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thebigsl33p · 2 years ago

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Can The Killer In Me, Tame The Fire In You, Or Is There Nothing Left To Do For Us?

A/N: this one goes out to all my maladaptive daydreaming girls who have to create the most intricate canon divergent storylines in their heads to fall asleep.

Warnings: Shit writing, mention of death, infected, canon divergence like absolute rewrite so it fits my little brain storyline. Joel Miller. I kinda picked out bits and pieces from the game and TV series, sorry ANGST, ALL I WANTED WAS SOME DEAD DAUGHTER FANFIC INSTEAD ITS ALL SMUT not complaining BUT

Y/N dreams the same thing every night.

It starts on a beach. It's an average day, the sea is a moderate shade of dark blue and the sun is occasionally shining, peeking out intermittently from behind clouds, lighting up the sand like a thousand shiny gems. Music begins to play, an old rock song from the Eighties or Nineties that Y/N can't quite place. And then it stops abruptly with the sound of a needle scratching a record, screaming and gunshots that reverberate around the dreamscape. Mist and fog roll into the beach, and out onto the sea, turning the sand into a dull yellow and the water black and obscuring Y/N's sight.

And then two figures appear. One is short and thin with afro hair, the other tall and muscular with short hair, and they walk hand in hand. They are merely silhouettes but Y/N is struck with a feeling of familiarity as they get closer and closer and closer to her. She realises too late who they are - Joel and Sarah - and she realises even later what's wrong with them. How they shambled their way over to her should've been enough of a clue, but for some reason, she just didn't pick up. But then Joel starts to twitch and shake and Sarah groans, and both of them have glossy eyes and pale, clammy skin. Their jaws move desperately around nothing, trying to clamp down, but also trying to form words, "Help me" and "I'm sorry" slurred from their lips.

Without knowing why, or with any notion of cognitive thought, she raises her arms and splays her hands to welcome them into her embrace. She cries as she does it, as they stumble into her and wrap themselves around her neck and waist. They are both covered in bite marks, blood and grime, and they bite down on her at the same time.

The imagined pain is what wakes her up, like an alarm clock, and sends her into another day's work in the quarantine zone.

Throughout it all, she thinks of the last time she saw Sarah and Joel, in that car crash where only Tommy had been left to pull her out. And they had run without ever looking back.

The night of the outbreak, Y/N was separated from everyone she loved and knew. She had lost Tommy soon after in the crowds of people, frantically calling his name as she pushed through it, but to no avail. She grabbed people with red jackets and short hair until someone grabbed her in return. Hours later she found herselff in one of her first FEDRA lockups.

Now, just over twenty years later, she lived in a Qurantine zone. More people were getting infected by the day, just getting better at hiding it, and FEDRA was the very definition of the abuse of power, shooting people down no matter how much you screamed, "I'm not a Firefly! I'm not a fucking Firefly!" Fireflies…a group of Rebels, armed and smart, doing their hardest to restore normalcy and to take down FEDRA. Things had been getting pretty bad recently, curfew was brought down hard, at night all she could hear were sirens and screaming, gunshots and bombs. She tried her best to sleep, tossing and turning under her thick woolen blanket and government ordered, thin, sheetless mattress. In the morning, she would get up and drink a glass of whisky, tie up her hair and get to work throwing Infected into plague pits.

"To Y/N L/N." Was scribbled on the front, in familiarly unfamiliar handwriting. She flipped open to read the message, "Dear Y/N, through many contacts I've finally managed to discover you're alive, and your address. I want to invite you to Jackson. We have a stronghold here, a community. You could have a true and proper home. Joel and such are here too, alive and well, old bastard, he sends his love and luck. Love, Tommy. XX"

It was hard, gruelling and emotionally unavailable work. More often than not, she was throwing little kids into the flames, or young men and women who had obviously put up a fight. And in the evening, she went home, had another glass of some vague alcohol, whatever shitty food rations she could find and then went to bed, to repeat the day.

That was until she received a message. It was sunday, which meant the man down the street, Mr. Grant, who passed messages across America with his radio, was open for business. She had been approached by a regular customer of his during work, who slipped her a piece of paper, "From Mr. Grant." She had said, and then she was gone. That evening, Y/N settled down at her kitchen table/desk/counter and unfolded the piece of paper she had shoved into her pocket.

She sat at her table, desk, counter, and held the paper limp in her hands. She couldn't believe it. She couldn't believe that after all this time, Sarah, Joel and Tommy were still alive. And they were well. And- well, she had to leave straight away. She had flipped over the paper and found co-ordinates, from which she instantly pulled out her one and only map, and marked them down, and found it to be just off centre from the middle of Jackson. Then, she packed away some basic necessities in a bag, and slipped away into the dead of night.

Jackson was everything she had imagined and more. It was a perfect, little safe haven. She was greeted at the gate with guns and Tommy's interruption, running to her, embracing her, sniffling into her shoulder. True, as his brother's wife they had never been that close, but good God, she was just so enthralled to see someone she knew and loved and was connected to. She wasn't sure she had ever hugged anyone as tightly as she'd hugged Tommy, and then Maria came along and introduced herself, a beautiful woman whom Tommy was lucky enough to call his wife. Y/N had shaken her hand and she had grinned a perfect smile, "Joel's spoken about you loads."

"Oh, God, Joel." Her head swivelled to Tommy to Maria to her surroundings, "He's here, right?" Her words were sitting on desperate.

Tommy placed a hand on her shoulder, "Calm down, calm down. They're out at the moment to find supplies, food, extra bits and pieces. He knows you're coming, yeah, we just didn't think you'd get here so…soon." He shrugged, before beginning to walk her through the town, "C'mon, Maria and I will find you a place to stay, alright?"

And then finally, Tommy walked her to a small-ish home, one floor and squat, "This is where we put visitors or guests," He explained, "We have to find a suitable home for you, but this has all the right supplies." Then he pointed to the home next to it, "Joel lives just there."

"Alright." She swallowed her nerves and guilt, and followed the two through the town.

The entire walk Tommy and Maria pointed out households to her, lived in and happy homes - and told her what certain meeting points, bars, restaurants or club spaces, used to be. The Lower school was once an corner store, the high school, a doctor's. And the actual doctor's used to be a record store, which Joel had apparently raided and helped set up.

"Thank you Tommy, Maria. Thank you for everything." She hugged them both, once again, and then they pressed a key into her hand.

"We're gonna be just fine." Maria said, rubbed her shoulder and then she was alone.

Y/N'd been living in Jackson for a week when Joel returned. She'd been the first person Maria had told, apparently Joel had radioed in from outside the boundary, telling everyone they were finishing up and should be home by sunrise. She'd been woken up by Tommy knocking on her door with a loud, "They're back!" And she had practically hurtled outside, throwing a jacket over her pyjamas and slipping on her boots, nervous adrenaline filling her veins and causing her heart to beat out of her chest.

Twenty years. How much damage could Twenty Years have done? Yes, she had done unspeakable things, murdered innocents and stolen from the starving, injured, sick, but everyone had. When she looked around Jackson she saw a group of people who had all done what they had needed to to survive. She was no different. But what if's and maybe's lurked at the back of her mind as she followed Tommy up to the green gates.

Three horses come striding into Jackson, two with a stranger atop and one carrying her husband. He's joking bitterly and sarcastically with another rider, a little girl with brown hair who couldn't have been older than fourteen, and then he greets Tommy with a slight, two fingered wave, and Tommy's eyes direct him to Y/N standing in old pyjamas, old boots and an old jacket. But she's not looking at him, no her eyes are scanning frantically for a fourth horse, desperate for that familiar laugh, though she knows she'd be thirty-five by now. But where the fuck is Sarah?

The sun was just coming up, lighting half of the sky in a light blue and the other half remained dark, but she could still see the stars. And the moon. The wonders of a "zombie" apocalypse.

The sound of the gates moving was enough to have Y/N rocking on her feet because finally - finally - she would see her husband and daughter again, after twenty something years of just allowing herself to believe they were dead and done for, she finally knew better and-

Maria is standing behind her, "You alright, girl?" She asks.

"Where's Sarah?" Her head snaps towards Maria, and she watches like a hawk as the woman's eyes widen and she swallows, hard.

"Uh, just one second," She's pretending to look at something behind Y/N, as if distracted, before she runs off, "Tommy! Tommy!" Bellowing from her lips.

From a distance she sees Tommy and Maria conspiring, casting worried glances her way. And so she storms through the crowd, ignoring her initial purpose for being there, and instead she pushes the two apart and points her finger at them, "Tell me where my daughter is." Tommy plays with his hand, turning the ring on his finger, looking down, not meeting her gaze, "Sarah is-" He prepares himself "Sarah's-"

Confusion clouds Y/N's mind. How hard could it be to answer a simple question?

It hits her like a fucking train. How stupid could she have been, how presumptious and ignorant that "They" meant Joel and Sarah, not Joel and that little girl by his side. Who was she? Was she his daughter - had he moved on? Perhaps she should go, perhaps he didn't want a reminder of his old life hanging around.

"Dead." The voice is gruff and old, and familiar. Y/N practically spins in place to get a look at the man who it belongs too, those dark brown eyes, his beard and hair with dashes of grey, those soft cheeks, his lips, nose, eyelashes. Joel Miller. Joel, fucking, Miller, he speaks again, "Sarah's dead."

She doesn't know what to do - what to say - so she tries for something, she's reaching and trying desperately to hold on to anything she can, "I'm sorry. I'm so sorry, Joel."

"No. I know. I know." He's nodding softly, stroking her hair in return, gently. He won't cry now, not where everyone can see, but he'll cry later, when he's at home with Ellie and… Y/N. The family he'd dreamt of.

"Me too." His words are soft and small, so unlike the man in front of her. Maria and Tommy are gone by now, having siddled of discuss the exchange, the shock, the horror of Y/N not knowing about her daughter's death.

Joel pulls her in, close and tight for a long hug, and Y/N begins to cry, "I never thought I'd see you again." she's gripping him so tightly, hand pulling his hair, the other around his shoulder, "I just-"

She pulls away to get a good look at him, "Look at you," She's smiling through the tears streaming down her cheeks, "Look at my old man." She runs a hand through his hair, the front now instead of the back.

And then suddenly, she drops it, smile fading, eyes casted downwards, "Sarah… was she infected?"

"No." he answers. The way he speaks about it, it's as if finally, within the last year, he's finally come to terms with it all, "She died after the car crash. On Outbreak Day. She was in my arms, we were running and there was an early FEDRA guard and we told him we weren't infected but…"

"He shot anyways."

"Yeah." He spoke so simply about it, "She died in my arms and I'm just sorry you never knew how much she loved you. She called out for you y'know."

The idea brought tears to her eyes. A beat. "I dreamt about the two of you for the past twenty years." She opened up, "I dreamt you were infected, you and Sarah, and every single time I would just open my arms and hug you both and let you take me, infect me." She sighed, "The only thing that kept me going was the idea, the prospect, that maybe someday, I'd get to see you again and all I can say is that I'm sorry. I'm sorry wasn't there these twenty years and I'm sorry I wasn't there when Sarah died and I love you." Every single thought that echoed around her head for what had felt like forever was spewed out in front of him.

And all he could do was soften his eyes, and say, "It's alright,", "I love you too."

"There's someone I'd like for you to meet."

#Joel X reader #joel miller #joel miller X reader #the last of us #tlou #tlous game #ellie the last of us #ellie tlou #tommy miller #Tommy Miller X reader!platonic #platonic Tommy Miller X reader #Sarah miller

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lenievi · 2 years ago

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Yes! I totally agree with the stuff you said about Bones and Joanna’s relationship. I like the idea of it being complicated. I can totally see him getting married and having a baby really young and juggling all of these things in his life and prioritizing or at least putting the most time into his work. I also see him as a very work oriented person. And I can also definitely see him sort of setting aside personal life desires for his work. I mean, I read Bones as someone who loves where he comes from and the things he could have if he returned to earth, but also really needs what he gets out on the Enterprise, meaning that there’s always this desire to be somewhere else even when he loves being in either place. Missing earth when he’s on the Enterprise, missing his life on the Enterprise when he’s on Earth. And I can also really see him getting older and realizing how much he has missed, how much he has given, how much he has lost, and trying to reach out to Joanna. And then that relationship involving bitterness and complicated love, both of them wanting that bond and simultaneously pulling back from it. Never quite getting it where they want it but getting close, maybe, as you mentioned, because of Joanna having kids.

Yeah, I agree! Nicely put!

I don't particularly see his attachment to Earth being strong though (but I can get behind it!), I like to hc that he's been running away from Earth most of his life, and since his mid-twenties, he jumped planets and served on different ships until he got stuck with the Enterprise. I see him as someone who likes to encounter different cultures - especially if it involves food lol - and Earth is a reminder of his failures and his deepest regret and pain. (I hc that his father died before he signed on the Enterprise.) In TAS, they even said that Joanna studied on some different planet, not Earth, 10 years prior to some TAS episode, so not even his daughter could serve as the connection to Earth. And we don't know if she ever returned to Earth...

I think it's occasionally nice to read a fic where the relationship between McCoy and Joanna isn't strained, but it's hard for me to imagine that from Joanna's POV. Plus, she was sent to a boarding school... or McCoy's ex-wife moved to Cerberus idk but boarding school seems more likely. But I haven't actually seen too many fics with teenage or young adult Joanna in them... I think she's more prominent in AOS fics...

I also don't think that McCoy is as bad as Kirk with setting aside personal desires for work, but it was bad enough when he was young and on the way to become a doctor. (Just adding to the previous answer.)

But yeah, just my headcanons I use when I write fics~ but I've had these for 2+ years and they're still strong lol

#replies #tos nonsense #i also like to hc that joanna lives on vulcan #because the novelization of the generations was like mccoy's granddaughter graduated from vulcan science academy and that's one of the rare #things from the novels i 100% accept :D #and i just decided that the granddaughter grew up on vulcan

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foxymoxynoona · 2 years ago

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Hi Foxy!

Do you feel it’s harder to work on fresh stories rather than ones that you’re already pretty deep in the universe/storyline? For me I tend to lose steam the deeper I get, but I’ve noticed that you seem to pick up speed when the plot thickens! How do you overcome that fade of initial excitement and find the motivation to continue while working on your longer fics?

I've been thinking about this a lot and have a couple answers. This might get kinda long...

I tend to think the difficulty comes in waves for me! Often I find the very beginning, the 1/3 point and the 2/3 point (right before we build to the climax of the story) to be difficult for me personally, and I've realized it's because these are periods of set up or transition in a story. Emotional stock taking. World building, character building. The period before or after the exciting stuff.

I've learned two ways to assess what I do when I hit that lull:

If the part that feels boring/dull/difficult to write for me is about a chapter in length, I perservere. Transition is hard. It almost never fails that the chapters I struggle with the most and hate will get higher positive response from readers haha. To me this means that it feels like grunt work as the writer but to the reader it's very important work.

If the story feelings boring/dull/difficult for more than a chapter to get through, I've lost the thread. A story shouldn't be boring. Writing shouldn't be boring. It's time to shake things up. Toss in a wet cat. Back up and see if I took a wrong turn.

And honestly, sometimes it just means I've reached the end of that particular story for me and it's time to shelf it at least for now. Sometimes I come back to stories years later and sometimes they chewed up and turned into something new later and sometimes they just were a training exercise after all.

A general tactic I have for avoiding the derailment you mention is that I always have something I am really really looking forward to writing that happens later in the story. It could be the end, it could be the climax, it could just be a really fun moment i know lies ahead (two examples: Y/N taking care of JK's injuries after the fight in Sea of Indigo; JK and Alex meeting again at the wedding in Tell Me What Changed.) The funny thing is, I may never actually get to that spot, or it might look very different than I imagined it, or it might not fit at all anymore and get cut (I have so many examples of each scenario.) You don't want to force the scene at that point if your story has grown a different direction but if it got you to that point, it did it's duty.

One other thing I will mention about me personally, I don't know if it's the same for otehrs, but I think age/time/experience have also helped me get better at identifying which stories I can see through to the end. Like my ratio of started stories to finished stories is SO MUCH higher now than it was in my teens or twenties, though definitely nowhere near 1:1; you folks don't see how many abandoned stories never get posted, some with hundreds of pages written. The truth is that we writers have to cut our teeth on a lot of stories before we find the right one to sink our teeth into, and getting to the end requires such a combination of motivation, perseverence, emotion, time, and energy. Honestly I'm stunned every time I finish a story! I feel much better equipped to avoid or fix the lulls when I hit them now than I did ten or twenty years ago, though again, I don't expect it'll ever be an exact science.

I was right, this was long, but I hope it was helpful at all!

#asks #my writing #personal

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ganymedesclock · 3 years ago

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These are questions I've had for some while and it's hard to find someone who'll answer with grace. This mostly relates to disabilities (mental or physical) in fiction.

1) What makes a portrayal of a disability that's harming the character in question ableist?

2) Is there a way to write a disabled villain in a way that isn't ableist?

In the circles I've been in, the common conceptions are you can't use a character's disability as a plot point or showcase it being a hindrance in some manner. heaven forbid you make your villain disabled in some capacity, that's a freaking death sentence to a creative's image. I understand historically villains were the only characters given disabilities, but (and this is my personal experience) I've not seen as many disabled villains nowadays, heck, I see more disabled heroes in media nowadays.

Sorry if this comes off as abrasive, I'd really like to be informed for future media consumption and my own creative endeavors.

Okay so the first thing I'm going to say is that while it IS a good idea to talk to disabled people and get their feedback, disabled people are not a monolith and they aren't going to all have the same take on how this goes.

My personal take is biased in favor that I'm a neurodivergent person (ADHD and autism) who has no real experience with physical disabilities, so I won't speak for physically disabled people- heck, I won't even speak for every neurotype. Like I say, people aren't a monolith.

For myself and my own writing of disabled characters, here's a couple of concepts I stick by:

Research is your friend

Think about broad conventions of ableism

Be mindful of cast composition

1. Research is your friend

Yeah this is the thing everybody says, so here's the main bases I try to cover:

What's the story on this character's disability?

Less in terms of 'tragic angst' and more, what kind of condition this is- because a congenital amputee (that is to say, someone who was born without a limb) will have a different relationship to said limb absence than someone who lost their limb years ago to someone who lost their limb yesterday. How did people in their life respond to it, and how did they respond to it? These responses are not "natural" and will not be the same to every person with every worldview. This can also be a great environment to do worldbuilding in! Think about the movie (and the tv series) How To Train Your Dragon. The vikings in that setting don't have access to modern medicine, and they're, well, literally fighting dragons and other vikings. The instance of disability is high, and the medical terminology to talk about said disabilities is fairly lackluster- but in a context where you need every man you possibly can to avoid the winter, the mindset is going to be not necessarily very correct, but egalitarian. You live in a village of twenty people and know a guy who took a nasty blow to the head and hasn't quite been the same ever since? "Traumatic Brain Injury" is probably not going to be on your lips, but you're also probably going to just make whatever peace you need to and figure out how to accommodate Old Byron for his occasional inability to find the right word, stammers and trembles. In this example, there are several relevant pieces of information- what the character's disability is (aphasia), how they got it (brain injury), and the culture and climate around it (every man has to work, and we can't make more men or throw them away very easily, so, how can we make sure this person can work even if we don't know what's wrong with them)

And that dovetails into:

What's the real history, and modern understandings, of this?

This is where "knowing the story" helps a lot. To keep positing our hypothetical viking with a brain injury, I can look into brain injuries, what affects their extent and prognosis, and maybe even beliefs about this from the time period and setting I'm thinking of (because people have had brains, and brain injuries, the entire time!) Sure, if the setting is fantastical, I have wiggle room, but looking at inspirations might give me a guide post.

Having a name for your disorder also lets you look for posts made by specific people who live with the condition talking about their lives. This is super, super important for conditions stereotyped as really scary, like schizophrenia or narcissistic personality disorder. Even if you already know "schizophrenic people are real and normal" it's still a good thing to wake yourself up and connect with others.

2. Think about broad conventions of ableism

It CAN seem very daunting or intimidating to stay ahead of every single possible condition that could affect someone's body and mind and the specific stereotypes to avoid- there's a lot under the vast umbrella of human experience and we're learning more all the time! A good hallmark is, ableism has a few broad tendencies, and when you see those tendencies rear their head, in your own thinking or in accounts you read by others, it's good to put your skeptical glasses on and look closer. Here's a few that I tend to watch out for:

Failing the “heartwarming dog” test

This was a piece of sage wisdom that passed my eyeballs, became accepted as sage wisdom, and my brain magnificently failed to recall where I saw it. Basically, if you could replace your disabled character with a lovable pet who might need a procedure to save them, and it wouldn’t change the plot, that’s something to look into.

Disability activists speak often about infantilization, and this is a big thing of what they mean- a lot of casual ableism considers disabled people as basically belonging to, or being a burden onto, the able-bodied and neurotypical. This doesn’t necessarily even need to have an able neurotypical in the picture- a personal experience I had that was extremely hurtful was at a point in high school, I decided to do some research on autism for a school project. As an autistic teenager looking up resources online, I was very upset to realize that every single resource I accessed at the time presumed it was talking to a neurotypical parent about their helpless autistic child. I was looking for resources to myself, yet made to feel like I was the subject in a conversation.

Likewise, many wheelchair users have relayed the experience of, when they, in their chair, are in an environment accompanied by someone else who isn’t using a chair, strangers would speak to the standing person exclusively, avoiding addressing the chair user.

It’s important to always remind yourself that at no point do disabled people stop being people. Yes, even people who have facial deformities; yes, even people who need help using the bathroom; yes, even people who drool; yes, even people whose conditions impact their ability to communicate, yes, even people with cognitive disabilities. They are people, they deserve dignity, and they are not “a child trapped in a 27-year-old body”- a disabled adult is still an adult. All of the “trying to learn the right rules” in the world won’t save you if you keep an underlying fear of non-normative bodies and minds.

This also has a modest overlap between disability and sexuality in particular. I am an autistic grayromantic ace. Absolutely none of my choices or inclinations about sex are because I’m too naive or innocent or childlike to comprehend the notion- disabled people have as diverse a relationship with sexuality as any other. That underlying fear- as mentioned before- can prevent many people from imagining that, say, a wheelchair user might enjoy sex and have experience with it. Make sure all of your disabled characters have full internal worlds.

Poor sickly little Tiffany and the Red Right Hand

A big part of fictional ableism is that it separates the disabled into two categories. Anybody who’s used TVTropes would recognize the latter term I used here. But to keep it brief:

Poor, sickly little Tiffany is cute. Vulnerable. How her disability affects her life is that it constantly creates a pall of suffering that she lives beneath. After all, having a non-normative mind or body must be an endless cavalcade of suffering and tragedy, right? People who are disabled clearly spend their every waking moment affected by, and upset, that they aren’t normal!

The answer is... No, actually. Cut the sad violin; even people who have chronic pain who are literally experiencing pain a lot more than the rest of us are still fully capable of living complex lives and being happy. If nothing else, it would be literally boring to feel nothing but awful, and people with major depression or other problems still, also, have complicated experiences. And yes, some of it’s not great. You don’t have to present every disability as disingenuously a joy to have. But make a point that they own these things. It is a very different feeling to have a concerned father looking through the window at his angel-faced daughter rocking sadly in her wheelchair while she stares longingly out the window, compared to a character waking up at midnight because they have to go do something and frustratedly hauling their body out of their bed into their chair to get going.

Poor Sickly Little Tiffany (PSLT, if you will) virtually always are young, and they virtually always are bound to the problems listed under ‘failing the heartwarming dog’ test. Yes, disabled kids exist, but the point I’m making here is that in the duality of the most widely accepted disabled characters, PSLT embodies the nadir of the Victim, who is so pure, so saintly, so gracious, that it can only be a cruel quirk of fate that she’s suffering. After all, it’s not as if disabled people have the same dignity that any neurotypical and able-bodied person has, where they can be an asshole and still expect other people to not seriously attack their quality of life- it’s a “service” for the neurotypical and able-bodied to “humor” them.

(this is a bad way to think. Either human lives matter or they don’t. There is no “wretched half-experience” here- if you wouldn’t bodily grab and yank around a person standing on their own feet, you have no business grabbing another person’s wheelchair)

On the opposite end- and relevant to your question- is the Red Right Hand. The Red Right Hand does not have PSLT’s innocence or “purity”- is the opposite extreme. The Red Right Hand is virtually always visually deformed, and framed as threatening for their visual deformity. To pick on a movie I like a fair amount, think about how in Captain America: The Winter Soldier, the title character is described- “Strong. Fast. Had a metal arm.” That’s a subtle example, but, think about how that metal arm is menacing. Sure, it’s a high tech weapon in a superhero genre- but who has the metal arm? The Winter Soldier, who is, while a tormented figure that ultimately becomes more heroic- scary. Aggressive. Out for blood.

The man who walks at midnight with a Red Right Hand is a signal to us that his character is foul because of the twisting of his body. A good person, we are led to believe, would not be so- or a good person would be ashamed of their deformity and work to hide it. The Red Right Hand is not merely “an evil disabled person”- they are a disabled person whose disability is depicted as symptomatic of their evil, twisted nature, and when you pair this trope with PSLT, it sends a message: “stay in your place, disabled people. Be sad, be consumable, and let us push you around and decide what to do with you. If you get uppity, if you have ideas, if you stand up to us, then the thing that made you a helpless little victim will suddenly make you a horrible monster, and justify us handling you with inhumanity.”

As someone who is a BIG fan of eldritch horror and many forms of unsettling “wrongness” it is extremely important to watch out for the Red Right Hand. Be careful how you talk about Villainous Disability- there is no connection between disability and morality. People will be good, bad, or simply just people entirely separate from their status of ability or disability. It’s just as ableist to depict every disabled person as an innocent good soul as it is to exclusively deal in grim and ghastly monsters.

Don’t justify disabilities and don’t destroy them.

Superpowers are cool. Characters can and IMO should have superpowers, as long as you’re writing a genre when they’re there.

BUT.

It’s important to remember that there is no justification for disabilities, because they don’t need one. Disability is simply a feature characters have. You do not need to go “they’re blind, BUT they can see the future”

This is admittedly shaky, and people can argue either way; the Blind Seer is a very pronounced mythological figure and an interesting philosophical point about what truly matters in the world. There’s a reason it exists as a conceit. But if every blind character is blind in a way that completely negates that disability or makes it meaningless- this sucks. People have been blind since the dawn of time. And people will always accommodate their disabilities in different ways. Even if the technology exists to fix some forms of blindness, there are people who will have “fixable” blindness and refuse to treat it. There will be individuals born blind who have no meaningful desire to modify this. And there are some people whose condition will be inoperable even if it “shouldn’t” be.

You don’t need to make your disabled characters excessively cool, or give them a means by which the audience can totally forget they’re disabled. Again, this is a place where strong worldbuilding is your buddy- a handwave of “x technology fixed all disabilities”, in my opinion, will never come off good. If, instead, however, you throw out a careless detail that the cool girl the main character is chatting up in a cyberpunk bar has an obvious spinal modification, and feature other characters with prosthetics and without- I will like your work a lot, actually. Even if you’re handing out a fictional “cure”- show the seams. Make it have drawbacks and pros and cons. A great example of this is in the series Full Metal Alchemist- the main character has two prosthetic limbs, and not only do these limbs come with problems, some mundane (he has phantom limb pains, and has to deal with outgrowing his prostheses or damaging them in combat) some more fantastical (these artificial limbs are connected to his nerves to function fluidly- which means that they get surgically installed with no anesthesia and hurt like fuck plugging in- and they require master engineering to stay in shape). We explicitly see a scene of the experts responsible for said limbs talking to a man who uses an ordinary prosthetic leg, despite the advantages of an automail limb, because these drawbacks are daunting to him and he is happier with a simple prosthetic leg.

Even in mundane accommodations you didn’t make up- no two wheelchair users use their chair the exact same way, and there’s a huge diversity of chairs. Someone might be legally blind but still navigate confidently on their own; they might use a guide dog, or they might use a cane. They might even change their needs from situation to situation!

Disability accommodations are part of life

This ties in heavily to the previous point, but seriously! Don’t just look up one model of cane and superimpose it with no modifications onto your character- think about what their lifestyle is, and what kind of person they are!

Also medication is not the devil. Yes, medical abuse is real and tragic and the medication is not magic fairy dust that solves all problems either. But also, it’s straight ableism to act like anybody needing pills for any reason is a scary edgy plot twist.

(and addiction is a disease. Please be careful, and moreover be compassionate, if you’re writing a character who’s an addict)

3. Be mindful of cast composition

This, to me, is a big tip about disability writing and it’s also super easy to implement!

Just make sure your cast has a lot of meaningful disabled characters in it!

Have you done all the work you can to try and dodge the Red Right Hand but you’re still worried your disabled villain is a bad look? They sure won’t look like a commentary on disability if three other people in the cast are disabled and don’t have the same outlook or role! Worried that you’re PSLT-ing your main character’s disabled child? Maybe the disability is hereditary and they got it from the main character!

The more disabled characters you have, the more it will challenge you to think about what their individual relationship is with the world and the less you’ll rely on hackneyed tropes. At least, ideally.

Ultimately, there’s no perfect silver bullet of diversity writing that will prevent a work from EVER being ableist, but I hope this helped, at least!

#disability #writing ruminations #readmore

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pigeonp0st · 4 years ago

Text

Natasha Romanoff x Reader #2

Part 2

Words:1,448

Warnings: Angst

Notes:

Part 2...I wasn’t going to do this. I did it anyways. Sorry for any spelling mistakes and for bad writing. This is another one of the pieces I made while trying to get over my dislike for my writing :)

Part 1:

————

“I’m tired of hurting others,” sixteen year old Natasha admits, eyes on the stars above. “When we get out of here...do you think we could be people who save?”

You turn towards Natasha, giving her your full attention. She’s been closed off and angry at the world more than usual lately...you’re glad she’s being open with you again though, so you give yourself time to think about your response.

“That’s you, Nat. I’m not like you,” you mumble. She glances down, then over at you. “You have the biggest heart out of everyone I've ever met. But me...i’ve always just longed for normal.”

Natasha tilts her head at that, bringing her eyebrows together, “normal?”

You nod, laughing at the expression on her face. “I want to live in a city with a job I hate half the time, in some stupid apartment with the loudest neighbors,” you explain.

“That doesn’t sound very nice.”

“It will be,” you assure her. “Because I'll have friends I consider family, and when you’re done saving the world I'll have you to come home to.”

Natasha studies the smile on your face and only sees your hope, but she’s never really been as optimistic as you. “You really think we’ll have that?” She asks quietly, and everything in her voice is begging you to say yes...because even though she’s not as optimistic as you, your hope is the only thing she feels is keeping her afloat.

“Yep. I should warn you...I plan on giving you the world, Nat.” You pause, frowning. “Well, maybe not the world, but everything you want.”

“Everything?” Nat teases, looking back up at the stars to try and prevent her tears from falling, because the future you painted is suddenly all she wants. “With your job you hate?”

You roll your eyes fondly. “Yes Nat, with the job I hate.”

The look she gives you is all love when she pulls you into her side and whispers, “I already have everything I could ever want right here.”

“Yeah right,” you scoff, shoving her away playfully and trying to hush her when she laughs too loudly. You don’t want to get caught. “Natasha, you want more than anyone. You want everything.”

And yeah, that may be true, but with you she has all she’ll ever need...If she has you, despite everything going on, she’s sure she’ll be alright. Natasha doesn’t tell you that though, instead she feigns thinking and says;

“Now that you mention it...I think I’d want to travel the world,” when you raise an eyebrow Nat continues, “Not as assassins but as tourists. Once saving the world gets too exhausting, and your desk job gets boring.”

“God. I can’t wait for the day when I'm a tourist with you. We’re going to be disgusting.”

“We’re going to be happy.”

——

“Natasha!” Steve shouts, pulling Nat right out of her dream and into the real world.

The world where you no longer exist.

She wants to go back to sleep already.

“Nat, you’re still having the dreams?” Steve asks, concern lining his features. “We thought they were gone.”

She’s not having ‘the dreams’. After four months the dreams filled with loud explosions and piercing screams stopped. Now she only dreams of stars, and late night confessions. Now she only dreams of teasing smiles, and promises.

Now she only dreams of wants that aren’t able to come true. Her wants, and yours.

And yeah, it’s worse than the explosions.

Steve doesn’t understand. None of the Avengers do. They didn’t know you, they can’t grieve you. They can’t understand her hurt. They don’t know how many firsts you consist of. They don’t know you’re the first person to ever care for her, and the first person to ever love her.

They don’t know that you’re her hope. That you’ve always been, and without you she’s just...lost.

She’s so lost.

“Are you okay?” Steve asks, grimacing when he realizes how stupid the question is. “Don’t answer that. Just...do you think you’ll be able to train today?”

Natasha nods, harshly rubbing away her tears. Her friends have seen her cry enough for a lifetime these past six months.

She’s tired, but she has to get up. Just for a bit.

——

“I didn’t know we had a new recruit coming in,” Natasha says, eyeing the new person suspiciously.

She really doesn’t want some stranger around the compound. She can’t be pleasant company anymore. Not that she ever really was.

When the stranger stiffens and doesn’t respond Natasha doesn’t know what to do. “What’s with the motorcycle helmet?” She asks, trying to fill the silence.

‘Can’t we just fight?’ The stranger signs.

Natasha is only surprised at the sign language for a moment before she shrugs it off and heads towards the mat. “Do you need me to sign too, or can you hear me?”

‘You can talk.’

“Okay,” Natasha nods, gesturing towards the other end of the mat. “If you even manage to knock me down i’ll give you twenty bucks.”

———-

When Natasha’s sucking in breaths and rubbing around her throat not four minutes later she’s shocked for more than one reason.

Because when the stranger gets off of her and says, with her voice; “God, Nat, I swear you weren’t this bad six months ago. What happened to you?” Natasha can’t really move.

She can’t even really breathe when the new recruit takes off her helmet and reveals someone Natasha never thought she’d be able to see again. “Y/N?”

“Hi.”

And Natasha’s sobbing now, in the middle of the mat with a smug Tony watching, and a confused Steve, and the rest of the amused Avengers.

But all she can really see is you.

You look hesitant, and emotional, but you.

You laughing when Natasha stutters out a “how?” Between her sobs.

You.

“Well Natasha, it wasn’t really that hard to beat you. Do you really want your pointers now?” You ask, smiling that soft smile she’s always loved.

“How are you alive?” Natasha asks, trembling and reaching out a hand. You meet her half way, intertwining Nats fingers with yours and closing your eyes in bliss when Natasha lets out a disbelieving laugh that half sounds like a sob.

“I jumped out a window and got lucky,” you mumble. “I couldn’t make it to the bottom floor in time, I knew that, and I knew my one real chance was the window exit.”

Natasha shakes her head, “but...the explosion still would have killed you, even if you managed to not die from the jump.”

Your expression turns bitter and dark. Haunted. And Natasha wonders why she’s even asking. She doesn’t care, because you’re here and all of that other stuff can be talked about later.

“Oh my god. You’re alive,” Natasha breathes out, effectively pulling you from your memories.

“You really missed me, huh?”

She doesn’t know how you can sound so disbelieving at the thought of Natasha missing you, because really, ‘missing’ doesn’t even feel like a big enough word.

“I was dying,” Natasha sobs, pulling you into a hug. Finally. Finally.

“Me too,” you admit, and though you can’t really imagine what Natasha felt like thinking you were dead...the past six months have been the worst of your life also. And yeah, you were dying too. Literally and figuratively.

Natasha feels like she can finally breathe after six months, and you feel like you can finally breathe after four years.

“I’m free, Nat,” you whisper to her, voice wobbly. Natasha clutches you tighter. “I can finally have my fucking desk job.”

“And we have the loud neighbors you’ve always wanted.”

Natasha starts pressing kisses over her face when she notices your shaking shoulder, and she doesn’t care how ridiculous she looks doing it with her own shakiness.

“I love you, Nat. I love you so much. And I'm sorry for taking so long to come back to you,” you force out, closing your eyes in a faulty attempt of trying to get the tears to stop.

All Natasha feels is love. Overwhelming love battling with relief.

“I’m sorry you ever had to search.”

You laugh, wondering when the two of you are ever going to have more than apologies to offer to each other. “Does this mean I can finally give you the world?” You ask, wanting to.

“God, Y/N, you already have.”

And maybe, besides apologies, you two will always have love to offer too.

“But you still want, right?”

“Yeah,” Natasha agrees, dazed. “I still want.”

She wonders why all of her wants suddenly involve you besides her.

“Good, because I do too.”

#natasha romonova #natasha romanoff x you #natasha romanoff x reader #natasha romanoff #black widow x y/n #nat x reader #black widow x you #black widow x reader #black widow #marvel x female reader #marvel x y/n #marvel x you #marvel x reader #fem reader #natasha x you #natasha x y/n #marvel

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bumbershots · 4 years ago

Text

LOVEFOOL

Author’s note: HELLO! This is my part for the Valentine’s Day challenge that @1dffchallenges put together. Make sure to keep an eye out for any other pieces published by other authors. Enjoy! And happy Valentine’s weekend! (:

Summary: Harry agrees to go on a blind date set up by his friends in hopes that it will help him move on from an unrequited love.

Word count: 3K

Challenge prompt and dialogue: blind date set up by friends. “I don’t want this to end...”

There’s a first for everything. Harry’s had his fair share of them at the age of twenty-seven. First time on an aeroplane at the tender age of six for a family holiday in Rome. First kiss on his home town’s park with someone he deeply cared about. First time in a recording studio. First time going on tour. The first night spent alone in his new and barely furnished home. The first morning he laid eyes on the girl next door. The ugly heartbreak after she got married, certainly felt worse than his first one.

Life is full of firsts, Harry knows that, and he wishes to have been the first to sneak his way into Jane’s heart, all those years ago.

"You love her" it almost sounds like an accusation coming from Jeff, though the last thing he wants is to make Harry feel guilty. The musician doesn't reply, he shrugs, eyes never leaving her no matter how deep into the ocean she seems to be. "Does she know?" Harry shakes his head in denial. "Did you bring her along just so you could tell her?"

"I enjoy writing music with her, that's why she's here," his tone leaves no room for more questions, the manager knows and sighs defeated. Harry stands from his spot on the beach and heads back inside the house, alone.

Is he being that obvious?

He reviews the past few days and wonders where he slipped, nothing rings any bell. Harry completely and conveniently forgets how he doesn't nag her for having a smoke after dinner, instead he just opens the window and stands close to it, or how he's been making her a cuppa everyday at noon. But it was the time when Jane asked him to help her French plait her hair when something clicked in Jeff's brain, the way Harry beamed at such a simple request left no room for questioning. Yet he asked him, because there was that tiny chance of it all being part of the manager's imagination, but when he looked back on it, the little things now made more sense to him and in a way he always knew.

They've been in Port Antonio for two weeks now and everything was going just dandy, Harry was writing more than ever, the first week he had a new song every day, he even polished the old ones and had a tune for his favourites, thanks to Mitch's help. When Jeff Azoff got there earlier this week, he spent a good two hours talking to Jeff Bhasker about how much of a good idea the trip was.

"Harry is on a writing spree." He complimented Azoff's client, it was nothing but the truth. However the reason for it all, was now heading back to the house to join the others after a good surfing session.

Jane went straight to take a shower, ready to rinse all the ocean's saltiness from her body, thinking how wonderful it would've been if her own worries could be washed away with her tangerine shampoo. In contrast to Harry's good spirits and excellent mood, her own cloud of trouble seemed to follow her all the way from London. She still hadn't heard from her husband, so it is safe to say he was still upset about her going away to work in Harry's album. It was impossible for her to forget the argument they had, at first thinking it was a joke on his side, insinuating that they were ‘shagging behind his back’.

After her shower, wearing comfortable clothes, Jane joins the others for supper but keeps to herself, still with the dichotomy about calling Alex or letting him be. He will eventually come to his senses and apologise.

What if he doesn't?

The thought alone of her clothes being packed in boxes by the time she gets back home almost makes her cry, perhaps she can call or text him just to test the waters. It is ridiculous how she seems to be more mature about this than him.

"Penny for them?" Harry's voice brings her back to the now empty dining room, the voices from the rest of their party can be heard from the living room.

"God I'm sorry H, lost myself out there for a moment," she is embarrassed, with him, the others and herself for letting this situation get under her skin. And she's also avoiding talking about it, with Harry or anyone. "I was just thinking about the tempo for Sweet Creature."

"Liar," he hates to be shut down by her more than anything. "Is it because I didn't let you eat the last peanut drop the other day?" It would've been easier for her to say it was, than to address the actual reason. But Harry hasn't lied to her, ever.

"No love, although I was a bit hurt because of that, it's actually this thing with Alex we are, I don't know, he was upset with me and said some things," Jane couldn't finish, her speech was cut short by a quiet sob and Harry was quick to pull her from the chair onto his lap and hold her tight. His own heart speeding at the sight of her distressed.

"When was the last time you spoke to him?"

"Two weeks ago." Her voice barely whispers on his chest, "he's being a wanker to be honest, just because he's not going on tour with any of his bands I'm supposed to be a stay at home wife!"

"Why don't you explain this to me, from the beginning, please?" He asks rubbing her back soothingly, and she spills it all, the having kids now or never argument, to her wanting to have a proper wedding party and finally the latest fight where Alex suggested an affair going on between her and Harry, the latter had to do his best not to put the option on the table, since her husband so kindly suggested it. Might as well, he thought. "It all sounds like a big misunderstanding, I know you're a great communicator sunshine, so it baffles me that you've let this go on for so long." He's got a point.

"You're right, but I feel like it's his turn, you know?" Jane's done weeping, but remained on her friend's lap and arms, head resting on his shoulder. "He's always forward, mature, a proper thirty year old except when it comes to arguments where we ought to reach an agreement," she plays a bit with the cross hanging from his neck, a scowl on her pretty face. "Like with the children thing, we only stopped arguing when I said that maybe in two more years we could have one instead of, you know, my early thirties." It's good that she can't see how upset Harry is.

"You gave into that one, he should do the same but it's his choice," Harry sighs and can't believe what he's about to say. "Take the day off tomorrow, call him or FaceTime, Skype whatever you choose, but have a proper conversation with him." She wants to argue and say it's not necessary to be absent the whole day, she can spare a few hours. But she will need time to think about what to say, make her point clear so they are on good terms until she goes back to London.

"Fine, but if he is still acting like a dickhead afterwards, I'm not going to let it into my head anymore, we will continue to bask in this great work environment going on here." Jane states, pulling away from his embrace just enough to give him that stern look she uses when trying to make a point, and Harry nods with a warm smile, the one she never gets tired of seeing. "I'll call it a night now, gonna be asleep in seconds now that I've got that out of my chest." She stands from his lap, missing his warmth instantly. "Thanks for that."

"Anytime honey pie." Harry says before leaving a kiss on her left hand that burns her skin from then till morning.

Jeff joins the musician in the dining room right after the girl walks away to her room, he takes a seat across from him and scrutinises the look of adoration his friend still sports once she is out of the room.

"She'll never know, if you never tell her." Jeff is right, but the thought alone of going through that again scares him to death. Or so he says, because there's a part of him that is fond of the thrill it makes him feel.

"It's not like I haven't tried, just last year I told her," Harry remembers that night vividly, how pretty she looked even with her makeup all smudged under her eyes. "I'm not sure if she heard, it was too loud like where we were at the time." He was also pissed out of his mind.

"H, there's nothing wrong with being in love."

"I'm not saying it is, but even if she did love me I– I would find a way to hurt her. Anyway. she's happily married now, it's too late." Saying it out loud doesn't hurt him any less like he thought it would. Harry sighs in defeat before rising from the chair, "she's everything to me, I wouldn't mess with her head by confessing my feelings, deep down I always knew she deserved better and now she has it and that's good enough for me." The musician disappears through the corridor where his everlasting love did just a few minutes ago, he paused for a moment outside her room, pondering whether to barge in and just follow his instincts, kiss her like he should've done after winning that award back in 2014.

Harry shakes his head and goes straight to his room, he reminds himself that it was time to let her go. It's for the best. He is not good enough for her, he can't even write a song for her, about her. He mustn't love her that much then.

What Harry doesn't know is that he can't write a song about her because he loves her too much, the poor lad can't even figure out where to start. But he's about to get rid of that curse in a day or two, he just needs to be patient.

The reward for it came, all of a sudden Harry wrote too many songs about her until she inevitably became aware of the situation they were in. Harry vowed to stay away from Jane’s life after recording the album. He dated people that didn’t remind him of her, and even moved temporarily to Japan. But despite all his efforts, four years later Harry still finds himself thinking about her, everything seems to be tainted by her. The music he adores, the new dinner recipes he cooks, the books he chooses to read.

Completely out of options he agreed to this blind date his friends set up for him.

He arrives at the modest restaurant they so kindly chose for the occasion. “All you have to do is wear something nice and show up.” Alexa reminded him over the phone last week.

This is a new first for him, it is also exciting, to take a seat at a table for two conveniently placed at the back, pretend to pay attention to the menu but let his green eyes avert to whoever approaches. Harry is having a great time, he knows that soon his date will arrive. He wonders what they’ll be like.

According to Alexa and Pixie, the person arriving is the perfect match for their young friend. Harry can only hope they like Vietnamese cuisine because that’s apparently this place’s special offer this week. If he’s lucky enough the date will agree to share a starter and perhaps two main courses, that way he doesn’t have to choose between one or the other.

“Here’s your table.” Harry hears the waiter speak and his gaze meets a very familiar figure standing beside him. It can’t be.

“Excuse me, there must be a mistake, I’m waiting for someone else.” Harry protests.

The waiter shakes his head and shows him the notepad with some specifications written down. “Nothing wrong, got specific instructions from Miss Chung, a lady will come in to say is here for Geldolf’s blind date, you are sitting at the table they reserved. I’ll be back in a few minutes to take your order.” He is quick to explain and disappear.

Jane sits because there is no way she can stand any longer, her legs are about to give out from the commotion. This was not the blind date she was expecting either. It’s been at least four years since she last saw Harry. The night after he finally admitted being in love with her, waiting for a reaction, anything from her, after what seemed like hours but was only ten minutes later, he walked out of her house and entire life, leaving her confused and upset.

“How’ve you been?” she asked after confirming that Harry wasn’t going to up and leave.

“Pretty fantastic, until you arrived.” He’s never spoken to her like that before, with so much affliction in his tone. “What are you doing here?”

“I was set up on a blind date by Pixie—

He interrupts her. “That’s fucking convenient, did you all went to this much trouble, just to mock me? I thought they were my friends, you know, that even after everything, they cared about me.” Harry stops, his voice breaks, he’s so angry, hurt and confused by the situation. “Did your husband come along, to witness my humiliation too?” He looks around, trying to find the man of Jane’s dreams.

“I wouldn’t know if he’s here, haven’t seen him since we got divorced three years ago.” She snaps before hiding behind the menu from a gobsmacked Harry.

The words he’d been waiting to hear were finally out of her mouth. Unlike the million times he dreamt about this happening, Harry is not sweeping her off her feet and running away into the sunset holding her hand. Instead he reaches out to touch her arm, testing the waters. He waits for her to lower the menu and surprisingly there are no tears in her eyes. Perhaps only a bit of sorrow that is quickly replaced with confusion, at how fast her heart raced after Harry’s touch.

“Do you want to talk about it?” His voice is back to oozing the tenderness he reserves just for her. Jane nods.

“But can we share a rice bowl and Pho noodle soup?”

“Yes, and dessert too!” Even after four years Harry’s sweet tooth hasn’t changed, Jane sighs before the waiter is back to take their order.

Keeping a conversation between the two of them is not hard at all, even if it is an awkward topic —her not so recent divorce. “We didn’t have anything in common anymore, there were so many fights every single day. When I finally suggested the separation, he seemed relieved and I felt like a complete fool.” Jane remembers the sigh of comfort that came out of the man she once loved with all her heart before that rainy afternoon, when she finally decided that she’d had enough. “He left that night, hadn’t seen him since, his lawyer took care of everything,” a sour laugh escapes her lips, Harry’s eyes are full of sympathy for her. “I’m sorry for ruining your blind date, I know you’ve never been to one before.” Of course she did, she knows him better than anyone.

“This has to be the greatest date I’ve ever been to.” He speaks without a second thought.

All those years Harry spent away from Jane were not going to be in vain. He was not going to neglect the feelings he still had for her. That affection he felt for her, only her. Harry shifts in his seat, this is not at all how he planned it, in a restaurant full of people on fucking Valentine’s day. It almost seemed like a tacky move.

But after all this time of pining for her, hating her and himself at times. Harry was brave enough, it was now or never, he didn’t want to wait any longer, not after his friends schemed and executed this soppy plan to bring the two soulmates together. Before she could take the final bite of dessert that Harry kindly left for her. The world stopped.

“I don’t want this to end...” Harry says with a dimpled smile she can’t look away from. “I’d like to take you out on a second date, a third, fourth, fifth. Believe me when I tell you, I have planned up to a thousand of them.” He takes her hand in his and can feel her pulse race along his own. The smile splits his face again, because he knows, he feels, he sees it in her beautiful eyes. “Janey, you’re the first person I’ve ever wanted to hold on to. I know there is a name for this emotion, I’ve written songs about it, but now I don’t think it’s a word big enough for us.”

She squeezes his hand and breaths out a laugh, tears of joy brimming out of her eyes. “Let’s call it love, until we come up with a better name for it.” Harry agrees and just then, Jane brings up his hand to her lips.

His skin tingles where she kisses him for the first time and he beams at her.

There’s a first for everything, and although it feels like it for Jane and Harry, this isn’t by any means the first time they confess their love for each other. It was always there, in every laugh they shared, every song they wrote together, every touch. It was on Harry’s unwavering devotion, on his impatience and selfless actions throughout the years.

They were bound to be together, their story didn’t begin on that initial blind date, it did years ago after he caught a glimpse of her shiny black hair on the morning she moved into the house across the street.

Harry drives her back to her new flat on the other side of the city, enjoying every minute of the long ride, happy to hear her ramble about her newest obsession with romantic novels and burst out laughing after Jane confesses that sometimes she doesn’t finish reading books she likes, just to pretend the story keeps going. With a quick kiss to the back of her hand he completely agrees.

No tale is more compelling than one that never ends.

#1dffvalentine #harry styles

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xxisxxisxxis · 4 years ago

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Gateway Drug | Part Ninety-Two

Words: 4.3K

Warning(s): explicit language, sexual situations, violence, drug abuse, domestic abuse

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Vivian strikes again.

My leg shakes with each tap of my foot as I impatiently wait for her to come through that door. I've been waiting for nearly forty-five minutes.

Maybe I scared her off with pitching a fit over her not telling me about her miscarriages. But I had a good reason to be upset. Addict or not, I fucking deserved to know what the hell was going on.

"Where's your wife?" Amber asks me, glancing at her watch.

"Hiding more kids from me, probably." I mumble and she raises her brows, staring at me for a moment.

"While we wait for her, can you do me a favor?" She asks and I shrug. "Take a few minutes to try to imagine what having kids during the last four years would have been like with your drug addiction. Because you would still have a drug addiction--babies wouldn't have changed that." She points out. "Honestly," she adds. "Close your eyes, and take some breaths, and just use your imagination as to what having children during these last few years would have done to you, and to your wife.

I take a breath and close my eyes, deciding it probably couldn't hurt to try to wrap my head around being a dad right now, especially with as many as she lost...

1984

...I feel Viv's weight shift from me, her eyes closed, a little hum comes from her when she turns her back to me but still keeps close, her feet tangled with mine, her lions mane of hair still spread out over my pillow as well as hers. Despite being half asleep, myself, I tighten my arms hold just under her ribs and pull her to me before my hand slides over her five-month pregnant stomach.

I lull back to sleep, before I'm woken up merely minutes later by the sound of the baby crying and Vivian pulling herself away from me, putting her robe on to cover her naked body.

She sighs under her breath, mumbling something, and I sit up.

"I can go--"

"--No, I got it." She says, dismissively.

"Vivian, are you still pissed at me?" I ask.

"You ditched me on our anniversary and stayed out all night smoking smack and partying with your moron friends."

"I offered for you to come out with us." I remind her.

"I'm pregnant and we have a daughter here, Nikki. One of us needs to remember that." She adds before stomping out.

I roll my jaw and feel a spiteful twinge in my mind.

Perhaps spiteful, perhaps wanting to chase away the guilt of ditching her last night…

I end up in the bathroom, chasing the dragon, curled under my high while hearing Vivian softly sing hymnals to the six-month old…

I assume she knows exactly where I'm at once she's done, because I hear her walk back to our bedroom and, when she usually comes to find me so she's not by herself, she doesn't come looking for me.

1986

"...No, you idiot, not that…" I say to myself, rubbing my forehead, scribbling out the line of lyrics I've been fighting to get out.

The door of mine and Viv's bedroom is soon bursting at the hinges, allowing me to fully hear Pierce crying while Frannie and Johnny come rushing into the room, squealing.

"Hey, hey, hey!" I stop them before they can crawl under the bed. "What's goin' on?" I ask them, slowly hiding the Jack bottle in my bass case.

I spent last night freebasing and I'm still trying to coax myself down.

Frannie looks at me with sharp green eyes, her brown hair knotty looking from wallowing on the living room carpet earlier...Johnny, brown eyes and red hair, just puts his attention on the pissed off Vivian that's stalking her way in here with the baby.

"Um," Frannie starts, trying to think up her excuse.

"Francesca and Johnathan tried to tote Pierce off again." Vivian states, eyeing the two toddlers with daggers, and they slowly sink down to try to use me as a human shield.

"He's a new baby, Viv, they don't mean any harm. They just--"

"--Okay, well maybe if you put the bass down and actually come in here and help me out, you can supervise them while they 'hold' him, since I'm trying to start on dinner." She states.

I glance at the kids and then at her…

"Or you can stare at me like an idiot, too." She mumbles, going to shut the door as she says, "You have no issue knocking me up but won't help me with them once they're out."

I roll my jaw and grab my bottle of Jack, putting my bass back.

What the fuck?

If it wasn't for me writing songs, the band wouldn't have new material, which would mean no new album, which would mean no money--not enough to support her and three fuckings kids, anyway, so she should be thanking me for still wanting to provide for my fucking family. Because anybody else with three kids in two years would be putting a bullet through their skull.

"C'mon, guys," I say to Frannie and Johnny, and they follow me out, Frannie reaching up to grab my hand.

I put old cartoons on the TV while Viv puts Pierce down to sleep once he's drifted off.

On her way out of the nursery, I'm stopping her in the hallway, my hand grasping her arm in a tight hold, roughly tugging her into the guest bathroom, cracking the door.

I've got her against the counter, hand around her throat, gasping little breaths pushing past her lips for a moment as I say, "if you ever talk to me like that in front of my fucking kids again, I'll give you plenty to bitch about." I promise her, lowly, and she just looks up at me and nods.

"Now turn around." I say next and she glances at the door.

"Nikki, we don't have tim--"

"--They're watching TV. Turn around." I repeat and she grins a little, licking her lips and turns to face the mirror.

I'm unzipping my pants, yanking her shorts down and pushing her panties to the side before grabbing a fist full of her hair and sliding it in, tilting my head back and grinning as she makes little whimpers in an attempt to keep from being loud.

We've mastered the art of 'a good time in a short time,' and once we've both had our release, I'm zipping my pants back up, and she's still bent over the sink, hands white knuckling the edge of the counter, hair in her face, bite marks on her shoulders, cum down her shaking legs, trying to catch her breath.

I kiss the place between her shoulder blades, the back of her neck, her hair, my hand getting her hair from her face to look at her in the mirror.

She's looking at me with a little smile, right before, "I'm pregnant again," comes out and shatters my post-orgasm buzz.

My knuckles sting as blood rolls down my fist, glass falling onto the counter, sink, and floor, when I drive my fist past her and into the mirror.

She just hangs her head and I'm getting out, feeling the walls of the bathroom caving in on me.

"Daddy, what's wrong?" Frannie asks as I grab my keys and my jacket.

"Nothing, Frannie. Daddy's going out, alright?" I tell her. "When mommy gets in here give her a big hug." I add, seeing Johnny's too enthralled with Charlie Brown to notice I'm even leaving.

I kiss her head and I'm out the door before Vivian gets out of the bathroom.

I swear the only thing keeping us together is the fact that when divorce is an unspoken thought for either of us, she gets pregnant.

I'm twenty-seven years old and I have a two year old, a one year old, a two month old, and now she's fucking knocked up again?!

How the hell is that even possible? Don't chicks need like six months for their bodies to reset after popping kids out or something? Jesus I married a PEZ dispenser with a never ending supply of eggs.

By the time I get to where I'm going, I already regret it.

Incense, crack fumes and perfume suffocate me as soon as she opens the door in her bra and panties.

Not necessarily in a sexy way--more so in a higher than a kite and disheveled type of way.

Which is perfectly fine with me because I don't need 'sexy' right now. I just need to get outta my head.

Despite that, though, clothes come off, we end up on the living room floor, and instead of smoking a cigarette once we're finished, we opt for more erasure.

"She's pregnant again." I confess to Tansy out of nowhere after breathing out some smoke, my mind getting pushed aside, the crawling of my skin starting to settle.

Blue eyes look at me as I hand it over before her greedy hands snatch it.

"What?" She asks me.

"Vivian's pregnant." I repeat.

"I am, too." She says it so seriously that I look at her for a second, before seeing the very corner of her lips tug for a millisecond.

"You're bullshitting me?"

"I'm bullshitting you." She says, giggling, and

I start ranting about it, my words getting more and more jumbled and lost the more hits of the pipe I take, until I'm not even worried about Vivian due to the paranoia that ensues.

I get home at 5:00a.m….the day after the next. How low do I have to be to continuously go her best friend and my own moronic self pity? I don't know.

I shut the door to the house and put my shit down, nearly tripping when I try to take my boots off.

I'm on Halcions and Jack, and I think they're starting to kick in because I'm fucking exhausted.

I glance at the living room scattered with toys and rub my face.

I get it: "Mötley Crüe, don't give a fuck, fuck precautions, fuck all of it," but come on, man.

How the hell could you be so fucking reckless?

I walk into our room, the lamp on Viv's night side table on while she's got one long leg out of the covers, laying on her stomach, arms under her pillow, the covers falling just enough to cover the tops of her thighs and her ass, her back and the side of her chest peeking out, exposed.

She looks fucking beautiful.

Oh, yeah, that's how the hell I could be so reckless.

I go rinse off in the shower for a second to try to wash away Tans and the drugs...maybe even guilt….

When I'm done, I peek out of the bathroom to see that she's still asleep, and I turn off her lamp and crawl into bed, closing my eyes for a moment.

I feel her move closer to me before her lips are pressing to my cheek, hands running over my chest gently before she lays down, throws her leg over my stomach, and rests her cheek on my chest.

"Are you still mad at me?" She questions softly, and I let out a breath.

"I'm mad at myself, Viv." I mumble.

"Oh." She replies quietly. "I would get on birth control but it wouldn't react well with my Nardil."

"You mean the Nardil you aren't taking anyway?"

She's silent.

"Honestly at a point where I don't even want to have sex anymore because you're gonna end up getting pregnant." I add, gruffly.

"Oh, come on, Nikki." She scoffs, not believing me.

"I'm serious, Vivian. I'm tired of being a fucking baby mill."

"Oh you're the baby mill? You just get your rocks off and I'm the one carrying the thing for nine months but you're the victim here?"

She sits up and glares at me.

"Yes! I am!" I argue. "You have this weird thing with cum that I've always thought was hot but now I'm starting to realize you're just trying to boulder me down."

"Nikki, you've made it very clear that marriage and babies aren't bouldering you down. You still go out and party and do your drugs and your day drinking--you were just gone for over a day...so I don't want to hear, 'you're bouldering me down,' because I'm not. If you wanna leave, then leave." She snaps.

I roll my eyes and she goes back to her side of the bed and turns away from me, before she snatches all the covers away from me.

I'm too tired for it so I just pass out.

1987

"Nikki!" Doc is banging away at my door, making me snarl to myself before capping my needle and hiding it under my pillow.

"What?!" I bark out, going to the door.

I swing it open, naked, aside from stained underwear, to see Vivian and my whole litter of kids.

"S-Surpise!" Viv tries to keep her tone light and cheery for the five kids around her, our brand new girls in her arms.

I don't know how to react except to shut the door in their faces and angrily get my shit together.

I'm out of the shower and dressed in the next hour, taking the smallest hit from the needle I hid, just as a maintenance dose, before I'm heading to Doc's room--where I'm assuming he took them when they realized I wasn't coming back out.

I knock on the door and Viv opens it, looking up at me.

"Suprise!" I mimic how she greeted me earlier, and she scowls at me and goes to slam the door in my face, but I'm stopping it with my hand and shoving it open.

"Daddy!" Frannie, Johnny, and Pierce come running to me and I'm getting down and letting them attack me, wrapping my arms around them. Pierce is nearly two, now, and he's nearly as tall as Frannie.

Dannie is walking cautiously to me, smiling at me and I meet him halfway and pick him up, kissing his cheek as I go over to the little babies Doc's supervising, one a replica of me, the other of Viv…

I lean down and kiss both of them, making them smile and kick their feet, excitedly.

I wasn't there with them when they were born.

I go over to Vivian, who's got her arms crossed, her jaw clenched.

"Does Daddy get a kiss from Mommy, too?" I ask.

"Daddy doesn't have to fuss at mommy for having more babies anytime soon because daddy isn't gonna get to be in the same bed as mommy for a long time." She replies.

"Mommy seems to forget that the last three babies weren't even made in a bed." I reply.

"Do you guys wanna few minutes alone? I can get Fred, Emi and Donna down here to help me." Doc offers and I look at him.

"That's out of character and nice of you." I state suspiciously.

"Despite you being an asshole, your kids aren't." He shrugs and I roll my eyes.

I kiss all of them bye for a couple hours, and put Dannie down before tugging at Viv's hand once Fred and the girls get here...I see Donna and feel guilty…one of the chicks I cheated on my wife with is taking care of our kids…

When we get to a new room--mines so out of wack I don't want Viv to pass out--we do what we do best and in the aftermath, small talk in between breaks of making out, Vivian drops the ball.

"I know you've been seeing her." She tells me out of nowhere when my lips press to her neck, quietly.

My body tenses up.

"What?" I sit up and she does, too.

"There's no need to be shocked that I found out--we both know you wanted me to find out. Why the hell else would you leave letters you two write back and forth with each other, out in our closet where you know I'd find them?"

I just look at her.

"You and Tansy, Nikki." She states, tears in her eyes. "Why the hell have you done this to me, Nikki? She's my best friend?"

Is she serious?

I get out of bed and pull my pants on, ignoring her.

"I'm not shocked, you know, I always knew you'd be a deadbeat husband and a deadbeat dad, just like your father."

I start clapping slowly, really appreciating her performance.

"Bravo, Vivian, really, you should get a fucking award for those tears." I state, fed up. "It's gotta be theatrics because what sense would it make for you to be genuinely upset I've been hooking up with Tansy, when you and Robbin have been seeing each other for two fucking years, now?!"

Her eyes widen, she looks like a deer in headlights...which just confirms it all the more to me.

"How fucked up do you have to be to cheat on your husband with his fucking brother, while pregnant with his fucking kid?" I ask and she takes heavy breaths, obviously trying to get her temper under control. "Not to mention that I'm starting to question if Dannie is even mine being as he looks nothing like me."

She's slapping the piss out of me, tears streaming down her face.

I rub at the stinging hot skin of my cheek and roll my jaw, staring at her a few seconds, before shoving her back to the bed, grabbing her shoulders, getting in her face while shouting, "you stupid fucking bitch, I fucking hate, you ruined my fucking life!"

She's sobbing now, her head turned, mascara staining her cheeks as I push myself off of her and trudge to the door.

"Cheating on me for two goddamn years, you fucking whore, who the hell do you think you are?! I can have kids with anybody, I can have anybody I want, but I fucking chose you and this is how you repay me?! Fuck you! There's a million fucking yous out there!" I throw a bottle at her and it misses by a couple inches and she sits up, trying to stand up as I open the door.

"I'm getting my fucking kids away from you, you fucking crazy cunt!" I call and she's rushing out, wearing my t-shirt to cover herself up, grabbing my hand and yanking me to a halt before I can start to Doc's room.

"You're not touching my kids, Nikki, I swear to God I'll fucking kill you, don't touch my fucking kids! You're fucking stoned!" She threatens me and I turn.

"Oh, you'll kill me?!" I bow up at her and she punches me, her ring cutting my cheek, before she's hitting me again.

She goes for a third time but I block her and shove her down, kicking her as hard as I can in the ribs, knocking the breath out of her.

"Don't fucking touch me, you fucking slut." I smear the blood from my cheek, banging on Doc's door as she crawls a few feet before managing to pull herself up, resting against the wall, coming towards me.

The door opens and I see Emi with Pierce in her arms.

I don't say a word to her, I just grab him and smile at him, bouncing him a little, as I say, "Frannie, John, c'mon!"

Of course they come, not realizing what's happening.

Until Vivian's trying to pry Pierce from my hands.

"Let go of my baby!" She screams at me, trying to bat me away from him while he starts whining.

She hits me with her closed fist in my ear and I lose it, punching her so hard she hits the ground, Frannie and John immediately start crying upon seeing their mother bloody and dismayed.

The door opens more to reveal Doc as Emi looks at me, horrified, pulling John and Frannie back inside before Doc's snatching Pierce from me.

"What the hell is going on?!" Doc shouts as guests peek their heads out of their doors.

It's as if my demons give me the reins back and split, leaving me to look down at my beat up wife, crying, hearing my traumatized kids crying out behind the door.

I just stumble back, my back hitting the wall before I'm sliding down it to the floor, staring off as Doc continues to yell at me...

...I blink, being pulled back to reality, staring down at the floor of Amber's office.

I'm not sure if we had kids by then, if Viv would have stayed or left. I'm not sure why I imagined I would've been with Tansy and not Vanity, why she would have had an affair with Robbin and not Duff...maybe I knew, subconsciously, that us having children at that time would have changed the way everything happened between us.

"I guess it was for the best." I reply to her, finally, looking at her.

"Everything happens for a reason." She assures me. "There is a reason she didn't have any babies in the past four years."

"Okay, wise one, is there any reason she isn't here today?"

VIVIAN

"...Mom, and my brother Jon, my sister Carol, my brother Mark, my brother Bruce, my sister Joan, my other sister Claudia, and that's Matt--you know Matt," he glances at me and I nod, looking at the picture of the family, "And then there's me." He points to a toddler and I grin, looking at him. "My dad didn't wanna be in the picture, which I'm glad he wasn't because I would've cut him out if it, anyway when he left, so…" he shrugs, looking at it another moment. "Alright, let me show you to your room." He wiggles his brows and I giggle as he picks up my suitcase and leads me back down a hallway.

"This is Joan's old room, obviously been redecorated because it's not covered in ABBA and Cher ." He mumbles.

"I heard that!" Joan says from the living room.

"No ya didn't!" He replies, smiling at me, putting my suitcase on the bed. "Everybody's coming over for dinner tonight so you have time to take a nap, get comfortable, whatever." He shrugs and I nod.

"Okay." I tuck a piece of hair behind my ear.

"I'm gonna go help my mom and Joan start cooking." He adds.

"I can hel--"

"--You didn't sleep at all on the way up here, Viv."

"Because I wasn't tired." I lie and he looks at me.

"Take a nap." He tells me, moving the suitcase off of my bed.

"Fine." I roll my eyes.

"Love you." He leaves me, shutting the door and I get on the bed, getting comfortable, and wondering what Nikki's doing right now...he's probably shitting a brick.

After an hour, the door is opening and Duff's squeezing my fuzzy sock covered feet, making me laughs and yank my legs away from him.

I haven't slept, but I've rested enough that I don't feel as sluggish.

"You stink." I wrinkle my nose when he lays beside me.

"Onions." He replies. "Joan kicked me out for chasing her around with the raw chicken." He adds.

"And now raw chicken juice is on my feet?" I ask.

"No, I washed my hands." He assures me.

"Okay." I chuckle, rubbing my lips together.

"Who all's coming to dinner?" I ask, next. "Jon, Bruce, Claudia, and my buddy Andy." He informs me. "Matt's coming up to go out for breakfast with me, you, Andy, and Joan tomorrow morning, and later this week we're gonna have a barbecue and you'll get to meet everybody, including my nieces and nephews." He adds and I raise my brows.

"That's a lot of people." I reply, raising my brows.

"Very big family." He agrees.

"It's weird." I say next and he furrows his brows. "Not like that, just...I don't know I'm used to being the only child, no cousins, no aunts or uncles--well, aside from aunt Lily--Nikki's not real close to his family, so we just...we're not really big on family." I shrug. "Well, dad is, he's always wanted more kids and a big family, I think, but my mom didn't so he didn't press her about it since she was ultimately the one who'd be carrying them." I add.

"Do you want anymore kids?" He asks me and I let out a breath.

"I'm not sure…" I trail off. "...I'd like to, but I don't know. I haven't thought about it, much." I lie and he nods.

"Do you want anymore kids?" I ask him.

"I do at some point, I don't think Mandy wants to, though. She says being a step-mom at the age of twenty-five is enough." He tells me.

"Maybe she'll change her mind." I say.

"She didn't want any kids when we first dated, so I think the only reason she's even making leeway for a stepchild is because she loves me."

"It says a lot about her if she's willing to do that, though. A lot of women would've left."

"Yeah, she's cooler about it than I thought she'd be." He agrees. "What did Nikki do when you first told him?"

"He cried." I admit. "Like, a lot."

"That's understandable." He says lowly.

"Yeah, it is." I nod. "He's okay with it, now, though. He's not mad at either of us. I think he's more upset with himself about the whole thing."

It's quiet for a few minutes before I get up enough courage to ask him, "are you happy?"

"What do you mean?"

"Like...you know...our break up, and then you and Mandy are engaged now and I'm pregnant…"

"Oh, yeah, yeah, no, I'm great, Viv." He assures me, sounding genuine. "I don't know, things are a mess and crazy right now but I feel like it's falling into place at the same time, you know?"

I nod, smiling softly…

…I bought it for that moment.

I realized he was lying to himself the next morning at breakfast when he told the waitress to bring him a screwdriver--a triple--and, "just keep 'em coming."

#gateway drug #nikki sixx #nikki sixx x oc #nikki sixx fanfiction

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tokugou · 3 years ago

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Hi. First: I love your GIFs! They're pleasing to see on my dash (and sometimes gives me niggling ideas for creating GIFs of my own but almost never do it cuz procrastination and my creativity sucks haha 😅)! Please keep creating! <3

Second, genuine question (and out of curiosity): Why do you self reblog your posts often? People can see your posts on their dash, and even on the search thingy. The search thingy doesn't let people see your self-reblogs (just the original post). Even though I've kinda been on and off of Tumblr for years, I don't really get how it works, so I'm a bit confused as to why you and other bloggers self-reblog your/their own posts?

You don't have to answer if you don't want to, though! I'm just genuinely confused and I don't know who/where else to ask/search 😅. Thanks in advance! Have a nice day! <3

I honestly don't know what I did to get dragged into this discourse

Thank you for polite question, I honestly don't know if I can help you a lot and if my answer will explain it as you expect. I also was on and off tumblr for a long time and often, but I can answer it based on my own experience on this becasue it was confusing to me too when I first met with self reblogging.

Long reply under read more so to not trash other people' dash

first of all self promotion isn't a bad thing and i'm staring to think some of people here see it as a crime

compared to old one nowday t/mblr is a mess, lot of people left this site and most of them were content creators (either artists or gifmakers) and back then it seemd more welcoming to editors? People would rb your stuff no matter your popularity becasue hey it is content from my fav series i wanna see more i wanna keep it on my blog and show it to others so there was no need for people to self reblog becasue it circulated around a lot on its own.

new people who join this app are raised on i/stagram t/itter and/or f/book where LIKES means everything, you show your support by liking posts THIS NOT APPLY TO TUMBLR AND NEVER DID [you can check this amazing post about rebloging]. As nice as it is to get likes on your post becasue it is like a pat on a head - it is only a pat, doesn't mean anything on a long run. Reblog = spreading. If people don't spread it we stay unnoticed and we tend to self reblog more.

another thing that changed is: people no longer scroll from top to the last post they saw before going to sleep, cos why would they? You wake up in the morning open app while eating breakfast or drinking coffee and you sroll past ten or twenty post or an equivalent of hour or two of your absence - you dont go deeper cos it would be a waste of time - again, I say USUALLY, some ppl still do this and it is ok either way - which leads us to main point of self/reblog:

DIFFERENCE in TIME ZONE not all of our followers live in the same time-zone, when I post something in my free time it doesn't mean others have it too, most of them are probably sleeping or in working place at that hour. We self reblog so people who were absent (and we think might be interested in - becasue why not? they follow us for a reason right?) can see it when they get back on here. By reblogging ourself multiple times, that puts the post back on the follower’s dash and hopefully gives them a chance to see it.

most of people follow ton of blogs (one of my friend I met here told me they follow over 1k blogs) imagine even half of these blogs posting regulary, a few things per hour, the dash is messy and crowded OUR EDITS TEND TO GET LOST IN IT. Most of people follow a lot of blogs and might miss our posts becaue their dashes are WAY more active than these who follow five or ten blogs.

t/mblr fandoms aren't welcoming to new creators in my experience, to get notes you need to be popular/have lot of followers but you can't have lot of them if your posts aren't spread/seen and so on and so on it go in circle (a lot of ppl also only reblog popular posts and avoid these with litte of notes - don't know why it is like this, maybe they think these posts are suspicious?) so with self reblog we also give some of these fake notes to make a post more appealing, i guess? this one is just speculation.

the search function you mentioned is very rarely used tbh people don't go to search for things daily, they usually only do this when they join new series/ship/etc to check if there is something. People usually stick to what they see on their dashes. AND most importantly this option doesn't work as it should. It is some type of algoritm that promote post that are alive/active - even if your post is relativy new it might not show in search becasue it died quickly (as if it wasn't interacted with for some time). With search option it is 50/50 your thing either show there or not. ALSO REMEMBER search option is a terrible promoted thingy that doesn't show you everything so you better stick to /tagged/ thing you can enter manually while on dash if you are using web t/mblr.

people no longer go straight to specific blogs to check if they missed something, they might do it for their besties (as they call it) but other than that DASH is all people see and focus on, so the more often content creators self/reblog the higher chance followrs will see it.

we are not paid for what we do and it come to everything: edits, gifs, arts, writing, video and META POST we are not paid for it and no matter how many people say notes are just numbers these numbers are our motivational payment, the less you get the less you create because you just don't feel the point of sharing your creations if it is not received well or at all.

when I started posting I used to post new content daily even twice a day, nowdays seeing most of my edits not being well recieved in fandom I lost motivation to the point I was thinking of quiting because it didn’t give me joy anymore and I'm still considering it.

I personally never felt bothered seeing self rebbloged post, I follow a bunch of content creators, some of them sr twice a day some each hour, some more or less often. It often helped me to see something I would missed becasue I wasn't here and personally it often give me joy to see the post I remember seeing that had 2 notes when I rb it and now it is 500 or more.

to anyone who read it and still think self reblog is a bother: do not tell people to stop self reblogging. If you genuinely have a problem with self reblogging, just unfollow or block the person who does it and don’t make a fuss over it!

I hope I managed to answer you at least partly? I probably lost the point somewhere between first sentence and second but... well

#chloe.mailbox #long post #anonymous #i keep saying WE as in content creator but honestly i dont feel as if i was part of it

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captain-jinguji · 4 years ago

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Hello~~~ I know I've requested a lot (I'm sorry :(() but I was wondering if you can write a soft Reiji fic? Scenario? Imagine? I think you understand what I mean? 😂 Inspired by the chorus of Ed sheerans perfect. If you don't wanna do it it's fine! I hope you have a nice day/night and again--thanks for writing for us ��!

So yeah after spending way too many days on my Obey Me! Account writing a fanfic I felt it was only fair to finally tackle this 👏👏👏 also don't apologize for requesting a lot ❤ theres no limit.

LISTEN TO THIS FOR THE RIGHT FEELING

The Perfect Love ( REIJI KOTOBUKI X READER)

Its been so long... So long since you and Reiji met. You went through so much together. From Aine to his series of depression, which was when you first noticed how much you hated seeing him in pain. Then he met Ai and Ranmaru, and soon Camus joined too and QUARTET NIGHT was found.

It felt like ages ago when you attended their first concert, getting a VIP pass that Reiji promised you and engulfing all four guys in a giant hug, congratulating them on their debut. It was only a roller coaster from there. From fights between the members so long nights and talks with Reiji, it was never a dull moment. You and Reiji got even closer during the time right before meeting STARISH, when he told you excitedly that he was going to be a "proud dad" to his Kouhai and you couldnt help but laugh. "You'll be a great dad one day, Rei-chan!" You had told him and he smiled sheepishly at you, "yeah... One day..." He had mumbled.

Right after that conversation, you had shared your first kiss with the brunette and a relationship full of laughter and adventures had formed from that. Reiji knew you were the one a long time ago, back when you helped him through his dark times, and it was then that he promised himself to keep you in his life, no matter what it took.

Years later, he got down on one knee, finally making that promise reality by making you his officially. The wedding was small, but beautiful. Only immediate family and friends were allowed. Ranmaru was his best man that day and you'll never forget how uncomfortable the rocker had looked in that tuxedo.

Then just a year after that you welcomed your first child home. Reiji was the happiest guy on the planet, and you smiled every time you saw him with the little bundle in his arms, "see? I told you you'd make a great dad." Reiji chuckled at your words and kissed your cheek lightly, "I couldn't be half the person I am today without you..." And he meant it.

Slowly, your mind was filled with memories. Family vacations, little milestones like riding a bike and swimming lessons. Then your first family dog and soon your twenty-five year anniversary.

You recalled all these things as you stood there, gently leaning against Reiji's aging form. It felt like forever ago that these things happened, yet, at the same time, it felt like only yesterday that you met.

Your hair was grey now, your skin wrinkly, and only the pictures on the walls reminded you of what you used to look like. Throughout the years, Reiji has taken you on so many adventures, loved you in so many ways, that you could honestly say you lived a wonderful life.

Reiji felt your mind wander and his hand gently stroked through your gray hair, "what are you thinking about? " his voice was still sweet. Even through years of singing and putting stress on himself, it never lost its beauty. You pulled your head off his chest and looked into his grey, tired eyes, "about what a beautiful life we shared..." He smiled softly, letting his head fall against yours, "I found a love and I cherished it with all I have. I couldn't have imagined a better life with someone more perfect. We were still kids when we fell in love, but i promised to never give you up. I just wanted to kiss you slow and dance in the dark, dance through the night sky, with you between my arms. And we did. And you always thought you looked like such a mess, but you always looked so perfect to me..."

Your eyes teared up at his confession and he acted quick to cup your cheeks, "it was you... Its always been you. And I never wanted anyone else by my side. You were perfect for me, are perfect to me, and will forever be perfect for me, my little girl."

#uta no prince sama #uta no prince shining live #utapri headcanons #utapri starish stillnotsorry #utanoprincesama #quartet night #reiji kotobuki

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blackbutler-readerinsertsandjunk · 5 years ago

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Oh, and pretty please also some happy Alois scenario's? Like, he's with Luka and Hannah and they're all happy and healthy. No pain nor any spooder demons, please. (You're a godsend. I've literally been following blogs like yours for years and not many write for the characters that I like. I hit the jackpot with your blog. Thank you~)

Ah man… words cannot express how much I needed to write this

and how much I would love to write more things like this!!

Alois needs so much love!

And you know what, bby? I’m more than happy to keep writing all these characters! They’re ones I love deeply, with my whole entire heart!

Everyone seems to write Ciel, Sebastian, the Reapers… and, of course, I love them too, absolutely! But if I can be a source of content for the characters that people can never find content like this for, then I want to do that as much as I possibly can. It seems that the characters few people write for are often my favorites, so I’m all too happy to oblige!

Because we’re doing a pain-free spiderless Alois AU, but I still wanted to have it make sense for these guys to be in the manor – he and Luka eventually got picked up by the old Lord Trancy, but it was because Alois was tracked down as the rightful heir, and, well, the old Lord Trancy suddenly died about a week after they arrived, leaving Alois to be the new head of the household. (thank you, Hannah!)

NOW, LET THE BOY ENJOY HIS HAPPY ENDING!!!

“Missed me, missed me! Now you have to kiss me!”

Laughter rings out in the manor as (Name)’s fiancé chases after her nearly as soon as she walks into the parlor where he seems to have been waiting for her. It’s perhaps strange of him to say something like this when she hasn’t yet made a comment that she missed him while she was out… then again, they know each other so well. That she’s told him before that she’s always overjoyed to see him after they’ve been apart may also have something to do with it.

As soon as ALOIS catches her, his arms tight around her waist, he twirls around with her once before bending her backwards ― dipping her so low the tips of her hair brush the floor. It’s then that he comes in for a kiss, despite the fact that both of them giggling makes their lips very misaligned.

“You silly boy!” She hooks her arms round his neck in an attempt to hold on for dear life. (Not that he’d ever drop her. Of course not!) “You think I wouldn’t have greeted you with a kiss even if you hadn’t said that?”

It’s a little hard to believe, with his rounded face and mischievous personality, that the young earl is pushing twenty. Even though he’s been like this since she met him a few years ago, he finds new ways to woo and surprise her with every passing day. “Yes, but… you know I’m impatient! And your kisses are just so sweet, I can’t resist taking one before you even offer it.”

She shakes her head at him, pulling herself up a bit so she can nuzzle the tip of her nose against his. “Oh, of course. Who am I to keep the most handsome man in the world waiting?”

“The future Lady Trancy, that’s who!” Finally he straightens them both up; he steals another kiss as he does, of course. He glances past her toward the doors, and when he looks back, he’s raising an eyebrow, a smile playing at the edges of his mouth. “… Oh, dear. Have you lost Luka?”

(Name) scoffs with a grin and gives Alois a playful smack to the chest. “No, I would never! Hannah met us at the door and mentioned something about fixing him a snack. I’d imagine he’s halfway through a roast beef by now. Speaking of, I already bought him a caramel lollipop while the shop owner and I discussed my order for the wedding. I’ve never seen a boy with such an appetite! He eats more than I do, and he’d probably still fit into my dress.”

A snort is Alois’ answer as he heads into the other room. “He’s still growing! Now that you mention it, though, I could picture him wanting to wear your dress. While you were out, I was nearly tempted to try it on myself.” He pauses to thread his arm through hers. “Ultimately I decided I had best leave it, though. You’ll look much lovelier in it than I would.”

The two of them don’t get very far when the triplets appear out of nowhere on the stairs. “She will, yes,” Thompson quips. “In fact, I do believe the Lady’s beauty will outshine the dress itself.”

“No offense,” Timber titters, “but Lord Trancy will look so plain next to his bride!”

“Goodness, what shall we do?” Canterbury adds. “Perhaps he should wear a dress as well.”

Alois rolls his eyes. The trio speak so bluntly and outlandishly, it really is a wonder he hasn’t thrown them out entirely yet. Hannah is just too fond of them, considering them as brothers or friends, and they do their jobs fine. It would be too quiet without them, at least, so might as well keep them around for now.“You three have no idea what you’re talking about! We’ll both be stunning! Now, care to make yourselves useful and direct us to where Hannah and Luka have gone? Are they in the kitchen?”

Timber clicks his tongue. “No, no. They’ve retired to the young master’s room.”

“He took his second sandwich up there with him.”

“Oh, dear. We’re going to have ants.”

“Alright, enough!” Alois snaps, more annoyed than truly mad. “Can you three ever shut your mouths??”

(Name) sets her hand on Alois’ shoulder to help ground him. “Oh, love, did Thompson say Luka’s taken his second sandwich with him? By God, the boy works fast!”

Immediately the earl’s temper is calmed as he glances toward his fiancée. Her remark is enough to bring a smile to his face. “We should catch up with them, then.” He reaches up to grab her hand with both of his, darting up the steps. “And, Timber! Do make sure you and your brothers are prepared to do battle with the invading ants!”

The two of them laugh once more as they race through the halls like children, clutching hands, without a care in the world. When they reach the door, Alois pulls (Name)’s hand back from opening it. He puts a finger to his lips, gently leading her to one side. “Shh, stay quiet,” he whispers. “I’m going to pull a trick on Luka.”

“Hehe!” She covers her mouth with one hand. “Of course!” Big brothers like to play around with their younger brothers, after all, don’t they?

Alois bites down on his lip in an effort to keep himself from just bursting out in laughter. He can’t give himself away before he’s even done what he wants to do! As soon as he’s gotten composed, he opens the door and sweeps into the room in such a way that neither Hannah nor Luka can see his fiancée. For added effect, he paints a concerned look onto his face. “Luka!! Oh, my god, Luka, where’s (Name)?! Did you leave her all by herself in town?!”

True to the triplets’ word, the teenager is sitting on his bed, holding half a sandwich that he seems to have just taken a bite out of. With his mouth full and his eyes wide, he stares in shock at his older brother.

“Whhht?!” Luka throws the sandwich down on the bed and immediately jumps to his feet. “I-I swear, Alois! She was right be’ind me, ‘onest! We rode back in the carriage t’gether, then I got out ‘n’ came inside, ‘n’ she was ― I swear ta ‘igh ‘eaven I ‘eard ‘er ‘eels be’ind me!!”

It’s a miracle how Alois manages to hold back his laughter. “We ― well, I can’t find her!”

One can practically feel the panic rolling off of Luka. “O-oh, my God!! We ‘afta search ev’rywhere! ‘Annah! ‘Annah, g-get the triplets! They can split up, ‘n’ we’ll cover all the manor ground, ‘n’… ‘n’ I don’t understand! How could she ‘ave jus’―”

Hannah, who up until now has rather silently been perusing the bookshelf in the corner of the room, clearly thinks Alois is being too cruel. “Luka, calm down. It’s okay. Alois is just having a go at you. (Name) is right outside the door, and she’s safe.”

As if on cue, Alois pouts and opens the door for his fiancée. “(Name), come on in! Hannah ruined everything!”

“(NAME)!!!” Luka has his arms around the woman like lightning, a relieved smile taking over his face. “I’m so ‘appy y’ didn’t go missin’ fer real! What was that all ‘bout, y’ two, givin’ me a ‘eart attack?!”

(Name) giggles and returns the hug. “I’m sorry, Luka! It was Alois’ idea!”

Luka lets go of her before falling back on the bed, throwing an arm across his face. “Me own brother, stabbin’ me in the back! Oi, Jimmy, ‘ow d’you live with yerself, ‘uh?”

“Oi, yourself, don’t call me that!” All at once Alois is removing his coat in one flourish so he can pounce on the bed. He wrestles around with Luka for a moment, both of them laughing and trying to pin the other down. “You’re next, (Name)! You sold me out!”

Hannah walks over to stand by (Name), having finally picked out a book. “Our boys,” she sighs. When she glances over at the other woman, there’s a hint of a smile playing on her face.

(Name)’s smile is unabashed, warm, and full of love as her eyes focus on her soon-to-be-husband and her about-to-be-brother.

“Yes,” she agrees softly, “our boys.”

#Black Butler #Kuroshitsuji #Alois #Hannah #Luka #The Triplets #Thompson #Timber #Canterbury #scenario #romantic #fluff #domestic #Pain-Free Alois AU #LET MY BOY HAVE HIS GOOD ENDING!!!!!!!#queued

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harry-leroy · 5 years ago

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This isn't a writer's ask but I've been thinking about how much I love all of TEP but especially the backstory elements, I'm really curious what your current timeline for the Gloucester boys' childhood looks like. No pressure if it's not solid or if that's too many spoilers but I'd love to know more about how it's all laid out! Hope you're doing great!

Thank you so much for this, Macy! (This is gonna help me with some of it, just being able to write it out somewhere instead of just having it in my head... which is where it is right now). That being said, it’s not totally solid yet, just because I’m not entirely set on how I want this whole thing structured. I have somewhat of a general idea, but it’s not 100% there yet, so I’ll give you what I have (because these boys absolutely wreck me too so I completely understand). [And I don’t even care about spoilers anymore, I’m just going to tell all because it’s all still in the planning stages, so all subject to complete change hehehe].

- So Edgar’s mother, Margaret, was in her late teens when she married Gloucester, who was in his mid-twenties. They eventually had a son a few years later, Edgar, although he had no name for a year. Lear was off fighting in France and they wanted him to name the child (or at least Gloucester did). I’m feeling (and this might be too clean-cut) that Margaret started calling the boy “Thomas” in private. She didn’t want Lear to name the child, but eventually Gloucester got his way.

- In the meantime, Gloucester and Kent were sent off to France to help aid in the war effort. They both find themselves in a rough area one night, both of them sleeping with women they found on the street. One of those women is Edmund’s mother, Celine. Gloucester impregnates her and essentially leaves her to deal with this child that she has no money to raise. Celine, being a clever politician and knowing exactly who she slept with, persists in getting Gloucester to acknowledge the child and bring the boy back with him to England, much to his shame.

- Once Margaret finds that Gloucester has slept with this woman, and got a child out of her, and brought this child back to England. She is beyond heartbroken (this is when the naming for Edgar takes place, so it’s even worse for her). She becomes violently ill and Edgar is taken in by Christine, Albany’s governess, as is Edmund. She dies not long afterwards.

- The boys are raised together, becoming one another’s best friend as they are raised under Christine’s guidance, and she becomes a mother to them. Gloucester is only slightly involved in their upbringing until the boys get a little older, but he always seems to favor Edgar, and for a long time appears ashamed that Edmund’s in the picture at all. And you can bet that it reaches Edmund in a highly negative way, which makes Edgar upset. Edgar was always protective of his little brother, and would always call him ‘brother’ and nothing less.

- Edgar grows up wildly imaginative, somewhat theatrical, highly empathetic (which causes him to be sensitive beyond belief), kind, poetic, artistic, and eager to please. Edmund grows up somewhat advanced for his age (both of these boys did honestly, just in different ways), smart, also eager to please, also kind when he wants to be, stubborn, but highly capable.

- When the boys reach their teenage years, their duties start splitting. Edgar is taken under his father’s wing, schooled in military tactics, in law, in violence, in leadership (all things Edmund would love to learn). At first, being eager to please, Edgar is perceptible to all of this, wanting to be the man his father was. So he becomes very well read in law and in warfare. He basically has the whole world figured out by the time he’s sixteen. Then he starts seeing all the cracks in the wall, all the horribleness, everything that’s wrong with Lear’s awful regime. He starts spending more time on his own, only doing his duties because he’s afraid of the consequences of refusing. Edmund, in the meantime, is also being educated, but only as far as to join the army when he’s eighteen. It’s not the kind of attention he wants to be getting. Edmund would kill to be in his brother’s position.

- By the time Edgar’s eighteen, he’s anxious, misanthropic, losing faith in God, and when Christine dies, he becomes terrified of the idea of death. He is forced to join the army by his father. Albany promises Gloucester to look after Edgar, but Albany can see that Edgar is terribly unhappy. Edgar proves a terrible soldier, and even though he’s made ‘friends’ in the army, he loathes all of them for some reason or other. It’s also at the time that Lear and Gloucester agree that Edgar should marry Cordelia (the two of them are friends, but have never considered themselves lovers. They agree to go through with it for the sake of convenience).

- One night, around when Edgar’s nineteen, a group of Lear’s soldiers around Edgar’s age are all drunk, they make a petition to kill Lear and overthrow him at his jubilee parade, tired of all of the war and oppression that he’s been inflicting on the world outside. Edgar also signs the petition, but he’s completely sober. The petition ends up in Edgar’s coat pocket, and then it sits on his desk until the thought of this suicide mission drives him into a guilt-driven psychotic break. He spills ink all over his name, and also over his letters to Cordelia. Edmund catches him and calms him down enough to get him to a doctor, although Edgar has long since lost contact with reality. However, Edmund also sees Edgar’s treason, half-blotted out. He decides to save his brother by rewriting the petition without his brother’s name on it. He burns the other one. He hands the note back to one of the soldiers, hoping that they succeed because Edmund too strongly dislikes Lear.

- While Edmund saves his brother, he also betrays him. Jealous that his brother is to be married to Cordelia (and not believing that sickness to be as bad as it was), Edmund takes the ink-blotted letters and shows them to Lear, advising the king against the marriage as his brother is mad and clearly not in love with Cordelia, therefore completely ill-suited to be her husband. Lear agrees. Edmund joins the English army upon his eighteenth birthday. Cornwall takes him under his wing. Edmund enjoys the army, because everyone starts out on the same level and people only move up in the world through merit. He takes a nine-year tour in France, hoping to become a Major by the end (which he does).

- Edgar, meanwhile, recovers in Albany’s care. The jubilee plot falls through, but the group of knights on the new petition that Edmund drew up are all still executed. Edgar is removed from service due to his health. He eventually goes into public relations once he is well enough, working closely with Goneril. She is intensely jealous of Albany’s love for Edgar (which is going to play out in some way, but I’m not set on it yet). Edgar writes to Edmund during those nine years, never completely recovering, but he’s well enough to be on his feet. Edmund never reveals that he saved his brother, nor does he reveal that he was the one who destroyed Edgar’s possible marriage with Cordelia (although it probably would have fallen through on its own).

That’s what I’ve got so far! (Or at least these are ideas- they all need fleshing out and reorganizing, but here they are!) Thank you so much for this wonderful ask, Macy! (And for your constant support on this project - it means more than I can say!) Much love :)

#thank you so much for this macy!#much love #tep #the edgar project #edgar + edmund #my boys #the gloucester boys #my writing #writing #friends!#this was a joy to answer #and it helped me shuffle my ideas around a bit #so thank you so much!#:)

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dsmadmin · 4 years ago

Text

#ComingHome

Co written by @RoswellBadboy_ and @RoswellAlec

Alex: The day has finally come when I could pack up my clothes into a duffel bag. he had mixed emotions about being discharged from the military over my injury but I know this wasn't the end of my career, there were other options out there for me. I wasn't ever going to let his leg hold me back as I've learned from my days here in the military I never give up so now and that's what I'm going to do for sure in every part of my life. Alex had said goodbye to his fellow colleagues before throwing his bag onto the back seat of his truck. he took one more look around the unit before getting into his truck to begin the drive home back to his old town of Roswell. he wasn't sure who he would be received back home, as he was a changed man in a physical way but he wasn't shy anymore about his sexuality. this is a conversation he would to have with his dad and maybe he will just need to accept I'm gay and or might need to just lump it as I'm not going to be ashamed of being who I truly am.

When driving into his family home. he had unpacked his things into his old room when he found the letters that he would write to a certain person but wasn't ever brave enough to sent them to him. he locked up the letters away in his bedside table. His thoughts had turned to Michael when he walked to look out the window with the view of the barn that had the happiness and sadness moment here in #Roswell. over the years been away, he had many conversations paying in his head with Michael and he had written the conversation many times in the letters too. he let out a breath and thought I've I'm ever going to have this conversation with him this is the time. Alex picked up his jacket from the chair and went downstairs to pick up his keys to drive over to Michael to face him. he hoped that he still lived in his trailer. he had been driving for twenty minutes when he could see the trailer on the horizon. a smile came on his face when he reached it. Alex switch off the engine and got out his track to go and knock on the door.

Michael: -Michael has spent the better part of the night drinking and making out with some chick that he couldn’t remember, now he was crashed out hard on his bed in boxer briefs and nothing else. The knock at the door didn’t wake him up. Lost somewhere in dreams of a dark haired guy he dreamt on. He hadn’t bothered locking the door because no one but the ole man, Isobel or Max came around anyhow.-

Alex: - he knocks on the door harder and waits for a few extra minutes to see if he was here. With no answer in sight. Alex was going to turn and go back to his truck when he saw. A vehicle parked at the other side of the trailer. He checked to on the door handle to see if it's unlocked. Which it was. He hoped that Michael wouldn't mind that he let himself in. He looked around the trailer which was small but untidy. When he found his bedroom. There he was spread out in his boxers and sound asleep. Alex made his way in. He steps closer and leaned down Over him trying to wake him up- ”Michael are you awake?”

Michael: -Grumbles.- “Go away a Isobel.” -Rolls over to send her packing and looks surprised to see Alex of all people there. Damn his heart clenched, a minute passed by before he actually snapped out of it.- Manes, you lost? -He didn’t know what to else to say.-

Alex: - A smile curled onto his face for a second watching him rolling over. He knew he had to act cool with him. - ”hey stranger. No I'm not, I thought it would be good to come by and say hi to you since I'm back. How about you get your lazy ass up and we can get a coffee?”

Michael: -Michael couldn’t help but smile.- You’re still bossy as hell. Throw some breakfast in then I’d be happy to.

Alex: He chuckled. - Yeah, maybe just a little. yeah, you've got yourself a deal. Imagine that you want some food. Do you have any food in this place? Or will I go and pick us something up? While you get yourself up.

Michael: -Michael got up, they were in close proximity.- Depends Manes. How close and personal you want to be.

Alex: Alex was smiling from ear to ear on the inside but he didn't want to show he's was very keen in front of him. he was very interested. To be honest, as he was always on his mind. He wanted to be very close and personal with him. - you know I'm here to talk with you since I hated how things turn out before I left. He reached down for his injured hand. How is the hand?

Michael: -Michael watched, Alex drove him insane regardless whether he was trying or not. He’d have pulled away had it been anyone else. It felt like his heart had been caressed as Alex touched him. He stood there frozen and hanging on Alexs’ every word.- It’s fine...

Alex: -Holding his hands, was like thousands of bolts of lightning running through my veins. How can one man make me feel this good. He longed wanting to hold him. ”I am sorry for this as this was my fault, Michael. There isn't a day that doesn't go by I just wish you never got hurt”.

Michael: -Michael pulled his hand away and cupped Alex’s cheek.- I don’t regret anything and I’d do it again. Rather it be me hurt than you... -The sincerity was unmistakable.-

Alex: -Alex listens to his every word. His heart was racing his could feel his heart pumping hard against his chest. With his touch. I just need to tell him now how I feel. ” you know I never wanted for any of us to get hurt Michael. I should have stood for you and us.

Michael: -Searching Alex’s eyes.- Doesn’t matter now, you’re here and whether you... -Heart wrenched.- love or want me anymore... I’m always going to love you, doesn’t matter what you do I can’t stop. -Eyes glistened with tears. Alex always brought this side of him out it was just how it was.-

Alex: Alex's heart just melted his words were killing him. ” I have never stopped loving you, Michael. do you have any idea how hard it was to give you up Michael? Giving you up was the hardest thing I've ever had to do. The sights I've seen when I was away was nothing to not seeing Alex's hyour face, Michael.

Michael: Stay? -Michael found himself begging Alex, praying he wouldn’t just walk again leave him in pieces.- I won’t tell anyone if that’s what you need but please stay? -So scared Alex would run but he had to try.-

Alex: Alex cupped his face with his hands. - I'm here right now. I'm not going anyway. You know I'm tired of walking away from you. I've been away from the one my hearts belongs to for too long. can this just be us? It's just I need time. To work everything out Michael. I promise I won't keep us a secret forever. When the time is right I will shout from the hills and let everyone know that I love you.

Michael: -It hurt but Michael nodded. Part of Alex was better than nothing. He pulled him into his arms and held him tight.- Take all the time you need.

Alex: He pressed his body close to his. Now, this was a perfect home for him. But he needed to act as the perfect soldier. ”Thank you, Michael, for understanding. He leaned into kissing him.

Michael: -Alex still had a hold on his heart and that’s just how it was. He kissed him back, starved for him.-

Alex: - his heart was racing against his kiss. Oh boy, I’ve missed these lips of his. He wanted him badly. Kissing him intensely. Moving him closer to his bed. -

Michael: -Michael let Alex take the lead and moved with him. Legs back against the bed he caught the edge of Alex’s shirt and pulled it up.-

Alex: -Pushing him down onto his bed. Pulling my shirt over my head. Throwing it away. Laying on top of him kissing him caress his chest. - I need you, Michael.

Michael: -Blown away Michael watched, he kissed him with an intensity. Hands roamed his body head reeling that this was actually happening.-

Alex: -Alex parted his lips from his, inhales his scent. He tugged on his boxers breathing heavily before pulling down on his boxers. With a little smirk against his lips, he started to stroke him moving his hand back and forth. he feels so good -

Michael: -Michael groaned, Manes was killing him. He arched off the bed as Alexs fingers sent him climbing.-

Alex: -Alex smiled looking at Michael. listen to his sounds. He continue to tease him very slowly with long strokes. He wanted Michael to enjoy every second. -

Michael: -He reaches for Alex.- Get up here and ride me Manes, I’ve missed you so damn much.

Alex: -Alex couldn't stop the smile on the corner of his lips. ”Michael close your eyes for me”. He stood to strip off his bottom half - Michael you don't know how much I want us.

Michael: Why do you want me to close my eyes? -He closed them anyway because Alex got what he wanted.-

Alex: There no other way to explain Michael. I'm not complete I have an injury. I don't want you to get scared. -Alex climb on top of him. -

Michael: -Michael’s eyes fluttered open and his hands grip his hips. He sits up buried inside Alex. Eyes fall onto the prosthetic. His heart clenches not because it bothers him but because Alex was hurt. Hand cups Alexs cheek and held him gently.- I love you, nothing is going to scare me away from you.

Alex: -Alex closed his own eyes for a second. His harden cock entering my hole. He groans. moving his hips slowly rocking back and forth on him. - ”good Michael I may have one change but I am still the same man. That loves your sexy ass. -Kissing him-

Michael: -Michael watched in awe to his handsome guy. Lips slanted over his and he kissed him deeply. Caught up in the moment letting Alex control the pace. He was just happy to have him close.-

Alex: - Alex pushes him back onto his back holding onto his chest for balance. Speeding up the pace. He moans against him. -

Michael: -Hits the pillow and watches his former lover ride him. He’d dreamt of this day for so long he just prayed he could keep him from running again. The tension building quickly. Panting.- Alex... you’ll cause me to cum to fast.. -Reaching for Alex’s cock he strokes him.-

Alex: -Alex has wanted this day to happen forever. No way he was letting him go now. I love this man with all my heart. He is the only man for me. -”Michael please cum for me, baby. -his eyes locked with his lover's eyes. Alex moved slamming hard on him. ”Ahh” His cock was deep in me Feeling him hit my prostate each time. His hand working me my cock.cries out.

Michael: -Michael came, he couldn’t help himself. Alex felt to good. He rolled them and kissed Alex through the orgasm.-

Alex: Alex kissing him passionately feeling his load hitting my inside. Still grinding him. ”Oh, baby.”

Michael: -Michael’s touch was tender, loving as he kissed Alex riding it out. He was in shock this was really happening.-

Alex: -Alex was panting hard. Fuck I missed this guy. his touch sends me in a spiral. How can I love a man so much? deepen their kiss. -

Michael: -Michael’s whole body tensed and he stroked Alex faster as he came inside him.- Alex!!

Alex: Alex's eyes were closed. He had dreamed of this day being with Michael since he was seventeen. He never wanted this to end. Michael's touch was like heaven. He moans.

Michael: -Once Michael calmed down he pulled out and took Alexs cock in his mouth sucking his cock.-

Alex: -He was practically French kissing my head and playing with the tip of my foreskin using his hot lips and tongue. His hot breather coating my cock. It feels amazing - oh baby

Michael: -Hollowed cheeks, the taste of Manes in his mouth was like heaven. Fingers teased and fondled his sac wanting to get him off.-

Alex- His tongue swirling around my tip. His constant teasing was sending me to overdrive. Keeping my eyes on his eyes. Thrusting a few times in his mouth. Starting to panted ”I'm going to cum Guerin.

Michael: -Michael looked up at him his curls around his face as he sucked to please Alex. He was more than happy to do it.-

Alex: -Take a hold on his curls hair in my hands. My cock is throbbing. Redraw. feeling the pleasure come in waves my spine curls. breathing haphazardly until I just exploding my load deep into his mouth. - milk me, Guerin FUCK

Michael: -Michael obliged, swallowing him back tasting the salty cum as he sucked to get every drop.-

Alex: Riding out the last of my orgasm deep in his mouth. My whole body felt electric running through it. He swallowed it all and licked me clean.

Michael: -Michael pulled off and laid beside him, arm around him.- You know how to make an entrance.

Alex: Falling down onto his bed laying my head on his chest. Kissing his chest. Before smiling up to him. ”Well, I didn't think we were having us for breakfast Guerin.”

Michael: -Short laugh.- Yeah I guess you’re right.

Alex: He grins- well I'm not wrong. You know I'm glad I came over to see you.

Michael: Me too. You’ll come back right?

Alex: Yeah, I'm here I have plans to leave Roswell for the time being. I need to try and work things out with my father Michael. He clenches talking about his father.

Michael: Good luck with that. You’re father doesn’t seem like he’s gonna soften over years. Just be careful I don’t want to see you hurt.

Alex: Thank you. But I need to stand up to him. I can't be living in fear any longer Michael. He might have chased me away all these years it's time for me to stop running.

Michael: -Worry was clear on his face, Jesse Manes wasn't someone you fucked with and walked away from. He knew that for a fact.- You know I'll always back you but he if get physical towards you -shaking his head, lips pursed together- I can't promise I'm not going to step in.

Alex: [alex had mixed emotions in his stomach over Michael's words he knew he was trying to protect him but he didn’t want him to be hurt by my own father again] Thank you, Michael. You know that this is my fight with my father. I can't have you ever getting hurt by him ever again.

Michael: He can’t hurt me anymore. -Michael hadn’t told Alex everything but he wanted to.-

Alex: [Alex raised an eyebrow at his lover] ”what do you mean Michael he can't hurt you anymore? he can hurt anyone that stands in his way?”

Michael: There are things you need to know... But it's something I will have to show you as well. Get dressed. -Michael pulled away and got up dressing.-

Alex: Okay. Is everything okay? what is all the mystery [Alex follows him out of bed to start to get dressed]

Michael: I'll show you, just need you dressed and outside. -Michael pulls his shirt on then his boots and heads for the door.-

Alex: [Alex listens to his every word while putting his jeans and shirt on quickly. Pulling on his boots. Following him out the door] where are we going?

Michael: Just stand back. -Michael raises his hand and just visualizes the trailer moving back and it does uncovering a hatch leading underground. Walking over he uses his mind to unlock and open it. Looking back at Alex he held out his hand to him hoping he wouldn't be terrified.-

Alex: Alex just watches Michael. He first thought this was some kind of magic trick. Watching him moving his trailer without touching it. He ”Michael, how did you manage to move your trailer and unlock this hatch.?” Alex took his hand. ”What is down there?”

Michael: The only things I have life of who I really am. He helps Alex and goes down first switching on the lights. It was seat up like a lab. Tables, equipment and like scattered around. On the middle table however laid an almost translucent object that shimmered a rainbow of colors.- So my big secret is I’m an alien. It’s how I moved the stuff with my mind. And this -Tochibg the piece of wreckage is what I could find of the ship...

Alex: [Alex looks around when he got down the stairs. Trying to take everything in.] wait, you are what? [my lover is like a little green man from another world]Has this place been here the full time? [alex walks over to take a closer look to at wreakage]

Michael: I know this all sounds crazy but it’s true and yeah it’s been here. You can’t tell anyone Alex. If people found out they’d take Isobel ,

@OfAlienDNA

and I to some lab and dissect us.

Alex: [dump founded with this news] Hold on a second the three of you are aliens? You've had the secret all this time. I won't say a word but can't I have a minute to take this all in please Michael”

Michael: Of course... -Michael looks at Alex worried but so much more relieved that he told him. Keeping secrets is never a good thing.-

Alex: [ Alex rubs his forehead taking everything in.] you know I won't tell a soul about You, max, or Isobel. Thank you for trusting me with all of this. Can I tell you something, Michael? I won't even let on to max and Isobel that I know.

Michael: -Michael’s relief was profound. He went over to Alex and took his hands in his.- This is why I love you.

Alex: -Alex locked his fingers between his- you know you are safe with me.

Michael: -Michael smiled and cupped his cheek caressing.- Same.

Alex: [he smiles softly ] please talk to me. Tell me truth Michael, do you know how you got here baby?

Michael: I am telling you the truth. I don’t remember anything except the day we were found wandering. I have flas backs sometimes but nothing solid.

Alex: [cupping his cheek caress it] how do you mean wandering baby? Flashbacks are those scary?

Michael: When... the night they found Isobel, Max and myself. Sometimes. Depends what’s it’s about. It’s weird, I feel like I was chained up. I dunno if it’s even real or it’s nightmares.

Alex: [alex had a sinking feeling in his stomach listing to him.] Baby, please tell me no one has ever hurt you, max or Isobel?

Michael: I don’t know. -He honestly couldn’t remember before they’d been found and the nightmares were fleeting. He’d never tell Alex about the evil he’d endured on this planet though and there had been plenty. It had left him with profound sadness and the overwhelming desire to put this planet in the rear view.-

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