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eat-limes-bitches · 7 months

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Attitude Adjustment

PAIRING: Female! Chiropractor! Reader x Avenger!Bucky Barnes

SUMMARY: Pain affects everyone. Even 106-year-old assassins

WARNINGS: Smidge of Angst, mostly Fluff. Grumpy! Bucky. Some of Bucky's negative self-image but very little. Talks of chiropractic adjustment so cracking joints but nothing too bad. Sam's a little shit. Probably poorly written but oh well.

Word Count: 1006

A/N: Hey guys! I know the last two posts have been really heart-wrenching so here is something a little light-hearted to counteract what I'm gonna be posting next. I am going to be starting chiropractic school in the fall and I know that it has really helped me with some chronic pain stuff that I have going on even with my crazy high pain tolerance so thought Bucky could use some adjustments too!

Enjoy! <3

Dividers by Rookthorne

Y/n watched Bucky from across the gym, analyzing his movements as he tried to continue his set. There was a slight dip in his step as he walked over to the weight plates and a subtle clench of his jaw as he lifted the plate onto the bar. Maybe he’s just sore, she mused as she returned to her stretches. The room around her was slowly disappearing when there was a loud bang and a shout. She jumped, eyes flying open as she shot her gaze across the room where Bucky held his ribs under his left arm while Sam laughed.

“What’s wrong, tin man? Age finally catching up to you?” Bucky shot a nasty glare at the man,

“You won’t be laughing when I drown you in the creek,” Bucky growled as he took a threatening step toward Sam.

“Woah, woah, woah!” Sam placated as he took a step backward. “I was just messin’ with ya man!” Bucky just glared at him again and knocked his metallic shoulder against Sam’s as he stormed off towards the exit. Sam made eye contact with Y/n, shrugging his shoulders and motioning towards the door as if he were saying, ‘Get a load of that guy’. Y/n shook her head and made a mental note to check on him later.

Sometime later after Y/n had finished her workout, she ventured to Bucky’s room, pausing just outside the door. Steadying herself with a breath, she gently rapped on the door. There was a deep groan from the other side of the door, and before Y/n was able to make some space between her and the door, it flew open, revealing a rather disgruntled Bucky, eyes narrowing as he took in her form.

“What.” He grunts out glare unwavering from her smaller form in the doorway. Y/n steadied herself with a reminder that he was in pain and to not let it get to her. She instead matched his gaze.

“You’re in pain.” She stated cooly observing his reaction as he shifted weight off of his left leg, rolling his eyes.

“Right, ‘cause you can tell from across a room.” He scoffed. Y/n let out an indignant huff as she looked him up and down.

“You’re favoring the left side of your body, and anyone can see that. Your hips are crooked from compensating the extra weight on the left side of your body. You have a slight limp which is throwing your body further out of alignment, and since Steve pinned you during training on Tuesday, you’ve been protecting your left ribcage which was then further aggravated from your bench pressing today.”

Bucky stared at her, eyes wide. “H-how do you know all that?” Y/n’s gaze softened as she gave him a gentle smile.

“Buck, I’m a chiropractor, I’m trained to see these things. I can help you feel better if you’d like.” She noticed the hesitance in his eyes as he thought about her offer.

“You know you are allowed help right?” She whispered, placing a hand on his arm.

Bucky searched her eyes for a moment, waiting for the other shoe to drop, for her to pull away and just laugh, tell him it was all a joke, and walk away but it never came, she just stood there, hand spreading warmth through his arm, smile sending butterflies straight to his stomach. Letting out a breath, he nodded, letting Y/n take his hand and lead him to her office.

The room was bright, the afternoon sun coming in through the window painted everything in a golden glow. Y/n motioned to the table in the middle of the room.

“Here, lay face down for me.” She said gently, patting the table. Bucky did as he was told, and melted into the comfortable cushion as Y/n danced her fingers up and down his spine. She paused at the very base of his neck moved her fingers towards his shoulder and gently pressed down. Bucky yelped slightly and jerked away from her touch.

“I’m sorry Buck, I won’t do it again but that just confirmed my suspicion,” Y/n murmured as she walked around the table, placing the heel of her palms on his upper back.

“Yeah, and what's that?” Bucky grumbled, starting to regret his decision.

Y/n gave a sharp thrust, and a satisfying pop rang out through the room, startling Bucky. “Your first rib was out of place.” Bucky pushed himself up to look at Y/n wide-eyed.

“My first rib is out of place!” She just smiled.

“Was. I put it back. That's what that sound was.”

This went on for a few more minutes. Y/n would palpate different parts of his body, there would be a pop, and Bucky make some sort of surprised noise. Eventually, Y/n made the last adjustment and helped Bucky sit up before taking a seat next to him.

“How do you feel?”

Bucky rolled his shoulders before stretching both of his arms above his head. His eyes widened as he snapped his head to meet Y/n’s gaze. Shock was written all over his features as he stood up and wasn’t greeted with the sharp sting that he had grown accustomed to in his lower back.

“Wow, that-that’s amazing!” He sent a heart-stopping grin in Y/n’s direction.

“Thank you, Y/n I feel much better.” He said sincerely, taking Y/n’s hand in his as thanked her. Y/n blushed.

“Of course Bucky. Anytime.”

The pair wandered into the main living room where everyone was gathered. Bucky gave Y/n’s hand one last squeeze before strolling over to Steve and putting him in a headlock, laughing and carrying on. Y/n smiled as she watched them when Sam wandered over.

“What did you do to him?” He asked. Y/n just smiled, not taking her eyes off of Bucky, who was now arm-wrestling Tony who was using his suit.

“Nothing really just gave him an attitude adjustment.”

#bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes x female reader #bucky x reader #bucky x you #bucky barnes #bucky fluff #bucky x female reader #bucky barnes x you #bucky barnes x chiropractor reader #bucky x chiropractor reader

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thoughtsfromlayla · 4 months

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26 Ways of Taking You: F for Face Sitting

Summary: You've waited for 106 years for an apology. So an apology you shall receive.

Notes: ~1.4k words, not edited or beta read lol, we are raw doggin it

Warnings/Tags: MDNI - 18+, face sitting/queening, Sub!Dream, reincarnated reader, unexpected orgasm, strip teasing is you squint really hard, written at 4am do not come for me at grammar mistakes

Main Masterlist | Series Masterlist

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In the rubles of an abandoned kingdom, you have long since accepted your solitude. 106 years of solitude is something no person, mortal or not, should go through. And though, yes, you were mortal, each lifetime you have reincarnated you have always sought out Dream of the Endless as your lover.

When you came to be in your previous lifetime, you did not know that he would be captured and that you would die alone and cold in your bed. Here you are now, walking amongst the broken pillars and cracked shards of glass once more. The Dreaming is more broken since the last time you visited some decades ago.

The once shared bed that you lay in brings little comfort to you. Its satin sheets have grown rough, the pillows flat, and even as you bundle yourself within the blanket, the familiar smell of him has faded. Soon enough, even that will be gone and you will have nothing left to remember him by.

You felt his presence before you saw him. It was like a pulse that rippled through the realm, a pulse that guaranteed the return of its king, a promise of rebirth. But, after being disappointed for so long, you stay put; waiting patiently for him within his castle walls. If Dream really has returned, then a few more minutes won’t change anything.

Melancholy turns to anger as you remember the day he was captured was the same day he left you waiting at the lover’s table. The waitress had come by several times to ask if your dining partner was going to come and every hour you insisted he would.

Dream never did show himself, for reasons unknown to you at that time, and you drown your sorrows in the sparkling champagne they offered. You didn’t bother eating dinner and left embarrassed, hiding your face from the pitied faces of the other diners around you.

Much to your surprise, he does show himself to you. He looked tired, skinner, and almost broken. When your eyes connected, it took him a few moments to read your soul. To know who you truly are in this new reincarnation. He came to you like a moth to a flame, his relief evident on his face as he slumped into your arms.

If only you were in a better mood.

“How dare you leave me!” You pushed him away and smacked his chest. “You embarrassed me! You forgot about me! You let me die alone!” Each statement was met with another smack to the chest. You were positively fuming, brows furrowed.

“Forgive me for missing our last date,” He muttered and slumped back into your neck.

“You should be sorry.” You sounded mad, but you were relieved that he finally came back home.

You hold Dream’s head in your hands, and even when the situation doesn’t call for it, the way he looked at you with a downturn lip and pleading eyes sends signals straight to your cunt. It has been several years since you’ve last laid with him.

“You should make it up for me, then I’ll accept your apology,” You stated with a smug look on your face.

Dream only nodded as he let you lead you to the bed. You push him back until he is watching you on his elbows. After you back away from the bed did you begin to shimmy yourself out of your clothes. Morpheus watches intently as your fingers ghost across your waist, giving him a glimpse of your stomach.

He swallowed as you discarded your top, the bralette does little to hide your figure. Your hands move down your curves and his eyes follow when your fingers trace the top of your pants. You walked to him and he sat up slowly, looking up at you with a plea.

“Do you deserve this?” You asked as his hands cover yours over the rim of your pants. His finger traced across your knuckles as he memorized your body once again.

Morpheus only nodded and with a satisfied smile you guided his hands to the button that keeps you from him. His fingers are cold against your skin, the gentle carasses tickling the sensitive skin the further he goes. The button pops open easily as his dexterous fingers opens the seams of your jeans

You allowed him to be impatient, to take your underwear off with your pants. When you’re bare to him in nothing but your bralette, you push him down once more.

With a slow and deliberate motion, you crawl over him, resting yourself high on his chest. Dream’s hands roam across the softness of your thighs, running his fingers down the expense of your legs. You stay there a moment, basking in his presence and the way his chest rises and falls with his vitality.

“Please,” He begged, wetting his dry lips with his tongue. Your eyes dilate as you watch the wet muscle cross over his lips.

Your wetness was seeping through the fabric of his shirt and he was, quite literally, starved. Starved for food perhaps not, but for you and your taste alone? Yes.

“Okay,” You whispered. “Lay down for me, my love.” You guided him again with a gentle hand.

He does as he is told and waits like a good boy as you settle yourself above him. You feel the heat of his breath on your most sensitive areas and when you look down at him you see him already staring at you.

Morpheus licks his lips again and when you still don’t sit down on him, his impatience gets the better of him. He turns his head and sinks his teeth into the plushness of your thigh. Your hands shoot for the headboard to steady yourself as he sucks a blooming hickey where his lips part.

He’s staring at you again, his eyebrows furrowed as you have yet to sit down on him. Dream’s hands keep your hips in place as he goes to your thighs once more, dragging his tongue in a long line until his head is almost off the bed.

“Holy shit,” You gasped as the wetness of his tongue grazed over your pussy lips. Your breath grows uneven as heat pools between your thighs.

“You are trembling,” He hummed in content, nosing your other thigh for attention. His cock was tented and growing uncomfortable in his pants and he shifts to gain any traction for himself.

“Oh, shut up,” You groaned, finally lowering yourself onto his face.

Dream moaned as your entire being invaded his senses. In scent he adores you, in touch he connects to you, in taste he worships you, in sight he ravishes you, and in sound he hears the whispers of his name like a prayer falling from your lips.

Morpheus’ tongue shoots out, licking the length of you. He circle’s your clit slowly and your hips jerk in place as his hands keep you steady. Your other hands run through the strands of his unruly hair and you grab at the base, steering him to where you need him most.

Dream lets you take control, he will have his time, but for now it’s about apologizing. He tastes you deeply, pushing his tongue into your weeping cunt. The Endless’ eyes rolling to the back of his head as he feels you tighten around his tongue and your nails dig into his scalp.

You’re a whimpering mess above him, grinding your hips down and in a corner of your mind, you’re glad to have an immortal lover. If not, you fear you might have broken his neck.

But there’s no room for thoughts like that. Not when he’s back at your clit again, using the flat of his tongue to pleasure your bundle of nerves. He gulps down your arousal, tasting you in the back of his throat like honey.

His nails raked along the length of your legs, leaving rising claw-like marks on the soft skin. Dream does his best to taste you, all of you, but some of your arousal drips down the sides of his chin. He groans as his nose bumps against your clit and you jump at the sensation.

Your thighs tremble, your fingers tingle and your moans grow higher in pitch as your orgasm comes to you unexpectedly. You see the stars of the Dreaming dance across your eyelids and Morpheus helps you ride out your orgasm, his name singing from your lips.

When you’re done and nothing but a panting mess and a slump of flesh and bone does his stop. His hands are still on you, rubbing the indent on your hips in soothing circles.

“Forgiven?” He asks, looking at you with the rare smile that could make flowers bloom.

“Forgiven,” You sigh happily.

Previous || Next

Main Masterlist || Series Masterlist

Here you go you thirsty people

♡ Yours, Layla6

#the sandman #dream of the endless #morpheus #morpheus x reader #the sandman fanfic #dream x reader #dream of the endless x reader #the sandman x reader #morpheus x reader smut #sandman x reader #the sandman x reader smut #dream x reader smut #dream of the endless smut #dream of the endless x reader smut #dream of the endless imagine #26 ways of taking you

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atimeofyourlife · 1 year

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It's a boy!

written for @steddiemicrofic prompt: cake wc: 311 | rated: t | cw: none | tags: trans Steve Harrington this sat at 205 words for most of the month, finding that extra 106 was so hard!

After his first attempt at baking had nearly destroyed the trailer’s kitchen, Eddie had roped in Robin for help. Who in turn called in Dustin, who had then insisted that his mom would be the best person to help out.

So the three of them were crowded into the Henderson’s kitchen, with Claudia teaching them how to bake a cake. All she’d needed to hear was “It’s for Steve,” before she was agreeing to anything they asked.

As he watched Claudia work her magic, he found it harder and harder to understand how, exactly, he’d managed to mess up a basic box mix so badly, when she made it look so easy.

Eddie came up with the idea when Steve had told them that he was, well, Steve. Eddie wanted to celebrate Steve feeling comfortable and brave enough to tell them that he wasn’t the girl they thought they knew. Especially as everyone knew his parents weren’t the type to celebrate Steve the way he deserved.

Once the cake was finished and decorated, Eddie jumped into action to get everyone over, to surprise Steve. All the kids, Nancy and Jonathan, Hopper and Mrs Byers, even Sue and Charles Sinclair. Everyone who loved Steve crowding into the Henderson's living room, waiting for Steve to get off work. Dustin took the task of getting Steve to come over, calling him at work and making an excuse of something he needed Steve's help with.

"What's going on?" Steve asked, confused when he walked in. When Dustin had called him, he wasn't expecting anyone else to be there.

"We just wanted to celebrate you. Surprise, baby." Eddie replied, kissing Steve softly before dragging him to the table to see the cake. "For you, sweetheart."

Steve took in the cake, then started laughing as he read the words piped on in blue icing.

‘It’s a Boy!’

#steve harrington #eddie munson #steddie #steve harrington x eddie munson #steddie fic #steve x eddie #trans steve harrington #transmasc steve harrington #steddiemicrofic #steddiemicroficaugust #atimeofyourwrites

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linkspooky · 2 years

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Bungou Stray Dogs, Chapter 106 Thoughts

Aya’s backstory is incredibly interesting, especially considering her connection to Kunikida. Kunikida is another character obsessed with perfection, both in himself and others.

There’s even a running joke in the manga that Kunikida has the perfect woman he’s planning on marrying in the future written down in his journal. Kunikida’s determination to strive towards his ideals is his greatest strength, and his obsession with perfection his greatest downfall. His perfectionist tendencies hurt Kunikida the same way that Aya’s father comparing her to her perfect big sister and mother hurt Aya.

Kunikida lives in pursuit of his ideals, and sometimes his efforts to save other people and act like the ideals written down in his journal succeeds. In Aya’s introductory story, Kunikida makes a heroic sacrifice when he can’t live up to his ideals and Save Aya and it works out for him. He manages to save her by putting his life on the line. However, in the next story that Kunikida is feature in, he ends up failing.

When his ideal is broken, Kunikida is not able to keep on fighting with strength and determination. He completely breaks down in the face of the cruelty of the world. Watching a child die in front of him makes him want to give up everything. He doesn’t even want to keep trying, because it means he might fail again.

Ironically Dostoesvky kidnaps the same man Kunikida stopped during the train bombings in order to have him witness Kunikida’s idealism break. THe man tells Dostoevsky his pal won’t work, and Kunikida will save everyone that day without his spirit breaking just like he did that down... only to be proven wrong.

Even when Kunikida gets the resolve to keep trying to save others after letting that child die, things only get worse for him from there. Kunikida only managed to save himself and Aya because his comrades were there that day and Akiko Yosana was there to heal bot him and Aya. Kunkida is separated from his comrades for the next narrative challenge, and when he has to fight alone he fails again to prove his ideals against against Jono.

Kunikida’s grand heroic sacrifice to try to prove the strength of his ideals to Jouno once again blows up in his face (quite literally) and he’s left even more helpless than he was before. When he ends up in a hospital bed without the use of his hands, Jono’s not impressed and his mind hasn’t changed, he’s actively mocking him.

The manga itself seems to criticize more than support Kunikida’s idealism, especially since it crosses into zealotry several times. Like, in all three of these scenarios Kunikida was quite literally willing to die and threw himself into a near death situation by jumping on an explosion and it didn’t work out for him. Kunikida’s pursuit of his ideals is literally self destructive. It’s throwing himself on the grenade to stop the explosion. It’s a running theme in the manga as well. Akiko suffers from it in her backstory, her powers that can save people from near death are abused until the people she abuses go insane and one man to commit suicide leaving a note “You are too ‘Correct.’”

The same way her father abused Aya by comparing her to two dead people. The same way that Nathaniel Hawthorne is heroically sacrificing himself for the name of his love Margaret Mitchell only ends up with him being brainwashed. NIkolai wanted to die for the sake of his ideal of freedom, and then decided he wanted to kill Dostoevsky to see if his friendship with him was a result of his free will or not. The pursuit of a perfect ideal of love or justice is only destructive in the end. This theme was touched upon in Kunikida’s light novel story as well. Kunikida encounters the wife of an idealist like himself turned terrorist, who dies for the sake of an ideal just like her husband.

Which brings us back to Aya’s internal monologue, “There ain’t no way to be more perfect than dead people.” Aya is characterized as a normal person that people like Fukuchi would ignore beacuse they only see the world in the terms of their high and mighty ideals. Aya’s father ignores her own efforts to become good at martial arts and her ideals about justice because he’s too busy comparing her to the perfection of her older sister and mother. Kunikida is also a character who is ignoring who he does save because he can only look at the people he’s failed to save.

If the message of the manga is that “Perfection=Death” then the goal should be to try to live in a world that’s not perfect instead of aspiring for perfection. However, Kunikida is not doing that currently, he’s trying to throw himself on the grenade. Which is why the connection between Aya and Kunikida is so important because Aya they both share this incredibly unhealthy expectation to be “perfect” that only hurts them in the end.

#kunikida doppo #aya koda #bsd meta #bsd 106 #bsd 106 spoilers #bungou stray dogs 106 #bungou stray dogs 106 spoilers #bungou stray dogs meta #bungou stray dogs theory

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arthuluart · 1 month

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Hiii - wanted to say first thing first I love your art style, it's so dynamic and fun and those color palettes? Stunning ^^

And second thing second, just some food for thought if you ever want to get angsty about Jerry and Dean, coffee by Chappell Roan sounds like it was written about their break up specifically and I can't stop thinking abt it dndnden

*Cue me losing my mind*

Hiii- they say flattery gets you everywhere and turns out with me, it gets you animatics- jkjk but I do appreciate the kind comments ^^

I’ll put up the animatic separately and take the opportunity to leave the preamble here to keep the video post neat bc until someone tells me to shut up and just post art- I’m gonna ramble… So here’s the commentary you didn’t ask for along with my favourite panels:

First off- You turned me into a big time Chappell Roan listener which is great bc I need music recs to fix my listening habits before Spotify wrapped drops. My roundup last year was shameful… Red Wine Supernova is my new dish washing song.

Even tho it’s not the song’s vibe I kept the content as silly as I could for my own sanity. I don’t love getting too deep into the serious/sad side of M+L for a few reasons but I do find it all very interesting. Point being this song was too good to pass up doing something a bit bigger for.

Ngl tho- this did have me pulling out hair at multiple points. I never colour animatics, rarely even tone them- but you mentioned colour palettes and I was determined to deliver so pardon the messy colouring but (that was the tradeoff) I did not have it in me to stay in the lines. I’m choosing to be kind to myself and opt to call it an artistic choice and not midway burnout. And nothing was gonna get me to open after effects/premiere not even the janky ass golf ball OML this only makes sense if u watch the video.

There are parts of this I’m SO happy with and others I hate. I think it’s really obvious which sections I started losing steam on but overall I lowkey like the end product. Nothing I make will ever be good/perfect- this was one hell of a practice in accepting that lmao- but I can still be ok with the work problems and all yknow? I very nearly shelved this completely bc I got so worked up about the maybe 5 panels I dislike out of 106 total. Counting them was eye opening to ask myself: you’re gonna let that small a ratio stop you from sharing this after putting in days and days of effort? The insecurity goes deep and TBH getting asks has been a nice way of working through it since I post the art I make for answers no matter what only bc I KNOW someone out there wants to see it. It might not sound it but it’s actually quite positive.

Also, although I feel I’ve done my fair share of reading, I’m no expert. So if anything is really off point- sorry my bad (I won’t fix it tho bc I cannot physically stand to look at this another second lol)

I tried to stick to real things found in articles/books/photos/interviews etc bc outside of obviously fictional AUs I’m not super into making stuff up about them (and who needs to I mean the legit stuff is already insane enough) Sure I framed the events in specific ways to suit the song and some aspects are fictionalized (mainly bc the referenced written accounts lacked detail to draw 100% faithfully from anyhow) but otherwise I got my sources cited.

ANYWAYS… sorry for hijacking this answer I need to learn to chill out. Irl I’m a pretty reserved talker so you can tell I’m in a comfy place when I let loose and blather on endlessly lmao brevity is not a skill I possess.

You were probably expecting illustrations or smth but I hope what I came up with is still somewhat alright AND please don’t let my complaining fool you, I genuinely loved making this.

One FINAL Relevant Note: the line “nowhere else is safe every place leads back to your place” is gut wrenching. You’re so right about this song perfectly describing the break up. They always came back to each other and there’s something so devastating about that kind of haunting human connection.

OkAY I’m done promise- I thought I’d implode if I didn’t get all that out

#martin and lewis #ask

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bucky-h0e · 7 months

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Warnings: Bucky and Alpine being cute, a lot of song lyrics written out, Bucky being forced to deal with Alpine's dramatics, Alpine gets in her feels, Alpine can sing, Bucky having headaches, mentions of Bucky dancing

Serendipity Masterlist

Alpine 'introducing' Bucky to music (AKA. Alpine Aggressively Breaking Out Into Song)

Alpine is little ball of sunshine and the type of person who uses music to reflect her mood

she has a little collection of speakers that she uses, each with their different strength

bucky normally hears it before he gets out the lift to their floor

its nice

it gives him a clue as to how Alpine's day was

and it's a regular thing to expect

if bucky had one complaint

just one

it would be that Alpine HAS to sing the songs

she wasn't a bad singer

no she was pretty good to be honest

it was that it was always so aggressive

it could be a love song and she's staring him down aggressively singing her feelings towards him

she's emotionally constipated in that department so it's the only time she actually has the guts to do it

the first instance of her aggressive love was a few days after they'd officially met

bucky was still going to therapy at this stage and to be honest he fucking needed it after this incident

he had just been watching tv in his bare ass apartment, sat on the floor when he heard the undeniable thump thump of one of Alpine's speakers coming through the door

Alpine ever the respectful young adult came barging in, a small portable speaker in her hand, oversized clothing and messy ass hair

she's obviously having a grand time, singing her songs and Bucky had stood up so quickly by now

she had warned him that now they were 'friends', she'd be barging in on him

to which he replied

"I will kill you."

and she simply said

"Bet"

now he hadn't actually done anything, only been ready to defend himself

every time it happened, he was worried he's on day actually hurt her

this girl fucking laughs whenever he gets in a defensive stance and claimed its 'exposure therapy' - bullshit he'd checked with his therapist but she was no help because she just teased him about having a soft spot for the youth

Alpine had been cleaning her place, when 'Unwritten' by Natasha Bedingfield came blaring through her speakers

she listened to the full song first, happily singing and cleaning when she wondered how Bucky would react to the happy tune

this man is so grumpy and hates life and people - he needs to feel the rain on his skin (pun definitely intended)

so rather than politely recommend the song

Alpine will force this poor man to listen to her song recommendations

"Staring-"

"Alpine what the fuck?!"

"-AT THE BLANK PAGE BEFORE YOU, OPEN UP THE DIRTY WINDOW, LET SUN ILLUMINATE THE WORDS THAT YOU CANNOT FIND REACHING-"

ya'll remember the video of the kid in the car?

yeah, that Alpine in this moment

Bucky's bare ass apartment means that she can have a little dance around whilst she (very beautifully in her opinion) serenades this 106 year old grouch

"-FEEL THE RAIN ON YOUR SKIN-"

she's started his tap, put her hand under the water and started flicking it at him

(if it had been raining she would have forced his head out the window lets be honest)

"-NO ONE ELSE CAN FEEL IT FOR YOU, ONLY YOU CAN LET IT IN. NO ONE ELSE, NO ELSE CAN SPEAK THE WORDS ON YOUR LIPS-"

dramatic head turns and aggressive pointing at the very confused man

honestly, he's watching this little show thinking that if HYDRA had forced him to watch this he probably would have just behaved himself so that he didn't have to see it ever again

"are you done?"

"NO!"

replays the song until bucky has a noise complaint from their downstairs neighbours

Alpine has to buy dinner as an apology

Bucky defo tells Raynor in their next session

"She sounds like a nice kid, James."

"She's a psycho, Doc."

Alpine loves all songs, especially upbeat songs or songs that have a certain

spark

something that she can never forget or get out of her head if it randomly shuffles onto her playlist

case and point

Gwen Stefani's "The Sweet Escape".

Akon's 'woo-hoo, yee-hoo's?

yeah, she's screaming those

Bucky is terrified

one Halloween, Alpine and her friends decided to dress up as Bucky, Sam and Steve for their party

she's painted her left arm intricately to look like Bucky's using pictures she had of him

since it was hosted at Alpine's place, Sam and Bucky decided to pop over

Sam wanted to show Bucky what a party of a twenty year old looked like in the 21st century

man was traumatised

not by the loud music and LED flashing lights

the mess or the mass of bodies in barely there clothing

it was Alpine, dressed as him, singing this song

"IF I COULD ESCAPE!"

she is definitely drunk - so so so drunk

"AND RECREATE A PLACE AS MY OWN WORLD. AND I COULD BE YOUR FAVOURITE GIRL! PERFECTLY TOGETHER, AND TELL ME BOY NOW WOULDN'T THAT BE SWEET!"

her friend (dressed as Sam) was cheering her on as she stood on her coffee table, singing and swinging her hips to the song

Sam was laughing so fucking hard, he thought his lungs would actually collapse

"I KNOW I'VE BEEN A REAL BAD GIRL!"

Bucky could die

he would love to die right now

especially with Sam asking him if he'd been a bad girl

if the ground swallowed him up right now

he would be happy

Sam decides that he too could die after Alpine's friend joins her on the table, hand on her hip as they start shouting those god damn woo hoo's

it was on this day that Bucky decided that he wasn't particularly fond of this song

But Sam has already made it his ringtone and has a picture of a drunk, smiling Alpine dressed in this Halloween costume hugging a less than impressed but soft Bucky set as his profile picture.

the song came on again later in the night after the party had ended, leaving the trio and Alpine had convinced Sam to sing it with her

they gave Bucky a concert which he loved (despised)

he is still heavily traumatised from seeing a female version of himself screaming these lyrics

used it as blackmail against Sam

"One wrong move and I show the world that Captain America has been a real bad girl."

now Alpine adores upbeat, songs that she can sing and dance to

she will dance in the street quite happily (she's got the scary guard dog privilege that is Bucky Barnes)

but if theres one thing that would drive her

f e r a l

it's the opportunity to be dramatic

she could be having a great day

her relationships are going great

she got a promotion

she's making bank

it doesn't matter how good the day is going

when certain songs come on

suddenly she's just come home from a war that she's barely made it out alive from

her boyfriend of 5 years has cheated on her and she's been kicked out of her apartment

this girl sings the heartbreak like it's actually happening

These are the times that Bucky is actually worried that he's befriended a psychopath

it'll be a normal day, Bucky would be coming back from morning run

he'd introduced it just to get some sort of routine in his day

catching his breath, he'd do a little knock on Alpine's door before turning to unlock his own door

they'd started knocking to let the other know if they were leaving or if they were back from a place

they can't really place when they started it - but it made them both relax knowing that the other got home safely

Alpine, ever the nosey neighbour, opens the door

headphones on, shouting right at the poor man

"WE COULD HAVE HAD IT AAALLLL!"

"wHAT THE HELL!"

"ROLLING IN THE DEEEEPPPP"

"Alpine seriously, one of these days my instincts are going to kick in before I can stop them and you will get smacked"

"YOU HAD MY HEART INSIDE OF YOUR HANDS"

"you're not even listening to me"

she's kneeling on the ground as if bucky had just betrayed her in battle

"AND YOU PLAYED IT, TO THE BEAT"

Bucky deadass leaves her there and closes the door on her, sick of her shit or the day

but he's laughing to himself when he hears her still singing her little heart out form her apartment

the neighbours are looking out their door wondering who let the young girl move in

she was normal before Barnes moved in

that's a lie, she was just anti-social

and she stole most of their coupons so no wonder her neighbours didn't talk to her

and god forbid she go through an actual break up

she's this annoying with imagined scenarios, imagine if someone actually cheated on her or broke up with her just out of the blue

she's lying on the floor, staring at the ceiling singing her feels until her friends have to call Bucky in because none of their tactics are working

this is the ONLY time Bucky will actually play any of her music

she is definitely a swiftie, i feel like she has a specific playlist just for her taylor moments

she tries to get Bucky into it but he likes 40s music

also tries to get Sam into it and it works

he's a secret swiftie and no one can tell me otherwise

most of the songs she pushes onto Bucky are Taylor Swift songs, they're the ones that get stuck in her head the most often

she also requests them when she's drunk so you can imagine Sam driving her and Bucky back to their hotel after a Wilson cookout

she definitely had a few too many, requesting Taylor Swift the whole way back

Bucky is shaking his head because he imagines this is what looking after an actual child is like

Sam relents, starts playing her playlist

Alpine is loving life, drunk in the back of the car, in her feels and little imaginary scenarios that surface whenever she listens to music

"I'M DRUNK IN THE BACK OF THE CAR AND I CRIED LIKE A BABY COMING HOME FROM THE BAR! SAID I'M FINE BUT THAT WASN'T TRUE, I DON'T WANNA KEEP SECRETS JUST TO KEEP YOU AND I SNUCK IN THROUGH THE GARDEN GATE, EVERY NIGHT THAT SUMMER JUST TO SEAL MY FATE"

"AND I SCREAM FOR WHAT EVER ITS WORTH I LOVE YOU AIN'T THAT THE WORST THING YOU EVER HEARD-"

Bucky has to physically take a breath, watching her in shock and amusement as she belts they lyrics out, drunk out of her mind

is definitely shocked when Sam also joins in

"-HE LOOKS UP GRINNING LIKE A DEVIL!"

he is definitely impressed in times like this

but it's also times like this where he gets headaches and songs stuck in his head because Alpine doesn't shut up when she's drunk

honestly, she's awful (more on that later)

but he like's this version more than any other version of drunk Alpine

her other songs of choice include a lot of suggestive songs

surprisingly, they've have had long drunken discussions about these songs

shes drunk

he's unfortunately sober, wishing he had some of that good asgardian alcohol

"So he's saying he could fuck 24/7, seven days a week, which is why I think he's actually a super soldier."

"There are only two super soldier's in the world kid, you're looking at one of them." And i'm not sharing any aspect of my sex life with you."

"yeah but if there were going to be another one he would definitely be an option."

"Yeah whatever kid, just go to sleep"

"besides, you don't have a sex life. you got no game with the ladies. fuckin nerd."

"rude."

"Sorry, you're right, even the nerdiest nerd has more game than you."

"I will suffocate you in your sleep"

"STEVE ROGERS HAD MORE GAME THAN YOU AND HE JUMPS OUT OF WINDOWS WITH A GLORIFIED DINNER PLATE"

what did he do to deserve this type of abuse

honestly

and god forbid if she goes through a break up

the next time she's being dramatic, her and Bucky are chilling in his place

she's doing some shopping on her laptop, headphones in humming to the songs

Bucky is watching TV, wondering what he should order for their dinner because he didn't want to cook and Alpine had cooked for them their other night

(domesticated little cuties)

it's a nice sense of peace for Bucky

it feels like home

especially when Alpine starts singing softly

he prefers these moments

as said before, Alpine isn't a bad singer, she's good

and Bucky finds her voice soothing

especially when she's singing the slower, heart warming songs that don't stress too much on her vocals

so when she started singing to the song playing through her head phones softly, he closed his eyes and just listened

she'd noticed, disconnected her headphones so he could hear the notes

"And I thank God everyday, for the girl he sent my way..."

Oddly, Bucky connects ot it

its a song about romance, but he things of his relationship with Alpine

what they had was a family bond and he'd do anything to protect it

most nights he found himself thanking his lucky starts for his little neighbour

"But i know the things he gives me.... he can take away..."

that was definitely something Bucky was worried about, something he dreaded would happen.

it was why he was so protective of her

"And I hold you everynight.... that's a feeling i wanna get used to... but there's no man as terrified as the man who stands to lose you..."

oh wow Bucky definitely relates to this song

it's nice

for once he understands the songs she's singing

and its a nice, calm, serene song

he's looking forward to the rest of it

Alpine has a little grin on her face, not that he can see it

"mmm... Please.... stay..."

her voice changes

"I want you, I need you, oh God"

it's slightly deeper and she sounds more troubled than before

"Don't take"

Bucky opens his eyes and glances at her

"THESE BEAUTIFUL THINGS THAT I'VE GOT"

she stands and starts mimicking the guitar aggressively, pointing to Bucky

"I WANT YOU I NEED YOU OH GOD. DON'T TAKE THESE BEAUTIFUL THINGS THATS IVE GOT!"

Bucky is grinning and laughing

it's the only time he's truly, truly enjoyed her dramatics, despite the screaming at him

Alpine is grinning at him, jumping up on his new couch next to him singing those high notes before falling to her knees next to him and grabbing his arm as she finished the song

he applauds her and she bows

yeah, he enjoys those moments

until she charges him for the private show

"$50!? it was one song!"

"i did choreography and everything"

he doesn't pay, obviously but she's takes payment in the form of the dinner she was already getting so-

at the end of the day, Alpine is a child at heart

she get's excited and loves to express her self

unlike a certain super soldier

so her introducing him to modern music normally turns into him getting it stuck in his head because she's been replaying the same song for around 2 hours doing a task

or because she's singing at the top of her lungs

as much as he isn't a fan of 21st century music, he loves watching the little performances of Alpine and occasionally Sam

and yes, whilst he may be tempted to join them, he would rather die

he handles the instrumental versions of things extremely well

Lyrics can be lost on him sometimes.

but he does get his chance to join in though because she adds some 40s style music to her playlists for him, and when he hears that he often brings her in for a dance when it's been a particularly good day

sometimes, very oftenly so, if a modern song carries the same tune and tempo, he'll carry on the dance

"Oh ho! Wait until Sam hears about this. Bucky Barnes dancing to modern music!"

"Go ahead, he'll never believe you."

denies it every happened when she tells Sam at their next family dinner

"I swear he danced!"

"Bucky? Dancing? You think I'd fall for that?"

"But he did!"

Bucky simply offers an evil grin when she asks him to tell Sam the truth

"you're delusional kid"

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thranduilland · 2 years

Text

Chasing Dreams

Some fanfic for this post.

The day Dream had haltingly told Hob about his 106 years of isolation, humiliation, grief, and trauma, Hob had made a decision. The day he watched the slump in Dream’s shoulders get somehow greater as he spoke in slow, self-deprecating tones of how he may as well cease to exist, now that humans no longer needed him, Hob had made a decision.

After Dream had sent himself back to the Dreaming, Hob had hurried off to work, to one of the old computer labs, where he’d sat down and burned various CDs with a playlist tailor-made for Dream of the Endless. Mixtapes the likes of which kids used to pass around in the schoolyards, but these were all for one person, with only one theme.

Halfway through his third cd he’d realized he didn’t actually have anything at home that would play CDs anymore. His personal laptop had no disc drive and neither did his X-Box. His car radio still had a disc-drive, but like hell he was gonna force his friend into a metal and glass box, not after learning the truth of his imprisonment. So, he had mixtapes, but no way to play them. That’s alright, he decides, as he continues on in his work, I’ll just make a playlist when I get home.

He does.

He signs into his Spotify account and creates a new playlist; he considers what he can title it. All of the mixtapes had ‘Dream’ with a number, but he thinks that might be too simplistic for what this playlist means. In the end, he settles on titling it ‘Chasing Dreams’.

He adds all the songs he’d loaded onto the CDs and then he adds more. Every song he can get his hands on from 1916 onwards that revolves around dreams, dreaming, the Sandman, Morpheus, the Lord of Dreams. Hell, he even throws in various songs about nightmares. He sorts the playlist by year, though he knows when he plays it, it’ll be best to play at random. There are so many songs, he knows already that he’ll never get all of them. Knows that Dream will probably never hear all of them.

Still, he builds the playlist.

Two weeks after his friend had opened his heart to him, he returns. Hob ushers him in and sits him down on the couch and then stares, rubbing his sweaty hands on his thighs as he’s suddenly hit with nerves. Still, he’s never let being nervous stop him before. So, he grabs his laptop and comes to sit down on the couch beside his baffled friend.

“Hob?”

“You said, last time, that humans didn’t need you anymore?” Hob says, watching the way Dream slumps in on himself, something haunted settling more obviously in his friend's starry eyes. “You’re wrong, Dream. You were missing, we filled in the gaps as well as we could, but we never stopped seeking you. We looked for you, ached for you, missed you. We sought you everywhere we went, in everything we did, Dream. We still do,” Hob promises, though he sees that doubt that writes itself into every line of his friend’s face. “Do you trust me?” he asks, heart in his throat. Dream nods, eyes wary, body tense, but that’s alright, Hob can work with that. “This playlist, it’s a journey through the last hundred years. With one specific theme,” Hob says, as he sets the laptop down in front of Dream and pushes shuffle play on the playlist.

The first chords of Hozier’s Talk start to play, Hob hums at that as he settles back into the couch. Some would say Hozier is a good first choice.

‘I'd be the voice that urged Orpheus When her body was found (hey ya)’

Hob would have agreed with them, up until Hozier’s voice sounds and Dream gasps, hunching himself over, arms hugging his middle. Hob leaps forward to pause the playlist, horrified by the tears streaming down Dream’s face and the agony written there.

“Dream?” he asks, soft, unsure. “Do you want me to stop?” he queries, but Dream swallows thickly, clenches his eyes shut and shakes his head.

“No, I wasn’t- I wasn’t expecting… no, it is alright. Please. Play it,” Dream says, his voice starting out soft, trembling, but gaining strength as he speaks. Hob hesitates, just for a second, before he decides that his friend knows himself better than Hob, so he pushes play and lets the song continue.

‘I'd be the choiceless hope in grief That drove him underground (hey ya) I'd be the dreadful need in the devotee That made him turn around (hey ya) And I'd be the immediate forgiveness In Eurydice. Imagine being loved by me!’

Dream cries silently through the entire song, looking like someone had stabbed him through the heart. If he hadn’t long outgrown the habit, Hob’d be biting his fingernails, still, the refinement doesn’t stop him feeling like an anxious puddle of goo as the last notes of the song fade out. He’s not entirely sure how to feel as Imaginary by Evanescence starts.

‘Paper flowers Paper flowers I linger in the doorway Of alarm clock screaming Monsters calling my name Let me stay where the wind will whisper to me Where the raindrops as they're falling tell a story’

It takes Dream a little bit to compose himself, but as Amy Lee sings, his head tilts to the side, a look of consideration on his face that Hob’s not sure what to make of.

‘In my field of paper flowers And candy clouds of lullaby (paper flowers) I lie inside myself for hours And watch my purple sky fly over me (paper flowers) Don't say I'm out of touch With this rampant chaos - your reality I know well what lies beyond my sleeping refuge The nightmare I built my own world to escape’

Dream seems to like Imaginary a lot greater than he liked Talk, or at least, it isn’t causing him to hunch over in pain, so Hob decides he’ll take that as a win, as he lets Amy Lee’s voice roll over him, humming along to the song. Evanescence had been a favourite of his for a time, he’d faithfully followed their career, attended every show that he could, listened to every new song.

The last chords fade out and the first chords of Sweet Dreams (Are Made of This) by Eurythmics starts to play. Hob huffs, already bobbing his head along with the music, the way he always has whenever he hears this song. It used to be on the radio everywhere when it first came out.

‘Sweet dreams are made of this Who am I to disagree? I travel the world and the seven seas Everybody's looking for something Some of them want to use you Some of them want to get used by you Some of them want to abuse you Some of them want to be abused‘

Hob watches Dream’s reaction on this, sees the small, fragile little smile that forms on his face as Annie Lennox’s voice falls over them. Hob decides this one is another hit as the song fades out and Dream On by Aerosmith starts.

“Oh, I think you’ll like this one. It’s a bit sad, but good,”Hob comments, shifting on the couch, Dream simply raises an eyebrow at him and leans back into the couch, getting more comfortable.

‘Every time that I look in the mirror All these lines on my face getting clearer The past is gone Oh, it went by like dusk to dawn Isn't that the way? Everybody's got their dues in life to pay, oh, oh, oh I know nobody knows Where it comes and where it goes I know it's everybody's sin You got to lose to know how to win’

Dream furrows his brow, frowning at Hob, who just smiles at him and motions for him to wait. The song hits into the chorus and then the bridge and Dream hums consideringly, his eyes shining. Hob beams at him and sings along with Steven Tyler, letting his eyes slip closed as he remembers the years long past. Dream On fades out, he can’t help but laugh as the next song starts.

“Oh, yes, I think you’ll like this one, too,” he says, with some amusement, Dream merely hums at him. Hob beams and starts bobbing his head in tune with the drum beat. “This one is called Enter Sandman,” he says, watching the intrigued smile that forms on Dream’s lips.

‘Say your prayers, little one Don't forget, my son To include everyone Tuck you in, warm within Keep you free from sin 'Til the sandman, he comes Sleep with one eye open Gripping your pillow tight Exit light Enter night Take my hand We're off to never-never land’

Hob can’t help the rush of giddiness when he sees Dream bobbing his head along with the beat, his eyes alight with joy.

‘Somethings wrong, shut the light Heavy thoughts tonight And they aren't of Snow White Dreams of war, dreams of liars Dreams of dragon's fire And of things that will bite, yeah Sleep with one eye open Gripping your pillow tight’

Dream smiles, a true, genuine smile as he listens, head still bobbing to the music. He seems to positively glow as the chords fade out.

“You were right, I did enjoy that one,” Dream admits, sighing softly. Hob waggles his eyebrows at him in amusement.

“Told you so,” he says, before he laughs as the next track starts. “Oh, boy,” he mutters, shaking his head when Dream raises an eyebrow. “You’ll see,” he promises, unable to hide his laughter.

‘Mr. Sandman, bring me a dream (bung, bung, bung, bung) Make him the cutest that I've ever seen (bung, bung, bung, bung) Give him two lips like roses and clover (bung, bung, bung, bung) Then tell him that his lonesome nights are over Sandman, I'm so alone (bung, bung, bung, bung) Don't have nobody to call my own (bung, bung, bung, bung) Please turn on your magic beam Mr. Sandman, bring me a dream’

Dream flushes, Hob laughs, which just causes Dream to look away from him, nose in the air, which just makes Hob laugh more. All the while, the Chordettes beseech his best friend to bring them a dream.

‘Mr. Sandman, bring me a dream Make him the cutest that I've ever seen Give him the word that I'm not a rover Then tell him that his lonesome nights are over Sandman, I'm so alone Don't have nobody to call my own Please turn on your magic beam Mr. Sandman, bring me a dream’

Dream refuses to look at him the entire rest of the song, but Hob’s alright with that, as he just can’t hide the too fond smile on his face. River of Dreams by Billy Joel takes over from the Chordettes and he finds himself singing along out of some long-forgotten habit.

‘In the middle of the night I go walking in my sleep From the mountains of faith To the river so deep I must be looking for something Something sacred I lost But the river is wide And it's too hard to cross’

Dream seems to like River of Dreams as well, as he starts to bob his head along to the music, though the little scowl on his face tells Hob he hasn’t been forgiven for Mr. Sandman yet. That’s fine, there are a few other fun ones that he’d thrown in, so if he gets lucky, they’ll come up in the queue.

Slowly, River of Dream’s fades out and it’s Hob’s turn to gasp like he’s been struck as the Gunner’s Dream by Pink Floyd starts. He likes Pink Floyd, but he’s carefully avoided many of their war songs throughout the years. Sometimes he can listen to them without any issues and other times they send him spiralling back to places he never wants to be again.

“Hob?”

“No, I’m okay. There’s just a story behind this song, is all,” he says, just as Roger Water’s starts to sing.

‘Floating down, through the clouds Memories come rushing up to meet me now But in the space between the heavens And the corner of some foreign field I had a dream I had a dream Goodbye Max, goodbye Ma After the service, when you're walking slowly to the car And the silver in her hair shines in the cold November air You hear the tolling bell and touch the silk in your lapel And as the teardrops rise to meet the comfort of the band You take her frail hand And hold on to the dream’

Hob clenches his fists in his lap and closes his eyes, before he wrenches them open as he realizes that’s a bad idea and like to throw him back to the war if he doesn’t have the visual reminders that he’s not there anymore. Across from him, Dream frowns, though his tilted head and the calculating look in his eyes tells Hob he is still listening to the music. Slowly, the song fades out and Hob lets himself relax, humming when Trees(Hallway of Leaves) by Sleeping at Last starts to play.

‘It's just beyond those trees... The place I've been dreaming of. Will you follow me? Trust me, I know where I'm going. It's somewhere here within the leaves... There must be some mistake... Trust me, I know where I'm going We'll cut a path out for us Through the green seas, We'll make hallways of leaves’

Dream looks intrigued and simultaneously baffled by the song the entire time it is playing, but he’s not reacting like it’s stabbed him through the heart, so Hob is taking that as a win. Though, he supposes Talk was still a win, too, because Dream hadn’t immediately run away, though he’s not sure if he should ask what about that song had set his friend off. But, he’s not sure if he wants to know the answer.

’I found a grave Brushed off the face Felt your light And I remember why I know this place I found a bird Closing her eyes One last time And I wonder if she dreamed like me’

Dream sucks in a breath, lets it out on a broken sob and Hob wants to launch forward and pause the playlist, like he had done for Talk, but Dream shakes his head at him, so Hob stops, sits on his hands to keep himself from doing so.

‘As much as it hurts, Ain’t it wonderful to feel? So go on and break your wings Follow your heart 'til it bleeds As we run towards the end of the dream I’m not afraid I pushed through the pain And I’m on fire I remember how to breathe again As much as it hurts, Ain’t it wonderful to feel?’

Dream is a mess throughout the rest of the song and Hob can only pray that the next one will be something better. He doesn’t know what about this song and Talk has upset Dream so much, but he wants to know, so he can be ready for any other songs that might trigger him, but he’s not sure how to ask that. Is less sure Dream would answer. He does get his wish though, as Amy Lee fades out to be replaced with David Bowie and his When I Live My Dreams.

‘When I live my dream, I'll take you with me Riding on a golden horse We'll live within my castle with people there to serve you Happy at the sound of your voice Baby, I'll slay a dragon for you Or banish wicked giants from the land But you will find that nothing in my dream can hurt you We will only love each other as forever When I live my dream‘

Dream perks up with this one, a small, soft smile forming, his eyes swirling with those stars and so many possibilities. This one has never been one of Hob’s favourites from Bowie, but Dream’s quiet enjoyment of it might, just might, change that for him.

All too soon, Bowie is replaced by Gary Wight and Hob smiles as this one is another he hopes will be a safe song.

‘I've just closed my eyes again Climbed aboard the dream weaver train Driver take away my worries of today And leave tomorrow behind Ooh, dream weaver I believe you can get me through the night Ooh, dream weaver I believe we can reach the morning light’

It is another hit, he thinks, as Dream hums along to the music, eyes closed, smile slowly forming and growing larger by the second. Hob’s not sure he wants the song to end, isn’t sure he wants the risk of another song knocking Dream down from the high. Though, as Learning Curve by Sleeping at Last starts, he’s hopeful this one won’t have any triggers, since it is still one of his favourites of theirs. Had always made him think of Eleanor and Robyn.

‘I had a good dream We built a home It was far from perfect, But we made it our own

We lived a good life, We gave and we borrowed It was far from perfect, But we made it our own’

Hob’s not entirely sure when Dream reached for him, but he finds himself tucked up against Dream, his hand clutched tight in the Endless’ own, with his friend’s head resting on his shoulder. He doesn’t say anything, merely squeezes his friend’s hand and hums softly as the song fades out to be replaced by another song, and then another, and another and another.

Before Hob realizes, the sun has gone down outside, the moon has risen, and they’ve been sitting there for hours, listening to songs. Dream is a trembling wreck now fully settled in his lap, arms wrapped around shoulders, his friend’s face hidden against his neck, though he’d never asked for the playlist to stop, so Hob had let it play.

He knows his friend is crying, knows from the cool wetness against his skin that he’d let pass without comment. He’d like to let things continue, to let the playlist play itself out entirely, but while they both are immortal, they do not have time for that. So, he digs his phone out of his pocket, unable to reach the laptop on the table with a lap full of Endless, and pauses the playlist.

“There are still more songs,” he murmurs, as Dream stills in his arms. “Hundreds, thousands. So many we will never be able to play them all, Dream. They’re all for you.”

“Thank you, Hob,” Dream says, his voice shaking where he still has his face hidden away in Hob’s neck. “I would not have known that I needed this, without you. Thank you.”

“Ah, duck, this is nothing. Just wait until you hear the poems, dearest friend.”

#Dreamling #Dream of the Endless #Hob Gadling #the Sandman #ptsd #my fanfic #fanfic #writing

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missamyshay · 11 months

Text

20 Questions for Fic Writers

Thanks for the tag @seek--rest!

1. How many works do you have on ao3?

2. What's your total ao3 word count?

481,951

3. What fandoms do you write for?

Spider-Man, The Falcon and the Winter Soldier, and The Bear

4. What are your top 5 fics by kudos?

Puzzle Pieces, across the hall, 106 miles, maroon, baby, it’s the way you touch me

5. Do you respond to comments? Why or why not?

ALWAYS! It might take me a while to get round to them sometimes but I absolutely love replying to comments. I always appreciate that someone has taken the time to leave one and I love giving the same energy back.

6. What is a fic you wrote with the angstiest ending?

Definitely timeless.

…for now 😈

7. What's the fic you wrote with the happiest ending?

I’m a sucker for a happy ending so this is hard to choose but I think A Sticky Situation or letters we never sent are the most lighthearted.

8. Do you get hate on fics?

Fortunately not. Every once in a while I’ll get a passive aggressive comment from someone who doesn’t like the direction a story is going. (Usually when things are more complex than ‘kiss and make up straight away’.) But it doesn’t bother me.

9. Do you write smut? If so, what kind?

Love to write smut. Smut is one of the best vehicles for character exploration and introspection in my opinion. The thoughts, movements, feelings that a person has in a moment of intimacy are so fascinating to me and are a great way to ‘get to know’ the character, so to speak. Also?? It’s hot???

10. Do you write crossovers?

No, but I’d love to try one day!

11. Have you ever had a fic stolen?

Not that I know of!

12. Have you ever had a fic translated?

Not yet!

13. Have you ever co-written a fic before?

spotlights and moonlight (w @seek--rest) is my first ever collab and it’s been very very fun so far. Look forward to doing more co-writing in the future.

14. What's your all-time favorite ship?

PeterMJ

15. What's a wip you want to finish, but doubt you ever will?

None! chiaroscuro, glitch, across the hall, and spotlights and moonlight are my only posted WIPs and I have plans to finish all of them!

16. What are your writing strengths?

Two I can think of—one that I believe about myself and another that people tend to tell me. In my opinion, I think I’m good at character building, at doing a deep dive into a character’s psyche and fleshing them out so that they feel like a real person in a real world. Other people often tell me that my writing is immersive and easy to picture/imagine—almost like watching a show or movie.

17. What are your writing weaknesses?

I can often be a very dense writer—which means word counts can get away from me and things can be overly descriptive which I imagine some readers might find boring.

18. Thoughts on writing dialogue in another language for a fic?

Never tried it! The only language I would be able to try would be French but don’t have any plans to right now!

19. First fandom you wrote for?

The Falcon and the Winter Soldier.

20. Favorite fic you've written?

This is a horrible question and the answer would change every day but I’ll give one per fandom: timeless (Spider-Man), Bad Days (TFATWS), 106 miles (The Bear).

Tagging @tllgrrl, @palettesofrenaissance-main, @tvfanatic97-2 to answer next! 🫶🏾

#fic writing #fic writers asks

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daydream-the-demon · 1 month

Note

1: Name

2: Age

3: 3 Fears

4: 3 things I love

5: 4 turns on

6: 4 turns off

7: My best friend

8: Sexual orientation

9: My best first date

10: How tall am I

11: What do I miss

12: What time were I born

13: Favorite color

14: Do I have a crush

15: Favorite quote

16: Favorite place

17: Favorite food

18: Do I use sarcasm

19: What am I listening to right now

20: First thing I notice in new person

21: Shoe size

22: Eye color

23: Hair color

24: Favorite style of clothing

25: Ever done a prank call?

27: Meaning behind my URL

28: Favorite movie

29: Favorite song

30: Favorite band

31: How I feel right now

32: Someone I love

33: My current relationship status

34: My relationship with my parents

35: Favorite holiday

36: Tattoos and piercing i have

37: Tattoos and piercing i want

38: The reason I joined Tumblr

39: Do I and my last ex hate each other?

40: Do I ever get “good morning” or “good night ” texts?

41: Have I ever kissed the last person you texted?

42: When did I last hold hands?

43: How long does it take me to get ready in the morning?

44: Have You shaved your legs in the past three days?

45: Where am I right now?

46: If I were drunk & can’t stand, who’s taking care of me?

47: Do I like my music loud or at a reasonable level?

48: Do I live with my Mom and Dad?

49: Am I excited for anything?

50: Do I have someone of the opposite sex I can tell everything to?

51: How often do I wear a fake smile?

52: When was the last time I hugged someone?

53: What if the last person I kissed was kissing someone else right in front of me?

54: Is there anyone I trust even though I should not?

55: What is something I disliked about today?

56: If I could meet anyone on this earth, who would it be?

57: What do I think about most?

58: What’s my strangest talent?

59: Do I have any strange phobias?

60: Do I prefer to be behind the camera or in front of it?

61: What was the last lie I told?

62: Do I prefer talking on the phone or video chatting online?

63: Do I believe in ghosts? How about aliens?

64: Do I believe in magic?

65: Do I believe in luck?

66: What’s the weather like right now?

67: What was the last book I’ve read?

68: Do I like the smell of gasoline?

69: Do I have any nicknames?

70: What was the worst injury I’ve ever had?

71: Do I spend money or save it?

72: Can I touch my nose with a tongue?

73: Is there anything pink in 10 feet from me?

74: Favorite animal?

75: What was I doing last night at 12 AM?

76: What do I think is Satan’s last name is?

77: What’s a song that always makes me happy when I hear it?

78: How can you win my heart?

79: What would I want to be written on my tombstone?

80: What is my favorite word?

81: My top 5 blogs on tumblr

82: If the whole world were listening to me right now, what would I say?

83: Do I have any relatives in jail?

84: I accidentally eat some radioactive vegetables. They were good, and what’s even cooler is that they endow me with the super-power of my choice! What is that power?

85: What would be a question I’d be afraid to tell the truth on?

86: What is my current desktop picture?

87: Had sex?

88: Bought condoms?

89: Gotten pregnant?

90: Failed a class?

91: Kissed a boy?

92: Kissed a girl?

93: Have I ever kissed somebody in the rain?

94: Had job?

95: Left the house without my wallet?

96: Bullied someone on the internet?

97: Had sex in public?

98: Played on a sports team?

99: Smoked weed?

100: Did drugs?

101: Smoked cigarettes?

102: Drank alcohol?

103: Am I a vegetarian/vegan?

104: Been overweight?

105: Been underweight?

106: Been to a wedding?

107: Been on the computer for 5 hours straight?

108: Watched TV for 5 hours straight?

109: Been outside my home country?

110: Gotten my heart broken?

111: Been to a professional sports game?

112: Broken a bone?

113: Cut myself?

114: Been to prom?

115: Been in airplane?

116: Fly by helicopter?

117: What concerts have I been to?

118: Had a crush on someone of the same sex?

119: Learned another language?

120: Wore make up?

121: Lost my virginity before I was 18?

122: Had oral sex?

123: Dyed my hair?

124: Voted in a presidential election?

125: Rode in an ambulance?

126: Had a surgery?

127: Met someone famous?

128: Stalked someone on a social network?

129: Peed outside?

130: Been fishing?

131: Helped with charity?

132: Been rejected by a crush?

133: Broken a mirror?

134: What do I want for birthday?

skip the weird ones/ones your uncomfortable w

All of them under cut:

1: Name

I just realized what I wanted to be called. I'm Alexander Cifra Hyde now!

2: Age

13!

3: 3 Fears

Death, nothing being real, [insert existential thought].

4: 3 things I love

My friends, fandoms, Tape Five.

5: 4 turns on

Uhh. I read fanfiction so here are fanfiction ones: Cannibalism, MC being insane, power dynamics, older characters.

6: 4 turns off

Also fanfiction: Can't think of anything except AWKWARD MOMENTS THAT YOU JUST HAVE TO CRINGE AT.

7: My best friend

@author-of-the-year

8: Sexual orientation

Repulsed Aromantic Asexual, but also Aegofictoromantic Aegofictosexual.

9: My best first date

Never had one and never will. Being single is a liberty if you think of it as one.

10: How tall am I

155 centimeters or about 5'1".

11: What do I miss

I miss a lot of things. Mostly miss the time I was actually happy.

12: What time were I born

Two days ago! August 12th is my birthday!

13: Favorite color

Black (all-timer), Gold, Blood-Red... That is my favorites.

14: Do I have a crush

Nah. Well friend crushes? A couple.

15: Favorite quote

"Everyone is a genius. But if you judge a fish by its ability to climb a tree, it will live its whole life believing that it is stupid." It helped me not feel like a failure. I like this quote. I think about it quite a bit.

16: Favorite place

My home I guess. Old Town Cottonwood is also amazing.

17: Favorite food

I made my own recipe: Rice, fried grated carrots, eggs, cilantro, and

18: Do I use sarcasm

Sometimes? I mean I don't really use it but on certain occasions I will. Sarcasm seems rude to me in certain context, or I'll use it as joking if I just did something and then go "What? I didn't do that. Yep, totally didn't."

19: What am I listening to right now

I am in love with the song Forever Young by Tape Five.

20: First thing I notice in new person

Usually their voice and manner of speaking and how they look. Though I'm not quick to judge a book by its cover.

21: Shoe size

6'5 women's and extra wide I'm sure.

22: Eye color

I HAVE GREY EYES!

23: Hair color

My natural hair color is dirty blonde, and due to how my hair works, it keeps getting darker. (When I was younger I had completely bright blonde hair, now it's dirty-blonde, and then it will be dark brown like my dad.) I have it dyed red though!

24: Favorite style of clothing

SUITS! SUITS. Victorian Era or 1920s style? I can't have enough of it. I wear a tuxedo every day!

25: Ever done a prank call?

I barely even do calls on my own. And no. It's just not- No.

27: Meaning behind my URL

Well, I am Daydream. I'm Daydream because I am a Maladaptive Daydreamer and I create things from my daydreams! I'm a demon. I'm a demonic entity. I have liked too many demons in my time and ever since I was 7 I would draw pentagrams for no reason. I am just demonic.

28: Favorite movie

I HAVE ONE AT THE TIP OF MY TONGUE- AAAAA- WAIT. I just recently watched "Don't Look Up"! THAT'S THE MOVIE! I LOVE IT SO MUCH!

29: Favorite song

Forever Young by Tape Five is my current obsession and favorite song.

30: Favorite band

Tape Five if you couldn't tell.

31: How I feel right now

I'm happy, I just got the Book of Bill and I am thrilled. I also love answering questions!

32: Someone I love

@author-of-the-year and all my friends. I don't think I could live without them... (Literally-)

33: My current relationship status

Single? Taken? Honestly weird-ass shiz. I do have a "boyfriend" but he's not really my boyfriend but yeah. I just say I'm taken so I don't have to explain what being AroAce is.

34: My relationship with my parents

I don't talk to them. They're transphobic and it's hard to live with that. I plan to move out and go no contact. They give me things I want and I'm living an okay life, but in constant anxiety.

35: Favorite holiday

Christmas!!! You get to scam your loved ones out of objects you want!!!

36: Tattoos and piercing i have

None.

37: Tattoos and piercing i want

I want to get an orbital earring on both ears! I also want a tattoo sometime. Something small but meaningful or something. I'd draw on my body anyways.

38: The reason I joined Tumblr

When I learned Bill Cipher was a Tumblr sexyman, I just HAD to go to Tumblr. My first post is of Billtober and of a drawing of Bill Cipher.

39: Do I and my last ex hate each other?

Not related. Single and always was.

40: Do I ever get “good morning” or “good night ” texts?

Yeah!!! From my very sweet discord server.

41: Have I ever kissed the last person you texted?

I never kissed anyone before. Except like on the knuckles, but I don't text her.

42: When did I last hold hands?

With my mom probably. I don't like physical contact at all.

43: How long does it take me to get ready in the morning?

I usually wake up at 6 AM or 6:10 AM and finish getting ready at 6:40 AM. Putting an entire suit on and then getting everything I need for the day AND breakfast in about 30-40 minutes? That's right!

44: Have You shaved your legs in the past three days?

I don't shave. Makes me feel manly also I don't ever want to feel razor burn AGAIN. Legs are also useless to shave since I always wear dress pants anyways and my hair is light.

45: Where am I right now?

In my chair in my room in my house in my state in my country.

46: If I were drunk & can’t stand, who’s taking care of me?

Probably myself in this hypothetical scenario. I don't usually have anyone to rely on. If my online friends were with me though, they would take care of me.

47: Do I like my music loud or at a reasonable level?

My mom says it's too loud but I think it's reasonable.

48: Do I live with my Mom and Dad?

I live with my mom and step-dad, my biological dad is in Russia.

49: Am I excited for anything?

Reading the Book of Bill, and whatnot. Drawing.

50: Do I have someone of the opposite sex I can tell everything to?

Opposite sex? No probably not. Opposite gender? Yes.

51: How often do I wear a fake smile?

That, my child, is called autistic masking!!! I do it all the time!

52: When was the last time I hugged someone?

My mom because she asked, like a couple months ago.

53: What if the last person I kissed was kissing someone else right in front of me?

Never kissed anybody. Also I'm not a jealous bitch. If it was in the context of cheating? Their problem, not mine.

54: Is there anyone I trust even though I should not?

There is always a reason I trust someone. Real trust doesn't come easy with me.

55: What is something I disliked about today?

School.

56: If I could meet anyone on this earth, who would it be?

ALL MY ONLINE FRIENDS!

57: What do I think about most?

Art, and fandoms, and songs.

58: What’s my strangest talent?

Hm... I can put a leg around my head. I have hyperflexibility (but I'm not as flexible now).

59: Do I have any strange phobias?

Small dogs. They just creep my out. I don't like small dogs. Also some thoughts relating to existential crises some people would consider weird.

60: Do I prefer to be behind the camera or in front of it?

Not sure what this means. Oh! I am a model, of course I have to be on camera! I'm a youtuber and a star!

61: What was the last lie I told?

"I'm not trans."

62: Do I prefer talking on the phone or video chatting online?

VIDEO CHATTING!

63: Do I believe in ghosts? How about aliens?

Ghosts? Not really. Seems untrue. But aliens? SURE AS HELL! They exist! In all the parallel universes and all the free open space in this universe we have with thousands of stars with thousands of inhabitable planets... Yes! It's proven they exist! Though none have reached Earth (as far as we know) and that we haven't reached any other lifeform... YET!

64: Do I believe in magic?

Depends on what type of magic. Though usually, I would say no. I don't believe in magic.

65: Do I believe in luck?

Well, statistically there is a concept of luck where odds are outbeat by other odds. Not like as a magical thing though, though I do have "lucky" objects I keep.

66: What’s the weather like right now?

Sunny, warm, and dry.

67: What was the last book I’ve read?

THE BOOK OF BILL!

68: Do I like the smell of gasoline?

Ew no. I don't like strong smells (even freshly cut grass and lavander piss me off).

69: Do I have any nicknames?

Daydream is my nickname, also Alex.

70: What was the worst injury I’ve ever had?

Broken wrist probably.

71: Do I spend money or save it?

Usually I save it and then I have a period where I'd spend it all. I'm pretty responsible with money.

72: Can I touch my nose with a tongue?

No.

73: Is there anything pink in 10 feet from me?

I have a pool floatie, an axolotl toy, my plants are pink, I have an old pink toy.

74: Favorite animal?

MOTHS! I also like axolotls a lot!

75: What was I doing last night at 12 AM?

Staying up late looking at BillFord on Tumblr-

76: What do I think is Satan’s last name is?

Oh huh. I don't think he has one. It's just Satan.

77: What’s a song that always makes me happy when I hear it?

Almost any Tape Five song I have an obsession with at the moment.

78: How can you win my heart?

Just be a good person to me, and CHAOS and WEIRDNESS!

79: What would I want to be written on my tombstone?

I want my friends' words written on it. I want to be known that I was truly loved.

80: What is my favorite word?

Cannibalism, murder, evil... These are some of the words included in my vocal stims.

81: My top 5 blogs on tumblr

I can't really chose. I guess donniipao, calp0sa, author-of-the-year, timedoutradio, and every blog is great as long as there's content and they're a good person!

82: If the whole world were listening to me right now, what would I say?

"I am god." I have to assert my dominance somehow!

83: Do I have any relatives in jail?

No. Not that I know of.

84: I accidentally eat some radioactive vegetables. They were good, and what’s even cooler is that they endow me with the super-power of my choice! What is that power?

TO DAYDREAM ANYTHING UP. That's my official superpower. I can daydream up anything and everything I want.

85: What would be a question I’d be afraid to tell the truth on?

Oof this is a hard one. Depends on who is asking and what the question is. I have a lot of secrets to hide.

86: What is my current desktop picture?

Bill Cipher because he is my Ford's babygirl.

87-93 were deleted.

94: Had job?

I plan to have one! I want to be an art commissioner soon.

95: Left the house without my wallet?

Many times.

96: Bullied someone on the internet?

Yeah. I used to leave hate comments.

97 was deleted.

98: Played on a sports team?

99: Smoked weed?

No.

100: Did drugs?

I'm a good boy, no.

101: Smoked cigarettes?

I tried once.

102: Drank alcohol?

I tried beer before, not that good.

103: Am I a vegetarian/vegan?

I'm mostly a vegetarian in my diet, though on rare occasions I'll eat fish or meat.

104: Been overweight?

No.

105: Been underweight?

No.

106: Been to a wedding?

Yes! It was one of my favorite days. I was really young, I remember distinctly putting a bunch of stick-on googly eyes on my face because I am silly like that.

107: Been on the computer for 5 hours straight?

Bitch what kind of question is that? I'm chronically online. I also draw a lot on my PC and I can get sucked into it.

108: Watched TV for 5 hours straight?

Like a couple times.

109: Been outside my home country?

I currently live in the USA and I'm from Russia, so yes.

110: Gotten my heart broken?

My friends have said to me things I am very deeply sad about.

111: Been to a professional sports game?

Nope.

112: Broken a bone?

I once broke my wrist because I fell backwards from sitting on the windowsill onto the floor.

113: Cut myself?

I have SHed before, so it's a specialty!

114: Been to prom?

No.

115: Been in airplane?

Aeroplanes are so cool! I've been in a couple, going from Russia to the US, and going to my step-sister's wedding.

116: Fly by helicopter?

Nope. Though I live near an aeroport!

117: What concerts have I been to?

I've been to an AJR Phoenix concert once! It was so cool.

118: Had a crush on someone of the same sex?

I'm gay. Yes- Okay but seriously I'm aroace though I radiate gay energy so yeah no-?

119: Learned another language?

I learned English, and I'm currently trying to learn Italian.

120: Wore make up?

I'm slay! Of course I did! Though I don't do it often.

121-122 were deleted.

123: Dyed my hair?

My hair is dyed red currently, and previously I dyed it black.

124: Voted in a presidential election?

I'm not old enough to do that yet.

125: Rode in an ambulance?

No, I don't think so. If I have, I was really young.

126: Had a surgery?

No.

127: Met someone famous?

Sadly no. But my tumblr mutuals have a lotta followers!

128: Stalked someone on a social network?

I stalk some people, especially tumblr mutuals I want to be friends with but am awkward with.

129: Peed outside?

Yeah.

130: Been fishing?

I want to do it sometime.

131: Helped with charity?

No.

132: Been rejected by a crush?

I never confessed so- Never even tried because being loveless is amazing.

133: Broken a mirror?

Yep.

134: What do I want for birthday?

Well, I already got everything I want- Lol. I got my Book of Bill and I am ecstatic! I want a debt card though so I can finally start online commissions!

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screechingfromthevoid · 13 days

Text

@disastertourwaterdeepedition

Sorry for the weird fucking post but like tumblr straight up ate your ask?? I had to search and screenshot from my email??

Its like super fine I love big rants and big feelings (especially about the blorbo of the month).

Whoa buddy if you wanna talk about a rant. This got so long I'm putting it under a read more.

I'm not sure any of this is above board conscious thought process. When he looks to Orym, when he thinks about how he feels about Orym, I think Dorian, king of compartmentalizing, gets a rush of all three of the things in the post. He gets a little too lost in thought looking at the way Orym's hair now tries to curl against his ear or how well tailored the armor is to his body, he first gets hit with the Will guilt. Then he thinks about "ohmygodtheresawaron" and he'd shovel all of that down. Because its not time to think about Orym and him. But he knows by the way Orym watches him "sleep". He knows by the way Orym refused to be princess carried in Aeror. (Seriously dude Dorian princess carries everyone. It would have been less suspicious if you let it happen). He knows because Orym didn't see his husband when they were in Zephrah. But when he dares himself to actually think about a possible future together, he uses the big three to shove it down. And no, he has no clue that Orym thinks he doesn't return his feelings. (Wow you're right. Pronouns are hard)

Lol to finally answer your question: I'm not sure! Because the thing is! Orym has gone down twice in a battle with Dorian there! And honestly if Orym being on death's door doesn't make either of them confess, i'm not sure what will! (thats a lie I do have an idea). But like Orym went to the moon and back and almost died on the moon and all the count communicate to Dorian was "I miss you"!! Orym nearly died twice in one battle and he didn't think to give Dorian a sloppy, "If I die again I want to have kissed you once" kiss before going in for another round of getting hacked on. Dorian watched him go down and had to bring him back from death's door (one failed save scared the shit out of me) and he didn't think to give Orym a "We need you, I need you" kiss.

My unfortunate thought process, which I can't decide if I want it to come true or not, is that Dorian has to get hurt. Like when I say hurt I fucking mean it. Taken down in a round or two, two failed death saves, hurt. Because then Orym will have to face losing Dorian again. Face losing the man he loves, again. He pours a healing potion into Dorian's mouth because warlocks don't have a single healing spell. (Just checked). Orym feels so helpless in saving Dorian, because a healing potion isn't nearly enough to keep him up. He starts to cry over Dorian's (now conscious) body. He whispers between sobs "Not again, not again. Dorian you can't leave me. I love you, please, I never got to tell you, please stay alive." and Dorian, having heard all of that, reaches up to cup Orym's cheek and says. "Alright, just for you though."

Or something like that.

As much as I would love for them to be adults and just talk to each other. I know thats not going to happen. (Please, Robbie, Liam, prove me wrong.) So I think major tragedy will be the reason they confess to each other. Because they're idiots in love with a lot of weight on their shoulders.

#sleep drunk stage door #orym of the air ashari #dorian storm #dorym #written before watching 106 #these two are going to be the death of me #i was thinking about DORIAN DYING all the way home from work #almost cried a few times #but like the thing is with these two idiots is that theyre both hell insecure #maybe not with each other in a way that makes them avoid each other. but orym defo does not think he deserves dorian #in whatever way you want to take that the answer is yes for all of it.#and dorian is insecure in the way that i dont know if he expects orym to get over will for him #he doesnt doubt that orym loves him. and he'd never blame him for still loving will. but dorian doesnt think hes worthy enough.#or that hes worth the effort of moving on #does any of this make sense? I was up too early and worked hard today #so sorry if this is a rambling mess.#i feel like i didn't answer your question i filled out a writing prompt.#my b #i like hearing myself talk if you couldnt tell #certified yapper

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folliesandfolderols · 5 months

Text

Writing prompts days 101-104

From this prompt list. If you’ve read this far, I’m not sure you need any explanation, but the short version is I hadn’t written any fiction since 2019, I set a goal to write at least 150 words/day in 2024, and this list was my way to restart. Also I abruptly decided on day 2 I would write an entire Tim/Damian story connecting all the prompts, because I am Good at Judging My Limits. /sarcasm Anyway, I finished the rough draft a while ago and am now unlocking the old entries as I edit.

Read from the beginning here, or on ao3 here.

Days 96-100 here

***

11. “I’ll make you feel good, I promise. Just trust me.”

34. “Not so fast, bun.”

70. “I-I promise I’ll be good.”

78. “Let me ride you.”

101. “Lift your hips up for me.”

103. “Look at you, coming undone before I’ve even started touching you.”

106. “Sweetheart, you’re so responsive to my touch.”

107. “I think you’d look even better under me.”

120. “You only get to watch.” “B-but—” “No buts, sweetheart.”

***

They dropped off their passengers, Cass, and Stephanie where Jason was waiting and practically flew to Leslie Thompkins. On the way, Tim texted Katarina to get to a safehouse Damian had previously set up for her. After that, he called Dick and asked him to go to Metropolis and move her. Obviously she had been suspected of passing along information to the wrong people.

That call turned into him persuading Dick to take care of Katarina and get some rest before coming to Gotham to check on Damian. Dick finally agreed, but it was a close run thing.

The new Redbird, though it was substantially more outfitted than the original, wasn't really made for people suffering bullet wounds to stretch out comfortably. Damian remained silent for the trip. Whenever Tim glanced over to check on him, he had one hand over the wound in his shoulder, adding his own strength to the pressure dressing they'd hastily applied in the field. His skin had turned chalky gray.

"Almost there, Dami," Tim said each time.

Damian kept his eyes closed and didn't respond.

Leslie had obviously been warned by the others, waiting at the back entry to her clinic and resigned about it. Tim had stopped taking it personally a long time ago, but he still felt a pang when she leveled a tired glance at him and sighed. "He's practically a baby. Isn't dying once enough for you people?"

I hope so, Tim thought but didn't say, as she helped Damian limp to the exam room.

"I was never a baby," he heard Damian tell her before the door swung shut. Tim tried not to remember all the ways that could be true.

He stretched out in the driver's seat and let everyone know they'd arrived. Jason checked in from the immigrant legal advocacy group he'd woken up. They were working on temporary shelter for the people brought to their doorstep while Cass and Stephanie worked on meeting their even more immediate needs in the interim.

After an hour, Leslie texted him to come get Damian. He met her at the door. Damian blinked at him owlishly, domino gone. His bloodstained costume hung in tatters around his torso, most of his skin above the waist bared.

"Painkillers?" Tim asked, wrapping Damian’s undamaged arm around his shoulders.

"He's on Vicodin and antibiotics." Leslie handed him two prescription bottles. "Follow the instructions exactly. Being a hero doesn't free you from the possibility of addiction. He needed blood. Make sure he takes iron, too. I know you're all intimately familiar with wound care so I won't bore you with further info, but that bullet came damn close to the brachial artery and it could've been horrific. Absolutely no vigilante activities until six weeks from now."

"Got it. Thank you, doctor." Tim hesitated. "Does it help to know he got this because he saved a couple of women from being trafficked?"

Her face shifted into a sadness that impressed deeper lines around her eyes and mouth. "Maybe a little."

Damian fell asleep almost immediately. Tim drove to the cave at a careful speed, doing his best to avoid the potholes and road hazards that the car's sports suspension exacerbated. He parked and got out to see Bruce looming in wait, still in full costume except the cowl.

"Don't," he warned, shutting his door gently in hopes of letting Damian sleep through whatever recriminations were about to come his way.

Bruce, of course, ignored him. "Your information was faulty and you didn't catch that fact?"

Okay, they must be doing this right here and now, then. Tim crossed his arms and fixed Bruce with a steady gaze. "It came from a trusted source who didn't know she'd been burned. Her information’s been invaluable to our progress."

Bruce nodded. "So you failed to protect her and you failed to prioritize the civilians' well-being."

"We did lose five of them," Tim admitted. "We had no way of knowing that Falcone had decided to set his own men against his dirty cops."

"You went in with inadequate recon and nearly got forty innocent people killed."

"Forty-five." Bruce's head tilted in reluctant inquiry, and Tim clarified. "Forty-five, counting our team."

“Completely unacceptable.” Bruce swooshed his cape dramatically as he turned on his heel, striding back toward the Batcomputer. “You all acted in an irresponsible and reckless manner tonight. This is what comes of partnering with Hood unnecessarily.”

“This was Jason’s case to begin with!” Tim protested, a flush of real anger making its way up the back of his neck. “And if you listened to the comms recordings you would know he tried to tell me we should call it before it all went sideways.”

“And then you allowed yourself to be baited by Damian into continuing in spite of it.” Bruce sat in his chair, back pointedly toward Tim.

Tim dug his fingers into his thighs and prayed to a God he didn't believe in for the wherewithal not to commit murder tonight. “Damian didn't bait me. I'm glad you brought him up, though. In case you care, he's recovering from a gunshot wound in the passenger seat here and could really use his bed.”

“A gunshot wound he wouldn't have incurred if not for perpetuating the same foolhardy behavior he evidences far too often in the field. He’s benched until further notice.”

A bark of incredulous laughter escaped Tim’s mouth before he could swallow it down. “Bruce, hello, do you know what year this is? Damian is an adult. You can't bench him without forcing the rest of us to take sides that I don't think you want to gamble on being in your favor. And if you wanna call what he did foolhardy, fine. It was also fucking courageous and saved two women from exploitation. Damian took a risk and decided his body was worth sacrificing for their safety, which is precisely what you've trained all of us to do as easily as breathing. If anything, tonight proved that he's got his priorities exactly where Dick hoped they’d end up, back when he first gave him Robin. In other words, your first Robin succeeded in making your last Robin a real hero. I'd tell you that you should be proud but honestly I don't care if you are right now. I need to get your son to bed.”

Bruce's only response was, "Hn."

Tim rolled his eyes, grateful they were still hidden, and walked around to open Damian's door. To his disappointment, Damian's eyes were open, tracking his movements. His face had gone expressionless, a decent indicator that he'd heard the entire conversation.

"Hey." Tim kept his tone soft and his movements slow. "Let's get you upstairs."

Damian nodded, gaze riveted to Tim's face like it was his only point of reference.

Together, they hobbled to the elevator, then up the stairs again to the bedrooms. Damian stayed silent except for an occasional grunt of pain, but by the time Tim leaned him against the hallway wall and swung open his bedroom door, sweat stood out in a fine sheen across his face.

"I cannot get into bed while I'm this filthy," Damian protested when Tim tried to direct him toward the mattress.

Tim peeled off his domino to better meet his gaze, wincing at the pull on his skin. "You can't shower, either." Damian swayed in place, jaw set in the way that meant Tim wouldn't be able to talk him out of it. Tim sighed. "Okay. Let me help you to the bathroom and you can at least clean up with a washcloth and some water in the sink. Sound okay?"

"It's acceptable." Damian leaned into Tim's side heavily enough to make him widen his stance.

Tim helped Damian get out of what was left of his clothes, then sat him on a towel spread across the toilet lid. He ran warm water and soap into the plugged sink while he rummaged under the sink for chlorhexidine.

"Ha! Found it." Tim brandished the bottle in triumph, then faltered. Damian's look was so intense he felt it like a physical pressure against his skin. "What is it?"

"I heard you speaking to Father when we parked in the Cave." Damian swallowed, nausea shadowing his face for a brief moment. "Your defense was . . . unexpected."

Tim huffed and shut the taps off. "Why unexpected? Bruce was being an ass. I know it's because he was scared and angry about you getting hurt, but that doesn't give him permission to talk that way about you."

"Perhaps I deserve his disapprobation." Damian accepted the dampened washcloth Tim handed him and began to clean up.

"You did the right thing. I'm impressed by you."

The words came out of his mouth so easily that for a second, he couldn't understand why Damian faltered in his movements and turned red. Then the reality hit him and he spun around to face the doorway to hide his face, yanking a drawer open as if that had always been his purpose. "Just gonna grab a cotton ball to clean the skin near the wound that isn't bandaged."

Damian's voice sounded strangled. "Very well."

Once clean, Damian consented to be dressed in pajama pants and helped into the bed. The frame was high enough that even his long legs needed to hop a little to sit on the mattress. He winced as he scooted across the sheets.

Tim fussed with the pillows, piling them to lessen Damian's chances of rolling over on the hurt shoulder in his sleep, and to keep the wound elevated above his heart. The cats started warbling in protest outside the closed door halfway through the process, so he let them in. Alfred chirped at him till Tim lifted him up to the mattress, but Pennyworth and Kent leapt up to press comfortingly against Damian’s shins.

"There," Tim said once they and the pillows lay in the right configuration. "That's decent. Can I get you anything else before I leave?"

Damian looked at him askance. "What do you mean, 'leave?'"

Tim frowned, confused. "I have work so I need to get to sleep? Plus you need rest so I wanted to clear out and let you get it."

"Ah." Damian lifted his chin, expression once again remote. "You may leave. If I require anything else I'll notify Father."

Tim nodded. Damian didn't need to know he'd be spending the night in his old bedroom on the opposite end of the hallway. Just in case.

Before he got halfway to the door, Damian's irritated words stopped him in his tracks. "What makes you think I need you to 'clear out' in order to rest? I have been trained since toddlerhood to obtain sleep under the most challenging of circumstances. Your presence couldn't possibly undo my abilities."

Tim started to reply, paused, and then jerked his head back in realization. Pivoting back to face Damian, he asked, "Dami?"

Damian scowled at him, but his fingers plucked at the gold thread of his bedspread. "What is it?"

"Would you like me to stay here with you?" Damian swallowed, and Tim thought, too late, I should've phrased it in a way that let him save face.

Damian surprised him again, though. He dropped his gaze and said, "It would be a prudent decision, considering I am recovering from a gunshot wound and the subsequent blood loss."

"Okay." Tim stepped toward him, then back again. "I just need to run to my old room to get some stuff. I'll be right back."

He dashed down the hallway, snatched up his spare toothbrush and some pajamas, and ran back to Damian's room again. Damian was asleep by the time he closed the door behind him again. His eyes slitted open like his cats’ when Tim started walking toward the bathroom.

"Go back to sleep," Tim whispered. "I'll join you as soon as I'm clean."

He took one of the fastest showers of his life. Something that lived adjacent to that grabby thing in his psyche preened in satisfaction when he stepped out of the water smelling like Damian's bath gel and shampoo. Once he dressed and brushed his teeth, Tim padded out of the bathroom and toward the bed once more. Fresh with the temporary alertness of his shower, he had to resist the urge to go lift the cover on the easel and check out Damian’s latest painting.

Damian woke as he watched and inched backwards so Tim could join him, ignoring Alfred’s trill of protest. One hand reached across the mattress, grasping at the sheet like he was trying to grab Tim but couldn’t quite reach him. Tim’s chest immediately turned to goo at the gesture.

“Don’t worry, Dami, I’m here.” He lifted the blankets and joined Damian, lying on his back.

Moving with caution, Damian edged closer until he could rest his head on Tim’s outstretched arm. Almost instantly, all his muscles relaxed into Tim’s side. Tim smiled as his head grew heavy where it lay on Tim’s bicep.

“There you go.” He kissed the top of Damian’s head and caressed his hair with his free hand. “Get some sleep, sweetheart.”

***

The next night, Tim dropped in to check on Damian in person, not trusting either Dick’s or Bruce’s assessment of his well-being. Sure enough, he found Damian flushed with fever and striding around the library at full speed, examining the shelves.

“Damian.” Tim grabbed the elbow of his unhurt arm and stopped him in his tracks. “You're obviously fighting off an infection. What's so important that it can't wait for you to rest?”

A muscle in Damian’s jaw spasmed with frustration. “I can’t find a copy of Al-Kunūz al-fannīyah fī al-rumūz al-Maymūnīyah in the original Arabic. I know it used to be here and now it's disappeared and I know it must be Todd who took it if it’s gone but he denies it and I—”

“Hey, hey.” Tim slid his hand up to squeeze the back of Damian’s neck. Damian heaved a gusty sigh and hung his head, eyes closing in defeat. “It’s okay. Let me help you. Here, sit down and I'll look, all right?”

Damian collapsed into a suede wingback chair, confirming beyond any doubt how wretched he was feeling. The cats promptly swarmed into his lap, complaining vocally about having been deprived of their preferred seating for so long.

Tim looked through the shelves in the right section and surrounding areas carefully, but he didn't see the title. They all were fanatical about returning the books to their proper places thanks to Alfred’s stringent training, so he didn't think it could be anywhere else. “You’re right. It's not here. I'm ordering a copy online.” He pulled out his phone and did just that, after looking through a couple of international book dealers.

“Guess what I did find, though?” He waggled a copy of Ghabat al-haqq in Damian’s direction. Damian gave an impatient “tt” and Tim smiled. “I know. But at least it's the same author. How about you sit there and I read to you?”

“Very well,” Damian allowed, with more grace than Tim had expected.

Tim sat on the loveseat opposite him and began to read. At the end of the first page, he glanced up to find Damian sitting bolt upright, gazing at him in what looked like shock.

“What is it?” Tim looked down at the flowing script, rereading quickly. “Did I butcher the pronunciation of something? I'm not super good at Arabic yet and I've mainly learned fus’ha, so it's probably annoying for me to read this. Sorry.”

“No, I—” Damian closed his mouth, swallowed, and continued carefully, “I hadn't realized you spoke it so fluently. Your pronunciation is adequate.” A pause, then, as reluctantly as if Tim held him at gunpoint: “I enjoy listening to you read.”

“Oh!” The tops of Tim’s ears blazed with heat. “I, uh—should I keep going?”

Damian nodded, relaxing into the depths of his chair. “Yes.”

By the time Tim got to the fifth page Damian’s eyes drifted shut, and he only read four more pages before the first soft snore interrupted him.

A text from Cassandra vibrated his phone. How's Damian?

Tim shook his head. How had she known he'd be with Damian? He typed, he's grouchy feverish etc all the things u wd expect

Recovering though?

Tim snapped a picture of Damian drowsing and sent it with promise u will delete

She sent back a heart and I promise. Okay if I tell Stephanie what you told me?

Tim tapped his phone against his chin, considering, then shrugged. sure

He fell asleep on the loveseat, and by the time they both woke up it made more sense to spend the night again.

The following night Bruce and Tim were on patrol, so it proved convenient to return Redbird to the Cave and see if Damian was asleep yet. He was, but he blinked awake as soon as Tim approached his bed.

“How're you doing?” Tim whispered.

Damian gave Tim an unguarded smile that warmed him like firelight. “Better now you are here.”

Well, if Tim had been looking for proof he'd taken his Vicodin, that response would have provided it. He'd planned on going back to the Nest, but Damian’s words made him waver. “I could stay,” he offered, heart in his throat.

Damian said nothing, but moved to leave one side of the mattress available and pulled the covers back. Tim leaned over and kissed his forehead. “I'll shower and join you.”

While he waited for the water to run hot, a text came through from a number he didn't recognize. How's the baby bat?

Jason’s latest burner, then. When had the others decided he was the Damian news source? Though, considering how taciturn both Bruce and Damian could be, he guessed it was a logical conclusion. If they knew he and Damian were together, anyway.

ok, he replied. gonna spend the night at the manor keep an eye on him

Jason texted back, Make sure that’s all you keep on him, Timmers. 🚫🍆💦🍆🙅‍♂️

Tim rolled his eyes and didn't bother with an answer. The most Damian was up for right now was the occasional kiss, and even then he sometimes looked a little dizzy afterward.

The third night, Dick texted him as he was driving home. hey Tim can you check on Dami tonight? I know it's out of your way and I'm sorry but I don't trust him or Bruce when it comes to taking care of himself and I know he's been working full days at the office. I'd do it myself but I've got things I need to take care of closer to home like our mutual friend.

So Katarina needed help with something. Considering they'd upended her whole life again, Tim didn't begrudge her Dick’s presence. yeah sure no problem i was going to call him but i can go by

A long pause. Tim waited to see what the response would be. He had a theory that Damian couldn't hide much from Dick, or at least not for long.

Finally, Dick texted back, Thanks! I really appreciate it. So clearly with the lack of follow up questions, he suspected something was going on. Tim considered just telling him but rejected it when a wave of nausea splashed through his gut. Damian could handle that conversation when he felt ready.

By the fourth night, Tim gave in and packed a bag to supplement what supplies he still had at the Manor. He hadn’t realized how empty the house was without Alfred to make it a home. Something about Damian only having Bruce’s accusing terseness for company rubbed him the wrong way.

“Hey,” he greeted Damian as he entered the room.

Damian, currently balancing a sketchbook on Pennyworth’s back while he lounged in an armchair, set down his pencil and gave him a guarded nod, eyes fixed on the suitcase in Tim’s hand. “Hello.”

Tim laid the suitcase on the bed, opened it, and crossed to the walk-in closet. “Did you already have dinner?” he called over his shoulder as he pushed Damian’s clothes over to clear some space for his own.

“I haven't, no. You?”

Tim emerged clutching a half-dozen hangers. “Nope. Order in or cereal?”

Damian scoffed. “None of us can expect to operate without more protein than that. The new vegan place near the airport has an acceptable range of options. I'll put in an order now.”

Tim started buttoning his shirts’ collars around the hangers. “Sounds good. Get me something fried, please.”

“As you wish.” Damian began typing on his phone while walking away.

When Tim carried his toiletries to the bathroom, it was to find Damian’s belongings mysteriously relocated to a single side of the sink.

On the eleventh morning, Tim awoke groggy, still recovering from the work week and Friday night patrol, which always had an extra flair in Gotham. The cats were gone for once, having deserted the room when Tim opened the door to come to bed. Damian curled around him, the sleeping big spoon, and his morning wood pressed against Tim’s ass. Tim couldn’t stop himself from rolling his hips back to return the pressure. His hand was no substitute for sex with Damian, but he hadn’t wanted to ask when the other was clearly not feeling up to par.

Damian gave a sleepy groan. His grip on Tim’s arm tightened as he thrust against him—and then loosened again with a sharp inhale. He’d hurt himself with the unwary movement.

Tim rolled over with caution to face him. “Good morning.”

Damian’s face was pale, but the slight smile he offered carried genuine warmth. “Good morning.”

Tim smiled back. “This,” he dropped one hand to palm Damian’s erection through his shorts, “seems hopeful.”

Damian’s eyelids fluttered in response to the caress. “Sleeping with you without sex as a component is all very well, but less satisfactory since I’ve been feeling better.” He made to reach for Tim but thoughtlessly moved the hurt arm and froze.

“Looks like most of that blood transfusion isn’t making it to your brain,” Tim teased, scooting closer. “Here, let me take care of you. Roll over onto your back, on the pillows so you’re propped up. Lift your hips up for me.”

Damian obeyed, angling his hips to allow Tim to pull off his shorts and underwear. Once naked, he reached for Tim once more, this time with more caution, but Tim caught his wrist with gentle fingers. “Not so fast. You only get to watch.”

Damian’s eyebrows converged in consternation. “But—”

“No buts, Dami. I’ll make you feel good, I promise. Just trust me.” Tim ran his fingertips up Damian’s length as he spoke, watching with fascination as it twitched beneath them, leaking a few drops of precome. Damian flinched and whimpered, already panting. “You’re so responsive to my touch. Look at you, coming undone before I’ve even started touching you.” He ducked, sucking at just the tip, lapping into the slit as he stroked the rest with a loose grip. Pulling off, he added, “It’s really fucking hot.”

He stood to strip in front of Damian’s avid gaze. Before he could ask, Damian said, “I’ve got lube in the nightstand drawer, there. Condoms too.”

Tim got the lube and a condom out and climbed back on the bed, kneeling between Damian’s outstretched legs. He poured the lube into his palm. “I’m gonna get myself ready for you.” He started with one finger just to tease, throwing his head back and groaning as it breached his entrance. “Oh fuck. It feels so good, Dami. I’ve missed having you inside me.”

Damian grabbed the sheets beside him as if he needed an anchor. His voice came out cracked. “I’ve missed—" He cleared his throat. “I’ve missed being there.”

Tim dropped his gaze to fix him with a lazy smile, adding another finger at the same time. “Yeah? You been getting off without me? Tell me more.”

But Damian shook his head, eyes tracking every movement of Tim’s, a hunter deprived of the opportunity to capture. “I haven’t felt well enough to follow through till this morning.”

Tim had to pause to lean on his clean hand and kiss him on the mouth. He just . . . had to. One kiss turned into another, and another, until he shuffled his knees beneath him again and kept kissing Damian while he continued opening himself up. It wasn’t easy, but he managed. Amazing how motivational sheer horniness could be.

Damian tore his mouth free and tried to move it to Tim’s chin, but Tim jerked back and put his free hand on Damian’s chest to hold him down. “I told you no,” he said, all stern rebuke, then grabbed the lube bottle to pour more on his fingers. “Be good or you won't get what you want.”

Damian let his head fall back, suitably cowed. “I–I promise I’ll be good.”

Tim had to stop moving and close his eyes because his entire body caught on fire. Or, at least, he was pretty sure it had, but he couldn’t look because that would involve opening his eyes and seeing Damian choosing to obey him and he might die. Or come. Whatever.

A few deep breaths later and he felt safe to look again, though he avoided Damian’s face and instead focused on his cock. “Okay, I’m gonna just—" He ripped open the condom and slid it on while Damian quivered, aborted movements just barely checked.

“Drake,” he whined. “This is unfair.”

Tim couldn’t resist kissing his forehead, and that meant he also couldn’t resist kissing down to one damp temple, then over to the other, then his mouth again. Damian parted his lips at the first glancing touch like he was starved for the taste of him. Tim sighed into the kiss and let him suck on his tongue.

He pulled back and kissed the tip of Damian’s nose after a minute. “Frustration looks good on you.” He swung one leg over Damian’s lap, straddling him and reaching back to take his cock in hand. “I think you look even better under me. Let me ride you.”

Damian nodded, still watching him with that predatory focus.

Tim sank down, inch by inch, always a little surprised at the amount of stretch Damian’s hardness required. He had to remind himself to keep breathing as his body opened up. At last, his ass rested flush with Damian’s hips.

“Oh fuck,” he whispered, rocking in place just to enjoy feeling this full.

Damian moaned in response. His head lolled back against the dark oaken headboard. His hands had gone limp and his shoulders relaxed. Only the rapid rise and fall of his chest gave away his arousal.

The power he’d surrendered set Tim alight with satisfaction. “Fuck, Damian, you’re so good.” Damian whined again, eyelids heavy with lust. “Look at you, holding so still for me just because I told you to.” He leaned his head onto Damian’s unhurt shoulder, struggling for control. “Can’t believe you let me do this,” he mumbled into the soft warmth at the crook of Damian’s neck.

Damian turned his head and nuzzled him. “You’ll reward me, won’t you?”

The warm affection in his tone turned Tim’s bones to liquid. “Of course I will, sweetheart,” he managed to reply. “You’ve earned it.”

He leaned back onto his hands and started swiveling his hips, rather than lifting up and down in a motion that would probably jar Damian’s wound. Damian groaned in response, but stayed stock-still while Tim did all the work.

He trusts me so much, Tim suddenly realized, and the revelation hit him in his brain, heart, and dick, too many feelings to process all at once. He had to jolt forward and hide his face in Damian’s neck again.

The sudden movement seemed to take Damian by surprise; he gave a shout like he’d been punched in the gut and his cock throbbed with his orgasm. Tim couldn’t wait anymore and grasped his own erection, rutting against Damian’s abs while he fucked into his fist until he came all over Damian’s belly.

They breathed against each other for a timeless space, heedless of the mess between them. At last, though, Tim had to lift himself free before the condom couldn’t do its job anymore. He took care of it, then went to the bathroom to get a warm washcloth and a towel so he could clean up Damian too.

“Mm,” Damian said, watching Tim dry off his groin. “Can we go back to sleep again?”

Tim hesitated, keeping his gaze glued to his task. He should do more casework, find out where Falcone had gone to ground, finish setting up a new identity for Katarina, check in again on the people they’d freed. But if he got up and started doing all that, Damian would feel obligated to do the same, and he really needed his rest to fully recover.

“Yeah. That sounds good.”

He took the washcloth back to the bathroom and rinsed it out, then returned to cuddle up into Damian’s side. The world wouldn’t go to hell if they rested for another hour. Probably.

days 105-108 here

#damitim #tim and damian and 150 prompts #like I know what you want #folliefic #nsft

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exuberantocean · 2 years

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I posted 8,845 times in 2022

506 posts created (6%)

8,339 posts reblogged (94%)

Blogs I reblogged the most:

@fabulousvelociraptor

@managerie76

@hacash

@1989nihil

@nerdswithanxietysaywhat

I tagged 1,902 of my posts in 2022

#ted lasso - 450 posts

#mash - 161 posts

#cats - 150 posts

#jason sudeikis - 106 posts

#star trek - 97 posts

#ofmd - 81 posts

#sga - 78 posts

#my writing - 53 posts

#fanfic - 52 posts

#theodore lasso - 42 posts

Longest Tag: 133 characters

#he should be smushed between beard and rebecca on a couch with a cup of hot chocolate (with marshmellows) watching well loved romcoms

My Top Posts in 2022:

Ted Lasso is so relatable because he’s literally like “I can’t handle my own issues, so I’ll avoid them by handling everyone else’s.”

Never before have I felt so called out yet so seen.

122 notes - Posted October 12, 2022

Ted Lasso very pointedly does not do redemption arcs.

A redemption arc features a character’s atonement for their mistakes and misdeeds.

Rebecca very clearly does some horrible stuff in the larger part of S1. You love her, I love her, but it’s undeniably true. She tries to ruin AFC Richmond and the lives of everyone who works there (probably what, 50-75 people would at AFC Richmond?) with the hopes of causing her ex-husband “as much pain and suffering” as she felt from his abuse and cheating. That’s 50-75 people who could lose their jobs, which which would ripple on to affect their families. That could end the careers of many if not most of the players. That’s not even counting the disappointment of the fans losing the team that she just run into the ground.

And she focuses on doing this through Ted, a man she barely knows. If those pictures she had taken made the papers, it could have destroyed his marriage (she didn’t know it was failing at this point but even if she did, that doesn’t mean it was any less bad). It would have hurt Keeley and Jamie too. Her attempt at getting a hit piece written on him was also cruel. Maybe pulling Jamie as a step below in scale (it was less of a personal attack at least) but it still hurts Jamie a great deal (more so than Ted actually).

If the show was about Redemption, Rebecca is not redeemed. She has done no acts of atonement. No public confessions, no acts to make up for the damage she did or attempted.

What we do see instead is a show with, what I feel is, a more realistic and better arc. Accountability arc we can call it. You realize you fuck up. You apologize for the fuck up to those most affected, and you move on. You try to do better. This is what we see Rebecca do. She apologizes to Ted and Higgins (I still feel Jamie should be apologized/told why he was traded back). She moves on trying to be a better person than she was.

And that’s really the best you can do in life sometimes. There isn’t always a way to redeem ourselves of our past sins in most cases. We can’t always make up for the way we hurt others. But we can hold ourselves accountable and then work to move through the world in a kinder, carefuller way.

This is why I think we won’t see Nathan redeemed, but we will see him learn to hold himself accountable and do better.

130 notes - Posted February 3, 2022

Elizabeth:. We have an emergency situation.

John: *Strapping a nuke on his body* On it already.

167 notes - Posted November 8, 2022

Okay imagine you’re just hanging out, being the top life form in your environment with the rest of your species, when it comes to your attention that a particular species of ant not only evolving at a remarkable rate, but also spreading everywhere. I mean all over the freakin’ place. And you can tell, at some point in the still distant future, it will evolve to a point that it’ll be a potential threat or rival to your own species.

So your like “Hm...we should check this out.” So you get a guy. This guy, he’s a bit of a dick but maybe this will keep him out of your freaking hair for a bit - so you have this guy set up some sort of test, like a trial, to help learn a few things about how you should proceed with this species going forward. Like, should you wipe them out now before they get too powerful? Should you confine them a localized environment and stifle their progress? Should you just let them continue to spread and evolve? You got to figure this out, right? And if nothing else, you’d get this asshole out of your hair for a minute which is good because he’s always making a fucking mess of things.

So you send this guy out and he comes back and it turns out one of the ants seduced him by accident.

This is what qcard is like to the Q.

178 notes - Posted August 9, 2022

My #1 post of 2022

"Well, I play a jerk, so it's really easy to approach that yet again. It's not difficult," de Lancie recently said of reprising Q. "It was nice to do. It was not difficult to bring it up again. We all play pretty close to who we are… at least I am. The material had a lot of the same vibes about it… The intentions are still the same. I'm still Picard's main squeeze. And I'm pushing." X

Update: Jean-Luc’s asshole boyfriend’s back in town.

214 notes - Posted January 19, 2022

Get your Tumblr 2022 Year in Review →

#tumblr2022 #year in review #my 2022 tumblr year in review #your tumblr year in review

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babblish · 2 years

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I posted 3,140 times in 2022

That's 1,053 more posts than 2021!

120 posts created (4%)

3,020 posts reblogged (96%)

Blogs I reblogged the most:

@everything-is-connected

@falling-hand-in-unlovable-hand

@ashenhartkrie

@sonofapunk

@raevenlywrites

I tagged 2,192 of my posts in 2022

Only 30% of my posts had no tags

#tales of arcadia - 184 posts

#arcane order - 163 posts

#bellroc - 106 posts

#skrael - 98 posts

#not my art - 82 posts

#nari - 73 posts

#dash games - 51 posts

#my fic - 41 posts

#heart of janus au - 39 posts

#ask meme - 38 posts

Longest Tag: 138 characters

#if i get a migraine squinting at your shitty “dni: ableists” written in yellow text on a pastel pink background with confetti and balloons

My Top Posts in 2022:

Birkenstocks and Ballet Flats

Fandom: Tales of Arcadia (Cartoons) Rating: M Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Relationships/Characters: Bellroc, Skrael, Original Characters, Douxie, Jim, Toby, Claire

Chapter One of Two: The Warmongers' Wake The Arcane Order disguise themselves as regular normal not suspicious at all non-magic having humans to poke around unhindered after the massacre of the changelings, but things don’t exactly go to plan as they run into some familiar, though entirely unwelcome, faces.

Their footfalls were loud as Bellroc’s sandals hit the concrete, rubbing up against their heels in an irritating way. They looked out against the landscape, feeling the heat, relishing it, but seeing nothing. Skrael squeezed their hand, an icy little reminder that under everything, despite their location, they were still as they always were.

Their footfalls were loud, trudging through the streets, as a slow and determined drum. They recalled Eyitsoesh, not in life through their eyes, but apart… on the day Morgana had first exercised her power on them. The dread that lingered in the air reminded them of her, of that day, the fear she could not hide in the shadow realm.

“She is near,” Bellroc said softly, “I can feel her reaching out to the back of my mind, calling from her prison.”

“Ignore her,” Skrael sniffed. “We have come to investigate her mistakes, have we not?”

Bellroc grumbled. “Hers and others,” they replied.

“Stop,” Skrael hissed, voice low. “It’s the wizard boy.”

“Merlin’s puppet?” Bellroc asked, matching their tone.

“The very same,” Skrael replied. “One… of Merlin’s puppets, there is of course the other.”

“What is he doing?” Bellroc asked, facing the mortal with the most magic radiating from their person in jagged temporal streaks.

Skrael was silent, his breath sharp as he thought. “I cannot say. This will require focused observation.”

Bellroc chuckled. “Did you want me to keep an eye on him?”

— Ties in with Primordial Awakenings, Under the Wave, Under the Sun, Searching for the C and the rest of The Heart of Janus au.

30 notes - Posted July 23, 2022

Birkenstocks and Ballet Flats

Fandom: Tales of Arcadia (Cartoons) Rating: M Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Relationships/Characters: Bellroc, Skrael, Original Characters, Douxie, Jim, Toby, Claire

Chapter Two of Two: Merlin's Puppets The Arcane Order disguise themselves as regular normal not suspicious at all non-magic having humans to poke around unhindered after the massacre of the changelings, but things don’t exactly go to plan as they run into some familiar, though entirely unwelcome, faces.

His gaze stopped on a tall and skinny young looking man trying to shove an empty box labelled ‘Mr. Listless’ into a waste receptacle with his boot, visible through the door of the establishment’s staff kitchen. The boy stamped it two more times before he turned his head in abject dread and saw Skrael watching him, smug with the knowledge that Bellroc was right after all.

“Oh thank god! You’ve got blue hair and pronouns,” Casperan exhaled with visceral relief. “Nearly died of a heart attack, mate,” he laughed, running a hand through his greasy hair.

“You’re welcome,” Skrael replied, smiling thinly. If only it were so easy.

Casperan slammed the door behind with imagined bravado, and swaggered over, looking down at Skrael with a confused little smile on his face. “Now I’ve seen your face before, haven’t I?”

Skrael looked at him, fighting himself to not say something incriminating. “Maybe once or twice.”

“The… Los Angeles airport?” Casperan continued. “No - no, London. Belfast?”

“You don’t remember?” Skrael asked, thinking it an innocent enough question.

“Oh, so you’re a fan,” Casperan concluded. “Sorry, the underground scene tends to blur people together when you’ve been at it for as long as I have… with sleep deprivation. Ha yeah, that’s what I meant, the sleep deprivation. It’s a killer.”

“Oh I don’t sleep at all,” Skrael replied, unable to stop himself.

“Exactly,” Casperan went to fistbump him, hand hanging awkwardly before he let it fall. “Ha… well, I need to put food on the table… to put… food on the——” he froze, looking him up and down with the dread that came with recognition, but then his lip curled and he began to chuckle. “Oh you’re cute, mate. You’re really cute,” he grinned down at Skrael viciously. “Did you dress up for lil ol’ me? I’m flattered.”

— Ties in with Primordial Awakenings, Under the Wave, Under the Sun, Searching for the C and the rest of The Heart of Janus au.

44 notes - Posted July 30, 2022

You mentioned the other hidden layers on your Arcane Order art? Might I humbly request that you share some?🥺 (only if u want lol)

I did! Tbh I'm planning on making them their own separate posts when I get a couple more outfits together but just because you asked, lemme share a couple details about what is happening beneath the layers in the Arcane Order piece I published at the beginning of the month for Wizards' second anniversary.

47 notes - Posted August 29, 2022

Bellroc as per my now completed fic Primordial Awakenings, roughly 7800 BCE during chapter 6. (Skrael is here) (Nari is here)

96 notes - Posted January 1, 2022

My #1 post of 2022

Two years ago, August 7 2020, we were introduced the Arcane Order with the release of Wizards: Tales of Arcadia. 🔥🌿❄

120 notes - Posted August 7, 2022

Get your Tumblr 2022 Year in Review →

#tumblr2022 #year in review #my 2022 tumblr year in review #your tumblr year in review #oh shit it actually worked for me this year 😳#tumblr really said READ BIRKENSTOCKS AND BALLET FLATS huh #obviously not completed since I have two three more chapters of under the wave to go this year

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tilbageidanmark · 2 years

Video

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Movies I watched this Week #106 (Week 2 of year 3):

“Three great abstract artists died in 1944: Wassily Kandinsky, Piet Mondrian and Hilma von Klint”.

Even though it’s only the second week of January, I already discovered one of my favorite documentaries of 2023: Beyond The Visible - Hilma af Klint. Like Vivian Maier, Hilma was a female genius who lived in obscurity her whole life and left behind a body of work that equals and surpasses most of her contemporaries. Discovered 70 years after her death, she is now considered perhaps Sweden’s most important artist - ever. This astounding biography details her groundbreaking legacy, as well as her extraordinary life. The first abstract artist of the modern area, all her 2,500 painting and voluminous notebooks of 250,000 pages miraculously remained intact. She was also a mystic, a spiritualist, a feminist and a vegetarian. Until our age, history was busy erasing all traces of female participation from its re-telling. Hers is one happy reversal.(Slideshow Above).

I saw an exhibition of her large canvases at the Tel Aviv Museum in 2019 and they were awe-inspiring. 10/10.

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High maintenance, another biographical documentary. About the great Israeli sculptor and environmental artist Dani Karavan, known for his large site-specific monuments. It followed him around before his death at 90, as he travels to some European locations of his earlier, magnificent memorials, and as he re-assess his art. An uncompromising and head-strong artist with angry political views who had no patience for fools or fascists. He was also dealing with declining acuity and memory loss during that time. With Wim Wenders. The opening scene. 7/10.

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Hit the road, an unforgettable Iranian road movie written and directed by Panah Panahi, Jafar Panahi’s son, in his feature debut. There are four people driving, but we don’t know who they are or where they are going and why. One of them is a precarious six-year old, the driver does not speak much, and the parents behave strangely. Slowly we discover more about them, but the background story goes unexplained.

It’s best to watch this without knowing more. By the heartbreaking end we are completely captivated. The trailer discloses too much.

The acting of the little boy is probably one of the best child acting I’ve ever seen. 9/10 - Best film of the week.

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"...Even with my eyes wide open, I can't see anything..."

Zaitochi is a traveling blind swordsman, one of Japan’s longest film series. The Blind Swordsman: Zatoichi (2003) is my first Zaitochi film, and my third by actor-director Takeshi Kitano. A tribute to the Samurai films of the 60′s, it is full of rivers of blood spraying all over whenever somebody is stabbed and killed, which is all the time. Also, including a subplot of a cross-dressing, maybe trans, geisha. It ends with a joyful and lengthy community tap dancing party.

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First watch: “Tony, do you ever think about death? - Fuck off!”

The coming of age British Billy Elliot about an 11-year-old coal miner’s son who discovers that he loves ballet. A period piece about class, grief & masculinity. The boy who play Billy was wonderful. 9/10.

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Another first watch: Before Sunrise, the first part of Richard Linklater’s ‘Before Trilogy’. A romantic story of two young people who meet on a train bound for Vienna. An interesting, minimalist concept that I didn’t love, because I couldn’t feel the connection between immature cynic Ethan Hawke and stereotypical-‘sweet’ French blond Julie Delpy. I wish they were played by other people. I will watch an updated version of this with more persuasive actors. Should I watch the other two parts?

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2 by Zhang Yimou:

🍿 Raise the red lantern, the epic saga from the Chinese Warlord Era, tells a tragic story of a young ‘fourth Mistress’ to a very wealthy patriarch. The magnificent Gong Li and the other three concubines cannot leave the palace. They must wait each in their own opulent quarters until the master of the house (whose face is never seen) calls on the one he chooses to spend the night with. Restrained, tradition-bound and transgressive. 8/10.

🍿 So I wanted to revisit a couple more of Yimou’s masterpieces, ‘Red Sorghum’, or ‘Qiu Ju’ or ‘To live’. Unfortunately, I picked instead his first English-language film The Great Wall, thinking, well, it was co-written by Tony Gilroy, it co-starred Andy Lau and Willem Dafoe, it was the most expensive Chinese movie ever produced, Etc. But it was a horrible disappointment. It’s a weak cartoon fantasy for young males about two mercenary amigos fighting an army of millions CGI alien monsters. Part of the trend to create spectacular Hollywood blockbusters which cater to the Chinese marketplace, the movie made $335 million and still lost money. 1/10 piece of shit. That’s why I don’t like and don’t watch special effect action movies.

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2 by Ernst Lubitsch:

🍿 “Pure hooey!…”

Design for Living, a pre-code screwball comedy about - let’s face it - an explicit a ménage à trois between bohemian Gary Cooper, Fredric March, and Miriam Hopkins. That Hopkins was a modern, open-minded woman who wants to love and have sex with both men was a rarity and a delight.

🍿 His classic romantic comedy The shop around the corner, the original concept used later in ‘You’ve got mail’. It’s interesting how much appeal was there in Hollywood of that time to wax nostalgic about Austro-Hungarian life, and the reverence toward the class of the shopkeeper, aka, business owner .

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Miss April ("Fröken April”), a lighter-than-air Swedish comedy from 1958 directed not by Ingmar Bergman but by one Göran Gentele. It features some venerable actors like Jan Kulle, Per Oscarsson and especially Gunnar Björnstrand who stars as an aristocratic, stuffy older banker (who, let’s face it, never “been in love” i.e. “never had sex”) and who falls for a cute, young ballet dancer. Silly & childish, and as enjoyable as a trip down memory lane to a sunny world that doesn’t exist any more. 7/10.

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2 with Gregory Peck, Robert Mitchum and Martin Balsam:

🍿 The original Hitchcockian 1962 Cape fear, with a sinister score by Bernard Herrmann. An uncomfortable story of threat and terror. The word “rape” and the act itself were not explicitly seen, but strongly felt as the middle class fear that a crazed psychotic sexual stalker is coming for our young daughters. 5/10.

🍿 Rabid Martin Scorsese made the 1991 Cape Fear remake more menacing, his buff, tattooed rapist Max Cady more maniacal and the whole story much more sadistic. The best element for me was the re-done score, and the anti-lawyers message. 4/10.

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Assholes: A Theory, a Canadian documentary film, based on a book by professor of philosophy Aaron James. An asshole "allows himself to enjoy special advantages in social relations out of an entrenched sense of entitlement that immunizes him against the complaints of other people." Even though it was made in 2019, and touched upon many political, sociological & psychological trends, it didn’t mention even once the biggest asshole of them all.

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The Matador, an unconvincing crime thriller starring Pierce Brosnan and Greg Kinnear. An unlikely friendship between two vastly different men, a milquetoast middle-class salesman and a burnt-out assassin who meet at a hotel bar in Mexico City. A male fantasy of what a life of a contract hit man is. 4/10.

🍿

4 Vimeo-type Shorts:

🍿 In Ruby, an elderly Irish couple, Len and Ruby, celebrate their 40th anniversary. Len has a history of of odd and outlandish gifts. Ruby hopes that this year will be different and that he'll arrange something "nice and normal".

🍿Sister, a different, Oscar-Nominated Stop-Motion Animation by young Chinese director Siqi Song. About being a single child. The figures are made out of wool.

🍿 “If Tuvsho was a superhero, this would be her origin story." I Am Tuvsho, a short Mongolian documentary about a female sumo wrestler.

🍿 School Portrait, Directed by Nick Scott, about a school photographer in a bad mood.

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Bobcat Goldthwait’s satirical indie World's Greatest Dad started well but ended in a mess. Robin Williams is an amateur novelist with a rotten teenager son. But then this sex-obsessed, nasty kid auto-asphyxiate while masturbating, and father covers it up as a ‘regular’ suicide. What a perverted premise. Too bad it didn’t work. 3/10

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After discovering Coraline last week, I decided to watch the parody of it on The Simpsons’ Treehouse of Horror XXVIII (29S 4E). Somehow edgy (because of Halloween?...). Including similar parodies of The Exorcist, Sausage party, and self-cannibalism trops. Alrighty then!

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Throw-back to the art project:

Chinese princess (还珠格格 HuanZhuGeGe) Adora

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(My complete movie list is here)

#movies

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grantgoddard · 2 months

Text

Caribbean drubbing on such an “Armageddon-like” day : 2024 : Hurricane Beryl, Carriacou

"Clackety-clack clackety-clack, from Kalamazoo to Timbuctoo, from Timbuctoo and back!”

As a young reader, I learned these words by heart from a favourite children’s book, ‘The Train to Timbuctoo’ written in 1951 by Margaret Wise Brown. I daydreamed about the journey between these two strangely-named railway stations, evoked so perfectly by the author’s prose and accompanying illustrations. Decades later, I discovered I had been sold a fantasy, it being as improbable to take a train from Kalamazoo (a city in Michigan) to Timbuktu (an ancient city in Mali) as it would to line up at Marrakesh station ticket office behind Graham Nash. Only recently did I learn that Timbuctoo (a different spelling from the Mali one) is in fact the name of: a ghost town in California; a small settlement in New Jersey; and a failed farming community in upstate New York, none of which boast a railway station. Whichever were the book’s fantasy locations, I never did manage to travel there … by train or other means. But it had stimulated dreams of foreign sojourns.

Although I never read the book, the haunting instrumental theme music to the French dramatisation of ‘Robinson Crusoe’ remains embedded in my memory, half a century after having watched its thirteen black-and-white dubbed episodes repeated ad nauseum on BBC children’s television. Seven-year-old suburban me was enthralled by the prospect of living beside the sandy beach of a sunny tropical island, despite my aversion to spiders and snakes. Scenic landscapes filmed on Gran Canaria looked picture-postcard remarkable in the era before ‘package holidays’ and ‘charter flights’ opened up international travel. The series fomented a childhood dream of one day relishing a ‘simple’ life beside a gently lapping sea … perhaps accompanied by a ‘Girl Friday’ such as Tuesday Weld whom I had just ogled alongside ‘Richard Kimble’ in ‘The Fugitive’, my parents’ favourite TV serial. It was ‘Robinson Crusoe’ that fostered dreams of island-living.

For a month during early 2004, much of my time was wasted sat at a desk in the air-conditioned open-plan BBC office in Phnom Penh with a workload stymied by disagreements with management over the danger of fulfilling my contract in the crumbling Radio National Kampuchea headquarters, following the recent workplace death of a staff member. Seeking escapism from these frustrations, I listened to the few extant streaming reggae music stations of the time, but found none were playing the selection of ‘roots’ oldies I desired. My fruitless search had identified a gap in the global online market for listeners like me who had grown up during reggae’s most fertile and creative period between the 1960’s and 1980’s.

On my return to the UK later that year, I spent months awaiting the follow-up BBC work contracts I had been promised, but which never materialised. Without employment, I busied myself creating an automated online music station ‘rootsrockreggae’, digitising 15,000 reggae recordings I had collected since childhood. Broadcast from servers in Jamaica, I managed the operation remotely, generating revenue from a few local advertisers and commissions from listeners buying compact discs of music they had heard. It started small but, using an early iteration of ‘Google Ads’ to target North American reggae fans, the audience grew quickly. Within a few years, Winamp/Shoutcast ranked it amongst the five most listened to online reggae radio stations in the world, attracting an audience of tens of thousands each day. Its online player displayed constantly updated headlines from Jamaica, reggae news and weather reports, using my computer programming skills first learnt in the 1970's. Like most online start-ups, sadly it never turned a profit.

Out of the blue, I received an email from the engineer of an FM radio station ‘Kyak 106’, asking if it could re-broadcast rootsrockreggae’s online overnight stream of dub and DJ music when no live presenters were available. I found the station’s website, listened and loved its enthusiasm for reggae, broadcasting to an island called Carriacou of which I knew absolutely nothing. I responded positively. This random communication prompted me to find out more about the location where my online station was suddenly being broadcast on 106.3 FM.

I discovered that Carriacou is a 12-square-mile island in the southeast Caribbean Sea with a population of 9,000. It is part of the former British colony of Grenada, independent since 1974 but retaining King Charles III as head of state. Physically, it is closer to Saint Vincent & The Grenadines (another independent former British colony, population 110,000, 4 miles away) than to the main island of Grenada (population 120,000, 17 miles away). Reading what little I could find online, I was quickly charmed by Carriacou’s old-style, friendly, relaxed way of life. It was not a resort island for rich Americans, its single airstrip too small for commercial planes, its colourful buildings were low-rise and its capital Hillsborough (population 1,200) had the feel of a quaint village with a short ‘High Street’.

Such was my enthusiasm, buoyed by regular listening to Kyak 106’s live shows, that I started to sketch a budget holiday plan for Carriacou, taking a Monarch Airlines flight from the UK to Grenada, a ferry to the island and staying at ‘Ades Dream Guesthouse’. Initially, it was time constraints that delayed such a visit because my workload had permitted only a single day off that year (to attend my daughter’s graduation). Then, having unexpectedly and suddenly lost my over-demanding job and unable to find another, finance became the restricting factor.

Inevitably, life moved on. Although the listenership to my reggae station had continued to grow, revenues fell precipitously when the dollar commissions earned from compact disc sales were replaced by mere cents generated by newly legalised MP3 download sales. Lacking a job, I reluctantly closed rootsrockreggae in 2009, even though it was now regularly ranked the most-listened online reggae station in the world after five years continuously on-air. It was a disappointing and frustrating time. Without access to development funds, life had to be focused on survival above all else. I promised myself to retire to Carriacou as soon as I won the lottery.

Kyak 106 closed in 2014, the product of a falling-out between two of its three directors that escalated as far as a 2022 High Court judgement. Station engineer Michael Ward, having been summarily sacked by presenter Kimberlain 'Kim D King' Mills, proceeded to commandeer the radio station and continue broadcasting from its Belair studio in Carriacou, until Mills called time and unilaterally shut the operation. Subsequently, Ward transformed Kyak 106 into an automated online reggae music station, adopting a slogan ‘Roots Rock Reggae from Carriacou’ that sounded remarkably familiar!

28 August 2008. When tropical storm Gustav arrived in Jamaica, I was listening for news to FM talk radio station ‘Power 106’ where presenter Althea McKenzie remained barricaded in its Bradley Avenue studio in Half Way Tree for hours on end. You could hear the wind and the rains aggressively pounding the building as she valiantly relayed information updates for residents and took phone calls from listeners, her voice sometimes wracked with dread and emotion. It produced some of the most impressive (but frightening) live radio I have ever heard, for which she should have won some broadcasting award. Gustav resulted in fifteen deaths and US$210m in damages on the island. McKenzie is still heard daily from 5am on this excellent station. I still dreamt of living on a Caribbean island, despite weather disasters such as this.

October 2017. I had accompanied my daughter for a meal in a Wokingham pizzeria when my sister asked me: “If you could live anywhere in the world, where would you want to be?” Without hesitation, repetition or deviation, I responded: “Carriacou.” The dream was still alive.

1 July 2024. Category 4 Hurricane Beryl tore through Carriacou on Monday morning, destroying 98% of its buildings, cutting its electricity, water supply and mobile phone coverage. Houses were reduced to matchsticks. Huge trees were uprooted. All vegetation was stripped away, turning the island from luscious green to brown. Several people (number still unconfirmed) died. Roads became impassable. All communication with the outside world was lost. To discover what had happened there, I turned to YouTube. There I discovered award-winning American journalist and ‘storm chaser’ Jonathan Petramala who had arrived on the island the previous day with colleague Brandon Clement to document the hurricane’s passage. His videos provided an absolutely remarkable record of the devastation.

Two decades earlier, when I had first sought information about Carriacou, YouTube was yet to launch. Today there are dozens of videos about the island. Petramala captured the ‘calm before the storm’ mere hours before the hurricane struck, incorporating drone footage illustrating the charm of its colourful buildings and its ‘paradise’ sandy beaches. His impassioned commentary heralded the calamity that was to come and, although the island’s one petrol station had closed after a run on fuel and the mini-mart was busy, there was no evident panic. “It’s going to be horrific,” he said … and it was.

The following day’s video was a bleak testament to the destruction Carriacou had endured. “This island is shredded,” Petramala commented. “These people are in desperate need of help.” A resident said: “Right now, Carriacou is finished for a couple of years.” I had never seen anything weather-related as shocking as the complete devastation shown here. It resembled a war-zone. The drone shots were heartbreaking. Another shell-shocked resident said: “The thing is: we have three [storm] systems right behind it. What about the people who don’t have the time to recover, who don’t have a roof over their head, who don’t have the resources to rebuild?”

This video was unique because communications (mobile, internet, radio) had been completely lost on the island in the hurricane’s aftermath. Carriacou has no TV station and its two local FM radios (‘Vibes 101.3’ and ‘Sister Isles 92.9’) had been knocked out. Using a vehicle battery, Petramala uploaded his video via the Starlink satellite. That Tuesday, there was no other footage online. Residents could be seen filming on their mobile phones but there was no signal coverage to share or upload videos and no electricity to keep their phones charged. The island’s population was in an evident state of shock. Petramala’s footage, in which he made repeated appeals for outsiders to help the population, was used in weather stories broadcast by television stations the world over to illustrate the disaster, deservedly garnering millions of views.

The next day, Wednesday, roads in the capital had been partially cleared by residents, allowing Petramala to explore beyond by vehicle. His next video showed the ‘Dover Government School’, designated as one of eight emergency shelters on the island, entirely reduced to rubble. Those who were sheltering there had to evacuate to its tiny library outbuilding completed in April 2023 that remained standing. In March 2023, the 40-bed Princess Royal Smart Hospital had reopened in Belair with fanfare as the island’s sole hospital after having been “retrofitted to improve [its] resistance to disasters like hurricanes”, using funds from the UK government and Pan American Health Organization. This video showed all its facilities unusable due to water damage.

Then, arriving at the government’s Emergency Operations Centre on Carriacou, also in Belair, Petramala explained to its seemingly baffled staff:

“I’m the only journalist on the island. We have a Starlink [satellite terminal] so we’ve been able to get in touch with the government down in Grenada. I think we’re the only people who have contact with the outside [world]. They want to be able to get in touch with you guys but nothing is working. … We can set [Starlink] up outside and give you guys ten minutes if you want to call down to the government in Grenada and communicate what has happened here.”

Surprisingly, the Centre did not appear to be a hive of activity after such total devastation. We did learn that only five of the island’s eight emergency shelters had survived (for 9,000 population?). Although the building’s generator was powering lighting, its "communications hub" (as promised by the US Charge d'Affaires) had not survived the hurricane, despite this "fantastic facility" having only been completed in 2021 with US$3m funding from the US Embassy. Did we see a basic radio transceiver (even a retail amateur radio set) to provide SOME two-way inter-island communication? No. Did we see walkie-talkies used by emergency staff for intra-island communication? No. An apparent dependence on commercial mobile phone networks (operators Digicell and Flow) was, er, unwise when their towers prove so vulnerable to weather and power issues.

Set up in their vehicle, Petramala and Clement allowed nearby traumatised residents to use their Starlink satellite link to contact their loved ones overseas, leading to emotional scenes. Later that day, a helicopter landed at Carriacou’s airport, Grenada prime minster Dickon Mitchell emerged and, interviewed by Petramala, resembled a deer caught in headlights (commented my wife). He promised aid “from tomorrow” but proposed recruitment of volunteers from the mainland and assistance from other countries over guaranteeing immediate assistance from his government. For islanders who had no homes, no water, no electricity, no food and no petrol, with vehicles destroyed and roads blocked, the unfortunate impression was of a lack of urgency two days after the hurricane had hit. (Excellent silent drone footage of the devastation recorded by Clement fills six YouTube videos.)

While Petramala and Clement had been arriving in Carriacou on the eve of the hurricane, Belair resident Rina Mills had been similarly filming from her vehicle the calm that reined that Sunday before the storm (accompanied by Belair youth worker Shem ‘Ambassador’ Quamina). Employed by the Carriacou office of the ‘Grenada Tourism Authority’, Mills’ warnings about the impending disaster were stark and serious. With hindsight, this video (like her many others) was a testament to the beauty of the island though, within a few hours, it sadly became a historic record of how much habitat and infrastructure were about to be destroyed. Her exceptional knowledge of the geography, history and culture of Carriacou, combined with her informal conversations, made her videos compelling. She promised: “After the storm, we’ll do an update as well.”

However, the next day’s destruction of mobile phone masts prevented Mills from updating viewers until Friday, when her 24-minute live feed was managed only by climbing to a high point on the south of the island to connect over the horizon to an antenna on the mainland. Mills and her partner had lost their home, like many other islanders, and appeared in an understandable state of shock whilst cataloguing the “total devastation” of their island and five known associated deaths. It was a sad, upsetting video that acknowledged how precarious is our day-to-day existence, whilst also demonstrating the resilience of the population and its sense of community in the face of unprecedented disaster. The contrast with Mills’ chatty pre-disaster videos could not have been starker. Coincidentally, I heard Mills interviewed that weekend on the BBC World Service show ‘Newshour’ about Beryl’s impact on Carriacou.

Once partial mobile communication was restored on the island, Mills uploaded video previously recorded in the aftermath of the hurricane. In the centre of the capital Hillsborough, next to the destroyed Post Office, a mobile water desalination plant had been set up to offer free drinking water to residents. This vital resource had been provided by American religious charity ‘Samaritan’s Purse’ which amazingly had dispatched a DC-8 cargo plane to Grenada (video of landing) the day after the hurricane, loaded with materials (video) to establish a field hospital, desalination plants around the island, foodstuffs, tarpaulins, clothing and bedding. Two dozen of its volunteers were airlifted to Carriacou and a barge was chartered the following day to bring the equipment there from Grenada. It was a much-needed vital resource at a time when Grenada government assistance was still not visible. “Hats off to Samaritan’s Purse,” commented Mills’ partner. “They were the first to get here, in my opinion.”

I had never heard of Samaritan’s Purse but was incredibly impressed by the scale and urgency of its work, operating a fleet of 24 aircraft and two helicopters from North Carolina. Video of a public tour of this DC-8 plane at the Dayton Air Show only days earlier demonstrated the huge volume of supplies it had carried. Its volunteers quickly spread across the island, distributing materials to residents from churches (Pastor Happy Akasie’s church in Brunswick in this video). By the following week, it had set up its second field hospital in Carriacou with doctors, nurses, medications and counsellors (video). Despite the island’s hotels/B&B’s having been destroyed, the charity operates self-sufficiently, building its own accommodation and bringing food and water for staff. It seems to embody the fictional Tracy family’s ‘International Rescue’.

Towards the end of this video, Mills understandably rails against sightseers arriving by ferry from Grenada merely to video the destruction in order to attract ‘hits’ to their social media channels. One example of this was bizarre ‘Coleen AKA Bright Diamond’ from the mainland who appeared to enjoy her ‘day out’ on the destroyed island, travelling on the back of an aid truck, making inappropriate comments, drinking from a wine bottle in the back of a car and buying bottled beer. Afterwards, the Grenada government introduced vetting of ferry travellers to Carriacou to prevent further ‘disaster tourists’ consuming the island’s scarce resources. Fortunately, these self-promoting types were in a minority, overshadowed by the many people and organisations who arrived on Carriacou to genuinely help out.

British solicitor and author Nadine Matheson had been visiting her parents’ house on Carriacou when the hurricane struck and recorded this scary video of its almost total destruction. Once back home, she is recording informative updates on her parents’ situation and a fundraising effort to replace the house’s roof. The structure is now covered by a temporary blue tarpaulin which, like so many other properties, was donated by Samaritan’s Purse.

Meanwhile, videos published by the Grenada government since the disaster have proven a quite surreal soft-focus experience after the stark wholesale destruction visible in locally-made videos. After its prime minister (who is additionally minister for disaster management) visited the island, one video showed him standing on the wreckage of a resident’s home, looking wistfully into the distance, accompanied by soft tinkling music. Its editor seems to be a big fan of 1980’s Lionel Ritchie music videos. There is lots of footage of government officials in fluorescent vests talking to each other, pointing at the destruction and being interviewed explaining what WILL happen but – dare I say? – not much footage of action IMMEDIATELY to tackle this humanitarian crisis. Initially, the government's media focus (including its partly owned GBN television channel) was much more on the relatively minor damage suffered on the main island, rather than the total destruction of 'sister isle' Carriacou.

Watching hours and hours of government press conferences uploaded online, I was struck by the preoccupation with ‘process’ they exhibit, talking endlessly about which department and which officers are responsible, which meetings WILL take place and who reports to whom. This habitual use of the future tense is alarming when what should be stated was what had ALREADY happened and what was happening RIGHT NOW. The government’s adoption of the slogan ‘Carriacou and Petite Martinique Will Rise Again!’ for the disaster seems symptomatic of this somewhat wishful thinking. It raises the big question: WHEN? Electricity is unlikely to be restored to the whole island for many months. Petrol remains in short supply. The situation on-the-ground for islanders remains dire.

The government press briefing on 9 July, eight days after the hurricane had hit, promised: a 2,000-gallon water truck loaned by a company on St Lucia “will commence distribution to residents starting Wednesday July 10th 2024”; then “a second 1,800-gallon water truck loaned by the Barbados Water Authority is expected to arrive on Carriacou during the coming week.” Does Grenada not own one water truck? How have 9,000 people on Carriacou been expected to survive without government-supplied fresh water for more than a week? Why does the co-ordinator of Grenada’s ‘National Disaster Management Agency’ (whose last web site news update was three weeks ago), Dr Terence Walters, seem to consider in this press conference that distributing 2,000 food packages to residents (who number 9,000) five days after the hurricane hit was a satisfactory response?

Coincidentally, a mere four days before Hurricane Beryl hit Carriacou, a 120-page report entitled ‘Grenada: National Disaster Preparedness Baseline Assessment’ had been published by the ‘Pacific Disaster Center’. It concluded that:

“… results for Grenada showed significant multi-hazard exposure including hurricane winds, earthquakes, and volcanoes with nearly the entire population exposed. […] The assessment pointed to vulnerabilities due to Environmental Stress, Information Access, and Gender Inequality and significant deficiencies in coping capacity areas such as Air Support and Transportation Capacity indicating enhancements are necessary to bolster Grenada’s disaster response capabilities. Addressing these gaps, alongside targeted efforts to mitigate the identified vulnerabilities, will strengthen the nation’s overall resilience to disasters. […] Strengthening communication and information management systems is essential to support effective disaster response and comprehensive risk reduction strategies.” [emphasis added]

In 2019, the World Bank had allocated US$20m to be drawn down by Grenada to address natural catastrophes, but had noted in its report:

"[Grenada's] Institutional capacity for implementation [risk] is rated Substantial due to weak inter-institutional coordination and the lack of technical expertise. Implementing the proposed operation will require the integrated work of several actors at the national and local levels to move the proposed policy actions forward. This could result in scattered, low impact, and/or uncoordinated actions." [emphasis added]

Estimated damages and losses to Grenada's economy from its most significant disasters suffered between 1975 and 2018 were estimated by the World Bank to have totalled US$967m. Hurricane Beryl's financial impact is likely to be greater than these prior disasters combined, eclipsing the island's annual GDP several times. Evidently, the fiscal catastrophe of accelerating climate change not only decimates small economies such as Grenada's but cumulatively will precipitate a global diversion of resources away from consumption towards mitigation and repair of weather, temperature and sea level changes.

It was evident in videos posted online that aid had quickly arrived from diverse sources: generous individuals, volunteers and groups on mainland Grenada, other Caribbean islands, the United Nations, France providing boats of supplies and troops on the ground (Grenada has no army), global charities. I watched a video of the French ambassador to Grenada interviewed whilst off-loading aid. Have I similarly seen the British high commissioner or governor general on Carriacou? Maybe I missed them. On 5 July, the UK provided £0.5m of immediate aid to Grenada and St Vincent, but will more substantial longer term assistance be forthcoming from the island’s former colonial power?

In 1983, the United States had sent 7,300 troops to invade and occupy Grenada because president Reagan chose to believe its newly built airport, funded partially by the British government, would be used to land Soviet bombers. 45 Grenadians were killed and 358 wounded. Today, if a major power were to devote similar resources to rebuild Carriacou quickly, its population might be able to endure the hardship it currently faces. However, despite residents suffering no electricity, water, food or a roof over their heads and with several emergency shelters destroyed, the government in Grenada has no current plan for significant evacuation of the island, preferring to remove only pregnant women, residents of old people’s homes and the hospitalised. How long are its citizens expected to survive when no cash is available from destroyed banks or ATM’s, forcing residents to make a four-hour round trip to the mainland? In 2024, these generous and stoic island people have been marooned in a hellish medieval landscape.

My dream of island-living is over for now. Carriacou can never be the same again. What will happen there is difficult to fathom. Its economy, seemingly reliant on retirees from the diaspora and small-scale tourism (independent travellers and two marinas of yachts) is ruined, forcing its people to make lifechanging decisions. Nowhere have I read that Grenada main island’s schools and sports halls have been opened to Carriacou refugees who have lost everything. At a time when thousands of its residents remain sat amongst the ruins of their dwellings, the Grenada government announced precipitously that:

“… the [Cayman Islands] Premier is extending an invitation to Grenadians who wish to work in the Cayman Islands, to return with her on Tuesday July 16 2024.”

The premier of this British Overseas Territory (population 85,000) was due to deliver aid relief to Grenada that day, but not before a further press statement had to hurriedly clarify that “no such offer was made during the courtesy call made to the Prime Minister of Grenada by the Premier of the Cayman Islands” and withdraw the implied invitation to potential economic migrants. Oh dear. (I recall when 8,000 refugees out of a population of 13,000 left the decimated Caribbean island of Montserrat following its 1995 volcanic eruption.)

I never got to visit Carriacou but, compared to the suffering endured presently by its resilient people, my regrets are insignificant. Watching the news from Carriacou engenders a sense of helplessness in the face of such overwhelming humanitarian need. I am highlighting Carriacou here only because it has been on my mind for two decades since receiving that fateful email from Kyak 106. The neighbouring islands of Petit Martinique and Union Island have been just as badly devastated by Hurricane Beryl. Though I am continuing to follow events in Carriacou, the mainstream media has inevitably moved on swiftly to other disasters elsewhere.

Observing the aftermath of this catastrophic event since 1 July has merely reinforced the devastating impact of ‘climate change’ us humans have foisted upon populations who have done nothing to cause it. Nobody on Earth can afford to ignore this issue because its effects will inevitably be coming to your corner of the world soon. Nobody will be immune. It is coming to get you, whether or not you choose to believe it is real. Voicing this eloquently was an emotional call-to-arms video (initially at https://youtu.be/oYn-XarQM3M but mysteriously deleted since) by United Nations climate change executive secretary Simon Stiell who is seen hugging his grandmother amongst the ruins of her home on Carriacou, his homeland.

After having viewed Beryl’s immediate impact from a helicopter, Grenada prime minister Dickon Mitchell had described the destruction as “Armageddon-like” in a press briefing and promised:

“We know it is not something that will happen overnight, but we certainly believe that in the next week to two and a half weeks we should have a complete clean up.”

Weeks later, new videos from Carriacou continue to show a post-Armageddon catastrophe that could last months and years for its beleaguered population.

[First published at https://peoplelikeyoudontworkinradio.blogspot.com/2024/07/caribbean-drubbing-on-such-armageddon.html ]

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