#being her friend should be a secondary concern

[clamorybus]

i know "kids showing respect" usually means "shutting up and doing what their told", but my niece genuinely has no respect for her mother. its kinda fucked up to see, but it's my sister in law's fault; she just has no backbone, and has set no boundaries for that child

#it feels really mean to say but she genuinely doesn't #and i don't mind her being a lenient parent #i mean kids aren't little robots they're gonna fuck up and talk back and be moody #so its honestly good my SIL is flexible #but its to a fault #she'll say smth like 'i'm not going back and forth between floors with an arm load of toys for you #you're almost 8 you can grab some dolls by yourself' #and as soon as my niece pouts my SIL immediately cows and does it #and i do get it its not fun to be strict but she is her MOTHER. her job is to parent and raise her #being her friend should be a secondary concern #and again i don't think or even want her to be a super strict parent #and its not necessarily good for a child her age to be super independent #but an (nondisabled) eight year doesn't her mother in the bathroom with her yknow? #and the thing is my niece is a super smart and indepent kid! just not with her mom because her mom let's her #get away with EVERYTHING. like my SIL just has no boundaries and its gonna cause a lot of problems down the road #mickey.txt #its hard to explain if you don't see it every day but its just not a healthy dynamic #just. im the aunt and it feels like i do more parenting than she does #(which isn't true at all but there are moments where it feels like that) #(also my brother is far from a perfect parent but that's a whole other post. and my niece does respect him) #(again that feels like a nebulous thing and i promise i don't mean in sense of obedience)

[imaginaryf1shots]

My Girls (V) | Max Verstappen

Words count: 2K

Driver!oc X Max Verstappen

Platonic!Driver!oc X the grid

Summery: Cecilia Hansson daughter of a Swedish billionaire, a race car driver, with a dream of making it big in Formula 1. However she has a few secrets that may hurt her as women are disliked in the sport.

Series Warnings: google translated french, dutch, cursing, child abandment, absent father, drinking, car accidents, Jos Verstappen, misogyny, Christian horner (tell me if i missed anything)

Couldn't sleep so here we go...

This is a secondary blog so I won't be able to respond but I'm adding you all.

Masterlist

Series Masterlist

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Nosy friends and lunch 

“What?” Cecilia answered the call request coming from discord, her friends have been spamming her with texts and facetime and she hasn’t accepted any calls or replied to any texts, thank you Charles Leclerc for being a snitch.

“Finally!” Lando was the first to speak, Cecilia didn’t even look at the phone, she continued getting ready, it’s still lockdown she wasn’t leaving to meet Max for once… he was coming over for the first time, they’ve been meeting regularly(at least three times a week)  for the last couple of months. At times she’d go after Nathalie fell asleep, she hadn’t taken Nattie with her to Max’s since that day, but she had been talking to him on the phone, like she does with Charles and her other uncles. It was cute how her daughter would talk with Charles in almost all French and with Max in almost all English. Her daughter is growing up like her and her brother, but that’s besides the point. 

“What do you guys need? I’m busy.” 

“We can see, so who is coming over?” Hearing Pierre’s voice made her glance at the phone to see who was actually in the call, of course her friends from karting plus Lando. 

“Oh my god! You all are so nosy, how did you find out anyway?” She asked knowing that she hasn’t said anything, not even to Charles.

“I may have talked to your mum.” Charles confessed with a proud smile.

“You should be scared Charlotte! That’s creepy behaviour!” Cecilia shouted through the phone knowing that his girlfriend is sitting next to him, she heard her laugh. “Why did I give you my mum’s number again.”

“Don’t try to change the subject Cecilia, when were you going to tell us?” Alex asked, he looked comfy, sitting back on his sofa with a smoothie or juice or something sipping from a straw. In fact they all looked like they were sitting for a gossip session.

“Tell you what? There’s nothing to tell.” 

“Why are you putting makeup on then?” Pierre asked, itching for new gossip.

“It’s just the basic stuff.” Cecilia said, shrugging still continuing with her makeup.

“What did I miss?” George asked, joining the call, Cecilia wanted to pull her hair and block all her friends.

“Little miss secrets here, is getting ready for a date with Max.” Lando told his fellow brit.

“It’s not a date, he’s meeting my parents.” Cecilia said before she could think and sighed, they all howled with laughter.

“You’re already meeting the parents.” Charles said laughing, it was all in good fun, and things have been boring since covid started.

“You all met my parents before, each and everyone of you.” Cecilia said and pointed at them. “You know what, I’m blocking you all.” 

With that she ended the call to finish getting ready in peace, they got on her nerves sometimes. She needs more females in her life.

“I just got here.” George groaned.

“You don’t think she’ll actually do it, do you?” Alex asked, suddenly concerned.

“I don’t think so.” 

“Me neither.” Charles and Lando comforted the others, they just sat there for a while contemplating the duo, and how they thought things would turn out to be like. Charles knew your mother would tell him if he asked.

Cecilia finished getting ready and went to help her mum with the last of the food, Cecilia really wasn’t dressed up, she just had light makeup and a sundress, it was getting warmer now, and they were eating out on the terrace. Seeing her mum in a dress Nattie also wanted to change into a dress as well.

“Go help her, your dad and I will finish here.” her mum said and patted her back, Cecilia took Nattie to her room and made her choose the dress she wanted, midway she heard the doorbell ring, and she knew Max had arrived.

Max was greeted by your dad, he of course saw him before, but it was always from afar they never talked. “Nice to meet you sir.”

“You too, come in please.” Max was led inside he glanced around, this is the house you grew up and lived your whole life in, the penthouse is bigger than the apartment he lives in, for one he rents they own, this one is two stories with apparently a gym. But it felt lived in, from what Cecilia told him is that her dad’s family had generational wealth, but her mum came from a humble bringing, so yes they had the best things in life, but her mum made them know how lucky and privileged they were. As teens they had to work to earn their money, and learn to do things on their own, they never had a nanny or a chef, someone did come in to clean twice a week, so they did their chores, their mum really wanted them to grow up as normal as she could when your dad is a billionaire. 

“I didn’t know what to bring.” Max said and handed her dad a couple of wine bottles, he had ordered online. Looking at her dad, he saw a lot of him in Cecilia and in turn Nathalie, all their colours are her dad, her lips and nose being the only thing he couldn’t place on him.

“You didn’t need to bring anything, but we’ll enjoy it I’m sure.” Cecilia’s dad led him inside to the living room, not the formal one for guests, the one they hosted their friends and family in, the walls were all mostly glass with doors leading to the big terrace. “Cecilia is changing Nattie, the girl took one look at her mum in a dress and suddenly she wants to wear one too.”

“Max! Hello.” Cecilia’s mum walked up with open arms greeting the man, Max had just sat down, stood up quickly just as he was pulled in a motherly hug, she kissed his cheeks like the french one on each side before she pulled back. 

“Nice to meet your Mrs. Hansson.” Max greeted the smiley woman, and he knew where you took your lips and nose from, the perfect blend between your parents.

“Please call me Adeline.” She waved his formalities off. “I saw you grow up with Cecilia, sorry I look like a mess.”

“No, no you don’t… Do you need some help.” Max offered, he could smell the food already coming from the kitchen.

“Nonsense, sit down and talk with Börje, I’m almost done.” With that she gracefully left, sitting back down he faced Cecilia’s dad.

“Cecilia told us you’re quarenting alone.” Börje said and Max nodded, they talked a little about what he was doing since lockdown started, her dad shared how hard it was to run a business from home, especially since HQ was in sweden. 

“Pappa, don’t bore him with your work.” Cecilia called to her dad as Nattie ran in the room to her grand-père before she saw Max and turned to run to him, Max caught the girl and pulled her up on the sofa beside him.

“He’s not bored.” Her dad said acting hurt by her words after rolling his eyes. “I’m not boring you Max am I?”

“No, not at all.” Shaking her head at him, MAx greeted her daughter, before he stood up and gave her a small hug.

“In that case, take care of my child while I help maman.” Cecilia said and turned to her dad. “Can you set the table?”

“Sure thing Älskling.” (Darling) Her dad said and the men moved out to the terrace, there was a cabinet there with a sink and everything for when they had BBQs out there, it was filled with plates and cutlery. Once again Nathalie wanted to help so Max had her placing the spoons and forks in their place. If your dad had doubts about Max before they’re starting to disappear now. He saw Max like the public saw him, only what he presented, and to be honest he doesn’t like Jos but seeing how he talked with Nattie, his instincts as a father were calm. 

After they were done with the table, the men found themselves by the railing, Max was looking at the view, glancing at the girl who was swinging on the small playground set, her granddad had installed for her. 

“Cecilia might kill me for saying this but, when she was pregnant she used to watch a lot of your races.” Börje told the driver he was amused thinking about it now, because if he thinks too deeply all he feels is rage and sadness, an overwhelming feeling of sadness. 

“Did she?” Max asked and turned to copy Cecilia’s dad’s stance, they leaned back on the railing, this is news to him.

“Yeah, she’d say how she wanted to do that, she’d dream of getting in F1. Did you know that Ferrari were in talks with her in 2016 about maybe signing her and having her as a reserve driver.” Max looked surprised at the news, Cecilia got pregnant during negotiations and her lawyer(dad’s lawyers) got her out of the deal with smooth talks and ended things on a good note for future possibilities. “Right when she got pregnant, it took a lot for her to decide what to do. She was glowing when she held Nattie and told us she wanted to get back into racing.”

“She’s lucky she had you supporting her, not many parents would.” Max spoke the truth, wealthy or not, not many parents would have their adult children’s backs like that.

“She’s my girl, even if she’s an adult with a daughter of her own, that's my baby girl.” Börje said, before Max called for Nattie to be careful, right before Börje was about to, the girl took to swinging and then jumping. The set was on a type of foam mat but she could still hurt herself. “Cecilia has always been honest with us, and I can see that you care, not many men would get in a relationship with a woman who has a child, but like I told you, that’s my little girl and I don’t want to see her heartbroken.”

“She won’t I promise.” Max promised his eyes and tone telling the truth, Börje smiled and patted his back. 

“Max, can you help Cecilia bring out the food?” Adeline asked coming out with the salad, when Börje moved to also help she gave him a look, happily married for 30 years now, made him understand her with only a look.

When Max walked in the kitchen he was met with Cecilia taking a baking dish out of the oven before she sat it on the counter. “Need help?”

“Huh, yeah. Mum made so much food you’d think she’s feeding an army.” Cecilia said and looked at all the food sitting in trays and serving dishes, the quantity wasn’t a lot but she made a lot of options. “We'll all be eating this for days to come.”

Max came up behind her and wrapped his arms around her, she smiled and turned her head kissing his cheek. “Haven’t been able to say hi properly.” 

“Sorry about that.” She turned in his arms and hugged him around the neck, his arms around her waist, they stood there for a moment before they pulled back, as much as Max wanted to kiss her lips, they’re at your parent’s house and they’re here, so out of respect for them he kissed her forehead before he pulled away and they started bringing the food out, on the last trip she got a bottle of chilled white wine and room temp red one(one of the ones Max brought) along with a wine looking glass that had juice for the little princess. 

Max and Cecilia sat across from her parents with Nattie between her mum and her boyfriend to be(?). They didn’t want to label it, but they are kind of in a relationship. If you spend  time with a man, occasionally kiss said man, talk to said man at all hours of the day and night, go to his house three times a week so you’d spend time together doesn’t that mean you’re dating? Please someone tell Cecilia to make a move already.

Max turned up his charm for the day, he had her parents laughing and engaging in all sorts of conversation, he complimented the cooking, the house, he even managed to talk business with her dad. All points for him in their book. Hearing Cecilia laugh with a man like she hasn’t in over four years made the points easy to give. With eyes that only parents had, they watched how when she laughed as she leaned towards him, her arm falling on his shoulder even with Nattie between them it all looked natural, a family in the making.

Ceciliahansson15

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Ceciliahansson15

liked by Carlossainz55, maxverstappen1, Pierregasly and 2,197,009 others

ceciliahansson15 A little wine never hurt anybody

view all 86,984 comments

username1 on my knees🧎‍♀️

username2 who got you those flowers 🤔

charles_leclerc 👀

georgerussell63 👀

ceciliahansson15 grow up!! 🙄😒

username3 what do you know???

username4 soft launch

alex_albon can I be invited the next time I'm in Monaco 👉👈

ceciliahansson15 literarly my mum invites half the grid over everytime! you chose not to come last year

alex_albon I WAS TIRED! I'M SORRY

ceciliahansson15 it's okay it was only a couple of us last year anyways 🤷‍♀️

username8 i wanna be invited 🥺

username5 is she soft launching? or is she just aesthetic🤔

username6 why not aesthetic and soft launching

username5 like the way you think 👍

username7 I lover her insta so much so pleasing to look at

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Taglist:

@luciaexcorvus . @vellicora . @tpwkstiles . @belennasif  . @eugene-emt-roe . @fanboyluvr . @fangirl125reader , @christianpulisic10 . @belennasif . @itsjustkhaos .

#f1 x reader #my girls #f1 imagine #max verstappen #f1 scenario #f1dr #max verstappen one shot #f1 x driver!reader #max verstappen imagine #f1 fanfic #max verstappen x oc

[another-day-another-shadow-ban]

Only Pretending #6

Word count: 3.5k Author's note: sooo, I've decided that until I'm shadowbanned, I'll be posting this series here! I'll still reblog the chapters so it is on my primary blog. I won't be able to reply to comments still (as this is a secondary blog), but know that I sincerely appreciate every single note you people leave, so thank you so much in advance, you are so beautiful!

If pressed, you wouldn’t be able to tell how long you spent kissing that night. Wouldn’t be able to remember when you straddled her lap, holding on for however long you could.

Larissa’s hands were the gentlest torturers you’d ever known, softly but surely going from caressing your face to gripping your neck and ending up on your hips, pressing you closer with a desperate feel to it.

You could not remember the last time you were so thoroughly studied. Maybe never. There was no part of you her hands did not travel through and for the first time, you cursed your fuzzy pyjamas. What wouldn’t you have given to feel her fingers grip your thighs without any barrier between you? It was a curse but also a blessing. If you had felt cold fingers on your heated skin, you might not have had the strength to stop it.

Larissa was following a clear path. She had a goal, and it was undeniably thrilling to know she wanted you, but you were both intoxicated by more than one another. This was not a pure desire-driven endeavour; you were drunk and while your feelings and want were very clear to you, you could not know of Larissa’s. Hell, only yesterday she had asked you to be her friend. You could very well be the available option.

When you felt her hand skirting dangerously up your thigh, you mentally kicked yourself and put your hand over hers.

You separated for just a fraction, looking her in the eyes. They were heavy-lidded and you could see more than just a simple adjustment to lighting on her wide pupils. It killed you to know what your next words were when she looked so incredible, still towering over you even when you were on her lap.

“Larissa…” you whispered, and she chased your lips, stealing a brief kiss before you had the strength to part again, “I know this is frustrating, and you might hate me or thank me tomorrow, but I’d prefer having the knowledge that you were completely clear minded before choosing to go down this route with me.”

“Why are you so concerned about me all the time, it should be me who’s saying this,” she sounded defeated, dumping her head on your shoulder for the second time that evening.

You brought your hands to her nape and started to gently scratch her scalp.

“You’re concerned with everyone around you all the time.” You smiled. “Only fair that someone does the same to you.”

Her arms circled your waist, and she buried her nose in your neck. You kissed the tip of her ear and nudged her up to face you again. You felt a satisfying surge of pride seeing her small affectionate smile, and had to kiss it one more time, just as affectionately.

Getting up and turning to lie on the bed, you pulled her with you so she would be the one on top. You went down kissing, smiling, and chuckling once when she pressed her thigh between your legs a little too much and made you groan.

“Tomorrow, we discuss it, ok?” you breathed in the now darkened room and felt Larissa nod against your chest.

“Good night, y/n,” she whispered.

“Good night, Larissa.”

You woke up alone the next morning. Sunlight was coming through the half-opened deep-red curtains, warming a line up your jaw and burning your ear. Larissa must have woken with it in her eyes.

You got up and dragged yourself to the bathroom. Larissa was probably downstairs, which shouldn’t bother you, but you thought you would talk first thing in the morning and the fact that she preferred being in Morticia’s company instead of waking you to accompany her was nauseating. Maybe she was sparing you the bother of putting up with the woman and you were just worrying unnecessarily.

Taking your time to get ready and dress, you left the bedroom almost forty minutes later.

Upon stepping into the main hall, you were surprised by the large front doors opening abruptly. Through them, a squealing Enid ran inside, dropping two travel bags by the stairs and returning just as quickly to hug an unimpressed Wednesday, walking calmly inside (though the slight quiver on the side of her mouth hinted at her true feelings).

“I can’t believe I’m finally here! Stop with the pout, Addams! Your brooding days are over, time to enjoy the holiday!”

Wednesday rolled her eyes in your direction, still in Enid’s arms, as if she could convince you she wasn’t happy her girlfriend had arrived. As if it wasn’t all she talked about at dinner last night on the rare occasions she bothered to make a comment.

“Professor!” you were next in the queue of hugs, and Enid’s joyful skips towards you managed to soothe the minor discomfort that Larissa’s absence had caused. “I’m so happy that you’re here,” she whispered timidly and quite adorably, “I didn’t talk with my parents yet. I’ll do it in person, but I wanted to thank you again for our talk.”

“Of course, dear,” you tightened your arms around her, “And I’ll be here no matter their reaction if you want to talk again, ok? We can go to the Weathervane or the park, whatever you’d like.”

You separated and she smiled sweetly at you. You knew it was young love, but you wished they’d work out because looking at them, you could think of no one else who would protect Enid as fiercely as Wednesday and not a single soul that would keep Wednesday in check as Enid did. They were such an adorable pair you almost felt jealous.

“Rissa?” Morticia’s voice sounded again, a bit louder, snapping Larissa out of her reverie.

“Yes?”

“If you’ve finished eating, I’ll summon Lurch to clear the table for you.” She gestured while seating in one of the garden chairs around said table.

“No, I’ll wait for y/n, thank you. I think she’d like to have breakfast in the garden,” she smiled, remembering your idea of what your first date would have been like. She didn’t know much about you from these last few days, but she was certain you’d appreciate the fresh air and Morticia’s deadly plants.

“You know, I don’t understand what you think you’re doing,” the woman replied, rushing through the words in an uncommon manner.

“Whatever do you mean, Morticia?”

“Oh, don’t roll your eyes at me! I can see clearly what’s happening here!” she sounded impatient, which wasn’t unheard of, but she rarely showed it to anyone; that’s how Larissa knew they were alone, she got used to that secret side of the woman twenty years ago.

Masking her discomfort with a long-since practised smile, Larissa tidied the spread while choosing her words.

“And what do you think that would be?”

Larissa heard a snort, “You’re being used! You always had a soft spot for the unremarkable and that is a very generous quality of yours. I admire it, truly, but it’s the third time around, amore, and this will end up badly.”

“What?! Careful with your lies, Morticia, they’re getting bigger and bigger, and someday they’ll lodge in your throat,” Larissa was shocked by her own reaction. She thought she’d mastered how to maintain the higher ground around Morticia, but clearly, she was mistaken; at least when it was about you, apparently. “Be honest, you can’t care less about how this will end. You didn’t care the first time, why would you now?”

At that, her old roommate stilled.

“I didn’t know about her, and you know it very well,” her tone was dangerously controlled, she was looking ahead with her jaw set and from time to time her eye twitched, “When I heard the news, Gomez didn’t even have to finish sparring, I just ran to the car.” With a deep breath, Morticia turned to face Larissa, eyes sparkling and nose flaring. “You are an intelligent woman, Larissa; we both know that. So, you must have noticed the recurrent theme of charming young ladies trying to use you for their own purposes.”

“Don’t forget to include yourself on the list,” Larissa’s tone was colder than she’d expected, but Morticia’s uncharacteristic avoidance of her gaze was an exquisite treat.

Without another word, the woman stood up and walked back through the path from where she came.

The previous night, you attributed the mansion’s imposing aura to the melting of its high towery roof against the darkening of the skies that created a strange sense of elongated walls. However, through the morning sunlit corridors, the high ceilings and medieval-like decorations didn’t alleviate you of the notion in any way. You could swear one of the rooms you passed through had an actual medieval torture device.

When you started walking down the rock path, Morticia appeared from around tall white oleander bushes, looking sour, and even though her sweet smiles had been mostly false until that moment, you preferred them. Whatever happened to her, you prayed you didn’t have to know.

Upon seeing, though, her face morphed back into “alluring menace mode”.

“Good morning, my dear. Did you sleep well?” she said in a slightly hoarser version of her baritone, coming right up to you and standing close.

“Yeah, you have very good beds,” you smirked, “they barely make a sound.”

The twitch of annoyance in the corner of her lip gave away her feelings, and her expression changed again in a matter of seconds, brows knitting together and downward lips.

“Oh, did something happen in the morning then?”

“What do you mean?” what was she talking about?

“I’ve just spoken with Rissa, and she seemed very pissy about something, could barely talk to her for a minute…” you knew you shouldn’t trust her concerned tone, the glint in her eye had amusement written all over it.

So, Larissa wasn’t in bed because she was angry? Or she regretted your actions last night and seeing the person whom she started this all for irritated her? If she hadn’t wanted to prove Morticia wrong, nothing would have happened. No cuddling on the sofa, no trips and highroad hugs, and definitely no kissing like mad until you fell asleep.

She placed her hand on your shoulder and murmured, “I’d say to approach carefully, you never know when she has a temper.” before parting with her usual saunter.

So much for hope, in the end. You could only be grateful for the chance at knowing what it could be like to be… you didn’t want to finish the thought, even that felt tainted by Larissa’s repentance.

Turning where Morticia came from, you saw a few meters ahead a beautiful black iron garden table with matching chairs. Larissa’s shoulders hung softly. She didn’t look tense from her back, more contemplating with her fingers absentmindedly tracing the rim of a teacup.

You approached slowly, and when you were in front of her, she didn’t look near throwing you the cup. Unsurprisingly, Morticia was fond of hyperboles.

“Before you say anything, I just wanted to say that I’m sorry. It was a mistake, it’s ok…” you felt your throat tight and breathed slowly in to control your emotions before continuing, “We were both drunk, and I’m happy we stopped because if not this conversation would have been a lot more awful than it already is to have. I won’t say a thing to anyone, and I won’t ask anything of you, as well, don’t worry. We can just pretend it never happened.”

Larissa’s confused expression didn’t last long. You could point out the moment she stopped being Larissa and became principal Weems in front of you. Her unguarded posture swiftly shifted to the picture of a professional stance, her face was neutral and her voice calculatedly suave.

“Of course. I’m glad that we cleared it out, I’d hate for it to be a source of miscomprehension between us,” she smiled, “Good thing that we both feel the same and can act as adults about it.”

You only nodded, too stunned to muster a response.

“Well,” she got up and gestured to the overstocked table between you, “I thought you’d enjoy breakfast in the garden. You did seem rather fond of picnics if I recall,” she ended with a breath. If you knew any better, you’d say she sounded wounded before she circled you walked away.

As soon as her towering figure was out of sight, which you knew because you watched her go without so much as blinking, you let all the air you’d been holding out, finishing with the mixture of a broken whimper and a sob. Now you knew, undeniably, that your feelings weren’t reciprocated. You felt so drained you couldn’t even cry; you simply fell into the closest chair and ignored the food by your side until someone came to get it.

When Morticia saw Larissa’s face coming from the garden, she concluded her little deception had worked.

More guests arrived in the afternoon. A lot of them very eccentric and intriguing. There was one particular guest you found very charming. Wednesday introduced him to you as Cousin Itt; apparently, he also attended Nevermore years back and was a consistent winner in debates.

“I and Pugsley facilitated his marriage years ago,” Wednesday said curiously by your side, a sinister smile indicating her rare amusement, “It was good fun to dispose of Cousin Margaret’s late husband.”

“Whatever do you mean by that?!”

She only smiled a bit more and stalked away to join Enid at the garden.

Larissa was missing for the greater part of the day. After lunch, which was stilted and awkward, only balanced by Enid and Gomez lively debating Wednesday’s adventures in the previous year, she left for who knows where and only appeared in your bedroom closely before the party was scheduled to start.

You knew you still were trying to deceive Morticia, and by her comment that morning she did seem to believe you were together, but now you didn’t know if Larissa wanted to continue with the plan; she looked so tired.

“Do you think we should talk about it?” you asked when she left the bathroom in one of the fluffy robes.

“Talk about what?” her tone was clipped.

You really wanted to maintain the illusion of being an adult, but it was so difficult with her displeased principal face. You felt like a child politely scolded for your bad behaviour. Your shoulders hurt and your chest ached; spending one afternoon away from her, not knowing what was going through her head was torture. You wondered how you’d survive the rest of the year now, if it would all fade away or if the dull aching would be a consistent reminder of all you wanted and could not have every time you walked by her or were called to her office.

It was Larissa who talked fist, prompting you out of your misery with an exasperated voice.

“Fine!” she snapped, “You want to talk about it? Let’s do that. Where do you want to start from? The part where I-“ she cut herself, looking at you with ill-concealed rage and… betrayal? What? “You know what? You start… this was your idea, to begin with,” she ended in a much quieter tone, rummaging through her belongings and producing a wine bottle before dropping into one of the armchairs by the unlit fireplace.

“You brought wine?!”

She was silent for a few moments before speaking, “I thought we could share it the first night, but you were already drunk and I was tired so I didn’t even remember it,” she sounded defeated, and the emotional rollercoaster of feelings this trip was putting you through was starting to exhaust you. You wanted just that. Simple things. Sharing wine and giggling about fooling her old roommate, being friends and not worrying about screwing everything up all the time.

“Can I have some?” you approached and seated in the chair in front of her.

“We don’t have glasses.”

“Do you really mind sharing a bottle? I mean, we did worse than that already…” you winced at the comment, but when she huffed and smiled you felt almost overwhelmed with relief and fondness.

She unscrewed the bottle and took a swing before passing it over. It occurred to you it wasn’t even the first time you drank from the same place. Last night you shared your last glass you whisky without even thinking about it.

You gulped down a healthy amount and were surprised by the sweet smoothness of it. It was the same you shared the first time you went to her office. She smiled again when your eyebrows shot up and you took another sip, savouring it this time and not just swallowing for the sake of liquid courage. You didn’t know quite what to say at the sweet gesture.

“How about we start with the reason you disappeared on me the entire day,” you prompted, gently, passing her the bottle.

She huffed a laugh again, but it was bitterer this time around. “I think you know why that was.”

“I really don’t,” you were speaking quietly, as if it was any louder something would shatter, “I can guess, but I’d prefer knowing. Not knowing things have already caused enough commotion between us, don’t you think?”

“Ha, I wonder how we’ll ever work together again after this,” she didn’t take the time to appreciate the drink, downing an amount that had her throat moving slowly to manage it.

“I think you should stop with that for now…” you took the bottle and set it on the floor. She did have a different system than you, but it was starting to feel like too much too soon.

“I don’t usually… I have been drinking much more than normal the last few days,” she confessed, her eyebrows kitting softly.

“It’s ok, I just think we’re always out of sorts before having honest conversations. The time in the car was the healthiest discussion we ever had, and it took us very high amounts of stress to even start talking.”

“You are correct, once again.”

“Again?”

“You said before that it was a mistake,” her voice was just above a whisper.

“And you agreed… with me.”

“Do you really believe that?” she huffed again, “You must know by now how I feel, you’re just too kind to tell me it is one-sided. Stop trying to protect my feelings, I’m more than a decade older than you.”

You were a bit oblivious sometimes, but you couldn’t misinterpret what she was saying, however, you could not believe it either.

“What do you mean, Larissa? Please don’t say things you don’t mean thinking it will make me feel better.”

She hid her face in her hands with a deep breath. Her hair was wet from the shower and even looking cosy and casual in her robe, all you could see in Larissa was tense exasperation.

“Who stopped us yesterday?” she murmured, dropping her hands, eyes almost boring holes in yours with her piercing determination, “Who came to me this morning offering me an out, implying we both made a mistake and not only me?”

“I thought you were…” you started saying, but she cut in.

“You thought I was what? Not interested after kissing myself molten in your arms? That I regretted while waiting for us to eat together in the garden? What did you think, y/n? Enlighten me because it really is a mystery to me what passes through your head.”

You were stunned into silence by her small outburst. She really was incomparable when her eyes lit up like that when the persona of masterly disguised feelings was put aside, and the real Larissa appeared.

“M-Morticia told me you were mad… in the garden before I met you,” you breathed, “I thought you snapped at her because she was the reason we’re doing this in the first place.”

At that, Larissa got up, you were still dazed to accompany her movements, but you felt her hands on your shoulders and suddenly she was kneeling in front of you.

“This is just a guess, but don’t you think Morticia would love nothing more than to ruin whatever it is we have since it’s exactly what she’s been trying to do since we got here?” you could very well drown on those resplendent blue eyes, clear as the Weddell Sea with emotion, “It would be laughable if we were actually together, let’s be honest, her methods are ‘petty teenager’ level, but I think we are so deep into our heads we’re falling for them just like a pair of teenaged fools.” Her hand came to caress your cheek, and you weren’t sure you were being played or if this was really happening, but you couldn’t think of any words, even less muster a sentence to agree with her, so you just had to pathetically wait for Larissa to fix everything by herself. She didn’t seem to mind so much, with a small smile and drawn eyebrows.

“Did you really regret it?” she whispered, looking almost vulnerable if it weren’t for her resolve to soothe your insecurities, “Or would you say something different if Morticia hadn’t found you before me?”

“You were all I could think about…” you covered her hand on your cheek, “I just wanted to be sure your feelings wouldn’t change…”

“They didn’t,” she said simply and leaned in to kiss you.

Tag list: @anti-bright-places, @the-bagel24, @regalbootie, @tundra1029, @thoroughly-confused, @lilsmeaux, @poorwritingandstalecoffee, @alder-saan, @jelly-frogss, @enchantressb, @imean-its-just-me, @lvinhs, @iloveyall-18, @kimiinou, @jeweleegrey (why won't your names tag? What am I doing wrong?)

Chapter Seven

#larissa weems x reader #principal weems x reader #larissa weems #principal weems #female reader #fake/pretend relationship #teacher!reader #normie!reader #comfort/hurt/comfort #yep rollercoaster in this one #fluff #wlw kiss #mistakes are unmade #only pretending (larissa x reader) #tanith-rhea

[unlikelyjapan]

s2e3 rewatch notes

One more before the weekend...

"When I was a kid anything that would give me some type of excitement, or amusement or enjoyment would get fucked ... Sometimes they'd try too hard, or they'd make promises they weren't able to keep" - everything in Carmy's AA statement can be related to cooking, the restaurant, drawing, Claire - pretty much the sum of Carmy's parts now.

Second Carmy/Syd kitchen scene:

Carmy is always the first to ask about anyone's parents (but only to Syd) - just like he inquires about Syd's Dad, his first concern is to ask about Marcus' mom while they debate sending him to Copenhagen. Family and people, in general, are always at the forefront of his mind, while progression is always at the forefront of Syd's (even if she does genuinely cares and checks in, it's secondary)

Carmy's "I want to make a suggestion" to go out was so loaded - it was obviously a premeditated move that he wanted to do the food tour with Syd. "I think WE need to go out, and we need to try some stuff"

After he tells her he'll see her in an hour, Goodbye Girl by Squeeze starts playing, and the track ends as Tina realizes that Ebra isn't ever going to be by her side in class *dies twice*

Richie dropping off his daughter: I have a precocious 6-year-old daughter as well and.....they tried to squeeze way too many lines into Eva to advance Richie's storyline when it should have come via Tiff or something - I hate being a negative nelly, but this part is so botched/lifetime drama-y.

(His obvious tenderness is sweet though)

10:44am call with Claire: this is only 2ish hours after his AA talk - I guess the subject matter was resonating with him?

Her forcing the convo on how ingratiated she is with his family makes me throw up my hands and say "no wonder the guy had a fucking panic attack later!". I was just highlighting how in AA how his family tries too hard sometimes - this is a prime example with her "I know all the fuckin' Faks" jousting.

And my god, she knew he was about to tell her that he was busy today, and she claps back "can you not make this weird?" - it literally harkens back to his family's bullying and expectations that Carmy will pacify them. (I know she can't know all this, but damn)

This part of the conversation gets its own bullet point:

"You know, he [Fak] told me that you guys are really close and that he's your best friend" - I didn't realize the first go around how bold the attempt at enmeshment was. With Fishes as context, the toxicity levels in this conversation are off the rails.

Also, her demented smile when she says "really?" when he says "no...no, Fak's not my best friend" - aggghhhh!

"No, no. He is. He's probably my best friend"

What the hell is this? "That's interesting, to sit with, for you" with the continued weird little smile -this isn't flirting, this is her relishing in the fact that she can manipulate him.

Why didn't I clue into how caustically fucked this scene was the first time? I think I was so distracted by the whispy dialogue and cadence of the conversation that I actually blacked out of the dialogue. Thank goodness for subtitles, because this script is mildly psychotic to read.

I know Storer said that one of the themes of this season is "winning is losing" - Claire is definitely playing to win at all costs. Is s2e10 showing that she lost? Or am I sitting through this dialogue again next season? I NEED TO KNOW.

Anyways, Secret Teadrops by Martin Rev (google the lyrics) plays as sydney enters Kasama - God, the music suggests she was thrilled to be spending a day out of the usual context with Carmy, and her checking her phone constantly is killing me.

Twenty Five Miles by Edwin Starr starts playing at the start of the food montage, just as Sydney gets the text from Carmy that she'll be doing it alone.

"I've been walking for three days and two lonely nights, and you know that I'm mighty mad"

After the owner of Avec tells her that she needs a great partner above all else, the lyrics blare again with "although my feet are tired, I can't lose my stride" - she can't abandon faith in Carmy just yet.

After the Pelican meats scene where the butcher (I forget his name, sorry!) tells Syd that he and his wife lost their restaurant in Bucktown after a business partner cut and ran, the song again blares with "I'm SO tired, but I just can't lose my stride"

Syd starts to adjust her language to "I'm not exactly solo" in the next restaurant scene- ugh - painful.

Enter conversations about profit sharing. Naiya assumes that she and Carmy are INVOLVED involved, and when she finds out they're just "gentleman's agreement" partners, she basically tells her to watch her back. Syd registers the statement, but looks so dejected, like she knows she's on a fool's errand now.

The lyrics flare one last time simply with "I've got to walk on"

Cue Carmy's phone going to voicemail as she has the jitters on the loading dock. She looks so sad, but also resigned to her fate at this point.

Sydney calls Marcus right after trying to call Carmy looking for any kind of sign or reinforcement. We're at the triangle again, with Marcus interpreting it one way, and Syd....really not reading anything into it at all.

I feel like Fak making fun of Marcus for "looking forward' with that big, dumb smile on his face means he knows Marcus' affection for Sydney.... and I'm starting to realize all the plots I don't like are the result of Fak's intuition and/or meddling.

Syd awkwardly trying to poach BOH workers is adorably baller and shows how aggressive she is just now realizing she needs to become- and she's so terrible at it, and I love her.

Future Perfect by Duretti Column (what an awesome deep cut) playing - I love that this part of the montage is Syd diving deep into herself and her more analytically-bent creative process and fuck everyone else. It's just her carrying the creative load of the restaurant right now, but she's truly free.

Lyrics repeat "You tell me stories, you speak in pictures"

She's being absolutely present ("Don't live in the future") and letting the food and the city that birthed it speak to her honestly and it's just so beautiful. The old family pictures surface in her memory alongside the plates she's crafting - her own contribution to the chaos menu, her past and present combined, her future (The Bear) undetermined.

Back to The Bear with "Make You Happy" by Tommy McGee playing in the background - I feel like enough ink has been spilled on this scene, but honestly read the lyrics here - ack.

One small observation after Carmy says "I'll let you know" - in the background, Marcus looks completely defeated, Fak's suppressing a laugh or something, and we get Richie's "ooooooohhhhhhh!"while Carm gives him dagger eyes. Y'all....these are not great men.

Syd rightfully realizes she needs to get the fuck away from everyone in that instant if she's going to do anything productive with the inspiration she's culled from her day of exploration and calls in the favor from the kitchen. I love that it almost immediately cuts to her there with her emotional support spoon 🥺

The ravioli failure - i.e. the fantasy vision of the food she had on the plate during her journey day not matching the reality of what she can craft on her own = the fantasy vision of the restaurant/life she could craft with Carmy not matching the reality of what she can is forced to craft on her own.

Oof, taking a break for a few days now....

#the bear fx #the bear season 2 #the bear spoilers #the bear #carmy x sydney #carmen berzatto

[stellari-s]

🍨

request; kind of - a friend gave me a prompt "ice cream" and i wrote something based off of that. requests open!

wc; around 1 440.

tags; cozy vibes i think, x gn! doctor! reader, spontaneous pov changes, ⚰️ is a secondary character, 4am writing (you've been warned).

summary; you run into a boy named ithaqua and while giving him treatment, you give him some ice cream...

to people who don’t know, the cold should be a sign. if it feels cold anywhere, it’s always a sign of something to come, for better or worse, just as pain lets the body know there was something wrong. it is the first sign of winter and a chilly calm before a blizzard.

some people are used to this cold, while others - any normal person would naturally want to shiver. if one shivers, there is no need for concern, but if one is simply used to constant coldness, then it’s like not feeling any pain at all, numbing to a lethal point.

footsteps imprint the pure white snow beneath, leading up to two silhouettes: one a hooded figure - you - and the other masked. you crouch beside the unconscious boy, who appears to be in his late teens or maybe early twenties, but looks are superficial and could only tell so much. you pull up the boy’s dark sleeves, enough to reveal a thin, pale wrist, before you gently pressed three fingers, enough to feel the thump, thump of the boy’s heartbeat.

it was slow - you have no clock to tell the time with, but you have dealt with enough patients to have a general feel for what a “low heart rate” is.

“how is it, (y/n)?”

another set of footsteps comes from behind. you withdraw your hands and turn around, your eyes meeting with ashy gray ones that would look lifeless to anyone who doesn’t know better. “he was probably in the cold too long. He’s unconscious but alive,” you reply, “would you mind helping me, aesop?”

in lieu of words, he only gives a slight nod, approaching you as you bring one of the boy’s arms around your shoulder, with aesop doing the same with the his other arm. with his weight equally distributed, your journey back to the small cabin where you two were residing quickly comes into sight.

there are people who want to cross the snowy area the two were just in. there is just one problem though.

in this area it is strikingly common to get ambushed. some cases, you and aesop could only find corpses lying in the snow, blood pooling from various areas, staining the white snow crimson, fingers gone blue long ago due to the cold. other times, you two managed to find those badly hurt but still alive. you were essentially being paid to treat anyone you could find who was injured.

this boy is strangely not hurt or ambushed, which had given aesop a bout of suspicion, but he understands you are a doctor - someone who cannot make choices on who is a patient and who is not due to their backgrounds.

back at the cabin, aesop makes a fire while you set the boy down on the small, simple bed.

you start treating him, just as you would any other person on any other day.

when ithaqua regained consciousness, the first thing he could see through his mask was a wooden ceiling, illuminated slightly by the fireplace nearby.

for several moments, he doesn’t move an inch, though he feels like a piece of toast that’s been cooking all day. when he turns his head to look beside him, it hits him like bricks.

there is someone beside him, but not someone he knows.

usually, it is mother who’s on the bed, chained up and unable to speak, with an inability to utter coherent words due to how despicable humans can get, but now he finds himself on the bed with a stranger leaning face down, forehead on arms.

that’s right, it’s humans like them who tried to hurt mother, the very same ones who tried to keep me away from her…

his thoughts whisper to him like an invisible demon as he walks out of bed. looking around, he can see his stilts and axe-like weapon propped up against the wall some ways away. he tries walking, but dizziness makes his head spin and his vision blurry, and he falls unceremoniously on the ground with a dull thud, loud enough to wake the stranger up.

with eyes are half-open, the stranger spends a few moments rubbing their eyes. “you’re awake,” they say, “i would advise against walking like that.”

ithaqua wants to make a quip back, but it’s hard to do so. his vision is still fluctuating a bit and his head is spinning too. he’s starting to feel a bit nauseous from the heat. “who are you?” he asks, his voice a bit robotic, unused to conversing with anyone other than mother.

“me? a humble doctor. my name is (y/n).” by this time, the doctor is fully awake as they stand. “i treat patients who get injured around this area. except you, that is.”

ithaqua tilts his head. “why would I be injured? i live around this area.”

“is that so? you’re quite brave then.”

“i have to be, or—”

he cuts himself off, realizing he was about to reveal information that the other does not need to know, nor do they seem that interested. in fact, it’s hard to read them at all. they wear a smile , but it’s neither cold nor warm.

ithaqua doesn’t know how to describe that in words though.

this time, it’s you tilting your head, but you choose not to question further, instead opting to ask, “your name?”

after a considerable pause, he replies, “just call me ithaqua.”

“that... is not your real name, is it?”

shaking his head, ithaqua stands back up. you reach to try and help him but are stopped abruptly when a claw, probably an extension of the glove he’s wearing, swipes dangerously close to your throat. “don’t touch me!” he shouts, his body trembling with what you feel is fiery anger.

at first, you stare back at him with wide eyes.

it’s the first time he has seen you with any other expression.

you quickly closes your eyes and take in a deep breath. when you opens them once again, your expression is back to that unreadable one ithaqua is most familiar with. “alright, then, i won’t touch you. let me at least get you something though.”

you back away to the table, where there’s a wooden bucket. atop of it is a type of spinner.

it doesn’t look dangerous, but it’s something ithaqua has not seen before, so he can’t help but feel suspicious nonetheless.

you remove the top part before grabbing a spoon and scooping something in a bowl.

it looks white, just like the snow outside.

when you are back beside his side, you hold out the bowl. “i’m not sure why you’re angry,” you say, “and i’m sure it’s none of my business, too, but maybe this can help calm you down a little.”

ithaqua raises a brow, but he accepts the bowl anyway. they seem really good at picking up on feelings...

the bowl feels cold to the touch, which surprises him a bit, but he doesn’t complain. the heat feels dizzying to him, so he simply eats what’s in the bowl without comment.

he was expecting it to taste like ice, but when a mildly sweet flavor hits his tongue, his face lights up behind the mask.

it’s like this little bite alone is threatening to freeze every feeling of anger and suspicion in his body and replace it with a cold sense of bliss.

but a little bite can only freeze for so long.

so he takes another bite, and another. he keeps taking small bites even when his tongue is numb from the coldness until the bowl is empty.

if this doctor isn’t here, will i never be able to eat this again?

when the bowl is gone, an idea pops into his mind.

if i bring this to mother, will she be happy too?

it’s worth a try. he is willing to do anything for her.

“i’m glad you seem to really like it,” you say from behind, breaking ithaqua out of his thoughts.

he turns back to you upon hearing your voice, holding the bowl out. “seconds,” he says, then adds as an afternote following a brief pause, “...and one more bowl.”

though the last part of his request comes out as a soft whisper, it’s not lost to your ears.

stifling a chuckle with your closed hand covering a part of your lips, you take the bowl from ithaqua’s hands while responding in turn: “as you wish.”

you are about to head to the table, but remembering something then and there, you turn back. “by the way, this is called ice cream, a cold sweet. if you ever find yourself wanting some more, you will always be welcome here.”

with that, you head over to the table, grabbing two disposable bowls from the shelf.

#identity v #第五人格 #idv #id5 #idv ithaqua #idv night watch #identity v ithaqua #identity v hcs #identity v imagines #idv imagines #idv hcs #idv headcanons #imagine #idv fanfic #夜の番人 #🍨 #idv x reader #x reader #gn reader

[princess-of-the-corner]

Forged au:

After dealing with so much stuff in her life, with the mask and without the mask, Marinette is so tired... she is so tired of having to tiptoe around everyone because of her secret identity, she is so so tired of dealing with Lil's lies and with the fact that even if Alya already knows that she's ladybug... She still decided to believe whatever comes out of her mouth.

Most of the class still believes Lila too, Adrien is not much of a help in that area as of currently, and then someone who supposedly is a "miraculous guardian" decided to try and take HER miraculous box from her, and with the bomb to both Cat noir and Pollen dropped on her about what actually happened with Chloe, makes her feel ever worse then she already felt...

She has no actual support system and she can't even talk to cat noir about her problems because of the stupid identity rules that are in place (and because of her fear of him becoming Chat Blanc but she would never admit that outloud... Atleast not now). She's so stressed out and overwhelmed that she's starting to find comfort in Ursa's visits and check ups

She knows it's not good that she found out she was Multi-mouse but it's better then her finding out she's Ladybug, sometimes it confuses her how someone who so blatantly shows her distaste and annoyance for her alter-ego... be so thoughtful and caring with her secret identity. Sometimes Ursa would show up on her balcony with some little gift or trinkets that 'supposedly' reminded her of her like if she knew or saw that that day was a hard and gloomy day for her. Other times she'd show up with nothing as an offering and just sit down or stand next to her, admiring the night sky, not saying anything as if she knew that on those days Marinette only needed to have someone there next to her, not talking just the presence of someone next to her... To show her and reassure her that she at least has one person there for her.

But not in any of the previous times that Ursa visited did Marinette ever cry in front of her... until today... everything that she's been piling up and locking away into the back of her mind finally explode. And she's didn't even know when she started crying, she only realized she was crying until after Ursa pointed it out through a question, she tried desperately to calm down cuz really... crying over the fact that the person you consider a friend, (at least while not wearing a mask) who for some reason reminds you so much of your old bee holder that you failed so horribly, looked so much like her when interacting with a bee, is not something you should be crying about

And it doesn't help that Ursa is so concerned about why she's crying, why is she concerned? Why is this vigilante such a better friend then the ones she's known her whole life? She shouldn't be concerned. She has other stuff to worry about. Like protecting the other temporary heros or like doing something else entirely different that doesn't include comforting Marinette.

But deep down Marinette knows that out of everyone she knows... She would prefer Ursa being the one to comfort her and then anyone else... Maybe it's for the fact that she's a bear... Bears are known for their warmth... Or maybe it's because of her secondary power that makes her feel safe enough to let go of her emotions... Ot maybe it's because she reminds her so much of Chloe Bourgeois and even if Chloe and her aren't in good terms now... She can at least be on good terms with Ursa... Like she wished fo be with Chloe

FUCKING OOF

#forged au

[itsm3m00n]

so i started reading Marionetta on Webtoon (very good btw) but one of my main issues is Julia and how the fanbase excuses her extreme bigotry and obsessive friendship.

they constantly bring up "oh she died for Kamille!" not intentionally! both Kamille and Julia have gone through hell in their own ways. Kamille is not responsible for Julia's death and she should not be grateful for Julia dying on her own accord.

both Kamille and Julia are extremely flawed. Kamille has certainly been a bad friend. she forgot Julias birthday, and spent less time with her. However, there were so many people willing to help Julia through her tough times, but she instead decided to be racist and horrible to them all.

the majority of the fanbase is completely overlooking this, probably because Kamille isn't the protagonist. Webtoon has had a lot of instances where the female Protagonist has been deeply flawed, but can do no wrong in the fandoms eyes because "everyone has problems" but then they go and hate on the secondary female character for having a life.

Julia has had extreme trauma, from dying and from having to kill Tonny. But there have been so many people trying to help, and instead she chooses to obsess over her friend who's only dream was to not be forced into an arranged marriage. Kamille is her own person and her life should not have to revolve around Julia's.

when Julia arrives at the circus, she immediately tries to drag her away and escape, without listening to a word Kamille says. it takes Kamille literally pushing her out a window for Julia to actually listen to her, and even then she doesnt respect her friends wishes. for nearly the entire comic Julia keeps trying to get Kamille out of the Circus, despite Kamille expressing multiple times that she is happy there and doesnt want to go back to her terrible home.

Now to address the Rainah and Sahed situation. They are big factors in both characters stories. Kamille's slightly obsessive crush on Rainah is one of her flaws, bacause she is allowed to be in love, however she completely abandons her friend for it.

On Julia's part, however, she is being severely manipulated by Sahed (i could write a novel on why that ship is extremely toxic). this is not her fault. Sahed is incredibly hot. however, when Kamille tells Julia about how she's in love with Rainah, Julia doesn't let her finish and immediately assumes Kamille is in love with Sahed.

Julia then goes on to completely destroy Kamille's and Rainah's friendship and doesn't apologize for it. Good job Julia. I might also add for those who don't already know, Kamille is a queer woman of color. now you may understand why the fanbase hates her so much. of course, no one says this out loud, they instead constantly blame Kamille for Julias bad descisions and say that Kamille is a terrible friend.

at the base of their problems is the fact that they don't communicate. Julia never expresses her concerns and never tells Kamille about what she's going throuh, instead she bottles it up and then explodes, blaming Kamille. Kamille doesnt tell julia about her issues and why she ran away.

Both Kamille and Julia are extremely flawed and they are both bad friends. My point is, Kamille should not under any circumstances be hated more than Julia for being a bad friend when Julia was Racist, Bigoted, and refused to be nice to literally anybody.

#marionetta #kamille marionetta #julia marionetta

[anjanahalo]

Been seeing a new to me meme/premise in dp fics, and I wanna write a blurb based on it.

*the click of a recording starts. The tired, ragged tones of a female voice maintains a practiced professional tone* August 20, 0128, begin dictation. Dr. Madeline Fenton speaking. The portal Dr. Jack Fenton, to be referenced as Jack, and I created has activated, but at a terrible cost. Our son, Daniel Fenton, to be referred to as Danny, hit the secondary emergency power button we placed on the inside of the portal, more meant as a potential off switch, but Danny accidentally used it to turn it on. His friends alerted us to the incident. After a brief examination, they were determined to have only minor ectocontamination, well within safe parameters, and were sent home to their families. Their names will remain rescinded unless further examination shows potential liminality. As for Danny...I don't know how he survived. Or if he did survive fully. Jack and my calculations can't conceive of someone surviving a tenth of the ectoplasmic exposure Danny experienced when the ghost portal opened practically inside him, but he lives in a sense. He's still quite weak, which we hope is a temporary condition, and suffers burns and symptoms of heavy electrocution, but the thing that concerns us is the, frankly, unfathomable levels of ectocontamination he's exhibiting. It's on the level of what we've calculated a pure ectoplasmic entity would exude, perhaps even more. Danny is stable, sleeping now in his room, and we will continue to monitor as we prepare for his longterm care as we find a way to reverse the terrible mistake of preventing him and his friends from getting anywhere near the portal. He should know better, but he's just fourteen. Being young and making a mistake should never be a death sentence. Our older daughter, Jasmine Fenton, referred to as Jazz, has been spent overnight to live for the indefinite future with my sister. The last thing we need is for both our children to become contaminated. Jazz protested, but she'll be safer there, and we will ensure the proper amenities such as high speed internet and the like are provided for her continued education. We've pulled Danny from school and will be homeschooling him to prevent cross contamination with the rest of the school. Jack spoke of trying to track down our former college colleague, Vlad Masters, to work together to figure out how to cure Danny. We've never considered how to remove ectoplasm from a human, especially not at the level it's infected Danny's very genetic structure. But we will find a cure. We must. My husband and I are Danny's only hope in regaining a normal life, and we will make whatever sacrifices are necessary to prevent Danny from becoming a ghost.

#danny phantom #What if Sam and Tucker were Responsible and Found The Adults? #here i go writing again

[quietlyimplode]

different names for the same thing

Warnings: injuries/blood

Word Count: 2.5k (gif not mine)

Summary: Clint and Natasha finish a mission, exhausted and injured. All is not as it seems.

A/N: for @broken--bow - you legend, thanks for sharing your thoughts and late night musings. I hope this helps with expanding the world of sleep.. and maybe gives some more to expand to.. (Also. Death Cab rocks.) part one of two maybe (yeah friend that’ll be up to you). Not reread, mistakes are my own.

Main Masterlist

.

Clint knows the meaning of defenestration. He just never wanted to experience it.

Turns out, as the only archer in a team of super heros, being thrown out the window, seems to be a semi regular occurrence.

This time, watching Natasha get blasted through one window, as he’s blasted through another; he’s not sure if it rightly matches the meaning of defenestration.

It’s an idle thought as his eyes follow Natasha’s widow bite extend a grappling hook just as his own arrow notches onto the stable part of the building.

Physics slams them both into the side of the wall and the resulting crunch makes him cringe.

He’s hopeful for bruises but broken bones seems more likely, especially for Natasha as she lands awkwardly against the building, letting herself be lowered down as he abseils to do the same.

“Okay?” he signs, his ears still ringing.

The whole top of the building is blown out as they both look up, and he’s thankful that they weren’t near the charges.

“Okay,” she signs back.

He wonders if her hearing is as bad as his, right now.

Operating in silence, they both retrieve their repelling gear and walk nonchalantly to the car they parked.

Clint leads.

He knows Natasha has his back if needed, both watching their peripherals.

Sirens blare through the dulled hearing, and Clint knows they’re just going to find one dead body and whole lot of incriminating evidence about why he’s dead.

His grin is grim, opening the door for Natasha, nodding to her, and realising there’s some blood on her face, in her hairline.

“Blood,” he signs, wiping it away, touching it softly as she allows a wince to cross her face.

It’ll bruise and she will cover it.

No one will know.

Ex-fill is in twelve hours.

They have a safe house nearby and nothing to suggest that they’ve been made.

.

Natasha feels the blast of hot air as she’s blown with it out the window. Tony had attached the grappling hooks to the widow bites, especially after the incident of the winter solider.

She’d shown him how she wanted it to grasp and then lock in, and to his credit he’d listened; even bettered her original plans, allowing for friction and a slow descend.

It works well the majority of the time, but she’s too slow in the deploy and she’s slammed against the building.

Her arm is broken and she knows it, she’s not brave enough to look to see if there’s a bone coming out. She drops down ignoring the throbbing pain radiating from her arm, and moves gingerly.

Maybe a rib or two is bruised. The graze down her body is less concerning, but the pain is only secondary to the concern for Clint.

He’s managed to abseil down, his circus skills making it look like a walk in the park and so much more graceful than her whack into the building.

She’s sure there’s not too much wrong with him, except maybe his hearing as he reverts to signing over talking.

Natasha does not feel okay.

But she signs that she is and let’s him lead the way.

There’s more sirens than there should be, quickly heading to the scene. It worries Natasha more than it should as something about this mission doesn’t feel right.

Clint walks faster than her back to the car, and she watches their six.

There’s no telling what they’ll find in the building, likely a dead body and evidence, but if the explosion, that was larger than they both expected, took out the evidence next to the body, then there’s going to be a witch-hunt.

The car is white and in view as Natasha feels her feet stumble. She rights herself, schooling her face before Clint turns around.

His smile is more of a grimace and she wonders if he’s hurting too.

“Blood,” he signs and her stomach drops.

He wipes her hairline and she can’t help but wince at the sudden pain and headache.

12 hours and counting until they get picked up.

.

The bathroom of the safe house is clean, and it’s all Natasha needs as she peels off her clothes and the underlying body suit.

It’s hard with one arm.

She turns on the shower and stares at herself in the mirror. There’s a single drip of blood at her hairline, she peels the hair back, and finds the gash that was covered by the matted hair.

It’s weeping, but not bleeding profusely, so will likely be okay.

Her arm, is worse.

There’s no bone protruding, but the wrist is misshapen and it’s obvious that it’s broken.

If she straps it, Clint will see. She doesn’t want him to worry, he doesn’t look great either.

He looks so tired.

Once he’s asleep, she’ll attend to it. Deal with it later, it’ll be closer to exfil anyway.

Ten hours.

It’s the only option, they’ll get back to medical, and either Tony will know what to do or Shield will.

There’s gashes and scratches everywhere.

The shower hurts. The blood drips and flows down.

She ends up sitting on the floor because it just seems easier.

The volcanic temperature helps.

The steam seems to seep into her skin and she closes her eyes, thankful for the warmth that overrides the throbbing pain.

.

Clint lets Natasha go first to the bathroom. He think he hears the shower start and he closes his eyes.

His body melts into the couch, and he takes a breath.

His body hurts.

They need to eat.

They need to sleep.

They need to make sure that they haven’t been made.

Out of all of the needs he thinks of, sleep is number one. He sets the house up, places the traps at the doors and the windows and changes his sweat soaked clothes.

He should have a shower but he doesn’t have the energy, he stays awake until he hears the shower turn off and the door open.

Acknowledging Natasha, he sighs heavily and she points to the bed, indicating she’ll take first watch.

He wants to hug her fiercely and half heartedly disagrees.

A tiny smirk on her face, and a shake of her head is all it takes for him to acquiesce and drop onto the soft mattress.

“Wake me in three hours,” Clint calls, not knowing if she can hear him or not.

He hopes she’ll get herself something to eat.

Eyes closing, brain shutting down, he thinks he should tell her that the house is armed, but it’s a fleeting thought as sleep rises to meet him.

.

In a way, she’s glad that he’s asleep.

If he was awake he’d want to help.

In her haze she notices that he’s set up a snack and the guards around the house, he was so tired he didn’t even say anything.

Pulling out the generic first aide kit, that all the safe houses have, Natasha sits and sighs.

She’s always been one to lick her wounds in private, only seeking help when it’s too much or too obvious.

A broken wrist, it’s nothing. She’s had one before, and knows what the next 6 weeks will look like.

She looks at it carefully and grabs the ice pack, cracking it so the cold runs through. Concentrating, she starts bandaging it slowly; aligning what she can with a wince.

When it’s done, she tapes the end with thick strapping tape, then wraps a layer around the bandage to further immobilize it.

Grabbing a sock, she sticks her hand inside and the ice pack as well so it holds it in place.

Natasha sits at the table.

Her whole being hurts and the heat from the show feels like it’s wearing off. Fatigue sets in and she glances at the time.

9 hours.

A drop of blood lands on the table in front of her and she wipes it away, temporarily confused about where it’s come from. She looks in the mirror, grimacing as the blood drops again from her nose.

She didn’t even feel it.

Begrudgingly, she heads back to the bathroom and lowers her face. She’s unsure what’s made the blood nose start, but the accompanying throbbing headache is worse.

Concussion, she thinks, idly wiping the blood from her nose again.

It’s a slow drip.

Maybe it’s not a bad thing that Clint is asleep.

Sticking a tissue up her nose, she leaves and sits on the couch.

She pulls out the secure laptop, and logs on.

The mission report, needs to get done, even though it’s the last thing she feels like doing. She’s got another hour and half before they swap, seven and a half before exfil, and then four before she’s home.

Natasha imagines her own bed, the softness of it, and her pillows that cocoon her.

Sleep beckons.

She turns the television on low, switching to the news, the explosion the first thing she sees.

Watching with interest, she looks at the footage, frowning at how big the fallout was from one stick of C4.

It shouldn’t have been that big.

She screen records the explosion and plays it back.

Frowning, she plays it again.

In her head she calculates the explosion and comes to the conclusion that there were more explosives. It doesn’t make sense.

Laying back, she allows herself a wince as her wrist throbs and her back aches.

It doesn’t make sense but the reason why is like an intangible thread.

Down the rabbit hole, she hacks carefully into the security cameras on the left side of the building.

She’d already taken out half the blocks electricity on the right, knowing that’s the way they’d exit, but the left side was still active.

Natasha knew that if all the cameras were out, it would be somewhat suspicious; this gave plausible deniability, plus it covered their exit.

The cameras play back, and she copies the footage.

The process is slow.

Eating one handed, she eats the cereal without milk, and waits. The crunch feels extra loud in her head.

Something doesn’t feel right, but she can’t put her finger on why.

Checking her nose, the bleeding now stopped, Natasha plays the recording.

Blonde woman leaves through the front door.

Blonde woman that walks like a widow.

It can’t be.

Zooming in doesn’t help, it corrupts the image too much.

She zooms back out and watches the recording over and over again, tries to follow where the woman goes.

But she heads right into Natasha’s dead spot.

No cameras there.

Her stomach sinks.

Her heart hurts.

Her body aches.

It can’t be her.

If it was, she should have known.

They were in the same building at the same time.

Laying the same charges.

What if?

Her head hurts.

Her vision blurs.

What if?

.

Clint awakens to his alarm that he has no recollection of setting.

He wipes the drool from his face and begrudgingly gets up, wondering why it’s his alarm and not Natasha waking him.

Some coffee would be nice.

He groans at the creak in his bones and stretch of his muscles.

“Nat?” he calls, exiting the room.

With no response, he frowns and heads for the kitchen.

“Fuck, Nat,” he swears, seeing her slumped form at the kitchen table, blood pooling from her nose.

“Nat?” he says a third time, in panic, as he tries to wake her.

She doesn’t rouse.

Clint panics.

He checks his watch. 2 hours til exfil.

How long had she been unconscious for?

Concussion? Brain bleed?

He’d fallen asleep, but she hadn’t seem bad.

Lowering her to the floor, he checks her breathing and airways, finding them clear. He examines her body; finding only cuts and bruises and a bandaged arm.

“Nat,” he tries again, pulling out a clean phone.

He dials Tony.

Shield wouldn’t come for two more hours, no matter how dire things were.

They’d say go to the nearest hospital, and they’d pick them up from there; he’s too worried to follow protocol.

The third ring turns the call into a video and Tony picks up with a grin.

“Birdboy,” he greets, happily.

“Tony? I need you to come get us,” Clint says urgently.

He turns the video to show Natasha unconscious with blood on her face.

“Shit,” Tony’s smile is wiped and he’s already moving.

“I have a jet, but you need to get her to the airfield to meet me.”

Clint knows.

He already has a plan, packing the laptop and change of clothes, and disarming the safe house, giving exact coordinates to how to get to them.

“Forty minutes,” Tony promises.

Clint hangs up, watching Natasha carefully.

He rubs her chest with force and with pain on her face, she rouses, swinging at his face as she comes round.

It’s lucky for her, that his reflexes make him duck, because her injured arm just hits air.

“Hey.”

He places himself in front of her.

“How you feeling?”

There’s a roll of her eyes and squint at the light as she wakes further.

“Hey,” he repeats.

Clint helps her into a sitting position, and she’s standing before he’s ready, supporting her shaky legs.

“We..” her voice cracks as she looks around.

“We’ve been made?” she asks.

He shakes his head.

“Tony’s coming to pick us up early.”

Natasha frowns, but follows his lead, exiting to the car.

“We’ve been made?”

It’s not the repeat of the question that alarms him, but it’s the same tone and confusion that accompany it.

“No, it’s okay, we just need to get you some help.”

She’s already shaking her head as she climbs in the car.

“Mmmfine,” she mumbles, closing her eyes and pushing her head against the headrest.

“Yeah, sure you are,” he mumbles back.

The drive is uneventful, except for Natasha asking a third time, if they’d been made.

“It’s okay, Natasha, you’re okay,” he tells her, laying a hand on her knee as he drives.

If only he hadn’t fallen asleep for so long.

.

She dreams of Yelena.

Blonde hair, strut.

Black widow.

Of course she would have made it through.

Dreykov had taunted it, but she’d chosen to believe she was dead.

It was the kinder option.

Even the made up video hadn’t seemed real… fake videos were a way of life in the Red Room, used for blackmail and conversion.

She didn’t believe the videos of Yelena.

Not until today at least.

The transfer to the plane is a blur.

She knows Clint is with her, knows he’ll keep her safe, but she can’t seem to hold onto consciousness. It makes her panic and hold onto his arm tighter.

He placates her and tells her they’re almost there.

Where they’re going she doesn’t know.

“What about Yelena?” she whispers to herself, “we can’t leave her.”

But she doesn’t hear the answer.

.

Part two

#natasha romanoff/clint barton #Natasha Romanoff fic #Clint barton fic #yelena belova #Tony stark #clintasha #my fic #natasha romanoff #black widow #clint barton #hawkeye #clintasha fanfiction

[vivithefolle]

Aside from letting Luna of all people take a dig on Ron for some non-existent reason, i think Hermione's self insertion and Mary Sue writing also damaged Luna's. It's the emotional awareness Hermione randomly gained after book 3 having no selfawareness due to her pride and rigidness being a jerk to people. Hermione is randomly the one who tells Ginny - who has NOTHING in common with her and busying with Quidditch or teaming up in crime with the twins - to be herself, but not Luna (1)

who was always Ginnys friend and whose thing was always "be yourself dont care". Hermione is the one who knows Ginny is Harry type and can read Harry like a book, despite not clicking with him at all when it comes to things he and Ginny cared about, in the same book, but not Luna, who Harry liked and related to since book 5. (2)

Hermione is the one who tells Harry Ron was jealous of him – gee thanks Hermione, wouldn’t be be less insecure if his supposed love interest cared about things he cared about instead of whatever the hell you were doing in book 3 and 4. Luna is supposed to be the openminded, emotionally free and caring, people reading, deep quoting, knowledge applying Ravenclaw, but only in theory. , but thanks to being there late AND Hermione, she was reduced to an outcast for the sake of ir. (4)

She has no character development either, nothing but a weirdo conspiracy theorist that didn’t even get to have a “rival” arc with Hermione, to develop either of them from being total antagonistic opposites, and a prop in book 7 for when Harry needs her. Hermione remains a closeminded asshole with NO true friends but two, but now somehow always right, and Luna…nothing that shows a good Ravenclaw, despite what movie fans tells themselves.

(7) Hermione is badly written bc she’s DAMAGING to all characters that comes close to her, and the more I reread I realize why the fandom was so divided and toxic around her. Harry, Ron, Ginny, Luna, Rowling ruined them all with the self insert.

Let's be fair and remember that Luna came in last.

She was in the prime spot to be "the new character that shows everyone what they've been missing all along" and as such would be in a prime spot to earn the fan's ire, but she wasn't.

I don't find it awful that Luna wasn't given much to do; she was the newcomer. She appeared in Order of the Phoenix; it's a testament to how cool she is as a character that she sticks to people's minds so much to the point that some chucklefucks will cry about Ginny "coming out of nowhere" only to ship Harry with Luna, who actually did come out of nowhere as far as the books before OOTP were concerned.

The biggest tragedy of all this is... even if she's coming in five books later, Luna still has more backstory and substance to her character than Hermione ever gets in SEVEN books.

Seven books we have of Hermione solving problems for Harry and being basically a crutch for exposition and plot devices, and we still have no idea who she is outside of "being useful to Harry" or "the girl waiting for Ron to grow up, isn't he such a bother taking so long".

Luna could, might have been more. It's sad that she's such a missed opportunity in the end - and it's sad that she's the only non-Gryffindor of the team.

But she's also the last introduced, and as such Hermione should take priority over her when it comes to character development and all that - Hermione is an important secondary character, like Ron is. A problem with other characters' relationships in HP though is that no progress can be made unless Harry is there to observe it. Harry Potter has no object permanence, thanks for coming to my TED talk.

#vivi answers #harry potter #hermione granger #luna lovegood #ron weasley

[ogradyfilm]

Recently Viewed: I Am What I Am

I Am What I Am is the exact sort of pleasant surprise that defines Japan Cuts for me. The synopsis on the festival website led me to believe that it would be a somewhat overwrought melodrama; what I got instead was a delightfully unconventional, subversive romcom that omits the “romance” entirely.

The plot revolves around Kasumi Sobata, an asexual thirty-year-old struggling to navigate the pressures of a society that expects women her age to quit their jobs, get married, and have a bunch of kids. Unfortunately, her family practically epitomizes conformity and traditional gender roles. Her heavily pregnant sister, for example, dutifully ignores the warning signs that her husband might be unfaithful. Her grandmother, meanwhile—fresh off her third divorce—insists that a “proper” wife should accept infidelity as an inevitability. Worst of all, her mother—misconstruing her lack of a love life as evidence of depression—frequently sets her up on impromptu “dates” with “eligible bachelors,” hoping to force the issue of wedded bliss through manipulation, subterfuge, and sheer tenacity.

The conflict ventures far beyond the tropes typically associated with the genre. The primary “obstacle” isn’t the protagonist’s reluctance to abandon her own ambitions (though that is a secondary concern); her very identity is at stake. Whenever she admits that she is incapable of experiencing physical attraction, her feelings are immediately dismissed, invalidated, and trivialized. A male friend, for instance, assumes that she is merely making an excuse to “politely” reject his (abrupt, clumsy) flirtatious advances; he subsequently ends their platonic relationship.

The movie’s visual style is simple, yet elegant. Most scenes unfold from a single camera angle, with only minor adjustments to the frame: a pan here, a lateral dolly move there, the occasional slow push-in. This minimalism prioritizes behavior rather than action, allowing the performances (as opposed to the editing) to guide the rhythm of the narrative—and the actors absolutely deliver in that regard! Toko Miura is particularly compelling as our hapless heroine; whereas the character that she portrayed in Ryusuke Hamaguchi’s Drive My Car was cold, aloof, and taciturn, Kasumi is sensitive, affable, and effortlessly funny—an impressive display of versatility.

Ultimately, I Am What I Am is a triumph of representation. It explicitly assures ace viewers that they are neither defective nor alone, encouraging them to express themselves freely and unapologetically—after all, no human being (queer or otherwise) should have to justify their existence; everybody deserves basic respect and dignity. The message is unsubtle by design—and that thematic transparency significantly deepens the film’s emotional resonance.

#I Am What I Am #Japan Cuts #Japan Society #Japanese cinema #Japanese film #Toko Miura #Shinya Tamada #film #writing #movie review

[thecarnivorousmuffinmeta]

Hong's purpose in life is Bella. How is it different from Jacob with Renesmée? (I know its different. I just want you to say HOW. I dont get it.)

The Seventh Seal

Well, you go for the jugular, don't you?

There's a few major things off the top of my head.

Hong Thinks Bella is His Purpose in Life, He's Lying

Not to get too into the weeds with this fic but Hong's already started to deviate from what should be his ultimate destiny. Bella Swan is not, in every moment, his priority.

The big thing is that he pursues his Vat Baby venture when this has nothing at all to do with Bella Swan and he even admits as much to himself.

Right now he thinks Bella's his only point in being here, but he's already fucked that up, in doing something entirely different for purposes of his own.

Hong just hasn't realized that yet.

Hong Has 0 Interest in Being Anything to Bella in Particular

With Renesmee as the center of Jacob's universe, we see Jacob needing to be needed in some capacity by Renesmee and to be the most important person in her life. He wants to be her best friend, her brother, and... strongly implied her lover when the time is right.

Jacob wants to be the only thing that matters to Renesmee with everyone else being secondary.

Hong doesn't give a flying fuck what Bella thinks about him beyond how it furthers his own agenda and her safety.

Hong concludes early in that a distant, platonic, friendship is fine with him because all he needs is for Bella to not fall in love with Edward. She seems distracted enough with friendship, ergo, that's fine.

Should Bella announce she has romantic intentions towards Hong, Hong probably would shrug and go along with it, but only after a "does this actually help Bella in any way to be stable/not run into heavy traffic"

Everything Hong thinks, in concern to Bella, is if it will or will not keep her alive.

He generally only cares about her feelings in the context of: if I ignore this, will Bella do something stupid?

Hong Actually Dislikes Bella

We're just seeing the seeds of this in the fic as Hong hasn't realized it himself (as his capacity to 'dislike' anything has thus far been minimal) but he doesn't like Bella.

At all.

He finds her frustrating, obtuse, oblivious, contrary, and purposefully getting in the way of her own best interests. (See the Port Angeles scene)

Not only does he not understand her but he sees her willfully, consistently, choosing what he views as the worst possible option and getting very upset if anyone tries to get in the way of this.

I don't think Jacob, thrall that he is after the imprint, has the capacity to either like or dislike Renesmee: he just needs her, desperately.

#twilight #twilight renaissance #the seventh seal #hong bellamy #bella swan #jacob black #renesmee cullen #anti jacob black #meta

[exquisitepluviophile]

MISS AMERICA | CHAPTER III

pairing: bucky barnes x fem!reader

series summary: you're steve's sister, and bucky barnes' girlfriend. and maybe also a supersoldier from the 40s

chapter summary: you say goodbye to bucky before he's shipped off to England, and you receive some news.

chapter warnings: little bit of joking about the possibility of stucky,

A/N: actually finished writing this because I got a 4.0 and felt like I should celebrate

series masterlist ♡ masterlist ♡ next chapter

Steve dejectedly stepped down from the platform in the army recruitment centre. Every guy that stood on it could actually envision themselves joining the army. Not Steve though; he wasn't even tall enough to see himself in the reflection of a soldier.

"Come on, you're kinda missing the point of a double date," Bucky said as he pushed Steve from behind. "I don't think you can call it a double date anymore, since Ruth ran off," you said pointedly. "We're going to get some drinks at the bar nearby, y'know to celebrate me leaving," Bucky told Steve.

"We're not celebrating that you're leaving James," you scolded. "Okay, doll, 'commemorating'. Is that better? Jeez, you sound like Ma," Bucky responded while you shook your head in annoyance.

"You guys go ahead, I'll catch up with you," Steve said, with his hands in his pocket.

"You really gonna do this again?"

"Well it's a fair; I'm gonna try my luck,"

"As who, Steve from Ohio?" You asked, the sarcasm evident. "They'll catch you." You took on a more caring tone.

"Or worse, they'll actually take you," Bucky stated, unabashedly showing his concern and worry for his friend.

"Who needs parents when they have you two..." Steve muttered, his words unheard by the pair. "Look, I know you two don't think I can do this-"

"This isn't a back alley Steve." Bucky said, his annoyance with Steve's stubbornness rising. "It's war!"

"I know it's a war-"

"Why are you so keen to fight?" You asked him, not understanding why someone would put themselves in so much danger willingly. "There are so many important jobs!"

"What do you want me to do? Collect scrap metal in my little red wagon?" Steve asked sarcastically.

"Yes! Why not?!"

"I'm not going to sit in a factory Bucky-"

"I don't-"

"Bucky! Come on, there are men laying down their lives. I got no right to do any less than them," Steve argued.

"But-" you tried to reason with Steve.

"You get to help people like Ma, you're a nurse. The least I could do is help the country by fighting for it like Pa," Steve continued." That's what you don't understand. This isn't about me."

"Right, cause you've got nothing to prove."

"We should go, your Ma asked us to be back for dessert," you said while you tugged on Bucky's sleeve, not willing to see them so hostile towards each other.

Bucky relented as he started stepping backwards. "Don't do anything stupid until I get back."

"How can I? You're taking all the stupid with you," Steve joked.

That put a smile on Bucky's face. "You're a punk," he said as he went in for a hug. "Jerk."

Most weren't as lucky as you were, to have a brother who didn't want to fight who they were dating (at least most of the time). You were frankly glad that they were best friends.

"Take care of my girl while I'm gone would ya?" Bucky said as he walked over to you and fit his hand around your waist. "Hey, she was my sister first before she was your girlfriend," Steve challenged.

You all snickered at that. "Steve make sure you don't stay up too late missing Bucky after he's gone; he's my boyfriend not yours," you smiled.

"Don't win the war until I get there!"

Bucky did a salute to Steve as he turned around to walk with you to his house. You loved going to his house, and his parents loved you. Winifred, or Winnie as she asked you to call her, treated you and Steve like her own children, being Steve's secondary pillar of support after your mother's death. Bucky had three younger sisters, but he was closest to Rebecca, the youngest. Becca idolised Bucky, and wanted to be just like her big brother. Her and Bucky's age gap of 16 years was never a problem when she wanted him to play dolls with him when she was younger. Becca adored you too, Bucky joking that she liked you more than she liked him. With Bucky's two other younger sisters, Marjorie and Betty, busy with high school, you were the most available to talk to her or braid her hair.

Bucky knocked at the door, the smell of freshly baked mock cherry pie wafting through the door. "Looks like she made your favourite dessert," you smiled as Becca opened the door.

"Look what the cat dragged in," she said as she stepped to the side to let you two in. "So excited to see me," Bucky laughed as he ruffled her hair. As you walked through the hallway that led to the main living room, memories of Steve chasing you through them flooded through your mind. With your mother busy at the hospital trying to make ends meet, Winnie always made sure you two had food to eat and a roof over your heads. Literally. When the roof of your cheap rental house collapsed, she was the one to offer the three of you the spare room. You remembered having dinner here the day before you left to Connecticut to stay with your aunt and Winnie barely let you go the whole evening.

"Dessert's almost ready. You two have fun at the expo?" George Barnes asked his son as he closed the book he was reading. "I'd spend eternity watching paint dry if she was next to me," Bucky replied as he sat down on the plush couch. Mr Barnes chuckled. "Young love... Your Ma and I were like this too." A scarlet blush formed on you cheeks. "I'll go inside to see if Winnie needs help with anything." you walked away and into the kitchen, beckoning Becca to join you.

"Are you going to marry Jamie?" Becca asked, her innocent eyes sparkling right up at you. You choked on air. Indeed, you two had brought up the idea some time before, but with him leaving for England, you hadn't put any thought into it. "Maybe once the war's over."

"There you are! I haven't seen you in ages. James is always keeping you for himself and never bringing you over," Winnie said as she gave you a hug that could have made up for all those years you hadn't seen her after going to Connecticut. She handed you two plates of mock cherry pie and asked if you could bring them out to the living room.

You mostly ate in silence as Winnie asked Bucky if he had packed everything.

"I'll really miss you Jamie."

"I'll miss you too Beck," Bucky said, or at least you thought he did. He was busy stuffing his mouth with Mock Cherry Pie. "Bucky, nobody's going to take the plate away from you. Slow down," You said with a laugh.

These moments were so domestic. Ones that you'd look back on if Bucky ever- no, that wouldn't happen. Bucky would return home after the war and you would get married and get a nice house far away from busy New York. With a cat maybe. Bucky had always wanted a cat; a white fluffy one.

While these thoughts occupied your mind all the way home, you saw a crinkled letter outside you and Steve's tiny apartment. "I'm not even gone yet and you're already getting love letters," Bucky, who had offered to walk you home because "It's too dangerous for a pretty girl to be walking the streets alone at night", joked.

After scoffing at his comment and playfully punching him in the stomach, you skimmed through the letter. "They've stationed me at Camp Lehigh. Y'know, as a nurse for those poor people training."

"That's great doll. At least I can send my letters there to make sure everyone knows you're taken," Bucky teased.

Letters.

L-e-t-t-e-r-s, you mentally tried to spell out.

The simplest thing that every soldier wrote to whoever they were in love with while they were off at war. You couldn't have that same pleasure.

"Bucky, why bother sending me letters when you know I can't read them."

"Then I'll paint you the most beautiful paintings and send them to you if that's what it takes for you to see how much I'll miss you."

"What are you going to paint them with? You won't have paint where you're going."

"I'll paint 'em with my blood."

"You're so dramatic."

"You love it," Bucky said as he pushed open the door of your apartment.

"Finally, you decided to open the door. I was getting bored of listening to Mr Barnes being all sappy with his girlfriend," Steve said from the frayed couch.

"It's Sergeant Barnes to you, punk,"

"Yeah yeah, I'll miss you too Bucky,"

"I'll miss you James," You said as you put your hand to his cheek. "Don't call me that. I'm Bucky. Your Bucky. Always."

-

word count: 1.4k

tagged: @your-local-questioning-agender

#miss america #bucky x reader #mcu #40s bucky #40s!bucky x reader

[ratsoh-writes]

There is this new curse that makes people tell only the truth when it comes to good and positive feelings, preventing them from hiding them and not saying anything.

Dealer's choice of the cursed skeletons and maybe some secondary characters

Marcelo: he handles the curse with grace and dignity… until one of his wives/husband comes in the room. Oh look at that, the business meeting is over! Unless Marcelo’s associates want to see him flirt HEAVILY with his mate/s. Before he could censor himself, but now there’s nothing holding him back lol

Papyrus: he doesn’t even notice he’s been cursed. It’s not like papyrus has ever been shy about being affectionate. He’s told all his friends he loves them before. Because he does!

Captain: oh his crew takes full advantage of captains curse. And he hates it! He keeps having to tell his crew how much he loves and appreciates them. Just because he does doesn’t mean he has to shout it out for them to hear! They should know this already!!!

Chaos: unfortunately being a chihuahua means she’s limited in how she can verbally show her love, but as chaos’ main mode of communication involves body language, this results in some interesting events. Namely her dancing furiously every time her favorite people enter the room. Every one is confused and concerned when the dog starts doing the swan lake routine whenever willow enters the room lol

Red: oh no, oh my stars no. The positive side to this is that red against all odds has confessed to his crush his feelings. The negative side to this is that he won’t come out of his room until the curse fades now. Coward

#undertale imagines #undertale headcanons #undertale #lustfell #horrortale #seafell #underfell

[caffiene-fueled-fuckery]

Did I ever post my MASH OC?

I feel like I probably didn't... Maybe I did. I don't remember. She might've been below the cut in another post. But since she will likely be in many of my kinktober fics and potentially whumptober too, I figured that I should probably introduce her here!

I'll give basic info here and for anyone who is interested, the more detailed stuff below the cut :)

Della Woods

Nicknames: Dell

Age: 29 (at the beginning of her time at MASH)

Birthdate: March 12, 1922

Gender: Female

Pronouns: She/Her

Sexuality: Straight

Height: 5’6”

Blood Type: AB-

Medical Conditions: Secondary dysmenorrhea (her cramps get so bad that she’s doubled over, dizzy, nauseous… the first time anyone sees her that way they’re very concerned)

Allergies: Bees (anaphylaxis)

Overall Health: Good

Rank: 1st Lieutenant

Hair Colour: Chocolate Brown

Hair texture: Curly

Common Hair Styles: Loose (comes to just below her jaw), half-up

Eye Colour: Honey brown

Makeup: Usually eyeliner, mascara, and lipstick (if she has them/has the time)

Piercings: Ears (Wanted to give her a nose piercing but apparently they weren’t really a thing in the US in the 50s… but now having thoughts of her showing up after R&R with one and Mulcahy being flustered hehe)

Body Type: Lean

Skin Colour: Pale

Features of Note: medium sized bust, wide hips

Scars/Birth Marks: Scar just above her left hip that trails onto her abdomen and back

Cause of Scars: Sliced by sheet metal during shelling

Dominant Hand: Left

That's basic info... if you want to know more, it'll be below the cut! Also, if there any any names you don't recognize now, it's because they're other OCs or family of the OCs!

Ethnicity: Caucasian

Hometown: Toronto, Canada -> Philadelphia, PA (moved after going to nursing school in Toronto and working in a hospital there for a few years)

Living Situation at home: Lives alone in an apartment after her friend moved out to get married

Family Back Home: Gary Woods (father - 50), Helen Woods (younger sister - 18), William Woods (younger brother - 15)

Occupation: Nurse (has psychiatric experience)

Relationship Status: It’s complicated

Love Interest: John Mulcahy (she calls him John bc the devs couldn't make up their minds what his first name was and that's what he told Gail to call him)

Relationship Trajectory: colleagues > best friends > uh ?? > only fooling themselves > lovers

Best Friend: John Mulcahy, Kellye Nakahara

People they avoid: Gail Harris, Joel Walker

Why?: her and Gail are similar enough to butt heads but Della doesn’t realize that it’s partially jealousy on Gail’s part (and her being territorial without even realizing it for herself); he’s just a fuckin dick

Personality: playful, kind, extroverted, wears her heart on her sleeve

Temperament: energetic, can be chaotic at times, very open

Alignment: chaotic good

Strengths: very perceptive of others’ emotions, calming demeanour when needed, adaptable

Weaknesses: quick temper, stubborn, can hold a grudge

Love Language (Giving): Physical Touch, Words of Affirmation

Love Language (Receiving): Quality Time, Physical Touch

Favourite Colour: Blue and Purple

Biggest Fear: birds (specifically chickens)

Other fears/yucks: dark places (like a dark shed or building, not like being outside in the dark), storms, spiders

Hobbies: scheming with Radar and Lee OR Klinger OR Whitney OR Hawkeye and BJ, jogging, dancing at the O-Club, knitting

Extracurriculars at school: Field Hockey and Lacrosse (played Lacrosse while at uni/nursing school?)

Quirks: very clumsy, somewhat messy handwriting, a bit messy

Specialized Skills: has some training with psychiatric patients

Good at: calming people down, understanding what people need without being told

Bad at: cooking, making the beds in post-op

Any trauma?: her mother (Pamela McNamara) died when she was 16

Childhood was…: good! She was close with her family!

Main Confident: John Mulcahy and Kellye Nakahara

Role in Friend Group: the therapist (also a clown but that’s not important)

Languages they speak: English, French, a tiny bit of Korean, a bit of ASL

I made this piccrew from a template made by @/hunbloom for her original character design. I’ve drawn her a few times since but the only one I’m really happy with is a kinda cheeky one with Father Mulcahy that I used a base for initially. But if people want to see it, I’ll definitely post it!

#mash #m*a*s*h #Della Woods #mash oc #father mulcahy #mash posting #mashposting #mashblr #emm rambles #emm makes ocs #Em’s Whumptober 2023

[julieverne]

Jane had been dreaming of Hoyt. Killing him was the best birthday present she'd ever had. But she'd been dreaming of him.

He went after couples, and Jane didn't have anyone in her life. Well, she did, she had Maura, but that wasn't - it wasn't what her dreams made of it.

Before Maura it had been Catherine. Jane had dreamed, after the basement, when she was heavily medicated in hospitals, that Catherine had been her lover and he'd made her watch.

He had made her watch. It was just as well she couldn't wash herself because she'd have scrubbed all of her skin off. Catherine was alive; she'd visited Jane. But there was nothing between them but the knowledge of what had happened to them, individually and collectively, and the memories were so painful that seeing each other made them both flinch.

It had been his MO to go after couples. And Jane should never had let Maura come to the prison with her. Should never have left Hoyt ever even see her.

But even before her birthday, Jane had dreamt of Maura. Of trailing her fingers across that soft skin, of having Maura's hands grasp her, of Maura's breath catching as Jane's lips brushed her throat. And then Hoyt, always Hoyt. Taking Maura the way he'd taken Catherine. She always woke in a damp sweat, underlaid with a secondary dampness that made her ashamed and confused. These dreams were very soft right up until they were very violent. Nothing about them should be appealing.

But Hoyt was dead, and Jane had killed him for daring to even touch Maura. She tried to keep the party vibe light, but Maura looked over with concern every so often, and Jane knew Maura could read the tightness of her smile.

Maura stayed, because of course she did. She'd been there. She'd thought she was going to die. She needed to feel safe and protected, and Jane had done that in real life, she could also do it in Maura's dreams.

The dream started out the same. Maura stepping in and holding her after a long day, then kissing her, because they were together and this was what they did. And Jane kissing her back, because dream Jane was into this, into Maura, and Maura was soft and sweet, her mouth meeting Jane's willingly, kissing her back, pressing against her, warm and alive.

Jane woke to a whimper that wasn't hers. It wasn't Jo's either. Maura shot upright, breathing heavily, and Jane sat up, reaching for her, turning on the lamp and pulling Maura against her, ignoring the throbbing in her hands and chest - and lower - from her own dream. Maura folded herself in against Jane gratefully, holding Jane even as she was held.

"He's dead," Jane said comfortingly. The bad part of her dream hadn't had a chance to start, so all she had was the tingling, heady softness of the first part of the dream, of being with Maura. She'd been wondering about that for a while. Did it mean she was attracted to Maura, or was she just lonely? Hoyt had followed his MO, hurting the partner of his target in front of her. Had Hoyt seen, had Hoyt known? Jane brushed her hands over her crying, vulnerable friend, making soothing little noises, pushing down the rising tension from the brush of Maura's fingers on her bare arms, of the nuance of Maura's lips brushing against Jane's chest, where Maura's head was pressed, wet now with Maura's tears.

"He's dead, he's never going to hurt you again," Jane said fiercely, pulling Maura tighter. Weird dreams or not, Maura was the person she'd kill for. The person she'd die for. The person she'd fight for.

Maura pulled away and swept her face with her fingers, clearing away tears. She looked up at Jane in the dim light.

"Thank you," Maura said, her voice shaking. "But I'm not sure that's accurate. Today is going to stay with me for a long time."

"Me too," Jane admitted, not admitting that the dreams had been going on for a while, that the dreams were ongoing. Not admitting that she dreamed of Maura when she dreamed of Hoyt, not admitting that she'd miss the dreams when they were gone because the touch of Maura in them was all that got her through her worst days.

"I know it's your birthday, but would you mind holding me?" Maura asked as she lay back down, and Jane turned the lamp back off. She lay next to Maura again, and this time she slid her arms around the body she knew so well. From her dreams, yes, but also from the way they held each other in their waking life. Jane felt like half of a pair, and when she pulled Maura tight against her she felt like part of a whole.

#rizzles #rizzoli and isles #maura isles #rizzoli & isles #jane rizzoli #rizzles fanfic #rizzles ficlet