#also this line fucking destroyed me the first time i read it

[too-young-to-fall-in-love]

insp. by A Kiss Away From Being Dangerous by @cha-melodius

[mollyrolls]

if you ever listen to me, let it be this time ‼️‼️‼️ please read rot and give it the love it deserves. truly one of the best pieces of writing on this site

rot: h. iwaizumi

chapter five -> the move

(masterlist ; written content)

word count: 3.8k

now playing: school shooter by wych elm

warnings: this chapter is heavy with discussions of abuse, violence, other themes already discussed in this story, divided this last chapter in two parts and this is going to be the angst before the happy ending. when i say angst i mean angst. rest assured happy ending is coming tho

Her well-organized list of problems has been upended. A bright, shiny new problem has outshone all of her other ones, dimming them, displacing them, reducing their need for attention.

Problem #1: Iwaizumi Hajime, neighbor, definite arms-dealer, maybe boyfriend, has been arrested.

It’s hard to get people to listen to you in a police station. Cops sit at their little desks and they look at you like they’re pretending to pay attention to what you’re saying but really, all they can think about is how much better than you they think they are, and how little they care about your problems.

Matsukawa has a hand over her shoulder, not firm but not lose, like he’s ready to pull her back down to her feet if she leans too far over the front counter. She’s trying to appeal to the lady behind the front desk, (as if there’s anything she could actually do), voice raw and shaky, knuckles going white as she grips at the edge of the counter.

“Please,” she begs, her unhidden desperation feeling out of place in the clean station, where the smell of hand sanitizer and pine floor cleaner is heavy in the air. It’s far too bureaucratic for her to be like this; reduced to a pile of tears and snot, begging and pleading and being ignored like a small child throwing a fit. “He didn’t do anything to me. This is fucking insane, lady.”

“Honey,” she says, voice slathered in condescension, like she knows. Like she knows Iwaizumi’s been treating her like shit this whole time and she’s just been too stupid to realize it. Like she knows what’s best for her just because she sits behind the front desk at a police station for eight hours five days a week for semi-not shit pay and a pension. “If you want to help your boyfriend, the best thing you can do is get him a lawyer, okay? Yelling at me isn’t going to help. They can hold him for forty-eight hours, and there’s nothing you can do about it.”

God, she wants to reach over this fucking desk and sink her nails into this lady’s face. Dig under her skin and gather evidence so they know it was her that did it. That desk lady’s sickly-sweet tone and fake pity had driven her to madness. A long-buried thirst for violence that makes her feel like a grade-school girl boils in her blood and it’s like Matsukawa can sense it because it’s then that his hand goes tight around her shoulder, and he pulls her back. “Thank you, ma’am,” he says, relaxed politeness sounding natural on him. “We appreciate your help.”

She doesn’t appreciate her help. She doesn’t appreciate shit. She wants to jump over the counter and make that known, but Matsukawa grabs at her arms and tugs, using a bit more force to get her away from that desk. But she makes a point to turn her head and shoot that lady one more rage-filled sneer.

Matsukawa doesn’t let her go until he’s pulled her out the front door, into the sidewalk of a busy city street. But he has no qualms about stopping her there, a dam in the middle of the sidewalk, foot traffic splitting and flowing around them. He grabs her by both of her shoulders. “Okay, you need to calm down. Like right now. Alright?”

Her teeth grind together. “I want to pop her fucking eyes out,” she spits out, like an unrepentant child, unashamed of her outburst.

“Well, that’s not going to do anything to help, so don’t fucking do that,” Matsukawa says, a bit of a bit in his voice and slightly shaking her shoulders. The air surrounding them is suffocating, hot and humid and beads of sweat are popping up on the back of her neck already. “And she’s right. There’s nothing we can do but get him a lawyer.”

She doesn’t look at Matsukawa. She hates him right now, because he’s right, and there’s nothing her blind rage and outburst can do to make it better. She focuses her stare just past him, watching the stream of tourists and college students and burdened employees that drifts down the sidewalk, past both of them. She gnaws on the inside of her cheek. “Whatever.”

He releases her then, and her gaze falls to her shoes as Matsukawa steps back from her. A hand reaches up to push stray strands of hair away from his forehead. “Oikawa’s calling his guy. He should be down here soon. We’ve gone through this before, we know what to do. Iwa’s not an idiot, he can handle himself in there.”

The combination of rage and embarrassment tastes sour in the back of her throat. “He didn’t do it,” she asserts, for no one else other than herself.

“Course he didn’t fucking do it,” Matsukawa scoffs. “Iwa has lines. Hitting his girl is way past them.”

Her mouth furls. It’s getting hotter and hotter every second there on that sidewalk. Every emotion feels too big for her body; it paralyzes her. She hates this. She fucking hates this. Iwaizumi being locked in some holding cell with the drunken disorderly conduct leftovers from the night before. Him being in there because of her.

Matsukawa sees her standing there, stiff and clenched up, and sighs. “Look,” he starts off, more sympathetic than before, and the pity makes her twitch, “why don’t you just come back to mine and Makki’s place for now? You don’t have to go-“

And then, the call of her name. Loud enough to get the attention of everyone on that sidewalk. Commanding enough that people look, just to make sure, just to double check that it’s not their name, that they didn’t make a mistake, somehow. She looks over Matsukawa’s shoulder and sees her father. Out in the open, on the sidewalk.

“I’m so glad you’re okay,” he says as he approaches, broad smile sending a new rush of rage down her spine. Matsukawa raises an eyebrow at her, but she doesn’t dare to tear her eyes away from her father, looking clean in his freshly pressed uniform. Like this is some kind of special occasion for him. “I was worried help wouldn’t get to you in time.”

She blinks. There’s no room for fear in her body. “Help?” she echoes back, voice hoarse.

He moves to reach for her. She steps back, Matsukawa places himself in front of her. “When I saw how that boyfriend of yours was treatin’ you, I had to call in a favor. I got a friend that works in this district, y’know. I got lots of friends, Bug.”

Really, she shouldn’t be surprised. She feels stupid for not thinking of it earlier.

But she didn’t think of it. She wasn’t expecting it. She was completely caught off guard by her god-awful, piece of shit father.

So she can’t be blamed for her reaction.

She reaches into her pocket and fishes out her keys. A few for the sports store. Three for her apartment building (one for the front door, one for her place, and one for Iwa’s), and one to her old home she shared with her brother. She places them each between her fingers, and without very much hesitation, she punches the end of those keys into her father’s face, with as much force is left inside of her.

Pretty immediately, there’s a reaction from the stream of people. Screams, she thinks. Matsukawa’s quick to act, grabbing her by the waist and pulling her away from her now-bleeding father. But everything around her is white noise. She's numb to it. She looks at her father and she hopes the gashes will scar. “You piece of shit!” she screams at him. “I’ll fucking kill you! You fucker! You’re fucking dead!”

★⋆. ࿐࿔

Her list is fucked now. She doesn’t know where rage issues fall in the new order. But probably higher than before, she would have to guess, because she’s sitting in an interrogation room.

Kageyama Tobio sits across from her, sleeves pushed up to his elbows and arms crossed over his chest. He’s leaned back in his seat, and she has this feeling she’s about to be scolded. “Assaulting a police officer is pretty serious.”

She feels dirty, humid air making her skin sweaty and salty, her hair fizzy and tangled. A bit of blood splattered on the skin of her forearm. They wouldn’t let her wash it off. “He’s not a police officer to me,” she says, words coming stubbornly out of the corner of her mouth. “He’s just my piece of shit father.”

Kageyama leans forward, bare forearms pressed against the cool metal of the table between them. “Can I ask you something?” He does not wait for the answer. “Is Iwaizumi worth all of this? Look at where you are, do you think this is worth it?”

“Can I ask you something instead?” She waits for confirmation from him. He gives her a slight nod. “Did you like PCD?”

He sighs, fingers tapping against the table. She wants to break them. “We can drop the charges on you, y’know. If you have something more valuable to give us, we’d be happy to do something for you in return.”

She raises an eyebrow. “Valuable?”

Kageyama leans back again. He adjusts a lot, she’s noticed. Moving and shifting and repositioning. She has stayed still in her seat. “Listen, I’ve known Iwaizumi for a while. All of them. I know what they’re like. I know how they can make you feel. You get caught up in it. Good people like you and me find themselves in shit situations without realizing it. But let me tell you this,” he says, severe, and a finger pointed in her direction, “Iwaizumi’s not going to give this up for anything. And you’re not an exception. As much as you think he cares about you, he cares about his job more.”

She can see her mother so clearly, then. For the first time in years. She can see her features, the details of her face. The ones she has in common with her brother. The ones she has in common with her. She can see the anger twisted into her brow like a permanent fixture. She can hear her voice, as if it’s in her ear now.

“Men like your father, they only care about one thing. And it’s not you and it’s not me.”

She lifts her head to meet Kageyama’s stare. His eyes are so sharp and so blue. “Kageyama?”

He leans forward. “Yeah?”

“Suck my dick.”

The sigh of defeat is, at the very least, satisfying. His shoulders slump and she watches the last bit of hope he was holding onto fade out of him. And at least she has that. “Well, in that case, you’re free to go. Your father’s not pressing charges.”

She stands at once, not immediately being hit the with realization that he had tried to trick her into snitching. “Fucking finally,” she spits out, her limbs feeling stiff and disjointed.

She’s halfway out the door when Kageyama says, “Yeah, well, see you later, I’m sure.”

★⋆. ࿐࿔

Iwaizumi is released before the forty-eight hours is up. She does not find out until four days after.

Most of those four days are spent numbly sitting through her shifts, face weathered and her limbs hanging from her body like heavy, led weights. She lies in her bed. She hardly eats. She checks her phone every five to ten minutes and she calls Oikawa and Matsukawa and Makki and gets their voicemails and she hears nothing.

And then, as she’s hanging out the window, smoking her second cigarette in a row, she sees him. Walking down the sidewalk with his hands in his pockets and his chin up. She watches, in disbelief for a moment, waiting to see if he’s going to turn into their apartment building and run straight up the stairs and into her arms and kiss her and apologize and swear that he would exact vengeance on her father. For the both of them.

But Iwaizumi just walks. He goes straight until he is out of her view.

With shaking hands, she texts him:

so when were u planning on telling me u got out?

He does not respond.

★⋆. ࿐࿔

It’s a month before he speaks to her again.

A month after no texts and no calls and no early morning coffee visits and nothing but the creaks of his floorboards from above. It’s torture. It scratches at her throat and it puts nails in her bloodstream and she spends more than one evening laid out on her bathroom floor, sobs wrecking through her frame, clawing at nothing, trying to grab onto something.

The feeling of abandonment is not entirely unfamiliar. It tastes the same as anger, and it never comes without it. And the combination can make her irrational.

“-and my friend Tanaka has a truck,” Kiyoko says into her, her voice fuzzy from the poor connection. She has her phone pressed between her ear and her shoulder, haphazardly throwing whatever belongings she can find into the cardboard box she stole from work. “He offered to help move your stuff out if you want.”

“Yeah,” she mumbles, drifting through her apartment, stopping as she settles in front of her CD player, sitting in the middle of her kitchen table. The one Iwaizumi gifted her. She makes no move to grab it. She’s sure that Kiyoko has one already. “Maybe he could come by tomorrow. I could be done packing by then. That cool?”

“Yeah, that should work. I’ll ask when he’s free.”

She hums in response, and kicks at one of the legs of her coffee table. A lot of her sidewalk trash furniture is going to right back to where it came from. “Are you sure this is okay with you?”

“Of course!” is Kiyoko’s enthusiastic confirmation. “It’s been a little lonely since my last roommate moved out. And to be honest it’ll be nice to split the rent again.”

God, rent splitting. It sounds like a dream to her. Expenses divided in half-she almost drools at the thought of it. She chuckles. “Alright, fair enough. I’ll talk to you tomorrow, then. Should probably finish packing now.”

“Alright. See you then.”

She snaps her phone shuts and pockets it.

Even as she empties it of her belongings, the apartment is a mess. Littered with forgotten belongings and things she never had the motivation to get rid of. Things she doesn’t know what to do with. Things that she doesn’t need and can’t justify keeping but she can’t bring herself to trash. The Ponkadu mug. Her pink, fuzzy journals filled with love struck passages. A dried, dead dandelion Iwaizumi ripped from the ground and placed in her hand.

Her head throbs. She looks up at the ceiling above her, like she’s waiting for something. A creak or a slam or something. A sign that he’s still there. That he’s not as far away from her as he feels. But it’s silent, and there’s nothing. And it’s like he was never even there in the first place.

She swallows the lump in throat and returns her attention to the scattered objects in front of her. She forces herself to harden and drops the Ponkadu mug in the trash. Then the journal. Then the dandelion. And she thinks to herself, bitterly, like she’s in an argument with herself, that it’s not like he was never even here in the first place. The evidence of his existence is all over her. It lingers in her lungs, in her chest, it spreads through her bloodstream. Iwaizumi’s there, causing every ache and every sting and every throb. He’s there.

Something possesses her. Everything can go in the trash, suddenly, it doesn’t matter what it is. Plates and freezer-burnt ice cream and a half-empty first aid kit. Anything with the lingering presence of Iwaizumi is getting dumped. Trashed. Left rot and fester in some landfill. And after an hour passes, her apartment is covered with bursting, heavy black trash bags of her wasted belongings.

She sits on the floor, shoulders slumped, legs crossed. She already threw out her couch. Her mattress is sitting on the floor of Kiyoko’s apartment, in the bedroom that will be hers by tomorrow. So for now, all she has is the rotted hardwood floor, where Iwaizumi told her he’d marry her.

Her throat tightens. She cannot get out of here fast enough.

Sweat droplets form on the back of her neck as she stands, ready to start hauling bag after bag out to the presumably already overflowing dumpster behind her apartment building. Her knees knock together as she stands, and she moves towards her door, ready to prop it open with one of the trash bags.

She undoes her deadbolt. Then her chain lock. Then she opens the door, and Iwaizumi is there, hand raised to knock.

At the sight of him, her throat tightens up, and she is immediately, torn split between her rage and her desperation. As much as she wants him to hold her, to make her promises and give her the comfort she’s been craving so desperately for the past month, she wants to bite his head off just as much. To make him hurt the way he hurt her. To tear him up from the inside.

Instead, she stares, blankly, somewhat horrified. Her heart beats heavy in her throat and her ears get fuzzy. He looks the same. That makes her angry. She wishes there was some change, some difference. But the Iwaizumi that said that he loved her in her kitchen and that he’d marry her on her floor is the same one that left her to rot on her own.

He steps into her apartment, right past her, like he still has the right to, and looks at the state of it. Everything packed up. Everything scattered. He looks at her like he still has the right to. “What’s going on?”

She flinches, and her anger is starting to win. “I’m moving.”

Iwaizumi pulls that face. That same one. Always looking like he’s slightly dissatisfied with something. “Why?”

Why. It’s such a stupid question. She tries to take a breath to calm herself but it makes her shudder and lock up. “I’m sure if you think about it, you can figure it out.”

She watches the air enter and exit his lungs through the rising and falling of his shoulders. He looks at her, right through her. “Don’t leave.”

In an odd way, she likes the control. She likes the feeling that, for once in her life, she’s not the one begging. “Don’t tell me what to do. Not after you left me.”

He exhales sharply. Iwaizumi takes a step towards her, and she takes a step back. “C’mon, that’s not fair. I didn’t leave you. I just needed to put some distance between us for the time being. Your dad, he’s fucked, alright? It was a liability to-“

“A liability?” she cuts him off, hands clenched into fists by her side. The heat in her blood rises. “I’m a liability?”

Iwaizumi shakes his head and reaches towards her. She jerks away from him. “No, not that you’re a liability, it was just a risk to be around you while-“

“So, what, you couldn’t get one of your little errand boys to tell me about it?” she says, and it comes out like a bark. “You had to leave me in the dark for a month while you dicked off doing god knows what? Too risky to send a text? After I lied to the cops for you and risked getting arrested for you and became a fucking on-call nurse for you, you couldn’t send me a fucking text?”

Her breath is ragged. Iwaizumi stares down at her like he’s seeing for the first time. “I thought you wouldn’t care. I thought you don’t care about anything.”

And it’s too much for her. It’s too big for her body. It’s too much for her to carry and she can’t hold onto it anymore. “I care about everything! I care about everything so fucking much it makes me sick!” she erupts, tears in her voice and rolling down her face. Her skin feels hot. The air feels hot. “Is that what you liked about me so much? You thought I was some kind of apathic ragdoll you could toss around and do whatever you want with?”

“I thought you would understand!” he eventually bites back at her, his own voice rising. “I thought you knew what kind of life I live and what that meant! God, you fucking act like nothing bothers you and you pretend to not see the world around you and you just expect me to read your mind?”

“What fucking person would be okay with being abandoned for a month?” she screams. “You knocked on my door and asked me for a favor and you hovered around me and you said you loved me and said you’d marry me and then you just fucking disappeared! That’s so fucked, Iwa. That’s so fucking cruel.”

He steps towards her, and before she can say anything his arms are around her shoulders, pulling her into his chest. Like one simple embrace will end it all. Like he can just take her in his arms and suddenly she’ll stay, suddenly it’ll fix everything. She wants it to. She wants it to so badly. But she places her palms on her chest and pushes him away. She stumbles back and looks at him with wet eyes. “Don’t fucking touch me.”

“I do love you,” he tells her, voice lower now. “I meant what I said and I still do. You’re my girl. You’re everything to me.”

She shakes her head, trembling. She can’t let it be true. “No, I’m not,” she asserts, backing up into her kitchen table. Her hands go around the edge of it. “I don’t mean anything to you. You wouldn’t have left me if I did.”

“I had a reason-“

“I don’t fucking care what your reason was! I don’t fucking care, Iwa! I don’t care about your stupid job or your stupid fucking guns or whatever! I care that you were here, and then you weren’t! You left me like my mom did and you left me like my brother did and then you come back here and you have the fucking audacity to not even be sorry about it. I fucking hate you!”

She knows that she doesn’t mean it, when she says it. Iwaizumi probably knows too. He probably knows she doesn’t mean it when she swipes the CD player he got her off the kitchen table and it goes flying. Soaring across the room until it slams into the opposite wall, breaking and crumpling against the pressure. Bits of it snap off.

Iwaizumi looks at it, and then he looks at her. She’s shaking. She wants to get on her knees and do everything she can to fix it the second it breaks. But it’s on the floor, broken and shattered. Iwaizumi nods, and then he leaves. He turns around and walks out the door and slams it shut behind him.

an: huge huge huge huge thank u to wyr and ness and honee and molly and dodger who all had to suffer thru me trying to get this chapter out u guys are the best

taglist: @wyrcan @thechaosoflonging @bedeater @deluluforcarlos55 @localgaytrainwreck @cherrypieyourface @eclecticeggknightpsychic @httpakkeiji @does-directions @needtoloveoutloud @causenessus @kawaii-angelanne @thatonecroc @v1oletfury @lonesomedrive @nnnyxie @pinkiscool @michivrse @cannibalsrider @kmwife @k8nicole @oikasenpai @fennecnco @riousluvs @bellamsby @rinheartshyunlix @bae-ashlynn @ephemeralninon @fangsbb @plumarbre @v-e-r-t21 @snail-squasher @seroh @mfcherry @canthavetoomuchchaos @ange1icarch1ve @applepi25 @wqnsho @19calicos @girlkissersco @Lisoozi @bailey-reeds @kitskasoboring @iluvaquaphor @lllaw @kinsies-blog @1lovestrawberrymilk

[three--rings]

One of the largest projects I've been working on is this typeset and book version of 999: 9 Hours, 9 Persons, 9 Doors, one of my very favorite video games. (Which later became the first game in the Zero Escape franchise.)

The game is a visual novel and escape room game combo with multiple routes and endings leading to a true ending. So this version is structured like a Choose-your-own-Adventure book where you flip to different pages depending on your choices.

I also made it possible to skip all the less linear escape/puzzle sequences because they don't read very cohesively. But they do contain a lot of funny or revealing lines so I didn't want to eliminate them entirely.

I should also mention one of the reasons for doing this is that I wanted to preserve the original text of the game from the Nintendo DS version from 2010. When it was remastered/ported to PC and Switch a lot of the dialogue was rewritten very much for the worse. As well as making the novel sections optional, which destroys a lot of the point and atmosphere of the game.

The book is a full leather casebind, with stenciled titles. The leather was honestly a little too thick and required a lot of paring, which is terrifying because any slip could ruin it. And the final satin finish I put on made a lot of the leather flaws look worse and more obvious, which is annoying. It was my first time doing faux raised bands on the spine, and they came out nice.

My printer decided to fuck with me while printing this one and the color alignment is off. This is my second attempt at printing it and it's better than the first but still not great. But I wasn't gonna waste so much paper again.

And no, I'm not planning on doing the sequels. I can't imagine trying to deal with VLR's 28 endings when doing 6 was this challenging and annoying. And the sequels are perfectly represented by their existing playable versions, unlike 999.

[obsessedwithceleste]

Theodore Nott Headcanons

Dedicated to this lil request here 🫶🏽

©️ obsessedwithceleste. all works posted here belong to me and should not be reposted or copied in any way or form.

It’s no secret that Theodore Nott had a rough childhood

Between witnessing his mother’s death at a young age and having a particularly ruthless father, Theo learned to be quietly reserved early on

1000% Theo is an introvert

Despite being seemingly closed off, he’s extremely observant and good at reading others and picking up on things quickly

While he may not be the best at deciphering his own emotions, he’s able to sort through others’ easily

This makes it easy for him to be rather manipulative because he knows what makes other’s tick and how to go straight for the jugular

He may be distant and off putting in the beginning, but once you get close, he’s a clingy bastard because he doesn’t let many people get close, so once you make it there he’ll basically hold you captive forever

He’s also stupid smart

(Canonically he’s able to re-create an illegal time turner after they were all destroyed in the department of mysteries so//)

And this makes him a bit of an arrogant asshole

Looks down on people he thinks aren’t as smart as him

He definitely thinks that he knows best and can have a “my way or the highway” type mindset

Probably has some type of gifted kid™️ trauma and a crippling fear of failure

Anyway, he’s super intelligent and witty and has the potential to do really well in classes

But he has a nasty habit off skiving off with Mattheo Riddle

Who happens to be his best friend along with Lorenzo Berkshire

A lot of people think Theo is the “mother” of the group, or at least the one with the most impulse control

They’re wrong

Theo is the one that Mattheo goes to with his dumbass ideas and Theo’s response is generally something along the lines of-

“Absolutely not you tosser. If we’re going to do it, we’re going to do it right”

Queue Mattheo’s initial plan- only methodically planned out to cause maximal amounts of emotional trauma for the Hogwarts population

Theo and Mattheo are also a chaotic duo on the quidditch pitch

Theo is a chaser

Making the quidditch team in his third year is one of the only times his father showed a hint of satisfaction with the boy

Being on the Slytherin quidditch team, he’s often labeled a preppy jock

And Mattheo does help him break out of his shell more

But he’s a nerdy lil book worm at heart and likes to be holed up in the library most days

Theo also has quite the reputation of being a ladies man with rumors about his escapades swarming the student body

But really they’re just that- rumors

Lorenzo is more of the openly flirtatious pretty boy, and Mattheo certainly knows how to make his way around which is perhaps why people think Theo would be the same way

But he isn’t one to really form physical attachments- emotional or not

He prefers to fly under the radar

He may have had a fling or two, but isn’t one to kiss and tell

He has a hard time entering a real relationship

Mostly because when he first realizes he’s caught feelings, he’s convinced he’s actually just ill and stays in bed pretending to be sick

But once he comes to terms with things, he’s one determined wizard

Makes sure everyone knows that you’re off limits (possibly before you know yourself)

Definitely goes to Enzo for advice on how to woo you

With varying degrees of success

King of subtle PDA (just enough to mark his territory)

Confident and secure in his relationship, but also still jealous as hell

Will hex the living shit out of someone for breathing at you the wrong way

Finds it amusing when you get jealous though

But will shut it the fuck down as soon as he picks up on you being actually upset (probably embarrassing whoever it is in the process)

Not always the best at communicating his feeling cause he’s emotionally constipated af

But tries because he knows he doesn’t want a relationship like his parent’s

Okayyy I think that’s all for now, but I have a feeling these will grow and evolve with time sooo- ongoing (?) idk

[lizziesribbons]

Good mommy |

PAIRING:WANDA MAXIMOFF X FEM! READER

Summary: you convince Wanda to let you take charge this once and absolutely destroys her cuz of how excited and desperate you got

Warnings: smut so much smut, holy water is needed after you read this, multiple orgasms, hair pulling, over stimulation, reader being unintentionally rough but so much aftercare at the end > <

Author's note: just reminding you guys that my first language is not English, so if there are any grammatical errors PLEASE IGNORE THEM AND MOVE TF ON. Also I'm pretty fucking awkward when Im writing smut

Word count: 1.6k

_______________________________________________________________________________

You have no idea how, but Wanda agreed when you practically begged her on your knees to let you take charge today she was pretty indecisive at first but gave in when you constantly repeated the same line over and over again while sobbing "please mommy please I've been such a good girl" making her all hot and bothered at how her sweet girl wants to please her mommy so bad

You instantly took Wanda to the bedroom, laying her down on the bed gently. She looked up at you, not knowing about the vile thoughts going inside your mind about taking her

"You're sure you know how to do this honey?" she asks softly "Yes mama, I'm sure". You assured her knowing she was a bit nervous.

"Good because I only want you to do it if you're comfortable". It made your heart flutter thinking how much care Wanda has for you, she's really the best gf ever. "I want this I promise" you reassured her. "OK good, now go ahead you know where mommy keeps her toys. Go pick one of your favs" Wanda smirks as you practically run to the closet of your shared bedroom.

Wanda starts to undress as she waits for you on the bed while you shuffle through some things in the closet.

When you come back outside, you see a naked Wanda lying down on your bed, her legs open wide as she looks at the toy attached to you with a shocked face.

"Sweetheart, don't you think that's too big mommy isn't used to that" she says, a bit unsure of the size of the strap you picked

"Oh mommy it's not too big, come on it'll be so good" you say, coming towards her.

"Just trust me, okay", you kiss her for a bit and pull back, making her chase your lips, but your hands pull her back by her chest

She raised her eyebrows at the confidence you had all of a sudden when you bit down her neck, making her scream at the sudden sensation.

"fuck baby" Wanda groans as you take one of her nipples inside your mouth, kneading the other tit. She keeps whimpering as you switch between her tits, giving them the same attention.

Your left hand travels down between her hands as your right-hand pins her hands above her head.

Wanda moans out loud as she feels two of your fingers teasing her entrance and collecting her wetness

"fuck mommy you're so wet for me" you gasp as her juices practically drip down your fingers as you bring them to your mouth and suck them clean,

"You're already ready for my strap mommy" you push the tip of your strap as her eyes widen in surprise. As you slowly guide the strap inside, her tears came inside Wanda's eyes. She underestimated the size of the strap as now it was inside her, she could feel it in her lower belly. You gave her time to adjust. When Wanda starts rolling her hips, you take that as a sign to go on.

You took almost all the strap out except for the tip and snap back, hardly making her arch her back.

Your pace starts slow but hard as you fuck her. When Wanda starts matching your rhythm, you go on faster, fucking her roughly at the force which was making the bed move "y/n honey slow down". Wanda somehow manages to say between the moans "but mommy it feels so good please" you whine, holding onto her tightly, pounding her faster.

Wanda throws her head back, arching her back as she just let you do as you please, you bring your hand down to her clit and start circling her clit, Wanda jolted at the action "oh oh god I'm going to-" she screams as she cums hard all over your strap

Not giving her a chance you pull out and turn her around, so she's laying down on her stomach, you open her legs to get between them and align your strap to her entrance again putting it in all at once, making her clutch her eyes shut and grip the sheets beneath her, as you start pounding into her, you push her face into the pillow as she let out muffled screams, you would be lying if you say this wasn't the hottest thing you ever saw, just Wanda laying down beneath you her hands behind her back face in the pillow ass up, your strap going in and out of her at a merciless speed as she screams and cry for more "look at you mommy who would've known you were such a desperate slut" the degrading words only added fuel to the fire "my slutty mommy so good for her little girl just taking her strap so well" your smirk could be heard through your words and oh how badly Wanda wanted to wipe that off your face, but she had to agree it felt good it felt so, so good to just let go "y/n please" she let out a gasp "please what mommy?" you ask with fake innocence "you have a mouth use it to speak." you say as you pull her flushed against your front by her hairs and whisper in her ears "go on say it" pounding into her at an animalistic pace you yank her head "please honey let mommy come she needs it so bad" she whines, her demanding voice made you groan as you bit into her neck, your hand starts playing with her nipples as you fuck her faster knowing she's almost at her peak "go on mommy come for your girl" you whisper in her ears and she sat still her orgasm approaching her soon after making her scream out loud, you were sure the neighbors definitely heard it, but you didn't care, as Wanda went lump against your body you pull out of her slowly making her whince at the emptiness, you undid the harness and throw it away holding Wanda and carefully lying her down, she just closes her eyes still unable to speak "just lay down I'll bring a hot towel and water okay" you whisper softly as Wanda weakly nods

After a few minutes, she feels the bed dunk beside her. She flutters open her eyes and sees you with a towel, a glass of water and a smirk ofc "take that smirk off your face y/n" she whines as she takes the glass from you softly and drinks the water "Come on mommy you have to admit I'm a pretty good top" you say as you clean her up carefully and lay her down between your legs spooning her, taking the glass from her hand and putting it at the bedside table

"Sure you were sweetheart, but you have to understand mommy's still in charge here" she says, still in her flustered state, knowing she will most definitely ask you to take charge again in the future, but didn't want you to win this game "didn't seem like it when you were screaming and begging me to make you cum" you mumble hoping she didn't hear, she turns around and tilts her head "careful sweetheart mommy is too tired to punish her brat right now but if you keep being like that mommy will have to" she raises her eyebrows almost daring you to continue, but you knew better than to argue with mommy

"I'm gonna shutup now sorry". You do the mouth zipping gesture and wrap your arms around Wanda, pulling her in "goodnight mommy". You say as you kiss her head "goodnight sweetheart".

[tending-the-hearth]

a (not entirely) comprehensive list of what i loved about the ballad of songbirds and snakes movie

(spoilers below)

i already gushed about it but the ENTIRE opening scene being shot for shot what happens in the first few pages of the book... like holy shit i was blown away

snow making the remark about the tessarae buttons reminding him of the maid's bathroom???? again directly from the book???

lucy gray's introduction, and her song!!!!

again this movie was... SO ridiculously faithful to the book it almost made me cry

tigris and snow's relationship was so beautifully portrayed, and knowing how they each end up makes it even more heartbreaking

sejanus always and forever my favorite character <3

the fact that they included arachne's death and kept it almost entirely identical to her book death?? and i'd argue that her death in the movie is more gruesome

the entire scene with reaper gathering up the bodies. it was my favorite scene in the book, and it's one of my favorite scenes in the movie. it's such a heartbreaking but powerful moment, like when peeta paints rue or when katniss gave rue a burial

the snake scene holy SHIT all the deaths destroyed me

but lucy gray singing??? and the snakes gathering around her like a dress??? and her voice just getting stronger and more steady as she realizes she won't die???

i might be wrong but i'm PRETTY sure that the first time we see lucy gray after the hunger games when she's singing in district 12 she's wearing mockingbird and jabberjay feathers in her hair!!!

and her snake bracelet that she wears!!

her smile when she saw snow in the crowd... if i didn't read the book i'd 100% be rooting for them

hearing lucy gray singing "hanging tree" was so haunting. i've seen people point out the difference in meaning in lucy vs. katniss' versions, and i'm definitely going to make a whole post abt lucy gray singing the song

omg the way people in my theater gasped SO loudly when lucy called the root "katniss"

while obviously not a good thing in context of the story, the way we could see snow slowly devolving and becoming more and more manipulative towards sejanus and lucy gray... absolutely terrifying storytelling

lucy's realization of what snow's done, and the way she holds herself together JUST enough to run away from him

the mockingjays and jabberjays coming together to sing "hanging tree"

tigris saying "you look just like your father" to snow at the end of the movie and us knowing that she also means the look of hatred in his eyes that she told snow she hoped she'd never see

THE FUCKING END WITH SNOW SAYING THE LINE AND HEARING RUE'S WHISTLE ECHOING AND EVERYTHING EXCUSE ME

[bentwolioo]

Ok so why did Gerard wear the same costume for 6 shows???

Like a lot of people, I noticed the Aotearoa (NZ) & Australia tour drum head messages seemed to be about 9/11. The costume also tells a very specific story that lines up with this--and there was more to Melbourne Night 2 than Gerard deciding it was casual Friday. I'm gonna go through my personal interpretation and explain why I think MCR did this at the end of their tour. 

TLDR: This Is Not The End.

I will include image credits in the reblog since there are a lot!

AUCKLAND, March 11 2023

Based on the skirt suit and drumhead ‘FIX FAX FUCK YOU’, Gerard is dressed as an office worker. For simplicity I will refer to the costume as the Secretary, I see it as both a character and a metaphor. Auckland establishes the monotony and repetition of daily life prior to 9/11, ‘FIX FAX FUCK YOU’ showing an attitude of boredom unaware of the events to come. 

BRISBANE 1, March 13 2023

The main difference between Auckland and Brisbane 1 is the briefcase. This indicates the point in time--Auckland is the days before 9/11 and Brisbane 1 is the morning before the attacks begin. The secretary travels to work, thinking ‘Everything under Control’.

BRISBANE 2, March 14 2023

The drumhead message ‘Here Comes the AIRPLANE’ marks this as minutes or even seconds before the towers are hit. Brisbane 2 is the first time Gerard wears the coat, representing everyone taking cover. 

MELBOURNE 1, March 16 2023

I unfortunately could not find a good photo of Gerard wearing the coat from this show but you can see it on the floor behind him!

The Melbourne shows are as the towers collapse. Pretty straightforward from the Melbourne 1 drumhead ‘TERROR’. This show also had the only appearance of the umbrella, which I interpret as representing the rubble and destruction raining down. The umbrella is closed, showing the secretary is unprotected and ultimately killed when the towers fall. 

MELBOURNE 2, March 17 2023

It seemed odd at first that Melb 2 was the only show that Gerard didn’t wear a costume for, but I actually believe he still did. This is the key to my interpretation: Gerard is dressed as himself witnessing the towers collapse, on his way to work at Cartoon Network. This the only show on the Oceania leg where they played Skylines and Turnstiles*, the song Gerard wrote immediately after 9/11. The drumhead ‘BARK BARK BARK’ makes you picture, a chained dog, representing the powerless horror of only being able to watch as the destruction unfolds--the deeply personal experience that drove Gerard to form MCR. 

SYDNEY 1, March 19 2023

Blood!!!! At Sydney 1, we see the continuing aftermath of the 9/11 attacks. The secretary has died but keeps moving, picking up her briefcase and carrying on. This could be showing how a lot of people’s faith in the US government and in the world died, but life had to find a way to move on. 

SYDNEY 2, March 20 2023

At Sydney 2, the addition of Gerard’s white contacts shows the Secretary decaying--but she has not stopped. Frank changed the drumhead message from ‘UNKILLABLE’ to ‘UNKILLABLES’, expanding the meaning from the context of his accident in Sydney to include the band, the fans, and on a wider level everything MCR represents. 

I think all of this is a metaphor for the band’s career in multiple ways. Firstly, the Secretary being undead of course reflects MCR’s return, and her zombified appearance aligns with the imagery of their new era (decay, swarm, the destroyed buildings of the stage set). Secondly, it is very interesting to me that they did this sequence of costumes and drumheads at the end of their headlining tour, rather that at the start. The story they told seems to imply a rebirth--MCR was ‘born’ out of the trauma, pain and confusion of 9/11, so the fact that they represented the start of the band on stage signifies a second beginning. 

(Thank you for reading to the end and if I got anything wrong please let me know!)

*EDIT 1 (23/03/23): They actually also played Skylines at Brisbane 2. I do think the position of Skylines in the Melb 2 set is still significant. They played it as the first encore song which mirrors it being the first MCR song and written shortly after 9/11.

EDIT 2 (30/03/23): So actually 8 shows of Secretary Gerard when you include Japan! Tokyo and Osaka analysis here

[alloftheimaginesblog]

nose in a book {bucky barnes}

plot: the coffee shop you and bucky frequent is also a library and every week, you have your nose in a new book.

request by sunflowerkitten2: a coffee shop meet-cute

character: reader x bucky barnes

In all of his years, Bucky Barnes had been to hundreds of coffee shops and had drank thousands of crappy cups of coffee but recently, he'd began to drink at this coffee shop. It was a small shop, half library half coffee shop with warm lighting and a nostalgic musky smell from the old books that adorned the shelves. There was a certain charm to it but the coffee certainly wasn't it. The coffee was actually pretty awful but there was a reason that Bucky kept coming back to this one.

The reason was you.

Each time Bucky came into the small shop, there you sat same time every Saturday morning, same time but always with a different book in your hand. From the first time Bucky entered that coffee shop, he was intrigued by you.

You were usually too concentrated on the book to look up at him when the chime of the door went as he walked in. Sometimes you caught each other's eye and exchanged friendly smiles but that was rare.

Bucky had never approached you, he wanted to but he wasn't that confident around asking beautiful people out anymore. He had changed a lot since the forties. Today though, the book you held in your hands was familiar to him... in fact it was one of his favourites; The Hobbit.

"You know," he said gently as he approached you, voice soft so's not to scare you, "I was there when they first printed that book."

With the comment, you expected it to be attached to a ninety year old man (which he was but you didn't know that yet) and instead you were met with the blue eyes of a very handsome thirty something year old. You laughed, "That's a rubbish pick up line," you teased.

Bucky frowned, "Not a pick up line, doll," he said, "I was actually there. 1937. What a year."

You blinked at him, insanely confused, before your foot pushed out the chair across from me, "Okay, I gotta hear this... How?"

He sat with a smile, reaching his hand across the table to shake yours, "Bucky Barnes, ma'am. Pleasure to meet you." Bucky... Barnes. That name sounded familiar.

Then it clicked.

"Oh!" You exclaimed with a little surprise as your shook his glove clad hand, "Oh my god, you look so good for your age." You hadn't meant to say that, it sounded pretty fucking weird but Bucky's face split into a wide grin. You were amusing. Usually, when people realised who Bucky was they recoiled with fear or at the very least they'd be apprehensive to talk to a ninety something assassin but you... you looked intrigued? He laughed, thanking you for the compliment that slipped out.

"Have you read Lord of the Rings?" You asked him with slightly warm cheeks.

It was his turn to be confused, "I don't think I've ever heard of them."

"Oh my god!" You gasped, "So obviously this is the Hobbit and this is a prequel to The Lord of the Rings which is hands down one of the best series ever written. They made movies of them too! It follows Bilbo's nephew, Frodo and his quest to destroy the Ring."

Bucky vaguely recalled Stark talking about movies that sounded similar to that title, "Are they any good?" He asked, genuinely curious, "To be honest, I've not seen many movies."

"They're so good. They made Hobbit movies too. Three."

He frowned, "Three movies? Did two more Hobbit books come out then?"

You shook your head, explaining that it was three movies centred around the one book, "I really liked them," you shrugged, "but is that because I just absolutely love the Hobbit? Who knows?"

As you and Bucky continued to chat you realised a very important fact, "I just realised I never told you my name," you said stopping mid sentence, "I'm (y/n). It's so nice to meet you, Bucky."

Bucky grinned, "Trust me, doll, pleasure's all mine... Now, can I buy you another cup of coffee?"

[mirrorofliterature]

the burromuertos are a dysfunctional family

So, I've been seeing an influx of 'the Burromuertos are a healthy family' and hi. No the fuck they are not. It's subtext. No one with a functional family acts remotely like Alejandro does.

Firstly, the most obvious:

No one in Alejandro's family appears remotely concerned that their son/brother was sealed in a robot suit after being fatally injured for a year. The first time we see any member of his family is when Jose comes onto the show to beat him up. That screams healthy family dynamics.

His reaction to being called Al is far from normal. It is a sign of Jose bullying him - it reads like a trigger. It is an encapsulation of Jose's disrespect towards Alejandro and how he is always second place.

His competitive streak and how he prioritises winning over interpersonal relationships

How this man does not know how to navigate interpersonal relationships in a genuine and authentic ways.

Okay, those are my claims. But where's my evidence?

Gestures at Alejandro's whole schtick. But also:

"José always have to win, always, he live to make me miserable! ... He punches me in the arm and called me Al just because I hate it!"

These words speak of a deeply antagonistic brotherly relationship that is incredibly competitive - it is implied that Alejandro's parents pit the two of them against each other, resulting in an incredibly unhealthy sibling dynamic, akin to the al-Jamil's in The Good Place.

It is also (more indirectly) implied that Alejandro has had his food restricted - given that his 'body is a temple' and he refuses to eat the candy, giving it to Cody instead. Again, this feeds into the idea that Alejandro's parents raised him with the expectation to be perfect, in mind, body and spirit - and that is unhealthy. Like, having a little bit of candy won't kill you, I promise. The expectations that Alejandro's parents put on him are clearly crushing and destroying his ability to interact with his peers normally outside the context of a competition. That boy needs therapy and a healthy support network, stat. He cares about his achievements at the expense of his health and personal relationships.

That is learned behaviour.

Anyway. We (the dysfunctional burromuerto writers) are not making it up for the sake of angst. We are extrapolating a valid interpretation from the text by interpreting subtext and implication and sometimes, quite frankly, the shows' literal lines.

[imaginaryf1shots]

My Girls | Crash

WC: 2K

Driver!oc x Max Verstappen

Warning: cursing, car crashing, fire?

A.N: This doesn’t follow the time line and could be read as a stand alone.

Masterlist

Series Masterlist

Max Masterlist

Zandvoort, Netherlands.

Max’s home race, the crowed were all cheering for the man. Cecilia had made the move to Mercedes this year, and so far she’s so happy with team, they had welcomed her with open arms, and she’s gotten well with Lewis, the pair weren’t as close before they became teammates, not because she didn’t like him, but Cecilia usually ran with the guys in her age group more. And to be honest she looked up to Lewis when she was younger so her racing against him, like Seb, left her breathless. She never thought that by the time she’d make it to Formula 1 he’d still be doing the amazing things he’s doing.

The race had started Cecilia started from P4, and she made good progress after the first turn she dropped to P6 by lap 30 she was back in P4 trying to overtake Carlos and get to P3. The weather took a turn and it started raining heavily.

Lap 34

RE

Cecilia, box. Box.

You’re going in after Lewis.

Cecilia

Okay, don’t fuck it up for me, my daughter is here today.

RE

We won’t.

And they didn’t, in true Mercedes fashion they double stacked, and she was out in two seconds.

Lap 35

Ferrari made a bad decision when they pitted Carlos, Cecilia was able to undercut him and took his P3, he dropped to P5.

Lap 43

Cecilia

How long will it rain for?

RE

For another ten minutes or so

We’ll keep you updated

Lap 70

Lewis and Max were in front of her, she didn’t try to overtake Lewis following the team’s strategy. It was still raining, and she’s close to finishing P3.

RE

Stroll is behind you, he’s 0.5 behind

Cecilia

Copy

Lance was closing in on her, but Cecilia was ready to defend, turn after turn she blocked him, she’s not losing her podium, she's third in the championship and she’ll hold her position with her hands and teeth. She only has two laps left.

However mother nature had other plans Lance lost grip and his car gilded over the ground with no tire grip at all, his car twirled around and his wing took out Cacilia’s back tires.

Cecilia

FUCK! FUCK!

Her car turned in circles, hitting the tire barrier pushing her back into the track, other cars had to swerve not to hit her as she hit the other barrier, the car started flipping, breaking into pieces. A red flag was called instantly, all cars were called back to the pit. George and Yuki already DNFed and were watching the crash happen, Lance's car was also destroyed but he hit the fence and stopped. Cecilia’s car landed upside down.

Toto

Cecilia! Are you okay?

All that could be heard was groaning, the safety car was out and the marshalls were running to the car that finally stopped moving. Cecilia was disoriented, she lost consciousness for a second. Everyone watched with bated breath, Merc’s garage was silent, everyone waiting for a response as Toto tried to get a response again and again. Every second felt like a lifetime. Both Max and Lewis pitted, they were informed of what happened, and both men panicked, one of the screens was playing back the crash.

Lance had gotten out of his car and was running to Cecilia’s.

Groans are the first thing Mercedes engineers heard, she was alive, but in pain.

Toto

Cecilia, are you okay?

Max ran to the Mercedes garage since the radio wasn’t being broadcasted, the only place he’d know if she’s okay is in the Mercedes garage. One of the engineers gave him his headphones to listen.

Cecilia

I’m smelling petrol

The female groaned, she tried to move but there wasn’t much she could do, until the car flipped, meanwhile blood was rushing to her head.

Toto turned and informed the crew to tell the marshalls. Lance was the first at the car, he had no idea about the leaking petrol, the car could light up at any second.

Toto

How are you feeling?

He wanted to gauge how she’s doing physically.

Cecilia

Not- not so good

Toto

They’re almost there

Cecilia

Fuck, I’m sorry, I’m sorry

Toto

It’s not your fault it’s okay

Cecilia

Na-nathalie, don’t let her watch

Toto

Don’t worry she was taken away

Just focus on yourself

The marshals reached the car and with Lance they flipped the car, Cecilia sounded out of breath down the radio, once the car was the right way she didn’t move to get herself out. All they could do at the garage is wait. Lance was led away, they tried to have minimal people around the car since they knew about the petrol, two ambulances were near, Lance was led to one, the guilt eating him alive.

A marshal unbuckled Cecilia, with the help of another one they pulled the female out of what was left of the car, she offered no assistance. All she did was groan and mutter to herself incoherent things. They laid her down on the ground to take her helmet and balaclava off, they didn’t want to move her around too much not to cause any more damage, but just as they laid her down and with the medics running towards them all in the rain under the gloomy skies, a spark and then fire, blazing fire. The Marshalls ducked down.

Max’s heart dropped to his feet, he couldn’t stay there, he couldn’t. Turning to leave, an arm on his shoulder held him tight. His eyes met his rival’s.

“Don’t go mate, there’s nothing you could do.” Lewis was firm, he understood why Max wanted to go, but there’s literally nothing better he could do than stay here.

“I can’t just stay here.” Max tried to move again but again Lewis stopped him.

“You want to do something, go check on Nattie, that girl saw her mum’s crash.” Lewis told him and Max turned to look at where your driver’s room is. “The medic will get her out.”

“Lewis is right, we have to stay here for Nathalie.” Charles said, sounding out of breath as he ran to the Mercedes garage, for the same reason as Max, Mercedes will have the first information about Cecilia.

The marshals did the only thing they could do, they grabbed her from under her armpits, they were close to the ground, and they started dragging her, the medics met them and quickly placed her on the stretcher as a fire truck was driving up. Cecilia was then rushed to the nearest hospital.

“She’s breathing, they’re rushing her to the hospital.” Toto told the drivers, rushing over before he saw the Ferrari driver. “You two-three can’t leave yet, but I’m rushing there with her father.”

He left no room for discussion, the race is over, everyone will be placed where they were on pole based on where they were when the red flag was called.

Max knew he’d be needed in the RedBull garage but he went to Cecilia’s driver room, her name on the door, walking in he saw Nathalie being comforted by one of the Mercedes team.

“It’s okay, I got her.” Max told the woman who gave Max a small smile before she left. Nathalie threw herself at Max, he crouched down to be able to hug her. “It’s okay, momie is okay.”

“I saw her crash!” The girl sobbed, shaking.

“I know, but you know she’s a superhero with superpowers, she’s a little hurt, but she’s okay, she asked for you.” Max comforted pulling her up in his arms, as he stood up.

“She did?” Nathalie’s face was red, her lips turned down, an expression he saw on Cecilia a few times.

"Yeah, she did." He comforted her until she had calmed down. "Want to come with me to RedBull?"

Natalie nods and Max carries her to his team's garage. All he wants is to leave and go to the hospital. The race is over with anyways, even if he got pole position there’s no happiness there. Leaving the Mercedes garage Charles was talking with Lando and Lewis, when Charles saw Nattie's red face he tried to cheer her up, and he managed to get a small smile out of her, the favourite uncle’s privileges and all.

Half asleep writing this

Max was finally given the green light to leave the paddock and go to the hospital, Nathalie and Charles were of course with him, the group was driven there. Börje, Cecilia’s dad called and said that she’s stable and okay, she looks worse than she is. Max doesn’t know how to interpret this to be honest, so he just wants to get there.

When they made it to the hospital, Toto was outside on the phone talking furiously. He saw them and pointed for them to go in, still decked in their team’s kits the moment the trio walked(Nattie was in Charles’ arms) a nurse led them to a waiting room where they saw Börje. The man looked stressed his leg bouncing. He got calls from his wife and son asking about their daughter/sister, he had to try and be as calm as he could, but that’s his baby girl.

“Börje!” Charles called for the older man, he’ll always hold him in high regard, he did so much for his family when they were going through tough times.

“Grand-père.” Nathalie wiggled out of Charles’ arms and ran to her grandfather who had his arms out for her, he hugged her close, pulling her up to sit on his lap.

“How is she?” Max asks, stressed and worried, he tried to hide his feelings but they were seeping through him.

“They're doing their last check ups, but there's no broken bones, a slight concussion and a lot of bruises.” Börje said and Nattie snuggled into him, hiding her face into his neck.

“When can we see her?” Charles asked.

”I think Max can go in.”

Max didn’t wait for another word, he knocked on the door and a nurse opened it for him, once knowing his relation to Cecilia he was let in. The doctor was finishing up telling Cecilia everything, when Max rushed to her side. He couldn’t see any visible injuries besides a couple bruises on her arms. The doctor and nurse leave, letting the couple have a moment.

”Hey.” Cecilia says with a small smile, Max had no idea how she could smile, he watched her crash, he thought she had died. Max is a strong man, he never cries, he’s been too much shit for him to get overly emotional like this, but here he is trying to not let the tears gather in his eyes, fighting everything in himself to get it together, he wasn’t the one that crashed.

”Hey.” Max’s voice was heavy with emotion, he sits beside her on the bed and takes her hand gently in both of his, like it was his life line, to him it felt like it. “I-uh- I-um, Schatje…”

”Amour.” Cecilia says gently and cups Max’s face with her free one, Max crumbles, he puts his head on her shoulder and his body shakes lightly.

”Fucking hell, Cilia, I thought, shit, I thought I lost you.” Max manages to get out and Cecilia pats his back in comfort kissing the side of his head.

”I’m okay, Maxie, I’m alright, amour.” Cecilia whispered and keeps kissing the side of his head, teats gathering in her own eyes.

”I only managed to hold it in for Nat.” Even when he wants to break down, your daughter is his first thought and priority.

“I knew that you’ll always think of her first.”

“Believe me I wanted to run to you, but Lewis stopped me.” Max says and pushes himself back to be able to look at you, you take the time to wipe his tears away, and give him another smile.

”I’m glad he did.” Before Max could reply the door opened and small feet ran in and to the bed.

”Mommie.”

“Mon ange.”

charles_leclerc added a story

Captian: (she's fine everyone ❤️)

Ceciliahansson15 added a story

Captian: ( thank you for all the love, I'm alright 👍 already out and on my way home 💋 )

Taglist:

@luciaexcorvus . @vellicora . @tpwkstiles . @belennasif . @eugene-emt-roe . @fanboyluvr . @fangirl125reader . @christianpulisic10 . @belennasif . @itsjustkhaos . @crashingwavesofeuphoria . @mynameisangeloflife . @mirrorball-6 . @skynel09 . @barcelonaloverf1life . @lilipiggytails . @rebelatbay . @christianpulisic10 . @ironmaiden1313 . @dark-night-sky-99 . @amalialeclerc . @bborra . @allsouls-emma . @buckybarns4life . @distancedss . @xoscar03 . @aquangxl .

[lokorum]

what would you say is your favorite jonmichael fic..... im very curious and love to reread anything in that tag

oh but how can i pick only one when they all are so good??? (,,•᷄‎ࡇ•᷅ ,,)?

aaaaaa can i make the several honorable mentions of the fics that made me scream and roll on the floor?????? pretty please???

scheherazade was one of the first jonmichael fics that i found while going through all of the cher's works because, evidently, they have no fics that are not worth reading!! (i'm sorry if and forty feet down only confirming it!!!)

sleep inertia has one of the best dialogues i ever read!!! the way cruelzy writes michael's lines??? aaaaaaaaa its so delicious and believable and never for a second i thought i'm reading something out of canon?? its just that good. 

carousel is the only one fic (from what i found) that i set in the last season and its adds a lot of layers to that big jonmichael onion that torments my eyes for a while now ldkfjgkdfjg also it's messy?? i mean the whole situation in the fic?? its so humanly complicated and it does not gives you the chance to experience any of the feelings clearly and i love it!! screechfox somehow captured all of the complicated stuff in one fic, blendered it together and for the whole time i just couldn't take my eyes away from it. 

five times michael saves jon's life and one time he doesn't have to - is here to sooth our pain and heal our wounds. i reread it so many times!! the dynamic between jon and michael in it is one to live for!!! sometimes you think 5+1 kind of fics can't surprise you anymore and then the coolest author like paisleycowboys enters the room and proves you wrong. 

to be like super honest, the 100 ways to say i love you series, when i first saw it, made me think im not gonna like it? i love my fanfics long and scary and bittersweet and with a bad-very-not-good-endings, so the title of this one made me go "hmmmmm HMMMMM hmmmmm hmmmm?" but ive started to read it anyway, theres not that many fics on the ao3 for jonmichael, we cant afford to be capricious and gosh GOSH i was so fucking wrong!!! its sweet AND sad AND scary AND awkward (in a best way!!!) AND it made me giggle so many times!!! NeedsCaffeineRightNow can make even the edgiest of us enjoy the soft kinds of fics (its not hard when they are written with so much care and love.)

POSSESSIVE!! MICHAEL!! COMBING!!! JON'S!! HAIR!!!!!! what else do we need from life?

transition, every time i reread it or think about it, makes me painfully aware of how many things should coincide for something to work. it's not one of those fics that completely encompass you; nor its the one that leaves you with new headcanons or in a good mood, no, i think it's the one that leaves you in dissoray, making you want to argue with author, to ask them what were they thinking about, pointing on your weak sides like this?, giving you something precious and then stealing it away? pushing your old bruises? that is to say, i have nothing but deep respect for indefensibleselfindulgence. to write fic that makes you want to engage in conversation? thats powerful 

Our 'Angel' of Static and Bone is written so inexplicably good, that more than once i wondered, how NeverwinterThistle was able to do it? and then i realised they are one of my fave bg3 and dishonored authors phpphp but really, the care, the effort that went into this fic? they are literally visible! you can feel the amount of time and brain juice that went into writing it. and the neighbor character? they appeared like two times?? and still their addition left me speechless with how clever it is, how different!! absolutely amazing work.

adjective noun has jonmichael chapter (11) that destroyed me as a person i swear i laughed so hard i dropped my phone and just kept giggling face-into-the-pillow style!!!!!! its rare for the fics to bring you this childish kind of pure joy; the little in-between moment of forgetting about everything, good and bad, and just have a good time. this chapter is definitely one of those rare things and it also made me wish there would be more jonmichael fics from cuttoth. somehow they nailed everything that should be nailed about this ship and did it in a couple of pages, what a magical work!! 

and well, now here's my fave fic, the one that took my head, shaked it like it's a soda can, and then left it open, fountaining at first and then dented and empty. 

I ask for nothing, but maybe I'm lying is the work that made me grateful for the fact that i know how to read in english. its....mmmm, you know that feeling when fic makes you go through literally everything? and then, as a bonus, through all stages of grief as well?

first you get hooked up by the beautiful writing style and so you know the fic is gonna be good and you get comfortable and you turn yourself off from the rest of the world and you read. 

you love pov, you love mood shifts, you love pacing, you love when scenes are short and you pause to think about what happened / you love when scenes are long and you get overloaded with the simple things that make you feel complicated emotions, you love it all. 

then you start to wish it would never finish; you look at the scrolling bar from time to time, a little bit too aware of how much there's left to read, a little bit too anxious about it. and at the same time, the fic starts to make you feel safe, confident, that at least it's gonna be alright, its gonna be that one work that will replace the canon events for you. it was the

“Oh. Oh, Archivist, no. That’s not right at all,” you say to yourself as you watch him march into artefact storage, both hands clamped around an axe. 

On a whim, you decide to save him."

line for me for sure uhhh it still hits as good as the first time too 

and then you get to the ending and you just stare at the screen. that hollowing feeling slowly spreading inside you. *sigh* its the best sort of inspiration im sure, but its the worse one too. i have no idea how possessedradios and authors like them are able to write something that kills you, then reanimates you and then makes you sit in front of the tablet drawing hours non stop. ''I ask for nothing, but maybe I'm lying" is so beautiful its scares and fascinates me, just like the podcast did. hell, better then the podcast did.  i know its silly but i even named my fisrt fanart of michael as the title of the fic 👉👈

ahhhh SO i rumbled again SORRY!!!!!!! every time someone asks something from me its either "i'll reply later" (replies 10 years after) or "tolstoy, hold my fucking beer". but i really hope that fic writers, not only those who are mentioned here but like in general? know how much they affect other people!! how their work creates safe spaces for others!! how they make readers smile or cry, even if those readers (im not pointing finger on myself idk what you talking about pgphpphph) are little gremlins that leaving comments once in a decade....................

have fun time reading!! <3

btw im working on a little fanart rn............. (expressing my deepest grattitude to ao3 johmichael writers 😳🔪)

[skyeoak]

Thoughts on tmagp episode 24

*cough* my sister had a newborn a few months ago. Here’s some red flags about “the health visitor” from today’s episode:

- newborns feed every 2-3 hours, usually 2.5. Idk if this is different in the UK but I don’t see why it would be.

- most babies are born with greyish eyes, which changes over time. If Rupert’s a newborn when she’s talking about his black orb eyes, this is maybe a red flag?

- “I couldn’t scream, I didn’t want to wake him” AHHHHHH oh god the psychological horror of having a newborn aghfjgjfhhhhhh

Very Rosemary’s Baby, but instead of going full satanic panic, “Raising Issues” focuses on the self-sacrificial narrative mothers are told, and how that leads to a dangerous and isolating situation as Patricia ignores every red flag in sight. I had my head in my hands. Honestly, I wish we’d dived deeper into the socioeconomic stuff rather than the body horror because back to back with “A New You” it felt like too similar of a story structure, even though imo they’re meant to be parallels.

23 and 24 have been so similar that they’re definitely intentional contrasts to each other. One’s from Chester talking about how you can long to change yourself so fully only for it to all go wrong, and this one’s from Norris about destroying yourself to support the one you love… I am ill, actually. Screaming crying relistening to the last recording in this case file and finding all the points that are reminiscent of Mag 170 (Recollection).

These lines specifically are making me think. Once again, I am ill.

Chester: “Alesis Newman is leaving this world and whatever comes next – though she may look like me in some ways, though she may carry a part of me with her – she’ll be better. Free of all my mistakes. Perhaps people will like her more than me. I already like her more than me. I want to see her walk off happy and strong. I hope she doesn’t feel this now, just be the good parts of me. (hoarse) I hope it’s like I dreamt, I hope she has my eyes…”

Norris: “I can’t remember when… when I last… had sleep. I think… I think days…” + “I don’t know what’s going to happen. There’s not much of me left. I’m so scared. But at least Rupey’s happy…”

Considering this is the first Norris case file in over 10 episodes (since episode 12, unless I’m wrong) and he’s literally just reading the stuff between recordings, I’m a bit concerned.

Who the fuck is reading this statement and why didn’t they mention it to Celia IMMEDIATELY? If it was Sam, he knows she has a kid and is in a support group, and if it was Celia herself, then idk why she isn’t at least concerned (that’s suspicious, Celia.) I guess Gwen and Alice don’t know about Jack, so they’re off the hook.

ALSO rupert? A red name? Philosopher’s stone alchemical reference? Or just referring to the blood he’s feeding on?

I know I’m gonna see a ton of takes on this episode being like “this is why I’m childfree” and, like yeah, I’m not planning on kids either but this story is such an extension of existing social structures that I hope we talk, at least a little, about the social narratives at work here about pregnancy, parenthood, and childcare.

[sadesluvr]

Hi!

Idk if ur doing requests and if not just ignore this however if u r I have an idea for Lillard! William Afton.

Choking perhaps? It's fine if ur uncomfortable with that and u don't wanna do it I'd completely understand.

If u don't want to just ignore this.

Hope u have a great day!

A/N: Hi Anon, thank you for being so respectful of my boundaries regarding what I write!! <3 Even though I’ve never written about it before, I’m fine with it - This is my first time so I’m not sure how good it is :) 

WARNING: This is a drabble all about choking. Bondage/BDSM elements are mentioned also. 18+ only, and read at your own discretion.

To say that William Afton had an asphyxiation kink was an understatement. He’d always prided himself on his hands; they’d created, destroyed…Even put back together again. Each unique callous told a story, a story of how he’d risen to ‘power’ and slowly, but surely drowned in his own narcissism, quite literally making himself untouchable. Like any man, he liked power, and his hands were just one way of maintaining that.

The second method was through his cables. You didn’t really know what they were - likely ones that helped jumpstart the electricity in the pizzeria, or to start the engine of his car - but he just so happened to carry them ‘everywhere’. When he was feeling particularly frisky he used them to tie you down; whether that was to the medical table at the pizzeria, or to the headboard at his house, but there had been a couple of times where he’d inadvertently secured it around your neck; the heavy material weighing on your windpipe as he fucked you. Even though that’d turned him on, nothing ever beat his hands.

Sometimes you forgot how strong he was.

It had all just started with a simple kiss - You were hunched over your desk and he’d come in, large hands running across your shoulders before he angled your neck up towards him, lips meeting yours. His grip was not yet crushing, but secure, just enough for you to remember who you belonged to.

Breathless, you parted your lips to allow his tongue to explore your mouth. He loomed over you, weight slowly coming down upon your body as his knees buckled and grip tightened on the base of your neck, pinching the skin between his thumb and index finger, humming at your tiny whimpers.

He was in one of ‘those’ moods.

Momentarily, he pulled away. There was a dark gleam in his usually bright eyes that told you everything, brows furrowed slightly in a sneer. He needn’t say much - if anything - and you instinctively pulled down your pants, your heart pounding in your chest as the clothes jumbled around your thighs and ankles in your panicked haste. He smirked, unbuttoning his pants and pulling down his zipper at the sight of you being so obedient; all for him. He’d trained you so well.

In a swift motion you were up against the wall, your heaving chest pressed against his own, feeling the stark contrast between his hard cock on your thighs and the soft skin of his stomach. William - or Steve, as you’d initially known him - was a weird mixture of ‘soft’ and ‘hard’, his emotions and personality seemingly changing on a dime. As regretfully as it was, you happened to enjoy his harder, rougher parts and edges much more.

As he used one hand to line himself up at his entrance, he used the other to cup your cheek, absorbing your features in the dim lighting of the room. He chuckled at your laboured breaths as he dragged his hand down your skin, thumb brushing over your lips as he felt your hot breath on his fingertips, breath that would soon become uncontrolled and desperate - loud and wanting. He wanted to fucking destroy you.

“You drive me fucking crazy, you know that? Do you know how dangerous that is for a guy like me?”

Your eyes widened, and you managed to whisper a breathy ‘Yes’, your mouth dry from the anticipation. He thrust into you, and the stretching, yet fulfilling sensation was cancelled out by the feeling of his hands gripping your cheeks, smooshing your lips together. Slowly, this grip moved down your jaw, holding it in place as he watched your eyes switch between widening and fluttering half shut like the desperate whore you were. He snarled as he moved down to your neck, practically holding you in place against the wall as his hips collided against your own. The way he looked at you was one almost of disgust; perhaps pity, even, and it only aroused the two of you further. William was a bad man. A very bad man. He could kill you.

Then why did you moan?

His grasp on your neck was unrelenting, the large spread of his hands meaning that he was simultaneously pressing on your larynx and trachea, causing a painfully delightful winding sensation. It felt like you were being dropped from the stratosphere, except the happiness from the feeling of flight was instead from the overstimulation of the room around you - from the sound of William’s rugged grunts to the fluid, pulsing motions of his cock inside your hole, seemingly finding the deepest crevices. 

“Good girl,” he whispered. “You’re getting so much better at this…”

You smiled as he choked you, clutching onto his hand that was around your neck as your way of showing appreciation. You felt your hyoid bone press flat against his palm, and your head began to loll against the wall, chin pointed in the air in pleasure. The squeezing sensation was now beginning to take over your torso; a tingling feeling spreading from across your cheeks, to your ears and up to your eyes, tears of ecstasy pooling in your ducts. The feeling even reached your stomach; jostling and tumbling with the signal of your impending orgasm.

“Let go…” William cooed in your ear, lips attacking the nape of your neck as he rutted into you. This was the moment he always loved, the time you were in a state of limbo from the present and your dreams, black and —

White.

You saw white.

William chuckled as you came around his cock, merciful enough to let his clutch on your neck go, allowing you to catch your breath as he continued to pleasure you - but more to finish himself off - revelling in the sight of your parted, wanting lips. With all the inventions that mankind, and even he himself could have developed, his hand was his favourite instrument.

You rode off from your high, and even through your sexed haze and heavy eyelids you could make out the man in front of you. Breathless, sweaty, and most importantly, smiling. 

He was smiling.

William loved the feeling of power, and you were one of the few people who could give it to him so perfectly.

[ginnsbaker]

In Losing Grip On Sinking Ships (1/?)

Summary: Sequel to In Flames I Sleep Soundly; After the divorce, Wanda refuses to give you up. 

Chapter word count: 5k+

Pairing: Wanda Maximoff x Fem!Reader

Chapter Warnings: Angst, Masturbation

Author’s Note: So... this AU wouldn’t leave me. For my new readers, you don’t have to read the first installment . This can be read as a standalone. Title is based on lyrics of “This Love” by Taylor Swift

AO3 | Masterlist

Taglist: @blackluthxr | @esposadejoyhuerta​

Next Chapter: Two

One

It’s not a god damn funeral, Wanda thinks as she stares at her black outfit.

With a huff, she makes the quick decision to reach for the zipper near the curve of where her spine becomes her head, and then pulls it down so hastily it gets out of track and refuses to budge further than her waist.

Shit, Wanda curses under her breath, wiggling her arms from its sleeves, which isn’t exactly difficult given her recent weight loss. At first she tries to shimmy her body out of the dress, but she only succeeds in getting stuck further and sweating under her pits. Unfortunately the weight loss didn’t happen around her middle, and she also couldn’t get it to move upwards and over her head. The options are to either fix the zipper or destroy the dress. Wanda picks the latter.

Grabbing a pair of scissors, she starts to frantically cut through the silky material. Her heart races as she terrorizes the dress with fervor–grunting Sokovian words she’s surprised she still remembers–until the dress pools at her feet in tatters. Wanda feels her energy depleted after, and she crawls on the bed to lie face down, on her stomach. 

To some degree, her recent outbursts are gradually becoming a concern, especially since she’s back in her old Manhattan neighborhood. The smallest, most insignificant things tick her off, and a densely populated city like New York is filled with them.

Like last week, when she was shopping at Trader Joe’s, and someone kept hitting her backside with their cart while waiting at the counter. 

“I swear to god, if you don’t lay the fuck off–” Wanda’s ears burned when she looked over her shoulder and saw a frail, old woman who looked like she didn't have many years left in her. 

“I’m sorry.” Wanda croaked out and then pressed her lips in a straight hard line. 

“Oh, it’s alright. We all have bad days. But sweetheart,” The old woman warmly smiled at her and then leaned closer as if to share a secret. “You need to get laid.” She added like she’s giving some age-old, archaic advice. 

Wanda’s smile in return was pasty, and she hurried to remove almost half of the stuff(not without receiving a dirty look from an employee who had to put them all back) in her basket so she could leave the counter as soon as possible. 

The mysterious universe had a dark sense of humor. It was sex that brought her to this manic-depressive, freak-out-at-a-grocery-store behavior, and to be told by a stranger that she needed more of it was just the icing on top of this tremendous fuckery of a year she’s had. 

Wanda turns on her back and closes her eyes for a minute. She doesn’t even know why she’s wasted an hour of choosing what to wear for the day she gets legally separated from you. And yet she couldn’t help but give an extra effort to look good for you. All she knows is the days she gets to see you are rare. She can count on one hand the times you’ve met since that fateful lunch at the diner back in Westview. She needs to look her best in these opportunities. 

She needs to look her best, and hopes you’d notice.

Glancing back at her wide-open wardrobe, that’s when she spots it. Hiding in the furthermost end of her rack, is a decade-old sundress she’s kept all this time. 

The memory rises unbidden to her mind, before she could stop it. 

It was the dress she wore on her first date with you. She recalls picking it specifically because it’s green. She wanted it to match her eyes–your favorite part of her body. It made you gape. It made you go almost stupid with want, forgetting the way to the restaurant where you made reservations because you wouldn’t stop staring at her. 

By the end of that night though, the dress was lost somewhere along the trip from the door to the bedroom.

“Aren’t we moving too fast?” You whispered against her swollen lips, breaking the kiss while your hands roamed all over her shaking frame. Wanda merely moaned and put her lips to your neck, kissing every inch of available skin to her. 

You’ve known each other for years. It didn’t feel like you were moving too fast. Rather, it was a culmination of sorts–seemingly platonic hugs that lasted just a tad longer than they should, the way your eyes always found each other in a crowded room, kisses on the cheek that came too close to the mouth. And not to mention, the other people you’ve both dated in those times of being more than friends but less than lovers. 

The pace was actually agonizingly slow. A slow burn that had put all other slow burns to shame.

You directed Wanda back to your mouth and the kiss that ignited again is its own kind of sex. God, she never really understood the fuzz about making out because her sexual experiences in the past didn’t really pay much attention to foreplay. For a while, she was simply content with the sliding of lips and tongues. But then you dropped to the floor and began pulling down her soaked thong, while your dilated eyes never left hers.

Wanda’s breath hitched at seeing you fall to your knees and gaze at her with incomparable reverence. How could you worship her when you yourself were so achingly beautiful?

She needed you to touch her soon or she’d go crazy. “Please.”

Her panties only made it past one ankle before you dove in to taste her for the first time. 

Wanda of the present comes at the ghost sensation of your tongue against her throbbing clit. In truth, it’s just her fingers that brought her to climax while she kneels at the center of her bed, her ruined underwear down past her thighs. She bucks her hips a couple of more times before falling back to the mattress, spent. 

That old lady was right. An orgasm does help.

-

The divorce is final. 

Today, she signed away any legal right she has as your partner. As for everyone else in the meeting room, it’s just another ordinary day to dissolve a marriage.

Wanda’s wearing the sundress that sort of accidentally gave her release this morning. You keep looking at her, no wonder trying to figure out why the dress looks so familiar. And Wanda can’t look at you straight in the eye without blushing. 

You came in with your ever reliable back-up: Natasha. Now that you’re no longer married to her, Wanda’s insecurities about the true nature of your relationship with Natasha has come up to the surface. The way Natasha would pat your back and ask you if you’re alright. The way she’d ask you if you’d like something to drink. The way she also knows you take your coffee black with three teaspoons of brown sugar.

The way she’s just always there. 

It annoys her enough that you said Natasha was your person, because then what was she to you? The title of soulmate triumphs over wife, and Wanda wants to be both. She wants all the titles. 

Well, maybe not all. She definitely doesn’t want to be called your ex-wife. But she’ll accept the reality for your sake. She wasn’t lying when she’d said she’ll give you everything you want, even if it puts her on the sidelines.

“Hey, do you want to get coffee?” Wanda breaks the spell of silence that lasted some five minutes when your lawyers and Natasha left the room to give you two a moment. 

She immediately wants to take back her words when you look at her  incredulously like she had grown another head on her lithe, sagged shoulders. 

“Seriously?” you say, and spitefully chuckle. 

Wanda says nothing, just resorts to quietly admiring you in a skirt suit she’s never seen you wear before. In the short time you’ve both been separated, she’s noticed little changes of yours that makes her homesick for you. You will wear new clothes and shoes, get a new haircut, try a new hobby, walk a certain way, and then all these changes will pile up until you become this inconceivable stranger. Still beautiful–but a stranger nonetheless. She knows the consequences of her actions are harder on you, but maybe, just maybe, it’s equally hard for her too. 

“I’m sorry, but I can’t,” you sigh, despondent. “Maybe for you it’s not, but today is the worst day of my life, Wanda. Or second. Or third. I don’t know. There’s so many of them recently, but this is definitely in the top three. I just want to be alone.” 

Wanda will never get used to the way you’re now just either angry or tired of dealing with her. She’s afraid to reassess the odds of getting you back and finding out it’s worse than zero. 

“Right,” Wanda says, looking down at her feet. “I don’t know what I was thinking.”

You hum in response.

“It is, you know?” Wanda says.

You shoot her a quizzical look. 

“It’s hard for me too,” Wanda clarifies. “I spent all morning picking out what to wear and getting all dolled-up, in desperate hopes you’d–you’d change your mind at the last minute.”

“Is that supposed to make me feel bad, or–”

“No,” Wanda cuts in in panic. Somehow she keeps saying the wrong things. “It’s hard for me. Because it’s the end for our marriage when all I want is to be with you right now.”

You avert your gaze and nod solemnly at her as if you understood. 

Do you?

Do you, perhaps, feel the same way? Or is she the only one still in love?

“I’m sorry for being a jerk,” you say, eyes downcast still refusing to meet her eyes. “I know it’s unfair for me to act like I’m the only one who’s hurting. I just–I’m tired of being angry and sad and lost all the time. And it doesn’t exactly help when you’re around. For once, I want to feel something else and I need to be alone to figure it out.”

I want to move on from you, is what Wanda thinks you really want to say and her eyes well up. This time, she prays you don’t glance her way. She might just break down right in front of you if you do. She’s never known this kind of desolation. And she only has herself to blame. 

For once, she’s thankful for Natasha’s presence when she interrupts the moment, asking if you’re ready to leave.

“I am.” you tell Natasha. You get up and round the long table to approach Wanda. She could no longer stop the tears from falling when she felt you place your hand softly on her shoulder. The touch is so featherlight, it may as well just be her imagination. 

“Thank you for giving me the best years of my life. Goodbye, Wanda.”

The pain that racks her entire body causes her to visibly shake. She has no idea how she’s still alive at this point. Not for the first time, she desperately wishes for a do-over. But the clock only moves forward, and it’s still moving to take you away. 

Maybe time will also be the one to bring you back someday.

-

Two Months Later

Wanda hasn’t seen you since the divorce. Not once. Nor has she heard from you at all. While you didn’t downright reject her when she had told you that she’d try to get you back, her unanswered texts and unreturned calls should be more than enough to tell her otherwise. 

Her only consolation is that you haven’t blocked her number yet. A few days after she last saw you, she texted to remind you to pick up the last of your things she has in possession. Natasha showed up at her door the very next morning, which confirms you still get her texts. The items are inconsequential in nature, but Wanda had the hardest time putting them in a box. 

She spent an unnecessary amount of time arranging your hardbound books alphabetically (“It’s just not the same, but a Kindle user would never understand.” you’d explain to her whenever you’d shop for more) and cleaning each protector of your small collection of Funko toys (“A dozen more of those and you won’t have space left in your side of the cabinet. What does that leave you with?” Wanda would reprimand you after seeing a shopping bag full of them in the trunk of the car. “Happiness.” you’d reply with a sheepish grin).

She smiled contritely after she had sealed the package; how ironic that she terribly missed the things about you she’s the least fond of. It’s as if the grieving doesn’t have an end. And if she had known you’d send Natasha to retrieve them, she wouldn’t have given them away. She wanted to keep them–wants to keep more of you as much as possible. Wanda wouldn’t call herself a masochist though. Not really. 

Because it’s not over yet. It will take as long as it needs to, and it won’t matter. Patience is her utmost virtue. 

And Wanda believes you feel the same, because there are midnights where her phone would ring from an unknown number. She’d answer and listen to shaky, shallow breaths for a minute before the person on the other line ends the call. It couldn’t be anyone else but you, could it? These moments are always hazy, however, muddled by wine and prescription pills. But Wanda swears they happen. 

The days aren’t so bleak when she pretends she’s still your wife, and you’re just in some faraway place–like a soldier that has gone to war, she’s left to count the days until she’s in your arms again. She goes about her routine as she’s always done when the two of you were still together; go for a run in the mornings, have eggs and toast for breakfast, and then walk Sparky in the afternoon. Her evenings, excruciating and long, are the loneliest hours. Sleep won’t come easy to her, if it comes at all. Her heart mostly breaks as well for Sparky, who still waits by the door around the time you used to arrive home from work. He’d patiently wait there until Wanda would call for him, or fall asleep in the exact same spot. And it’s not like she can talk to him and explain why you won’t come home. All Wanda can do is wait for Sparky to forget this learned behavior or forget you.

So, for the past two months, she’s been taking it one day at a time. It’s now the only way she knows how to survive. It’s working so far, she muses, as she stands before the proof of it while carrying Sparky under her arm, right in the middle of a quiet street in Queens. 

Wanda had loaned the capital for the business right after the divorce papers were signed, and when she got the alimony from it, it was more than enough to pay back the loan in full and still for some change.

She wanted to create something out of what she had destroyed. 

And that’s how the borough’s first Sokovian café came to be. Or at least will come to be when the renovations are finally completed. She can’t see much through the scaffolding that is still in place, but she can make out what it would look like once it’s officially open to the public.

Her contractor and fellow Sokovian migrant, Mr. Jacobs spots her from where he is installing the signage. “Ms. Maximoff!”

Wanda smiles up at him, brushing her bangs away from her sight. The haircut is recent and she kind of regrets it. “Is everything okay around here?”

“I believe so. There’s still some electrical stuff to finish, but I’m confident we’ll be done before your opening.” he tells Wanda.

Sparky starts squirming against Wanda’s hold. “Is it okay to come inside or should I come back another day?” Wanda asks.

“Of course. I had my boys clear out the area and install the A/C last night, so you should be comfortable.”

Perfect. She’s yet to test out the oven she ordered, and there are some new recipes she’d like to try. 

“And Ms. Maximoff?”

“Yes?”

“Don’t worry, this place is going to do great. They’re gonna love you and our culture.”

A feeling of warmth spreads through Wanda’s chest. “Thank you, Mr. Jacobs.” He gives her a salute before going back to work.

Wanda’s not ready for the emotion that consumes her when she steps inside her new café. She puts Sparky down on the hardwood flooring, and his nose immediately gets to work, sniffing every corner of the room he could find–which isn’t all that long to cover for a regular-sized Jack Russell Terrier like him. The rented space is relatively small, so Wanda had to be smart with its interior design; a long bench stretches from the open kitchen and counter to about two feet from the entrance, spanning two round dining tables that could sit two people at a time; by the window wall facing the street, is a high top table with two chairs. At most, three staff(including her) could fit in the open kitchen, along with a single espresso machine and a wall oven. All in all, the café can accommodate about six customers dining in at a time, which is why she’s hoping she’d do better with take-outs. 

Wanda did all the decorations herself, top to bottom. The floral ceilings are a combination of autumn colors–your favorite season–and pendant lights subtly drop from them to emit a faint, yellow glow. The polished concrete wall of the dining area gives it an industrial vibe, while red brick tiles clad the panels of the kitchen area. For the finishing touches, Wanda decided to place a variety of potted plants in every corner of the room. 

Standing at the center of it all, Wanda feels a sense of pride and fulfillment–something that seemed implausible to her just a few months before.

"Best coffee in the world. Maybe you should start a café business." You’d joke sometimes whenever she makes you coffee in the morning.

A shadow passes over her eyes as she looks out the window. Needless to say, there’s only one thing missing in it. The person she wants next to her when all her dreams come true.

You.

–

Pietro finishes a whole batch of white chocolate macadamia cookies by himself. Wanda’s twin brother flew in last weekend, a rare occurrence since she only sees him once a year at most. He’d be home in the holidays for dinner, and be gone the following day. He lives with a suitcase, and never stays in a city for longer than two weeks. Wanda wasn’t expecting he’d visit her after she broke the news of her divorce, knowing he had gone through the same ordeal twice already without fuss. Apparently, it’s a run-of-the-mill life event for her brother, and it almost did not make it to their bimonthly check-in calls. 

“You’re gonna have to pay me for those.” Wanda tells him. She’s crouched on the floor, feeding Sparky strips of dried meat as she takes a break between baking and practicing her Youtube-acquired skill of Latte Art.

“I thought it’s a welcome home gift.” Pietro says, licking off the crumbs from his fingers. With the bleach in his hair extending to his medium stubbles, their resemblance is close to nonexistent. 

“You earn ten times more than I do in a year.”

“So? What is family for if not free food?”

“It’s $52 dollars.” Wanda says.

Pietro hands her a hundred dollar bill. “Keep the change.”

Wanda smirks at him, pocketing the money in her apron. “I intended to.” She passes him a napkin, and gestures at his chin. He waves her off in a pompous manner, and instead, goes to the back of the shop to clean himself up. She didn’t think it’s possible to both know and not know someone at the same time. To look at them and see who they are versus who you think they’re supposed to be. In terms of money and status, he is miles ahead of Wanda, but perhaps at the cost of being unable to find the brother she shared her childhood with in Sokovia. Wanda’s not sure if he still exists beneath the layers of branded suits and expensive perfumes, she just knows she misses him terribly. 

“Second Chances,” Pietro proclaims as he returns a minute later, waving his hands wildly with an imitation of a fanfare. “A little corny if you ask me.”

“Well, I’m not asking you,” Wanda contends and then proceeds to scrub the empty tray that Pietro left in the wake of his cookie binge. “It’s a good name. People can interpret it however they want.”

“And you? What was on your mind when you came up with it?”

Wanda doesn’t answer that. 

“So,” Pietro jumps into a sitting position on the counter and lets his legs dangle from its edge. 

“How’s the quarter-life crisis, sis?”

Wanda cocks an eyebrow and gives him a once over. “Better than yours. All things considered.” 

Sparky comes up to him and stands on his hind legs to snuffle at his shiny loafers. 

“Touché,” Pietro laughs good-naturedly and crosses his legs to avoid the dog’s attention. “It’s weird though, seeing you get into this kind of thing.”

“What do you mean?” Wanda asks.

“You’re not a salesperson, Wands. Remember your girl scout days? Dad would buy all your cookies because you can’t sell for shit.”

Wanda snorts noisily through her nose. “Mom can’t bake for shit.” She notices the smile fall from his lips at the offhand jab at her brother’s favored parent. 

Wanda sighs. When she does get glimpses of the old Pietro, it’s mostly through negative triggers. 

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to–” Wanda starts to apologize but Pietro quickly changes the subject without a preamble.

“You’re really not going to talk about it?” 

“About what?”

“Playing dumb isn’t a good look on you.”

Wanda suddenly drops the tray on the sink, the violent sound of metal hitting metal giving both of them a minor headache. She pauses to think, and then says, “How about you just ask me straight instead of skirting around the topic of she-who-must-not-be-named?”

“Okay,” Pietro says in an annoyingly placid tone. “What were you thinking, cheating on Y/N?”

Wanda swallows dryly. She did ask him to be blunt.

“I wasn’t. There’s… I don’t know how to explain it. There’s this missing gap, and I acted to fill that gap.” 

“Was it something that’s missing in your relationship?” Pietro asks and props his cheek on his palm. The question is so familiar to her because she’s asked it herself countless times, the day she kissed Vision for the first time. There wasn’t an epiphany nor were there pieces falling into place when she had slept with him. And when she thought she loved him, it wasn’t because she thought she loved you any less. She came to the conclusion, not too long ago, that perhaps there’s just something rotten inside of her that she simply wasn’t aware of. 

Wanda shakes her head, weary at making sense of herself and her decision to risk everything she’s built with you for something as cheap as a fling. “None of this was her fault. Her only mistake was falling for someone who’s way beneath her.”

“I always thought she’s too good for you, no offense.”

Wanda’s smile is brittle as she recalls how Pietro’s toast at the wedding started with that exact sentence, word-for-word. You had squeezed Wanda’s clammy hand as you listened to Pietro rant about Wanda, and jokingly express his regret that you married the lesser twin. Wanda apologized for his tactlessness, and you responded with a kiss to her cheek, telling her how wrong he was, how you were only good and she made you better. 

“I’m sorry, Wands,” Pietro tells her earnestly. “I can’t say I’ve been through the same thing even with two divorces under my belt. I don’t think I’ve ever been in love with someone the way you both were with each other–or at least, the way she was in love with you.”

“Thanks, but that's not necessary. I’m going to fix it.” she says. 

It stings–the implication that Wanda was incapable of matching your love for her. But it only stings because it’s the truth. You deserve to be happy and she failed.  And yet, she also can’t survive the thought of you getting the happiness you deserve from someone else. After all this time, her selfishness hasn’t been tamed. 

Which is why Pietro’s next words hit her right in the gut. “Divorce can’t be fixed. Hell, it’s the only resolution for a terminal relationship. And hasn’t it crossed your mind that perhaps, she’s already met someone else?”

Wanda gives up on her search for the rolling pin. She cracks some eggs in a bowl and starts to furiously whisk by hand.

Maybe she’s an awful person for assuming you won’t be able to move on from her that easily. 

But that’s just how she sees it. 

“No.” she says.

“What makes you so sure?”

“I know her, Piet.”

Pietro starts clapping in slow, steady beats. “She divorces you and you’re still so smug about how she’s so crazy about you.” he says. 

“If you’ve ever felt loved by someone like her, you’d understand.”

Pietro ignores his sister’s underhanded attempt to hurt him back. He came to terms with the reality ages ago, that he’s probably not one of the lucky ones who will get to experience the kind love that Wanda boasts about with you. Maybe he had it once, not necessarily in a romantic sense. But when he thinks of love–real love–he thinks of no one but their estranged mother. 

“Or maybe,” He jumps off the counter to retrieve his coat hanging from one of the dining chairs.  “Love goes away eventually.”

“Not ours.”

Pietro couldn’t help the maniac laughter that escapes his throat. “Are you hearing yourself right now? Do you know how pathetic you sound?”

Wanda purses her lips, continues whisking. 

“Okay, how about this. If you really love her, then you’d at least want her to be happy, even if it’s not with you.” Pietro tries to reason. 

“Oh, so you’re suddenly an expert on the topic.”

“I’m a dick, not an asshole. And yes, there’s a difference.”

Wanda keeps working the whisk like a madwoman. Large amounts of bubbles are forming in the emulsion, and overbeating the egg mixture is definitely not in the recipe.

Pietro continues, “Yeah, I’m a cheater, same as you are–”

“Don’t you dare–” Wanda suddenly tosses the whisk on the worktop, a glint of something dangerous in her green eyes. 

“Let me finish,” Pietro appeases lightly. “I’m a cheater. I cheated on my ex-wives. But when I look in the mirror, I don’t see myself as some anti-hero who has the potential to be an actual hero and become the person they deserve to be with. Because I’ll never be that guy.”

“We’re not the same. We share a birthday, but that’s where the similarities end.”

“We share the same DNA, Wanda,” Pietro smiles through his frustration. Excessive stubbornness–another quality innate to Maximoffs. “But that’s not the point. You know she’d be better off without you. As cliché as it sounds, the only way you can actually show her you love her is by letting her go–completely.”

The shuddering sigh that escapes her is immediately followed by erratic sobs that go out of control fast. Pietro is right there in an instant, an arm thrown over her shoulder as her whole body jerks, rasping for air. 

“Shit, I’m sorry.” he murmurs into her crown. “You’ll be okay, Wands. I promise…you’ll be okay.”

“Will you be okay if I leave you here? I have to meet someone in a few.” 

Wanda heard you say in earnest. She lost herself for a while, stunned by the kindest pair of eyes she’d ever seen. The day flew by so quickly in your company, she hadn’t realized it was time to go. And to think that she almost skipped freshman orientation because going to New York University wasn’t exactly the plan. Columbia was–where her boyfriend was a junior. 

Her boyfriend, who she forgot texted her an hour ago asking if she was ready to go, and hadn’t heard back from her.

“Y-Yeah, my boyfriend is on the way to pick me up.” she mumbled, distracted by the glow of the sunset forming a halo around your head. You were beautiful in a way that was not entirely evident at first. Wanda was curious if anybody else had made the same discovery.

“It was nice meeting you, Wanda.”

“Likewise, Y/N.” she smiled like she’d been doing all day with you, and so frequently, that the muscles on her face were beginning to hurt a little. 

The smile you returned her way was glorious, but in a flash you were already walking away. Wanda couldn’t describe the way she fervently despised watching you go, especially without your number on her phone and no means to contact you in the future.  

“Y/N?” Wanda called out. Her heart seemed to swell and swing against her rib cage. 

“Yes?”

“Do you, maybe, want to hang out sometime?”

And the kindest eyes that ever looked at her gave the answer. 

Pietro leaves shortly after the tremors subside and her breathing returns to normal. The panic attacks aren’t that frequent, but she does get them now from time-to-time. They started right after the night you gave Wanda your wedding ring. 

With her brother gone, Wanda is left to wonder if you’ve met someone. She is left to wonder if you’re no longer miserable like she is, if you’ve taken considerable strides in moving on with your life. She tries calling you. Not to talk, but just to check if you still haven’t blocked her number. After several rings, you don’t pick up as expected. Not a setback. Not a progress either. She pretends you’re asleep or in the shower. She pretends you mean to call her back, but forgets to. 

And if a confirmation of not being blocked is all she gets, she’ll take it.

She’ll take what you can give even if it’s nothing.

[soolh1k]

Skz ghosting you !

notes: it's my first time trying to post this type of content, english is not my first language so apologies for any misspelling or grammar. i hope u like it !! :)))

type: text post | narrated text

genre: angst w no fluff

WARNINGS: swearing, a little bit angsty, let me know if you'd like me to tag u :)

Maknae line pt2 | Hyung line pt 1

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✮ Han Jisung

you were so pissed at him. yes, perhaps he never confirm that he would go but he didn't deny it either so you just thought he'd go, then you saw he didn't even read the messages, that made you angrier, what he did was not nice at all, it made you feel so bad and more because your mother was very excited, what are you supposed to tell her? oh well I don't know, he ghosted me. of course not. that would be stupid.

You didn't even wanted to know more about him, so you went to his apartment for your things and returned to your mother's house, it didn't take long for you to cry inconsolably on your mother's shoulder, you felt stupid for expecting something from that man but in the end you loved him and always would.

He was the one who saved you from losing yourself, he did so much for you, he sacrificed everything for you, but you also sacrificed a lot for him, it wasn't fair, you were supposed to have a healthy relationship, so what was going on with you two, why was everything falling apart? Or maybe you were just being dramatic? no, this was not the first time that you felt that he no longer loved you and that he wanted to get away. perhaps the right thing to do would be to let him be happy and say goodbye.

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✮ Lee Felix

you were shocked, you didn't expect to be ghosted, everything had been fine between you two for months. is he mad at you? for such a stupid thing? it doesn't make sense at all.

If everything was fine, why did he ghost you? Could it be that he no longer loved you? It couldn't be, you can't stop loving a person from one day to the next, or maybe he had been pretending to love you all this time when he stopped doing it months ago. that thought was destroying you for days, weren't you enough for him? you were no longer important to him?

every day you wanted him to return to your arms, you couldn't stand being away from him, even if he no longer loved you, you wanted him to come back. the days passed and you felt more depressed, to the point of not eating, you neglected yourself so much that when you saw yourself in the mirror, you were no longer the same person.

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✮ Kim Seungmin

what the fuck? It wasn't the first time it happened, he always ghosted you because he liked to annoy you, but normally it only lasted a few hours or a day at most, but this time it was different, days had passed and it wasn't fun at all.

You assumed that he was doing it to bother you again, but to a certain extent it worried you. anyway you knew seung was not a very communicative person but this was in a very different context, what the hell did you have to do to get him to talk to you? You didn't want to beg him either, that would be stupid.

You were so frustrated that Min was like that, why was it so hard for him to talk to you? was it your fault? your attitude made it impossible for him to talk to you? maybe it was that, it wasn't him, it was you, he just didn't want to tell you and he just left, right?

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✮ Yang Jeongin

and everything went to hell, you were going to see each other a day before he left since he would be out of the country for a long time but apparently you weren't interesting enough to go out with him, he simply decided not to show up.

that broke you, was it so hard to say, I don't want to see you anymore, let's break up, that would have hurt less than ignoring you. maintaining his relationship was always difficult, he being an idol, was afraid of ruining his career and you understood it, he hard work to get there and you didn't want to ruin it but it wasn't fair that he played with your feelings.

at this point you were tired of hiding everything, why couldn't you just date your boyfriend like other people did? that question was going around in your head a lot, but in the end you knew the answer and god how you hated it, but there was nothing else to do, when he came back, you would end everything for the good of both, so he can be an amazing idol and you can just keep living ordinary.

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Tags !!

@albaficaslover

@lovesunshinefelix

@damselettism

[tobiasdrake]

Something has always bothered me about the Planet Trade Organizations that Ive always just attributed to Shounen Bad Writing, and it's that if Frieza and his ilk are so stupid powerful that they can literally destroy planets and entire species at will, what possible use could they have for money? And WHO is buying them?? Is there something I missed by never reading the manga?

I've also never liked the Saiyan culture getting conflated with the PTO in the Namek arc, I think it cheapens the world building. But my head canon is that Saiyans were employed by Frieza for long long time, to the extent that the distinction became negligible before he realized he had become dependent on Saiyan labor. Kind of like German auxiliaries for ancient Rome

Nope, you're not missing much. That's something that's rarely been touched on. It's mentioned briefly when Raditz first explains the concept to Goku.

Frieza's customers are "other races looking for living space". What that means never got elaborated on.

The existence of the PTO implies a vast, interconnected galactic civilization and economy that we never get to see or touch on, just... out there offscreen somewhere. It's kind of disappointing that this was never built on in any way. In fact, the only time we see a planet post-gentrification, it's being used for Frieza Planet.

The blurb calls this "Frieza Planet #79" but dialogue always just refers to Frieza Planet or Planet Frieza as a singular location.

Vegeta, during his brief stay at 79, hints at a possible explanation for this discrepancy.

Upon finding out that Frieza's not presently on his planet, Vegeta immediately, with visible irritation, assumes he's off to go pick out a different world in a tone that suggests this is a regular behavior of Frieza's. This implies a habit of every now and then deciding "I like this one; I'm going to make this Planet Frieza from now on" and forcing all of his men to pack up and move.

But that's the most we get of any worldbuilding about the galactic society or economy surrounding the PTO. And even that much is extrapolation off of a single line where Vegeta gets grumpy that Frieza isn't home.

For their part, I think even Toei was confused on this point; The anime seemed uncertain sometimes about whether Frieza's supposed to be the CEO of the real estate industry or the buyer that all these planets are sold to. But by the time of DBS, that Frieza is a captain of industry seems to have been figured out by all involved parties.

Overall, though some kind of galactic society is indicated by Dragon Ball's worldbuilding, the series seems disinterested in exploring it to any real degree. After Goku defeated the Strongest in the Universe, the series washed its hands of space. And that happened on a disconnected backwater planet still recovering from apocalyptic drought.

Which is honestly hilarious if you think about it. Out of nowhere, Frieza dashed off to some backwood little hick planet in the middle of nowhere and then he and every last one of his elite special forces fucking died and then the planet exploded. And nobody knows why or what the hell happened down there.