#and that now she also has Others that have her back very obviously

[pynkhues]

Another fanfic writer got ran out of the fandom this weekend because of a 'guilty by association' harassment campaign. She wrote fic of Loustat switching and having a very Canonverse relationship, and a teenager started insulting her writing and inciting harassment by others until she quit writing. The allegation was she was mutuals with someone else who was assumed to be racist, which is flimsy enough, but the real reason was obviously that she wrote popular, beloved fics that did not subscribe to the Hypermasculine Daddy Lestat and Hyperfeminine Housewife Louis Fanon.

This fandom is a horrible place and I am so glad you're still with us and haven't let these people bully you into silence, Sophie. It's so awful.

I'm really, really sorry to hear that, anon. Can I ask who the author is? I'd like to have a look and maybe send them a message or a comment if I can. Hopefully they might be a bit like me though and come back after giving themselves some time and buffer.

It's all pretty hideous behaviour though, and mm - - okay, you know. It's been a few weeks since it all went down with me now, and I've had a lot of people reach out very kindly in DMs, and also had to have y'know, I guess I'd say offbeat, haha, and awkward and heavy conversations with people in my real life, both personally and professionally (although I will say it's kind of been a relief, and half my family has already turned it into a running joke. My mum, who was the first person I told, watched Disclaimer after I recommended it to her, and she keeps texting me photos of the Kevin Kline stalker character with 'your erotic fanfiction haters' and asking me if I'm sure I didn't kill somebody's son, lmao), but I've been thinking about it all a lot, and - - yeah.

Look, this is going to sound off topic, but bear with me for a minute, alright? Over the last two weeks, purely by coincidence, I listened to the Behind the Bastards episodes on Rush Limbaugh. I love that podcast in general, and those two episodes are fascinating, and really worth listening to if you're at all interested in the media landscape's pivot to the right in the last few years. They really explore who he is as a person, his ascent in radio, how he managed that ascent, and the space he created in media which would after him be filled by Fox News, Tucker Carlson, Joe Rogan,et al.

One of the ways that he did this was by being loud, but also presenting himself as trustworthy, and really the only person anyone needed to listen to. He was a smart guy, anyway, anyone could hear that, and if people listened to him, they'd be smart too. One of the first majorly successful runs of this was his campaign against the show Murphy Brown, which is about a woman who is a single mother and a lawyer, successful, bright, and who interacts with a lot of gay people in different capacities in her every day life. Murphy Brown is famous for being one of the first shows to normalise both successful single motherhood, and LGBTQI+ people as varied members of our communities.

Now, Limbaugh positioned the show as offensive, and anyone who liked it as morally wrong, but more than that, he positioned his opinion as the only right one, and he would actively tell people not only to not watch the show, but to not engage with anyone who might have an opinion of it that wasn't his own. He did this by telling people they would be stupid, or 'missing something' if they didn't follow his obvious intellect, that they didn't need to think about it themselves, because he would do the thinking for them, Smart Person That He Was.

And so I'm like, y'know, listening to the podcast on my commute to work, and I just kind of think - - huh. Because it's kind of familiar, right? And I got thinking about how all those people were reblogging my 'vile anti black post' and telling all their followers to block me, thus trying to control their followers ability to see my posts, and presumably the posts of others, since they seem to do that a bit, and then I noticed that those same people trying to ensure everyone blocked me.....didn't block me themselves. And it suddenly just clicked into place.

Fascist rhetoric has come to fandom. Per the Merriam-Webster Dictionary:

In simplest terms, fascism refers to a specific way of organizing a society: under fascism, a government ruled by a dictator controls the lives of the people in that society, and allows no dissent or disagreement. 

Fascism is more than just political, it's a philosphy and a mindset. Rush Limbaugh was a media figure, and he was a fascist, and interestingly - importantly - he did not believe in most of what he said. What he wanted was power, success, control, an audience, and to dictate the rhetoric in the media landscape because that granted him that power, success, control, and audience.

And look, I'm not saying these people attacking others with different opinions in the fandom are fascists, but they're using a fascist playbook. Their criticisms, harassment campaigns, threats to dox, actual doxxing, threats to not only involve but criminally endanger children (which I have since learnt my nephews were not the first target of - someone in this fandom who I won't name reached out to tell me they'd similarly threatened to send things to her children) (also I've seen posts that the people who initially were vocally strawmanning my arguments wouldn't do that, and sure, maybe they wouldn't, but all I can say is that if I knew members of my own corner of the fandom were threatening to find and send porn to any minor, let alone children as young as 7, I would be loudly and outspokenly condemning it), and attempts to suppress anything they don't agree with, is fascist behaviour.

They are allowing no dissent, no disagreement, and actively interfering with people's real lives to achieve that.

I don't think this will make any difference to them, I think some might not know what they're doing, but I think a lot do at this point, and I guess what I want to do in this post is just to share what I personally think that it is, and I guess - - mm, not offer words of advice exactly, but perhaps offer some gentle encouragement. I'd encourage anyone in this fandom - hell, everyone in life right now, given the state of things - to approach anyone who tells you there is only one way to create, only one way to enjoy something, or interpret something, or only a select group of people that you should listen to, with caution at the very least.

Fandom - again, hell, community - has always, to me, been about encouraging others to explore and engage with it on their own terms. Diversity of opinion is good, it's healthy, different takes on characters should be exciting, different iterations in fanart and fanfiction is a celebration of the fact that we bring our own stories to, well, stories, and anyone telling you who you should or shouldn't engage with without having a healthy, equal conversation about why you shouldn't engage with them, should be given respectful, reasonable doubt.

Anyway, I'm sure this'll piss people off again, but y'know, I don't really care about them at this point. I think their behaviour is ugly, antithetical to what fandom has always been about, and frankly, I think it's antisocial. I do care about you guys though, and I don't know. I hope this perhaps sheds a little bit of light for you in the same way that I felt it shed a little bit of light for me, or at least makes you think a little bit more broadly about what this desire to control is a part of, and how to engage (or rather, not) with it. But more than anything, I hope that author's okay, and that they've made friends in this fandom like I have who can offer their support.

[11queensupreme11]

Awww kymon being like shu would be sad cuz he was probably so full of life with Percy and his brothers than posiedon came and to change them all 😭 like he probably knows what happened to Percy and posiedon or saw something bad

Would posiedon ever hit Percy or abuse physical infront of their own children or the eldest

And thalassandros who looks like Percy but can’t act perfect like his brothers or the eldest probably does menacing stuff and does he have hatred for human or cares for them??

I can imagine Percy having fun with her eldest when they were babies and trying to teach them to be kind and treat humans good 😔💔

poseidon's abuse towards percy is mostly sexual rather than physical and emotional like with his sons. other than that, he tends to manhandle her and grab her too hard, but still tries to be somewhat gentle as we've seen in previous chapters

and yes kymon knows what's happening to his mother. rape is a very normal thing to happen with the gods, and even marital rape isn't even considered a thing to them smh.

but kymon knows what happens to his mother every time she steps in to try and defend them from poseidon, he knows what happens when poseidon takes her to the bedroom and leaves them alone, he knows that they've been spared for this time and that the "punishment" has fallen onto their mother for daring to interrupt. she's basically offering herself up to poseidon every time in hopes to make him leave him and his brothers alone. back then, kymon didn't understand it, but now that he's older and realizes what's really happening and that there are times his mother doesn't actually want it...... well, it's just better to be numb. he'd rather feel nothing than feel pain and helplessness like when he was young.

as for thalassandros, he's a bitch 💀💀💀 he doesn't hate humans, but he definitely looks down on them and loves to go up there to terrorize ppl who go to sea and even eat them lmao. he thinks they taste yummy and his favorite "flavor" of human are the ones between ages 25-30 cuz they taste the best 😭 also prefers humans with more fat or muscles since "there's more for me to eat!" 😂😂 he's such a menace, i'm sorry percy 😂

also, i forgot to add, but you know how i mentioned that fish can lay 100s to even 1000s of eggs and how i'm incorporating it into here??? well, axiandros, kymon, and thalassandros are from the first 1000-ish batch of baby mer eggs obviously, but axiandros, then kymon, then thalassandros were the first to hatch and even hatched waaay earlier than expected compared to the other eggs. so they were actually raised closely together as babies for some time before the others were born 🥺🥺🥺🥺 they're like the Little Three (get it, cuz poseidon, zeus, and hades are the "Big Three" lmao) 🥺

they were soooo close before poseidon ruined it all 💔

[thesvnandthemooon]

𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞𝐛𝐨𝐨𝐤

a/n: not too happy with how the beginning turned out, but the second half of this has to be one of my favorite things i’ve ever written

summary: natasha romanoff x female!reader. based on the movie “the notebook”; you’re allie, nat’s noah

warnings: none :)

word count: 8.8k

part 1 part 2 part 3 part 4 part 5

✷ ✷ ✷ ✷ ✷ ✷ ✷ ✷ ✷ ✷ ✷ ✷

The consequences of your actions couldn't have been sweeter.

Your parents don't end up approving of Natasha, but maybe that's okay. Even two years later, they refuse to talk to her. You don't talk to them, either.

You don't tell them the big news.

They don't get an invite.

They also don't see you in your wedding dress.

Your father doesn't walk you down the aisle. Instead, Peter takes over that job for him.

It took Natasha three months to figure out what to wear. To you, it never mattered — she would've look gorgeous in anything. But, when you see her waiting for you in her white suit, you're very happy about her choice.

It's a small wedding, but you wouldn't have it any other way. Just the closest friends, and a few distant relatives who were kind enough to show up — not many of those, obviously. But you'd always suspected your aunt Vivian would support your little act of rebellion.

She sits in the second row, beaming just like Peter. When she hugs you after the ceremony, she whispers: "Your mom will come around eventually. If she doesn't, then she's missing out."

You're not sure about the first part, but the second? That, you know is true.

Natasha doesn't let go of your hand the entire night. During the vows, the toast, your first dance as wives. Her eyes are on you, as well. You're not doing anything extraordinary, other than wear a wedding dress, but she's looking at you like you hung the moon.

Your honeymoon is just as special. After a few weeks in Italy, you make your way back to where you're happiest. Back to the place that keeps pulling you in like a magnet, back to your world of coffees and canoes and mornings in the lake.

You'll always return to this house, that much is clear. You remember what Natasha said when she first brought you here — for someday. Away from everything. Away with someone.

That someone somehow turned out to be you. As you watch her reach for the key and unlock the door, you couldn't be more thankful for that fact.

"We need a bed", you mumble. You still haven't upgraded from the mattress you've been using for years now.

She glances at you, the soft sunlight catching her hair. "I like the mattress. Very grounding."

"Haha." You smirk and grab her hand, letting her lead you inside. The smell of pine and dust is comforting. It feels like a home, even more so than the apartment you bought in New York City together.

The floorboards creak underfoot. You look around, taking the familiar space in. It's old and worn, the kind of place that wraps around you like a warm blanket. Natasha drops your bags by the floor, then stretches her arms above her head with a satisfied sound.

The surface of the lake outside shimmers. You step out onto the porch and grab the broom to remove all the old leaves and dirt that have accumulated during your absence. Inside the kitchen, Natasha starts cleaning the kitchen so she can get started on dinner.

"Feels good to be back", you call, wiping the chairs and table down with a rag.

"Feels like we never left", she replies, her voice distant from the kitchen. You hum to yourself and wring the rag through your hands. Natasha's right — it really does feel like slipping into a life that was already waiting for you. But getting here wasn't easy at all.

You straighten up and make your way to the small garden just in front of the porch. Potted plants are lined up on one side of the stairs, so you crouch down and check on them. It rains often enough out here, but they look a little dry — understandably so, since it's July — so you grab a watering can.

Being back here brings back memories. You still remember that day, that conversation with Simon that started with a simple "I think we need to talk."

The heavy silence that followed, his breathing quiet and suddenly uneven. His question whether there's someone else. Your admittance that, yes, there always had been.

Your carefully composed world crumbled within hours.

It's a blur now. Your parents' fury, their desperate attempts to reel you back in, your mother's sharp warnings that you'd regret this. Beneath her mask of composure was an insecurity, stemming from being defied by her own child for the first time in her life.

You were told you'd regret this. But you got on the jet with Natasha, your hand in hers, and you didn't regret a thing.

Two years later, you're still waiting for said regret to set in. You don't see it happening, though. Not now, not ever.

A clatter from the kitchen pulls you back into the present. You pull out a few weeds and toss them into the compost, then you make your way back inside. Natasha's boiling water for the pasta now, so you wash your hands and grab a few cans of tomatoes. Right as you put them into a pot, you feel the familiar weight of her arms around your waist. Her lips meet your neck, soft and unhurried.

"Quiet here", she murmurs, pressing another kiss to your jaw. You turn your head and she kisses your nose.

"It's always been like that."

"I like it." She pauses, her hands running up and down your sides. "It feels a little empty, though."

You open your eyes and look at her, eyebrows raised. Natasha smiles faintly. "Oh yeah?"

"Yeah. It is empty", she mumbles, her nose nuzzling your cheek. "We should find a way to change that."

"Fill the house with pasta?"

"Maybe." Her hand slides to your stomach and slips under your shirt. Her palm is warm, but the wedding band feels cold against your skin. "Maybe not."

Whatever that's supposed to mean — you already know you'll need more room.

. . .

The drive from the airport feels longer this time. The once familiar road seems new, the trees look bigger. Inside the car it's quiet, save for the soft breathing coming from the backseat that has replaced the sound of the radio.

A turn, then another. Finally, you pull up in front of the space that, no matter what, is always one you can retreat to.

Natasha moves her hand from your thigh to undo her seatbelt, then she slides out of the car. She opens the door and gently scoops the little bundle out of her car seat. To your surprise, Masha stays asleep, even as Natasha adjusts her position in the crook of her arm. Her red wisps of hair stick out in all directions.

"She's getting heavy", Natasha mumbles, following you to the house.

"Well, she's not a tiny little newborn anymore. She's growing."

Your wife frowns at your words, despite knowing they're true. Maggie started crawling last week — she's anything but a newborn at this point.

"Still a baby", she mutters, glancing at your daughter. Her pacifier moves a bit as she sucks on it.

"Yes, still a baby." You drop your suitcases next to the bed — or rather, mattress. "Dammit, Nat. We really need to get a bed."

"Why?" Natasha bends down to place the baby on the middle of the mattress, lightly rubbing her tummy when she squirms in her sleep. "This is safer. For her."

You huff and kick off your shoes. "So what, we're just never upgrading? We'll just sleep on this thing forever?"

"You didn't mind back then", she mumbles, sitting down next to Masha. Her fingers brush over the baby's tiny sock-covered feet. "Besides, she can't roll off if there's nothing to roll off of."

"Can't argue with that." You join them right as Masha stirs again. Her eyes blink open, her pacifier falling out as she yawns and stretches. You smile and brush some hair out of her face. "Hey, honey."

Masha blinks up at you, fists clenching and unclenching, still caught somewhere between sleep and wakefulness. Natasha scoops her up and holds her against her chest.

"Yeah, that was a nice nap", she says, kissing the baby's cheek. "You're all warm, Masha."

"Looks like someone is ready for a swim", you comment, already getting up to grab your swimsuits. Natasha looks at you and you pause. "What?"

"I think we should wait with that."

"What, why?" You pout and open the duffel bag anyway. Inside, you store your swimsuits and towels. "It's sweltering."

"I don't know how clean the lake is", she argues. Masha coos and Natasha gives her a quick smile. "She's too young."

"Oh, please." You slip your shirt off and momentarily leave Natasha speechless. But then she remembers that you aren't exactly alone, and that you also probably wouldn't take kindly to being ogled in front of your daughter, so she averts her eyes. "We went skinny dipping, like, dozens of times."

"Yes, but we're not 9 months old", she says, focusing on Masha again.

"You're sure?" You smirk as you catch the way her ears turn pink. "You get just as fussy when you're tired."

"I do not", she scoffs. But Masha, letting out a sleepy whimper and rubbing her face against Natasha's shoulder, proves your point. You raise an eyebrow.

"See? Identical."

"Oh, enough." She gets up, balancing the baby in her arms. "You're serious about swimming?"

"Very much so." You manage to close the clasp of the bikini top you're wearing and put your hair up into a bun. "Come on, we'll be quick."

Natasha narrows her eyes but doesn't argue, instead rocking Masha and rubbing her back. "We can take her down to the dock, let her dip her feet in. But that's it."

The sun is beaming down at you, but the trees surrounding the lake provide some shade. Natasha watches you as you jump into the water, then she sits on the dock. She keeps Masha cradled to her chest protectively, so you tread back to the dock and raise your eyebrows.

Your wife shoots you the most unimpressed look known to man.

"You promised", you remind her, splashing some water on her legs. The baby giggles, her arms flailing.

"What if I drop her?"

"You won't." You reach out and touch Masha's bare foot. "Just a quick dip."

She hesitates for another moment, but then sighs and adjusts her hold on the baby. Slowly, she lowers her from the dock until her toes touch the water. Masha's eyes widen, her entire body going stiff — but then she lets out a surprised little squeal.

"Oh", Natasha mumbles, watching the baby's mouth form an o-shape. She starts kicking her feet and gurgling in delight. "She likes it."

"Of course." You smile and lean back in the water. "I knew she would."

"Yeah, yeah." She scoops the baby back up and kisses her cheek, expertly ignoring her wails of protest. "That's enough for now."

"Oh, come on. What are you scared of?" You reach out and gently grab Masha's foot. "That the fishes are going to nibble at her little toes?"

"Hilarious."

The baby reaches out toward the water again, her hands grasping at the air. Her feet keep kicking, but Natasha doesn't budge. She's read too many horror stories about recreational water illnesses. Sure, Maggie is over the recommended 6 months old now, but your wife likes to be safe.

"It's time for lunch, anyway", Natasha adds, using the hem of her shirt to dry Masha's feet. "I bet she's hungry."

"Probably", you agree half heartedly. You sigh and get out onto the dock again, water dripping from your body. Natasha stands up as well and wraps one arm around your waist. She pulls you closer and gives you a kiss.

"We'll go swimming later", she mumbles, her hand drifting to your front. Her fingertips gently skim over the stretch marks there. "When the little fishie is asleep."

It's not the breeze that makes you shiver. You lean into the touch and press your lips against the corner of her mouth. "You better keep that promise."

"I always do", she teases. She grabs your hand and raises her eyebrows, a playful smile on her face as she starts leading you back to the house. "Come on. Milk for the fishie, and steak for us."

Later that night, when Masha's asleep, you take her outside in her stroller and leave it close enough so you're able to see and hear her. Then you pull Natasha to the dock, kissing and tugging each other's clothes off, giggling like teenagers whenever you need to part for a moment.

Your shirt ends up god knows where — in a bush, maybe, or in the old canoe. You don't really pay it any attention. You're far too focused on getting into the water again.

The lake is still warm enough from the sun that'd been shining all day, but now that it's windy and dark out, it almost feels cold against your skin. You gasp at the feeling, and Natasha quickly wraps her arms around your waist.

"It's freezing", she whispers sweetly, trailing kisses along your jaw. "I bet it'll take you less than twenty minutes to want to go back inside."

"A bet, huh?" You smile, but a shiver runs through you and the accompanying clattering of your teeth interrupts you. "If I win, you're on diaper duty for the rest of the week."

"Deal." She kisses your lips, her own plush and warm. "If I win, you're singing me a lullaby every night. The entire week."

"Oh god." You grimace, but Natasha kisses it off your face. Her hands run to your back and she tugs at the clasp of your bra. You quickly squirm away from her wandering hands. "Hey! Behave."

"No fun in that", she replies, her hands splaying out on your back. Then, without a hint of a warning, she pulls you under the water with her.

You gasp and close your eyes on instinct, your arms clinging to her. The water soaks into your hair and fully envelops you from head to toe, and when you surface again, laughter bubbles between you. It's a silent night, save for the sound of your giggles and the distant hum of cicadas.

You lift your hands to wipe the water off Natasha's face and she pauses. Her fingers tuck a wet strand of hair behind your ear as she studies you with that look you by now know intimately.

The lake around you ripples, but neither of you move. Then you hear Masha fuss in her stroller, and you both smile knowingly.

You lean in and press your wet lips to hers, the lake water as sweet as the day you first tasted it on her tongue.

. . .

"No!"

Your voice cuts through the silent summer air, loud and sharp in a way your kids aren't used to. Archer looks up, his eyes wide and his arms stretched out to the sides.

"Don't even think about it", you say, quickly walking down to the dock. Masha grins up at you from the water and waves innocently. You grab your son's shoulder and point a finger at your daughter. "You too. You're right in front of the dock, it's dangerous."

"I'm not that close", she protests, and Archer nods enthusiastically.

"I'm careful, mama."

"I wouldn't listen to them", Natasha calls. You turn to see her on the porch, carrying Lilia in her arms. She's wrapped up in a towel, her face sticky with strawberry ice cream. "Remember the tree incident last year?"

"How could I forget?", you grumble. "I can still hear your cries, Archie."

He pouts, his shoulders slumping. "That was different."

"You fell into a bush", your wife says, walking up to the dock. "Headfirst."

"You were stuck for, like, five minutes", Maggie adds, a grin on her face. She swims backwards to give Archer more space. "It was so funny."

"It was not funny. Your brother could've gotten hurt."

"Listen to your mother, bud", Natasha says. She adjusts Lilia on her hip and brushes her hand over his damp curls. "We don't need an emergency room visit this summer."

He groans and drags his foot over the wooden dock. For a moment, you think he's accepted defeat — but then he suddenly sprints forward and leaps into the air, yelling a triumphant "ha!" Water splashes everywhere, even managing to get into your eyes.

"Archer Romanoff!", you scold as you wipe your face. Your voice gets lost between Masha's and Lilia's laughter. "Alright, that's it. Do I really need to take away your ice cream-privileges?"

He surfaces again, water dripping down his face. "No fair! Lilia ate all my ice cream!"

"Kid's got a point", your wife mumbles, glancing at your youngest. She just looks up at her with wide, innocent eyes, her cheeks covered in the ice cream she's eating. "Great, it dripped on the towel."

"We'll wash it. What we can't fix as easily, however, is a broken skull. So no more jumping when someone else is that close to the dock!"

"Fine", Archer relents. He splashes some water at his older sister, who grimaces and slaps the back of his head. "Ow!"

"No fighting", you remind them and glance at Natasha. Your wife is busy cooing at Lilia, who's having the time of her life being coddled. "Seriously? Why do I always have to be the bad cop here?"

"Because you're good at it." Natasha kisses Lilia's nose and smiles, moving the child onto her shoulders. "Besides, they're just playing."

"He splashed water at her."

"And she retaliated", she argues. "No harm done."

You sigh and glance at the kids again, who seem more peaceful now. Or, as peaceful as a five- and ten-year-old can be. Archer's spinning in circles, while Masha has plopped into the inflatable donut you brought.

"Want ice cream", Lilia suddenly declares.

You want to argue, but then press your lips into a thin line and give Natasha a pointed look — your turn. First she hesitates, but then lets out a sigh and slowly shakes her head.

"No more today, bub. Too much sugar."

"But it's summer!", Masha protests. Ankles crossed and arms behind her head, she looks like the human form of relaxation. "Also, I only had two today."

"Two's enough", you say before you can stop yourself. "We're having dinner in about an hour, anyway. Any special requests?"

"Can we have pizza?", Archer requests.

"You sure can", Natasha says, "but you're making it yourself."

"What? On my own?" He gapes at her.

"Exactly", she confirms. "Come on. I'll even help you with the dough."

The kids scramble out of the water and start running toward the house. Lilia, clearly wanting to join in on the fun, squirms until Natasha puts her on the ground. She runs after them as fast as her short legs allow her to.

For a moment, it's just you and Natasha again. Hands intertwined, the setting sun warm on your skin, the familiar little house in front of you full of life now.

. . .

Sometimes, life isn't fair.

You can talk about karma all you want, believe in fate, hope for justice. Trust that, somewhere out there, there's a referee who'll make sure everyone gets what's fair to them.

Oftentimes, that's not the case. You can close your eyes and pretend the truth doesn't exist, but it will hit you straight in the face anyway.

You're distracted when you get into the car. A sleepless night due to your son who started yelling at his computer at 3am, eight hours of work in an overfilled office, a fight with your wife that you caused — now you're exhausted, irritated, and understandably so.

You step out of the building and toss your purse into the passenger seat before getting in the car. You check your hair in the rear view mirror, quickly spotting the dark circles under your eyes and the wrinkles forming around them.

Whether you believe it or not: you're getting old.

With a sigh, you fire up the engine and roll out onto the road. From that moment on, it's like you're moving through a fog.

The world is distant, your thoughts jumbled. You turn corners, the streets blurring in front of your eyes. Your fingers drum against the steering wheel restlessly. All you want is to go home — little do you know that you wouldn't be able to do that for a while.

You're not thinking about the road.

In hindsight, you'd like to say that all it took were a few seconds of carelessness. But no. It was more, way more. That one specific second, however, where your focus wavers entirely, is what changes everything.

A sudden swerve from the car in front of you. You hit the brakes too late. Then, your world shifts into chaos.

The screech of tires. Your body thrown against the seatbelt. A flash of metal. The sickening crunch of impact. Blood on your tongue, a ringing noise in your ears. Your own heartbeat, and the deafening silence that follows.

. . .

The harsh light is what you notice first. Bright, blinding you, making your head pound even as you squint. You try to lift your hand to block it out, but your limbs feel too heavy.

Then the smell. Sterile, clinical, unfamiliar. A soft beeping sound in the distance, rhythmic and insistent.

You blink rapidly, trying to shake the fog from your mind, but nothing clears. You try to swallow, but your throat is as dry as sandpaper. It feels like you haven't used your voice in days. Instead, you attempt to sit up, but your body protests with a dull ache. You somehow manage to turn your head.

Next to you, a silhouette jumps up from a chair. Her face is familiar and unfamiliar at once, but she looks worried — so worried.

"Hey, hey", she says, first reaching out but then pulling back her hand. "You're okay."

You open your mouth, but no sound comes out at first. In that moment, you don't know much — but you do know that speaking shouldn't be this difficult.

"...Where?", you eventually manage to get out.

"Hospital. You were in a car crash."

You squeeze your eyes shut and nod, trying to remember, remember anything, connect some dots, fill the overwhelmingly large gaps.

You draw a blank.

"Who are you?", you ask, voice weak. The woman stiffens, then slowly moves to sit down next to you on the bed. Grey hoodie, dark circles under her eyes, unwashed hair. Clearly exhausted, probably hasn't slept properly in a while.

You search her face, and even if your heart beats faster at the sight — you don't recognize her. Not like you should.

"Natasha", she mumbles. "Your wife."

You nod again. "I...I don't...remember."

The words hang in the air between you. Natasha — your wife — hesitates before touching the back of your hand. Her touch is warm, comforting. Your brain may not recognize it, but your heart does.

"We have kids", she begins, quietly. "Masha. She's 17 now. Won a soccer tournament last month. Archer, he...he games a little too much. But he's a good kid. And Lilia is so smart. She's like you, you know."

You don't react. You try to assign faces to the names, but you can't. All you can imagine are three kids, faceless, practically strangers.

A mother, you wonder. I'm a mother.

You give her another pleading, disconcerted look. Everything about this is weighing heavily on your dazed mind. Why can't you remember who you are? Why can't you recognize the woman you supposedly married?

Natasha's fingertips trace the back of your hand as she starts to explain. A car crash, where the driver in front of you lost control of their vehicle. A traumatic brain injury. Retrograde and anterograde amnesia. Gaps in your memory, which are temporary (according to the doctors), but unsettlingly large.

"I know it's confusing", Natasha continues, her voice breaking. "But it's okay. It's normal. I mean, you were in a car crash. You need to recover, and you're getting better already."

"I don't feel better", you mumble. Someone knocks on the door and you look up. "What...?"

"The kids", she says, already on her way. "I asked Peter to watch them."

"Peter."

It's a statement, but it sounds like a question. Funny enough, you do remember that name. Your brain manages to flash you a picture of a teenager in an oversized shirt and Hello Kitty sweatpants, but then it's gone. You wonder whether it's a memory.

"I'll explain later", she says softly. She turns, her hand on the doorknob and her expression tentative. "Do you want to see them?"

Do you want to see them? No. Not in this state. Not knowing that you forgot your own children. The kids you carried, birthed, loved.

But you need to see them. Because you did carry, birth, love them. Because you owe it to them, in a way.

"Yeah", you murmur. Natasha nods and opens the door. One after the other, three kids enter the room. The oldest girl looks a lot like you, but her hair is entirely Natasha's. Then a boy — a middle schooler — with unruly hair and an expression torn between deep worry and mild boredom. The last one is a girl, only ten years old, who clings to Natasha's side.

They all stand there, staring at you, and you look at the woman who's supposed to be your wife. A silent call for help.

She quickly turns and nods at the kids. "Go on, say hi."

They hesitate, but then Masha steps forward. Being the oldest, she understands this situation the most — but even for her, processing this is difficult.

You can't blame her. You're an adult, and you can't quite process it either.

"Hey, mom", she mumbles. "You feeling okay?"

"I'm fine", you say, blinking a few times. You reach out and touch her hand, and while your brain may not recognize the girl in front of you, your body still does. "I'm sorry, I..."

"You really don't remember?", the little girl — Lilia, you remind yourself — asks. She's still half-hidden behind Natasha, who looks like she wants to jump in and shield you from all of this. But she can't. This is your moment, your choice.

You don't say anything for a long moment. You could either lie ("Of course I remember you, don't be silly sweetheart") but you know that Masha and Archer are both old enough to see through that. You shake your head.

"I'm sorry", you say, then add: "honey."

"It's okay", Natasha says again, almost as if trying to convince herself by repeating those two words over and over again. "Mom just needs some rest, yeah?"

"Sure", Archer mumbles. He gives you one last cautious look, then shuffles out of the room with his hands buried in the pockets of his cargos. Outside the room, a man — dark hair, friendly face that's lost its usual happiness — ushers them back into the waiting room. He glances at you and smiles weakly before turning and leaving.

Natasha closes the door and sits down next to you again. She pulls out a ring and places it in your palm. It's identical to the one she's wearing.

"You don't have to put it on", she says right as you're slipping it onto your finger. She swallows at the sight, her facade cracking. "Oh."

"Look", you murmur, cheeks red with a shame that's completely out of place in this situation, "I don't remember much about you. Or the kids. And I'm sorry for that. But you said you're my wife, and if you are, I'm probably really lucky because my heart keeps doing this weird thing when I look at you."

Natasha nods and exhales shakily. Her fingers touch yours, brushing against the wedding ring, and you stay completely still. You turn your hand so it's palm up and gently grab her hand.

"I am your wife", she says, voice breaking as she holds back tears. "You have no idea how lucky I am."

You close your eyes and squeeze her fingers. "For now, I'd like to be able to know who I am first."

She laughs and nods, tears making her vision blurry. "We'll get there."

. . .

The memories creep back in an agonizingly slow fashion.

Being back home does help, even if you struggle to associate anything major to the house you're in. Natasha told you that you bought this house right after you got pregnant with Archer, but you don't remember that. But, when you step through the front door for the first time after the accident, your brain provides you with the feeling of carrying your newborn over the same threshold years ago.

It's just a fragment of the memory, but it lays the groundwork for everything to come.

Recovery is frustrating and confusing and painful. You're physically stable, but mentally, you're in a fog.

Doing mundane, everyday tasks isn't an issue anymore. You make coffee in the mornings (even if your hands sometimes still feel like they don't belong to you; you've shattered more cups within a week than you have in your entire life), you shower, you even do Lilia's hair and make sure she gets into the school bus.

What else do you remember? Truthfully, not much. It's mostly fragments at this point, emotional recognition and muscle memory. One evening, when you're on the couch, you remember your first day of school. But looking at Natasha, not much comes to mind. All you know is that she's safe.

With the kids, it's similar. You don't remember anything, basically, but you can feel they're yours and you can feel you love them.

Masha is the most mature, being 17 years old already. She hides her pain well and, instead of wallowing, tries to bond with you — she knows how to make you feel included. She tells you about what happened at school, plays songs she claims are your favorites (sometimes, you do recognize the melodies), watches tv with you.

Archer is distant. He spends most of his time either playing video games or doing homework. His interactions with you are limited, but you'll catch him looking at you when he thinks you aren't paying attention. He's waiting for you to be his mom again, to be that woman who ruffles his hair and makes him eat his vegetables, who plays Mario Kart and goes to the LEGO store with him.

Lilia is too young to fully understand, too small, too hopeful. She curls up beside you without hesitation and hands you books you very well know she could read on her own. You still flip them open and read the stories to her, quietly hoping that it'll help. Sometimes, it does, and you suddenly see a much smaller version of her in that same spot next to you.

One day, you catch Natasha in her office. She's been spending more and more time in there, mostly when you're busy around the house. When you walk in, she closes the notebook on her desk and turns to look at you. Her eyes soften and she smiles and, oh, you forget about the weight in your chest. You feel the love between you, decades old and steadier than anything, and in that moment, it's enough.

You smile back and pause in the doorway. You still feel like you don't belong into this house, like you're an intruder. You know that's not the case, but your mind is as much of a traitor as it is a stranger.

"What are you doing?", you ask, head leaning against the doorframe.

"Writing", she replies and turns around in her desk chair. "You okay?"

There's that question again. You force another smile.

"I'm okay."

"Hungry?"

You should be. It's almost dinner time. You shake your head — you're rarely hungry these days.

"No."

Natasha nods, then gestures at you to come closer. You hesitate before approaching her.

Her eyes study you in a way that makes your skin tingle. The silence in the room is only adding to this strange, but not unwelcome, feeling. You avert your eyes before everything can become too much.

When Natasha speaks up again, she sounds choked up. "Come here."

You look at her.

"Please", she adds, almost pleading.

Another step. You sit down on her lap and glance at her. Her arms wrap around you, safe and solid. Something flashes in your mind, something warm and familiar, and you freeze to make it last.

"You know what this feels like?", you mumble when you're certain the feeling won't slip from your grasp again.

Natasha raises her eyebrows. Her hand gently runs up and down your back. "What?"

You rest your head against her shoulder. You know her scent, that much you're sure of. "A house."

"Mhm?"

"With a lake", you continue, struggling to explain. "I remember a mattress."

She closes her eyes and turns her head, her nose nuzzling your hair. Tears aren't something to be ashamed of, but she won't let you catch her crying again. All of this hasn't been easy for her, either.

"Anything else, love?"

"A mattress on the floor", you mumble. "God, my back hurt."

"Yeah." She laughs, but it's a broken sound, muffled by your hair. "Mine did, too."

"Why'd we sleep on the floor?", you ask, still confused.

"Don't ask me", she murmurs and kisses the top of your head. It's an absentminded gesture, but her heart feels lighter when you lean into the touch. "We just forgot to buy a bed, I guess. We got used to the mattress."

"I think I liked it."

"You did?" Natasha smiles, her lips pressing against your cheek. "So did I."

. . .

A few weeks pass. The fog starts to lift, the haze thins. Things become easier, memories clearer.

Masha, still pink and squishy, wrapped into a towel. Nurses and bright lights. Salty tears on your cheeks, Natasha's hand on your head.

A canoe, old and shabby but staying afloat. Summer air on sunburnt skin. Aloe gel on shoulders and a wooden dock beneath your feet. Sweet kisses, slow and unhurried.

Seeing yourself in a wedding dress for the first time. Trying it on three kids later, with a body that's changed. Natasha standing behind you, closing the zipper. Fabric that feels much more snug. Her lips brush against your shoulder.

"You got even more beautiful. Must be magic at play here."

An elementary school. You can't tell whether it's yours or one of your kids's, but the fading chalk drawings are pastel and the air is musky after it rained.

A drive-in. A diner. A jet, with an odd symbol everywhere. Emergency room visits and first words, lullabies and a tattoo shop, stars and wilted flowers. Natasha and you in a dark hallway, Natasha and you bathing Archer for the first time.

Memories that come back gradually only to disappear again. They're not permanently gone — but sometimes, keeping them alive is hard. It hurts to look at your daughter's face and briefly forget her name, it hurts that you can't make pancakes the way you used to, it hurts you don't know your son's favorite movie or the name of the football club your daughter plays in.

Your photo album, some pictures faded, some corners creased from years of handling, helps. You sit on the couch, legs crossed and fingers tracing the images in front of you.

A picture of Natasha, her arms wrapped around a younger version of yourself. Trees in the background, and a blanket with a baby sleeping on it — Lilia, maybe half a year old. You squint, trying to remember that day.

A tap against the doorframe makes you look up. Masha stands there, arms folded, watching you.

"Hey", she says. "You okay?"

"I'm alright", you quickly say, blinking the sudden moisture away from your eyes. "What about you, honey?"

"Fine. Finished one of the books on my summer reading list." She moves to sit down next to you and peeks at the pictures. She taps the one you were looking at. "That's a good one", she says, smiling.

"I don't remember much", you admit.

"Yeah? Well, we decided to go on a picnic." Masha points at the trees. "A bird managed to crap on Lil's stroller."

"Language", you say without really having to think about it. Masha's smile widens. You can see something of Natasha's in her eyes.

"That was very you, mom", she says, nudging your shoulder with hers. "Come on, you gotta know what I'm talking about. Archer got chased by a dog. Mama had to grab that beast's collar. The owner threatened to sue her."

"Yeah", you say slowly. You glance at her and smile tentatively. "I think Archer climbed a fence."

Her eyes light up. "He did, yes. And mama dragged the dog back to its owner and absolutely bawled him out."

You nod, the weight on your shoulders having lessened. You remembered something else — not much, but it's a little step in the right direction anyway.

Masha flips to another page and points at a picture. "Here. Try."

You study the image carefully. It's another one of you and Natasha, but this time, you're on a dock. You can barely see your faces, since they're turned towards one another — her nose brushing against yours, your smile wide, tiny wrinkles around your squinting eyes. A lake stretching out behind you, with a kid's head poking out in the distance.

"Oh", you mumble. You hesitate, but the warmth in your chest tells you to keep going. "It was summer. There was this- this house...and a lake. We spent our summer there."

"We spend every summer there", your daughter reveals. "Except for the one where you had Lilia."

"Right", you mumble. "Was there a storm that night?"

"Yes!" She nods, her red ponytail bobbing up and down. "The power went out. And-"

"And the kids were scared, so we lit candles", Natasha finishes the thought from across the room. You turn around, spotting your wife in the doorway to the living room. In her hand, the notebook. She tilts her head and smiles, something thoughtful glistening in her eyes as she watches you chase your own memories. "We told ghost stories."

"Archer couldn't sleep", you whisper.

"He slept in our bed", Natasha confirms. "He stayed there the entire summer, even if he kicked me all the time."

"Yeah", you mumble, looking back at the picture. Suddenly, it's all so vivid in your mind. You can pierce together fragments until they form something akin to a full memory.

When you meet Natasha's eyes again, something in them has changed. She looks resolute as she steps up to the couch, the notebook still in her grasp.

"There's something I want to read to you", she says, sitting down next to you. Masha gives her a curious look.

"Oh, really?"

"You're going to bed", she tells your daughter. "This is something I want to discuss with my wife, not your mom."

Masha looks like she's about to protest, but then her shoulders slump in defeat. She understands what Natasha means. She gets up, kisses you both on the cheeks and then heads upstairs. Once her bedroom door has closed, Natasha opens the notebook.

"I wrote this", she says, briefly glancing at the pages. "It's pretty long, if I'm being honest."

"What is it?", you ask, doing your best not to peek.

"Uhm..." She hesitates. "Our story. Beginning to end. The entire thing."

You stare at her, baffled. Your wife is telling you that, somehow, she managed to squeeze 23 years of history into one single notebook. Highs and lows, tears and laughter, everything you went through together to get here.

Then, you tear up. You remember pieces of those more than two decades. Natasha remembers enough to write a book about them.

"Okay", you mumble, sinking into the couch. Natasha squeezes your knee, looking like she's close to tears herself. She clears her throat and open the first page, skimming it.

"'We met at a fun fair'", she begins. "'You wore a dress. I hope you won't be too mad about me saying this, but you had zero aim."

You smile and shake your head, your hands covering your face. She keeps going.

"'I tried to ask you out. You resisted, obviously. You were stubborn, and so was I. There was a risk to going out with a complete stranger, but I loved taking that risk.'"

"Ferris wheel", you whisper, voice muffled.

"Yeah." She nods. "'You left again, with your friend. I felt like the most unlucky idiot in the whole world. But then I saw you again, on the ferris wheel, and I decided that it was now or never. I got up-'"

"And climbed." You brush the tears away. "Could've fallen and broken your neck."

"I didn't", she argues softly. "I made it over to you."

"You smelled like sugar", you add. "Like...beer and sugar. It was so odd."

Natasha lets out a quiet laugh, but it's a pleasantly surprised one. She looks up from the pages, her eyes searching your face. "You never told me that."

"I didn't?" You glance at her, eyebrows furrowed. You can still smell her scent from that moment, how sugary and bitter it was at the same time. "Huh."

"That's good", she says, encouraging you. Reading about your memories seems to coax more of them out of you. "Want me to keep going?"

"Yes", you immediately say.

And so she does.

Your first date, in a diner. The first kiss afterwards. Nights of sneaking out, staying with her.

The house by the lake. The mattress. The three years of separation in between, and your engagement to Simon.

Peter telling her about everything. Meeting again, kissing, sleeping with each other.

Breaking off the engagement. Leaving town, heading to New York. Staying with SHIELD for a while. The weeks that followed.

Memory after memory. Some feel like echoes, others like dreams. Some pop between your fingers like bubbles, others seep into your bones, like they've been waiting for you to find them again.

You don't remember all of it. You've blocked many things out completely — like the fact that Natasha had dinner with your family once —, which leaves you feeling unsettled.

Some of it seems too meaningful to forget. But then again, you couldn't remember Natasha was your wife when you first woke up after the accident. Now, you can at least recall saying 'yes' in front of the altar, and how you danced afterwards, and how your lipstick had stained the corner of her mouth.

Eventually, she closes the notebook. She's only gotten through less than twenty pages.

"There's more", she says, looking at you. "A lot more."

You nod, rubbing your face. "I feel like I won't be able to remember half of it."

"You don't have to remember it now", she says gently, her hand reaching out. You grab it and keep it in your lap, playing with her fingers like you used to.

Like you used to — there. Another memory.

"It's hard", you admit. "It's like I'm chasing ghosts. Like...like I can't catch them before they disappear."

Natasha hums, staring at the wall for a moment. Covered in family pictures, many of them taken in that one beloved place. The one place you've visited almost every summer, where you've gone through so much, experienced so much. A place you've returned to at various stages of your life. A place that, without any doubt, will always be there.

"You know what might help?", she says absentmindedly.

"What?"

Your wife looks at you and squeezes your hand. "Being there", she says, her smile tentative but knowing. "The house. The lake. The dock."

You swallow, looking past her at the pictures. At this point, you feel like your brain is teasing you. You can feel the thick summer heat, hear the sound of cicadas and the water lapping against the shore. But the memories actually associated to those distant sensations? You can't grasp them.

"It'll help?"

"It might."

You hesitate, but something inside you pulls towards the idea. To the familiarity of it, even if the familiarity feels foreign right now.

"It can't hurt", you admit. "I mean, it's summer anyway."

"The kids don't have school", Natasha adds. She leans in and kisses you way too briefly. You've grown more used to physical affection again, but she's still scared of making you uncomfortable. Her hands feel warm and solid on your sides. "I'll pack, we're leaving in the morning."

. . .

It's you who points at that one roadside diner you've been going to for the past ten years.

The looks you get from your family make you pause. Nobody speaks, they all just stare. Finally, Natasha squeezes your thigh.

"Bet I can guess your order."

"No way", you tease, simultaneously trying to remember your usual. Cheeseburger? Maybe fries? Definitely no pickles.

But Natasha, knowing you better than the back of her hand, rattles down your order without having to think about it. The word 'milkshake' triggers something, and you smile softly as you lean back and gaze at her.

"You'll share your whipped cream?", you ask.

"Wouldn't be a proper date if I didn't", she mumbles, grabbing your hand.

Normally, a flirty little comment like this would be enough to earn gagging noises from the kids in the backseat. But they know that everything is still fragile, so they stay quiet.

Arriving in front of the house makes you close your eyes. The sight is painful, but it sparks so many memories that it's almost overwhelming. The porch, the wooden steps, the trees surrounding the house.

"We're here", Archer says, turning off his Nintendo.

"Yeah", Masha mumbles, looking at the house with a thoughtful look on her face. "Still the same."

The kids unbuckle and get out of the car. They're all eager to return to this place, this house that feels more like home than anything else ever could.

You look at your wife and open your mouth, but for a moment, no sound escapes from your parted lips. Her face blurs, and so does her name. You exhale and squeeze your eyes shut again, your hands trembling.

"Natasha", you manage a few seconds later. You forgot her name. Even if only for a few seconds, you forgot her name. She swallows and nods. She noticed — of course she did. She's been hyper aware of everything surrounding you since you got into that accident. "Oh god, I..."

"Hey", she says, leaning over to pull you into a hug. You bury your face in her neck and fight the rising panic. "You're just nervous. It's okay, I promise."

"It's so foggy", you mumble, breathing her in. "I thought this was supposed to help."

"We're not even inside yet, love." She pulls back and kisses you on the cheek. Outside, you hear your children's voices as they run around the front yard. Masha stops on the stairs and turns to look at you, the breeze tousling her red hair. Worry fills her eyes when she realizes you're still in the car.

"What if I don't remember?", you ask, your eyes meeting Natasha's again. "What if the memories stay gone? What if..."

She brushes some hair out of your face and smiles softly. The sadness in her eyes is unmistakable, but so is the steady love there.

"Then we'll make new memories. Come on."

She leads you out of the car and wraps her arm around your shoulders. The kids chatter excitedly as she unlocks the door to the house and lets them all storm in. Again, it's a small space — two bedrooms, one of which you added when you got pregnant with Lilia, as the space had started to feel a little too snug.

It's cozy, lived-in...and even familiar. The feeling of stepping into this space never changed.

It feels like a memory — that was your first impression you ever had of this house. Turns out you still remember that.

Your eyes sweep across the room. The kitchen you renovated, the little living room, the windows that provide a view of the lake. The dock. Even the hammock is still intact, though the pattern of the fabric has faded over the years.

"Where's the canoe?", you mumble. Before Natasha can answer, you speak up again. "It fell apart, didn't it?"

"It rotted", she says, nodding. "It was fine the summer before."

"Shame."

"I agree."

"Mom?"

You turn and look at Masha, who's holding a mug in her hand. A chipped mug.

"Yes?", Natasha says, rubbing your arm.

"Can I make coffee? I'm kinda tired."

"One cup", you murmur, resting your weight against your wife's side. She leans in and kisses your temple. Then she walks you outside, to the dock and the lake. She shows you the letters you carved into one of the wooden boards, which are the initials of all your names. She makes you sit down and dip your feet in the water, causing a memory of Masha doing the same thing — only as an infant — to light up in your mind.

You watch Archer sit in the hammock and stare up at the sky. Lilia joins him, and they squabble over who gets to sit in it. A cat appears from the bushes that are on the other side of the lake, and they both get up to try and lure it with 'pspsps'-noises and a bag of pretzels.

You go back inside and make dinner. You recall the first fight you had, which makes Natasha laugh and pull you into a kiss. You curl up on the couch, with Lilia in your lap and your head on Natasha's chest, and watch the same black and white movie you watched in the drive-in way back.

"Still old", she mumbles into your ear. You smile and tilt your head up. Her lips press against your forehead.

Once the kids are in their pajamas, you all gather in the main bedroom. Archer drags his mattress into the room, so Masha and Lilia follow in suit, and now you're all cuddled up. Your oldest daughter brought your beloved mug along, this time filled with milk instead of coffee.

Your voices are soft, the words hushed. The kids have started chattering quietly — well, Lilia not really; she's out cold.

You look at Natasha again. Her eyes meet yours, and you recognize everything your brain can't remember.

Can't remember yet, you remind yourself. You've gotten this far, and you'll get further.

"I love you", you mumble. "I know that much."

"I love you too", she whispers, her lips pressing against yours in a brief kiss. You close your eyes and sink into this feeling. It's a feeling you may not always remember, but will always recognize. "You don't need to know me for me to love you."

Masha and Archer both cuddle up at Natasha's side. Your daughter reaches for your hand and you squeeze it. When Natasha starts humming the tune of a Russian lullaby she used to sing to the kids when they were still little, you close your eyes and quietly hum along. The melody returns easily, and the memory comes to life again, vibrant and warm.

A nursery, a swaddled baby, a nightlight in the shape of a sailboat. Drops of warm milk on wrists, feverishly reddened cheeks, the uncertainty that comes with being a new parent.

Outside, the water laps at the shore. The moon bathes the room in a milky light. No light pollution out here, thankfully.

The kids go quiet. Natasha pulls out the notebook and opens it, finding the page where you left off during the car ride. You glance at it, then lean up to kiss her cheek. Her voice is a quiet murmur when she begins telling the story of your first months of marriage. Not all of the memories return as readily, but that's okay. Listening to her retell them may be enough for now.

You turn your head and bury your face in her chest. Her heartbeat is a rhythm you'd recognize in a thousand lifetimes.

You thought it all started at the fun fair, where you met. But lying here, with the lake outside and the mattress on the floor, with the chipped mug in your sleepy daughter's hand, you realize that this is where it began.

The walls hold secrets that never touched the notebook. 

It all started in a small house by a lake, and it ends there as well.

[angelbarelywrites]

♡ leather and lace | thomas hewitt x reader

♡ fandoms; Texas Chainsaw Massacre (2003 + 2006)

♡ characters; Thomas Brown Hewitt

♡ reader; second person pov + gender neutral language- you wear a dress but this is absolutely still for my masc and fellow nb slasher fans too

♡cw; stockholm syndrome ass relationship, very suggestive content, horny reader?? lol

♡ notes; we are so back. maybe sort of, i feel like this might actually suck.

the title is silly and very straightforward but i like stevie nicks and thought it was cute <3

also the vibe of the dress, thin ass sundresses are such a good plot device 😩

also also i wasn’t sure where to end this so it’s kind of a cliffhanger for a potential smutty sequel?? lmk if you even want more tommy ig

okay mwah love you goodbye

•┈••✦ ❤ ✦••┈•

“It’s kind of big on me,” You told Luda Mae softly, swishing the skirt slightly. The dress hung past your knees and the straps wanted to slip off your shoulders “Ionno if it looks good.”

You felt vulnerable. Naked, in such a thin, loose white gown. You didn’t like that Monty and Hoyt would see you in it. Or…the other one. Thomas. The one that made your cheeks feel hot and your stomach twist in knots. He looked at you like you were food when you’d first encountered him…but now you’d been there a few days, he avoided you, like you made him nervous in one way or another.

“Oh, nonsense, you look lovely. I’m sure Tommy will love it. Besides, I can take it in at the waist if you really need, maybe find you a nice ribbon to go ‘round it.” She pinched the fabric to make it hug your form tighter and you went red.

“I think it’s good like this. But. Um, it’s kind of cool in here. Maybe I can wear a shawl...”

“Don’t you worry about that- you’re going to go outside and get some sun. Tommy has chores to do but I’ve got work. Can’t have you by yourself all day.” She affectionately pinched your cheek.

You gave a soft noise but knew complaint was futile. At least it wasn’t the Sheriff- even Luda wanted you kept far from his leering gaze. You followed her, barefoot in the soft grass until you got to a small clearing. There was a shed, and a barn, and lumber waiting to be chopped.

You thought you’d get out of it as she sat you down, maybe Tommy was busy. Maybe he was looking for coeds to kill somewhere else, and Luda would let you stay in your quiet little room where you could pretend you weren’t a hostage. Heavy footsteps told you were wrong after a long moment.

You twisted a blade of grass in your hands as Luda whispered sternly to him. Something about “stay” and “take” and “sooner rather than later”. You tried not to think about it. The man huffed exasperatedly and his mother swatted him softly before she marched off - his back still to you as she disappeared over the hill. You were grateful he ignored you and yet unnerved by the fact.

Thomas kept his head down, face obstructed by his hair even more than usual as he grabbed a few large branches from the lumber pile and brought them to a sturdy oak stump. Still eyeing him warily you leaned back, naturally on guard but also curious. He was so strong it seemed impossible. He was bulky-obviously- but in the real way lumberjacks and construction workers were with thick arms and a soft stomach. His hair was nice. Dark and thick, and not greasy like you’d expect. You’d been close enough when he’d slung you over his shoulder to tell it was soft. And his hands were huge and calloused - you knew that from way he’d held onto you then, massive palm on your thigh to keep you steady. You had been wearing shorts and…

You gave a soft sigh, not realizing you were still staring at him until his head whipped around at the sound. You felt your ears burn and coughed, looking away. He was down to just an undershirt as he’d started chopping the lumber - ironically using an axe instead of that chainsaw he’d been swinging around a few nights back. “Sorry- I- don’t stop on account of….”

Your voice died in your throat as he walked towards you, stopping barely a foot away. He looked concerned- more so as he knelt and you flinched. God you still couldn’t tell if you wanted him on top of you or a thousand miles away. He brushed your hair back and— you giggled quietly. He was checking your forehead, thinking you were sick.

Thomas scowled a bit at you, sitting back as you looked up at him “I shouldn’t laugh. But that was sweet. I’m not sick- don’t think so, at least.”

He tilted his head at you. He really didn’t talk. That’d make things difficult…at least at first.

“It’s just kind of hot out…plus- um- oh—“ You blinked as his hand brushed the hem of the dress, where you’d just been rubbing your fingers against the lace “…it’s not my usual style. But it’s a pretty dress.”

He grunted and nodded, looking over your body quite shamelessly. In the sunlight you were sure he was able to see much more than considered appropriate. Fuck it, you thought. He was hot, his mama wanted him to like you, and most importantly he could protect you from the Sheriff and whatever weird bullshit was yet to come.

You hummed and shifted to sit back a bit more, taking his hand before he could pull away fully “…you have big hands…I can tell you work with them…but you made your mask right?”

He hesitated, staring at what almost seemed like disbelief at you before slowly nodding. You hummed and touched his cheek, rubbing a thumb on the leather. It was surprisingly soft, and so was his gaze. Whatever he was covering didn’t matter or even really interest you- you just cared you that you could see his chapped lips beneath it.

“…Tommy?” You cooed. He startled but met your eye. “Can I kiss you?”

He gave a swift and silent answer, pressing his lips to yours with a fervor that stole your breath. He was clumsy and rough, but so desperate that you couldn’t help but draw him closer, to give him what he needed. If you were touch starved he was a thousand times so, holding on to you so tight you were afraid your hips might bruise. Afraid was a strong word- you’d proudly wear any mark from that man.

As soon as you’d thought you had some control there he had you, dazed and unkempt straddling his lap. He ran a thumb over your lower lip, admiring your addled state with a contented grunt.

“…we…we should go inside. Your mom might be home soon.”

He shook his head and suddenly pulled you down- not to pin you, but to be held, his face buried your neck and his mask rubbing against your skin. As he toyed with the hem of the dress again you hummed a tune and played with his hair.

“Tommy?”

He looked up.

“…do you think they want us to go steady?”

He hesitated then tapped his left ring finger. You went red as you suddenly realized what he meant- they wanted you to get married.

“Ah…well— how about steady first?”

He nodded quickly and nuzzled your neck again.

“Good. Cuz I think steady would still cover slippin’ into the shed to have more fun before your mama gets home.”

[cynthiav06]

Percy's amnesia in SoN gave him the perfect excuse to build his confidence to where it should be and break up with Annabeth, with very few consequences, and I will always stand by that. Annabeth may be easier for the Greeks to back due to her history there, but she has nothing at Camp Jupiter, where he quickly and firmly established himself as a powerful, capable and trustworthy entity, getting promoted to Praetor within a week. I honestly believe that, after his SON quest and the "greeting" Annabeth gave him on their reunion, Percy should've broken up with Annabeth, stayed with Camp Jupiter and thrived there.

Not only would the structure help him long-term in the way it canonically did in the (maybe) three days we saw him spend there, but he has a proper support system without biases in favour of Annabeth. It would also provide a fun narrative contrast to Jason, which RR was trying to push in-story, where they thrive in the other's camp despite the shadow of a figure they kind of feel they have to live up to. Jason does better in the looser structure of CHB due to his having picked up many wolf-ish traits from Lupa, while Percy almost *relaxes* in the strict routine of CJ because it helps with his ADHD symptoms.

And this confidence he very clearly has in SoN, and the way he almost romanticized the possible relationship between him and Annabeth when he didn't have his memories, would lead to a very jarring experience when his memories are settled and he reunites with Annabeth. Because, woah, that was not just a subconscious bias from preferring his new friendships/camp structure, but she actually is like that.

Boom, he now has recontextualised memories and perspective of Annabeth, and a place where she doesn't have a stronger reputation than him, and he can fairly safely break up with Annabeth and escape attempts at retaliation.

He might wait until after the quest the Seven go on, so that he can immediately cut her out of his lfe, but this new perspective changes how he approaches her.

The canon would never, but fortunately for us, there are fic writers. If I get enough time somewhere in this month or next, I might end up writing this, but I will have to see, no promises.

Back to your point; you have covered mostly everything so I don't see what I should be adding to this exact scenario but yes it is one of the few perfect pit stops for a percabeth break up to happen. I am going to go down a slightly different avenue for this one as my thoughts vary a bit from yours, so bear with me. It is going to be long, but I need to recap and clarify a few things for others; I will get to your specific questions near the end. [Everything's numbered, so if you are in a hurry, just scroll to the final four points]

-------------------------------------------------------

The breakup could have been mutual, too, if Rick had written it well. If we follow the proper timeline, Annabeth was still hung up over Luke up until the end of BoTL and had just started to get over him at the start of Last Olympian. Percy had just been informed of the Prophecy and under massive stress between end of BoTL and start of TLO and was obviously arguing with Annabeth over it as she repeatedly got angry at him for reasonably freaking out over his then "assumed death" prophecy. To find some relief from all this, he was dating Rachel, who he really liked, had a kiss with, and overall a good relationship with.

Then the whole plot of the Last Olympian occurs in what can be considered to be a few months at best. Then both Percy and Annabeth get together but to recap the events leading up to this:

Rachel breaks up with Percy despite their good relationship due to understanding the role she needs to play in saving the Oracle.

Luke who had previously visited Annabeth to make her join him and who Annabeth was somewhat hung over still, dies.

The war ended up killing a lot of close friends and companions and was a generally traumatic event for everyone involved.

Percy is very high on mixed emotions, reeling from everything that's happened when he gets together with Annabeth, so neither of them have had any time to process anything that's happened properly enough.

They have their one month anniversary on September 18th[The Staff of Hermes short story], and Percy disappears in October. [Riordan.wiki has years and dates of important events].

So they have barely been together for two months, and Percy's already missing.

This is Annabeth's thought process when they do reunite. It implies she has been doing a bit of thinking about their relationship and might not be as sure about it anymore.

She also seems to heavily dislike Percy's initial idea of settling in New Rome and seems to have no intention of taking a break from quests like Percy does.

She also seems to dismiss Percy's unwillingness to go to NRU after the news of Estelle's birth and the events of CotG.

Those were a few key points of contrast between them both on their future plans. Not small ones either.

Now, back to their reunion and the events following; here are a few things:

She judo flips him in front of the Argo II and almost entirety of Camp Jupiter.

If Annabeth didn't know that Percy had lost the Curse of Achilles then she was judo flipping him on the small of his back where his mortal tether was located ; which she knew about and therefore would have killed him in her anger and hyper emotional state.

If Annabeth did know that he had lost the Curse of Achilles then she was still judo flipping her boyfriend who had been missing for six months after surviving an already very traumatic event where he barely managed to survive and was then put through kidnapping, six months of amnesia, and brainwashing against his will by a goddess and then thrust into an unknown land with enemies on his trail.

Further, she blames Percy for disappearing for all of the things HE suffered through against his will and HAS THE AUDACITY TO MAKE HIM APOLOGIZE FOR IT.

Annabeth says and I quote that she likes keeping Percy on his toes.

She also agrees with Piper that Percy needs to be leashed and controlled.

Then Percy's side gives us a few more concerning tidbits:

Percy repeatedly notes that he is scared of Annabeth or thinks she might hit him

He also says that she often brings up Rachel to make him uncomfortable.

Percy also doesn't feel comfortable confiding in Annabeth about Gabe or past trauma.

He repeatedly feels he isn't good enough for Annabeth, and obviously Annabeth's behavior consciously or subconsciously on her part enables his thought process.

He ends up almost killing himself because Annabeth makes him promise not to use his specific ability despite it being used in self-defense by Percy, which ended up saving them both because she was afraid of Percy's powers.

Yet another thing to point out is that Annabeth's fatal flaw hubris and her abandonment issues feed too much into her behavior, and until that is fixed, nothing can be helped.

Annabeth punched Percy in ttc just because he didn't ask her to dance like she wanted him to. She also gave Percy a very hard time just because he knew another girl (Rachel) and immediately acted controlling and toxically possesive towards Percy over Rachel and Calypso despite her and Percy not being in a relationship at any of those points. In fact, despite her supposed crush on Percy, she defended Luke all the way till Botl, despite his repeated attempts at murdering Percy, and even went as far as to say Percy was unreasonably angry at Luke. She also displayed rude and downright awful behavior when interacting with Rachel; and Rachel, being the better person, handled her with class and grace. This all is not even including her demeaning remarks against Percy's intelligence and condescending behavior.

We can conclude from all this that Percy and Annabeth are not compatible, with different future goals and clashing perspectives and most importantly due to lack of proper communication, terrible misunderstandings, and Annabeth's consistent toxic behavior.

But neither the characters nor the author and not even most of the fandom acknowledge any of these glaring issues, so nothing can be done, but their break up can go several ways:

1.

Percy and Annabeth both break up amicably with Annabeth apologizing and understanding the gravity of her behavior and her mistakes and consistently making up to Percy for all the things she has been doing terribly. This is only possible for pre Tartarus or pre MoA situation.

Annabeth could have had a good arc in overcoming all of her problems while Percy too dealt with his self esteem issues and past trauma and they could have given their relationship a shot again in the future; they are both too young right now.

2.

Percy confronts Annabeth on her behavior and breaks up with her. Things get ugly, and it ends up being horrible for both of them. This is a traumatic situation on both ends, but the reason why this is unlikely is that Annabeth and Percy have a case of trauma bonding, and there's hints of codependency more on Annabeth's end. Which makes Percy mask Annabeth's toxic traits easily and for Annabeth to ignore Percy's devolving mental health and self-esteem issues that she has been enabling unknowingly.

3.

The other likely option is third-party intervention. Sally or Poseidon/Athena or other campers.

I also disagree that the camp half blood would back Annabeth. Percy's their [CHB] unofficial leader and a good friend to all of them plus he is the reason the children of other non-Olympian gods have cabins and get claimed early so he definitely has a higher status than Annabeth does in both camps. Camp Jupiter also does respect Percy more than any other Greek, and he is the only Greek to ever be made Praetor. So in social or reputation terms, Percy's winning.

But I don't think other campers would dare meddle in Percy and Annabeth's business. Maybe the seven would. [Leo and Frank would never. Jason probably doesn't understand the whole situation. Piper’s misguided and would probably feed into Annabeth's behavior, so either Hazel or Reyna? Hazel would definitely help Percy understand, and Percy would totally hear Hazel out. Thalia, hmm, I don't really know what Thalia would do, but I don't think she would blindly back Annabeth. She does seem to care for and respect Percy just as much. Nico isn't touching it with a 20-foot pole, plus I don't think he is over his Percy crush at all, so he's not an unbiased party either. ]

4.

Last option and what probably is the most likely is that things continue as they are and Percy eventually snaps due to endless pressure and his mental health issues and Annabeth can't deal with it and then all their other issues which they have both ignored come spilling out and then it's just a clean break but it's going to be the most excruciating way out and given their luck definitely happening.

[darklinaforever]

Even before Charlie, she (Claudia) wasn't calling him (Lestat) "papa" but the lesser "uncle" indicating a lesser connection. Add to that Lestat's intense resistance to even making her, suggests that he is withholding his affection.

Just... what the fuck ? 😂

Claudia calls Lestat uncle it's mainly because of society outside (because Louis and Lestat unsuccessfully try to pass off their relationship as brotherly).

And otherwise... Claudia considered herself as the daughter of Lestat ? She literally tells him at one point that she is no longer his child anymore but his sister companion. That he is not his uncle or her dad now either. And that in the end of her life, Claudia looked at Lestat like a child looks at her father. So, in fact, Claudia considers herself effectively as the Lestat's daughter, all the same as for Louis. Claudia even considers that she was brought back to life by their blood, to both.

And I remind that even though she said Louis was her favorite, that she and Lestat had a lot in common. They even literally have a nickname among themselves (without Louis) for human blood.

Moreover, on several occasions the show shows that Lestat seems to understand and know Claudia better than Louis on certain things (he is the one who notices the dark changes in her, understands that she is a predator, that she does not starve, etc).

Lestat is also the one who teaches Claudia to drive, to be a good predator (because he sees clearly that on this point she has nothing to do with Louis), he doesn't want Claudia to be limited about her nature, he essentially made subtly her sexual education, that they should not mix too much with humans, etc.

The story also spends its time reminding us that Claudia is indeed Lestat's daughter (that she is their daughter to him and Louis, Louis daughter, Lestat daughter, she was even called in the show Claudia de Lioncourt specifically, that they are her parents) and that she resembles him. That they are very similar to each other.

Their connection is maybe less tender than that of Louis and Claudia but no less strong (and certainly not because she calls him uncle).

And uh... wtf ? Lestat's refusal to make Claudia has nothing to do with a lack of affection for her (he don't even know her in that moment), or even a future lack of affection / love for her, but simply because it was forbidden by law and because he knew very well what he was condemning Claudia to if he transformed her ?!

At that moment, it was even Lestat who had more consideration for Claudia than Louis. Lestat thought about Claudia's future, while Louis only thought about himself and what Claudia could bring him and the guilt he felt. Lestat cares, Louis should care but doesn't.

Yes, Lestat didn't want Claudia at first, but he grew to love her anyway over time (and I know season 3 will prove me right about the fact that he loved her).

However, it is clear that he loved Louis the most, but that is something that also applies to Louis. They were both extremely shitty parents.

Lestat and Claudia then began to hate each other because they saw themselves in each other, because they were too similar. Something they can't stand because they partly hate themselves.

And also because Lestat was afraid that Claudia would take Louis from him, which he couldn't stand because of his abandonment issues. Not to mention that big episode when she put their lives extremely in danger with her murders in New Orleans (with was the first big divide on Lestat's side for his relationship with Claudia).

And for Claudia, also because she was stuck in a body too young for her mind (fault of Louis and Lestat equally), that Lestat did not want to create a companion for her (at the same time he is not going to transform someone close to Claudia's physical age a second time obviously, and she herself is aware of the atrocity of her own condition), that he said she was a mistake (which is sadly not technically wrong), that he have a mistress (a post on why Lestat had this affair with Antoinette would be interesting to do elsewhere), and because apart from telling her that vampires from the outside are dangerous (the simple true by the way) and nothing else about them, which annoys her knowing that she absolutely wants to meet them, because she is less and less able to tolerate life in the company of only her parents, which is understandable.

Their relationship became very toxic (something that could perhaps have been mitigated if Lestat had been better at least in simple communication, even with Louis himself). But that didn't stop the love from staying somewhere until the end between them, even with the hate present.

[marwyn]

Something I find very interesting how the people who understand f&b is painting several female characters in a bad light because they didn't conform to societal expectations for women in Westeros or simply wanted power and then in the same breath talk about how Maegor is a blood magic baby and Visenya was a evil sorceress. Let's use our brains now.

I do like Visenya and Maegor’s Morgause and Mordred slay but agree that things are probably not as simplistic as they seem. I’m always caught on the tension between

Even those who loved her best found Visenya stern, serious, unforgiving;

and

When the regent of the Vale rushed out to confront her, with a dozen guards at her back, she found Visenya with Ronnel Arryn seated on her knee, staring at the dragon, wonder-struck. ‘Mother, can I go flying with the lady?’ the boy king asked. No threats were spoken, no angry words exchanged. The two queens smiled at one another and exchanged courtesies instead.

You could easily interpret the latter as a veiled threat and/or good politicking, but it’s interesting that “stern, serious” Visenya was able and willing to smile and at least convincingly pretend to be personable—can you imagine Stannis doing that? Perhaps the difference is a gendered one, but Visenya did have more leeway than the average Westerosi noblewoman given that she rode a dragon, was able to train with a sword alongside her brother, and later sat the Iron Throne during his absences from King’s Landing:

Save perhaps for Good Queen Alysanne, the wife of King Jaehaerys I, no other queen in the history of the Seven Kingdoms ever exercised as much influence over policy as the Dragon’s sisters. It was the king’s custom to bring one of his queens with him wherever he traveled, whilst the other remained at Dragonstone or King’s Landing, oft as not seated on the Iron Throne, ruling on whatever matters came before her.

As with several other historical characters who have strong parallels to ones in the present, I find it interesting to see what light the latter might potentially shed on the former. Rhaegar obviously expected his third child to be a Visenya figure, and despite one key difference Jon does fulfill the role really well. I think his personality helps to explain some of the contradictions present in the descriptions of Visenya’s in that he’s somewhat chameleonic and reveals a lot of kindness and levity in his interactions with characters like Arya but appears completely different to those whom he doesn’t like and/or don’t know him well, see Theon and young Alys Karstark:

The bastard was a sullen boy, quick to sense a slight, jealous of Theon’s high birth and Robb’s regard for him.

Additionally, the batch of descriptions GRRM gave to an artist in the early 2000s which includes the one of Rhaenyra people use to “prove” she’s not feminine enough in the show also includes this:

Rhaenys is the flirt, Visenya the seductress. Although they share their brother Aegon between them, they compete for him too, each in her own way....

While neither description has made it into any published books, I bet the same people who use the Rhaenyra one to complain about HOTD will claim the show about the Conquest is OOC if it includes any hint of rivalry between the two women. Not that I necessarily want the show to do this as it could easily skew kind of cliché, but regardless this rivalry between siblings does evoke Robb and Jon, particularly in that Aegon is not just a love interest for the sisters but a proxy to power.

Anyway, on Maegor’s conception—it’s true that accusations of evil sorcery can be misogynistic calumnies, see Rohanne Webber, but magic is real and it was probably much more powerful in Visenya’s time when the dragons were alive than it was during the Dunk & Egg era when Bloodraven likely managed to convincingly glamor himself as a hedge knight, and certain biographical details of Maegor’s do seem a bit suspect so I wouldn’t be entirely surprised if those who “said that [Visenya] played with poisons and dabbled in dark sorceries” are at least somewhat correct and Visenya did…blood magic IVF or something, and/or she and Tyanna raised Maegor from the dead after his fight with the Faith Militant. I really do wonder how the former is supposed to have worked, though—is the consensus that Visenya sacrificed someone in order to conceive a son à la “only death can pay for life” or is there an ethical way to do magic IVF? Lmao

[liquidorcard]

It's honestly so gross that Lily is now trying to rebrand as a cutesy, silly smol bean UWU even beyond all she's been accused of. How have literally any of her videos ever been funny except in the grossest, angriest ways possible? The girl has brought nothing but anger, harassment, vitriol, and her own repressed sexual fixations to every single space she's ever been a part of and yet, somehow, she still thinks she can rebrand as "UWU smol silly bean"

To me it seems like she's been angling for this for a while.

There's a tidbit of info about Lily Courtney shared once, which, I don't believe she'd take any issue we me sharing? I'm not in contact with her anymore, obviously, but.

When Lily was YOUNGER (but still older-- late teens, early twenties) and still living at the Peet residence, apparently she used to frequently uh . . . Let's use the phrase "hang out" with much younger children around the neighborhood. Unsupervised.

Her mother used to justify this behavior by basically saying Lily was mentally feeble and the equivalent intellectually to the children she liked to spend time with, so it's fine.

Getting past the . . . Upsetting implications of that. I suspect, based on all the other info we have on Lily, Mother Peet was making an . . . Accurate-ish observation, layered under several thick coats of yikes.

I actually don't think Lily is quite as mentally incompetent as Mother Peet was trying to imply there-- but emotionally, Lily is profoundly stunted. Emotional intelligence wise, Lily is quite underdeveloped psychologically. That is probably why she so heavily prefers the company of people I think it'd be fair to describe as, very easy to emotionally manipulate. Very easy to emotionally dominate. The mentally ill, the neurodivergent, the literally a child.

I know it can feel ghoulish sometimes to discuss predatory behavior beyond "this is predatory behavior, end of story." Practicing empathy for predators makes some feel uncomfortable because they're very (rightfully) worried it could turn into sympathy for predators, but. We can acknowledge Lily is an autonomous being who can and should be held responsible for her own actions while also, you know, talking about why she's like this.

Lily's profoundly unstable home life during her early childhood development years, her neurodivergencies she has herself and psychological issues on top of that, it's given her a very deep fear at her own vulnerability to social control. I do think everything from her incest obsession to her bravado bully attitude is at least in part linked back to this.

She likes being seen as a . . . Sweet and safe "big sister" type people can be absolutely raw and vulnerable to, not just to take advantage of them, but because that's the only social position she feels comfortable in. She's not actually that good at being that, but damn if she isn't going to keep trying.

[vivianbernadetteaurora]

Mars in libra ♎️ in fall

So when you see them doing it with someone else it might not be so cute and he had his.. Venus and Mars in Libra even though he is a Virgo and it is disputed whether he’s a Capricorn or Sagittarius moon. I swing more to the side of Capricorn because of virus and things like that and him contracting HIV and then later aids.

Don’t ask me why I just feel like that makes more sense to me. One of them seems to rule the bloodstream I’m pretty sure those two signs. So where did it become a challenger in his life apart from that. the balance within his group. with band mates such as borrowing may and the jealousy between the two. and the rivalry

And also his double life Libra double life it’s her dual sign... and he had a very lonely life where he became close with this man is in the the film by him and rapsody he came close with this man who basically revealed all the dirt on him I think he was meant to actually be one of his lovers and he was really cold hearted... and write all about freddy’s lonely life Freddie was the life and soul of the party but all his friends in the band. Kind of turned their back on him a little bit and he was all on his own anyway at the end of his life he met someone I think his name was Jim and they looked very similar as often gay couples do even more than straight couples. Like Taylor Swift and Karlie Kloss. Who. In a magazine they did a whole shoot of them two together like they were a couple and they were all wearing the same clothes in each shirt. And lastly this picture had been a I I’m not too sure but it was still weird but I know for sure they definitely did a magazine shoot together.

. now that’s someone with Sagittarius energy but also strong water energy Taylor Swift and she, is believed to be secretly in the closet and leaving clues in her songs in her clothes etcetera there’s a whole community of people online on TikTok on Spotify on YouTube who believe that Taylor Swift is actually lesbian. And I would not not believe it because I’d believe anything nowadays. And the way she sticks up for women and that and is proud of women I at least think she’s bisexual even though I’m not a Taylor Swift fan I’ve listened to one of her songs and it was amazing they did like this piece on SNL I think it was. Anyway here’s how Mars and Libra can go wrong if you want more detail and you want me to go into more than one person let me know. This Mars in Libra modern labor. When it’s not so good I’m Freddie Mercury had his Venus in Libra as well and I always say these people can be so charming and to be careful with their charm because they will be doing exactly what they’re doing to you to somebody else and that’s that’s what I believe no matter what sign it’s in it will work that way like I said I was going to do Heidi flies the Hollywood madam.

Whitney Houston another person who has a gay title this Mars placement. because in the beginning of her career she was attached to Robin Crawford. a friend of the family but her mum was incredibly homophobic whitney's mum... and she didn’t like Robin at all and the family all made her feel very uncomfortable but she was whitney’s friend and she was the one she was taking to award shows free Bobby.... in fact I think they would have rather her be if a woman beater than her to be happy with someone who treated her right which is really sad for Whitney because at the end of the life of her life she was with Ray J who is either hollywood’s pimp or drug dealer or both I don’t like the way he operates I mean if he works with the Kardashians and other sex tape with Kim that makes enough for me to make me think he’s really shady. and then the balancing act with how this placement can go dark so obviously it’s in the opposite sign of what sign it would be good in which is Aries Aries the God of War Aries Mars Mars the God of War Aries the sign of getting things going and getting on with things.... being straight to the point no sugarcoated unless there’s other pet placements like pisces or possibly Scorpio or Gemini. So yeah at the end of their life she was treated really badly and there’s a picture there’s a video even of the day before or a couple days before she died where she’s talking to the devil Clive Davis himself while he’s with an interview with Brandy and Monica and she hands the... major Brandy which grandy’s never revealed and Brandy is ray J’s older sister... it probably said can you get your brother to get me more drugs or something it was really sad what he did to her and I’ll never forgive him for it... on a Pamela who is so powerful in the industry and their partners career has... dwindled they were popular at one point in time but now their wife has taken over and they have to deal with that emasculating them and The funny thing is that both her. And Whitney both have a partner with their Mars in a water signSo they both had partners,, who were violent with them and then got back with them after the violence and they both gave a lot to the public over the years and have become culturally iconic and popular culture in the industry and in an other way.We love u guys

[upsidedowngrass]

yknow, i find it kinda innacurate when people portray bryce as kinda really angry all the time? i think hes easier to irritate, but he doesnt actually strike me as an angry person. hes angry a lot in the series yeah, but these are very obviously when 1. he has been kidnapped and 2. he is being kinda forcefully reminded of being kidnapped. like i think that these are reasonable times to be snappy and angry. i and really, i think airy pisses him off, but i think liam pisses him off less than the fact that what he went through was Real and liam was just serving to enforce it, which was Hard to handle.

overall, hes actually one of the more socially skilled characters! he thinks fast when talking to oscar and is able to act normal AND kind to him. when amelia is unhappy about not being eliminated AND when liam is still Recovering from the events of ep 6, hes actually pretty well-spoken. in the opening of ep 7, he handles everything being fucked over by his boss VERY quietly (until hes by himself). overall i think he has MANY issues but being angry at people isnt really one of them, hes generally really good at managing things in social settings!

all of this post was a buildup though, to the POINT of this post, which is less analytical and more just what i think: once they get home, bryce and charlotte ARE friends but she is INCREDIBLE at pissing him off. she says anything and he has to go into another room to calm down

[timetravelstudies]

This got long and annoying so its under a cut now

The way in the fight w the museum director insul gets the same big injuries he has given trianon (so far), aand particularly the ones that T thinks back on often as specific sources of fear/humiliation/control (pepper sprayed in the eyes; kicked in the balls; choked with smth small and thin ((wire / car window)))….. im too tired to formulate a proper Thought abt this but the fact this all happens right in front of tjat one painting of dante & virgil in hell + insul and the director are in the exact same pose right as insul is about to die* is obviously so meant to evoke the idea of contrappasso….. at this stage trianon isnt “””strong””” enough (doesnt understand Insul enough and most importantly doesnt fully inhabit himself and his own strengths) to be able to pay back Insul’s violence (as he does later, though not in such a literal way anymore) so tje director will do for now🥰 bc they both need to descend into hell they both need to be subject to physical and psychological violence in order to strip down layers……. so its cool how the director serves that purpose for this phase 1 both in story for insul himself (who eats shit in this fight) and also as a sort of alert for the reader like make no mistake they are BOTH gonna get put thru the ringer. even the top has to wade through cocytus! or smth

[thaliagrayce]

y'know what we don't talk about enough? Hazel died. We talk about how she grew up in the 30's and 40's and we talk about how out of place she feels in the modern world, but! She died! She was dead! She has spent more time dead than alive, and not by a close margin!

How does that effect a person??? We got some of it in the flashbacks, but once those caught up with her present timeline and she shared them, they just kind of... disappeared. And she was a regular girl with some weird past experiences. That's one way of doing it, sure!

I think it would have been a lot cooler if she was just a touch creepier. If she felt a little bit Wrong. Yeah, in general she's more approachable than her brother, she's more sociable and less closed off, but. If you actually spend any time with her, it can be difficult to tell which child of the underworld is actually more unsettling.

Hazel is bright of personality and has a dazzling smile, but sometimes she'll just... shut down. She'll go completely blank for like half an hour and nobody knows what to do with it. Sometimes she forgets she's alive. Sometimes she'll spout the grimmest shit you've ever heard like it's nothing, she won't even notice it's weird until the room goes quiet. She spent decades in Asphodel, which is designed to make people forget about themselves and wander around for eternity, only she didn't have the luxury of forgetting! Wild! After she comes back to life, sometimes she forgets that she's allowed to Do Stuff now. She can spend so long sitting and staring at nothing. Sometimes she'll start crying on cloudless days because it hits her again that she can actually feel the warmth of the sun on her skin and she can hear birdsong. Every little mundane experience is a blessing and she will make you remember that in the most foreboding way possible.

[11queensupreme11]

So I have a question? You know that song lyric “Would you still love me if I’m no longer young and beautiful?” By Lana Del Rey. Okay so I’m gonna give you a scenario I’ve been thinking about adding to my story (as a draft for the next interlude after I finish the next reaction chapter)

So it goes a little like this:

Let say Percy who was a goddess (like in the last ask) got cheated on by Cu and, in her despair, killed herself.

(This is just a draft but I do plan on starting the chapter with her suicide note to her children first. Then to each of the yans individually. And maybe a couple to the friends and family she made on the way. So like a note to Shiva and his wives, Adamas, maybe Hercules and Prometheus, and…Ra(surprise! 🤭) honestly, I plan on making his a mixture of kinda funny/sarcastic, but also nostalgic and sad.)

Everyone finds out of course. And Zeus, devestated by the loss of his favorite neice, incensed by the disrespect shown to the Greek Pantheon by the Celtic Pantheon, spurred on by his son, brothers, and pantheon’s devestation and righteous anger at Percy’s death, along with the Egyptian, Norse, Abrahamic,Hindu, etc. Pantheons’ anger with what Cu did, obviously, declare war. The heavens are split and in utter chaos as the two sides form and each side is gathering allies for the upcoming war (it’ll be known as the “The Divine Schism” later on.

So, as u can imagine, this results in a lot of death, a lot of emotions flying around, and it isn’t even just the gods fighting other gods. Or Percy’s children fighting her other children(wish she begged them in her letter not to do, but she’s gone now; and her children are just as unhinged as their dads) . It also causes the humans to fight too because she was friends with a lot of them and a lot of them blame the Celtic people for 1)encouraging the views that made Cu think it was okay to do that (which is hypocritical because they still believe or once believed and would have done the same thing just due to the time period they were raised/born into, but a lot of them liked Percy so she was the exception) and 2) for not trying harder to keep him under control back when he was still a human on Midgard (Papa Adam is REALLY disappointed).

ANYWAY!

At this point, the war has gotten bad enough that the Fates, the Morrigan, the Norns, and all the other gods and goddesses related to fate and destiny realize that sooner or later the gods are going to end up fighting each other into extinction (with the humans in Vallhalla doing the same) and so they do some research (through their powers which were given to them by “the-Powers-that-Be” (which I actually mentioned in a chapter already but basically that’s the power that created them, their universe, and all the other universes that exist or will ever exist) and find out that, while Percy did die when she killed herself, for whatever reason, she didn’t end up going to Niflheim and instead got reincarnated into a different universe and nope🤭🤭it’s NOT the PJO universe. Which universe it is, I’m going to keep that a secret for now but I wouldn’t mind doing a poll to see which universe everyone would WANT her to be in. It might even help me decide. (just know it’s gonna be an anime universe. So either One Piece, Bleach, Naruto, or something else. It’ll have to be one I’ve read or watched before tho.) but it’s a secret, even to me, until I actually sit down and write this chapter.

Anyway, they find her reincarnated soul (in this I think I’m going to make it so that she only remembers SOME of her past life as a goddess and a demigod and it comes to her in her dreams) and, in order to stop the godly war that threatens the very foundations of their universe, they sit the Pantheons down (what’s left of them anyway) and tell them about what happened and where she is now. This, of course revitalizes the yans (ESPECIALLY CU!!!) because they see it as a second chance to get her back and make SURE she NEVER leaves them EVER again. (I’m talking they might actually lock her in a palace where they watch her every move 24/7 for the rest of eternity)

So they come up with a plan to basically kidnap her from this other plane. In this other universe tho, she’s lived a full, happy life. Sure it had some challenges (if she’s in One Piece I’m gonna make it so that she was Ace’s sister so she def fought in Marineford (love interest: Shanks), if in Bleach I’m making her the Captain of one of the divisions (Love interest:Sosuke Aizen 🤭🤭), if in Naruto ( I honestly can’t see her as an assassin/killer which is literally all ninjas are trained to do when u get to the crux of it so maybe like a political figure of peace? A daiymo maybe? Idk I’d have to figure it out (love interest: Kakashi Hatake, Itachi Uchiha, or Madara Uchiha depending on what time period I want her to be reincarnated into)

I plan on having her influence a lot of stuff, fall in love, have children with said Love Interest, and be an old lady by the time they start looking for her ( might have to write this in three parts since I do want to dedicate a chapter to her life in that other universe).

I’m still trying to figure out all the logistics since I want it to be believable and not just super random and unorganized because there are a lot of moving parts.

But my question to u is what do u think the yans will think (at this point in time) or do about an old, grandma version of Percy? Will it matter to them? She won’t be the same Percy at this point. She might remember some things about them but for the most part she won’t remember them and tho she might have the same morals as the last Percy, because of the stuff she went through in this new universe, she isn’t just physically different (old) but mentally too.

EVERYTHING HERE IS PERFECT BUT I JUST HAVE ONE CORRECTION:

"while Percy did die when she killed herself, for whatever reason, she didn’t end up going to Niflheim and instead got reincarnated"

it's niflhel!!! niflhel (or oblivion, nonexistence, whatever) is where all gods and mortal souls (after dying in the afterlife) go to when they die!

anyway.................

AIZEN SOSUKE????????? AND KAKASHI????????????

dude i genuinely don't know who to vote for, kakashi has been my anime crush SINCE I WAS A LITTLE GIRL, and aizen's so fucking daddy too omg why would you make us pick between them that's so cruel 😭😭😭😭😭😭

as for your question, age wouldn't matter much to them cuz they can just forcefully revert her back to her prime or back to whatever age/appearance they last saw her as!

the issue is the mentality 😞 if she's too different (like if she's not the same sweet, cheery, uwu, and infuriatingly annoying and troublesome girl that they know, then they might actually feel defeated. it's percy.... but at the same time it's not THEIR percy

tbh they'd probably try to find a way to revert her back to the percy they know, but if that doesn't work or they can't do it, then it's back to despair and anger 💀

[asfdhgsdkjhgb]

god is swuarshing me beneath his thumb like i am an aphid or perhaps a clover mite. yeah. its slow and painful and im small. and also meek

[arolesbianism]

Realized it’s been over a year since I last drew him and couldn’t stand by that

[trans-yllz]

hmmmm I drafted an email to my boss abt how her text regarding my time off request after my mother's death made me feel very uncomfortable and how I felt like it was unprofessional should I send it