#they’d have negative brain cells

[alwaysonf1]

lewis is doing what?

Pairing: Charles LeClerc x Hamilton!OC

Genre: Slice of Life; Fluff

Word Count: 3k

Warning: Changes in the timeline for the sake of the story.

Rating: PG-13

Author's Note: This is my first F1 fic, which makes me nervous so why not start with a series.

Many Drive to Survive haters like to pretend everything that comes from the show and what it’s about are beneath them. That they couldn’t possibly care, and that the only important thing is the race on Sunday. And yet the day after the latest season drops you can find them amongst the chaos trying to figure out what the hell were all those hints about a new form of content that F1 plans to release. 

Interwoven with the usual storylines and mild dramatics there was a lot of talk about how drivers show their families the support they’re given. How they show up for them in their careers and bits of their lives. It was weird at first, but then it sent off alarm bells when an almost fourth wall breaking moment happened where the Netflix team was blatantly dismissed. 

“I think we have this one Netflix, but thanks for the help.” Those were the exact words spoken by the head of marketing as she closed the door to a room where you get a glimpse of team paraphernalia but see no faces. 

Every social platform that you can find an F1 fan on has it trending and the conversations (and screams into the void) are fast paced. But Twitter is where the real unhinged and brain cell losing behavior is happening. 

And the most accurate guessing.

Almost everyone within the community is discussing what that snippet could mean. Is it the end of DTS as they know it? The end of it completely? Are F1 and Netflix severing ties? Will F1 be taking over? Is this some little game they're playing with their viewers to keep them tuned in? Is it something completely different? What the actual fuck is going on?

In the middle of those questions are those who think themselves a genius or are delusional enough that they can’t help but form some wild ideas of what’s to come.

Someone must be retiring. Multiple people are retiring. There’s going to be a reality show ala Keeping Up with the Verstappens, where everyone learns that Max’s little trauma dumpy memories with Jos are just the surface level of how insane that man is. Someone is getting married. Someone is getting married to another driver. A nepo baby is going to become the “voice of the fandom” and host a show about the drivers during race weekends and it’s going to be all the wrong things. A dating show for all the singles. A behind the scenes at the lives of drivers and their families, but like Family Feud. And the penultimate dude bro dream of them getting to spend the season hanging out with drivers and get confirmation that their toxic thoughts that alienate most of the fan base is true.

After about twenty-four hours it all dies down. Everyone is still wondering, but they don’t feel like they’re losing their minds while they try to be the one who can say they were right when they news drops.

As if timed, the second that F1 drops in trends the F1 admin drops a graphic with the faces of six people who are clearly positioned like the thinking face emoji on every platform that they use. In the captions it says: Week in the Life - Sibling Edition.

If Twitter was home to the first wave of screaming, it belongs to Tumblr the second go round. Everyone is so excited for the content that someone must have thrown up from how aggressively happy they feel. Everyone is talking about who they want it to be and what content they’d love to see from which sibling. Those who make gifs are especially excited to get everything they can, though they won’t be outdone by those whose brains and fingers will be entities on their own once they get hold of a singular moment that will inspire the fic of everyone’s dreams.

Those who always have something negative to say are there as usual, but they aren’t as loud or upset as they often are. Being nosy doesn’t stop just because you want to pretend that you only care about the race, as if someone doesn’t have a file of screenshots from all the times, they’ve attacked the character of a driver for something not race related at all.

The reaction to this is the kind that instills faith in what is being done. The kind of thing that tells all the upper management who didn’t like it that it was a good idea, but also puts a certain bit of weight on the content team. They need this to deliver. Need to keep the hype, especially since the first episode doesn’t drop until the start of December and they’ve already recorded half the series so a failure could stop the rest.

So once the Singapore GP ends, Daniel Ricciardo’s face is no longer gray. You get to see that goofy smile and wink. You’d think they told everyone he was getting a permanent seat with a three year contract with the reception to it.

It’s Charles Leclerc for Japan. 

Lance Stroll for Qatar.

Carlos Sainz for COTA.

Alex Albon for Mexico.

And coming off his first P1 of the season, Lewis Hamilton for Brazil.

For the next week or so if a tweet isn’t about excitement, disdain, or shock in regard to this new F1 exclusive content, it has a certain main character at its center.

#charles leclerc x reader #charles leclerc x black!reader #f1 x reader #f1 x black!reader #formula 1 x reader #formula 1 x black!reader #charles leclerc fanfic #charles leclerc fan fiction #f1 fanfic #f1 fan fiction #f1 imagine

[clonememesfrikyeah]

Cutup: “Your so ugly the trainers tried to get rid of you at birth by putting you in the ocean but the Kaminoans stoped them and told them it would be littering and they should just throw you down the trash shoot and when they did that the trash shoot just spit you back at them.”

Hevy: “Your so ugly that dogs won’t even play with you and we had to tie raw pork chops around your neck to get them to come near you.”

Fives: *wheezing*

Cutup: “Your so smelly that a sewage plant could explode and leak toxic sulfur fumes everywhere and it would still smell better than you.”

Droidbait: “God damn!”

Cutup: “You know, I can’t tell which gap is bigger; the gap between your teeth or the gap between your ears.”

Hevy: “At least my teeth don’t look like those fake ugly teeth. You were probably the mold for those weren’t you? You gotta see the dentist son.”

Cutup: “Coming from the hoe who just had a cavity filled?”

Echo: “Oooohh!”

Hevy: “That might be but at least I don’t have a nostrils the size of the Coriscant memorial statues.”

Fives: *Wheezing intensifies*

Cutup: “You know what they say about guys with big noses.”

Hevy: “They have tiny brains, a thin intellect and an IQ in the negatives?”

Cutup: “At least my last few brain cells aren’t bouncing around like screen savors and killing them selves like yours.”

Droidbait: “Oh shit!”

Hevy: “Mirrors break when you look into them because they’d rather be useless than reflect that ugly mug you call a face.”

Cutup: “Brik always try’s to give you ugly looks but then he realizes you already got that covered”

Hevy: “Your so ugly that when new born tubies see you for the first time they immediately go into a coma.”

Cutup: “Your so ugly that when Prime sees you he gets nauseous and says ‘ew what the fuck went wrong there’ as he contemplates what a bad decision taking this job was.”

Echo: “Just murder him in front of us why don’t you.”

Hevy: “….. nobody loves you.”

Cutup: *fake ugly sobbing.”

#domino squad #fives #hevy #cutup #droidbait #echo #incorrect clone wars quotes #arc trooper #clone trooper #the clones #tcw #the clone wars #incorrect star wars quotes #the prequels #the 501st #my post #Star Wars

[golvio]

Seriously, though, the Fuse and Ultrahand abilities make a lot of stuff about Calamity Ganon’s behavior and the Malice in general make sense.

The Malice being homebrew/bootleg Ultrahand Goo made from Ganon’s own soul/raw negative emotions makes so much sense. This isn’t the first time we’ve seen this Ganon try to homebrew his own version of tech he found useful. Remember how the creepy cocoon he was incubating in resembled the Shrine of Resurrection?

He uses Malice for a lot of the same stuff Link uses Ultrahand for: sticking things in the environment together (remember the Akkala Tower puzzle where he superglued the iron bridge piece you used to move about the area just out of your reach?) and sealing off doors and rooms.

However, since Malice is a janky bootleg version of whatever the Ultrahand Ghost produces, it’s got some additional properties. For instance, it’s not well behaved and doesn’t stay in one place, instead draining the life force from its surroundings and continuously expanding to assimilate more stuff, a little like how cancerous cells won’t stop multiplying. In fact, it seems to house not only Ganon’s will, but his wish to reincarnate. When not given specific instructions, it starts attempting to build a body, growing into eyeballs or these weird “ribcage” structures or veins. When strategically applied, Ganon’s Malice is super effective as an environmental hazard/door obstruction.

The Malice can also Fuse things. It wants to Fuse with things. When not given instructions, it climbs the walls like kudzu or grabs at living things. Humans it devours, monsters it dissolves into skeletal revenants and assimilates into those floating skull defense drones. Passive fusions aren’t particularly strong or permanent, but the desire is there.

When actively used to Fuse things together by Ganondorf himself, the resulting constructs and creatures are a lot more dangerous. The Blights and the primary Calamity Ganon body were all actively-designed constructs created by Fusing Malice with Guardian parts. (I have some Malice! I have this discarded military-issue teleportation module! Uh! Thunderblight!) Interestingly enough, Malice can also Fuse on its own with monsters in a non-destructive way. Silver and Golden monsters who are “blessed with Ganon’s dark magic” were likely monsters who were able to Fuse successfully with large amounts of raw Malice, boosting their abilities beyond natural levels. Even low-level monsters have a little Malice mixed into them, which explains their supernatural vitality and ability to resurrect. We have not seen what happens when a human or other non-Monster person is Fused with Malice. Or have we? 👁️

Ganondorf in TotK is now actively Fusing monsters with additional materials to give them a little extra help in the martial arts department, which explains why their horns look so weird.

Anything Fused with Malice can be controlled by Ganon’s primary brain. We see it with the monsters mining for ore underground in the trailer, and we’ve seen it with Naydra. Ganon controlling the Divine Beasts? Likely because his little Blight-offshoots each Fused with the giant robot they commandeered.

Harbinger Ganon was a fusion-hungry little monster whose sole imperative was to construct a body as good at destroying everything as possible. Mutated Ganon is what happens when he Fuses with monsters of sufficient power. Main Timeline Terrako couldn’t be broken free of Ganon’s control because he wasn’t just possessed, but fused together with Ganon.

The reason killing Main Timeline Harby Ganon also killed the Calamity of the Alternate Timeline was because by that point they’d Fused into a single being. At one point offscreen, Harby Ganon and Alt Calamity Ganon gave each other a lil’ smooch and Fused together into a single omnicidal entity.

The Fusions Ganon creates are brittle. If you apply sufficient force to even his most powerful constructs or “kill” the Malice binding the Fusion together through hitting its weak point, it immediately falls apart. It remains to be seen whether the Ultrahand Ectoplasm is subject to this limitation or is a lot more stable than the Malice.

This is all I’ve got so far, but I’ll definitely have other thoughts as time goes on and we start learning more about what’s going on in the game proper.

#long post #legend of zelda #totk #totk thoughts #totk spoilers #ganondorf #calamity ganon #the malice

[kriegertops]

You were name dropped on L chat! 🤣🤣 I swear, those trAsh fans are like angry, uncouth, triggered, butch trolls. All they care about is that Ash is getting some and dresses in suits. They just sit on that hellscape all day and respond right away and scream “Ali fan” to any comment they don’t like. It’s like arguing with a Maga person- they just absolutely won’t hear anything negative about their fave. There could be a date stamped video of AH and SB making out last June in Cannes and all they’d scream is, ‘The marriage was over for months’. The weirdest parasocial fandom out there.

Omg are you telling me I’m famous !!!! I’m flattered 😂

The Ashlyn fandom is literally insane, it’s like talking to a wall because none of them have functioning brain cells.

They drool over Ashlyn doing the bare minimum wearing a suit….. also calling herself daddy is cringe cause right now she’s the furthest thing from daddy💀💀💀💀 they think that whatever she’s doing now makes up for cheating, destroying her family and acting like a fucking freak

They literally call Ali a liar all the time yet believe their cult leader Ashlyn all the time. It’s all so hilarious

[eldritch-muppetshow]

facts abt my sexyman descendant ocs bc they are piloting my brain rn

etch

- has all the typical weaknesses of paper (ie. fire, ripping, water, sharp objects) and has succumbed to them a few times. thankfully, they seem to have some kind of regenerative/negative continuity thing going on and come back perfectly fine every time.

- face has the texture of paper and can be drawn on (but please don’t do this if you value your safety).

- inherited sketchbook’s ability to summon ink. despite it sounding p unimpressive compared to janice’s ability on paper (pun intended), it’s surprisingly useful as a distraction/means of getting back at people who are rude to them (unless that person is made of ink, in which case etch has got a bigger problem).

- generally the more responsible/sensible of the padlock twins, unless someone sets off their insecurities about their art, at which point it’s janice’s turn to hold the brain cell and stop them from doing stupid things out of spite.

janice

- being immune to her own abilities, she likes using her time powers to watch things happen in slow motion or to do whatever she wants without anyone being able to stop her. thankfully, she hasn’t used this for anything truly evil thus far.

- can’t read regular clocks at all and needs someone to tell her what time it is if it’s not obviously dark/light outside (but can read digital clocks just fine). tony has struggled in vain to teach her.

- has batteries (which can be removed to render her unconscious, but good luck actually managing it), which are switched out for fresh ones periodically.

- the sort of person to ask really dumb questions in class.

rev

- doesn’t like being called “turbo jr.” or “junior” (even if he did, there’s at least one other junior in the school and he wouldn’t like people getting their names mixed up)

- has glitch powers like his dad! he’s also a very fast runner and can use his glitching to speed himself up (a lot like vanellope, i think they’d be friends if he knew her)

- being raised by the twin npcs in turbo’s backstory, whom he calls his uncles. he can’t tell them apart, which has led to a lot of confusion when it comes to addressing them/talking about them to school staff.

- he’s freshman-age, but his dad being a manlet video game character proportions mean he’s p short.

- despite looking nothing like king candy (or a cy-bug) and his uncles doing their best to avoid letting him have too much sugar, he ended up with a massive sweet tooth. giving him access to sweets will lead to him bouncing off (and sometimes through) the walls for anywhere from a few hours to a few days, slowly winding down, and basically being catatonic for the same amount of time as his sugar-high.

#sexyman descendants

[fantasmalforces]

A Guide To Brahm’s Hunting Rules

// this has been itching in my brain for a while now but Jaunty asked me about it a while back so I’m writing a meta post for it!

As a general rule of thumb, Brahm likes to scare people by reiterating the last spoken words of his previous victims in their voices. However, not everything he says is from previous victims. Some of it is just generally things he’s heard from people in passing. (This includes the babbling of young children, the idle talk of people walking by on the road, down to random sounds he’s heard, such as birds tweeting, rain, rocks falling, trees coming down, cell phone noises, and car honks.) Think of him as a lyrebird with echolalia. If he hears it, he can and will repeat it at some point.

That being said, Brahm tends to target people that come into the forest with negative intent. This could be to cut down trees, to start fires, to commit crimes, or to look for him or hunt the animals in the forest. Other targets often include hitchhikers, hikers, trailblazers, and campers who don’t know any better and dismiss his warning signs.

Brahm will leave warning sides to look for when people are getting dangerously close to his territory. Strange piles of bones, two-stripe claw marks on trees, the call of animals no native to the area, and strange U-shaped structures made of logs, stones, or downed trees are all critical warning signs that you’re passing the point of no return.

There are several kinds of people that Brahm never kills. The major group is children. Brahm never kills children. Period. If a young child wanders into the woods, he tries to look as non-threatening as possible and will lead them out of the woods and wait from the shadows to confirm they’ve been taken home by someone safe.

For older children, he tends to scare them off easy enough. Not too much, but he’ll scare them enough that they run out of the woods back the way they came. If not, he’ll “herd” them.

Brahm also doesn’t hunt those that come into the forest with intent to end their lives. He always knows when someone has come to die in the forest. They always travel light and carry certain items like rope. He will make an appearance to them, posing as death, wherein he’ll talk to them about what’s happening and ultimately tell them to go back because it’s not their time.

Generally, Brahm only targets people himself when he’s ravenous and under the effects of the curse’s more violent impulses. Otherwise, you really have to try or just be an idiot to get Brahm’s attention. And he is relentless.

If by some miracle someone being hunted by Brahm survives, they’d better avoid the forest entirely. Not just his forest. Any forest. Because he will hunt them down and he will finish the job if they ever set foot within the tree line again.

#headcanon : i know how people like you end up #( m : brahm baker // the nightcaller ) #tw suicide mention

[yaminerua]

I keep thinking of how mind numbing it must have been to be Rimmer locked in that cell and left there on his own for hundreds of years waiting to be rescued by a crew he knows doesn’t like him much. Like yes he’d been told he’d have to wait a very long time so knowing that is better than not knowing how long he might need to wait but there must’ve been that little poisonous seed of doubt that questioned whether they’d bother coming to get him at all.

No-one likes him. They barely tolerate him most of the time. And last he saw them he hadn’t exactly done himself any favours by trying to save his own skin by escaping and effectively leaving them to die or make their own way to safety. So he’s not given them the best incentive to save him.

like idk man my brain would drive me insane in that situation telling me there’s no way they’ll actually come and we know his brain tends to run in that same negative kind of thought pattern at times. I imagine once he was thrown in there he went through several different phases of anxiety and frustration and depression before eventually just focusing on grinding the stress balls and shutting his mind down altogether. Just numbing everything until it’s all indecipherable background noise and he barely even lets himself remember that there’s a crew out there that may or may not be coming, that there’s anything beyond the metal spheres in his hand at all.

He’s been there so long trying to fight off the existential dread and isolation that he’s just completely detached and numb to everything. So when the others are thrown in with him after all this time he doesn’t even notice until Lister pulls back the cover he’d pulled over himself to shut out the cell from his peripheral vision and snaps him out of his hundreds of years long trance.

And like, he recognises that he recognises them but their names are a little slow in coming bc he’s having to come back to himself after so long.

obviously this is primarily a comedy show so he snaps back to himself pretty quickly but I think it’s interesting to explore a longer adjustment and recovery period as everything gradually comes back to him.

And also like. Yeah Rimmer’s kind of used to being on the outside, not really in anyone’s circle bc most of the time no-one likes him so being on his own is something he’s somewhat used to up to a point but even still it’s A Lot to spend hundreds of years locked in a cell with nothing and no-one at all except his own brain.

this show sure likes putting that man in Situations

[islandpcosjourney]

IVF/ICSI Day 14

5th October 2023

Day 3 update

So it turns out that while I’ve been very positive & upbeat during the past fortnight, it is possible to feeling low & numb when there’s uncertainty.

I think, I hope I’ve said before, that I’ve surprised myself in how well I’ve coped with every twist & turn of this journey so far. I approached each stage with hope, prayer & a smile and even with slight elements of anxiety rearing it’s ugly head now & again, I’d say I’ve been pretty untouched by stress & worry. Today however is a different story & it has definitely hit me like a ton of bricks. The first glimpse of what can go wrong has presented itself & although I don’t want to feel negative about it, the natural instinct is to feel disappointed.

Just as I was attempting to leave for work, so that I could be there by 0900 (a time when I was told I could have a call from) my mobile rang & it was the head embryologist. I hadn’t spoken to him before so I didn’t know what to expect but he certainly wasn’t eluding a cheerful spirit.

Our 4 embryos are not where they should be by this point 🥺 alright they’re a bit slow, like we are in the mornings!

2 embryos have divided but have only reached a 3-cell stage when by this morning they should be at a 5-cell stage. Our documentation showed that Day 3 should be an 8-cell cleavage but perhaps that’s by the end of today? I didn’t ask for clarification but this is our first time going through it & I don’t know what questions to ask. I’m overthinking it!

1 embryo is showing fragmentation. Although I don’t know much about, google says that it can affect implantation so I’m going to assume this one won’t be a viable embryo they’d happily transfer.

Our last embryo hasn’t divided at all. It’s too lazy to get up off the sofa to do anything! So this one is out.

So basically we’re down to 2 possibilities. They have still scheduled me in for a transfer @ 0930 on Saturday morning & usually they’d give an update on the morning of Day 5 but with me needing 1.5-2hrs notice to get to Dundee, he’ll phone me tomorrow instead, which is really very good of them when that’s not protocol.

So despite our 2 slow embryos being behind in their development, there is still a chance for them to correct their course and make it to Day 5. Even if they don’t make it to the blastocyst stage, they can still transfer it if it’s made enough divisions, it might just be a bit riskier.

I have been praying all morning for both God’s ability to perform miracles and for my peace in what is an anxious time. I don’t want to feel anxious, I completely and wholly trust in the Lord’s timing but I can feel my BP rising and that is my bodily reaction taking over rather than what I know & feel in my heart. It’s a horrible feeling.

I “knew” the other morning when I had a strong feeling that one of our embryos was “lost”. That feeling turned out to be correct (the one which isn’t dividing at all) and it does feel sort-of like a loss, our first loss. We’d never reached a stage before where our DNA had amalgamated together and it is the start of life’s creation. It was the beginning of a mini-Morrison which wasn’t to be & I feel that as our loss to bear, yet I can’t explain it.

When he called, there was still 49hrs left before transfer & therefore plenty of time for prayer to boost these little embryos, should it be God’s will. God can be so amazing and can turn things around in the blink of an eye. Only this morning I was reading of a couple who’d had a scan & been told that their baby had fluid on their brain and if they made it through the pregnancy & birth, they wouldn’t live long afterwards. Conditions were talked about where the couple were faced with making decisions about what life-saving measures were to be used & when to agree to remove such measures etc What a traumatic time for them to go through, knowing that if their child made it to a certain point, they were being told they wouldn’t make it any further. When the boy was born, there were no signs of any difficulties and he was perfectly healthy! The doctors had never seen such a miracle and phrases like “divine intervention” & “miracles can happen” were being used. They had been so sure of this little baby’s fate but they were wrong. I know this isn’t the same situation but that was a strong case of faith enduring. The couple hadn’t decided to give up on their baby in the womb, despite the doctors telling them to and I won’t give up on our mini-Morrison embryos. This isn’t the end of the journey for them yet. We still have time, they still have time. Perhaps they’re just truly like their mum & dad in the sense that they’re slow, take a while to get around to things, put things off until the last minute but eventually, with the right intentions, they get the job done! Embryos are human life, so I believe they can have personality too 🥰

Prayer points to consider:

Pray for the embryos that they be given strength to continue in their development over the next 36+hrs.

Pray for the embryologists watching over them, nurturing them as their earliest form of “parents” who will protect their children under any circumstance.

Pray for Màiri & Kevin and their families as they face this uncertain period of time.

Pray for Màiri & Kevin’s friends & colleagues who have been praying & supporting them during today’s news.

Pray for the unit as they prepare for Màiri’s embryo transfer on Saturday & pray that it goes ahead as planned.

Pray that within this journey, that people associated with our story see the delight and pleasure in the Lord, for he so wants us to be happy and joyful in His word, living our life to serve Him.

A beautiful person (whom I have never met but who I have connected with as a fellow Christian going through the same treatment protocol as me, but a week earlier) sent me a message that made me burst into tears this afternoon:

“It is in our weakness God holds us. He is still there with you. Let’s pray for your embryos! May God’s hands be with them and enable them to catch up growing to how they need to be. I visualise Jesus standing in the lab and with his hands stretched out, being with them.”

It took my breath away. Her kindness and true faith shining through in bucket loads. On the way home from work I was listening to a podcast, run by SBS, the Outspoken Bible, and it was the 2nd in a 3-episode series about suffering. Today was about loss. These readings spoke to me:

Psalm 6

Psalm 109:1-5 in particular is relevant

Ephesians 1 was a great source of comfort yesterday during bible study time at work - celebrating joy, fullness, richness & gloriousness of grace, love, blessing, forgiveness, unity, praise, faith, giving thanks, spirit of wisdom, enlightenment, hope, immeasurable greatness & power. And then it was brought up again in Prayer Meeting, in Carloway (phoning in on speakerphone!) tonight. I love it when Bible passages all match up in relation to life, of course it does, it's not coincidence!

I had lost a few songs from a playlist I had made well over a decade ago, on an old computer and I have been struggling to remember each song that I had on that playlist to replicate it. Today's devotional reading was about how God must be worshipped, even when we're not feeling it or when circumstances get in the way. Worship can be a simple act - lighting a candle, a prayer, a reading, listening to a song.......... Ah haaaaaaa! then one of the "lost" songs was suddenly in my head so now it's back in my playlist!

🎶Come, now is the time to worship, Come, now is the time to give your heart, Come, just as you are to worship, Come, just as you are before your God One day every tongue will confess you are God One day every knee will bow Still the greatest treasure remains for those Who gladly choose you now 🎶

Yes, Lord, you're a great and a good God - you're my God, and I bow before you. Do with my life as you will. Amen

- 5th October from 366 Devotions, Here I am, Lord

[avoidingcertaindoom]

JBBingo 2023 - Unfamiliar Circus, Unfamiliar Monkeys

Mira confronts some unsettling truths about her peers and her home. 

(Written for @julybreakbingo​, also found on ao3)

The makeup artist had gathered up all the phones in the room as soon as anyone set foot in. Mira had only begrudgingly handed hers over and tried to get the grooming out of the way early, but the artist had determined that no, she would not be getting it back until after the ceremony. The last thing anyone needed on the big day was a distraction.

(She said this quite pointedly while glaring at the faded blue twist  Mira’s hair was in, and while she rolled her eyes she obliged by asking Linnea to help her with the wig she’d been provided).

With that done and interest for any family gossip already in the negatives, she tried to stay out of the way and keep her answers to small nothing answers, just enough to hopefully stay under the radar. Just a couple hours, she insisted internally, then she and the twins could be on the first plane out of this place.

“You don’t have to help, you know.”

“Hm?” She didn’t even really register who had spoken, and handed back the now opened bottle to the dazed woman seated in the corner of the room. “Help who?”

“You know. Her.” Her cousin Odile waved towards the feeder woman who was cautiously sipping the water with shaky hands. “You’ve been weird lately about that. You’re not a handler, why act like one?”

Mira blinked, brain stalling on an answer. “It’s a bottle of water. How is screwing a cap open handling?”

“Just saying. You do an awful lot more for the two you brought from home.”

The giggling that started up after the quip made her ears twitch. What a nothing thing to be taunted over. Compared to how things were at home there was barely anything to glance sideways at.

If they did know what things were like at home she imagined they’d be a lot less amused--

She glanced back at the woman while conversation continued, moving on from her, and felt struck with that much more unease. What was so funny about basic kindness, or basic decency at all? The woman was pale, faint, and simply out of her head just for the sake of making certain all present would have a snack before the wedding. Why shouldn’t her comfort matter?

Maybe Mira was getting too sensitive, like everyone back at Echton had been when she’d first moved. Everyone else was acting normal, so surely she was just the odd one out here. What were the odds everyone else was the problem?

…

“I’m going to get some air,” she murmured, stepping around the flock of bridesmaids and heading out the door. On the way she managed to nick her phone from the makeup artist’s cell jail and as soon as the door was shut behind her she unlocked it, scrolling past requests for pictures and post reception plans to pull up her boyfriend’s messages.

Miss u <3

Stay out of trouble, no one here has any sense.

#july break bingo #jbb2023 #vampire fiction #original work #vampire character #ch; mirabel carlisle #project; immortal coil #project; cry little sister #(technically it's the IC version of mira) #(but for all intents and purposes she's mostly on this blog for CLS)

[baja4nia]

substances are so wild like this is coming from a decade of substance abuse but the only part that sticks or is consistent is the addiction for no other reason than psychical dependence on that substance bc with like aderrall it's literally unusable unless i'm hitting my pen with it and percs xanax any benzos it will ALWAYS get to a point where u don't even get the desired feeling u just need it every day to act normal plus sooo expensive and unreliable. don't even get me started on mdma that shit will drain the light out of ur life. lsd people are all stupid now like trucking on 10 brain cells max after years of use ... for me i've found alcohol is like sooo easily accessible and i can mix it with weed/kratom but if i have a couple drinks two nights in row any drinks i have for the rest of the week will like. not hit the same it is a very desperate feeling bc u don't get that fresh tipsy feeling u were going for. kratom is tough you build up a tolerance after each use so have to be very conservitive w it.... and all this either never being enough or making u feel ill isn't even considering all the bad things that come along w substance abuse which is . really what makes none of it worth it at the end of the day. ur only ignoring the negative side affects in ur life bc ur body needs a couple of substances in it every day to like not feel suicidal lets say u have a good balance w ur substances and things mostly work out ur still fucking up some times bc ur fucked up or withdrawing. ur still sometimes taking too much or not enough && feeling sick..... after years and years it is never worth it. long term effects too. i'm straight up gonna die early from all this abuse. my memory and focus is shit. my dopamine levels/instant reward system never works quite enough i haven't been actually happy since i was a kid. but my body neeeeeds somethinggg. either food or a workout or an orgasm or consuming media or an actual substance. not a way to live really.... the last time i tried to go sober my hormones were so fucked up i was suicidal for a week just sitting in a ball telling myself i don't actually wanna die my brain is just telling me i do bc i'm withdrawing. you'd think for how addictive drugs are they'd be fuckin great they'd last shorter or last longer. they'd be safe 100% of the time guaranteed. they'd have long tolerance lives. they didn't have withdrawal symptoms. truth is everything about drugs is never worth it. it's an easy decision not to do it. except ur addicted.

[ballorawan740]

SCP Scenarios: When their kids swear at them (REQUESTED)

Main Masterlist | SCP Scenarios Masterlist | My Works Masterlist | Rules | Request | Socials | My Original Post

Requested by: @Astro_KeySimp

WARNING: Swearing (sorta)

Ok so I kinda made the reader into the child since don't remember if you wanted the reader to be a child or not, so if it wasn't to your liking, then I'm sorry, but I can make a separate version on where the reader isn't the child

It kinda became more of the SCPs and doctors being dads than their reaction to their kids swearing

SCP 073 (Cain)

Cain was walking around with you since you were bored and there wasn't anything to do

Being unaware of what some of the staff were saying, ye went over to grab you some food for later in case you got hungry

Once you both went back, he watched you play with some Legos and was talking as if it was your Lego friends talking to you

Cain looked away for just 10 seconds and heard you shout out "Wow! He said that her baby's such a bi-" which shocked him as he heard it

Cain looked around and made sure that nobody was around the room and was somewhat surprised that you was the one saying this

Being a good dad he is, Cain explained to you carefuly that you shouldn't say that word because it's bad

And being a sweet shy child, you obliged and stopped saying the word

Til this day, Cain had no idea about where and who you've heard the word from and is very much more self-aware

SCP 076-2 (Abel)

Abel is that type of dad who would teach you all the bad words and encourages you to say them

It's the researchers who had to teach you top not to say those words

One time, Dr Glass came in to examine you and had rewarded you as usual since you were so cooperative

You drew a picture of you and Abel talking in a garden with bright coloured flowers

Simon asked if he could see your drawing and saw that the conversation you and your dad had was those of swearing

This surprised Simon since you knew so many at such a young age but wasn't totally shocked since he knew that you were Abel's child

And knowing him, he wouldn't teach you to be nice, so Simon took the job as a mother hen and taught you to not use those words around people

SCP 999 (Tickle Monster)

Ok, so I'll keep this SCP short since I, again, don't know what I should write for this adorable, squicky, neon-orange, bubby blob

Another SCP who doesn't cuss

This adorable squishy boi here was about to have a heart attack when he heard you swear fir the first time

He had to ask you worryingly where you heard that phrase and you just said some guy wearing a white jacket

999 sighed knowing that you'll grow and couldn't do anything to stop it

He did, however, mention that you should try and avoid saying those things to anyone and that they'd most likely have a heart attack since you were his child and you won the genetic lottery for being the cutest and outgoing child in the world

The only other person who knew of this was Dr Glass (sucks to be him ngl, he do be a mother to everyone) and he had to help poor 999 with teaching you better words

SCP 682 (Hard to Destroy Reptile)

YAY! Another SCP who would teach their kid to swear

682 has such a dirty mouth like 076 and would 100% teach you all the words he knows

Similarly to what happened with Abel, you were taken for an interview with Dr Sophia Light since she was assigned to you

She's such a sweet and kind doctor to be around and would teach you anything and everything you would probably need to know all the while keeping an eye on you in case you become overly aggressive like 682

You were just eating some sweets Lights had given you for good behaviour and overheard some researchers swear

Remembering what your dad had taught you, you just repeated those curse words while clapping at your achievement

This had shocked Sophia and that researcher since you were known to be a moderately shy and quiet child who normally wouldn't say those things despite being 682's child

Sophia had to ask if you understood the meaning of those words and shook your head as an indicator for no

She had to carefully find her words and told you to never speak of those words again and took you back to 682's cell

You went and hugged your dad and told him that you learnt from the doctor that those curse words were bad and neither of you should say them

682 had a headache after that

SCP 049 (Plague Doctor)

I have a hard time thinking that 049 would teach his child to cuss and would avoid swearing in front of them at all cost

Like, he barely swears anyways but he wants to stay classy and sassy for his innocent child

Just like the other day, his kiddo, you, was curious about the whole surgery thingy he does on the dead bodies, so you asked him to teach you and so he did (like the good father we nevah had)

So you learnt some new, yet difficult, words (cuz we all have a nonexistent pea-sized brain) and somehow, you managed to fit in a curse word

This did surprise 049 as he had remembered that he didn't teach you those foul words

He had to give you a talk about using such words and you teared up since you thought that people used them to express their affection to others

Unsurprisingly, 049 took his sweet time looking for the guy who 'taught' you this and wanted to use him as a case study for your future lessons

SCP 035 (Possessive Mask)

Another parent with such an amazing influence on children

035 would teach and enable you to use swearing as a form of expression

So you were free to say whatever you want as long as they aren't directed to our mask here, especially if it's in a negative way

Otherwise, you'd be punished (No not like that! He'll just ground you from your favourite TV show/movie)

The researchers were surprised, not about you swearing, but how you use them through expression

Except for this poor guy who was new to the foundation and bumped into you by accident

This rookie found himself listening to you cursing like a sailor (maybe not that much but more or less on the same level as Samuel L Jackson)

Word got out and everybody laughed at the poor rookie and told him more about your background and how you love to swear (apparently swearing will prolong your life, so you'll basically be immortal here)

035 was impressed by the whole ordeal and rewarded you with more shows to watch whenever you're both free

SCP 105 (Iris)

Iris would accidentally swear in front of you and whenever she realises it, she would tell you to not swear at people since it wasn't very nice

So she would use words to replace the swearing like "oh fudging hell not now" and "no sugar honey ice tea"

The foundation felt that it was slightly unnecessary but went with it anyways

They'd even go as far as saying that it's ridiculous, but who are they to judge?

Iris was your mother and she's a single mum too, so she felt the need to be overly beating but would occasionally let you decide on your own since you were only 12

The foundation members did tell her that you will eventually grow and more of these words will be used but she just hesitates

As a teen, you did begin to use foul words more often and Iris would argue about how you're using them, especially towards her, your own mother

Needless to say, you both felt bad and made up

SCP 106 (Old Man)

Now this old man right here doesn't exactly speak, or at least very rarely

And if he does, he'll most likely be talking to you or the foundation staff if he needed some help finding you

He'll most likely be able to understand what the researchers are saying, even if they aren't speaking English

My own personal hc is that 106 understands English, German, Spanish, French, Chinese, Arabic and Indonesian and probably many others

Every now and again, somebody would come in and teach you new words and give other lessons like maths and poetry (our favourite)

You came back home to tell him all the things you've learnt as he watched you in awe as he braided your hair

You've even used some new phrases, including swear words while talking and 106 was pretty impressed

I feel that he's quite neutral with swear words since words are words and are used as a form of verbal communication

So I don't think they'll be much change in his behaviour to whether you're swearing or not

SCP 096 (Shy Guy)

Now with 096, all he does is scream

So basically, somebody else would have to teach you some words

It's not to say that 096 is a dumb animalistic creature with no soul and just kills people who look at his face

He isn't stupid since he manages to find anyone who looked at his face from the other side of the globe

And he seems to understand what the researchers are saying, or at least on a more intermediate to moderate level

You'll learn about swear words from the other researchers, whether they'll be teaching it to you intentionally or you've overheard them

The foundation could really care less, but would at least prefer that you chill a bit if you got carried away

096 would act all cheery when you learn more new things as it's not like the foundation would let him out anyway, so he'll be living the outside world life from you (How relatable, but more with babysitting and dating, cuz I'm too pretty for anyone to date XD)

Like with 106, I don't think 096 would have any special reaction towards swearing, but would probably be screaming internally for a bit since he knows that it isn't a nice word

Dr Jack bright

This mf right here is one of those parents who would be kind but firm

Bright would most definitely give in to your curiosity and teach you whatever you want to learn but would warn you of the dangers

Depending on what it is, he would even go as far as giving you your own personal guard who would stay with you and train you

And unfortunately, this guard has such a foul mouth, so you're constantly exposed to such words

Luckily for the both of you, Jack Bright doesn't really care about swearing as long as you're not being extremely inappropriate if you were to work

He would even joke around with you sometimes and would even start the conversation with swearing

For instance, he'd just surprise you with a "Yeet his mf outta my sheithole"

And yes, you did laugh at his antics

Some would even say that you're an exact clone of him but more stable (for now)

Well, Bright is an amazing dad, but I'd say just below Dr Glass

Or maybe even on par with him

Like Bright is a goofy dad that has all the terrible dad jokes and Glass would be the type of dad to look out for his kid

Dr Simon Glass

Dr Glass would most definitely avoid using swear words, especially if you were under 15

Even if you were over 15, he'd still avoid swearing unless he wants to make a joke or 2

So most of the time, you'd learn all the swearing from other people and SCPs

Sometimes you would swear by accident and Glass would just look at you, slightly disappointed

I'd say he doesn't exactly care about you swearing per see, but would rather you avoid it

It's cuz Simon is the best dad a dad could ever dad and nobody could prove me wrong here

He's also one of the top best dads compared to the others on the list

He's basically your best friend so he'd let you vent and its the 1 time he'd let you swear to show your emotions

Simon would 100% know your thoughts and behaviour

He's just that good at reading people, especially you - almost to the point where people would say he's an SCP cuz I swear he's just empathic and telepathic

As mentioned before, Glass would be the type of dad to care for your mental health

It's not that the others don't, it's just that Glass is a top their God of Psychology and would come to you before you even know you have depression

He would even crack a joke sometimes

So every so often, he would shout out "LANGUAGE!!!" from across the room before you could even bat an eye and say anything

Dr Alto Clef

Another top tier dad, but swearing addition

Your godfather would literally be Jack Bright

Then it's Kondraki and Glass

He would let you swear on a daily basis and would join you

Sometimes you be looking at your Oppas/Noonas and be like: "Oh fxxk me!" and Clef, who's in the next room, be like: "Yeah, fxxk me too!" (Yes but no sis! No incest pls!)

Other times, you would be in the same room as Clef and Bright and you'd join them in being chaotic

And poor Kondraki  is just there at the back trying to do his work peacefully

One time, Kondraki had to grab a Simon Glass to help stop the chaotic trio

And OML did it end so well

You were easy to manage tbh, with the exception of you swearing

Clef and Bright would most definitely encourage you to swear more

Especially Clef since he does have a twisted sense of humour

Dr Benjamin Kondraki

Kondraki is totally the type of person who would tell their kid to mind their own language

But he secretly doesn't care and his child knows it

His style of parenting is similar to Simon's

And yes, Simon is your #1 godfather/uncle

You'd go to him for emotional support since Kondraki sucks at that

Sometimes you'd swear at him and he'd get mad though

So yeah, running to Glass is a wonderful idea

And we all know that Kondraki doesn't mean what he said

He's just extremely introverted, but he's rather sensible - Usually...

Anyways, he would ask Simon on tips and advice on how to get you to stop swearing so much and he just gave Benjamin a parenting book (Like fr guys, let Glass have some rest, he's tired of babysitting over 100 dozens of pets in the zoo and all the other babies who work in it)

#scp #scp scenarios #scp x reader #scp headcanons #scp x reader headcanons #scp x reader scenarios #scp 073 #child reader #scp x scp #scp x scp reader #scp x child reader #scp x scp child reader #scp Cain #scp abel #scp Iris #scp 076 #scp 076 2 #scp 999 #scp 096 #scp 682 #scp 049 #scp 035 #scp 105 #scp 106 #scp dr bright #scp dr glass #scp dr kondraki #scp dr clef #scp agent ukelele

[maulusque]

Clone genetic enhancement ideas

So the clones were genetically enhanced, but i don’t really see any writers (in fanfic or in published stuff) really exploring what that MEANS beyond “clone very stronk”. Here are some ideas that would actually make clones significantly different from just a regular-ass human in peak condition. 

-enhanced senses: eyesight, hearing, etc. I’m talking eyes like a HAWK

-better reflexes

-quicker information processing

-can hear sounds of higher and lower frequency than standard humans

-can see light of a broader spectrum than human standard

-learn quicker, retain information and skills better (potential problem: if you learn something the WRONG way, that way might stick really well)

-photographic memory (really useful for memorizing layouts and maps)

-immunity to various diseases

-can tolerate a wider range of temperatures and environments

-increased stamina and strength baseline. Clones can just run full-tilt for hours and hours and be like “ah a nice stroll”. Over long distances, they can out-pace jedi in the same way that humans can out-pace horses.

-higher tolerance of certain poisons/toxins (clones can straight-up drink ethanol, and get maybe a little tipsy)

-bodies respond quickly to physical stress, and slowly to the absence of it (basically, this means that physical conditioning results in stronger muscles and a stronger cardiovascular system really quickly, and it takes MUCH longer for a clone to lose strength and conditioning due to not exercising than standard humans. Think how much valuable training time is saved if they only have to go on a run like, once a month in order to stay in shape)

-increased ability to function through intense pain and acute injuries. Basically, semi-disabling the pain system so it’s less distracting. Probably not good for the survival of the individual in many situations, but an advantage on the battlefield. 

-heal faster and better, with fewer long-term complications. Clones can dislocate their shoulders and NOT have the joint be permanently fucked up, because the Kaminoans re-designed the whole damn thing to suck WAY less.

-actually, unique internal anatomy. There’s probably a lot about the human body besides the shoulder joint that is actually just really stupid, and something no intelligent designer would actually build. So the Kaminoans can fix a lot of that stuff. Better knees, maybe. Stronger ribs. Maybe Cody punches droids not just because he’s a mad bastard, but also because his metatarsals are literally as strong as steel. 

-Hearing loss/hearing damage? No problem, your ear can regrow those little hair-thingies that help you hear. 

-Of course, it takes energy to maintain muscle mass, which is why human bodies lose it if we’re not using it. Clones need significantly more calories than standard humans. However, their digestive systems are enhanced to extract calories and nutrients from food much more efficiently, so food goes much farther. Potential weird side effect: maybe clones only have to poop like, once a week?

-You could probably extend that into increased ability to tolerate long periods without food/on low rations, despite the increased need for calories. 

-wouldn’t it be NEAT if the kaminoans somehow designed self-repairing DNA. This would mean that others couldn’t take a DNA sample from a clone and modify it to create their own clones (basically, it protects their product. It’s like DRM for clones). This ALSO means that clones couldn’t get cancer, and that they’d be immune to radiation poisoning. So a clone could just walk up to a sphere of uranium at critical mass and pick it up. Maybe with oven mitts on if it’s hot. (this would also make it harder for a rapid-aging cure to be developed, but uhhhh fanfic writers find a way)

- “bred for obedience” I think most of this would have to be accomplished through tightly-controlled messaging and cultural norms as the clones grow up- basically, enshrining obedience as a desirable and almost sacred trait, to be prized higher than anything else, including the lives of your brothers. In the same way that we hear stories of people sacrificing their lives to protect their loved ones, the clones would grow up hearing stories of soldiers sacrificing their brothers’ lives to obey an order from a superior. 

-SOME of the “obedience” thing could be engineered, though. Humans are already super social, but it would probably make sense for the clones to have an even greater need for social bonds. This would make for greater teamwork and coordination, and better unit cohesion, since the clones would be more inclined to prioritize friendship/agreeing with someone over winning an argument. It would also make it so they’d bond with their natural-born generals more easily, so they would obey them not just because they’re supposed to, but because they’d be much quicker to see them as a friend, and someone who’s trust they want to earn, someone they want to incorporate into their group and make happy.

-consequently, clones who find themselves alone do NOT do well. Isolation has a much more profoundly negative impact on clones than on regular humans.

-Originally, clones designed to operate alone or in small teams would not have the social enhancement- ARC troopers, spec-ops teams, etc. There wouldn’t be much of a noticeable difference in everyday interactions, but they’d also be vaguely weirded out by what they interpret as aggressive friendliness from their brothers, and their brothers would think they’re a bit shy and standoffish. 

-actually this social modification would make it MUCH harder for clones to kill people. REGULAR HUMANS are already super bad at killing people- i remember reading this article about how as soon as soldiers have to point their weapons at actual people, their aim gets mysteriously much shittier. Even when compared to situations that are exactly the same, except they’re not shooting at other humans. So reconcile this how you will, idk.

-I imagine a lot of these enhancements would be accomplished not through DNA, but through microorganisms. Retroviruses could explain the DNA resistant to modification, and the increased healing speed, and possibly some disease resistance (do i know anything about retroviruses other than a vague concept of what they are? no i do not. will that stop me? also no.) Their metabolism can be partially explained through specially engineered gut microbes.

-not sure how they’d go about making clones “resistant to any stress”, because you can’t exactly turn off the trauma response in the brain without breaking a bunch of other things. They could probably do a bit of fiddling to make clones more resistant to chemical imbalances, and therefore more depression-resistant. I think most of the “stress-resistance” would have to come through training. Either they train the clones to basically suppress everything, which might work alright in the short term. OR they actually have systems in place that help prevent the development of things like PTSD and help treat trauma. Meaning the clones are literally trained in self-care, positive self-talk, talking about their pain with their brothers, and having community rituals around things like death and grief. I don’t think that’s super likely because one thing that’s integral to those concepts is the concept of “i am a person and i have worth, and if i feel angry about something bad happening, that is ok and valid” and considering that a whole lot of bad things happen to the clones all the time and their childhood is a whole boatload of bad all happening at once, i don’t think the kaminoans would want the clones realizing “hey wait a minute i’m a person and i don’t deserve to be treated this way and it’s ok for me to be mad at you”. 

- the clones were supposedly engineered to be “less aggressive” but i think there was literally nothing more to that than a cover story for the control chip. The clones wouldn’t be raised with a lot of the aggressive western concept of masculinity, where anger is the default reaction to like, everything, and your personal pride is extremely important and also fragile (no offense lmao). So you wouldn’t have clones posturing and getting angry over perceived slights and fighting each other all the time, like everyone in-universe apparently expects to be the case. Anyway, why would you want your soldiers to be less aggressive? they’re literally supposed to fight and kill the enemy. You want them fully capable of getting angry, anger is the human response to fear and danger that lets us DO something about it. 

-obviously the biggest component in how they behave would be how they are raised, but that’s an entirely different post

-Specializations! I imagine that initially, the Kaminoans had different clones with different traits engineered specifically to fill certain roles. However, as the war went on, they struggled to keep up with demand and had to start shoving clones into whatever roles were needed (hence Fives and Echo becoming ARCs, despite not being engineered as ARC troopers). 

-Command clones would have better abilities in the executive function parts of the brain that deal with extrapolation, planning ahead, spatial reasoning, etc. They’d also have increased visual pattern recognition (like a pigeon)

-search-and-rescue troops would also have the pigeon pattern recognition abilities. The coast guard literally strapped pigeons to helicopters who would tap a button when they saw orange in the water, because they were better at spotting it than humans. Pigeons can detect cancer in microscope images of cells, because they’re that good at pattern recognition

-Pilots would have hella reflexes, excellent spatial awareness and spatial reasoning skills, much greater ability to process visual information, stronger hearts and blood vessels (to resist greater Gs of force), and they’d also be much shorter, to better fit into a cockpit. Which reminds me of Axe, that poor bastard from Ahsoka’s squadron over Ryloth who was almost eight feet tall. rip poor Axe, how did you even become a pilot, you long bastard.

-medics who can smell certain diseases. If you want to get a little bit out there, make the medics able to purr so they can sooth stressed-out patients. 

-infantry would have even greater endurance than everyone else, as well as greater tolerance for, and ability to, remain constantly on alert.

-ability to fall asleep at will? that would be super dope.

-maybe more efficient sleep, so to an adult clone, 4 hours of sleep is genuinely sufficient.

-concept: clones can sort of turn down their bodily functions- slow their digestion, heart, lungs, the whole nine yards- to last longer in adverse conditions. Sort of a half-hibernation (or quarter hibernation- they’d still be able to talk and think, but they’d feel very lethargic). They wouldn’t be able to function very well, but it would be great for things like enduring intense cold, periods without food, low-oxygen environments, and it would be especially useful if you were wounded and waiting for help, since you could slow your circulation, meaning it would take you a lot longer to bleed out. This state could be triggered by a combination of physical actions such as sitting or lying still, breathing slowly and deeply, and focusing on slowing the heart down (humans can actually slow down their hearts consciously if you practice at it, this is basically that, but turned up to like 1100).

-one thing that never made sense to me was the whole “we’re running out of jango fett’s DNA, all the new clones won’t be as good, and we have to stop ventress from stealing the original DNA” because like, can’t they just, get the EXACT SAME DNA from the clones?? you know, the exact genetic copies? With all the enhancements already done? But now my idea is that the kaminoans have engineered the clones so their DNA straight up can’t be copied. The clone’s own body can obviously replicate it, but if you take a sample and try to extract the DNA, it just self-destructs or something. This is to protect their intellectual property, but also means that they literally have to use a couple of Jango Fett’s actual human cells for every single clone they make (and the fact that they then have to do all the above enhancements to every single embryo helps explain why there’s so many small mutations, such as hair color and height). So they kinda shot themselves in the foot with that one. 

-of course since things like ADHD and autism have a strong genetic component, the kaminoans could theoretically engineer those out of the clones, but actually FUCK THAT so for whatever reason, that’s just not something they are able to do, and neurodivergent clones are absolutely a thing

#maulusque's stuff #meta #clones

[syntheticavenger]

Crossfire - Part Twelve

Bucky Barnes x Eventually Enhanced Female Reader

Word Count: 1,980

Warnings: 18+ ONLY - Heavy violence, angst

Thank you for all your amazing comments and re-blogs, I appreciate it and I’m glad you are enjoying it. Tag list will be below.

gif is not mine | divider by @writeyourmindaway

Summary | Sticks and stones may break bones, but words can be deadly.

This Bucky Barnes will learn when he unknowingly pushes a potential agent into the arms of the newly revamped Hydra.

Previous: One, Two, Three, Four, Five, Six, Seven, Eight, Nine, Ten, Eleven

Chapter Twelve - Zemo reveals his plan. Bucky struggles with the aftermath of the fight.

Bucky hears your screams before he sees you.

The path to where your holding cell is located is a long walk and he’s had little sleep, save for when his body shuts down automatically for minutes at a time. Zemo has said little since he’d left Bucky in a cell, the heavy magnets on the cuffs weighing down his metal arm rendering it immobile.

From what he knows, they don’t speak of you by your name. He knows of your beginnings, the name they’d assigned you – Leviathan. Raising from the depths of the deep to wreak havoc. They’d all underestimated you.

He had underestimated you.

Zemo had made it clear that you were not a Leviathan any longer. The jagged scar from your fall was on display when you were fighting when he saw you. Pieced back together like Bucky was, an intricate tattoo of thunder and lightning hiding the flaws of your shoulder and bicep as a work of art.

Bucky’s had enough time in the cell to know how much Zemo was able to get out of you. A little push as your pseudo therapist and he was able to glean everything he needed to know about you between your brainwashing.

Bucky tenses at the thought, your scream of pain louder than before until it is silent.

“What have you done?” Bucky demands to the four guards that push him down the hallway.

“You’ll see,” one of them speaks in a clipped tone, shoving him through the door.

It’s a parallel view, your chest moving rapidly up and down as the mouth guard shines under the light as your lips twitch. Eyes distant, Bucky knows that you’re far away, your brain scrambling once more as Ultron’s disembodied head bores into your line of sight, yellow flicks of light seeping into your eyes.

“Ah, Sergeant Barnes,” Zemo calls out, straightening his jacket. “So good of you to join us.”

Your bicep flexes as the bars around your head provide a strong electrical shock.

“I must say, you’ve done a great job with tearing her down for me already. Her fight is strong. She must get that from Agent Romanoff,” Zemo muses, motioning for the machine to cease. At the sound of the motor slowing, Zemo places a gloved hand on your cheek. Instinctively, your face presses into his palm. A rage goes through Bucky as your mouth forms the word please before you’re silenced with a cold smile.

“Do you know how people find themselves on the fringe, Sergeant Barnes? I’ve asked myself this question many times in my travels. In my work.”

Zemo brushes back your hair as you stare into Ultron’s red glowing eyes.

“Desperation,” he continues. “The human psyche is fascinating. We thrive off positive reinforcement as children, well into adulthood. We like to be acknowledged. When that acknowledgment is not there with say, forgetting a name, our brains struggle to counteract that negative emotion with a positive thought. We constantly fight ourselves with our thoughts. When we find someone who listens to our pain, we build a bridge to connect with them. I have so much to thank you for.”

“You turned her into a weapon,” Bucky shoots back, shoved into a chair as heavy hands keep him in place.

“If you choose to look at it that way, Sergeant then yes. But I see her as so much more. I have no use for Hydra. They tried to rebrand and they were almost successful. Whitehall’s gone into hiding and I intend to find him. Make him pay for what he’s done to her. Though the serum brought her back, I’ve had to keep her in stasis. It isn’t good for the mind, no. That’s where the remnants of the Mind Stone help. I can give her any memory I want as long as she stays like this. Once I activate her, she will do whatever I want.”

“It won’t work forever. You said it yourself she fights it.”

“I’m a patient man. Sooner or later, your team will learn to understand that.”

“You’re planning on taking us out?” Bucky is almost amused at the question. Zemo has tried before and failed.

“No,” Zemo denies. “I don’t need her to kill your team, Sergeant. I just need her to kill you.”

Bucky’s smirk fades as Zemo removes the straps on your wrists and ankles, your eyes fluttering before they focus.

“It wouldn’t be a fair fight if I kept the cuffs on.” Zemo smiles at him for a moment with a shake of his head. “I had a theory that her subconscious is so murky that you were the reason why she didn’t finish off the other two men that day. Because deep down, she needs that approval. I think I’ve wiped what little bit was left but let us see, hmm? Take him to the training ground.”

Zemo smiles in your direction as Bucky is hauled to his feet.

“She’ll be there shortly. Good luck, Sergeant Barnes.”

You see the man with the metal arm, your fingers curling into a fist.

A target to be annihilated.

“I don’t want to fight,” he says quietly, his own fists at his sides. “I’m your mission. I know that.”

Rage bubbles up inside your chest. Whoever he is, the contempt spills over as you charge toward him, his head shaking before he braces his boots on the ground.

He dodges the first two of your punches, twisting his body to angle away from you before you get a solid jab under his chin and then to the side of his face.

“I don’t want to hurt you,” the man warns, his voice low. “But I will.”

“Will you?” you challenge, taking a wide step back as he narrowly misses you.

You block three of his forceful punches before his metal arm blocks your incoming fist, holding it in his hand before he tosses you up and you go flying.

With the momentum, you land on your feet, rage consuming you as you block his incoming jabs and counter with your own.

“I know you,” he urges, spitting out a line of blood before he wipes his mouth. “I said I don’t want to hurt you but I think that’s the only thing I can do to get you to understand that this isn’t you.”

You block the kick he attempts, sending him spiraling to the ground. He gets up, frustration on his face as you lunge at him again. You give him everything you have, flashes of your training and an older woman flickering through your thoughts as you pummel him to the ground.

The gleam of a knife catches your attention as it moves through his fingers before you’re thrown off of him.

“My name is Bucky,” he says through gritted teeth, blood dripping from his nose. “Your name is -”

“I don’t care!” you shout, your voice shaking with fury. “Who I am, who you are. It doesn’t matter. You die here.”

You’re aware of Zemo watching above. You can’t fail again.

He’s already warned you what will happen should you not succeed. The fact that this is the last person to stand in your way means you need to rid yourself of him quickly.

He blocks your next flurry of moves, your mind homing in on what he will do next. With a twitch of his fingers, you block the fist that aims for your jaw.

“He’s controlling you,” Bucky warns, his knife still in your sights as you reach for your gun, firing three shots in succession as he blocks it with his arm, lunging for your weapon as you sweep out your leg to take him down and land on top of him, intent on wrapping your fingers around his neck.

He struggles with the gun as you try to aim it at him, his metal arm enclosed over your fist before you hear the sound of your bone snap and you howl in pain. The sound only further infuriates you as you force your hand at an angle, still fighting against him before he pins you to the ground.

The pain radiating from your broken finger does little to faze you, your eyes still trained on him as he tosses it away. Your knee connects with his chest as you roll away from him, his grunt of pain echoing in your ear.

When you get up, he exhales loudly, struggling to get up as you both lunge for the gun that is within reach. Your foot makes contact with his stomach as you grab it, firing two quick shots that hit his middle, his shout of anguish filling your ears as he continues toward you, a slide of his foot making you backtrack before his fist connects with your stomach and you fly backward, dodging out of the way of the flash of metal before you block it with your forearm.

“I’m sorry for this,” Bucky huffs, his irritation apparent as he grips his middle. “You’ll forgive me one day.”

In quick succession, three heavy hits come from nowhere as your head hits against the wall with a solid thud.

Bucky studies your sleeping form before he goes back to wrapping his middle, the bandages wound tight as the bullets lay in the sink. His hands grip the sides of it, still bruised and bloodied. By his calculations, there are only hours between Zemo searching and finding where he’s hiding you.

This isn’t a safehouse by any means but a stop before he can call for help.

Zemo hadn’t expected what Bucky still remembered back in Siberia. The moves he taught the other Winter Soldiers and the one move he never taught Natasha.

It was saved for the others, ones who could take it. Three timed punches shock the system, effectively short-circuiting the brain to stop breathing. The hit against the wall had been enough to knock you out.

What mattered the most was that you were safe for the time being. The break out of the building had almost been too easy and for that, Bucky was still on high alert. Nothing Zemo did was ever that easy.

The rain pours against the small window of the room, your head propped up with his jacket. He waits for a moment to make sure you’re still breathing before he turns on the faucet and scrubs his hands clean.

You’d been a worthy opponent. The side of his face still feels numb and the dark circles around his eyes that are slowly turning into shiners make him look half dead.

“N-Nat…Natasha,” you murmured in your sleep, your eyebrows furrowing as your body twitched.

He leans over you, watching you fight in your sleep. Even in sleep, you fight against the programming, still so deeply embedded in your mind that he knows it will take months to right the damage that has been done.

But you’re alive, Bucky reasons, watching your lips move rapidly without sound. It’s a start. Once he gets you back to the compound, he’ll have more time to explain.

He can’t tell Natasha. Not yet. He can’t tell a single soul until you’re miles away from Zemo’s compound.

Bucky doesn’t want to wake you. He runs the risk of you still being under Zemo’s commands and he isn't sure if he has another fight left in him with the lack of sleep and nursing his wounds.

Or worse, waking up with no recollection of anything, your memories scattered and in pieces. He knows what that’s like and he isn’t prepared to begin to relive those memories of when it continued to happen to him.

As you call out for Natasha once more, he places his hand over yours and your body goes slack, Bucky’s reflection in the window stares back at him as he blinks away the tears.

My trigger words: @caffiend-queen @river-soul @jevans2 @egcdeath @whisperlullaby @angrythingstarlight @navybrat817 @mianorth @oneoftheprettynerds @itsbqueenthings @cutiebubbleboo @doloreshazes-blog1 @harrysthiccthighss @roxyfan14-blog @golden-ariess @bi-girlwrites-2000 @holl2712 @stuckinthefanzoneagain-blog @ellefran @cevansfangirl16​ @dandywinchesterbras @mashep23 @iwanttobekilledtwice @old-enough-to-know-better73 @freckles-spangledvampire @bigchoose @thebitchinleo @prettysbliss @ladyfallonavenger @sweetlyscared @geek-and-proud​ @saiyanprincessswanie​ @avantgardium-leviosa​ @squids-for-knees​ 

#bucky barnes x enhanced reader #bucky barnes x reader #violence #angst #natasha romanoff #helmut zemo #daniel whitehall

[thebibliosphere]

In case you’re wondering what it’s like to be in the ER right now for non Coronavirus symptoms, allow me to say on behalf of all the medical professionals in the US and indeed the entire world right now: STAY THE FUCK INSIDE AND ADHERE TO SOCIAL DISTANCING GUIDELINES AS MUCH AS POSSIBLE TO HELP FLATTEN THE CURVE AND REDUCE THE SPREAD OF INFECTION.

I experienced my first ever “thunder clap” (x) headache this morning, the pain was so intense it took away my ability to think. I couldn’t move, speak or even scream. It subsided in under 5 minutes, but those were the longest 5 minutes of my life, and I’ve had root canals done without anesthesia. I’ve fractured my spine, gotten up and carried on walking.

We called the nurse helpline only for them to say they’d call us back. They never did. ETD ended up driving me to the ER, where we debated going inside. The administrator told us we would need to separate, he couldn’t come any further than the red line marked on the floor. I was escorted through empty corridors toward a space that used to be inhabited by seating cubicles used for IV lines (can you tell I’ve been here a lot?), that had been turned into prefabricated rooms. The nurse leading me through the corridors had a walkie-talkie strapped to his front. He kept up a running commentary of where we were at all times. I asked him if it was because I might be contagious, and he told me frankly, yes.

I was asked several times if I had flu like symptoms, did I have a cough, did I have a fever. I told them I did not. They didn’t seem to know what to do with me. I was seen first by a junior doctor, who for reasons of importance later on, I need you to know looked like young John Mulaney 

“She doesn’t have flu symptoms, what should I do?” he whispered to the nurse from behind the plastic curtain separating me from the rest of the world. 

“Well what symptoms does she have?”

Stroke. Possibly. Or a brain bleed. It was possible, with my history of neck injury. My blood pressure certainly implied something was wrong. A senior doctor was called in, who re-performed the neurological testing, which was all fine. They continued to panic over my blood pressure, however, right up until I said “if you let me lie down I’m sure it will normalize.”

“Why?”

“We think I have POTS, I’m seeing Dr X at this hospital.”

“Why isn’t that in your medical file?”

“She doesn’t want to label me with a disability because of how she thinks it will negatively impact my outlook on life.”

“...as opposed to actually having POTS?!”

“Yes.”

Which was the first time I’ve ever actually heard a doctor say “What the fuck?” loudly and emphatically. In my head I nicknamed him Sassy Senior Doctor. It was evident he was standing on his last nerve and had stopped giving a shit about everything that wasn’t keeping people alive.

“What else is missing from your file?”

“Ehlers Danlos Syndrome and Mast Cell Activation Syndrome.”

“Oh my god why are those missing?!”

“Ehlers Danlos is a new diagnosis from outside [Network] and my files are pending release. MCAS was because the allergist at this hospital told me it’s a made up disease.”

“No it isn’t!”

“Tell that to the allergist.”

I was allowed to lie down and my blood pressure normalized. They concluded I was not having a stroke. 

It was during this conversation that junior doctor, Dr. Young Not John Mulaney, came back into the room, and the Nurse, not missing a beat said “looks like we’ve got a zebra*, not a horse in the hospital.”

They were all wearing masks, but Dr. Young Not John Mulaney’s facial expression was clear. Outside the plastic curtain, Sassy Senior Doctor made a sound something like what I imagine an owl being given the Heimlich maneuver would sound like. 

“We’re trying to figure out what to do with you.” Dr. YNJM said. “You’re the only patient in here not for respiratory problems.” 

I was once again asked if I had any flu like symptoms, or if anyone in my family had. “My husband’s had bronchitis for six weeks.”

“That’s too long to have bronchitis,” said the Sassy Senior Doctor. “What did they give him for it?”

“Prednisone.”

“Jesus H Christ. Is he staying home from work? What do you mean no? Is he an essential healthcare worker? No? Tell him to stay home. For his sake and yours. I don’t want to see you back in here with a collapsed lung...”

They consulted with a neurologist via tele-medicine, who said the excruciating burning sensation I described lancing through the side of my face, sounded like trigeminal neuralgia (x). “She needs to come see us. It might be TN, or it might be her neck pinched a nerve. EDS can be like that.”

“Can you take her right now?”

“Are you kidding?”

They could not take me right now. Apparently I will have to wait until we are not facing a global pandemic.

“Can you feel your hands?” Sassy Senior Doctor asked one more time. “Can you wiggle your toes? Can you grip my hands. Do you still not have any flu or flu like symptoms? No? Excellent, get the fuck out.”

The nurse assured me he meant it kindly, and I believed her. 

They prescribed me muscle relaxants I can’t take because of my EDS, but said it might help, in a pinch—no pun intended. 

“Stay home and stay safe” was the final parting advice I was given, and then they let the zebra out of the hospital.

---

*There is a common expression in the medical community: when you hear hoof beats, look for horses, not zebras, meaning that if a patient presents with X symptoms, they probably have the most likely diagnosis, which is Y. 

Unfortunately for chronic and genetic problems like Ehlers Danlos Syndrome, this means our health issues are often brushed off as mental health, life style choices, or sometimes maliciously as attention seeking. This has lead to the community adopting the Zebra as their mascot, because sometimes when you hear hoof beats, it’s worth looking for stripes.

#chronic health tag #I am fine #I am at home resting right now #got an ice pack wedged under my skull #going to try and nap #long post #wall of text #medical talk #dental #dental mention #injury mention

[charcubed]

Celebrities’ sexualities/relationships, and what not to post where

I’m going to make an all-purpose, general post about this topic, because it seems like there’s value in making one. Anyone who’s been following me here or on Twitter long enough has seen me address this before but often in specific scenarios, but y’know what... let me just make a general all-purpose post too just to lay this out for the sake of my own sanity.

We all know this is a thing: people like to speculate on celebrities’ sexualities and/or participate in “real person fiction” (RPF), and that’s been happening since the dawn of fandom. On some level, I understand why; it's exciting to think a celebrity might be queer especially if YOU are. We all want role models & we all want that to be normalized, etc... and sometimes it’s a case of “like recognizes like”; queer people can spot other queer people. But whether or not one is “correct” doesn’t matter, and either way, celebrities' lives are not for our consumption. They do not exist for our entertainment or speculation. This kind of talk can get out of hand very quickly in a way that ruins the lives of real people. 

So I am here to remind people to be mindful of what you say about celebrities, where you say it, and HOW you say it too.

For example: under no circumstances should you openly post things about celebrities’ sexuality or relationships on Twitter.

If you know this already, cool! Great! Good! Keep scrolling! But not everyone does know this, and either way, it’s always a good reminder–especially because people can get excited in the heat of a moment and these principles can easily accidentally fly out of the window.

Not all social media is “equal” or carries the same weight of potential real world consequence. Tumblr, for example, tends to influence little outside of here as long as the topic in question stays on Tumblr; AO3 fic stays on AO3, or at least it should. But Instagram comments or tweets do not exist in a vacuum or echo chamber the way people often seem to think, and often route back to the celebrities in question in harmful ways. Those platforms are open to the wider world in a way that can translate to very real consequence for the people being discussed.

What do I mean by that? A good example of how things can get unintended attention is what happened recently when memes about Misha Collins and Bill Clinton got out of hand, made their way to Twitter, and resulted in journalists writing articles that Misha felt he needed to address. On a more related note, recently Brie Larson made one offhand gay joke/reference in a personal Youtube video; it then trended worldwide and resulted in many articles too. There is now, unfortunately, high potential that she could be asked about and pressured about her sexuality in interviews in future. Did any of the people tweeting about those topics expect that to happen? Probably not, and yet it did. But these are good examples of how Twitter algorithms have vastly shifted, and keyword use is enough for things to easily and quickly trend outside of fandom’s intentions or control in ways that cause harm.

Putting any celebrities’ personal lives under a microscope, whether unintentionally or otherwise, is never a good idea. But it’s especially not a good idea when it comes to sexualities or personal relationships.

People will say “Shipping is just in the fandom! We know how to behave! What’s the problem? It’s never gone wrong before.” The problem is multilayered, but here are the main issues: the fact that nothing “bad” has happened before does not mean it never will. You can control your behavior, but you cannot control how other people–especially people who are new to your fandom–may or may not behave on the wider internet surrounding the topic of people's personal lives. Posting about it on main on somewhere like Twitter also inherently runs the risk of other outside parties seeing it, being like “what’s all this then?” and then picking it up and running with it further–whether that be ~haters~ or journalists.

People will also say “These celebrities know about this kind of fandom talk and they don’t care!” or “If the celebrities wanted us to stop this, they’d have said something by now!” To that I say: those are a lot of assumptions, when the only “assumption” one should realistically make is that we don’t know celebrities personally, we don’t know if they may or may not be actually closeted/unlabeled (which is their right!), and we don’t know what may make them uncomfortable while other things may not. The absence of "no" or "stop" isn't equivalent to "yes," nor is it citable as defense for questionable or potentially harmful behavior. Silence isn't blanket approval or consent, nor should it be assumed to be in any situation. Just because celebrities haven’t said in so many words “Please stop doing [this specific thing]” doesn’t mean they are automatically cool with whatever a fandom is doing, such as speculating about them or openly pointing out what they think they know about their sexualities or relationships. This includes posts on the wider timeline, or tweets and Instagram comments @ celebrities themselves filled with references or assumptions about their lives that are very not okay.

Even with something like Brie Larson’s situation... A celebrity making a joke or acting a certain way in one environment where they may feel comfortable or more relaxed–like a Youtube video, or a convention with fans, or anything else–does not mean that that celebrity expects or wants worldwide eyes on their behavior. And worldwide attention is what is always at risk on platforms like Twitter or Instagram. 

Ultimately, overanalyzing and calling attention to people’s actions is how people who are allies can be made to feel awkward, or how people who are queer get outed or forced into labels. I literally live in fear of the day when some random journalist starts poking around specific fandoms/celebrities, connects the dots that are out there and are seemingly easy to connect, and then somehow makes their sexuality a topic of interviews. Once it becomes a Topic, it becomes nearly unavoidable for them. That’s what happened to Lee Pace; it’s how many people are forced to come out. At all times, queer celebrities are a stone’s throw away from having to deal with all of that in ways no one should, especially as they get more famous. If you care about any celebrity you like to talk about, or if you care about the privacy of real people at all in the ways you should (especially potentially queer people), this should be a point of concern for you.

So, in conclusion: be mindful. If you must talk about celebrities’ lives on something like Twitter, do it without using their actual names to avoid keywords, because they trend at the drop of a hat out of nowhere and that can ruin lives. Avoid deliberate repetition in your phrases because that’s how accidental trends are made. And, better yet, honestly? Consider just keeping that kind of talk to Tumblr/AO3, and preferably to personal private messages. 

Your ability to fangirl/squee/celebrate a real person’s life is not more important than their right to privacy. Ever. This is not a petty topic and it is not “fandom policing” to say things like this out of concern. Acting from an abundance of caution is always the better way to go, because you lose nothing by being extra vigilant; the alternative of not being cautious enough comes with a high risk of negative consequence.

If we all just operate under the knowledge that talking about real people can translate to real consequences for real lives, and act with an abundance of respect/caution accordingly, then there will be nothing to worry about. And celebrities will get to live their private lives and (if this is applicable) be the authors of their own coming out journeys as they see fit, which is a right everyone should have.

From the bottom of my heart: just use both your empathy and your brain cells, please.

#celebrities #RPF #I logged on and I see people vagueposting about one specific actors' sexuality and my hairs stood on end #I know this post is long but I'd appreciate it if you'd reblog it #because this keeps coming up and it keeps BEING A PROBLEM and I am AFRAID FOR MANY CELEBRITIES #BUT ESPECIALLY A FEW WE SHALL NOT BE NAMING AT THIS TIME #please it costs $0 to be smart about this #I am once again begging people to be normal about this!!!!!! #char writes things

[taehyungsgrowl]

Illicit Affairs IV - Duncan Shepherd x Fem!Reader

{gif by @ansonmount}

hey babies! it has been a while! but i have finally gotten enough brain cells to write part four of illicit affairs!

big thank you to @desertsunflower00 for pointing me in the direction i wanted the story to go to after being stuck ily amiga!

also.... this was not the ending i thought i was gonna give when i started writing it but my heart led me to this so

i hope you all enjoy!!! and thank you so much for being so patient!

I've had so so much fun and heartache writing for this story.

please let me know what you think!!!

the first 3 parts are linked here!

Illicit Affairs Part I

Illicit Affairs Part II

Illicit Affairs Part III

word count: 5.9 k

as always! not proofread! italics are for memories!

(also really hope the italics copied correctly from google docs!)

Emma’s head was pounding. With each sob she felt the pain strike her heart.

Duncan was her world. She couldn’t imagine… couldn’t even think of what her life would be like without him. He was the one who lit up even her darkest days - always being that rock that held her together.

All the years they’d been together, she never had reason to think Duncan didn’t feel the same way. She thought he was enough for him…

A message from her friend pinged her phone, making her acknowledge the time.

God, she wanted to scream again. She didn’t know whether to believe if he was really at his office.

Lost. Alone. She didn’t know what to do. The one person she knew could make her feel loved was now the person causing her the most pain.

Emma tried to get herself off the floor, but what was the point. She didn't see a rhyme or reason to it when she didn’t know what to do.

She didn’t know where he was.

She didn’t know what she’d say to him if he was.

And she felt like she had nowhere to go.

So she laid on her closet floor, clutching the nearest shirt of his she could reach and stained his shirt with her tears. Her tears would soon dry and disappear from the fabric, but the lip print on his collar would be painful to remove both from his shirt and her mind.

--

While Duncan waited for Y/N to finish in the bathroom, he checked his phone and saw a message that had come in from Emma. Guilt clouded every emotion he had. It overtook the anxiety he felt of the what ifs with Y/N. It encompassed him completely.

Missing you x, she sent with a picture of their dog.

He’d been gone for longer than he anticipated and knew she must be getting worried. He took a deep breath, trying to ease himself.

He was doing this for her.

--

Y/N’s nerves bubbled up in her stomach, but she couldn’t stall much longer.

“Are you okay?” Duncan asked right at the door.

She knew looking at the results would then seal her fate with Duncan - one way or another.

“Yup! Just a minute.” she got up and held on to the edge of the sink before splashing her face with cold water. “You can do this,” she whispered to herself.

Y/N picked up the test and held her breath.

Not pregnant.

As relief washed over her she couldn’t deny the tiny part of her that hoped she was -- as selfish as it was, she didn’t think Duncan wouldn’t leave her if she was.

Y/N walked out of the bathroom, negative test in hand, to a Duncan who nervously paced her living room.

“It’s fine, Duncan. I’m not pregnant.” She pretended not to care when she saw his shoulders finally relax since he’d heard of the possibility of it being true.

He clapped his hands together nervously. Duncan hadn’t realized how sweaty his palms were in the short time waiting. “Okay,” he nodded. “Okay - I… How are you feel-”

“Stop.” she interrupted him. “We don’t have to do this.” Although normally seeing Duncan in her apartment always filled her with a sense of warmth - it was the illusion of having a life with him - when she saw him now, he seemed out of place. He didn’t belong there no matter how much she wanted to force that piece there.

He frowned, studying her expressions, “I came because last time we spoke -”

Y/N interrupted him again, “I know why you’re here. You think you can clear your conscious by telling me how fucking special I am,” she rolled her eyes. “We don’t need to do all that.” If she had any doubts about the way he felt before - they were made clear now.

And while she felt she had a million things left unsaid to him, she didn’t feel like she owed him that. “You’re good. We’re good. I just want to shower and move on. So I’d appreciate it if you quit calling and showing up.”

Just let me go.... She wanted to scream.

--

Duncan was driving back home from Y/N’s apartment and while he had so many thoughts racing in his head - for the first time in a long time, he felt lighter. As difficult as it’s been to part ways with Y/N, he knew that it was the right decision. He’d finally have a chance to do things right by Emma.

“I’m home, baby!” Duncan called out, hanging his keys by the door. The house felt cold and a shiver ran down his spine.

He walked into their bedroom looking for his wife and saw the door of their walk-in closet jarred open. When he opened the door he saw Emma curled into the fetal position asleep, holding his shirt with Captain snuggled up on her side.

She had tired herself out from crying and fell asleep waiting for his return.

Duncan’s heart rate spiked, thinking she’d been hurt or something happened. “Emma!” he fell to his knees, placing the back of his hand on her forehead, feeling for a temperature. “Baby, wake up,” he cooed, until he saw her eyes flutter open.

And for the fraction of a second between unconsciousness and consciousness, she got lost in the blue of his eyes all over again. For that fraction of a second it was like waking up to him that very first night they spent together.

“Hold still,” Duncan laughed, his fingers delicately brushed over Emma’s face until he got the eyelash that was in danger of going into her eye. “There,” he showed her the lash stuck to his thumb.

“Thank you,” she licked her lips, her eyes glancing down at Duncan’s pink lips.

“Wait,” he grabbed her wrist with his other hand, “Press your thumb to mine - and whoever the lash sticks to gets to make a wish,” he explained the silly ritual. It was something one of his nannies had taught him and it always stuck with him. He loved how he could be like this with Emma… soft… vulnerable. He’s sure very little people actually knew this side of him.

Sure, they’d only been dating for a little bit now, but Duncan was more than sure that she was the love of his life.

“What?” she laughed, her voice like music to his ears.

“Trust me,” he smiled when she pressed her thumb to his. “Okay, ready? One… two… three.” They each pulled their digits away from each other and took a look. The lash was gone from Duncan’s thumb and Emma was smiling like a child with it pressed on her skin.

“What do I do now?” she giggled.

“Make a wish and then drop the eyelash into your shirt.”

“Okay.” She closed her eyes trying to keep a very serious face, but Duncan could see the smile tugging on her lips. “Done.” she dropped the lash into her shirt.

“Well… what was the wish?” he asked.

“I can’t tell you that!”

“I never said that was a rule!!” he argued back.

“That's a basic wish rule,” she rolled her eyes, crossing her legs criss crossed on his couch. “You can’t say what you wished for!”

“I’m taking the wish back if you won’t tell me,” Duncan tried to look stern, but his lopsided smile gave it away. He adjusted on the couch and pushed her down until he was hovering over her. His fingers started to tickle her sides, making the bottom of her shirt ride up.

She was in a fit of laughter begging him to stop. She found herself grabbing the back of his head and tugging his hair down to have his face just inches away from her own. Duncan’s fingers stopped tickling her, but his hand snuck inside her shirt, feeling her softness.

Everything froze for a moment when she stared into his eyes that way. He looked at her like she’d hung the moon and the stars. She never wanted to stop looking into the safety of his eyes.

-

She blinked a few times, her eyes adjusting and focusing back on Duncan’s. After that split second had passed, she sat up and shoved his chest, trying to make him give her space.

Duncan furrowed his brows, “Baby, what’s wrong?”

Emma backed away from him, eyes prickling with tears again. She picked up his stained shirt - what once was her favorite, got closer to him and shoved it into his chest, “F-fucking asshole!” she finally let herself sob again. She felt so weak when her forehead fell against his chest and her balled up fists rested against him.

Entirely confused, Duncan wrapped his arms around her waist, trying to get her to look at him. He hadn’t gotten a chance to examine the shirt she handed him.

Emma felt herself melting into his hold, but stopped herself. She took his arms and removed them from her waist, taking a step back, “Don’t touch me.”

“No…” Duncan let out under his breath, seeing the lipstick mark, “No,” he said louder, “No, honey, I can explain.” He reached his hand out to touch her but she flinched at his approach.

His warm “honey” had a cold stare behind her tears. He couldn’t imagine what she could be feeling… She was never supposed to find out.

A single tear rolled down his cheek. “I love you. No one else but you.” his voice cracked.

“Get out.” she sniffled, wanting so desperately to be strong.

“Let me explain!” he felt his knees wanting to give out and his head started to spin. This couldn’t be happening. He asked her to let him explain but he didn’t know if he even had a good reason to give her.

For a moment, he saw her face soften. A result of seeing the sick look on his face - she still felt the urge to hold him, to kiss him.

He took the chance at her moment of softness and continued, “It’ll never happen again, I promise.”

“Maybe we should back up for a minute if you really want to explain.” she wiped her cheeks, “Let’s start with an easy one, no? What’s on that shirt, Dunc?”

“Baby…” it felt like a kick to the gut.

“I’ll help you out,” she continued, “Who’s lipstick is on your shirt?”

“It was a stupid mistake, Emma. I promise.” he pleaded.

“No, Dunc. A mistake is when I accidentally add too much salt to a recipe or leave my coffee mug on top of my car before I pull out of the driveway.” her voice lowers again, “I trusted you.”

“How long?” she took a deep breath. “And please don’t bother lying.”

“Six months.” he hung his head in shame.

No. No. No.

Emma thought she wanted to know the truth but… hearing it from his voice that this had been going on far longer than she imagined broke her heart all over again.

“Six months,” she repeated. “You’ve been fucking some whores for six months. God I’m so fucking stupid,” she groaned. She raised her hand to the pole that held all of Duncan’s clothes in the closet and slid them off, throwing them to the ground in frustration.

“It was never more than one.” he tried to defend himself.

“Because that makes it so much better!!!” she laughed humorlessly. “Get out! Get out!” she tossed his clothes at him until he backed out of the closet.

Even if it broke her again, she wanted to know the reason why. But it couldn’t be today. She could barely stand to look at him and with everything that came out his mouth - just ending up cutting her more and more.

“I love you,” Duncan dropped to his knees and crawled to her until he could wrap his arms around her legs. “If we can both calm down and talk-”

“I don’t need to calm down,” she cried.

In all his years spent with Emma - he’d never seen her so upset and it killed him to know he was the reason for it. Maybe it was his selfishness taking over again, but he couldn’t lose her - couldn’t let her go.

They’d almost been inseparable from the moment they met. Attached at the hip. Always in sync.

-

Duncan was in his home office, typing away on his laptop. His glasses were low on his face and he wore a white t-shirt and his plaid pajama pants.

Emma had been trying to get him to bed for the past hour, but he was really busy with the project he’d been working on.

She came back into his office ready for bed. She wore one of his old college sweatshirts and rubbed her eyes. “Almost done?” she yawned.

“Almost,” Duncan didn’t look up from his screen.

Emma lingered by the door, not wanting to go to bed without Duncan by her side. Duncan felt her at the door and looked up, pushing his glasses back. He knew how much she loved sleeping in his old sweatshirt at this point he considered it hers.

“C’mere,” he rolled back his chair, “You can sit in my lap until I’m done working.” he smiled, patting his thigh.

She hurried to his desk and curled up on his lap. She loved being close to him. Just feeling his breathing, taking in his scent, feeling his hands absently wander up and down her body.

Her legs hung off the side of his chair and her face was nestled in the crook of his neck, but Duncan kept her steady with his arm around her waist.

And he could stay like that for hours - feeling her close as he finishes reading over reports for his app. She was like a life size stress reliever for him. Just by having her touching him, pressing little kisses along his jaw… melted away his stress.

-

When she looked down at Duncan on his knees for her, she still saw the man she loved. She wasn’t sure she’d ever feel that way about someone again.

“Baby, honey,” he cried, “I’ll never stop making it up to you just please,” his forehead pressed into her thigh, “Don’t leave me.”

“I-if you won’t leave - I will,” she stepped out of his grasp. “I can’t think straight right now. I… I’m so hurt,” her voice broke with the last word.

“I’m going to my moms house…” she spoke out loud, guiding herself through the plan. “I can’t be here. I can’t even look at you.”

Duncan begged her to stay. He told her if anyone should be forced to leave the home it should be him - he was the one who screwed up. But she couldn’t stand being in the place that has brought them so many happy memories.

That night, Emma stayed in her childhood room. Although she had outgrown it over the years, the whole situation made her feel small. She curled up under her yellow bed sheets and stared at her phone each time it lit up with another text from Duncan.

Duncan tossed and turned in his empty bed. In his sleep, his arms searched for his Emma, coming up empty every time.

--

“Em?” her mother woke her up gently, “It’s been five days of just sulking around and ignoring calls. You need to get up, sweetheart.”

Her mother softly pulled her covers down. “Maybe you can get dressed and we can go for a coffee,” concern clouded her voice.

Emma didn’t say anything - just stared at her ceiling. “Duncan came by why you were sleeping,” her mom continued. His name was the only word she’d responded to; she looked at her mom with tears in her eyes.

“I told him you weren’t available to talk…” She handed her daughter her glasses off the nightstand.

She put her glasses on her face and slowly sat up in the bed. Her mom was right - she’d been avoiding everyone; avoiding Duncan for too long now. She slowly nodded, feeling her body drag out of bed.

The hot water that almost burned her skin in the shower suddenly turned frigid. The warm embrace evaporating away. Her heart was growing tired of the things she loved leaving her reach.

After a day of blurred nothingness, her heart was finally pounding a million beats per second, staring at the door of her home. As familiar as it was, it didn’t feel like home anymore.

With a shaky hand, her fingertip pressed deeply into the doorbell.

12:46 am - Although Duncan should have been asleep he found himself the same way he had since Emma left; sad and alone.

He pulled on an old pair of sweats, his hair in messy curls with a few strands in his face - even his stubble had gotten a little scruffier.

“Emma,” his eyes twinkled in the moonlight. Seeing her again finally made him feel like he could breathe again. “You’re home,” he tried to reach for her, but saw the way her entire body tensed up at his advancement.

“Stop,” she shook her head, her heart couldn’t handle having to reject him. She was holding on by a thread. “We need to talk.”

--

Four months later:

Y/N smiled in the sleepy state between dreaming and being conscious as she felt strong arms pulling her closer. His large hands pressed on her stomach, slowly inching up her shirt. At the same time, she felt his lips softly pressing into her shoulder.

“Morning,” she mumbled, keeping her eyes closed.

“Morning, princess,” he rolled over and pinned her below him. She met his kind, unclouded gaze. Not a trace of guilt behind his eyes - he was solely happy to be hers.

He leaned down and pressed a kiss to her forehead, “You want chocolate chip or blueberry pancakes today?” he nuzzled the tip of his nose with her, making her break a smile.

“Both?” she bit her lip.

“Oh my god,” he playfully rolled his eyes before kissing her, “You’re absolutely spoiled, darling.” He started getting out of bed, pulling his sweats that were discarded on the floor. Y/N stared in awe at the strong muscles of his bare back. She loved running her fingers over the smoothness of his skin, leaving invisible idle patterns or semi-permanent marks of her fingernails scratching down.

There was peace knowing she never had to share him. With him, she didn’t have to sacrifice bits of her happiness.

With one last kiss, he stepped out of the room to take a quick shower before starting breakfast. It’d become sort of a ritual for them; Sundays were for Y/N to sleep in and for him to make her breakfast. They’d later fold their laundry together and watch movies.

Her phone buzzed too loudly on the nightstand for her to ignore. “Hello?” she picked up the call, her eyes still closed.

“Y/N?” her heart came to a halt. She’d recognize that voice anywhere. Her name dripped from his lips like molasses; warm and sickeningly sweet.

“Y/N, it 's me, Duncan.”

After a brief pause, Y/N let out a deep breath. She was fine. When Duncan left her apartment almost five months ago, she didn’t know what it would be like the next time she saw him. They’d left so much unsaid, but it was better this way. She wanted to be done. And while there were nights she thought she’d never stop missing him, the soft ache in her heart started to fade.

She was relearning what it meant to love someone who could give her what she wanted; what she deserved. No longer did she feel shameful - kept like a dirty secret.

Late night meet ups in dark parking lots with Duncan turned into proudly holding hands with someone who wanted the world to see the way he felt about her.

Quick fucks that left her feeling empty as Duncan hurried to leave her apartment to go home to his wife turned into her boyfriend spending the night to make her breakfast in the morning.

Things were never as bad as she anticipated. There was a part of her that was proud of not feeling fazed by Duncan’s call.

“I…” Duncan continued when she didn’t speak, “I mi- I’m sorry,” she could picture him pinching the bridge of his nose as he stumbled over his words, “How are you?”

“I am doing really well, Duncan,” her tone was sincere without a trace of bitterness. If there was one thing Duncan did right, was give her his final piece of advice - when he told her she deserves someone who could make her happy.

“Emma… filed for divorce.” he coughed to cover up any anxiety in his voice.

“We need to talk,” Emma told him before stepping into the house. Duncan still replayed that night over and over in his head wishing and attempting to bargain with anyone that would listen to turn back time.

Duncan sat beside her at their small kitchen table; they always talked about getting a bigger one when they’re little family started to grow, but it was perfect for just the two of them. Countless mornings sipping coffee with the comfort of the other’s company were spent at their little table.

“I need you to know how much you hurt me, Duncan.” Duncan couldn’t recall the last time Emma had called him Duncan. He was her babe, her baby, her honey, her Dunc. A few nights ago, when she left - as angry as she was, through all the tears and screams she still called him Dunc. Hearing his full name fall from her lips with distaste made him realize things were changing.

The more Emma listened to Duncan recounting his inexcusable reasons the more upset she became. Silent tears strolled down her face as he explained over and over that he didn’t even have a real reason why because that meant there was nothing she could have done to keep it from happening.

“Do you love her?” Emma interrupted him. If there were any hope for them, Emma knew it would be in his answer.

“Baby - that’s over. I’ll never see her again,” and with the absence of a ‘no,’ Duncan sealed his fate.

She winced, internally accepting the end.

Duncan had a harder time really accepting it was over. A few weeks after that night, Duncan was served with paperwork for the divorce. He hated the word; it felt heavy on his tongue.

He didn’t want to make the process miserable for Emma; the least she deserved was to be able to leave him without so much legal jargon in the way, entangling an already large mess.

But lawyers do what they do best.

His attorney ‘friends’ squeezed pretty dime after pretty dime out of Duncan.

“She found out. About us,” Y/N imagined all of the awful things his life must have thought about her. “A couple months ago, really,” Duncan couldn’t stop talking.

“Why are you telling me this? And why are you telling me this now?” her boyfriend’s shower was still running and she was thankful to have the privacy for this conversation.

“She’s really left. I don’t know what to do. I miss her. I miss you,” he looked out at the skyline from his downtown condo; a place that could never feel like a home. A bachelor pad with a sad bachelor. Could a divorce candidate be considered a bachelor?

“I’m sorry,” she didn’t know what else to offer to that, “I did what you said,” she continued after a moment of silence. “I found someone who could give me what I needed. I’m happy, Duncan. I didn’t think I’d ever be happy like I am now after you - and I don’t mean this to rub it in, I just mean,” she searched for the right words, “I know it feels like you’ll never be happy again without that certain person, but there will be time when you will. I know you love her a lot. I can see that now and I could see it then. I’m sorry for the part I played in all this.”

They were both moving on without him. Not that he could blame them; he’d made them both sacrifice parts of themselves so he could be selfish.

“I’m sorry for calling,” Duncan grimaced. “I really hope he treats you well, Y/N.”

“Thank you,” she sighed, “And Duncan,” she chewed on her bottom lip, “Take care, okay?”

“You too.”

--

One year later:

A bead of sweat dripped down her forehead as she huffed, setting the last of the boxes down by the front door. An entire year had passed and Emma had clung on to the final memories of her marriage. Things were different now and as much as she still found herself yearning for what she once had, she knew this was how things needed to be.

“Think we’ve got most of it now,” he came around the corner with a bottle of wine and two glasses in his hand he kept from being put up.

“How are you feeling?” Duncan asked, pouring her a generous amount before handing her the glass.

“Nervous,” she laughed, “scared,” she admitted.

Her bottom lip was caught between her teeth in the way it always was when she had more to say. Duncan couldn’t help but smile until his eyes crinkled; as happy as he was for her, he couldn’t wrap his mind about her leaving.

He wrapped one arm around her shoulder and pulled her close, kissing the top of her head, “You’re gonna do great. I don’t know anyone smarter, more qualified, more perfect for the job,” he encouraged.

“Not just about that,” she admitted. She sat on the floor of her empty living room and Duncan joined her, filling his own glass. “Moving. Being so far - starting over,” she sighed and took a long sip of her wine.

“Dunc,” she shook her head, “We grew up in this house. We loved in this house. Fought and made up,” she laughed.

--

“What’re we doing?” she kissed him as he pushed her into the house, hands fumbling all over each other.

“Don’t think about it,” he groaned against her lips, pressing her against the wall and hiking her up. “Just.. don’t think,”

“Mm, not here,” she sighed, feeling his hand wander up her dress, caressing the inside of her thigh. “The bed.. Our bed..” her voice was shaky as his skilled fingers brushed over her panties. She missed this. Missed him.

With signed divorce papers forgotten, Duncan tossed her on the bed and climbed over her, never letting his lips leave her skin. Savoring every moment she let him have with her. He didn’t know if she’d regret it in the morning. If she would hate him more than she did before, but she was giving him this now and he wanted to take it in. He wanted to memorize her taste as if it would be the last time.

He kissed down the hills of her breasts and hiked her dress past her thighs, dipping his head down to kiss along her inner thighs. “Emma,” he breathed her name like it was his final breath.

Duncan hooked his fingers into the waistband of her panties, “Up.”

She raised her hips and he slid them off her legs in one quick movement. He wasted no time - he swiped his tongue along her wetness, immediately moaning at the feeling of having her on his tongue.

Two of his fingers plunged into her, slowly pumping in and out of her while his pouty lips wrapped around her clit. Those lips she loved. The same lips that formed into her favorite smile; the ones that kissed her like the most delicate flower in the world; the ones that held his tongue that massaged her just like that.

Like muscle memory taking over her, her fingers laced themselves in strands of honey brown hair - pulling with the way he was making her feel.

“Dunc!” she almost screamed, feeling his dexterous curl and brush against her g-spot.

“Gonna cum,” her legs wrapped around him, her thighs closing around his face.

Duncan didn’t stop. He kept going. Wet open-mouthed kisses on her pussy, letting a trail of saliva and cum drag from his lips. He peeked up to watch her with a wet mouth before licking them clean.

He tried to hold her still as she finished, not letting his lips leave her center. He cleaned up every bit of cum with his tongue before he sponged kisses along her twitching thighs as she came down from the high he’d given her.

Duncan climbed on top of her again, hiding his face in the crook of her neck. There was comfort in the scratchy tickles of his beard on her soft skin.

She held him, softly running her fingers through his hair until she was ready.

While she didn’t plan on thinking that night, there was a part of her that knew this would be the last time they’d ever be like this again. She shook the thought away. For selfish reasons, she didn’t want it to ruin the night.

“Fuck me,” like it’s the last time, she thought.

And he did.

Their teeth clashed together with desperate kisses as he buried himself inside of her. As close as they were - they wanted to be closer.

Duncan’s stomach tightened, feeling himself twitch inside her. Her walls clenched around him, milking his cock for his cum.

“Fuck,” she sighed against his lips. “Feels so good.”

“Missed this… missed you, baby,” he rut his hips against hers. He took her hands and pinned them above her head, staring into her eyes with a dazed out smile.

Duncan didn’t dare think about it the next morning. He wished it’d never come.

But it did… it always did.

-

By the time Duncan woke up from his Emma filled dreams, she was lying awake with nothing but the sheet covering her.

“Uh hey,” Duncan offered, trying to get a feel of the room. Maybe he was still in a blissed out state of mind, but he didn’t feel a sense of regret lingering between them.

“Hi,” she laughed, turning to face him. “About last night…” she tried to read his expressions.

“I missed that. In all honesty, I miss you.” Duncan couldn’t dare to move, afraid if he did he would wake up from a dream. “I don’t think… we need to stop being friends. You’ve always been my best friend.” Which was true. The months leading up to the divorce were miserable - for both of them. “I… don’t think we can continue doing this,” she gestured between their naked bodies. “I don’t want that - I can’t handle going back to how things were, but I miss my friend.”

Duncan would take having her in his life in any capacity she allowed.

Of course, what they had couldn’t be recreated. But they did their best to be good friends to each other. Emma was tired of feeling like a victim of betrayal. She wanted to move on and not feel heavy from that anymore.

Duncan would come over on occasion for dinner or they’d go for a walk. As much as he wanted more, he wouldn’t push her - he couldn’t.

-

And like a good friend, Duncan was helping her pack up her belongings from the house they called their home so she could move hours away from him. The small sliver of time he’d see her was now being taken away, but he couldn’t keep her from going.

“I’m scared of being away from you,” she looked over at those familiar eyes that would always be home to her. “You’ve been the one constant in my life - good or bad - and you’ll be so far,” her eyes started to wet with tears.

Duncan took her hands in his, “I won’t ask you to stay. As much as I want you to stay with every fiber of my being - I can’t ask that of you. What I can ask is this,” he paused and looked into her eyes, “do you want to go?”

“Yes,” she answered, keeping his stare.

He smiled and hoped it met his eyes, “Em, I’ll always be here. Near or far. I’ll always love you. You know that.” And he meant the words in ways she didn’t know.

“I know,” she whispered, “I love you too.” Duncan wanted her to mean it in the way he did, but he knew better.

“Change is good, right?”

“Change is scary - but good,” Duncan tried to affirm her.

As much as everything around them could change, one thing would remain true; Emma was the love of his life. There would always be a part of him that wished he didn’t mess up the best thing that happened to him.

But there was a time he thought she’d never speak to him again and they found themselves back to each other. He wasn’t holding his breath for more to happen, but wishful thinking kept him going.

-

Duncan hoped she wouldn’t ask him to take her to the airport because he knew he wouldn’t be able to handle that goodbye.

Her last few days in town were so busy, Duncan hardly got a chance to see her. He poured himself a glass of whiskey and stared out his view.

Emma was leaving the next morning and he hadn’t had a chance of a real goodbye.

What he didn’t know was that Emma found herself at his apartment door. Her stomach was tied in knots over the anxiety of it all.

Duncan opened the door after a soft knock.

Emma.

“Hi,”

“Hi” as confused as he was, he was also so happy she came.

“I just came to say bye,” she bit her lip in that way Duncan was too familiar with. He waited for her to say more, but she didn’t.

“Do you want to come in?” he moved out of the doorframe to let her in.

“I shouldn’t,” but she took a step forward.

“Tomorrow’s the day,” she sighed, nervously fidgeting with her clothes.

“Getting cold feet?” he joked.

“Didn't have cold feet when I married you, not getting cold feet now,” she laughed, cheeks burning hot.

“I just really came to see you before I left,”

“I’m glad you did. I have something for you. Wait here,” he rushed to his bedroom to get his college sweatshirt she loved. She made him take it when they split up. He’s never worn it since she used to - that was hers and she should have it.

“Dunc,” she smiled, taking the sweatshirt he handed her. “Thank you,” she hugged him.

She hugged him and didn’t let go. He slowly wrapped his arms around her waist, breathing in her familiar scent, and just held her.

“I have to go,” she mumbled against his shoulder without making an effort to move.

“I know,” he squeezed her harder, making her laugh.

They eventually let each other go for their final goodbye.

“Promise you’ll call?”

“Of course,” she promised. She reached up to grab his face, giving him a kiss on his cheek, “Bye, honey,” she said softly in his ear.

tagging:

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