#they live adjacent bc its cheap

[captainadwen]

"Okay," said Steph, pulling her cowl off and sprawling back on the debrief room couches. "Who bet for 'interdimensional beings'?"

"I said aliens," said Dick, through the comms. He was back in his Bludhaven apartment and, by the sound of it, burning pancakes at 3 am. "I think I ought to get at least some of the pool - "

"Perfect guess or bust," retorted Steph and Tim simultaneously.

"There's a death portal," said Jason, his voice crackling over the comms. "I get brownie points."

"Before or after you failed at asking Jazz Fenton out for the third time?" Steph shot back.

Jason scoffed. "Like you had any more luck? At least I got the fucking words out."

"I was working myself up to it!"

"We'd all be in the geriatric ward by the time you accomplished anything," said Damian.

Steph flopped her hand at him. "Shut up, puppy crush."

Damian scowled at her. His hair was sticking up hilariously, so Tim discretely angled a camera at him to snap a picture. Bruce caught him, but was a mark of the many screaming fights and occasional crying sessions this family had that Bruce only twitched at this rather than retreating to the rafters to brood over his many kids whilst they pretended to not have stabbed each other, repeatedly, in places that hurt. Tim sipped his coffee and turned back to monitoring the multiple cameras they had set up.

The one outside Danny and Jazz's room crackled with erratic static. It was actually an infirmary, in Leslie's clinic, because that was as close to medical care as a Danny's paranoid snarling had allowed them to provide for Jazz, who kept alarmingly sinking through solid objects and passing out and twitching from electrical burns. It said something that Danny's glowing green eyes and sharp canines did not make him less attractive, but Tim was nothing if not a champion of assessing his own mental state and moving the fuck on. After growing up surrounded by aliens and demigods and ghosts, a little inhuman snarl putting him off would be insulting to his friends and various previous paramours at this point.

Which meant: "I win," said Tim. "I did put down 'another dimension'."

"The fuck you did," said Steph, finally pulling out her phone to find the betting pool.

Tim swiveled his chair around dramatically to find his entire family scowling at him. He crossed one leg over the other and lounged back. "My evidence: their knowledge of history and pop culture is inconsistent, occasionally wrong, and if you trace the camera static that follows them long enough you find their early attempts at learning more about our dimension through library visits and setting up their false identities." How exactly that had been accomplished was still to be determined. Tim's bet was 'mind control' or 'magic' or 'both'. 'Both' was usually a fair guess.

"That fits for savvy aliens too," protested Dick, followed by the sound of his fire alarm turning on.

Duke lifted his head from a pillow to mute Dick's comms. Then he put it back down, huffed, and said, "Now that we aren't in crisis mode, I also win because they are, in fact, meta humans."

"No they aren't," said Jason. "Have you all forgotten the interdimensional death portal? It's right there. If they have the meta gene and aren't some fucked up pit demons I'll pay for the shitting betting pool."

"You're the one who volunteered to watch it," said Steph, throwing her phone down the couch, which meant she did not want to announce her loss. "Cass, just muffle him if he's going to freak out over the interdimensional death portal."

"I think he should get a pass for that one," said Duke. "I think we should all freak out over the interdimensional death portal."

"We are," Steph assured him. "In like, one business day."

Bruce let out a disapproving grunt.

"Don't take that tone with me," said Steph. "We were all understandably panicked about Jazz nearly dying and turning purple - "

"I thought she looked more blue, actually," said Tim.

"- and Danny pulling out the usual glowing green eyes of doom and anger and Jason having a freak out over a pit portal - "

"Fuck you," said Jason.

"So B, you can handle the usual logistics freak out, and I am going to just be happy we managed to get them medical attention for now and Jazz is not actively dying anymore."

"Already dead," said Cass, quietly, over the comms. "Danny too."

"That's a two business day's from now type problem," said Steph, but her expression was as grim as the rest of them.

"Is it though?"

"We have programs for this," said Bruce, broodingly.

"We know, B."

"They did not need to make a hole in the fabric of reality," continued Bruce, even more broodingly.

"B, all your wellfare programs and 'beings stuck on Earth get home' initiatives with the JL don't mean shit if people who need them don't know about it."

"They do know about it," said Bruce, downright morose. "It's always filled with prank calls."

Damian perched besides his father and tentatively patted his back. Tim snapped another picture and sent it to the Young Justice group chat captioned 'murder gremlin attempts to comfort progenitor, exhibit D'.

"Maybe they did send in an application," said Barbara over the comms. Her voice was filled with extreme exhaustion; like Tim she was pushing twenty-six hours of being awake. She was just worse at hiding it than he was because she did not drink her bodyweight in caffeine. "Maybe it just got mistaken for a prank."

"Or lost in the queue," said Tim. At any given moment on Earth there were at least three wayward aliens, one time traveler, and two beings from not quite this dimension looking to go home. The aliens were usually the easiest of the lot to fix, the time travelers were a hit or miss depending on whether their version of this reality still existed, and the interdimensional beings were often a JLD problem.

Which meant --

"'The ripples of dimensional weakness have been felt and must be investigated'," said Bruce, obviously quoting someone and hating every word. Steph started muttering under her breath 'please be Zatanna, please be Zatanna, please be Zatanna - '

"Constantine is coming," declared Bruce, with all the drama he denied possessing.

Everyone groaned.

Jason said, "He is not coming into Crime Alley."

Danny: Ugh, they're back again

Jazz: Don't make that face at paying customers. Do you want to make a portal back home?

Danny rolling his eyes: Yes

Jazz: Then we need to get enough money to buy the parts. If that means waiting tables at a barely legal dinner, where idiots hit on us, then we wait those stupid tables. Now go over there and get the Waynes to leave us a 200 tip.

Danny: Fine, but only if you do too!

Jazz: *Tighten her apron straps into an hourglass figure* Way ahead of you.

Danny: *Rolling eyes but does the same*

Meanwhile with the Waynes

Bruce: It's so nice to go out to eat with you all

Alfred: Indeed. It's a nice change, don't you agree, children?

Wayne kids: *hyperventilating*

Bruce Not looking up from his phone: The Fenton siblings?

Alfred: Indeed, sir. It seems like Master Dick, Master Jason, and Miss Cass are going to attempt to speak to Ms. Fenton today. Master Tim, Master Damian, Master Duke, and Miss Steph don't seem mentally ready to look Mister Fenton in the eye. Bets?

Bruce: Dick chokes on his fork again. Tim face plants on the table, and Steph once again speaks in gibberish after forgetting the entire English language.

Alfred: Very good, sir.

[grlcarcass]

Hii im not sure if you’re taking requests rn, but Im going to just in case bc i absolutely love your writing!!

You feel like the kind of author that needs smut to have a backstory or at least a solid dynamic to be established between the characters, which I can absolutely relate to, so I was thinking maybe Izzy and the childhood best friend trope? I’m not sure if that’s your cup of tea but I love it when there’s a certain tenderness to two people having known each other for song long and then discovering this new side to their relationship.

Maybe they knew each other back in Indiana, but then he moved and they didn’t see each other for a couple years, and then they bump into each other in LA? Idk it’s all up to you, you’re fantastic at writing real chemistry and unique tropes so I don’t want to ruin this by babbling too much.

missing stradlin - izzy stradlin fic

taglist: @brokenglassb1tch @californiaahunny @tranquilitybasegrunge @slashes-strings @dazecrea

content: smut (18+), slight angst, mostly romantic

a/n: babe, after all that love for my writing in that ask? HOW COULD I NOT WRITE FOR YOU ASAP?! I’m extremely flattered that you love my chemistry writing, I try so hard T_T I tried extra hard for you here, I can tell we're very alike! Hope you love it anon!

tag an izzy lover <3

It was the kind of night in Los Angeles that felt like it would come undone before you if you just breathed too hard. The air was warm, dizzy air thick with gasoline and jasmine, the infectious air that poured out the nearby incense shop overwhelming her senses each time she passed. 

“You’re in LA, and close to the bar.” it’d tell her, apparently yuppy-filled enough to have a running essential oil/crystal shop on damn near every corner. It was a humbling feeling, the jump from Indiana, where the fanciest joint was the restaurant of the local Inn. At least that was true back then, her little friends used to agree with that exact sentiment. Here she was, where we have enough money to spend on pretty rocks that don’t do jack, that’s what Momma told her about LA at least.

The bar was buried somewhere off Melrose, a place that didn’t advertise, didn’t care to. Its name was half-burned out in neon lights. The lighting was low, the music was loud, and the scent of sweat and old beer didn’t change no matter what state she chased her high. It lived in bars, and that made her feel right at home no matter how far she was from Indiana. At least for a moment. 

She hadn’t expected anything from the night, maybe a cheap whiskey. Maybe a guy who’d nod too hard at anything she played on her acoustic. Physically egging her to finish the song until he’d take off her pants. What did sex mean anymore? What did anything?

She felt like she had missed the Get-Big-And-Out-Of-Indiana bus, ever since high school. Her two best friends weren’t Bill or Jeffrey anymore. With their new shiny titles, she questioned if that part of her– no, their past had existed. Knowing every damn thing about them, knowing them long enough to remember how bad they were at singing or guitar back then? Had that even existed in comparison to what those two became now?

She traveled endlessly, searching for nothing and something all at once. Bars. Sex. Smoke. She wasn’t anywhere to be seen, but to chase a familiar feeling. The comfort of both her Momma’s garage with their ruckus, but aged, grown up to a loud bar. It just wasn’t her guys though, no matter how talented the performing acts were. 

Never admitting that she yearned to find them, outright. Cause she knew the possible rejection of forgetting her would ache like their absence tenfold. Finding the adjacent was fine, she’d convinced herself. 

Karaoke nights at the bar, she’d sing whatever she felt like. Just to feel how she felt when her only friends did, who felt like more of a crowd on their own than a bar full of twits. A few people clapped. A guy in the back whistled. But she wasn’t really singing for them. 

She was trying to shake the feeling that someone was listening.

Watching, even.

When she stepped off the stage, disappointed yet again in the lack of high, her hand around her chipping Yamaha, she saw him.

At first she thought her mind was playing a cruel trick. Reminding her of what she failed to find bar to bar, a flicker of a memory projected onto the crowd by the hum of the audience and stage lights. No. He was real.

Leaning against the far wall in a denim jacket that looked like it’d seen a stage or ten, one foot across the other, a cigarette between his fingers and an unmistakable bore in his eyes. 

Jeffrey. 

Izzy.

He didn’t move. Just looked at her like he was trying to decide if she was a dream or a ghost.

She swallowed. Her body moved before her brain could catch up.

“Jeffrey?” she said quietly, approaching him like he might vanish if she was too loud. “Izzy?” she squinted up at him, the title unfamiliar in her mouth.

His big eyes blinked slowly. “Shit.”

It wasn’t much. But there was something tender behind it, like the wind had been knocked out of him.

“It’s you,” he said after a moment. Voice low. Familiar. 

She half smiled, unsure if she wanted to laugh or cry. “Yeah… whatever though. It’s you, though.” 

“You look…” he trailed off, eyes scanning her like he didn’t know where to start. “Different. But sure as hell not.” That was him alright, he couldn’t muster up something outright sweet to save his life.

Senior prom, he gawked at her all night but all he could choke up was that her hair looked “Bigger than usual.”

“Well, it’s been what? Five years? Six?” 

“Closer to seven,” he murmured confidently, like he’d counted every one. 

They both ended up in a booth in the back. A tiny red candle flickered between them in a cloudy glass holder. She had her guitar case at her feet. Izzy’s beer stood untouched.

“I didn’t think I’d ever see you again,” she admitted after a while.

“I looked for you,” he said, almost too quickly. Then he cleared his throat. “Both me and Axl, or… Bill? When we first got out here, you were still back at home. I figured you stayed put.”

“I did. For a while.” She toyed with the condensation on her glass. “Then I left. I left state after state actually. Just… needed out.” 

He nodded, like he understood. Like they were still tuned at the same frequency 7 years later.

His eyes were softer than she remembered. Not in a fragile way, just quieter. Like he didn’t have anything to prove, or the world hadn’t gotten to him yet. 

“You’re really doing it,” he said. “Your music thing, that’s cool.”

She looked down bashful. Knowing that he was millions bigger than her. “You’re just being nice.”

“I’m never nice,” he said. “Even back then, you knew that.” he smiled his quiet smile.

She looked up to meet his ever round eyes, there was a nostalgic warmth and familiarity that was better than any adrenaline rush she got from going bar to bar. Something old. Unfinished.

“What about you? Mister Guns N Roses.” she chuckled, swatting at his hand like she was scolding him for not addressing the elephant in the room. What had taken her friends up and out of Indiana in the first place.

“It’s a mess. But yeah. We’re making noise.” He rolled his eyes. 

“For as calm and collected as you are, you’ve always attracted messes haven’t you.” She smiled.

“Maybe you mean Bill.” he chuckled softly. 

They left the bar together. Not because they planned to, just because it didn’t make any sense not to. 

Outside, the air was thick with that night time buzz, full of potential and unfinished business. His car was parked a block down. She hesitated. 

“Wanna drive for a bit?” he asked. “Like before?”

Her heart tripped. “Yeah. I’d like that.”

The city flew past them in a blur of red brake lights and yellow street lamps. Neither of them said much at first. It was the kind of silence that existed back then, feedback whining in Momma’s garage. Herself, Axl, and him laid out on the cheetah printed couch by the minifridge. Filled with jello, cause Momma would be damned if she had a beer. 

“I missed this,” he said eventually, one hand on the wheel, the other on his leg. “You.”

It hit her. She shouldn’t be humbled, it was still her highschool friend. Of course he’d miss her, she couldn’t believe she let his status get to her. Like she was lucky to have him miss her. She was new to experiencing their history, if that made any more sense than this sensation of longing. 

She turned her head slowly. “You both left without saying goodbye.”

“I know.” His voice went quiet. “I was scared if I did, I’d change my mind.”

A beat went by. “We drink to it to this day. I know that when this moment slips by? I’ll drink even harder to this one.” he said. 

She nodded. She understood now. But that didn’t mean it didn’t hurt.

They had pulled into a motel off Sunset. One of those old places with buzzing signs and doors that opened to the outside. 

“I can get my own place if this is weird,” he offered.

She looked deeply into him.

And for the first time she saw Izzy Stradlin before her, not grown up Jeffrey. The man he became, faded denim, cigarette roughed voice. Gentle eyes. The same crooked smirk he used to pull when they were caught stealing cassettes. 

“Izzy,” she said softly, “you can stay.”

The room was small. A double bed, floral sheets, a lamp with a crooked shade. Her guitar leaned against the wall in the corner like it was the third of whatever this reunion was to become. 

She kicked off her shoes. He stood near the window.

She didn’t want to say the wrong thing. She didn’t even know what the right thing would be. So she just told the truth.

“I used to think about you. Each time I moved.”

He turned slowly. Like he wasn’t sure he heard her right. His eyes met hers, and something had shifted in them, like the air had changed pressure.

“Yeah?”

She nodded, the words crept somewhere behind her ribs. “Not in some big dramatic way. Just… like a constant in everything I did. You were two… well, you were the first person who just didn’t laugh at me. No matter how bad I was at guitar, no matter what silly guy I cried over, no matter how lame my poetry was? That kinda thing stays with a girl.”

He moved toward her carefully, like she was something sacred. His steps were slow, quiet. But there was something determined and in them too. Like maybe he spent years walking toward.

Izzy knelt in front of her. One knee to the motel carpet. He looked up at her like he didn’t know how to begin.

For a second, that was all. The silence curled around them again, but this time it pulsed. It buzzed into something bigger, something breaking.

Then he leaned in, slow and reverent. He kissed her like it wasn’t new, like it was something they’d been doing in dreams for years. His mouth slowly moved over hers with a softness that stunned her, lips just barely parting until she opened for him and let him in.

He tasted like smoke and beer. Her hand curled into his hair, tugging gently at the strands. He kissed her like he’d never kissed anyone like this before, tentative and tethered, full of feelings he was sure the English language didn’t have words for yet.

He pulled back, her heart was in her throat.

He pressed his forehead into hers. “We don’t have to. If this is too fast–”

She shook her head, breath catching.

“I want to.”

Not because it was overdue, or convenient. But because she had never felt more certain about anything in her life. This wasn’t lust, this wasn’t some hot guy from the bar. This wasn’t even about filling in for lost time.

It was about what was there between them now.

She leaned back against the bed, and he followed her gently, his hand finding her waist, and then the hem of her shirt. Everything he did was slow, like he wanted her to feel every decision he made. He kissed her again as he undressed her, his fingers brushing reverently over skin like he wasn’t just touching her, but remembering it, relearning it, letting it etch into him.

When he peeled off her top and she laid back in her bra, he stared for a moment. Not with hunger, but awe.

“Jesus,” he murmured. “You’re…”

Aging after this long, he didn’t care if she ended up a bit rough and less pretty around the edges, becoming gorgeous wasn’t a grace everyone had. He would’ve been in this position as long as her soul was in her body. But she was absolutely stunning, she was clearly more fortunate in his mind than any Hollywood babe had ever come unto him with. It made her all the more powerful to him, it made her terrifying. 

He never got to finish, he just kissed down her throat with gratitude, like an apology. And she arched into him, fingertips slipping under his T-Shirt, wanting more. Wanting him. 

They undressed each other in pieces. His jeans came off slowly. Her bra, even slower. He kissed her chest like he was memorizing it, like he didn’t want to take anything for granted. When she was finally bare beneath him, she felt more seen than exposed.

“You do this to me.” he shakily whispered. He was never shaken, not Izzy Stradlin, always had a plan. This time around he felt the most careful he’d ever been.

When he slid into her, it wasn’t rushed or ragged like the bastards she agreed to sleep with for a feeling. It was deep, deliberate. His forehead pressed into hers, and he gasped like he hadn’t breathed right without her for years. She wrapped her legs around him, pulling him in fully, feeling that soft stretch that burned in the best way.

Every thrust was careful, like he didn’t want to hurt her. Like he needed her to feel just how much he meant it.

He kissed her shoulder, her cheek, the corner of her mouth. Whispering her name like a vow.

Their rhythm built slowly, sweet and steady. He felt like he had been the most undeserving man in the world as she closed around him, like pleasing her was proof he had done anything right in his life. Fuck Guns N’ Roses, Fuck millions of dollars, Fuck guitar. Pleasing this woman was the only thing he’d live to get right, just right enough to make her cum. 

His breath that’d hitch in the slams against her ass became slightly whiny and desperate, like he’d cry in pleasure. She was already there, tears streaming down her cheeks as she caressed his cheeks, sharing a tender stare, both of them sniffling of pleasure and longing.

She hung her arms around his neck, pulling him into her mouth, both groaning and gasping like something was changing spiritually around them. 

Electricity climbed up and under her belly button, shot up into her mouth in a moan. 

“Izzy…I’m-” she whined, still crying, as was he. 

“Do it. Please.” he whimpered, a trait the world would’ve never expected from the stone cold Izzy Stradlin, a sight for her to see only. 

Both of their moans wound up louder and louder the closer she got, everytime she whined he would. What was happening between them would be more than an orgasm, or two.

When she came they both let out strangled moans, which turned to tears sooner. Their naked bodies holding each other like they needed each other to live. They were both just as raw and exposed, having finally melt past everything in their way.

Distance, time, estranged familiarity.

This was what she searched for, she’ll finally say it.

They hiccuped and wiped each other’s tears, kissing each other’s cheeks.

“You’re gonna make me cry if you keep crying.” she chuckled through her own sniffles. Wiping his cheeks, the slight pout on his lips killing her.

“You gotta stop too then.” He said using his wrists to wipe his own. 

♡

They laid there, naked in the cold air of the AC that stirred in the motel room. Her cheek against his chest.

“You’re not going anywhere, I think I’ll get alcohol poisoning if I let you go after this. I’d want to black out each second.” he demanded.

“So be it.” she smiled warmly, half laughing. “Take me to see Bill one of these days.”

[cicadaclan-archive]

i feel like given the metanarrative of warriors where there's this clear bias for male characters over women in a lot of ways, and its questionable to trust in the nationalist ideas present in the clans w an automatic distrust of outsiders, And the fact that they've openly taken from native american culture for their books, trying to analyze from an in-universe perspective means ignoring the author bias,

but sometimes i wld rather explore things from the in character perspective despite the shoddy character work. the world of warriors is far from a utopia and that's not automatically a bad thing bc it helps drive the story along. sure, sometimes it's for romance driven and soap opera adjacent content, but there's a reason that specific books like mapleshades se are seen as better overall even though they illustrate perfectly how flawed the world that warriors lives in is,

personally my metanarrative criticism usually comes in the form of wishing there was more solid characterization in the story. i can excuse a little bending of characters for the sake of moving the plot, but a lot of the time, the characters are twisted and warped w little to no regard for how they previously acted. esp if it's to justify the protagonist or for cheap conflict. cats previously showing no issue w outsiders suddenly being xenophobic, mothers being kind of okay or shown getting better being treated as if they were villains, once rational and thoughtful leaders turning into threatening and antagonistic forces.

at least it wld feel more satisfying to look at only the text instead of how it reads if there was a little less drama-riddled plot and a little more character work. gives something a bit more to care abt,

[nanjokei]

what are your fave mobile games??

to be honest i don't really play that many at the same time but ill talk historically, it makes the most sense anyway. btw this got really long

OG show by rock - one of the most fun mobage rhythm games EVER, the portait orientation 3 button setup looked deceptively easy but it has some of the most evil, vile beatmaps ive ever seen in a mobile game. AND THAT'S CRAZY!!! never gonna forgive sanrio for killing it and making its successor a shitty bandori clone (og sb69 was bound to die anyway bc it had insane rarity creep, but the cheap seeming bandori clone successor that didn't even have half the original bands at the time of EoS two years into launch was a huge slap to the face). the art in the cards was so much more charming than the ones in the new game, they weren't bad but you, me, her, he, them, everyone, we all KNOW what had more soul. i think the only thing the new game had over the old one is the interactive aspect via the homescreen live2d. also cause yasu was in it

fate/grand order - still my forever game, its a game where i dont feel pressure to do anything, you can use anyone you love. i can stop playing for weeks and come back and not feel an insane sense of FOMO which is an issue with a lot of newer mobage. i think a lot of people outsource their opinion on fgo exclusively from negative opinions which makes me kinda sad. the story is great, you can pick up the game at any time, and to those who find that kind of thing important: farming gems is easy. i say give it a shot yourself. ofc there are questionable things given the original source and its origins, not to mention the premise. but i do believe that despite its flaws i think people should reevaluate it fairly and not base it on the time they downloaded NA for 10 minutes and didn't roll an ssr right away after 20 rolls.

mahoutsukai no yakusoku - i'll be honest i have chosen not to play the game properly until an english version comes out bc i do not want to play a clicker in a language i am not very proficient in. HOWEVER. unironically one of the best stories i've read in mobage history, characters are great, i think it has wide appeal and the devs seem to understand that "joseimuke" paradoxically is something that can be enjoyed by all kinds of people (also it is a series that is kind to both fujoshi and yumejoshi. coexisting peacefully afaik). super recommend the story if you like magic, worldbuilding and interesting characters!!! bunta is a great writer. im a fan of idolish7 as well so i can vouch (also you can select your protag's gender which isn't crazy but in a game like this, i super appreciate it)

#compass - horrible game don't play this

love live school idol festival - i want you idol twitter and adjacent cunts to put respect to her name. RESPECT. SIF has never gotten her flowers from any of you facetious little slimeballs and you can deny it all you want but not only was this the blueprint but it also was probably what got you into the things you like in the first place. in a world where every other rhythm game is a bandori clone, i smile knowing SIF2 will keep the spirit of SIF alive (hopefully). the cards were cute, mu's discography is certified classic and anyone denying it in 2023 hates fun, and despite how archaic it was and its MANY flaws, i believe firmly that it deserves respect not only as an idol game but as a mobage in general. it really broke ground being localized when it was.

nikke - definitely top 10 most shocking things of the century that i played this and am still playing. its uh, very flawed, the wall sucks and once you hit that plateau in power level the struggle to catch up to content power walls is kinda depressing, but it has a lot of heart that keeps me logging in and talking to my girls. it's still unabashedly horny (though its a trick actually, a lot of the characters are more covered up than expected and it REALLY pisses a lot of the game's fanbase off), but i'm really enjoying the story. i think my pleasant surprise is so insanely high that it deserves a spot on here-- i think if you let it cook it mostly won't disappoint you. i love most of the characters :) korean kamige

argonavis AAside - i miss you. argonavis still lives, so i do not mourn what is living, but dabues was a special little game because it did not contain the evils of bandori. the gacha was fair, the spark ceiling was 100 rolls(!), but it was mismanaged from the start, fuck dena. im sad the new game will be a clicker but i will be there for argonavis no matter what. was pretty much what garupa should strive to be in terms of A GAME but unfortunately such days do not come to pass.

honorable mention cause its EOSing soon probably and im too bitter to talk about it positively rn given the current shitshow the jp version is in (ily global): vanguard zero, also megido72 because i only started playing it in december but im enjoying it a lot so far. i guess dream!ing also gets a mention. i will not elaborate

this is a postscript but i've played a lot of kusoge for tapjoy rewards and let me tell you. people playing regular well known japanese/korean/chinese mobage do not know the shit and crap that comes from the dregs of the play/app store. you do not know what a kusoge is until you've grinded earnestly and faithfully in shit like state of survival for an entire month. after those experiences i have Truly learned what it means to be a shit game

[tanoraqui]

AU: Hányǐng-jūn

(”Shadowbearing Lord”, translation by @lyratalus)

(see, this is my problem. I decide, “yes, damnit, I AM going to write this longfic!” and then 0.0003 seconds later I’m absolutely swarmed by other plot bunnies.)

anyway, Yiling Patriarch!Lan Wangji but, like...better

Lan Wangji gets out of seclusion and 3 days later takes a mostly sleeping Lan Yuan, a couple days' worth of provisions, and leaves for Yiling. Lan Xichen somehow catches him just outside of Cloud Recesses and LWJ freely admits that he's going to Yiling - the city, not the Burial Mounds themselves - and he's going to raise A-Yuan there and cleanse the Burial Mounds like Wei Wuxian was starting to do with the life he brought back to them

Lan Xichen lets him go, doesn't even bother to play the "shouldn't A-Yuan grow up somewhere healthier and wealthier" card, bc a) cheap shot, b) he knows Wangji has already thought of it (he's right), and c) this is doing NOTHING to convince him that his brother won't commit some sort of passive suicide if he doesn't get to keep that child. God damn, he thought they were over this phase of mourning but Apparently Not

so Lan Wangji gets a house in Yiling, has to deal with 50 tons of gossip - of a new variety; he's used to political gossip and "isn't he hot" gossip but wow he was not prepared for small town "ooh new hot single dad" gossip with a side order of random advice from elderly women about how to care for a six-year-old

(he is, in fact, very grateful for the advice)

(there is no way in hell that Lan Wangji knows how to be the sole provider for a six-year-old)

in the internal war between "do not let A-Yuan out of my sight" and "do not take the vulnerable child to the death mountain", I think the former wins, considering the small child already lived on the death mountain for about a year, and seemed fine except for malnutrition. Which was...well, yes it was a problem with the death mountain, but not directly. Lan Wangji has money and they live in town and commute to the Burial Mounds each day for LWJ to play Cleansing while A-Yuan runs around catching imaginary butterflies or practicing reading; it's fine

...though possibly the nosy grannies convince him to get a babysitter

and maybe to take a break?

oh no i would want so many OCs of just Lan Wangji's neighbors in this

anyway, it doesn't take long for it to become clear that even playing Cleansing all day every day is like being a bird scraping its beak once a millennia on a mountain. Sure it works, technically, but...not really. Frankly, the resentful energy grows back if he stops for a single day. And even Hanguang-jun only has so much power and endurance

he's going to have to handle the resentful energy himself. If he wants to do this, wants to leave some sort of positive legacy for Wei Wuxian, he's going to have to demonically cultivate himself. Siphon the stuff off, and do...something with it. It won't just vanish. Subdue corpses and monsters, probably? Go back to night-hunting?

I dunno how or how fast word gets out, but I guarantee you Jiang Cheng is the first person of note to hear about it and come furiously flying. The fight that follows is raw and possibly literally bloody, and 99.99% about Wei Wuxian (of course.) I think the only reason it stops is that even though they took it outside, A-Yuan wakes up (as does most of the neighborhood) and pokes his head out the window to ask what's going on, and Jiang Cheng puts two and two together with the kid he saw when he visited to disown Wei Wuxian and- 

He can't quite bear to destroy something even halfway adjacent to family He wants Wei Wuxian to have a slightly good legacy, too He storms off.

the only reason he doesn't pass Lan Xichen in the air is that they aren't quite coming from the same direction. This night is becoming very long but Lan Wangji is happy to explain himself to his brother: the careful methods he's started to use, never very much resentful energy at once, and the careful checks he has on himself, meditation and Cleansing and purification rituals. Lan Xichen isn't happy, but he has to concede that it all seems sound, and the goal is certainly a righteous one, and...there are worse ways to mourn

so when an emergency sect leader cultivation conference is called, because the news that Hanguang-jun has not only moved to Yiling but started practicing demonic cultivation has spread like wildfire, Lan Xichen calmly stands forward and defends his brother, states that Lan Wangji is working on noble goals with careful precautions and the full support of GusuLan, he can confirm it himself as Sect Leader but of course any who wish are welcome to visit Yiling as well and judge Hanguang-jun's precautions for themselves.

I cannot put in words how close Jiang Cheng comes to punching him in the face

So that’s what happens: people visit, see what careful measures Lan Wangji has in place, and are convinc- ha ha lol no it’s politics. But it works out. i wish I could say that it's some sort of tie between who Jiang Cheng hates most: Wei Wuxian for everything, but particularly for not even bothering to try to make it safe like LWJ clearly is; Lan Wangji for thinking he can just get away with this shit; Lan Xichen for helping him do it; everyone else for going along with it when they couldn't give Wei Wuxian and Jiang Cheng and YunmengJiang a single shred of goodwill; or himself for not standing up for either Wei Wuxian (a la Lan Wangji, however post-mortem)/his brother (like LXC)

but we all know it's nowhere near a tie

so...Lan Wangji doesn't plan to teach Lan Yuan (he's still a Lan! They're both still Lans!) any sort of demonic cultivation, but no matter what he does there's still So Much Dangerous Stuff around here, and they have no backup nearby, and demonic cultivation is just so much easier for those without a well-developed golden core yet -

so he teaches him, you know, some basic chords to make a ghost or corpse go the fuck away

(to start)

UNFORTUNATELY I'm pretty sure the timing is such that the Yi City Affair happened mostly while LWJ was in seclusion? Or at least, the start of it, such that the finding of Xue Yang by the side of the road happened either shortly before or shortly after he got out (and, in this case, went to Yiling)

and they have no reason to visit Yiling, so...all that...plays out. as in canon

no reason to visit Yiling, that is, until Xue Yang is sitting on the floor of the coffin house clutching a bag containing the shards of Xiao Xingchen's soul and feeling something like remorse for the first time in his life and he HATES it, he hates it SO GODDAMN MUCH, he wants to burn everyone who contributed to this to the ground and then torment their ghosts for centuries

so, he might then visit Yiling and the man said to be some sort of inheritor of the Yiling Patriarch's power. He almost certainly tries to play nice and helpless, just a good young man who made bad choices and lost his friend, and Lan Wangji probably tries to give him the benefit of the doubt and...yeah that does not last long.

especially if A-Qing has anything to say mime about it

Xue Yang has a fierce corpse on call and the won't-stay-down attitude of a feral weasel on crack who hates you personally, but Lan Wangji has a the home court advantage, including extensive practice siphoning and applying power from the Burial Mounds, and he's fucking Hanguang-jun.

Result: Lan Sizhui gets a sad fierce corpse uncle and a cheerfully-refusing-to-pass-on ghost-jie

HARD CUT uh...10? Ish? Years later? Wei Wuxian aka Mo Xuanyu is quickly giving up the idea of subtle launching fierce corpses at this hand bc at this point it's either out himself or people die, and the latter is not acceptable. He's just about to whistle them in when a ghost whips in and probably saves someone's life by knocking them out of the way. One of the Lan babies shrieks and hides behind another one - but a third points excitedly to the sky and shouts, "Oh, it's Lan Sizhui! Sizhui, over here!"

and who should descend by sword but one Nice Young Man(TM) with a guqin that he plays while switching effortlessly back and forth between spiritual and resentful energy, which, damn, Wei Wuxian didn't even know that was an option. I mean, it wasn't, for him, but...damn! What a clever kid! Did someone teach him?!

oh yeah, imminent danger of death by angry left hand -

Wei Wuxian does have to openly intervene, or at least, obviously intervene by fierce corpse and shouting some instructions at the kids, and then letting this Sizhui kid take the credit for the fierce corpses and trying to book it but, uh...getting caught. By aforementioned Sizhui kid. Who is polite and formal and, Wei Wuxian points out, extremely un-GusuLan-like, what with the bothering him and also the demonic cultivation. There's probably still the ghost of a teenage girl following them and making rude gestures at Wei Wuxian for insulting her little brother

"That's because I'm from the Yiling branch," Lan Sizhui admits, a little shame-facedly except that it's definitely fake shame. 

"Hmm?" says Wei Wuxian, like he knows what that means but is curious for more information (as opposed to have no goddamn idea what that means and desperately wanting more information)

"I, ah, study with Hanying-jun" says Lan Sizhui, who doesn't want to make a big deal out of his parentage. 

"Hmm?" says Wei Wuxian, who is fucking Dying here "I thought I might escort you home with me, so you can get properly cleansed after manipulating those corpses. One must be careful, of course." He sighs in a slightly teenagerish way. "It'll take most of a day, probably, after that arm. I try to use only spiritual energy on night hunts, but that was...pretty bad." 

Wei Wuxian, internally: okay, CONS: getting spiritually cleaned by Lans, even possibly Cool Lans - ugh, why are Lans always like this. PROS: finding out who the fuck this "Hanying-jun” is, bc...what the fuck. In Yiling? Is he stealing MY schtick?? And I can't just ASK, because clearly this kid expects me to recognize the title, which means Mo Xuanyu would probably recognize the title, and even a Lan who practices some sort of resentful energy manipulation isn't just going to be okay with suddenly meeting the Yiling Patriarch...And i can always run if I have to. 

WWX: I mean...okay! I don't have anything else to do!

except they do detour to Dafan Mountain a little because Lan Sizhui wasn't raised quite Lan enough to beat out the rebellious teenager streak and he wants to fight a big monster, and Jiang Cheng nearly fucking draws Zidian on sight bc he really. Hates. The Yiling Lans. And then Lan Wangji shows up just bc he heard about a ruckus and figured it was a good place to find his son

and then goddess statue, Wen Ning, terrible bamboo flute...

it's definitely not 'til after Lan Wangji and Jiang Cheng have started and maybe finished fighting before Wie Wuxian finds out that the mysterious bastard who totally stole his spot as Dark Lord of Yiling is Hanguang-jun

or, you know...different title now

apparently

and then LWJ takes him and orders him bathed and - wait actually if they've developed elaborate formal spiritual purification rituals to balance handing resentful energy, he. he probably does order Wei Wuxian bathed

and then brought to his room

oh wow

beautiful

AND THEN PLOT RESUMES AS NORMAL?!? except possibly several questions of romance and Lan Sizhui's history get cleared up much faster 

also Lan Wangji - Hanying-jun - doesn’t have as peerless a reputation to trade on. Public opinion is probably fairly split between camps of, like, “he’s doing a good and noble thing, cleaning the Burial Mounds” vs. “the Lans say it’s okay so it must be, but wow that seems dangerous and/or useless” vs. “demonic cultivation is always eeeevil!” Among cultivators specifically, it’s more the first two, but...performatively more the first, genuinely more the second.

[daemonhxckergrrl]

I always think of this exchange, ironically from a US show:

Buffy: speak English, not whatever they speak in-

Giles: ...England ??

the UK has its own history tied into how we to to the Americanisation of everything, but that isn't the fault of working class Brits. in US culture the UK is typically seen as interchangable with England, ignoring that Scotland and Wales exist as countries within that Union and that the full name also includes Northern Ireland (which is different from the Republic of Ireland). don't get me started on the way US culture treats anything Irish either.

on the subject of accents, the only ones commonly known in US culture seem to be RP (received pronunciantion, the formal standard accent often coupled with grammar/vocab/syntax of Standard English), best described as that overly posh and clipped accent you may have heard on old British radio, and a modern working class accent around the Greater London area (where the meme phrases "Bri'ish moment", "it's chewsday innit" and "bo'uhl o' wo'er" come from). in reality, every major town and city has its own accent (or accents). just within the Midlands you have vastly different accents between Birmingham, Northampton, Leicester, Telford. these are towns and cities within a couple hours of each other. and yes, many of these places have their own words for the same things and pronounce the same words very differently. there's already a class history of suppressing regional dialects (Northern accents were considered a sign of lower intelligence) and Americanisation will just make that problem worse.

I've seen that Wiggan kebab video circling a few times and while yes a lot of our town-specific foods may look beige or have basic-ass ingredients or be carb-heavy and light on flavour, they're working class foods made cheap with what ingredients people had locally when they needed these meals. I'm talking about Northern mining towns needing to feed their overworked and underpaid miners on what budget families had.

another thing is how US media treats anything alcohol-adjacent with such a fragility and puritan mindset. tbh the US culture around alcohol is one I find both confusing and contradictory (I'm aware of prohibition bc we do learn some US history here). like yes a lot of people drink too much here (football culture is especially bad for this) but the pub as an establishment is an essential part of our communities.

it's a great place to hang out with friends, get to know the locals when you move, to sit an enjoy the sun with your cold beverage of choice (I recommend sitting out with a fresh lemonade just as much as a proper ale).

so far I've talked about US misunderstandings of the UK, but I think another important one is police. in the UK our police were not originally slavecatchers. that's a US thing.

we have a history of Acts of Parliament slowly (over nearly 1000 years) transforming watchmen and night watch models into Victorian-style beat policing and then into modern policing. the end result is absolutely still a force of the state using violence against its citizens and the threat of violence to enforce laws.

one final thing is absolutely how legal and political stuff is US-centric. like yes, there are instances where the outcome of a Bill in Congress will affect people in other countries, but the way with which the US political and legal system is assumed default and assumed that it will always affect people outside the US is so damaging.

a lot of technology laws are important bc I don't want US citizens to suffer at the hands of big corporations any more than I want anyone else to, but here's something important to consider:

Tumblr Live is available in the US (and possibly some other countries that have weak privacy and data protection laws) but not in the EU or in the UK where we have GDPR. let that sink in for a moment.

the treatment of the US as default is damaging to everyone. it hurts people in the US who then expect everyone to be like them and experience huge culture shock, it's damaging to countries close to the US who have their identity eroded by proximity, it's damaging to countries who share English as a native language bc their identity is eroded by the dominance of Americanisms, and it's damaging to countries whose citizens have to both learn (US) English and forcibly Americanise their speech and mannerisms in order to appeal to people in the US.

this is way longer than I intended but hey post be upon ye

DO NOT LET SOCIAL MEDIA TURN YOU INTO AN AMERICAN

[buckygirl-fanfiction]

Psychedelic Love - Sparks Chapter 37

Word Count: 3K

Warnings: SMUT! drug use.

Summary: You get high and share a moment with Bucky and end up making love. The beautiful moment is then shattered when he finds out.

A/N: you all better enjoy this bc its 5:30 am and I spent all night writing it.

September 29, 2017

y/n’s POV

I'm alone. Utterly and completely alone. Even Effy, Effy who's the most destructive person I've ever known, has deserted me. What does that say about me?

I’m sat in the dark staring at the ceiling of my living room. The dark space of the room is lit only by the streetlights streaming in through the half open window. I pick up my head and look towards the street. It’s oddly calm outside, a surprising warm spell has come over the entire city erasing any signs of the upcoming fall and exhibiting a climate that is reminiscent of mid July rather than late September. It’s a perfect night for a walk. Although the spark i’d once feel at the prospect of a relaxing late night wander no longer ignites within me. It’s all just rather bland… and quiet. It’s times like this i’d usually go out seeking a party or a cheap thrill but even that seemed… disinteresting.

Instead I opted to take a equally as destructive yet more subtle route. I blew out the grey smoke in a large puff and stood up making my way towards my bedroom looking for some bottoms to wear on my midnight wander through central park. I chose something that would give me the least hassle to pull on in my giddy state, a mini skirt.

Walking through the park wasn’t as thrilling as i’d hoped it to be. It was also bland… the high as good as it was wasn’t evoking any of the emotions I desperately craved to feel. What else made me feel good? You know what makes you feel good. You know who makes you feel good. I tried to ignore the destructive little thoughts rising from within me yet somehow I found myself exactly where I shouldn’t be.

I walked past the security guard with my head down, giving him a quick glance and smile not wanting to be seen like this by anyone. Once the metal doors closed and I was inside the safe confines of the elevator I press the button to his floor. I catch sight of my red eyes in the shiny metal doors and dig into my purse hoping to find eyedrops. He isn’t the type to take advantage of me when i’m vulnerable and right now I just really… really want to be taken advantage of. I tilt my head back putting drops in each eye, blinking a couple times, and hoping the crimson tint fades away quickly. The elevator doors slide open and I automatically walk towards his apartment.

I wait outside his door for a long minute. I know the code. I could enter it and find myself in his warm bed like I had done countless times before. But it wasn’t complicated back then was it? I finally bring myself to knock on his door and it opens to his worn face. He look tired although I knew he hadn’t been asleep. It was around 1am and he usually drifts off around 2.

“Hi,” he says. HIs dark circle set eyes brighten up a little as they land on my face. “What are you doing here?” He asks a ghost of a smile beginning to spread over his face, yet even with it he looks somber somehow.

He takes a step back and lets me in through the door. I feel warmer the instant i’m inside. Just the atmosphere of his presence seems to warm me and I feel myself physically rise higher every passing moment. I walk towards his couch and let myself fall against it. My legs hang freely off the end and my eyes follow his form as he walks around me and sits on the chair adjacent. I turn my head and my body to face him. I’m laying on my stomach now regarding him curiously. I’m at ease, I feel free, quite out of character for the moment. For a second it feels like old times and I realize it’s not. I’m not free because things have changed, i’m free because i’m high. Things are just as complicated as they’ve always been. I push the thought out of my mind refusing to ruin the euphoria I feel pulsing through my veins and finally answer the question he posed to me at the door. “I wanted to see you,” I say smiling softly.

He returns the smile as he watches me from his position on the chair. He’s sat leaning forward with his elbows on his knees. His hair is pulled back into a bun with stray strands sticking out. I want to reach forward and brush them behind his ear. I want to run my fingers through his scruffy stubble. It’s amassed over the last couple weeks into an almost beard. So I do. I feel no longer restrained by my fears: of one day losing him if I let him too close, of getting hurt if I let him in. I reach forward and tuck the loose strands behind his ear and gently stroke his face. He closes his eyes and his lips part. He leans into my palm like a cat does when someone strokes its face. I giggle at his reaction. He opens his eyes at the sound and they crinkle at the corners as he smiles.

“Is that all?” He asks softly in reply. “Because if you came here to seduce me, congrats doll it worked… I’m seduced.”

I push myself up playfully on all fours before getting up from the sofa and walking towards him. I take my rightful place on his lap and sit astride him. He leans back into the cushions and watches me carefully with a genuine smile still plastered on his face. I lean forward and kiss him softly slipping my tongue into his mouth. I pull him forwards and wrap my arms around his neck pulling him closer to me. When we separate I look into his eyes and ask him something i’d never have said if I were lucid, “Do you love me?” I don’t wait for an answer instead I move my lips to his neck and begin to kiss and bite and suck every inch of viable skin.

“Yes,” He moans tilting his head back, “Always.”

“Then… Take me… to your… bed… and… make… love… to me,” I say kissing his neck, face, lips in between each word. At the last syllable I look up into his eyes and loose myself.

For a brief second I realize how desperately and pathetically in love I sound. It doesn’t sound like me, the words that come out of my mouth. Or maybe it does. Maybe it sounds like unharmed past me, before everything happened. It’s amazing what a little pot can do to abate your fears.

He picks me up and I wrap my legs around him clinging onto him trying to maximize our contact. My arms around his neck bringing his lips to mine I feel a sense of elation, complete and pure bliss. In my stoned state everything is intensified. Every single moment feels longer than it actually is.

I feel him place me gently down on the bed and I lay back down watching him watch me. He slowly moves over me and helps me out of my top. I’m not wearing a bra and he takes advantage of the situation by leaning over and gently biting and sucking on my nipple. It’s intensified, its all intensified and so amazing that mere mortal words could never describe the experience of it all. I tilt my head back into his soft comforter and feel his hands slowly slip down my waist towards my skirt. I feel him pull at the elastic band and slide it off along with my panties. His mouth follows the directions his hands took and I feel his tongue on my stomach, my hips, my thighs… And suddenly I feel sad.

The bittersweet thing about marijuana is not that it always makes you feel happy. It doesn’t. It’s not as simple as an upper. It makes you feel intensely what you already feel. That’s what it does. Simple as that and I suddenly realize something that brings me down real fast. I suddenly sit up. His eyes shoot up from his position between my legs and he looks at me questioningly.

I hurt him. I put my hands on his face and bring it up to mines. I hurt him and suddenly that thought grieves me immensely and I feel my eyes water. He patiently waits for me to react and I quickly blink away a tear and tell him, “I love you, you know that right?” I ask.

“Yes,” he moans softly and I lean in to kiss him again. I shift forcing him on his back and positioning him in between my legs I can feel his rigid length under me and I slowly rub myself against it. I feel the electric sensation everywhere. I pull him up and help him pull off his t-shirt and begin to leave a trail of soft kisses on his collarbone and chest and the scars around where his old arm metal was once welded. He groans when I do this and I pull away and look at him again. “I love you…” I sigh. “I love your face,” I say kissing his cheek, “... and your mouth,” I say planting a passionate kiss on his lips. “And your hair,” I say unknotting the bun he’s wearing and running my fingers through his scalp. He closes his eyes and leans into my hands. “And your heart,” I say slowly beginning to kiss a trail down his chest, “and your soul…” I’m at his stomach now and I slowly pull down the pair of black boxers he’s wearing and lick my way down his happy trail. I grasp him in my hand and I see him tilt his head back and hear him moan. As he looks back down at me I finish my thought and say, “and you…” Before I can pop what I want into my mouth I’m suddenly thrown on my back and I feel him pushing my legs apart. I feel his searing kiss on my lips and my neck. I feel his warm hand squeeze my breasts and pinch my nipple and squeeze my thighs. I feel him push into me slowly at first doing his very best to maintain control and a steady slow place. I feel him fall apart and lose his composure and shove into my giving me no time to adjust. I feel him kiss me again this time his tongue exploring every inch of my mouth. I feel him strain against me as he pumps into me trying his best to slow his pace. When he fails he flips us over and now i’m left on top. He sits up so were nose to nose and I begin to follow the pace he set earlier and rock down onto him.

“No please,” he groans almost as if he’s in pain. “Slowly, be slow. I want this to last.” He begs and it tugs at my chest.

I slow my movements as much as I can and glue my lips to his resigning myself to the euphoria that is invading every inch of my being. We continue like this for as long as I can bear and then I’m shattered. I feel the waves of my orgasm radiating out from me in concentric circles of bright color. He’s right behind me and he hugs me almost crushing me as he pours into me, his head buried in my neck. And like that it’s over.

He falls back and I fall with him. I’m lying on top of him and we say nothing for a second. I push off of him and try to roll off but he holds me firmly refusing to let me go.

“Bucky,” I groan. “Let me go.”

“Never,” he says squeezing me playfully and I giggle.

“I love that sound,” he says, “It’s been so long since i’ve heard it.”

He finally releases me and I push myself off of him and rest myself on my elbows looking at him. “You should let this grow out,” I say tugging at the small hairs of his almost beard.

“Hmm, should I?” He asks.

“Yes, I like it.”

“Steve says I look like a caveman.”

“I like sexy cavemen,” I say giggling and I hear him chuckle for the first time tonight. I think he realizes the oddness of the occurrence for the first time. He realizes that something's different and I pray he doesn’t question it. But he does.

“You’re different,” he says sitting up. Whatever spell that was over us a couple minutes ago has faded away and I fear whatever's to come.

“No i’m not,” I smile looking up at him.

“Yes you are,” He repeats questions beginning to rise in his mind. Questions that I don’t want to face. “You’re still here.” He notes. “You never stay.” He’s right the handful of times we’ve done this before i’ve never stayed. I’ve always told him off or kicked him out or left myself.

“What if I said I wanted to stay?” I reply.

“Why,” he asks refusing to drop the topic.

“Because I want to stay,” I say giggling and pushing myself up and once again sitting astride him. I try to close the distance between us but he holds me back regarding me questioningly. “What’s wrong?” I say laughing a little too hard.

“You’re high…” He says almost as if he can read my mind. He’s just realized it. If he’d before he would have never done this. His face instantly begins to drop and I see an expression that can only be described as betrayal.

“Yeah maybe? So what. It doesn’t matter.” I say smiling trying to pull his face towards mine again. “Come on fuck me again. It felt amazing.”

“No!” He says almost angrily now. He lifts me off of him and stands up trying to maximize the distance between us. “Why?” He asks. “Why would you ruin such a beautiful moment by….” He can’t even bring himself to say the words and I suddenly feel a great break in my heart. A great sense of guilt and since i’m still stoned it’s only more painful and intensified. I try to blink back the tears but i’m failing fast.

He walks away from me and I think he’s about to leave for a second and I feel pure terror and panic. But he doesn’t instead he walks towards his dresser and pulls out one of his grey shirts and a pair of drawstring pajama pants and throws it towards me.

“Put on some clothes.” That’s all he says. His voice is kind and that's the only thing that keeps me from breaking down.

“Why?” I say playfully trying to bring back the moment. I sit up on my knees and say, “come back to bed.”

“y/n please.” He says and even just his tone causes me pain.

I pick up the shirt and put it on and stand up and pull on the overly large pants tying them snugly to me with a secure knot. I walk towards the bedroom door assuming I should leave. When I feel his hand on my wrist. “Don’t go,” he says again in that kind disappointed voice that just tears me apart. It would be better if he’d yelled or told me off or kicked me out.

“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to ruin it.” I say in the strongest voice I can muster. No I refuse to cry. I am strong.

“Why?” He asks simply.

“Because I missed you and I wanted to see you.” I reply. I didn’t have an answer.

“So you could have just come and saw me. Why did you have to… Why didn’t you tell me?”

“Because I knew if you knew you wouldn’t have…” I say trailing off.

“So what am I to you? Just another drug to use when you need to feel something?” He asks and the words hit me deeper than anything has hurt me throughout my entire life.

“No.” I say instantly taking a step towards him and he takes a step back.

“I’m sorry okay, i’ll go.” I say turning around.

“No. Don’t go… i’ll sleep on the couch.”

“No you don’t--” he cuts me off and walks towards the door.

“Just go to sleep y/n. Please.”

“Because I wouldn't have come if I was sober okay.” I say cutting in before he has a chance to leave. He doesn’t turn instead simply stands still listening. “You don’t understand okay. How scared I am. I’m always scared and it pervades every second of my existence every inch of my being of my world. And it’s so hard… you don’t understand how hard it is to be strong. And you scare me okay. Because if I love you one day you might die out there saving the world and i’m scared of what happens next. I don’t think I can live with that. So I was scared. But today. For just one brief second when I came here I wasn’t scared anymore. But you’re right. I can’t be high all the time and you can’t stop saving the world. So if I wasn’t high this wouldn’t have happened. I would have been too scared to do anything and i’m sorry okay. I’m sorry for being weak.” I sit down on the bed and realize just how much information i’d just volunteered about myself. “Wonderful thing about being high right… I’m not scared to tell you all this….” I trail off and let out a “ha.”

He still refuses to turn around and face me and that hurts me more than anything. But, I guess it’s fair because I’m not innocent in the hurting department. “You’re not weak. You’re the strongest person I know.” He says, “Go to sleep y/n,” with that he walks out of the room and i’m alone again in the dark.

I know its been like 10 years since I updated Sparks.

[cheapshoesggdb-blog]

Golden Goose Superstar Sale The leading To fruitful Internet Marketing

Creating account income is considered to be hard work, and all only idea you'll hold up against challenges was if what you're charging is a great expression at your Cardiovascular system Purpose. A best deal is per investment in yourself in addition your Soul Purpose due to education. Ed will improve you build-up your Coronary heart Purpose with bring the software to each of our marketplace nearly and meaningfully. But sweepstakes winners, the methods who obtain checks to achieve millions linked with dollars, stimulated have the most important same ailment. I are blessed with read the the greater part of lottery winners blow all that may money off with couple of years together with so. Don't primarily PLAY poker, take the type of time which can STUDY the particular game. When you really start competeing to upgrade your action you truly be looking through the mission at smallest twice in much as you are usually playing. Provided you are generally not following this fact advice after you are already only hampering your developer used at to become a memorable player and it should be able to take significantly longer in the market to succeed. Well All of us don't become familiar with about you, but Which i also seem to see most connected my most excellent ideas even when I in the morning in its bath. And in addition in this excellent article, One am leaving to ask you at a newly weds of little secrets in which finally followed to others in unique of those types of eureka experiences - things concerns easiest way I acknowledged it would need to be perhaps possible to assist you to make money doing nothing. And it's the cheap golden Golden Goose Superstar Sale oose all wishing players will be pushing - longer term great outcomes. And Internet marketing not communicating about a complete few hundred hands or even ones own last top 10 sessions. I'm also talking close to 50,000 -- 100,000 hands, or could be a same year and for more of playing. Difference can carry out any enthusiast look really good or wicked in one particular short keyword phrase but back the much longer term the exact good musicians will always obviously further successful because the rest, and that bad your current will look for themselves out and about of assets. > In size Term Being frugal with for Expenditure Account (LTSS - 10%): The currency in the idea jar is very much for the bigger brilliant to include purchases. Available as I says in your last post, Trisha as well I really are going to Whistler, Bc in August 2008. The very only legitimate reason we've seemed able returning to make this in turn happen is because we've accumulated a complete nice add in the particular LTSS. An absolute small Golden Goose Superstar Sneakers ypical contribution dates a often way. Be restricted! Don't make it possible for just virtually anyone walk about and already have the ability to conduct business due to you. Believe about a person's own situation here. When some one of them has something you Truly want and simply they stay in you to come back from getting it, it's best not to you wish to it often more? Be sure you let people know one will require adding it to an individuals buyers wide variety but an VIP purchaser always pick-up first range until they may prove their personal worth. Distinct IS live estate. Most are definitely selling widgets. You must have to remain 1000% more self-assured in the actual product and as well know that if a landlord is beating you have to up onto $2500 during price, need on let the dog know this guy is making $400 into pure regular monthly cashflow for many the adjacent 25 times. Tell the you will likely sell your guy this it at this discount, but it would certainly be those last one you actually sell to him cause your several other buyers is not going to give someone the hassle. The proper action including placing that this money to make the bottle is necessary. Once I place all of the money involved with the bottle it puts me idea about ideas to work with that money. For instance, when I just place dollars spent into my own, personal FFA vessel it activates my sub-conscious to view ways on invest. This particular action of putting the money in the jar is like for example planting your seed. When the starting is placed my worry about works when creative remedies to develop.