#of either 1) boys are being forced to do everything and the beards and they are cryig about it and suffering and in pain all the time

[immajustvibehere]

Amidst a Crashing World (3/5)

Pairing: Arthur Morgan x fem!Reader

Summary: Arthur returns to your cabin after you presumed him dead. The time between your last meetings have lead Arthur to a realisation.

tags for this series: fluff, little bit of angst, no-tb-Arthur, literally your love redemption, maybe smut (but probably not), slow burn (but I mean how slow can a story really burn in five chapters?)

masterlist

Chapter 1, Chapter 2

6000 words

Sooner than expected, you heard of Arthur. Unfortunately, not because he sent you a note or stopped by again. As you rode into Annesburg three days after wishing him luck for the big score he had planned, the paper boys yelled through the town: "Saint Denis robbers still on the run! What happened to the gang of Dutch van der Linde? Find out in today's edition!"

Normally, you weren't too big on reading the newspaper, but this time…you hadn't never snatched it so quickly out of the boy's hand, leaving him to boast with the change you gave him. Hosea, dead. Lenny, dead. No account of any other names. You weren't sure who "a further gang member was arrested and awaits trial" meant. It only took a couple of days until everybody seemed to talk about it. Your main source of income being doing women's hair, you got a fair bit of gossip about the news.

Everything you heard from the ladies, took with a grain of salt. Either way, nobody ever mentioned Arthur by name. Your anxiety reached its peak when a rather well-off woman, not typically your demographic, had visited family in Saint Denis and brought an unsettling theory with her. Apparently, the most important members of the gang, including the leader, could have fled on a boat and drowned in the storm that was raging over the ocean the same night.

The "they have fled the country"-rumours were the most popular. Drowned in the ocean or not, the version varied based on who told you their theory. With every day you didn't hear the contrary and had no word from Arthur, you believed that you'd never see him again.

That was until one morning. You were working in your garden, busy with fixing the fence that had long stood neglected, when you saw a rider approach. Whether it was the hat or the horse you recognized first, you weren’t sure. But unmistakenly, the man on the horse that lazily trotted towards your cabin was Arthur.

You put your tools down and approached him, forcing yourself to walk calmly. The closer you got, the more unfamiliar he appeared. His beard had grown out, looking unkempt and way too long for what you were used to see him wear. Long strands of hair spilled out from under his hat. Arthur’s skin was darker than usual, even the unforgiving desert in the west hadn't left his skin as sunburned as it now appeared. Most of the red had settled into a golden-brown tan, particularly strong around the area where he cuffed his sleeves. For not seeing him for almost a month, this was quite a change.

A faint smile appeared on his lips when you reached him and walked next to his horse, leading it to your cabin.

"I thought I'd never see you again", you blurted out straight up.

Maybe a “Hello” or “Thanks for stopping by” would have been more appropriate, but the thought that had driven you insane the last three to four weeks just slipped out.

"I know. I'm sorry", Arthur jumped off his horse when you had reached your newly fixed gate. He looked at you, trying to take it all in. He had missed you; he had thought of you so much the last days and weeks, having you in front of him was a little overwhelming. But you looked like he remembered you. You weren’t wearing your fine clothes that you had worn when you caught him in your pond, but the worn jeans and shirt that had seen many fences painted and potted many plants looked good on you. It looked homely.

Arthur cleared his throat before he asked, "D'ya still cut hair?"

It was awkward...the ways he pronounced his question, the uncomfortable manner in which he scratched his way too long beard, seemingly unhappy with its new length.

Before you could answer, he added sarcastically: "Tried finding a barber on the Caribbean island but didn't came across someone I wanted to trust with scissors."

"Caribbean island?", you repeated questioningly, leading him into the cabin.

The tension between you felt peculiar. If tension were a tangible thing, you could have thrown a lasso and seemingly strangled it out of the air. But it wasn’t, so you and Arthur only struggled with finding your rhythm again.

"I came as soon as I could after returning...", Arthur explained apologizing, as if he had to rectify not visiting you sooner.

"Arthur. I thought you were dead", in front of your table, you stopped and looked directly at the man.

"'m afraid I have to disappoint", he chuckled, "Instead I'm here, asking ya for a cheap haircut because we lost...ten thousands in the sea."

"Ugh", you groaned, readying a chair for Arthur to sit on right at the table, "You sound so desperate, I might just give ya that haircut for free."

Arthur placed his jacket on a hinge next to the door and his hat on a free spot on the table. Again, it felt like he knew exactly where to place them, just as if he was coming home after a workday.

"Where d'ya want me, miss?", Arthur asked politely as if he had just entered a barber shop and there wasn't only one chair that looked prepared enough to serve as seat for his cut. You pointed at the chair a little absentmindedly, gathering your equipment and laying it out in the table in front of you.

"How short were you thinking?", you asked, walking around the seated man, ruffling his hair a little.

"Whatever you prefer", Arthur answered.

"What's that supposed to mean?", you asked, letting your finger scrape through his hair. His hair was wet at the roots, so you added surprisedly, "Did you just take a bath?"

"Might 've...", Arthur shrugged as if it was no big deal.

"You didn’t have to”, you reassured him, secretly amused by how endearing you found it.

"You wouldn't say that if you’d seen me before the bath. After three days in the Caribbean, killing half of the Pinkerton's agency and moving camp, you would have shot me on sight", Arthur joked, a bitter smile playing on his lips. Your answer was a soft chuckle.

After combing his hair, you repeated you question: "You're sure you don't want me to tell you how you want your hair done?"

"I trust ya", Arthur said.

"Mh, big mistake", you grinned. You caught Arthur's eye for a moment, and you could have sworn it was admiration in his expression. And trust, which honestly, was seldom for this man.

"I'll just cut it a little shorter than you had it when you first came to collect me", you said, waiting for his confirmation.

"...collect you and failed miserably at that", Arthur added.

"I thank the lord every day for that", you said jokingly. It was no laughing matter, though. You knew that as well as Arthur. The list of people the gang had lost in the last two months was long and you not rejoining was probably the only thing that had kept your name off that list.

You started doing Arthur's hair and one minute in, you decided to carefully pose the question of "What the hell happened the last couple weeks?". Arthur couldn't stop talking. He explained the plan of the bank robbery, explained when it went south. When Hosea was mentioned, he digressed a little. You too ended up sharing some anecdotes of the old man. You had loved him and felt a pang of guilt that you hadn't sent word to him that you were indeed fine. Hosea had been so kind to you when you expressed your wish to be on your own for a while, he had wished you the best and you had never even thought about sending a letter.

Then Arthur mentioned escape from Saint Denis. Your mouth went dry when Arthur recounted the storm, how he went overboard, nearly drowning and not knowing how lucky he was that he washed ashore on a beach. It was uncanny how some of the rumours you had heard mirrored the actual story.

Then came Guarma and everything that happened there. The return, the Pinkertons apparently following someone to Lagras and finally the move to Beaver's Hollow. They had been up there for a couple a couple of days now, and so much had already happened.

You listened, occasionally asked a question, but most of the time you were concentrating on not messing up the haircut. You had never heard Arthur talk that much before. Sober, that is. He can be quite a chatty drunk, but it seemed like he just wanted to get everything off his chest.

"How does that look?", you asked when you were done with his hair, holding a little mirror for Arthur to see.

His only response was a nob and a slight smile.

"Okay then", you spoke gently, "your beard's next."

The whole retelling of the last couple of weeks was what Arthur needed, but it killed his mood the same time. At least, that's what you though he was silent for. You cleared a spot on the table for you to sit on. It was way more comfortable sitting in front of Arthur while trimming his beard, but if you sat on a chair, you wouldn't have the height you needed.

You took a seat on the table in front of Arthur and noticed how his eyes immediately fixed on the ground.

"D'ya mind spreading your legs a little?", you asked. Despite the request confusing him a little, Arthur did as he was told and you put your on foot on his chair, so you wouldn't topple forward. Arthur tried his best to stifle the cough that worked its way up as he choked on his own saliva at this move.

"We're not going for a clean shave, are we?", you asked casually, trying to catch Arthur's eyes. He shrugged: "Whatever's easier for you."

You shook your head and began to trim his beard back to what you remembered he had the last time he visited you. Soon after you started, you noticed Arthur's cheeks getting warm and red. You were well aware that your cleavage was on his eye-level, probably the reason why he decided he was better off inspecting the floor. Meanwhile, you enjoyed gently tilting his head the way you needed it, finding no resistance from the man himself.

You talked only little, answering insignificant questions Arthur posed when the blade wasn't near his face, and he could actually move his mouth. You were almost done, only lining up his beard to give it an overall cleaner look, when Arthur said something out of the blue.

"Y'know, I been thinkin' about you. A lot," Arthur croaked, his throat dry all of a sudden.

"Mhm", you answered, not sure which direction that was supposed to go. You stopped shaving off the stubble on his neck when his Adam’s apple bobbed.

"Uh, I mean...", Arthur clears his throat, forcing you to stop the shave and look at him. Finally, his eyes found yours, "We're...uhm...friends, I hope." He forced a little chuckle that didn't sound genuine, especially under your curious gaze. You gave a quiet hum as sign of agreement.

"'s just that I...look, I understand if ya've found someone else. Hell, I took my sweet time and it wasn't fair how I treated you when you...", Arthur cleared his throat again, the words coming difficult to him, "when ya told me about yer feelings."

This was the point when your heartrate picked up and you felt your hands become sweatier. You had to put the blade down for a moment to wipe your hand on your shirt. Your mind was still caught on the line 'I understand if ya've found someone else'...like that had even been an option for you. For months you had tried to get over this man, then he came back waltzing into your life and you put your own ugly bounty poster on the wall as a reminder. And the you fixed the bedframe that he had fixed rather unsatisfyingly. You hadn't told him it broke the very same night he had “repaired” it. Nothing had changes the last year, you were pining as much for this man as ever...and yet, you didn't quite know how to react.

"I really like ya", he finally said, " I know well I don’t deserve it, but if ya wanted to give me another chance…"

"Morgan", you exhaled, "I got my boot between your balls and a blade at your throat...if you want to pull my leg I suggest you-"

"I mean it", and Arthur's gaze was so intense, this time it was you who struggled to watch him in the eye. You knew he wasn't lying. Hell, you hadn't really expected that he was just pulling your leg, you just said it to say something…to lighten up the mood that appeared so heavy again.

"Okay", you mumbled, barely able to disguise the tremor in your voice. Then you took the blade again, carefully turning Arthur's head upwards so you could better reach the hair you still needed to shave. There was this long and uncomfortable silence that neither of you wanted to break. You heard the birds outside, the blade scratching the skin and a heartbeat...if it was yours or Arthur's, you weren't quite sure.

Arthur thought that Guarma had been hell, but he found that your silence and okay was even more tortuous.

Finally, you were done. With a hairdressing brush you got rid of all the loose hair that decorated Arthur’s face. He gave you a slightly annoyed look as you tickled him behind his ears. Then you took the little towel that had prevented hair from falling into his shirt out in the garden to shake it out.  

The moment you stepped into the cabin again, Arthur's eyes caught yours and they were demanding an answer.

"I've never stopped loving you", the words burned as they left your mouth. The towel was thrown over an empty chair. Saying the words out loud…it changed something. Because as long as you had only thought them, there was this slim chance that they weren’t true. But there was no backing-out now, no denying.  

You continued: "But I can't...I won't rejoin the gang. I want to live here."

You said that because you knew that Arthur wouldn’t leave the gang for you, but you wouldn’t rejoin in either.

"Y/n...this thing is pretty much over", Arthur sighed. He was referring to the gang. He had alluded to it when he had recounted the happenings of the past weeks, especially breaking John out of jail and earning Dutch's disapproval. This was the first time he directly admitted it, "I want the Marstons safe...and the women...then it's done."

"Oh, so 'one more big score and then you can leave everything behind", you mimicked Dutch's voice. A tinge of animosity accompanied your words and this certainly wasn’t lost on Arthur. You couldn’t help but feel a bit unfairly placed in this situation.

"C'mere for a second", Arthur beckoned you, his eyes following every one of your movements until you stood in front of him, your hips brushing against the table. Arthur remained seated in his chair. Glancing at the man quickly, you congratulated yourself on having done a good job; his haircut looked sharp.

Then, suddenly, Arthur took your hand. It was such an unusual gesture, it alarmed you immediately. His hands were warm and rough, but not in an unpleasant way. Arthur held your hand lightly, as if he was afraid of hurting you.

"I promise this is the last time. In a week, we're going to hit a train with army pay. Wednesday evening. After that, I'm done", Arthur spoke earnestly.

"I can't-" believe you, you wanted to say, because you knew it had been the same story with Mary. You knew that once an outlaw means always and outlaw. Not even Arthur's word was enough to ensure that those bonds wouldn't bind him to his old life and to the gang.

"Don’t say nothing yet", Arthur interrupted calmly. He stood up and let your hand slide off his, as he walked to his satchel. He pulled out his journal and carefully put it next to you. With no hesitation, he opened and skimmed through it. You couldn't see most of the pages because he flipped through them so quickly.

"It ain't even half-way done", Arthur assessed, showing you the empty pages, "I'll leave that here 'n collect it in a week."

"What?", you questioned, frowning, "What if I decide to read it as a bedtime story?"

"'s nothing in there that yer not allowed to know", Arthur mumbled, "Contrary. Sometimes I think I'm much better expressing my feelings on paper. I've never been a good talker."

Silently, Arthur opened a page in his journal that had a little dog-ear. The left side was empty and only had smudges of pencil on it, on the right side there was this impressively detailed bounty poster. It had the layout of the bounty posters they have hanging all over town, obviously it wasn't printed, but hand drawn. You recognized your name, your 15-dollars-worth and then yourself, staring back at you. You hadn't imagined Arthur to be one to draw people, let alone portrait style. In the brush of his pencil you recognized that he might be more professed in sketching trees and animals, but it was a perfectly decent drawing of you. Hell, it was even flattering, compared to the atrocity they had on your real poster.

Arthur put the journal away, leaving it on top of a pile of books on your nightstand.

"I jus' need t'know if this is a place I'm allowed to return to", Arthur finally asked.

"Always", you replied without hesitation, your gaze still fixed on his journal. Is he trying in tempting you to read it? Because if that's the case, it was definitely working.

"So I won't be greeted with a gun in my face?", Arthur chuckled.

You sighed, taking a brush that stood abandoned in the corner of the room and started to swipe Arthur's hair out of the house. "If you're going to bring that up one more time, I swear I'll give you a reason to fear me", you quipped.

"Oh, I already fear you a great deal", Arthur said sarcastically.

You shot him an intense gaze.

"You staying for dinner?", you asked in between the sound of bristles scratching on wood.

Arthur shrugged, mumbling: "They won't miss me for another day..."

"Good. Then go hunt something", you asserted, gently shoving him outside by brushing against his boots until he took the hint.

"Yes ma'am...", Arthur mumbled, a hint of amusement in his voice. When you had successfully shoved him outside, you closed the door behind him, not without a bit of force. It left him slightly perplexed and wondering.

You had tried your best to hold your feelings together, but it had become a little much. Since Arthur's confession, your hands hadn't stopped shaking and you hastily put the brush aside, sitting down with your back against the door. There were so many feelings inside you that all needed to be addressed, but you struggled to even detangle them.

First and foremost: You had spent months pining for Arthur, only to be rejected in a cruel way and then again wasting months in trying to get over him. Just when you thought you were getting somewhere, he comes back into your life with a request that suggests anything but care for you. So, he leaves, and appears again. Then leaves again, presumed dead or out of country and now he's here again, asking for another chance as if you even had the power to reject him. You didn't know if Arthur would be able to make you happy. In a way, you feared it might be the opposite because there was still one score...one more score. He might die, or he might stay for another score, and another, and so on.

You stifled a sob. Scenarios played out in your mind, and they all converged into two possible outcomes, ending with Arthur dead or disappeared, disappointing you yet and yet again because one can't just stop being an outlaw. The 5000 on his head won't just disappear, presumed or actually dead - it didn't matter much.

"Son of a bitch", you hissed, mad at the situation.

You just wanted to be happy and find some closure for this surge of emotions that had held you hostage for months, if not years.  

"Y/n?", Arthur's voice was so soft when he called out your name, you almost jumped in shock because you thought he had long gone hunting. But his voice came from right in front of the door.

"You okay?", he asked quietly.

"Yeah", you croaked, and it sounded anything but convincing.

"Ya sure?", he wanted you to confirm.

"I just need some time to think...", you whispered, trying hard not to sob.

"I'll stay close", you heard him state, then there were his steps leading away from the house.

For a while, you just sat on the floor. How to proceed?

By the time Arthur returned, the door to your cabin was wide open again, the sun shining inside. You had made your decision.

"I got us a rabbit", Arthur announced, "already skinned it. Figured it ain’t your kinda work."

You responded with an appreciative nod.

"It’s a real beauty”, Arthur grinned, a wisp of humour in his eyes, “or was, anyhow.  I shot it with a small arrow so I reckon the meat-“ before Arthur could put the rabbit down on the table, you had sneaked in for a hug.

"Oh", Arthur stuttered, carefully placing the rabbit down. He lifted his bloody and dirty hands in the air to make sure not to get any dirt on you. Even though you wore clothes that had seen better days and apparently had been demoted to housework, he still didn’t want to get you dirty. Despite his desire to reciprocate the hug.

"Y/n…", he chuckled apologetically, "I need to get washed up."

At that moment, you suddenly looked up to him, your faces mere inches apart. He noticed your gaze drifting between his eyes and lips, then you leaned in, placing a gentle peck on his cheek.

The blush was immediate. Your hands instinctively found their way to his face and tenderly cupped his cheeks. They were just as warm as they had been when you cut his beard.

"I'm really glad you're here", you said, a smile playing on your lips.

"Yeah, I'm-" Arthur began, but you interrupted him with a proper kiss. It was a brief one, testing the waters if Arthur would be fine with that. As you pulled back slightly to assess his reaction, he didn’t hesitate a second, closing the distance between you once more. "I really …don't wanna get ya…dirty", Arthur mumbled between kisses. He could feel the corner of your lips curving into a smile each time you interrupted him. The man struggled to keep his dirty hands in the air.

The kisses quickly became more passionate, and when your hands left his cheeks, one to rest in the hollow between his shoulder and neck, while the other one boldly explored his chest region. It occasionally shifted to grab his arm and squeezing lightly.

Arthur mumbled your name warningly, twice. Then he couldn't help but put his hand in the small of your back, pushing you closer. His bloody hands would surely leave a mark on your clothes, but neither of you cared about that, as his hands became just as active as yours, sometimes cupping your cheek, at other times allowing himself to explore your body a little.

Arthur had just enough control to not place you on the rabbit, when he lifted you up on the table. When both of you became short of breath, Arthur rested his forehead against yours. Your legs had snaked around his, caging him in.

"Haven't done that in a long time", Arthur's voice was raspy as he tried to apologize for the somewhat sloppy make-out session.

"Me neither", you giggled and placed a final kiss on his cheek, "brushed your hair for nothing", you noted, looking up to Arthur's tousled hair. Your fault.

Arthur backed away a little, as much as your legs allowed him: "Christ." He had left signific signs of blood and dirt all over you.

"Mhh…", you hummed amusedly, "Ain't my fault you can't keep your hands to yourself."

"T'way I see it, darling…", Arthur smiled and tried to brush some dirt off your cheek with his thumb, "it's precisely your fault."

Arthur had headed to a keg outside to get cleaned. You decided to get cleaned up only after butchering the rabbit, as this would get your hands dirty again anyways. As the meat sizzled in the in the pan, you decided it was time to wash up as well. While you put the finishing touches on the dish, Arthur sat at the table, leisurely smoking a cigarette and observing you. He had asked if he could help you with anything, but you had declined, insisting that he had already done his part by hunting the rabbit. It was your turn prepare it.

When you plated the meal, it was really nothing too complicated, and yet, Arthur thought, for a free meal, it was perfect. You initiated a conversation; it was more light-hearted than the one you had when you cut his hair. The weightier themes seemed to have lifted from Arthur’s heart, and both of you sought distractions.

You told Arthur more about how you passed your days, gardening, drawing, riding into town. Really most of the money you earned the honest way, cutting hair and doing the odd delivery job for the grocery store.

It was frightening how easy it was to talk to Arthur. Two or three years ago, you would have never imagined, talking so freely to him. Though he'd always been kind, there was an air of unapproachability that had since crumbled completely after the heartfelt conversation you both shared.

The conversation where Arthur poured out his frustrations and regrets concerning Hosea's and Lenny's death, had brought a sense of liberation. It dawned on him how long it had been since he spoke so openly with anyone. Arthur leaned back into his chair. In front of him was his empty plate, opposite of the table, you sat within arm’s reach, chatting about an interesting traveller that came past your cabin a few months back. Arthur listened attentively, his eyes following the movements of your fingers skilfully rolling a cigarette.

Neither of you ran out of stories to tell the other. Arthur talked about people he had met on his travels, a clumsy photographer, a man obsessed with fast horses and racing.

You only realised how long you had been talking when the light in the cabin became sparse, the sun sinking closer to the horizon.

As the visibility waned, limited to the faint glow emitted by the burning tip of the cigarette, you finally rose to your feet to illuminate the cabin with the warm light of lanterns.

"I'll get my bedroll", Arthur announced, standing up with a grunt. He hadn't allowed himself to be this idle in a long time. All he had done today was sitting still for a haircut, killing one rabbit and then indulging in a lavish meal while engaging in easy conversation. His body had finally caught up with the stress of the last few weeks and he didn't know how to feel about how much his body ached. Despite the sun barely disappearing, Arthur would have been ready for bed. Funny, he thought, admitting one’s feeling for a girl could drain his strength that much.

At his announcement, Arthur noticed that you halted and were about to open your mouth as if to suggest something. But you didn't and let him venture outside.

When he took longer than anticipated, you followed him outside, only to find him leaning against the fence, his eyes in the sky. The sky was in this beautiful transition phase, going from hues of purple to a serene shade of blue with the first stars emerging in the east. You observed Arthur’s profile for a while, he didn't protest or showed any signs of being disturbed by your presence.

He was handsome. Something about his stature made you want to lean into him. But you didn't. Instead, you stood there, finding it hard to peel your eyes off him. Your lips quivered under the urge to say what you had thought earlier. After a big breath, you tried to say as casually as you managed: "I know my bed is too small for two people...but I was thinking if I put the mattress on the floor we could-"

"Y/N", Arthur interrupted you gently. He turned to look at you. Caringly, his hand found your shoulder, "It ain't right just yet."

Lying next to each other, cuddling, hugging, maybe stealing another kiss, you craved it badly. You finally had what you had desired for so long, you wanted it all at once. But Arthur knew that it would be unwise. He thought a lot about you, hell he did. And in his mind, he'd be too embarrassed to admit it of course, you had done way more than just kissed. But he knew it'd be wrong. He didn't want to fully commit just yet, and he didn't want to get your hopes up. It was genuine, when he said that the train robbery was the last score he wanted to do with the gang, but one train robbery is enough to get killed and he wouldn't dream about giving you this kind of pain. If he held it vague, if there was no sleeping close to each other, there was also no missing this proximity...if. Always if.

"Fine", you sucked in a little air, "but you take the bed then."

The two of you headed inside, Arthur with his bedroll clamped under his arm.

He shook his head: "It's your house, I can't jus'-"

"Exactly. It's my house, I can sleep in the bed every damn day. Besides, I don't figure you had a proper bed on Guarma, did you?", you teased.

"No, but-"

"Neither do you have one in camp so please- accept it", you looked up at Arthur rather desperately.

"Fine. You don't come complainin' to me if yer back hurts tomorrow", Arthur quipped.

"Oh, I'll definitely complain", you grinned. Arthur gave you his bedroll to spread in the corner where he had slept the last time. Arthur had sat down on the bed and watched you quietly as you readied your sleeping corner. When you glanced back at him, it was evident how weary he was, his eyes barely open, sitting up only out of politeness.

"You don't have to stay awake for me", you smiled, leaning against the table and studying the exhausted man. You noticed how tired he had become during your conversation. He had at least supressed three yawns.

"I jus'...haven't seen ya for so long, I don't want to waste that time with sleeping", Arthur explained. You found it cute he thought that way.

"You're not wasting anything", 'because we'll see each other again in a week, right?' you added in your mind. "I have this book I want to finish anyways, you just rest", you assured him.

You waited until he had settled in, exchanging a couple laughs about how unstable your bedframe was, and then you did the dishes. It didn't take you long, but Arthur was asleep when you had finished. He was turned towards the wall. On the nightstand was his journal. He had put it on top of the book you were currently reading. You took the book and settled on the bedroll.

You woke up to the sound of the bed creaking and blinked at Arthur, the first rays of the sun casting a warm glow on his frame. At some point during the night, he must have woken up and shed his clothes, as he now rested in the room clad only in his unionsuit.

"'m sorry, darlin'. I didn't want to wake ya", he apologized his raspy morning voice.

"It's okay", you yawned, forcing yourself to throw off your blanket to stand up, "I'll make some coffee."

In a couple big steps, Arthur was at your side: "You sleep some more, it's my turn for breakfast." Arthur squatted next to you and tugged you in before you could protest. You forced your tired eyes to stay on his face and not venture further down, pondering what the thin material might reveal.

When Arthur shot you a content smile, seeing you were up for no protest, a wave of panic washed over you.

"You won't just leave, right?", all of a sudden, you were wide awake.

"I won't", Arthur assured you.

"'cause if you do-", you started, a yawn interrupting your threat. Arthur chuckled at how cute and innocent you looked, happy that your yawn cut off before you could destroy that innocence with another gory threat.

"I'm way too scared of what you'd do", and then, to your surprise, he kissed your forehead. You only relaxed when Arthur had stood up again and indeed started to set up coffee. You were soon off to sleep again, only woken when the sizzling of fat in the pan woke you.

Arthur had made eggs. You ate in silence. A couple of times, Arthur tried to start a conversation, but you weren’t in the mood. He’d be gone in a couple of hours and you’d be left wondering if he’d ever return. Arthur knew that this was what was plaguing you, but he didn’t find the right angle to approach you.

You both did the dishes together, you helped Arthur by saddling his horse and then he had mounted it, looking down at you.

“Ya ain’t so happy about the prospect of me returning in a week, ‘s that it?”, Arthur joked.

“No”, you answered dryly, “I ain’t so happy about you leaving for a week.”

Arthur sighed and steered his horse closer to the fence: “Climb up here, I gotta tell ya something.”

Rather unwillingly, you climbed on one of the horizontal planks that kept your fence together. Arthur offered his hand for support and as an excuse to pull you a little closer. He kissed you, gently, on your lips.

“I promised I’ll be back, didn’t I?”, Arthur mumbled. He wasn’t convinced, and neither were you when you whispered a dire “Yeah..”

You didn’t like the good-bye kiss. In fact, you wished he hadn’t done that. It hurt even more, seeing him disappear between the trees in the distance. For a while, you stood there helplessly, wondering what to do next. Minutes passed before you ventured into your cabin, distracting yourself with some cleaning before your eyes fell on Arthur’s journal. You noticed a piece of paper sticking out. Without thinking, you opened the journal and the loose paper floated to the ground. You didn’t even bother picking it up, your eyes caught the first word written on top of the page. It was your name, written in Arthur’s familiar handwriting.

“Hell no”, you kicked the paper under the bed before you could read any further. You weren’t up for some heartfelt “Good-bye, in case I die I want you to know this”-letter. Frustration and anger bubbled within you as you scrambled into your good jeans and crammed your revolver into its back pocket. With a swift motion, you picked up your hunting rifle, mounted your horse and started to follow Arthur’s track.

-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x--x-x-x-x-x-x-x

next chapter: here

Shoutout to @little-honeypie who basically wrote the confession scene. I wouldn't have ever finished this if it weren't for them <3

taglist: @photo1030

taglist for this series: @pinkiemme @loveheartarthur @twola @shiokitsune @missredemption @kakashiislut @thewalkingdead1463 @yyiikes @renwai @walk-in-sunshine @rdrlady @ivybeeloved @trinswhimsys @reddedmiller @chiefqueefsosa @sauvignon-velvet @mrsarthurmorgan @readingcoco @pookiesnatcher @gloomdoomraccoon

#arthur morgan x reader #arthur morgan fanfiction #red dead redemption 2 #arthur morgan #rdr2 #arthur morgan x female reader #red dead redemption community #rdr2 fanfiction #rdr #rdr fanfiction

[metataxy]

Richter Belmont as Dhampir fic, #2:

Summary: Olrox abducts Richter Belmont in retribution against Julia Belmont for the death of his lover, and takes him South, raising him among the Mexica. As an adolescent, exposure to Olrox's blood and a near-death experience triggered his transformation into a dhampir. At the time, Richter was furious.

Fast forward six years: Olrox has forged Richter into one of the most deadly warriors on the continent. Working together, the two have overturned the colonial empire in the French colonies. Now, they have voyaged to Europe, where the seer and sorceress Annette believes a far more terrible power is rising.

Except in coming to France, the young Dhampir risks meeting the people he was forced to leave behind, and making them grapple with who he has become.

Part 1 here. Just something I'm playing with and don't intend to post to AO3 until I figure out where this is going ;)

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Richter fished through his pockets for some spare change, when his hands came upon a bulging purse in his coat pocket.  He pulled it out.  Purple velvet, gold button.  On opening it, he found it full to bursting with coins of every denomination. He shrugged and fished out a franc, flipped it at the barkeep with a smile.

“Keep the change,” he told him.  He hardly minded being a spendthrift with his sire’s money.  The man had enough of it.  A weaker man might have felt the vampire owed Richter a debt for his abduction, the harsh training of his childhood, and the Turning.  Richter rather felt everything that had happened after his kidnapping made up for it.  He would have been targeted as a Belmont.  His mother’s training hadn’t been enough to save either of them from Olrox.  Olrox, on the other hand, had ensured his enemy’s son was more than a match for even him.

Richter sipped at the ale and lapped the rim.  The barkeep, or whoever had brewed it, really had deserved his pourboire. 

A shot rang out.  Pure reflex made him duck when he did.  A moment later, and a bullet buried itself in the wall. 

Richter tracked the sound to the only man sitting, now standing, in the dark corner of the bar.  An old man, with long white hair and square beard and most significantly, a smoking gun.

“Not again!” complained the barkeep.

Richter dodged again, knocking over the barstool.  The next bullet went straight through his plate of food.  “Hey,” he told the old man.  “Knock it off.  I’m just trying to have a meal here--”

Another shot, straight for the heart.

“What did I even do?” he asked, bewildered.

“I told you leeches that the next one of you who came looking for me, I’d leave his headless corpse hanging in the hall like a trophy.”

Richter groaned, holding up his hands.  “I’m not looking for trouble—”

Another shot—

“Oh, fuck it,” he finally said, and sped across the room in a blur of red light.  The man actually followed his movements and met him, pistol tracking his heart.  Richter blurred around him to avoid the next shot, cursing—he hadn’t expected to burn through so much energy so soon—only to get impaled through the shoulder when the man brought up a knife in his offhand.  He leaned into the blow though, tangled his legs up with the old man’s, and took him to the floor, wrestling his gun out of his left hand, pinning his right under his impaled shoulder.

The grizzled old goat bucked and kneed him in the balls, but he’d wrestled the Quechua boys too often to be bothered by that (that was one move Olrox would never do, at least not to Richter-- not because he was too refined, but because he said Richter would need those later.  The old perv).  The man bit at Richter’s neck and tore the skin, and Richter hissed, lunging to lock his jaws around the old man’s jugular, just as the old man pried another blade from his belt and set it at the small of his back.

“Do it,” the old man dared him.  “Kill me.  I’m going to die sooner than not anyhow.  Do it, and I stab this straight through your spine.  Think you’ll be able to walk again before the sun rises?”

This was getting fucking ridiculous. 

Apparently someone else thought so too.

A presence overshadowed him, the kind he’d felt before only in the presence of very old vampires, or very powerful witches. 

“Drop the blade, Juste,” came a voice in a clear tenor, the words free of any urgency.  “<i>And take your fangs out from your grandfather’s neck, little Belmont.</i>”

He heard the words as much aloud as in his mind, where he’d only before heard the voice of his sire.  That, as much of their content, shocked him into stillness.

Then the pressure of the blade against his back gave way, and he hurtled himself off the old man, wiping the saliva from his mouth.

“Grandfather?” he repeated dumbly, and then had a clear look at the newcomer. 

He was beautiful.  Tall, slender, androgenously lovely, with long, wavy hair of a shade of gold so pale it was almost white, and skin bloodlessly white as marble, the colour of a vampire who hadn’t fed in some time.  His eyes were bright amber as a cat’s, and his mouth was open enough for Richter to see his eyeteeth were only as long as Richter’s.

Richter’s own mouth fell open.  He had so many questions, but the old man cut him off. 

“Belmont?  Grandfather?” the man spat, squinting at Richter. “What gives, Alucard?” 

Now that the grizzled hunter wasn’t trying to kill him, Richter endured his scrutiny, nonplussed, looking at the beautiful man for direction.  “You’re a dhampir,” he breathed, looking at the man, who lowered himself to sit crosslegged across from him.

The man’s pale lips curved upwards.  “Yes.  Yes I am.  Alucard.”

The bedside stories he’d heard of the half-vampire who’d fought alongside his ancestors flashed through his mind. 

“I thought you were a myth.”

The man chuckled, his laughter as pleasing as the rest of him.  “I suppose it’s my fault for not visiting your family more frequently.  You’ll find though, that it becomes more difficult to track the passage of time after your first century or so.”

The old man pulled up a chair, still scrutinizing Richter with that implacable gaze.  “Richter?” he said slowly.

Richter nodded.  “Uh.  Yeah.  Richter Belmont.”  He scratched the back of his head and offered the old man a sheepish grin.  “I kill vampires.  And you’re my grandfather?”

The old man didn’t answer, but turned to Alucard.  “How?” he demanded, settling his pale eyes on the vampire.

The lovely dhampir didn’t blink.  “I’ve always enjoyed a close relationship with the Belmonts and their Speaker cousins,” he told the old man, in the tone of someone giving a gentle reminder.

Richter did blink at what that implication.

“He wasn’t born like this.  Julia would have said something.”

“No?” Alucard turned to Richter, examining him anew.  “How fascinating.  I suppose,” he said, thinking aloud, “extreme circumstances, such as starvation or disease, could trigger the change as a means of self-preservation.”

Richter didn’t say anything under that intense stare.

The old man got up and crouched down before him.  “Grandson or not,” he said, growling, “same rules apply.  I catch you sipping off anyone here-abouts, I’ll stake you as dead as any other vamp.”

Richter gave him a flat look.  “No one tells me how to feed myself.”

Juste looked ready to draw his blade on him, when Alucard intervened.

“The boy’s not killing anyone, and based on his reception by the ladies of the Row, I’d guess they’d be considerably piqued at anyone who made him stop coming by.”

Richter flushed.  “You know about that.”

“Did you think you were the only one who ever needed to feed discreetly without killing?”

“You…”

“It’s hardly my preference,” Alucard admitted.  “I prefer to reserve the intimacy of the act for close companions.”

Richter eyed him up and down.  “You’re hardly starving,” he decided.  “Must be a lot of those close companions.”

Juste snorted.  Alucard regarded Richter neutrally.  “None at the moment,” he corrected. 

“Then what are you eating?”

“Deer and cows, like any other man,” Juste told him. 

Richter recoiled. 

“What?  If it’s good enough for a man to eat, it’s good enough for whatever you two are,” his grandfather retorted. 

“What eating means to a human and what feeding means to a vampire—you can’t compare them,” Richter said, almost retching at the thought of animal blood.  He’d drank it before out of desperation.  It had been during those first months after his transformation, when he had still hated what he’d become, hated his sire even more for his role in it, and had been determined to deny all of his vampiric traits.  It was more because of how they now linked him to his sire, than because of any childhood prejudice against his kind. 

He'd retched up the blood of the alpacas he’d tried to drink.  It wasn’t the taste of the blood, it was the sensation of their minds as his own brushed up against theirs, a mental reflex to glamor the victim if the paralyzing agent in his venom proved ineffective.  Their minds were soft and dull, their consciousness had the mouthfeel of moldy potatoes next to the sparkling champagne tang of a human life.

Olrox had taught him better as soon as he’d finally given in and accepted the man’s guidance.  He remembered, those first nights, sitting with the remainder of the tribe to plan their voyage away to find their missing people.  He remembered Lily’s mother coming to them, wrist offered, and Olrox turning her away.  “Very kind, my girl, but no, not this time,” he’d said, glancing significantly at Richter.  “The first feedings are rarely controlled, and the boy would hate both of us if he harmed you.” 

Technically, their sire-childe bond, though weaker than if Richter had been a full vampire, rather than simply a dhampir whose blood Olrox had awakened, should have been enough to let Olrox control him if necessary.  Olrox had been surprisingly gentle with his fledgling though.  He never used the bond for more than communication, or comfort. 

So in those early days, as he learnt control, he hadn’t drank from anyone other than his sire.

In those moments, the bond opened fully, and they knew each other with pure honesty.  He’d sensed his sire’s satisfaction at the completion of his revenge against Julia Belmont, but stronger than that was his sincere pride in Richter.  His son, his student, his creation.  Richter had guessed at the man’s feelings before the turning, but not their depth.  And before, he’d loathed the man even more for it—what right did he have to treat him like a son, after he’d stolen him from his mother?—but after, he’d accepted it.

Olrox had fought for Richter, had suffered in creating him and suffered in keeping him.  While Richter regarded it in large part as no more or less than what the man deserved for his actions, proximity and the constancy of the man’s affection had, in turn, made him somewhat less than indifferent.

#Olrox #Richter Belmont #Juste Belmont #Alucard #Castlevania Nocturne

[persephoneflouwers]

Thanks Angie for your reply, I appreciate it! I’m the pill anon (lol). To your questions what I would say is: yes, you have to be very stupid to have unprotected sex with a random American girlie. Or very intoxicated, or very troubled. Which he might have been all of those things, and that’s fine, he was entitled to make mistakes and be stupid even if he was in the biggest boyband in the world, that doesn’t make him immune to mistakes. If I remember those times in 2015, it’s not that farfetched to assume he might have been in a state of mind to do a stupid thing like this. Or maybe the condom broke and she lied about taking the day-after pill? Who knows, but we know now she’s a trump supporter hungry for fame, so…

When I said he might be trying to make the best out of the situation without us knowing, I meant in reference to all the bullshit we had to endure 2016/2017 like the pap walks or all the bs from Brianna and family (the staged picnic still haunts me). For what we know of Louis, we could assume he might have tried to stop it, create boundaries etc, but we don’t know the context in which those conversations where had and how much he had on his plate. The first years might have been VERY tough on him because 1) Brianna’s family is a mess and has very different beliefs from his, which must have not created the best environment and 2) what was going on with Jay (and then Fizzy) forced him to be in the UK most of his time, and coparenting with a person you dont like who lives across the world must not have been easy. In this specific context, I do think he must have tried to make the best of it, because for what we know of him I still believe this is more likely than for him to be faking it.

I would also argue that being a dad publicly did nothing to his career if not damage. I did understand the potential need (and commercial value) for a stunt like this closet-wise in 2015, but only if it would have stopped at rumours or if a denial of paternity came right after the birth. At this point, more than 7 years in, there’s clearly no commercial value to perpetuate it if it was a farce. It’d be actually a considerable cost for anyone who’s “sponsoring” this. Who’s paying the ‘actors’ involved? Louis? Why, to keep his closet safe? He has beards for that. Sony? Why would they still pay for this, to damage Louis? There are infinite ways they had to do so much more cost-effective (see: radio ban). Like, who would pay for something like this? I just can’t imagine anyone being willing to fake something like this. If you want to share your thoughts on this I am more than open to know what you think might be the dynamic.

And yes, I strongly agree with your last comment. I just believe he’s a good person, you know? It’s painful to see such a huge portion of his fanbase being so categorically “either it’s a stunt and he’s an asshole for dragging it for so long, or he is a dad and he’s asshole because he’s been a shit dad” which I mean, how do people even feel entitled to make assumptions on what kind of dad he might be? On how is life was these past years? Yes everyone can have opinions on what we are presented but maybe it’s not all black and white? Maybe we don’t *know* everything like we think we do? I just wish there was more chill and compassion in assessing the situation.

Anyways, thank you for the civil conversation, I know it’s a shitty controversial topic and my thoughts are definitely the minority around here, so thanks for listening and replying to me ✨

So many questions there… I kept answering in my head with the same answer and nobody would like it. I think the troubled guy character could have been possible if it wasn’t fake and manufactured. The party boy, like they call him, was purposely built out of nowhere and I know this because all the boys were manufactured and they’re entire images were painted on them with very talented brushes. They were (and are today) the products of a detailed marketing project imo. That’s why I can’t believe in “mistakes”. If it was a mistake, the so called oopsie baby, why haven’t they ever tried to put the rumours at rest? Usually a mistake is something you don’t want people to find out? A mistake is by definition something that went wrong and you are supposed to fix it. At worst, you pretend it has never happened lol but they pushed it and pushed it and pushed it. This baby was H I S baby even before he was ever conceived lol

I wont comment on the neglected child. I’m definitely not a supporter of that narrative fans tell themselves like it’s either fake or he’s a shitty father because it’s silly and makes really no sense for me. At the end of the day, we won’t ever know the truth so I don’t see what’s the point in fighting against each other. We should collectively agree this is SNAFU and call it a day hahah

#casella di posta numero 32

[hshouse]

-

#another hot take into the void #this one will be less popular #somewhere someone created a dichotomy #of either 1) boys are being forced to do everything and the beards and they are cryig about it and suffering and in pain all the time #or 2) they chose to closet themselves and enjoy this and u are horrible to thinking they chose this and they obvs want to be out #that IS NOT REAL #life is NOT LIKE THAT #there is rarely two options #please for the love of god love your brain and respect it #if you don’t agree w something IT DOES NOT MEAN you agree with something else abou 90% of the time #obv exceptions like dont be a fucking racist etc #but on 90% of life things are nuanced #situations are complicated #feelings are contradictory #YOU DONT NEED TO SUBSCRIBE TO A TEAM #to be allowed to have an opinion #i do not agree with either of those takes #and #this is the best part #I am not sure what my take is. you are allowed to say I dont know #that is a valid opinion since we have crumbs of information

[stuckylibrary]

Hey guys! I was just curious if you had any recommendations for any Cinderella AU's. I just read a beauty and the beast one and now I want to read a Cinderella one. Thanks!!!

Found you these:

Fairytale of New York by themortalartist (WIP | 9,728 | M)

Once Upon a Time Steve Rogers was a slave in the house of Hydra. His mother’s death leaving him behind to face a life of violence and torment alone until one night, when everything changes. This is a story of triumph, letters, blood, magic, and most of all - love.

Or: A Cinderella Story: Avengers Edition where Steve is Cinderella, Bucky is a Prince, Hydra mob vs. Avengers mob, and there is definitely a happy ending because my ship deserves the effing world.

The Risk of Being Seen by Brumeier (oneshot | 2,617 | T)

Bucky had been against the party from the start, but then he met Steve. When Steve runs off, Bucky is determined to find him.

Part 3 of Fairly Marvelous Tales

Please, Not Another Cinderella Story* by Brixildleon (WIP | 16,782 | T) *chose not to warn

Bucky just wants to finish his senoir year to go to Berklee and finally get out of the life of his horrible Stepdad and Stepbrothers. it is just one more year. however what he doesnt expect is to meet in the Halloween party a misterious and charming guy who turns out to be Steve Rogers, one of the most famous youg actors of hollywood.

or bucky is cinderella, Steve is prince charming. there is music fluff some angst. is the au no one asked for.

Part 3 of No Words to Say I Love You

A Distance Erased with the Greatest of Ease* by dragongirlG (complete | 12,514 | E) *chose not to warn, heed the tags

It's been six years since Bucky lost his title, his wealth, and his freedom in an ill-fated bandit attack that left his family and friends dead. Now, he works in his old family estate as a slave to Lord Alexander Pierce and his two retainers, Sir Brock and Sir Jack, who treat Bucky as little more than an animal due to his omega designation.

When word comes that Crown Prince Steven is hosting a ball to choose a mate, Lord Pierce seizes his chance to pay off his debts by making Bucky seduce the Prince and bear his child. Unbeknownst to Lord Pierce, Prince Steven is actually Bucky's childhood friend, Steven Grant Rogers, who took on a new name after recovering from the bandit attack. Steve spots Bucky at the ball and escorts him outside to talk privately, setting off a chain of events that changes all their lives forever.

A Stucky A/B/O Cinderella AU featuring omega Bucky who's got a stronger will than anyone knows, gentle and righteous alpha Steve, scheming bastard Alexander Pierce, and a well-deserved happy ending. Cross-fill for Stucky Bingo 2019 (square: "A/B/O") and Hurt/Comfort Bingo Round 10 (square: "scars").

A stucky Cinderella tale* by Awritinghufflepuff (oneshot | 2,799 | G) *graphic violence

Once upon a time, there was a boy named Bucky He lived in a big house , with his stephmother and stephsisters, who used him as their work Force.

-The prince smiled at him, and his eyes were such a vibrant blue that Bucky was shook for a moment. "Will you do me the honour of having your first dance tonight?" The prince asked him. "It would be my pleasure." Bucky breathed. That earned him a sweet smile from the prince and after they said goodbye for now, Bucky hurried to the balcony to get some fresh air and calm his beating heart. A grin breaking out on his face as he whispered to himself. "He wants to dance with me."

All I Need is a Miracle by ClaraxBarton (WIP | 18,305 | E)

So maybe Bucky has a shit job, and a bad apartment, and no real prospects for better versions of either of those. But he's alive and he's...the point is, he's alive. But then his best friend sets him up on a blind date with a hot, bearded asshole and being alive isn't good enough anymore.

A riff on the Cinderella fairy tale. And a gift fic for a very special someone and their birthday.

Magic and Endurance* by duh_stiel (complete | 22,372 | G) *chose not to warn

"Hear ye! Hear ye! Know that on this day our new king here by declares his love For the mysterious blonde bachelor as wore white satin gloves and who called himself Steven. And requests that he presents himself at the palace immediately, Whereupon, if he be willing, his royal majesty shall forthwith marry him."

--

Trigger warnings include slow beginnings and cliches. ;)

The Perfect Fit by HeartzKittens (oneshot | 4,035 | T) *chose not to warn

Stucky Cinderella AU

Soon As I Held You* by morrezela (oneshot | 15,211 | not rated) *graphic violence

The only certainty that Bucky felt about his life was that it was horrible. Memories failed him and whatever he had was quickly stripped away by his stepfather and brothers. But he was a person once, and King Steven Rogers had never forgotten him. A Cinderella AU

Trials* by kateodinson (oneshot | 6,329 | T) *chose not to warn

“Bucky brought his face closer to Steve’s, cupping his face in his hand, oblivious to the rain pouring over both of them.” Pre-serum Steve and Bucky in New York AU. Loosely based on Cinderella.

a dream is a wish your heart makes* by liionne (WIP | 1,905 | T) *chose not to warn

James finds, suddenly, that they’re rather close. He doesn’t know when Stevie’s horse settled beside his, but it has, and James finds himself looking into this sky blue eyes and losing himself, for just a second. His heart is heavy with loss and anguish, his stomach roiling with anger and discontent, but he feels almost lighter. How long the affect will last, he does not know. He’ll just have to hope it stays for long after their meeting.

Magic follows courage by mtothedestiel (complete | 27,053 | E)

A Cinderella AU. Steve is as kind and brave as his body is frail and sickly, which is to say very. Meanwhile, Prince Bucky must marry for the good of his kingdom, but he knows he will never find love with a princess. Can courage, and a little magic, help Steve attend a ball, and Prince Bucky find his True Love?

A Dream is a Wish Your Heart Makes by anger_ieJ9 (oneshot | 8,550 | G)

The first in a line of Disney AUs: Cinderella. Rogerella, if you will. Steve's mother dies, leaving him with a stepfather that's waiting for his pathetic body to do itself in so he can claim the inheritance. There's a ball, a fairy godfather, and a handsome prince.

Part 1 of Not the Stories you Remember

#kierstensin #mod blue #popreq:mythsandfairytales

[jokerscrazybrilliant]

Survive - Chapter 3 - (Captain Rex)

Chapter 1 · Chapter 2 · Chapter 3 · Chapter 4

Story on other platforms:

A03 · Quotev

________

Not for the first time in my life, I found myself in the middle of a war. But not the kind of war I was used to. It all began when I wiped the training mat with Fives' face in front of all his brothers. This led to him serving me a cup of caf which I thought was a peace offering but turned out to be not entirely caf. Kix ended up having to pump my stomach and spent an hour lecturing both Fives and I on the dangers of consuming anything that goes in a battleship engine, no matter how much either party might've deserved it. Since I couldn't have Fives one upping me, I ended up sneaking into his barracks and shaving off most of his beard, making him look utterly ridiculous and having him walk around with his bucket on for most of the time until it grew back. He then returned the blow by breaking into my quarters while I was away and painting his signature five on all my clothes. I did not confront him, instead borrowing some standard issue blacks to wear until I could get more robes with the next supply run. But carefully, I plotted my revenge. "I thought revenge wasn't the Jedi way?" Kix commented while searching for the necessary tools for the operation. "Let's call it justice then. You gonna help me do this or not?" I raised a brow at him. "Of course." I smiled deviously. "Then let's get to work!"

***

The plan was set in motion. I was grinning, quite proud of myself as I sat, eagerly watching the doors in the ship’s mess hall, surrounded by the usual group of idiots. I had informed everyone in the squadron notto touch the caf machine today, and even with the numerous displeased grumblings and complaints, everyone was on board with the plan. Everyone except for Fives, of course. “Nim, are you even listening to me?” A voice insisted on drawing my attention away from the mess entrance.

“Not really Echo, why, have you said something important?”

He sighed, shaking his head in amusement. “I guess not.”

“I hope Fives gets here soon, I’m tired of waiting and I have to get to the med-bay soon.” Kix complained, pushing away his empty tray.

“Speak for yourself, I only just got here.” Echo said, shoveling food into his mouth as if to prove his point.

I grinned at the boys’ usual antics before turning back to look at the newest arrival, who was making his way to the caf machine. My eyes grew wide in realization as Rex went to press the button. Everyone but the captain! I stared in shock, my mouth about to form a shout before his hand made contact with the machine, electrocuting him immediately. He yelped in surprise, staggering backwards before composing himself quickly.

Turning around slowly to face the mess full of soldiers that had just witnessed what happened, his face was a combination of emotions as he searched the faces in front of him. “Alright, which one of you boys is responsible for this?! Fess up!”

It was chaos. Kix was giggling like a mad schoolchild beside me, and Echo had his face in his arms while trying not to choke on his food from across the table. Fives, who had stepped into the mess hall at the most opportune moment, was heaving on the floor, tears in his eyes as he took in the situation, obviously knowing it was I who was at fault. The other men were at varying degrees of delight, some simply laughing, while others, like hardcase, were shouting in joy, slapping the table loudly.

I was silent, face stonelike as I rose from my seat. “It was me captain, I am so sorry, it wasn’t meant for you – It was meant for that bitching lunatic!” I lost my composure as I pointed at Fives, only making him laugh harder. “I warned everyone else but I guess I forgot to tell you.”

The captain faltered as he looked at me, temper dissipating as he raised a hand to rub his face wearily. “That’s okay commander, didn’t realize it was you.”

“You can taze me back captain, it’s only fair.” I walked up, looking from him to the caf machine earnestly.

He chuckled lightly, “That won’t be necessary.”

I shook my head adamantly, “No, it’s only fair.” I quickly stepped in front of him, jamming my hand down on the caf machine before he could say anything else, letting out a small grunt of pain at the shock as the electricity buzzed painfully through the entirety of my body. I twitched on the floor, unsure of when I had fallen. The captain stood over me, offering me his arm.

“Are you alright commander?”

“I’m alright.” I choked out, chest still constricted in pain. “I may have fried my every last brain cell, but I’m alright.” I grinned as I realized he was laughing at me. “I am glad, however, that you find this amusing.”

His laughter only increased as he helped me up to my feet. “Permission to speak freely, commander?”

“Of course.”

“Are you certain the Fives is the lunatic?” I laughed at his words.

"Oi! I just fried myself on your behalf, you ought to show me at least a little respect.” Finally, the pain subsided and I quickly became aware of all the eyes that were on us. I cleared my throat as I devised a new plan, seeing as how the old one backfired so spectacularly. "May I borrow your gun, captain?"

His eyebrows furrowed as he took it out of his holster, handing it over slowly. "I'm almost afraid to ask why?"

My eyes locked on Fives, who registered what I was thinking a moment after I answered Rex. "I owe someone a little payback."

Fives immediately turned around and bolted out of the caf, but I was right behind him, setting the weapon to stun as I went, the caf full of soldiers cheering me on. Kix followed after us to make sure neither of us killed each other, and Echo followed after him to record it on his holopad.

My chase was cut short when we ran into Master Skywalker in the hallway. Immediately, I straightened myself as if I had been taking a stroll the entire time, flashing him an innocent smile. "Anakin." I dragged the last syllable of his name in a singsong, “What can I do for you?”

"Hello Nim. If you've had your fun, we need you on the bridge for a mission debrief." His eyes roamed over all the guilty party, from Fives, who was cowering in an entryway, to Kix, who was attempting to hide behind me, to Echo, who was trying to discreetly put away his holopad, finally settling back on me with an amused grin. "I'm glad to see you're finding your place here."

I nodded with a small chuckle, relieved when he turned and walked towards the bridge ahead of me. I turned to give Fives a threatening glance on my way. "I'd watch my back if I were you." I hissed as I passed by.

We quickly made our way up to the bridge, where Ahsoka was waiting, and Captain Rex had somehow beaten us there.

Anakin wasted no time in explaining the mission to us. “We’re being sent to the Quell system to aid Master Aayla Secura. As I understand it, her Jedi cruiser is damaged beyond hope of repair, so we need to prepare a ship to dock and evacuate anyone we can. Rex, prepare the men, Snips, go with Nim and make sure that ship is ready by the time we arrive, I’ll meet you at the gunships. Let’s have some fun!”

***

Thankfully, we hadn’t been too far from Quell, so before long I was onboard a gunship with Master Skywalker, Ahsoka, and Rex, on our way to board Master Secura’s ship to help with the droids that had overtaken them.

I watched as a stream of rocket droids powered by duo jets made their way from the separatist ship to Master Secura’s, landing on the surface and cutting their way in. “Those droids are boarding Aayla’s ship!” Anakin called over the noise. One of the battle droids landed on our gunship, ripping into the cockpit. “Take care of that clanker! I’ll be onboard Aayla’s cruiser.”

“Master! Are you sure that’s the wisest thing–” Anakin ignored Ahsoka’s comment, and I watched with awe as he jumped down, landing on the back of a super droid as it made its way to the ship.

Master Diya had been a great Master who liked to encourage creativity in problem-solving scenarios, however he usually carried the stoic air you would expect from an esteemed Jedi Master, and wasn’t usually so unorthodox. Master Skywalker, as I was eagerly learning, was entirely the opposite. He faced everything as he was, an overwhelming swirl of emotions attitude and power. And he cracked jokes as he did it.

I turned to look at Ahsoka with excitement in my eyes. “Your master is fun!” I exclaimed.

“Yes, but it gets him into troub–” I missed the rest of Ahsoka’s comment, turning to leap after Anakin, eager to join the action. I managed to land on my feet on the back of a super droid, slicing it in half before hopping down onto another, and another, before finally landing on Master Secura’s ship.

I hopped down into the ship after Anakin, slicing through battle droids as we went. “I see you followed my example.”

“Couldn’t let you have all the action.” I grinned at him as we went through several more droids. Ahsoka made her entrance before long, Rex and his troops following after her. “Glad to see you could join us.” I flashed her a quick grin before deflecting a shot back at a droid, then slicing it and the one beside it.

“You shouldn’t encourage him you know.” Ahsoka teased as we made our way to Master Secura.

“I heard that!” Anakin called, taking out the final droids separating us from the Master and her troops.

“Nice entrance, Skywalker.” The Twi’lek turned to greet us. “How do you plan on getting us out of this mess?”

“I have a ship docking in the lower hangar as we speak.” Anakin responded, grunting with effort as he stabbed his lightsaber to the hilt into two droids at once.

Quickly, we led the path to the port, ship shuddering around us as it took more hits than it could bear. “We made it!” Ahsoka exclaimed, extending the docking port. We quickly ran down the corridor but an explosion sounded, making me turn to watch as Master Skywalker force pushed us out of the reach of the blast.

“It’s too late!” He turned to try to face the blast as the doors shut between us.

“Master!” Ahsoka and I shouted in shock, quickly getting up to try to find him. I opened the blast doors slightly as she searched for his form.

“I found him.” She sliced a hole in the doors and we pulled him through, quickly getting him onboard the ship so we could detach. Ahsoka and I carried Anakin to the med-pod as Master Secura headed to the bridge, hopefully to get us to dock with the Resolute.

“Ahsoka, get an oxygen mask on him while I turn on this med-droid.” I quickly gave her a task to occupy her while I fiddled with the med-droid, searching for it’s on button. “Kix is much easier to wake up.” I mumbled, recalling the pleasant memory of dousing him with ice water and wishing he were here. He’d know how to calm Ahsoka down. How to calm me down, too. I thought to myself, conscious of the unrest that surrounded the force around me.

The droid finally powered on and began working on Anakin, beginning its scans and attempting to stabilize him. I gave Ahsoka’s shoulder a little squeeze as she stood back to let the droid do its work. “He’ll be alright.”

She gave me a little nod but didn’t speak, watching her master with anxious eyes. I felt the ship shift around us, and my brows raised of their own accord. Making my way into the hall, I found Rex working on a repair panel. “Did we just jump to hyperspace?” I asked, observing how he handled his hydrospanner less than expertly.

“Not sure. Just trying to repair the shields.” He said, accidentally shocking himself and letting out a frustrated huff before trying again.

I folded my arms and leaned against the wall, watching in amusement. “Need some help there, captain?”

He turned at my teasing tone, but unfortunately his helmet obstructed whatever expression he held underneath it. “I think I’ll manage, thanks.”

I laughed as he shocked himself again, “Just let me help.” Leaning down beside him, I took the hydrospanner from him, taking his place in front of the panel as he moved to the side slightly. “Besides, you’ve been fried enough for one day.”

“Yeah, thanks for that.” He watched as I began repairing the damaged panel easily, blushing lightly as I laughed again in embarrassment.

“Sorry… It was an accident.” He chuckled at me, shaking his head.

“It’s alright, I’m just messing with you.” My grin didn’t fade as I kept working at the panel. “How are you so good at that?” He piped up after a few silent moments.

I shrugged easily, thinking I must’ve appeared to know more than I did. “I like starships.” Completing the repairs, I replaced the panel as Master Secura rushed past us, Ahsoka following her into the cockpit.

“That seemed important.” Rex commented, and I nodded as we stood to follow after them.

“Karabast.” I mumbled to myself as the flashing screen showed us heading directly for a star.

“We need to shut down all the power circuits so we can reset the coordinates.” Master Secura commanded.

“But that will cut off Anakin’s life support!” Ahsoka protested the orders.

“I don’t like it any more than you do, but it’s a risk we’re going to have to take.”

“We don’t have much time.” I interjected, preparing for being thrown out of hyperspace. “Let’s do this.”

“Switching off primary power units.” Ahsoka informed.

“Ready to shut off auxiliary power.” Master Secura said from her spot beside me.

“On three. One, two, three!” Master Secura pulled the lever, turning off the remaining power to the ship and throwing us violently out of hyperspace.

The ship shook around us and Rex, who had been attempting to hold onto the chairs in front of him, was tossed backwards, slamming into me, throwing us both against the wall and taking Master Secura with us.

“Switch the power back on! What are you waiting for?” Commander Bly shouted back at us in panic as we came up on the star.

Master Secura reached through the force, switching the lever back on just in time for us to miss the star, Rex and I crashing onto the floor as the gravity came back on. “Ow!” I complained loudly, untangling myself from him and staggering to my feet, helping him up as well.

“Sorry commander, are you alright?” He brought up his hand to the back of his helmet embarrassedly as he apologized.

“I’m fine, but man your armour hurts.” I wheezed, rubbing the bruise I could feel already forming on my side from where his elbow had slammed into me.

“Well, we’re not gonna crash into that star, but we’re definitely going to hit that planet.” Ahsoka pointed out of the viewing port in front of us. With the state our ship was in we definitely weren’t going to have a smooth landing.

Gritting my teeth, I braced myself as we began our descent into the planet’s atmosphere. The shields lasted well enough that the ship didn’t break apart until we hit the ground, flames rising around us. “Everyone out!” Rex shouted, Master Secura and Ahsoka going to get Anakin while I helped Cameron, who had been injured in our escape, out of the shipwreck.

“I – I’m alright commander, thank you.” Cameron gave me a little nod of thanks as I let go of him slowly, letting him find his way to where we would set up camp.

Commander Bly scouted the area as the other troopers set up the campfire and I helped set up a small protected area for the injured Anakin to rest in. Rex searched the ship for anything we could use but unfortunately the med-droid was damaged beyond repair.

I watched as Master Aayla and Ahsoka argued about leaving Master Anakin behind. While I understood Ahsoka’s worry, I also understood that Master Secura wanted to use this opportunity to teach the young padawan to learn to control her attachment. I could sense the anxiety Ahsoka was pouring into the force from concern over her master. I related to it, having gone through similar experiences with my own master, and when I ultimately lost him, it was excruciatingly painful. Having gone through that myself made me appreciate what Master Secura was trying to do for Ahsoka.

They seemed to have settled their dispute before coming to join the rest of the group, Commander Bly holding out a wooden carving he had found while scouting the plains around us. It showed some sort of people, surrounded by what looked like giant trees. “General Secura, look. We're not the only ones here on this planet. There has to be some kind of – something here.” Master Secura took the carving from his hands before strange guttural screeches drew our attention to our surroundings, soldiers flicking on their helmet lights, my hand drawing near my lightsaber on my belt. “That doesn’t sound too friendly.” Rex commented from next to me, gazing into the plains with his gun drawn.

“No, not at all.” I murmured. I squinted my eyes but found nothing, then opening myself to the force. I couldn’t sense anything too close, and satisfied, I stepped back to where Ahsoka kneeled in front of Anakin’s form. “Be strong, Master. Just a little bit longer. Rex and Nim will watch over you.” She told him. “It is time to go.” “Don't worry, kid. The commander and I will take good care of him.” Rex told her, helmet tucked beneath his arm. When'd he take that off? Master Secura turned to us. "Alright, both of you keep your locators on. We should be back by daybreak with whoever, or whatever, lives on this planet." "Got it, General Secura." Rex gave her a nod. “Hey, kid. Good luck." He gave Ahsoka a small smile and she returned it before they headed out in search of giant trees, and whatever help they could find.

“Hey Rex?” I spoke, still watching their retreating forms in the distance.

“Yes commander?”

“What if the trees are normal sized and the creatures are just really, really, small?” I turned to look up at him, pleased to see him grinning widely at my asinine suggestion.

“The thought had occurred to me, commander.”

I moved to sit in front of the fire, glancing at Anakin to make sure he was still breathing. “Are you really going to keep calling me that? No one else does.”

“Doesn’t matter to me what everybody else does, sir.”

I nodded sagely at this. “I respect that. I just wish it didn’t mean you kept calling me ‘commander’.” I kidded lightly, grinning as he sat down near me. “Fives didn’t even bother trying with that.” I chuckled, thinking of how easily Fives had abandoned all protocol when we became such quick friends.

There was silence between us for a while, and I could see him mulling something over in his mind before he turned to look at me, finally speaking up. "I’ve been meaning to say, commander, that I’ve noticed the way you treat the troopers in our battalion. Like they're your equals. That kind of treatment... It's rare. And it means a lot to those men. It means a lot to me. So, thank you." I glanced away from him for a moment, trying to maintain my composure and stop the flush from creeping into my cheeks, before turning back. "I know that what we're fighting for is important but sometimes... I can't help but feel like they deserve more. Deserve better. I see someone like Kix and – he's such a dreamer. The fact that war is the only life he's ever known, it just doesn't seem fair."

"All due respect sir, but we were bred for the sole purpose of this war." The firelight reflected in his golden eyes, giving them a fervour I’d never seen before. I nodded. "I know. But you're still people." He held my gaze meaningfully before turning to look into the fire in front of us. "You're one of very few who see it that way." He shook his head, lost in thought as he stared into the crackling flames, and I resisted the urge to say anything else. “You should rest, commander. I’ll take first watch.”

I shook my head at him. “I’ll take first watch, you rest!”

He huffed out a chuckle at my stubbornness. “While I appreciate the sentiment, I know I hit you pretty hard back there.” I immediately stopped nursing the bruise on my side. I should’ve known he would notice it. “You should rest it off for a bit, then I’ll have my turn.” He pushed before I could protest that it was nothing.

Sighing, I stood up and found a small area across the campfire from him. “Fine. But don’t let me sleep too long.” I lay down on the uncomfortable dirt and tried to find some peace in the silence of the nature around me.

***

A low predatory growl in the distance woke me before the nightmares could, and I bolted awake, holding my lightsaber at the ready.

“Everything alright, commander?” Rex asked from opposite the campfire.

I scanned the plains in front of us carefully. “Something’s out there.” I spoke quietly.

“Clankers?” I shook my head and he turned to see if he could spot anything.

“Something else. A creature of some kind I’d guess. And it’s not alone.” I got in a defensive stance, my back to Rex and his back to mine as we stood protectively in front of where the injured Anakin lay.

A large creature jumped at me from the shadows, and quickly I activated my lightsaber, slashing it, causing it to take a few steps back. I could make out a fierce beak, a dark feathery mane, and four taloned feet. It tried to swipe at me again, but I slashed it again, this time successfully cutting into the flesh of its leg, causing it to whimper and run off as I heard blaster shots behind me.

Whirling around, I found another of those creatures standing over Rex. It had him completely pinned down even as he tried to get a shot on it. Quickly jumping over it to land near its face, I slashed at its beak, and it backed off immediately, running after its counterpart.

“Are you okay?” I extended an arm to Rex, and he took it, nodding at me gratefully as he got to his feet.

“I’m fine, but those things will be coming back. And I’ll bet they’ll bring their friends with them.”

I nodded in agreement, staring after the creatures. “I hope the others are doing alright out there.” Quietly we sat back down, more vigilant than before as we waited for whomever returned first, the creatures or our friends.

***

It was well into the next day before we saw any more action. Rex was walking around the perimeter again when Anakin awoke, grunting as he tried to sit up. I quickly tried to get him to lie back down. “Master, you need to rest!”

“I can’t rest. They’re coming.” I helped him stand and turned as I sensed the creatures from the previous night approaching.

“Rex!” I shouted him a warning and he responded immediately, gun drawn as the two creatures stepped into the clearing. Rex managed to shoot the first one down before it could do any damage but the other one pounced on him, knocking him down before heading for me and Master Skywalker. I quickly tried to put myself between him and the creature and push us both out of its path as it charged. It overshot us and quickly found its bearings, preparing to charge again before a small furry being jumped into the clearing, tying a rope around the large beast’s legs and trying to pull, attempting to trip it.

Ahsoka followed it into the circle, and I turned to Anakin, figuring the others had a handle on things. “Are you alright, Master?” I asked him, laying him down gently and checking him over to look for any additional wounds.

He hacked out a cough before responding. “I’m doing great, can’t you tell?” I grinned at his signature sarcasm, glad he was well enough to find his wit.

“Of course, Master Anakin.”

“Master!” Ahsoka ran up to us, having successfully dealt with the large beast, and knelt next to Anakin, seeming relieved to be back by his side.

“Good to see you, Snips.” I smiled and backed off to give them privacy before we loaded Anakin onto a stretcher to carry him to whatever civilization Ahsoka had found.

Turning to find Rex cradling his arm, I raised a brow in concern. “That thing got you?”

“Just a scratch.” He shrugged it off, moving to stand next to me as we watched the creature who arrived with Ahsoka introduce himself to Master Skywalker as Wag Too in Basic.

“I guess those trees really were giant.”

“I guess they were.”

#Captain Rex #Rex x reader #rex x you #The Clone Wars #Star Wars #Fanfic #Fanfiction #Clone wars #Clone trooper rex #Clone wars fanfic #Clone wars fanfiction #Clone wars Rex #Star wars fanfiction #star wars fanfic #rex clone wars #captain rex x jedi reader #captain rex x reader #captain rex fanfic #captain rex imagine #tcw rex #tcw captain rex #tcw fanfic #tcw oc #captain rex x oc

[albertasunrise]

It's Yours - Chapter 3

Chapter 1, Chapter 2

Summary: You and Javier have been sleeping together for almost two years but after his name was leaked by the papers, he is sent home for investigation. You remain behind with Steve to catch Escobar but when he’s finally dead, you decide to go after the man you’ve fallen for. You don’t like what you find when you finally reunite with him.

Warnings: Angst, Kissing

Relationships: Javier Peña x Reader

Note: I picture that Si looks like Charlie Hunnam, hot but with the kindest eyes and face.

~

The guest house was beautiful. The wood panelling was whitewashed with two potted orange trees sat either side of the steps that lead up to the porch, a swinging bench hanging to the left and a small table and chairs say to the right of the front door. Javier unlocks the painted, white, door and leads you inside to the lounge with minimalistic decor. It was clear that the place wasn’t finished but it was certainly liveable.

‘The bedrooms are through here.’ He states as he motions with an open hand for you to follow.

He takes you down a long hallway. The first door to your left is a bedroom, its small with a single bed on one side and a desk and bookshelves on the other, then a little further on to the right is a bathroom, tiled white with a large double shower, clawfoot bath and double sink. Javier watches you as you admire each room you pass. He comes to a stop next to a door at the far end of the hall and you glance at him before heading inside. The room’s walls are painted a warm shade of red with a four-poster bed stood proudly within. A door sat in the centre of the wall opposite the bed with a wardrobe on one side and a dresser on the other, both the same rich shade of brown as the bed.

‘This is beautiful Javi.’ You say as you turn to look at him, noting his nervous expression.

‘The place isn't finished yet but I hope you’ll be comfortable here.’ He states ‘Well at least until you find a place or whatever.’

‘I’m sure I will be.’ You reply with a smile.

‘There’s no food in the fridge, didn’t get a chance to buy anything in but Pops has invited you to dinner tonight if you want to join us.’ He pauses as he studies your expression ‘Unless you and Si have plans.’

‘Si’s working tonight.’ You reply and he nods ‘I’d love to join you and your father. Be nice to get to know our baby’s grandpa.’

Javier’s heart tugged at the mention of the tiny being growing inside of you, the being that he had helped create but then his heart ached a little as he remembered that you wouldn't be raising this baby together. He showed you where the towels were and how all the appliances in the kitchen worked and then left you alone. You took your time looking around a little more before picking up the phone to call Si liked you'd promised.

‘Hey, baby.’ You say sweetly, grinning down the phone like a loon ‘I’m here. The place is lovely.’

‘That’s great baby.’ He replies ‘Everything okay? Not weird or anything?’

‘Well of course things are a little weird.’ You chuckle ‘I’m pregnant with my partner’s baby and living in a guest house on his father’s ranch. No way for this not to be weird.’

Si chuckles in reply and you laugh along with him, chewing your bottom lip as you swoon over him.

‘He’s invited me to join him and his dad for dinner tonight.’ You start ‘Should probably get to know my baby’s only grandparent.’

‘Probably.’ Si teases ‘But I’m taking you for breakfast tomorrow morning beautiful.’

‘Oh, are you indeed?’

‘What?’ He chuckles ‘Can’t a guy treat his girl?’

‘So I’m your girl am I?’ You tease, eyebrows raised in feigned surprise.

‘I hope so.’

‘I hope so too.’ You grin ‘See you tomorrow handsome.’

‘Bye baby.’

You hang up the phone and practically shake with excitement. You’d not felt this excited about someone in a long time. Simon exhilarated you in a way that only Javi had before, but you hadn’t been Javier’s girl. You unpack your clothes and decide to take a walk around the ranch, surprised at how many animals Javi’s father has. You perch yourself on the bench that overlooks the two horses you’d seen that first day you came, smiling as they play and prance.

‘Those two never stop.’ Chuckles Javier as he walks up beside you.

‘Do you ride?’ You ask, glancing up at him as he watches the two mares play.

‘Yeah.’ He replies plainly as he looks down at you ‘You?’

‘Used to.’ You reply with a smile ‘Haven’t in years.’

‘Well, maybe we can go for a ride some time.’ He says sweetly and you smile at him.

‘I’d like that.’ You pause as you place your hand on your belly ‘I uh… I made an appointment to get a scan done. It’s on the 17th.’

‘Okay great.’ He replies as he perches himself on the edge of the bench.

‘I’ll probably need you to drive me. I need to return the car tomorrow.’ You state and he nods.

‘Do you need me to collect you tomorrow after you give it back?’

‘No Si’s coming with me.’ You reply, a pang of guilt rearing its head when you mention his name ‘He’s actually going to take me to breakfast tomorrow morning so I’ll be gone early.’

‘Oh right.’ He replies, unable to hide his disappointment.

‘What?’

‘It’s nothing.’ He replies, giving you an unconvincing smile.

‘Javier I know when you’re lying. What is it?’

‘Pops bought a load of extra food in. He assumed as you had no groceries that you’d join us for breakfast too.’ He replies honestly, grimacing as he spoke.

‘I’ll cancel with Si.’

‘No don’t.’ Javier shakes his head ‘Why don’t you invite him? There’s plenty for us all. Pops won’t mind.’

‘Javi-.’

‘It’s fine really.’ He says, giving you a small smile ‘I better get back to work. There’s a really nice walk down that way.’ He says as he motions to a small dirt track ‘Just don’t leave the path. So easy to get lost.’

‘Okay.’ You reply as you watch him stand ‘Thanks.’

He gives you a brief nod and leaves, heart aching for you as he walks towards his truck. He doesn't want Si there but he knows that that man can offer you everything he can't so he has to accept he's lost you to the nicest man he knows.

~

‘Chucho, these are the best Enchiladas I have ever eaten!’ You gush and the man grins at you ‘Actually Javi made these.’

‘You can cook?’ You make no attempt to hide your surprise.

‘Yeah well, I’m Mexican. Cooking was forced onto me from a young age.’ He chuckles.

‘Well, these are delicious Javi.’ You smile ‘At least I know the baby will eat well when it visits.’

Javier’s face drops at this and you feel your stomach twist. You hadn't really discussed what the arrangement was going to be. It was a little early on to be thinking about it but you’d somewhat assumed that you would move back to DC and the baby would come to visit during the holidays. The distance is a bit much for alternating weekends.

‘Have you thought about what you want it to be?’ Asks Chucho, trying to relieve some of the tension.

‘Not Fussed’ ‘Girl’

You look up and Javier in shock, a small smile tugging at your lips.

‘You want a girl?’ You question ‘Didn’t know you’d given it any thought.’

He shrugs as he chews ‘I dunno… I've just always thought if I have a kid, I’d like it to be a girl. Boy’s are hard work.’ He chuckles.

‘You really not thought about it Chica?’ Asked Chucho, smiling at you.

‘Honestly, as long as it’s healthy I’m happy.’ You reply, smiling back at him.

‘Javi said your boyfriend is joining us for breakfast.’ You nearly choke on your food at this statement, you’d not labelled him yet.

‘Uh… yeah.’ You reply ‘If that’s okay with you.’

‘Not a problem.’ He replies ‘Plenty of food.’

‘Thank you, Chucho.’

Dinner goes by with relative ease. Some leftovers get wrapped up for you, you thank Chucho for a wonderful evening and then Javier walks you back to the guesthouse, casserole dish in hand. Stopping beside the front door you take the dish for Javi and smile sweetly at him, willing your heart to slow down.

‘Thank you, Javi.’ You start, feeling your heart flutter a little as he looked at you with his expressive brown eyes ‘Was a really lovely evening.’

‘Glad you enjoyed yourself.’ He replied ‘Goodnight.’

He leans in and kisses your cheek, your heart stopping as his soft lips make contact with your skin. You let out a shaky breath as he pulls away, just enough that he can look you in the eye and you find your gaze flitting between his lips and his glittering brown orbs. In the blink of an eye, his lips are on yours, kissing you with fervour and after the initial shock, you’re then kissing him back. Then your brain catches up with you and you push him away with your free hand, chest heaving as you feel tears forming.

‘We can't do this Javi.’ You sob.

‘Hermosa-.’

‘No… We can’t.’ You interrupt ‘I’m with Si. I care about him and he doesn't deserve this.' You pause as you wipe your tears with the back of your hand 'Goodnight Javier.’

You quickly unlock the door and disappear inside and leaving a heartbroken man in your wake.

~

‘You don’t have to do this baby.’ You say as you walk towards the main house with Si at your side ‘Still time to back out.’

‘Well, I should probably get to know the sober version that is the father of my girlfriends baby.’ He states and your heart skips a beat ‘If this is heading where I think it is then we’ll be seeing a lot more of each other.’ He finishes as he spins you around to kiss you passionately, beard tickling your lips and making you giggle.

‘Girlfriend eh?’ You question with a wink.

‘That okay?’

‘More than.’ You reply as you place a sweet kiss on his lips.

You knock on the door three times and you’re greeted by Chuchos smiling face ‘You didn’t tell me Si’s your man!’ He exclaims as he gives the man a friendly pat on his shoulder.

‘Good to see you Chucho.’ Replies Si as he grins at him.

‘Come in, come in!’ He says excitedly as he motions you in with his hand.

The table is covered in food and you can’t help but smile at the effort that’s been made. Javier is busy at the stove and you make your way over to him, peering at the pan and seeing that he’s making scrambled eggs.

‘Good morning.’ He says with a smile and you wonder if he’s forgotten about what happened last night.

Then the smell hits you and your stomach rolls. You say nothing, just make a b-line for the bathroom and Javier’s face drops as he watches you run. Si sprints after you and holds your hair as you empty the contents of your stomach, letting out a sob as you try to breathe through it.

‘You okay?’ Si asks as he rubs comforting circles on your back.

‘What happened?’ Asks a flustered Javier as he appears in the doorway.

‘Morning sickness.’ Replies Si as you rest your head remains resting on your forearm ‘She gets set off by the smell of eggs and Coffee.’

‘Shit I-.’

‘You didn’t know man it’s fine.’ Interrupts Si and Javier nods before leaving, not wanting you or him to see the tears forming in his eyes.

He feels like he should know these things. You’re carrying his baby yet the local barman knows more about your triggers than him. You walk back in to the kitchen ans see him tossing the eggs into the trash and your brows furrow.

‘What are you doing?’

‘The smell makes you sick so we won’t eat them.’

‘You didn’t need to do that Javi.’

‘It’s fine Chica really.’ States Chucho ‘There’s still plenty of food.’

Si and Chucho talk each other’s ears off over breakfast but Javier doesn't say a word. You note that his eyes are bloodshot, that he keeps wiping his nose with his napkin and that he avoids any form of eye contact with you. You help clear up, hoping that it will give you a moment alone with Javier to talk but he doesn't say a word to you, doesn’t look at you and you feel yourself getting more and more irritated as it goes on.

‘Can I speak to you a moment?’ You say suddenly as you toss the drying cloth down and grab his arm, pulling him through the backdoor ‘What the fuck is your problem?’

‘What? He growls.

‘You’ve been in a shit mood all morning.’ You spit ‘I’m sorry that I got sick because of the eggs. You didn’t need to act like a child about it! You put this kid in me. You don’t get to be upset about some silly eggs.’

‘You think that's why I’m upset?’ He says, raising his voice a little ‘I’m upset because I don’t know what triggers morning sickness in the mother of my child and yet the local barman does. I’m upset that I won't get to raise my first kid with the woman I love. I’m upset that I’m not going to be able to do the feeds with you, the night changes... I’ll miss watching them grow, walk, probably talk. This is not how I imagined things would be when I finally became a father but it’s what I deserve right? I’m a bad man. I don’t deserve the perfect life with a wife and a baby. But he does!’ He finishes as he points at the closed door before he storms through it, leaving you speechless.

The woman he loves?

What were you supposed to do with that information?

You looked through the windows and saw him swiping up his keys and bidding his father and Si goodbye before leaving them as abruptly as he left you. Then your eyes drift to Si who’s looking at you with a sympathetic expression and your heart flutters. You’d waited years to hear Javi say that he loved you. It had been all you'd ever wanted but you also knew that he’d fuck it up. He wouldn’t be able to prioritise you and this baby. The job would always come first. Si was everything you’d ever wanted in a man. He was kind, loving, committed. He knew what he wanted and he would stop at nothing to get it and what he wanted is you. You could feel yourself falling hard from him already and that scared you because you had to decide. Do you want the man you’re in love with? The father of your child. Or do you want the man you’re falling in love with? The man who you know will give you everything you’ve ever wanted.

Time to decide.

~

Chapter 4

#javier pena x you #javier pena x reader #javier pena #javier pena fanfiction #javier peña fanfiction #javier peña #narcos fanfiction #narcos #pedro pascal fanfiction #pedro pascal character fanfiction #pedro pascal characters #pedro pascal #fanfiction

[barnesbabee]

[Don't Starve/DST tips for beginner players]

1. CHARACTER CHOOSING

The character you play plays a big role in the game, as they're not just for aesthetic, each character has ups and downs and as a beginner you should choose the most neutral characters before you get a handle of the game. In singleplayer Don't Starve you can only unlock new characters with XP, but in DST you have all of them available to you, so choose wisely. Here's a small guide on each character:

Wilson: he's the starting character, so naturally he's the most neutral one. He doesn't really have pros or cons, he just grows a pretty cool beard.

Willow: the firestarter. She's my main so I have a lot to say. Willow is a good character, although her sanity is low she's very useful. In regular Don't Starve she spawns with a lighter, but in Don't Starve together she spawns with a lighter and Bernie, her bear. Willow's sanity goes up if she picks flowers, like normal players, but she also gets more sanity when she's around fire or when she burns things, so when her sanity is low you might want to leave base or not walk around forests because she can start a fire. The sanity gain with fire improves during the day. She's also really useful because in DST when she's insane she can put Bernie on the floor and he'll become a huge bear and fight monsters for her. This is all amazing but as I said she loves fire, so she hates cold, and winter is especially hard for her. She can freeze quicker and it's really annoying and it's hard to do anything that involves not being around warm fire, so if you're a new player I don't really recommend playing Willow at first because winter is already hard as it is. This being said, during summer she's also more resistant to heat strokes than other characters, and she also doesn't take fire damage unlike other characters.

Wolfgang: Wolfgang has great stats and he's really strong, but you have to be constantly feeding him or else he'll get weak. Also he's 'afraid of monsters', which means his sanity drains quicker than other characters when he's around hostile mobs.

Wendy: Wendy is someone I recommend to new players, because although her stats aren't the best, and although she doesn't hit very hard, she comes with Abigail. Abigail is her dead sister that you can spawn from the flower Wendy carries, and Abigail is useful because she can fight for you. Most mobs in Don't Starve use close range and with Abigail you can use long range which is very useful. Just make sure you don't get hit because Wendy's HP isn't the best.

WX78: it's a bit of a shit character if you ask me. Definitely don't play this one. When he gets hit by lighting he gets charged up and can be a light source + walk faster, but he only eats gears (which are hard to get on their own) and he gets rusty if it rains, I honestly don't like him.

Wickerbottom: I don't have much experience on her, she's really smart and she comes with an extra crafting tab that allows her to craft books which she can use to spawn stuff. It's useful but I don't have much insight on her.

Woodie: I play him a lot in DST, and he's really great overall. He comes with an axe (Lucy) that is infinite (it doesn't wear out like other axes) and he can chop trees down really quickly. However during full moon he can turn into a Goose (runs fast), into a Moose (attacks with force) or into a Beaver (can chop trees faster and without an axe), but when he comes back to being Woodie he will be hungry (hunger will be at 0) so you have to make sure you have food around.

Wes: garbage.

Maxwell: He can create shadows to fight for him, chop for him, etc... But for every shadow he permanently looses HP (which means that, for example, if his HP sits at 150 max, when he makes a shadow the max will be 120HP). It's useful but you have to be careful not to take any damage, and as a new player that might be hard.

Wigfrid: She's a great fighter, and she's able to craft a helmet (best protection in the game I believe, at least from the regular ones) and a spear which are exclusive to her. However she only eats meat and it can be a little hard for new players as carrots and berries are the easiest food to get.

Webber: he's recently had a rework so he has a couple new things. Webber is a spider, and he can now make them passive, wake them up, and put them to sleep, which is great to farm/harvest stuff. Webber isn't attacked by spiders like other players, but since pigmen are afraid of spiders they will hit Webber as well. Not a terrible character to start with either!

Warly: Warly comes with his own special crockpot and he is a great cook, which means that your hunger heals better when you eat something he made. The downside is that he can't eat anything he didn't make in his crockpot, which can make it a little hard.

Wormwood: I recently bought Hamlet (which is how you get this playable character or DST) and man, my thoughts are divided. He's a good character as he can plant seeds without needing to make crops, however he's extremely flammable (he can't stand too close to a fire), he looses sanity every time he chops a tree or picks a flower ('cause he's a plant and he doesn't like hurting his friends). Something really annoying about him is that he doesn't heal by eating food like other characters, he only heals with the spider glands or with manure (shit). So he's not an ideal character to start with. He does grow a cool flower on his head during spring though.

Winona: She's a really badass character and I really like her. She's a builder, so she can build things other characters can't (like catapults) so she's really effective when it comes to defending the base and helping out against mobs like hounds. However she does lose sanity any time she crafts anything, so it can be a little hard to deal with her.

Wortox: I don't know much about him, but he can teleport and he can also heal players with his magic. If you ask me he's a little overpowered for the game.

Wurt: I don't know much about him and I've never had anyone play him, all I know is that he doesn't get attacked by merman since he's one of them.

Walter: he's a little scout boy that comes with a slingshot and a dog. The dog can grow big and Walter can ride him which is good for fleeing, but after riding for a while the dog will throw him off.

Sorry for not having much on the last 3 but they're fairly recent compared to others and I haven't seen much of them or played them.

Most times during DST people choose characters that help others, so you can help each other and get the most out of the game.

2. SANITY

Sanity plays a big part in this game. You lose sanity by being in the dark, or by fighting mobs. Some characters have special ways of losing sanity, for example, Wormwood loses sanity by picking flowers or chopping trees. How do you fix your sanity? For all characters (except Wormwood) you can get sanity by picking flowers. With 12 flowers you can make a garland in the hat tab and it will slowly restore your sanity. You can also pick green mushrooms and cook them for more sanity. Just like some characters lose sanity in a 'special' way, some characters gain sanity in a special way as well, such as Woodie when he chops trees and Willow when she's near fire or when she sets anything on fire.

If you let your sanity go down you will start seeing shadows, those shadows become real if it goes down enough, and said shadows will start attacking you, which isn't great because they're a lot, so watch out for that.

3. SURVIVING WINTER

Winter is hands down my least favourite season because Im a Willow main :)

What happens during winter? It starts to snow, so players can freeze, deerclops might appear, crops stop growing. The biggest issue with the winter is that food is hard to find. Crops and berries don't grow anymore so what do you do? First of all you will need to find a clockwork before winter. What are clockworks? They're metal mobs that drop gears when you kill them. You need gears to make a fridge, so you can store a lot of food for winter. If you store food in a normal chest it will rot quickly, but in a fridge they last a long time. You should also build a crockpot which is fairly easy, and in a crockpot you can make better food, you can also take nearly rotten food and make it good by cooking it, and you can use 1 stick or 1 monster meat to make good food, as you can't normally eat monster meat 'cause it drains sanity and HP.

What can you do for the cold? You need to find beefalo, and with the shears (which you can craft in the tools) you shave the beefalo, so you can make a winter hat. That hat will help with the cold. You can also make earmuffs, by catching 2 live bunnies and sticks, but the hat isn't hard to make and it's better. MAKE SURE YOU CARRY ENOUGH TO MAKE A FIRE AT ALL TIMES. In case of emergency if you get cold and start dying you need to have something to warm you up. You should also make a thermal stone. It doesn't take a lot and it keeps you warm. (You use the thermal stone by setting it down near the fire and letting it geete warm)

You should also make bird and rabbit traps to get meat during the winter.

Beware of the deerclops, if it appears try to lure it away from your base because it can destroy everything you built. If you want to fight it, make sure you fight it away from your base, but if you don't you can also lure him somewhere else and then run away. The Deerclops will de-spawn after winter is over.

Try not to make your base near the sea 'cause penguins will spawn and they're very fucking annoying + they can destroy your shit.

4. SURVIVING SUMMER

Summer is also very fucking annoying but much less than winter.

What do you need?

Some crops survive, but some of them die, so getting food isn't as annoying to get, but it's still scarce, so you should also try to get as much food as you can during spring time.

You should get ice during winter from the glaciers, and also more gears. Some crops/trees/grass might start to burn during summer, and with gears and ice you can make an ice-fligomatic. The ice flingomatic will throw ice to things when they start burning and will extinguish the fire, so when you come back to your base it's not all in flames.

During the summer you can't stand near fire or you'll die of heatsroke. Remember Nitre? That yellow shit you leave behind after mining rocks because you need inventory space? Yeah you'll need those to build an endothermic fire. It lights up your nights and keeps you cold, however you can't cook in it.

The thermal stone from winter also works during the summer.

Keeping a bunch of ice from winter in your fridge also works. If you eat the ice it will make you colder.

RANDOM TIPS

1. Don't hit pigmen/beefalo when there's many around you. They will gather up and kill you.

2. DO NOT try to kill penguins. They might be easy to kill but not so much when they all gather around and kill you.

3. Always keep armor+spear on you in case hounds start to come and you're not at base.

4. Don't steal tall birds' eggs (blue with white dots). The tall bird is very strong and aggressive and it will follow you for the egg and try to kill you.

5. Don't eat the mushrooms unless 100% necessary. Mushrooms always have a side effect, like they might give you sanity but take HP.

6. You can use mushrooms and monster meat (which you shouldn't eat by themselves) and cook something in a crockpot, thus turning something inedible into something edible.

7. When it rains, more during the Spring than anything else, it might start raining frogs, it's not a bug, that happens. Try to get away from base so they don't swarm there, as they're very annoying.

8. ALWAYS build a lightning rod, during a storm the lightning can hit something and set it on fire, and you don't want your stuff being burned. The lightning rod collects the lightning and protects your base.

----

This is all I can remember, I am more than happy to answer any questions anyone might have! @atinystray here it is!!

[stxrrywildflower]

disbanded (1)

pairing - spencer reid x reader

summary - after emily’s death, the still grieving bau team disbands in hopes of the time off doing some emotional healing. however, for you and spencer, strauss recruits you for your own individual team almost immediately. months later, after new case details are discovered, you and spencer are forced to call in your old team for assistance

warnings - case details, angst

series masterlist

seven months.

seven months had gone by and the team had barely heard anything from you or spencer.

there were occasional texts, letters, and phone calls. the messages were always brief, never lasting more than a few sentences or minutes.

j.j. returned to the bau around three months in. she was changed, everyone noticed that. the blonde agent put on a facade, masking any signs of trauma or difference.

the only crack in her foundation was when she saw the practically empty desk. it came as a suprise to see desks normal covered in pictures and other items now almost cleared. the only reminder of your presence was both of your name plates remaining.

everyone felt a toll with what was going on. they were missing three out of eight team members. sure, they weren’t working active cases, but just having everyone around made a difference.

hotch was the leader. the alpha-male. he kept everyone in line while providing the support and care any member of his team needed at all times. though his leadership in the middle east was more then successful, they missed having the role model to look up to.

spencer was the kid. the boy genius. his intelligence was more than impressive, though he often used it as a shields. his facts, while sometimes unneeded, provided the final piece of a profile to catch the unsub. the team never knew they could miss his rambling more.

you were the glue. the one that kept the team together. though your presence was still fairly new in comparison to others, your witty remarks and overal care for everyone acted as a backbone. your relationship with spencer was almost model worthy, something everyone wanted to look up. you changed spencer in the best way possible.

they knew where hotch had gone. but for you and spencer, no one had any clue. when j.j hunted down and questioned anderson, the man had very obviously lied about not knowing before leaving to go back to work.

eventually they stopped asking.

four months later, hotch returned. his return back was less then minimal, being greeted with smiles, hugs, and even the stray comment about the beard. the reunion was short lived as hotch had requested them all to meet in the conference room.

curious and concerned gazes were thrown back and forth. no one voiced their confusion, choosing to obey the orders of their leader and take seats for the first time in seven months around the round table.

“we’ve been called in,” the unit chief started.

✦✧✦✧

across the country, you threw your head back in annoyance with the case. spencer leaned against the table, one arm crossed across his body while the other ran over his lip.

the recent case was becoming increasingly difficult. a series of robbery homicides involving a team of seven different members was terrorizing the city of los angeles.

you had successfully identified four members though the other three were a mystery. there were many facts pointing to the possibility of involvement in organized crime. one wrong move in your investigation and a lot more could go wrong.

three days and no solid leads.

usually you and spencer were wrapping up other cases by now. instead, you were sitting in one of the rooms at the los angeles police department reviewing the profile over and over. spencer, on the other hand, was going though every report you had on the unsubs, desperate to find something that could like them all together to give you a clue.

what didn’t help was the heat. the summer heat was hitting the city hard, you and spencer shedding your suit jackets as a result.

“have you checked prison records?” you asked, looking at the board in front of you.

“yes, absolutely no connections there.”

you huffed. you weren’t getting anywhere despite having a near perfect profile and organized board showing a whole crime family tree.

“we need to call in some extra help,” you finally admitted.

“y/n,” spencer started. “i don’t think we really need them. i mean we work perfectly fine on our own. we’re pretty much the new rossi and gideon.”

“look, i don’t really want to see them either. but if we don’t figure out something soon, more people are going to die. a fresh set of eyes could do us good,” you replied.

spencer fiddled with collar of his shirt, a nervous habit he had picked up a few months ago. it was a telltale of his growing concern or anxiety over a situation.

you sat down beside the genius, resting your hand on top of his. “hey, it’s one case. after this we’re back solving cases on our own. does that sound okay?”

“i’ll go make the call.”

✦✧✦✧

“why do they need us? we don’t even have a full team,” morgan was already protesting after the very minimal briefing.

“because y/n and reid requested our help,” hotch answewd.

j.j. most notability flinched at the mention of your names. “what do you mean they need out help? i haven’t really heard from them in months,” j.j. pipped in.

hotch sighed. “back when we split up, strauss inquired y/n and reid to continue doing our job, traveling and all. i was only aware of it because technically i’m still their boss. it’s a lot more intense then when we were traveling, hence their absence. but their success is incredibly high. i don’t have the exact number but it’s around sixty-three cases solved in seven months. of that, five or less have ended in having to shoot the unsub.”

rossi let our a low whistle at that. “have either of them been hurt at all?”

“a few minor injuries but none involving hospitalization

the unit chief looked around at his team, all displaying very conflicted emotions.

“we’ll leave here at five tomorrow morning. be prepared for a long case.”

the team arrived the following morning, heading up to the second floor of the police department at promptly nine am. everyone was slightly jet lagged, time zones the direct cause of that.

just seconds after they had arrived, who they presumed was the police chief headed over on their direction, already extending a hand to shake.

“i’m detective henderson. the other two agents on the case apologize for the absence and should be back soon. one of the family members requested to see him,” the police chief introduced. “but you can all set up in here.”

the team followed the chief through the office and into the usual conference room they were offered. no one failed to take note of the other room occupied, a familiar messanger bag resting on the table.

“and here we are. there’s information posted on the board but i’m sure the agents will explain it when they arrive. please feel free to come to me with any questions.”

hotch was the one to thank the chief. “alright let’s sit down and go over the files. we didn’t have a lot to go off of back at quantico but there’s a ton here.”

it couldn’t have been more than thirty minutes that they waiting, using that time to run through theories about the identified unsubs and ways to find the missing three.

the room seemed to stop, all eyes going towards the elevator.

the team stood up all at once, already suspecting who was about to walk in. their suspicions were proven to be correct as you and spencer stepped out, eyes looking straight ahead.

to put it simply, you two looked and acted different.

seemingly small things for outsiders but things that meant everything for the team had changed.

handshakes replaced hugs. nods replaced smiles. iced coffee replaced hot. even spencer’s revolver he used since the ldsk case was replaced with a glock 19.

since when did spencer drink red bull?

even your style of clothing altered. spencer’s dress pants and sweaters were swapped out for one-piece suits, tie and all. your blouse and dress pants changed into suits, having matching patterned tight pants and blazers, heels to top it off. your outfits both looked ten times more formal.

“agent hotchner,” you greeted, extending your hand.

it was obvious hotch, as well as the rest of the team, was taken back by your words and presence. the last time anyone close to hotch refer to him as ‘agent hotchner’ was when they first met him. he was always very clear about preferring the abbreviated version of his last name.

spencer was the exact same as you, his discomfort with shaking hands seemingly vanished. it pained morgan that he couldn’t reach out and hug the man he considered to be his little brother.

“i apologize for us not being here when you arrived, i know from experience that it’s a long flight. the board in your room has all the information we’ve collected. there’s a timeline, victim list, crime scene photos, and then a family tree. we also have transcripts which can be sent to your tablets. other than that, the case details are in the file folders and you’re good to go,” you explained.

“y/n,” hotch called, stopping both you and spencer from walking away.

“before you ask, i really think we need to focus on this case before discussing transfers. don’t you think so?”

☆ ☆ ☆

tags - @tinylumpiaa @rumplebutterbitch @itsmyblogandillreblogifiwantto @the-quarantine-diaries @ah-blossom @dr-reid-ismyspiritanimal @aperrywilliams @kissessforharryyy @garcias-batcave @reidswords @etherealgubler @spenceneedsahug @jjandreidsgirl @zoseph @emilouu @mortallythoughtfulgurl @alexxcorona113 @swiftspaperings @gia-kerks @mggstyles

#criminal #criminal minds #spencer reid #spencer reid x oc #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid x you #spencer reid x y/n #aaron hotchner #derek morgan #emily prentiss #jennifer jareau #david rossi #penelope garcia

[tasloveskk]

Some folklore thoughts 💭🌲✨🏳️‍🌈 

Part 1

 I’m going to take it song by song while also tracking key themes in red! Please also feel free to add in your thoughts in the comments, I’m curious to see what else people think folklore is about...

folklore

‘folklore’ is defined as “a body of popular myths or beliefs relating to a particular place, activity, or group of people.” or, by Steve from Taylor’s IC,”the traditional beliefs, customs, and stories of a community, passed through the generations by word of mouth.” Taylor herself in her introduction/prologue says  “A tale that becomes folklore is one that is passed down and whispered around. Sometimes even sung about. The lines between fantasy and reality blur and the boundaries between truth and fiction become almost indiscernible. Speculation, over time, becomes fact. Myths, ghost stories, and fables. Fairytales and parables. Gossip and legend. Someone’s secrets written in the sky for all to behold.”

the 1

- firstly, it’s the best opening track she’s ever had! 👏🏼👏🏼👏🏼👏🏼👏🏼👏🏼

- “I’m doing good, I’m on some new shit” = sounds to me like a conversation you have with an ex, like someone is saying “yeah I’m doing great, I’m dating/doing ‘x’” the first time they run into their ex in a while.

-“I thought I saw you at the bus stop” has BIG “this city screams your name” energy but is also very clever by Taylor because Miss Karlie Kloss is ALWAYS on advertisements on bus stops/literal buses around the globe 🚌

- “I hit the Sunday matinee” to me seems like an inside thing, because obviously as the world biggest pop star, if taylor is going to go to the theatre or cinema, she’ll pick the least busy and most filled with older people which would be the Sunday matinee.

- “you know the greatest films of all time were never made” —> the greatest love stories never get told? happen behind the scenes? There’s something deeper here but I’m still forming the cohesive idea!

- “if you wanted me you really should’ve showed” = showed up or showed for the world, either way Taylor wanted KK to chose her not Josh so they could work but that didn’t happen so now she’s left to wonder.

- “roaring twenties” evokes two clear images for me! 1. They were both in their 20s for the entiretyof their relationship, the best years were spent together and 2. The Roaring 20s were a time of independence, pushing boundaries and breaking the rules of prohibition - which is basically what Taylor and Karlie were doing behind the scenes.

- “if my wishes came true, it would’ve been you” = let’s say, ONLY FOR ARGUMENTS SAKE, that Taylor really IS with Toe, that still means that this song is her yearning for someone else who she always loves more AND had to lose at some point. Looking at her past beards “relationships”, there are only two plausible options - Joe (which seems unlikely seeing as they’re still “together”) or CH who she supposedly wrote “you would’ve been the one if you were a better man” about. Either way doesn’t seem like it fits. However, if you look at it as Karlie is the 1, it becomes clear - it would’ve been fun being best friends and lovers for ever baking cookies and dancing around the kitchen, it would’ve been forever if Karlie hadn’t “married” jerk, it would’ve been her and it still is. 💗

- “in my defense I have none, for never leaving well enough alone” & “I know that I went psycho on the phone, I never leave well enough alone” are about the same moment with the same person = she didn’t leave well enough alone because she kept writing about Karlie and re-engaging us Kaylors as well as I’m sure, she kept up with seeing Karlie or keeping tabs on her to the point where it forced someone to reach out to the other.... she can’t apologise or defend her actions because you can’t explain the things you do for true love.

- “I have this dream you’re doing cool shit” aka starting a podcast, expanding businesses, making headway as an entrepreneur and being a highly-paid and respected international model? Seems straight forward 👀

- “you meet some woman on the Internet and take her home” = 1. Karlie is specifically interested in tech and the internet, it is literally her entire business and 2. if Karlie and Tay did break up, then because Karlie is actually NOT married to Josh, she hooked up with someone she met through the internet somehow (probs social media not an app) and Taylor found out this is probably a snarky comment about that from a jealous ex. Could possibly also be about the dream mentioned above. 💔🔐

- “another day waking up alone” = lost her lover, sleeps alone? Bold claim on opening tack.

- “persist and resist” = very famous feminist saying, civil rights/political echo?

- “the temptation to ask you if one thing had been different, would everything be different today” = this what if mentality continues through the album but personally, I think this is about Kissgate.

- “Rosé flowing with your chosen family” = repeats later, your chosen family could refer to Karlie’s group of friends like Derek and Jourdan etc.

- “would’ve been sweet if it could’ve been me” = flipped perspective, wishes Karlie chose her.

- “dragging up the grave another time” = firstly, THAT pin on her EW jacket now makes more sense. second, Taylor has written about Karlie for 4 straight albums now, she hasn’t let their love story die even if they did.

-

cardigan

- “brand new phone” = this is not some story, this is current reality. Taylor hides behind era-specific language and imagery in some other songs but this one is clearly about here and now, and her.

- “sensual politics” to me stands out because only really here and in TLGAD is politics explicitly mentioned and sensual politics to me screams sleeping with someone for political gain or with political connections which certainly sounds like someone...

- “when you’re young, they assume you know nothing” = sounds to me like a lot like a) love story and b) “you don’t know you’re gay, it’s just a PHASE! you’ll grow out of it!” 🏳️‍🌈

- “chase 2 girls, lose the one” = supposedly, when KK and TS met, Taylor was still in love/entangled with Dianna so perhaps she’s reflecting on making the wrong choice?

- CIWYW links: my baby’s high above the whole scene—> heartbeat on the high line, tidbit:as is clear in both Lover & 1989 New York is a sacred place for TS and KK’s love story, the high line is a) a beautiful NYC icon and b) right in between the girls’ two places...

- as mentioned, miss Karlie ELIZABETH Kloss was the brand model for Levi’s and definitely has worn some sequins and black lipstick on cobblestones sooooo.... 🤷🏼‍♀️

- “you drew stars around my scars” = see Drake’s birthday party and the infamous third Polaroid mystery 👀

- “stepping on the last train” could mean one of two things to me; 1. The last resort for KK was marrying J*sh or 2. the last train could represent some goodbye the girls had where KK chose something/someone else over Taylor.

- “peter losing Wendy” is such an interesting metaphor on so many levels but specifically, Wendy loses Peter because she wakes up (from nearly dying but nvm) and grows up and stops believing in Neverland and magic, basically Wendy loses an attachment to Peter because her reality shifts and that’s what gets remembered especially in the Disney version of the story. HOWEVER, the opposite is also true meaning Peter Pan loses Wendy because he can never co-exist with her again, he can never grow up or bring her back to Neverland without either killing her or ruining her. So this idea that someone wanted to change the ending from peter losing Wendy because he had to do what was best for her because he loved her echoes as Karlie didn’t want to marry Jerk or hurt Taylor but had to in order to protect her. Right? 😅

- “leaving like a father, running like water” = Taylor’s parents got divorced and there’s SOME thoughts Scott left the house and Taylor lives with her Mom in Nashville in her teen years.

- “I knew everything when I was young” - Taylor has always know she was LGBT+ 🌈 and also, baby VSFS vibes because as we all know, “we were both young when I first saw you...” send tweet.

- “I knew you’d come back to me” hopefully, HOPEFULLY foreshadows the girls being together/coming out soon !!!!!!! 🤞🏼🤞🏼🤞🏼

- music video wise, I’ll do a break down soon.

TLGAD

- ‘Rebekkah’ refers to the previous owner of Taylor’s Watch Hill, RI house, Rebekah Harkness. She was a divorcee until marrying Standard Oil heir William (aka Bill) Hale Harkness, a new-money dynasty was formed in this time from their profit. There are MANY wild, whimsical stories about ‘Betty’ (which is obviously an extended metaphor of folklore)  that this song tries to re-create/recapture.  

- Taylor is also known as ‘Becky’ due to the popular meme so this is quite literally a play on her own character as well as the previous inhabitants of the house.

- St Louis is not only Rebekkah’s hometown, but also Karlie Elizabeth Kloss’. 

- “the wedding was charming, if a little gouche” seems like a direct shot fired at Karlie’s woodsy photoshoot of 2018 😂😂(ironically, folklore’s key aesthetic is the woods!!)

- “it must’ve been her fault his heart gave out” refers explicitly to William dying of a heart attack in the house, but subtly I feel like this is a dig at the media who constantly blame women for things they cannot control, as they have done with Taylor too many times to even count. 

- “who knows if she never showed up, what could’ve been” seems like Taylor is stuck thinking about what may have happened for her and Karlie if things had been different, see the 1. 

- “she/I had a marvellous time ruining everything” is such an incredibly provoking lyric on two fronts, 1. obviously taylor buying her RI house had a massive impact on an otherwise sleepy holiday town that is now more famous for Taylor’s july 4 parties than anything else and 2. seems introspective or personal, as if the things that ruined everything for Karlie and Taylor were the best and most marvellous parts of their relationship (big sur, kissgate etc.) 

- “flew in all her bitch pack friends from the city” is not only about the friends and celebs Rebekkah was notorious for hosting but also Taylor’s ‘bitches and model’ girl gang circa 2015 which includes one Karlie Kloss. 

- “blew through the money on the boys and the ballet” refers to Rebekkah’s love of wasting her fortune on things, including a ballet company that went under not long after she created it BUT also refers to Taylor paying so many boys to be her beards and PR stunts whilst also spending her money on a certain ex-Ballerina. Also remember her AMA’s performance of Lover/ bts of Shake It Off? 😉😉😉

- “50 years is a long time” - 50 seems deliberate, a bit of a reach but note it WAS the 50th anniversary of Stonewall last year. 🏳️‍🌈

-  “free of women with madness, their men and bad habits and THEN IT WAS BOUGHT BY ME.” - this clearly shows that ALL the songs are being narrated by Taylor, some of the lyrics are about her, some are about these fictional or fantastical characters she’s created but there is her truth behind all of them too. 

- “the loudest woman this town has ever seen” = Taylor is undoubtedly the most famous woman in the town who regualrly causes uproar there (see the Sea Wall debacle and the Taylor Swift Tax)

- in all, the two famed women owner’s of Holiday House have many overlaps and are forever intertwined. 

exile

- “i can see you standing honey with his arms around your body” as the opening line is LOUD. to me, feels like this is about ALL those staged photos of Josh and Karlie uncomfortable/fake as hell on social media. 

- “laughing but the joke’s not funny at all” is something we’ve all thought about Karlie’s marriage before and is about that moment where if you don’t laugh, you’ll cry at the situation. 

- “it took you 5 whole minutes to pack up ... holding all this love out here in the hall” to me is about someone moving out of a shared home, like Karlie from Taylor’s NYC apartment, after a break up or fight. We know it is MORE than likely that the girls’ broke up, for a while or for good, in 2017/18. 

- “I think I’ve seen this film before, and didn’t like the ending” is a lot like “Cause cruelty wins in the movies, I've got a hundred thrown-out speeches I almost said to you” / “All of my heroes die all alone.” which makes me truly believe that delicate > the archer > exile are all the progression of the same love story.  ❤️

- “now I’m in exile seeing you out” = both of them have lost their home, exiled from the relationship.

- “I can see you staring honey, like he’s just your understudy” has a lot to unpack. Firstly, see this photo. Second, as a beard, Joe is quite literally Karlie’s understudy - stepping in only to fill a public void or play her part when she can’t. 

- “like you’d get your knuckles bloody for me” is basically this tweet

- “second, third and hundredth chances” - hopefully this means the girls WILL be together again soon!!! 

- “those eyes add insult to injury” - Taylor has often made explcit reference to her lover’s eyes, but this could also mean the eyes of the public on her every move and relationship not allowing her to properly grapple with break ups. 👁️

-  “i’m not your problem anymore, so who am i offending?” - homophobes love to say wlw or mlm relationships “offend” them or their beliefs, so who could taylor be offending if she’s publicly in a straight relationship? 

- “you were my crown”, Taylor was/is Karlie’s princess, if Karlie is gone, Taylor doesn’t feel like she’s a princess anymore. Likewise, Karlie is Taylor’s sunshine which makes the moody, misty, dark aesthetics all the more relevant to this album. 

- “so I’m leaving out the side door’ - this side door? the other side of the door?

- “all of this time, we always walked a very thin line” between outing themselves and being happy? 

- “I gave so many signs” - Taylor has queercoded EVERY album since her self-titled, she has been dropping hints and signs for years that she is LGBT+ so it must be exhausting to have to keep hiding who she loves. This is repeated so many times - it means a lot. 

- written with William Bowery who nobody can quite identify, but Karlie and Taylor have been to the Bowery many times together and William is mentioned earlier in TLGAD

- this whole song is a duet, a two-sided conversation between lovers - her and karlie both without each other. 

my tears ricochet

- Track 5 is, as per usual, deeply confessional, personal, emotive and moving. 😿😿

- there are lots of theories and layers to this masterpiece of a song, including that it’s in reference to big machine. I personally think every single song of Taylor’s is made up of layers that reflect multiple things in her life and experience so plausibly it can be about multiple things all at once including Sco** and Scumbag as well as Karlie, who was under Scumbag’s management for the majority of the decade. Another theory which with every new listen I think is more and more possible is that this is alternating between Taylor and Karlie’s perspectives. 

- ‘if i’m on fire, you’ll be made of ashes too” whoever is associated with Taylor will ALWAYS be dragged down with her. If she’s being attacked, they will be too. Big 2016 energy. 

- “even on my worst day, did I deserve babe, all the hell you gave me?” could be directed at a lover, or at Big Machine, or even the public for all the shit they’ve said about Taylor over the years. 

- “I swear I loved you ‘till my dying day” seems a lot like the 1, as well as could be about the music and the label she helped build. 

- “I didn’t have it within myself to go with grace.” Taylor was LOUD about her split from Big Machine, she called them out (rightly) and made noise which is not a ‘graceful’ split. 

- “you’re the hero flying around saving face” very easily is about S+S jackasses but deeper than that, while Taylor was under immense attack and criticism, everyone who actually like her music pretended suddenly to hate it and her to stay ‘cool’ 

- “cause if I’m dead to you why are you at the wake?” this lyric becomes especially important in the final verse but essentially those who publicly distanced themself from Taylor still showed up when she was thriving again and/or because they actually truly loved her *uhmm karlie uhmm* 

- “cursing my name, wishing I stayed” either at Big Machine or with Karlie/Taylor. 

- “some to make a diamond ring” > firstly we still have never understood the ring image from the LWYMMD and ME! videos, it is entirely possible this is a continuation of that same symbol/image. Second, I think this hints to Karlie getting ‘engaged’ while still being with Taylor, the rock for the ring in the song was found by the two people gathering stones after all. 

- “you know i didn't want to have to haunt you” both Taylor and Karlie have big reputations all over the world that follow them everywhere. For either one, they will always be haunted by reminders of each other. 

- “you wear the same jewels that I gave you as you bury me” - on the Big Machine side, Taylor made the label professional and big, she is literally the sole reason it succeeded in the music industry so she handed Sco** his fortune and reputation which he still had when he sold her music to Scumbag and got into a very dirty bed with him. From the Karlie side, many people have noted that not only does she wear her black cartier necklace, which is assumed to be from Taylor, but to her ‘wedding’ wore a necklace she’d worn before with Taylor. 

- “when I’d fight you’d tell me I was brave” could refer to Sco** encouraging her in 2016 to defend herself. Could refer to Karlie supporting her behind the scenes. 

- ‘and I can go anywhere I want, just not home” seems like a continuation from exile, as in she’s lost the place she called home because her lover is no longer there but could also mean she can’t go back to her other albums and the house (see the lover music video) that they created as her musical home.

- “you will still miss me in your bones” could be about Sco** losing his money and label without her there to physically support and carry it or about the fact that the love Taylor and Karlie had is so ingrained it’s in their bones forever. 

- “and i still talk to you when I’m screaming at the sky” this lyric has a lot of possible interpretations (i’ve seen one about cursing out God?) but i think it’s similar to “asking the traffic lights if i’ll be alright” as in, it’s Taylor asking the universe to help her make sense of things. 

- “when you can’t sleep at night, you hear my stolen lullabies” suggests a) sco** + scumbag is still haunted by the music they stole from Taylor because it was literally the backbone of the business which is now practically worthless and b) that Karlie is kept awake by the songs Taylor has written for and about her over the years which again were stolen away by the jackasses at Big Machine.  

- “you had to kill me, but it killed you just the same” again, same idea - big machine will never be profitable without her/while they hold her masters hostage. BUT Karlie wise, breaking up with Taylor broke her too? 

- this is where the song changes. it shifts from Taylor’s story to someone else’s, personally I think Karlie. 

- “you turned into your worst fears” as in she settled for the money and sold her values off by marrying Josh. Also, Karlie was under Scumbag’s management for years (part of Taylor’s hatred of him was him keeping the girls’ from doing as they pleased) so by being completely controlled by him, she turned into this completely fake person. Contrast 2014/15 Karlie with 2017/18 Karlie and it so much more all about PR and money. 

- “you’re tossing out blame, drunk on this pain, crossing out the good years” - sco** and scumbag have made so many false excuses for their behaviour and completely erased the good relationship between the Swifts and sco**. Not sure yet what the Karlie side is here but it’s here somewhere. 

- in conclusion, this is about Big Machine and Karlie. As the first song Taylor wrote for the album, I think it’s clear just how incredibly multi-faceted this album is. ☕☕☕

mirrorball

- first off, we can never forget about this and this look from both girls. ✨✨

- “I’ll to show you every version of yourself tonight”, the public and the private sides to them both. this is big glass closet energy in my opinion 

- “and when I break it’s in a million pieces” is so personal and heartbreaking. 2016 and Kaylor breakup vibes. I cannot elaborate at this time. 

- “when no one is around my dear” = the secrecy, forbidden love motif returns and again, if she’s in a hetero relationship, what’s to hide? 

- “you’ll find me on my tallest tiptoes”, Just an fyi, Karlie, a giraffe, is 6′2″, Taylor is 5′10″ -- thats a big difference. 🦒🦒🦒

-  “i know they said the end is near” = end of the relationship or the end of hiding it, either way, it’s a romantic last private moment together, swaying as the room burns down. 

- “i can change everything about me to fit in” = Taylor when she was starting out was forced to create this all innocent, american-girl image of herself. She has had to hide herself to succeed, as she said in Miss Americana, she was muzzled. 

- “you are not like the regulars, the masquerade revelers” = Karlie is different to everyone else, or any other ex, ‘masquerade’ implies masked or hidden figures at a party, very Love Story 

- “and the called off the circus, burned the disco down” = the ‘circus’ could be the media/public, or all the illusions Taylor has cast in order to appear straight. The ‘disco’, and Taylor is the ‘mirror ball’ to her lover means that this isolated existence of just the two of them. 

- “I’m still on that tightrope, I’m still trying everything” for now, she’s still closeted, she’s still trying to have the best of everything. 

- “I’m still a believer, but I don’t know why” believer in everything working out perhaps, or perhaps believing it’s better if she’s in the closet and it’s only the two of them. 

- “never been a natural” = she has completely created herself through years off trying to be what people want, not who she naturally is. 

seven

- “picture me” implies this is retrospective of Taylor, she’s reflecting on her childhood/youth. 

- “I hit my peak at Seven” could either refer to the age 7 or album 7, ‘Lover’ which many critics argued was her best work. 

- “Over the creek I was too scared to jump in” = fear of jumping is something Taylor has discussed in many songs but this is different, the creek represents something she fears will drown her.

- “High in the sky with Pennsylvania under me” = obviously, Taylor was born and raised in rural PA, so this truly is a childhood memory unearthed and explored. It’s personal to Taylor, it’s her story. 👏🏼

- “Are there still beautiful things?”  Recognizing the world isn’t all daisies and rainbows 

- “cross your heart, don’t tell no other” = again, secret keeping and hiding something is a big queer image, ‘cross your heart’ is a quite childish phrase but it’s adult equivalent in Taylor’s world is an NDA, ie swearing people to secrecy is something she's always known... 🔐

- “Although i can’t recall your face, I still got love for you” = this childhood love has faded with time to memories, this girl simultaneously forgotten and remembered. 

- “Your braids like a pattern” = definitely about a girl (1996 rural Pennsylvania was not the kind of place where boys had braids), specific use of YOUR pronoun not ‘my’ or ‘our’ suggesting again it’s about a girl. Very obviously about a first girl crush. 🌈 

- “passed down like folk songs, the love lasts so long” = firstly, reference to Neruda’s poem Taylor used in the red prologue. second, folksongs change slightly from generation to generation but the heart/melody remains the same meaning that in Taylor’s mind, the story of her first girl love has changed but it’s still the same song/story all the years later. also, clearly a reminder of the setting of the song and the album as a whole being folklore. 💛

- “your dad is always mad and that must be why” feels a lot like Love Story and forbidden love, also again rural Pennsylvania in the mid-1990s was not the most liberal place so I can imagine a lot of homophobic ideas that perforated Taylor’s childhood.

- “I think you should come live with me” is such an innocent image of someone in love and wanting to just fix things by bringing them home, it also is like a baby gay version of uhauling 

- “we could be pirates” = pirates are not just a childhood image/motif but also one historically seen as gay, gangs of pirates often had ‘mateolage’ agreements that basically were like widow’s benefits. See John Swann. ☠️

- “you won’t have to cry, or hide in the closet.” = I think this one is explicitly clear but just to be sure, Taylor could’ve said “hide when he lost it, hide if you wanted, hide in the woods too” etc. Read this for a full understanding of why it such a LOUD image to use.  It is VERY DELIBERATE PEOPLE. 🌈🌈🌈

- “just like a folk song, our love will be passed on” = different from the first bridge but deliberate again. Their story, aka Taylor liking girls from a young age will always be talked about, AND their love lives in this song she wrote.

- “picture me in the weeds before I learned civility” = again, given the homophobic attitude, ‘civility’ and straightness should be read as the same so Taylor is saying when she was a child, free in the grass and herself, she wants to always be. 

- “I used to scream ferociously any time I wanted” = she wasn’t muzzled as a child, she could say and be who she wanted, screaming it aloud for everyone to hear but that changed as she grew up. 

- “pack your dolls and a sweater, we’ll move to India forever” = ‘dolls’ again would imply it’s two girls running away together and India is this exocitc far off place to a child, a place where they can be together without anyone knowing them or controlling them. 

August

- Karlie Kloss is born in August. Karlie Kloss posted yesterday about being a Leo (an August born). August belongs to Karlie Kloss. 🦁♌

- “rust on your door” = image of something well-worn, perhaps someone who’s been here too a few times before?

- “whispers of are you sure?” = obviously there is the sexual connotation, but beyond that, what if it’s about Taylor and Karlie going public etc. 

- “never have I ever before” = see above but also the game ‘never have I ever’ evokes youthfulness and sounds almost like a reminder of a fun night with friends. 

- “I can see us lost in the memory” = implies they’re still together, losing themself in the memory together

- “I can see us twisted in bedsheets” = again, sexual imagery but also the intimacy of sharing a bed with the person you love after sex 

- “Like a bottle of wine” = matures the song a bit, the youthfulness of earlier is now more adult. 21 is America’s drinking age, 20s were mentioned early etc. 🍷

- “Cause you were never mine” = the whole of Taylor and Karlie’s relationship, Karlie has publically been dating Josh so she was never solely Taylor’s. 

- “Will you call when you’re back at school?” = Karlie attended NYU in 2015, the height of Kaylor. 

- “back when we were still changing for the better” = instead of changing to adapt/survive or keep up appearances. 

- “wanting was enough” = wanting Karlie without labels was enough, rather than having to go public etc. Many have said for a long time that Karlie and Taylor fought about coming out or not. 

- “cancel plans in case you would call” = sounds like a very love-sick Taylor Swift thing to do. Also waiting on a lover’s call when they constantly are travelling like both Karlie and Taylor do makes sense. ☎️

- “so much for summer love” = cruel summer echo? Summer 2015 was again, peak Kaylor so this could be a specific reference to that period

- “Do you remember? Remember when I pulled up and said ‘get in the car’” another specific reference, comes up again later in Betty, clearly is something personal. 

- “Back when I was still living for the hope of it all” = back as in the past when everything was happening, hope of it all being the hope they’d still end up together. 

TO SUM UP PART 1:

BENEATH ALL FICTION OR MYTH IS FACT & FEELING. Taylor is no longer hiding. Yes, some of these songs are about stories and people not her but there is so much of herself and her own story layered in too. PAY ATTENTION!!! Obviously, these are just my opinions, I’m not Taylor so I cannot know exactly what these songs are about but I think, after years of analyzing her music, these images/themes and deliberate word choice are well-versed in this part of the fandom. It is entirely possible this is the beginning of Taylor’s full, public coming out journey. 

I’ll be back with Part 2 tomorrow.  Stay Tuned!

#ts8 #taylor swift #taylor swift gay #taylor swift karlie kloss #Kaylor #kaylor proof #gaylor swit #Gaylor #GAYLOR RISE #karlie kloss taylor swift #Karlie Kloss #karlie what you want #tasloveskk #folklore #folklore taylor swift

[themonkeycabal]

Wandavision Ep 7 Spoilers

Spoilers below

Good morning. There's a guy power washing the sidewalks at 12:30 a.m., and the drone from the generator is drilling into my brain. So I will watch WandaVision instead of doing something I might regret.

Previously on: Wanda was getting sick of Pietro's shit. Vision knows/thinks his wife is behind all the creepy shenanigans, and he tried to escape the Hex, only to fly to pieces in the real world. I can relate.

Outside, Monica, Jimmy, and Darcy were banished from the SWORD circus by Acting Director Dick, because of course. They snuck back in, also because of course. Darcy hacked AD Dick's files and found out he's Up to Something. Then she ran to try and help Vision and got herself arrested and handcuffed to a jeep. Which is where the brave SWORD agents left her when they ran away as Wanda, attempting to save Vision, expanded the Hex, swallowing Darcy and the SWORD compound, turning it all into a sitcom circus. Well deserved. Well, not Darcy, but anyway.

AD Dick escaped. Unfortunately. But, so did Jimmy and Monica who were off to her mystery aerospace engineer friend to find a way into the Hex.

Also, Tommy and Billy have powers.  

The episode 7 summary is a delight: "Two super-powered beings living ideal suburban lives suspect that everything is not as it seems." You don't say, Disney+.

Wanda wakes, regrets everything, and hides under the covers.  Understandable. Cut away to her addressing the camera The Office style "Look, we've all been there. Letting our fear and anger get the best of us; intentionally expanding the boarders of the false world we created". (cut to screaming running SWORD minions lol).

The boys come to get her, their game is freaking out. The video game controllers can't decide what decade they're in and are glitching it up.

Billy says his head feels weird and noisy. Wanda isn't terribly responsive. Mommy needs some her time.

"As punishment for my reckless evening, I plan on taking a quarantine-style staycation. A whole day. Just to myself. That'll show me." lol

Wanda eventually rouses herself, goes downstairs in her robe and sweats, ignores the boys fighting over a video game controller, and goes for the sugariest cereal. The milk container keeps glitching, she tries very very hard to ignore that.

Interesting Office-style opening credits, where it's just her name on everything. Vision is only added at the end, with the tag "Created by Wanda Maximoff".

Out in the real world, what is the point of SWORD? Like how do they have jurisdiction? Where is SHIELD. Director Mack, wtf, dude?

Anyway, now that part of their camp has been swallowed by the hex, they're further out, staring at the angry glowing force-field. AD Dick is a dick. He wants to know what's happening with the broadcast. His little minion says the signal's gone. Ominously he says "we launch today". Mmmm, what delightfully heavy-handed dipshittery will we have to endure?

Back inside. Vision wakes in the field at the edge of town that is now a circus. And lots and lots of clowns. He gets yelled at by a strongman who seems to think Vision is the new clown and tells him he's late for rehearsal with the escape artist. Who is Darcy. lol

"I put in for the bearded lady. But this alabaster complexion wasn't fooling anyone."

Darcy is chained to a ye olde fire engine or tractor or something. Vision walks up to her making a weird face and kind of waving his hand back and forth between them.

"You don't remember me from last night? We locked eyes, there was an unspoken understanding." Darcy tells him "um, hard pass." lol She busts out of her chains and walks away, Vision chases after.

Back at home, Wanda wants to know if the boys have seen dad, they haven't, but Billy wants to know about that whole thing Uncle Pietro said about dad being dead again. Wanda says Pietro is not their uncle. The boys don't understand, and Wanda has a little rambling breakdown about how she has no answers and maybe there's no meaning to anything ha ha don't worry boys mommy's just having a little depression.

Agnes knocks and then, you know, strolls in, when Wanda magics the door open.

"Hi Agnes. I'd get up but I just don't, ahahahah, want to." If I was Billy or Tommy I'd mount a search for dad. Stat.

Agnes: "I think I got there in the nick of time, 'cause she was one split-end away from cutting her own bangs."

(It's 1 a.m. and I swear to God, that man is still power-washing the sidewalks.)

Agnes suggests the boys go with her and give mommy that 'me time' she so desperately needs. The boys are reluctant but Wanda is ecstatic.

Once alone with her certainly soggy cereal, Wanda settles back to watch crappy daytime TV. But, damn it, the furniture is glitching through the eras.

"I'm fine! I'm fine hahahah. *sigh* I'm fine. i'm fine. … I'm fine."

In the real world. Jimmy and Monica are still on the move. The file on project whatever it was from last episode (Cataract), that Darcy forwarded to Jimmy's email, has finally found its way to him. It's R&D reports.

Oh, that asshole, AD Dick was trying to bring Vision back online. Monica puts the pieces together "Heyward wants his sentient weapon back."

Jimmy says somebody has to tell Wanda.

Good thing they arrive at the other side of the Hex, I guess? Where Monica has another team waiting. An Agent Goodner. They brought her like some sort of big Mars rover thingy.

Vision is still trying to talk to Darcy. "You tried to help me." "Doubtful. I'm notoriously self-involved."

lol, some amusing back and forth. Darcy is an f'ing delight and I don't just say that because I am obviously hideously biased.

Vision distracts her with a mime and takes the opportunity to do his brain mojo on her, waking her up. "Part of me secretly wanted a guest spot on this show, but seriously that sucked."

"Dr. Lewis. I have questions." "I have answers."

And then they steal the funnel cake truck.

"Dr. Lewis, my questions. Are my children safe?" "That I don't know." "And who was that Pietro?" "Beats me."

Wanda is still working on her bowl of cereal. Give it up, sister. The house redecorates itself around her.

Uh-oh, in her talking head segment, about how she doesn't understand whats going on, the person behind the camera speaks, and asks if maybe it's what she deserves. "You're not supposed to talk."

Commercial time. For a depression medication. "Nexus, a unique antidepressant that works to anchor you back to your reality. Or the reality of your choice."

Back in Westview. The boys are hanging at Agnes's. Billy has a rabbit. As happens at your crazy neighbor's house. But, he says he likes it there, because it's quiet. "You're quiet, Agnes. On the inside." J'ACCUSE, AGNES!  

Back at Monica's backup camp, she's getting suited up in her SWORD astronaut suit. Jimmy's sad because Darcy's missing the fun. But, Monica will rescue her. SWORD is worse than SHIELD for slapping their name all over everything.

Monica and the little rover zoom off to the hex. Should she really go that fast? Maybe this is something to take cautiously? Oh, and look, she hit it hard and she's stuck. The Hex doesn't want to let her in, but she keeps trying. And now the Hex is eating into the rover — sorry, *re-writing* it. Well that was a dumb plan. Sorry guys, but come on.

Monica escapes, but the hex eats the rover and then spits it out, the front half transformed into a truck. Monica is shocked, Jimmy calls for a medic, and as they run forward, Jimmy, who has known Monica for like two days, recognizes she's got 'I'm a heroic dummy' face on and he's all "noooooo!". She runs for the hex and pushes her way in.

This is a really long sequence of her going through the hex. Like … too long. Sorry, but it is. There's a whole thing where she's hearing voices from moments in her life, and she hears Carol tell her how she's a tough kid, and now Monica is Filled With Resolve and breaks through the Hex, still in her Astronaut outfit, so like she resisted the sitcom wardrobe department.

I enjoy this show, but there are moments of hokeyness that I find very trying.

The hex rewrites you at a basic level as you pass through it. So, third time through and Monica's eyes are glowy blue and she can, like, see electrical currents, or electromagnetic fields (it looks like). Trippy. She can see power along the power lines, fields around streetlights. Closing her eyes and shaking her head makes it all go away. Of course.

Meanwhile, Darcy and Vision are on their slow-speed getaway in the Funnel Cake truck. She's trying to catch him up on what's happened since he's been dead. They keep hitting red lights and obstacles. Vision thinks Wanda's doing it to keep him from getting home. "I'm not amused," he tells the camera with a very not amused face on. lol

Vision is trying to understand what he is now. It's not going well. "My corporeal form was born from Ultron's plan for global genocide?" "Correct-o." Darcy might not be the best person to be explaining this to him.

"What am I now?" Poor Vision.

Darcy takes a deep breath. In fairness, she looks like maybe she'd rather not be the one doing the explaining, either. "Honestly, I'm a STEM type of lady, so I thought she just flipped a switch on your head and brought you back to life. What I don't get is why you can't leave the hex."

Vision is having an existential crisis. But, Darcy assures him that based on her week-long experience as a fan of WandaVision, he and Wanda do really love each other. So, there's that. "You belong together," says the shameless shipper.

Meanwhile, Monica has arrived at the Maximoff residence and busts into the house, breathlessly trying to tell Wanda it's all Heyward being a dick, but Wanda's stunned by the sudden entry and then too pissed to really listen. "The drones, the missiles, Pietro." "No, Pietro wasn't us." "All you do is lie." She's tossing Monica around with her powers.

Monica, friend, buddy, pal, was that really your plan? To barge right in and just … what? Talk fast and hope she didn't yeet your ass again? Okay, she didn't have a lot of time, I get that, but surely she could have come up with something. Like, she should have found Darcy and Vision first, and then the three of them could approach Wanda. But, no. Jimmy Woo would have a plan, Monica.

Well, fortunately for Monica she's been rewritten into Electricity Lass. She hits the ground with a staticky crackle and her eyes glow blue again. Wanda's all "bu-whu?"

"The only lies I've told are the ones you put in my mouth," Monica says all angry like. Mmmkay, I thought you were trying to help? Wanda does not care for this response. Because, no offense Monica, but the last time she heard your voice, she had a missile launched at her head.

Monica challenges her. "Do it then, take me out." Not an approach I’d go for, but it seems to work, and Wanda hesitates and Monica tries to warn her again, that unlike Wanda who isn’t actually violent and evil, Heyward will burn down Westview to get what he wants. "Don't let him make you the villain."

"Maybe I already am."

Next door, Agnes is looking out the window, watching them, with a considering look on her face. BECAUSE SHE IS IN ON WHATEVER THIS IS.

Monica is still trying to talk down Wanda. Agnes interrupts. Creepily. And shepherds Wanda away.

Vision and Darcy are thwarted in their journey again. "Oh come on! Kids? What's next? Puppies?"

Vision takes the faster way and intangibles himself out of the van and flies off, leaving Darcy at the endless intersection. "Go on! I'll just meet you there then?"

Back at Agnes's shack of creepy ladies who are freaking up to something. Where are the boys? Oh, Wanda notices the half-eaten PB&Js and the nightmarish kids' show on the telly. Behind her the bunny is in its cage. No sign of the boys. Agnes says they're probably playing in the basement.

Wanda wanders off to find them. But, there are no boys, only horror show creepiness. The basement turns into some weird sort of domed cavern with arches all around and in the middle a weird glowing rectangle.

Agnes comes up behind her. "You didn't think you were the only magical girl in town, did you?" I was wise to you, Agnes. Which, given she was a featured co-star, was probably no great insight on my part. BUT STILL!

"The name's Agatha Harkness. Lovely to finally meet you, dear." OH! LOLOLOL! OH, I didn't see that one coming. Wow, you got me, show. It never occurred to me for a second that it was Agatha Harkness.

And now a fantastic montage of Agatha doing tricksy things as Agnes through the series, with the best theme song ever "Who's been messing up everything? It's been Agatha, all along! Who's been pulling every evil string? It's been Agatha, all along. She's insidious. HA HA! So perfidious." Oh man, this is great. "And I killed Sparky, too."

LOL. Great ending.

Hey, an unexpected mid-credits scene of Monica trying to get into the house. Maybe Agnes's? Oh, yeah, she finds a storm cellar and opens the doors, to see a stone stairway with vines or roots growing all around it and zippy electrical sparks and such. Pietro appears behind her. "Snoopers gonna snoop."

Credits!

Well then.

I KNEW IT! I didn't know what I knew, but I knew I knew a thing!

#wandavision #wandavision spoilers #wandavision liveblog

[writefinch]

Dear Dairy, Pt.1 (cn: noncon, Mm, kidnap, emphasis on *forced* feminization, induced lactation, milking, bondage, drugging, induction of gender dysphoria in a cis guy, things of that nature)

7th July 2018

Cold day today. I dusted off my scarves for the first time this year. Not literally, they'd been vacuum sealed and packed away when the weather turned in October. I threw out the red and yellow knit scarf, something I should have done last year, as it's far too Harry Potter. I was going to pick out the UMIST scarf but that felt a touch dull for the first scarf of the year. In the end I picked out the green silk paisley, which I felt provided a contrast with the pink shirt. I wore them with the second-hand grey Armani that I've yet to have tailored; I haven't yet decided if it's worth the trouble. I'm leaning towards yes, as I received two compliments today, one from Jason's database administrator, a charming and flirtatious--to say nothing of attractive--lady from Perth. We've talked about the possibility of meeting up for drinks at some point, and I'm increasingly inclined to take her up on the offer.

Experiment C2 is adjusting to his newfound freedom since his release last week. It was sad to see him go, and I'll cherish the time we spent together, our first night especially when he violently objected to the idea of servicing me. Oh, how he kicked and fought, clawing at his neck chain, scratching me, biting, swinging wildly. He bloodied my nose rather viciously and left me in no mood for sex that night, to the extent that I almost let him go entirely.

Of course, his demeanor changed altogether after I bagged him. A clear plastic bag over his head, taped around his neck, watching him gasp and writhe for air that isn't there, screaming his silly little head off until he's sure that he's taken his final breath, then tearing a tiny hole over his nostrils. I let him suck in four generous lungfuls of air before I bagged him the second time, and I went through seven bags before allowing him a rest. After that he became such an agreeable and solicitous cocksleeve you'd have thought he was raised in a merchant marine!

Still, he was unsuitable both physiologically and psychologically for the experimental interventions, and I only have so much space in the cellar, so I had to let him go. Some of my social acquaintances are keeping a close eye on him. He's been told that running his mouth will lead to nothing but the cold grave, and I believe he's a bright enough lad to take that to heart.

I'm beginning the search for his replacement tomorrow.

20th July 2018

I've found him! I've found him I've found him, he is everything I've been looking for, he is perfect, it is as if God placed that boy on earth for no other purpose than my need for him. I can barely contain my excitement.

He is an itinerant surf bum, twenty years of age, single, underemployed, estranged from his family. He has flowing blond hair, a few wisps under his chin that can barely be called a beard, deep brown eyes, and a lithe, rangy figure that seems to be slowly growing into the top-heavy carrot-shaped build of a classic surfer. He's been living in town since May, surfing most days, doing temp jobs, lodging in the spare bedroom of a friend of mine.

What a perfect physique! His body is accustomed to being dashed over rocks and whipped by surf, what fun I will have finding and surpassing his tolerances for pain! Oh, to restrict and ration out air to a boy who has trained himself to hold his breath underwater since he was a young teenager, to see those taut muscles stretched over a rack, I cannot wait, I can't wait.

I won't speak or write his name. I now take every action with the foregone conclusion that he is mine, and that he is already Experiment C3. In my mind, he is already in my cellar.

My friend has kindly allowed him to get behind on his rent, and C3 apparently plans to move to Sydney in ten day's time, driving out across the country in his decade-old Ford Ka, surfboard strapped to the roof. When he disappears a few days before that, people will assume he left to avoid paying his rent.

They won't be wrong, in a sense. C3 won't be worrying about rent for a long, long time...

26th July, 2018

It hasn't been an easy choice, and it is in fact a decision I've been struggling with for some time now, but I've decided to let my hair go grey. I'm almost forty for heaven's sake, and I noticed my first grey a year before the financial crisis. Ever since then I've been religious in my application of dye and toner, carefully concealing each and every one of the pale little buggers that pops up, but it's gone from something I'd do after a haircut to something I'm doing twice a week. I won't rush it, I'm going to ease off the dye over the course of the next year or so, but by next July I'll be au naturelle salt and pepper.

Work remains dull but tolerable. I know I'm blessed to be able to do most of my duties from home given my hobbies, but there's a certain sense of removal from everything, as if it's not really a job at all and I'm back at university doing a coursework-intensive compulsory module. On the other hand, I do enjoy going to the office in a way that I did not when I was going there five days a week!

Experiment C3 is screaming his head off again, I think. It's very faint, and I've turned off the air conditioning in the sitting room so I can hear it coming up from below. I suppose I can't blame the boy, given the circumstances. He hasn't seen me since the drugs wore off, and he's in the same configuration I first kept C2 in: his feet are in snowboard boots and locked into clips in the floor, his neck is in a steel collar connected to an eyebolt on the floor by a one-metre chain, his wrists are cuffed and pulled up towards the ceiling by another chain, he has noise-cancelling headphones strapped over his ears blaring white noise, and he's wearing a blindfold snug enough to prevent him from even blinking underneath it.

He's been there for seven hours now, since three in the morning. He can neither stand nor sit nor lie down, he cannot turn around, he cannot see--though it is pitch black in the cellar even if he wasn't blindfolded--he cannot hear his own voice, and I very much doubt he has any idea how he got there.

As I said, I haven't been down to see him properly yet, so I'm monitoring him at a distance via CCTV and also his pulse and blood oxygen readings. I'm keeping him watered through an IV drip and I'm not at all worried about feeding him just yet, though I'm sure he'll be getting hungry given that I emptied out the contents of his guts with an enema while he was still unconscious. I want him properly good and woozy from sleep deprivation before I introduce myself, either forty-eight hours or until his vitals get a tad skiffy, whichever is shorter. By my word, I am not an impatient man!

Of course, given the close monitoring required, I'll only be getting a few more hours sleep than he will. I suspect I'm getting the better half of the deal. Ah, the poor thing just wet himself. He needn't worry, it's all going into the bucket between his feet, and it'll go to good use later.

I've calmed myself down since his capture, for practical reasons as much as anything else, but I am still abuzz with energy. I am already looking forward to writing my next entry!

28th July 2018

I introduced myself to C3 today.

He spent an impressively long time in the stress position before he was unable to push his legs and instead dangled from his wrists, almost twelve hours, at which point I let the wrist rope go slack and allowed him to collapse. To prevent him from sleeping I intermittently blasted him with high pressure cold water whenever his pulse dropped below 100, for about a further four hours until I decided he'd had enough rest and strung his wrists back up.

He lasted five hours that time, so I let his wrists down again and stood sentry with a paintball gun, giving him a good and proper three-round burst whenever he stopped whimpering. Up again, barely an hour, down again, where I pinned him to the floor with wiring from an electric fence, set to deliver low-intensity zaps across his arms and chest whenever it seemed as if sleep was a possibility. He only got a few shocks, I think the first few put him in such a state of alarm that he didn't dare relax enough to be given another.

I strung him up a few more times, sometimes combining the motivators--his quivering thighs made a delightful target for paintballs as he tried to hold them in a crouching squat--until we reached the forty-ninth hour. I then played my recorded introduction tape through his headphones. It was identical to the one I'd played for C1 and C2, which was itself similar to the one recorded for B4 through B9.

Of course, as the deaf and blindfolded boy was crouch-squatting in place hearing my voice tell him that his old life was forfeit, that he was livestock now, that he would be used as a sex slave, that disobedience would only lead to misery, and the details of the hormone treatments he would be on, I was standing in front of him, masturbating.

My timing was impeccable. Just as the last lines of the recording said "if you're wondering when you'll meet me, I'm right in front of you," I came all over his whorish face. I'm afraid I'm no Peter North, I've no more than four spurts and the first one is always rather watery, but I nailed him right between the lips with one burst and smeared the rest over his face with the tip of my cock. He froze up rather delightfully during the whole ordeal, barely flinching as I cleaned off the tip in his hair.

I took the microphone and spoke directly into his headphones. I told him he'd been in his predicament for two days so far, that he was to obey my simple instructions, and that if he did he would be allowed food and allowed to rest. I told him that I would not require him to speak at any point during these instructions, and that if he so much as whispered I'd keep him strung up without food for another two days. He nodded in agreement, which earned him a hard slap, as I'd not asked him to nod or shake his head. I told him then to nod if he understood, which he did.

I freed one of his arms at a time, telling them to keep them in place and move them only as and when I told him to move them. He obeyed--a far quicker learner than C1--and I put him into the straitjacket. I unlatched his boots one at a time, putting him in ankle cuffs with a short length of heavy chain between them. I injected him in the buttocks with his first dose of anti-androgens, a painkiller, and his hormonal cocktail, and I removed the IV from his arm.

At that point I led him to his cage, a 2x3 metre cell, 1.5 metres high. I removed his blindfold, though it did him little good as it was pitch black in the entire room--I'd switched off the lights and was working via a set of light amplification goggles--and pushed him onto the wipe-clean bedroll.

"Lie still like a good little boy until the lights turn on, and then you can help yourself to some food," I said to him. He made a sound as if to respond, then silenced himself, lying still in his bonds.

The lights were on a timer, and they came on harsh and bright when I was upstairs, watching him through the CCTV on my desktop with a fresh pot of coffee. Three of the walls of his cage were walled off with a tarp, allowing him to see about a fifth of the basement through the remaining wall. Inside his cage was his bedroll, a doggie bowl full of oatmeal and bananas, a small plastic trough filled with fresh water, and a litter tray.

I considered staying up and watching him, seeing the fear grow in his eyes, his first attempt at eating cold food without the use of his hands, the humiliation of pissing in a litter tray, but I was exhausted. As soon as I've finished writing this entry, I'm going to take a well-deserved nap.

4th October 2018

The truffle salt from Coles is a waste of time. Don't misunderstand me, it's useable, it's palatable, and it has the necessary truffle aroma. "Has" is the key word there, it's got the half-life of Fermium and after a week in the cupboard it's now just table salt with black specks in it. I think I'm going to invest in some decent truffle oil at Christmas.

C3 is coming along marvelously. The combination of injections and a high-fat, high-calorie, vitamin-rich diet have had a visible impact on his physique. His skin has softened even further from a clear and healthy surfer's complexion to almost peachlike smoothness and he now has visible jiggle on his thighs, stomach and buttocks. Most importantly, he's now the not-at-all-proud owner of a set of A-cup breasts, complete with sensitive, pebble-sized nipples.

His breasts are extremely sensitive. He's told me as much directly, but I've confirmed it through experimental means. A few light stripes under the nipples with the cane used to bring a wince to his face when he first came under my care, now it brings him to his knees, and the mere sight of the thing leads him to cry and whine rather prettily.

He did have some issues with portion control, in that he wasn’t eating the full servings of food I had prepared for him. This was unreasonable and short-sighted on his part: while plain, I have not asked him to eat anything that I wouldn't willingly eat myself, and while I am not a professional cook I am certainly a talented amateur.

The solution was a simple one: if even a smear of food remains in his dish, I do not feed him for the next two to four days. I only had to enforce this rule twice, and he's finished every meal I've put in front of him for the past two months.

He's gone without sleeping for the last forty-eight hours, he's gone without speaking for the last three weeks, and I've added a low dose of LSD to his drinking water. Tonight he should be somewhat tractable for the induction of a hypnotic state. I am not trying to control his behaviour--there's nothing I want him to do that I couldn't compel him to do through more reliable means--but for an in-depth interview. In concert with a lie detector and a regulated dose of barbiturates, I am going to make him bare his soul to me.

There are a few specifics I'm interested in, such as confirming my assessment of his sexuality and gender identity, and it never hurts to shore up my security by inquiring of any planned means of escape or rescue, but in great part I am doing this for morale effect: I want him to have no respite from me, even inside his own mind. He will learn that he has no more control of his thinking than he does of his eating, sleeping or exercising.

Speaking of which, I had to leave him in an armbinder for a few nights when he insisted on doing press-ups in his cell. The additional restraints distressed him greatly, and he's seemed afraid to even move lest I restrain him further. That was back in August, and I have since acquired an elliptical trainer which I allow him to use daily, good behaviour permitting.

I will write again tomorrow with details of tonight's interview, and I only hope it's more productive than C2's interview was.

5th October 2018

Well, that was elucidating.

I left C3 unrestrained for the interview. It was his first time free of shackles and cuffs outside of his cage since he'd arrived, as I wanted him to be relatively comfortable and I was confident that his drug cocktail would prevent any serious escape attempts.

He is not a natural hypnotic subject and I was only successful in inducing a semi-trance state. I don't think he achieved a trance, but I think he believed he was in a trance, and for my purposes that was more than sufficient. He talked for hours and provided an unabridged history of his life so far. His parents, his brothers, his schooling, his love of surfing and camping, his romantic attachments and rejections, his childhood friends and bullies, his fear of dogs, his earliest memories, his deepest shames, enough to fill a short memoir.

The interview lasted for ten hours, with breaks every two hours to allow him to pee (as I'd also allowed him to drink lime cordial from a cup while he spoke) and to adjust his dose of drugs and deepen his trance state. He cried frequently and easily. He bears a great amount of shame and guilt for someone so young and so relatively innocent--raised by Catholics, naturally--and spent half of the fifth hour in uncontrollable hysterics. I let him rest his head in my lap and stroked his hair as he cried, and he clung on to me like a man drowning. Once he ran out of tears he had a bout of cathartic laughter, and after that a calm passed over him, and he remained in a state of detached, cooperative calm until I ended the interview.

Of course, most of this was filler and background information for the parts that truly interested me: his sexuality and gender identity. Both were perfect. His sexuality is less important but still delightful. He is entirely heterosexual and repulsed by men. He still has nightmares about the one time I have molested him so far, when I coated his face with cum shortly after his chapter. You wouldn't believe how hard I got as he told me that!

He sometimes masturbates in his cage, which he tells me is mostly from boredom than any sexual desire, and he fantasizes about sex with women. He has little interest in sadomasochism, no interest whatsoever about taking a submissive role, and aside from a weak interest in pegging he is plain vanilla. He has fantasies about sex in public, fucking multiple women, being woken up by receiving oral sex, and seducing older women.

His gender identity is much the same: male, through and through. He has insecurities about being slight and physically unimposing--related to bullying in school--and about being insufficiently masculine. He takes pride in the callouses in his hands and the scars on his body from surfing, and wishes that the thin, pale stubble on his face was thicker.

It's of little surprise then that he finds the changes from the hormones to be a cruel and unwanted imposition. His breast growth makes him feel powerless and disgusted with himself, he can feel his muscles weakening, the tenderness in his breasts is terrifying and degrading, and even the topic of penile and testicular shrinkage made him choke up and sob. He says that even when I allow him to sleep, his mind feels clouded and he finds it increasingly difficult to identify the particulars of his emotional state, which swings and changes in ways he is not used to.

Again, I must reiterate how promising this is. My experiments concern the induction of sexual neuroses and physical development on non-consenting subjects. C1 was unsuitable because he--well, she, more likely--was a little too keen to embrace the role I had planned for her.

C3 is sleeping now. I haven't actually left our impromptu "therapy room" and he's drifted off with his head in my lap. He needs the rest. I have big plans for him, after all.

24th October, 2018

I took a trip to the cinema today. Specifically the single-screen cinema in the back of the adult bookshop. C2 is turning tricks for the manager. I don't think it's his first career choice but for some reason he's been unable to get a job anywhere else in town. He tried being an independent streetwalker for a while, which didn't work out well for him as he was quickly picked up by the local police and treated rather roughly. Almost as if they were keeping an eye on him!

The manager of the adult bookshop got in touch with him, I believe he was waiting for him outside the local lockup in fact, and informed him of a safe, reliable means of plying his trade. Now he sucks cock in the back room cinema along with a handful of other whores in exchange for a roof over his head and ten percent of the ticket sales.

He was apparently given a second tour of the police cells for not handing his tips over to the manager in a timely and honest manner, so his left eye was still swollen shut when I saw him today. His garb was delightful: pastel pink yoga leggings with the Adidas stripes down the sides, and a duck egg blue midriff-cut t-shirt with "BOY" on the chest, with a female gender symbol in place of the O.

I sat down next to him in the otherwise empty cinema and flashed him my ticket, which had set me back $84--worth every penny--and he flashed me a charming smile. There was no glimmer of recognition in his eyes, like all of my experiments and side projects he'd never seen me without a mask. He put his hand on my thigh and told me his name, which I've already forgotten. The feature began, a rather energetic video from the noughties with Kelly Wells, Hillary Scott and Layla Riviera, prompting C2 to get on his knees in front of me. He gagged a little when he unzipped my jeans, not because I was unwashed but because I'd applied a generous quantity of deodorant and aftershave so that he would not recognise me via scent.

I enjoyed a slow, leisurely blowjob for the next hour, where he displayed all the basic techniques I'd so painstakingly taught him as well as a few new ones he'd picked up more recently. There's something to be said about consuming porn this way, not just the oral service but also watching the film from the beginning, without skipping forward to my favorite parts or switching between videos, letting myself slowly build towards my climax at the same pace as the on-screen action. I came just before the money shot, pulling out to cum all over C2's face as Kelly Wells guzzled piss on the big screen, and let C2 lick and suck my balls until the credits rolled.

Before he or I got up, I took out $20, waved it in front of his eyes, and then used the notes to wipe cum up from his face. He flinched at the roughness, scowled, told me to cut it out, and put his hand on my leg as if to push away from me. I said three words.

"Punishment position three."

It was as if I'd reached inside him and squeezed. He let out a pitiful squeak, straightened up on his knees, pushed out his chest, put his hands behind his back, closed his eyes, opened his mouth, and let his tongue hang out. I stuffed the cum-soaked banknotes between his mouth.

"Be good, C2," I told him as I stood up. He didn't move a muscle as I walked out of the cinema, and as the door closed behind me, I heard a single muffled sob. It was an enjoyable experience and I certainly needed it after the last few days because C3 has really been a handful.

It began on the weekend when the first signs of lactation appeared. C3 has been getting increasingly upset with the changes to his body, his widening hips, his weight gain, his shrinking musculature, his shrinking genitalia, and his C-cup breasts. The breasts are especially upsetting, he complains that they ache constantly and are tender to the slightest touch. In any case, when the first droplets of milk dribbled out of his nipples something snapped.

Through tears, he told me that he refuses to eat, that he cannot live with the things I am doing to him, and that I should either let him go or kill him. Obviously this is unacceptable. I told him I was not treating his request with any seriousness, and that if he did not eat his meal, he would go without for the next several days. He nodded forlornly, but still refused the food.

I strapped his hands into leather mitts to prevent him from improvising methods of self-harm, and continued as normal. For the next three days, he refused to respond to commands or obey orders, remaining silent and going limp. He wailed in pain when I caned his soles and slapped his tits, but he continued to wallow in self-pity.

He was ravenously hungry by Wednesday, but when I gave him the opportunity to eat, he would not. I left the bowl of food in his cage overnight, and in the morning it remained untouched. He had not thrown it out or despoiled it, he had simply ignored it in an admirable, if misplaced, display of willpower. I gave him one final warning that there would be serious consequences if he did not eat now. He refused, so I applied the consequences.

I fitted him into a padded restraining board, on his back, his arms, legs, chest, stomach, forehead, chin, wrists and ankles held in place by canvas straps. He could not move an inch, not that he was trying particularly hard. A hollow dildo gag with a breathing hole went into his mouth, principally to prevent him from trying to bite off his own tongue. I catheterized him and inserted a hollow plug into his backside, not overly gently in either case, much to his consternation.

Then, intubation. I fed a heavily-lubricated silicone hose into his left nostril. He thrashed and twitched, as is expected when such a procedure is performed without the aid of benzodiazepines. Undeterred, I asked him to start swallowing, lest the tube end up in his lungs. He did as much gagging as swallowing, but after a few eventful minutes I felt the tell-tale glide of it being pulled down his esophagus and into his stomach.

Once the tube was taped in place under his nose, I attached the free end to a pump until it drew fluid out from within him. A few drops of this fluid onto pH paper revealed it to be stomach acid, which hopefully meant that the hose was not in his lungs. I then attached the hose to the feeding machine, and explained to C3 exactly how it would work.

He would have his meals and water combined into a slurry, kept at a cool four degrees celsius, and injected into his feeding tube. The pressure inside the hose would make breathing difficult or impossible while the food was being pumped, and the volume of his meals--around a litre and a half of slurry--meant that each feeding would be spread out in thirty second bursts, delivered semi-randomly over the course of an hour.

As I told him this, I undid my belt and began to masturbate. Despite the obvious temptations, I had not molested C3 in an overtly sexual manner since that first facial at the beginning of his captivity. By combining molestation with removal of autonomy, I wished to impress upon him the importance of obeying me with whatever autonomy I allow him to have.

I pressed the button on the feeding machine as I approached my climax. C3 squealed and gurgled like a drowning cat from the sensation of ice-cold sludge pumping through a tube in his sinuses and down into his throat, choking as the diameter of the tube expanded enough to cut off his breathing. He thrashed in his restraints with such force that he almost moved the gurney beneath him!

Seeing tears stream from his eyes was too much, and his eyes were precisely where I aimed. I landed a good few ropes on each eye, which he scrunched shut in disgust. When the tube stopped pumping I pried open his eyelids with my fingers and made sure a good quantity of my burning, stinging cum got in each eye, then smeared the rest across his face. He tried to blink it out, with little success, and before he could do much else I applied the padded blindfold. He hates and fears the eye-shutting pressure from the neoprene padding at the best of times, and wasn't overjoyed to wear it with his eyes gunked up with sperm.

He's been like that for the last three days, unable to move, speak or see, fed three meals a day through his nose. The only interaction he's had is when I've unrestrained his individual limbs and allowed them some movement, one at a time, to prevent bedsores and deep vein thrombosis, and when I come down to grope his sensitive tits. He is only able to relieve himself through the catheter and through enemas.

After a few days of stick, he's almost ready for the carrot. Tonight I am making pork carnitas with soft tacos, which he has told me is his favourite meal. I have also purchased one of the Harry Dresden books, which he told me he is an avid reader of. When dinner is ready, I will make him an offer: he will ask me for normal food and apologize for forcing me to use the feeding tube. In return he will be allowed out of his restraints and returned to his comfortable cage, along with his favourite meal and a good book, which he will be allowed to read during his spare time as long as he behaves himself.

I hope he accepts, for his sake and mine.

16 November 2018

C3 had his first true milking today! I've been teasing dribbles of milk from his nipples with my fingers for weeks, but today the volume was so high that I had to deploy a handheld breast pump. He whimpered for the duration but was obviously relieved by the reduction in pressure. It was as if he found the whole ordeal rather humiliating.

The milk is rich, a touch gamey, and less sweet than expected. I don't think the taste will be anything to write home about while his stress levels are so high, and I think that will be the case for some time. I've taken half for myself, and I'm mixing the other half into his food.

He's been docile since the force feeding. The intensity and inevitability of the punishment is part of it, but the rewards are equally important. My deal is that he can ask for anything once. Obviously I laugh at certain requests--he's not getting a phone or a two-way radio--and some things require compromise, but otherwise I have been accommodating. His cell now contains a lamp he can turn on or off, two dozen books and graphic novels, an old mp3 player, and a box of wet wipes. His relief from the constant boredom of being confined in a cage for twenty hours a day is palpable, and he has chosen the comfort that obedience brings over the misery that stems from disobedience.

He has asked if he'll ever be free from this basement and I truthfully said yes. One day he'll be walking around outside free of physical restraints and he will sleep at night in a bed he can truly call his own, though I'm unsure if he'll ever truly be free of me. He takes comfort in the fact that he has not yet seen my face or anything that might identify me, as he reasons that I am therefore not incentivized to bury him in a shallow grave to protect myself. His conclusion is correct but his premise is wrong; he'll know who I am eventually and I still won't fear him.

I'm currently milking him once per day regardless of his feelings on the matter, and I think this has hidden from him the fact that he now needs to be milked. Without his daily milkings the pain in his breasts would become unbearable, and soon he will develop mastitis if he's not milked. This will form another important part of his development: begging for things that are distasteful but necessary. With the exception of the wet wipes, there is nothing inherently humiliating in the things he's asking for. I believe he'll find begging to be milked intensely humiliating, and more humiliating still because of the tolls I'll extract from him when he goes down that road.

A brief note on his physical changes: his breasts are bigger but they remain C-cups for the time being. There are now a striking set of stretch marks on the sides and undersides of his breasts, along with some smaller, subtler ones on his thighs and buttocks which have also thickened up nicely. At some point I'm going to give him a regular schedule of retention enemas until he gets stretch marks on his belly befitting a pregnant little broodslut. His skin is delightfully soft and I'm shaving his face daily until the home electrolysis kit arrives. The combination of hormones, daily exercise bike sessions, and a lack of any upper body resistance training has changed his physique from a surfer's build to a more bottom heavy one.

As soon as I have finished writing this entry I am going to give him two gifts. The first gift is an ear piercing. It will be home to a yellow plastic tag, a miniature version of a cattle tag. The second gift is his name. He's not C3 anymore, and he's certainly not whatever stupid name he called himself before I acquired him. He has lovely tits and he's a milk cow, so his name will be Cowtits.

Cowtits. I think it suits him.

[willthecleric]

i really wanna have hope that byler will happen, and i agree with all of the subtext you've pointed out, i just have a really bad feeling that they're not gonna pull through :( i haven't watched the movies on the s4 list, so maybe that's why i feel less certain, but i'm just generally unsure that it will actually happen, despite really wanting it to? how can you be so sure that it will? love ur blog by the way! :D

Aww, thank you so much! Well, I used to have doubts too, so I get what you mean. But remember a few different things:

1. Mike is clearly written as gay, seeing as he is very much comp het in S3 (bisexual boys can imagine themselves in love with females, it isn’t some foreign concept and ‘something old people do’). Many straight guys found Mike’s behaviour with El strange. For a reason: he was trying to be straight and took it too far. He was especially mimicking Lucas. Seeing Mike as gay also recontextualizes a lot of his behaviour in S1 and S2. I just don’t understand why they would make Mike gay and give him so much coding for it if they were planning to have him with a girl. Makes more sense to have him bisexual or straight then. I’m not exagerrating when I say that Mike’s main story arc is about him realizing he is gay and coming to terms with that and accepting his love for Will.

2. When originally writing the S1 script, El was supposed to die. They changed it, my guess, because she helped them with a few plot points (mainly as a beard for Mike). I’m not sure why they’d have wanted her dead initially if Mileven was planned as endgame. That on top of Mike being gay is another strike against Mileven.

3. El is way behind Mike intellectually. Mike is very smart, and El doesn’t even know what a State is. It just doesn’t work and Mike is way older than her intellectually. It is creepy and will just get worse and worse. Not sure why they would do that if Mileven was meant to be endgame.

4. The Duffers parallelled Mileven with ET and Elliott multiple times in S1, and told Finn that Mike saw El as an alien or a puppy. Not at all romantic. Mileven was paralleled to Dustin and Dart in S2. In S3 it was mentioned that Mike saw El as a pet. Mike doesn’t trust El. He couldn’t answer when she told him to trust her, and changed the subject when Max said he doesn’t trust her. Mike was also justifiably upset about El spying on him (which El never felt bad about). Mike lies to El and El stalks/spies on him. Most of S2 Mileven was El stalking and spying on Mike and they used ominous music (so clearly it is not meant to be romantic). Mike had no idea she was watching him, and we saw in S3 how he would have felt if he found out about her doing that. They danced to a song about a stalking ex. Multiple movies hint that El stalks Mike in S4 (which is supported by her in S2 and S3). Those S2 Mileven scenes weren’t meant to be romantic, they are meant to be creepy. Not that I blame El. She is confused and doesn’t understand. She doesn’t know any better. The Duffers hate Mileven. They have dissed it many times (which kaypeace has shown examples of).

5. Mike and El do not share interests or even seem to like each other. El thinks Mike’s interests are dumb and that he talks too much. They don’t trust each other, and trust is essential to love. Period. Neither even sees the other as a person. She has been a tool/weapon to him. And an alien/puppy. It’s a part of his using her as a beard. He doesn’t feel bad about it because he doesn’t see her as a person. He did feel some guilt over her death, but most of him wanting her back in S2 was wanting her to fix him. His attitude problem and issues with Max in S2 were about his growing feelings for Will, NOT about El. Mike was angry at Hopper at the end of S2 because he blamed Hopper for keeping his beard away from him. He thougnt if El was there, he would not have these feelings for Will. Mike blamed Hopper for everything. Why he was so angry with him in S3. And El doesn’t see Mike as a person either. To her, he is a sense of comfort and normalcy, like her teddy bears and Hopper’s shirt. She also projected a soap opera character she liked onto him. El only found Mike attractive when she thought he was a bad boy. She didn’t know if she liked kissing him after months of making out. She referred to him as her first boyfriend, implying she was thinking of dating others in the future. There is a reason why she came to Mike three months after the main events of the season. Comfort. She lost her dad and was moving away from her new home. She was seeking normalcy. Mike is that to her.

6. They made the ending with Mileven ambiguous as far as if they are dating or not. Which idk why they would do that if Mileven was the main ship. Why make it ambiguous? I think it was intentionally done that way. El was acting romantic while Mike was more platonic in nature. I think that is to hint towards them not being on the same page. As I mentioned, numerous movies and show canon hints to El stalking Mike and spying on him. Multiple movies have Mike frustrated and not interested. And we already saw how he felt about El spying on him. I think El believes they are dating and doesn’t get it when Mike and others tell her that they are not. She doesn’t understand.

7. They made numerous Mileven and Byler parallels in S3, of S2 Byler moments redone for Mileven, and things happening between both ships in the same season. Byler always won by a landslide. They completely destroyed Mileven instead of building it up, which makes no sense if it’s endgame. Mileven had poor development from the start, and if they wanted to pull it off, makes more sense to work hard to build them up instead. Also driving away the fandom so it’s not popular anymore... why do that? It makes no sense. Queer baits don’t do that. Seems more like a straight bait to me.

8. In S1, homophobic Troy was: shoved by Mike (who is gay), forced to piss his pants in front of the school who laughed at him, had his arm broken, and was made to look like a fool. This shows what they think about homophobes. They also have posted LGBT+ positivity on Twitter. They are not homophobic and do not support homophobia. They are not going to work to please a bunch of homophobic Milevens.

9. According to multiple movies and show hints, Byler is essential and key to fixing everything. The Never Ending Story was repeatedly in S3 for a reason. It’s a hint. Not just at Will being the chosen one instead of El, but also... ‘and there upon a rainbow is the answer to a never ending story’. It’s outright telling us that Byler is the answer. Not only because rainbows are a gay symbol in itself, but Mike is also connected to rainbows as a part of his coding.

10. Multiple movies hint that Stranger Things is a book written by Mike for Will, sharing his story and their love story. Mike is the character who wants to be a writer, and the episodes are called CHAPTERS. That supports Stranger Things being a book. And the book is always written by the Mike character for the Will character. They let it be known that Mike wants to be a writer. It was mentioned as his career goal in his yearbook page, and he writes most of the D&D campaigns (besides the one that Will wrote).

11. Byler is the biggest and main relationship of the show. It’s the relationship that gets the most development, the one that gets the most romantic scenes, the one that gets the most coding by far. And every single pairing (minus Jopper and Ted/Karen as far as I can tell) parallels Byler while it is healthy and happy. The moment that stops being the case, they start paralleling Mileven. Not a good sign for Mileven. And Mileven only parallels Byler a lot because Mike has been using El as a substitute for Will (something that is mentioned by the Mike character in a number of movies, using the El character of the movie as a substitute to the Will character).

Hopefully this helped you (and anyone else) feel better about things. 😃

[nature-and-music]

Magick Tricks - Chapter 1

Authors’ note - This is a collaborated story written by @kashmir-baby  and @nature-and-music involving Led Zeppelin going to a Renaissance Pleasure Faire.  The year is 1975, hours before they play at a nearby venue.  Robert encourages his mates to dress up and head off to a Renaissance Faire.  The festivities are a blast for all of them, except for Jimmy who isn’t all too pleased with his costume (chosen by Robert) or the outing itself.  However something later on catches his eye and bewitches him. Please keep in mind that this is a fictitious scenario and this story is purely written with humorous intentions and later on nsfw between adults (Jimmy x Female oc).  If you are under the age of 18, please click away and do not read any further.  

Our collab was quite long, so we had to break it up into chapters.  @nature-and-music will be uploading the odd chapters and the epilogue. @kashmirbaby will be uploading the even chapters.  We will provide the continuing chapters at the bottom and the previous chapters at the top.

Chapter 1 - Led Zeppelin Crashes the Renaissance Faire

Adjustments and lacing up of costumes seemed like such a hassle. However everything had to be done to ensure that they were prepared for the festivities today.  With just a few more added details and props, they were ready to depart.

“Robert, please remind me again why we’re doing this?” Jimmy pondered as he looked at himself in the mirror. The tufts of his snow white beard hanging just below his chest.

“Jimmy, it’s the Renaissance Pleasure Faire. It’s a wonderful thing that people enjoy doing for fun,” Robert explained as he placed his sword into the holster; tugging out the wrinkles of the sun illustration upon his surcoat. 

“I look ridiculous with this beard and hat,” Jimmy muttered. 

“Well you do need a staff. You can’t be a proper wizard unless you have that,” Jonesy added, tuning the strings on his lute. 

“More like a walking stick. Isn’t that right, grandfather?” Bonzo quipped, laughing as he practiced swinging his axe, nearly causing his horned helmet to topple over. 

“First of all, a proper wizard would never wear this.  Secondly, you’re no proper Viking, John! In fact they didn’t exist at that point in history,” Jimmy rebutted, squinting his eyes at the large man. 

“Who cares about historical accuracy? Frankly, I wanna get there and start drinkin’,” Bonzo retorted, getting very close to Jimmy. 

Quickly Jonesy stepped between his mates, placing a hand on each of their shoulders, “Here now, let’s take it easy, lads. Come on, we’re going to have fun today.”

“That’s right, and perhaps if any of us are lucky, we may even find a fair maiden to share the day with,” Robert delightfully added, as he swished his golden locks.

“Just, please try not to do anything stupid. That goes for everyone here,” Jonesy emphasized looking at all three of them.

“I highly doubt a serf boy is going to do much anyhow,” Jimmy snickered. 

“Minstrel, Jimmy.  I am a minstrel, as clearly indicated by my instrument of choice.”

“Right. Robert – really. Are you done? The sooner we leave the sooner this is over.” 

“Yes, yes, yes, Jimmy,” Robert said gleefully as he admired himself one last time, tossing his curls and straightening the costume he was so proud of. “Let’s go.”

The boys left Robert’s hotel room and made their way towards the elevator. “God, this is embarrassing,” Jimmy said, as two attractive guests squeezed in after them. “Hello.” The elevators opened on the first floor, and they walked out to the awaiting car.

“Watch my cape,” Jimmy snapped at Bonzo as they climbed in.  

“I’m hoping you’ll be more fun when you’re drunk,” Bonzo replied, pulling a flask from somewhere within his tunic and waving it at him. “Suit yourself,” he said as Jimmy shook his head no.

Robert chattered excitedly about everything he read of the Faire during the car ride, while the others nodded, half-listening.  Jimmy fiddled with his wizard’s beard, as Bonzo emptied his flask.

“I can’t listen to you anymore,” Bonzo said, interrupting Robert. “Jonesy, play something on that flute!”

“I don’t have a flute, I have a lute.”

“Fine. Give it here then, and I’ll play it!” Bonzo said, lunging over Jimmy as he tried to snatch the lute from Jonesy.

“Bonzo, Bonzo, my beard. My beard!” Jimmy yelled, as Jonesy quickly pulled the lute out of reach.

“Why is everyone so touchy today?” Robert asked, shaking his head. 

“So, did Crowley play dress up too? What would he think of your, uh, getup if he ran into you today?” Bonzo could barely finish speaking before he burst out in laughter. 

“Aleister Crowley was a misunderstood genius of the 20th century. You’ve just proven it with your unsolicited commentary. He was not a conjurer of cheap tricks waving some wooden wand around.”

“I don’t know how you get women into bed at all with that talk, Jim,” Bonzo retorted. 

“For your information, Crowley recognized that sexual energy is the most powerful force in the universe…and that line does pretty well,” Jimmy said matter-of-factly. 

“Ah, so this whole sex magick trick is a ploy to get them into bed.”

“I’m not saying anything more on the subject.” Jimmy snapped. He had tensed up, and the boys spent the rest of the car ride in silence.

Robert was the first to break the tension, totally oblivious to the tension in the car. “Oh look, I can see the parking lot. We’ve arrived! Bonzo, behave, yeah? I’ll buy you your first beer.”

Robert threw the car door open and briskly walked towards the entrance, turning every so often as he awaited for the rest to catch up.

“The things I do for you, Robert,” Jimmy called, trailing behind them.

“Jimmy, I’ve already told you that everybody dresses up – look around. And let’s go! They’ll close by the time you lot make it inside!”

Robert led the way as they shuffled amongst a colorful crowd, towards the arches of the fake castle wall that had been built for the event.

“Renaissance Pleasure Faire,” Jonesy said, reading the sign that was perched above the archway. “Well at least they’re original.”  

“Look at all the lovely costumes!” Robert said excitedly as he looked around, ignoring Jonesy’s jab. 

The grounds were filled with all manner of tented shoppes, stages for performing, and fenced off spaces for physical activities such as archery and sword fighting.  Ribbons billowing in the wind upon the buildings with which they were tied to, the scents of freshly made meals wafted about, and lively music echoed throughout.  Vendors were selling their goods from handmade jewelry and statues made of steel, copper, and wood, depicting creatures both real and mystical. Weapons were crafted before curious audiences that gathered at the blacksmiths’ corner.  All manner of drapery and costumes made from the finest of materials were displayed.  This truly was heaven for anyone who harbored a love for anything that involved fantasy and myth; Robert fell in love with such a place.  Jonesy couldn’t help but smile, there was something about this site that enamored him as well.  A group of mighty vikings had noticed Bonzo, they raised their weapons and gave their fellow warrior a mighty roar; he responded as well, turns out he couldn’t help himself either.  Jimmy, however, may have required a bit more convincing, somehow the magick of the faire was hardly affecting him.

“Cheer up Jimmy, this is actually a really nice venue,” Jonesy noted. 

“Maybe we just need to get him a spellbook.  That way he can actually enjoy himself,” Bonzo added; the wizard rolled his eyes, but remained silent.

Removing his sword from the holster, Robert pointed his blade and cried out, “Well come on, let us venture onward!”

“What about my beer?” Bonzo nonchalantly reminded the ecstatic knight.

“Onward to mead!” Robert rephrased happily.

The little fellowship walked the grounds, taking notice of the sights and hearing the music as they tread the dusty earth.  They finally reached the eateries and headed straight for a booth selling mead.  Perhaps it was the rather gregarious set up of the mead station, or the rather lovely women in their low bodice gowns that were selling the pints.  Whatever drew them to this particular stand, the four of them stood in line ready to purchase.  Jimmy noticed a glass jar with paper bills and coins, with a little sign that read, “Be generous and generosity will be gifted to thee.”  Reaching into his satchel, he placed a few coins into the jar.  Suddenly, as if on cue, the woman completing their transaction jumped for joy and clapped her hands.

“Huzzah to our gracious giver! Huzzah!” 

As if under a trance, Jimmy kept a watchful eye on the rather buxom maiden leaping; the way her body would rise momentarily and give in to gravity once more.  He smiled nervously and chuckled quietly, she was quite captivating.  A nudge to his side forced him back to reality, to which Robert placed a couple of bills into the jar with his other arm, giving her a wink and a blown kiss.  After finishing the phrase once more and grabbing the air for his “kiss”, she arched herself closer to Robert.  

“Ooh, thank you brave sir knight, I will keep your kiss in my heart,” she seductively whispered as she opened her fist and splayed her palm upon her cleavage; giving him a little shimmey.

“Hey! If you two are done, we have drinks to guzzle down!” Bonzo shouted, seizing Robert by the arm, being careful to not spill his pint; Jimmy followed closely behind.

Jimmy looked over his shoulder and noticed that she blew him a kiss, giving him a little bounce, and a farewell shake.   

“Now I see why ‘Pleasure’ is in the title,” he laughed.  

Chapter 2: https://kashmir-baby.tumblr.com/post/636152384435994624/magick-tricks-chapter-2

#led zeppelin #jimmy page #jimmy page x ofc #robert plant #john paul jones #john bonham #collab fic #classic rock #classic rock fandom

[samthemarvelfan]

One Last Time: Part 1 of 2

Summary: ModernAU! Mini Series! With her best friend’s wedding around the corner, Ella Monroe is bound to run into people from her past. While she may have left her old life behind, it seems as though her heart hasn’t.

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x OFC,(can be read as Y/N) Wanda Maximoff, Steve Rogers, Natasha Romanoff, Sam Wilson

Warnings: Swearing, heavy angst, infidelity, mentions of drinking.

A/N: Hi guys! This idea came to me at about 3 am last Thursday and I’ve been fine tuning it since. It’s a long one again, (sorry!) so strap in! <3

@iheartsebastianstan @jjlizz @stuckysbabe @sk493494 @lefoutoir @nickangel13 @marvelismysafezone @lilulo-12 @warmvanillafeels @star-spangled-beard-burn @ravenesque @pinknerdpanda @wintersoldierissucharide @snapcapquartet @ellen-reincarnated1967 @unlistedpond @my-drowning-in-time (strikethrough means the tag didn’t work! I’m sorry!) Tags are OPEN! Just send an ask :)

“So there’s no one you wanna bring?” Wanda asked through your speaker.

You’d put her on speaker phone when you entered the hotel room. Walking through checking for any imperfections, you continued your conversation.

“Wan, honestly it’s fine. I told you I didn’t need a plus-one when you sent the invites out...a year ago.”

She chuckled, “I know, I guess I was just holding out for a miracle.”

You rolled your eyes, “Ha-ha.” You said sardonically. “Well, before I’m insulted anymore, I’m gonna go get ready for your rehearsal dinner.”

“I’m only teasing you, Els. You’re not the only person coming solo...” she spoke. Wanda was your best friend, and you knew what she was doing. She was baiting you.

“Wan...” you scold.

“I’m just saying! There’s a few people who also declined the plus-one!” She feigned her innocence.

A sigh escaped you, “Are you gonna get to the point?”

She paused, “Well like, I don’t know...Bucky for example, he’s coming solo too.”

“And there it is.” You said flatly.

“There what is?” She asked.

You flopped on the bed, placing the phone on your chest. “Wanda, I don’t care that he’s going to be there. I don’t care if he’s going solo. I don’t care to see him.”

“Ella...” she said, her voice full of pity.

“No, no, no. Don’t you ‘Ella’ me,” you mock, “I’m fine, Wan. I haven’t seen him in what, 5 years? I doubt he’s even thinking about me being there, and before this conversation I sure as hell wasn’t thinking about him.”

Liar, liar, pants on fire. You thought.

She sighed, “I just...I know he hurt you. More than that, I know you, Els. I don’t want you to get wrapped up in the past when you see him. I want you to actually enjoy the weekend, not avoid Bucky the whole time you’re in town.”

You heard her say hello to someone, “Oh Els, Vis just got here, I’ll see you tonight?” She said, the excitement apparent in her voice.

“Yes you will, love you!” You pressed end on the call, and let out a puff of air.

You’d be damned if your evening was going to be ruined by Bucky Barnes.

6 Years Earlier:

“So are you guys dating or what?” Wanda asked you, gripping her mug excitedly.

You felt embarrassment rise to you face, “I...I think so? Who knows with him, he’s never actually asked me out on a date before tonight.”

She rolled her eyes as she sipped her coffee, “Ella...the guy is obsessed with you. I see the way you guys are together, he’s a different person around you.”

You smiled to yourself, “I like him, Wan. I like him so fucking much,” you laugh. “He’s so kind, and he’s funny, and he remembers everything. I told him one time—one time, what my favorite ice cream was. Remember when I had the flu a few weeks back? He sent me a whole get-well package, Ben and Jerry’s Cinnamon Buns ice cream included.”

You fidgeted with the straw in you iced coffee as Wanda looked at you. The smile on her face screamed excitement, but it didn’t match the concern in her eyes.

“What is it?” You ask, before sipping your drink.

She shook her head softly, “Nothing, Els.” She fibbed.

“Wanda...” you chastised.

She sighed, “I just don’t wanna see you get hurt. That’s all.”

You gave her a look of confusion, and she continued.

“I’ve known Bucky since college, and he’s a great friend. He’s loyal, and he’s kind, and he’d give you the shirt off his back in a second.”

“Why do I feel a ‘but’ coming...” you said cautiously.

“He’s never been a one-girl kinda guy. Any relationship he’s ever had has been...short-lived at best. I hope that’s not the case any more, is all. You’re my best friend on the planet and you don’t deserve that.”

Nodding, you take in her words. Bucky had asked if you wanted to grab dinner from your favorite pizza place and then head to the park for a picnic dinner. That sounds like a date, right?

“He makes me feel safe, Wan. Like I can be myself around him and he’ll always have my back. I’ve never felt like that with anybody.” You smile softly to yourself.

“Hey, I didn’t mean to make you think he doesn’t like you, truth be told I’ve never seen him act like he does with you with anyone else either, it’s like you put a spell on the guy.”

You let out a chuckle, “We can only hope!”

You looked fucking good.

You’d never been one to be that confident, but tonight you couldn’t help it. The dress you’d picked was perfect; deep green, velvet and long sleeves. All with black heels to match.

The ride to the restaurant was quick. Wanda thankfully was savvy enough to keep everything within the same 5 blocks.

As you entered, you were handed a glass of champagne, which it took a lot of control not o guzzle down in one swig.

This place was stunning. Marble floors, golden sconces, and dark wood accents. It even had an incredible view of the water, and a patio jetting out so you could enjoy the stars and views of the city.

“Ella?” A strong voice called behind you.

You spun and saw Steve with a cheeky grin on his face. “Steve, oh my God, hi!”

You embraced him without hesitation, “Holy shit, Els. I almost didn’t recognize you, you look amazing.”

He kissed your cheek as you rubbed a hand on his back. “This is nuts, what’s it been...3 years?” You ask.

He laughed, “I think so, the uh, the September Foundation Gala! That was the last project you worked on with us, right?”

You pursed you’re lips into a forced smile, and nodded. “Yeah, yeah I think so.”

A few years back, you’d been working for Stark Industries as the Liaison for Logistical Affairs; AKA the calmer of all the shit storms.

You’d proposed the Grant program to your boss/CEO of the company Tony Stark, and he actually went for it. The September Foundation is—was your baby.

“We miss you over there, the org is thriving. It’s all thanks to you ya know, you may have left us, but you inspired a lot of greatness while you were there.” Steve said earnestly.

You smiled earnestly, “Rogers I am way to sober to be this sentimental.”

He laughed, “Come on, I’ll get you a drink.”

Some time later you’d seen nearly all of your old friends.

Nat was pregnant, due to pop any second. She and Sam were expecting twins—a boy and a girl.

“I can’t believe this!” You shout, caressing her tummy.

“You? Shit, I still think there’s four or five of them in there with how big I am.” She gestured to her stomach.

You shook your head in protest, “Stop that, you are literally glowing.”

“I’m just glad Wanda, in her ever-modern wisdom mind you, decided against a bridal party.” The air quotes really added to the sarcasm.

Sam quirked an eyebrow, “Wait, I thought this was a rehearsal dinner. Y’all are telling me it’s just gonna be the two of ‘em standing up there tomorrow?”

You nod, “Yup. I think this is more of a celebration dinner with her closest pals, but that’s a little wordy for an invite.”

Nat chuckled, “It’s a little weird, but...so is Wanda.”

“Speak of the devil...” Wanda said approaching your circle of friends.

She hugged everyone, and announced that the buffet was open as was the bar.

“Open bar? Wanda you’re an angel.” Sam joked.

“Oh no, no, no. I can’t drink now or for the foreseeable future, but what I can do is eat. Let go.” Nat joked pushing Sam towards the buffet station.

“Ella, come here.” Wanda pulled you gently towards the side of the room.

“You look gorgeous.” You said. Taking in her stunning off-white gown. A little taste before the big reveal tomorrow night.

“I love you for that, but listen, Bucky just got here and I—“

“Wanda...” you say seriously.

“Ella, will you just listen? He asked me if you were here...”

Your breathing hitched, “And what did you tell him?”

She rolled her eyes, “What the fuck was I supposed to tell him? No? Of course I told him you were here. He’s at the bar with Steve.”

Surprise, surprise. You thought to yourself.

Who does he think he is? Asking if you’re here. As if he has some fucking right to even ask that. More importantly, why does he care?

Shaking your head subtly, you turn your attention back to Wanda.

“Listen to me, this is your night. Stop worrying about everyone else and enjoy your last night as a free woman.” You joked.

She rubbed your shoulder, “I can’t help it. I worry about you.”

Wanda has always had your back. She was there to pick up the pieces when Bucky left you behind. She was the one who let you mope on her couch for damn near a month before you finally slapped some sense into yourself.

“I’m grown up now, Mom,” you chided. “Time to push me out of the nest.”

She sighed, “If you need me at all, you better come find me.”

After a quick nod, and another promise, Wanda went to go mingle with Vis by her side.

The war in your head was waging fiercely. You wanted to avoid him, shield yourself from those painful memories at all cost.

But you also wanted to show him what he’d missed out on. How happy you are, how good you looked, and how much better off you are.

Without him.

You seemed to be walking on eggshells, drifting across the stone floor of the rented-out restaurant. It was only a matter of time until you were noticed.

“Ella! Come here, I got you another shot of Jameson.” Steve’s booming voice called out over the various groups of people.

Fuck, fuck, fuck me. Your internal monologue griped.

You looked to Steve, seeing he was standing alone. “Thank God...” you whisper to yourself.

Steve pulled you to him, placing a hand on the small of your back. The warm sensation made you blush.

“Steve, you know what this stuff does to me.” You chastised playfully.

He nodded, “Indeed I do, and you know what this stuff does to me.” He held up a shot of what you assume is tequila, “So we’ll be in the same boat.”

You shrugged, “As long as we’re in that boat together.”

Steve winked at you, and with that, you both tossed down the shots with ease.

The night went smoothly for a few hours. You had done shots with the bride-to-be, eaten some delicious pasta, and danced the night away with Sam and Steve.

You also had not seen Bucky anywhere.

Maybe he left. Maybe he’d asked Wanda if you were here so he’d know whether to stick around or not. Maybe he truly didn’t wanna see you, or maybe he didn’t have the fucking balls too.

5 Years Earlier:

You’d been trying to get in touch with Bucky all day. You’d gotten the job with Stark Industries and couldn’t wait to share the news with him!

After a third call to his cell left unanswered, you’d figured he was sleeping or playing video games so you decided just to wait until you got home to tell him.

You’d been living together for about a month, and it’s made life so much easier. Bucky made life so much easier.

He was so caring and so kind. He’d make breakfast on Sunday’s, a day you both had off, and he’d never let you leave without a goodbye kiss. He was truly the perfect boyfriend.

Your keys jingled in the lock, only to find it unlocked.

“Buck? Babe?” You called out into the apartment.

Dropping your bag on the bench near the door as usual, you didn’t even bother taking off your shoes as you couldn’t wait to tell him the news.

“Babe? I have the best news! Where are you?” You call out, finally hearing the music playing softly in the bedroom.

You open the door slowly, assuming he’s sleeping. Instead you see Bucky shirtless, resting against the headboard with one arm behind his head.

“Buck?” You call softly.

His eyes spring open at your voice calling out to him, and he stumbles out of the bed. “Ella? What are you—“

“Hey I didn’t find any—who the hell is this?”

All at once, it was as if time stood still.

There was a half-naked woman standing in your bedroom. Her hair was mussed and she walked to stand by Bucky like she’s known him her whole life.

“Who the hell am I? Bitch, you’re in my house! What the fuck is this, James?” You shout.

You’re enraged. Your hurt. It’s evident by the shaking of your body, and the tears forming in your eyes.

“Ella, I can expla—“

“She’s got 3 seconds to get out of my house before I break her fucking jaw.” You spoke to no one in particular, cutting him off.

The blonde grabbed a pile of clothing from the floor and left without another word.

“Ella...” Bucky said walking towards you. He was in just his boxers, a sight that usually made your mouth water, now made you ill.

“Do not fucking touch me.”

He put his hands on his hips, and hung his head low. What could he say? Nothing.

“I didn’t—“

“You didn’t what, James? Hmm?” You ask, your throat pained from holding back tears.

He shifted from foot to foot. “I didn’t think you’d be back this early.”

Wow.

His words dropped onto your heart like a boulder. You felt like you were going to be sick any second.

“Get out.” You seethed.

His eyes got wide, “Please, Doll. Please let me—“

“Get out of my fucking house!” You scream.

When he was gone, what followed was like a scene from a movie. You shredded any remnants of Bucky you could find.

Albums? Snapped in half. Clothes? Destroyed. Photos? Smashed. Anything he’d touched or bought you? Thrown out.

You should have listened. Trusted friends who had your best interests at heart. But no, you let this manipulative son of a bitch into you home, you body, and heart.

The only thing you hadn’t thrown out? His letters.

He’d written you dozens. All claiming he loved you, missed you, wanted to spend the rest of his life with you.

Liar. You thought to yourself.

The memories that flooded your mind made you head start to spin.

Or maybe that was the booze.

After 10, the restaurant had been cleared of tables and turned into a private club with a dance floor.

Only Wanda...

You found Steve next to you, “I’m gonna get some air!” You shout over the music.

Steve nodded, “Want me to go with you?” He asked.

You shook your head, “No, no I’m good. I’ll be right back!”

Weaving in and out of couples and groups, you made your way to the door which led to the private patio.

The cool air kissed your skin, and you relished in the relief. The air was so clean as opposed to the sweaty mess happening inside right now.

You leaned against the railing and looked out over the water. The quiet night helped silence your mind, ironically.

Inhaling deeply, you closed your eyes. Intending to get a few moments of peace, until soft footsteps got your attention.

“I was wondering how long you were gonna avoid me.”

Part Two!

#samthemarvelfan #bucky barnes #james buchanan barnes #bucky barnes x original female character #bucky barnes fanfiction #bucky barnes fanfic #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes angst #bucky barnes fluff #bucky barnes fic #bucky barnes au #bucky barnes modern au #mcu #marvel fanfiction #bucky fluff #bucky angst

[faofinn]

Febuwhump Day 4 - “I can’t lose you too” (Alt Prompt 2)

@febuwhump

Part 1 // Part 2

Sheila was working when the call came through, her phone buzzing uselessly in her locker.  By the time her break came round, it was a long while later, her battery nearly dead and several missed calls from a number she didn’t recognise. Food in the microwave, she perched against the bench and pressed play.

“Sheila? Sheila ‘m sorry. They asked me who I wanted to call an’ -and I didn’t know who else. ‘m really scared and I’m in hospital and you always said I could call.” Her heart sank, fear taking over. “I’m sorry. I lost my phone an’ I couldn’t remember your number. I don’t even know if this is your number still. I fucked up and I’m sorry. You an’ Fred were the best family an’ you did so much for me an-and I’ve done this. I didn’t have time to do anything and then I was here. You were a mum to me, and Fred was the best … best dad I had...I’m sorry. I don’t wanna be alone, Sheila. I know you’re busy and you’ve probably forgotten me and I’m sorry, I’m just scared.”

The beep sounded and she didn’t move. She couldn’t breathe. It had been a few months since she’d heard from him, and even then it was just a passing text to tell her happy birthday. He was still her child, one of her first fosters, and still family. He sounded in a bad way and she could hear the flurry of activity in the hospital around the panic in his voice. It took no time to make her mind up, briefly telling a colleague she was going before disappearing, her lunch still in the microwave.

She tried Fred on the way, to no avail, leaving him a slightly more composed voicemail than had been left on hers. The hospital was no luck either, stuck on hold until the dialing rang out. 

The car was left abandoned in the carpark as she rushed through to the ED, pushing past the queue at the desk. “Hi, sorry, my son was brought in earlier - Jason Hardy - I got a phone call from him.”

“Just a second ma’am, there’s a queue.” 

“Yeah, it’ll take two seconds. Jason Hardy. Can you tell me where he is?”

With an irritated sigh, the receptionist tapped away on the computer, face falling slightly. “I’m just going to get a nurse.”

Sheila knew it was bad, she’d heard the panic and desperation in his voice, and seeing the look on the receptionist’s face...it only made it worse. 

A nurse arrived to greet Sheila quite quickly, a forced smile on her face. “Sheila Daniels?”

“Is he still alive?”

“He is. He’s in a bad way, but he’s alive. We’re gonna take you through now.”

She followed her through. “How bad is he? I got the phone call…”

“It’s touch and go, I’m afraid.”

She swallowed thickly. “What happened?”

“There was a car accident.”

“No.” 

“I’m afraid so.”

“But he’s going to be okay, right?”

“We’re doing our best.”

She knew what that meant. “So, no.”

“You know we can’t make any promises. But we’re doing our absolute best to give him the best shot.”

“I’ve been through it before with my other two. You don’t need to lie to me.”

“I'm not lying to you, I promise. We're doing our best for him.”

"I don't doubt you are, but I know what it means, when you say that. The look you all have…"

“I’m sorry. It’s a difficult situation.”

"He was one of my first fosters." Sheila said quietly. "Stayed with me a long while, and then would come and stay for reprieve occasionally."

“That’s very admirable of you. Foster parents are such a lifeline. I’m sure he’ll appreciate you being here.” The nurse said, letting herself into the ICU.

"He said he couldn't remember my number. I should have been here."

“You’re here now, that’s what counts. No use dwelling on the ‘should haves’.”

She shook her head. "That doesn't make it better."

“I know it’s difficult, but we can’t change the past. You’re here now, and he’ll appreciate you being here.”

Sheila hesitated. "How bad is he?"

“Critical, but he’s been improving gradually.”

"Surgery?"

“Hopefully later, if he’s stable enough.”

"If."

“With the way things are going, he’ll be in surgery later this afternoon. But it’s the surgeon’s decision when they see him.”

She nodded. "Okay. Thank you."

“His bed is just down here.” She said, leading her down the ward. 

Sheila thanked her again, stood outside Jason's bay. He'd grown since she'd last seen him, a beard growing on his face and his blond hair a mess. She couldn't help but frown; it was parted wrong, and he'd always hated that.

"Jason?" She took his hand. "I'm sorry it took so long, but I'm here now. I've got you, yeah?"

The nurses gave Sheila as much space as they could, giving her time to sit with her old foster. He was in and out of consciousness, and definitely very, very poorly, but there was no doubt he knew she was there. His obs even improved a little. 

She sorted his hair, adjusted the specs on his nose, and then waited. She'd get the occasional response from him as she chatted away, promising him they'd have a room for him to get him back on his feet.

After a while, the surgeon arrived, startled by Sheila in the bay. “Oh, I'm sorry. I didn't think there was family with him.”

"I've not long been here, sorry."

“Well, I'm glad he has someone. I'm Dr Knight, one of the senior surgical registrars on his case. I'm happy to have a chat with you?”

She nodded. "Do you need to go somewhere else? Or can we stay here?"

“No, absolutely fine to stay here.” He said, taking a seat. “Are you his mother?”

"Uh, I guess. I was his foster mum for a long, long time."

“Well, that's good enough in my books. Unfortunately, as I'm sure you've been told already, he's very unwell. We've been trying to get him stable enough for surgery for a while now, I've just come to do some final checks before we make our decision.”

"If you don't take him to surgery, what's the prognosis?"

“Not good, I'm afraid. He had a procedure after he was admitted to control his internal bleeding, but unfortunately it's not worked as well as we'd hoped it would. He's very weak.”

"And if you wait a few days, let him get some strength up?"

“We think it's more likely he'll deteriorate in that time. We have a small window of opportunity here.”

"And this surgery, how...how likely is it to succeed?" She barely dared to ask.

“It's a hail mary, I'm afraid. But it's better than doing nothing. His best shot at recovery.” He reached out to rest a hand on her knee in what he hoped was a comforting gesture. “I understand this is incredibly difficult to hear. This isn't a decision we're taking lightly. But he's young and he deserves the best possible chance, even if the odds are slim.”

She shook her head. "It isn't fair on him."

“You don't agree with our decision to do this surgery?”

"Oh, no, no. Not that. All of this. He shouldn't be here. He was meant to have his life sorted and be living. Not stuck in limbo." She sniffed, trying to stop the tears.

“Ah. I understand this is upsetting - nobody deserves to be in this situation. We're going to do our absolute best for him. We have been doing our absolute best for him from the start. None of us would be considering this surgery if we didn't believe it was in his best interests.” He handed her a tissue, neatly folded in his pocket. “I know I said we have a window of opportunity, but there's time for you to spend with him now. We're not going to rush in just yet.”

"If he needs it, if it's his best chance, then he should go now though, right? So he can come out sooner, and start to recover?"

“We still have some preparations to do first. I'm just here to assess his condition. He seems to have improved since you've arrived.” He said gently. “We'll take him as soon as we're ready for him. But I just wanted to make sure you knew that you have time to spend with him now.”

She forced a smile. "Thank you. For everything."

“Not a problem. I know how difficult this is. Please don't hesitate to grab the nurses if you need anything at all. Can I get someone to bring you food? Something to drink?”

"No, thank you. I'm okay. I'll just stay with him for the time being."

He nodded. “That's absolutely fine. But we can provide you with food, tea, anything. This is probably harder for you than it is for him.”

"Yeah. He'd tell me off for crying, sorry. It was just a bit of a shock."

“Of course, of course. Don't apologise, please. In your position I'd be a sobbing mess.”

"I've had a bit of practice over the years." She laughed slightly. "Normally always the boys, too." 

“Other fosters?”

She nodded. "Quite a few. Some of the scraps they'd get themselves into...I'm just being a pain, don't let me keep you."

“Not a pain in the slightest. I just need to do a few checks, yeah?”

"Go ahead. Don't let me get in the way."

He nodded and stood up, though rested a gentle hand on her shoulder before he moved to check Jason over. Thankfully he had improved, and he was happy they were making the right decision. 

“I ought to go now, and make sure things are being sorted. But you're more than welcome to ask the nurses for me, or any of his team. We'd be happy to come down and speak with you again if you need.”

"Thank you." She glanced at him with a small smile before turning back to face Jason. He was her priority. 

The surgeon left her alone again, save for the occasional nurse popping in to check on him. She apologised again, in his brief moment of consciousness, smoothing his hair back down. Fred still didn’t answer his phone, leaving her alone, dealing with the mess herself.

They gave Sheila as much time as they could. It wasn't ideal, but she needed all the time she could get. Eventually they had no choice, though, and they had to go ahead with the surgery. They sent in a nurse with a porter, as much as Chris wanted to be there, he couldn't. He had too much to do. 

Sheila held her tears in as she said her goodbyes, promising him she’d be there when he came round. She held his hand as long as she could, pressing a kiss to his forehead as she was forced to leave. 

“I love you, yeah? It won’t be long and then it’ll be okay. I love you.”

They took him after that, the nurse sending Sheila a sad smile. 

The surgery was difficult, and unfortunately it didn't get easier as they went on. He was just too unstable, they couldn't do what they wanted to do. They were thwarted by low blood pressure and arrests looming before the inevitable occurred. They tried and tried, but his body just wasn't strong enough. They had to call it a day, in the end. It wasn't fair to try and keep going when his body had had enough.

It was Fao who called time of death, and so it was him who took the responsibility of speaking to next of kin. He headed out of theatres, heart heavy, and round to the relatives room to find them. 

He couldn't help the way his heart dropped when he saw who was sitting waiting. Sheila. He stumbled slightly, pain flaring in his knee, and he forced himself to keep going. 

“I'm looking for family of Jason Hardy?” He said, trying his best to stay sounding professional.

Sheila raised her head, she knew that voice, knew that tone. "No."

He cleared his throat. “Would you mind coming with me?”

"Fao this isn't real, he's still okay, right? You just had to stop it early for a different reason."

“I'm sorry. Come with me? We can go somewhere quiet to talk.”

She swallowed thickly, standing on shaking legs. It was all just a dream. He was fine, he had to be. 

He led her into a small, private room, shutting the door quietly behind him. He took a deep breath, and sat down opposite her. 

“We did our very best. We made some good progress, but unfortunately he was just too weak. Despite our best efforts to try and stabilise him, he went into cardiac arrest. We tried for some time to resuscitate him, but unfortunately we were,” he paused to clear his throat, “unfortunately we were unsuccessful. He passed away. I'm so sorry.”

She already knew, could tell from the look on his face, the tone in his voice. It was still something else to be told it outright, and worse further that it was her own son telling her. She wrapped her arms around herself, forcing herself to breathe past the lump in her throat. 

Fao cleared his throat again. “I know this is difficult to hear, and I'm sorry I don't have better news for you. I assure you that we did everything we could for him.” 

"Are you sure it was him?" Her voice cracked.

“I’m sure. I’m so sorry for your loss.”

"You're lying."

“I know this is difficult to process. I promise you, I’ve told you the truth.”

“You’re wrong. You’re lying. You’re wrong.”

“I understand this is hard to hear. If you’d like, you’re welcome to go and see him?”

“You don’t understand.” She frowned at him. “You don’t understand anything.”

“Can you help me understand? I’m willing to explain everything, if that would help?”

“He’s gone.”

“I’m afraid so.”

She shook her head. “He’s gone.”

“I can assure you, he wasn’t in any pain.”

“But he was.”

“We did our best to keep his pain well managed.”

“He was in pain and terrified.”

Fao swallowed thickly. “My colleagues did our best to reassure him and ensure his pain was well controlled. He was under anaesthesia, I can assure you he wouldn’t have been in pain when he passed.”

“You didn’t hear the voicemail.”

“I’m sorry, I didn’t. If you want to take the matter further, I can give you the number for the hospital PALS department? But I can assure you we did our best to make him comfortable.”

"You don't mean any of that." She frowned at him. "You're just reading off a script. You don't care."

“I care about every patient I treat.” His voice wobbled. “I did everything I could for him, as did my colleagues.” He forced himself to take another deep breath. “I know I’m not the person you want giving you this news. But I would never do any procedure if I didn’t think it was in the patient’s best interests. I wouldn’t have suggested this option for Jason if I didn’t think he could benefit from it.”

Sheila rubbed her eyes, trying to wipe away the tears. The wobble in Fao's voice broke her and she reached out for him.

He handed her a tissue. “Here, it’s alright. I know this is hard to hear.” He said, moving closer to her. 

She pushed the tissue away, choosing instead to grab onto Fao and pull him close. Her fingers tightened around his scrubs and she buried her face in Fao's shoulder.

Instinctively he held her close, rubbing her back. “It’s alright. I know this is hard, I know. It’s okay.”

“He’s gone.”

“I’m sorry, he’s gone.”

Her legs buckled as she sobbed, the pain completely overtaking her.

“It’s alright, I’ve got you.” He soothed.

She gripped onto him tighter. “I should have been there for him.”

“You were. You were right there with him. Chris and the nurses said the whole time you were there, his obs improved.”

“But he didn’t make it.”

“His odds were slim the minute he came through our doors. We all knew that - he knew that. We gave it our best shot, but…” Fao had to clear his throat again, “but his body told us that he’d had enough. Sometimes despite everything, there’s nothing more we can do.”

She was quiet a moment. “I’m glad it was you.”

“If I’d have known…”

“But I know you’d have done everything.”

“Of course. We all did.”

“Thank you.”

“I’m sorry there wasn’t a better outcome.”

“Can I see him?”

“Of course.”

“Can...Can you stay with me?”

“Absolutely.”

“Fred wouldn’t answer and I dont know what Finn’s up to.” She sniffed. “They need to know..”

“Do you want me to try Fred?”

Sheila nodded. “Please.”

“Alright. Can I get you anything? Tea? Water?” He offered, digging in his pockets for his phone. 

“Just you.”

“I’m right here. Not going anywhere.” He said, finding his phone and quickly calling Fred.

She leant into him, tears still falling and her chest aching. She couldn't quite believe it, he was gone and there was nothing she could do.

“It’s alright, it’s okay.” He murmured gently, praying Fred picked up the phone.

The phone rang through, like it had so many times with Sheila. She shook her head as she heard the voicemail, pressing closer to Fao. Deep down, she knew that she should be there for him, not the other way around. He shouldn't be having to tell her that her son was dead. 

“I bet he’s left it somewhere.” Fao said, trying to make his tone light. “You know what he’s like. Come on, why don’t we go and get some fresh air? And then I can take you to see Jason when they’re ready.”

"You're still working."

“I’d say I was due a break, wouldn’t you?”

She nodded with a shaky breath. "Okay."

He stood, and offered her his hand. “Here.”

“Thanks.” She took it, gripping him tight. “I’m sorry.”

“God, why are you sorry?”

“You had to work on him.” Her voice cracked and wobbled. “I know that’s hard.”

“I didn’t know him, Mum. I didn’t even know you were here.”

“I know you beat yourself up over these things.”

He hummed. “We all did our best. I’m sorry there wasn’t a better outcome.”

She bit her lip to stop her sob, bringing a hand up to cover her mouth. The grief was overwhelming, stirring up so many more unwanted emotions.

“Hey, it’s alright.”

She shook her head, dropping Fao’s hand in favor of hugging him. “Promise me you won’t leave.”

“I’m not going anywhere, máthair. Promise.���

“I can’t lose you too.”

Fao made a noise in the back of his throat. “I’m here. You’re not going to lose me.”

She pulled back to look at him, tears flooding her face. “I can’t lose you. You’re my son.”

Fao pressed a kiss to her cheek. “I’m not going anywhere. I love you, yeah?”

#febuwhump2021 #febuwhumpday4 #whump writing #whump prompt #i can't lose you too #emotional whump #loss of a loved one tw #loss #bereavement #foster mother #grief #mother and son #sheila daniels #faolan blackwood #chris knight #aw chris gets his own tag #this one made me and ev cry on more than one occasion #death tw #death #cardiac arrest #sheila has a very bad day #we actually enjoyed this one lol