methods! Your heart ached as he begged you to explain what was wrong. You debated yourself for only a short moment, the determination to keep your mouth shut breaking.

You inhaled shaky breath, fixating your gaze at your joined hands.

“A good wife,” you started, quickly realizing your mistake. “Not that I want to get married!” Nope, even worse. “Not that I don’t want to get married! It’s just… oh god, this is so stupid… he said that a proper woman should be able to make a good casserole. That it’s kind of a… a deal-breaker.”

It didn’t ease the pressure in your ribcage, no; Steve seemingly didn’t feel any better with your admission either. Apparently, you stunned him into silence. The air was heavy, suffocating your lungs and you could feel your heart slowly breaking.

“A deal-breaker,” Steve echoed dully and you closed your eyes, awaiting his reaction. “I see,” he muttered, rising to his feet and planting a soft kiss to your forehead.

He caressed the top of your head and strode away from you as if he was on a mission, heading straight to the bedroom. You heard the wardrobe opening and some shuffling.

Oh god.

Panicked he was determined to end this relationship right here and now, you sobbed again, running your fingers through your messy damp hair, scrambling to your feet as well.

“S-steve?” you called out shakily, but before you could follow his path, his voice responded.

“Just getting you a handkerchief, sweet.”

Truth to his word, his large figure soon appeared in the room, coaxing and leading you to sit back as he handed you the cloth. He nestled on the floor again, sitting back on his heels, letting you blow your nose in an unladylike manner, stealing one of your hands just to draw gentle circles on its back.

All of sudden, you felt humiliated even more. Of course, Steve wouldn’t just pack his bag and leave. Not without talking first at least.

Wiping the tip of your nose and drying the last ridiculous tears, you watched him as he observed you, curious and searching in your face – what for, you couldn’t quite figure out.

The corners of his lips rose in a soft supportive smile and you couldn’t find words to express how ashamed you were for your outburst; for your incapability to cook as well, yes, but the tantrum…

Steve’s fingers tucked your hair behind your ear so he could see you better, brushing his thumb over your cheek.

“There’s my gorgeous girl. Better?”

You only nodded frantically, averting his gaze once more, unable to face the kindness in his cerulean eyes. It was why it startled you when he spoke again.

“You’re right,” he exclaimed and your head instantly snapped back to him, finding his features subtly twisted into a serious expression. “Bucky was right. It was a true deal-breaker. You apparently can’t make a casserole.”

You gulped, well-aware that he was about to make a different point. Steve wasn’t one to kick you while you were already low. Still; the reminder stung, bluntly thrown between you. Not even the twinkle in his eyes fixed the nudge at your conscience.

“But you can make me smile,” he offered gently and your heart felt warmer, your shoulders losing some of the tension in them. “Hell, you make me laugh.”

At that, you managed to charm a smile for him. A little strained, but a smile nonetheless.

“Look at ‘dat pretty smile on such swell dame,” he drawled, this time drawing a chuckle from you as his accent peeked through.

Gosh, how you loved this man. Allowing yourself to relax as you recognized that whatever crisis you had thought was on didn’t exist.

You covered his hand on yours with your other, squeezing. “Thank you, Stevie. I’m sorry for-“

“You also make this apartment a home,” he interrupted you warmly, cocking his head to side. “You make me feel things, want things I wasn’t sure I wanted anymore. You make me…”

Stunned into silence by his sudden declaration of love, tears stinging in your eyes once more, this time for a different reason, you could only watch and listen, your heart speeding up in anticipation of… something, as one of his eyebrows rose, a mischievous quirk to his lips.

“You make me want to do filthy things, just by being you, walking by. You make me want to join in when I come home to you singing and dancing around the counter-“

“Oh my god,” you whined, feeling the frantic heat rushing up your cheeks, and went to cover your face with your palms in embarrassment, but Steve’s hands locked around yours stubbornly, so you just squeezed your eyes shut like a child thinking that such action would hide them from everyone’s sight. A choked chuckle escaped your lips, followed by Steve’s own.

He brought your joined hands to his lips, planting a kiss on your skin.

Your brain and heart melted at the gentle gesture, full of devotion. Your glassy eyes found his, inviting and shining with something your mind didn’t seem to be able to grasp.

“You make me greedy and… maybe a bit possessive when another man tries and flirts with you. You make me giddy to come back to you. You make me want to show you and everyone else that I love you, no matter who’s looking. You make me happy,” he finished, his voice falling to a whisper, intimate and sweet, one that caused your whole body to shiver.

You blinked away the wetness of your eyes, surprised to find few tears welling up in Steve’s as well.

“Steve… I- I can’t even-- I-“ you stumbled over the thousands of words swirling in your head, not making any sense at all, but humming with overwhelming feeling of adoration.

Apparently, he didn’t mind, because he cleared his throat, easing one of his hands from the tangled mess of limbs in your lap, his fingers sneaking into the pocket of his jeans as he shifted his position a bit, all of sudden taller, face to face with you as he kneeled.

On one knee.

With a box laid on his palm.

A very distinctively sized box.

Your heart stopped, your breath hitching in your throat, your lips parting. For a fraction of second, the only thing that existed was the mesmerizing blue and green of Steve’s eyes, the world falling silent, not even your pulse drumming in your ears; and then it started hammering frantically, filling your eardrums with cotton, muffling Steve’s next words to a barely audible level.

“And…” he granted himself a deep inhale, one lick of his lips as if his mouth suddenly felt as dry as yours. “And you could make me the luckiest man in the world… if you said yes?”

You bit your lower lip with almost enough force to draw blood.

You hand shook as it found Steve’s cheek, fascinated and in utter disbelief at what was happening, what he was… proposing.

How this disaster of a night turned out like this, bringing the one thing that was so unexpected it nearly caused you vertigo?

Because Steve was there, kneeling in front of you, with a ring, which meant that he wasn’t only reacting to your freak-out, asking out of pity, wishing to reassure you; no, he must have thought about it before, possibly even planned it to happen in a certain time horizon.

“Please, marry me?” he whispered, gulping as you continued just staring at him, too shocked and delighted to form a single word.

But you had to. Christ, you craved to; however, it was so damn difficult to say one syllable that would change your life forever.

How was this happening?

Silence stretched and you could see Steve’s features hardening just a tiny bit, his brows furrowing a millimetre, the pools of his eyes transforming into the most effective and back-stabbing puppy eyes he could pull.  

As if I were about to say ‘no’ before.

If it was only the spur of the moment, if he went to the nearest vending machine to buy you a ring for a dollar, you might have considered hesitating. But this was clearly something Steve wanted, might have been wanting for a while.

There was never any other option for you. No different answer.

“Yes,” you finally found your voice and Steve’s shoulders fell, his eyelids sliding shut as he let out a sigh of relief and you couldn’t but chuckle, high on giddiness as you repeated the word over and over. “Yes, yes, yes, of course I’ll marry you-“

“Oh thank god,” Steve muttered as you continued your silly monotonous monologue of agreement and he delicately slid a ring on your left hand; a shaky hand. To be fair, his own trembled as well.

And then his lips shut you up as he sealed the deal with a kiss of a century, a kiss sparkling with delight and love, with a promise of a beautiful future; beautiful, because it would belong to the two of you together.

Breathless, you stole a second as you pulled away, meeting Steve’s gaze radiating happiness.

“But are you sure? I can‘t even make a casser-“

“Fuck Barnes and his casserole, I know what I want from my future wife,” Steve snarled, rising to his full height, swinging you to his arms bridal style with one swift movement, making you shriek and laugh as you quickly steadied yourself by gripping on his shoulder.

He grinned down at you, seemingly endlessly content with you in his arms. Oh, you definitely were.

“And what that might be?” you suggested coyly, high on the electricity of the moment, drunk on the sudden festive atmosphere.

“Right now? I want the two of us to make love…” he growled playfully at you, heading to the bedroom with a swing in his step. “And if you want, we can try to make a baby…” he continued, his tone growing a little menacing once more. “And then I’m gonna go and punch Buck in his face for making my future wife cry. All in the right time…”

“All in the right time,” you echoed drowsily and met Steve’s eager lips halfway to yours.

-.-.- bonus -.-.-

Bucky looked up from the screen when a knock sounded, the visitor entering without waiting for permission.

Before he could even think of snapping at them, he noticed the familiar and yet so unfamiliar figure of his best friend, once a wheezing little guy, now a supersoldier who barely fit to the door.

“Hey Buck!” Steve greeted him with a grin, lifting a plastic bag with a food container. “Brought you something!”

Seeing the container, Bucky’s tired form perked up.

Sustenance! Homecooked, probably. God, yes please.

Steve chuckled at Bucky’s delighted expression. “What’s that?”

“Casserole,” Steve said simply, laying the bag on Bucky’s desk with no regards for the papers scattered there. Any other day, Bucky might have scolded him, but obviously, a homecooked meal had priority. “Leftovers from dinner my fiancée cooked yesterday.”

The brunet eagerly opened the container, feasting his eyes on the content, saliva already pooling in his mouth. Ah, so she had listened, she coo-

His heart positively stopped when the meaning of Steve’s words finally registered, his head snapping to Steve, who wore a bashful smile on his lips.

“No shit! Congratulation, man!”

Steve’s smile widened, a very much visible happy twinkle in his eye and Bucky couldn’t but jump to his feet and pull the blond into a fierce hug, patting his back.

“My man! You’re such a punk! How did it happen? How did you even-“

Steve reciprocated the hug, but shook his head. “We’ll tell everyone, but for now you’re the only one who knows it happened in the first place. Thanks. I gotta run, actually.”

“To celebrate, I hope, Steven! Ce-le-brate!”

“We did,” Steve uttered with a mischievous grin and at that, Bucky made a face, but patted his shoulder once more. It wasn’t every day his best pal proposed, he could survive that visual for once.

“I bet you did.”

Steve chuckled once more, heading for the door. Bucky, now excited both at his friend’s succces and the food, wiped the coffee spoon from his tea and dug in, parking his backside to his chair once more.

He felt his lips twist in a scowl at the strange taste, rolling the bite in his mouth, displeased. He noticed Steve hesitating by the door, his eyebrow raised as if expectantly.

For a moment, Bucky considered lying, but… he didn’t have the heart. Jesus, this was disgusting, he couldn’t possibly let him-

Bucky forced himself to swallow before speaking up.

“Steve… sorry, but this is terrible.”

A smirk only describable as fucking cocky spread on the blond’s lips. “I know. Good thing I’m marrying her and not you, huh? For me, a good casserole ain’t no dealbreaker!”

And with that, Steve left the office, his shoulders shaking with hushed laughter.

Bucky eyed the food in front of him with distaste, ruminating over Steve’s words.

“…well-played, Mrs. Rogers. Well-played.”

-.-.-

S.R.masterlist

-.-.-

Thanks for reading ;) If you enjoyed, please, consider letting me know in any way :))

Merry Christmas to you all (aka Veselé Vánoce vám všem!)

P.S. - blame the bonus on @eliza5616​ who asked about Bucky’s fate. Thanks!

[hobicomeholla29]

‘Perfect Timing’ - One-Shot

Pairing: Taehyung x Reader

Genre: Crack/ Fluff

Word Count: 2.7k

Warnings: curse words

A/N: Unedited cuz it’s 2AM/Gotta thank my fav beta reader @sugaa-sugaaa​ for bearing with me and my shenanigans

Summary: Tae and his girlfriend want time off bangtan but does bangtan want the same? AKA Jimin is petty xD

Masterlist

~°•☆•°~°•☆•°~°•☆•°~°•☆•°~°•☆•°~°•☆•°~°•☆•°~

"Are you ready?" You whispered to him.

"Ready!" He whispered back.

 The time on your phone read 2:30AM. The perfect time for sneaking out of a house full of 20 something year-olds, who want to spend their time-off together with their best friends at a secluded country club, but one of them wanted to escape the place, to spend that time with his girlfriend.

 "Ow! Tannie! That was my finger!"

"Shhh! Don't yell at Tannie and hurry up!"

Usually Yeontan doesn't bite, but Taehyung had been bribing him with a beef jerky, so he wouldn't bark, as you guys made your way through the house. You both swung your backpacks over your shoulder, phones in your pocket and Tannie in arms.

 Taehyung's room was the last in corridor, which meant that you had to walk by all of the other boy's rooms in order to make it to the stairs and to the front door, to then walk to the main gate and get in the uber that would be arriving soon to take you to the airport.

 You turned the knob for the door and pulled it open, making sure you made little to no noise.

You were aware of the creaking sound all the doors in this house made when they were being opened or closed and it the middle of the night, someone was bound to hear it.

You fully exited the room, making sure your step is inaudible and soon after Taehyung followed with Yeontan in his arms as he clicked the door closed behind him.

 In front of you, a long hallway with 4 doors to each side, remained. On each side of the hall, one of the doors was a bathroom and the remaining ones were bedrooms.

 The first doors you walked by, were Jungkook’s to the left and Hoseok’s to the right. You are almost certain that Hoseok was knocked the heck out, but Jungkook might have been up late.

 You signaled Taehyung to wait until you went first, that way you could check if any lights could be seen coming from under the door.

You went past the door without a problem and so did Tae right after.

 The next 2 doors were Namjoon’s to the left and Jin’s to the right. Both were dangerous. Jin could be gaming and Namjoon could be reading or producing or writing or whatever a Kim Namjoon does with his free time at 2:00AM.

 Tae made a sign, stating he would go first, since he could recognize if there was any shuffling behind the doors better than you could.

He signed once more that the coast was clear, and you quickly ran to his side.

 The next 2 doors were easy. They were both bathrooms, however right after them, the last two doors remained, where Yoongi and Jimin slept. Yoongi to the left and Jimin to the right.

 Right when you were a little past the bathroom and sighing in relief.

*Bark-bark*

Your eyes widened and searched for Tea's, whose features matched your expression.

You heard noise coming from one of the doors you had already passed by and started to panic.

 You bumped into each other twice, frantically shifting around as you thought about what to do.

Suddenly you felt like you were being pulled back, you yelped a little and your mouth was quickly covered by a hand.

Taehyung had pulled you both into the bathroom and locked yourselves inside.

Almost instantly a knock came from the door.

 "Tae? Are you in there?"

Jin.

 He cleared his throat before answering.

 "Ye-Yeah!"

"Is Yeontan with you?"

"Yeah! Sorry if he woke you up."

"Nah, it's ok. I just thought he was out here alone."

"O-oh okay"

"Alright. Night Tae!"

"Night hyung."

 Once you both heard the door to his room click. You sighed and he dropped his hand from your mouth.

 "You know, we wouldn't have to be doing this, if you knew how to say no once in a while."

"I tried babe, but Guk was being whiny."

 You rolled your eyes at him and turned to open the door. Taehyung's hand stopped you, stating he should go first to make sure Jin was back in his room and you guys had a free path.

You nodded once to agree with his planned and looked at the time on your phone once more.

 2:40AM

 You watched as half of his body stayed within the bathroom while the other half peeked around the hallway.

Once he was sure you were good, he offered you his hand to hold and swiftly pulled you out of the bathroom.

By now you only had two more doors to go plus the stairs.

 Jimin and Yoongi had been easier than you had initially thought, and you were soon at the top of the stairs.

Ready to bolt for the front door, you skipped down the steps, freedom showing in your stride, however midway down the staircase, you noticed the light in the den was on, making you halt abruptly. The sudden stop caused Taehyung to crash into you and drop Yeontan, who squeaked and ran straight to the den.

 "Oh, hey boy! What are you doing down here all by yourself?"

 Jimin.

 You looked at Tae furrowing your brows as he whisper-argued back that that it was your fault for stopping randomly on a flight of stairs.

 "Stop yelling, give me your bag and go get Tan. I'll sneak out through the door in the kitchen. Meet me by the side gate."

 Taehyung nodded once, then proceeded to remove his backpack and hand it to you as he walked towards the den and you made your way towards the kitchen.

 "Oh! Taehyung! What are you doing up so late?" The young man asked your boyfriend, as he walked into the room where the light was coming from.

 This was your opportunity to dash to the kitchen and head for the back door, however not before hearing the rest of the conversation.

 "I was in the bathroom and Tan ran down here...."

 A pregnant minute went by before anyone said anything else and your nerves were starting to buzz, making you want to bite at your nails as a coping method.

 "You're ditching us.... aren’t you?" Jimin’s voice was firm yet calm.

 "I...I...." Taehyung stumbled at his words, probably trying to think of something to deny the statement.

 "Where is she? Y/n noona, stop hiding and get here... No one goes to the bathroom in jeans and a cap." You could almost see him giving you that smartass eyebrow-raise, face-palming at his sentence. Neither of you had thought about that.

 "Heard that..."

 You sighed deeply and slowly walked towards the den. Stupid Jimin, why he gotta be so clever at 2 AM

 As you made yourself enter the room, Jimin sat with his legs crossed on the grey sofa, while Taehyung stood stiffly in front of him with Tan now back in his arms.

 He wasn't looking at you, his eyes were trained on is book, simultaneously placing a bookmark on the page where he had probably ended before your interruption.

 His glasses rested at the end of his nose, while he glanced at you from over the top of the specs.

 "Hi Jimin..."

“Ah~ She finally shows her face.”

 You gave Jimin a tight guilty grin and adjusted the backpacks on your shoulder.

 “So…where are you going?”

 He addressed both of you, but Taehyung threw a glance your way, just to see your reaction before answering.

Your face remained stoic. Jimin was getting no info out of you. He would sell it to Jungkook for 20 bucks and ship him there himself.

 “I’m sorry Jimin-ie, we can’t tell you that. You’ll let the others know…”

 In your head you were squealing. Yes, Tae!

 “I mean, I could wake all of them now…”

“You wouldn’t…would you? We are soulmates…”

 A slight change in demeanor flew past Jimin’s profile, however it soon returned to his playful ways, his eyes closing slightly as a cheshire cat smile appeared on his lips.

 “Ok. Tae… since you are my soulmate…I won’t lie to you. I’m telling.” You both froze in place, your hand quickly reaching your boyfriend’s to brace yourself for what was to come.

“However, I’ll give you guys some advantage…Are you ok with that y/n noona?” Now he was looking at you directly. That punk.

 “What’s the advantage, Jimin-ie?” You asked a bit afraid of his little games.

Tae squeezed your hand a bit, reassuring you that everything would be fine.

 “I’ll give you guys 3 hours before I let everyone know you are gone.”

 You both checked your phones. The time read 3:00AM.

You had already wasted way too much time trying to get out of this dumb house, there was no other option but to take his offer.

 “Fine.” You muttered under your breath.

 “I’m sorry, what was that noona?”

 “I said that’s fine.” The uber was already outside, the driver had texted you while you dealt with this situation and you quickly answered you were going to be right there.

 “Well the clock is ticking…tick-tock, Tae Tae and y/n.” He said giggling, as he returned to his spot on the sofa and back to his book.

 You quickly pulled Tae by the hand and intertwined your fingers.

“Next time I see that miniature of a human, I’m glazing his donuts with mayo.” You murmured.

 “What was that babe?”

“Nothing, get running the uber is here.”

--

The exit from the house and the gates were seamless. You ran to the uber and apologized to the driver for wasting his time as you headed towards the airport.

Check-in at the airport was smooth and so was boarding.

The time on your phone showed.

5:00AM

 All was going as planned and you could not be happier.

Once you arrived at your destination. You felt safer. A whole country separating you guys from the rest of your friends.

Quickly catching a taxi to the bus terminal, you remembered why you wanted to bring Tae to that place. It was a secluded set of islands you had once seen online. They promised peace, quiet and privacy, while still having the basic needs nearby and there was little to no risk of other people finding you, AKA the rest of Bangtan.

You bought your tickets for the bus and once you were called for boarding, you were once again sitting in comfortable seats, resting your legs.

The drive was nearly 5 hours, however the gift that you received the moment you arrived, was worth all the troubles taken to get there.

The time was now 

2:00PM

Several small buildings decorated the end of the land portion and where land ceased to exist, docks connected it to the sea. All buildings had different colors that created a friendly atmosphere for tourists.

 You could see several speedboats coming and going, bringing people from the different islands that could be seen in the horizon.

 “Y/n...” That was the reaction you were hoping to get. His eyes so shiny and wide, full of wonder.

“Beautiful, right?”

 You walked hand in hand towards the building suggested by the bus driver and purchased tickets for the speedboats that would take you to your designated island, which was apparently named Dragon island and was one of the largest locations.

 The speedboats were larger than you thought. Fitting at least 6 people per boat.

Chairs were built-in for a comfortable trip and a small space was created in the back for luggage to be placed.

Your baggage was soon secured and in no time, you were headed towards the little island that would be your secret lair for the next 2 weeks,

The trip was nearly 30 minutes, waves causing the journey to be a bit bumpy, but nothing you couldn’t handle.

The Island was remarkably similar to the place where the docks were located.

Colorful buildings everywhere, they ranged from restaurants, to shops and bars and the owners seemed to live on the top part of the building, so cozy. The best part of it all, was you surrounded by the beautiful ocean and the golden sand under your feet as you held the hand of your bestest boy.

 Now it felt like a vacation.

 You were guided to a small golf cart where your backpacks were placed and ready to go.

The driver sat upfront, while you and Tae sat in the back.

The warm breeze felt so nice on your skin and you watched little kids run around and other tourists stroll the streets.

Beside you, Taehyung took pictures of everything that went by him. The sky, the people, the food stands, other golf carts, you.

“Do you know how much I love you right now?!” He was so excited, he wouldn’t stay put, causing the driver to chuckle a bit.

“Is that what it takes to make you love me more? Do you wanna go to the Bahamas next year?” You laughed and so did the driver once more.

 “Is it your first time here?”

“Yes!” You both replied excited.

The man ended up being very helpful, giving you suggestions on places to visit, food to taste and even the best places where to take amazing pictures.

 Kim Taehyung was stoked!

 “Thank you very much Sir!”

“You are very welcome! Enjoy your stay!”

 Now finally in your villa and ready for a day of relaxation after so much traveling.

 3:00PM

You and Tae swiftly changed and headed for the water while Yeontan stayed in the villa.

The water was warm, helping you relax even further.

Your boyfriend took this time to do what he had been missing for so long. Being as lovey-dovey as possible.

He wrapped your legs around him and swam aimlessly as he carried you, he gave you ‘exfoliating’ massages with sand, he intertwined your fingers together to pull you closer when you went too far away from him and he kissed you softly for hours whispering sweet nothings in your ears.

“I love you…I love you so much.” He said between kisses as he placed your arms around his neck.

“I love you too…more than you know.”

The first night had been a success. You had a 5-course gourmet meal arranged for you at the villa and accompanied it with fruit punch, because that’s what you and Tae liked.

 7:00PM

--

The morning after was still filled with bliss. Your boyfriend cuddling you as if you were going to escape, but you never complained. In fact, you liked it when he clinged to you in his sleep.

You stretched over him in bed to check for the time on your phone.

 10:00AM

 “Tae…Baby…Wake up. We should get breakfast.”

 You had no rush, so you let him take his time to get out of bed. Once you were both up and ready to go, the time was closer to lunch than to breakfast.

Tae had remembered the words of the driver the day before and decided to go there for lunch, since it wasn’t very far from your villa.

 --

1:00PM

 Once in the small restaurant, you headed towards a table near the back, while Taehyung placed your orders.

He returned faster that you had expected.

 “They only had pineapple or orange?”

“Pineapple please.”

 He went back to finish placing the order and returned to the table you had chosen.

--

You both enjoyed your food as you talked about the activities you wanted to do for the rest of the day.

Now with a plan set and a small list in mind, you stand and get ready to head out of the establishment, however in your carelessness, you had hit someone with the door.

 “Oh my gosh! I am so sorry; I didn’t mean t-” You began to apologize.

 2:00PM

 “That’s ok Noona. We’ve been looking for you.” You know that voice.

 “Jungkook?!” Tae just had to confirm it.

“If he’s here then-”

“Has no one ever told you, you should turn of your GPS, Y/n Noona?”

 You turned around slowly, fire in your eyes.

“I’ll give you 10 seconds Park Jimin…10…9…”

“Why are you guys even here?” Tae asked addressing Jungkook.

“Hyung said it would be fun to make noona miserable and that 2 o’clock would be the perfect timing…”

“Why though-” The rest of Taehyung’s question is cut short as you returned fuming.

“The rest of our friends are also here!” And like magic they all started appearing from behind her.

“Surprise!”

 “I hate 2:00 O’clock!”

[laurasinele]

A Fictober19 Harringrove drabble + a story of survival and awareness

Written for Fictober19 prompt 20: “You could talk about it, you know”

Harringrove fanfic (Stranger Things) + the real life experience that inspired it

WARNING: PAST RAPE/SEX ABUSE (the present is mostly fluff)

DMs on the subject are welcome

I honestly had no idea what to do with this. I'm working on each prompt on the same day or the day before, though I try to decide the theme and basic plot about four days prior to publication. I had absolutely no idea about this one. My husband suggested to make it chapter 3 of Magpies, but in that one neither Draco nor Harry are bottling things up, so this line didn't really fit there. Then, yesterday, the 19th, something unpleasant happened to me and I decided I could use this prompt as an outlet. I went through my ships and the idea of pouring myself in my headcanon of Billy Hargrove became strong (mind you. I have not seen season 3, and I am aware things get complicated in that one to say the least, but let me bask into my post-season 2 repressed and traumatised baby who finds solace and love and understanding in Steve’s superhuman empathy and general gorgeousness). 

Click the link for the fic, what follows is the personal experience that inspired it, which you can also find in the fic’s chapter 2.

I am a sex abuse victim. The abuse took place in the form of repetitive non consensual sex in the context of an established relationship, through guilt-tripping mostly, on occasion by overpowering me physically. 

The guilt-tripping went as follows: up until I was 22 my sex-drive used to be well above average. Now I know it was due to a hormonal unbalance and the hypomanic stages of my now diagnosed type II bipolar disorder. Back then, I saw it as a very defining trait of my identity, as I felt free, empowered and connected with my body and my lovers. 

I said lovers because I had several of them simultaneously. Everybody was informed and agreed to it. Some of them were and still are friends of mine and between them. It was all open, honest and healthy. 

My relationship with my abuser started with him being one of those lovers. Then, evolved into an “official” relationship, but still open. In a natural way, he became my only relationship, as the others either started exclusive relationships or had schedules incompatible with mine, while my boyfriend studied with me and I spent most of the time at his parent’s place to avoid the continued low-key psychological and emotional abuse of my father, but that’s another story.

Still, even though none of us was seeing anyone else, we agreed that our relationship was open. At one point, I mentioned I was planning on meeting one of my past lovers. Just meeting, nothing I said suggested there was going to be any kind of intimacy. He got angry. He didn’t lash out and, after a while of sulking, he reasoned that our relationship was still open but he was not comfortable with the idea of me meeting that particular person because there had been a romantic relationship, and he was willing to have and let me have other sexual relationships but not romantic ones. We debated cordially for a while and I accepted his point. Flash forward several months later at my faculty’s cantina: a very good friend, who actually became my lover later on in my life, and is not anymore but is still a very close friend, started to flirt with me jokingly, as we usually did. My boyfriend joined us at our table, we kept our conversation peppered with compliments and pick up lines and, at some point, it got hot. And it was okay, it was public knowledge that my boyfriend and I were polyamorous. My friend and I accompanied my boyfriend to meet a professor and, along the way, we were making plans for the afternoon. My boyfriend had something to do, at what rose the possibility of hanging out with my friend and see where all the spicy talk went. My boyfriend had been encouraging us and playing matchmaker all the while, and he said something along the lines of “sure, go ahead”, but when my friend and I started to discuss the logistic he got nervous. We noticed and exchanged worried looks, slowing the conversation down a notch. It was all very natural and open up until that moment, but the change in the mood was so obvious that I finally asked what was wrong. He said he wasn’t comfortable with me fucking one of my best mates because, well, he knew the guy. I couldn’t believe it at first. I remembered the first restriction: no ex-boyfriends. Now, not people that we both know. Because he said it in front of my friend, and my friend knew me quite well and recognised the look in my face as more than mildly annoyed, he hurried to say it was okay with him and asked me if I could still give him a lift. That way I avoided an argument with my boyfriend on the topic of “Is this restricting our openness as a couple becoming a trend?”. Not other prospects rose for me nor for him, and we never discussed exclusiveness again. 

Not long after that incident, I fell into a depression. Both the depressive state and the anti-depressants affected my libido enormously. I was practically never in the mood for sex. Sometimes I willingly made an effort when he initiated it, but I realised the experiences were not comfortable for me and forcing myself was only making it more difficult to get my sex-drive back. I explained this. He said it made sense. Next night he tried again. I said no. This went on for a couple of weeks. Then he got, not angry but, dramatic, and said he had lots of trust and self-esteem issues and, that if we didn’t have sex, he felt as if I didn’t love him. I explained for the umptenth time, and emphasized that he already knew this, that my low sex drive was a chemical catastrophe in my brain and had nothing to do with my love for him. That, if something, it was challenging my self perception, as I had identified with my sexuality and explored it confidently and freely from a very, very early age. This was hurting me as much or more as it was hurting him. He calmed down for another week or two. He brought the “I feel like you don’t love me anymore” discourse again. I decided to have sex with him that night. It was awful. I didn’t came nor wanted to. He insisted on making me. He stopped trying with his fingers when I closed my legs, since my words didn’t seem to be enough. That night passed and others came. I said no, he said yes, I said no, he was almost 6’5 feet tall (2 meters) and his hand was bigger than my face. He opened my legs by force (I think he thought it was roleplaying). That made me freeze and I let him have his way. I still tried to say no every next time. I eventually stopped saying yes or no. I just layed there. 

Now, when I started to tell this story to people, the most common first question was: why did you keep going to his place to sleep? The answer is simple: I did not see it as something as bad as going home and facing the tension and scorn and yells from my father. In the great scheme of things, I know now that what my boyfriend did was worse but, because of its duration in time and newness, the situation at my home felt much more real and unbearable. I still didn’t realize what my boyfriend was doing was rape. I just thought we had things to talk about and the moment to do so never came.

The first time I called it by its name it was like an epiphany. For some reason I remember it was March, and I remember I told him: “You’ve been doing it for six months”. We had an argument for an entirely different reason that I don't remember and it evolved into the fact that lately we were constantly arguing. I kept trying to get somewhere in that particular argument because it kept going in circles: he pointed out problems and I kept saying those weren’t what was wrong with us. He asked impatiently and loudly what was it then. And I bursted out, and I didn’t even know the words were inside me, I didn’t had the notion before talking: “Our problem is that you’ve been raping me for six months. You’ve been doing it for six months, and I say no, and you keep going at it and in the end I stopped saying no because it was easier than risking to get hurt. And so I can’t trust you anymore and that's why snap at you for everything”. 

He was horrified. He covered his mouth with his hand and became pale. He seated and whispered “It’s true. This is horrible. This is horrible, horrible. This is horrible.” He kept repeating that word. I told him I had never known it was rape until I said it outloud and that, now that we both knew, it had to stop. He was disgusted with himself and he stopped. For a couple of weeks. 

I never told him again what he was doing. I grew more and more wary of saying no. I just rolled with it: the non consensual sex and the relationship itself. That summer we ended it civilly, because there wasn't a moment we weren't at each other's throats, and we still remembered that we used to be friends. He had even pushed me against his wardrobe to make me shut up once. So we thought breaking up for good, and this is important, he specifically said “for good” and we agreed, was our best option. 

Then began the gaslighting. I don't know if it was intentional or he is actually that delusional. I had buried the fact that none or almost none of the sex I had had in the last year had been consensual, and moved on with my life. He was still my classmate, one of my closest friends and a constant presence in my social life. I told everyone to support him specially because I'd had more experience in breakups while he was more emotionally unstable in general (and everyone knew this for a fact). 

One day, two friends came to visit me to the store I managed. They asked how was I doing and I said I was fine, that in the end it was obvious that we could not be a couple. They exchanged disconcerted looks. "That's not what he's saying. He's telling everyone you've taken three months off and then you'll be back together". I was beyond shocked, specially by the specificity of it. Three months, he was saying. When they saw my reaction it was like opening a dam. They started to list all the apparently uncharacteristic things he was doing: he was drinking alcohol (he never did before), he was hard-core hitting on everyone, he was always trying to make plans with everybody and he would always talk about himself over any other thing. 

In the span of a few months, he got a girlfriend and dumped her in a very ugly fashion. Two days prior to their breakup, their love was all over his Facebook, and right before leaving for a job abroad he dumped her telling her openly that he didn't love her. By then, our interactions were minimal and I had been starting to flinch whenever  he touched me, but I didn't pay much thought to it until this breakup and a very unfortunate line he threw on me. There was a farewell party for him and, at the end of it, he approached me and said that now that he was single again we could fuck every now and then. I felt cold all over and then fiery fury. I remember clenching my fists. I dismissed his offer politely but sternly, reminding him, as it had been nothing, that there had been issues between us regarding consent. He didn't seem much bothered by my answer. Later on I learned he was telling people he had gone abroad to fuck, so I guess my negative wasn't a big deal at the moment. After that night, "He used to rape me” was always on my mind, every single someone mentioned him, I saw a picture of him or he contacted me. 

I decided to tell, and only to very few people, and still excusing him, when it was too obvious that I was avoiding him, and when I began to have trouble to trust my sex partners. I stopped excusing him eventually, but I never fully blamed him (not that I blamed myself). Years later, I had another boyfriend and I met a girl through him. We became friends, and at some point she told me she had just met a guy. It was my ex. There were months of debating between telling her or not. I settled for “he’s one for long term relationships”, since she prefered no strings attached. However, as she put it, she fell in love. Time passed, my relationship with the man that had introduced us ended, and so my meetings with her where more sporadic. In one of those, she told me she already knew what he did to me. That he had told her. So he knew why I stopped talking to him. 

I talked less and less with this girl, mostly through Facebook. At some point in time he and I exchanged messages. He wanted to talk, I was open to it but in a bad moment so I told him I needed to sort things out first. Never contacted again.

Almost four years ago, she got pregnant. I had assumed, since they’d been together for so long, that what he did to me was an isolated event. I met them to give them a baby shower present. I’d rather have met her alone but I had no time to meet her in Barcelona and she couldn’t drive, so he came along. It was the first time I saw him in years. She left us alone for a while. I asked if the baby was planned. He told me excitedly that it had been a whim after a woman they had just met in a party had told them what a nice couple they were and that they should have children, because some friends of hers had just become parents and it was wonderful. He told me how, when they got home, he picked up a condom an announced it was the last one he was using. He mocked his girlfriend saying “Oh, I don’t know, I don’t know” to that, and told me he said “You know what? I’m not using this one either”. And that night she got pregnant. On my 9 months pregnant friend’s mock-indignant words “This one knocked me up!”. I was horrified. I could not understand how they didn’t see how wrong that was. Never met them again. 

Three years ago I saw a picture of the baby doing something cute on Facebook. I hit like without thinking. I had nothing but warm feelings towards the mother. A few days later she wrote a long private message through Facebook saying she needed to cut ties with me because of her baby’s father situation with me. She said I hadn’t wanted to fix things with him when we met last time, and that he came, according to her, so he and I could talk. I was going through a lot: had just lost my job in a project that was practically my creation, had just started managing a store, my husband’s mum was sick with cancer in another town 600 miles away (1000km) and my husband had flown there, and I was left cancelling reservations and calling the guests to our wedding that had been supposed to be in three months from that moment. Less than a week before that message, I had to go to ER because I spent the whole day with tachycardia. So I told her my situation, that I valued her friendship, and I asked to meet later on that month to talk about it. She agreed.

Two days later I was at work, alone, breathing consciously because of my constant anxiety. I got another message from her. It started: “I can’t be friends with someone who thinks my man is a rapist”. I got very angry. I told her I didn’t thought he was, but I knew what he did to me. She talked about it as if it was a lie, when we had both, the three of us actually, existed in a universe where we all agreed it was real. She said he had lost friends because of it. Our common friends that knew what had happened between us had distanced themselves from him, reportedly, because of his new self-centered, party animal, sex-obsessed attitude. I’d had enough. I thought I had it all wrapped up, I ended my day at work and drove to a seaside town to celebrate a friend’s birthday. There, I only told the birthday boy the reason of me changing my mind over attending or not. So, when shit happened, he was the only one who guessed where it came from.

I took my phone out to take a picture of our group, but saw the notifications of audio messages from Facebook Messenger, from my abuser. I walked away to listen to them. I was calm, I assumed he’d be apologising. I opened the first one and it was three seconds of silence and then my name in his voice and his tone was furious. My knees gave up, I leaned against a light post and slid down until I sat on the floor. The next words were “I am very indignant. How can you say I am a rapist?”. Then he proceeded to insult me, blame my father of everything, say I was laughing at real rape victims face, accusing me of having raped him… I fell in hysterics and doubted myself. I thought for a moment it was my fault. Now, the birthday boy was the friend my abuser had banned me from having sex with, and he was also one of the two friends that came to see me at work and told me that my ex was saying we were getting back in three months. The other friend was also there. They both knew and they both, when they finally understood what was going on, prevented me from listening to the rest of the audio messages (and more kept coming), and told me I wasn’t imagining things. They told me it happened and they told me I wasn’t a liar. The panic came and went for a long while. I couldn’t sit still, I couldn’t look at my friends, more than a half of which didn’t know what happened back then and what was happening now. I ended crying in a friends shoulder saying “I should have strangled him”. This episode kick-started almost 3 years of severe depression and anxiety, unemployment and relationship crisis, from which I’ve been recovering only for the last six or nine months. And, in case you haven’t thought of it, I still was having trouble trusting my sex partner when this happened, so I still needed to reconstruct my identity separated from my sexuality. 

Through 8 years of my adult life, this is something that has been following me, that I’ve tried to manage on my own, and that he has had no remorse in bringing back when his life wasn’t going well. After his audio messages, I learnt that he and his girlfriend were swinging with a couple who I had only met once, being friends of a friend. I asked my common friend to not say anything about my relationship to my abuser and she answered “Too late. He told my friend about everything”. I asked, because I wasn’t sure and I didn’t understand. My friend confirmed that “everything” meant he told my friend’s friend he had been my boyfriend and he had raped me repeatedly. I was puzzled and disgusted. It had just been months since the audios, since him denying it. This friend of a friend is now closer to me and my husband, cut ties with him and has never mentioned it to me.

This last indirect connection with him was about three years ago. I live in a small historic village near Barcelona. As far as I know, my past abuser lives in Barcelona and does not know where I live. Yesterday, I was sitting at a cafe’s terrace with my husband and my dog, telling my husband how amazed I was by the response to the Merlin/Arthur drabble being it such an old fandom, when I lifted my head from my phone screen and I saw him, with two more people, in tourist gear. I was wearing big sunglasses, and I stopped talking, hoping he wouldn’t recognise me behind them, but he was looking at me. He looked like he wanted to say hi, and veered towards me. I stammered a bit but kept saying what I was saying to my husband, pointedly looking at my abuser with a very serious face and tone.I waited just for a beat for him to change his mind and stop looking at me, and walk past my table without stopping. I told my husband. He congratulated me on my reaction and offered to get me a second breakfast pastry. 

My abuser passed again near our table with his partners, and this time he didn’t glance at us. I had my heart hammering a hole through my ribcage and I was angry that I had not yelled at him, that I had not hit him, that I had not finished it. Then I realised that, although now I am physically and emotionally exhausted, it is because of the sudden trip back and forth in time and the mental exertion it caused since I am bipolar and hence more sensitive to this things. It was not because I am not over him and what he did. I didn’t had to finish it because it had finished already, sometime in the last three years, and I did it just by investing in myself and my loved ones, just by not having my abuser’s ominous presence obscuring it all. Just by speaking up. Just by avoiding hatred and toxicity and choosing healthy affection, honesty and trust. 

If it happened to you, or is still happening, say it. Say it to your abuser, to the people who loves you, to those who love them. Tell the authorities, tell as many people as you can. Put space between you and the facts, between you and your abuser. The first person you need to help and save is you. Talk to someone, anyone, but don’t shut it down. Don’t keep it hidden because it rots.

[movedyourchair505]

Napule Nights - trentanove 

As always, thanks to Elana for helping me make everything work! This chapter includes some smut people were requesting x

- chapter navigation -

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Jade's eyes wandered around the dimly lit room, her gaze wandering past the women spinning from the poles in the back, past the guests on the dancefloor, past the small groups sat on the sofas and at the tables on the side and she brought her glass to her lips, taking a sip of her drink, the very first Jade she'd ordered out at one of Alexander's establishments.

“Bella.”

She turned, instead of Alexander's return, she was greeted with Kane's arrival, his skin bronzed with a fresh tan, a sharp contrast to his tight, baby pink suit. “Looking good” she smiled, licking her lips. “I didn't know you were here tonight.”

Miles shrugged, raking his fingers through his short hair and wiggling his eyebrows at her suggestively. “Neither did I, bella” he informed her. “But now weh bof kno' 's a good fing I am, because I cannot believe Al's left ya on your own.”

Jade shrugged, nodding towards the group of men that had insisted to converse with Alexander. “He's right there” she said, brushing her hair behind her ear as she turned back to look at Kane as he turned to the bar and she saw him mouth for his own signature drink, but she was quick to stop the bartender. “Actually” she cut in. “I think Mr. Kane would like a Jade.”

“Oh, I would vereh mooch” Miles said, his lips forming a smug smirk, cackling when she rolled her eyes at him turning her request around.

“Kane...”

“Can't fookin' 'elp meself, bella, look at ya.” His eyes wandered down her body, taking in the way her tight black dress did not only hug her curves beautifully but put her body on display in a way that they both knew had everyone who laid eyes on her desperate to be in Turner's shoes for more than one reason. The dress left a wide gap in fabric trailing down in length, the skin it exposed merely held together by a series of criss-crossed ties, allowing glimpses at almost every part of her body that was otherwise covered.

“Here you go, Mr. Kane.”

His attention was snapped from her dress by the barman and he looked up, his fingers closing around the crystal. “I 'aven't actualleh 'ad the final product” he said. “So even though I shouldn't beh takin' orders from ya, bella, I'm excited” he stated, wiggling his eyebrows.

“Well” she shrugged. “You forced me to drink that liquid candy” she said, scrunching up her nose at the memory of his drink.

He gasped dramatically, clamping his heart down on his heart in fake offense. “Ya better beh able teh 'andle sum feedback in return. I 'elped make this though, ya kno'?”

She raised an eyebrow. “You did?”

“Well, I were Al's test person. 'e 'ad meh try different versions 'n tha', took 'im ages teh come up wif this one.” He took a sip from the drink, humming and licking his lips. “Well, fook, tha's joost made meh feel closer teh ya” he chuckled. “Makes meh burn.”

She rolled her eyes, tensing when she felt someone's hand on her lower back but relaxing instantly when the familiar cloud of smoke and spice surrounded her, leaning back into his touch thankfully. “Hey, baby” she rasped, turning her head and pressing a kiss to Alexander's jaw. “Are you okay?”

He nodded slowly, moved to slick his hair back with a swift stroke of his hand, then waved to the bartender. “Joost fookin' 'eard sum unpleasant news” he shrugged.

Jade sighed, turning to smooth down the jacket of his shiny black suit, her eyes wandering up his tanned chest, exposed underneath the half-unbuttoned blue shirt.

“Can't fookin' believe it” he muttered, his body drawn to her touch and leaning forward slightly, instantly aching to be closer when she offered. “Sum people fink they can come in 'ere 'n fookin' disrespect meh in me own fookin' club.”

She swallowed, tilting her head slightly, her fingertips trailing along the smooth skin of his jaw, sharp, tense. “You can't let them provoke you, Alexander” she said quietly, knowing he wouldn't like hearing what she had to say, but she also knew that she had to. “They want you to react this way so you slip up, baby, they're playing into your temper...”

“I don't fookin' slip up...” he stated. “And if yeh're talkin' 'bout tha' guy earlier, 'e were eyein' yeh inappropriately, alreyht?”

Jade sighed, shaking her head. As much as she loved him demonstrating his power, felt a thrill each time, she couldn't help but warn him, worried where the way his passion made him trail off would lead sometimes. “I just don't want you to make more enemies because of me.”

“Tha' were a fookin' nobodeh, Jade” he sighed, relaxing slightly when she drew the pack of cigarettes from his top pocket and fished one out to place between his lips, then offered one to Kane and lighting them both. “If I can't shut down people like tha', wha's next?”

Before she could respond, a loud noise ripped through the room, momentarily drowned out the music, the chatter, the sounds of glasses meeting and liquor pouring. Then, another shot. Jade could now make out the origin of the sound and while the music kept thudding, the chatter had died down, the women on the poles had stopped spinning, every face turned towards the two men that were entering the club, both with one arm stretched into the air, smoking guns in hand.

“Doll, get be'ind meh” Alex drawled, could see Matthew and Jamie slowly moving closer, all the security on alert, but he knew that those two men were most likely not alone, and that there was a risk here of overpowering them before being sure about the situation. His heart was pounding in his chest, one defeat after another and he tried to suppress his anger like Jade had told him, though it was getting increasingly more difficult with each challenge, he couldn't wrap his head around the continuous decrease in control, was unable to process it all.

Jade huffed. “Why? Because I can't fight?” She muttered, yet kept her eyes on the men as she spoke to make sure she didn't miss a single movement.

“No” Alex muttered. “Because I'd never forgive meself if yeh got 'urt.”

She inhaled shakily, took a step back and he stepped forward simultaneously, holding her breath when she heard his voice, loud and roaring and authoritative.

“Wha's this then?” He drawled, Helders and Cook stepping to each side of him as he approached the two gunmen, held his arms out expectantly to his sides. “Are yeh gunna shoot meh in me own club? I never even seen yehr faces before and I'm supposed to be scared.”

One of the men lifted his weapon, pointed it at him but Alexander merely shook his head, gave a click of his tongue. “Yehr first shot would've 'it meh instead of me ceiling if yehr plan were teh shoot meh.”

Jade stayed behind him, looking to her side, searching for Kane's gaze who gave her a pointed look to stay as she was, to let Alexander do what he thought best and while she trusted him and knew that he wasn't at the top of the city for no reason, she still hoped he wouldn't take it too far, wouldn't dare himself further than he could afford because of his temper. And as much as she knew that he was right, that they didn't seem like they were out to kill him, she was well aware that they were meant to scare him, scare him in his own club, make him feel unsafe even in his own spaces and from the way he stood, tense, yet completely unafraid, she could tell that he was aware as well, and that he refused to allow it to work with everything he had.

“You've been looking to Mancini” one of the men stated, raised an eyebrow when Alexander stepped in front of him, eyeing the gun curiously until it was lowered and no longer pointing at him.

“I 'ave indeed. But I doubt yeh've come teh give 'im up.”

The gunman chuckled darkly, shaking his head. “And you're right to. He has agreed to meet you though, Turner.”

Alex raised his eyebrows, couldn't say that he had expected everything but the answer he'd now been given and he licked his lips, not quite eased enough for the tension to leave his body. “And I'm s'posed teh believe 's not a trap?”

“Well, Mancini said to tell you that he's prepared for you to arrange place and time, to come with as much security as you deem necessary if you agree to let him do the same.”

Alex huffed, licking his lips. “Why does 'e want teh meet meh?”

“You can ask him when you meet him” the man stated. “We know you're interested. There will be no meeting if we're stopped from delivering your message.”

Jade saw Alexander grit his teeth, his hand on his hip now, and she could see his fingers shaking with anger. She hoped desperately that he would agree, it was a change in behaviour and maybe meant a change for the business, maybe they could outsmart Mancini and Alfonso somehow, but blocking everything they did would not lead there.

“I'm gunna send the details.”

The man gave a bitter smile, followed by a wave, several other armed men following him, Alex's security looking expectantly at him but he gave a shake of his head, gesturing for them to stand out and when the door shut behind the invaders, his breath came out shakily, mostly with relief, and there was a moment in which despite the music still blaring, the bass still thudding, no one moved a muscle until Alex turned, one look from his dark eyes enough to set everything back into motion and Jade followed his movements with fascination, stepped back slightly when he walked back to her and Kane and ordered another drink, taking a drag from his now almost burnt down cigarette.

There was barely any talking to him the rest of the night, after an hour he decided that there was no point in sticking around any longer, feeling he'd proven his point that he was not afraid, but even on the way back home, he was distant, found himself unable to think anything else and didn't even order for any help, just sat in silence with Jade, Matthew and Jamie, and the more time passed, the more frustrated he became to change it, only when the door of his apartment fell shut and he was alone with Jade, he felt he could no longer keep it in but instead, she beat him to it.

“Alexander” she demanded. “Talk to me.”

He raised an eyebrow, paused where he stood and turned on his heel to look at her. “Wha' do I fookin' say?” He muttered, an edge to his voice that she welcomed in a way that she knew he was not trying to protect her from the reality of the situation, she didn't want him to feel like he had to hold back on anything with her, ever. “Yeh fookin' saw wha' 'appened, Jade!”

She looked back at him, raised her eyebrows and waited for him to continue, gave a nod, stood as she was without moving a muscle, patient.

“They got inteh me club! Me own fookin' club! Wha' the fook is next?” His hands were shaking, his anger rising. “Are they gunna come inteh the 'eadquarters, in 'ere? And a fookin' meetin' wif me enemeh? No fookin' wonder me padre's disappointed in meh! I used teh beh able teh stand up teh 'im easeh, got nofin' teh fookin' show for meself.”

She took a breath, knew there was nothing she could say or do to fix things now, except to make it better in the moment until he figured out what to do to improve the business, until he could make the necessary decisions. “You know it's not your fault, Alexander.”

His bottom lip was trembling, his jaw tense. “Yes, I fookin' kno', but 's all on meh, innit? I'm the one in charge, I'm responsible!” He raked his fingers through his hair, then patted down his suit jacket, but before he could even look for another pack, she had a smoke for him ready and lit and he sighed, took it between his fingers and taking a drag, breathing out heavily. “I joost...” He swallowed hard. “Joost need teh fookin' do sumfin'. Can't sit 'round 'n wait.”

“You're making the right decisions” she stated. “And that's why that will show in time. You're smarter than all of them. That's why you're meant to be in charge.”

He blinked, knew that she'd supported him through all of it, but only now realised how little she was challenging him now, how much she reassured him, how genuine in her words were, and it meant a lot to hear it from her. “Jade...”

“No.” She shook her head. “Can I say something?”

He gave a slight wave of his hand, a shrug, raising his eyebrows expectantly.

“You're going to figure it all out because that's what you've been doing for all this time. I hate that me being here has made some things difficult, and I take full responsibility for that...”

“Jade” he interrupted. “'s not yeh.”

“Not entirely” she shrugged. “But to some extent. But I can only help so much, I know you won't let me do the most important work, and you're right not to because you know best. And you know that. And that's what I admire. That's what makes you so powerful, and I'm happy to remind you of that, but I think you know how well-respected you are, Alexander. Why no one has crossed you.”

He bit his lip, his jaw locking. He was still tense with anger, and while he knew she was right, knew he was hardly being himself, it frustrated him most that even with that knowledge, he felt like he had to justify his actions. “I'm so fookin' sick of...”

“Of what?”

“Fookin' … explainin' me evreh move.”

She stepped closer to him, stole the cigarette from his lips and took a drag before handing it back to him. “Then don't” she said, brushing her fingers through his hair, a sense of relief rushing through her when she felt him tilt his head into her warm touch, his eyelids fluttering momentarily. “I know I can't make any decisions for you” she whispered, pressing her lips together as she closed the little space remaining between them, felt him tense up more when her chest pressed against his, his gaze flickering from her chest up to her face. “But you can’t do anything either, not right now.”

“Doll...”

“Let me distract you.”

She left no room to protest, and he didn't want to either, a look of immense satisfaction on his face when she sank to her knees, and no matter how many times he'd seen it, he would never get enough, ran his fingers possessively through her hair to keep her close as she undid his belt buckle, dragged her palm slowly over the bulge hardly contained by his underwear, taking him out of the restrictive fabric and giving him a few slow strokes, licking her lips in anticipation.

“You didn't give me permission.”

He swallowed hard, the skin of his throat straining, her words making his head spin, a demonstration of the control he knew he had, not just over her, over everything and he reached to crush his cigarette in the ashtray on the counter without breaking eye contact. “Open wide, pupa” he drawled. “Do yehr fookin' best teh distract meh.”

The moment the edge of her lips touched his tip, he loosened his grip on her hair, then when her lips wrapped around him, he let go of her completely, the only thing locking her in the intensity of his eyes, dark, expectant, wild, and it ignited a familiar fire in her stomach, one that had her desperate to please him, to impress him.

A long moan fell from his lips as she slowly let him sink into her mouth, massaging the base of his shaft as her tongue swirled around him, drew him in and held him there for a moment, the pulsing of his hard length had her already drooling with need. “Baby...” she whispered as she drew back, stroking him slowly, never breaking the connection between their eyes, could sense that he was aching to make her speed up, his fingers stretching. “Let me worship you” she coaxed, suckling on his tip, tightening her lips momentarily, then pulling back just enough to be coherent again when she spoke. “Please. Please relax for me.”

He breathed out shakily, his breath trailing off into a moan as she let him sink right back into her mouth, further until her throat felt tight around the tip of him and she hummed, gripped him tightly, then swallowed around him, purring with delight when he let out a strangled moan, gripped her hair purely to steady himself, moaning shakily. “F-Fook...” he groaned.

She was taking her time, wanted the frustration of her pace to occupy him more than that about the business, needed to take his mind of off everything he could not fix right now. “Alexander” she whispered as she released him again. “Trust me.”

He groaned, let go of her hair again, but the darkness in his eyes remained, the lust behind them fuelling her. “Fookin' prove yeh deserve it.”

Her eyes sparkled and she sensed her chance, in a different way than before and she refused to waste it, wrapped her lips tightly around him again before beginning to bob her head, letting him sink inside her mouth, then releasing him, stroking him and welcoming him right back into the heat of her mouth, thriving off his moans, gradually increasing her pace.

His fingers were itching to force her down on him but every time he got too tempted, she gave him exactly what he wanted, and the way she worked for him, eager to prove to him that she could gave him a sense of control he hadn't known he craved, that left him resisting the urge to control her, because he was already doing so without a word, without even touching her, she was devoted to him in a way that didn't need his dominance apart from the natural power he'd established over her, over everyone and how it made him wish that things were always as easy as they were with her, that people would know what he needed, that people respected him and did what he asked, obeyed without instruction but because of who he was.

She tried her hardest to focus, could hear that he was not letting to entirely, that it was hard for him to let go, that he was desperate to touch her and it made her work even harder and resist letting it overwhelm her how much he was allowing.

“Take meh deeper” he rasped, his voice dark, his tone demanding. “Dun't … d-dun't make meh fook yehr mouth...”

She hummed, allowed him to sink further into her throat again and swallowing around him, her eyes tearing and she swallowed again, jerking the base of his cock, her fingers tight around him and he bucked his hips forward into her touch, had her swallowing again before she lifted off his cock and smiled with satisfaction, his demand having sparked something he had not been prepared for, the look on his face priceless, scrunched up in pleasure, a lack of control.

He opened his mouth, threatening to bark another order but no sound left his lips but a moan, it was loud and guttural and impossible to suppress as she moved closer to him, knelt by his feet and worshipped him, covering his cock with her lips, her tongue, eager to please him in the quickest and easiest way she could and he was unable to resist, didn't see a reason to order her around because she did it all herself, had him weak and feeling more powerful all at once, and he knew she was aware of what he was giving her, knew she wouldn't abuse it, there was no need to threaten with dominance, no need to justify his behaviour in front of her as much as for himself.

“Alexander...” she coaxed. “Stop thinking...”

Her plea had him ultimately give in, the way she got lost in pleasuring him, he deserved it, and he reveled in the feeling, breathing heavily, had trouble keeping his eyes open but he wanted to see it all, see every second of her submission to him, got so caught up in it, watching his cock disappear between her plush lips, then reappear, glistening before she took it right back into the heat of her mouth, inviting, blissful, building his pleasure.

She could feel his body relaxing slowly until the tension lifted from him completely, his hips now moving naturally into the temptation of her mouth, her fingers wrapped tightly around him, her tongue dancing, swirling as she sucked him inside her mouth, slowly but surely making him lose his mind until he stopped her, gasped when she guided him into her throat again and held him there, had him stepping back and smiling with satisfaction, licking her lips and gracefully rising to her feet.

“You want to be inside me?” She whispered, her gaze never leaving his as she walked backwards towards his bed, thrilled by the way he followed.

“Dun't yeh fookin' play games wif meh.”

“I'm not, baby” she assured him, stepped closer to him at the end of the bed and pushing his jacket slowly down his arms, then beginning to work on unbuttoning the rest of his shirt. “I'll do whatever you want me to...”

As much as he loved the challenge, it was turning him on immensely to see her submit to him, to not have her question him because she knew he needed it, and it aroused him to no end that without his demands she put herself below him all by herself. He eagerly discarded his shirt and kicked of his suit trousers before lowering himself onto the bed.

“I'll make you feel good...” she promised, pulling her dress over her head and straddling him before he could even think of giving an order, had worked herself up and was as desperate to feel him inside her now as she was to please him, the need between her legs, throbbing and begging for attention growing more and more prominent.

“Fookin' … please, sit down on meh...” he muttered.

“Promise to relax for me?” She asked, licking her lips as she lifted her hips to position herself on him, taking a hold of his cock to line him up with her entrance, expecting his hands to come down instantly on her hips but he gripped on to the sheets instead, wanted to feel her do this all by herself, wanted her to make all the effort, to do what she could do please him.

“Alexander” she snapped him out of it.

“F-Fook...” he groaned. “Fookin' promise, fookin' get teh work...”

He was trying his hardest to hold on, but it was worth it the moment she sank down on him, the moment he felt her wet heat enveloping him and she squeezed around him, tight and snug and he groaned loudly, watched her with wild eyes as she missed no time before beginning to roll her hips into his, brushing her hair from her face as her face scrunched up with pleasure, her walls struggling to accommodate to him but she had no regard for her own adjustment now, worked her hips into his hard, fast, took him deep and he could feel himself filling all of her, throbbing deep inside her as she squeezed him.

“Yeh're so fookin' … fook, yeh feel so fookin' good, principessa, f-fookin' faster...”

She hummed, her eyes threatening to flutter shut with pleasure as she felt the delicious stretch of his cock, the continuous burn that had her aching for more and she steadied herself with her hands spread out flat on his chest, working her hips faster, allowing him to sink deeper inside of her and his moans drove her mad with lust, had her desire nothing more but for him to come undone, to allow her to make him feel good. “A-Alexander...”

“Make an effort, doll, fookin' … oh f-fook...” His voice trailed off into a moan as she slammed her hips down hard on him, her nails digging into his chest, her lip caught between her teeth, her smooth skin shiny with sweat, her breasts bouncing, the jewel sparkling, a focus blurred with a pleasure in her eyes that made it effortless for him to lean back and enjoy her working on him, it made him feel more powerful and at the same time like he had to do nothing at all for her to please him, she was his and his alone.

She was building her own orgasm as well as his own, maybe even faster because the way he eyed her lustfully, had shifted so much and yet not at all in his power turning her on beyond reason, but she held on, he came first and she had let him know that, humming needily when she could feel his hips slowly bucking upwards, shuddering as he sank deeper inside her.

The closer he got, the harder it was not to actively take her, but he knew as well as she did that it would be so much more intense, worth it if he let her work for it and got him there without him moving so much as a finger and he gasped when she suddenly slowed, his eyes widening. “Jade...”

“Shhh, baby, I know you're close” she whispered, could feel him tensing but she wanted to see how far she could take it, as much as she wanted to make him feel good, she wanted to make it count as more than a quick fuck, wanted to build him to make him come hard, and make him come good.

He breathed shakily, tried his hardest to maintain the self-control he'd had because of what he'd allowed and he watched her wide eyes. “Please...” he grunted, his chest rising and falling quickly and he could hardly breathe. “Fookin' need yeh, f-fookin' do tha' again, squeeze me fookin' cock wif yehr cunt...”

She licked her lips. “You want me to make you come, baby?”

He nodded eagerly, the warning in his eyes enough to slowly pick up her pace again and his gaze softened instantly, had him submit to her movements as he gasped for air shakily, could barely contain himself as she worked his cock inside her again, her pace building and building and with ease she had him right on the edge again.

“I want you to relax” she whispered. “Relax. Trust me.”

He exhaled sharply when despite the softness of her words she sped up, rolled her hips into him faster and harder and had him sinking deep inside her repeatedly, again and again and she was as close as him, her back arching but she forced her eyes on his and the look in them made his hips buck up as his orgasm ripped through his body, a loud groan escaping him as the waves of pleasure took over, washed over him further and further and consuming him whole, all the tension that he had built up when taking what was his going up in smoke as she did it all for him, gave him what he knew was his without needing to be told and forcing him into what he wouldn't have done for his own pleasure but needed so badly.

She held herself steady as she squeezed around him, riding out both their orgasms as she slowed the movement of her hips but didn't allow them to cease until they'd both come down, panting, shaking, attempting desperately to catch their breaths.

“J-Jade...” he muttered, his voice steadier than he'd anticipated, but she cut him off, leaned down and cupped his face into her hands, pressing her lips to his.

She felt him relax once again, felt his lips melt into hers as their bodies were pressed together, connected and stuck and she kissed him harder, felt no resistance or attempt of dominance from him, merely drew back when she could feel that he as well as her needed to take a breath, squealing when his arm looped around her and she felt his muscles tense only to pull her down into his arm, had her whimpering as he slipped out of her and forced her into bed next to him, struggling to pull up the covers underneath them.

She hummed appreciatively, her fingertips trailing slowly up his chest. “Mmmm, well, that was good, wasn't it?”

Her scent had locked him in, had him desperate and yet, he'd never held her closer, possessive, she was not going to let this one go, ever. He burned for her, and there was no putting out the blaze. “Well, dun't yeh fookin' get used teh it.”

She giggled, pressed a kiss to his chest as he stroked her hair back and she pressed herself closer to him. “Anything you want” she hummed, closing her eyes.

“I alwehs get wha' I fookin' want.”

[bettsfic]

a third stance on the moral dichotomy of fandom

i have one more thing to say, or i guess reiterate, on the topic of moral purity policing in fanfiction as perpetuated by minors, in a more rebloggable format than my previous asks. what i have to say is an incredibly unpopular opinion because it takes neither side of this dichotomized issue, and addresses, not the minors perpetuating the purity rhetoric, but the adults fighting against it. 

first i’ll offer a run-down of the overall issue at hand:

side 1, or what i call “think of the CHILDREN”: there is a large sect of people in fandom right now, mostly teens and young adults as far as i can tell, who believe that taboo works (noncon and underage) should not be allowed to exist. if they are written, they should be flagged and subsequently taken down. these people seem to hold these beliefs for several reasons, the prevailing ones being “fiction affects reality” and “children might read it!!” this stance is the active one, the (literal) minority, the side trying to enact change upon an established and (legally) supported status quo. these people do not separate the art from the artist. 

in practice, these beliefs are aggressive and toxic. we see them in rude or cruel anonymous asks urging writers to kill themselves. we see them in “only follow if” and “do not interact if” pages with lengthy bullet point lists of traits and behaviors that are Not Okay. we see them in yfip. we see them in anti tags. we see them in long, poorly researched and contextualized responses to well-meaning pro-”ship and let ship” posts. we see them in accusations of pedophilia for fics and ships that are not in fact pedophilic. we see them in phrases like “abuse apologists” and “problematic” and “romanticize” and “fetishize.” 

despite the seeming growth of what i’ve been calling the Gen Z Puritanical Movement, what we see on tumblr is only a narrow view of a much wider issue spanning outside fandom and into the world of art itself. it stems from problems of decades past, McCarthyism, the Hays Code, the nuclear family, for example, and the subsequent counterculture movements against them. right now Gen X has all the power and prestige in the enormous world art, and being the children of Baby Boomers, they simultaneously believe you must always separate the art from the artist, while also widely disbelieving (or having had to learn) that inequality and disenfranchisement have any bearing in the success of art. 

“the discourse” as we call it has its roots in every creative field and we are in midst of a revolution in the way we understand and interact with art. i believe, with any revolution, the answer is not in stalling it but negotiating with it, learning from it, interrogating it, and adapting. 

side 2, which i’ll unpack below, is comprised mostly of what i would venture are Millennials, and fall somewhere between Gen Z purity and Gen X freedom. and as much as i want to discuss this gaping chasm of beliefs further, i’m specifically talking about the way transformative art is presently policed by side 1.

which brings us to the other side.

side 2, or what i call “i do what i WANT”: these people believe that a fan writer/artist should be able to write, post, and share with the public any creative work the mind can devise as long as it is warned/tagged properly, and all people who do not want to view their art should walk away and not interact. key phrases include “ship and let ship” and “don’t like, don’t read.” the prevailing root of this belief is that all art is valid and important, all art belongs, even when that art is devised entirely by the id. additionally, they believe they do not have to justify, defend, or explain their art in order for it to exist, and most importantly, it is every reader/viewer’s responsibility to understand the difference between fiction and reality. these people separate art from the artist. 

in practice, these beliefs are poised to defend of the attacks from side 1. this is a reaction to a movement, an assertion of maintaining the status quo. we see posts speaking to an audience of side 1, pleading or at times demanding for them to learn not only the fraught history of fanworks but also the greater context of art and censorship. these posts are then reblogged by people with similar beliefs, attacked by side 1, and no one seems to really learn anything at all. the dichotomy is maintained. battles end as posts fall into obscurity, but the war rages on.

side 2 holds the status quo, the most common sense. it is the most educated perspective, upheld by the wiser and older parties of fandom, the transformative artists who have lived through strikethrough and boldthrough and have experienced the damaging consequences of the censorship and ideology of side 1. moreover, it is upheld by the actual people who built and run the archive on which our art rests. in this dichotomy, side 2 has all the power. side 2 is the majority. 

here’s where i get to my incredibly unpopular opinion:

people in positions of power have no reason to meet aggression with more aggression except to re-establish and assert that power over the minority opinion. aggression does not sway the minority opinion; it only fuels it. 

in other, more practical words, we are ADULTS sharing a public community space with CHILDREN, and some of those children have made it clear that they are angry. 

why do we meet that anger with anger when we are older and wiser and have all the authority? if a child is having a violent tantrum, do you punch them in the face? no, you hold their wrists. you calm them down. you ask them what’s wrong. you try to parse out what happened and work together to make sure it doesn’t happen again. you can’t expect them to articulate that anger; you have to ask questions. you have to listen to them.

side 1 says that taboo works are wrong and bad and shameful. i personally disagree with that belief, but my curiosity lies in the extreme emotional reaction and value judgments behind it. and when enough people are angry about something, if a movement becomes wide enough, it means there is something else going on, some seed of truth happening somewhere -- a needle in a haystack, an invisible shard of glass on the kitchen floor -- that needs to be found. i’m not saying side 1 is right, but i am saying that there is something in that anger which might ring true, even if the toxic rhetoric they are spouting is not. i don’t know what that truth is, and the point of this post is not to find it, but to encourage us to seek bigger answers about this very big problem.

side 2, you might be saying, they’re not children, they’re teenagers and young adults. you might be saying, when i was their age, i knew to obey the etiquette of fandom. you might be saying, we are not equals, they should be learning from us. you might be saying, it’s their responsibility to know fiction from reality. you might be saying, none of this is my responsibility. you might be saying, this movement is getting bigger and scarier and it may become an actual threat to our art. 

and you might be feeling: i have no interest in logically or morally defending the taboo nature my aesthetic interests. i know that they appeal to me, and i know i should not be tasked with or required to publicly explain myself. i should not have to assert that art is separate from the artist. i should not have to endure aggressive mobs of anons in my inbox. i should not be chased away by pitchforks held by my own community. i should not be accused of being a predator, rapist, abuse apologist, or pedophile. 

and maybe you know that you are not any of those things, and to be accused of them is ridiculous and appalling, but maybe it still hurts to be called all of that which makes life so dangerous and cruel. maybe it always hurts to have your art misunderstood.

this brings me back to anger. all anger is devised of pain and fear. we get angry when we’re hurt and scared. when i see two angry sides of a wide divide, all i see is that fear and pain, and all i want is to lessen it. 

on side 1, we have a group of young people whose only context is the present and whose only fear is the future. i put myself in the shoes of what it must be like to be a teenager in america in 2018, how different it is from when i was a teenager. teen stars on red carpet events in 2005 dressed in ugly cargo pants and sweatshirts. millie bobby brown at 13 was dressed like a supermodel at last year’s emmy’s. young people today have more and easier access to information pertaining to violence and sex, consume media steeped in those things, than they ever have. and it’s becoming increasingly difficult for parents to keep them from that interaction. side 2′s rhetoric around this is to wipe their hands free of it -- “your parents should monitor what you’re doing on the internet.” and they should, they absolutely should, but while technology has changed, teenage curiosity hasn’t. i clicked past every 18+ warning i’ve ever seen in my life, and that was my choice, and i handled the consequences. 

but just for a second imagine being 14 again, and curiosity getting the best of you, and clicking on something in which your physical equivalent is being hurt and abused and eroticized. can you imagine not having any understanding of the greater context of what you’ve just read, in art or in life? wouldn’t you be scared too, to know those things exist? wouldn’t you be reluctant to listen to the explanation of them when you are young and afraid and suddenly aware that you can be hurt? 

i am not encouraging writers to stop creating taboo fanworks. i think they have an important artistic purpose and function and place, and i value any mind that can conceive and face such darkness. but as someone who aims to understand as much as i possibly can about what it is to be human, to be alive today, i am inclined to consider the various interpretations of taboo art and its potential repercussions. 

teenagers today are more aware and attuned to -- and have constant access to -- current events than any other generation before, but that does not mean they have learned or educated themselves on the historical context of these events in order to understand them fully. they don’t have a wide perspective, but they do have their moral compasses guided by the abhorrence of the constant human rights violations that occur on macro and micro scales every single day, and it’s those compasses that place value judgments on the content they consume in fandom, the place where they feel, i speculate, the most valued. the place they have the most power and sway. the only place, maybe, that their voice and fear and anger is ever heard, witnessed, responded to, taken seriously. 

being a teenager today is a completely new and terrifying machine made of old parts. we, the adults in fandom, understand the parts but not the machine. how can all the same parts make something so different from us? who built this monster, and how to we destroy it? why is it attacking us when there are bigger and more important battles to fight? why doesn’t it go read a fucking book for once?

that brings us to side 2. if side 1 has the future, side 2 has the past. we see the toxic rhetoric of side 1 and we know what consequences can come of it because we’ve lived the worst of it. we have both the pain of the past and the fear of the future to handle, and neither are easy to cope with. 

so what do we do? we either get angry and fight back, or disengage. sometimes i think the latter is the most toxic of all, because i believe it’s every artist’s responsibility to understand the work they’re doing and the greater context of that work, how it fits in their given lexicon of art. they should not be required to defend it or speak for it, but they should know it. inside and out, they should know their art and why they make it. 

i also believe, if you know your art and why you make it, if you can separate yourself the artist from the art, why disengage from those who are repulsed but reaching out? it’s definitely my gut instinct to meet cruelty with anger and upsetness, but cruelty also piques my curiosity -- i want to know where the repulsion comes from. i want to ask questions. why are you offended by this art? how have you interpreted it? why are you afraid of it? how has its existence hurt you? if nothing else, it always gives me a broader understanding of my work and how it can be seen, which is invaluable feedback for any artist. 

if there is any bridge at all to be built between this divide, i think it is in our ability to ask questions, listen to the answers, and use those answers, not to argue with or defend ourselves or to become upset by, but to ask more questions. 

here are two ways this mentality has helped me -- 

in my old job (commercial finance real estate), i worked with upperclass middle-aged white men who got paid six figures a year to golf and cheat on their wives while i did all their paperwork. eventually i made a hobby of sitting in their offices and asking them questions, knowing they had authority over me, knowing our opinions differed. knowing i had no place to argue with them or leverage in telling them all the ways i felt they were wrong about politics and society at large. i pretended they were teaching me things, showing me the way of the world. i let them believe that, and i continued asking questions, forcing them to articulate aloud why they believed what they believed, hours and hours, slowly boxing them into corners from which they would eventually change their own minds.

in my current job (i’m a college instructor) i do something similar. i sit down with every single student one on one and i ask them questions about their political and social beliefs. often my students are 19, white, straight, affluent, conservative young adults who hold many of the same puritanical ideas as that of side 1 with less of the toxic rhetoric. at first, i was terrified to do this. it was different than my old job because suddenly i was the one with authority. i thought, what if i encounter racism? prejudice? sexism? what if they are fundamentally wrong on every level, and won’t listen to me, someone who knows the greater context of their opinions? what if i end up arguing with them? what if they don’t respect me? what if i can’t change their minds? and most importantly -- is it my responsibility to change their minds at all?

after the first semester, i realized how young they were, how much they still had left to grow, and learn, and live, and that my class would not be able to teach them everything they needed to know in order to strip away the prejudices and narrow-mindedness of their upbringings. i learned that all i could do was be a person in a position of authority listening to their beliefs and asking them tough questions no one has ever asked them. forcing them on the spot to articulate the beliefs they have not before had the opportunity to interrogate. i find i rarely agree with what they say, but i validate their right and ability to say it. to have a voice and space and responsibility in and to society. to think, itself. and most importantly to think through their ideals, which they cannot do if they are never given a chance to be heard, if they are never asked the questions whose answers will lead them to deeper and more meaningful insights.

i have never changed the mind of a single person by arguing, but i have changed several minds by asking. 

we have an entire generation of terrified young people who are lashing out, and i do not want to hate them. i do not want to meet their rage and toxicity with fear, defensiveness, and dismissal. i want to sympathize and listen. i want to know more about why they feel how they feel, what the real root of it is, the seeds of truth behind the rhetoric. i want to understand. and mostly, i want to help fix all the broken and awful things in the greater sociopolitical sphere that have built this terrifying machine and dug our moral divide.

[patchdotexe]

Fix-it Leo: Katie / KG

welcome to something im tenatively calling “fix-it leo”, where i take my really old OCs and try to make sense of them! i’ve previously done this with Shadowy, which you can read here. seeing as im redrawing & “bringing back” a few other old ocs i figured id make this a series of talking about things! unlike the Shadowy one this doesnt have pictures beyond the initial ref bc i dont want to murder my hand and im also not sure how to draw some of this

today’s subject: Katie! also known as KG.

KG’s from 2010-ish, so some time after Shadowy but before the Shattered Worlds rework. to be as specific as possible, he’s from a RP setting that people that have known me closely have at least heard mentioned, if not seen snippets of it outright: KL, the massive crossover including any character and setting me & my friends wanted to RP.

as a self-insert character in crossover hell, Katie is VERY weird.

it was really hard for me to find info on Katie, because i actually had a bunch of OCs using that name that were my direct self-inserts for RP & story purposes both in and outside of KL. the unifying idea was that he was kinda just Me but in a fictional universe... and, apparently according to what info i DID find, all of the various Katies were. actually the same person, just in various conflicting situations with various conflicting backstories? so me stitching it all together got kinda weird. i did find a starting point though, so, uh... here we go!

as a general overview, Katie is pretty much just me. autistic, ADHD, likes videogames and art, bad social anxiety conflicting with desperately needing validation from everyone around him. he also has a very short temper and no volume control, which was usually a comedy thing but could also lead to him lashing out and doing/saying things he regrets, mostly hurting his friends. as a result he was kinda unpopular in his hometown... except for a small handful of friends he went to school with.

one night, he decides to go camp out with his friends to watch a meteor shower cause hes pretty fascinated by comets & shit like that. one of his friends, Elson, was acting pretty weird about it but Katie’s too excited to take much note of it up until the meteor shower “starts early” and Elson runs off into the woods. confused and startled, he gives chase. then, uh, the fucking apocalypse happens.

a lot of plot happens that im skipping over bc this is gonna be long enough as it is, but it gets revealed that Elson is actually an incognito alien named Elohim and an alien invasion is happening and wiping out civilization, and Katie is just. running out of sanity. being a main character SUCKS. he has a tragic backstory now, his friend (who he kind of had a crush on?) is an alien and is partially responsible for his tragic backstory, they join a rebellion after confirming “yeah your family’s dead as hell” and go to space, and finally find out that the leader of the aliens got a case of “jewelry makes you evil”.

they save the day obvs, with the help of some other people they ran into, and Katie has a moment of “well, fuck” bc his hometown is still extremely exploded and his family is still extremely dead and he’s like .5 miliseconds away from a mental breakdown. he then has a conversation that goes roughly like this:

person that helped them bust out of alien jail: hey, i think i know someplace you can stay katie: my house exploded person: cmon trust me

and then it turns out that that guy is actually Ninten and he’d just helped save the world with a fictional character, and before he has any opportunity to go “wait, what” he gets pulled through a portal by him and ends up somewhere totally different. more specifically, he’s now in the Earthbound universe, and his brain is going “[dial up noises]” a whole lot bc its not like his life was weird ENOUGH now he’s just... ditched his home reality??? with Ninten’s help??? and Ninten’s taking all of it in stride and ends up explaining the multiverse to him and that he’s one of the guys who ended up with the ability to worldhop and had stopped by Katie’s universe because he knew the possessed alien guy. he’s also apparently used to having to help people acclimate to massive paradigm shifts caused by multiversal fuckery.

so Katie’s just kinda trying to wrap his head around this, but takes Ninten up on his offer to go get to meet people and he goes to the Nowhere Islands! which was like, basically the hub location of KL. and then things get EXTRA surreal for Katie, because like... he used to write fanfic, and come up with story ideas that he daydreamed about a lot before everything exploded, and he bumps into Kurousu who is his OC. and there’s a lot of “UHHHH”-ing but he plays it off and befriends her, and its finally starting to sink in that yeah, he’s hanging out in this super weird crossover reality now, and he tries to make the most of it!

then some... weird things start happening. Tank, Joseph, and Vince make a jump to the Persona universe to do some plot stuff and run into Katie there, where he’s apparently joined SEES? except the last time they’d seen him, he’d been acting as a lackey to one of the arc villains because of a FMian from the Megaman universe screwing with him and taking advantage of his trauma to create a “new” Gemini Spark. and they start to write it off as “well i guess he’s like Tails where there’s some AUs of him running around” except... he recognizes them each time? but looks different and has different backstories and nothing really adds up. the next time a protagonist sees him, it’s Artemis post-getting turned into a Nobody finding Katie’s Nobody, Teixak, who apparently was very excited about getting to meet Roxas... despite, according to himself, having been living in Twilight Town for as long as he could remember. while also being very aware and very confused that that contradicts everything else about him.

teixak: eeee you mean i get to meet roxas?! he’s my favourite kingdom hearts character!! >w< rasemtix: ...you do realize you just told me youre from this universe, right? you were just explaining to me about how you lived here with leixand until the shadows attacked you two and stole your hearts. teixak: eh..? hm. ............Hm. but.... hm.

meanwhile on Katie’s end of things, he gets his heart stuffed back in his body and he reconciles with his externalized FMian-induced evil side and various other things from various other worlds, but everything feels weird and disjointed. he remembers attending school at Gekkougan, but also remembers living in Echo Ridge, but also remembers Twilight Town, but also remembers living in a boring world that got invaded by aliens where also all of this was just videogames and books and animes and OCs. and then things start getting weirder for him. he makes a joke to Artemis about “hey, remember when we got in a big fight cause i hit you with a sign?” and he doesn’t remember it. he teases Ninten about something personal and Ninten freezes up and asks him how he knows that, and Katie gets confused because he told him. he has an even more personal talk with T1, and then has  the same talk later but with slightly different words. and it’s starting to look like it’s not just “various Katies”, it’s Katie also dealing with various... varieties of everyone else, and he’s pretty much spinning a wheel on “what version of events am i in today?”

he finally gets an answer after a while-- something went really weird and really wrong when Ninten first brought him into the KL multiverse. the Katie that told Gomess about the Andromeda Key is the same Katie that joined SEES is the same Katie that got his heart stolen is the same Katie that got rescued from an apocalypse, but he’s sort of... existing simultaneously in different realities with slight “adjustments” to his personal history depending on what universe he’s encountered in. he also exists “outside of canon”, so some of the weirder memories he has are from rewrites or scrapped plotlines or noncanon moments that sometimes clip into canon when theyre not supposed to. apocalypse!Katie is the “primary”/original Katie, and that’s where all his weird meta knowledge comes from.

it’s... really confusing, and nobody really “gets” it, least of all Katie himself. he just knows that he’s ended up with a bunch of cool powers, although he’s not  really sure what he’s doing and has been a villain at least two universes. he also has a severe case of main character-itis (hence getting a Persona, getting his heart stolen, etc), and still isnt sure how to tell if he’s interacting with the “canon” versions of everybody or not. he’s at least unable to cause weird bizarre paradoxes by interacting with himself; trying to visit one of the universes he has an “echo” in just causes a perspective switch to the resident Katie. Katie also has access to all of his abilities as long as he’s not in a universe with a resident Katie; apocalypse!Katie has no abilities at all, starforce!Katie only has his FMian transformation, kh!Katie can only use his Keyblade, etc. this only starts being a thing after he “clicks” with his new existence.

he also has various outfits and aesthetics depending on universe, with the one i drew being his “outside canon“/default one. he gets cat ears! and Outsider eyes. Katie also has a bad habit of stealing things from universes he visits, and as a result has a collection of random things that he really shouldnt.

[not-so-freshman]

When It Clicks.

Becca x MC (Alison)

on a evening where Alison convinces Becca to try a game with her nerdy friends.

Word Count:1800+

This was requested by absolutely no one, i just wanted to write it for me, and that is why i started writing to start with, for me and my silly ideas. I had a lot of  fun with it, and i hope you enjoy it too. (Also not been proof-read, sorry.)

“So, you want me to play some video game with you?” Becca said, slightly surprised at the suggestion, she was sure she never shown any indication at being into any such thing before.

“Yeah! Why not, isn’t that what couples do? Take an interest in each other’s hobbies and interests?” Alison was excited at the idea, she was really interested in seeing how Becca would react, whether she would enjoy it. Becca was always full of surprises, she had managed to get into watching The Crown and The Flame with Alison, something previously conceived to be far to nerdy for Becca to endure never mind enjoy.

“Don’t you think playing video games is a little childish, oh wait look who I’m talking to!” Becca mocked, Alison smiled in return, she did rather enjoy the teasing back and forth that they had, it was one of the reasons why they worked. Becca’s smile quickly faded and her face fell, her eyes following, dropping to the floor as she questioned herself. “Won’t I be absolutely useless? I wouldn’t want you to get fed up with me.”

“i’m really not that competitive, besides you’ve shown yourself to be very adaptable.”

Becca rolled her eyes, and blew out a sharp exhale almost in defeat, she did make a very good argument. And how could she say no to that half smile Alison always pulled when she knew she came out on top with an indefensible argument.

“I still can’t believe I agreed to do this.” Becca said in complete disbelief, had she really fallen so far since her parent’s divorce. she couldn’t help but think to herself, the college’s queen bee about to play a video game with the campus’ nerd herd.

Alison, Tyler and Trip all took seats around the kitchen table with their laptops, they started to get comfortable, shifting in their seats as they loaded up the game they would be playing. Becca rather reluctantly took a seat next to Alison, her subconscious looking for a little bit of comfort and familiarity, about to take part in something, less familiar. And rather surprisingly she found herself grow a tad nervous as Abbie walked over placing her laptop in front of her. “its all ready to go Becca” Abbie said enthusiastically, seemingly curious at how the girl would fair, but then she seemed to remember something, she remembered who she was talking to. “please don’t break it.”

“Why would I break it?” Becca asked, quite confused at what she was suggesting.

“She means thank you for letting her use it.” Alison corrected on Becca’s behalf.

Before they started playing for real, they took Becca into the practice range so she could get used to basic movement, controls and concept. But After about 10 minutes, she got antsy and they grouped up.

Select your hero

Becca looked through all the character portraits, as quickly as she could, but she was very aware of the ticking timer and quickly felt hard pressed to pick despite being completely overwhelmed. She knows she should probably ask for a suggestion, she even knows that Alison wouldn’t mind, but Becca, she is independent in everything she does, and picking a hero in this silly video game was not going to be an exception. She wanted to impress, she was adaptable after all.

Oh she’s gorgeous, I’ll pick her. She thought to her self, finally settling on an angelic blonde bombshell, who’s looks rivalled her own.

Few moments later.

“What am I meant to do with a stick!!” Becca said with a raised voice, she was getting quite frustrated having died for the 3rd time in a row, and only a minute in.

“You can heal or damage boost, or swap to her pistol.” Tyler said, before throwing his arms up having his character meet an unnecessary demise, being just a few feet from Becca’s hero.

“so, I’m essentially useless!?” Becca questioned.

“Not useless! You are very important part of the team, you support people” Alison said reassuringly. “Just like you do with me in real life.”

Becca blushed, an “awww” creeping out of her mouth without permission, slightly betraying her cool, tough exterior, her eyes connected with Alison’s and they smiled warmly at each other before quickly leaning in to touch lips.

Match lost.

“Ooooops, sorry guys.” Alison said, apologizing to Tripp and Tyler, their small kiss causing them to wipe and lose the point, losing them the match at break neck speed.

Tyler laughed though in good spirits. “Its fine, it was kind of cute.” “yeaaa, real cute.” Tripp said rather unconvincingly, Becca went unusually quite and kept to herself, aware of the loss she was sort of accountable for.

“Maybe Mercy isn’t for you.” Tyler calmly suggested picking up on her change of mood, he looked at Becca and studied her, thinking back on her past actions. “Maybe you need a more offensive character.” he concluded, Becca quirked her eyes brows at him, questioning him with her eyes, a gaze so intense Tyler began to boil. “Oh, I don’t mean offensive as in aggressive, I mean offensive like more, erm sassy?? And badass and erm.”

Becca rolled her eyes and began to look through all the characters again as another timer counted down to the start of another round.

“There is just so many to choose from.” Becca said, she sounded almost disheartened.

“We could try mystery heroes? Its out of Becca’s hands then” Alison suggested. Tyler nodded in agreement and backed the party out of the match before the next round.

They all enter the next match and the game randomly selects everyone’s hero, they all jump around spawn waiting for the timer to reach 0, and the door to open, Becca wasting time walks up to a mirror in the waiting lobby and is greeted by her characters reflection.

“OMG? Is this me? This giant gross pig? How do I change?” she says in complete and utter disgust at the rotund figure.

“ITS MYSTERY HEROES!!!” Tripp shouted losing his cool. His ears instantly enflame in red when all the eyes in the room stare at him, he cleared his throat nervously. “sorry, that was very uncandian of me.”

“You only change when you die.” Alison decided to add, glossing over Tripp’s uncharacteristic outburst.

“When I die you say?” Becca says a hint of mischief in her voice, the door for the spawn room opens, as if on queue. Becca steers her rounded character to the end of the map and jumps off the side, she even lets out a playful and snide giggle, pleased with herself and her skirting around the rules, or so she thought.

“Oh, but they patched it so if you kill yourself you stay the same character” Tyler decided to add a few moments to late as Becca’s Roadhog had already fallen to an early demise and respawned.

“For fu-“

-          Later in the match. -

Several team deaths and several respawns later, Becca seemed to be picking up the game, controls were becoming second nature, hero depending. She was even picking up on the games objectives. That didn’t mean she didn’t make any mistakes though.

“Alison look, look!” Becca shouted out excitedly, quickly following it up with a cackle.

Alison shifted to the side and looks on with a big grin on her face, pleased and surprised Becca seemed to be enjoying herself. “I just blocked this idiot from getting in the room with my ice wall!!!” she said beaming.

“THAT WAS ME!” shouted out Tripp once again, a voice carrying the weight of mounting past losses, something he was not used to. He closed his laptop, strangely calm, almost liked he had snapped and he stared out to space. Alison and Becca took the opportunity to get up, stretch their legs and get a drink and a snack.

“You doing okay Becca?” Alison asked, she only got a shy nod as reply. “You actually seemed to be having fun.” She said to Becca, she placed a hand on the small of her back. A tiny display of comfort.

“I... actually was, and don’t tell anyone I said that!”

“But?”

“But I’m clearly not very good at this Overlook or what ever its called.” Becca says disappointed but Alison smiles warmly.

“I think, it just hasn’t fully clicked with you yet, once you find ‘your hero’ you might end up having more fun with it.”

“so, what I hear you saying is...” Becca speaks softly as she saunters up to Alison with a wicked smile, she captures her by the waist and reels her in, close. “...I just need to find the right person, that fits me.” She says her smile growing ever wider.

‘Yeah, I guess I am, you just know when it clicks.” She says as she wraps her arms around Becca’s neck, pulling her close.

Alison and Becca return to the kitchen table just as Tyler pats Tripp on his shoulder encouragingly, trying to convince him to continue playing with them.

“You know I seem to remember a certain KappaCutie not being very good at this either, but still we played on.” Tyler said knowingly, unusually confident for himself. Tripp laughed inwardly and clasped Tyler on the shoulder just as he did before opening back up his laptop. “You’re right buddy.”

They played another hour, each time being dragged to defeat by Becca as she tried through the many characters, trying to find someone who worked for her. They’re were a few she actually enjoyed but even less she could use.

The sun was setting, as afternoon faded to the evening and they all agreed on one last game.

The 4 of them fought tooth and nail, it was close all the way through, they defended with everything they had. The match’s end balanced on a thin edge on overtime, Alison’s team just needed to keep their enemies away from the capture point just long enough for the timer to tick down. Her team were flailing and it was seeming more and more likely that would concede defeat. But then a loud roar sounded out simultaneously from everyone’s laptops, a big red ape jumped into Alison’s view, swing his arms wildly in a rage.

Double kill!

Triple kill!

The over grown ape killed half the team, the other 3 knocked away from the payload, the timer rapidly began to wind down, granting Alison’s team the victory.

Victory!

“Wow did we finally win?!” Becca exclaimed, not fully certain if she was following properly. Alison, Tyler and Tripp stared at the screens, disbelieving what they had witnessed.

Play of the game!

“Hey! That’s me!” Becca said even more surprised than before. She looked around, puzzled at the silence. she expected a little more excitement for their first win together.

“Oh…my” The three said in unison, their mouths dropped open in surprise, Tyler shook his head in realization.

“Becca’s a Winston main!”

[backtothestart02]

Christmas with the Newlyweds | A westallen x parkwest fanfiction

For @inksmudge on her birthday!! Happy Birtheday, hun!! You’re amazing and deserve everything!!!

(I’m really cutting it close here, but it’s still in before midnight, so it still counts in my book!! lol. I hope you enjoy it, dear! - And everyone else too!!)

*Big thanks to @valeriemperez for beta’ing on such short notice & getting it back to me just in time! You’re awesome!!

Synopsis: 4x09 - Canon Divergent - The Christmas Party goes as planned with no arrests and no interruptions, except for a couple surprise visitors.

Rating: General Audiences

Romantic Pairings: Barry & Iris, Wally & Linda

 Settled at the kitchen, her ankle pleasantly brushing up against her husband’s knee, Iris took in the surroundings. It was a shame Cecile – and Wally – couldn’t be here to experience it, but there was so much joy and happiness humming in the air. After the tension of the last couple days, after fretting about how she’d let her levelheadedness as a leader swamp every nerve ending in her body that screamed at her – what if? What if Barry doesn’t make it? What if you made the right call but you lost the love of your life all over again and this time he couldn’t be brought back? What if???

But the familiar rush that tossed her hair about and sent chills racing down her spine returned to her as if it had never left. And there he was – tired, exhausted, but all Barry. All hers and back in her arms. He was barely letting go, but she needed to just hold onto him for a while, to breathe in his scent, feel the warmth of his body holding her too, and forget all her worries. Because she almost lost him, but she hadn’t.

And now they were at a Christmas party with almost everybody they loved. Ralph is questionably pleasant, but she wouldn’t let herself be bothered by that. Even Dominic was a welcome addition. She smiled to herself, counting her blessings. Even the mystery of why there had been no counter attack from Devoe could be dismissed tonight. It was Christmas, her first Christmas as a wife – and in this moment, she couldn’t be happier.

“What?” she heard Barry say and flicked her eyes in his direction.

“Hmm?”

His sappy, incredibly sexy grin made her feel hot all over, a feeling which miraculously subsided when she remembered there were people no more than a few feet away.

“What’re you thinking about?” he asked, nudging her foot a little with his leg.

She bit her bottom lip, smiling.

“Just thinking how lucky we are.” She reached her hand across the table. Barry met it halfway and intertwined their fingers. “How happy I am.”

He pulled their hands to his lips and kissed her knuckles.

“Me too. And it’s only going to get better.”

She had to look away after a while because the pure adoration in his eyes was almost overwhelming. Her gaze fell to his ring finger when he set their hands back on the table, and she felt her heart leap into her throat.

“What?” he asked again, a teasing lilt to his voice as he smiled at her.

“It’s nothing. I just…”

He raised his eyebrows, waiting.

“I can’t believe we’re finally married,” she admitted, her eyes shining. “This is our first Christmas together as a married couple and God, that ring looks really good on your finger.” She gave a short laugh, aware that she was gushing over such a simple thing.

“Oh yeah?” he asked, lifting her hand and angling it so her rings could be seen. “Your wedding band doesn’t look too shabby either.”

She rolled her eyes, fighting a smile.

“That’s different. I’ve had this diamond on my finger for months. You’ve had time to get used to it. Adding a wedding band to it shouldn’t come as big of a surprise to you. Your ring on the other hand…is new to me.”

Barry laughed. “Used to it?” He shook his head. “Iris, I am never going to get used to the fact that you’re my wife.”

Iris felt the shivers run up and down her spine as he said that word.

“You say it so nonchalantly.” She looked away again, bashful even though she had no need to be. Barry practically quoted romantic soliloquys to her in his sleep. “As if-”

“It’s not the reason stars burn bright and time stands still?”

She lifted her gaze to his. “Isn’t it, though?”

Barry’s eyes softened, and he started to lean in. Iris could already feel the press of his lips and the warmth of his breath before he’d descended far enough to touch her.

The moment their lips brushed, there was a knock on the door. Regretfully they turned to see who it was, and everyone else broke from their conversations out of mild curiosity as well.

“Oh my God, Wally!” Iris immediately sprang to her feet and crossed the room, engulfing her brother in a ginormous hug the second she spotted his face as he walked through the door. Joe barely had a chance to get his hello in before his daughter interrupted.

“Hey, Iris,” Wally gushed in return. “I’ve missed you, too.”

“I thought you were in Cambodia,” Joe said when Iris finally released her brother.

“I was,” he confirmed. “But, I, uh, met someone there.”

A devilish glint shone in Joe and Iris’ – and to be fair everyone’s – eyes as Wally started to babble.

“She…” He cleared his throat. “She-”

“She thought,” the pretty woman pushed past him from on the step behind him, “that this boy had better see his family for the holidays, since she hadn’t seen them in a while either.”

Iris’ jaw dropped. Barry’s slow stride suddenly sped up a little, just as shocked as the rest of them.

“I don’t get it. Who’s this?” Ralph asked in the two-second silence.

“Oh, my God, Linda?!” Iris pushed her brother aside, nearly causing him to fall over as their dad caught him in his arms. “What were you… You were in Cambodia?!” She pulled back from the crushing hug. “How did you – wait.” Suddenly everything clicked. “Are you and my brother—”

“Together?” Linda let the single word hang in the deafening silence as the surrounding guests waited with baited breath. Her eyes shifted over to a bashful yet proud Wally standing in the corner. “In a manner of speaking,” she allowed.

Harry slowly walked up between them.

“You do know that he just got out of a very serious relationship…”

“Harry-” Joe warned.

“With my daughter,” he continued, tuning the older West out.

The tension was so thick in the room, Iris couldn’t decide whether to defend her brother or Linda or even Harry on Jesse’s behalf.

“So did I,” Linda retorted.

“What?” Barry and Iris asked simultaneously.

“With who?” Cisco demanded, having re-emerged into the house when he saw Wally and Linda walking up the front steps from the street outside.

“Does it matter?” She raised an eyebrow daringly.

Cisco’s eyes squinted but he said nothing.

“You have a vibing girlfriend who just sent you a sex cube, Cisco,” Caitlin muttered under her breath.

“I’m aware of that,” Cisco said defensively. “I was just asking who-”

Joe closed his eyes and pressed a hand to his forehead before moving out of the cluster of individuals towards the kitchen.

“I need some ‘nog,” he said, heading straight for the mug that he decided had his name written all over it.

Harry stayed glaring at Linda for a while before she finally matched his pointed stare with one of her own.

“We’re taking it slow,” she said, genuine in her response, not in her tone. “I’m no more interested in jumping into something that might very well crash and burn than he is, I assure you. And I would be happy to meet your daughter at any time, since Wally has done nothing but talk fondly of her.”

Harry relaxed some, glanced over at Wally, then back at Linda.

“I’m happy for you two,” he suddenly said and headed in the direction Joe had gone.

Linda looked at Wally for an explanation, but he shrugged helplessly, so she turned to Iris who quickly looped her arm around hers and tugged her across the room.

“Tell me everything about Cambodia,” she gushed, looking pointedly over her shoulder at Wally as they walked farther away. “You’re next.”

Wally pointed to his chest, a degree of fear reverberating there.

“Me? What did I-”

“Come on, man,” Barry said, saving him and squeezing his shoulder from the other side. “Sit by the fireplace with us. It’s way better than whatever they have in Cambodia.”

Wally laughed and nodded. “Okay, yeah, I’ll do that.”

Barry grinned, more of his pearly whites shining through when the door opened once again to reveal and unexpected by warmly embraced Cecile and Joanie Horton. That entrance really boosted up Joe’s mood, and in no time Harry was borderline terrorizing Joanie on what she planned to do with her future, surprising them all when she said simply, “I’m thinking something scientific.”

Later she responded to Iris’ questing for a more specific position in the scientific field, “Oh my God, I hate science.” Iris almost spit out her eggnog. “But that guy would not shut up. What was I supposed to do? Endure lectures about my future all evening. On Christmas?”

Iris stifled her laughter. “No, of course not. Never on Christmas.”

Joanie didn’t catch the sarcastic undertones, and in a minute she was gone to pour herself the much coveted eggnog on the kitchen table. The complaint of why her grandmother’s eggnog hadn’t been made was immediately dismissed when she tasted the recipe that apparently had come straight from Ralph’s family going back several generations.

“We are going to be drunk,” Joe said, staring down into the beverage that likely contained more alcohol than anything else.

Iris laughed to herself and traveled to Barry a while later after catching up with Wally and Linda.

“Hey, Handsome,” she cooed, landing as solidly on his lap as he had before.

She felt his hand cup her ass and smiled without saying a word. His next words melted away the amusement buzzing inside her.

“Hello, Wife.”

“God, I love hearing you say that.” She started to lean in.

“Oh yeah?” he whispered when she was a breath away.

“Yeah.” She nodded, silencing him a moment later with a kiss.

Once. Twice. Three times.

Joe cleared his throat loudly.

They parted and looked up to find everyone suddenly staring at them.

“Keep it PG, would you?” Joe said. “I don’t want to send you two home too. You’re family.”

“I came back!” Cisco interjected, but it was ignored.

“We’re newlyweds,” Barry defended.

Iris wiggled her finger and gushed as her husband held his hand up to showcase his own ring.

“Iris West-Allen, remember, Dad?”

Joe tried to remain strong, but softened a little under the reminder. He managed to point a finger at them accusingly.

“PG,” he repeated and walked back into the kitchen.

“I think it’s cute,” Linda said from her position squished beside Wally in a massive chair. “Flaunt that all you want.”

Iris laughed. “Actually, I have an idea.”

“Oh?” Barry raised his eyebrows, simultaneously curious and amused.

“Mhmm.” Iris managed to get to her feet and lead him across the room away from most of the guests. She stopped right exactly beneath the mistletoe Ralph had thankfully managed to place amidst his many decorations.

“Oh…I see, Mrs. West-Allen. Very clever.”

Her eyes glittered. “Thank Ralph.”

“Hey, nooo,” the taller, annoying man whined, but they paid it no mind.

Iris grabbed onto the collar of her husband’s shirt and pulled his down to her, thrilling in the way he cupped her face, sunk his fingers into her hair, and kissed her as if no one was watching.

“PG,” she whispered when he tried to stick his tongue into her mouth.

He sighed regretfully, but nodded. “Later.”

Her eyes glinted mischievously as she lowered herself from up on her tiptoes and clasped their hands together, rejoining the crowd settling down to open Christmas presents.

*Also posted on AO3 and FFnet.

[sarahburness]

What Expecting to Die Young Taught Me About Living a Happy Life

“I’ve come to trust not that events will always unfold exactly as I want, but that I will be fine either way. The challenges we face in life are always lessons that serve our soul’s growth.” ~ Marianne Williamson

At the age of nine, I was sitting in a doctor’s office at Baylor University with both of my parents when we were all told I wouldn’t live to see twenty-three. The doctor casually told us my dad would probably never get to walk me down the aisle and I’d likely never make my mom a grandmother, but there was great chicken pot pie in the cafeteria on the first floor.

Enjoy the rest of your day.

Eight months later, on my tenth birthday, the possibility of my dad walking me down the aisle was permanently taken away when he died suddenly of an aortic and thoracic aneurysm. He had the same genetic abnormality I have, which caused the aneurysm, so by my logic, confirmed by the doctors, my demise was not far behind.

I had no idea the day I turned ten, the day I lost my dad, my misguided and broken heart gifted me a license to be entitled and reckless until the day I died. Which, according to the medical community, wasn’t that far away.

Let me back the medical drama bus up back to the day in Texas at the hospital just for a quick, minor detail to note.

That day my dad and I were simultaneously diagnosed with a genetic disorder called Marfan Syndrome.

In a very tiny nutshell, it’s a connective tissue disorder found on the fibrillin one gene. It essentially weakens all connective tissue in the body. The result is a body whose heart, lungs, eyes, and spine are severely impacted. A prominent and common feature with this condition is “abnormal” height. People affected are relatively tall (I’m 6’2”, my dad was 6’9”).

For precautionary purposes, we both stopped participating in any activities that raise the heartbeat, to decrease the risk of having an aneurysm or potentially causing damage to the face due to dislocation of the lens in the eye.

No contact sports, no exercising, no gym at school. I was basically told I could walk, bowl, or golf. I hated sports anyway, so I was excited to not have to dress for gym.

This consequently led to a lifetime of comments like “You don’t play basketball or volleyball?! That’s a shame!” or “Omg, you’re so tall!” As if I wasn’t already painfully aware, but I digress…

Point being, I was told from a very young age on a fairly regular basis, “You can’t.” So I learned to habitually answer, “I can’t” every time someone asked me to do pretty much anything.

What possible negative effects could this have?

I couldn’t see it at the time, but this led to a lifetime of constantly assessing every situation based on whether it was going to speed up my untimely death or not.

I didn’t learn how to question whether or not I liked things but whether or not it was something that was going to kill me sooner or later. In turn, I missed a million opportunities to get to know who I was as a young woman.

All I knew and all I was told were all the things I couldn’t do all the time.

This short-term life span turned my life into a short-term life plan. Soon enough the emotional pains of being a teenager and the new kid in high school, along with unresolved daddy issues, kicked into high gear, and I had no idea how to deal with any of it.

So, I drank. A lot.

The rest of high school and most of college was a blur. I got married at twenty-three because, well, time was running out for me. And then, when I was twenty-four, doctors told me my life expectancy had suddenly increased to forty.

(If there’s one emoji to express how I felt it would be the face with the wide eyes and red cheeks that looks like he would say “Oh sh*t!” if he could talk.)

I panicked and started trying to speed up the clock. Living wasn’t for me. I wasn’t raised to live; I was raised to die. Live all the places, have a baby, buy the stuff, laugh all the laughs, and then die.

This is where my excessive drinking turned into full-blown alcoholism and prescription drug addiction.

I was either going to OD or make my heart explode, but I wasn’t going to stick around. I must note that none of this was planned, intentional, or a suicide mission. In my mind at the time, I literally didn’t know what else to do, not even how to ask for help.

So, someone asked for help for me. Rehab is a whole other blog.

I’m thirty-nine now, well past my expiration date, and still learning how to live life today. In my drinking days, life revolved around morbid reflection. In early sobriety, life revolved around morbid projection. Today life revolves around just this day. This hour. This moment.

When one of my coaches asks me to journal about how I want my life to look in five years or where I want my business to be long term, I still don’t know how to answer that.

I don’t understand long term. And for the longest time, I always thought that to be a nightmarish curse. Until now. 

My inability to see life long-term seems to be all the rage these days. There’s Eckhart Tolle, Wayne Dyer, and Deepak Chopra all preaching about being present, being here now, and being there with the spirit of love, and I’m over here wondering how long the two-week wait to hear if this gets published is going to feel or if I’ll be around to see it go live.

When you think about it, we’re all terminal. No one gets out of here alive. Yet we all run around like we’re going to cheat death—ironically, with this weird impending sense of doom.

We run out of joy staying married to jobs, people, and places we are no longer passionate about. We’ve forgotten how to be happy because we’ve made it so elusive.

It only feels elusive because we’ve spent our time wrong. We’ve spent our time focusing on how we can create a living for ourselves instead of how to create a life for our hearts, and the only way to do that is to get to know yourself first.

In designing my life by listening to my heart, I discovered a few things along the way.

I learned that we habitually state we are human beings, but we spend too much time doing. We get stuck in the how and what next instead of being right where our feet are in that moment. I learned to create space and presence for life to happen organically instead of allowing my mind to race with perceived fears.

Living in each moment used to mean living as recklessly as possible and constantly challenging the odds just to see if I would make it. Today, living in each moment means being driven by what my heart is calling me to do.

I’ve learned to take the time to figure out what the voice of my heart sounds like instead of the blazing of doubt in my mind. This finally allowed me to see what felt light and right in my life and allowed everything that feels heavy to fall to the way side.

Heart driven. Soul led.

This journey was started by a seed that was planted three decades ago. The seed called “I can’t” grew into a self-fulfilling prophecy filled with destruction, heartbreak, sorrow, and the urge to run from everything.

When I stopped running (drinking, using, blaming, complaining) and learned to be still with myself and all that had encompassed my life, an entirely new life was born.

In designing my life and healing my soul, I have found that happiness can be found in big moments like reuniting with my soulmate, winning a competition, or leaping into a new career. It can also be found in the smaller moments like watching my child choose a book instead of watching television, receiving flowers just because, or just being grateful for the sunshine.

But I have found I am the happiest and most content when I am meditating, creating a safe space for others, and playing. Playing like a child on a daily basis is where it’s at. Whether I’m writing, coaching, baking, or gluing rhinestones on anything I can get my hands on, that’s where I’m at complete peace.

And that (happiness) seems to be the individual goal of most people I meet, but it doesn’t seem to translate into the collective thinking. That’s where I’ve found the hiccup. The getting tied up in what we see everyone else doing, where everyone else is succeeding, and then wondering why we don’t have a that perfect slice of peace pie that everyone else seems to have.

The hardest thing I’ve learned is there is no special sauce, no magical happiness-to-sadness ratio, and no one-size-fits-all solution. We each have to define happiness for ourselves.

For me, this means doing the work. It looks like me getting brutally honest with my past, mending my mistakes, giving love to every person I meet, and telling those who are close to me what’s really going on every day.

This connects me to you and you to me, and this is ultimately the biggest lesson I learned.

We all want to be seen. We all want to be heard. We all want permission to be ourselves. I’ve experienced what that feels like, and now I’m living a life that I was told would never happen. I stopped believing other people’s opinions of me, my life, and where they think it should be when I realized those opinions and thoughts are about what’s missing from their life, not mine.

There is no slice of peace pie waiting for you or for me. We each have our own pie to flavor, bake, and share. I guess that would be called Purpose Pie. I sit in gratitude every day I have found my pie and am able to share with all who are hungry.

All of this because they told me I was going to die and the hospital chicken pot pie was nice.

About Lindsay Wilson

Lindsay is a life and mentor coach walking clients through emotional recovery and into self-discovery from significant emotional events including death of a parent, rape, addiction, medical challenges, infertility, and divorce. Lindsay is a single mother to an eight-year-old superhero in Nashville, TN and is on a mission to get rid of the phrase “good enough.” Visit her at lindsaywilsoncoaching.com.

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[virtualfaceengineer]

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Before I sign up for domain name , I first assess if it is for branding purposes and online traffic. For offline organizations trying to brand their online presence, it is fairly simple as well as the next step is definitely to check for accessibility to the domain. But if am seeking online traffic, I will get a domain that is really a search term on search engines like yahoo otherwise known as a keyword. This will provide me a jump start over the competition as search engines like google favor domain names which might be search terms when they assume I own the domain. I will take up a keyword research with the my market segment and it's very important that I work with a reliable keyword tool that can give me accurate data. The ideal keyword phrase should have high monthly search traffic preferably over 6000 per month or 200 daily searches and a lot important, low competition of not more than 400 pages online while using the exact keyword. So, it's critical to work with an accurate keyword tool because success of my website or blog will depend for the accuracy search data. Imagine buying a website address and marketing the website only to don't have any traffic due for the usage of wrong keyword. To register a website, the next step is to evaluate for the accessibility to the website and its extension like .com , .org. If available, you need to to put down registration details . For this, one should put down 1. The owner of the website address . This will probably be the legal owner of the url of your website. 2.The administrator with the domain and its particular properties. 3.The person working with technical information the website. 4.The billing details to the domain The next step may appear technical but is fairly simple. Setting of name servers. I Copy and paste website servers details through the host into the registration form . There are normally two essential domain servers, a primary and also a secondary one. However, it's possible to bypass this method and edit it later. HOSTING website blog network blog Digital network Communications prepaid host