#ive never wanted anything in any tv show as badly as i want them to be together | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

pochapal · 3 years

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I hate doctor 11 but ive never been able to explain why in like words lmao. He feels like such a mary sue character imo and like theres something about his characterisation that was always just really ineffective (like the stuff about fishfingers and custard or whatever it was). Imo i'd love to hear you give top 5 worst things about the 11 era because i rlly just love when it gets torn apart

i hold nothing but a seething contempt and loathing for that man. every time he appeared on screen i felt ready to snap like a riled up chimpanzee in my enclosure. i am frothing at the mouth and overcome with a desire to start flinging heavy objects. this might be incoherent and inconsistent but i started this rewatch in feb 2020 and only finished this week so i got through 11′s episodes last august/september time and i refuse to revisit it to jog my memory or fact check anything i’m saying here because this man does not deserve the space in my mind for that.

the first thing is i can’t fucking STAND the quirky whimsy timey wimey bit he has going on all of the time. i can’t even say this is because this is a kids show and i was a teen and then adult when i first properly watched him but actually!! when i was eleven years old i’d sleep over at a friend’s house most weekends and it always coincided with the airing of a new season 5 episode and i remember we watched the finale with the dumb time hopping to get out of the box prison that was never explained and didn’t make sense and i thought at the time “this is really stupid”. and before that my only other doctor who exposure was watching the david tennant christmas specials with another friend and throughout childhood my only opinion on doctor who was “this is a tv show that is not for me but is one that all the boys i am friends with like so i will put up with it to maintain our friendships” but at least those episodes were both suspenseful and engaging enough to keep me watching all the way through. like who the fuck does an end of the world sci fi plot and approaches it with an “oopsy woopsy i am a funny little alien man who is going to stop you all by making you do a hecking silly” like it’s unneeded and self-parodies an already cheesy show to the point where it becomes unwatchable and makes it impossible to ever take this man seriously.

next thing that downright sucks ass so badly is the stupid fucking overwritten constantly escalating plotlines. like everything from season 5 up until his regeneration at the end of season 7 is meant to be this grand interconnected cosmic plot about how...the doctor trying to bring back his planet will end the universe or something so all the top powers across all of reality tried again and again to stop him from doing that except he doesn’t know what’s going on so he keeps thwarting these people who supposedly mean good?? i mean i sure don’t fucking know what they were trying to say!! like for some reason we never get the doctor suddenly becomes this superdemon that threatens everything so these people (whoever they are) decide to, in sequence: suck him through a time rift to erase him from existence, trap him in a prison and remake a universe without him, take his companion’s baby and turn her into a perfectly trained doctor killer, form two(!!) secret societies to hunt him throughout history that are only stopped by his companion splintering herself across his personal timeline to protect him, and repeatedly cause reality collapsing events because it’s a kinder outcome for the universe than what he will do. this grand and terrible event turns out to be...he spends a few hundred years chilling by a rift that leads to his home planet and protects a few generations of children from monsters which convinces them to give him infinite regeneration power then fuck off back to their pocket universe. and it’s like!! what is the point of anything that happens in this man’s era when everything is always “the darkest moment” or whatever the fuck!! i don’t care!! we never get a compelling reason to believe this bumbling clown of a man could ever be a universal threat!! the whole thing is so dumb i hate it!!!

thing number three i hate is how the eleventh doctor is ALSO characterised as this abrasive egotistic male supergenius to the point where he becomes genuinely indistinguishable from bbc sherlock. genuinely who enjoyed seeing this guy constantly tell people their tiny human minds can’t comprehend what he’s doing and then basically just wave his magic wand to solve whatever problem each episode is facing. 2012 is the year of human sin because this fucking shitsmear character archetype somehow became both a redditor role model AND a tumblr sexyman and it’s like!! nobody is enjoying this stop making this seem cool! him saying timey wimey thing any time he does anything is frustrating and dumb and locks the viewer out of giving a fuck about anything that is happening! smartest man in the room syndrome is a disease and the eleventh doctor is terminal with it. like remember how they established river as an accomplished scientist (when she wasn’t being a child soldier or a time paradox or whatever the fuck) and every time that came up mr doctor eleven man was like “oh this thing is obvious because i’m a genius and you didn’t realise because your brain is tiny so get out of the way and let the grownups think” or that time it turned out amy had been replaced with a slime clone for half the season and the doctor chewed rory (audience surrogate) out for somehow not realising this fact we didn’t know right from the start and like. this served no purpose other than to draw into severe question why the doctor is also this super beloved magical figure implicitly trusted by all children everywhere like. mr steven moffat is totally allergic to writing and solving mysteries in his tv show and fuck you for wanting to figure things out as you go along based on the new evidence you uncover at strategic plot intervals just let this asshole man use magical thinking to reveal he knew the answer all along and you’re a fucking idiot for not also realising this thing which had no basis or precedent anywhere else in the show.

speaking of dumb things let us not forget the absolute shitshow that was minority representation in this era. i’m not even talking about the low hanging fruit of how genuinely unironically sexist amy and clara were written where each episode moffat either seemed to loathe them or was incredibly horny over them and they had no character growth or arc or fucking anything. i’m talking about how fucking shit terrible the incidental representation was. god remember how every single fucking gay person who appeared in this era was written as one incredibly fucking stupid joke and how the women were all either sexy dominatrix, feeble girl in love, or Mother (or all three in some really terrible cases) and i’m not qualified to talk about this but also how incredibly white this era was and how on two separate occasions we had monarchs reimagined as sexy girlbosses with a gun played by black women who the doctor leched over. nothing about any of this was good ESPECIALLY coming off the back of rtd who was surprisingly forward thinking for 2005 and did a really good job of positing travel with the doctor as queer allegory. in comparison moffat gave us THE MOST heterosexual shlock i’ve ever had to endure. amy and rory could have been interesting characters were they not hemmed into this domestic bickering young straight married couple bullshit that was in no way changed or altered by traveling with the doctor except for the quasi incestuous river song reveal that was dumb and bad and stupid.

the last major mega gripe i have with the series is moffat’s fucking jingoistic boner for british military aesthetics. this carried over throughout his entire tenure as showrunner but was super terrible vomit inducing in eleven’s era. the unironic admiration for ww2 britain and winston churchill is downright wretched. are you incapable of telling a second world war story outside of churchill’s london and plucky blitz fighters. shit gives me hives so badly. and then!!! that weird church owned army that features in the future that end up being bad not for the concept of what basically amounts to an imperialistic intergalactic rendition of the fucking crusades but because they’re part of the nonsense go nowhere puzzlebox narrative that says the doctor is a not good man who will do bad things to the universe :(. remember how rtd’s doctor was a freshly traumatised man hot off the war criminal press who time and time again vehemently refuses to engage in military violence, but who tragically inadvertently turns every one of his companions into soldiers in his own personal army, and he has this moment of complete horror at the realisation and it is this which causes the downward spiral that ends in 10′s regeneration. and then how there’s this cringe line about how there’s a force of people who are “the doctor’s army, always ready to fight his battles when he’s not around” or some shit and then it turns out this is actually massive literal military operation and we’re meant to celebrate this. fuck off.

bonus round because this needs to be said but i have never hated anything like i hated that fucking human tardis episode. everything about it induced violent anger in me from the sickening overindulgence of that softgoth dark whimsy helena bonham carter tim burton aesthetic to the bafflingly terrible evil carny stereotype of those junk scavengers to the overblown sudden tragic shipbait romance of human tardis and the doctor. every word out of her mouth was trite shit and the fact that the death of her body was presented as this super emotional dramatic scene despite there being no buy in or incentive to care and the fact that every single person on tumblr in 2012 ate that shit up like it was fucking gourmet. i loathe every single thing about that episode so much.

#Anonymous #hi bestie here's 1500 words of me getting mad about the worst television experience i had in my life #why the FUCK was this man tumblr's favourite back in the day. what the fuck did anyone see in any of this shit #i never want to think about dr whom ever again

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saetangfm · 3 years

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( twenty - one , cisfemale , she/her ) ✉ ― hey babes, have you met MALI SAETANG. they’re vacationing here, a few villas down from where you’re staying. you might hear LOTTERY BY KALI UCHIS playing from their villa, it’s their favourite song. yes, they hear that they look like LALISA MANOBAN alot, actually - it’s really uncanny. their friends back home in SAN FRANCISCO , CALIFORNIA say that if they were on a tv show, their trope would be THE DITZ , how funny is that? ✎ bunny, 18, she/they , est.

[ paris hilton’s vc ] “that’s hot !” hiii , my name is bunny !! i am a very chaotic person. hopefully all of my ideas for mali is coherent enough. i’m SO SO SO excited for this rp and for you all to meet mali. i am very forgetful due to my neurodivergency so if you ever send me a message to plot don’t be afraid to send it twice to remind me. OK OK , HERE IS MS. SAETANG <33

full name | mali saetang

age | twenty - one

birth date | december 24

zodiac | capricorn

father’s name | aran ( last name to be found )

mother’s name | chailai saetang

orientation | bisexual

label | the ditz

I. BIOGRAPHY

COMES from a long line musician and music moguls well at least on her mother’s side her mother is currently a music mogul , retired musician. her mother quite reminded her of cher. a very forward thinking and independent woman. didn’t need anyone to do anything for her. incredibly talented , beautiful , funny. the whole PACKAGE really. she looked up to her mother very much. her dad on the other hand was more of the scumbag more of the DIRTBAG type. he was a one time fling for her mom. a big scandal when it happened. such a famous woman like her mom sleeping with a nobody. he came and go when he pleased when she was growing up. one day , he just never showed back up. she still loved him regardless even though he showed little interest in her. no matter how hard she tried. she just wanted VALIDATION. craved it. this trend would follow her into adulthood. her mother treated her well though , she had a problem staying at her house busy with work and all. her mother always felt HORRIBLE and GUILTY for this so she gave her money , gifts , and vacations. anything to help her conscience but she always meant well because she loved mali. so mali spent her childhood rotating through nannies , craving the validation from her dad knowing she’ll never get it , and getting PITY gifts and money from her mom.

II.

MALI took up singing as well but more as a hobby to her mother’s disappointment. mali just has a lot of doubts in her singing ability and just doesn’t know if she’ll ever live up to her mother. she’s much more of a typical SOCIALITE. lots of parties and hook ups rather than spending time being typically “productive”. her mother funds these habits out of guilt of her past behavior in mali’s childhood. her current life is just filled with her in the tabloids. MALI’S GONE WILD makes the headline like two times a week and don’t get me started on her dumb tweets that genuinely makes people question her intelligence on a daily.

III.

TYPICALLY , mali is a pretty sweet person. always has her friends back regardless if their friends are in the wrong or not. she’s a little bit of a airhead. think of the DUMBEST quote you can and she has probably said it or tweeted it. she’s one of those people who just goes with whoever she has the most fun with. this gets her in a lot of trouble because the people she hangs out with can be the nastiest bitches girls on earth. tend gets her in a lot of drama. her SWEET and QUIRKY personality makes up for most of this though since she can really charming. she’s not a person who kicks people down to get her way but she will if she has too. can charm her way out of anything truly. just put a smile and twirl her hair. works every time.

IV. WANTED CONNECTIONS

bad influence . generally all of her friends are kind of bad influence on her but this one in particular is bad. always getting in trouble especially during parties. think of lindsey lohan and paris hilton when they were friends. just a whole mess , a lot of fun , and a ton of bad decisions.

best friends . a group of people she hangs around constantly. this group definitely has to be a lot of fun. doesn’t necessarily have to be the nicest group of people.

frenemies . party buddies or just a person she only hung out with a couple times who she honestly doesn’t really like. just hangs out with them for fun. talks badly behind their back.

flings . this could be multiple people. she kinda falls in “love” with people at parties a lot. maybe it’s the alcohol that brings it out but absolutely loves being loved or at least wanted. keeps them around for a couple and then breaks up them.

enemies . a lot people find her airhead socialite personality annoying.

| honestly just throw any other plots my way if you want !! <3

#villasintro

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penzyroamin · 3 years

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Food and sharing food continues to be a recurring motif in “tied together”. What was your thought process around that? How do you see that connecting to some of the central themes and concepts in the story as a whole? (And, if you would like to go into this, how do you see food and sharing food playing out in the messy au where David will also be cooking but in a completely different context/power dynamic?)

HAHAHAHA! I CAN FINALLY TALK ABT THIS WITHOUT SEEMING LIKE F SCOTT FITZGERALD BEGGING PEOPLE TO KNOW WHAT THE GREAT GATSBY WAS!!!!!

okay. im calm now.

so for a couple years now i have deeply and secretly loved the concept of food as a symbol for community. i didnt use it in fic for a long time for a variety of reasons. one, it just never really felt right. two, my love of this symbol is very much connected to my southern-ness, and while im sure many people have just as strong, if not stronger connections between food and community, i didnt really know if people reading my stuff would Get It or connect w it.

i finally decided to use it for tied together for two reasons. first, this is my most definitively southern fic. ive written other fics with Humid Small Town Energy but this is my first that i really let myself go “fuck it. crawfish boils. hurricanes. middle aged women with crushes on jim cantore.” as such, it felt like if i was going to go for this symbol at any point, it needed to be with this fic. the second is that due to Pandemic and also living across the country from the majority of the family i grew up with, i have been kind of starved of community experiences as of late. i wrote tied together entirely during a period when i havent spent time with anyone besides my immediate family, so i was really thinking about community and the nature of it and how fucking badly i wanna have a massive meal with people and hence... this symbol

with the background of my decision to include it covered, let’s get into how it appears in tied together!!

in chapter one, the majority of food’s appearances are... impersonal, if that makes sense? its all premade, whether its drive-through stuff, tv dinners, etc etc, and he doesnt know the person who made it. its also worth pointing out that around the time jack and his mom stop sharing meals is the point they become disconnected from each other. essentially, that’s the disconnect from community throughout jack’s early life

davey comes around and it. is pretty obvious from the start that, through this symbol, he is the Literal Embodiment Of Connection To The People Around Him. food was a really key way for me to show just how connected he is to his community-- he’s constantly cooking for other people, working for battalion, helping people get good food, contributing recipes to little cookbooks. the end chapter also nods to this in the scene w his family where esther mentions he made her teach him to cook for a group, and the conversation afterwards where he mentions that he wouldn’t be comfortable with people paying him to make them food or making food for strangers. cooking for other people is essentially davey’s way of nurturing the community around him and becoming closer with people, so to make food in an impersonal way goes against everything he knows about food and sharing it. the interactions he has through food represent the larger relationships and interactions he has within his community. juxtaposed to jack, he’s built this little world around him filled with people that he loves and cares for, even if that does lay a heavy burden on him at points. if i ever write something delving deeper into davey in this au, i’ll elaborate further-- but, essentially, davey’s role as The Provider of food for the people around him was a real stand-in for the way that he feels both within his family and his larger community.

think of it this way-- in all the scenes we see with davey cooking at a large event-- i.e., the crawfish boil-- he’s always pushed off to the side by that. there’s usually someone talking to him or checking in on the food, but he’s not able to be engaged in the larger hubbub and discussion of the party because he’s busy. it’s in providing food for people and sharing that with him that he gets fulfillment out of the experience. in his family, we see that davey is a little bit isolated. he was growing up at the exact time when mayer’s alcoholism was getting worse and hitting its peak, and he left before mayer ever really managed to get very far into recovery. his time in their house, essentially, was a lot of heavy lifting and few moments of solidarity and joy. he loves his family, of course, it’s just a very labor-intensive process. and then, of course, he has a similar experience to what a lot of southern marginalized people feel-- this intense need to care for and better your community when your community very frequently doesn’t care for you. davey has absolutely zero capacity for apathy in this au, and it definitely shines through with this whole dynamic. he works SO HARD to care for people, even if he isnt always able to fully enjoy being around them and being loved by them

and then, of course, you have the way davey and jack interact through this motif-- davey teaches jack how to cook, gives him a cookbook, invites him over for meals, etc etc. sharing that with him essentially represents welcoming jack into his community as a whole, and giving him a place there. jack mentions davey “clearing a spot at the table” for him, and that’s both literal and figurative.

additionally, while davey uses food as a way to bring jack into his community, jack also makes davey a little less isolated. in a lot of the scenes in chapter 5, theyre cooking together, in a very domestic, symbiotic sort of way. i wanted this to demonstrate how jack relieves some of the burden davey puts on himself and exists sort of Within davey’s bubble rather than just reaping the benefits

i also wanted to illustrate with this how jack repairing his relationship w food keys into this. obviously we have the disconnect that he has early on where his unfamiliarity w what he eats and who makes it represents a larger disconnect between him and the people around him, but jack does also absolutely use food as a coping mechanism and a crutch. not to get, again, TOTALLY gatsby here, but he’s chasing that sense of community and belonging and understanding in the wrong places. it’s once he begins to actually make food for himself and understand the process of it and be able to carry something through to completion that he’s able to actually Enjoy food, yknow? i wanted that to mirror the way throughout the earlier parts of his life that he tried to kind of slap up temporary relationships and make do with that.

side note about jack and food: jack has undiagnosed adhd (and some vague comorbidities rip) in this au, and his experiences with it i preeeetttty heavily lifted from my life and my special brand of fucked in the head. (for those of you who don’t know, carb and sugar cravings are a symptom of adhd, hence why food is often a coping mechanism for us fhskdhs). cooking and baking are processes that have REALLY helped me get a handle on myself-- it gives me an outlet for movement and stimulation, and its something that i can carry through till the end and get an actual end product that i can recognize and benefit from. plus, real time consequences if i let something do whatever for ten more minutes! so thats another element i added to the way that jack builds healthier coping mechanisms over time-- he moves away from food as a crutch and instead develops a new form of CREATING that gives him an outlet and a feeling of productivity

those are some Vague thoughts. i will probably elaborate in the future!

now, for the messy au, rather than food symbolizing community, i chose to have it represent vulnerability.

a quick review: jack married rich, and davey is jack’s new wife’s cook. on his wife, dorothy’s part, i wanted this to shine through in this squeaky clean, pristine image that a lot of rich people try to craft. she never cooks for herself, never pays much attention to davey, never draws attention to him. in essence, she is creating as few weak spots as possible-- she refuses to be vulnerable to the people and the society around her.

with davey, however, his and his family’s livelihood depends on him cooking for this woman, and later for her and her husband. he’s forced into this position of extreme vulnerability and weakness by his financial situation, and cant really regain his sense of privacy or self because of that. its also a point in this story that he has very little time or wherewithal to cook for his FAMILY. so, his job forces him into a vulnerable situation with complete strangers who hold an upper hand over him but denies him the opportunity to be vulnerable with his own family, only reinforcing this idea that he is the protector and the provider and as such cannot have weak spots and cannot, under any circumstances, break

it also really highlights the difference between jack’s relationship with his wife vs with davey and smalls-- all the scenes of he and dorothy eating together are in grand, fancy rooms, with a certain amount of pomp and circumstance and dignity attached. with davey and smalls, though, he’s usually in the kitchen, having conversation, enjoying their company, helping them with menial things. that’s an environment that he’s used to and comfortable with, the kind of relationships and interactions he grew up with, while the stuffiness of his life and interactions with dorothy are entirely less vulnerable and close

that’s just a brief overview, but its something to look for when i finally finish the fic! it definitely started as a very soapy sort of thing, but my damn instincts pushed me to delve deeper into the characters and their relationships and the fucked-up-ness of it all. so, here we are

i really hope this helped!!!! this is not organized AT ALL so please tell me if there’s anything else you wanted to know or any details you noticed

#holy FUCK is this long..#about writing #tied together #asks #thank u so much for giving me an excuse to positively SCREAM abt this

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sprnklersplashes · 4 years

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heart of stone (6/?)

AO3

Janis ditches the tights and jean shorts by Wednesday. There’s a slight look of ‘I told you so’ on her mother’s face, but she spares Janis the lecture out of politeness. Janis never thought she’d miss them, but here she is.

Sitting cross-legged on her bed, she scribbles another flower on the page, a twin for the one next to it. Not an exact twin, it’s thinner and its petals are more spiked and sharp than the one she drew before it. It’s less inviting, more dangerous. Angry, even. Like if she picked it up she’d cut her finger on it. She hadn’t intended for it to happen; in fact, she’d set out to doodle some pretty little flowers in an attempt to brighten up her sketchbook. But the pencil, as it often does, did what it wanted. She turns it on the side, trying to find a way to like it. It’s not bad work, not her best but certainly not her worst. Maybe she could like it if she had drawn it earlier, but she had really been hoping to get something nice into her book today.

With a sigh, she sets the book on her lap and swings her body around so that her feet dangle over the edge of her bed. Her next round of chemo isn’t due for a few hours, a long stretch of time to attempt to fill with activity. While she’s only been in the hospital for two full days, she’s decided that the worst part is the waiting around for the next thing to happen. Granted, much of that can be put on her as she’s spent more time in her room than she has anywhere else, distracting herself with TV and art and her parents and texting her friends every chance she can get. It all comes together and forms some kind of routine for her, one that’s built with as much familiarity and comfort as possible woven through it. The only downside to it is that the room’s been getting progressively smaller since two days ago and it wasn’t long before it started choking her.

She left the door slightly open and peers into the hallway, the brightness of the walls striking against the cool tones of her room. She can hear the faint sounds of half-conversations that overlap with each other; nurses gossiping with each other while fiddling with IVs, the inhabitants of the longue talking and laughing about who knows what, doctors prescribing new rounds of medicine. The ward is much more alive than she had Janis ever thought it could be, a constant hum in the background of the day to day life keeps the place awake.

She taps her nails on the cover of her book, her swinging legs gaining momentum as she debates following the pull in her chest, compelling her to maybe leave her room for more than five minutes at a time and follow the sounds of conversation. Maybe talk to people who aren’t her medical team or her parents. Make some friends, because as everyone knows, cancer wards are prime social hotspots. She may not be here forever, but she’ll be here long enough to justify getting comfortable.

What’s the worst that can happen, logic had asked her that first night.

Literally so freaking much, she responded. Friends aren’t exactly her strong suit. Regina was a mistake, Damian was luck, and Cady was a gift. She could indulge her inner loser and tell herself it’s because she’s special and tailor made to a few specific people, but the thought of that makes her roll her eyes. So she faces up to the truth and all it entails; that she’s merely been unlucky in the friendship department, something that can be boiled down to one terrible experience and everything that came after it and lingers long after the smoke has cleared.

You’re being ridiculous she tells herself. If there’s a Regina George clone here, she’ll be thoroughly impressed. So she pulls her boots on and pushes herself off the bed, quickly explaining to her mom that she’s going to hang out in the longue for a bit.

“You need me to come with you?”

“I’m fine,” she says, a small smile on her face as she pulls on a cardigan. She nods at the intense competitive cooking show her mom has on the TV. “Tell me who wins. And don’t leave out any details.”

“Well we both know it’s not going to be Leticia judging by the look of that beef,” she says seriously. Janis clicks her tongue before turning and heading down, her steps smaller than normal and her sketchbook held against her chest like a shield. Her stomach twists uneasily, not from the chemo or anything like that, just from good old-fashioned anxiety. In an odd way, it’s a relief to feel ill in that way.

When she pushes herself past the open doors, all eyes turn to her and only look away to talk with other people. It’s far more populated than the last time she was here, people sitting in groups of two and three, most in pyjamas and some with hats. But all of them in groups, belonging with each other. Is this how Cady felt all those months ago, when she and Damian spotted her heading to the bathroom? Maybe her girlfriend had the right idea that day. A bathroom stall is a way better alternative to a room full of strangers.

Unfortunately, she knows better by now, and so she settles in an armchair as gracefully as she can, her legs tucked beneath her, and tries to shake off the discomfort she feels by opening her book and giving her hands something to do.

“You’re new,” a girl sitting on the floor states. She’s one of the few that actually has hair, dark brown and curly, and it makes Janis feel a little more at ease. Is that bad, she has to ask.

“Third day,” she explains, offering her a small wave. “I’m Janis.”

“Melissa,” she says. She leans back on her arms and exposes a little bandage inside her elbow. Janis pulls her own arm a little closer. Melissa doesn’t seem to notice, instead gesturing to her with her chin.

“What’s that?”

“Oh, this?” she asks, her cheeks growing warm. “Oh, just some drawings I do.”

“Cool,” she says. “So you do art?”

“Sometimes it’s like the art does me," she says dryly, earning a chuckle. “But you know how it is.”

“My best friend says that all the time,” Melissa sighs. “She says she wants to go to art college but I’ve watched her cry over trying to hand in assignments.”

“You sound like my mom,” Janis replies. “Literally every time I bring up doing art in college she tells me how stressful it is.” She shrugs lightly. “She’s not wrong, but it’s the only thing I want to do.”

“Is your mom here?”

“Yeah, she’s back in my room,” she explains. “I left her watching some cooking show on TV.”

“Wow, and you’ve only just here. I’ve been here for a month and I only just got my mom to let me out of her sight,” she sighs, a resigned smile on her face and her eyebrow raised in a silent ‘you know how it is’. “Want to play some Scrabble? We’ve started keeping a scoreboard so we can add you in. We have a whole tournament going.”

“Sounds fun,” Janis says, pushing herself off the chair. “Although I should give you warning, I’m dyslexic, so I kind of suck at it.”

Janis follows her across the longue, slipping her hand into her pocket when she thinks she sees the other girl reach out to her. There’s a pang of guilt in Janis’ chest even though Melissa doesn’t seem to care, and she does her best to work through it. She exchanges names and smiles with other kids, all introduced by Melissa. It’s an odd feeling; she’s not used to being the one who’s introduced. She’s either known people so long she doesn’t need to or she’s the one making the introduction, but today her mouth feels dry and her tongue tied so much that all she can do is say ‘hi’ and try to keep up with the rest of the little group. But despite this, and despite the fact that she does supremely suck at Scrabble, they aren’t half bad. They welcome her in with no problem at all, asking her about school and life and art as they set up tiles and she knows the right questions to ask them. She laughs at their jokes and nods along to the conversation, even adding in her own take now and again as it builds into a steady flow.

It’s not entirely perfect; she can’t help but feel slightly on the outside when they bring up a nurse or a patient she doesn’t know and she’s much more quiet than she’s used to being, unsure which, if any, topics are off-limits, where the lines are. But she’s enjoying herself enough to drown out her earlier worries even if it can’t make them fade entirely, and her mood only picks up when she hears someone behind her say (squeal) her name, followed a flash of pink and rainbow appearing in her vision. How times change when a pink sweater can make her smile instead of grimace.

“Maddie!” The younger girl leans into her side, eyes bright and sparkling, and Janis puts an arm around her shoulders. “Hey kid, where have you been?”

“Where have you been more like,” she replies. “I haven’t seen you since Monday.”

“Been busy,” she says. No one presses, likely because they all understand. They’ve all been where she is before. “And now I’m busy losing at Scrabble. Badly.” Maddie chuckles and when her arms wrap around Janis and chin rests on her shoulder, she can’t say no to it. There’s nothing uncomfortable about such a gesture and it almost feels as natural as hugging Damian or when Karen rests her head on her shoulder, despite her only knowing the girl for two days.

“Oh hey, did they tell you about the photography thing yet?” she asks.

“That what now?”

“Oh it’s this thing the cancer centre started,” Melissa explains. “Basically they want us to take pictures of stuff that matters to us. Us doing hobbies, us with our friends, the whole shebang. It’s meant to be about our cancer not defining us or whatever.” She gives a casual shrug. “It’s fun anyway. You should do it. Especially since you have your art thing.”

“Sounds like fun,” she says before poking Maddie in the ribs. “Now come on, kid. Help me make a word out of these.”

And maybe it’s Maddie’s presence or just time passing, but Janis suddenly finds herself a lot less anxious. She even gets to the point where she trades playful insults with another kid, a boy around her age, and form a team up of sorts against him with one of the other girls. They can’t replace her real friends and she wouldn’t try to, the bonds she’s formed with Damian and Cady are too important and were put through too much to be replicated, but she suspects that they could quickly become new friends.

What’s more, treatments and diagnosis come in and out of the conversation with unexpected ease, and when Janis talks about her own, it’s the same. She hadn’t realised how much of this she’d held back, even in her texts and calls with Damian and talks with her mom. And while she feels bad for it, it also feels so, so good to talk to people like this. People who aren’t her parents or her doctors. People who are, well… like her.

And as it turns out, her next round is scheduled the same time as Melissa’s, and so they head down the hallway together. While Melissa continues to make conversation, Janis’ responses dwindle the closer she gets to her room. It doesn’t take long for the good feeling from the longue to fade, and the image of the needle in her vein becomes sharper in her mind.

“Hey, can I ask you something?” Janis asks suddenly.

“Sure.”

“Does it…” She swallows past the lump in her throat. She finds a loose thread on her cardigan and toys with it until the question comes out. “Does it ever get easier? All this?”

“Well…” Melissa stops in their tracks and Janis almost trips as she does the same, immediately regretting asking. The other girl bites her lip, searching for the right answer. It feels like hours before she says “I don’t really know. I can’t speak for you. We’re all different here.” She tucks her hair behind her ear. “I mean… I guess you get used to it. So it starts getting less scary, I guess.”

Janis only nods and then Melissa reaches out and taps her arm.

“It doesn’t stop sucking,” she sighs. “You just get used to it sucking.”

“And then we all bond over it sucking?” she asks, smirking.

“You get it,” she replies with a laugh. “See you later, Janis.”

“Bye.”

After Melissa leaves, she lingers in the hallway for a minute, pressing her finger into the spot where her IV goes. The problem is exactly what Melissa said-you get used to it. And she really, really doesn’t want to get used to it. Getting used it to means that she’ll be here for a while, that something else replaces her old life. Especially now, after the year she had last year, she wants to get used to good stuff, not stuff that ‘sucks’. The idea of this, medicines and hospitals and doctors, becoming normal to her sends a shiver down her back.

But she learned a while ago how to live in reality, even when it’s not what she wants. And it’s with that attitude she walks into her room, where she finds not only her IV set up, but a text from Cady detailing something funny from her math class and how much she misses her.

Even if she gets used to everything else, she knows she’ll never, ever get used to missing Cady.

*****

Friday morning, she wakes later than she normally does. It’s a slow process at the start, sleep pulling her in and begging her to stay, the hospital-issue sheets softer than soft around her and forming a cosy cocoon that she’s so tempted to remain in.

That is, until she remembers what day it is, and then she’s jolted awake.

Friday. Or as she’s called it, Damian-and-Cady day.

It was an unspoken agreement that the two of them were visiting her in here. Just like her father, they were insistent on coming over every moment they could, with Damian jokingly suggesting he could hide under her bed and they could have a sleep over (which they had considered in seriousness and attempted to plan). But thanks to a little thing called school, and another thing called distance, today was the first day she could see them, which is why now she’s wide awake, bright eyed, bushy tailed, everything. Because she’s finally seeing them again and filling the hole in her soul being away from them had carved.

“Morning, kid,” her mom says cheerily, entering the room with a cup of coffee in one hand. “They’re still serving breakfast downstairs, or if you want it brought up to you-”

“Sounds great, Mom,” she replies, only half paying attention. She turns on her phone, her leg bouncing anxiously as she waits for it to load. Has it always been this slow at turning on? She swears it hasn’t been. It takes an eternity for her lockscreen to come up, the time written across it in thin white numbers.

“Ten thirty?” she reads out loud before her head snaps up. “Mom, why didn’t you wake me up?”

“Why would I?” she asks. “You need all the rest you can get, and you’ve still got time before you’re due a round.”

“I know,” she sighs, rubbing her eyes. “But Cady and I text good morning to each other and it was my turn this morning. I don’t want her to think I forgot.”

“Well, I’m sure Cady understands. You know, with all that’s going on, maybe she’s not expecting good mornings right now.”

“Course she is,” she replies quickly. In what universe would Cady not wait for a good morning from her? “It’s our thing. Didn’t you and Dad have a thing?” She types out the message and sends it quickly, although Cady probably won’t see it for at least another two hours.

“Oh, you think we did good morning e-mails back in those days?” she says, laughing a little. She sits on the bed next to her on the bed. “So are you getting some breakfast? Someone can bring it up if you don’t feel up to going down, I’ll just tell them what you want-”

“It’s fine, Mom.” She reaches under the bed and pulls on a sweater before slipping into her boots and raking a brush through her hair. “I might as well go down. Someone might take the last yogurt while I’m down there.”

Truthfully, she doesn’t really feel like eating. Not anything bad, she’s just not hungry, but it’ll put her mom’s mind at ease. Just as she thought, the tension fades from her mom’s shoulders, and when she pats her shoulder, there’s more relief in her smile than just breakfast warrants.

She eats in her room, with the TV on, like she does when she’s sick at home. She could eat in the dining room, but despite the new friends she’s made she prefers eating in private, especially away from the buzzing nurses. As she flips around the channels, her phone buzzes on the plastic table, the screen lighting up to show her a new text that makes her smile and roll her eyes at once.

‘Good morning, babe. Can’t wait to see you today. Also, ik I can’t really change it now, but what do we think of the outfit?’

Beneath the message is a picture of Cady in her bedroom mirror, clad in a black vest and blue flannel shirt with white skinny jeans, her hair held back in a high, loose ponytail, soft curls framing her round face, her eyes looking up at the mirror as she gives an open, toothy grin. And Janis can’t help it, she squeals. God damn it, her girlfriend is cute.

‘Love it, love it, love it. You’re the queen of cuteness. And apparently, texting during class. Stop doing that. If I get a text from you between now and lunch I will not cuddle you later.’

‘I’m not texting during class, it’s study hall.’ Wow, what on Earth has happened to the ever-studious, rule following Cady Heron? Not even Plastic Cady texted during study hall. ‘Besides, you have to cuddle with me. It’s legally required and I’m deprived of Janis cuddles.’

‘Only if you be good and don’t text during school hours.’ She fires back, chuckling under her breath. ‘And you remain that freaking adorable.’

“Well someone’s in a good mood.” She looks up and sees Doctor Wiley standing in the doorway, and her smile dips a little, the perfect bubble she was sitting in with Cady ruined. Not enough to ruin her mood, nothing could do that, but it shakes it.

“It’s her girlfriend,” her mom explains.

“How do you know that?”

“Your smile,” she says. “It’s your ‘Cady smile’.”

“I don’t…” Her voice trails off and her mom simply shrugs. Well look at that. She’s that girlfriend now.

“Well, that’s nice to hear,” Wiley says, striding towards her. Under the table, Janis crosses her fingers that this is a normal good morning visit. She’ll take bad news on any day that’s not Damian-and-Cady day. “So, Janis, a lot of us on your team have been talking and we’ve decided to ask if you might want to get a port inserted.”

“A what?” she asks.

“Think of it like a little reservoir put underneath your skin,” he explains. “Just to make receiving the chemo easier on you. A lot of patients have one put in.”

“Oh, wow.” Way to bring the mood down, Doc, she thinks. Sometimes she envies the younger patients who have their parents making all the hard decisions. Still, one word sticks out in all that. “It makes it easier?”

“Quite a bit easier,” he agrees. “For one thing, it’s a lot more comfortable than an IV.” There’s a plus. “And a lower risk of your medicine leaking out-”

“Sounds cool,” she interrupts quickly before he can bring up an image she doesn’t want. “Um, can I think about it? I mean, is it urgent?”

“No, of course not,” Wiley replies with a stiff smile. “I’ll let you and your mom discuss it.”

He leaves them after an uncomfortable silence, nodding to her and her mom and reminding her that he’s around if she has any questions.

“So what do you think?” her mom asks.

“I don’t think.” She picks her phone back up and jumps off the bed. “Where did you put my clothes?”

“I put everything in your bag, it’s under the bed,” she replies. Janis pulls out her bag, sorting through the mass of denim, cotton, plaid and leather, all while her mom hovers behind her with anxious eyes that drill into her back. "Janis, you should consider this.”

“And I will,” she sighs. She pulls out a shirt she’s always liked and throws it on the bed. “Just not right now.” She shakes her head, trying to clear some of the smoke in her brain. Still sitting on the ground, she looks up at her mom and sighs. “Mom, I just want to not think about cancer stuff right now. I just want to see my friends and think about that.” She toys with the shirt in her hands and bunches it into a tight ball, her arms tense and shaking and her grip tight. “Is that okay?”

Her voice sounds impossibly broken on that question. And while it wasn’t intentional, it works on her mom, who nods and comes over to pat her hair.

“Okay, sweetie,” she says, and that’s the temporary end of it.

The day passes even slower than it normally does in hospital-time. Hours stretch on and on with no end in sight and she can’t distract herself no matter what she tries to do. She can’t focus long enough to read or settle on one TV show and even games in the longue can only get her so far. She tries checking her social media when on her IV, but she’s hardly there a minute before her anxiety peaks again after seeing pictures of her friends. Besides, it’s mostly dry now, everyone else is in class.

Finally, finally, it comes to the afternoon and it’s close enough that she can justify beginning to get ready. She stretches, grateful for the little power nap she took earlier, and fishes her make-up out of her bag. It’s not everything, but it’ll have to work, as will the tiny mirror in her bathroom.

“What’s going on in here?” The voice makes Janis jump six feet, even though it’s the honey-toned voice of one of the older nurses. “Little makeover.”

“Just wanted to look nice today,” she explains as she unscrews the foundation. She’s a little bit surprised to see that she’s not out of practice since she’s been bare-faced for well over a week now. Bigger priorities and all that.

“Her girlfriend’s coming over today,” her mom says in a low voice.

“It’s not just that,” she says, even though it might be. “Damian will also be here.”

“Oh you kids and your relationships,” the nurse chuckles as she takes the empty bags out. In the mirror, Janis sees her point sternly in her direction as though she were her mother. “Just remember Janis, if she really cares about you, she won’t care how much muck you have on your face.”

“I’ll keep that in mind,” she says as she applies a coat of eyeshadow, deep indigo and sparkling under the low lights. She adds a generous amount of purple lipstick next, a shade that’s always been a favourite of hers, and four coats of mascara. Some say that’s overkill, she disagrees. Bigger, bolder, better after all.

She takes a second before looking at herself properly, and when she does it makes her happier than it has any right to be. She looks like herself again. Not a girl with cancer. A girl who is perfectly healthy and happy, the dark circles around her eyes and the pale tint to her face deliberate. Not only that, she feels stronger, even though she hadn’t been aware of any weakness before. She can breathe easier now. She’s herself again. A little winded but it was worth it.

When she’s done, Cady and Damian should get out of school in about ten minutes. They worked it all out; they’ll get the first bus from school up to the hospital, which should take about twenty-five minutes. She offered to pay their bus tickets and her mom had offered to pick them up, but neither one of them would hear any of it. Damian in particular would die before accepting money from anyone.

So she has just over half an hour. Maybe closer to forty minutes when factoring in waiting for the bus and various stops…

She probably should have left the make-up to later just to give herself something to do.

No, it’s fine. The last thing she wants is them walking in on her doing her make-up. Besides, there’s plenty to do for half an hour. She’s waited this long after all. She checks her outfit again, first in the bathroom mirror, by bouncing repeatedly, and then by using the camera on her phone. This morning she was sure about this outfit. Now she’s not sure about this skirt. Maybe if her mom had woken her up earlier she’d have had more time to plan it. The shirt is fine, it’s something Cady loves, so she won’t trade it, but the skirt… it’s not working. She grabs more stuff from her bag and lays it out on the bed, debating each one carefully. There’s a pair of studded shorts that she doesn’t think looks right with the shirt, a pair of jeans that would be far too uncomfortable, and a dark grey skirt that she’s not worn that much and is a little short-

“Holy crap,” she sighs. She shakes her head at herself. She hasn’t obsessed this much over her looks since middle school. “You’re insane, Sarkisian. You’re fine.”

They’ve both seen her look worse, surely.

She forces herself to sit on the bed and just watch some freaking YouTube like a normal person. She gets a text from Damian telling her they’re on their way, and she takes a deep breath and sends a response. She then has one eye on the phone and one eye on the window, all the while counting the minutes until they should be here.

Twenty five minutes. One video later, it’s twenty one. Another video, eighteen. Another video, plus a sip of the coffee her mom got her, fourteen. Another video, plus re-checking her make-up, ten. Another video, six. Another video, three.

And now they should be here. They probably are; they’re probably walking through the lobby. Maybe the elevator’s a little slow, maybe they got lost. This is a big place and they don’t even know where they ward is. Do they? Did she tell them? She grabs her phone and checks their groupchat, scrolling through the week-

“Janis?” Her name is accompanied by a soft knock on the door, and when she looks up, Cady is standing in the doorway, looking even more beautiful than she did that morning with a breathless smile and dimples in her cheeks. And everything else she was feeling melts away.

Janis doesn’t care about dignity, she runs over and throws her arms around her. As Cady hugs her back just as fiercely, Janis fights the urge to pick her up off the floor.

“I missed you,” Cady whispers into her shoulder.

“I missed you more,” she replies, certain that she’s correct.

“Well I’ll just go then,” Damian jokes. “If you two need a moment alone.”

“Don’t even think about it,” she tells him seriously, jumping into his embrace. He runs his hand through her hair and even rocks her and everything about his embrace feels right.

“Got you these,” he says when they eventually pull apart. He presents her with a bunch of white flowers wrapped in silver paper. The scent is just like the gesture; so sweet it makes her well up.

“Oh you losers,” she says. “I love them.”

“Hi kids,” her mom greets from her chair in the corner. To be honest, Janis had actually forgotten her mom was there. So her mom has watched her run across the room and tackle-hug Cady. Nice. “How was school?”

“It’s fine,” Cady replies. “You know… senior year….”

“Oh I’m sure it is,” she says fondly. “I’ll give you kids some alone time.” She gives Janis’ shoulder a squeeze before heading out, and then Janis can hold Cady’s hand as tightly as she wants and pulls the two of them to the bed, utterly giddy at having them at her side again.

Even if it won’t last a voice in her head whispers.

“So come on, what have I missed?” she asks. “Other than you two, I mean. Tell me everything. Spill all the tea. I crave gossip!”

“It’s been a week, Jan,” Cady tells her, grinning and swinging her legs as her feet don’t touch the floor. “But, you do know that you’re talking to the newest captain of the North Shore Mathletes.”

“Come on then.” Janis digs her elbow in her girlfriend’s ribs. “Tell me everything.”

That’s all the incentive Cady needs.

She babbles on about her plans for the new year as Captain, how she’s already getting new recruits and she’s even allowed to invite freshmen and create Junior Mathletes, how she’s sure that membership is going to be double what it was last year (at which point Damian reminds her that there were only three people on the team last year), and about how they’re already starting to put together teams for a few contests, more than last year, and of course, how she’s ready to defend their state champion title. With each word, Janis’ heart grows warmer, the sense of security she’s craved all week settling and wrapping around her like her favourite blanket, and their hands lie intertwined on the bed a though they’d never been apart.

“So that’s my life…” she says, tucking her hair behind her ear. She shakes her head and covers Janis’ hand with hers. “But what about you, what’s it like in here?”

“Oh, I’m fine,” she scoffs. “I’m always fine.” Cady’s smile dips, not enough, but Janis notice and let out a sigh. “I mean it’s not the ideal situation. But I’m… coping?”

“I do not like that inflection,” Damian adds, leaning back on the bed and raising an eyebrow.

“You wouldn’t,” she says. “Like, it’s not too bad. You know… the food is actually pretty good, we have some cool stuff in the longue, they know how to keep us occupied. The doctors are all great. Including one hot med student I’m considering setting Damian up with.”

“Consider my attention grabbed,” he says. “How hot are we talking here?”

“Like… Okay I’m not into dudes, so I’m not that great at guessing, but he’s a solid 7.5,” she explains. “Would be a 9 but he stabbed me several times while trying to find a vein.”

“He did what?” Cady squeals, making the two of them jump. Her eyebrows shot up her forehead. “He stabbed you?”

“Woah, yeah.” She grasps Cady’s shoulder and silently bites her tongue. She rubs it in circles, bringing her back down. “And it hurt for a few seconds and I was slightly annoyed by it. And then we laughed about it.” She strokes Cady’s cheek carefully. “Nothing bad, Caddy.”

“Okay.” Cady lets out a breath and shakes out her hands. “Okay, okay. I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay, love.” She plays a kiss on her cheekbone, the tension fleeing Cady’s body as she does so. She tangles her fingers in her hair. She even missed her hair. “It’s cute that you worry so much.”

“I always worry about you.” At that moment, Damian turns his attention to the window, and Cady rests her head on Janis’ shoulder and Janis wraps her arms around her. This, the fearful looks and causing anxiety to her, this is what Janis wanted to avoid in the first place.

Damn Cady Heron and her unflinching loyalty.

“You’re feeling okay though?” she asks quietly. “Right?”

“Okay’s a bit of a relative term these days,” she says. “I’m feeling a bit bleh. But it’s fine.” Cady murmurs something she guesses is an agreement and nestles closer to her. Janis rubs her hand up and down her arm. “I’m fine.”

“Good.” She presses her cheek into her head and closes her eyes, only for a moment.

“Anyway, enough of that stuff,” she says, bouncing and turning to Damian, beckoning him back over. “There’s got to be more that I’ve missed. Come on, spill.”

“Well…” Damian begins, spinning around to face them with a grin stretched across his face. He’s been waiting to tell her this, she can tell. “They’ve announced that the musical this year will be… drum roll.”

She can Cady drum their hands on their legs, the sound bouncing off the walls and making the room tremble with anticipation as it gets higher and faster until-.

“Cabaret!”

“No way!” she gasps. Damian nods excitedly, bouncing on the balls of his feet and clapping his hands together. “Stars have aligned, mon amie. Stars have aligned.”

“Which means,” he goes on, throwing himself down on the bed with such gusto that it bounces. “I am going to be the greatest Emcee that North Shore High would ever wish to have.”

“Damn right!” The two high five, their glee double that of the slightly out of the loop Cady. “Emcee has been one of Damian’s dream roles ever since middle school.”

“Ever since I came out of the damn womb!” he exclaims. “I cannot tell you how much I screamed when the drama club announced it.”

“I can,” Cady adds. “It was loud and long and he got several death glares from everyone else.”

“That’s the only appropriate way to react,” Janis chuckles. “We watched the movie way back when and that’s when he decided he was going to play the Emcee or die trying.”

“It’s also when Janis became gay for Liza Minelli.”

“I’m gay for myself,” she corrects. “Liza was just the object of young Janis’ affections.” She rests her chin on Cady’s shoulder and smiles at him. “I’m helping you prep for this. I don’t care if I have to break out of here with an IV in my arm, I’m helping you.”

“I’d expect nothing less,” he replies. “Also the drama club is devastated you can’t do the set this year.”

“Who the heck says I can’t?” she says indignantly. “Those morons they have won’t last five minutes without my guidance. And I will not have your shining moment ruined by a subpar set.” She tosses her hair over her shoulder. “We all know who really runs that drama club.”

“Oh really, madame,” Damian scoffs, turning so his leg is folded beneath him. Janis keeps smiling, despite the feeling that its being tugged down and the weight settling in her stomach. Of all the times he had to do Cabaret, why did it have to be now?

“Everyone really missed you at school,” Cady tells her.

“Bet it’s not everyone,” she says, half joking. “Not one person in particular.”

“Hey!” Cady slaps her arm. “Be nice.”

“I promised to play nice to her face,” Janis reminds her. “Not behind her back.” Cady huffs out a laugh, her face slightly scrunched up. “But how’s the most important thing; LGBT+ society?”

“Well, we’re having our first welcome back meeting on Wednesday,” Damian says. “And Gretchen is taking over your stall at the fair. Sonja’s going to help her out though,” he adds. “And Sonja’s taking over your spot on the committee too.”

“Good choice,” she says. Lovely as Gretchen is most of the time, Janis isn’t sure she could handle the pressure of running her stall. And Sonja’s the perfect choice to take over her committee spot, smart as a whip, decisive and funny as hell.

So why does the idea make Janis so uneasy?

“Yeah, why don’t we turn this TV on?” she says, grabbing the remote. “It apparently has Netflix, although I’m not entirely sure how to operate it. There’s a load of DVDs in the longue as well.”

“A DVD. Now there’s a name I haven’t heard in a while,” Damian says.

“I don’t think they have Cabaret though,” she sighs. “Which would be perfect for us right now.” She’s telling half-truths, because there’s a substantial collection of old movies, including musicals, but she doesn’t really want to brave the longue now, or to take them in there. The longue is probably her favourite place in the hospital, but it’s bound to be full right now. And for now, she wants to keep her cancer world and the real world separate.

So with some fussing, they manage to find Netflix and learn how to work it. Cady is insistent that Janis pick the movie, since it’s her room and she doesn’t know half of them and has already watched the other half. At the start of the summer, Janis had made Cady a list of every movie she needed to watch, and by the end of August they’d almost made it to the halfway mark. The best part wasn’t the movies themselves; it was the movie nights. Huddled under a comforter and surrounded by pillows, Cady’s body pressed against hers and the lights down low, buttery popcorn and sugar-covered candies keeping them going until one (usually Cady) fell asleep.

Now they make do with the thin hospital bed and the near-plastic sheets. At least they can adjust the height of it, and Janis positions Cady against her and Damian sits in the comfiest chair to watch The Parent Trap. It’s none of their favourites, but it’s familiar and good enough and while it wasn’t on the list, Cady hasn’t seen it yet. Besides, Damian can make any more fun.

And really, Janis can’t take any more of the back and forth debate.

The more the movie goes on, the more normal Janis feels. She runs her fingers up and down Cady’s bare arms, her girlfriend’s jacket discarded across a chair like she would in her house. The conversation is light and easy and full of giggles even at the stupidest, silliest thing, Damian quoting along with the movie and Cady hopelessly lost, especially at around halfway through when Janis decides to tell her that Annie and Hallie were played by the same person.

“No way!” she declares. “I’m not believing you until I see proof.”

“Google it,” she says. “Damian?”

“Way ahead of you.” He pulls up the page and shows her the cast list, with one little Lohan billed as the two twins. Cady’s mouth falls on the floor, her shoulders shaking in a silent, disbelieving laugh.

“Jesus Christ!” she says. “How did they do that all the way back then?”

“Movie magic,” Janis replies, wiggling her fingers for effect. “It’s okay, Caddy, we all felt betrayed when we first found out.”

“Didn’t she go off her rocker a bit?” she asks, pointing to the screen. “I know that much. Regina told me.”

“A little,” Janis agrees. “But I kind of feel bad for her, you know?”

“I guess.”

“Oh. Oh!” The camera pans up, revealing the striking and scary figure of Meredith Blake, and Janis squeezes Cady’s arms. “I hated this bitch.”

“I hated her more,” Damian adds, his tone not 100% light. “When I first watched this I had this soon-to-be stepmom, because my dad was back in the dating game, and she was…” He gags and points down his throat.

“Real mature, Damian,” Janis jokes. “I mean she absolutely was, but still. Mature.”

“Okay, missy,” he laughs. “Nah but I used to try to get inspiration from how to deal with her from this movie.”

“Shh!” she hisses sharply, covering Cady’s ears. “Spoilers!”

“I can still hear you,” Cady tells her. “And I could sort of guess. All the movies about step parents do that kind of thing, don’t they? Bratty kid gets wreaks havoc on the step parent?”

“Are you saying thirteen year old me was a brat?” Damian asks.

“Seventeen year old you is also a brat,” Janis teases. Damian gasps and grabs the cushion from the chair, aiming it at her head. Part of her is completely sure he wouldn’t, not in a hospital, part of her is completely sure he would because of course he would.

She doesn’t find out either way, because their gathering is interrupted by her medical team, and the weight in her stomach comes back with a vengeance.

“Not getting in the way are we?” Nurse Lucy asks.

“Not at all,” she says. Before she stops herself, she’s already pushing Cady off her. Heat rises in her cheeks. “That time again?”

“Unfortunately so,” she replies as Cady slides off the bed. “Is it okay if Jackson does it this time?”

“Yeah, sure.” As she rolls up her sleeve, her friends catch on to what’s happening, and Damian rushes to Cady’s side.

“I promise I’ll find the vein this time,” Jackson jokes.

“Oh this is the one you said-” Cady is cut off by Janis making a small ‘cut it out’ gesture with her hand. She then raises an eyebrow at Damian, whose small smirk tells her everything she needs to know.

She takes a look at her IV and her bare arm before turning back to them. She still hates this; shockingly, she hasn’t gotten used to it in under a week. Her stomach still drops a hundred feet when she looks at the needle and her chest tightens even if she’s only thinking about it.

“You guys don’t need to watch this,” she tells them. “It doesn’t hurt. But if you need to look away, it’s fine.”

“I’m fine,” Cady tells her. When Janis looks down though, she sees how tightly she’s holding Damian’s hand.

“Okay,” she says.

This time around it only takes Jackson three tries to find her vein before securing it with the bandage. Good for him. He’s learning.

“You know the drill by now?” Lucy asks.

“Two hours, stay hydrated.” She gives her a two-fingered salute.

“Two hours?” Cady echoes, and Janis has to chuckle at it. “This takes two hours?”

“That’s what she said the first time she found out,” Lucy says, gesturing to Janis. “I can see why you two like each other so much.”

“No but… two hours,” she says again as they leave. “What do you do for two hours?”

“I just… sit here I guess,” she answers, looking up at the medicine. “You know, there’s TV. I have books. I draw. Sometimes it knocks me out and I get a little surprise nap, so that’s fun.”

“Is that… should we go?” Cady asks. “If you’re going to-”

“Oh no.” She shakes her head firmly. “No, it’s fine. I’ll be fine.”

“You’re sure?”

“Completely.” She’s such a liar it’s a wonder her tongue hasn’t turned black and crumbled. “Come on. Let’s finish the movie at least.”

Cady lays beside her rather than on her, and Damian stays on the other side of the bed, away from her IV. She catches him once or twice, watching the drip instead of the movie. His gaze is unreadable, and since she’s always been able to know his thoughts without him speaking, it unsettles her.

It’s not long before that familiar tiredness descends on her, clouding her mind and pulling her downwards. And she fights it; she keeps her eyes open despite how they itch and shifts her body when she finds herself too comfortable lest she start drifting off. It’s a challenge, not just because of the medicine’s effect on her, but because of Cady’s warmth next to her, promising security and comfort and being there when she wakes up.

And she must have given into it at one point, because she opens her eyes after a blink and the movie is over; Nick and Elizabeth are together again, Annie and Hallie stay with each other forever, happy endings all around.

“What time is it?” Janis asks.

“Nearly five,” Damian explains. Visiting hours don’t end for another two hours. “Are you okay?”

“Me?” she asks. “I’m fantastic.”

“You sure?” Cady’s hand is on hers, slowly linking their fingers together. Janis squeezes her hand, clarity coming into her mind by her own will.

“Of course I’m sure.”

They don’t have to be home for another hour. Home for dinner, that’s the rule. That doesn’t really change. Damian tells her that his mom is thinking about her every day and was beside herself when she heard the news.

“She’s started following more baking blogs,” he tells her. “So prep yourself for a lot of baked goods on your doorstep.”

“I can’t object to that,” she says. “Especially since Val always bakes with love.”

At some point during the hour, Janis pulls Cady into her lap again, or Cady crawls into it, or both. Her head is under her chin and her back against her chest, slotting into place perfectly. Like if she holds her this close, she won’t have to leave.

Wishful thinking, she knows, because when it gets close to six, Cady picks up her jacket and her backpack and there’s nothing but empty air against Janis’ body.

She wishes she could lead them to the door, but her IV catches on everything, so they say their goodbyes where they are.

“Don’t miss me too much,” she warns them teasingly.

“I hardly ever think about you,” Damian replies, his voice thick.

“And you,” she tells him. “Better run lines with me. When’s auditions?”

“Next Thursday,” he tells her. “So I’ll call you tomorrow?”

“Perfect,” she says. “I have treatments at 11, at 2… You know what? I’ll text you them.”

“Okay. And you were right by the way. That med student is a snack.” They laugh, and then there’s a moment of silence before he folds her in his arms, her face burying itself in the crook of his neck and his hand cupping the back of her head. “Take of yourself, okay?” His voice is so soft, so desperate, that it sounds like a plea.

“I will,” she says. “I always do.” Knowledgeable as always, he gives her and Cady space to say goodbye themselves. She rubs her hand on her shorts, nervousness gripping her body in a way she hasn’t felt in a while and she thoroughly dislikes.

“I’ll text you the second I get home,” Cady says. “And can I call you tomorrow?”

“Of course you can,” she says. “As long as you get some homework done tonight, kid.”

“I will,” she says. “I didn’t get the top grade in Norbury’s class for nothing.” Cady takes in a deep breath, her hand fidgeting around her backpack strap and her hair half-hiding her face. Janis reaches out and pushes it back and if she notices her shaking hand, she doesn’t say anything.

“Caddy-”

Janis actually wasn’t sure what she was going to say there, but it doesn’t matter, because Cady steps up and kisses her. It’s not perfect; it feels clumsy and awkward and they bump against each other, but it’s everything Janis needs. So much so that when they pull away, she doesn’t even attempt to hide the blush on her cheeks.

“Okay,” she whispers, grinning. “I’ll see you soon.” She steals another peck.

“See you later, Janis,” she whispers. They don’t stop holding hands for as long as they can and Janis is still looking at her until she’s out of view, walking back down the hall with Damian, maybe getting lost again. Down the hall, to the right, into the elevator and out the double doors. Bus stop down the street, next stop home. They ride together until Damian gets off and Cady stays on. All the while she stays here, IV in arm and her phone buzzing, talking to them until she falls asleep.

#mean girls broadway #mean girls the musical #cadnis #cady x janis #janis sarkisian #cady heron #damian hubbard #fic: heart of stone

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aceofwhump · 5 years

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Do you have any Lucifer fic recs? Especially anything involving wings?

Do I!!! I have so many Lucifer fic recs (161 to be precise) and that includes 31 fics involving his wings. This includes him cutting them off, him being insecure about them, his grooming them, team lucifer seeing them, etc.

Free the Devil from Pain by Navaros: “Looks like those sick bastards sewed the prosthetics onto his back.”Sick indeed. Chloe wanted to vomit at that thought, the bile already rising in her throat.“Give me a few more minutes, I’ll free the wings too. I can’t cut them loose in this position.”And with that the young forensic expert was back at work.

The Breakdown by SilverWolf7: Raphael visits Lucifer early in the morning to apologise to Lucifer. Lucifer lets out emotions he has been holding in for a very long time. Wing grooming.

Fluffy Blankets and Crossed Fingers by procrastinatingbookworm: In the God Johnson episode, Lucifer ends up being so high on the haldol that he can’t hide his wings. Besides dealing with this incredible revelation, Dan, Ella, and Chloe have to get a very loopy and not-at-all-helpful winged civilian consultant out of the building before anyone realizes he has wings. Bonus points if their methods for doing so involve a fluffy blanket and a lot of crossed fingers.

I’m Sorry by StrayDevil15: In the aftermath of 3x24, Lucifer is having a really hard time. Ella comes to the rescue. Self harm tw.

Castaway by ariaadagio: The Devil is real. A sentence Chloe Decker never believed until Lucifer Morningstar burned out her skepticism with his hellfire eyes. It’s a “Hell” of a reality shift, but Chloe realizes she may not have time for gradual acceptance when she discovers that one of the bodies in her most recent murder investigation isn’t human. Worse still, the next target might be Lucifer. A story that begs the question: who prays for Satan?

Malediction by orchidcactus: Chloe and Lucifer must face the consequences of 3x24, as well as dealing with new events that unfold around them.

It’s Only Me by mishasan7: She started to back up, back away from him, her eyes never leaving his face, and gasped, “It’s all true.”Lucifer felt a prickle of unease. What was true? She already knew Pierce was the Sinnerman, how could this possibly be a surprise to her now?“Detective?”What was wrong? Why was she looking at him like that?

Lucifer’s Protector by JAKishu: Trixie and Lucifer have been kidnapped, locked in a small cell and used as leverage against Chloe and her case.

Detour (with Jigsaw Puzzles) by HiroMyStory: An accident leaves Chloe and Lucifer snowed in.

Revealing by shadowolfhunter: He’s badly hurt. Chloe’s seen his true face, and Lucifer thinks she doesn’t want to know him any more.Ella’s mapped the scene. She knows what has to have happened. There’s only one answer she needs. She goes back to Lucifer’s loft apartment.

Ashes by theleafpile: Lucifer burned his wings, severing his connection to Hell.And Heaven.He vastly underestimated how much it would affect him.

And There Was Light by ariaadagio: When Lucifer Morningstar is found half dead in the desert, Chloe Decker is determined to find out why. The problem is … not even Lucifer knows the answer. As Chloe’s world is flipped upside down by incontrovertible evidence of the divine, Lucifer grapples with feelings of violation and futility. God’s meddling has started a chain reaction, but to what end?

Cleanse by ScooterThyme: After the chaotic events in the loft, Lucifer flees back to his penthouse. Once she’s dealt with the fallout at the scene as much as humanly possible, Chloe follows.Lucifer changes his mind about his wings.

Domini Canis by WhenFandomStrikes: When a strange and mysterious group of religious zealots known as the Domini Canis come to Los Angeles in search of the divine, they manage to kidnap Lucifer, Amenadiel, Charlotte and Chloe. The results of which brings a lot of secrets out of the dark and into the light.

The Bitter End by lucidwaking: SPOILERS FOR 3.24 this is my take on what happens next. Title may be deceiving this is coming out a lot less dark than I thought it would. I just had Blind Pilot stuck in my head when I named it.

After by apparition: Chloe comes face to face with the Devil. She’s terrified, but it’s his vulnerability that reminds her that he’s still the same Lucifer.

Broken Inside by fandomoverload: Chloe and Lucifer end up at a survivor’s meeting and Lucifer decides to tell a story. He gets a lot off of his chest, and Chloe draws the wrong conclusions. A one shot for now, more notes in the story.

Knives and wings don’t mix, Luciben8615: Lucifer groaned again, then inched the blade further into his traitorous muscle. Nearly there, just a bit more-The demon blade hit a clump of nerves, and Lucifer’s vision whited out as he screamed.

Home by Navaros: After waking up in the middle of nowhere, burned, exhausted and with those stupid, useless, feathered appendages on his back, he had no idea why they were back or who knocked him out. But that wasn’t important right now. He wanted to go home. The long forgotten and atrophied muscles screamed when he tried to move the wings more than just to open them or lay them against his back, and even that was painful.

Devil’s Advocate by Praemonitor: Non-chronological though interconnected ‘minisodes’ to catalogue the misadventures of Lucifer and Chloe, squeezed in-between their respective and occasionally overlapping day jobs. Minisode I - Lucifer babysits. That’s all.Minisode II - Lucifer and Chloe weather a storm.Minisode III - Lucifer earns back his wings in a bloodier fashion.Minisode IV - Chloe learns a thing or two from Dante’s Inferno.Minisode V - Maze and Chloe take on the original she-devil.Minisode VI - The Christmas Minisode. My personal favorite.Minisode VII - Chloe meets the family.Minisode VIII - Enter a certain petty dabbler in the dark arts.Minisode IX - Lucifer fractures a wing.Minisode X - Lucifer and Chloe go to Hell. Literally.

A Mutual Friend by jumble_of_fandoms: Pierce finds out some information about Lucifer that changes everything. If the Devil himself is going to break his deal, then Pierce is determined to do everything he can to break Lucifer. How far will Lucifer go to protect the woman he cares for?And how far is Pierce willing to go to break Lucifer?

Fever Dreams by Antarctic_Echoes: Lucifer isn’t about to let an odd chill stop him from seeing Chloe. He wants to tell her everything…. No more going backwards.And so he reveals himself – just not in the way he intended.

I Cut My Wings Off: A Lucifer TV Fanfiction by Anna_Erishkgal: Irritating, arrogant, and full of himself, Chloe goes to Lucifer Morningstar’s apartment to see if he made good on his promise to set up a meeting, but what she finds there only leaves her with more questions than answers. A one-shot drabble (at least for now).

Sympathy for an Angel by FearTheSpock: In the aftermath of the Season Finale, Chloe wakes in the middle of the night to a very clumsy home invasion.

If I Lose Myself by BurningUpASunJustToSayHello: If Lucifer’s fall from Heaven was a tragedy, then falling for Chloe was a goddamn sin.

Avenging Angel by Chlucifiction: It’s not Lucifer who finds the auctioneer, and his wings. Instead, Chloe beats him to it. (New story - not related to previous works). Comments encouraged :)

Wings are for Chickens by FearTheSpork: When Lucifer does a good deed for Chloe and Trixie, he’s rewarded. Although he isn’t too sure if he likes what he’s got.

Damnatio Memoriae by iceQueen1: Chloe tries to solve the riddle that is Lucifer Morningstar. Dan even manages to help. When mysterious ritualized killings start showing up, Chloe suspects Lucifer may know more than he lets on. Problem is, she doesn’t know what she thinks she does. Eventual Lucifer Whump.

A Walk in the Desert by Yunnaros: After waking up in the desert, Lucifer fly back to Chloe’s house to find a surprising number of people concerned by his disappearance.

Faint by chashkieh: Prompt: The pain of injuries and amputation never really go away. When Lucifer cut off his wings there was likely phantom pains of a lost limb in the immediate aftermath that faded as he adjusted but occasionally rears its ugly head on a rainy or hot/humid like most injuries. One day it flares in the middle of a case and is aggravated by one of Dan’s casual clap on the back. Basica

#theladyoffangorn #lucifer #lucifer morningstar #wings #wing whump #whump #whump fanfics #lucifer whump #mod post #mod replies #fic recs #fanfics #mods fic recs

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kendrixtermina · 4 years

Text

Now here's an all new theory for where the procrastination comes from

Like the uni councilors thought of like generic selfhate insecurity or like spineless ppl pleasing (nope an anime cured me of that when I was 13 - thst sounded more like what that ladys own problems might be), fear or failure & wanting to spite my father, eveb that getting ahead through "talent" was an unfair advantage bad tainted and evil, or that "talent" meant being beholden and controlled by others (definitely somewhat right - we worked on that, it helped, the second guy was defs much much more helpful & compatible cause he focussed a lot more on strategies than wannabe-maternal pep talks) but there was always something else there that wasnt getting touched

In tje end I dont think I have talent and in any case what really matters is attitude toward "living the examined life" for example whst you do. What you notice.

Now I did notice that things get harder to do precisely because I actually want them(whereas a lot of ppl get distracted from stuff because they dont really want it) - at the same time I can totally function or pick up new habits in day to day life its not like I have some "hardware problem" like, say, ADHD or the like.

Like of course its some emotional knot it couldnt be anything else but I feel they didnt identify what kind of knot? Certainly not that first lady. If im trying to get clarity and you give me reassuring pep talks you just freak me out more for the love of god tell me whats happening. Nothing worse when a Doctor says "it will be over soon" rather than explain the procedure

Fear of/ distraction from wanting itself never really occured to me thats not a common stereotypical fear that ppl talk about.

Let me get this straight I never thought I was better than anyone I knew very well that I'm not. I thought of both those things as ways not to get bullied, maybe get somewhere where I feel that im in the right place.

If I look back at really breaking experiences it was times I really really wanted something and then I couldnt do it or some outside party stepped on my fingers. That Tori Amos Music Video where she escapes from a psycho killer's trunk and then the passerby's dont help her? That was my most favorite music video in the world for years maybe still is.

Like I was told I could maybe skip third grade and I poured all my energy and passion and strenght into that everything I had to do well, make friends with the new class i was so highly motivated I aced all the exams I felt so happy & fulfilled just being in thst flow state all the time... i wanted this more than anything. Maybe it was the first time I really wanted something beyond vague dreams or base desires. But the homeroom teacher hated my guts and put the kibosh on that; Probably because I was unwittingly repeating some of the artogant classist shit my father spouts without realizing how hurtful it is. my parents thought it wasnt worth going to the higher ups for that but having to essentially redo 4th grade in a crap school in the different town we moved to was one of the worst times of my life. Also I didnt find out that the teacher had hated me/acted in a petty way until years after I thought I just failed. That there was a possible place I could have belonged but turns out I really belong nowhere after all.

All my effort was for nothing. It was such a joy - i mean these days even getting code to work or solving math problems has that same joy - but all that effort and joy and wanting did was that... im tearing up and searching for the words to even process this tbh. I think I denied that joy, told myself that I was just a stupud kid thinking I was a special snowflake. It didnt even matter.

Rather than insist on staying up late to make sure my homework was done I just stopped caring and hardly did another piece of homework in my life just faking it on the spot or coasting through. It could have gone another way maybe if it werent for the bullies and my father the chief bully or if only I was more determined but it was like "okay I dont care anymore I just dont care" and I think thats stayed my default response to dissapointment to this day.

This TV show didnt turn out like I wanted? I dont care its just a tv show.

My father treated be with hatred all my life? Its okay I dont care about him and I dont want his love anyway.

Like there were other times when I thought I could be happy.

Like I really wanted to go to this boarding school for gifted kids. Again I thought maybe incorrectly that this would be a place where I can belong and not be bullied it was never about being better than anyone.

Again I wanted it I clamored and cried and made noise nonstop. Maybe I still hadnt wholly lost contact with willpower back then. I still thought of myself as strong willed.

And my father made me regret it. It was around the same time that mom briefly considered divorce maybe I was just the stress valve. Or he took it personally as wanting to get away from him. Duh he abused me of course I wanted away from him. He was such a suffocating control freak! Mom said yes first then he spoke to her and suddenly she followed everything he said. Thats when I really realized how emotionally manipulative was how abusive... i mean one of my first conscious memories of him is thinking "oh crap I will be just like cinderella" but he really laid it on so thick so transparently even a 10 year old could tell its manipulation. If you do this you dont love your mom. If you do this you dont love your siblings. If you dont obey me your mom will kill herself. No she wont you jerk even my 2 year old self could tell youre abusive.

The most cruel thing he did was briefly say yes. Again I got so happy. So invested. Just bending all I was towards that even though he bombarded me with abuse and mental torture.

And then on the day we were supposed to leave he said no youre not going.

Maybe I actually did say I didnt want to go because of one time he was doing this constant scientology type torture on me

That same reaction: "I dont want it I dont want anything so please please let me be"

Ppl think of bad childhoods as a game that you win if yoz turn 18 -or 28 maybe - without killing yourself. But its not. Every year you live it can take away from your potential. Every day less than you have to live it

He sure didnt let me have sucess with his overcontrol and abuse. Anything I was proud of he rules. When I graduated from school with a fairly good but not perfevt final score he humiliated me. When I turned 18 he humiliated me. Everything I did was a burden even just feeding and washing me. Hed give me unwanted white elephant gifts then bitch about how giving them to me ruined his life cause he had to work so muxh "Ingrate Ingrate Ingrate" Butch I never asked for anything I want nothing!

But as I had to eat I did in fact have to ask things of him and I hated it so much.

No wonder that I turned out afraid of wanting things eh?

Hed seen some poster when we went to see tje school I wanted to go to - not by the school by an individual student - about the history of abortion portrayed in a positive way or at least that was his official reason why I couldnt go. Again I had wanted something badly with all my being and again all my being availed nothing. Irrelevant like I didnt exist. All my screaming gone unheard.

And this is so silly cause im not a child anymore I have control and if I were to stop procrastinating I could have money and gave even more control.

I havent even spoken to him in years now hes no longer relevant. Its not about him its about thus bad pattern I picked up.

I like how this books handles it with the idea that certain experiences dont create the type but that it nakes you uniquely suceotible to certain kinds of hurt or certain misunderstandings.

Because with all this discourse about bad message free media ive really come to think that while it can and should be minimized its not possible to eradicate cause human mibds are so quicl so fallible to extract overgeneralizations and make it mean something abput themselves

Like an immature statistical learning model easily overtrained by noisy data.

Another time I was nearly happy was when I started looking for work, doing my thesis...

Same pattern I was engaged, happy to be engaged talking to ppl at both work and in the uni work group loving it all so much...

my life had started to feel meaningful again. And it had gotten to that point in part because of my ex-fiance. Yes the councelling heloed taking up meditation helped, getting high on morning glory that one time helped a whole lot got more self esteem from that than I ever got from my father.

But that all started because of my ex fiance.

He was an i tellectual type and he had a sense of purpose about him like hes a legendary character and everyone around him became legendary too. And he found me useful! Others had called me "walking dictionary" with mockery and scorn he called me his google and it meant love and admiration. Maybe I got a bit of an ego trip off of tjat but I also really stupidly dumbtastically loved him I bragged of him to anyobe who listened everything he did seemed fascinating abd interesting and meaningful, but also I just loved the sweet gentle warmth of being next to him in the morning. Once again I was happy and everything was joyful even when it was hard, I felt strong and meaningful and useful and I let myself openly want things.

And then it all blew up. Worse yet i was so mistaken abozt him it really shook my confidence in my own judgement or any sense of clarity. I was si confused during the fucking breakup like I hadnt been since I left my father's house.

Google hah! More like his personal Alexa! It turns out he didnt respect or like me at all.

I couldnt even be sad or angry cause it was all my mistake. The one feeling I allowed - and even that took me weeks to identify - is dissapointment. Heavy leaden dissapointment i didnt even kniw that was a feeling you could feel so strongly. I didnt even do anything wrong you have to open yourself to have love. He could habe choosen to love me he just simply didnt. He probably thought he did but he wouldnt evebn do something as simple as not make fun of my voice or clean when I am sick.

Once he started putting me in the "wife" role he just became unable to see me. His loss really cause I think he wanted to keep me from all those annoying texts and email he had the nerve to write.

By all means I was right to trust but also right to leave later but still my sense of certainty and purpose and meaning was totally shaken. He did the sort of romantic stuff I didnt think was real. I knew I loved him when we had this conversation about water on mars. He got me the perfect books for my birthday! He said I was pretty and a genius and looked just like an actress. He got me this titanic esque heart pendant with stars. We were stuck at midnight in a train station that one time and he pulled out a picnic rug two plastic glasses and a shampain bottle. It never worked out but he said he might take me to see the LHC! I really thought we would be buried in the same hole folks!. He had read that same steven Hawkings book that I loved. One of the rather few books he actually read as I would find. Sigh.

And I fell right back into that same old pattern. Dont care about anything dont want anything it would be stuoid unrealistic and silly to want.

When I first came to uni I also had this feeling of hapiness and belongingness and wanting, I was putting in an effort, talking to ppl more.. and when things went wrong the slightest bit I pulled by hand back from that like from an open flame.

And here I am years later most the sucess or contact I get is comments on my fanfictions.

I thought I was doing that, or drawing, because its Stakes/Evaluation-free (going by the fear of failure theory) or because at least with the ffs gratification/payoff for effort is immediate compared to original stuff or uni work. Its a nice little niche at least.

I mean I do care about it its not "just" distraction but maybe ive been profaning it in that way... and so etimes I dont even do that and go for full unadulterated undebatable distraction; Line to 7 I guess. Tje only reason I spoke face to face to anyone else than the delivery guy this week is that I had some doctors appointments.

But not its distraction from stuff Im too lazy to do or even from pressure like I always thought. But from wanting things.

So the original fiction went great while it was a distraction from school not so much when its one of the things I most want and actually have the time to do it.

Even thought thats the most practiced skill I have that I never stopped working on since I was 10. 🤦‍♀️

I mean they already explained that its basically like meditation. Or weeds. Or popup ads. Youve got to click them away as they pop up.

I always told myself thst I didnt have to be happy... and thats not even untrue actually but it would sure be neat to be happy again one of these days.

#enneagram #enneagram type 5 #feelings #enneagram 5w4 #5w4

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you-did-well-moon · 4 years

Text

questions tag :))

i was tagged by the lovely @bearboyunho thank uuuu

relationships: I was in one for a maximum of three hours dkejek. Ill explain in the breakup question. This is definitely not a relationship im proud of. It caused me too many problems considering how short it was...

break-ups: I have so many trust issues and insecurities, i think i still have a long way to grow before i can enter a relationship, besides i havent met anyone yet. I didn't lead this person on, i treated him as a friend. And i usually spent more time with him since we were both in track. He caught feelings for me which i honestly knew about but i didnt say anything bc i didnt have feelings for him. One day during lunch with all my friends at the time he asked for a relationship. He later confessed to me he did this on purpose because he knew i would feel bad saying no to him, and that paired with the pressure of my friends, i said yes. He held my hand, and it just didn't feel right. Everything didnt feel right. So three hours later i got him alone and told him i wasnt ready for a relationship but that we could still be friends. He took it relatively well, but he avoided me. His cousin confronted me and told me he cried all weekend, but she said she understood and that she was glad i said no in the end which i was confused about but didnt question just wanting to leave it behind. Then it all started the next year. Out of nowhere he texted me, which was ???? Bc i never gave him my number, but i talked to him believing he was doing this on friendly intentions. lol i was a dumbass. Later my friend revealed to me he had lied to her and said i was paired up with him during a project. I also found out he asked her for pictures of me. His cousin which im friends with also told me she was sure he was not befriending me on good intentions, and that she was creeped out by him. My friends had continuously told me he would speak about me as if we were together to other people, and that he stared at me for weird periods of time. At this point im fucking scared and confront him and say i dont want to be friends with him and that i dont think us talking or being friends is healthy for either one of us. He continued texting me, making me feel bad when i didnt respond asking me if i hated him i had to eventually block him. He gave me a present on both valentines and Christmas which i rejected but he forced me to accept them. After class i always packed up my stuff slowly bc i had a good relationship with my teacher and talked to her. He stood in front of me and just stared at me while i packed. We actually had a kpop club, and one day he showed up. I was part of student council, and at the middle of the year he started attending. He sent me kpop memes to try to get my attention. I felt so unsafe i told my English teacher. Eventually he gave up when i started being firmer in my silence and overall attitude towards him. so yeah.... a relationship that didnt even last a day caused all this. I genuinely wish i had been more careful. The red flags were there from the beginning and i tried ignoring them bc i wanted to be nice. Dont do that, if someone maked you uncomfortable please dont feel bad and cut them off for as long as you need to. Anyways- nExT quEstiOn.

kids: i dont have any but i want twins so badly it's stupid. I honestly dont mind having kids that aren't twins. I just want two tbh. A girl and boy.

brothers and sisters: i have one sister who's five years younger than me. Im very close with my two cousins tho so theyre like sister to me too. They're older than me by more than five years.

pets: i have three dogs. Two shih tzus Otis and Bella, Bella is mother to Otis. He's the only puppy we kept from when Bella had puppies. I have Rocky a very clumsy english bulldog. I also have a beta fish called Suho.

surgeries: Ive had two. One when i was four to get my tonsils removed because i got sick a lot, and last year i got my gallbladder removed because i had gall stones. That one was so painful i couldnt laugh or do anything without everything hurting.

tattoos: None but i would like one. Not big ones, just small meaningful ones.

countries i’ve been to: Mexico....i miss it

been in an airplane: my family is not in the class where we can take an airplane to travel or even travel to other states. Ive only been on it twice for a contest i won.

been in an ambulance: Twice as much as i can remember. Once for my sister who had a really bad seizure when i took her to a doctors appointment and the other when they had to transport me to another hospital when they first found out i had gall stones.

i sing karaoke: no but you can usually find me singing along to a song on the radio or randomly around my house.

ice skating: I would love to try. The closest ive gotten is rollerblading. I can't do any fancy tricks but i can balance, but oh no i havent gone in such a long time. My poor rollerblades are collecting dust in my garage.

been on a cruise: ..... this is a joke right? Let me have enough money to buy groceries first.

driven a motorcycle: ah i would really like a motorcycle, but no never.

ridden a horse: Lolol all the time. When i was young my uncle helped out at some stables that were literally at the end of my street snd and he always took me a long with him. A lot of my family especially in Mexico and in the valley have ranchos which means they have horses and you can usually find me hanging out with the lovely animals.

stayed in a hospital: I once went because my head was killing me and i found out it was migraines. I had gall stones for seven months and stayed in the hospital about two times a month so yeah i was there a lot. And for the surgery of course.

favorite fruit or berry: Watermelon and Guayaba. Also green grapes.

favorite color: peach and aqua.

last text: "ye ok" it was from me to my cousin since i was gonna go to her house but she was with my grandma who tested positive for covid so we both decided it would be safer for me to keep my distance.

coffee or tea: coffee. i need it to survive. As long as it has sugar im ok. But tea is great for when my stomach hurts. I just prefer coffee. I could drink it any hour.

favorite pie: Pecan, especially with ice cream its so good. Key lime isnt bad either.

favorite pizza: i dont really care? I like all of them but when i was little and we'd go to the mall my dad would always get this big pizza that was big enough to have things stuffed inside it and it tasted so good. Its a good memory.

cat or dog: dog but i really want a cat.

favorite time of year: Chritmas and Thanksgiving always. I love it. Especially Christmas when my family gathers together and we play games and everyone brings a traditional Mexican dish. We stay until like 4 am and its always great.

met a star: That one woman who had an affair with george bush. I met her. That doesnt really count. Yeah no one, i met basketball players but i dont remember from which team or who they were. I met ted cruz. Cool story tho my english teacher knew one of shinee's choreographers.

flown a helicopter:..... umm. nO..

been on tv: Nah. Probably in the backround of some news things.

broken my leg: no ive never broken a bone surprisingly.

seen a ghost: i had sleep paralysis it was close enough.

been sick in a taxi: never even been in a taxi. Ive been on a uber tho.

Tags: @doyoungbunnyagenda @butterflybam @brighttragedy @saturnsluna @waterfallsandrosebuds @jooheonyonehunnit @leecherryyong

#moon gets tagged in stuff

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bellsmj · 5 years

Text

bad liar

summary: peter parker wasn’t the best at keeping secrets. god knows how the world hasn’t figured out he’s spider-man. but his relationship with michelle jones was something he tried hard to keep it just between themselves.

5 times people find out about their relationship + 1 time no one does.

characters: michelle jones x peter parker, steve rogers, may parker, ned leeds, roger harrington, flash thompson, tony stark, sam wilson, bucky barnes, wanda maximoff

prompt: secret relationship (spideychelle week - day 1)

word count: 1,666

warnings: language, implicit sexual behavior

it all started with a kiss. their first kiss in general and as a couple. in their defense, ned had left them alone for way too long and they’re 16 year olds with raging hormones and a gigantic crush on each other.

they were on the roof of the avengers’ compound, looking at the few stars on the sky, a bit too cliché for michelle if you ask her, their hands were touching, peter put his hand on top of hers and she was mad.

“peter parker, if you kiss me right now, i’ll never forgive you.” so, obviously, that’s what he did. and she did forgive him, the many kisses they shared after that proved it.

that same night, they decided to keep that relationship a secret. with the whole spider-man thing, he didn’t think it was the safest for people to know.

of course, someone finds out the next morning.

see, the thing is, peter was never late for superhero stuff, so, steve rogers knocking on his door at 9 AM because he was late for the practice they had scheduled the night before wasn’t that weird.

his eyes still bleed whenever he remembers what he saw when he opened the door. michelle wasn’t a shy girl, like, at all. she was very confident in herself and her body. but steve finding their naked bodies tangled in each other wasn’t how any one of them wanted to start their morning.

the teens begged him not to tell everyone and he, more than anyone, understood what they felt. he promised he wouldn’t tell anyone and walked away. thankfully, he kept his word.

needless to say, they were way more careful since then.

II.

they had been dating for four long months and only steve knew. well, steve and this really nice lady who owned mj’s favorite book store.

as much as it was nice that people didn’t know, it also sucked because they couldn’t do any couple-like things in public, which had its good side, since michelle couldn’t keep her hands off him when they were alone. who knew she was so touchy.

they were on peter’s couch, may was at work and after was going to her friend’s house upstate and ned had a family dinner, meaning they had the apartment for themselves.

they were watching a random movie that was playing when they turned on the tv. that is until michelle started kissing his neck. she found a spot, worked on it until she felt it was red enough, then made her way up to his lips.

they were making out on the couch until they heard may’s voice, “peter? are you home? i forgot my bag and keys when i left for work this morning.” they immediately pulled back and peter’s eyes widened, pointing to his room and telling mj to hide. “peter?” she says again.

“u-uh, yeah! i’m here, may!” he makes sure michelle is there with the door locked before he goes open the door.

“took you long enough, i have to hurry, melissa is waiting for me downstairs.... what’s that on your neck, peter?” she says, with her bag already on her arm and her hands on her waist.

“uhh, it’s an a... a rash?” he stumbles over his words. “hm, sure it is. wear condoms. bye, peter. bye, michelle,” she yells. “may!” he says sheepishly, but she had already closed the door behind her.

when she got home on sunday and he asked her how she knew it was michelle, her answer was, “i didn’t, that was a guess. but now that you told me, what’s going on between you two?”

III.

it was hard keeping it a secret, but with ned it was the worst. he was with them almost 24/7 and mj had no idea how peter still hadn’t blabbed about it.

michelle was making her way to the library when she heard him behind her. she bit her lip and walked into the next empty alley she saw.

she heard him drop behind her and turned around, meeting his masked face.

“hi, spider-man,” she smiles and pulls his mask up so that she could kiss him.

“hey, babe,” he says when they pull away. “how many times do i have to tell you that pet names don’t work for us, loser?”

“sorry, m-“ “MJ?” they hear ned’s voice coming out from a pocket on the suit. “shit. h-hi, ned. what’s up?” peter grabs his phone looking apologetic.

“you two? how long?” ned said and it was michelle’s turn to stumble over her words, “u-uh, five... five months?”

“FIVE MONTHS?”

IV.

mister harrington decided that the decathlon team needed some “bonding time”. or “bullshit” in michelle’s words. so, before their weekly wednesday practice they went out to dinner (minus flash. they meticulously planned it so it’d happen the week he was traveling). mj really wasn’t having it.

as soon as they got there michelle yelped, “ow, mister harrington i just tripped and i think i twisted my ankle.” she was supporting all her weight on peter, who, surprisingly, understood her little act. “oh, yeah. i think she’ll have to head back. i’ll help her,” he said and picked her up.

“peter parker, put me down right now,” she said, under her breath, but keeping the fake look of pain on her face. “but-“ harrington started.

“bye! see you guys back at school,” peter said and started walking away.

when they got back at school they went straight to the auditorium. they put the tables and the stand in their places, which took them only 10 minutes with the whole “peter has super strength” thing.

michelle sat on top of one of the tables and peter stood in front of her, his hands on her hips.

“nice little act you did there,” he says, with what michelle calls his stupid smile on his face. “why, thank you.” his smile grows and she kisses it off his face.

the team wasn’t supposed to come back for another half hour, so you can imagine their faces when they’re interrupted by gasps and mister harrington yelling at everybody.

if you go to midtown high, then you’ve probably went to, or at least heard about, flash’s parties. a bunch of drunk teenagers in a huge house isn’t really a good idea, so that’s why it happened at least twice a month.

peter was never a big fan of parties, well, not since the bite, his senses got too overwhelmed, but michelle begged him to go, something about “people watching”. so, may dropped them off at 10 PM, giving her nephew money to call an uber.

the music could be heard houses away and, as expected, when they got inside half of the people were already drunk.

they grabbed a drink for themselves and hung out at the living room until michelle whispered something about it being “too boring” and grabbed her boyfriend’s hand and dragged him upstairs.

she opened the first unlocked door she found and kicked out a couple mid-kiss. “we’re gonna do better use of the room anyways,” she tells peter. “if i learned one thing from coming to all of these parties is that flash has every streaming service available on his tv.”

she jumps on the bed, peter following close behind and grabs the remote, “have you ever cried at a party?” “well, when i was-“ “that was a rhetorical question, we’re watching this is us.”

and yes, they did end up crying. and peter was terrified because michelle did not cry in any circumstances. so, he just pulled her closer and kissed her forehead. he truly was scared.

another episode started and neither of them said anything until halfway into the episode when mj paused it. “you saw me cry and you didn’t faint, i’m shocked.” he laughed, “i’m also shocked, to be honest.” she smiled and kissed him. which was the perfect moment for someone to burst through the door.

“MY EYES.” the person yelled, and they immediately recognized flash’s voice.

they were careful around everybody but the avengers. peter would make long calls in the kitchen first thing in the morning and they wouldn’t even bat an eye.

at this point, they wanted them to find out.

peter called her babe during their calls, no one said a thing. he’d be next to bucky and sam and would text her a bunch of hearts, nothing. one day, he showed up with a bunch of hickeys on his neck and no one mentioned it, which was absurd to peter.

later that day, he went up to steve “hey, do they not care that i’m dating someone or are they just dumb?” steve laughed, “kid, for superheroes, they can be very inattentive. but why not tell them if you want them to know so badly?”

that’s what he decides to do the next time he goes to the compound. tony was developing some sort of emergency protocol for his suit, something only may and ned could access.

they’re all at the kitchen when the couple gets there. peter pulls tony aside and asks, “hey, could you add michelle to the protocol? since we’re dating and all.” tony gasped, “dating?”

“remind me again why did i chose to tell the most dramatic of them.” peter says under his breath to michelle. her nervous smile grows and she answers tony, “yeah, we’re dating.”

sam is the next to hear it. “yo, bucky, did you hear this? the kid is dating the girl kid who always comes here.”

wanda, who’s next to bucky lifts up her head and smiles, “are you really?" “yeah,” mj chuckles.

peter smiles at the mess those grown ass adults were making because he was dating someone. he’d have to be ten times more careful now, but it felt good to have people knowing it.

mj squeezes his hand reassuringly and smiles. peter smiles back and kisses her cheek.

all was well.

#spideychelleweek2k19 #spideychelle fic #spideychelle #my writing #michelle jones #peter parker #spider man: far from home #mcu

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crue-sixx · 5 years

Text

Forget Me Not

Title: Forget Me Not

Author: tiddly-winx

Fandom: The Dirt (Motley Crue Movie)

Note: Based in the HC "Remember Me" where the reader loses her memory but knows who the band is.

Summary: The reader is on stage with the band she dances/sings with when someone throws something at her and knocks her out cold. She wakes up in the hospital and is scared shitless. She had to run.

Warning: Swearing, smut mention, memory loss

It was a typical Friday night for you now-you'd been hired by the band Motley Crue as a back up singer/dancer while on the Girls Girls Girls tour. You'd had some Fireball Cinnamon Whiskey in you but you weren't even buzzed when it was time to go on stage. You kissed your boyfriend Mick a quick peck on the lips and wished him good luck, and he did the same for you. You took your place next to Vince and you did your thing, all of you playing off each other in perfect sync.

In the middle of Girls, Girls, Girls, you were dancing provocatively next to Mick-something you knew for a fact always got him going, him giving you a sultry grin that said he'd take care of you later. As you turned from him, you felt something hit your head very hard.

"Fuck!" Mick caught you, dropping his guitar. The cut was tiny but it was bleeding very badly. Vince ran over, taking off his shirt to put pressure on the wound while Tommy and Nikki pulled the perpetrator on stage and proceeded to kick his ass. a few of the other fans joining in. Security had called for an ambulance and you were taken promptly to the nearest hospital.

They had to postpone the rest of the tour until you got better, but they didn't know how long that would take. Mick never left your side, him stroking the top of your hand with his thumb. He'd talk to you like you were fine. You heard everything he and other people said to you "Y/N...baby...please wake up..." you heard the desperation in his voice and you let silent tears fall.

It had been a week since you had been attacked, and you were showing signs of improvement-you were breathing on your own from the get go, and your body responded to outside stimuli. But as you opened your eyes, everything came into focus. You sat up, looking around for something familiar. You were alone and scared, you had no memory of who you were and what you were doing here, but you saw a set of clothes that looked like they could fit a woman. You ripped out the IV needles in your arm and quickly put the clothes on.

You peeked out of the room to see if there was anyone coming or looking and saw nothing. You quietly left the room in a medium pace that wouldn't draw attention to yourself. You exchanges plesantries to passerby who said 'hello' and soon you were out of the hospital and walking in the sidewalk. The city was unfamiliar but you were starving. You walked into a small cafe and ordered a coffee and bagel. Of course you had no way of paying, so when you were done you made like a banana and split.

Back at the hospital, Mick had just come back from a food run to find an empty bed, hospital gown discarded on the chair, the clothes he had bought from the hotel for you gone and spots of blood on the sheets and floor. Before he let real panic set in, he stopped one of the nurses and asked "Did you take Y/N L/N for some tests?"

The nurse said "The doctor hasn't ordered any tests for her..." she looked into the empty room and rushed to the phone to call for a missing patient.

"What the fuck?!" Mick growled "isn't it your job to make sure all the patients are accounted for?!"

Just then Tommy, Nikki and Vince came in with fresh flowers to see the commotion and confusion "Mick, what's going on?" Tommy asked.

"These asshats lost Y/N!" he was shaking in worry and rage.

"What?!" Nikki yelled "How is that even possible?!"

The hospital director came down and looked at the security camera footage from the hallways. It had showed you in the clothes Mick had bought you, just walking through the hallway and then out of the hospital unhindered. The director was beyond livid and he turned to the staff on duty "You're all fired. Collect your property and get out" the stunned staff sat in silence, then gathered their belongings and left.

"How the fuck are we gonna find her?!" Vince hissed.

"We have to call the news and put out a be on the look out order. She doesn't have any money but she needs to eat right?"

"That's true" Mick said, calming down a little. "We can put the number to our hotel room on the screen and ask if anyone had seen her please call us..."

During the press conference, he held up your picture, said your name and where you had escaped from. "She is not at all dangerous" he stated "If you see her, please guide her gently to a police station and call this number. You can reach me directly there. Also she may have some brain damage and/or memory loss. Please be as patient as you can with her..."

The waiter who served you at the cafe recognized you right away, as you had dined and dashed on him. At first he was mad as hell but after hearing what was wrong with you he wanted to help. He called the number and spoke with the man from the news. You had stopped at the cafe about 1pm, were finished in about half an hour and left without paying. Soon more calls came in and they had established a timeline of your whereabouts.

The talk with your parents was awkward, your father yelling at him for leaving you alone in an unfamiliar place. Your mother straight up refused to talk to Mick, he was already kicking himself for not ordering from the hospital kitchen instead of going to the cafeteria. "I know I fucked up Mr. L/N, but I need to know if there's anyplace from her past that Y/N would be drawn to?"

Your father thought for a moment and gruffly said "Los Vegas. Her grandparents lived there before they died. She loves it there, just outside the Los Vegas strip there's a small motel we always stayed at when we went to visit" the sounds of papers shuffling "here's the number..."

By now, your disappearance had made national news, but you never stuck around one place long enough to listen to anything. You had to get to Vegas, to the one place you remembered was safe. You were right outside the off the road motel and you went into the office to see if you could con yourself a room for a few days and then skedaddle before management even knew you were gone. When you waked in, the clerk at the counter was watching a portable tv. He looked up at you, did a double take and said "How may I help you?"

"I need a room for a few days" you said "I can't pay right now but at the end of my stay I can! I'm hoping to win big on the strip!"

Normally the clerk would have laughed you out of the office and told you to go fuck yourself, but you were the missing woman on the news, and the most recent report said that you might be heading this way and he had a feeling that he needed to take down the number he saw on the news just in case. He dialed it and said "Is this Mick Mars?"

"Yeah who are you?" the tired voice scratched out.

"My name is Mike Benson, I'm a clerk at the Palm Tree Motel in Vegas right outside the strip. Your lady friend's here. I just gave her a room for a few days. How fast can you get here?"

"I can be there in a few hours" the voice perked up, him hanging up the phone and booking the next flight to Vegas. From what people had told him, you'd seemed confused and paranoid when they interacted with you so he told the band what was going on and said he needed to go alone, in case you got overwhelmed and ran away again. They understood and wished him luck, telling him to take all the time he needed.

You were just so tired from walking and hitch hiking the past few days. You would learn later that you waked or hitch hiked all the way from Los Angeles to Los Vegas. How you'd managed to do that you didn't know but you were safe here, so you laid down to take a well needed nap.

It was just after sunset when Mick came into the lobby of the Palm Tree Motel, the clerk being the same one he spoke to "Mike Benson?"

"That's me" the clerk answered "She's in room 231" he passed a key to him. "Go get er, man".

"I can pay for the room later" Mick offered.

"Don't worry about it" Mike smiled at him "it's on the house."

Mick was grateful that all the places you had dined and dashed from wouldn't accept any payment from your meals, they all understood what you did wasn't your fault and let it slide. You hadn't ordered anything fancy-just some soup and water. They just wanted you back safe with Mick.

Outside room 231, he took a deep breath and turned the key. You were sleeping peacefully in bed, he had begun blubbering like a child when he saw you. You didn't appear to have any other injuries other than the healing bruise to your head, the cut having scabbed over. With a shaking hand, he reached out and stroked your hair to make sure you were real. You stirred under his touch and opened your eyes "Mick? Why're you crying?"

"You remember me?" he said through sobs.

"Of course, baby" you said "Why wouldn't I?"

He was silent a few minutes "What's the last thing you remember?"

"What's with all these questions?" you asked confused "You act like I was missing for a while!"

"Y/N, you WERE" he turned on the TV to the news where you saw your picture plastered all over the place, saying you were found.

You looked at him in frightened confusion "What the Hell is going on?! Did I die and wake up in the Twilight Zone?!"

He held you close to him, you were shaking with fear "I'm right here baby..." he rubbed your back, taking in the familiar scent of vanilla and honeysuckle. He was so relieved to have you in his arms again. "What's the last thing you remember?"

The memories were jumbled in your head, you taking a moment to put them in the right order. "We were in stage in L.A. and I was teasing you when a glass bottle flew at me..."

"That's all true, babe" he held your hand and went on "You were in a coma for a week before you just up and walked out of the hospital" you were even more confused than ever.

"Why would I just walk out? That's not like me at all!" you laughed a little, but you knew it wasn't funny.

"The doctor said you most likely went into a fugue state. Like you forgot who you were. Because you didn't see anything familiar when you woke up" he looked at the floor, ashamed of himself when you lifted up his face.

"Not your fault babe" you leaned backward with him on top of you "The hospital staff should have been watching me..." you started kissing him, you feeling like you missed his touch for a whole year. He reciprocated at first,but stopped. "What is it babe?"

"I can't do this..." he got off you.

"What? You don't want to do it with me?" you asked, thinking he didn't want you anymore.

"Yes" he admitted "I need to be close to you, but I want to make sure you're okay first. I want to have the doctor at the hospital who looked at you when you were admitted to see if there's any lasting brain damage..."

You smiled weakly and said "Okay Bob" he grinned at that, you only calling him by his actual name on rare occasions. You were one of very few people who knew his name. You two cuddled, each taking in the other's scent and bringing back even more memories.

Back in L.A. each of the band hugged you for a long time, then your parents. You were surprised to see news people there too, but you'd grown used to paparazzi swarming you since you and Mick started dating two years ago. The doctor looked at the scans of your brain and saw no lasting damage. You were cleared to go back to your normal life, granted that you'd have to be with someone at all times.

When you got home, there was a nice dinner with wine waiting for you and Mick. He was just as surprised at you were, seeing a small note on the table in between two candles "Just heard the good news! Have fun! Nikki, Tommy and Vince" you laughed softly at that, the two of you enjoying each other's company. After an hour of the slowest, sweetest love making you two had ever shared, you cuddled close to his chest.

"Hey, Y/N?" he asked, the sweat on his skin leaving the surface moist.

You looked up at him "Yeah babe?"

"I love you" he leaned down and kissed you deeply "I'm sorry you had to wake up scared..."

You rolled your eyes at him "I told you many times, it wasn't your fault, Mick! Stop blaming yourself!"

"I know, but if you had been killed while you were confused I would have lost my damn mind..." he bought your hand up to eye level and for the first time you saw a beautiful blue sapphire ring on a very important finger.

"Mick when did you-?" you asked, the thing taking your breath away.

"When we were making love just now" he slyly smiled at you. "I was gonna ask you that night when we got back to the hotel but then the shit hit the fan" he locked eyes with you "So you want to marry me?"

"Yes, Bob Deal I'll marry you" he leaned in to kiss you again, this time with more hunger. You raised your eyebrow at him and asked "You sure you want to go another round? Your back will be aching tomorrow!" you teased him.

"Hell yeah, Y/N" he pulled you onto his lap "we gotta make up for lost time!" you laughed, accepting both his proposals and giving him your life and in return he gave you his.

#motley crue #mötley crüe #the dirt #mick mars #nikki sixx #tommy lee #vince neil #motley crue imagine #mötley crüe imagine #mick mars imagine #motley crue fanfiction #mötley crüe fanfiction #mick mars fanfiction #submitted #not mine #submission

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katieelizabeth · 4 years

Text

What would you call your body type? Definitely curvy

Are you a morning person? Yes and no. I’m taking sleep meds for nausea so right now waking up is kinda hard.

Have you ever been to Target? Loveeeeee Target

Do you like iced tea? Iced tea is always my jam

When is the next time you’ll be at work? Hmm it’s kinda up in the air right now. I’m itching to get back tho.

Do you have a savings account? Yes. one for myself, one with my boyfriend

Has anyone ever hacked your accounts before? Only once.

What color bedsheets are currently on your bed? Currently grey

Have you ever been to Disney World? If so, how many times have you been? Yes, I wanna say total like 6 times.

Does grammar and capitalization mean anything to you? It absolutely does.

Are you good at wrapping gifts for others? My boyfriend thinks I'm a terrible wrapper hahah

Do you have a dirty clothes hamper in your room? Yes.

What would you say is your favorite television show? If I had to narrow it down, probably Skins.

Do you enjoy big holiday dinners? Yes and no. I don’t care for holiday dinners with my family but I love holiday dinners with my boyfriends family.

Is there any piece of jewelry you’re constantly wearing? I’m not married or engaged but I do wear a small silver band on my ring finger.

What is one thing you desire as of now? To be able to just go and sit down in a restaurant. This virus has everyone living in fear and I'm tired of it and want to live normally and enjoy my pregnancy

What kind of phone do you have? An iPhone XR.

If you could move anywhere, where would you choose? Canada or London

Do you blog a lot, if at all? No not really. I used to when Xanga was big.

Is your present hair color, natural? Nope.

What makes you the most angry when it comes to people? My boyfriend thinks that anytime my opinion is different than his, then I'm trying to argue with him. It’s so fucking frustrating.

Describe your current outfit? Anaheim Ducks shirt and matching pj pants hahah

What was the last thing you ordered online? Some toothbrushes lol

Have you ever felt as though you were drifting apart from a best friend? Ive had two best friends in my life completely shut me out before. It sucks.

What color are your eyes? Poop brown

Have you ever worn color contacts? I have but I could never wear them because of the astigmatisms in both my eyes. Lasik was the best decision of my life

What’s the best thing about a hug? Right now I miss everything about hugs

Biggest fear? Losing my loved ones, death, never getting better/getting worse, never doing anything with my life....

If you have a significant other, how long have you been together? Just celebrated three years

Do you know any genuinely friendly people? Yes.

Do you buy your friends gifts? I try to when I can

What was the last thing you plugged in? My phone to the charger.

How old are you? 29

What color headphones do you own? They’re black.

Have you ever shopped on Urban Outfitters? No, just a reminder than I'm fat

Where do you buy the majority of your clothing? Amazon, Goodwill

Would you rather wear necklaces or earrings? Necklaces

Do you consider yourself fortunate? Very

Do you enjoy watching fights? Nooo.

Have you ever been in a physical fight? No way

Do you tend to talk badly about people? I try not to but everyone is guilty of that

Where are your parents as of now? Watching tv in the tv room

Does your computer cooperate most of the time? I literally just bought it so yes haha

Does your family have any cheesy traditions? Kind of

When did you last go to a book store? Gosh it’s been a while!

What’s the closest book store where you live? Barnes & Noble.

How much money do you have on you right now? On hand, $20.

Favorite personal feature? my hair and my lips

Are you wearing make up at the moment? Nope.

Favorite television channel? Bravo, E!, ID, HBO

Describe any piercings or tattoos you might have? 6 tattoos no piercings

Have you ever been fired from a job? INope

Are you currently losing a best friend? No.

Describe the worst day of your life: I’m good.

Do you play any video games? Not at the moment

Would you say you hate anyone? I feel hatred towards racists, homophobics, ect.

Do you think freckles are cute? Very cute!

Last time you went to the mall? Gosh its been a really long time

Name something that’s your favorite color: anything teal

Have you been to Red Lobster before? Yesssss. I want seafood

Do you judge by appearances? Anyone who tells you they don't to some degree is a fucking liar.

Do you follow a certain religion? No thank you

Who is your role model, if you had to choose? Im not really sure

Would you rather have nice hair or lips? Hair.

What are you most self conscious about? Pretty much my whole body

Do you have any family members who live out of town? Yeah.

Do you consider yourself short? Nope, I'm average height for a girl

What room are you in? Mine.

Hoodies or jackets? Hoodies.

Are you outside a lot? No not really. The sun doesn’t like my skin haha

Have you ever been dumped via text message? Nope

Do you like dreamcatchers? Not really

What is your favorite letter of the alphabet? I don’t have one.

Do you hate repetitive people and things? Depends on the situation

Do you think autocorrect is a blessing or curse? BOTH

Do you believe in any particular curses? No.

Ever play a Ouija board? Nope, my mom wouldn't let me growing up

What movie scares you the most? The Exorcist. I can watch the movie now no problem but it FUCKED up my childhood.

What was your bedtime as a child? 9. I remember watching Happy Days from 8-9

Reason why your favorite holiday is your favorite: Who doesn't love Christmastime?

Do you work with any close friends? I work with my baby daddy

Do you consider yourself spoiled? I would say in some way I'm probably spoiled

Do you listen to any country music? yes

Favorite high school teacher: I don’t specifically remember any high school teachers I liked. Probably my French teacher. He was super cool!

Do you ever get drunk? Of course. Can’t drink yet tho until after baby

Have you ever had highlights before? Nope

Favorite number: 7,10

Do you still sleep with any stuffed animals? Not anymore. I used to for a a long time

What is your biggest regret in life? Eh I've got a few

Would you say you think you have a mental disorder of some kind? Depression/anxiety. Ive taken meds for it

Are you normally an independent person? I like to think myself as independent but my boyfriend sure takes care of me. I dunno what id do without him

Do you have any paintings? a few

What is one clothing fad you wish never existed? anything from the early 2000s haha

Do you like to be organized? Do I like it? Yes. Am I organized? NO

Have you ever failed a class before? oh yes

Ever been judged because of your weight? All the time. Not so much as an adult tho

What is your favorite breakfast cereal? The sugary bad ones, ha.

Ever had a wish come true? Nope

Do you regret meeting any of your exes? No way

Do you own any coloring books? Yes haha those adult ones

What’s the meanest thing someone’s called you? I can’t think of anything specific. Probably fat

Have you ever bullied someone? I likely have, unfortunately :(

Do you ever watch Lifetime? Only for the reality shows

Ever tried to intentionally sabotage someone’s grade? God no

Do you own any brown clothing? Hmmm I don’t think so

What color are your walls painted? White.

Last thing you drank: I’m drinking decaf coffee

Have you ever seen a tornado in person? Noooo.

Do you have an inground pool at your house? Nope

What is the first digit of your phone number? 9

What’s the prettiest town you’ve been to? Anywhere in England

Do you tend to sleep a lot? yes and no. I’m taking sleeping meds but it’s hard for me to fall asleep

Silver or gold jewelry? Silver

Do you sometimes celebrate holidays early? Not usually. My boyfriends family Is out of state tho

Have you ever been in love? Yes.

What’s the best gift you’ve ever received? My unborn child

When was the last time you showered? Last night

Would you consider yourself attractive? Sometimes yes

Has anyone made you mad today? Nope

Favorite smell: Vanilla

Are you afraid of insects? I wouldn't say afraid

Do you have any children? I’ve got one cookin in the oven haha

If so, what are their names? I’ll tell you when I know the gender

Would ever consider having children in the future? MORE children? Lets see how traumatized this first one is haha

Have you ever lived on a farm? No.

Ever played any sports? Oh yes, played soccer till I was 18

Do both of your parents have jobs? They're both retired from jobs they were at for 40+ years

Where is the best place you’ve been on vacation to? Its a tie between South Africa, London and Colorado

Are you afraid people won’t accept you? Not anymore. Being an adult means getting over that haha

Are you, for the most part, an honest person? I try to be

Did you make prank phone calls as a child? oh yes!

Do you like to make donations? Yeah.

What is your current ringtone? Just the standard apple ringtone

Meet anyone from your past lately? No.

Have you ever called a teen suicide line? No.

Have you ever caught something on fire? Not that I can think of

Ever been obsessed with a show? Ive been obsessed with many shows

What type of perfume or cologne do you use? English Laundry Signature

What’s the last book you read? The book that Ted Bundys girlfriend wrote

Dream career: Zooologist

Have you ever climbed a mountain before? Yes, in Colorado

At what age do you plan to get married? Not sure, we aren't in a rush to marry

Ever been in a car accident? Yes, three

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childhood-number · 4 years

Text

it’s 1:17am

it was a good morning orchestrated by my little brother, full of living things.

around 5 pm i got home, my bubble fully invaded by talk of protests. hands washed i went straight into my room and cried until 6 pm. crying lately looks like crying, and then being dragged up onto my knees to get it out of me.

i ate dinner, and then got a phone call and walked my friend through what she needed. it felt good to be able to listen to someone deeply, and to give them what they needed. L was very surprised i pulled that out of me. maybe i didn’t have that energy to give.

standing in the kitchen today, at any time, resulted in me having to bend over, to hold the countertops, to get on my knees. it hurts like that.

i watched the protests on the news for a small while.

i was comfortably stable, more so when S let me know they were ok, until around 12am.

by 12:30 i said goodnights and i started crying in earnest. ive cried a lot during this period of time. but this time i was sitting on my bed in the dark, alone, and outside i could hear sirens and inside just felt so alone. and something in me started screaming and didn’t stop. “i do it for u i would do it for u the time i need it i cant have it every time every time i need it im not worth any of it i have to be restrained again i have to show restraint i can never just give in never never never i can’t do this i don’t want to exist i don’t want to exist i want to live but not like this i cant live like this i need to be touched i need to be safe i need this to stop i cant do this i cant do this i cant do this” full of images of black death and people in the street and having to worry with even more specificity and my head hurt and i cant say any of this.

i haven’t cried like that since i was small. (more and more in recent months it’s been crawling out of me through my mouth and i can’t stand up.) but i was sitting on my bed unable to make it stop. i tried narrating the good parts of my day to myself out loud. i tried counting. i tried humming. i tried holding myself the way i always have. i flipped through ppl i could call in my head, but it was late and ppl need rest. i sounded like a child. i was so loud, i wondered if i was waking my roommate. i had closed my windows so i couldnt hear the sirens, and i was overheating and hyperventilating. and i couldn’t stop. after fifteen minutes unable to calm my breathing, i called my dad.

i’ve never called my dad crying before and he almost immediately started praying. i cried harder. my roommate started knocking on my door super worried to see if she could get me anything. i asked my dad to tell me a story. i told L i was ok, which who knows. i hyperventilated on the phone for a while, eventually quieting as i focused on my dad’s voice. i got the electric kettle and filled it and turned it on in my room so i wouldnt be any louder. i sat at the end of my bed wrapped in my blankets and watched the water boil and listened to my dad talk abt the arms of god, and then on my floor in front of my books. my overhead light on at 1am, i filled my hot water bottle. my dad talked abt how i have immeasurable worth. we said goodnight. i decided i shouldn’t text anyone. i opened my window. i climbed into bed, putting hands on my phone, my stuffed cat, my tshirts, my hot water bottle.

now im sitting here. i want to go to sleep so badly, but im scared of nightmares, scared of distance, scared of crying again, scared of the never ending. wondering if i should just read or watch tv until i fall asleep.

i don’t think i have ever felt this badly before, as i do in general. i’ve never not wanted to exist like this. i feel so restrained and captive. my words, my body, my peace, my wellbeing, my love, my care, my interests, my security, my safety. the word is anguish, but saying that feels like an exaggeration.

i know what i want to ask for but i don’t ask for it. my eyes are heavy.

i want to talk to

i am so tired. it’s 1:45 am.

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aerialsquid · 5 years

Text

Noodling Part IV: The Noodle Thickens

@rainbowmic when you called Samejima a ‘soft boy’ you were right, but not the way you expected.

Part 1

Part 2

Part 3

"I meant it with respect, I swear! I mean, I've studied you so much, and it's helped me get so much stronger with my Quirk, you've been such an inspiration--"

"One moment," interrupted Aizawa. "Exactly how does your Quirk work?"

Yagi shot Aizawa a thankful look as Samejima peeled himself away from his fanboy crying into Yagi’s bony forearm.

"My Quirk is Bodysculpting. Look." Samejima pressed at his cheek with two fingers. The skin resisted for a moment, then gave in and allowed itself to be molded like firm clay. Further pressing allowed him to rearrange his face entirely, until All Might's face was staring back at Yagi from atop Samejima's shoulders.

Yagi blanched, but Samejima didn't seem to notice. "I can make any face I want," he continued, pressing now at his hair until it stood up into two proud golden spikes. "I can even make multiple faces! I just can't change my skin or hair color, and I can't make clothes. I've got a few rotating cam gigs these days but All Might commissioned pieces bring in some really good paychecks - this is the first time I've done an Eraserhead one, though."

The absolute glee on Samejima's face as he carefully massaged a portion of his arm into resembling Aizawa's face was unnerving, and Aizawa had seen a lot of messed-up Quirks in his time. This one wasn't harmful, or even particularly grotesque, just...that was his face grinning out of a fleshy ball on the end of someone's arm and nothing made that not messed up.

At least that explained how they'd gotten both Yagi and his own face in the same shot for some of the kisses - Samejima had literally been making out with his own hand during the close-ups, and the rest of the time only one face had been visible at once.

"So you need to be able to see something and intentionally copy it, right?" he said, trying to tear his gaze away from where Samejima was showing off the Aizawa-hand's facial expression range. It grinned, then stuck a flesh-colored tongue out at the pair of them, and Aizawa saw Yagi wince so hard his hair trembled.

"Right. I learned to imitate All Might from watching him on TV. I do a lot of research for the different personas I use, it actually takes a lot of practice." Samejima ran his hand down the length of his forearm and smoothed out the Aizawa-hand's face, delicately tugging on his fingers as if adjusting a glove until they were the right length again. Watching the process was unnerving, but looking away? Impossible. It was a trainwreck with his face on it.

"So you're experienced shaping yourself into All Might. How did you imitate me, then?"

"Ah! So Kuroda did the body doubling for the scenes from the back, but--"

"I mean, what did you watch to imitate me? I'm not on TV very much."

"Your press conference thing, the public apology"

"And for All Might's current body?"

"His retirement speech, but also some of the Kamino footage."

"So you intentionally looked up footage of the two of us during some of the worst, most demoralizing moments of our professional lives...and you used it to make porn. For personal profit."

Samejima's jaw worked.

"I...I suppose I didn't think about it…" The poor man's lip was quivering. He ran a hand down his face, fingers pressing into the skin to wear down the sharp edges of Yagi's features. His skin slowly began to fade back from All Might's chiseled bone structure into the softer, rounder shape they'd seen earlier.

"I am so sorry…"

Yagi, soft-heart that he was, reached out and set a gentle hand on Samejima's shoulder. "I understand you needed to make a living. But perhaps your 'All Most' can also retire, now that the real thing is stepping back?" he said soothingly.

"There must be someone else the cape-chaser community is getting off to," Aizawa added. "Go make yourself Endeavor's problem. Or Hawks. Or Endeavor. Actually, please do Endeavor." Because an angry, humiliated Endeavor would be a lot less charitable than Yagi and Aizawa considered that to be a 'whoever loses, I win' battle.

"Of course. Y-yes, All Might." Samejima stood up straighter, nearly saluting in his patriotic hero-loving adoration and fanboyishness. "Anything for you. Anything you want."

"Ah-"

"What we'd really like is the name of your buyer, Pornographer-sama."

"Right. Of course. Yeah, fuck them. I never wanted this to be blackmail, I just thought they thought you were cute." Samejima waved a hand to his partner, who turned back to the computer and started pulling up All Most's financial records. For someone who made such a trashy living, Kuroda kept remarkably precise records of exactly how much money was coming in thanks to impersonations of All Might's dick.

Toshi laughed bitterly. "This body? Cute? When they have my muscle form to look at instead? That seems unlikely, even for a fan. Or a fetishist."

Samejima gave Yagi a look that Aizawa struggled to categorize. Not pity, not rage, just narrowed eyes with a frown that seemed almost sad. "Yeah, dude," he said, slower. "Not everything's about the muscles. Lots of bodies are beautiful, and people like a pretty broad range of bodies. I think you have a good form either way."

"And not everyone prefers muscles," Aizawa put in. "Some people like slender limbs. And jawlines."

"There's slender and then there's a gangly scarecrow." Yagi gestured at his bony frame in its overlarge clothes. "I mean, look at me."

Aizawa took a step forward, lowering his voice until it was barely audible for Samejima and a harsh hiss for Yagi. "I do look at you," he said, every word firm and enunciated. "Frequently. What's your point, All Might?"

Yagi wet his lips, eyes flicking from the staring Samejima to the smaller man glowering up at him through tendrils of dark hair. "I…"

"Found it!" Kuroda called out, breaking the icy tension. Both men immediately took a step backwards to put plausible deniability between themselves. "I got the record of their deposit to our account. Guy actually used a credit card, I guess he didn't think about hiding his tracks."

"Is there a name on the card?" asked Aizawa, steadfastly refusing to break eye contact with Yagi.

"It's only giving me last name and then first initial, is that good enough?"

They gathered back around the screen, Yagi bending over the two shorter men like a curious stork.

Tsukuda, J was written neatly next to a string of Xes hiding all but the last four digits of the credit card number and the date of the payment to All Most's account. The amount transferred over was enough to have covered Aizawa's rent for a full month, but that wasn't the part that enraged him.

"Fuck," Aizawa muttered.

"Hm?"

"You weren't the blackmail target, Yagi," Aizawa muttered, as Yagi made confused noises. "I was. You were just...collateral damage."

He stood up straight, nearly knocking Samejima under his jaw with the top of his head. The two pornographers hung back as irritation rolled off Aizawa in waves.

Midnight having an affair would be irrelevant, Cementoss having one would be comedic, but the Symbol of Peace? No establishment would want to bear that shame, or the black mark of letting it be leaked out. If the school was run by the kind of people who were more concerned with their image than keeping good teachers, they'd have covered it up by firing the lowest-ranked person in the social hierarchy - it took two to have an affair, and you only had to fire one to break it up. It would protect All Might and the school while ruining Aizawa's career as a teacher.

"Who's Tsukuda?" asked Yagi, concerned. "A villain? A defeated foe?"

"Tsukuda Jeido was one of my students at UA a few years ago."

"So she's a hero?"

"No. I expelled her halfway through her second year." His fingers slid into the capture weapon around his neck and tightened into the folds of the fabric. "The usual story. High pressure parents, someone great at taking tests and terrible about handling the real world, a strong Quirk with a badly matched personality. I gave her every chance, but eventually expelling her seemed the kindest option." The capture weapon lifted and coiled around his fingers, ready for action.

"Looks like I still have a few lessons to teach her."

#erasermight #squid writes fanfic #bnha #aizawa shouta #toshinori yagi #minor body horror #samejima is a squishy boy #my hero academia #eraserhead #all might #no beta we die like mne

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miss-eucatastrophe · 5 years

Text

Chapter 18: Shattered

Pairing: Bucky x PlusSize!OFC/Serum!OFC (Can also be read as a Bucky X Reader fic as discriptions beyond plus size are minimal after first two-three chapters. Your name is Cassandra. You’re welcome you beautiful bitch).

Summary:Trying to integrate into “normal” life, Bucky slowly falls into a routine. Wake up, run, gaze at the woman who works in the toy store as he passes by, eat, mission, sleep, repeat. But when he goes toe to toe with a thief who threaten’s to trash his routine by becoming an obsession, will he be able to put his bizarre life back in order, or will this woman turn his 21st century world on it’s head?Yep, the Bucky/Serum!Reader story you didn’t know you wanted.

Rated: Explicit

Chapter 18

“I followed as long as I could, but the forest got too dense to see from the jet.” Natasha said apologetically when Bucky stepped off the Quinjet and back into the compound. He didn’t say anything; his jaw was tense, and every muscle was tight. The team was pretty sure that if anyone so much as looked at him funny, they were going to lose a limb.

That didn’t bother Steve. “It took me two years, Buck.” He reminded his friend.

It had taken Steve years to find Bucky, but Bucky didn’t want to wait years to find his doll. He wanted her now. Maybe he was just less patient than Steve.

“Bucky,” Natasha said cautiously, more confident to speak to him now that Steve was near.

The soldier didn’t turn to face her as he started to remove his many weapons from his person and place them on the designated artillery wall, but he did cock his head enough to show that he was listening.

“Cassandra was really badly hurt.” The movement in Bucky’s jaw was a clear indication that he was grinding his teeth.

“Thanks, Agent Obvious.” Tony chimed in, not one to let tension hang in the air. Though his sarcasm didn’t do much to ease it.

Peter gripped the top of his mask and yanked it off, letting the mixture of fabric and technology hang loosely in his fist. “Hey yeah! Maybe that’ll slow them down?” Bless Peter’s optimism.

And curse it at the same time.

Because Bucky was not receptive to it.

The male finished placing the weaponry on the wall and moved to remove the blue coat of his tactical gear, walking towards the exit. He didn’t want to deal with anyone at the moment.

“That wasn’t my point,” Natasha murmured, giving the web slinging teen a look. “My point is… He’s going to realize she can’t recover like you and Steve.”

Bucky had figured as much, but it did give him pause. Pause that Tony took advantage of in order to chime in. “He’ll probably start working on his own serum. If we monitor the black markets, we may be able to track his movement.”

Steve smiled weakly, having walked beside his friend after removing his own tactical gear and weapons. “It’s a good lead, pal.”

But Bucky wasn’t looking at the bright side. He was looking at everything that could go wrong once Vasiliev realized that his doll wasn’t the perfect super soldier. Experiments—painful ones, or worse—disposal of an imperfect asset. A damaged asset was not an asset.

Bucky didn’t say anything. He moved out the door with the intention of going to his room.

He needed to lay down in the dark for a while.

In the two months since they last saw the soldier girl, Bucky had become more irritable. He didn’t hang out with Steve or Sam, he didn’t go on runs through town where memories would surface, and he worked out alone. Many heavy bags had fallen victim to his misplaced rage.

Steve rarely dared to talk to him. Bucky was too much in his own head to see reason or positivity. It was best to leave him alone and let him stew privately unless Bucky came to him. Tony avoided Bucky more than usual, Natasha gave him knowing glances but kept her mouth shut, Sam wouldn’t risk poking fun at him as he was so tempted to do, Wanda didn’t root around in his head, and Peter was on the ceiling every time Bucky entered a room—not one to chance a negative interaction. Luckily Peter wasn’t in the compound so often, not with school in session. Tony tired to drill into his head that he was a kid first and a hero second, but he was as stubborn as Stark.

That’s how it went for weeks, with Bucky barely talking. It was as if he was stagnated—waiting for a lead. Anything that would bring his girl home.

Bucky sat in the living room, his feet propped up on the coffee table and his arms crossed. He stared blankly at the TV which was on at one point but had been turned off after the news was through. Bucky would always watch the news, hoping to come across her. But it was clear Vasiliev had taken her underground again.

The soldier’s sulking was interrupted by Tony’s AI, who’s voice echoed through the speakers. “Avengers, there seems to be an unidentified craft in our vicinity.” She said clearly, to which Stark responded, having been sat quietly in the kitchen. Life had to continue as normal after all.

“Are they asking for clearance?” The AI responded quickly with, “No.”

Steve moved into the living room, a confused expression on his face as Tony spoke. “Can we get a visual?” He asked FRIDAY.

“Something is obstructing my cameras. I can’t get a clear view, Captain Rogers.” That was unusual enough for Bucky to stand up. The compound was in a restricted area, had it been a plane asking for an emergency landing, there wouldn’t be cause for alarm, even in a restricted air space. But a normal plane couldn’t disrupt Stark tech.

“Incoming projectile.” FRIDAY said rather flatly, as the three heroes looked at each other. “Projectile?” Steve murmured.

It was at that moment that both Steve and Bucky heard the whistling of an object at high speeds. As it got louder, Steve jumped forward and dove over the kitchen counter to tackle Tony to the ground while Bucky slid under the coffee table. Bucky and Steve could survive a missile, but without his suit Tony was just a genius, billionaire, playboy, philanthropist.

A breakable one.

The sound of shattering glass rang in the three sets of ears, but the explosion never came. Instead something skidded across the floor, taking the shattered glass with it. Bucky and Steve poked their heads up, though Steve had one hand on Tony’s back to keep him down in the event of a delayed combustion.

But a person was standing there, suit torn and skin bleeding from the glass they’d crashed into. “Cassandra.” Steve murmured, rather dumbstruck.

Tony stood up, his brows raised. “You could’ve used the door.”

Tony’s boldness nearly earned him a bullet to the face, because in this form Cassandra was quick on the draw and lacked human hesitation.

Steve shoved Tony back to the ground in protection of Cassandra’s firing.

The woman was already swiftly leaving the room, like she knew exactly where she was going—almost robotic in her movements. Though Cassandra had never been to this compound before she was kidnapped by HYDRA.

“FRIDAY--!” Tony called.

“On it.” Came her swift reply. Tony pressed the side of his glasses so he could see from FRIDAY’S cameras.

However, each camera quickly turned black as Cassandra passed it. She shot out each one, walking with purpose and precision. She was looking for something.

“FRIDAY where is she headed?” Bucky called as he got up from the couch and retrieved a gun that he kept taped to the underside of the coffee table.

Paranoia died hard.

He had weaponry stashed everywhere through the compound. Especially after his doll was stolen from him.

“The lab. But Sargent Barnes I do not have a visual.” FRIDAY warned. Sometimes it was easy to forget that FRIDAY was an AI.

“I’ll take my chances.” He murmured, following where Cassandra had gone. If he was going to apprehend Cassandra, he was going to have to treat her like any other mission. He’d have to shut off to get his doll back.

So be it.

Cassandra made it to the lab without interference. Most of the other team members were scattered across the US on other missions. Steve had thought Bucky could benefit from a break, as could he and Tony.

So much for that.

Cassandra reached the lab door and kicked it in after several attempts, making deep dents in the metal surface and sending the lab techs scurrying for shelter. But Cassandra didn’t see them. It was like they weren’t there.

The woman scanned the room, her eyes falling on a metal containment unit with a frosted window. Tilting her head, she balled her fist and thrusted it through the glass, the shards falling around her booted feet. Her hand slipped from the broken window and in it was an IV bag of blue liquid. She smirked and stuffed it into a case that laid near one of the technician’s desk, slamming the lid shut. “Target acquired.” She murmured.

“Drop it, Doll.” She heard behind her as she gripped the handle of the metal case.

A smirk tugged at her lips and she looked over her shoulder, gun in one hand and case in the other. “You don’t give me orders, Winter Soldier.”

Bucky entered the room with his gun drawn, pointing at the object of his affection. “Drop. It.” He hissed, cocking the gun as Steve and Tony appeared in the doorway. Steve held his shield tightly and Tony had finally managed to equip his suit.

With a shield, a gun, and a blaster at the ready in front of her, the woman dropped the case and slid it to her left where it hit the below the tinted windows with a bang.

“Drop the weapon.” Steve murmured, creeping into the room in front of Tony.

The female soldier still smiled, taking a step to the side with her arms raised, but her gun still in hand.

“Cassandra…” Bucky gave a warning, aiming for her arm that held the gun, she slowly crouched, making her decent to the floor with the apparent intention of putting the gun down.

“Do you boys like catch?” She murmured.

Confusion flickered across the three males faces and she smiled.

In a blink, her left hand darted out and gripped the arm of a lab tech who’d been hiding under the desk beside her. She pulled the girl into her arms and pressed her gun to her temple. The girl’s bottom lip quivered, and she looked at the heroes with pleading eyes but otherwise did not dare to move.

Poor thing. This probably wasn’t in her job description.

Cassandra backed up to the wall behind her where another set of windows littered the surface. She thrusted her shoulder back, knocking the window out of its frame and sending the sheet of glass downward towards the unforgiving concrete.

“Let’s play.” Cassandra whispered, gripping the girl by the back of her lab coat before turning on her heels and tossing the woman out of the window. She screamed, and Tony instantly took off after the girl, in a race to catch her before she went skidding across the compound.

Ducking down as Tony flew over her, Cassandra removed a metal ball from her belt and threw it at the Captain who thought better than to simply deflect it.

While the grenade she’d thrown was in mid-flight, she lunged to the wall to her left where she’d tossed the case and scooped it up as she tucked herself into a ball and jumped through the glass.

As Steve threw the bomb down the hallway, he threw his shield on top of it and then threw himself on top of the shield, minimizing the damage of the blast. Though the pressure of the combustion set him flying into the hall ceiling.

The distractions worked well enough, but Bucky was already on Cassandra’s tail, jumping out the window behind her and landing on the concrete below with a thump. The girl looked over at the former Winter Soldier and smirked, as she straddled a parked motorcycle and took off down the path that led to the city. Whoever thought it was a good idea to leave their keys with their bike was going to learn a hard lesson.

Bucky didn’t waste time looking back to see if Steve had handled the bomb or if Tony had caught the girl, he had one focus—and that focus was getting away again.

Unwilling to lose her a third time, Bucky ran to his own motorcycle and gave chase, gun still in hand.

He caught up with her quickly and aimed at her back tire, trying to shoot it out from under her. The bullet embedded itself into the metal rim, alerting the woman to his pursuit. She looked over her shoulder and scowled, pointing her gun back at the soldier and firing. Bucky raised his metal arm to guard his face and the bullet left sparks where it hit the surface.

In frustration, she fired again, but the gun gave an empty click that made her growl. She tossed the useless weapon away and settled for outrunning the soldier, moving her motorcycle erratically to avoid any stray bullets from her pursuer.

Bucky couldn’t get a clear shot when she drove like that—and he wasn’t willing to chance a fatal shot.

Cassandra was not about to lead the Soldier to her rendezvous point. So, when the city came into view—she headed into it.

“Damn.” Bucky hissed. Of course, a brain washed super soldier would be more than willing to place innocent lives in danger. He knew he shouldn’t follow her—there would be too many civilians.

He knew he shouldn’t.

He was going to anyway.

Without his communicator to call for back up, he was on his own in his pursuit—and Cassandra wasn’t making it easy for him.

The woman weaved in and out of traffic, trying to lose the soldier in a sea of cars and confusion. It was when the woman had the moxie to drive the bike up on the sidewalk through a crowd of people who barely managed to avoid her, that Bucky knew just chasing her wouldn’t be enough. If she was getting ballsy, he would have to too.

As they started down a less populated road, Bucky’s eyes darted to a tow truck off to the side with its’ ramp lowered, as if it was about to load a car.

Bucky swerved, riving his engine and taking the ramp as a launching point. He road up the ramp and gave the engine another rive as he picked up speed, propelling himself into the air. While in the air, the man dismounted the bike and let it fall without him, timing his decent to land on the back of Cassandra’s motor cycle as she zoomed by.

Cassandra didn’t even have time to turn her head before Bucky had thrown her from the bike. The girl went flying through the air, stopped only by crashing into a gas tanker that had halted at a red light.

As Cassandra hit the tank the metal flexed under her, causing her to indent the surface before she fell to the ground, barely catching herself on her feet as the two motorcycles went rolling down the street and crashed into a series of parked cars.

In the distance, the sounds of panicked people and speeding cars could be heard—all people trying to abandon the super soldier battle. The man driving the gas tanker jumped out of the driver seat and made a break for it with several other civilians from the side walk.

New Yorkers were pre-conditioned to run from super battles.

They’d seen their fair share at this point.

The female soldier shook her head to clear it just as a hand latched around her neck and pinned her back against the metal tank.

She coughed and kicked out, pressing both of her feet against the male’s chest and pushing him away from her, his hand releasing her neck.

Bucky stumbled backwards, but quickly regained his footing and lunged at the girl. He latched his arms around her and threw her into the clearing made by fleeting cars and people. It was their own privet ring, with only a few spectators daring a glance from the security of the shop windows they hid in.

Bucky managed to pin the girl down, his gun pressed roughly under her chin. “Stay. Down.”

He growled, she froze but there wasn’t fear in her eyes. An asset didn’t fear death. Their one drive was to complete their mission. She looked up at him, looking into his blue eyes as if searching for something.

She must have found it, because she smirked and pushed his wrist upward, sending the gun tumbling across the hard asphalt. Cassandra bucked her hips, dislodging her legs from under him so she could flip to her side and press her boot to his stomach, kicking him up and back.

Bucky got to his feet quickly as Cassandra remained in a crouch, like a lioness ready to pounce.

But she didn’t pounce. In a rapid movement she picked up a manhole cover beside her and in a flawless impression of Captain America, threw it in Bucky’s direction.

Bucky ducked just before the heavy projectile could take his head off.

He stood up and took a step forward towards the girl, when a metallic groan echoed behind him. He turned his head to see the manhole snuggly buried in the surface of the tank behind him. He dove out of the way as the disk fell from the indent and sprayed gasoline over the street.

“I’ve had it with your meddling.” Cassandra hissed, taking a step forward as the gas flow trickled to a stop. “It’s over soldier.” She murmured, picking up the gun from the ground. “You didn’t even have it cocked.” She cocked the gun, after checking it for bullets and smiled. “Being an Avenger has made you soft.”

Lifting the gun, she aimed it at the soldier, who was still crouched after narrowly escaping a gas shower.

Blue eyes darted to the ground and then back up at Cassandra as he took a shaky breath. “I’m sorry, Doll.”

If she was confused, she didn’t show it. She didn’t care what he was apologizing for. She aimed the gun at the man’s head, her finger teasing the trigger—when Bucky suddenly dug his metal fingers into the surface of the asphalt and dragged them over it, sparks flying in every direction from the friction.

A stray spark bowed upward, landing in the puddle of gasoline beside him.

The liquid erupted into flames, following the path it made upon the stained ground like a snake, curving and weaving in the direction of the woman.

Doe eyes widened as the fire started towards her, and she quickly took a step back as the flame slithered behind her and grew in height. She dropped her gun turning on her heels to escape the fire, only to have her escape rout cut off.

When the realization dawned on her that she sat in the center of a ring of fire, she froze and fell to her knees, holding her head and squeezing her eyes shut.

Breath flew from her lips in rapid succession, her eyes snapping back open in a panic as a consciousness filled them.

Paralyzed in fear—a scream ripped through the air.

“BUCKY!”

The trembling girl didn’t have to wait long for rescue. Bucky jumped into the circle and crouched down, scooping her up and quickly removing her from harms way. He carried her bridal style far from the fire. He set her down on the sidewalk behind a car so the flames were not in her view, his flesh hand reached up to caress her face, pushing a lock of long hair from her eyes. It’d grown quite a bit during her capture.

“I’ve got you, doll.” Bucky murmured, his other hand coming up to join the other and cup Cassandra’s face, gently guiding her head back so he could look at her.

Specifically, her eyes. Though they were wild and full of fear—there was confusion and recognition there. “Are you with me, doll?”

The super soldier female looked at the blue-eyed man in front of him, blinking a few times as if she was trying to bring him into focus, she then looked around in an attempt to interpret her surroundings.

Cassandra looked back at Bucky, tears welling up in her eyes—blinking them away and letting them drip down her face. “I hurt you…” She whispered hoarsely, her voice raising a panicked octave as she started to breath heavily. “I hurt so many p--!”

Bucky cupped her cheek, thumbing the tears away and pressing his fingertip to her trembling lips. “Shh shh shh.” He murmured, trying to coax her from a panic attack as he stroked her face. “We’ll talk about that later.”

He took a trembling breath of his own, resting his forehead against hers as his fingers curled softly into her hair to stroke her head and hold her to him.

Occasionally, whimpers left her lips, but he remained there, sharing breath, basking in her presence until he felt she was calm enough— collected in her new reality enough—for him to wrap his arms around her. He held her close, more for himself than for her, and released a breath he didn’t realize he was holding when she lifted her arms and embraced him, holding herself tight to his strong form.

Cassandra pressed her face into Bucky’s shoulder, silent sobs shaking her form as he rubbed her back, soothing her. “I’ve got you.” He assured her, not moving. “I’ve got you,” He turned his head to kiss her temple, his arm whirling as he held her tighter—as if someone would snatch her away at any moment. “and I’m not letting you go.”

The sound of sirens was the only thing that could get him to move at that moment.

Bucky tilted his head back to look at the girl, searching her eyes to be sure that he had his precious treasure back, and wasn’t being fooled. Each time the fire crackled not far from them, she flinched and tried to bring herself closer to Bucky—this satisfied his worry.

Standing, he took the girls hand and helped her to her feet. “Let’s go home.” He murmured, the red and blue lights reflecting off his eyes as the police cars parked to check on civilians and see what had happened. A fire truck was not far behind to take care of the blaze.

Bucky didn’t feel like sticking around to explain, he also wasn’t about to let the law take his doll after just getting her back. The distant sound of a motorcycle echoed in his super human ears—Steve was on his way, which meant Tony was as well. “We’ll let Steve and Tony do damage control.”

The previously brainwashed girl blinked and looked around, her eyes occasionally meeting those of panicked civilians who remained hiding in the stores. Her heart sank. “Did I—?”

Bucky quickly interrupted her, “We’ll talk about it later.” He murmured, an air of finality in his tone. He was worried about several things. He worried if he told her everything that had happened, it would cause her more damage, he was also worried if he told her some of the things she’d done—that she’d turn herself over to the police.

And Bucky wasn’t above becoming a fugitive again just to get her out of jail.

Steve pulled onto the scene, scanning it for Bucky as he dismounted his motorcycle. When he spotted his friend, his eyes darted to Cassandra before he looked back to Bucky expectantly. As though having a silent conversation, Bucky nodded, and Steve gave a tight smile before approaching.

“Hey Cassandra.” He murmured, as casually as possible. The girl smiled weakly in response before lowering her gaze to the floor, ashamed.

Steve wanted to comfort her, but he was also aware of the urgency involved in getting her back to the compound.

“Take my bike and get her home.” Steve said softly considering he’d seen the two bikes near totaled in the street. Perhaps they were salvageable, but that was another issue for another day.

Bucky gave a hard nod and with his arm around Cassandra, protectively as well as possessively, made his way to Steve’s bike, placing her on the back and speeding back in the direction of the compound. Steve would have to find a way to get the girl out of trouble, because Bucky wasn’t going to let anyone take her again. She’d be lucky if he ever let her out of the compound, let alone his sight.

Trembling, the traumatized girl wrapped her arms around Bucky from behind in a grip that probably would have cracked a normal human’s ribs.

One of Bucky’s hands came down to cup one of the girl’s shaking hands on his stomach. “It’s okay, doll. We’re going home.”

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