#that's why it's so hard for folks when they hit someone with their car

[not-poignant]

That excerpt got me excited to read the next chapter of UtB! Kadek is a character we didn't get to explore much in FFS so I'm pumped. Question: does Kadek's past actions at the other rehabilitation facility still effect him? Does he see himself as a perpetrator or deal with any self-hatred? Does he suffer from his PTSD or something like second-hand trauma? I know that being violent towards others/hurting others or seeing other people suffer can cause a trauma response. So I'm curious

Hi anon,

A person who can honestly call what they've done 'rape' instead of 'oh I mean technically it was rape and they still wanted it' is definitely in the arena of seeing himself as a perpetrator and still being affected by it. He literally says to Efnisien that he's allowed to think of Kadek as a monster, because Kadek was a monster. He calls the story 'a sad story.' The story is literally in relation to him talking about how fucked up the world is. So a lot of the answers to your question/s are actually in the excerpt that mentions all this stuff in the language Kadek is using.

People who haven't taken responsibility for their actions talk about the act of rape in a very different way. And Kadek will talk more about it and it should become a lot clearer even after those first two paragraphs talking about the story.

(More to follow, also just a correction that it's not at all secondhand trauma to hurt someone else, that is 100% primary trauma).

Also, being a rapist isn't 'secondhand trauma.' It's just straight-up traumatising to many people, and fractures their personality to a degree where they can often no longer confront reality afterwards. It's especially traumatising to people who don't realise they're raping someone (usually due to ignorance / lack of education / misogyny) and then become aware, and then have to deal with the aftermath of that. Intentional rapists experience a different journey to people who really don't think of themselves that way, and then find out they're in the category of rapist anyway, which is what Kadek is.

Accidentally inflicting trauma on someone and realising later is traumatic. It's not 'secondhand trauma' by default (though that can be there too - there's 100% primary trauma). If you hit an animal with your car and kill or hurt it, that's not 'secondhand trauma' because the animal was likely more hurt than you were. That's primary trauma, it often can cause post-trauma and even PTSD. If you hit/injure/kill someone with your car, that's not secondhand trauma, even though the other person died and you still lived, that's a hell of a primary trauma likely compounded with survivor's guilt.

Even Efnisien in Falling Falling Stars doesn't have secondhand trauma from hurting Gwyn. He has primary trauma over it, that's why he has panic attacks when he thinks about hurting people and animals in the future. That's just straight-up PTSD. You may not have read that though, anon! But it's a decent exploration of perpetrator + victim PTSD if I do say so myself. :)

People who learn they have hurt other people or animals, and who didn't want to do that, experience primary trauma if they're genuinely able to comprehend the hurt that they've caused.

So we know from the excerpt that Kadek sees himself as the perpetrator because he calls it rape and calls himself a monster, and talks like someone who has owned the reality of what he's done. When folks use this kind of language (and they're not intentionally being manipulative, and we have no reason to believe Kadek is), it means they're owning responsibility. It is people who defer or refuse to own responsibility who will not see themselves as a perpetrator. These people do not call what they've done rape. In fact they will go out of their way to call it literally anything else.

Generally, a person who calls themselves a monster has experienced some self-hatred over what they've done (Falling Falling Stars actually confronts this too!)

As for everything else, you'll find out in the chapter! :D Kadek's definitely talking about the story of how he found out that what he was doing was bad, so we will get to hear how that happened, and what the aftermath was.

[sofiareidings]

Drunk Words Are Sober Thoughts

Summary: At the New Year's party at Rossi's you have a little to much to drink and Spencer has to take you home. What will happen when the clock strikes midnight though?

A/N: Stated in the title but I'm also stating it now, this one-shot does mention alcohol. Also, thank you so much for all the love on yesterday's post! I'm going to try and post a story everyday until I start school, (September 6th) once I get back into the rhythm of school I'll try and make a posting schedule.

Word Count: 0.9k

Song Suggestions: Pacific - Sleeping At Last

Rossi had invited the entire team over for a New Years party. It had been a tough year, and everyone needed it. You spent the evening having fun, talking, dancing, and drinking.

Maybe a little too much drinking. It was thirty minutes to midnight and Garcia had finally cut you off. “I love you sweetie, but you’re sticking to water for the rest of the night.” You sighed at her comment and decided the best idea would be to vent about it to someone else.

“…and now she’s only giving me water!” You slumped back in the chair while Spencer just shook his head. He was completely sober that night and could tell how drunk you were. He knew it was time for you to go home. He stood up, putting a hand out for you to grab.

“Come on, it’s time to go home.” Taking his hand you groan and reluctantly grab your stuff while mumbling to yourself about the injustice. Once you got to Spencer’s car you turned on his radio, the first channel was a strange classical music channel and immediately changed. The next channel was counting down to midnight while playing what you assumed was the top 100.

Rossi’s mansion wasn’t far from your apartment complex and Spencer had gotten there in less than ten minutes. “Fifteen minutes till midnight! I wonder who my Near Year’s kiss will be. This next song is…” When the song started you stopped listening and turned to Spencer.

“I don’t want to be alone at midnight, can we stay here until then please?” The sentence came out a lot sadder than you expected. “And then if you’re here at midnight…I can have a New Year’s kiss.”

“Y/N…you’re drunk.” His face was red, you were drunk. He knew that but, the quote, ‘drunk words are sober thoughts.’ was all he could think of. He didn’t want to take advantage of the state you were in and didn’t dare try to make any advances. “We can stay here until midnight.”

“Only ten minutes until midnight folks! Here’s number two on…”

You were at the emotional stage of drunkenness, it was quite evident by the way you cried a little while talking. “You’re so cute, Spence. Whenever you make that little confused face when I talk about pop culture I can’t help but die inside because you look so pretty. Like a lost puppy…and when you wave instead of shaking someone's hand because shaking hands are gross or whatever I just melt. And everytime you wear your glasses I can’t focus on anything other than your cuteness…”

He was blushing hard but was still making sure not to take anything serious. “T-thanks Y/N, I really appreciate that…” His sentence trailed off as he watched your hand grab onto his arm and stay there. The butterflies were going crazy and he knew he needed to get out of here. “Why don’t I take you up to your apartment? I’ll stay till midnight but I want to make sure you make it the full way home.”

“That’s such a good idea, why didn’t I think of it!” You groaned while going to open the car door. The handle was jammed, when Spencer noticed he got out of the car leaving you alone in the car for a second.

“Six minutes until midnight! Here is the last song of the night folks…”

The door opened and there he stood, holding your bag and jacket waiting to take you upstairs. Opening the front door of the building you looked at your phone clock.

“11:57” You stated while he hit the elevator button. While waiting you managed to make your way to the live broadcast of the ball drop in New York.

“We are two minutes and fifteen seconds away from midnight!”

The elevator opened and you hit the button to take you to the third floor.

“Would you look at that, only a minute and twenty seconds left everyone.”

Spencer grabbed your hand and walked you towards your apartment while you listened to the announcer blasting from your phone.

“Thirty seconds!”

A loud countdown started on your phone while Spencer looked for your house key in your bag. You watched him try every key.

“Ten!”

You hear a little click and he starts turning the key.

“Nine!”

The key gets stuck in place.

“Eight!”

He jimmies with the key.

Seven!”

The lock finally opens.

“Six!”

The door opens and you walk in.

“Five!”

You lean against the wall while Spencer shuts the door.

“Four!”

He turns your hallway light on.

“Three!”

You hear the sound of your purse hitting the table.

“Two!”

Spencer walks back over to you, preparing to say goodnight after the countdown.

“One!”

In a moment of drunken boldness you wrap your hands around his neck and press your lips against his. He’s shocked and stumbles back a little, not sure what to do. You can feel his arm wrap around your waist tightly. After a couple seconds you let go and stagger backwards smiling. “Happy New Year’s.”

“Yeah, happy New Year’s…” He’s still in shock but makes sure that you make it to bed before leaving.

‘Drunk words are sober thoughts.’

Walking back down to the parking lot his mind is full of so many different thoughts. He’s not sure how seriously he should take your advances. What if you won’t remember them in the morning? What if it isn’t what you really feel? The final thought, one that had been coming back to him all night.

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

A Place in the Sun 1

Warnings: non/dubcon, and other dark elements. My username actually says you never asked for any of this.

My warnings are not exhaustive but be aware this is a dark fic and may include potentially triggering topics. Please use your common sense when consuming content. I am not responsible for your decisions.

Characters: Nick Fowler

Summary: Trouble in the big city follows you back to your sleepy village home.

Part of the Backwoods AU

As usual, I would appreciate any and all feedback. I’m happy to once more go on this adventure with all of you! Thank you in advance for your comments and for reblogging.

You’ve been to the city once in your life. Your parents were never really well off. Your dad works at the lumberyard, still, and your mom sells some crochet gloves and hats here and there, or tailor a few pieces for the neighbours for a buck or two. It isn’t much but they work hard and you can’t want for much. Life is simple but not unhappy. 

Your second trip to the city isn’t much different than your first. You were a kid then and only came with your dad so he could get new work boots. You don’t remember much except for the very tall people and the honking cars. Now, it’s just as chaotic and you feel just as small, but you’re all by yourself. 

There’s a gathering at the mall. You’ve never been to a mall. They don’t have any of those in Hammer Ford. As you steer the beaten-up Bronco into the lot, you shift the stick and check your mirrors. The cars here are all tiny compared to the mammoth truck you borrowed from your dad. He only let you take it after you filled the tank, and with a little coaxing from your mom. 

You don’t see why it’s a big deal. You’re an adult. You make your own money. Enough to help out. You do what you can with your seasonal pay but they don’t need a custodian at the school when there’s no classes. 

Still, you scrounged enough for the collector’s edition. You pre-ordered and everything. It’s so limited they only let people pick it up in-store. 

You park and shut off the engine. You watch a group of teenage girls giggling as they enter the mall. You should’ve brought some friends but you don’t have many of those. Everyone you knew in high school is married or busy growing up. There is that girl you see now and again, she lives with her grandma, but she’s always got her head down. She’ll see you waving one day. 

You open the door and hop down. As you do, the keys jangle out of your grasp and hit the pavement. You huff dramatically and swing the door shut. You go to grab the keyring but it’s swiped up by someone else. You stand and face the man as he holds them out. 

He’s taller than you and older. You think. He has the boldest blue eyes you’ve ever seen and a shadow of stubble across his square jaw. His hair is neatly trimmed and he wears a dark blue suit with a white button-up. He outshines your brown khaki skirt and gingham blouse. 

“Oh, hi, thank you, sir,” you chime, “clumsy me!” 

He nods and narrows his eyes, “keep those close. Someone else might just run off with the truck.” 

“Ha, this beat up old elephant,” you take the keys and slap the side of the Bronco, “I doubt it, but thank you, sir. I appreciate it.” 

You smile brightly but he hardly seems impressed. More confounded. His mouth slants and his eyes roll to the side. 

“Another piece of advice,” he intones as he leans towards you, “don’t smile at strangers.” 

“Oh, uh,” your mouth straightens, “right. Sorry, sir.” 

His brows rise and fall but he doesn’t reply. He brushes by you and you turn to watch him go. Your ma warned you that city folk weren’t very friendly. You spin back and lock the truck up, taking his warning to heart. You never know and your dad would never forgive you if someone did decide to highjack the rusting beast. 

You head towards the mall and follow a rabble of children with their moms into the air-conditioned space. It’s nice compared to the thick humidity outside. You think back to that man and wonder how he could be wearing a jacket in all this. He must be on the way to somewhere important. 

You look around, your heart pumping as the bright marquees and shining shop windows refract through your lenses. Oof, you didn’t expect it to be so big! You search around, walking along with your knitted purse clutched tight. Oh, a map! 

You go over to the touch screen directory and search for the bookstore. Right, a left and then straight, and another left. You recite the directions to yourself over and over as you continue on. You barely dodge out of the way of your fellow mall patrons as the criss cross the wide hallways and mill outside the booths and windows. 

Finally, you spot the familiar logo of the bookstore. You only really see it on a screen but you know it well. You stroll in through the broad open archway at the front and once more, you’re struck by the flurry of activity and expanse of the space. You trail after a pair of girls toward the service desk, delineated by the floating sign above. 

You bounce on your feet as you join the queue. You overhear the girls talking about the same book you’re there for. You curiously lean forward to eavesdrop and the redhead cranes to glare at you. You retract and give an apologetic look. You weren’t snooping, you’re just excited. 

When it’s your turn at the counter, you give your name and wait. A figure approaches the next till and sighs. You glance up at the sign; Returns/Exchanges. It’s the man in the blue suit. He taps a plastic card on the wooden countertop. 

As the associate searches for your order, you stare over at his agitated expression. He doesn’t seem very happy. His blue eyes drift and he meets your gaze. His cheek dimples in recognition. 

You give a small wave and smile and he shakes his head. He turns back to the till as a woman nears the other side. 

“Back,” he flicks the card up between his fingers, “should be the one I paid with.” 

You return your attention to the order counter. You shouldn’t be so nosy. You’re there to get your book and go. Oh, and maybe a soft pretzel at that place you saw on the way in. It’s a good day and you’re going to enjoy it. You peek over once more as the man snarls at the credit card machine. You hope his gets better too. 

[wh0re43van]

Heart Shaped Box- (Warren Lipka X Reader)

Description: Your childhood best friend surprises you at work with a gift on Valentine’s Day.

Word Count: 2.1k

Warnings: none, unfortunately. (Besides weed use)

A/n: I was going to make this a longer fic with smut but I just really wanted to get this posted tonight 😭

Oldies Country tunes and static buzz from the outdated stereo as I restock the candies at the check out. I glance at the wooden analog clock above the exit; 9:00pm

“One more hour,” I sigh to myself as I trudge back to my stool behind the register. Working for my parents at their corner store is nice. It’s slow, I’ve known all of the regulars my whole life, and if I completely flunk out of college; at least I know I have a job. But something about sitting here alone on Valentine’s Day with the smell of stale (possibly mildewed) air and my Ma’s collection of taxidermy squirrels dressed up to look like the seven dwarves doesn’t seem fitting for a 19 year old girl. Especially since my parents went to Dollyworld for valentines day, leaving me completely alone. (Dollyworld is like Disneyland for people in Kentucky)

The rusted bells hanging above the door chime as cool air floods into the small store. I don’t bother looking up until the footsteps stop in front of me. My mood immediately lifts when I see a familiar face

“Hey, man! No date tonight?” I ask my best friend while he slips his lighter into his flannel pocket. I can smell the lingering smoke of a cigarette on his fingers as he reaches for a pack of gum on the display near my head. He flashes his dimples as he leans down onto the counter.

“Eh, it’s a stupid capitalistic holiday,” he shrugs as I reach down to grab him a pack of Newport 100s.

“Mmm okay Casanova,” I laugh as I take his cash. “So did you pick up from that new guy?” I ask excitedly when I remember that he was supposed to have picked up bud from out west.

“Mhm,” Warren smiles as he pops a piece of gum into his mouth. “That’s why I’m here, nerd. Let’s go spark,” he says as he turns on his heels.

“Warren, I can’t. I still have almost an hour until I can close,” I frown at the boy who’s slowly stepping towards the door.

“Oh, come on. Your folks are out of town, they’ll never know,” he smirks as he rests a hand on the door handle. I bite my lip, looking around the store, then back at Warren.

‘He’s right. I mean it is a holiday, after all, Most places close early on holidays,’ I look at Warren and do my best to fight back a smile. He looks at me with a shit eating grin, knowing I can’t say no to him.

“Give me 5 minutes to lock up,” I giggle as I pull the cash drawer out.

•

•

I closed the store faster (and worse) than I ever have. Within 5 minutes I’m hopping into the passenger seat of Warrens car. The familiar scent of stale smoke hits me in the face as I settle into my seat.

I shake the few snow flakes that found their way into my hair out as I turn all the heat vents towards me.

“Someone oughta’ shoot that groundhog for lying to us,” I joke as I rub my hands together hoping to get some warmth from the friction.

“Here, this will warm you up,” Warren laughs, fighting back a cough as he hands me the joint. His voice comes out raspy as the smoke rolls out of his mouth. I take the paper from his hand that’s cast in a yellow haze from the dim light shining from the side of the store.

As I take a hit from the joint I lean back in the seat before exhaling. The smoke tastes piney and almost a bit floral as it fills my lungs. After coughing so hard that I drool a litttle, my muscles relax almost instantly as the buzz fills my body.

“Damn, this really is good shit,” I laugh with my scratchy voice as I accept the drink warren has offered to me.

“Oh good. I’m glad you like it,” he smiles before twisting around his seat, reaching into the back. As he scrummages around his car, I take another hit.

“Dude, what are you-“I begin to question the boy but he cuts me off.

“Here it is!” He exclaims, before sitting back properly in his seat with a red heart shaped box in one hand and a mixed CD in the other. I quirk an eyebrow, waiting for an explanation. “Uh, happy Valentine’s Day, er, whatever,” he says with a small laugh, handing me the box. “I know I said that it’s stupid but, uh, ya know you’re a good friend or some shit,” he mutters with lidded eyes as he sets the red box in my lap. I can’t help but giggle at his awkwardness.

“Oh! Uh, thanks dude! I didn’t know we were doing presents or I would have gotten you something,” I say as I focus my attention on the red box.

“Nah don’t worry about it. Open it,” my best friend nudges me, seemingly very excited about his gift for me. I side eye him before handing him the joint so I can pop the box open.

I Take off the lid to reveal the expected assortment of cheap chocolates, but some of the spots of have been replaced with nugs. I look at Warren with a shocked smile and droopy eyes.

“Wow,” I laugh, trying to think of something to say. The THC in my system makes it a bit difficult to find something genuine to say to this unexpected kind gesture. “You really know what a girl wants,” I nudge him as I pop a piece of chocolate into my mouth. Warren chuckles as he inserts the burnt CD into his stereo.

“Yeah well I got hungry on the ride over here… figured I had to fill the empty spaces with something,” he teases. I laugh as I lay back into my seat. My ears perk up when I hear the intro to ‘November Rain’ by Guns N’ Roses. I lazily turn my head to quirk an eyebrow at Warren who looks almost nervous.

“You hate Guns N’ Roses,” I say with a small, confused smile, awaiting him to offer an explanation as to why he’s playing a band that he constantly complains has ‘sold out’. Warren let’s out a breathy chuckle.

“Yeah, uh, I do…” he looks away as he scratches the back of his neck. “But this is the song that was playing when the principal chased me around the gym for spiking the punch at our 8th grade dance, remember?” He explains, finally mustering up the courage to meet my eyes at the end. A laugh bubbles up through my chest as the memory comes flooding back to me. Warren had seen some kids do it in a movie, so naturally the 13 year old boy thought it would be brilliant to dump fireball into the fruit punch.

“Oh my god I forgot about that!” I wheeze, laughing so hard at this point that tears are coming from my eyes. “You got suspended for a month because you were convinced that ‘the cinnamon would complement the tropical flavor,’” I shake my head, finally catching my breath after my fit of laughter. As I wipe the tears from my cheeks, I notice Warren just staring at me with a goofy grin. There’s a glint of something in his eyes that I just can’t quite put my finger on… admiration, maybe.

“Yeah I was pretty stupid,” he laughs as he relights the joint. “But don’t forget that while he the principal was chasing me, you laughed so hard you pissed yourself,” Warren challenges as he hands me the spliff. My jaw drops before I slap him on the arm in mock defense.

“Hey I almost pissed myself. A little bit running down your leg doesn’t count,” I laugh as I blow the smoke out, watching it ricochet off the foggy windshield.

“Sure whatever,” Warren playfully rolls his eyes.

The conversation goes silent for a moment and when I look back at Warren, he has a more serious expression on his face. “I, uh, I think about that night a lot. I remember seeing you for the first time with your hair and makeup done, wearing that JCPenny dress that you hated but your mom forced you to wear… I remember thinking how beautiful you looked,” Warren says while he’s laying back in his seat, gazing through bloodshot eyes up at the roof of his car.

“Yeah that dress was the worst,” I say with a light laugh as I take a sip of his water. “I remember watching our moms hold you down and plucking your little unibrow before the dance. You screamed like a little girl and your forehead was red in all the pictures,” I laugh fondly at the memory. Warren scoffs, looking over at me.

“Woah that’s low. I compliment you and you bring up the most scarring moment of my life,” he snickers. “Uhm seriously though,Y/n. I’m, uh, really happy that you’re in my life,” his tone drops to a more serious one again.

‘What the hell is his deal?’ I think to myself in a moment of silence as ‘November rain’ continues to play in the background.

“God this song is long,” I sigh, furrowing my brows. I’ve completely forgotten what we were talking about, my mind clouded over with this extremely strong weed.

Judging by Warren’s huff and shuffle in his seat, I don’t think that he was pleased with my response. Then it clicks. The chocolates, the mixed CD, the heart to heart talk that he’s trying desperately to make work even though I’m stoned out of my mind, the fact that it’s Valentine’s Day.

“Are… are you flirting with me?” I ask, almost positive that that’s what’s happening, but still doubting myself. A large part of me is hoping that I’m right- larger than I’d like to admit.

“I’m fucking trying!” Warren laughs, his cheeks going red. I look at my best friend, seeing the handsome man that he’s growing into. A single moon beam shines from the sunroof, reflecting a sparkle in his ink pool eyes and illuminating his unkempt curls that frame his face. The car is filled with nothing but a long guitar solo as I get lost in my admiration for the boy.  I didn’t notice how uneasy my silence was making him. “But if this is weird for you-“  Warren looks away, awkwardly scratching the stubble on the side of his face.

“Then kiss me,” I say simply, interrupting him. Warren Looks at me as if his eyes are going to pop out of his skull.

“What?” He asks, shaking his head, obviously unsure if he heard me correctly.

“Kiss me,” I shrug, not elaborating anymore. Warren stares at me like a deer in headlights. I roll my eyes, then lean over the console. I place my hand behind his neck, pushing his lips against mine. It’s a small, sweet kiss but it still fills my stomach with butterflies. I pull away, leaving my face just inches from Warrens. He’s still just staring blankly but a small smile creeps onto his face.

“Spencer owes me so much money,” he laughs and then as If a switch flipped, he places his finger under my chin, then goes back in for another kiss. I’m shocked that he takes the lead this time, moving his mouth against mine in a heated exchange.

Warrens hands make their way down to my hips, holding me as if I could slip away at any second.

“Come here,” Warren demands against my lips, his voice laced with lust as he begins to lift me over the center console onto his lap. His tone makes my stomach flip, but I force myself to pull away.

“Warren, I’m extremely into this, but I don’t really want our first time to be in the parking lot of my family’s corner store,” I explain as I catch my breath, resting my hand on his thigh. The disappointment is evident on Warrens face, but he attempts to hide it.

“Yeah, no. I get it,” he laughs, running his hand through his hair. “I can die happy now honestly. I’ve been waiting to kiss you for seven years. I can wait another-” he begins to ramble- something he often does when he’s nervous.

“My parents aren’t home,” I interrupt with a mischievous grin. Warrens eyes widen.

“You mean-“ he asks as if he can’t believe what I just said.

“Yes, dumbass,” I nod my head, biting back a laugh. With that, Warren throws his car in reverse, whipping out of the parking lot as if the cops just pulled up. I attempt to scold him through my eruption of laughter as he jostles me around in the car.

[seat-safety-switch]

Why don't people ride public transit more often? There are many excuses provided, but I think the big one is ownership. When someone else owns the bus, it is hard to feel pride about it. Someone else takes it to the mechanic. Someone else washes it. Someone else waits for a tow truck when they climb on the throttle a little too hard on the interstate and blow up the injection pump.

Wait, I hear you say, surely everyone owns the bus? Every single taxpayer owns a fractional share of the public transit infrastructure, so everyone can be proud of what we made as a group. You're certainly right, but nobody is proud of the power lines, or all the pee we clean up before it hits the river. Shareholding isn't thing-holding: just ask all the folks who own a teeny tiny bit of Microsoft, but can't point to the specific chunk of the building they're responsible for. We're weird that way, us apes.

Don't worry. Like I told my first boss, I don't like to bring problems to you, only solutions. Have you ever been by one of those charity things where you can get your name on a brick, or a bench, if you donate? I think they should do the same thing about buses. Nobody stirs the imagination about ol' #7345, even if it does have a page all to itself on the transit-aficionados wiki. If it has a name – a real citizen, just like you! – things are different. What is their life like? Maybe they're riding on this bus, in secret? They could be any of these people. An instant celebrity, immortalized by some letters painted on the side of a white box with wheels.

Sure, there are some gaps in this plan. Some people won't want to have their names associated with a bus, because their lives are terrible and sad and very small. We don't really have enough buses to give each contributor one. And some will get downright weird about it, demanding to ride only on "their" bus.

I, too, have a solution for this: make all the buses much smaller, roughly Power Wheels-sized, and have them seat only one person at a time. Then we'll just put them on a big track, like at bumper cars, and let everyone go hog wild on each other on their way to work. I just so happen to have recently taken delivery of a large quantity of bumper cars from a reputable former amusement park...

[twig-tea]

Love in the Big City TV Series Episodes 5 & 6: Kylie Once Again Recontextualizes Everything

Thanks as always to @lurkingshan and @bengiyo for the wrangling and discussion questions!

I already wrote about the relationship between Gyu-Ho and Yeong in this part, so I wanted to focus on something else for book club. And after working on the timeline in the series, I decided to revisit my meta for Part 3 of the novel, in which I wrote about how Kylie recontextualizes everything that came before we knew about her. I’d like to do the same here for the series while reflecting on the differences.  Knowing when his mother died, the T-aras being present through the whole story, and starting the story after Kylie are the three big changes that I think worked really well in this adaptation, and all of these changes mean that the revelation about Kylie in episodes 5-6 hit a little differently than in the book. 

[screenshot from this post by @how-to-be-a-tree]

With the revelation in this part that Yeong went to the military a few months before the T-aras, we now know that Yeong had recently contracted HIV just before the series began.The hints in episode 1 that he was struggling (hadn’t been going to class, doing odd jobs and asking for the extra clothes) make more sense. It also recontextualizes the aggressive kiss in the club where he kissed that stranger so hard he bled. This also means that, unlike in the novel, he meets and befriends Mi Ae after he was already diagnosed, and since he tells Gyu-Ho that he’s the only one Yeong’s ever told, we know he never told Mi Ae either. Watching them hold each other’s hands as they whisper their secrets in the dark takes a new sad tint to it knowing that Yeong could not trust her with his deepest shame.

[screenshot from this post by @maletimbe]

I wonder if part of his strong reaction to her outing him to Jun Ho was because he had been wanting to tell her, and it was painful knowing he could never trust her with that secret. I wonder if that’s why he doesn’t go to the T-aras after his fight with Mi Ae, but goes to Nam Gyu instead, because he wouldn’t be able to explain to the T-aras why he was so hurt, and on some level the T-aras have already rejected that part of him so he can’t trust them with that vulnerability. 

I wonder if sending the T-aras off at Karaoke reminded him of Kylie and is part of what pushed him to break up with Nam Gyu. After his fallout with Mi Ae, when Yeoung is telling Nam Gyu to find someone braver than him, I wonder if he was thinking about Kylie.

When he goes to Nam Gyu’s funeral and asks how he died, I am pretty sure just by the way that scene was performed that he was thinking about Kylie and wondering whether he killed him–and it makes that revelation hit double-hard, that Nam Gyu was killed in a car accident speeding, because it just reinforced his worst fear: he had gotten Nam Gyu killed, just not in the way he thought. [I don’t actually hold Yeong accountable for Nam Gyu’s decision to speed, but I can imagine Yeong took it that way]. 

I wonder if Yeong was attracted to Yeong Su partially because of the way he tries to help his mother, who is an addict–there’s something in the way social stigma against addicts and poz folks is similar (partially because needle sharing is a way to contract HIV), and how acceptance of those states of being can often come together. I wonder if that's why he could take Yeong Su's more heteronormative kdrama lead style romance when it irritated him in Nam Gyu.

In any case, Yeong having HIV through that relationship and hiding it from Yeong Su makes his reading of Yeong Su’s article about the  immorality of being gay hit even harder. I also think about how irregular his schedule was then, and how bad he was at taking his medication regularly and on time. And knowing that there are restrictions to travel and to moving places, I wonder if part of his rage at Yeong Su moving to America was about knowing that even if Yeong Su had asked, he could not have joined him (you can travel to the USA with HIV but it can be difficult to get a green card). Honestly he was probably too hit with the betrayal and callous rejection to do that full calculus in his head in that moment but I wanted an excuse to use this gif because watching Yeoung punch Yeong Su is good for the spirit:

It also recontextualizes the scenes with his mother, and how much she cared about appearances and judgment, and how she contextualized her own disease as a punishment from God, so how could he not do the same about his own? When overdoses on pills, and his mother tells him not to be in a rush to die, I wonder if the hospital successfully did not disclose his HIV status to her during that period.

Seeing the T-aras there and so worried about him must have been healing even if they still don’t know about this major part of him; he knows they love and care for him and want him alive. Yeong not telling the T-aras about his application to the company because he’s afraid of being rejected for his HIV status tells me that he still hasn’t told the T-aras about Kylie through Part 3; I’m not sure he ever will. But there are people in our lives who we love and who love us in return who we keep secrets from; it means there will always be a level of distance, but it does not mean we aren’t important to each other. 

His mother dying at the beginning of Part 3 is a significant detail that we don’t get in the book, and it made me rethink why Parts 1 and 2 did not mention Kylie at all. In the series, we have Yeong writing Part 1 in episodes 1-2, Part 2 in episodes 3-4, and Part 3 in episodes 5-6. We know he wanted his mother to never know about Kylie, and we know that she followed his literary career and kept copies of his work even if she won’t read them. So it makes sense that he could only write about having HIV and incorporating that into his narrative after her death. I also wonder if Yeong being willing to open up to Gyu-Ho about Kylie has to do with his mother’s death: One of his reasons for keeping the secret so carefully is no longer present.

This isn't recontextualized because by the time we see this we know about Kylie, but how much of Yeong's fixation on Gyu-Ho's silent sleeping and needing to check he's still breathing has to do with his fear that Gyu-Ho still hasn't settled into the relationship and is tip-toeing around him, and how much of it has to do with his fear of giving Gyu-Ho HIV and making him ill? They're barely having sex so it's a pretty irrational fear but that's not how fear works. We know he's thinking about Kylie all the time through this section because he asks Gyu-Ho about how he feels abut Yeong being "dirty" more than once.

One last moment of painful reflection: The first two parts of this series had clear relationship pairings and parallels: Mi Ae and Nam Gyu in Part 1, and Yeong Su and Yeong's mother in Part 2. I was thinking about whether Kylie and Gyu-Ho are our pairing in Part 3, and while I don't think we get enough reflection about Kylie to make this case strongly, I'm struck by how Yeong characterizes Kylie as something he is "stuck with forever", and how he is determined to let Gyu-Ho go.

[cherrycola27]

afterglow

Series Warnings: Language, alcohol and drinking. Military inaccuracies. Allusions to and eventual smut. Friends to lovers. Mutual pining. Unrequited love. Minors DNI. 18+. Banner Credit: @thedroneranger

Masterlist Previous Part Next Part

...........................................

Chapter 1: In My Head

The week passed in a blur of jets and clouds and sunshine. By Thursday, you were finally able to choke down the feelings you had for Jake, just in time for him to wreck them on Friday.

As the squadron sat in the briefing room Thursday evening, Cyclone came in, whispered something to Maverick, and then left.

"Well, folks, it looks like we need someone to make a late afternoon flight before they head home to test out some new software. Any takers?" Maverick asked.

There was a collective groan before Jake's hang shot up. "Glow and I can." He volunteered the two of you with a smile. He knew that you loved flying in the afternoon as the sun was starting to set. You always had.

"Are you okay with that, Glow?" Maverick asked you. "Yes, sir," you responded. Maverick sent everyone else home for the day. He met the two of you out on the tarmac to prep you for what you would be doing.

"Also, Admiral Simpson said whoever stayed late today could have tomorrow off. So, it looks like you two get a three day weekend." Maverick smiled at the pair of you. You and Jake exchanged a high- five before he helped you up and got himself situated.

The evening sky was absolutely beautiful as the two of you flew. The sun painted it in shades of pinks and oranges, and purples. The hues danced off the water and floated around the jet. You couldn't help but smile as Jake piloted back towards base.

"I can see why this is your favorite time to be up here." He said to you. "It's gorgeous."

"It is. There is just something about the afterglow that always gets me." You told him. And you meant it. In more ways than one.

After landing, showering, and changing, you ducked out of the locker room to find Jake leaning against the wall waiting on you. "Oh!" You exclaimed when you saw him. "I thought you would have already left by now."

"I was waiting on you, silly." He smiled before falling in step beside you. He lazily tossed an arm over your shoulders as you walked. His hair was still slightly damp, and you could smell his cologne. The scent of oak, whiskey, and tobacco filled your olfactory receptors. It was mixed with a hint of sunshine and salt water. A combination that was so perfect, so unique, so—Jake.

"So I was thinking." Jake began. "That's terrifying." You snorted. He lightly shoved you before pulling you back to him. "But seriously. I don't have any pressing issues I need to take care of tomorrow, and I assume you don't. So, I was thinking, what if we spent the day together?" Jake asked you as you reached your cars in the parking lot.

"And do what?" You asked him. "'We could get breakfast at that diner you love, and we could take the tops off of your jeep and cruise for a bit to our favorite ice cream place, hit the beach, get dinner, oh and Phoenix told me about the movie she and Lukas saw over the weekend. I thought we would check it out and maybe skip the Hard Deck because I, for one, don't want to hear Rooster bitching about how we got the day off." Jake smiled. He had the whole thing planned out.

"So? What do you think?" He asked you with a smile.

You knew this was a bad idea. If you were up in the jet, you'd have warning lights going off everywhere, and you'd be ejecting. "Sounds like a plan. What time do I need to pick you up if we are taking my car?" You asked him.

"Now, Glowy, you no good and well that I'm not going to let you pick me up." I'll be at your house at 9:30 sharp." He stated. You rolled your eyes and agreed. Jake pulled you into a tight hug before climbing into his Silverado and leaving.

....................

You set your alarm for 6:30 the next morning. Even though he said he would be there around 9:30, Jake Seresin was notoriously early for everything.

You got up and took a shower before drying and styling your hair. You took your time dawning some simple makeup for the day. After your finished with your hair and your face, you packed a bag for the day.

You grabbed towels, sunscreen, a change of clothes, some snacks and a few other odds and ends that you thought you might need.

Jake had mentioned the beach, so you slipped a simple purple two-piece on before deciding on a tea-length, bright pink floral sundress. You slipped on a pair of sandals and spritzed your favorite perfume on your wrists and neck.

You were giddy as you were getting ready. You had to keep reminding yourself that this wasn't a date. Just two friends enjoying an unexpected day off.

At nine on the dot, there was a knock at your door. "Good morning, Jake." You greeted him as you opened it. "Morning Y/N. I brought coffee and these." Jake smiled as he walked in. He handed you your favorite iced carmel latte and a bundle of fresh daisies. "They're your favorite, right?" He nodded to the flowers.

"Yeah, um—why did you get me these?" You ask him a little confused.

"My mother told me you never go to a lady's house without flowers." Jake stated matter of factly. "Plus, the farmers market is right near the coffee shop, and I saw these and thought of you." He smiled.

You quickly turned away from him to find a vase. You wouldn't let him see the pink rise in your cheeks.

After securing the flowers, he promptly stole the keys from their hook in your hallway and pulled the tops off of your jeep. He secured them in your garage. The weather was supposed to be bright and sunny all day, so you didn't bother storing them in the trunk.

You tried to argue with him that you should be the one driving, but he simply shook his head stating thst he was the pilot and you would forever be his back seater, or in this case, passenger princess.

..................

The weather was spectacular as the two of you drove to your favorite diner. You laughed and joked as the two of you feasted on bacon, eggs, potatoes, and French toast.

"I'm so glad that I got orders to come here. Lemoore sucked without you. The pilot they assigned to me after you got recalled was even more of a dick than you." You told Jake as you speared a potato square.

"Really? I doubt that." He chuckled. "And it is great that you got moved here." He smiled. Jake prayed you didn't catch the guilt behind his eyes.

It was no accident that you ended up in San Diego with him.

When pilots were being recalled for the uranium plant mission, the rule was that no pairs of pilots and their weapons systems officers could be called together. They didn't want to leave the original squadrons hanging for too long. That's why Jake flew a singe seater. He refused to have anyone in his back seat besides you.

It killed him to leave you. So, after getting word that he would be permanently stationed at Top Gun, he begged asked Cyclone and Warlock if they could transfer you, and he could get back in a two-seater.

Admiral Simpson and Admiral Bates reluctantly agreed, but it worked out for the better. Jake was much more tolerable with you around.

After you finished breakfast, Jake swiped the bill before you could set your card down, claiming once again that his mother would have his head if he let a lady pay. You had to take a deep breath and remind yourself that this wasn't a date.

You silenced the warning bells once again before getting into your car.

The two of you drove along the coast, stopping at a few shops and sent selfies to the rest of your friends who were stuck at work.

You had ice cream on the boardwalk for lunch. The two of you sat side by side and watched the waves roll in. Jake had asked you something, and when you turned to answer, he noticed you at the smallest smear of mint chip on your face. He leaned in with his thumb to brush it away, but he lingered before pulling back. His eyes darted to your lips, and he leaned forward ever so slightly.

The caution lights flashed before your eyes. No, he wasn't about to kiss you. Not here. Not out in the open like this. Your brain was screaming at you to eject.

You pulled away from him and cleared your throat. He pulled back and coughed before licking the melted ice cream from his thumb.

"So, beach?" You asked him after a beat of silence.

"Yeah, beach" He nodded.

The two of you tossed your cones before going back to your car and grabbing the beach bag you'd packed. You slipped off your sundress, and Jake's breath caught in his throat when he saw you in your purple swimsuit. His was barely able to keep his tough guy charade up as he helped you apply sunscreen.

The two of you froliced through the waves, splashing and laughing until the sun began to sink. After a quick use of the beach showers and a pit stop in the changing room, both of you were relatively sand free as you sat back in your car. You'd pulled your hair into a high ponytail and were humming along to the music as Jake drove the two of you towards the movie theater.

After getting more popcorn and candy than necessary, and two icees that would give you the worst brain freeze ever, the two of you found yourselves in the last row of an almost empty theater.

Jake had moved the armrest separating your seats out of the way, claiming it was easier to share snacks that way. But you didn't miss the way his bare knee bumped against yours through the slit of your sundress.

..................

At the Hard Deck, the rest of the Daggers finally concluded that the two of you probably weren't showing up tonight.

"It's not fair," Fanboy groaned as he leaned over the pool table.

"I mean, they did volunteer to take a later test flight yesterday, so it is kind of fair." Bob shrugged.

"Bob is right. We all had the same opportunity." Payback stated.

"So what do you think they are doing that is better than hanging out with us?" Coyote asked the group.

"Probably fucking." Rooster shrugged causing half of the group to choke on their drinks.

"Jesus, Bradshaw. Have some tact, man." Payback scolded him.

"What, I'm just saying what we are all thinking." Rooster defended himself. "Glow assures me that they are just friends. Very good friends." Phoenix tells the group.

"Yeah, and I'm a front seater." Fanboy laughed.

"Nix, you can't really believe that. I mean, haven't you seen they way they look at each other? Or noticed how they always leave together from here? And they are together right now?" Rooster pressed.

"Rooster does have a point." Bob chimed in.

"So I have a theory, well three, of what the situation could be." Payback began. "I'm going to present them in order from least plausible to most likely." He continued.

"One, they are secretly dating or maybe married. That would explain why she got transferred to here from Lemoore. Two, they really are just good friends and have worked together so long that they act like a couple. Or, three, and what I feel is most likely, they are hooking up, and one of them, Hangman, wants to keep it more casual, while ignoring the fact that the other, Glow, has feelings for him." Payback finished.

"Well, I don't know what it is. All I know is that Hangman is way easier to deal with when she's around." Phoenix said as she held up her beer. Everyone mumbled out an agreement as they went about their pool game.

.................

Nat was right. The movie was great, and you were glad you had seen it.

You and Jake were walking back to your car as the last rays of the sun began to dip below the horizon.

"Ugh, the sunsets here are so much prettier than the ones in Lemoore." You told Jake.

"Yeah, they are." He agreed with you. "Looks like some clouds are rolling in. We'd better get a move on." He said. You took note of the weather and agreed. You definitely didn't want to get caught in the rain with no cover on your jeep.

Unfortunately, Mother Nature had other plans. The two of you were about halfway back to your house when the heavens opened up and rain came pouring down. Jake desperately tried to find an overpass for shelter, but there was nothing in sight.

He broke a few traffic laws to get you home, sliding into your garage on two wheels. The two of you sat there for a moment, soaking wet and out of breath.

You shared a look before breaking out into a laugh.

As the laughter faded, the air shifted between the you. The electricity flowing wasn't just the lightening from the storm. Desire radiated off your bodies as you both surged forward and connected your lips.

You basked in the salty, sweet taste of him, as you tried to ignore the warning bells going off. But eventually, you gave in and pulled away from him.

"We can't keep doing this, Jake." You told him.

"I know." He replied as he cupped your jaw, dragging his lips almost criminally slow against your skin. You could feel the subtle hint of the stubble on his chin.

Heat flushed in your cheeks and spread across you from the tips of your ears to the curl of your toes. You felt like you were doused in gasoline, and his touch was the strike of the match, ready to burn you down.

"One last time?" You breathed out.

"One last time." He whispered against the shell of your ear.

Taglist: @thedroneranger @roosterscock @shanimallina87 @desert-fern @teacupsandtopgun @mayhemmanaged @lovinglyeternal @lovingbradshawafterdark @wkndwlff @roosterforme @daggerspare-standingby @dakotakazansky @startrekfangirl2233 @hecate-steps-on-me @cassiemitchell @na-ta-sh-aa @milestellerlover @katieshook02 @mak-32 @je-suis-prest-rachel @soulmates8 @ohgodnotagainn @diorrfairy @eli2447 @xoxabs88xox @potato-girl99981 @djs8891 @roosterbruiser @roosters-girl @sebsxphia @roostette @rosiahills22 @dempy @olliepig

[number-one-shadisper-shipper]

For today's Wholesome Sonic and Tails Wednesday, may I present:

Tails having friends doesn't mean he's not autistic, or, How Having Zero Social Skills Will Accidentally Get You Adopted

(It's a little long but we'll get there, I promise)

Okay so I read a comment by someone basically saying that Tails can't be autistic because he has social skills and I? just? can't?

First off, yes, autistic people can have social skills. While it is a common symptom to not understand "normal" social cues, autism is a spectrum, and some autistic people have skills which others don't. Along with that, many autistics have learned to mask and imitate neurotypical behavior because of being bullied/punished when they act differently, or because they're trying so hard to fit in. So that in of itself is not proof someone isn't autistic.

Second, where are you getting that Tails has social skills?

Tails doesn't have social skills. Tails has FRIENDS. There's a difference.

You might ask, "How can someone make friends without having social skills?" Well for starters, I think there are a lot of decent people who are willing to be accepting of people who have a little trouble with social skills.

But the main reason Tails has made so many friends without social skills is that NO OTHER CHARACTER IN THIS WHOLE FRANCHISE HAS ANY. Most of the characters are neurodivergent coded, and even those who aren't still have zero social skills. You're telling me that in a world with Sonic the ADHD king, Knuckles the "a punch in the face is a warning" Echidna, and freaking Shadow, Tails is the one going to have trouble making friends? The entire Sonic the Hedgehog crew has exactly one social skill between them, and generally Amy has it. The characters just understand that people have trouble socializing. Maybe that's why they found each other. In my experience, we "odd" people tend to flock to each other. And once we've formed our weird little groups, who needs social skills?

But to show that Tails has very little social skills (and to prove you don't need them) let's analyze his first interaction with Sonic.

To start with, before meeting Sonic, Tails is just wandering around alone and bullied. Little guy, all alone, can't make a friend to save his life.

And then comes Sonic.

Depending on the version of backstory we're looking at, we have:

Tails spots Sonic, decides he's cool, and starts following him around until he finds his plane, which he then fixes and repaints without asking. Sonic shows up and is like, cool, you can come with.

Stalking will get you adopted, folks

Actual dialogue: "You looked cool, so I followed you, and when I found your plane, I figured I'd fix it up and we could be friends!"

Or Tails being bullied, Sonic runs by and stops it, and then again Tails just starts following him around until Sonic decides he can come with.

And the there's the movie version, where Tails, who's been remotely spying on Sonic for a years, shows up and HITS KNUCKLES WITH A STOLEN POLICE CAR, tells Sonic to jump in, and Sonic does because he's afraid for his life, upon which Tails proceeds to excitedly rant about how excited he is because he's literally meeting his special interest.

Also the version where Tails just falls on Sonic's head:

Does any of this scream "social skills" to you?

And in all these situations Sonic, who has zero social skills himself, just adopts him on the spot because that's just... who he is? This dude just wants to help everyone. Half his friend group have introduced themselves by trying to kill him, but he's willing to make friends anyway. And then those friends become Tails's friends, because he and Sonic give off classic "extrovert adopting an introvert" vibes (I'm not sure that Sonic is actually an "extrovert", but he's def. more open and better at making friends).

TL;DR: Having social skills doesn't make you not autistic, but even if it does, Tails doesn't have social skills, he just has a great big bro and a group of people with even less social skills than him

[z-h-i-e]

The Reality of Responding to Comments Left on Fanfiction

Or, a rebuttal to a Tumblr post I was going to comment on, then thought, why not just start a whole new post?

So I happened upon a post recently which compared not replying to comments to not holding open a door for someone.

Firstly, I want to point out, I'm in the midwest of the US of A. Even during the middle of covid, when people were very careful about touching things, we are so trained to open doors, we were still doing it. Hell, we try to hold open doors for each other when it's an automatic door.

Commenting back to comments, though. In theory, sure, very nice to do. In practice, no. That's the short answer; buckle up for the long one.

It's February of 2020. I'm already starting to suspect shit in the world is going down soon--while everyone else is watching the impeachment here like it's the next big reality TV series, I'm stocking up on canned goods, cereal, and cheese. (Yeah. Cheese. I'm from fucking Wisconsin. I had a mini fridge just for cheese. Judge me. I can take it.)

Once a month, during those 'pre-pandemic' days, I would take one long lunch hour -- I would use comp time, I'd drive out to Panera, I'd sit in the area upon which I based part of Salgant's house, and I'd answer comments. It was a happier time. I had time to do it. It was nice to go through all the interesting things people noticed or the bits they liked. Hell, I even like a good flame--keeps me warm, lets me roast a few marshmallows, and then I go fucking Feanor in Formenos on them. But I digress.

That was the last time I had a chance to do that. Because then, and sorry, forgive me if this is new information, but there was a fucking worldwide plague that occurred. And during that catastrophic world event, not all of us recovered to a point where we're back to normal yet. I don't know about the rest of you, but wondering each day if I'd ever get to hug my parents while they were still alive? Kind of stressful. See, my father has major medical issues (kidney failure and on dialysis, cancer survivor three times over, osteoporosis, diabetes, diverticulitis, and sleep apnea), and my mother has a few doozies, too (COPD, macular degeneration, also a cancer survivor, and a whole fucking messed up thing with her spine). With all the concerns of previously mentioned plague, the doctors at the time advised that no one else was to go into their house until there were viable covid vaccines. I would come over, drop off groceries and medications on their porch, close the door and call on my phone, then air hug from the street thirty feet away.

I remember all the stuff I did to try to keep my brain happy. I watched my way through 'If Google was a Person' and 'Epic Rap Battles of History', over and over. I found museums who had 360 views to pretend I was on field trips, and I found a bunch of virtual rollercoasters to 'ride' on. And I listened to Hamilton so many times if it was vinyl I'd have worn a hole through it.

I had coworkers who died from covid. People who seemed generally okay, people I would not have thought would be hit so hard by it. We lost several pets since 2020--two dogs, two cats, and a rabbit. In the case of our beloved Trotter, who went through more surgical procedures than I can recall, I would have to hand him off to a technician, then sit in the car for three or four hours, wondering if he would be okay, if he would feel better afterwards, if he would wake up after each procedure, if his already damaged heart could take another.

I had my share of medical bullshit throughout the past nearly five years. The big 'well this is bullshit' of them all is that I had a pretty good life plan going, along with 'we all going to do all the things to try to make a smol human in the 2020/2021 range' and, well, let me tell you folks, as soon as pandemic got volleyed around, that was a big nope. That nope was followed by so many additional 'did my warranty expire?' moments, but I have to say, the highlights of the instant replay real would be the intercostal muscle tear which has still not healed completely correctly, so it is physically painful to push a grocery cart around in a store for more than thirty seconds, the whole episode when my pancreas decided to stop working for a hot minute but it was covid city in the hospitals so I was sent home with meds and a 'best of luck' sort of thing, and the secondary infection when I did eventually catch covid despite so many precautions (funny enough, from my father when we finally had the first in-person Christmas again in 2022--so, while the concern was I could end up giving it to him, he ended up giving it to me).

But the most frustrating, the most enduring, has been my failing vision. When I was 8, and at a public school for the first time, they did vision screenings, and realized 'wow, this one does not see well'. Now, in theory, someone should have figured that out sooner -- I had jabbed myself in the eye no less than three times (possibly more) that I remember before the age of five from accidentally getting things too close to my face. So glasses and I have been pretty tight now for nearly four decades. But it was during the pandemic that I started to think I must have been dealing with some strain from computers or needed a new prescription or something. Words were far more difficult to read. I would sometimes stare at pages in books or on the screen and just see...nothing, really. (Kind of not helpful in my profession.)

I went years with terrible distance vision, but great vision up close. Now that had failed, too. But it wasn't just that. At least with distances, I could still generally see things. Up close--sometimes yes, sometimes no. So I kept getting tested and retested and asked questions and went to different doctors and described things--

--and finally, sometimes, you find someone who listens, and wants to figure it out, and does. And then you have an answer. But answers don't always mean solutions. And when I asked how we fix it, I got an answer, but not a solution.

The answer is, I can't.

And to the follow up, will it get worse, that answer is, maybe.

But it won't get better.

So as I'm still processing this, having days where I want to write but can't even see the words, I think about all of the stories I still don't have posted on AO3. I think of things on floppy disks--not just the hard floppy disks, fucking floppity floppy disks, where the only backup is on dot matrix printer paper--and I think about things that are handwritten, and stories on old flashdrives, and the words from the musical that got me through the pandemic play through my mind.

Why do you write like you're running out of time?

Because.

I am.

I'm not the biggest fan of mortality--I fucking write about elves, friends. Elves, and more elves, and after that, a few additional elves, just in case. I've rooted myself in Valinor, for the most part, over the last few years.

I am very aware that I am more likely than not on the downward slope of life's journey at this point. For anyone who has ever been sledding in the midwest during winter, you know you go way faster on that downward slope.

So I've got some pretty solid goals in mind. I have stories I need to finish. I've got art and other things I want to make. I have items I want transferred to a place that stands a decent chance of still being around when I'm not, or when I'm not able to do the moving of things anymore, from personal websites I have. I completed one really big accomplishment over the summer--I sat down and wrote my scientific paper on the Silmarils. I really wanted to get that written, and I'm very happy I did.

I've lost too many fandom friends over the past five years. People I'd known for decades, people I knew by their legal names, people I'd exchanged mail with and in some cases met in person.

So, I'd like to go back to the Panera days of having a sammich and one of those salads that are practically dessert because it's more than half fruit and take a few hours each month to answer comments. Trust me, there are no awards for four digit unanswered comment boxes. If there were, I'd have seen one by now. Every comment is immensely appreciated. They make me think about things, and reconsider things, and sometimes sneak in a character or two based on what someone says.

And I'm hoping that someday, maybe when I'm retired or at a point when I'm able to get down to working just one job or something, I'll be able to get back to the older comments I haven't answered yet. But right now, I've got a few other higher priorities in life.

Today was my father's 69th birthday. I suppose I could have answered a few comments today, but instead, after working a ten hour shift, I went to hang out with my dad--which is basically just us sitting and talking, but it's amazing because I spent so many sleepless nights over the past few years wondering if he and my mom would make it through the worst of the pandemic.

I regret nothing.

I hope that for now, you can take my word on the door opening. In fact, this morning when I got to work, I got the door for someone, then I noticed a moth on the ground that looked a bit dazed like it had just gotten itself out of a spider web, so I bent down and I managed to get it onto my finger so that no one stepped on it, then I walked back down to where there are plants and grass and deposited the moth (who at first wanted to crawl about on me, which I allowed for a moment before getting it safely onto a leaf) then came back up again, saw to a large cricket so that no one stepped on it either, and finally got in. Please accept for now the sharing of stories as the holding of the door the first time; I'll try to get it for you again if I can later on, when I'm on my way out--but I have some business to finish inside first.

[boxofbonesfic]

Title: ᴅᴇᴠɪʟ ʙᴇᴛᴡᴇᴇɴ ᴜꜱ [4]

Pairing: Rockstar!Bucky Barnes x Reader

series masterlist || series playlist || chapter song

Summary: Drowning in women and designer drugs, Bucky Barnes of Valkyrie’s Revenge is in a race to rock bottom. Fed up, his bandmates give him an ultimatum—straighten up, or fuck off. In a last, desperate bid to maintain his place, he agrees to return to the one place he swore he’d never set foot again—home.

Warnings: Angst, Drug Addiction, Mental Health issues, Toxicity, Recreational Drug use, Hard drug use, PTSD, Dealing with trauma, Slow Burn, Fluff, MINORS DNI, [More to be added]

A/N: another installment down! i’m really eager to hear what folks are thinking and feeling, so please don’t hesitate to hit my inbox with comments or questions! divider by @firefly-graphics​

series playlist || chapter song

This work is entirely unbeta’d, and unedited. Though I don’t own any of Marvel’s characters, this work and the plot contained inside are entirely mine. I do not consent for this work to be posted anywhere else by anyone but me. Enjoy 😘

🎤

You don’t sleep until the sky starts to turn from deep purple to pink at the edges, waiting for your phone to ring, or the doorbell, or a fierce knock—but nothing comes. You begin to slip down into slumber as the dawn stretches bright fingers up the faded wallpaper of your bedroom, and your anxieties follow you in. 

 You’re in the car. Why are you in the car? The window is cool to the touch beneath your fingers—it’s winter. It was winter. Maybe here it always is. Someone squeezes your hand—Bucky, you know it without looking. You know him so well that even the guitar callouses on his fingertips are as known to you as the folded pages of your favorite book. 

 You stroke your thumb over the creases in his skin. They are the familiar lines of a map you have learned down to the letter—every scar recorded to memory. 

 Why are you in the car? Rebecca is there too, her face blurred in the mirror as she leans over to whisper something to Bucky’s mother. You can’t hear her, like she’s speaking from under water. 

 “You think you’ll ever come back here? When you get famous?” You know how this goes, you remember this part—

 “When we get famous, you mean.” The world tilts on its head and suddenly you are standing in the rain on the shoulder of the road, staring at the smoking, twisted metal—

 “Mommy?”

 Your eyes are slow to open, like your body doesn’t actually want start moving again so soon after falling asleep. Iris is perched on the edge of your bed, her wide gray eyes searching your face. 

 “Hey, sweetheart. I’m sorry,” you sit up onto your elbows with a huff. “I didn’t mean to sleep so late.” You hadn’t slept at all, really, but your daughter doesn’t need to know that. “Were you up long without me?” She shakes her head. 

 “No.” She looks so much like Bucky as she cocks her head at you, her eyebrow lifting ever so slightly as she regards you. It’s almost laughable how many of his mannerisms she’s seems to have inherited despite never being around him, how much of him is in her. 

 Iris crawls up to the head of the bed and scoots underneath the blanket with a little sigh. You wrap your arms around your daughter, pressing a tired kiss to her forehead. 

 “You sleep okay? Any bad dreams?”

 “No. I was a mermaid in my dream.” Iris replies seriously. 

 “Oh? Did you see anything cool down there under the ocean?” As she begins describing the intricacies of her subconscious, you start trying to ready yourself for the day. It’s Saturday—one of your only full days off. Generally, your off time consists of taking Iris to absorb what little culture Meridian and the surrounding counties have to offer, but today, you’re dragging. 

 You haven’t dreamed about the crash since after Iris was two, but you know you shouldn’t be surprised by it’s reoccurrence, not really. The past has a way of biting your ass when you least expect it, your grandmother had said that to you when you were young, and you found it still held true. First Bucky, then Steve—it had been bound to happen sooner or later. 

 You can’t stop thinking about it as you slide out of bed, only managing to half listen to Iris as she describes the flavor of kelp ice cream to you over freezer waffles. 

 Following Bucky back from the softball game, riding in Steve’s truck because Winnie’s tire blew out on her sedan—Bucky was going to go back and pick it up later with the spare from the garage.

 Kissing him and telling him you’d see him at home, that you loved him.

 Watching the drunk driver plow headfirst into Bucky’s truck. 

 Bucky pulling his mother and sister from the wreckage, and screaming, so much screaming—

 “You’re sad today, mommy.” Your head snaps up, your fingers loosening on your fork in your shock. It clatters against the plate, but Iris doesn’t blink. “I can tell.” 

 So fucking much like her dad.

 “I guess I am,” you say after a moment.

 “Why?” 

 You’re not sure what to say—you certainly can’t tell her that you’re thinking about the crash. The one almost exactly a year before she was born. You can’t tell her that that’s when everything fell apart, when Declan Forge’s truck jumped the divider and slammed full speed into Bucky’s Dodge.

 But you don’t want to lie to her either. 

 “Something… bad happened, just before I found out I was pregnant with you. There was an accident, and some people I was very close to passed away.” Iris knows what death is; you’ve never shied away from some of the harsher truths, but this one is still hard for you to stomach. Iris looks like she’s thinking hard, her little brows scrunched up as her nose wrinkles. 

 “I’m sorry you’re sad, mommy.” Your chest goes painfully tight when she places her little hand on your cheek. “You shouldn’t have to be sad.” There’s a simple, childish wisdom in her words that makes you want to protect her, keep Iris just like this forever—but the concern written in the lines of her little face tells you otherwise. 

 You wipe at your tear filled eyes, fixing Iris with a soft smile. “Thanks, kiddo.”

 You bundle Iris into the shower as she talks a mile a minute. There’s barely enough time to answer one of her questions before she’s firing off others, each thought biting the tail of the next as they rush to get to her mouth.

 “Are we going to the center today, mommy?” She asks as you towel her off. “Miss Kitty said there’s berry picking today.” 

 Truth be told, you don’t want to spend any more time at the community center than you have to, these days—especially now that Bucky practically lives there. You’re bound to run into him—Meridian is smaller than a goddamn speck—but you don’t want to do it more than you have to. If Steve is already noticing the uncanny likeness between your daughter and his best friend, you don’t want to add more opportunities for Bucky to do the same. 

 “Wouldn’t you rather go to the park?” You suggest, but Iris shakes her head. “Or maybe the library? Or we could go see—”

 “Mommy, I want to see my friends at the center,” she whines, scuffing her foot against the bathroom tile. “Please?” You can’t deny her trembling lip and wide eyes, and you heave a sigh as you draw the wide toothed comb through her hair. 

 “Sure, sweetheart. We’ll go see your friends at the center.” 

 —

 Steve’s house is better than the studio apartment Tony had rented in his name, Bucky’s grateful for that. Waking up from the withdrawal induced nightmares to stare at the creepy painting of cherubs by his bedside was driving him crazier than the cravings. And now, there’s more than one place to sit around all day parsing out what a piece of shit he is—there are options; the kitchen, the porch, the living room, the den; all laid out for his choosing pleasure. 

 Bucky is currently parked on the porch, smoking what he thinks is either his fifth or eighth cigarette of the morning—he can’t remember. He’d been up early enough to watch the sun rise over the old warehouses in the distance, stretching golden fingers through the streets until it passed beyond the dead-end cul-de-sac where Steve’s mother used to live. 

 He’d missed that funeral, too. Bucky tries to recall where he was when Sarah died, tried to dredge up the memories—but they’re too cloudy for him to sort through. What a good friend, he thinks sourly, shaking either his sixth or ninth cigarette loose from the carton. Don’t even remember when my best friend’s mom kicked the bucket.

 “Hey.” Steve’s voice makes Bucky turn, squinting in the bright morning sun. “You’re up early.” Bucky appreciates that Steve doesn’t comment on the fact that Bucky’s always awake, knees trembling as he picks the cuticles on his hands down to the quick. 

 “Couldn’t sleep.” 

 Steve sits down beside him, shaking his head when Bucky offers him a cigarette. He’s not sure when Steve quit smoking, another memory lost to the shuffle. 

 “You going down to the center today?” Steve asks, and Bucky’s lip curls as he exhales smoke. He doesn’t much fancy going down there to wallow in self pity and regret. Easier just to do it here, where there isn’t anyone to ask him how he’s processing it all. 

 “If I said no would you make me go anyway?” He asks, and Steve actually laughs. 

 “Probably wouldn’t be too hard,” he replies with a chuckle. “You’re skinny as shit.” 

 When they get to the center, Kitty is already there and going strong. She gets an almost religious fervor about herself as she speaks, her eyes bright as her lips move impossibly quickly. It reminds Bucky of what it was like on stage, the crowd’s attention and devotion like a steady morphine drip. He wonders if that’s Kitty’s addiction—being the center of attention. 

 “We talked about rock bottom last meeting,” she says, clapping her hands. “Now I want to talk about moving up. I want to talk about moving forward.”

 No forward for you, the demon mutters. Just under. Six feet, right?

 “Obviously today’s session isn’t mandatory, but it’s still useful. We’re going to give back to our community today, the community that has held us through these tough times.” Bucky’s not sure which community she’s talking about, considering that most of the folks inhabiting Meridian are no better than rabid dogs, but he keeps that little thought to himself. 

 “There’s a local business in need of a little assistance, they’re short staffed this quarter, and we’re going to assist! Isn’t that wonderful?” Bucky wants to shake his head, but refrains from doing so—barely. “Raul’s Berry Farm, out north on 49.” 

 Great.

 Kitty’s rented a van for today’s excursion, but Steve volunteers to drive him, which Bucky is thankful for. He’s not really sure how many more “uplifting” and “inspirational” stories he can handle. He gets back into Steve’s pickup, leaning his head back against the headrest. Steve pulls out into traffic, following the van. His fingers drum nervously against the wheel, tapping out an anxious rhythm Bucky’s not even sure he notices. Steve’s always been fidgety when he’s nervous, though, ever since they were little. 

 “What?” Bucky asks, and Steve turns to look at him like he has three heads. Bucky gestures at Steve’s fingers, tap-dancing across the dashboard. “What’s the problem?” 

 Steve shrugs. “Nothing.”

 “You always were a shit liar.” 

 Steve scowls at him. “It’s nothing, Buck. Seriously.” 

 The berry farm is a Meridian institution, one of the local businesses that had been around since before the town was a town. Bucky doesn’t think that’s a particularly impressive resume, but he knows better than to mention it when he hops out of Steve’s pickup and down into the dusty parking lot. Kitty gestures for everyone to circle in, clapping her hands excitedly. 

 “Alright everyone. We’ve got some little helpers here today too,” she points at a short yellow school bus that Bucky assumes also came from the community center. “I think we all know how important it is in the process to make amends not only to ourselves but to our community!” 

 Can’t make amends to people who are dead though, can you?

 Bucky picks up his five gallon bucket and starts down a line of blueberry bushes. He pops a few into his mouth, tart sweetness bursting over his tongue. He doesn’t wait for Kitty to deliver instructions—after all, how much directing could they possibly need to pick berries? The smell of the hot sun, the laughter of the children racing up and down the rows—it’s nostalgic. Bucky had been here many times himself on school field trips, the farm being one of the only “historic” locations within forty-five minutes of Meridian. 

 A group of children rounds the corner, flying down the dirt path at top speed. One of them crashes into his legs, and then lands back on the ground with a soft oof.

 “Easy, kid.” Bucky reaches down to help her up, and his heart leaps into his throat when Iris beams at him. 

 “Hi, Mr. Bucky!” Her wide smile is missing a couple of teeth. “I’m sorry I runned into you.” 

 “That’s okay.” He glances around, looking for you, but he doesn’t see you. “Where’s, um. Where’s your mom?” She cocks her head at him. 

 “She’s talking with Miss Kitty.” Iris points back towards the parking lot, and then makes a face. “Grown-up stuff.” She looks so much like you, wrinkling her little nose with distaste the same way you do. He can’t help but wonder who you’d found after him, who had tried to help you pick up the pieces because Bucky wouldn’t. 

 Couldn’t.

 And perhaps that’s the worst part of all, that when he’d broken you, he expected you to stay that way. But you hadn’t. You’ve moved on, you’ve grown, while Bucky is stuck in the same mud pit, nursing the same old wounds. Or maybe he isn’t nursing them at all, just tearing them open again and again because he knows he doesn’t deserve peace. 

 If he did, he’d be in the ground same as Beccs. 

 “Do you, um. Do you like blueberries?” Bucky asks lamely. He doesn’t know how to talk to kids, not really. Iris looks around conspiratorially, before gesturing for him to lean in close. 

 “They’re mommy’s favorite,” she stage whispers, and Bucky nods. He remembers that, at least. “She’s sad today. If I bring her something she likes, maybe she’ll be happy again.” Iris says resolutely, secure in the soundness of her childish reasoning. It makes Bucky’s heart ache a little, though he isn’t sure why. “Can you help me?”

 Bucky rubs the back of his neck. He knows you probably don’t want him anywhere near your kid. He looks around, searching for you, but he doesn’t see you. 

 “I dunno, kid, I mean… your mom, she…” Bucky stops, unsure of what to say. He can’t exactly tell a six year old that he’d nuked their relationship, can he?

 “Please?” 

 “I guess I could… help you get a few.” She chatters aimlessly at him, and Bucky struggles to keep up and respond to every loose thought that seems to fly from her little mouth up to his ears. Iris is so much like you—and it isn’t just the fact that in more than a few ways, she could be your twin. She reminds him of you before. 

 His fingers are stained purple by the time Iris’ bucket is even a quarter of the way full. Bucky can’t believe he even remembers how to do this, gripping the soft fruit gingerly and twisting it off of the vine. Iris’ mouth and hands are purple too, though that’s more from eating than picking. She stands up away from the bucket and waves at someone Bucky can’t see, crouched underneath the thorny vines the way he is. 

 “Hi mommy!” He pulls hurriedly away from the bush, wincing as one of the thorns catches his finger. You look less than pleased, but not angry. Panicked might be a better way to describe your tight expression, the frantic way your eyes move back and forth between Bucky and Iris. 

 “Hey, sweetheart. I was looking for you,” you reply. The weak smile on your features grows strained. “Hello Bucky.” 

 “Hey.” 

 “Mr. Bucky helped me get lots of berries, mommy, see?” Iris reaches indigo stained fingers into the bucket, and lets a handful of berries fall through her tiny fingers like gold coins. “Lots!” 

 “Woah! That’s so many,” you agree, placing your hands on your knees as you bend over to peer into her bucket. “I thought maybe we could head out, sweet pea. Maybe go for dinner? My friend made reservations for us somewhere special.”

 “Is it Andy?” Iris replies, her nose wrinkling again. “I don’t like him, mommy.” 

 You wince. 

 Who the fuck is Andy? The live-wire of jealousy that flares to life within him is neither logical nor fair. It’s the same one that had sparked when he’d found out you’d gotten pregnant, moved on, had an entire life without him while he was drowning in pills. But you like pills. The demon’s sly whisper makes him wince. More than anything. 

 “Okay. Well, why don’t we talk about that in the car, hmm? You should go say goodbye to your friends.” 

 “I don’t want to,” Iris whines. “I don’t want to go to dinner, I want to stay and—” You crouch down in front of Iris, grasping her hands in yours. 

 “I know, sweetheart. I know you’re frustrated because you want to stay and play, but it’s time to go. But you’ll see all your friends next week after school, won’t that be fun?” Iris’ pout is gut wrenching, her little lip poking out and trembling as she stares at you with watery eyes. 

 “Okay.” She scuffs her foot against the dirt, kicking up a few pebbles. You massage your temples as you watch her go. 

 “Sorry about that. I hope she wasn’t too much trouble.” You stuff your hands into the pockets of your jeans, making small talk. 

 “No, no. She’s, um. She’s great.” Bucky says, shaking his head. “So… Andy.” He can’t help the bitter tinge that colors his words, he can only hope you don’t taste it too. Your jaw tightens at the mention of his name, and you blow out a breath. “The um. The police guy.” 

 “Yeah.” You look away. “He’s nice.” 

 “I didn’t think badges were your type.” He scoffs.

 “What would you know about my type?” You fire back, hackles already up. Bucky’s lips draw into a thin scowl, and he opens his mouth to loose more venom, but stops, and deflates. 

 “Nothing, I guess.” He says after a moment, shrugging. He attempts to steer the conversation back into safer waters. “Your kid, she’s, um. She’s really something.” 

 “Yeah.” You hook your thumbs through the belt-loops of your jeans. “Even if she does announce my business to the world.” Bucky laughs at that. 

 “That’s what they’re for, right?” He says, and for the first time since he’s been back you really smile at him. Bright and wide and beautiful, like you used to. His chest goes tight. “Looks just like you.”

 You shake your head, laughing. “She…” You hesitate, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear as the two of you watch her gesticulating enthusiastically at another group of kids her age. “She looks like her dad.” It hangs in the air uncomfortably between you. He wants to ask. He wants to ask so badly, but he knows it’ll just make you throw up another wall. He wonders how many you’ve built just because of him. 

 “I didn’t know they would put you guys to work like this,” you say quickly, as though forcing more words out will cover up the ones that went before. “Is that legal?” Your stiff joke lands, and the corners of Bucky’s mouth turn up. 

 “I don’t know. Probably not. Pretty sure there’s hazardous chemicals in the sheds that we could use for nefarious purposes.” For a moment the two of you are laughing together, and Bucky feels the clock rewind—and then it’s over, dirt crunching under Iris’ sneakers as she approaches. 

 “Okay mom,” she says decisively. “We can go.” 

 “Oh, well, thank you very much,” you reply, shaking your head a little. You glance at Bucky over your shoulder. “I guess I’ll, um. See you. Around.”

 “Yeah.” Iris looks back at him too, giving him a wide smile. She tugs her hand out of yours and jogs back over to him, reaching conspiratorially into her pocket. 

 “I saved you some,” she says, and then holds a purple stained finger over her mouth. “Don’t tell, okay?”

 “Okay,” Bucky whispers back, nodding seriously. “I won’t tell.” The berries are a little squished and hot from the heat of her palm, and they stain his fingers with fresh purple juice. He watches you go, Iris bouncing excitedly beside you as—Bucky grimaces. He remembers Andy well enough, his manicured beard and sharply pressed uniform hard to miss. Bucky gets a perverse sort of pleasure watching Iris’ lukewarm greeting, and the way you turn your face so that he gets your cheek when he drops his head for a kiss. 

 Prick.

 At least he knew Andy wasn’t Iris’ father. That would have been a much harder pill for him to swallow, and all the more distasteful. Who is her father? The question plagues him as they head back to the community center. It’s like a rock in his shoe, impossible to ignore no matter how many times he shifts it’s position. There are other rocks too, ones that make him narrow his eyes as he stares out the window at the passing countryside. Iris’ allergy, her age… 

 He supposed he had been trying not to think about it, the thought playing at the edges of his conscious mind. Mainly because it would be unthinkable—you’d agreed, both  of you had agreed that you would get an abortion. 

 So Iris couldn’t be his. 

 What if she didn’t? The oily smooth voice at the back of his mind whispers. What if she didn’t?

 Steve’s pickup rumbles into the driveway, and Bucky sits in it vacantly for a few minutes after Steve hops out. The thought eats at him, won’t leave him alone. 

 What if?

 What if?

 What if?

 “Buck, you’re pacing.” Steve comments from the doorway of his room. “I can hear you downstairs.” Bucky scrubs a hand down his face. 

 “I’m sorry.” He perches on the edge of the bed, his hand tapping nervously against his knee. “I just, I can’t stop thinking, you know?” Usually he has the pills to help with that, to dull the anxious turning of his mind. But now, he has nothing. 

 “Yeah?” Steve moves to sit beside him. “What about?”

 “About Jellybean, and the kid, and fuck, what if it’s mine? And I never fucking knew this whole goddamn time? That would fucking serve me right, wouldn’t it?” Bucky barks out a humorless laugh. He looks at Steve, waiting for him to say something, anything. “Right? I mean it’s not possible, right? It-It’s not.” 

 It’s so silent, Bucky reckons he could hear a pin drop. For once he’s thankful to be out of the haze, because it lets the puzzle pieces slide together almost disgustingly easily. His face contorts as he jumps up, away from Steve. 

 “Oh my God.” He presses the heels of his palms into his closed eyes as he shakes his head. “You fucking knew.” Steve holds his hands out placatingly. 

 “Buck.” He reaches out to place a hand on Bucky’s shoulder, but he shoves him away. 

 “No, you shut the fuck up,” Bucky says, shaking his head disbelievingly. “You fucking knew.”  His voice cracks, just a little. 

 “She asked me not to say anything. I swear, I didn’t know before we got back—” Bucky’s already running down the stairs, the sound of his pulse roaring in his ears blocking out the sound of Steve frantically shouting his name. He doesn’t realize he’s leaving the house until he’s already outside, rapidly fleeing into the coming evening before Steve has a chance to follow.

 I have a daughter.

next chapter

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[goodboypuppy489]

wet dream no 3.

pov you end up in a alpha/fuck sleeve world

it's not immediately clear that I stepped through a portal. nor is it immediately clear the kind of world I'm in. I'm trying to track down my dumb ass friend, who's gotten himself into quite the predicament. this time I'm pretty sure its gambling debt but I can't be sure. When I track him down, he's with a group of girls. he's not bound in anyway per say, but his head is hung in shame, and for the first time, his cocky demeanor that gets him in so much trouble is gone. Before I can say anything, one of them grabs me by the scruff of my neck

"Looks like this one brought a friend" she says, throwing me to ground. I'm still not sure what's going on, why my friend who's normally such a womanizer is so distant behind the eyes.

"mm, maybe he can drive?" they say tossing me keys. It feels like I'm in no position to argue. Annoyed I drive a few of them around, drop them off, and then I'm under strict orders to return to the house

"you know," one of them says before leaving, "you're not really considered licensed without one of us here"

A little peeved, I drive home. I'm muttering to myself, and given the information, driving less responsibility than I should when I get pulled over. When the officer sees I'm alone, she pulls me out of the car.

"tsk tsk, driving without an alpha, you should know better." I open my mouth to respond, what the fuck? but she shoves her cock in my mouth before I can get any words out. she starts fucking my throat brutally. my saliva dripping down my face. there's talking around me but I can't hear over the sound of my own gagging. She pulls out just long enough to drag me to a bench and shove me on my back, fucking my throat from a new angle. hands begin to undress me. folks watching the scene have decided to join in. they start tapping their hard cocks on my naked body. one of them runs their cock up and down my wet slit. I try and yell but it's drowned out, and then suddenly I'm stuffed full from both ends. I'm fucked senslessly, cocks filling my hands.

finally I think, the girl's hips begin to stutter, and I'm filled with cum. endless amounts of cum fill me as they shove their knot painfully deep inside. the cocks in my hands coat my now naked body.

But thats not the end.

No no, each one of them wants a chance to fill my boycunt. It hours until they let me drive home. when I get up I try to wipe myself off before dressing, but each time they grab my face and push me into the cum soaked bench again. I drive home defeated in wet sticky clothes, doing everything I can to minimize how much gets on the interior but failing miserably.

when I get there, all eyes are on me. "Someone's late, did you get a ticket?" one of them asks like it's a normal way to come home, as if they were expecting it. They take off my clothes once again, and for once I'm grateful. they replace it with a heavy duty collar and drag me to a bench. I'm too tired to argue.

the bench forces my ass up and my head down, they tie a leash from my collar to the bench. Then they begin spanking me. for what it's worth it's gentle, as gentle as a punishment can be, and they only hit my fucked out, cum soaked cunt every three times.

"dumb Mutt, your ass looks so pretty all pink and warm for us, this is what you were made for"

I can't help but squirm and pant and against their firm hands

"Stupid cocksleeve can't even go 10 minutes without being filled huh, you knew what a ticket would get you didn't you? Dirty whore, I bet it felt so good having all those alphas pump you full of cum didn't baby?"

I start to loose myself. it DID feel good. I loved the feeling of their hot load dumped in my wet cunt. their balls slapping my face as they fucked my open wanting mouth.

One of my mistresses the girls spits on my asshole. pathetically, I let out a small moan. I'm not prepared for when she sticks two fingers in my cunt to collect the cum that's been fucked deep inside me. The moan I let out this time is much bigger. Smiling, she straddles my back so the others can continue with my punishment as she starts to finger my ass open. Any sense of pride or dignity I had has been disintegrated. I moan with wanton abandon. Her cock leaks down my back.

"That's it baby, doesn't it feel so good to know your place? nothing but a toy for us to use as we please. You don't need to keep anything else in that little brain. You're too full as it is."

She starts working a silicone tail plug in my stretched asshole. my tongue rolls out of my head. it's all too much. they're right, it feels so good that they can't be wrong. every one of my holes has been fucked with cum, and it leaks out of me. I'm nothing but a cum dump. I don't notice that I'm bucking my hips on the plug

"I'm a dirty cocksleeve mistresses, thank you for making me yours mistresses."

I moan. One Mistress steps up to my face, hard cock out. I smile open mouthed at her. She slaps her cock against my face

"Thank you Mistress, thank you for my punishment, I love serving you mistresses."

my hips continue to buck, effectively waging my new tail.

"there's the obedient Mutt we knew you were. now tell me puppy, do good dogs speak?"

I shake my head, and she shoves her cock down my throat. She fucks my throat with out care to my breathing, but im so far gone i wouldnt have it any other way. She pulls out and covers my face with cum

"you'll have to earn your treats okay puppy?"

she says, putting a bone gag in my mouth. I nod, and they untie me from my bench.

They take me to the showers, gently washing the cum from my and lotioning my red and brusing ass. I follow obediently on my hands and knees, so they let me ride their cocks as they do.

After all, even mutts deserve a little love.

[dwobbitfromtheshire]

Laura Cunningham had gone through her daughter's diary and found out she had a crush on Eddie Munson. It's why she tried to make Chrissy date Jason. Although Chrissy thought it wouldn't be fair to Jason, considering she didn't like him at all.

"I don't want to go out with you, Jason. I want to be honest with you," Chrissy said. "It's what my mother wants."

"We all have to do things we don't want. Once you start getting to know me, then I'm sure you'll be glad you listened to your mother," Jason replied.

"What's something that you don't want to do but feel like you have to?" Chrissy asked.

"Well, my dad wants to me come work for him after college. I don't really want to work for the insurance business, but my dad says he makes good money, so you got to have money to live, right?" Jason asked.

"You know, there are other ways of making money, right? If you don't want to work for your dad, then you don't have to. A parent's love shouldn't be conditional on whether their child does something for them. Being happy while making it in this world should be the only thing that should matter to them. If they can't do that, that's on them," Chrissy replied. "Besides, don't you think you deserve better than someone who was asked to date you?"

She slipped out of his grasp and walked away from him. As she walked home, the feeling of defiance weighing heavily on her shoulders, she stopped and got herself a burger. When Chrissy got home, smelling of burgers, she told her mother about rejecting Jason. She also told Laura that she was going to be making her own decisions now. It was the first time that Laura had hit her. Sure, she had called her names and starved her a bit, but she never laid her hands on Chrissy. Laura had hit her hard, too. Chrissy was dizzy, her nose was dripping blood, and her eye was aching. Laura had frozen, which had given Chrissy plenty of time to lock herself in her room and call the police.

Now, here she was, standing in front of her aunt's trailer with most of her things packed in the back of her aunt's car. An aunt. Laura's sister, who Chrissy was told, had died. There were no pictures of her in the house, and though Chrissy had met her when she was younger, apparently, she had no memory of her. Darlene Blake looked at her curiously.

"I know, it's not what you're used to, honey," Darlene said.

"I like it. It's like a little community. It feels. . .cozy," Chrissy smiled. "Can I explore a bit after I unpack?"

"I don't see why not. Most of the folks here are friendly. Some people here they seem like their bite is worse than bark. It's not. They're grumpy bears on the surface, but in the middle, it's nothing but a giant soft marshmallow," Darlene replied, and Chrissy giggled. "It is a good community."

As Chrissy unpacked with the help of her aunt, a question was eating at her.

"Aunt Darlene?" Chrissy asked.

"Yes, sugarplum?"

"Can I ask what happened with you and my mother?" Chrissy asked.

"Honey, don't be afraid to ask me anything," she said and sighed. "You ought to know since you're going to be living with me. When your mother found out that I was only interested in women, she was disgusted by it, and she said that if I ever came near you again, she'd call the cops and tell everyone what I am," Darlene said, looking down.

Chrissy hugged her aunt tightly around the middle. She had a lot more weight on her than Chrissy did, so her arms didn't go all the way around her. It was nice. She hadn't been here long, but already, she felt like this was what a mother should be like. Darlene wrapped her strong arms tightly around her and kissed the top of her head.

"It's not just boys that I like," Chrissy whispered.

Darlene pulled back and cupped her face.

"Thanks for telling me," she said softly, tears in her eyes. "Sweet girl."

After unpacking, Chrissy switched out her skirt for shorts and pulled on a pair of sneakers. Darlene had given her a container to give to the Munsons who lived across the way. It was a little more distance than Darlene told her it was, but Chrissy made it to the Munson trailer. She moved to knock on the door.

"Chrissy Cunningham?"

She jumped and dropped the container. Sitting on the couch that was on his porch was Eddie Munson. He was smoking.

"Sorry, didn't mean to scare you," Eddie said kindly.

"It's okay, I didn't see you there," Chrissy said and picked up the container.

"Not to sound rude or anything, but what brings you around here?" Eddie asked.

"My aunt Darlene wanted to give this back to you," Chrissy said, holding it out to him.

"Ah, Lennie's your aunt?" Eddie asked with surprise as he took the container, banging on it like a drum.

"Yeah, she said that I should give you a smack if you called her that," Chrissy giggled. "I won't do that."

"Oh, come on, now," Eddie said, rolling up his sleeves and tossing the container aside. "I deserve it. Lay one one me, Cunningham."

"No!" Chrissy said shaking with laughter.

"Come on!" Eddie said slapping his skin.

"Fine!"

She tentatively smacked him in the arm.

"Harder than that!"

She hit him a little harder this time. He groaned mockingly, collapsing on the couch and clutching it.

"You know not of the strength you wield, Lady Cunningham. You have broketh my arm!" Eddie cried, leaning over and letting his arm dangle. "Yes! Indeed, it is broketh."

Chrissy couldn't control her laughter, clutching her stomach at the sight of him. She snorted. Horrified at the sound she made, she covered her mouth. Eddie burst into laughter and jumped up, moving closer to her to remove her hands from her mouth.

"So, are you just visiting your aunt?" Eddie asked once the laughter died down.

"Moving in," she replied.

"It must be quite the step down," Eddie said.

"It's actually a step up! I love it here!" Chrissy exclaimed with a grin.

"It must have been real bad if this is better than the big house you lived in," Eddie said. Chrissy's smile faltered, and she winced. Eddie realized what he said a moment later. "Hi, I'm Eddie Munson. I sometimes put my foot in my big fat mouth."

Chrissy laughed and shook his hand that he held out to her.

"Do you want to show me that devil music you listen to that I've heard so much about?" Chrissy asked.

He quickly put out his cigarette, grabbed her hand, and dragged her inside the trailer where an older man was sitting on the couch.

"Don't mind me, Uncle Wayne, just bringing a pretty girl into my room to listen to devil music. I promise not to sacrifice her," Eddie said quickly.

Before Chrissy could say anything to Wayne Munson, she was dragged into Eddie's room. As she sat on Eddie's bed, listening to his music, Chrissy was suddenly very grateful that her mother had snooped into her diary.

[bright-and-burning]

just remembered i missed all sorts of tags dkjnkjfdsanf tagged by @foggieststars @omigodyall @liamlawsonlesbian @albonoooo AND @freeuselandonorris !!!

1. do you make your bed?

not unless people are coming over (i have a studio apartment), but i also only sleep w a duvet in the summer lol

2. favourite number?

13! my first high school soccer number. i loved being the unlucky number <3 something so fun about being the shortest person on the team w the unlucky number coming on and playing aggressively lol

3. what's your job?

i'm a data analyst! for a government research group. kind of. it’s complicated aksjksjd. demographics + economics + policy stuff most of the time, i think (idk, they just pay me to do numbers and code)

4. if you could go back to school, would you?

yeah, my job'll get me my masters for free and i am definitely taking them up on that

5. can you parallel park?

yes!!!

6. do you think aliens are real?

the universe is mad vast there's def lifeforms out there. definitely no humanoids in our solar system imo tho

7. can you drive a manual car?

no kfjdsakfj i've never driven manual. i want to learn! but you would not believe how hard that is like, logistically. just finding someone who owns a manual is impossible lmao

8. guilty pleasure?

i simply do not feel guilt abt pleasure. jk uhhhh. ok this is so hard i did the full thing and came back to this and still dont have an answer. naps during the workday? some of my music taste is like . fjdskajf. i guess

9. tattoos?

none for now !

10. favourite colour?

all of the sunset ones!! orange and pink and purples.. beloved....

11. favourite type of music?

im sure spotify will say my top genre recently is. rap? pop? one of those two. but that's just the mood im in this summer. last summer was extremely folk americana rock indie modge podge

12. do you like puzzles?

YES!!!! it's like. why i'm in the career im in lol every project i work on is just solving puzzles w the exact same rush of satisfaction at completing it/figuring it out lol

13. favourite childhood sport?

i did . so many sports as a kid. if it was free/cheap my parents were throwing us in just to try lol. played soccer, did taekwondo, did like ten years of dance (tap >>> ballet if im honest), running, kickball every day after school for years, gymnastics for a bit, more or less self-taught figure skating w second hand skates, etc etc. to say nothing of the random sports i tried one(or two or three)-offs of with friends at like birthday parties or w/e (loved hockey ! loved softball ! loved tennis !) i liked soccer best for sure tho. perfect mix of the like quick feet agility i loved about tap dancing and the exhilaration of success and watching everything come together in the right moment of all the other things

14. do you talk to yourself?

yes and no? im actually quite quiet despite living alone but i have a constant running monologue so things slip out all the time ldkfjal

15. tea or coffee?

...neither

16. first thing you wanted to be when growing up?

an engineer!! #womeninstem. when i was 3 i would go around saying i wanted to be an engineer and make a million dollars a year and adopt 12 kids (6 boys 6 girls). that was the very first eve dream

17. what movies do you adore?

40s and 50s musicals >>>>. technicolor how i miss you so... gene kelly movies were my bread and butter as a kid. i do love wes anderson can't lie. also chris nolan movies! they hit! like they just do!! also robots (2005).

i genuinely think everyone has been tagged. just guessing based on how many times ive been tagged here. DJFLAK

[foreverrandomwritings]

Actions Speak Louder Than Words- Part 4

Summary: When Harvard and Yale decide they want to get stationed at a different base the navy calls in one of the best 2 seater jets they have ‘The Does’. They may be younger than the other pilots by a couple years but they have quickly made a name for themselves with the impeccable work they do together. But the question is will they fit in with the other pilots already in California or will they crash and burn?

Pairings: Romantic Mickey "Fanboy" Garcia x Afab!OC Jane "Mute" Hall Platonic Afab!OC Jane "Mute" Hall x Afab!OC John "Ramble" De Luca

Warnings: Swearing, anxiety, harassment, alcohol, angst?, fluff.

Word Count: 3732(This is the longest piece I've ever written)

Masterlist Series Masterlist

They all arrived at The Hard Deck around the same time. The car ride over for Mute and Ramble consisted of going back and forth with what to do about Fanboy. Ramble wanted her to go for him. Mute wanted to stay far away from him. She didn’t want to get into another messy relationship, especially not with someone she worked with. She had done a great job of it up until this point. 

As they pulled into the parking lot she made Ramble promise to stay out of it to which he said no way in hell then he bolted out of the car. He was going to make sure they ended up talking by the end of the night no matter what. She slowly made her way out of the car taking a few deep breaths. 

It wasn’t that she hated people necessarily, it was just that she hated places that were overly crowded. Bars were one place she knew were always overly crowded. So as she made her way in it was no surprise that even for a Monday night it was busy. A sea of navy folk and other local regulars.

She searched for her best friend in the crowd and saw him at the pool table in the back. She started weaving through the crowd to get to him. As she got closer she saw most of the squad hanging around the table. Hangman and Coyote were at the dartboard. A few at the bar ordering drinks. 

“I already told Rooster what we want for our first round. Now come over here and play a game of pool with us.” Ramble told her as she got close enough, handing her a pool stick. She took it while Phoenix racked the balls. Then the game started Mute and Fritz vs Phoenix and Ramble. The game went quickly, the squad talking, Rooster bringing them more drinks. The Game came to an end with Phoenix and Ramble winning. Maverick had arrived at that point. 

After that game Ramble mingled and Mute listened. She listened to Payback and Fanboy talk about a funko pop they were both struggling to find. She listened to Omaha talk about how his wife was pregnant and morning sickness had been hitting her hard and how she was craving the weirdest things. She listened to Coyote talk to Hangman about how he was really missing home. She listened to Halo talk about her anniversary with her fiancé coming up and that they were having a hard time agreeing on what to do for it. She listened when Rooster mentioned how he kept losing sunglasses. 

As she listened she and Fanboy had continued to catch each other's eyes. Everytime they were caught looking at the other, a blush would rush on their face and they would turn their heads away. So when Mute had slipped out the back Fanboy had noticed. He saw Rooster come up to the group and look around for her. “Hey, has anyone seen Mute? I got another drink for her.” He asked everyone as he came up empty looking for the red haired pilot. 

“I saw her slip out back. Fanboy, why don’t you take her the drink?” Ramble spoke looking at the other wisso. Fanboy sat with wide eyes staring at Ramble before Payback was smacking him on the back. 

“Go on Mickey, give the girl her drink, you don’t want her to die of dehydration do you?” Payback said a smile just as wide as Rambles adorning his face. Fanboy shook his head before getting up and getting the beer. He wondered briefly why Ramble would encourage him to give his girlfriend a drink but let the thought slip his mind. He walked to the back door. As his hand met the knob he gulped and told himself the worse she could do was tell him to leave. Then he was opening the door and slipping into the sea soaked air. 

He spotted her sitting in the sand. Her boots sat next to her and her hair down around her face. Once he reached her side she turned her head to look at him. A soft smile adorning her features. A look of surprise in her eyes. He held out her drink and she took it from his hand. “Do you mind if I sit with you?” He asked her quietly, not wanting to disturb the silence. She simply patted the spot next to her staring back at the ocean. 

He slowly sat down making sure not to spill his beer in the process. They sat in silence, both of them staring at the ocean. Mute occasionally picking at her nails. He realized that he was comfortable just sitting here with her. Deciding that he wouldn’t try to talk to her first. He would be patient and let her come to him when she was ready.  

They sat there for a while longer before they heard the door to the bar open and close. They both turned their heads to see who it was when they spotted Ramble leaning against the building. “Hey hot stuff let’s go I’m ready for bed.” He yelled out to them which had Mute standing up. She grabbed her boots and looked down at Fanboy before uttering an almost silent “thank you” to him. He gave her a smile and told her “good night” in reply. He came to the conclusion that he was okay being just friends with her. 

As Mute and Ramble got to the car he tossed her the keys for her to drive home since she wasn’t really drinking tonight. Mute was relieved that Ramble didn’t ask about Fanboy. Instead he talked about his excitement for the rest of the week. 

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Tuesday consisted of some in class training. Then Mute and Ramble were heading to the grocery store after work. The red head gathered everything she needed to make gumbo and cornbread. 

Then she looked for stuff that would help ease pregnancy symptoms. She found Kit Kats, dill pickles, hot sauce, peanut butter, sour gummy worms and green apple Gatorade for Omaha's wife. Grabbing more hair gel for Phoenix as well. 

Fanboy and Mute had eaten lunch together in silence that day.

On Wednesday she took the gumbo and cornbread into work in 10 containers and 10 reusable ziploc bags. Giving Coyote the biggest container of it. She had made a vegetarian version for Fritz. As she handed the containers to Coyote he gave her a weird look before looking into the Tupperware and seeing the gumbo. 

When he looked back up at her he had tears in his eyes. Thanking her repeatedly for the food. That had not only earned his friendship but Hangman’s as well. Because if someone did something that nice for his best friend then he had to be nice to them. She had also given the hair gel to Phoenix which she was instantly thankful for because she was almost out. 

As they got off work that night they headed to Target where Mute and Ramble both loaded up with aviators and baby clothes. Before going home and putting together the tv stand that had arrived while they were at work. Then they had called Ramble's parents which at this point were basically Mutes as well. She hadn’t talked to her parents since she joined the academy. 

Mute and Fanboy had exchanged hellos and smiles at lunch that afternoon. 

Thursday she and Ramble were handing over all the stuff they had gotten for Omaha and his wife. To which he became speechless. Not knowing what to say to the duo he ended up giving them both big hugs and invited them over to meet his wife when she was feeling up to it. They had both agreed that they would love that. When she handed the bag of aviators and an old librarian type glasses chain over to Rooster he let out a loud laugh. Then slipped the chain onto his sunglasses. 

As they left work that night they stopped at the post office and grabbed a package from Ramble's parents that they had expressed shipped. Once they got home they moved the couch inside that had been delivered. Then went back and forth on what they wanted to do with the empty basement. Ramble wanted to make it an at home gym to which Mute refused. They continued to bounce ideas off each other until agreeing on a home theater.

Mute had asked Fanboy how his day was at lunch that day. Then she replied when he asked her about her day.

Friday they had gone to the coffee shop they learned most of the squad liked and picked up drinks and breakfast for everyone. They had gone around handing them out. Giving Bob the non-alcoholic wine that Ramble's parents had sent them. Then giving Halo a couple bottles of wine a pamphlet of the vineyard and a free 2 nights stay for her and her fiancé. She thanked the both of them and told them it was perfect. Asking if they wanted her to pay them back. To which they both refused telling them they were close to the owners and got it all for free. 

As Friday came to a close at work Maverick invited them all to The Hard Deck Saturday afternoon for a game of dogfight football and lunch. The duo had been confused on what dogfight football was to which Phoenix explained. Then they agreed to be there. Promising to see everyone at the bar that night for drinks. 

Mute had asked Fanboy if he would be at The Hard Deck that night and the next day to which he told her yes. She had smiled and told him she was looking forward to seeing him there. 

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The duo had stopped at the post office again on the way to The Hard Deck. Mute had asked Ramble if her hair looked okay when they arrived at the parking lot. To which he nodded and told her always with a wink. Mute looked around the parking lot seeing all the cars as they walked inside. She had thought the bar was packed on Monday but that didn’t even compare to how packed it was that night.  

Monday had been easy enough for her. The anxiety of the crowd was minimal and when it got a little much she moved outside. Tonight she didn’t know if she’d be able to handle it. Ramble saw the way her shoulders tensed, her head dropping towards her chest, arms crossing across her middle. He moved to her side, wrapping his arm around her shoulders. 

“Do you want to leave? I don’t think anyone has seen us so we could just text them and tell them we weren’t feeling up to it and head home?” He asked her worry seeping into his voice. He had wanted to hang out with the squad but Mute would always come first for him. She shook her head “ No I want to try. Can we stay at least for a little bit?” she turned looking up at her back seater. 

He gave her a wide grin. “For you babe anything. You let me know when you’re ready to leave and we can head out I promise.” He told her then leaned in and whispered to her “Cammineremo.” as he squeezed her shoulder pulling her into him. 

“Saremo Potenti.” She whispered, pushing further into him as they started to weave through the crowd to the pool table. As they neared the tables Ramble handed her the package he had been holding. She opened it grabbing the 2 boxes and made her way to Payback and Fanboy. 

“Hey Mute! How ya doing?” Payback asked her. She nodded her head before setting the boxes down in front of the correct owners. They both looked down, eyes getting wide before quickly going back up to the front seater. 

“How the fuck did you score these? We’ve been looking for these for months.” Fanboy questioned her. 

“I know a guy.” She told him shrugging her shoulders nonchalance seeping out of her. Payback didn’t miss how she had answered his backseaters question but not his. He was happy she was opening up to him.

“How much do we owe you? These had to be so fucking expensive.” Fanboy said picking up the box and examining it. 

“How about you do any push ups I have to do for a month each and we’ll call it even?” Mute joked with him. 

“Are you sure? That definitely doesn’t seem fair to you.” He asked her. 

“I really fucking hate push up’s.” She told him with a smile on her face. 

“Okay you got it. We’ll do it. Right Rueben?” Fanboy asked, turning to his front seater. To which he nodded. Then Fanboy reached his hand out to shake Mutes in an old style deal kind of way. She grasped his hand and gave it a firm shake before pulling away and slipping back to Ramble's side as the bar had somehow grown louder. He pulled her into his side again, rubbing circles with his thumb against the sleeve of her uniform. Then the disappointment came crawling into Fanboy. He and her could only be friends and he was going to have to deal with it. 

The night had been going smoothly. But more people had been piling in and John needed to go to the bathroom. He knew he couldn’t leave Jane alone so he looked around the room and spotted Fanboy still sitting at the same table as when they first arrived.

“I’m going to go to the bathroom really quick. Are you okay standing here for a couple minutes?” John asked his best friend to which she nodded. So he was off weaving through the group of people to Fanboy. 

“I’m running to the bathroom. Can you keep an eye on Mute for me? She just gets a little nervous with big crowds.” He asked the smaller dark haired man. Mickey nodded his head and told him he had it. So that’s how he found himself sitting and watching the red haired pilot. Trying not to seem creepy but not wanting to let her out of his sight. She had been fine for a few minutes. Until the song changed to a louder one, someone bumped into her spilling their drink down her side and causing her to slightly fall backwards. The final straw was when the person mumbled something to her. 

He could see the sudden anxiety over taking her features all at once. He was up and out of his chair before he even knew what he was doing. Once he reached her through the crowd he could see the panic in her eyes as she searched the room. Her chest started to rapidly go up and down. Her palms were clammy. She suddenly became nauseous and light headed. Then her eyes met his and tears started to form.

“Can I touch you?” She could barely hear through the sea of noises around her. Had she not been looking at him and seeing his lips moving she probably would’ve missed the words. She shakily nodded, not trusting her voice at all. Then his hand was gently grabbing her wrist and he was pushing through the people to the back door. Using his body to shield hers against the ever moving waves of bodies. They passed Payback who was right by the door and Fanboy told him to send Ramble out as soon as he saw him. He didn’t wait for a response as he opened the door. 

They finally got out of the bar into the humid night air. He let go of her wrist as she stumbled to the ground of the patio. He hadn’t even had time to catch her as one of her knees hit the ground and she knocked over a chair. Then she was leaning back and moving towards the wall using her hands and feet to push her. Once her back hit the wall she suddenly gasped and brought her hands to the top button of her shirt. 

“Jane. Hey Jane, can you hear me?” Mickey was asking getting on his knees a couple feet in front of her. But her eyes were glazed over and she didn’t seem to be able to understand anything. He was about to ask again when the door swung open almost hitting him. He opened his mouth to tell whoever it was to fuck off before he saw the tall wisso with a panicked look in his eyes. 

But he seemed to calm down once his eyes landed on his best friend. “What happened to her?” John quickly asked. 

“A new song came on that was pretty loud, then someone ran into her spilling their drink on her and made her fall back some. They said something to her as well but I didn’t hear what they said.” Mickey got out in one breath, hands starting to slightly shake. 

“Thanks for bringing her out here. Can you go and get me a wet towel and some water?” John asked him calmer than the previous question. Mickey nodded before standing up and going back inside. 

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John got down on his knees in front of Jane. He grabbed her hands that were shakily trying to unbutton her top. Her hands stilled and she looked up to him. She looked so small and shattered. Her face wet with tears and her lip quivering.

“I got you okay? I’ll get this off you. Just sit here and take some deep breaths for me. In for 7 seconds out for 7 seconds 7 times can you do that for me?” He told her and her hands dropped from her shirt. He got it unbuttoned and pulled it out of where it was tucked into the matching khaki pants. Then she was leaning forward so he could pull it off completely. She sat there in her white undershirt and khaki pants taking deep breaths in and out. 

After her shirt was off he worked on her boots as he knew that she sometimes hated the way they felt on her feet. Then he pulled her hair out of its bun so she could run her fingers through it. Once he was done he moved backwards so he sat on his ass legs criss crossed in front of him. 

She finally looked up at him making eye contact. “John?” She asked him, voice cracking, small and quiet as she registered who was in front of her. He nodded his head, tucking some hair behind her ear. He was about to ask what happened when the door opened and Fanboy stepped out. He handed John the towel and water. Standing there in case they needed anything else.

John then handed her the water telling her to drink it before trying to wipe off some of the stickiness the drink had left on her arm and side. He knew how the feeling of it on her skin bothered her. She took the last sip of the water and John took the cup from her. Then he handed it to Mickey. “The guy called me a stupid bitch John.” Jane spoke to him, bringing her hand up to her hair. He paused what he was doing with the towel pulling back. 

He turned to the wisso standing next to them “What did the guy look like?” He asked him. 

“Blonde hair, green shirt, tattoo on his forearm about my height.” Mickey told him quickly. John stood up walking back inside telling Mickey to stay with Jane and that he would be right back. 

“My parents used to call me that. They would get mad at me and tell me how useless I was. How I was just a stupid bitch that no one would ever love. There were groups of kids in highschool that called me that. Telling me I was a stupid stuck up bitch that talked too much. My ex boyfriend used that in his break up text to me. He told me no one would love a stupid ugly bitch like me.” She said to him as tears started running down her face. She took a deep breath in and blew it out trying to calm herself down. He sat beside her much like the first night on the beach. But this time he spoke to her. 

“I’m sorry that they said that about you. People like that are ugly inside and out. They have no clue when something special is right in front of them. This week has been one of the best weeks for the whole squad. I love that I’ve gained a friend like you.” He told her pausing as they heard the bell ring inside.

“It took a long time for the group of us to become so close. But you have come in and made friends with everyone in a week. Hell you’re even friends with Hangman and he only barely tolerates the rest of us. We love having you here Jane. You can ask anyone in there and they will all agree with me that you are none of those things people called you.” He finished and turned to face her, he saw the smile on her face, the look of appreciation in her eyes. He was happy that he was the cause of her happiness. As he finished they heard someone yelling out front, words that they couldn’t make out. 

“Thank you Mickey.” She told him as John came back outside. He saw the pair and he smiled. 

“Are you ready to head out? I got everything taken care of in there.” pointing his thumb behind him towards the door. She nodded her head at him. He gave her a hand helping her up. 

“Will you still be coming tomorrow?” Mickey asked her, hopeful he would see her. She turned back, giving him a smile. 

“If you’re going to be there, I’ll be there.” She said simply before her and John were making their way around the building. With that Mickey felt warmth fill him up. He was happy that she had opened up to him that night and that she was excited to see him the next day.

A/N: Hi y'all I hope everyone liked this piece! If you did please let me know! Part 5 should be uploaded either Monday or Tuesday! Tags are open for this series! I also hope this was a bit more heat than slow burn for everyone!

Tags: @wkndwlff and @sylviebell

[chickensoupleg]

I'm holding the girls tenderly and watching Heather be SO down bad for her girlfriend.

––

The pool had to close early due to a rainstorm. It came sudden, and Heather had to get everyone out of the pool. Of course, nobody really wanted to be in the pool during a rainstorm, especially one like this. It wasn’t quick, nor was the herding of all the folks, so by the time she and the few others got everyone out Heather was soaked.

She hated it, standing inside the shower room and wringing out her hair. It was still pouring outside, and Heather was shivering. She groans to herself, draping a towel over herself as she slips out of the skintight suit she has to wear. She tosses it in her locker and wraps the towel over herself, drying herself off as best as she could so she could inevitably get wet again. There was no use even showering here. Luckily, she didn’t come to work wearing anything too hugging like someone she knows, so it wasn’t too bad getting herself dressed. She figures the others are gone by now, as the only other girl lifeguard had disappeared ages ago. Heather didn’t even have an umbrella on her, unaware that there would be any sort of rain today. Which, frankly, a real shame, she could have really used one.

She sighs, preparing herself to get soaked all over again as she heads to the door, shutting the lights off as she grabs the handle.

However, as she swung it open, she is greeted by sunshine. Chrissy perks up, clutching a baby blue umbrella covered in little frogs and standing there in all her tiny glory. By a quick glance, Heather can see Chrissy standing with her feet spread apart as if she’s trying to not topple over by the wind. “Hi Heather! Rain’s coming down pretty bad and I didn’t think you brought an umbrella to work with you, so I came to shield you from the elements.”

Heather stares at her, eyes soft. “Oh I could kiss you so hard firefly.”

Chrissy giggles, letting go of the umbrella so she was only holding it with one hand and grabbing Heather’s hand with the other. “We can do that.”

Heather smiles and leans in, Chrissy meeting her halfway. Before they could kiss, however, the door swings as the wind picks up, hitting Heather in the shoulder. She glares at it for disturbing her, then steps out of the way, letting the door swing shut.

Chrissy giggles. “Maybe not in the rain.”

“Oh Chris, don’t you know? Kissing in the rain’s more romantic.” Heather squeezes her hand, walking alongside her to the gate so they could finally get out.

“When it isn’t hitting us with doors you mean,” Chrissy says, hopping up and placing a kiss right on Heather’s cheek without stopping. “There.”

Heather stops right at the gate, turning to her girlfriend. Chrissy gives her a curious gaze, Heather dropping her hand and reaching for Chrissy’s face. She leans in and goes for a real kiss, Chrissy squeaking before returning it in full. Her grip on the umbrella seems to have loosened as it drifts away from above them, letting the pair get hit with fat droplets. Heather blames it for why Chrissy pulls away with a loud screech, righting the umbrella immediately. Heather’s laughs as Chrissy shakes her head like a dog, then louder as Chrissy pouts at her.

“It startled me, don’t laugh!” Chrissy says, moments before she breaks into a bout of laughter as well.

“Alright, enough fun. Let’s get to my car before we get sick from standing out in the rain too long. How’d you get here anyways?”

“Steve,” Chrissy answers. “He spent the entire ride talking to himself about how he knew it was gonna rain but ‘Noooo, they HAD to go to the pool because it was so hot today!’”

“Ah, Ol’Reliable. Driver of all, complainer of everything.”

Chrissy nods. “He was coming up here anyways so I figured might as well hitch a ride! Although now he’s gone and took the kids.”

“Well all the merrier for me to take you to my abode, no?”

Chrissy snorts. “Heather I live with you! I’d be there either way!”

“Exactly,”  She says, Just before she grabs her hand and starts running as fast as possible to her car. Out of the rain, into a soft warm bed as quickly as possible. Preferably with her sunshine and away from this horrid rain.

Sounds like a plan to her.

[b4um3pfl4um3]

Thank you for the tag @mandalorian-general

10 Recommended Songs

1. Let's start of with an old favorite of mine (to curse you all)

Yeah, I had a Fnaf Childhood, and I actually kinda miss the good ol' days when Fnaf wasn't so complicated, lore wise.

2. Now a recent favorite

Actually, I only really stared liking that song after I saw it live in February.

3. Imma cheat a little and add a second P!atd song

This song is responsible for me becoming a P!atd fan at all. Sadly, I am too young to have "discovered" them earlier than the Death of a Batchelor Album.

4. Let's get back to the spice stuff

It's also a recent favorite but boy do I love this song. The vibe is just very very nice.

5. A little bit of metal never hurt anyone

Don't really have anything to say to this. I just really like the vibe of the song. Actually will be seeing Sabaton live this May.

6. Down to our last four gotta add a bit of fun here

No joke, I listened to this for about 4 hours on a car ride and even fell asleep while listening to this song, if you can even call it that.

7. Well I think it's time for a little Imagine Dragons (this will be hard I currently like a lot of their songs)

I've decided on this one tho. I can't even pin down why I like this song so much. It somehow just hits the right spots in my brain apparently.

8. Here, I'd like to add a song that I haven't actively listened to in quite some time, but I'm always happy when it ends up in my shuffle songs

Actually, saw someone with a Mother Mother Shirt yesterday, but sadly, I never got the chance to comment on it.

9. Last two, let's go

Really big fan of American Murder Song. Their songs are just simply *chef's kiss*. Actually, nowadays I listen to The Donner Party, but this song is what kinda got me into their music at all.

10. Finally, the last one

I had to add this. I'm not listening to it a lot, but especially when season two of Good Omens will drop, I'll probably add this to my playlist again.

And there you have it folks. 10 Recomended Songs, by me. Some are cursed, some are actually pretty decent, but all of them are definitely approved by me.

As for the tagging of other people I'll only tag my good friends @zukks-dummy-mansion but everyone who ready this can feel free to make their own version of this. Of course there is no pressure on anyone tho.