#usually less in the fall and may even stop in winter

[kedreeva]

There's some dude (derogatory) on FB who is PISSED people are pricing their farm fresh eggs at $2 and $3 a dozen instead of $4+, saying it's "disrespectful" and "undignified" and "I'm trying to feed my kids" like Sir, you are on a Facebook group page bitching about your neighbors egg prices because your pet chickens aren't earning you a living wage and you think it's your neighbors' fault, you do not have a leg to stand on here wrt dignity.

Also half the answers are like "I give them to friends and family free" or "I donate them to food banks" or "I'm making them affordable to folks who might not otherwise be able to get them now that they're so expensive in the store" and "if you think you're going to turn a profit keeping backyard chickens you have been wildly misled" and so on, and so forth, and I'm so living for it.

and I can tell you right now, he did NOT like my answer of "if you're trying to feed your kids, I hear eggs are edible."

#chickens #like buddy you are never going to actually make a profit #and if by some miracle you do #it's going to be VERY SMALL #Considering the money you put into building or buying a coop #plus feed and bedding and equipment (waterers feeders perches etc) costs #egg cartons and enrichment and gas to go get the feed #the cost you (personally) probably put into building the egg stand you mentioned #a 50lbs bag of feed will feed 12 adult chickens for 8 days #12 chickens generally lay 6-12 eggs per day #usually less in the fall and may even stop in winter #a 50lb bag of feed is usually $12-15 #and you wasted the first 6 months going eggless until they were old enough to lay #and that doesn't factor in oyster shell or anything else you may need to do for them #like worming or treating for coccidia or anything #and doesn't take into account your time #like asjh;dsfkgdh you really thought you were gonna make a buck doing this??? #wank for ts

[drysaladandketchup]

for the "things you said" writing meme -- matthew/leon, 12 :)

Thank you for the request <3 I realised very quickly I have no idea what constitutes a 'mini' fic. I struggle to write 'mini' anything lol. Hopefully this still satisfies :)

12. things you said when you thought i was asleep

It takes all of Matthew's willpower not to reach over and smash his phone just to shut up the alarm. All that saves his wallet and an awkward trip to the Apple store is the split-second realisation that the shrieking in his ear isn't his usual alarm.

It's a ringtone. Not his own, either.

He pries his eyes open to find the world through the window is still dark. One of the balcony doors is still ajar, letting in a cool night breeze. He's lying on his side in his own bed, the end of the all-star weekend memorialized by several aches and bruises.

His hips and ass are a little sore too, but that's unrelated. Technically.

The ringing stops. Someone huffs behind him.

Someone. Yeah, no, Matthew knows who it is. They may have met up at the bar once the media was done swarming, but Matthew was far from drunk. Painfully sober, in fact. If he's being honest with himself, he was hoping things would turn out this way.

One more time. One more moment. Because it's been a long time since they were them. Longer still since the sex was just sex, since hate became want. Matthew is strong in a lot of ways, but not against this.

"Davo." Leon's voice is low, and still gruff from sleep when he answers his phone. He sits up on his side of the bed, trying not to disturb Matthew, pulling the covers back up over Matthew's shoulder like he thinks he'll freeze to death in this balmy Florida winter.

Usually Matthew's a heavy sleeper. But never when Leon's around. He makes it impossible for Matthew to completely relax, to let time slip by. Leon's just too big of a presence, almost too much to bear. It was more important that everything linger, to bask in the strange comfort of their relationship, whatever it was. They had so little time. Even less, now.

"I know it's late. No, no, I'm not at the hotel. I'm... I'm with Tkachuk."

Leon says his last name like it's wrong, like it's rotting on his tongue.

When he corrects himself, says, "Matthew", it's better, lighter. Like it's ambrosia.

Matthew remembers when Leon Draisaitl saying his name wouldn't have meant a damn thing to him. When that simple act didn't fill him with fondness.

In the silence, Matthew can hear McDavid talking on the other end, but can't quite make out what he's saying. Matthew tucks up under the duvet, breathing quiet and even, trying to focus instead on the distant sound of waves and the ticking clock on his wall.

Ticking. Always ticking. Time bleeds out when they're together.

He doesn't even remember falling asleep last night, but he wishes he hadn't now. He wishes he'd stayed awake longer, just to... just too see him. To look Leon in the eye, to talk about everything and nothing until dawn, to feel big, too-warm hands on his body more and more and more. He wants to make sure he'll remember how Leon feels, sounds, tastes.

"Connor," Leon says, a warning, followed by a sigh. "I know. I know, okay? It was stupid, but..."

Maybe it was. Matthew has a good thing here in Florida. Better than ever. He was happy to leave Alberta behind and start over. So why did leaving make him feel like a coward?

Because leaving was about Calgary, and the Flames. About his career and his future. It wasn't about Leon. Leon was the wrench in the gears; the one thing he didn't expect to have to say goodbye to, the kind of hurt he never could have accounted for.

"I needed to see him." Leon sounds helpless. He's not the only one.

The only time he's heard Leon so lost was after his team was knocked out of the playoffs last season. The Oilers meant nothing--Matthew was pretty fucking glad considering they'd beat out the Flames--but he never wanted to hear Leon like that again.

He definitely never wanted to be the cause of it. Not like this.

Leon is still mumbling into his phone. "Yeah, I'm fine. He's... we're good. He's happy."

A hand settles on Matthew's head. Fingers play with his curls, nails scratch his scalp. A thumb presses just behind Matthew's ear, stroking the soft skin where only hours before Leon had put his lips, whispering sweetness and filth in equal measure.

It takes everything for Matthew not to groan, to whimper and surrender, roll over and climb on top of Leon and take all over again. Beg him to take something--everything--from Matthew.

"I don't know," Leon says then.

It's easy to guess what McDavid asked.

He's happy. But are you?

"I can't even tell him I still love him."

Still. Matthew didn't even know there was a before, let alone a still. Leon never said anything. Fuck, if Matthew wasn't busy trying to remember how to breathe, he'd roll over and punch him.

Then again, what did Matthew ever say? They never talked about it. Never let those closet hook-ups and slipping out back doors and little drinks and dinners and overnights excused as practical necessity be anything more than that. A bunch of chirps and half-truths and aborted discussions because it was all becoming too much. There was too much uncertainty. Too many ways it could go wrong.

It did go wrong. It became something. It became real.

Maybe that would have changed something. Maybe it wouldn't have changed anything at all. It doesn't matter now. Matthew left, and neither of them said a word about things like love, because it was easier to hope it would shrivel and die with distance and time.

"I know I'm being stupid." Leon pauses when McDavid interrupts, then huffs. "No, I am. Fuck, I really thought I'd get over it. Maybe I will. Eventually."

Don't you fucking dare, you piece of shit, Matthew wants to scream.

"Not sure I can, though." Leon swallows so loud Matthew can hear it. Then quieter, like he's not sure he's even allowed to admit it, he says, "I don't really want to."

He's still playing with Matthew's hair, occasionally dragging a finger over his bare shoulder or down his back, tracing imaginary lines across Matthew's flesh. Like he's something to be memorized and cherished.

They're both so fucking stupid. Matthew bites his lip and tries not to choke on the lump in his throat. Could be his heart, climbing right up and out of his mouth. He clings to the sheets with shaking hands.

"I'm not going to fuck up what he's got here," Leon says tiredly, voice thick with tension and pathetic resignation.

Leon's not here to drag him back. He wouldn't do that. So why is he here? Just to torture them both? Being with him doesn't feel like torture. It feels like winning. It feels like defiance and decadence and too much and not enough. It feels like what could have been and what could still be.

He didn't find Leon at that bar and bring him home out of pity, or nostalgia, one last fuck for old times sake. It was... it just was. Not an ending. Not some final goodbye. Proof maybe there could still be something. Getting over it was never an option, Matthew knew that well before he stepped onto the ice as a Panther and found himself staring Leon down all over again.

Matthew's vision is blurring. His eyes sting, warm and wet. There's blood pounding in his ears, and a hand clutching his heart, a vice around his lungs. He hardly remembers how to breathe.

He doesn't catch the rest of Leon's conversation, except something about meeting Connor back at the hotel tomorrow. Meaning he's staying the night, at least. He's staying.

When Leon hangs up the phone, Matthew finally comes up for air. He relaxes his shoulders, listening to the soft thump as Leon taps his phone against his forehead over and over. Then it clatters on the side table. Leon sighs, sniffs, and sinks back under the covers. He tucks right up against Matthew's back, still burning like a furnace, soft muscle and skin brushing Matthew's spine in all the right ways.

He throws an arm around Matthew and finds one of his hands, worming his fingers through the gaps to hold it. His palm is sweaty, not that it matters at all to Matthew. He can't help squeezing Leon's hand a little, but if Leon notices, he doesn't say a word.

Not until he's wrapped tight around Matthew, near suffocating, like any part of them that isn't touching is a sin.

"Love you," Leon mumbles, barely more than a whisper, pressing his lips right to the base of Matthew's neck. Matthew's body can't seem to decide whether to shiver or melt under the heat.

Leon says it like it's inevitable. Painful. Pitiful.

What he's saying is, I'm sorry I love you. I'm sorry I couldn't say it before. I'm sorry I don't know how to say it now. I'm sorry it's too late, it's the wrong place, the wrong time.

Like he doesn't think Matthew could ever understand. And that's the worst part of it all. They're still not on the same page. Tearing down what they never built.

If Leon's only brave enough to say it when Matthew's asleep, then Matthew will just have to be brave enough to say it in the light of day. He doesn't run, and he won't now that he knows he doesn't have to.

He stares into the night outside his window, listening to Leon breathe, feeling his heart beat through Matthew's chest like that's where it longs to be.

Tomorrow. Tomorrow maybe they can stop chasing time long enough to make the most of what they have. To make up for what they've wasted. And whatever happens after, well, maybe they can stop being afraid of that, too.

#hockey #mattdrai #matthew tkachuk #leon draisaitl #my writing #asks #i can take any prompt and shove angst into it just watch me #'mutual pining dumbasses who can't communicate' my beloved trope #i hope it's obvious this is happening during/right after the 2023 asg #i know 2020 was the sacred texts but I feel like we don't use 2023 for mattdrai purposes enough #poor connor always suffering through mattdrai bullshit #leon has a scrapbook full of pictures of matthew and will be like 'remember when my bf left me ;_;' and connor wants to jump off a bridge #'mini' fic they said. i don't think 1.6k is mini. it got away from me. but i have never been concise in my life why start now

[liivzen]

Cowboy!Gojoxfem!reader

warnings: pinv, fingering, Softdom!gojo, small mention of body hair, no curses au, slight angst??, pet names used a lot throughout (went a lil overboard my bad) i’m probably missing a lot so lmk if i did :)

wc: 5.1k

story info: reader works at a saloon in small town thats in the middle of nowhere and has a run in with a few people on her way home and a certain cowboy comes to her rescue

MDNI under the cut!!

You picked up the last few glasses that were left on the tables in the bar. You walked over behind the counter and started to clean them and put them back into the cabinets. Once you finished, you walked over and wiped down the counters and table. Letting out a yawn, you quickly grab your things and head to the door to lock up. After the long shift of constantly being catcalled in the saloon all you wanted to do was curl up in bed and enter your world of dreams. Shaking away the fatigue to keep yourself awake for the walk up, you lock up the door.

You turn around and start towards your apartment. It’s not that late, but with it being winter time it was already pitch black outside. The cool wind makes you shiver slightly, making you cross your arms to keep warm. Due to working at the Saloon you only wore so much fabric,the front of your skirt ending at your knees with the back dropping to the ground. The corset you wore brought warmth to your midsection but that was it. Your sleeves barely covered anything, if you could even call them sleeves. Thankfully your boss had let you wear elbow length gloves since it was winter but they didn’t help much.

Walking as briskly as possible, you continue down the street. Due to the cool weather and darkness, there was almost no one on the streets. This made the town seem like a ghost town, compared to the usually bustling town. This did your journey home even less exciting. Trying to cut the venture home, you decided to take a shortcut . In hindsight it probably wasn’t a good idea but the only thing on your mind was the warm comfy bed waiting for you in your room.

As soon as you turned down the side ally you immediately got a gross feeling. It may have looked like a normal ally during daylight, but right now it was a much more nerve racking. A few more steps in and you could see someone slouched leaning against the brick wall of one of the buildings encasing the ally. Thanks to the lack of lighting you couldn’t make out much details of the man. The only thing you could notice was a long dark jacket that reached his half calf high boots and long silver hair descending down from the black cowboy hat he was wearing.

Not wanting to take the short cut anymore, you turn around to make an escape from the ally. However, before you could take a step, you ran straight into a hard body. Looking up, a tall man is glancing down at you with a smile on his face. The man has long dark black hair, and a scar running across the middle of his forehead. He grabs onto the sides of your arms to stop you from falling backwards.

“Well what do we have here?” The stranger in front of you speaks.

You could hear footsteps behind you now, walking towards the direction of you and the stranger. You tense up in the strangers arms once you hear the footsteps stop right behind you.

“It looks like we’ve got a mouse of some sorts Suguru.” A new voice speaks, only inches from your back. You try and struggle out of the mans, Suguru you’re assuming, grasp. His grip however was very strong and you barely moved against his unrelenting hands. This made you even more scared, your heartbeat throbbing against your chest. You glanced behind yourself to get a good look at the man behind you. His silver hair went down to his mid chest and he also had scars running across his face. He had a wide grin going ear to ear and a look in his eyes that was very off putting and didn’t make you any less afraid of these two.

“What do you want?” You breathlessly say, trying your best to sound confident with your words. The two men chuckle at your question and smile at each other.

“Oh nothing, just wondering what a little lady like you was doing all by herself at night.” The one in front of you says, bending his head down so his face is parallel to yours. You try moving your face back but end up hitting the man behind you in the chest. You feel the man behind you grab onto your waist and give a not so gentle squeeze. You try again to break free of the two men but once again it doesn’t work.

You could feel tears welling up into your eyes, realizing there was very little chance of you getting out of this situation. You should’ve known better, being a woman walking around in the outfit you’re in all alone at night. The tears quickly escape your eyes and your hopes of being confident and unafraid of them have washed away. Sugurus hands slide off of your arms but grab onto your chin to make you look at him.

“Aw, the little mouse is crying Mahito.” He says, looking up at the man behind you, who now you knows name is Mahito. Mahito chuckles and starts to slide his hands up towards your breast. However before he can, the three of you hear a new voice.

“Now why do I always come across you messing innocent people Suguru.” The three of you look towards the voice that came from the end of the ally way.

The man standing there was very tall. You couldn’t see his eyes from this far away since they were blocked by his hat. He was also wearing a long jacket that reached the floor, but it was open, letting you see his white shirt he was wearing under a black vest. From this far away you could see the holsters he was adorning though. He had his hand resting on his belt loops at the front of his pants.

Suguru and Mahito loosened their grips on you but didn’t let go completely. They turned themselves around to face this new man that, at the moment, was your saving grace.

“Well where’s the fun if I don’t Satoru.” Suguru responds, slinging an arm around your shoulder. You can see the tall man at the end of ally, Satoru, shake his head and start walking towards you three slowly. You could hear the clicks of his spurs as he started to walk, making him seem very intimidating. As he got closer you could see the man a little better now. He had bright white hair sticking out of his hat the framed his face perfectly. The brim of his hat didn’t obstruct a majority of his face anymore, however a pair of round sunglasses still hid his eyes even though it was nighttime. He had a small smile that looked to be more mischievous than anything. His long fingers traced the handle of his gun that was resting at his hip, ready for use at any moment. Before he gets too close though, he stops a various feet away from you three.

Satoru looks over his sunglasses to look at you now. He could see how scared you were in this moment, the tears rolling down your cheeks and the way your breathing is very heavy. Looking away from you, he looks towards the two men that currently have hands on you.

“Why don’t we let the lady back on her way home and move on our ways hm?” Satoru questions the two men, his grip tightening on the handle of his gun. Suguru decides to let go and head towards the Satoru, leaving you in Mahitos grabby hands. You squirm as much as you can before his grasp around your arms is lock tight. Suguru meets Satoru in the middle of the ally, only a few feet distancing the two.

You could feel the tension radiating from the two, clearly having known each other and things were not well between them. You can see Sugurus hand also fall onto the handle of his gun once he stops in front of Satoru.

“I don’t think I want to Satoru.” Suguru whispered to him but loud enough for you and Mahito to hear.

Before anymore words are shared, hell breaks loose.

Satoru draws his revolver out of his holster and shoots at the wall by you and Mahito, making Mahito drop his grasp on you and dodge away. With this new freedom, you bolt as fast as you can trying not to get caught in gunfire. You hide yourself behind an array of boxes that had been sitting next to one of the buildings.

Peaking your head above the boxes, you could see the battle between the three men clearly. You could see an array of fist and shooting going on. All of them looked very skilled, but Satoru looked to be pulling through better than the other two men.

Before you could speak too soon though, a solid punch made its way across Satorus face, knocking him a little unstable. You were worried for a second, but clearly that moment did bother Satoru. Showing little to no issue, Satoru eventually got the two men on there knees on the ground, two guns pointing at both of them, their hands up in surrender. Next thing you know, Satoru is calling out to you.

“Hey sweatheart, you wanna do me a favor and tie up these fellas here?” Satoru asks you sweetly over his shoulder. Dusting your skirts off, you quickly stand up and make your way over to him.

“Theres some rope and a knife on my belt honey, just move the jacket out the way.” He tells you, guns still trained on Suguru and Mahito. Moving around and ducking under Satorus gun raised arms and stopping in front of him.

Moving His jacket away from around his waist, you see the rope tied around the side of his belt along with the knife in a sleeve of its own. Untying the rope from the brown leather, you grab it and stand in front of it him waiting for instructions. Satoru looks down at you and smiles.

“Thank you darling. Now, can you please tie their wrist together pretty please?” He asks you sweetly. Nodding your head, still too nervous to say anything, you duck back under Satorus arm and go behind Mahito first. You grab his wrist that were in the hair and place them behind his back. You hold the knife against the rope and carefully cut it and tighten as tight as possible.

“Damn pretty, loosen up a little won’tcha” Mahito smirks at you over his shoulder. Not wanting to hear his shit, you tighten the rope even tighter. You look up at Satoru and he’s chuckling down at you. You give a small smile back at him and move Suguru. You also grab onto his hands and start to tie his wrist as well.

“You know one day I’m going to get back at you for all of this Satoru.” Suguru tells Satoru as you finish up tying the rope around his wrist. Satoru chuckles and lowers his guns once you’re finished and stand up, dusting off your skirts.

“Yeah we’ll see about that.” Satoru replies back to him, holstering his two guns. Ignoring the other two men, Satoru makes his way to you. Once in front of you he grabs onto your side.

“You alright darling?” He asks you, caressing the side of your corset’d waist.

“Yes, thank you very much sir.” You replied back to him. He lets out a breathy laugh, removing his coat and placing it around your shoulders. You. could now see his long sleeve shirt with the black vest clearly now. Along with a chain that hung on his neck and disappears below his collar. Before you could stare too much though, you focus back on his face.

“No need for the formalities miss, the names Satoru.” He tells you, making the jacket is secure around your shoulders before letting go of it.

“Oh ok, well thank you Satoru.” You tell him, pulling the jacket close around you. You could feel the warmth left from Satoru on the jacket still, along with the smell of smoke and sweat. Before you could put much thought into the jacket though, Satoru was speaking down at you again.

“Why don’t we get you home now, that sound good?” Satoru asks with a tilt of his had.

“I’d like that please.”

—————————————

Reaching the top of the stairs and stopping at the door to your apartment, you stop and turn around to face Satoru.

“Um, thank you for everything.” You try and tell him, your voice quiet. Satoru has thumbs resting in his front belt loops looking down at you.

“It’s no problem little lady, couldn’t leave someone as beautiful as you so helpless out there.” He smirks down at you. You could feel your face heat up from the compliment.

“Well, goodnight Satoru.” You tell the tall gorgeous man.

“Goodnight miss.” He responds to you, turning away to start heading down the stairs. Before you could rationally think about the words that had left your mouth, you spoke out after him.

“Um, would want to come inside for a drink? I can’t let my saviour leave without a reward of some kind.” You speak out to the white haired man. He slowly turns around and walks back to you.

“I’d love that sweatheart.” He tells you, waiting for you to open the door.

You turn around and unlock your door, pushing it open to let the two of you inside. Satoru took in your place the moment his feet pass the threshold of the door.

Your apartment wasn’t filled with much. You had a small kitchen, just enough to cook yourself basic meals. You had a small table that barely was big enough to fit a plate and utensils for when you did eat, a small wooden chair accompany it. Across the room you have your bed pushed against the wall, that also looks to fit just you and your pillow and blanket. One last little piece was the small chair and bookshelf in the corner that held a few books and a small candelabrum that had a half melted candle on it.

“I know theres not much space, you can sit at the table if you’d like, while i prepare you a drink.” You tell Satoru, motioning towards your small dining table. He gives a little nod and walks himself to the table, scooting the chair out and sitting down. You move over to the cabinets, grabbing a glass and some old whiskey you had for special occasions. You sat the glass in front of Satoru at the table and poured the whiskey in. Satoru still said nothing, quietly watching you pour him the drink. Once you finished, you put the whiskey back in the cabinet and stood next the table watching Satoru. The two of you stared at each other before you looked away, breaking the eye contact, This caused Satoru to chuckle a little before grabbing the glass and taste a bit of the whiskey but not drinking the whole thing.

“You don’t have to be afraid of me miss.” Satoru says faintly, looking at the side of your face since you still couldn’t make eye contact with him. This made you a little aprhensive, but you weren’t scared of him though, so you told him that.

“I wouldn’t have invited you in if i was scared.” You quip back at him softly. This made Satoru chuckle, taking another sip of the whiskey.

“Oh ok, sweetheart. Well I would hate to leave you standing in your own home.” He says, grabbing onto your wrist and rubbing his thumb over your pulse-point. You’re sure he can feel how fast your pulse is and guessing by the way you gasp when he pulls you closer to him, it gets even faster.

“But theres no other places to sit.” You whisper down at him. Due to his height he was still pretty tall even sitting, but you towered over him slightly. He smirks up at you, knowing what he was about to do would surely make your question dwindle within seconds. And oh was he right.

Next thing you know you’re being pulled into his lap. You have no choice but to straddle his thighs, causing your skirt to bunch up around your waist. You could now feel the rough material of his jeans agaisnt your thighs. Your face was heating up immediatly, quickly feeling how hot the air around the two of you was turning even if it was the dead of winter. Satoru was now the one looking down at you in his lap, his arms now locked around your waist holding you to himself. The two of your faces were mere inches from each other now, you could slightly smell the whiskey coming off of Satorus breath once he started speaking.

“As much as I would love to drink this rest of this whiskey as a thanks from you, I think I have a better way of getting a thanks from a gorgeous lady like you.”

“What-“

Before you could even finish lips were crashing into you. You were shocked at first but within second you were melting into the kiss. You could feel Satoru squeeze your body even closer to him the as soon as you started kissing him back. You felt the swipe of a tongue asking for entrance into your mouth. You felt Satoru move a hand down to your ass and squeeze, causing you to gasp and let his tongue into your mouth. This had you melting into him even more, your arms were wrapped around his neck trying to get even closer to him as his tongue roamed the roof your mouth.

You could feel yourself start to roll your hips against his, feeling the hardness that was starting to form against you. Satorus kisses start to move away from your lips and down the side of your neck, his hand starting to roam now. One hand was still squeezing every few seconds, but the other graviated towards you breast. Giving a small squeeze you let out a breathy moan into the air. You feel Satoru smirk against the skin on your neck.

Without much warning though, Satoru stood, picking you up and walking.

This shocked you and you quickly wrapped your legs around his hips and your arms squeezed tighter around his neck. You look to where he was taking the two of you. You noticed that he was walking in the direction of your bed and before you know it, you’re flopping against the old mattress. Satoru stood over your flusterd self, taking in your beauty. After a moment of silence and gazing you speak to him.

“I-I haven’t been bedded before.” You stutter up at the gorgeous man at the foot of your bed. He takes off his hat and sunglasses that he was still wearing, setting them on edge of the bed and leaned down over you.

“That doesn’t matter at all sweetheart, you tell me at any point you want to stop. You decide how far we go, ok?” He whispers to you, fanning stray hairs out of your face. Not able to form anymore words you nod at him biting your lip. Taking notice of your lips again, Satoru captures you in another kiss.

This time it’s a little slower, but still passionate. You felt him run his hands down your sides before reaching behind you. He started to tug at the string of your corset. Once it was loose enough, Satoru broke the kiss and removed the corset all together. As soon as the corset was off he was back to kissing you, this time down the side of your neck towards the peak of your breast. You could feel him start to leave marks from the feeling of his teeth grazing your skin. This had you moaning out and grabbing onto his hair, tugging slightly.

Satorus hand dropped down to the top of your knees, where your dress stopped. You felt him grab the fabric and start bunching it up. Once it was past your waist you could tell he was wanting it off completely. Sitting up slightly you raised your arms to get rid of the dress. The moment the dress was off you wrapped your arms around your now exposed breast. Now you were almost completely nude save for your underwear, whereas Satoru was still his shirt and jeans. Feeling you starting to get nervous, he grabbed onto your face.

“Theres nothing to be worried about sweetheart, I’ve got you.” He spoke softy kissing the top of your forehead.

To make you feel better, Satoru started to lose some of his own clothes. You watched as he unbuttoned his shirt to reveal his perfect looking chest. You could’ve guessed he was fit under those layers but you didn’t expect him to look like some greek god. Once shirt fully unbuttoned, he removed it completely, tossing it somewhere in the room. You did have much time to look though because then he was gently pushing you back down on the bed.

Satoru moved your hands and put then above your head, continuing his kisses on the top of your breast. It only took him seconds to get to one of your nipples. He started to gently suck on it, nipping at it every couple of licks. Moving both of your wrist into one of his hands, the other hand started to grope at your other breast, pinching at your other nipple.

This made you throw your head back and arch your back, pressing your chest even more into Satorus face and hand. He could tell you were enjoying it and started to get a little more harder with his pinching and sucking. This had you moaning even louder, and the throbbing between your legs almost painful.

Not wanting to spend too long on your chest, Satoru start to move down. His kisses reach your stomach and eventually down at the top of your underwear. He had moved his hands as well, now grabbing around the sides of your thighs, spreading them. This motion had you coming to your senses a little, causing you clench your legs together.

“It’s alright sweetheart, just wanna see you fully.” Satoru whispers up to giving a small kiss on your left thigh. Trusting him, you open up your legs to him.

Slowly reaching up to the waistband of your underwear, he slowly pulls them down your legs, exposing your cunt to the cold air. You bit your lip and looked away, embarresed that Satoru might be disgusted at what he was seeing now. You knew that hair was normal but it was slowly starting to become a trend to not have any, or have very little. But with your schedule of working you didn’t have time to worry about that. Now though, you did worry about it.

Satoru could tell you were anxious about how he would react to your now exposed cunt, but he didn’t want you to be nervous, he wanted you to feel relaxed.

Without saying anything, he took his fingers and started to rub up along your lips. This made you look down at him, wondering why he wasn’t saying and just staring at your exposed cunt. However, before you could think anything else, his fingers moved up slightly and rub small circles. This makes you twitch a little and spread your legs a little more.

“There we go sweetheart.” Satoru smiled up at you, noticing the pleasure that you’re starting to feel. He continued to rub the small circles on your clit but now taking his other hand spredding you lips apart. Satoru gathered up the slick that was starting to drip down from your hole, rubbing around it almost teasingly. This made you whine a little and move your hips towards his fingers. He chuckled but listened to your whines.

He slowly dipped an index finger of his left hand into your waiting hole. He could feel you squeezing immediately, pulsing around his finger. He looked up at you finally, seeing your face contort in pleasure. The moans you were letting out sounded angelic to him, urging him to do more. And so he did.

He sped up his circles on your clits and added a second finger in your cunt, thrusting in and out. Reaching his head forward, he started to give gentle kisses along the crease of your thigh and pelvis, nipping at it slightly. He could feel you squeezing on his fingers, he even felt you move your hips to match his thrusts.

Satoru could tell you were reaching your climax quickly, so he sped up his thrust. It didn’t take much longer after that for you through your head back against your pillow and let out a loud moan that you’re sure even your neighbors could hear. After a few moments and gasp later, you lift your head up and peer down at Satoru between your legs. And oh is the sight before you something that makes you clench around nothing now.

Satoru is lying there looking up at you with his fingers in his mouth, licking off your cum. He has a smirk that adorns his face that makes him look even more handsome that you could think of. This all had your face heating up and looking away from him. Satoru pushes himself up and gets to his knees between your legs. You watch as he starts to undo the buckle on his pants and bring it out the loops. He tosses the belt elsewhere, just like his shirt, and starts to unbutton his jeans.

You could see how hard he was below his jeans but nothing could’ve prepared you for when he pushes his jeans below his cock. You now had a clear view of his cock, as it was standing there clear as day. His cock was not too long but definitely something to make you gulp. It also has girth to it that made you wonder if you could even fit your hand around it. Satoru could feel you get more nervous as you stared at his cock silently.

“It’s alright pretty, we’ll go as slow as needed.” Satoru reasures you, climbing back over you.

He leans over you putting a hand next to your head, his face now parallel to yours. You look up at him as he locks eyes with you. With his other hand he grabs his cock and aligns himself at your entrance. The second he starts to push himself in you gasp at the feeling of him entering you. Its not necesarily painful but you can feel it stretching you out by a lot. This has you gasping up him, looking into his eyes. Satoru brushes the hair out your face, and kisses down your forehead.

“Its ok, it’ll feel good in a second. I promise sweetheart. Just tell me when to move.” He tells you once he’s fully pushed inside of you.

You sit there for a moment, trying your best to get used to Satorus size. After a minute you tell him he can move and he does. The first few thrust are still a little uncomfortable but then its starts to turn to pleasure. You let out moans once Satoru starts to suck on your neck again. You grab around Satoru neck and grab onto the bottom of his scalp, pulling at the hair there. This makes Satoru let out his own moan into your neck. His thrust getting a little deeper.

Satoru drags a hand down the middle of your body to rub at your clit again. You let out a louder moan at the feeling of his touch. The two of you are letting out your fair shares of moans and you’re sure you’ll be hearing complaints from your neighbors, but right now you don’t really care. Satorus thrust start to get a little faster, and you squeeze around him even harder.

Satoru could tell you were getting close by the way your breath was getting faster and the way you were squeezing him. He could tell he was getting close to his own climax as well. He pulled away from your neck and bent down to your chest, putting a nipple in his mouth. You through your head back at this.

“Ah-Satoru please.” You moan out his name, gripping harder at his hair. This makes him groan into your chest, thrust speeding up even more. He pulls away from your chest and kisses you hard. The two of you moan into each others mouths. After a second, Satoru pulls away just enough to speak.

“Please what sweetheart?” He ask you, thrusting hard into you. You moan out, almost unable to say anything but after a second you get out the few words you want to say.

“I wanna come please.” You tell him breathlessly, looking into his eyes with blurry vision. He smiles down at you holding your face in his hands.

“Don’t have to tell me twice pretty.” He mumbles to you before kissing you hard again.

It doesn’t take much more for you to get what you want. Satorus rubbing at your clit and giving you hard and fast thrust and within minutes your cumming all over his cock. Satorus not far behind you either, pulling out of you quickly and giving himself a few tugs and letting himself go all over your stomach. Once he’s done he’s collapsing next to you on the bed in the limited space given. The two of you catch your breath before any words are spoken. Satorus the first to speak.

“You did a good job sweetheart.” Satoru is mumbling into your shoulder, bringing you closer to him, tucking you against his chest. You let yourself lay against his chest, listening to his heartbeat for a second.

“Mm, thank you.” You tell him after a minute. Satoru chuckles at your tired response, kissing the top of your head. With the little energy that was left, Satoru tucked the two of you under the covers of your bed, taking the same position that you two were just in. The two of you lay there listenting to each other breathe, enjoying the quiet. It wasn’t long before you could feel yourself dozing off.

Before you could fully fall asleep though you heard a few faint words.

“Get some sleep pretty, you deserve it.” Satoru mumbles into your hair, slowly following you into the much needed sleep.

—————————

an - omgggggg this took two weeks to do write up (thanks to classes being an overload). This is the longest piece i’ve ever written so i hope you all love i! Depending on how this is received i miiiight do a part two, we’ll just have to see :))

thank you very much to my friend who decided to edit this with me, i would’ve posted this way more shittier if i didn’t have my friend (tbh its still probably a bit shitty) so thank you and ilysm.

#gojo satoru x reader #cowboygojo #gojo x y/n #gojo satoru smut #gojo x reader #gojo x reader smut #geto suguru #mahito #jujustsu kaisen x reader #jjk satoru #jjk x reader #jujutsu kaisen manga #gojo smut #jjk season 2 #cowboy au

[daydreamsandcrashingwaves]

Keeping It Close To The Chest (KICTTC) pt. 2

Wow, I really was inspired! It really warms my heart that so many people enjoyed it as well! Again I Frankensteined this together as parts of it came to my brain, then connected them all. I swear I shuffled things like 5 times.

Be safe, make good choices

TW/CW: Child abuse, child murder, death, child death (Danny), Shock/ptsd symptoms, Guilt/ self-blame, Child warriors/soldiers, blood, familial abuse/ neglect

~~~ IF I MISSED A TAG please let me know, I want everyone to be able to make the informed choice that is best for them! ~~~

Here is part one in case you missed it!

Part three Part four

Happy holidays my friends :3

~Ren

One two three four five six. In. Hold.

The air in the bat cave was chilly. As usual.

One two three four five. Out. Again.

Usually, moisture clung to Damian’s skin and clothes. Today it seemed harsh and dry like even the cave was voicing its displeasure and passing judgement. It added to his melancholy and nostalgia.

One two three four five six. In. Hold 

His first week in Gotham the rain had been coming down in heavy sheets, he had never seen a storm quite as wild before. He had felt small standing on the Wayne manor doorstep next to Mother, with the wind and rain whipping around them, cradling them in water. He shivered at the memory. Damian had only known the weather in Nanda Parbat, being so close to Ladakh the weather alternated between dry and hot to freezing temperatures in the winter. True downpours were rare due to where the base had been built.

One two three four five. Out. Again

The nights were long and cold. Their room only outfitted with bare essentials, had none of the comfort he had now. Damian can still recall how his little body would shiver and shake no matter how hard he tried to still it. Many winter nights under the protection of the dark, Danny would cross their room to slip under his covers. Two little bodies next to each other, the warmth soothing their bruises and sore muscles while they watched the snow drift down from the window. 

One two three four five six. In. Hold

Damian was not in shock as Tim may have suggested. No. He would never fall so far that emotional distress would prevent him from what must be done. The nervous tick to his heart was because of his worry for Danyal. Damian had only accepted the heat reflective blanket so Father would leave him be. He clutched the edges in an attempt to refocus. He cannot remember who dragged the plush chair into the batcave but he supposed being comfortable while waiting for Danyal to wake was acceptable. Damian also grudgingly could admit to himself, they were kind to place it so he maintained visual on his little brother.

One two three four five. Out. Again

Danyal’s blood had stained his costume. Green and red, Damian’s colors but now, well. He’d start by asking Alfred to take a look, see if it could be cleaned but maybe it was time to follow in his sibling’s footsteps and completely change his armor out for something that didn’t threaten to drive him to his knees. 

One two three four five six. In. Hold

He wanted to be clean, so he'd be allowed in Danyal's room, but he was stuck where he was. Some parts of his clothes were wet still, other less saturated parts were dry and itchy and uncomfortable. He idly scratched at some, and then abruptly stopped when the flakes caught under his nails. He’d have to talk with Danny about why it seemed his green blood tingled against his skin.

One two three four five. Out. Again

( He would bite his tongue though, he's not so dense to miss the fact that prying is glaringly rude, and he doesn't want to give his brother anymore reasons to run from him. Even if he wondered why Danyal's blood smells like rotting food and sweaty locker room with a touch of something he couldn't name. It was a nauseating combination instead of the iron he has grown used to.)

One two three four five six. In. Hold

Toxic green it was always that blasted bright green. Grandfather lived as long as he did due to the pits, the pits brought Jason back, now Danyal was affected, and he had no idea what to do. He was scared. He was so sacred.

One two three four five. Out. Again

"Heyy Bud, maybe it's time to change and shower?" Richard's voice comes from behind where Damian slumped. Damian allows a quick glance at his eldest brother, before he turns his gaze back to Danny's prone form on the bed.

No, he hadn't flinched at the sudden noise, he obviously knew Richard was approaching his seat. Even if his brother is eyeing him with that look like he knows what Damian is thinking. Damian bites his cheek until he splits the skin. Which he can't. He can try to understand because of his experiences with Jason's death, but. Danny was Damian's twin. His other half, they had always been together. Richard can't possibly understand the guilt he carried for not realizing Danny's plan when he realized something had changed the look in his twin's eye, or how ashamed he is for the sliver of pride he felt afterwards when Grandfather handed Damian with his personal kodachi, a blade every member had coveted. How it felt like betrayal that he had thrived in the League those five years after Danyal's death.  

He doesn't know what that's like to lose an intrinsic part of you. He had a family before being adopted by Father. The Wayne's had been allowed to stop for Jason's death. Dick had been allowed to mourn his little brother, to erect a grave to sit with. Damian only had had Danyal and then he died, and Damian was never able to speak of Danyal again until now. Hell, Grandfather was pleased to have taught Damian a lesson on rooting out weakness. He regrets not trying to bring life to those memories he cherishes.

Damian's frustrated with himself, the small movement was meant to be a reach for one of the knives that are still lining his body. Inescapable evidence he is balancing precariously on a knife's edge. Evidence Richard is no doubt started collecting the minute he had realized Damian recognized him. A fierce scowl finds its way onto Damian's face as he clenches the material of his pants between his fists. He wants to scream. If he were Jason, he'd snort at his brother's insistence in taking Bruce's place when he glitches over big emotions, when inevitably hides from his children until he's done processing.

Damian doesn't say anything though for a couple minutes, he knows Richard is caring and kind but the idea of talking about feelings with his sappiest brother has Damian suppressing a shutter. He doesn't want to talk about any of this, even if he knows his grace period to collect his thoughts is running out quickly.

"I'll stay with him while you're gone." Richard offers quietly, "Babybat, please?"

The name hasn't bothered Damian in years but now it has him seething and baring his teeth.  "Do not call me that Grayson." Damian has never been the baby of the family, that spot has always been Danny's.

No one has questioned his prickly disposition since his arrival or knows why he hates their pet names or where and he disappears on his birthday. They dismissed it with condescending smiles, ruling it as him finally acting like a child, more anger, less murder. Like throwing a tantrum over a ripped toy. How has he managed to fool a family of crime fighting detectives?... He's the superior son of course. The sentiment rings hollow, if they don't know it's because they didn't bother to ever really get know Damian past his carefully constructed front. Truly, Damian thought, a ten-year-old fooling all of the Bats and Wings is ridiculous. Damian is stubborn to a fault and decided if they think his grief is equal to an upset child, well he wasn't going to point it out for them. It took Danyal dropping from the sky for them to realize, there was more to Damian than they knew.

Grayson is watching him carefully now, but his posture remains open, relaxed, his warm smile still firmly in place. Even if Damian knows the tightness at the corners indicates his rising anxiety. Damian still wants to break those perfect teeth of his.

This isn't easy for him, why would he make it easier for them.

Instead of acting on his impulse to maim, he paces closer to the glass, allowing himself to remember their childhood, Danny had burned brightly in the darkness the League surrounded itself in -too brightly- and ultimately snuffed out. Danny was all enthusiastic questions, witty remarks and freely given smiles. He had intended to tell Father about his dead twin, had been preparing how to report the situation just right in the time it took to travel from Nanda Parbat to Gotham with Mother, surely Father would let him speak of Danyal, even once would have been enough.

The whole point of Mother sending him away to live with Father was to get him away from the League and Grandfather's influence. Away from his wretched rules that prevented him from honor Danyal as he should. Mother had tried to hide her emotions away but when Grandfather had started talking about Damian like he did Danny those last few months and -well, Damian was an excellent assassin being the son of Talia Al Ghul and Bruce Wayne; two of the most resourceful people out there- he knew what her fear looked like in the forced steadiness of her hand as she lead him away, the sorrow in her brow. He knew his Grandfather would soon order him dead as well.

Mother had him pack his bag and took him to Father, one twin lighter than planned. His Father was nothing as expected. Damian had imagined someone like Mother, always calm and collected, her icy displeasure, her quiet pride. Batman was close to expectation, Bruce Wayne on the other hand was loud, emotive, emotionally compromised. Damian would've shrunk under his Father's attention that first meeting if not for his rigorous training. Anger, guilt, resentment all flew around the room. He kept the secret of his twin buried where it couldn't hurt anyone; he had seen Father's reaction to Damian, nothing good would happen if he told Bruce. The detective would surely push and pry until their secrets lay at his feet, once a mystery was presented to him Batman would stay on it until he was satisfied with the answers. The destruction would only be regretted in the aftermath.  

It was demeaning to allow his new family to think he lacked in his training but for those first few months with Danny saturating his thoughts Damian would turn to where Danyal would be at his elbow, would open his mouth to whisper in Arabic to share their secrets like they used to or he would leave his blind spots wide open, shame and grief had warred inside him for a long time. Damian had loved his little brother with everything he had and then he was gone- killed by his own hand at his Grandfather's request. The Waynes had given him this new family with assorted siblings overnight, and itmade him breathless to acknowledge that Danyal would never thrive in this warmth. 

(Danny had been a mischievous child, witty and too smart for his own good to the frustration of their teachers. Even if he fell short in martial arts and weapons training compared to his older brother, he was better at blending quietly into the shadows. The twins shared a fierce protectiveness between them of course but Danyal? Danyal was creative, had an inherent genius for tricks and traps. Danny who cried in their room after a mission but did not hesitate with those who disrespected Damian. The only evidence their teachers would find was the self-satisfied look on Danny's face, much to their anger. With no evidence to show Grandfather they were forced to be content with pushing them harder until one of them collapsed and then took glee in punishing the one who fell behind. (No matter how much Damian helped with Danyal's sword swings or his forms, his twin rarely beat him in a straight fight.) 

Danyal would crawl into his bed those nights seeking his twin's warmth in the cool desert night, and he'd fix Damian with this blazing look before shying away, moving his attention to Damian's hands he would trace every scar and callous until Damian drifted to sleep. Danyal would wake him before their trainer arrived and they'd steal a few quiet moments for themselves.

(The only time Damian woke before Danyal their hands were still between them entwined, his little hand was clutched tight-like Danyal was afraid of it being snatched away. Damian gave a little squeeze back and Danny's eyes fluttered open. When he saw Damian next to him his face stretched into Danny's true smile, soft, shy and sweet. A smile for Damian alone. He has started to forget what it looked like.)

Damian had been adrift in this new world away from the strict dogma the League required. The new rules he was expected to live by now were so different, he constantly wished Danyal was here for Damian to find some familiarity in. He was on an uncontrolled spiral those first months until he had given in to Richard's soft support. It had stung at first, to receive the affection that only Danny had given him in the past.

Richard was the one who noticed he was spending his free time sketching, dragged him out of the manor to give him his first bound sketchbook with charcoal and had beamed proudly the first time Damian allowed him to see it being used. Damian knew just how hard his brother loved their family, loved him. It was the only reason Damian quelled the urge to stab him, even if it was extremely tempting.

No, he must be intentional now. Strong in the face of what is sure to be murky doubt at Damian's claims. Tim had tried to run a paternity test with the blood from one of Danny's bandages Alfred had discarded- it came back with an error message about twenty minutes ago, but Tim was nowhere to be found. If he can bring Richard over to their side before the rest of their siblings or their father push their way into the batcave for answers, he'd manage to keep things relatively neutral while he argued his case.

Damian takes a deep breath strengthening his resolve. This is for Danyal, he will not misstep now with so much on the line.

If Damian fails to convince them, he will take Danny and run. Between the two of them no one would be able to find them unless they wished it to be so.

“Damian…” Dick says his name carefully, with as much feeling as he can, because he knows the shock of having his brother rise from the grave you buried him in. He aches that one of his siblings ever had to go through what he did. “ I think someone should be with you while we wait for him to wake up.”  

The sneer of disgust that overtakes Damian’s face at his words was expected and how familiar it was had Dick shoving aside the burst of fondness that it caused, and he cuts Damian off before he delivers what surely is a scathing reply.   

“I know you want to be by Danyal’s side, and I can see how much you love him…" Dick clears his throat when it threatens to close, he has to keep talking because this isn't just about Damian, this is about their baby brother that looked terrified under Damian's gaze in the warehouse. "You saw his injuries; I’m worried with how scared he was earlier Danyal may injure himself more if he feels overwhelmed.”

Damian’s eyes closed tightly against the agony that shot through his chest. He knew that. He didn’t need Richard’s reminder. For Danny to look at Damian with such terror, pleading with him- Damian has never hated himself more. He has no doubt this is truly Danyal, Damian knows clones don't carry scars, scars show the life you've lived, it's unique no way to replicate it. They were all there just like Damian remembered.

As heir Damian had to be cold and merciless in the League, he was used to those around him being afraid of his capabilities, of how easily he could snuff out their lives, at one point he had been proud of his Grandfather’s smile when he had heard his four-year-old grandson had taken down his trainer with ease. He had never been that way with Danyal, distant sure, he had to be under the League.

But now that he’s been away, had a chance to meet so many people he knew better. He never felt as alone as he does now, Dick besides him and Danyal resting close by. He never wanted to cause his brother such pain. Richard could be right, he was much more knowledgeable on feelings than Damian, who still stumbles on the finer intricacies of societal interactions. He.. He would do anything for his little brother and if that meant sending him far away from here, Damian would do it. Would help him escape Batman and Bruce Wayne who were both annoyingly persistent. The others.. he could convince, he had enough blackmail stored away for an important favor. It was enough knowing Danyal was alive. 

(No. He’s lying to himself. He’s so close to unraveling but will grit and bare it. It’s his responsibility, he always will look after Danyal. No matter the personal cost. He can practically feel Richard’s devastation from here; he’s sure his older brother is desperate to make this better, however he can. Damian won’t let him. He deserves Danyal’s fear, he was a murderer masquerading as a boy. A boy who in this moment aches to hold his little brother close like when they were kids. Beg his forgiveness and sob and marvel because his fear makes this real, his brother is alive. If Damian believed in miracles this would be his.)

He cannot afford to lose this head with Danny vulnerable in the next room, so he breathes a long breath through his nose again stubbornly not looking at Richard, keeps his eyes on his baby brother, watches his strange breathing rhythm raise and lower the sheets in reassurance his twin is still with him and turns his body towards Richard, a small concession.

"Danyal is my little brother, my twin." It's said slowly, Damian carefully controlled his tone, flat, to the point. Damian just had to get this report out, "When we were five Grandfather ordered that I lay claim my title as heir."

From the corner of his eye Damian can see Richard's smile tighten with tension in an effort to keep it there, now that Damian has started though he pushes past the guilt that has haunted him to finish, " I was superior in martial arts and weapons handling but I was too rigid, Danyal- he" Damian's throat is tight, like there is a rock in his throat, and he clears it quickly. "We excelled when we were together, he took to the things I had not. I knew I'd be Heir, being the eldest grandson. But-" He chokes and Richard makes an aborted motion to touch him. Thankfully he waits.

"But I knew he'd be my Shadow; We'd rule together as soon as I took my place at as the Demon Head... Until Grandfather made us duel." To the death goes unsaid but Damian could see the horrible realization breaking across Richard's face, so he turned his head to look at where the bats nest was among the stalactites. He could make out their mass if he looked hard enough. "Danyal threw himself onto my sword and I killed the person I promised to protect!" Damian pauses, and whispers into the air between them. "There was so much blood." It wavers in his mouth but doesn't break.

The truth burns as it's coming out. Damian got all the big things into the open, now he allows himself to fall into his elder brother's arms and weep. All his pain and regret soaking Richard's shoulder. His body is still sitting with Richard, but Damian is back in a time filled with sharp strikes, where punishment was to be embraced. Swords against whetstones. Legacies to be molded. Damian can hear the whoosh of leather through the air and on cold nights the scars on his back ache.

Damian shivers now in Richard's hold his breath clouding the space between them. Damian shoots straight out of Richard's arms as soon as he realizes it's not just his breath that's visible. The cave had gone from chilly to freezing in a flash. The temperature in the warehouse had dropped too, right before his twin came tumbling out of the sky. Something is wrong. In the time Damian had looked away something had begun to stir in the recovery room. The once steady if slow beating of his twin's heart now resembles an average heartbeat.

Energy pulses. Biting wind almost takes their feet off the ground. The lights burst, raining glass from the ceiling. Richard throws an arm around Damain and pulls him into one of those springy twists only he could do that brings them under some cover.

A shadow writhes in the dark of the recovery room and Damian struggles to free himself from Richard's grip. "Danyal!" He's becoming desperate. Danyal has to be alright. Damian cannot handle losing his baby brother again. Richard stays firm. "Let me go! Please he could be hurt." His voice cracks over the plead, he feels small. Small and helpless. Two things he swore that day he would never give into again.  

Running out of patience Damian swipes at him with a blade and when Richard yelps and releases his arm he rolls, pushing into a sprint once he drops. Only to stop cold a few feet from the door. Peeking up at him from the side of Danyal's bed are solid glowing green eyes.

Part Three 01/06/2024

#ddcwtxt #Keeping It Close To The Chest #ddcw.txt #daydreamsandcrashingwaves #dp x dc crossover #dc x dp #dc universe #batman #bruce wayne #jason todd #dick grayson #batfam #league of assassins #ras al ghul #Child abuse #physical abuse #child death tw #death tw #child murder #Shock #ptsd #guilt #supportive dick grayson #Good big brother Dick grayson #Dick Grayson and Jason Todd sibling relationship #child warriors #blood #danny and damian are twins #danny Fenton and Damian Wayne are twins #twin au

[tempe-brennans]

i get this feelin' i may know you (as a lover and a friend)

summary: the search for your father only serves to shine a light on your past. is it finally time to stop running from it?

author's note: so this is longer than i expected and probably too niche but i had fun with it. hope you enjoy <3

warnings: mentions of reader being beaten, implied smut, reader has some daddy issues, winter soldier!bucky, reader is sort of a black widow but not really, and i think that's it, but feel free to let me know if i missed anything!

word count: 5.7k (oops)

Every love story boils down to one simple fact in the end—two people have met that now find life unbearable without one another. Only occasionally does that fact mean the pair will live happily ever after. Only occasionally does love really win the day. Sometimes it simply ends.

It certainly did for you and Bucky.

In fact, looking back, you would say that falling in love with him had only ruined things.

x

His eyes are blue, the bluest you’ve ever seen. With his own mind—even traces of it—behind them, they are nothing less than piercing. You can’t help but wonder what they would look like with love shining in them.

“You will listen to the Soldier’s instructions to the letter, yes?”

You nod and the man smiles—a slow, sickening thing that makes your stomach twist.

“Good,” he murmurs. “Good.”

Then, he exits the room, leaving you alone with the most feared killer of this decade—any decade—the Winter Soldier.

x

Glass cuts through the skin of your knees like a knife through butter and you wince as you fall to the floor of Bucky’s living room.

Well, you hope it’s his living room.

The still bleeding wound in your side had clouded your judgement, but you were almost certain this was Bucky’s window.

You get to your feet, take in the room surrounding you. A picture of Bucky and his old friend Steve Roger’s sits on a bookshelf in the corner. There’s another man—the Falcon, you’re almost positive—with him in another photo, and you know you’re in the right place.

You ignore the glass crunching under your shoes and go in search of the bathroom.

“You could have called.”

You nearly jump out of your skin at the sound of the voice—at the sound of Bucky again, after so long.

“And, you’re going the wrong way. You’ll only find a snack in that direction.”

You blow out a breath, turn to face him.

“Could you stop being such a smart-ass for five seconds and help me?”

It’s sharper than you would usually be, but your side really hurts, and, besides, it’s not like he doesn’t deserve it.

It’s only then he seems to notice the blood soaking through your shirt and it springs him into action. He has your shirt rucked up and is cleaning the wound before you can think.

“You really could have called, you know,” he murmurs into the silence of his bathroom.

The first aid kit is splayed over his counter and he reaches for a needle. You wince in anticipation, though the sharp pain you expect never comes.

He always did have the gentlest touch.

“I didn’t want to bother you.” You look anywhere but at him, study a spot in the grout of his tile instead.

He quirks a brow. “So, you broke my window?” He clicks his tongue. “I thought I taught you better technique than that.”

You sigh, annoyed. “You were the first person I thought of, okay?”

You try to ignore what that says about you.

“S’okay,” he hums. “I was only teasing.”

“You kind of lost that privilege, don’t you think?” You grumble under your breath.

He ignores it, continues with the stitches.

While he’s busy, you take the opportunity to look at him—really look at him—for the first time since you’d crawled through his window.

“Your hair is shorter,” you murmur.

He hums. “Oh, yeah. I cut it.” He shrugs, continues to not meet your eyes. “Thought it would help me to feel like…me.”

You nod, let silence fall over the pair of you again.

“Are you gonna tell me what happened?”

You shake your head, the word no already on the tip of your tongue. Instead, something makes you tell him the truth.

“I was looking for my Dad,” you whisper.

He glances up at you, something like shock on his face. You’d posed the question, idly, back then—back when he knew you—but, you’d never been serious.

You were sure he was long dead if his life had been anything like your own.

“He’s alive?”

You nod. “I think so.”

“Do you need help?”

“No,” you answer, too quickly. “I’m fine.”

Bucky tilts his head at you, and you know he’s referring to the deep gash going over your middle.

“That was an accident.”

Bucky huffs a laugh, rises to his feet. “Of course it was.”

You find your own feet, feeling more steady than you had when you’d rushed over here—partly due to the juice Bucky had given you before he started working, and partly, you were sure, simply due to his presence.

It's an affect he had always had on you that you desperately wish had faded with time.

“I should get going then.” You don’t wait for a response, heading for the exit—his front door this time—before he can once again offer himself up.

He chases after you, mind six steps ahead, just like always. His hand curls around your wrist. “Listen…if you decide you want help. Or…” He shakes his head. “Or if you just want to talk. You know where to find me.”

You force a smile, friendly though every bone in your body says you shouldn’t be. “Thanks, Bucky.”

Then, you slip out his door, and, hopefully, out of his life one last time.

x

You sit on the floor—a spot you’ve always trusted to do your best thinking—and try to process things.

There’s a part of you that knows this journey is stupid—a little girl’s fantasy. That part is, usually, easy to quiet. Now, though, as you stare at the winding map of information before you, it’s the only voice you seem to hear.

Finally, eyes beginning to cross and words ceasing to make sense, you crawl into bed and pull the covers over your head. Even with everything you know you should be thinking about as you lay there waiting for sleep to take you, your mind only fills with thoughts of Bucky.

Against your will, he fills even your dreams.

It hurts. The pain is all you can think of as red begins to cloud your vision. Your mind goes fuzzy and you stop thinking as blows continue to land all over your body.

This is it, you say to yourself.

Just as you’ve accepted that thought, let yourself float away on a cloud and out of your own body, a flurry of shouting stops all the pain.

Strong arms curl around you, lift.

“You will be okay,” the voice of the Winter Soldier murmurs directly into your ear. “It is over now.”

The scene changes and you’re alone with him, as his tender fingers clean a gash along your thigh. He’s clinical in his movements, as though you don’t lie there half-naked.

You clear your throat, try to find your voice.

“You saved me.” It crackles with use, as though you haven’t spoken for a thousand years, but the Soldier meets your eyes.

“Yes.”

“Why?”

He looks at you, but says nothing. The look in his eyes almost makes you wonder who you’re talking to. There’s a softness there that had only begun to appear in the last few weeks—traces of who he was before Hydra broke him that only you had been allowed to see.

You still weren’t sure why.

“Sir, why did you do it?” You ask again, more insistent this time.

“Bucky,” he mumbles. “My name is Bucky.”

It sounds forced, like he’s trying to convince himself.

“Bucky,” you say, voice as clear and strong as you can muster. “Why did you save me?”

He stares at you. “Someone had to. Someone that…someone that cared.”

Then, he turns his attention back to your wounds, and the conversation is finished.

Again, the scene changes, and moments flash behind your eyelids rapid fire.

The day he first kissed you, the night he had cried in your arms, the day he told you he loved you, the night you had shown him how much you loved him—every moment over the course of those months you had spent together that had solidified the way you felt for one another. And, then, that last day, the way he had kissed you, slipped out of the tent to go into town and promised to return.

He never did.

You wake in a sweat, jolt up in bed. For a minute, you can still feel his hands—metal and flesh—and the way they had made you feel so safe. You take a shuddering breath, try to put yourself back into your skin, back into the moment you really live in.

Bucky doesn’t wait outside, he isn’t coming back, and the love you felt for him changed nothing.

You sigh, find your way out of bed.

You check your phone as your feet find the cold wooden floor and see a message.

Bucky: I could help, you know.

Bucky: You don’t have to do everything alone.

Bucky: I know you don’t trust me, but I wouldn’t let you down again. Let me know if you need me.

Need him? You scoff, even though you’re alone. You don’t need him.

You can’t help but want him, though.

You type out a reply, let him know where to meet you, and go about getting ready.

x

“Hi.”

You smile, nod at him. “Hi.”

“So,” he pauses, kicks at the ground beneath his feet. “This is weird, right?”

You shake your head. “Let’s not talk about that, okay?”

“But–”

“I said you could help, Bucky. I didn’t say we could talk about our past all day. If that’s all you wanted, you can go home.”

Bucky shakes his head, falls into step with you as you start walking. “No, that’s okay. I’ll help.”

x

The day is filled with touches that stop short, unsure of what’s allowed, and looks that you can’t define the meaning of.

After all of it, all you manage to come up with is the name of the old enforcer for Hydra.

Augustus Withers.

It only takes Bucky—with the help of his new wealthy friends and their technology—a few minutes to find he’s changed his name. Only a few more for you to leave a message on his answering machine asking to meet.

It's the end of the day when you and Bucky stand outside your hotel, try to figure out how to say goodbye to each other, when you finally say what you’ve wanted to for several hours.

“This was a bad idea.” You nod, trying to convince yourself, and Bucky. “Thanks for today, but you can go. I’ll work on my own.”

You start to walk away when he stops you cold.

“I know you loved me,” Bucky whispers, venom lacing his words. “I know you did.”

Your eyes go steely, you can see it in the way Bucky’s own change to match, all traces of affection you had seen there gone. “You weren’t exactly Romeo either, Barnes,” you hiss. “If I remember correctly, you left me. Love didn’t seem to matter to you then.”

“You think I wanted to?”

You choke out a laugh, turn on your heel to continue the walk into your hotel.

“I had to!” Bucky’s voice is loud, too loud in the public venue, and you turn on him again with a glare.

“You had to?”

Bucky closes the distance between the two of you with a few steps, only inches away from your face when he speaks again.

“You were hurt—still sick half the time from the pain—and I saw them.”

You tilt your head, the desire to hear his explanation too strong to ignore. “Saw who?”

“Hydra.”

You want to roll your eyes, tell him not to take the easy way out, but there’s something in his eyes—a trace of something from way back when, back when you knew him better than anyone else—that makes you believe him.

Your voice is nothing but a whisper when you ask, “Really?”

“Yes.” He nods. “Yes, honey.” You can tell he wants to reach for you, but he doesn’t. “I couldn’t go back, not and lead them right to you. So, I left. Jumped from town to town for months and finally lost them.” He shakes his head. “By then…I thought you’d be too mad at me for me to come back so I…didn’t.”

You remember one of the last things he had said to you, tangled together in a tent on a snowy hillside in a town neither of you remembered the name of.

“Loving you is the easiest thing I’ve ever done,” Bucky whispers. “It’s like…it’s only you and me, in the whole world, and we could do anything.”

“You could have,” you murmur, vulnerable in a way you had only ever been with him. “I would have let you.”

“Yeah?” He hums, quiet suddenly.

You nod. “Spent weeks waiting for you. Even later, when I’d moved on to a new place, I still half expected you to knock on my door.”

“I could…I could come up with you.” Bucky offers. “We could talk.”

Suddenly, the situation catches up with you and you step away from him. It’s too much, you reason, too much too fast.

You can’t.

“I should get to bed. It’ll be an early day tomorrow.”

Bucky nods, seems to realize you’ve shut down. “Okay.”

“See you then?”

He nods again, swallows. Part of you wants to comfort him, another, louder part of you knows you can’t.

You walk into the hotel, alone, and never turn back.

x

The bar is dingy, even in the middle of the day. Bucky’s hand finds the small of your back, guides you through the maze of empty chairs. The touch makes your skin trill with electricity, even through your shirt.

You ignore it.

Three men sit on barstools, several more play pool in the corner, but, you suspect the one you’re after sits at a table, alone—staring.

“Buck,” you murmur. “I think that’s him.”

“You sure?”

You nod. “I feel it.”

The pair of you cross the room, stand in front of his table.

You chance a question. “Joseph?”

He nods, a smile spreading across his face that immediately changes it from scary to that of an old man.

“That’s me.” He gestures to the seats surrounding him. “Please, sit.”

You do, and he starts to talk.

“My name was Augustus.” He shakes his head, quirks a brow. “Ma sure had a good sense of humor, hm? Named me after an emperor and I spent most of my life doing the bidding of men much more powerful than I was.”

Bucky, apparently eager to get him back on track, asks, “How did you get away?”

The man shakes his head, looks at you with sadness in his eyes. “It was the day your mama died that finally did it for me.”

You knew, logically, that something horrible had to have happened for the Red Room to get their hands on you. You knew your parents were probably dead—at least one of them. But, to hear it put so plainly, to know for sure, still takes your breath away, makes your heart stutter in your chest.

Bucky’s hand finds yours, squeezes. “You okay,” he murmurs.

You nod, a jerky thing that’s obviously a lie.

“How did she die?” You ask, though it feels like daggers slicing your skin.

“Me,” he says, simply. “I asked for forgiveness long ago—from God, the universe, whatever you want to call it—and it never really helped.” He nods, slowly. “No, I knew to really put it to bed, I’d have to ask you for forgiveness, knowing you might never give it to me.” He shrugs. “Wouldn’t blame you if you didn’t.”

You swallow, take a breath. You almost get up, spit in his face or choke him or kill him, right on the spot. A thousand scenarios run through your mind until you settle on a question.

“What happened?”

He heaves a sigh. “They wanted you real bad, but your daddy…no way he was giving you up.” He shakes his head. “That was where I came in. I solved things for them—that was my job. So, I watched your parents, waited for a day when your Mom was driving.” He pauses, then explains, “I thought she’d be less likely to look at who was tailing her. And I ran her off the road.” He takes a breath, lost in a memory. “I knew she was dead when I saw her, the impact…” He trails off. “But, your daddy, he was just knocked out. So, I worked quick—got you out of your car seat and drove away before he was any wiser.” He shakes his head, something like a chuckle leaving his lips. “You know, I’ve waited for him to show up on my doorstep, take his pound of flesh, but he never has.” The man stops, takes a drink from his beer. “I gave you to them, and then I left—slipped into different cities and identities until they just…stopped looking.”

You can’t breathe, heart thudding wildly beneath your ribs.

“I’m so sorry.” He reaches out to touch your hand, but stops short. “You deserve to know the truth. It’s just not fair it has to be me to tell it to you.”

“Is my dad alive?”

The man nods. “Far as I know.”

“Do you know where he is?”

He shrugs. “I’d suspect he’s not too far away from you.”

“Wh-what?”

The man leans forward. “If I knew your father at all—and I did get to know him, at least partly—if he knows you’re alive, he’s watching over you.”

Too overwhelmed to keep sitting there, you excuse yourself to go to the bathroom.

A place to hide.

You look at yourself in the mirror, splash water on your face.

Your mother died for you. Your father, maybe, watches and waits.

“I’ll find you,” you murmur. “You don’t have to hide from me.”

You speak almost as if he can hear you.

Maybe he can.

x

Walking back, you stop short, hide behind the nearest wall, when you hear the two men still talking.

“You in love with her?”

Bucky sputters on what you assume is his drink. “What?”

You hear the other man sigh.

“Sometimes, people stick with you, you know?”

Peeking around the cold brick, you see Bucky nod.

“It’s like…like when you’re walking and it starts to snow,” the man explains. “Suddenly, the cold seeps into your bones and everything looks the same. You can’t move. People—they’re snowstorms sometimes. They leave you there, stranded and stuck, and you have to find your way out. You have to forgive them.”

You just barely see Bucky shake his head in the darkness of the bar.

“It wasn’t like that…not with us.”

The man shrugs. “So you were the storm.” He leans back in his chair, takes a long drink of his beer. “The point remains the same, son. Forgive yourself—and maybe she will, too.”

You take the break in conversation as an opportunity to return to your chair.

“I miss anything?”

Both men shake their heads, but Joseph is the only one who answers you.

“Nothing worth repeating.” He smiles.

You all say goodbye to each other, and you leave Joseph with as much forgiveness as you can provide.

Not enough, you’re almost positive.

x

Bucky walks beside you, the pair of you knocking into each other on every other step.

You don’t mind.

“You still smell like the bar.”

Laughter, then, “That bad?”

“No.” Bucky shakes his head. “Like liquor and…smoke. Winter.” He shrugs, then murmurs, “I like it.”

You quirk a brow, slow to a stop as you reach the front door of the hotel. “Yeah?”

He nods, a strange look on his face.

You’d almost call it love.

“It was nice to see you today,” you whisper.

“You, too.”

“Tomorrow?”

He smiles, a soft thing. “Tomorrow.”

x

You’re still trying to figure out how you’ve managed to learn so many sad truths today and still stay upright as your door closes behind you. For just a minute, you lean against it, think of your mother, of Bucky, how everything seems intertwined.

You might be falling in love with him all over again.

It’s then that a voice cuts through the dark.

“Hi, honey.”

You jump out of your skin, reach blindly for the light switch. A man sits at the tiny desk, fingers absently rubbing over a photo of your mother you’d found in a newspaper last year—a picture from back when she was a dancer.

Back before you got her killed.

“I’d appreciate it if you didn’t touch that. You’ll…you’ll ruin it.”

“Oh?” He asks, almost unaware of what you mean. “Oh! Yes, sure.” He puts the photo down and stands.

“Who are you?”

“You don’t recognize me?” He shakes his head. “I don’t expect you to, I suppose. You were only five.”

Then, his features begin to fall into place, years fall away, and you realize the hazy picture of the man you remembered from childhood is standing in front of you.

“Dad?”

“Sweetie.”

You cross the room, hug him before you can think twice. His arms wrap around you, strong in their embrace, even though he has to be nearing sixty.

“Oh, I missed you.”

You pull back to look at him. “You…you really were around all this time?”

He nods. “I saw you had talked to Augustus and…I thought you deserved to hear how it happened for me.”

“Okay.” You sit on the bed, cross-legged like a little kid. “I’m listening.”

He takes his seat at the desk once again, though this time, he scoots the chair closer to you, and begins to speak.

“Your mom…” He trails off, shakes his head. You can see he’s lost in memories you can only imagine, so you wait. “She was beautiful,” he whispers, finally. “And perfect.” He meets your eyes. “You look just like her.”

You chuckle, duck your head. “Thank you,” you murmur, quiet, hoping not to disrupt the spell he seems to be under.

“That day…” he stops, swallows around what must be a lump in his throat. “She was gone before she could know what happened to her…to you. I woke up alone and I knew whatever running we had done was for nothing.”

“Not for nothing.” You shake your head. With what could only be described as blind faith, you reach out and place your hand over his, squeeze. A gesture you hope offers comfort, though it comes from someone almost like a stranger.

“No.” He smiles. “Not for nothing, I suppose.”

There’s quiet for several long moments and your skin practically vibrates with the desire for him to speak again, for him to tell you stories—anything—that paints a picture of your life before the Widows.

Finally, he shakes his head. “I couldn’t save you from it—the fear, the pain—none of it.” A soft smile spreads across his face. “Someone did, though.”

As you think of Bucky—all he did for you—you can’t help but smile yourself. “Yes.”

He nods, doesn’t pick at you for more of the story. Somehow, he seems to understand there isn’t anymore you’re willing to say.

Instead, he shrugs. “I stayed in the shadows and looked for you. The day I realized you were free…out on your own…I made a promise to myself—and your mother—to always look out for you.”

Your father turns towards you, moves to take your hands in his own. “I never left you, you know.” He shakes his head. “You were never alone. Not really. Not for one minute.”

There’s a desperation in his voice—a desperation to be taken seriously, to know you believe him—that makes you nod, smile at him.

“I’m safe, Dad.” You nod. “I am.”

“You are, aren’t you.” He smiles, but it quickly falls. “The Red Room is gone, I know that, but Hydra isn’t—not entirely. Looking for me with Bucky, it’s a dangerous game. They’d take him—maybe you, too—in a second.”

You nod. “I know.”

He rises to his feet. “I should go.”

“Really?”

He nods, leans forward to kiss your forehead. “You’ll see me again, soon. I won’t hide anymore.” He looks you in the eye. “I promise, baby.”

You nod. “Alright.”

He leaves you with a phone number, and then he slips out your front door as easily as he had appeared.

x

You wake the next day to insistent knocking on your front door. For a minute, last night feels like a dream—something you can’t get your fingers around—but, somehow you know it was real.

You run a hand over your face, cross the room to look through the peephole.

You find Bucky.

Pulling the door open you say, “Hi, Bucky. Isn’t it early?”

He chuckles. “Not really.”

You turn around, look at the clock on your nightstand.

10:00 pm flashes at you in angry red numbers.

“Oh.” You sigh. “I’m sorry. Last night was…weird. I must have just fallen asleep.”

“It’s okay.” He shakes his head. “You just…you hadn’t answered any calls or texts.” He shrugs. “I was worried.”

“I’m okay.” You laugh. “Just tired, I guess.”

He nods, chuckles. “I’ll go then.”

“Hey, Bucky,” you call before he can get too far.

“Yeah?”

“It’s New Year’s Eve,” you murmur, hoping the nerves in your voice aren’t as evident to him as they are to you.

Somehow, you know they are.

“I was thinking…you could stay?” There’s a question there, something you would almost call hope.

It takes Bucky only a moment to reply, “Of course.”

x

You put one of those New Year’s shows on television, if only to see the ball drop.

You can’t remember the last time you watched it with someone.

Takeout containers sit abandoned on the desk as you crawl across the bed to sit next to Bucky. It’s familiar, this closeness, and you allow yourself to admit how much you’ve missed it.

It's not long now until midnight—ten minutes at the most—and the room feels charged in a way it hadn’t moments ago.

You’re acutely aware of the feeling of Bucky’s thigh against yours, acutely aware of the steady pulse of his breathing.

On the television, Auld Lang Syne plays, an old song for a new year and you feel…alive.

“C’mere, baby,” Bucky hums. “Come here and kiss me. Please.”

“Bucky…”

“Let’s forget. If only for tonight,” he says. “Let’s forget it all and be the people we used to be.”

You close the distance between the pair of you before he can say anything else.

x

Later, Bucky runs gentle fingers up and down your arm. “Would it…would it really be so bad if we fell in love again?”

“You think we could?” you whisper. “You think you could fall in love with me again?”

“It would be easy.” Bucky nods. “Especially considering I never really stopped.”

You lean up on your elbow, search his eyes. You find only truth. “Bucky…”

“Honey, that’s the truth,” he murmurs. “I knew you even when I didn’t know myself.”

You smile, rest your head on his chest once again. “You were my best friend until…”

You feel the way his heart jumps.

“I forgot all of it,” Bucky murmurs. “The pain, the ending. Your lips tasted just like home.”

x

You wake alone—the first sign something is wrong.

Bucky had never let you wake up after without holding you.

“Bucky?”

It’s not a big room, so it’s obvious he’s not there. The light isn’t even on in the bathroom.

It’s only when you get out of bed that you see the disheveled mess that is the nightstand on Bucky’s side—a knocked over lamp, scratched up wood.

It makes your blood go cold.

You call the first person you can think of.

x

“You only have to ask, baby,” he says. “I would do anything for you.”

Though you’ve only just been reintroduced, something in his eyes shows you he’s telling the truth.

“Daddy,” you mumble, tears threatening to break your voice. “Please, help me find him. Help me save him.”

He leans over, kisses your head. “Of course, baby.”

x

It’s only a few hours later that you find yourself circling the block around an abandoned warehouse.

“This is it?”

Your father nods. “Hydra took it over years ago. It’s their only local operation. If they took him anywhere, it’s here.”

You reach for the door handle as your dad does the same.

You shake your head. “You don’t have to–”

“No. I lost you once. I’m not losing you again.”

He looks at you and you can see there’s no room for argument.

You can’t help it, you lean across the center console and hug him.

“Thank you.”

He kisses your cheek. “What else are dads for?”

x

You watch from behind a wall—not so differently than you had a few days ago—as they release Bucky’s restraints.

It’s a halfway sort of operation, and you’re hoping they haven’t had time to turn him into their strongest weapon once again when you run across the room, thoughtless to the danger and mindlessly without a plan.

“Stop!”

A man laughs. “The perfect opportunity to test our new Solider.”

With a word, Bucky has his sights set on you.

Love had saved you way back then, when Bucky had fought through his own mind to get you out alive, and now, you would use it to save him.

He had never let you down—not on purpose—and you weren’t about to leave him.

Even if it killed you.

You dodge his fist. “You love it when I play with your hair! You used to let me braid it!”

Another fist.

“I held you the night your mind came back to you—all of it. I watched you cry and come apart and I held you all night.”

Nothing.

“You saved me, you know. In all the ways a person can save another.” You shake your head, swallow tears you don’t have time for. “You took care of me and I took care of you and we fell in love, Bucky! We fell in love and I still love you. I never stopped loving you.” A blow lands against your cheek and it throws you off balance. You glare at him. “I know you’re still in there. I know you still love me.”

You dodge and duck and rattle off memories as quickly as you can until he catches up with you. Flesh fingers curl around your throat—the fact he didn’t use his metal ones gives you the slightest hope you’re getting through to him.

“Baby,” you gasp. “Baby, please.” You look in his eyes, only his eyes, hoping the sight of yours will help him come back. “I know it’s hard, but you have…you have to…have to fight it. Please.” As you lose air, you stop making sense. You can see the black encroaching on the edges of your vision and you scratch wildly at his arm, his chest, anywhere you can reach. “Bucky! Bucky! Bucky!” His name—his real one—the only thing you can say.

Your eyes flutter closed, and you miss the flash of recognition in Bucky’s, the way his fingers finally loosen, as it all goes to black.

x

You wake in a bed that isn’t your own. You’ve gotten so used to scratchy hotel sheets, the cotton under you is obvious. You look around and your eyes land on your father, hunched over, asleep in the chair next to you.

There’s a softness to him that makes you want to care for him, awakens an urge you imagine lives in all daughters.

“Daddy?” You croak, voice still fighting use after…what was it again?

“Daddy,” more insistent this time. He jars, eyes flitting around before they land on you.

“Baby,” he hums. “You’re back.”

“What happened?”

The door creaks open, and in walks Bucky.

It all suddenly comes back to you in a flood.

“Bucky?” Your voice is tentative. “Are you…okay?”

He nods. “You shouldn’t be worrying about me.”

“Of course I’m worried.”

Bucky sighs, sits in the chair on the other side of your bed.

“You don’t need to be.” He looks at you. “Whatever they did didn’t take. Shuri checked while you were sleeping.” He shrugs. “I’m fine.” There’s a sadness in his eyes. “I’m just sorry I did that to you.”

You reach out, take his hand in yours. “You didn’t do anything,” you murmur. “Nothing at all.”

Something like a grin spreads across his face. “I love you,” he hums.

“I love you, too.”

It’s the easiest thing in the world to say—and the truest.

He leans over, hands careful not to put weight on you, and presses a kiss to your lips.

For a moment, you had thought you’d never have this again, and you squeeze his forearm, feeling so lucky.

He pulls away, the way a magnet acts when pulled away from its twin, and sits down once again.

His fingers intertwine with yours and they don’t let go.

Your father leans over, kisses you on the forehead, and says, “I’m so glad I didn’t lose you.”

You smile at him. “You’ll never lose me. Not again.”

Then, belatedly, a question enters your mind. “What happened to the rest of the Hydra guys?”

Bucky chuckles, glances at your father. “Someone had called Steve, and wouldn’t you know, the Avengers showed up not long after you passed out.”

You laugh, relieved and amused. “I’m sorry I missed that.”

Your dad laughs. “You missed Sam tackling Bucky—before he knew he was okay, and all—but, still, it was…it was pretty funny.”

Apparently, while you’ve been asleep, the two men in your life had become friends. Go figure.

You look at them both, the two people you love most in the world, the people who had kept vigil at your bedside, and you can’t help but smile, feeling incredibly grateful for second chances.

#james bucky barnes x reader #james bucky barnes #bucky barnes fluff #bucky barnes x reader #rebeccawrites

[primroserising]

Giving the Pretty Little Liars characters a Big Three... Pt. 1

"Friends share secrets. That's what keeps us close."

MATURITY RATING: 18+

SPOILER WARNING: If you haven't watched most of the show then this post may not be for you!

Hi all, this is my first post on Tumblr and I wanted to do something silly. I'm an astrology enthusiast but by no means a professional. Yes, some of my opinions or observations may be wrong or some people might not like them at all, but that won't stop me from making the fun posts I want to make.

Pretty Little Liars has always been my go-to comfort show when I want to watch a drama. I'm always happy to dive back into the PLL universe any time of the year, and I usually watch it during the fall/winter season when it's cold and I can bundle up and binge-watch many episodes at a time.

I will be including the less popular characters in part two as well, not just the main characters because I've rewatched the show over five times now and I've come to have an opinion on everyone. I'll also include some little tidbits in some character sections that don't pertain to astrology, so if you're here just for the big three, kindly disregard them!

WARNING: Really long post, with lots of gifs and pictures - read at your own risk!

Dividers by: cafekitsune

And now, without further ado, the first little Liar we will be analyzing is...

Aria Montgomery

“When you love someone, it's worth fighting for. No matter what the odds are.”

In my opinion, Aria is the quietest personality of the Liars and understandably also the most controversial of the bunch because of Ezra being a thing (oh brother…), and I have observed that many fans of the show generally don't like her for a multitude of reasons. That aside, I think every character on the show had their personal charm even if they were all problematic. The only time I really liked Aria was when she was with anyone but Ezra. And after the time jump, her character was less annoying (until she got with Ezra) and I thought it was neat that she had worked in publishing. I also liked her moments with Spencer (team Sparia!) and I always thought she was much better when she was with her friends.

I remember when I thought Aria was A at some point because she would do the "SHH" in the intro and it had sent me and my mom into a frenzy trying to come up with a believable theory that she was betraying the girls the whole time! Aria is my least favorite, but I still appreciate her because I can see a lot of myself in her, she and I share the same hobbies and some personality traits as well. I think Aria might either be a Venus or Neptune dominant because of the artistic and dreamy persona she has. Her appearance also reminds me of the moon.

Cancer Sun

Much like a Cancer, Aria cares a whole lot about her family and I think she's particularly close with her mother. Throughout the show, she displays lots of Cancerian traits and acts very maternal around her loved ones especially with Ezra (ugh), for example: bringing them food, making sure they're taken care of emotionally, giving them a safe space to talk about their feelings (I noticed she's usually the one that the rest of the Liars go to when they need to have an emotional conversation). She's also very bright and has many creative hobbies that act like a protective blanket for her when she's feeling emotional, e.g. reading, writing, drawing, and photography. I also noted that she's very protective of her friends and family and she acts like an angry mama bear when her loved ones are threatened.

Libra Moon

From what I've read, Libra moons thrive in partnerships, whether romantic or platonic, and they always try to keep everything balanced/harmonious. And for Aria, that sometimes means keeping secrets or telling little white lies (or even big ones) to keep the peace between her and her loved ones. There've been multiple times when Aria has lied for her friends and for herself to keep everything balanced between the group. She's also very intelligent and open-minded, made evident by her consistent interest in learning.

Libra moons also have trouble making decisions or making up their mind about things, and they often need a little nudge or push from their loved ones to make a decision and I think that matches up with attributes of Aria's personality as well. She's also very warm, friendly, and sociable and really just wants the best for her loved ones. And if I remember correctly Aria has had a looooot of relationships/flings throughout the show and I read somewhere that Libra moons are almost always in a partnership. And sometimes (this isn't every Libra moon, don't come for me) might start a new romance in the middle of their current one!

Okay, moving on to her Ascendant, I will go with...

Gemini Rising

I put Gemini rising for Aria because I read somewhere that mercurial risings or mercury contacting the ascendant can make someone look very youthful and bright. Also because she is a very mercurial coded person imo. She is very intellectual and has very quick wits about her. She's also very curious and excitable when speaking to others, and is actually very talkative when you get her going. Sometimes Gemini risings also get overwhelmed with the feeling of wanting or needing to do everything at once, and often have two personalities much like I observed with Aria. They also tend to like traveling and are usually very active and thrive on change, fast pace, and variety.

Okay, we're done with Aria, I hope the placements I gave her also make sense for you guys too - now the next little Liar we're moving on to is... *drumroll*

Spencer Hastings “Why enjoy today when you could be worrying about tomorrow?”

Spencer is one of my favorite characters on the show because every time I watch the show she constantly inspires me to be brave and more confident in my opinions. I also appreciate the actress, Troian Bellisario because she's so underrated, I think she and Ashley Benson (Hanna) carried the show with their comedic timing and great acting and should be more recognized. Spencer's character also really satisfies the wannabe detective in me and I looove that she's like a mini Sherlock Holmes. I like that she wasn't just a preppy rich girl and was actually very smart and investigative; she would've made a great detective if she went into the line of policework like Toby did. She's also very headstrong and sometimes a bit hardheaded.

Spencer is such a caffeine addict and I love it lmao but I don't see how some people drink just straight black coffee, I hate how bitter it is. I love Spoby (Spencer and Toby) with all my heart but I feel like she would've been a better match with Caleb or Alex (if they kept him on the show). She was also very cute with Wren (rip...) even though he was a little older than her. Toby is a great guy but I just never saw the chemistry with those two like I did with her other romances. Spencer being Mars and Mercury dominant makes a ton of sense to me. I think her having a fire grand trine in her fictional birth chart would explain how restless she is. From what I've read the keywords for fire grand trines are vital, bursting with energy, restless, enthusiastic, and prideful.

Aries Sun

Spencer being an Aries sun makes a lot of sense to me partially because of how hard she works to be the very best and is always charging headfirst into everything that she does whether it be schoolwork, playing detective, or protecting her friends. She's also very impulsive from what I've noticed and it often gets her into trouble or sometimes accidents. Aries placements are prone to accidents or injuries due to their impulsiveness. She never really thinks much before she does something and that's gotten her into some very embarrassing situations on the show (but we love her for it). She's very competitive and witty and also loves debating and is usually the one starting confrontations with people alongside Hanna. I also think it's cute that she is very energetic and an adrenaline junkie, I think she loves the thrill of dangerous situations, and that screams Aries to me. Overall a very chaotic and smart cookie, it's very easy to see why Toby fell in love with her.

For her moon sign, it was a tough decision to make but I'm going to have to go with...

Scorpio Moon

Scorpio Moons are so alluring, mysterious, and unbelievably smart. Spencer can be very intense. On multiple occasions, she's gotten called out for being a control freak by the other Liars in the group. As a fixed moon sign she can be very stubborn and assertive (I almost gave her Taurus for this one). She has an insatiable need to know everything at all times and often presses for more information any chance she can get. She also displayed exceptional intuition and was almost a little psychic at times which is why she was so good at being the detective of the group and also figured Mona out. She's a suspicious girlie and finds it hard to trust anyone that she doesn't already know. As a Scorpio moon and just a water moon in general, Spencer often experiences intense emotions and is prone to having breakdowns or self-destructing when things get hard. To people outside of her close circle of friends and family, she can seem very intimidating and hard to approach and even sometimes a bit snappy.

For her rising sign, we're giving her a...

Sagittarius Rising

I was going to give Spencer a Capricorn or Virgo Rising, but I decided that her being perceived as a Sagittarius would make more sense. She has a love for new adventures and exploration (prob why she snoops into places where she doesn't belong smh), and is quite curious. She also has a love for languages and I think it was pretty cute that she offered to tutor Toby in French, it reminded me of someone saying that Sagittarius loves learning different languages and teaching as well. Spencer is also very honest and direct in her communication though she has been known to be very humorous and sarcastic when it's called for. She speaks her mind freely and doesn't care what other people think about her opinions and she loves taking risks like they're a piece of candy or something. Also isn't afraid to call someone out on their bullshit or correct them if she feels the need to do so. She is skilled in verbal combat and isn't afraid to whip out some badass comebacks!

With Spencer out of the way, we have three more main characters to go, so let's get into...

Emily Fields

“Ruin one of us, ruin all of us.”

Emily is such a sweetheart omg. I loved how soft she was compared to the other girls even though she saw it as a weakness. I see a lot of myself in her character and she helped me become a little more confident in who I was. She was always in my top three for favorite characters for this show because I could see myself being really close friends with her. She didn't deserve all the trauma she got from Alison constantly toying around with her but I do think it made her somewhat stronger in the end. I am however still a little salty that despite all that, she and Alison still ended up being together but it looks like they might've been in a rocky situation if we go off with what The Perfectionists (what even was that show anyway) told us about the original couples of PLL.

I was so sad when Wayne died. RIP. He was such a great father figure for her and I liked that he was accepting of her. Her mom on the other hand was a mess for a while but I think she became better as the seasons went on too.

Emily and Maya were the sweetest couple and I was so sad when we got the news that Maya died. I feel like they were truly soulmates and even though Emily found other girls, I don't think she ever loved anyone as much as she loved Maya. Except maybe Alison.

I wish we got more of Emily dancing or doing more activities besides just swimming. It didn't make sense to me that she was the "jock" character but the only thing she really did was swim and that was about it. I could see Emmy doing soccer or tennis imo.

Pisces Sun

Emily is shy and soft-spoken and she almost reminds me of a mermaid which is really funny since she's known for being the swimmer of the group. She's very romantic, compassionate, friendly, artistic, and intensely empathetic which is why her being a Pisces sun fits the bill perfectly. A kind and gentle soul, I think her soft disposition is very valuable to the Liars and she is often there to provide emotional or moral support when the girls need it. She's also the most likely of them to cry if she saw a cute animal or something that reminded her of her childhood. I know that's sort of specific but still it's true. She also loves to dance and is pretty good at it imo (even though no one knew until that fateful episode with Hanna's pageant training...).

Taurus Moon

Emily's emotions are honestly very stable and fixed; and when she is in partnerships she is able to stick to them (usually). She loves connections and is able to charm anyone she sets her eyes on. Em is very trustworthy and loyal to her loved ones and honestly has very good taste when it comes to style and decoration. She is very persistent and determined with anything she takes on and doesn't appear to have a lot of patience for flaky, or people who create a lot of drama in her life. She is almost always very patient with her friends, family, as well as herself and I think that's a very admirable quality to have. I think the Liars needed her because she can be very dependable and loyal. Taurus moons can also be more responsive than active and that's sometimes why they can come off as passive or immovable.

Emily's ascendant is...

Cancer Rising

I gave her a Cancer rising because Emily's aura is so soft and angelic and she gives the best hugs. If PLL was a supernatural drama, I think Emily would definitely have healing powers or be a literal angel with how sweet she is. Everyone always views Emily as the weakest link or the least likely to do any harm to anyone and I think that's because she has such a soft disposition to the point where people think she's a pushover. As a Cancer rising she sometimes takes things personal and does have a bit of a mean streak but I think her Taurus moon helps keep her grounded most of the time when it comes to her emotions. I see Emily as very supportive and tenacious, the girl's been through a lot and she still shines as brightly as she did in the first few episodes of PLL. Also her skin sometimes appears to be moon-kissed and she looks so good in silvers and blues so that's another reason why I gave her a Cancer ascendant.

Woo, that was a doozy. Stealing the show is...

Hanna Marin

"Fool me once, shame on you. Fool my best friend, you're dead freakin' meat."

Hanna Banana is also another character that is very near and dear to my heart. I appreciated her character so much and I'm glad she wasn't just a "dumb blonde" like some characters thought she was. She was actually very smart and if Spencer wasn't the brainiac of the group I think Hanna would've at least been runner-up. I have so much in common with Hanna's character and I appreciate her so much - she's definitely one of the most memorable characters on the show and I also think she had some of the best lines. From saying, "Please, Jenna can't hear us, she's blind," to "Read her boobs, the girl loves Christmas." She's always cracked me up and I think she's so entertaining to watch. I also loved her character development throughout the seasons but got a little disappointed with the Caleb x Hanna x Spencer triangle that happened in the later season and it kind of annoyed me.

Hanna and Caleb are my favorite couple in the series although I really liked Spencer and Caleb too. I was torn apart with that whole love triangle storyline and it broke me. I like that Hanna decided to become a fashion designer. I guess her love for shoes, pretty dresses and fashion really paid off lmao. A part of me kind of wonders what kind of couple Hanna and Lucas would've been although I really loved their friendship, too.

Leo Sun

Hanna is definitely a fire sign through and through, and I almost gave her Sagittarius because her actress, Ashley Benson is one, but I think Hanna's personality and overall character fits a Leo more than anything. She definitely has a very bright and sunny disposition and radiates a confident aura to those she is around. Hanna loves shopping and she loves sparklies; good shoes, pretty dresses, eye-catching jewelry that reflects the bold, charismatic and fierce personality she has. It's no reason why she was known as the popular queen bee of the school after Alison's disappearance. Leo suns love to be admired and they bask in the compliments when they look and feel good. On the negative side they can be very self-absorbed or narcissistic and Hanna's definitely had her moments. While she is usually confident and well put together, Hanna is a soft and sensitive person deep down and can have some insecurity issues. I also believe that past Hanna (when Alison was still around) embodied a undeveloped Leo sun and after Alison she started gradually shifting into a more developed Leo sun and I think that's made more evident when Caleb rolled around.

Hanna's moon sign is...

Cancer Moon

This is so generalized and cliche but since Hanna has a beautiful, unbreakable bond with her mother and I wholeheartedly believe Hanna would do anything for her mother, just as Ashley (her mom) has shown that she'd do anything for her. Hanna cares a lot about her loved ones and seems to turn into this bright ball of sunshine whenever she is around them. I think she's an amazing friend to have and anyone that knows her is very lucky to have her. As a lunar Cancer she can be a little moody and sometimes snaps at people when she feels overwhelmed, but on the other side she can be very empathetic and has a reliable intuition or "gut feeling" which has helped her on multiple occasions. In relationships and friendships she can lean towards being maternal and sometimes unintentionally smothers the people she's closest to. I think Hanna is generally very sweet and her helping Caleb come into his own was a very beautiful story and really spoke to her character. She also has a strong lifeline to her past, like all Cancer placements, and her past often haunted her - but I think talking about it with Dr. Sullivan really helped her get over a lot of things that happened with Alison.

Aries Ascendant

Hanna has always given me Aries vibes. She sometimes acts before she thoroughly thinks things through and that's definitely gotten her into a lot of trouble. Like any other fire placement, her temper can go from zero to one hundred pretty quickly and it can be scary when she's mad. It's often hard for Hanna to sit still or contain her emotions; it's usually written all over her face. She's always moving around and if others get left in the dust, that's their problem. Part of the reason why she worked so well with Caleb was because they balanced each other out. He was more calm and a little more rational and always had to talk her out of being rash or talk her out of doing something completely stupid due to her emotions being high. I think she's also pretty clumsy and her bumping into people (and sometimes impulsively kissing them lmao) or things a lot is an Aries or Mars conjunct ascendant type motif for me. I think her and Spencer sometimes butt heads because of the sun - rising connection and them being a little too similar in that way.

And now for the OG queen bee herself. We'll be analyzing...

Alison DiLaurentis

"It's immortality, my darlings."

Alison, Alison, Alison. She was such a problematic character but I loved her in the flashbacks. I think when she came back her character and charm really started declining and it's kinda sad. But nonetheless, Alison was obviously the big talk of the show for a reason. She was the kind of person you loved to hate or hated that you loved her and I think Sasha Pieterse really slayed her role. Alison had everyone in the town wrapped around her little finger and it took the girls quite a while to get away from her grip. I think Alison would definitely destroy Regina George in a battle and probably some other popular mean girls too. I enjoyed watching PLL because I was so obsessed with finding out what happened to Alison, and when we finally found her and got to know what really happened that night I started sympathizing with her character. I think deep down, she was probably a very sweet person but over time became corrupted and tucked her soft side away where no one would ever find it because all of the trauma and terrible situations she went through. This is probably gonna be a longer analyzation, we'll see.

Alison and Emily were not my favorite couple at all but I appreciated how Emily was a very evident soft spot for her and it showed a bit of her emotional, human side. I think Mona and Alison would've made pretty good friends if they didn't get off to such a rocky start. They're honestly so much alike and I feel like if Alison wasn't such a bitch to Mona in the beginning she would've had no reason to run away from Rosewood in the beginning like girl.

I don't really think Alison had one decent romantic interest besides that one cop that everyone forgot about. And I guess Emily.

Scorpio Sun

Being a water sign, Scorpios can be very intense and have a magnetic aura around them as well. Everyone either wanted to be with Alison or be Alison herself. Despite Alison always being the center of attention and the apple of everyone's eye, no one really knew that much about her, not even her friends. Scorpios are known to be extremely private, or even secretive about what they truly think or feel. A developed Scorpio can be known to be creative, healing, transformational, loyal, determined, intimate, and overall very passionate in everything that they put their mind to. Alison spent most of her teenage years being an underdeveloped Scorpio; constantly manipulating and cruelly criticizing people, even her friends. She also had a very sharp tongue and wasn't afraid to bring out her claws.

She knew everyone's secrets and had no problem using those secrets against them and boy did she do a hell of a lot of blackmailing. Alison was very vindictive and quite destructive as well, and I believe she had what could only be called the opposite of a Midas touch; everything she touched always became cold and she would often suck the life out of the people closest to her so she could feel better about herself. She only became more developed as the seasons went on, and I'm sure in a world where Marlene King didn't write that horrible storyline between Ali and Emi we would've seen more of that character development from Alison.

Capricorn Moon

I've put a lot of thought into this and I think Alison may or may not be a Capricorn moon. With all the trauma and obstacles she had to endure, she always found a way to get right back up and try, try again. She strove to be successful in everything that she tried to do with her life and actually acquired a mass amount of wisdom from all of her experiences which I think would've made her a great counselor if they had went that route with her instead of just making her a teacher. Having the moon in detriment, where Cancer is one of the most sensitive and responsive, Capricorn is usually more controlled, disciplined, and strategic. Sometimes they can even be unemotional, and it often looks like Alison turned her humanity off like the vampires do in The Vampire Diaries. Dry humor and sarcasm are often the go-to deflection mechanism for Capricorn moons when they are dealing with uncomfortable feelings from themselves or other people.

Alison was a bit of a pessimist and often slipped into moods where she was very hard on herself and felt like she was stuck or had to be the person everyone remembered her to be. But I think Emily (and her friends, but especially her) was the light at the end of the tunnel for Alison with how nurturing and patient she was. Emily might've gotten mad at Alison and there were times where she couldn't deal with her anymore but I don't think Emily ever gave up on Alison and that probably meant a lot to her as a Cap moon and I think their relationship was a good example of a Capricorn-Cancer connection. Also put Capricorn moon because of Alison's mother being very strict and not very nurturing at all - often a very karmic connection.

Aquarius Rising

Aquarius risings are known for being unique, intellectual, individualistic and having a "freaky" or weird personal quality about them that just makes them stand out. Ali definitely had a thing for books and seemed to be very knowledgeable even though it appeared she never cared that much for school. Aquarius placements are unapologetic for the way that they are and are confident in themselves. Cliché, but where the crowd goes left, Aquarius risings go right - they walk to the beat of their own drum and some of them might even have a god complex. As a fixed air sign ruled by Saturn, they can be aloof like Aquarius moons and self-righteous like some Aquarius suns. Alison had a very hard time admitting when she was wrong and having a predominantly fixed chart she was also very stubborn and controlling as well. On a lighter note, Alison did always constantly show up her friends and Aquarius risings are known for being committed to community and being humanitarians - but only to the people that they choose. Even while she had been on the run from Mona, she came back to Rosewood to see her friends and even save them on multiple occasions. It seemed to everyone that Alison didn't have a heart, but I think her friends eventually brought out the warm and caring person she actually was deep down.

I hope you guys liked this post! A lot of time and effort was put into this and I'm excited for people to read what I've written about these characters. If you guys want a part two with the other characters, let me know!

And if you have any special requests for other shows, my asks are open as well!

If you've made it this far, I hope you have a lovely day and thank you for reading all of this. It means a lot, and I hope you'll stick around for my other posts as well. Leave a like, reblog, and keep being you!

XOXO,

Zara

"We'll be friends forever."

#pretty little liars #pll spoilers #pll #astro placements #astro observations #astrology #hanna marin #aria montgomery #alison dilaurentis #spencer hastings #emily fields #pll gifs #alison pll #spencer pll #hanna pll #emily pll #aria pll #astro notes #astro community #astro posts

[herrlindemann]

Heavy Rock - 2004, interview with Paul + Review

'Reise Reise' is probably the biggest European metal release of the year, on September 27th the Germans reign supreme in their own right. We bring you to these pages our meeting with the guitarist Paul Landers, who passed through the capital to promote the album. Mario Rockdrigo hunted it in situ.

How has the acquired popularity affected the band?

We have overcome all this success and popularity quite well because it did not fall from the sky, that is, before we played in other groups and we have been making music for 10 years. We knew the business a bit and we weren't overwhelmed by it; besides we are no longer 17 years old - and so much, in fact Paul is about to turn 40 - and this helped us to have our feet on the ground.

The band's music so far hasn't noticed a lot of changes, aren't you afraid of falling into monotony?

It has always been our dream to sound monotonous, although on this album we are less so than on the first, 'Herzeleid', because there are two types of monotony: one boring and one interesting, and if our case were the first we would not have reached our goal.

What are the expectations of the band towards this new album?

It is always somewhat difficult to explain the expectations of each one and if I am honest, one does not stop being afraid of rejection and of not liking anyone, but you never really know beforehand what is going to happen. When we made the album we thought more about finishing songs that we liked and we concentrated on that, we didn't ramble so much about how the release was going to be, how successful we were going to be, but if you ask me now about my forecast I think that we are going to have success.

The album was curiously recorded in Malaga; why this choice?

When we record a record we always like to go out; We prefer not to do it in Germany and when deciding we look a little at the temperatures at that time. In this case it was winter and we wanted to go to a place where there was good weather; Last year we were in France and this year we were looking for a new place, when they showed us the photos of 'El Cortijo' we liked it right away and we quickly decided to go there, we also like Spanish coffee. What is also important to note is that we either need mountains or the sea and in this case we had both.

In this new production there is a greater emphasis on the guitars, which have even more gray hair…

It's interesting because at first we thought to give less weight to the guitars, but it may be that since we've also applied less electronics, synthesizers, sequences or rave mix, they sound better or stronger. Basically Christoph Schneider, our drummer, is to blame, because he was tired of having so much electronic and so many support devices; he suggested that it was necessary to remove all the surrounding paraphernalia and do what we knew how: play.

What are the topics in the lyrics of this new production?

Well, I am going to go into the details a little, for example, a song is called «I have to destroy... but the things that do not belong to me»; In 'Mein Teil', the first single, we reflect a story that happened in Germany, about a case of cannibalism, that of the Rotenburg Cannibal, in which a man voluntarily let himself be eaten by another. In another song we deal with the theme of a well-known poem in our country that talks about a father who is going to kill his son for fear that he will die anyway because the plane they are on falls down. We also treat symbolically, in another song, the story of a man who is walling his wife in the foundation of her house and it's called ‘Stein um Stein.’

You will surely know this question well, but it is necessary to ask it given the gray of the album... Is Rammstein a metal band?

It is quite difficult for a musician to classify himself or box himself in and the usual answer is a bit evasive; It is really difficult to classify Rammstein because we use elements from different styles of music and therefore we cannot say that we are a metal band. On this new album it's especially hard to say what kind of music we represent, just pointing out that it's rock music is a bit gross, it's not right to classify it that way but it's probably the closest thing to it.

What has been Rammstein's formula to achieve success in a German scene full of bands with similar styles like Blind Passengers, In Extremo, KMFDM and in other times Die Krupps?

If there were a formula for success there would be more successful groups.

It's always easier to look back, wonder why a certain group had it and why another didn't. I think that to have it, you first need a vocalist who has charisma and some empathy, in addition to the main thing, good music... although you also need luck.

What are the future plans for Rammstein?

It's simple, in November we are going to start our European tour and we will go, among other countries, to Spain.

What is Rammstein's message for his followers?

We have really enjoyed making this album and we are sure you will enjoy it too. Success, if you really look for it you will get it. Leave your profession, do what you really like and you will succeed.

‘Mein Teil’, the polemics

No one escapes the band's desire to create controversy, in fact the first photo session that appeared this summer -white shirt and tie- seems to be taken from "Days of Fury" (1993), the film starring Michael Douglas where an exemplary worker goes crazy loading up on weapons and wreaking havoc in his city.

The story of the Rotenburg cannibal was still very recent and the gang knows perfectly well which is the best sore to stick their finger. The case of the computer expert Armin Meiwes and the electronic engineer with whom he had relations and whom he devoured with his consent horrified the entire world, and the lyrics of the song, which contain phrases such as "I want my share" or "you are what you eat ' has raised blisters. To make matters worse, you can find obvious parallels to some images of the video clip. Let us remember that devourer and devoured ate the second's penis; well, here we can see how an angel has sex or prays with Till Lindemann while he is tearing it apart and eating it little by little. In addition, the musicians appear happily, on a short leash, dragging themselves through the streets of the city with the faces of rabid and... hungry dogs. In the video they can also be seen in agonizing or deranged actions, adding as a curiosity that the guitarist Richard Kruspe appears fighting 'against himself'; In reality, it is a double that was searched through the group's website.

The clip was filmed in Berlin on June 2 and 3 by a team of 50 people led by Zoran Bihac ('Links 2 3 4'), also the author of the concept with the group. The original filming location was the Babelsberg studios, but they were occupied by the 'Mission Impossible 3' crew, so they transformed the Treptow pavilion for that purpose. The external images, shot during the second day, correspond to the German Opera, located in Bismarckstrasse. The premiere took place on July 8.

In order to understand how tremendously popular/unpopular the case of the cannibal in Teutonic lands continues to be, it should be noted that a film version of the story is being prepared by Rosa von Praunheim, an experienced and renowned director, icon of the gay movement in Germany, who will title the film. 'Your Heart in my Brain'.

‘Mein Teil’ has been sold as a maxi cd jewel case (in a special plastic jewelery box) with the following content: [1] ‘Mein Teil’ - 4:23. [2] 'Mein Teil' (You are what you eat), Pet Shop Boys remix - 4:07. [3] 'Mein Teil' (The return to the New York buffet mix), remix by Arthur Baker (famous predictor who has worked with Dylan, Springsteen, Beastie Boys or New Order among bulls) - 7:22. [4] ‘Mein Teil’ (There are no guitars on this mix), disco remix again by electronic poppers Pet Shop Boys - 7:20.

There are also versions in digipack (with cardboard box) and pock-it single (smaller than normal), the latter with only the first two cuts. In some countries there will be a standard single with the two songs from the pock-it, and there is even a restricted version on vinyl with a different track-list than all the other editions, specially designed for dk's.

The digipack and jewel versions come with a personal and non-transferable single-use code to charge access to a special area of the group's website where high-resolution photos or videos are accessed and which will be updated until the end of the year.

Each one of the different editions is being a success, once again the talk against the group has no effect, as shown by the fact that the aforementioned single has (at 2 in Germany) or that the song 'Mein Herz brennt' which opened 'Mutter' now appears in a Mercedes Benz advertisement on English television.

Rammstein uses false praise to mock the "Americanization" to which we have been subtly subjected, decade after decade, by the US. First, the group appears stepping on the moon, emulating the feat of Armstrong and company. (In fact, towards the end, the six musicians dance holding each other and in a circle around the stigmatized Yankee flag). The rest of the video is, however, even more revealing, different ethnic groups succumb to trash culture: an African tribe eats pizza while watching TV and is visited by Santa Claus, a Mohammedan prays in the direction of an oil extractor, a A Hindu smokes filter cigarettes, a Japanese dressed as a rocker combs his hair on the back of his motorcycle, Tibetan children eat hamburgers and drink a certain soft drink...

Great, a work of art that will help us enter this 21st century without trauma, where we will have to get rid of all the prejudices that one of the countries with the least history, tradition and, ultimately, culture on the globe has "inflicted" on us.

The video was recorded on August 6 and 7 -in days ranging from 5:00 p.m. to 5:00 a.m.- under the orders of director Jörn Heitmann (head of 'Ich will' or 'Sonne' for example) in an abandoned chemical plant in Rüdersdorf, a town near Berlin. For the lunar scenes, 240 tons of ash were used. The team worked quickly, since the premiere took place on October 11. As for its commercial version, the second single, which goes on sale at the beginning of October as a maxi, contains: 1- Amerika 2- Amerika (in English) 3- Amerika (Digital Hardcore Mix by Alec Empire) 4- Amerika (Western Remix by Olson Involtini) 5- Amerika (Andy Panthen & Mat Diaz's Clubmix) 6- Amerika (Electro Ghetto Remix by Bushido and Ilan) 7- Amerika (Jam & Spoon So kann's gehen Mix) 8- Mein Herz Brennt Orchesterlied V ( Album Version).

Here is the content of the album, which by the way will appear in two formats, normal (with plastic box) and digipack.

1. 'Reise, Reise' - The soft passage of the keyboard to the beat of a cadent tempo is broken by the force of the string instruments, which will soon drift towards gloomy paths. The chorus, where a female choir is heard, has a lot to do with traditional German music, approaching the sound of In Extremo.

2. 'Amerika' - A ditty as silly as the words that accompany it: 'We're living in America', but one that will surely become one of their definitive anthems. Ideal to sing it in your concerts.

3. 'Daila Lama' - Disturbing clean guitar riff is the tapestry on which Till's lower registers are drawn, degenerating into a thumping accompaniment, the loop repeats before entering a lighter part, where keys emerge and female voices.

4. 'Keine lust'. The initial Paz lasts a few seconds, because when the guitars come in we come across one of the most forceful songs in his discography, clearly indebted to Rammstein's music, not being especially fast. The contrast comes at the end of the chorus, with the vocalist adopting a tone of suffered delicacy.

5. 'Morgenstern'. A mixed vocal chorus intones a chant of sorrow before the group rudely breaks in again, though by now the riffs in what you've been listening to are beginning to all seem similar. Once again German folk makes an appearance in the chorus. The drum rhythms walk towards Latin without this affecting the compactness of the song.

6. 'Stein um Stein'. Relaxed beginning where the corpulent homogeneity that was already turning out to be monotonous is lost to immerse ourselves in a piece where the group is no less epic for this reason. Lindemann displays all of his amalgamation of vocal resources.

7. 'Mein teil'. Knowing what the topic is about, and once you've seen the video, the gloomy initial keys scare you a bit. It is perhaps the cut where there is more electronic resource, like the strange effects of Flake in the verse or the synthesized sound of the bass.

8. ‘Ohne dich’. The ballad on the record, with the air of a lullaby and absolutely heir to the musical traditions of his land.

9. ‘Amour’. The last section of the cd lowers the intensity, since we are facing another composition with a calm look, in fact the base is essentially pop, although the voice makes the difference. It escapes no one that this band also sucks from The Cure, Bauhaus and many others.

10. ‘Los’. They recover a characteristic of 'Mutter', the use of acoustic guitars to face mastontic riffs. It retains the band's stamp, but a bluesy plucking ends up throwing you off balance.

11. 'Moskau'. Once again the 80s make an appearance, a sinister halo without being a particularly heavy song where Till takes turns taking turns with a lively voice.

From September 27 when ‘Reise Reise’ sees the light until the beginning of November when the presentation tour begins, there is a good stretch that will serve the fans to learn it from beginning to end before going live.

That seems to be the intention of the group, which is seen to be very convinced of the result of the work, which is why it will possibly emphasize the repertoires with it; On the other hand, this way the group will have more time to rehearse and to finalize the production of the show, which will surely be impressive once again.

The starting signal will be given with their only German concert in November, on the 1st in Mannheim. Then they will set foot, with only one performance per country, Belgium, Holland and Portugal, that will be before disembarking in the European country with the most performances except Germany, which is... Spain! There are three shows planned with which it is verified that there is a special connection between Rammstein and the Iberian Peninsula: 10 Madrid (La Cubierta), 11 Barcelona (Palau Olympic de Badalona) and 12 San Sebastián (Anoeta Velodrome). The following stops will be in Norway, Sweden, Denmark, Estonia, Finland, Russia, Poland and the Czech Republic, ending on December 5 in Switzerland, always with a concert in each country except Russia, which will have two dates. Back in Germany they will be performing there until the middle of the last month of the year, culminating the European tour with two performances at the Velodrome in Berlin.

After the Christmas holidays, the natural step would be for them to cross the pond, either to the States or to Latin America, although these are assumptions without great value, especially in the case of a group as unpredictable as Rammstein; they could always spin more for Europe or opt for other areas such as Japan or Australia.

#Rammstein #Paul Landers #Till Lindemann #Flake #Christoph Schneider #Oliver Riedel #Richard Kruspe #2004 #interview #review #translation #*scans #*

[rebeccathenaturalist]

How to Identify Late Oyster Mushrooms

Click here to learn more about the How to Identify article series.

Name: Late oyster mushrooms (Sarcomyxa serotina)

Range and typical habitat(s): North American west, United States east of the Great Plains, widespread across Europe, extreme east Asia

The top and underside of a late oyster mushroom.

Distinguishing physical characteristics (size, colors, overall shapes, detail shapes): At first glance the this looks like any other oyster mushroom, with its round, shelf-shaped appearance. However, where true oysters (Pleurotus spp.) tend to be gray or white in appearance, the slimy-textured cap of the late oyster can be anywhere from orange to olive-green to violet-tinted, and can grow up to six inches across. The gills are usually yellow to orange, and while some may remain single from the stipe to the edge of the cap, others fork at least once.

Young late oyster mushrooms may have edges that roll under, but when mature they open to a flatter shape, sometimes with a gently scalloped edge. The stipe is quite unique with its fuzzy texture, and is generally very short. The tightly-packed gills are adnate, meaning that they attach to the stipe with their entire width, rather than becoming shorter in height as they approach the stipe. Take a spore print of a late oyster mushroom, and you’ll find a cream to yellow print. The flesh does not bruise or otherwise discolor when damaged.

Notice the texturing on the stipe of this late oyster mushroom.

Like oyster mushrooms, late oysters grow in clusters on decaying hardwood trees, like maples and alders. They gain their “late” name for their tendency to fruit in fall to early winter; October to December is prime time for this fungus. Even in areas that receive frosts and freezes, the mushrooms may keep on growing in spite of the cold.

Other organisms it could be confused with and how to tell the difference: Again, true oyster mushrooms bear the most resemblance to late oysters. In addition to being less colorful–gray to white being most common–true oysters have a smooth rather than fuzzy stipe. Their spore print is usually white, occasionally with a slight purple tint. Finally, the gills of true oysters continue down the stipe (decurrent), while the late oyster’s gills stop at the stipe.

Oyster mushrooms (Pleurotus ostreatus)

Angel wing mushrooms (Pleurocybella porrigens) are another white mushroom found growing on dead wood. They lack the late oyster’s color variety and have decurrent gills that produce white spores, and their flesh tends to be more delicate. Most importantly, angel wings grow on decaying conifers while late oysters grow on hardwood trees, and they fruit in late summer into fall, but not to winter. Angel wing mushrooms used to be considered edible, but a series of poisonings several years ago has put their edibility into question.

Angel wing mushrooms (Pleurocybella porrigens)

Shoehorn oyster mushrooms (Hohenbuehelia petaloides) may sometimes look a bit like a brown-tinted late oyster mushrooms, but look underneath and you’ll see the white gills are decurrent, and they have a white spore print. Also, they tend to grow on woody debris rather than tree trunks, and will fruit anywhere from spring through fall.

Shoehorn oyster mushrooms (Hohenbuehelia petaloides)

The only other significant inedible lookalike besides angel wings is the mock oyster (Phyllotopsis nidulans). The orange cap may look similar to an orange-colored late oyster, but it has a fuzzy texture all over instead of only on the stipe. The gills produce orange to peach spores, are decurrent, and not as tightly packed as on the late oyster. A strong stench is the best way to identify the mock oyster, and should you try eating one it has an equally unappealing flavor and tough texture.

Mock oyster mushrooms (Phyllotopsis nidulans)

Anything else worth mentioning? Late oyster mushrooms are considered edible, though with a rather bland, unexciting flavor. Their texture is good, though, and they lend themselves well to being vehicles for sauces and other flavoring agents. Some people report they can be bitter if the top layer is not peeled off, and it is strongly recommended that they be cooked longer than some other mushrooms, at least 15-20 minutes. This can reduce the chance of gastrointestinal upset, but as always it is best to only try a very small amount of a new mushroom when eating it for the first time, and you MUST make absolutely sure you are 100% certain that what you are about to eat is an edible species.

Further reading:

Late Fall Oyster: Identification, Foraging, and Preparing

Late Fall Oyster Mushrooms: Sarcomyxa serotina

Late Fall Oyster (Panellus serotinus) — Identification & Medicinal Benefits

Late Fall Oyster: Sarcomyxa serotina

Did you enjoy this post? Consider taking one of my online foraging and natural history classes or hiring me for a guided nature tour, checking out my other articles, or picking up a paperback or ebook I’ve written! You can even buy me a coffee here!

#late oyster mushrooms #oyster mushrooms #edible mushrooms #edible fungi #foraging #mushroom foraging #mushroom hunting #shrooms #fungi #fungus #mycology #nature identification #nature #ecology #food #wild foods

[raccoonhearteyes]

Part I  | Part II  | Part III | Part IV  | Part V | Part VI | Part VII | Part VIII | Part IX | Part X | Part XI

December 18th, 2018 

It has been over a month since Lexa saw Clarke. Or accidentally fucked her after falling asleep on her roof. She was just so warm. And kind. And being pulled into Clarke’s orbit is just too easy. Lexa knows that if she sees her, she won’t be strong enough to walk away. Even though it’ll be better for her. So instead of risking the temptation, Lexa has avoided any place she may run into Clarke. She refuses to go near the gallery. She avoids the whole borough where Clarke lives. She won’t even let herself get coffee somewhere if there’s a chance a flash of golden hair and baby blue eyes will send her spiraling again. 

Lexa usually loves the holiday season in the city. She loves the lights and the display windows. This year, seeing happy couples kiss at the Rockefeller tree, families cozied together in the winter chill just makes her feel hollow and empty. 

The Darkness preys on weakness, and skates by Lexa. Lexa’s too depressed to walk away and make him chase her. When he takes a lap the second time, he slows to a stop in front of her.

“What’s the matter Lexa, no holiday spirit this year?” 

“Hard to be cheery when you spend it alone.”

“What are you talking about, I’m here, aren’t I?” 

“You’re not exactly the company I’d ever hope for.” 

“Hm, still hung up on your artist, then?”

In the past twenty years, he has been cruel and relentless in trying to get her to give up her soul. He taunts and times his appearances on the days when she feels the worst. But he is still the most consistent aspect of her life, the only person or devil that remembers her. That she can carry a conversation with without worrying about being forgotten. While he’s shown up at bad times, he sometimes shows up just to check. They talk about things other than stealing her soul every so often. Sometimes he’s the outlet she needs for a more serious conversation that a stranger won’t have. 

And tonight, for whatever reason, he seems less likely to convince her to give up. Maybe it’s the holiday spirit. Maybe she’s projecting. Maybe she really is just that desperate for some semblance of human connection. 

“I feel like I lived an entire life with her in these past six months. I know her better than most of her friends do, but I’m not even a blip on her radar. So now I'm just killing time.”

“Until what?” 

“Until I die. Until I give up and let you take my soul.”

He seems genuinely surprised at her confession, then she continues, “You’ve known all along, haven’t you?” 

“Known what?”

“That offering a life in which you don’t age seems like something that would last longer. But no one lasts longer than a standard lifetime, do they? People barely last a full lifetime.”

“The best kind of deals are the ones where you think you’ve won,” he shrugs arrogantly.

Lexa is fuming with anger at this point. Who preys on foster kids with lofty promises and rigged deals? This is so wrong, and yet she’s still so trapped, so lonely, that he still might win. 

“So, is this you waving the white flag?”

Lexa is about to say yes, to end it, and let him take her soul if it means the heartbreak stops. But suddenly, there she is. Wrapped in a knit scarf and a beanie, art supplies sprawled over a park bench as she draws the scene. Clarke. She looks beautiful, and seeing her there at this exact moment feels like a sign, and it gives Lexa the courage to tell the Darkness, “Not today.” 

-----------

Like a moth to a flame, she’s drawn closer to Clarke. But she’s wary of getting too close. Close enough to bask in her warmth, but not so close that she burns her wings. It’s a delicate line to tightrope her way across. Especially in the aching loneliness of the holidays. 

Clarke is drawing people, as she always does. So Lexa decides to stand near enough that she’ll inspire another piece, but not so close that she risks falling into conversation with her. That’s too risky. Too easy to fall back into her orbit. Too easy to get sucked into another devastating heartbreak. 

So Lexa is content to watch from afar. To watch Clarke's eyes light up when she captures a moment on the page. To watch her smile at the little kids learning to ice skate below the massive tree. To watch the colors of the tree reflect off her blonde hair and the snow get caught in her lashes. It makes her chest swell with longing, so full it begins to ache. 

It’s not her fault a family asks her to take a photo of them. To get the full tree in the frame she had to take a few steps back. It’s not her fault that happened to be in Clarke’s direction. It’s out of her control that Clarke watched the whole interaction, watched the silly faces she made to get the baby to look in the right direction. 

She was trying to avoid her. To be close, but not too close, but Clarke noticed her this time. It’s not her fault. 

“That was adorable,” Clarke says, gesturing at the small family happily peering at the photos Lexa had just taken. 

“I couldn’t let the baby ruin the photo by looking over there,” Lexa blushes. 

Clarke just smiles at her, “Hi.”

“Hi.”

Lexa doesn't try to continue the conversation. She very intentionally turns her attention back to the tree and the ice skaters below, but she should have accounted for Clarke. Clarke, who has no hesitations in starting a conversation with a pretty stranger, who always talks to new people like they’re old friends. 

“Can I draw you?” she asks. 

“Sure.”Always. She knows she’s breaking a promise to herself, but instead of being rude or dismissive, she caves to blue eyes and a soft smile. 

Clarke has her turn around to face her, lean back on the railing and prop her elbows on it. She wants to get the whole tree in the background, and Lexa tries to steady her breathing to prepare for the intimacy of sustained eye contact while Clarke draws her. Again.   

They make idle chit chat while she works. Lexa keeps her answers short, just shy of curt. She doesn’t return the questions because she already knows Clarke’s answers. Instead, she focuses on the pink tongue poking out between Clarke’s teeth. The little freckle above her lip. Those eyes. Lexa blinks and Clarke is teasing her about something she said over fries. Those eyes are full of mirth and still feel like home. She blinks again and sees the same cocky twinkle looking up from between her legs. 

She has to get out of here. 

But Clarke’s not quite finished, and Lexa is a glutton for punishment. So she stays to model, letting Clarke's eyes trace the curve of her ass. The jut of a jawline. It’s a divine sort of torture. 

But she can’t let it go any further. She can’t, she can’t, she can’t. She’s not strong enough. She’s too afraid to get caught up in a conversation. To end up tangled in bed with Clarke yet again. Her heart can’t take it. 

The second she sees Clarke finish, she literally runs away. It’s not her proudest moment. Or her most well-thought-out, but she’s on survival mode now, and it is what needed to be done. 

Safely on the other side of the rink, she takes one last look at Clarke, who just finished signing her name to the bottom of the piece. Lexa watches her look around in confusion. Glancing down at the piece then up, looking for the model and seeing nothing. Not recognizing the face. Not remembering the brief conversation they had while she worked. Drawing a blank. And Lexa’s heart shatters once again.

#lexa #clexa #clarke griffin #the invisible life of addie larue #clexa au

[ailurocide]

Question- do companions get their wings clipped, or pinioned? Not to out myself as a bird nerd but while they're both very bad things to do to a bird, one is a LOT worse than the other.

Clipping a bird's wing means cutting back the primary flight feathers on one wing. Clipping only one wing prevents the bird from properly balancing in flight, meaning it'll swerve to one side and fall to the ground if it tries, so it won't be able to maintain flight. It's technically painless (though robbing a bird of its ability to fly is still Bad, they're designed almost entirely for wing-powered flight from the ground up. You should see what the avian respiratory system looks like), and is reversible.

After molting, the flight feathers will grow back, and the bird will be capable of flight unless its wings are re-clipped. However, clipping often starts before a bird can learn to fly, and even without that the wing muscles will atrophy over time due to disuse, meaning that a bird whose been getting wing-clipped every molt will still have a significant road to recovery after the clipping stops, and may need to be trained or re-trained on the basics of flight.

Pinioning is worse. Pinioning means amputating one wing just above the wrist joint (the second joint of the wing, further from the body. usually just past this, to leave the thumb/alula/"bastard wing" intact so its feathers cover the stump), usually while the bird is still so young that its bones haven't had time to harden, usually without painkillers of any sort. This has a similar effect to clipping, but A. it's fully permanent and B. it throws off the bird's balance even when on the ground, as that's a not-insignificant amount of weight removed from just one side (if both sides are clipped/pinioned, the lack of imbalance means the bird can re-learn how to fly even with shortened wings). Doesn't effect heavier birds like waterfowl too bad iirc, but those tend to keep both feet on solid ground (or just float on water).

A pinioned felfolk would likely have some trouble with delicate balancing, especially as instinct might tell them to use their wings to aid them in balancing- which only makes things worse, since one is, of course, pinioned. One with clipped wings might struggle a bit, but the weight difference would be a lot less drastic, and it's just a matter of waiting to molt & regrow those flight feathers (molts usually happen at least once a year for most species, sometimes more often but most will at least molt in late fall, so their feathers are in good condition to keep them warm during winter)

...Sorry for the unprompted nitpicky inbox essay, but both options have significantly different implications for dear Castel and I'm not good at keeping my mouth shut about bird stuff. Still, I hope this could be helpful to you in some way!

Okay first off: please don’t apologize!! Thank you sincerely for bringing this to my attention… I always love learning new things about animals, even if they’re heartbreaking like this.

Everybody say thank you to bird nerd anon!!

After reading through this a few times and really think about it, I’m gonna alter a few things now that I’m more informed:

(I’d also like to reiterate that what the Sunguard Guild does to their companions is barbaric and not the norm for Guilds and their companions. I do not support the practice of declawing, pinioning, or wing-clipping.)

The Sunguard Guild typically pinions their companions. They have this process done to prevent their companions from leaving the Guild, and typically the head of the primary companion family, or the overall oldest companion, is in charge of ensuring that the pinioning goes well and relatively smoothly.

So most of the current Sunguard companions have a pinioned wing.

#(also if you want to keep spamming my inbox about bird stuff- #I might not reply publicly but I shall file the info away v loyally for later 👀) #ailurocide #ask #anonymouse #spotty speaks #ailurocide: the companions #ailurocide: the sunguard guild #keyword: m o s t companions

[oloreandil]

hello i saw you talking a bit in the tags of the cane post you reblogged from me hehe, you mentioned you might make a longer post about the use of canes for balance, figured id send an ask so if u wanted u could put that in the answer. im really interested to learn more about it — im currently writing a character who uses a cane for balance reasons and i might have to use one someday since i live somewhere that gets gotdamn icy in the winter, so im interested to hear how best practices differ from using a cane for injury/pain

hi ! very happy to infodump about (my) cane usage, after this post. i'm adding this one which has incredible advice on tons of mobility aids. prefacing this with "ymmv, varied sources help because everyone does different things", as usual ^^

cane usage can be about distance or span of time you need to walk / stand up. this depends on why you need the cane and if certain situations trigger it more

for me, walking is better than standing up still, because i'm not weighing down on any body part long enough to cause pain. leaning on the cane hurts even if i switch hands regularly. crutches (especially forearm crutches) are more efficient, but not indefinitely

for long visits and similarly tiring activities (lots of still time + starting / stopping movement), a wheelchair is way more useful. otherwise the heterogeneity of the movement will hurt in itself

canes are a huge help with footing if the terrain slopes, gets uneven or is a little unpredictable. however if the terrain is muddy, extremely crumbly / cracked, or slippery, you may need tip attachments to make the grip better

you need more space to move around, and have to be careful not to knock into people / objects when you move and turn, but poor spatial awareness or muscle control will mean you still bump into things frequently

i lean on everything if i'm inside and don't have my cane ready, if i need something stable which doesn't depend on my ability to hold it, or if my legs / arms are giving out

the rubber tip reduces the aftershock of the stick slamming into the ground, especially if you have trouble measuring your strength. else, the tapping will genuinely hurt your arm + shoulder and also everyone in a five mile radius will hear you walking around

the handle needs to fit your hand (larger hand = larger handle etc). there's slide-on handles to help reduce the strain if closing your hand tight hurts. ataxia / tremors can make you drop your cane or clutch it even tighter and needs to be accounted for (softer grip, wrist strap)

any new mobility device is gonna hurt in the beginning as your nerves get used to constant pressure in a new shape. this was worse for my crutch than for my cane, possibly because the crutch came first. wheelchairs hurt in unexpected ways but i have less experience

when you stop using the cane, your hand can hurt from the sudden change in pressure on your nerve, and the rest of your body too as the limbs readjust. if you have paresthesia (clinical "pins and needles" basically), holding the cane can make it worse. i don't know how orthotics would interact with that

misc

foldable canes are very good because they can fit in your bag, instead of falling over or stabbing you in the chest when the vehicle suddenly stops. it also means you don't forget them if you have to leave quick and you're distracted

me holding my beloved foldable cane and showing the opening swoop (my favourite part). ID in alt text

using a cane slows you down... usually. the energy of a character will still affect their speed. i have always walked like a maniac which means i clack-clack my way along, out of breath + tired at the end. i can't run anymore though, so catching up with / escaping someone ranges from difficult to impossible

hidden features of the cane would work best if they don't impede its use (no additional weight, no need to take it apart / off the ground): storage of data, small items like needles, something that incorporates the tapping of the cane or its material...

stairs are difficult. how i do it is put cane two steps above me, and repeat every time i reach that step (less arm movements, easier on my shoulder). i have read vastly different methods, so my takeaway is everyone has their rhythm and the amount of training to find what works / focus implementing it will vary. brain fog, emotional deregulation and physical pain set you back

#palant1r #olorea answers #if you have any questions on sth i didn't expand on don't hesitate !! #this still got very very long and the Tired might make this incoherent... typical haz behaviour. it will happen again #writing ref #disabled writer #txt #img #vid

[ladytauria]

👻 What is one WIP you think you may never pick back up?

🤔hmmm

so in recent years i've mostly stopped posting wips bc, despite the best of intentions i have a hard time finishing them lol

buuut. looking through my drafts...

there are a couple i don't see myself working on again any time soon lmao.

two in particular stand out. one is a selkie!jason wip & the other is one that was, according to my notes, inspired by a fancomic. past me did not think to leave a link to this comic, bc she's helpful like that <3

the latter wip takes place at a winter gala. tim is by himself, keeping an eye on the others & making his rounds through the gala, checking off a mental list of people to talk to. he's kinda starting to flag, though; keeping up his timothy drake-wayne personality through so many conversations is kinda taking a toll on him.

and as he's mid conversation with one of the people on his list--

“Excuse me.” Tim catches a whiff of expensive cologne, chased by gunpowder, smoke, and leather. A warm hand finds the small of his back, and—almost without his own permission—he finds himself relaxing into it. “I hate to interrupt, but—” Jason steps into view, dressed to the nines in a perfectly fitted tux and deep red waistcoat. His hair is artfully messy; a roguish smile on his face. “Could I have this dance?” He cocks his brow. Tim knows him well enough to see the nerves—the sheepishness in his eyes, the way he braces himself for rejection. He doesn’t have anything to worry about. Tim is helplessly, hopelessly endeared. He barely manages to tamp down on his grin, keeping his answering smile something more polite.

their relationship at this point is still new and tentative--it started when one of their cases crossed, and each realized the other was working a lot of hard, dangerous cases with little to no back up. which was fine when they were doing it, but not so fine that the other is. u know. the usual :P

so they start working together. mostly. but then jason gets injured doing something dumb, without calling for tim like he should have. and tim reminds him that they'r partners. the whole point of them teaming up was that neither of them is supposed to be fighting alone anymore.

which---when tim asks why jason is at the gala, when he hates them & also has no reason to be there since he's not been legally resurrected... jason tells him more or less the same thing.

"we're partners, right? no more fighting alone."

and then tim kisses him in front of everyone, not caring even a little bit that it will probably be all over the society pages the next morning <3

but! i have two issues with this fic. issue a) writing the gala. and then issue b) it almost feels like it should be a scene in a longer work, so i can work that backstory in? but i don't... really have a plot. i could probably make it work anyway, but! i dunno. right now too many other wips have my attention so even if i don't abandon this one entirely, it will be a long time before i pick it back up.

and then the selkie!jason wip is p easy to explain. i had an idea for a single, solitary, poignant scene and utterly NO ideas for the plot that would lead UP TO that lovely scene.

so.

here's the scene, which would, theoretically, be the closing lines:

Jason runs his thumb over his coat, the leather of its disguise buttery soft, and watches Tim. He’s utterly at ease on Jason’s couch, scrolling through his phone, one arm dangling off the armrest. Jason swallows, stomach twisting with nerves. He takes a breath—in through the nose, out through the mouth. Then, he strides forward, clenching his coat a bit tighter. He kneels in front of Tim, capturing his attention. His phone falls to the side as Tim’s brows furrow. Before he can ask what Jason is doing, Jason unfurls his coat, wrapping it around Tim’s shoulders. His eyes grow wide. “Ja— wh—“ Jason can feel the heat on his face. Knows he has to be pink, at the very least. But he doesn’t stop, tugging Tim forward and into the briefest, chastest kiss before resting their foreheads together. “Caught you,” he murmurs. The smile he receives is the most beautiful thing he’s ever seen.

context? ur guess is as good as mine <3

[ fanfic writer ask game ]

#jaytim #asks and answers #deepwithintheabyss #thank you for asking!! #ive been wanting to post about the selkie fic FOREVER lmfao #tauriawritesfanfic

[thotsforvillainrights]

HAPPY HOLDAYSSS!

May I request some dad stain with his child during the holidays? Like would he take them to the mall to meet santa or whatnot?

I hope you are going to do everything Christmasy this month and have a great Christmas! ⛄️☃️❄️

(Happy Holidays to you as well Anon! Hoping to brighten your winter season with this rare Dad!Stain content, and it'll likely brighten my winter as well!)

~Dad!Stain and The Mall Santa~

headcanon|scenario|imagine|match-up

-At times it feels like he's better suited to be a mentor rather than a father. He only finds out he can do both at the same time later on down the road. When your daughter was first born (or adopted based on reader), he was likely more distant than you like to admit at first. However, you knew how he'd behave considering the same thing happened when he began falling for you. You remember feeling as though he'd disappear before he'd come back to you. He needed time to connect on his own level to the girl. Give him props considering he managed to navigate his own emotions rather than suppressing them as he originally wanted to do.

-He's a bit of a more strict parent than you. This isn't just because of his identity which he keeps hidden, but also because he's got a less optimistic view on the world around him. In his eyes, the glass is almost always half empty and danger lurks around every single corner. He also spends a bit of time putting his ideology into his kid's head more often than not. She grows to have a good understanding on the way he views the world, but it doesn't stop her from being more optimistic and dreamy than most kids. It's why she still believes in Santa and the Tooth Fairy no matter what he tells her.

-One Christmas in particular she finds out that Santa is going to be at the local mall and she loses her mind. She begs and begs to go meet the big man in person. You're willing to take her, but Chizome is less than pleased. He realizes unfortunately he can't influence either of you to stay behind and he'd rather you not go by yourself during the time of the year when robberies are on a rise. Therefore, he comes to term with the fact he's going to the mall with you two for something as pointless as this.

-Don't get me wrong, although he's a rough man he still manages to spend the holidays with you two every year. He slows his usual movement down in exchange for a little more time together. Perhaps he just wants to feel some hint of normalcy given the fact that he's anything but. Or maybe he just can't stand to miss your little girl smiling at him for the present he picked out just for her. Either way, he makes it clear that he tries sometimes. It's just that stuff like this isn't something he particularly wants to indulge in.

-Whether he admit to it or not, he does feel a tad bit of warmth in that cold heart of his when he sees his little girl meeting the guy...or rather the poor mall employee getting paid minimum wage to have a bunch of little pissy brats bounce on his legs all day long while prattling on their demands for the season. No matter how he would describe it, his daughter fully believes this is the real Santa in front of her. He has to admit, her little eyes sparkling with wonder and that wide smile on her face really can brighten up even the worst of person's day. He was confused when he found himself smiling as she told Santa all about her day and asked about his elves at the north pole. She hardly stopped to mention anything she wanted for Christmas aside from some random Pony toy or whatever. Just meeting him was the highlight of her day.

-Even though he tries to instill reality into her heart, and she doesn't accept it, he still takes a minute to remember she's just a child at the end of the day. Maybe this realization is why he opted to write 'FROM SANTA' on the special present he slid under the tree while she was sleeping? Who knows.

#bnha #mha #boku no hero academia #my hero academia #akaguro chizome #chizome akaguro #dad!stain #au #stain bnha #hero killer stain #headcanons

[creepercraftguy]

NAEGIRI WEEK Day 1 - Overtime.

Kyoko was expecting to return home to a quiet house on this cold winters night, not expecting the surprise that would greet her in the doorway...

@naegiriweek​

Full Story below the cut. You can also find the story on my WattPad - https://www.wattpad.com/1287541962-naegiri-week-2022-creepercraftguy-day-1-overtime

[3:42 am]

That was the time that read on Kyoko's watch, which she stared down at, dourly.

It was cold that winter night. So cold that it was snowing. And even for someone like the Ultimate Detective, who always retained laser-like concentration, be she on the job or not, it was challenging for her to resist the urge to fall asleep.

As you probably may have guessed, the reason why Kyoko was walking through the snowy streets so late in the evening was that she has finally tied the knot on a big case she'd been working on for the majority of that winter month, involving a secret terrorist plot. She and her team endeavored not to leave a single stone unturned and to not let a single detail go missing from their report.

Kyoko was lucky to work with a group of individuals who took their jobs so seriously. One of them was a boy who had graduated from the academy with the same Ultimate Talent as her; a boy named Saihara. What wasn't so lucky is the team may be too diligent because they burned the midnight oil down to the last drop. So much so that the date changed and she didn't even notice until she took a look at her watch.

If Kyoko had been doing this for herself and her family, she wouldn't have minded so much, but given that she had been living with Makoto, it complicated things.

Abrasive as she was, Kyoko Kirigiri always valued time with him. Shortly after graduating from Hope's Peak as classmates, she and fellow Ultimate Student, Makoto Naegi, had started dating, and now they lived together. Kyoko kept her job as a detective even after she graduated, but being the Ultimate Lucky Student, Makoto's options weren't particularly widespread. However, he had committed to getting a job as a teacher at the academy they had learned together. Kyoko had even heard that the current headmaster; her father, Jin Kirigiri; was considering allowing Makoto to become headmaster in his place when he retired.

Makoto's job typically didn't require him to work this late though, so Kyoko half expected that he would already be asleep by the time she got back. It was a shame since it was the end of the week, and she had very much liked to spend some quality evening time together with him.

*Because of the scale of this investigation, the department did warn us that we may be putting in extra hours...* the detective deliberated, *but that doesn't make it any less tiring...*

She yawned as she got to the end of this thought. Continuing down the street, she approached her household but stopped in place as she noticed the lights were on.

*That's rare...Could Makoto have fallen asleep and forgotten to have turned the lights off?* she, as she often did, started to think of several possibilities in her head at once, *no, that seems unlikely...It was he who brought up the idea of saving energy when we wrote the contract after moving in together...*

However, Kyoko didn't need to think about it for too long. As she approached the door, she heard the lock click open from the inside, and the door creaked open. The bright, warm light poured out at her from the doorway, and Makoto stepped through. He smiled at her, his smile warm as the light from inside the house, but his eyes looked tired, and his usual liveliness and optimistic glow were near absent.

"Welcome home, Kyoko," he simpered, "good job today at work."

There was a long pause where both of them just stared at each other, Makoto in bliss and Kyoko in surprise. Kyoko eventually became the one to break the silence.

"So...you were awake?" she inquired.

"Yep," Makoto replied cheerily.

"You do know it's gone three in the morning, right?"

"I know."

"Are you ok? You weren't worried about me, were you? I know I should have called..."

"No, no, it's ok! You were busy, I understand. This isn't because of you, I just...couldn't get to sleep..."

"Evidently...You have bags under your eyes," Kyoko sighed, "I know it's the weekend, but it's not good for your health to stay up like-"

Kyoko didn't finish her sentence. She reached out to cup Makoto's cheek in her hand, and as soon as her fingers felt his skin, she frowned.

"Why are you so cold?" she asked sternly.

"H-Huh? Oh, uh...don't worry about it," he scratched his head, "come in. I saved dinner for you, and I can run you a bath if you-OW OW OW!"

"Answer my question..." Kyoko growled, pinching his cheek, tighter than she meant to, "and be honest about it."

"Alright, alright, please, just let me go!" Makoto cried, rubbing his sore cheek after Kyoko released him, "it's because...I kept coming in and out the house...and I wasn't exactly dressed for the occasion..."

Makoto was wearing some very casual clothes. Not indecent, but not warm enough for the frigid winter weather.

"Are you an idiot?" Kyoko asked, "you could have caught a cold by doing that!"

"I know, I'm sorry..." Makoto pouted, "I just...missed you...and I wanted to see you as soon as you got back. I kind of got impatient and...well, I just sort of wandered around on my own...I'm sorry..."

Despite a delayed reaction, Kyoko stepped forward, and slumped her bashful head onto Makoto's shoulder, burying her face into him. She also instinctively reached out and wrapped her arms around his body.

"A-Ah! Kyoko! Um...I'm glad you're back, but can you please let go?" Makoto pleaded.

Kyoko didn't respond.

"Oh well..." Makoto chuckled, "if you're that tired...then I guess it's fine if you use me as a pillow. Just...maybe come inside so neither of us catches a cold?"

*What is it about this man that renders me so incapable when all others fail?* Kyoko didn't move her face, even as Makoto pulled her inside, afraid he might see just how flustered she was. *I can't explain it but...I need to marry him soon...*

#naegiri #naegiri week #naegiri week 2022 #kyoko kirigiri #makoto naegi #danganronpa #danganronpa 1 #dr1 #danganronpa trigger happy havoc

[sparrowmoth]

Grey Skies Move Slowly • [AO3]

Teen | 1.6K | Jaylos, Malvie | Vampire AU, Fluff & Angst, Bittersweet

A/N: This work is part of the Forever and a Night series and may be difficult to follow if you haven't read the two preceding oneshots.

CW: Mentions of blood and some swearing

Lately, Carlos hadn’t been himself—which wasn’t fair to say since he was himself, as a fact, even in this small aspect. Maybe, then, it was less that he wasn’t himself and more that, to Jay, he felt as far as he could be without leaving. Not to sound accusing, since it wasn’t his fault and Jay wasn’t even mad. He just missed the Carlos who had a smile bright as the sun, making Jay not even think when was the last he’d seen the daylight. He missed the Carlos with arms to hold him when they laid down, chests pressed together, nose-to-nose—

Jay broke from his glum thoughts at the feeling of Carlos starting to quiver. He was a small thing in Jay’s hands, held close to his heart; his dandelion-puff fur stood out starkly in the dim light, but his little pink wings and mouse-like face were well hidden from view.

“…’Los?” Jay murmured, gently running a thumb over Carlos’ back.

He received no response and the quivering didn’t stop, so he stood carefully from where he’d been sitting in the bay window of their bedroom and made his way—very slowly—to the middle floors.

There was the sound of a woman with a phantom’s voice echoing out of a large room they had stuffed with couches and pillows. It was the closest thing they had to a “living room” in the castle, and just as Jay expected, Mal was sitting in her usual spot on a deep red velvet chesterfield with some old, dead witch’s grimoire in her lap.

She glanced up when she saw him, already quirking an eyebrow.

“If I didn’t know any better,” she started drily, in lieu of a greeting, “I’d think the two of you were glued together.”

Jay said nothing to that as he crossed the room to join her.

She’d tried a moment to feign disinterest, but his silence was grating on her nerves and she couldn’t stand the way he was just hovering.

“You can sit,” she told him with a jerk of her head toward the space beside her. “I won’t bite you.” She smirked. “Unless I get hungry.”

Still, Jay said nothing, and there was none of his usual spark of wit or even annoyance. He just looked sad and a little lost and, frankly, Mal didn’t think she was the best person to be dealing with it, but…

She sighed. “So, you still don’t believe me?”

Jay, who’d taken a seat, just glanced at her sidelong, like he didn’t know what she meant—which was a steaming load of bullshit.

“He’s fine,” Mal assured him, for at least the tenth time that week. It was her own stupid fault for telling Jay what could happen when a lesser vampire didn’t feed well—how they could lose grip on their magic and sentience, become more animal than person, forget how to shift altogether and simply live and die as any ordinary bat—

That wasn’t something that generally happened unless inflicted as a punishment. Her mother had favoured it as torture, pushing lesser vampires to their brink and letting them fall, just to pull them back and do it over again—again and again, until they fell into madness.

The point was Carlos would be fine. This wasn’t like that at all. It just happened in the winter sometimes, ever since he’d sworn off human blood; the butcher’s supply, as reliable as it was, couldn’t compare to the life-force and magic that saturated a fresh kill, let alone any earthly creature with a still-beating heart.

Mal remembered how it was before she’d convinced him to give in and feed on the local cows and deer and other woodland creatures; at the worst, when a series of storms hit and the best there was to hunt were the rats inside the castle, he’d gone two weeks without the energy to shift out of his bat form.

She’d told Jay all that, and how a few days like this were normal, but she was starting to think he hadn’t been listening past that little “reverie” about the torture and the madness and—yeah.

That’d been stupid to tell him.

Again, Mal sighed. “Did you just come down here to sulk, or…?”

She didn’t know what else to say, since Jay wasn’t exactly talking.

He gave her a sullen look and, as if he’d read her mind, mumbled out, “He’s shaking.” He twisted to the side and leaned forward a little for Mal to see—and there was Carlos, vibrating in Jay’s palm.

She smirked at the sight, raising her gaze back to Jay.

“He’s not shaking, he’s purring.”

Jay looked at her strangely, a wrinkle in his brow. “He’s what?”

“You heard me.” Mal shook her head and glanced back down at the grimoire laid out in her lap, currently open to a page on lunar magic.

“I think you’re confusing him with Evie,” Jay retorted after a beat.

His eyes were on her, searching for something—mostly, a sign she was trying to fuck with him, and if he didn’t find it, well—

She would probably bite him if he kept up looking so skeptical.

“Bats purr when they’re happy, dumbass.” Mal said this flatly, with dead eyes, so Jay would know she couldn’t be more serious. “Well, sometimes,” she amended. “I mean, it’s not like we can’t control—”

“We?” Jay’s eyebrows raised, and then—the bastard that he was—he very nearly smirked as it sank in what she was saying. “So... you...?”

Mal snapped the grimoire shut in an undeniably controlled manner and further displayed her absolute mastery over her own emotions by not thunking the heavy book down on Jay’s fragile human skull.

“We’re not talking about me.”

“Why not?” came Evie’s voice from a doorway off to Mal’s right, her sulky tone preceding her entrance in a blue lace-trimmed dressing gown that billowed out behind her as she walked. “I love talking about you, baby.” She pouted a little, but there was a spark of mischief in her eyes that remained as she shifted—

Suddenly, a black cat jumped up on the couch arm and slunk down into Mal’s lap with a pleased little mrow over Mal’s flushed cheeks.

“E,” Mal mumbled in complaint, though there wasn’t any heat to it. She stroked down Evie’s back, eliciting a loud purr—the sound of it being, for Jay, a sure sign of pleasure; not like Carlos’ silent quaking in his palm, which hadn’t ceased in the time he’d been sitting there.

Suddenly, Jay felt Evie’s paws pressing down on his thigh and he looked to see her staring up at him, big brown eyes expectant.

It took him a moment to realize what she wanted.

He lowered his cupped hands from his chest to his belly, giving Evie access to the sleeping Carlos. She made a sound that Jay wasn’t sure whether to take as thanks or a coo of affection, then bent her neck to gently groom over Carlos’ head and neck, purring all the while.

Jay soon felt Carlos’ own purr lessening as he began to twitch and shift, coming around to waking. He finally raised his head—which now had a cowlick—and squinted blearily at Evie, who greeted him with a slow blink, then withdrew back to Mal’s lap.

Carlos yawned and stretched one wing out to hook on Jay’s sweater. He began to climb up out from his, by now, sweaty nest until he’d arrived at Jay���s shoulder, where he tilted his head into the crook of Jay’s neck and uttered a raspy little chirrup.

As Jay reached up to stroke a finger over Carlos’ fur, he couldn’t help but notice the girls out of the corner of his eye. Evie, who had shifted easily back into her human form, was wedged against Mal’s right side on the couch now, their bodies slotted like puzzle pieces.

Mal had twisted away from Jay to tangle her legs with Evie’s and put a hand on her waist. She was whispering something to Evie that made her giggle—but the sound faded out when Evie caught Jay’s eye and her expression softened, becoming almost pitying.

“Sorry,” Jay started to say, looking about to stand from the couch.

Evie reached over Mal to grab his arm. “No, don’t go,” she insisted before Jay could say anything else. He hesitated, but her grip on him only tightened. “Hang out with us tonight?” she asked, not as much of a question as it sounded—he knew her well enough to be sure.

Still, he remained hesitant, until—

Mal elbowed him in the ribs, turning her head back to look at him. “Don’t be all sad and lame,” she said gruffly, which—from Mal—was as good an assurance as any that she wanted him around.

He gave a strained smile in response, grateful, yet unable to quell that ache of longing for Carlos, even as close he was—small, warm body flush to Jay’s neck, his clawed feet tangled in his long hair—

“He’s still in there, you know.”

Mal hadn’t turned her head away until then, only a second after meeting Jay’s eyes. She looked awkward, like it was something so deeply unnatural for her to offer any comfort. She quickly made her excuses to go and put on a new record, causing Jay to realize that the phantom singer’s voice had faded out to nothing in the background.

“She’s right,” said Evie, eyes trailing fondly after Mal before she set her gaze on Jay with a kind smile, “but it’s okay to miss him. I do, too.”

Thank you for reading! Reblogs are always appreciated. If you’d like to leave a kudos or comment on AO3, I’d really love that, as well! ♥

#descendants #jaylos #malvie #descendants fanfiction #platonic!jal #platonic!jayvie #my fanfiction #my writing #Forever and a Night AU #descendants fandom #hello friends I am back from the war (three months of writer's block) #hopefully there are more words where this came from dajkgjskdg

[builder051]

Honey, you broke my alarm clock

Hero verse

Warnings for nightmare/night terror with all the bells and whistles, emeto, and mentions of violence/gore (think Winter Soldier missions.), and maybe a little romance as a prelude to the big, messy, exciting part. :)

______________

They go to bed early. The pillows squash against each other, and Bucky uses his good arm to pull Steve close. He dips his chin to trail soft kisses along Steve’s jawline and down his neck. They both have stubble, and the sensation of brushing his face against Steve’s reminds him of crushed velvet. It makes his body warm.

Steve shaves every other day. Bucky shaves when he gets around to it. He usually finds the time to do so after somebody, namely Natasha, gently teases him about having the look of a homeless nomad. Bucky takes it in stride,chuckling and putting his fingers to his bushy sideburns. Once evening comes, though, he stays in the bathroom long after he finishes showering, fumbling with the electric clippers.

Things like that have settled, now that time has passed. Steve knows how to keep his overbearing desire to be helpful in check. Ready, but just in case. And Bucky has started standing ground and knowing to what he is entitled—Audubon binoculars, purposely burnt coffee, bad shaves, and whatever other whims may show up, bringing him back to his old self while also fostering a new outlook on the world.

Bucky’s signs are easier to read now. His body language is less rigid, and he seems to letting the blockades in his mind fall away. Sometimes the feelings and memories are small, and whether heartwarming or haunting, he’s more comfortable talking. Relaxing. Resting his head on Steve’s shoulder for a hug, or, just as easily, a place to cry.

Bucky sighs into Steve’s collarbone and nudges his knee between Steve’s legs. They’re chest to chest as if plastered together, and the kissing stops. Bucky breathes deeply into Steve’s shirt instead.

“Yeah.” Steve strokes Bucky’s freshly combed hair. This is as far as they’re going tonight, and they both know it, but this is still a state of bliss.

Steve’s out and floating into sleep within minutes. He doesn’t get the chance to see Bucky’s last smile before he nods off as well.

Steve sleeps through the night now, most of the time. A car’s screeching tires or the cracking of an ice-coated tree branch still wake him, actively and abruptly, causing the occasional 2AM date with the muted television and a bowl of cereal.

He’s placid in his dreamland tonight, subconsciously moving through the breathing and grounding exercises he’s been practicing since he came off the ice. The dream itself seems plotless and easily forgettable. Steve has to remind himself that it’s a good thing. Even if it’s probably the placebo effect of the tabs of melatonin Sam had pressed on him after the support group meeting a few weeks ago.

Tonight, though. Or perhaps tomorrow. The timing hardly matters. It’s the elbow to the side of the head that jerks Steve back into consciousness. His ear takes the brunt of the blow, and the outer sears while everything behind the eardrum feels sloshy and completely out of alignment. Though he feels woozy and a little lightheaded, Steve scrambles to find his reflexes.

Something flails across Steve’s face, and even with his hands up to deflect the hit, he’s forced flat against the mattress while a second wild swing takes out the alarm clock on the bedside table and sends it crashing to the floor.

Oh well. O’dark thirty it is. Great time for combat.

Bucky’s arm extends to slap Steve again, but this time, he’s ready. He snatches Bucky’s wrist in one hand and his elbow in the other. “Buck?” Steve asks. “Hey. It’s me. It’s ok.”

Bucky’s back arches, and he scrabbles at the bedding with his feet. His heels dig into the mattress as he bicycles his knees, giving him little resistance or headway.

He’s yelling, too. Bucky makes a barking shriek at first, expressing desperation and pain, like someone with their sleeves on fire. It grows in intensity, though, and the screams grow louder and harsher. His whole body writhes, then Bucky’s jaw stretches open, larger than seems humanly possible. Steve’s afraid he’ll split his lips, but he knows the demons have to come out before he can pull Bucky back down into the here and now.

Bucky’s ragged breathing cuts through the noise until the scream becomes a hack, and his tongue protrudes as if it’s trying to part company with his throat. His chin tucks, and the gurgle preceding the heave bellows out.

“Buck—“ Steve tries, maneuvering up to touch his shoulder.

Steve’s voice is probably impossible to hear above Bucky’s aspiration and retching. There’s an intense gurgle, and Bucky cranks his head backward.

Projectile vomit arches over the foot of the bed. By the spattering sound it make, Steve guesses the bathroom door caught the brunt. No time to care, though. Steve gets his arm around Bucky’s shoulders, trying to provide enough pressure without making Bucky feel pinned.

Bucky continues to cough and spit out strings of bile coated in sick. He doesn’t seem to mind much when steve pushes him up onto his side. The violent twitching and areas of unbreakable tone slowly release to full-body quiver. Steve spoons him from behind, steadying with his chest and his knees. He keeps his head up, though. He watches a drop of clammy sweat run from Bucky’s hairline to his chin.

Bucky struggles to wipe the tear with his shoulder.

“Alright,” Steve tells him.

Bucky swallows, then heaves again. “I’m —fine,” he chokes. “‘s alright.” The tension in his back muscles soften, and the bedsprings groan as the mattress swallows him up again.

“You need to talk about it?” Steve offers. “Get it all out? Well, the rest of it?”

Bucky leans back into Steve’s arms, but ducks his head and lifts his stump arm as if blocking a sizzling stage light. “Eh,” he sighs.

Steve waits.

“A —thing. Gavotte?” Bucky’s eyes are hazy, and he looks as if he’s digging hard into the drawer to find his least favorite socks. Looking for a memory he doesn’t want to remember. “Is that a word? Is that a thing?”

“Yeah.” Steve keeps his voice measured. At the moment, he’s a dictionary. Once the words become clear, Bucky will tip into the proper pool of emotion for processing. Dealing. Healing? Maybe that’s too much to ask. Steve resumes his soft monotone. “Like a rope? A string? Like, with handles, so you can…you know.” They’re both fluent in the language of mutual acknowledgement, sans the details.

“Nnmph.” Bucky shakes his head a fraction of an inch. “Razor wire.” He pauses. “Pop goes the, well… You can guess how it ends.”

Bucky seems to collapse into himself. A croak escapes from his throat, and Steve wonders if he’s going to be sick again. There’s only a shrug, though. And a sigh.

“Yeah…” Steve runs his hand down Bucky’s back, feeling each vertebrae as he goes from the cervical at the nape of Bucky’s neck down to the lumbar and the waistband of his underwear.

They rest in silence. Bucky’s ragged breathing slows. Then it falls into the same rhythm as Steve’s.

“How we doing?” Steve asks. “I’ll grab a fresh pillow and you can go back to sleep.”

“Nah.” Bucky pushes himself up into a sitting position and slides his feet toward the floor. “I feel… gross.” He makes a face. “Shower?”

“Sure, yeah,” Steve gets out of bed as well.

The door to the bathroom sits lazily ajar, unabashedly showing the results of it’s previous baptism in bile and mucous and un digested dinner. Steve gives it a smirk, then dampens a towel under the faucet.

“Go on ahead,” Steve encourages Bucky. “I’ll get this and fix up the bed.”

Bucky doesn’t reply right away. When he’s free of his sweaty t shirt, he says, “I’ll wait.”

“Huh?” Steve wipes away most of the mess, then squats to catch the dribbles that hit the floor.

“For you to come with.” Bucky tilts his head, and Steve can’t quite tell if Bucky’s attempting to state the obvious or if he feels embarrassed for asking.

“Oh.” Steve smiles, even though it still doesn’t click. Not that it matters now. ���Yeah, I’ll get in with you. Just a sec.”

Exactly how much time it takes for Steve to stuff the dirty towel into the laundry, he doesn’t know. The clock’s still somewhere on the floor between the bedskirt and table legs. He adds it to the list of things to address later.

A quick glance to the window shows striated shades of royal and navy, faded into grey and the faintest tinge of pink. O’dawn thirty, then?

Steve shakes his head to dispel the compulsion to keep track of ticking hands and fractional mathematics. He has better things to do. More important.

The bathroom’s already steamy and scented with shampoo. Once he slides open the glass door and breathes in the inviting humid air, Steve automatically relaxes. There’s still worry. Still concern.

But it eases out of the way.

Now is the moment for caring. Supporting. Finding pleasure in the small things. Because, after all, they’re in endless, timeless, and ever-expanding love.

#fanfic #fanfiction #mcu #marvel #captain america #heroverse #Steve rogers #Bucky barnes #winter soldier #hurt/comfort #sickfic #nightmares #night terrors #PTSD #gore/violence #emeto #emetophilia #Illness and injury