#he's not making her ACT like a child- children didn't go to dinner parties for example

[marzipanandminutiae]

an element of Fingersmith that I wish they'd kept in the miniseries, and that I'm not sure a lot of people fully understood, was the weird immaturity of Maud's clothing

her uncle makes her wear short (probably calf-length) skirts and has since she came to him as a child. only little girls wore skirts like that in the 1850s and 1860s. so while it was normal at first, she's still made to dress like that at age 17, at least a year past the age when she should have started putting her hair up and wearing floor-length skirts as a sign of adulthood (her hairstyle is unspecified, but it being pinned up in a net is mentioned at one point, which was a degree of "up" worn by both adult women and little girls)

she wears this while reading porn aloud to her uncle's much-older male friends

that's the equivalent of putting her in a sexy schoolgirl outfit and pigtails. there's absolutely no way it's not intentional- if she really was just there to be a secretary, there would be no reason to enforce a dress code specifically making her look younger

while he's not touching her or letting anyone else do so, Mr. Lily is sexually abusing his niece

[twstfanblog]

YO WHAT HAPPENS NEXT WITH THE BOYS IN THE MANHUA AU????

Bsjsjsjsjsj THIS GONNA BE SO LONG AGAIN BECAUSE THE SET UP GUYS!!!!

Ok starting out, the trio of Malleus, Azul, and Jamil HATE Yuu. They think she's the most annoying thing their parents/guardians ever put in their line of view and hate they keep putting her there.

Malleus’s father was Crowley's adopted brother (which is how he gained the status to marry Meleanor and how Crowley gained his arch duke status). Crowley's catch is that he wanted a deal that his family and royal family were to always be close. A promise that Lilia keeps after his friends die by making Yuu Malleus’s playmate.

And Malleus is...a fucking brat, raised being told he was going to be the strongest in the land and how he could have anything he wanted. It kinda inflated his little ego though Lilia tried to keep it at a decent size. But then to be presented a magicless human girl and told she was his EQUAL he kinda pitched a bitch fit and has been until Yuu just...stops talking to him.

Yuu is invited to Malleus's birthday ball every year, so Lilia is freaked out when a maid tells him that Yuu rejected the invite and didn't even plan on sending a gift in her place. Crewel tries to save face by claiming Yuu is sick. Malleus is happy because he thinks the party would be much better with no Yuu. Instead, he stands alone for basically the whole night because he never realized that Yuu was the only one who would happily come up to him, not an ounce of fear in her. He misses it...He hopes Yuu will feel better soon...

Azul comes from a marquess family that Crewel was very close to before his marriage to Crowley. So that's another playmate for Yuu! Azul completely thinks Yuu is bullying him and mocking him when she remarks how cute his chubby cheeks are. The other kids at banquets don't come near them but Azul can see out of the corner of his eye that they laugh at them. So when Yuu refuses to come with Crewel to this fancy dinner party, Azul thinks this is his chance to FINALLY establish himself with the other noble children.

Instead, Azul finds out that Yuu was the only reason the other children weren't bullying him, they liked her better than him and the fact she isn't there is basically saying she finally dropped the 'dead weight'. Azul spends the whole party actually being mocked and not teasingly cooed over, he hides behind his mom while she pleads for Crewel to bring Yuu to the next party, wondering if Yuu really was keeping him safe from the other kids.

Jamil hated Yuu purely because he kept getting in trouble. Kalim is the child of a duke family and he adored Yuu as his playmate. Because she liked Jamil! He had started to realize that Jamil was pulling away from him, coming to understand the true meaning of his role in Kalim's life. So Kalim thinks it's great that Yuu spends their playdates mostly trying to get Jamil to play with them, he misses playing with Jamil!

Jamil is PISSED, because after every play date he gets scolded for taking too much of Yuu's attention and told to act accordingly next playdate. He's openly cold to Yuu even though she's much higher in social status than him, he just wants her to leave him ALONE. But then, Kalim is nervous before a playdate. He's been hearing rumors about how Yuu is ill and doesn't want to leave her family's home more and more these days. But maybe a day with him and Jamil will be enough to brighten her spirits!

Yuu spends the entire playdate not even looking at Jamil let alone talking to him, he might as well be a smear on the wall. She's even withdrawn from Kalim, very quiet and not up for playing any of their normal games. When Yuu has gone home, Jamil goes to his room and just CRIES. He never realized just how much Yuu SEEING meant to him. He found her clinginess to be annoying, she talked too much, she couldn't just focus on Kalim like every other rich kid whose family tried to cozy up to the Asims. But now...going an entire day with her not even looking at him...it hurts...

So yeah! When Yuu comes back to life she's basically heartbroken that her crushes and the men who she considered to be her best friends didn't even try to help her while she died. If they hate her so much, then fine, she gives up she won't talk to them anymore...But now she's sad and alone, she had three 'friends' and now she has no friends. so She just stays alone in the family home while her dads worry and try their best to brighten her days and keep her socialized.

[vellichxrr6782]

CHAPTER FIVE, you know that i bought it.

SYNOPSIS: after the first of many more days in the studio, you and childe are set up on a date by your managers. though the date is short, it still manages to send your feelings into a spiral of confusion.

CHARACTERS (in this chapter): childe, ningguang, yae miko (mentioned), zhongli (mentioned), jean (mentioned).

CW/TW: cussing, idk man handholding? maybe a bit fast-paced.

WORD COUNT: 1.6k words.

<- previous chapter | cruel summer masterlist | next chapter ->

"great work today, everybody. keep it up, keep at it, and i’ll see you all in a few days.” said the producer, ningguang. 

you had been filming for hours straight. yae was rather considerate today, since it was the first day of filming. of course, you knew well, her kindness would not last very long. it’s okay, though, you appreciated her and her dedication to perfecting her craft. 

the setting was that the female lead, you, were on the phone with your friend, explaining to her that you'd be fine alone on the flight. you were going to paris. 

initially, you'd planned on going to paris with your boyfriend, another character (who hadn't been chosen yet, so yae planned on postponing the scenes with him), but that plan was thrown in the trash when he broke up with you. he had to go abroad for his studies, so he didn't want to try long-distance with you. 

albedo wanted the ex to be redeemable in a sense, i guess. 

nevertheless, you're absolutely shattered by this, but in your newfound solidarity, you decide to go to paris all by yourself, so you could enjoy all alone. you were going to the city of love with no one to love but yourself.

you had also filmed the main scene with childe, where you meet him first. he was your seatmate on the flight, and you recognise him as your old friend from when you were children. instead of filming on an actual plane, the producer had the setmakers make a pretty realistic rendition of one.

you and childe catch up a bit, and finally land in the city of love. 

well, that would be later. ningguang had yet to book the tickets for the actual film crew to head to paris, which she planned on doing after the aforementioned scenes were filmed, and since they were, she would get started on the bookings.

nevertheless, that wasn’t your concern right now. your concern was the looming doom approaching you tonight. a date set up by zhongli, for you and childe.

ajax had sworn he'd never find someone as infuriating as you. in every situation, no matter the cost, no matter the circumstances, you were ever-so devoted to your act of "not giving a shit". 

two could play that game, sure. if childe didn't care, but he did now. ever since the incident the party, childe found himself caring a lot. he kinda saw it coming; he might seem dense but he really wasn't. it was just shocking that she would make it so public.

let bygones be bygones. he had to focus on the utter pain in the ass sitting in front of him.

you.

a romantic candlelight dinner at a 5-star restaurant. an intimate, lovely atmosphere. delicious warm food, with some of the best wine in the country. 

and, you, his date, scrolling through your phone, completely uninterested. 

it was like a stab in the stomach, to pay so much for a date (a fake date), and the person you're trying to "woo" is either bored out of their mind, or pretending to be bored to irritate you. you couldn't make it any less obvious that you didn't want to go anywhere with him.

childe furrowed his brows, annoyed, "hey, you do realise we're on a date, right?" 

"oh, really? i had no clue." you blinked innocently, "so sorry, ajax. i guess you could say, i have more important things to attend to."

"yeah, i'm sure texting jean about how much this situation sucks is very important." childe rolled his eyes, you sneered in response. "can you atleast try to act like we're a couple? you were the one who agreed to this in the first place."

"when i first agreed to this shitshow, i didn't think it would be this bad." you frowned, fiddling with your food. you really had no appetite, despite how good the food looked. "do we really have to go on a date?"

well, that's what the contract entailed. and the date part isn't even the worst of it, you've got to kiss, post cute pictures with cheesy captions like "with the love of my life" and "my snookums" and what-not. 

"if we wanna be convincing, then yeah." childe shrugged. "imagine the headlines, 'actors y/n and tartaglia, on a romantic date together'."

"or, more likely, the headlines, 'actress y/n snaps tartaglia's neck in a fit of rage'!" you grinned, "what were you on when you chose the stage name, 'tartaglia', anyway?"

"hey, it sounds cool!" childe replied, crossing his arms defensively.

"i think ajax suits you better. it's cute." you smiled, swirling around your beverage gently.

"it's... what?" his eyes widened at the sudden compliment, "did you just- am i hearing things?"

"oh." you realised your words, coughing to curb your embarrassment. "ahem. don't overreact. it's not like i've never complimented you before."

"you've never." childe deadpanned.

"moving on..." you trailed off, trying to change the topic, "what do couples do on dates like this?" 

the chatter of people around you 

childe smiled in a sly manner, reaching out to grab your hand. your eyes widened at the sudden physical contact.

"well, they hold hands." he stated, intertwining his fingers with yours. your hand was damp from holding your cold beverage, the tips freezing. childe's hands warmed yours, or maybe it was the blood rushing through your veins.

your cheeks flushed.

"and they call each other nicknames like darling and sweetheart." he leaned in, one arm pressed against the table, the other hand still holding yours.

"and they gaze into each other's eyes longingly..." his eyes met yours, with a hint of playfulness obvious in them. he smiled coyly, knowing he'd gotten you flushed. 

"and maybe, they kiss-" he came closer to your face, and your mind flashed back to the night at the party, when his lips met yours and you could smell his cologne and-

you shook those thoughts away, pulling away from ajax as quick as you could. he let out a laugh, his cheeks red.

"was that too much for you, darling?"

exasperating. tartaglia made your blood boil. "yeah, yeah, very funny." you rolled your eyes, too prideful and annoyed to admit that your heart was racing.

childe's laughter subsided, and his expression relaxed, "okay, how about... we make a deal?"

you raised a brow sceptically. "what kind of deal? i don't trust any of your antics."

"i'll try and not pull any weird tricks on you. i'll be your kind, caring, supportive and level-headed lover." he put a hand on his chest, as if he was solemnly swearing to something. "and you, in return, will wholeheartedly return my acts of affection. no rolling your eyes or scowling."

oh. well. that promise will either be broken in a heartbeat, or won't be made in the first place.

"that is... immensely difficult to do with someone like you." you stated, eyes narrowed in scrutiny.

"yeah, no, it isn't easy to be your lover, either." ajax pouted. "cut me some slack too."

ouch. well, he's not wrong. you're pretty closed off, and love really isn't a priority for you. 

especially if it's with tartaglia. 

you were just hesitant. remembering how childe did a full 180 on you all those years ago, you didn't wanna reignite whatever spark was there before, out of fear that he'd turn his back again on you.

"come on, we decided to start this mess, right? let's give it our all." he held out his hand for you to shake. regardless of his confident exterior, you could notice his hand shaking a little. he was hesitant too.

you let out a sigh, straightening yourself. "fine. deal." you said, shaking his hand. 

all childe spared you was a sly grin before smoothly taking your hand and kissing the back of it.

you froze, but scowled after a second, "you said no tricks, ajax."

"and you said you'd stop scowling." 

"you broke the deal first-!" 

"it was a test!"

"what kind of bullshit-"

and that’s how the rest of the night went, with you two arguing incessantly, talking about movies and scripts, talking about other people who worked in the industry. 

before you knew it, you started to enjoy yourself. shocking. you realised that you actually had a good time as childe walked you out of the restaurant, with your hand intertwined with his. 

you also realised just how unbearably close he was to you, and you could feel his warmth. you’d held his hand many times before, but just now, you were noticing all the lines on his palms, you were feeling how his knuckles felt, you were realising just how clammy his hands were getting.

maybe he realised what this situation was like, too. 

you looked up at him, he was lost in his thoughts. you tugged at his shirt, and he snapped out of whatever daydream he was having, and looked down at you. 

“hey, it’s diluc’s birthday in a few days.” you told him, and missed completely how childe’s expression soured at the mention of diluc. 

“uh… happy birthday to him, i guess.” childe replied, absentmindedly. 

“it’s not today, god. it’s in a few days, and kaeya’s hosting a surprise party.” you said, “are you attending?”

“i got an invite from kaeya, yeah, but i said no.” childe rubbed the back of his neck awkwardly, “i don’t really like diluc.” 

“you should attend regardless. it’ll be a good way for us to appear in public more as a couple.” you suggested, and noticed how his lips curved upwards at the mention of ‘couple’. “and! and… it’s basic courtesy, y’know.”

“right… i’ll give it some thought. didn’t know you cared.” 

“don’t make me regret requesting you to come.” 

he let out a laugh, and you narrowed your eyes, noticing how the corners of his eyes crinkled up.

“thanks for tonight, ajax.” you smiled, though it wasn’t forced. “it was alright.” 

“i don’t know what i should comment on, you genuinely thanking me, or saying it was ‘alright’ immediately after that.” childe replied, “well, i’m glad it was alright. text me when you get home.”

“you’ve never asked me to do that before.” you raised a brow.

“you’ve never come anywhere with just me that wasn’t the studio.” childe shrugged, “besides, i’m asking now, aren’t i? it would be improper of me to not make sure my girlfriend gets home safe.”

you felt the tips of your ears flush when you heard the term. “uh huh… and when does tartaglia care about being proper?” he playfully rolled his eyes in response.

“see you tomorrow.” he said, opening the door to the taxi he had booked for you. “good night, y/n.”

you wished him a good night, and went on your way. you couldn’t help but look out the window, and observed how he waved at you, smiling. 

he has a pretty smile. 

…

wait, what?

published on; 21st august, 2023. writing belongs to @/vellichxrr6782 on tumblr

[cidnangarlond]

can you give a summary or synopsis of fortunas character? I like seeing her but i know nothing about her!! Other than cid and her being Very Good Friends (joke)

YESSSS I'll give a quick lil rundown

So Fortuna Forsythia was the name she took when she left her family in the Skatay Mountains (where the Veena Viera are from) and was originally known as Petra Ymir! She has a sister named Sonja. Fortuna left home at about 18 shortly after her birthday longing for adventure and wandered for a bit until she came upon a small town. She stayed for a bit to help with hunting and an Elezen lancer named Ilya came into town and Fortuna fell in love instantly and begged him to teach her how to use a lance and he does! The romantic feelings are mutual but aren't together for long because he dies protecting the town from a giant goobbue and Fortuna also loses an eye during all this. She recovers and I'm always split between she shamefully goes back home and stays for awhile before setting off again or just wandering for another few years trying to teach herself the way of the lance before ultimately ending up in Gridania.

For that period between Ilya's death and coming to know Cid her emotions were very muted. Never smiled at all, very serious, didn't really laugh either, just very stoic. (This leads to a thing with the Scions and namely Thancred trying to get her to smile.) When she meets Cid she's very much despairing about falling in love again but fortunately our resident engineer has plot armor and we don't have to worry about anything. Unless Yoshi-P gets some ideas. But she and Cid have their first kiss in the Praetorium remember when it was an 8-man duty and not 4 and there were memes about how many cutscenes there were. I remember. There were so many. They removed all the good Cid cutscenes from Castrum and Prae but what IS good is I recorded them all. But they were good for my Cid/Fortuna agenda. They got married like right after Estinien-Nidhogg was defeated because to Cid he was not going to let Fortuna run off and do more crazy shit without first being able to call her his wife. (He left the ring at the Manufactory and Biggs and Wedge, who were covertly following them, had to throw him the ring box. Cid got too excited and left without it.)

Very close friends with Haurchefant so it was very sad for her when he died. Likewise good friends with Estinien because they are both Dragoons. Fortuna was solely a Dragoon up until the last of the Pandemonium raids dropped and then she (aka me) finally branched out into different jobs, like Dancer, Summoner, etc. Dawntrail was the first expansion she went into not as a Dragoon! Very big time for her.

Fortuna and Cid do have two children, one is a daughter named Yda who was born between the end of Stormblood and the beginning of the Stormblood patch quests (which I imagine there was a good few months in between them). Their son Fortuno (Cid was adamant a child be named after her and not him) was born between the end of Endwalker and the beginning of the Endwalker patch quests. So she was up there on the moon, pregnant. Yda and Fortuno will eventually have arguments of "WELL SHE WAS PREGNANT WITH ME WHEN SHE LIBERATED DOMA AND ALA MHIGO" and "YEAH? WELL SHE WAS ON THE MOON FIGHTING GOD WHILE PREGNANT WITH ME" you know how siblings are. Estinien frequently comes over for dinners and the kids love him he's uncle Estinien to them and lets Yda put bows in his hair and play tea party with her. He also enjoys playing with Fortuno and it all reminds him of when he was young in Ferndale before Nidhogg came through and is also reminded of his younger brother. Nero likewise comes through for dinner now and then because he enjoys Fortuna's cooking and in exchange he HAS to let the kids play with him. Play with the children or you aren't eating. He is teaching them to be too dramatic through play-acting and making up stories but we all have uncles or know someone's uncle who is supremely dramatic.

They do have a house somewhere don't ask me where they just have a house and it exists. When Fortuna is off saving the realm Cid brings the children to the Ironworks and everyone LOVES them so much. Tataru makes them cute outfits. The Scions all love them. Alphinaud and Alisaie are like younger siblings to Fortuna so she cares about them immensely and they take being aunt and uncle/godparents to Yda and Fortuno very seriously.

LET'S SEEEEE WHAT ELSE. Her patron god is Halone. Her favorite color is purple and her birthday is 1/15 (which is also my birthday and my favorite color). She is blind in her left eye. She is right-handed. She enjoys sweets but doesn't like to advertise it a lot. Her favorite food is really any variety of steak (medium or medium-rare). One of her favorite places aside from Ishgard because of the snow is the beach, she loves to swim. She likes to mine and likes to weave/craft and has contributed immensely to Sharlayan (through the custom delivery quests) as well as to the Ishgardian Firmament restoration. Her lucky number is 7. She loves roses and sunflowers.

Sorry I said this was going to be brief it was NOT in fact brief.. But hopefully you had fun learning about Fortuna :]

[goongiveusnothing]

there were moments he was definitely very into her. i can see him getting caught up and doing it. how are so many people overestimating harry and not assuming he's dumber than a box of rocks and would tattoo a gf's name next to his dick?

Don't know about him he's shitty with all his gfs even though he preaches kindness and is a proud feminist but she was definitely into him not was just into him she was so loyal and in love with him i mean who would leave their lovely family for a known womaniser. And he cheated on her every chance he got but still she stayed and traveled around the world for him yes I know she was benefitting from that relationship I'm not making her a saint or anything but at least she didn't make him stupid or fool in front of anyone like he tried to do with her. During viff I actually felt sorry for her even though I don't have to she did this all to herself both of them are equally problematic and attention seeker so we can't say whose better but harry can bring fame to people who associates themselves to him so those who wants to enjoy their 15 mins fame all they have to do is to praise him and also if he has a partner then he can do whatever he wants behind it even during Coachella cheating rumours his fans were defending him saying these tumors made up larries like why would they do that that's against their narrative as well . We can actually see the admiration on her face when she looks at him even when he was acting cute/stupid in front of the media during the press meet she was just sitting there and looking at him in awe nor did he even glance at her once he couldn't even stand next to her. I've heard some people saying maybe he's probably a very supportive bf in private I mean what's the point of that when your one single word can stop the harassment your girlfriend receiving from your own fans and show what kind and nice bf or perfect person you are but no mr styles would only think about himself and had also threw her under the bus every chance he got. So I don't think he was into her maybe he enjoyed sex but for that they both can take equal blame . His fans (majority Harries) believes he's a hoe but they can't accept the fact he might have slept with her during filming and got caught then ruined a family . He couldn't even say her name out of his mouth so I don't think he'll tattoo it on him. I don't think he's that stupid get her name tattooed like don't give him that much credits he didn't even attend a dinner party honouring her when he was in the same place. But if he did then he stupid than I thought he was who would tattoo names like that . My bff always told me if you're planning to get a name tattooed then it should be either your fam/siblings or someone dead. So we won't regret it later .

Some of his fans are saying that it's Oliver Mitch and Sarah's son's name ( if you know please confirm ) . And he does have the name of his god children's name tattooed ( again idk anyone who knows please confirm) . So maybe it's the kids name but I find it weird why he would tattoo a child's name there . Idk i find it weird he's a weirdo but that's creepy maybe we'll see a hq pic and then confirm.

i definitely think he was in love with her at various points, even though none of his fans or even other people seem to want to accept it now. you don't go through all that crap if you don't like someone. the fact nobody seems to want to accept he even likes her seems like projection. a lot of people dislike olivia, there's a cultural fandom environment which hates her, and obviously his actions now makes them feel emboldened to act like he always hated her, but that's based on their own feelings.

but he's very selfish and manipulative and his behaviour with her shows that. his priority in every relationship will always be himself.

if this is a child's name i think the QAnon's should go to town on him because that is outright fucked up behaviour. that tattoo can only be seen if you almost show your dick in someone's face. how did he show that to a child? get it on your arm or chest or back. why on earth would anyone want a child's name in a place that can only be viewed if you pull your underpants up/down to the point you're almost exposing yourself?

[yonkokraven]

PJO/HOO headcanon (takes place in a world with no ToA): Chaotic Good Primordials

-Chaos occasionally goes where they wants, so they occasionally watches the demigods go on their quests and records every time they unintentionally unleash chaos by facing monsters (Percy is his favorite since Mt. Saint Helens). They manifested into a woman to Sally Jackson to hang out as friends and in a surprisingly butterfly effect, Chaos suddenly is godfather/godmother of Estelle Jackson (Which obviously even Chaos themselves didn't expect at all).

-Lady Nyx adopted demigods who have accidentally fallen into Tartarus, in fact, the process is: She scares them to death in her 40ft tall form -> when the demigod is about to faint, she and her children start laughing and become more or less human-sized and calm him down (it's a freak them out tradition) -> Previously adopted demigods usually wait for the whole act to be over and have dinner with the potential new little brother/sister. (Percy and Annabeth were almost adopted that day.)

-Tartarus couldn't really care less about Gaea's new attempt to try and dethrone Olympus, although he supports her because if there's even a slight chance of bringing the Big Three back down to his domain, he'd do it without hesitation. Despite apparently being angry with Damasen in their confrontation, when Percy and Annabeth leave he pats Damasen in the head and walks away.

Extra fact: After Blood Of Olympus, Tartarus gives Daedalus' laptop and Annabeth's dagger to Eris and she (remember that in Sea of ​​Monsters it's implied that she works with Hermes) sends both things to Annabeth.

-Uranus stayed living in the old mount Othrys in Greece (there are versions of the myths where it is said that he is alive, and he is the one who advised Zeus to eat Metis if he did not want to be dethroned + he also helped in the first Gigantomachy). The primordials (except Gaea) visit him from time to time. The constellations? well, they live there, Zoe is obviously very confused that at one moment she was dying and in another she is in Greece with this primordial who should be dead being her new Father. After speaking against Zeus and defending Apollo, Uranus gave Jason his blessing and protection.

-Lady Hemera and Lord Aether regularly spent time at Camp Half-Blood before World War II, after the Giant War they both basically manifested a cabin, lifted Mr. D's punishment, and are basically the de facto camp directors and surrogate parents to those with no family in the mortal world and most of demigods since many were unclaimed for years (and despite being claimed many still choosed Hemera and Aether.)

-Pontus and Thalassa woke up after the second titan war and the first thing they did was take Oceanus and Poseidon by the ear (Even if they're not their father, they treat them like their children). In this timeline ToA doesn't happen, but Percy having to do chores for Zeus and other gods does, Poseidon rambles about it during a dinner at his palace and Pontus promptly jets off to Olympus to have a diplomatic chat with Zeus (no one messes with a child of the sea) while Thalassa do a Tea party with Aphrodite.

-After the war, Gaea appears in the mansion of the Night by the work of Chaos, there is basically a divine intervention and a lot of therapy in between (+Chaos is now a godfather/godmother, he would not allow under any circumstances that a war would harm his goddaughter) After a while, Chaos hands over dominion of Ogygia to Gaea, and she and Calypso make the island a Paradise, and when Leo arrives both are beyond confused on how and why (btw, Leo and Calypso have free pass to go back the island after they leave)

Gaea easily could leave, but choose to stay and work in the island, she doesn't know why or how, but soon, Metis, Helios, Selene, Pan appear there too, and she look fowards to the day she can see her children again.

[rabbitlover1027]

It's Too Dark For You

Elain wonders how far she can go.

Children's parties were typically awful, which is why he avoided them. But he liked Nyx, so he made an exception and came. It may have helped greatly that he was clearly one of Nyx's favorite people. Nesta stared coolly every time Nyx grabbed his hand instead of hers, Cassian's disappointment was obvious only in how hard he tried to act like he wasn't watching, and Azriel wouldn't even step into the room if he was already in it. Mor, to her credit, was the only one honest about her feelings, openly complaining about how unfair it was that Nyx preferred Lucien to any of them.

Feyre kissed his cheek and dashed off to greet a few late guests. Rhysand clapped him on the back and smiled at his son. Amren wrinkled her nose each time she looked at him. The Night Court was predictably normal.

Almost.

Normal for his mate was an awkward greeting and relieved farewell. Elain was not acting normal. She'd greeted him awkwardly, but she was watching him differently. True, she normally kept a close eye on him to make sure she didn't have to get too close to him. This wasn't that.

As Nyx pulled him room to room, she trailed behind. She didn't come close, but she didn’t keep her normal distance either. She’d sit nearby, brow furrowed and shoulders tensing. If he thought she’d tell him what was going on, he would have asked. Instead he built towers of blocks for Nyx to knock down and he ran after the squealing toddler, circling chairs and sofas, during a game of chase.

At dinner, Elain would square her shoulders and squeeze her eyes shut only to pop them open quickly and glance at him. Each time, her shoulders sank and her eyes fell back to the table. Nyx abandoned his spot between his parents to crawl up into his lap and Lucien turned his attention wholly to the small child ignoring her until it was time to sing.

He set his fork down after cake (Nyx had dropped more than a little frosting on Lucien's pants) when Nyx hopped down to go clean up with his mother. Listening politely as Cassian argued with Mor about whose turn it was to get another bottle of wine, he felt it.

Elain was reaching across the bond.

He squirmed. Terrified of scaring her off, he wanted to give no outward appearance of being aware of what she was doing. He swirled the wine in his cup and lazily cocked his head in Cassian’s direction.

He felt her slowly wrap around inside his chest, bit by bit, like a lapping wave. She’d retreat a little and then surge farther forward. His body rejoiced in it and he had to fight against the urge to rock to her rhythm, forcing his breath to stay normal. He fought the urge to reach back out at her across the bond.

It felt warm and golden. She pushed up, climbing, pulling back a little, then rocking up higher each time, spreading that warmth farther inside him. She paused, rocking, and then pushed up higher, slipping inside of his heart.

For the briefest moment, everything stopped. Then he felt it as their heartbeats synchronized. He didn't even have to try to reach back at her through the bond, something about her pushing into his heart had linked them and he could feel her. He swiveled in his chair to look at her. Her face was full of shock, her mouth a perfect open circle of surprise. She stared back at him, their hearts beating in tandem. He felt it when she recognized she’d been caught and slid back out of him, back all the way to her end of the bond, and he felt a chill in his chest where she had been. She snapped her head down and stared at her plate.

She caught him by the coat closet an hour later.

“I’m sorry,” she apologized.

“For what, my lady?” she was close enough to touch, but he kept his hands at his sides.

“For intruding. I should have asked first. I wanted to know if I could….” she paused and didn't finish. “I was curious. It was rude, to not tell you what I was doing. I’m sorry.”

“Did you want to try again?” he asked.

She looked up at him and nodded. “Yes. Please.”

She was faster this time, maybe because she knew the way now, or maybe because they were standing inches away from each other. It was like a slow flood this time. The spaces she touched inside him filled with her and rose higher. She gasped again when their hearts connected and stopped.

Lucien nodded and she bit her lip in concentration. She pushed up, through his neck, into his head and rested there on the edge of his mind. It didn’t remind him of what it felt like when daematie did it. Instead of filling him with a dark dread, golden warmth shimmered. He wanted to drown in it.

He felt her hesitation, she was unsure where to go next. She reached out, pressing gently against different parts of his mind. He thought of a blue butterfly he’d seen once and wondered if he should send the thought of it to her, but decided no. She'd wanted to see what she could do. Another time. One day, he’d be able to send her thoughts like this. At least, he hoped one day he could. He would wait. He let the thought of one day get comfortable, he sank into the thought, and relaxed too much. He didn’t pay attention to what she was doing.

The warm flood of her stopped. It pulled back quickly, draining low, and he realized she wanted to break all the way through, she wanted to be able to see inside his mind and unsure of where to start, she was going to crash into it and break down what she could until she found something. He should have sent the butterfly, something, anything. He should have made sure Feyre had taught her how to be careful first. It was too late.

A giant golden wave of her crashed hard against his mind and everything swirled. She found a weak spot. A barrier between them curled under the heavy weight of her presence and she slammed against it. He felt it crack. He tried to stop it, but the barrier cracked and the memories behind it came spilling out, sucking up the golden glow around them, and turning it oily black. He scrambled, clutching at the memories, trying to shove them back, away and unseen. It wasn't working.

Panicked, he shoved her out of his head. He slammed the whole of his mind shut against her. He pushed her down, down to his ribs, and out of him. He flung her out.

No longer connected, he could still hear her heartbeat thundering. She was shaking and her eyes were wide and wet.

“What was that?” her voice cracked.

Lucien was a fool. To think he’d thought just moments ago that one day he and Elain might… He was wrong. He’d been so wrong.

“I never should have let you in my head,” he snarled. She flinched and stepped back. “It’s too dark for you.”

He grabbed his jacket and slammed the front door shut behind him.

Feyre knocked on her bedroom door after putting Nyx to bed. Elain didn't answer, so Feyre opened it only enough to poke her head in. Elain sat in a chair by the window, hugging her knees to her chest. She looked paler than usual in the moonlight streaming in.

“You disappeared after dinner. Is everything alright?” Feyre asked.

Across the room, Elain glanced at her and sucked in a shuddering breath.

“Who is Jesminda? And what did they do to her?”

[bamboobrat]

succession s3 e8 recap: macaroni and memorial services 3/5

ok ok ok life lesson, guys: if someone makes this face when you are proposing to them, RUN!

poor willa. connor asks her to marry him simply because it will make they whole sitch less sketchy for journalists.

that being said, i'm not sure he is right???? like, even if they are married, once the press finds out how they met etc, won't that still be an issue?

then again, never underestimate american politics...

meanwhile, the rest of the roy fam + co are freaking out about the swedish meatball and his tweets (that's ok, i can call him that, i'm scandi, it's a term of endearment)

loving all the hats.

logan shows up to the party with marcia AND kerry because, as both roman and i have already mentioned, he doesn't give a flying fuck. no shame in this guy.

he does look cute in a hat though.

and give marcia some fucking lines, damnit!!!!!

find something in your life that makes you as happy as watching logan rock up to a party with both his wife and his mistress makes caroline happy.

harriet walter, truly a legend.

kendall asks his dad out for dinner and roman acts as if he is the only roy child allowed access to his father at the moment. i'm ready to see that whole thing crash and burn, honestly.

kendall is promptly escorted out of the party and glared at by colin - another reminder of the whole, vehicular manslaughter thing.

caroline invites her daughter to her bachelorette party (she really should have said hen party, but ok...) only to tell her she was a shitty daughter.

love those touching family moments in this show.

she also says she should never have had children, but dogs instead. when shiv responds that she could have, caroline goes "oh no, cuz logan might have kicked them."

she still did choose to have children, though...

caroline also says she thinks shiv made the right decision not having children. we all know where this is going.

gerri looks hot and leaves the bachelorette party to have a stern talk with roman.

roman says he's going to fuck laurie and then they also discuss gojo and mattson for a bit, but i wasn't really paying attention.

and don't think i didn't notice one miss gerri kellman stopping in her tracks as roman says "fuck gerri".

[layniapetrovnaaa]

Forbidden Fruit [Jonathan Pine x OC]

Prologue

Series Masterlist

OC

Playlist

Notes: I normally don’t write OCs, but I just loved the idea of being Ropers daughter—something I know is not inclusive for everyone— so I figured, if I can’t be inclusive to everyone, I’ll be exclusive to everyone instead and make it an OC lol. Also, this prologue doesn’t have any Pine x Nola, but that will be coming soon. I just wanted to give a brief view of the character and somewhat establish what her relationship with others is like :)

I would LOVE if someone would be willing to make a better moodboard/cover art for this, as well lol.

Also, I got the little strawberry line separator from @animatedglittergraphics-n-more

This is hardly proof-read, sorry.

Summary: Nola spends the late spring and summer with her father every year in their quiet Spanish villa, this summer being no exception. But, what happens when a handsome and mysterious man immerses himself into the Roper family, more importantly, into Nola's heart? More and more everyday Jonathan Pine finds himself unable to resist the sweet forbidden fruit that is Nola Valentini-Roper. Read to find out in this story of lust, youth, and of course, being able to look, but not touch.

Warnings: Creepy middle-aged men, drunkenness, alcohol, smoking, swearing, homophobic comments, kidnapping, mentions of blood, mentions of sex, if I missed any please tell me!

“Jed, Nola! Time to go to dinner, my darlings!” Richard Roper called from the foyer of his million-dollar Spanish villa. “Danny’s already outside waiting!” He fiddled with the cuffs of his linen shirt for a moment more before he heard two doors slam and heel-clad feet echoing through the house.

“Coming, Daddy!” The oldest Roper child called, running down the stone steps. Jed came quickly after, her and Nola giving Mr. Roper a quick peck on the cheek before stepping onto the boat.

When Nola first started spending her summers in Spain with her father, she was rather lonely, to say the least. Of course, the scenery and lavish lifestyle made up for quite a bit of that alone time, but the void was still there. A nice dress wasn't the same as a father's warmth. It wasn't horrible, she knew she could have worse, but she often felt that she was only there on a formality. Richard Roper couldn't have his only daughter away all year, there were appearances to keep up.

Being the only non-adult at her father's little dinner parties often led her to sit quietly next to her father, observing the boastful talk and sloshing champagne. He would ask her if she was alright, nodding her head and giving him a small closed-lip smile, one side slinking up just slightly higher than the other. He would return the look, occasionally stroking her hair or giving her cheek a little pinch before filling her glass with some of the bubbly, hoping to loosen the young girl up a little. He would then forget about her for another 45 minutes as he became preoccupied with his most recent plaything.

She quickly grew used to the feeling, accepting that it would just be a part of her summers. As she got older, she was able to mingle more with the adults, but they all still saw her as Dickie's little girl. She had wanted to invite a friend along this summer, but she knew her father was too private a man for any outsiders to be joining them on their extended holiday. She supposed it didn't matter too much anyway, it seemed that--despite being surrounded by people all the time--it was just her by herself in the end.

“Nola, I want you to play nice with Sandy when we arrive, d’you hear me?

“UGH!” the young girl groaned, falling back against the seat of the boat. “But, Daddy--”

“I know, I know, darling.” he said, glancing back at his daughter. It wasn't a secret that Nola didn't exactly appreciate her father's partner and his advances towards her. Of course, Richard didn't exactly like it either, but he knew that Sandy would never act on his drunken flirting, for he was already sleeping with his children's nanny. Besides, he knew what Roper would do to him if he ever laid a hand on his precious girl.

“If you ‘know’ then why do I have to be nice? He’s just so creepy--especially when he’s drunk! And don’t even get me started on his politics.” Nola rolled her eyes.

“Nola.” her father speaks slowly, glancing back at her once more.

The relationship between Richard Roper and his eldest child was a unique one. That's the thing about first-born females, intelligence, ambition, and success is often on their side; yet so is bluntness and the need for parental approval, especially coming from the father figure that Nola would only see for about four months out of the year.

“Fine.” she sighs, crossing her arms.

“Sandy’s always nice to me?” her little brother looks up from his phone and at his big sister.

She gives him a small smile, “It’s a little different for me, Dans.” and ruffles the young boy's hair.

Nola Elena Valentini-Roper was a very attractive young girl, this being the reason her father was not surprised that as she became a young woman, his male and female friends had started to look at her differently (though perhaps in a different light for the women). She had lovely tan, supple, olive skin that complimented her almond-shaped hazel/green eyes and shoulder-length light blonde hair beautifully. Her nose was on the larger and aquiline side, blame it on her Italian ethnicity. Her lips were full, equally as supple as her skin and equally as sensual as her physique. Passed those lips she had white teeth that were straight on the top, but a bit crooked on the bottom, blame it on her British ethnicity.

She had an hourglass figure that resembled the late Marilyn Monroe, yet her hips, bottom, and stomach were slightly fuller and smoother given her youthfulness. She was on the shorter side, in fact, she was a foot shorter than her stepmother. She looked quite petite in comparison to the company she kept-- besides Danny, of course. She had a deep and sensual voice, it was husky and had a bit of an Italian flair to it due to the fact that she spent the fall and winter with her mother in Italy. Most people had been quite captivated by her sound and told her she sounded exotic, to which she would smile and move on to the next potential flirt. Sandy being one of those people.

“Tell you what,” Jed starts, turning around to face her stepdaughter. “If you ever get uncomfortable at any point, I’ll take care of it.” she winks and Nola gives her a closed-mouth smile, one corner quirking up slightly higher than the other.

Besides Sandy's nanny (who often wasn't joined in the festivities), her father's young bride was the closest person there to the Roper daughter's age. She was nice enough, but it took some time to get used to a new mother figure who was only seven years her senior. However, they quickly bonded over their youthfulness and lonesome and would often take shopping trips and lounge by the pool together.

“Thanks, Jed.”

***

“I’m just saying it seems unnatural!” Sandy proclaims across the table, gulping down the rest of his champagne.

Nola glanced at her father, who only gave her a small smile and a slow tip of the head before turning back to Jed and his own glass of champagne. She sighed, lighting up a cigarette and taking a gulp of bubbly before returning to the bigot.

“What? You don’t have an answer for that one, little girl?” he smiled, his eyes glancing down to her cleavage.

For as badly as the old man wanted to get into the young girl's pants, he was awfully berating.

“I don't understand how you can consider it unnatural if there are many, many animals that participate in same-sex relationships, in addition to the fact that studies are proving that being gay is a hundred percent natural.” She shrugged, taking a drag. “And besides, why is it any of your business what kind of relationship someone is in? I think your better off worrying about your own sexual relations--” the teen challenged.

Roper clears his throat and glares at his eldest child, to which Nola bites her lip and lowers her head.

“I think you could use a bit more champagne, darling. School year’s over, you can loosen up now.” Her father speaks with a polite smile, disguising her frustration and annoyance towards the sleazy man in front of her for her end of school stress.

It had been her senior year of high school. Officially a graduate. She was free for the summer but was expected to be attending Oxford in the fall. She didn't know what she was going for, her father had arranged her admission, not bothering to ask if she had anything else in mind. It wasn't that she did have any plans (besides getting wasted and painting almost every day), it was just that now she was officially an adult, able to make her own decisions. To speak for herself. To get a say. She realized now that things would probably never change in that regard. She would always be bossed around by her father, controlled by his money and status.

It wasn't a hard life--by any means--but it was a boring one. Always the same routine, the same people, the same attitudes, the same lonesome nights.

He fills up her glass and hands it back to her. “Thank you, Daddy.”

She gulps down the glass and Jed gives her a sympathetic look. Perhaps she would get tipsy tonight-- take the edge off a bit.

"Feel better now, darling?"

She nods and finishes off the cigarette.

“Nola!” Jed starts, bending back to look upside down at the teen. “Dance with me, sweetheart!”

Relief. If only she stepped in sooner.

And dance they did. She and Jed ended up dancing the night away with Danny and Corky. Drunkenly swaying their limbs and twirling around clumsily. She smiled at her father upside down as Corky dipped her, beckoning him to come dance. He smiled but shook his hand at her, lazily stating that he would remain seated. Nola huffed, she supposed then that she would have to find someone else to come be her new dance partner. She spotted her brother sitting by himself on his phone and was on the way over to him to usher him back onto the floor when it happened.

They had grabbed him, guns raised. In all honesty, it was a blur, pure fear and desperation coursing through her veins as she handed over her necklace, earrings, and ring. Tears poured from her eyes as she concentrated on the terrified look that covered Danny’s face. Her hands were in the air, chest heaving. She let out a sob as the next thing she knew the robbers were dragging her brother away. The panic that filled her body was like nothing she had ever experienced before. Her brother was everything to her. He was smart, kind, funny, innocent. She ran to her father and grabbed onto him.

“Daddy, we have to do something!” she sobbed. “Please, please, we have to get him back!”

She was reminded of the day her half-brother was born. It was a nice day, surprisingly warm for England in December. The snow in her boots had melted into wet puddles of water by the time she stepped into the hospital room. Her fingers had become slightly itchy from the temperature change and her hair was whipped from the frigid wind. It was a nice day for England in December, not a nice day in general.

As she inched closer to the hospital bed, her father's hand urging her gently on her back, she became conscious of the reality of the situation. It was no longer just her and her father, but it was now her, her father, and this baby. This cute little baby who would look up to her. Who she would set an example for, who she would mold into the perfect man. She would make sure he treated women with respect and knew his boundaries. He would be smart and witty and charming. She looked into his brown eyes and stroked his soft wispy hair with her slightly pudgy nine-year-old fingers, she would protect him. She would love him, and she would keep him safe. She made a promise to him, and herself that day; if anything happened to him, she would be the one to save him.

And now she had broken that promise.

Her legs were weak and shaking, like a fawn first learning to walk. How her father managed to remain so calm would always be a mystery to her.

“I’m gonna go find him.” she stated, looking up at her father.

He was her responsibility, and if no one was going to step up and actually do a goddamn thing, then she would.

“No, no, Nola. You’re not going after them.”

“I have to! They have Danny, for Christ's sake!” she seethed.

“Darling, you can do nothing, if anything it will only make matters worse. We need to just take a moment and figure this out--”

“Take a moment? A moment?! Your son is missing!” Nola gritted out, fisting her father's shirt even tighter.

“I--” then came the pitter-patter of little footsteps.

“Danny?”

She released her father and whipped around. There he was, tear-covered cheeks and pink shirt.

“Oh thank god!” she sobbed running to hug him, squeezing him so tight they thought he might burst. Her father and Jed quickly following suit. “Are you alright?” her father asked, and the young boy nodded into his sister's chest.

“What happened?” she asked, frantically wiping his tears away.

“There was a man, over there-” he pointed. “He saved me. They ran off. He scared them. He saved me.”

Nola continued to hold her brother, Jed by their side as the men gathered around the bloodied man laying on the cobblestone.

She heard them say something about how he was a seasonal chef, but her ears didn't perk up until she heard her father mutter: I know him.

There were a few more moments of chatter, and her father spoke again.

“You hearing me, Pine? We’re gonna get you out of here.”

[boop-le-snoot]

PARTY FAVOURS I CHAPTER 18

First time reader click here

TWs/Summary: We stan ✨women in science✨. Bruce uwu. Twitter social media AU nobody asked for. Stephen and Tony are dicks and I'm not talking about their anatomy. Setting up mood for Bruce smut, ngl. PTSD makes things spicy. I'm depressed so please be kind ✌🏻💀🙃

"I really do wonder how can you two fit those egos of yours in your pants," I kept my tone forcefully casual, cheerful even. "Why don't you just fuck already?"

I was met with stunned silence. Suddenly, the room seemed far too large and the people in much too quiet, staring at me with various expressions of horror obvious in their faces. As the strange friendship began developing between me and the team, my "outbursts" - how Steve liked to call them - lessened considerably. I had no need to provoke them into giving me attention, just striking up a casual chat was enough. The Avengers were great conversationalists, to my surprise.

Tony and Stephen, when paired, were the exception. I could count on one hand the amount of times they successfully came to a conclusion without fighting like cats and dogs. It was like each man had made it a personal mission to verbally top the other, more often than not resulting in a thirty-minute shitshow ending with one storming off in a dramatic flourish. It was mind-boggling how two supremely intelligent men could not find a way to communicate efficiently without infuriating the rest of the team.

Plus me. One way or another, I was almost always around. In the beginning, it was hilarious to see the free circus but it got old really quickly when they couldn't decide on dinner or a movie, leaving the rest of us starving and bored. Or the great Cloak debate - that one lasted days and the fussy thing was so upset, it point blank refused to part from Peter for a substantial amount of time. It's pretty fucking creepy that a semi-sentient, ancient piece of outerwear watches you when you sleep - just sayin'. I personally interjected with my own snark and sass whenever Tony and Stephen got too heated, successfully drawing the attention to myself. The fight broke up and I had amazing sex with Tony later, it was a win-win scenario.

Yet, Tony and Stephen didn't stop. To me, their way of "talking" (and I use that term loosely) looked a lot like unresolved sexual tension. Stephen frequently used his greater height to tower over Tony in a childish attempt to establish dominance; the engineer was no rookie and responded with extravagant peacocking such as "subtly" tapping the bracelet that hosted his nanotech suit or parading at dinner in a $30,000 custom made designer outfit. Because Tony could.

I was pleasantly surprised when Natasha started laughing at my remark. Full-blown, belly laugh. Those were rare, coming from the Widow, her usual mirth was quiet, sophisticated, just like her. Deadly (adorable). Bucky followed suit, snorting together with Clint and Loki.

Steve looked none too pleased with me. But then again, was he ever? "Doll, don't be rude."

"Brat," Bruce said at the same time, palming his face.

"People always call me a brat. And guess what, Steve?" I popped my hip, twirling a cotton candy pink coloured Dum-Dum between my fingers. "What can you do about it? Nothing," I shrugged, leaning my head against Bruce's shoulder affectionately.

Steve just shook his head in disappointment. "Can we get back on topic? Please?"

"Captain, I think that Stark..." Strange began talking with Tony dramatically groaning in the background and I instantly tuned out the useless babble. Steve should've been smarter and revoked speaking rights from Tony and Stephen. Or asked Loki to magically render them both mute for ten minutes.

"You're not wrong," Bruce quietly whispered next to my ear. "Ten bucks says Wanda meddles and those two finally work out their frustrations," The scientist hid a grin against my head. I felt the amused, giddy energy radiating off him like a plasma beam.

"I don't even have to bet," I rolled my eyes. "If she doesn't do it, I will."

Both Tony and Stephen were throwing me equally infuriated glances. One promised me a good, hard fucking and the other saw me a short, poisonous lecture on appropriate behaviour in the nearest future - you can guess which is which. If I had it my way, I'd skip the lecture and go straight to a hot, filthy threesome with two men twice my age. I wasn't blind, Strange was hot as hell and could be decent and even nice once in a blue moon.

He could, but he wouldn't be. I wanted that raw, unadulterated lust, tension so concentrated it walked the razor's edge between violent craving and repulsion. Ever since the incident with Clint, I had this ugly mess inside of me, like a live wire about to snap. My brain was constantly racing, darting between how utterly useless I am in a group of supers and embracing my normal-ness, amplifying it by hosting game nights and spending time trying to convince people to start a dungeons and dragons campaign. Or something.

My sleep was like Swiss cheese, riddled with holes where I stayed awake for one or two hours at a time in the middle of the night after waking up sweaty, with my heart hammering out of my chest. Sometimes I dreamt of Clint's lifeless, sickly white body, sometimes the whole room flooded with blood and I couldn't stop it no matter what, there was so much of it, I drowned in it, I startled up with the taste of it in my mouth. Rarely, the worst of it came - the one where Clint was alive as millions of millions of little fluorescent, poisonous jellyfish burst out of him and he screamed and screamed and screamed...

I had PTSD. Yay, me. As if my uselessness wasn't enough of a burden, my brain decided for me that it wasn't good enough that I saved Clint and now it was punishing me for being close to a group of people who routinely saved the WORLD.

I contemplated my usual habits - going to a party, getting trashed and dancing until my legs were numb. I just wanted to shut my brain off for a moment, give it a hard reset so-to-say, but with Tony on my back like a jet-pack, I didn't doubt he'd show up to the place and drag me out of there even if I was kicking and screaming. And he was a Stark, a billionaire, so visiting my dad in Cali wouldn't be possible on my own. Tony would gas up the jet and the rest of the team would find and excuse to tag along, too. As much as I loved being the baby menace who could get away with anything, I hated the way they all herded me, like I was an actual child. I couldn't get away from myself, not even for a moment.

I had the backup-backup plan and I was going to have to execute it. Desperate times, desperate measures. "I don't doubt y'all enjoy listening to Tony and Steph flirt," The nickname escaped unmoderated from my lips before I could catch myself. "But what are we doing for Halloween? I need to know if I gotta get a costume," Bruce chuckled next to me and wrapped an arm around me, happy for the distraction. Unlike me, the scientist was obligated to listen and participate in the avengers-themed discussion. Which was difficult because the engineer and the sorcerer constantly bickered, inadvertently taking over the talk.

"Halloween?" Steve groaned.

"We should do something," Bucky side-eyed his boyfriend. "For the children." Something told me he wasn't thinking of the children, at all. The man was positively leering, probably thinking about what kind of a tight suit he could convince Steve to squeeze into.

"A party!" Tony immediately exclaimed, interrupting Stephen mid-setence.

"Tony, no," Steve stated firmly.

"Tony, YES!" Clint perked up. "A snack bar. A bar-bar."

"I will not be helping you all if you get alcohol poisoning," Stephen crossed his arms.

"So it's a party," I stated firmly, throwing a contemplating look at Wanda and Pietro. The twins looked unsure but excited. I knew I could count on fellow young people to support my decision to have fun, dance a little, drink a little. Let loose. To nail my point, I turned to Bruce with a mischievous smirk. "Fifty bucks says Stephen is too stuck up to show up in costume."

"Beg pardon?!" The sorcerer exclaimed. His eyebrows threatened to meet his hairline.

"I think you give him too little credit, Princess," Bruce winked at me and we solemnly shook hands. It was great having a fellow partner in mischief. Loki's approving smirk just sealed the deal for me.

"It's not my fault you sometimes act like you have a stick up your butt," I gave in the way of explanation, shrugging my shoulders innocently in Stephen's direction. "I'm just pointing out the obvious."

"I don't dare to imagine what's been up yours," The sorcerer retorted dryly, in an uncharacteristically childish fashion, arms still crossed. It almost looked like he was pouting.

"Tony," I simply said, leering salaciously at the man.

"Ooh, kinky," Clint reached over and we promptly high-fived each other in the wake of multiple embarrassed groans emanating around the room. "Strange, you're a boring old man, get over it."

"And you regularly end up in dumpsters, Barton," Strange retorted quickly. "Not my idea of fun."

"You wouldn't know fun if it hit you in the face!" Tony grinned triumphantly, confident in his superiority over Strange. Look at that, the team was doing the work for me and I didn't even have to try.

"I'll show you fun," Stephen retorted darkly. It was obvious the man was planning something.

"Ok, boomer," I raised my eyebrows in muted satisfaction before turning around and grabbing Bruce to drag along with me. "I'm confiscating your best scientist to amuse myself. I am bored. We will go and do actual science whilst y'all argue. Bye."

My patience had run out. We were examining the parasites we found in the murder-anthropods-from-space, codename MAFS, courtesy of yours truly, and their amazing properties to penetrate cell membranes and feed on metals in organic life forms. Without Bruce's help I understood maybe half of it but he had the patience of a saint and dutifully and understandably explained to me the finer points of studying aliens. Signing half a dozen NDAs was never more worth it.

Steve's sigh consisted of 99% suffering and 2% disappointment. Natasha face-palmed silently in the corner, clutching a mug of coffee, a poster child for existential dread.

"Wait for me," Tony whined, going for the door and promptly being stopped by Steve pointing out the team needing his input on one mission or another. The engineer sighed. "Baby girl, don't let the green mean to start any experiments without me." Tony instructed, pointing an accusatory finger in our direction.

I clutched at Bruce dramatically, feigning hurt feelings and was rewarded with a swift motion of his arms. I shrieked delightfully at being thrown over the scientist's shoulder as he hastened his pace towards the elevator, hightailing it out of there. "I'd never snitch on science daddy," I wiggled my eyebrows in Tony's direction, sticking a hand down the back pocket of Bruce's pants, dangling over his shoulder like a happy sack of potatoes.

The lab smelled strongly of alcohol and bitter chemicals, the solution that Bruce developed to ensure the optimal state of the alien pathogens. The man's genius never ceased to amaze me: Bruce came up with the needed formula in the span of a few hours while running low on sleep, post a Hulk-out session.

We put on our protective gear - "science onesies" I called them - along with a respirator and goggles and set to the segregated part of the lab where the specimens were kept under a blue light. The glass wall between Bruce's and Tony's lab was dimmed; I reflected in it, looking positively futuristic in my double-stacked white platformed boots and white hazmat suit.

"Wait," I motioned to Bruce to come over.

"Oh, right, our music," He was already half-way to being in total Science Mode. "Friday, please put on the "Get Schwifty" playlist, 60% volume."

The playlist that me and Bruce came up with for our lab sessions. The man was such an adorable dork. Thirty percent my music, thirty percent of his indie rock shit and forty percent 00's bops. In other words, utter perfection.

I finally managed to fish out my phone from my pants. "No, let's take a selfie," I struck an impressive pose and pointed the camera as Avril Lavigne sung the first verse to Sk8r Boi.

Bruce laughed but abided by the request, giving me bunny ears in the photo, tapping the fingers of his other hand on my waist to the rhythm of the song.

"He was a skater boy, she said see ya later boy!" I sang along, switching my Instagram to stories and posting the short clip of us just vibing with the caption #sciencetime, Bruce laughing openly behind his respirator. I looked cute and silly in my outfit.

"Send the video to me, I'll post it on my Twitter," Bruce requested. I indulged him then put my phone away, ready to conquer the world of microbiology. Or die trying. Science was calling...

THE TAG LIST IS NOW OPEN! @another-stark-sub ​ @mostly-marvel-musings  @vozit ​ @littlegasps ​ @pilloclock ​ @shereadsinquiet @downeyreads ​ @hermione-grangers-wife ​ @individualistfem ​ @sleep-i-ness @capbrie @lillsxd @agustdowney @dee-vn @justanotherblonde23 @fanngirl19 @persephonehemingway @softie-socks @schemefrenzy @letsby @cutenessloading @romeo-the-cactus @jelly-fishy-babie

[lezliefaithwade]

A Breath of Fresh Air

The summer after my first year of theatre school, I was sleeping on the living room floor of my cousin's apartment in Toronto, trying to figure out what to do with my life. My cousin had been an actor before he became a quadriplegic in a car accident, and as I unadvisedly bemoaned my unemployment status, he said something like, "Seriously? You're complaining about your life? Don't make me burst a colostomy bag." He was right, of course. I wasn't in a wheelchair, though I did have a stepmother who had rendered me homeless because of her dislike for me. She was always saying things like, "Your hair can't be as ugly as that hat you're wearing." Or simply refusing to invite me to things like Christmas dinner. I always admired people with families. My boyfriend at the time was one of five kids who were always doing things together. Their house was always full of noise and activities. Even as a shiksa, I felt more at home there than with my stepbrothers and sisters, who never lost an opportunity to point out that I was weird. I wanted to stand up to them, but not wanting to cause my father any grief, I held my tongue and sought refuge elsewhere. It occurred to me that perhaps I was using the theatre as an opportunity to say things through characters that I couldn't find the courage to express myself.

The Toronto Star was still open on the kitchen table, and I rummage through the Want Ads, that dirty part of the newspaper near the back where complete strangers will soon become complete assholes in your life by forcing you to work menial jobs in humiliating uniforms for minimum wage.

"Find anything?" my cousin called from the bedroom, where two attendants helped wash and dress him.

"Social services are advertising for camp councilors to work with emotionally challenged kids."

"Oh yeah," He said. "That might suit you."

I'm not sure I knew what he meant but, I was beginning to think I'd outgrown my welcome. My cousin probably would have encouraged me to join the circus if the option had been available. Knowing my living room days were numbered, I thought it best to make an effort and apply.

I had no experience teaching drama—no experience working with kids and no experience going to or working at a camp. Despite all that, I was hired. It's worth noting that it's probably not a good sign if you get a job with no qualifications whatsoever.

My official position was Drama Councillor, and I prided myself that with only a year and half of theatre training behind me, I was well equipped to help others benefit from the wealth of my experience. I imagined myself, Maria Von Trapp, teaching children how to sing while they looked at me adoringly. Somehow, I conveniently blocked out the rebellious early stages she experienced and skipped straight to the good parts. Also, I might add, forgetting about the Nazis and having to climb over a mountain. Still, visions of me biking around camp with a group of happy campers behind me filled me with a sense of self-satisfaction.

As I packed my knapsack with deet and a secret stash of Twinkies, I thought of how only three weeks earlier I'd been in New York walking through Central Park and savoring Cappuccinos at outdoor cafés on Columbus. Now, here I was, ready for something different. The wilderness, I imagined, would be a welcome change—fresh air and loons instead of smog and sirens. I thought smugly about my classmates sweating behind visors at take-out windows shoveling fries into cardboard cups or wrapping sandwiches in tinfoil. Thumbs up to adventure, I told myself. The fact that I'd never once in my life enjoyed the great outdoors didn't factor into my mind. All of this changed with each accumulated minute of the 391 Kilometer drive north.

It was late afternoon when I arrived at the compound. Overcast, sullen, it was a place so secluded you'd need flares to find it. It had that distinct aura of someplace time forgot. A place left behind and neglected. In the brochure, the sun was shining, flowers filled the meadow, and you could practically hear laughter floating off the page. What I was looking at bore more of a resemblance to a situation in a Stephen King novel where camp councilors discover a pack of hungry teenage zombies have lured them to a seemingly idyllic retreat. Situated right in the heart of black fly country, I spent most of my days swatting insects so big they seem Jurassic.

During our orientation, child care workers warned us that children with mental health needs tend to run away - a lot and to keep strict attendance records and all eyes on them at all times. "These kids are resourceful and clever," they cautioned. I couldn't imagine being so determined you'd risk your life by escaping through the woods that surrounded us, but then again, I'd never been around children who weren't allowed cutlery before either

I shared my cabin with three other women with who I had absolutely nothing in common. Delia, a humorless 27-year-old cooking instructor who answered every question with a monosyllabic grunt, Jennifer, a 26-year old tennis instructor with massive blond ringlets who talked so quickly she sounded like a record on high speed, and an older aboriginal woman named Sunny who made us all dream catchers and offered advice about how to heal ourselves on days when we'd feel spent. "Remember, these kids need us," she said while purifying our cabin with sage. As I glanced around my assigned bunk, taking in the spider webs and loose floorboards, I had that sinking feeling that comes when you know you've made a terrible mistake. Before long, I was eating copious amounts of peanut butter on stale bagels amid a never-ending supply of starch. I'm not sure who thought it was a good idea to feed children with challenges like anxiety, depression, hyperactivity, and eating disorders copious amounts of sugar and carbs. It certainly did nothing to help them or me.

On the first day of class, I sat everyone in a circle. "Welcome to drama class," I said with a smile. "Let's begin by sharing with everyone a little bit about ourselves. Anything at all you'd like us to know?" A hand went up.

"I'm Tracy, and I hate my stupid ass brother. He can go straight to hell."

"Okay," I said, "That's a start. Who's next?"

Another hand. "I'm Jonathan, and this place sucks so much I wish it would burn to the ground!"

"Fair enough. Anyone else?"

"I'm Jo. I'm schizophrenic. So sometimes I'm Rachel and Julia. You'll know the difference because Rachel has a British dialect, and Julia talks slang."

"O-kay." I glanced at the social workers who sat on the edge of the room and looked at me with an expression that basically said, "We can't wait to see what you do next."

"Let's write a play," I suggested. "Write anything you want. Once you're happy with the work, I'll shape it into a cohesive piece that we'll rehearse and then present at the end of the season talent showcase."

The kids liked this idea. The showcase was a big deal. It was an opportunity for them to blow off some steam and express themselves to friends and family in a creative way. My only stipulation was not to use profanity. As the weeks passed, I was impressed with how well they all threw themselves into this project—all except Eric, the oldest boy in my 12 to 15-year-olds. Eric often wandered around the rehearsal space, unfocused and sullen.

"Any ideas for your piece?" I ask, checking in to see if I could help.

"I'm thinking," he'd say and then pace.

With three weeks left in the summer, I took my well-deserved week off to decompress. My boyfriend came up from Toronto and drove me to his parent's house at Post and Bayview, where caterers were preparing the tennis courts for an outdoor party. I walked into his mother's living room, and she gasped. "What happened to you?"

I didn't blame her. I hadn't spent much time looking at a mirror the past four weeks, but one glance at the large one in their bathroom told the full story. My hair was ratty; I had scabs on my knees, bruises on my arms and legs, and I was sunburnt. I was wearing a vintage skirt and blouse that was probably more Value Village than vintage and a pair of worn, scuffed purple moccasins; in essence, I was wearing slippers on my feet.

"Please take her to the mall and at least buy her a pair of shoes," his mother said, handing me her credit card and then rushing off to make sure the stuffed alligator would float in the pool. That week I ate my way through rugelach, hamantaschen, brisket, and bagels while his family watched me with awe and disgust.

Back at camp, the smell of burning insect repellent greeted me along with the news that the sailing and tennis instructors were sacked for disorderly conduct. Never mind, I had renewed energy and a sense of purpose. There were costumes and props to make. Sound and lighting effects to create. And we needed to rehearse. It was only a tiny stage somewhere on a remote camp in Northern Ontario, but the excitement was palpable. I was excited. This would be the best talent show ever, and my kids were going to blow the socks off everyone there!!!

"Eric," I said, "How's your piece coming along?"

"I finished it," he mentioned casually

"That's great. Can I see it?"

"I want to surprise you. You're going to love it, though. I promise."

I patted myself on the back. Eric had a breakthrough. All my encouragement and patience had paid off. Perhaps I'd helped him have a developmental breakthrough.

"Can you tell me what it's about?" I asked.

"The Beatles."

"Great. Okay," and left it at that.

Talent Night arrived along with parents and family friends. The lights dimmed, the kids performed, and the audience enthusiastically applauded as each "Mighty Mite" or "Spirit of Paradise" breezed across the stage, acting out skits about fairies and monsters and assorted escapades. Finally, it was Eric's turn. Out he came, looking serious and theatrical. He cleared his throat and addressed the audience.

"This is called, The Beatles Last Recording Session. By, Me."

Three of his closest camp friends filed out and took a space on the stage. The audience was silent.

There was a dramatic pause, then the piece began.

"Fuck you, Ringo,"

"Fuck you, Paul."

"Fuck you, George."

"Well fuck you, John."

Then they bowed and left the stage.

Personally, I thought it was kind of brilliant. Needless to say, I wasn't showered with accolades about my teaching methods or the effect I had on kids. I left there having no catharsis about mental health except that giving people the opportunity to express themselves without censor is probably a lot healthier than insisting they stay quiet. I admired the honesty displayed in the kid's work. If only, I thought to myself, I could be half as brave. Wasn't that what I was spending time and money learning how to do?

A week after being home, I found myself packing, once more, for school in New York. Our term letters had arrived with instructions on where to buy character shoes, leotards, copies of The Children's Hour, and Death of a Salesman. The camp already felt like it was 391 kilometers away - soon to be 659. My father drove me to the train station with my stepmother beside him; she was there, no doubt, to ensure I boarded.

"You going to be okay?" my father asked, giving me a hug and slipping a $50 bill into my pocket.

"She'll be fine." Elsie chimed in. "You don't have to worry about her. Let's go."

But I wanted my father to worry about me. Not all the time and to the exclusion of all else, but certainly the appropriate fatherly amount.

As I settled myself on the train, I watched my stepmother pull from father from the platform to the car and thought of Eric's brilliant play. Under my breath, I whispered the immortal words of the Beatles, "Fuck you."

#stepmother #mental health #children #young people #summer camp

[bowieemeddow]

TRINITY. (Queen Fanfiction)

Part 1 // Runaway.

Summary: Margaret McCullugh comes to the realisation that her life is a total mess. After an argument she realises she’s had enough; she grabs her bags and runs away.

Note:Hi guys this is the first chapter of my new fanfiction. I’m not the best writer and this is my first time so please go easy on me; there will be grammar and spelling mistakes throughout this chapter. Feedback will be greatly appreciated 🙂

Warnings; Swearing, sexual assault, bad writing, slight Scottish slang (I’m from Scotland and I write the way I talk sorry 😉✌🏻)

Enjoy.

Thursday // May 1970

"I've never wanted to punch him in the face more in my life than at this point of time." I thought to myself as I glared at him across the dining table. Even from what felt like a mile away; I could still see that smug look on his Greg's face.

"Margret! Are you even listening to me?" I tore my focus from my bastard of a step father to my bastard of a mother. "You'll be meeting Thomas next thursday remember. To talk about arrangements."

Ah Thomas Russel. Son to a millionaire family; him being a successful doctor in the making at 22 and is apparently a distant relative of some foreign royal family (to be fair I wasn't listening to the shit leaving my mothers mouth)

The cherry on top of it all; I've never actually met the boy and I'm his fiancé.

"Poor Thomas." Gina; my younger sister mumbled under her breath while eating her dinner.

"Mind your own business you little shit!" I spat kicking her harshly under the table. Believe me I know this makes me look bad but I promise you I'm not a bad sister; I was actually excited when I found out I had another sibling on the way. I loved her even when she was a newborn. It was when she started talking; she turned into a sneaky little bully and mummy's favourite.

"That's enough don't you dare kick your sister again!" She snapped at me.

I cringed at my mothers comment; more because of the way she said it. Trying to act as posh as possible; trying to mask the natural Glaswegian accent she's had her whole life; the same thick apparently "rough" accent I also have yet Gina never developed it as bad as me, my dad had the rough accent and I was a daddy’s girl... before he left us.

"Why do I have to marry him. I didn't him pick him, hell I haven't even met him! Marrying me off to becoming nothing but a trophy wife? Fully dependable on my husband with a big empty house full of loads of children. Nothing to do except cooking and cleaning-"

"Can we please change the topic?! I don't feel like sending you upstairs again." My mum sighed

"Oh mother!" Gina exclaimed making me jump; her bloody voice goes right through me.

"This dinner is absolutely amazing!" I chuckled to myself quietly, Gina is so far up mums arse it's embarrassing.

"Thank you darling I made it myself."

Yeah right did she make this shit, she doesn't even know how to use the stove, it was the cook that made it. All of it is vegan since "meat is the reason why your acne is so bad and you've starting to lose that figure Margaret, you simply don't take proper care of yourself."

“Oh god I forgot! I was meant to take you bra shopping today.” Mum informed Gina

“But she’s only 13 mum. I never got my first bra till I was 15?” I argued, Gina got everything she wanted without having to even lift a finger.

“You should go with them Margaret. You wear too small a bra better go up a size sweets." He smirked away as he took a drink of his wine that's likely more expensive than everything I own.

At that point I was so pissed off I grabbed the closest thing to me which was a potato from my plate funnily enough and threw it at his head. If I wasn’t so pissed off I think would’ve found it difficult to keep a straight face.

Friday// May 1970

While sitting in period 7 English I thought back to last night.

After successfully hitting Greg's big head with a potato for his inappropriate comment about his step daughter's breasts; Mum took his side and got sent upstairs without eating anything for the rest of the night; not like I wanted to eat any of that shit anyway.

"God he's so cute!" The girl next to me squealed to her friends who were both in front of her; their chairs turned from their tables to form a circle that I was sadly apart of. I wasn friends with the three girls; Tracey, Yasmine and Gemma were the popular girls, the best housewives in the making.

I looked down at the newspaper which Tracey had in her hands, it was crumpled up due to her "fan girl" moment taking over her senses.

"The Gregory Special." The newspaper was called;

Only rich wankers read it.

"Thomas Russel is ready to settle down but who's the lucky girl?"

It said with a picture of the boy himself below it . Wasn't his best picture; he was probably flirting with some random girl in while the photo was being taken.

"So who is the bitch huh?" Gemma spat as Tracey read away at the newspaper trying to figure it out.

"YOU! Mrs Reynolds wants to see you in her office.” My English teacher shouted pointing at me it made the three girls jump back to their original spots as if they were actually listening to the lesson.

Shit what have I done now; I usually lose track at this point.

While putting my things in my bag I looked over at the three girls to see them scanning back through the newspaper frantically to find out who the "lucky woman" was.

I accidentally let out a chuckle of sympathy which caught their attention.

“I’m sorry, is there something you want to say?” Jemma snapped.

"Yeah I do actually since you three can't read for shit. Page 24." I sassed back and waited a moment.

"Margaret McCullugh? Who the bloody hell is that?!" I rolled my eyes at the stupidness.

"Margaret McCullugh. Now." My teacher shouted across the classroom which I nodded to standing up and grabbing my bag and coat with a grin on my face.

The three girls had their mouths wide open once they put two and two together; it was me.

"Bye girls." I whispered chuckling while leaving the classroom.

...

"Please tell me you are joking Miss McCullugh?" Mrs Reynolds pleaded with me

"What's wrong with what I want to do once I leave here?" I argued back.

"Your mother is a politician; she could bloody well be the prime minister in a several years time. How is she gonna get there with her child wanting to do.... textile design?" She gagged at the though of me becoming something that wasn't a doctor or lawyer.

"Why does it fucking matter anyway I can't even do what I want. My mums already set up my whole life." I argued back slouching in my seat with my arms crossed over my chest.

Fuck being ladylike.

"Ah your talking about your engagement with Thomas Russel. Your mother wants you to just be okay, she's worked hard for where she is right now and it was a risky thing she done to get there. She doesn't want you taking any risks when you go onto be a politician or a lawyer-"

"Or a textile design artist." I corrected for her not giving in to her manipulation.

"Margaret I know you okay. Through these past 6 years that you've been in this school you've been very strong willed and feministic attitude to social issues and topics."

"Damn right-"

"But I'm sorry to burst your bubble but this is a patriarchal society we are living in. Woman will not change society. Ever."

I was beyond pissed at this moment of time. I shot up off my seat and slammed down both my hands on her desk in order to shut her up.

"Fucking watch me then!”

...

Saturday // May // 1970

"Hey chickadee." Tana smiled as she came into one of the private rooms of the pub, she lifted my feet and plopped herself next to me in the booth then put my feet back down to they were resting on her lap.

"Hi." I said stretching slightly as I shut my notebook over immediately and set it down on the table.

Tana was probably one of my only friends at this point of time; the moment she turned 19 she was allowed to decorate her parents bar; to which she called me up and asked to borrow my creative mind for help. Before it was just an old looking bar where young ones likes to hang out; now it was a modern neon, rock music bar.

"Glam Rock" it was called and it was placed in a more poverty ridden area of Glasgow. If my mum found out I was here I'd get murdered.

Every Saturday night people from everywhere would come here and celebrate a new "generation" as they called it.

"This new rock generation is gonna grow everywhere. Where men dress like women and women dress like men. Completely and utterly flamboyant!" I remember Tana saying to me when I first came across this bar; it was a Saturday morning and she was getting ready for a party. I was here because I was trying to find the record shop since they sell limited editions for half off.

"We just need someone to spread Glam Rock to every corner of the world."

"HELLO EARTH TO MARGARET!" She shouted snapping her fingers in front of me.

"Huh?" I said snapping back to reality.

"I said were you writing something?" She said pointing to my notebook, I didn't answer yet again because I was too busy admiring what she was wearing.

"For fuck sake! Have you took something?" She laughed trying to get my attention again.

"Sorry, sorry just had a long day. Thinking about what kind of punishment I'll get this time once I make my way home." I chuckled

"Anyways what did you say again?"

"Writing songs... oh and you've also got your camera."

"When am I not writing songs or taking photos Tana?" I said sitting up to grab my vodka and lemonade and down it.

"That's very true. So, let's see what photos you took." She said as she pulled off her slip on heels so she could fold them in a basket.

I put down the two photos I took on the table.

"Have you got a pen." I asked her as she admired the photos.

"Umm.. yeah I think somewhere in they drawers." She said turning her head to the left to show me where it was.

"This bar does look fucking amazing, you have to admit it."

"It's because I decorated it Tana. I hate to toot my own horn here but I'm fucking brilliant at decorating." I laughed as I took one of the photos and wrote the location and date behind it; then done the same with the other.

"You're good at everything you do it does my head in." Tana complained with a groan as she ran her fingers through her black long curly hair.

"I'm not."

"You are. You can paint, you create these amazing clothes, you can play the piano like no one else. You're an amazing singer..." my smile dropped as I grabbed both the photos from Tana's grip and stuck them in my bra for safekeeping before sticking the the pen back in the drawer; the room was so silent you could hear a pin drop, or more like you could here me slamming the drawer shut.

"Maggie-"

"I'm not a singer." I said interrupting her.

"Correction, your mum says your not a singer. But frankly love, you're  the best singer I've ever heard. You should join a band."

"That'll never happen."

....

Sunday // May 1970

Walking up the driveway of my massive house barefoot with my heels in my hand, my make up and hair a mess I knew I was in for it.

I accidentally fell asleep at Tana's last night and now it's 8am in the morning.

I walked in the house and shut the door behind me.

"MARGARET BEATRIX MCCULLUGH!" I heard my mum screech as the sound of her heels became louder and louder.

"God don't say my middle name." I cringed with my face scrunched up; a massive migraine was starting to take its toll on me.

"Where were you?" She shrieked once again; I'm starting to see stars with how bad my freaking headache is. It's way to bright in this house.

"I'm sorry I fell asleep at Tana's I should've called you it's my mistake I won't let it happen again."

One thing to know about me; when I'm in the wrong I apologise.

One thing to know about my mum; she throws my apology right back in my face and calls me immature.

"TANAS!" She started to trail behind me as I clumsily made my way up the stairs to my bedroom door. Once I reached the door I got an overwhelming feeling that I was about to vomit so I stopped for a moment to calm myself down.

I leaned my forehead against the cool marble that the whole house was made from to cool myself down.

"WHAT HAVE I TOLD YOU! NO GOING TO ROCK GLAM, NO DRINKING, NO KISSING RANDOM GIRLS OR BOYS."

She caught a glimpse at my notebook; purple velvet and green floral exterior. She knew exactly what it was and snatched it from my hand.

"Hey!-"

"AND NO MAKING SONGS. NO SINGING SONGS I TOLD YOU NOT TO SING OR WRITE THEY DIRTY LYRICS."

I snatched the book from her and held it right to my chest. This book was my lyrics, my ideas, my thoughts, feeling. My whole life.

"ITS CALLED ROCK MUM! Get with the times, it's the Beatles that are popular now, not fucking hymns." I snapped as I walked into my room. Before I got the chance to shut the door over she was already invading my space.

"I don't give a shit what it's called. Stop it okay! That part of your life is over. It's time to grow up and face reality. You are engaged-"

"I'm not marrying him you can fuck right off." I looked at her through my full length mirror as she walked up to me. Her expensive heels clicking against my flooring as she walked closer to me.

"You're an ungrateful human being you know that. I found you a man; a millionaire who can take care of you for life you won't have to work a day in your life-"

"Yeah that's what I'll do, I'll go right ahead and marry a man I don't marry so that I'll birth all his kids and be his perfect dumb trophy wife for life. You worked hard to get where you are, why can't I work hard in something I wane you do. I don't need a man to do that." I said smothered in sarcasm making my mother roll her eyes.

"You and your bloody pride. Here's the real world Margaret; a woman's purpose main purpose in life is to get married and as the bible preached, have children. You'll never be anything different." She spat.

"You're going to the Russel's household on Thursday morning  for you to plan the wedding with your fiancé with a big bloody smile on your face you hear me?"

I chuckled softly as I walked up so our faces our almost touching; her Chanel No.5 tickling my nose.

"I'd love to see you try." I spat in her face. I suddenly gasped as her hand connected with my cheek forcing my face to the side as my cheek started to warm up almost instantly.

"I hate you, you're not my daughter you know! I should've aborted you when I had the chance you know that! If it killed me oh well, as long AS YOU WHERE NEVER BORN." She screamed in my face, she turned to leave my room to meet Greg leaning against the door frame.

"Are you okay Darling?" Greg asked my mum; his voice all sweet and soft making my scoff and roll my eyes.

She ignored him and left in anger.

"Would you get the fuck out of my room?!" I asked, his head snapped from watching my mum as she made her way down the landing and down the stairs to me.

"Seems you need to be put in your place a bit huh?" He asked as he walked up to me, so close to my face I could feel his breath hit my skin.

"I don't see the bad thing about being a trophy wife Sweets? You'd be a damn good one anyway."He chuckled as he looked at me up and down licking his lips. His hands were resting on my arse ready to give it a spank. A sudden spur of anger and confidence caused me to push him back.

"Touch me again and I swear I'll rip your tongue out."

"You don't have the guts." He simply said before leaving the room.

He's right I didn't have the guts, I didn't have the guts to go to the police and ruins my mother's career that she worked so hard for when it got out to the media that her husband is a child molester.

So Ive kept my mouth shut for years.

I feel hot years fill my eyes, I take a long deep breath in an attempt to calm myself down while looking up at the ceiling to try and stop the crying; I didn't want to give him the satisfaction.

That's when I found myself packing a suitcase, grabbing my passport, some money I had. A couple of outfits to keep me going two or three weeks.

I grabbed my notebook, my Polaroid camera and my box full of Polaroid's and squashed it all into one massive suitcase.

I had to leave the rest so I could move quickly.

___

An hour later my family left to go out for lunch without me. I sat at the window and watched them leave.

I watched them get smaller smaller until eventually I couldn't seem them at all.

I would never see them again.

I grabbed my suitcase, grabbed the keys to my mums car and fucked off out of there with the intention of never returning again.

_____

I just had to put Harry Styles in there somewhere.

Sorry not sorry 🤪😩

[littleindigochildx]

Aunt Clara prompt 🤍💛

Savanna and Timothy had been looking forward to spending a day with their Aunt Clara since Christmas. 2020 was in full swing and there hadn’t been much down time since the kids went back to school. “Are we goin’ ta Aunt Clara’s or is she comin’ here?” Timothy asked as he finished his breakfast in front of the television which was something Vic didn't typically allow, but her mind was elsewhere for the time being. Victoria had a therapy session scheduled, and Declan hadn’t been answering his phone, so Clara was recruited to watch Timmy and Savanna for a couple of hours. “I’m droppin’ you two off before my appointment, so please go get dressed once you’re finished eating.” Victoria explained. Timothy nodded as he took one final bite of his cereal. He cleaned up after himself and headed upstairs to get dressed like Vic asked. Savanna was in her room doing the same. She seemed to be struggling with finding an outfit to wear.

“Be over soon. Thanks again for watching the kids for me.” Victoria texted her best friend to let Clara know they were on their way. As soon as she got Savvy’s hair brushed and out of her face, they piled into the car and set off for the Valance residence. “I’m so excited ta see aunt Clara!” Savvy beamed from the back seat. “I miss her.” Timmy nodded in agreement. “Think she’ll let us bake cookies t’day?” He asked with a grin. He couldn’t remember the last time they saw Clara when they didn’t bake something. It was their thing.

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

“Aunt Clara!!” Both kids said in unison as they wrapped their arms around the blonde in a giant hug. “We missed you.” Savvy beamed. “Well-- I missed you. I think Timmy just missed yer cookies.” The seven year old teased. “No… I missed her too.” He replied immediately. The cookies were just a bonus but both Deschaine children genuinely enjoyed spending time with their aunt.

“Thank you for looking after them.” Victoria said once she got a turn for a hug. “I shouldn’t be gone too long.” Hopefully the appointment she needed to be at would be over in an hour or so. “You be good, okay?” Vic reminded her two youngest. Not that she really had to worry. They were good kids who were usually well behaved. “We are always good for aunt Clara.” Timothy told her. Sometimes he and Savanna engaged in some sibling rivalry, but other than that, there were never any issues when they were left with a sitter.

“Don’t worry, mommy…” Savanna hugged the brunette goodbye. “We will save you an’ daddy some cookies too.” They always did.

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An hour later, cookies were in the oven and Savvy was helping Clara wash dishes. The little girl was lost in thought as she scrubbed. It wasn’t like her to be so quiet. “You okay, sweetheart? You’re not acting like yourself.” Clara commented. Something was weighing heavily on the child's mind. Clara could tell. Washing dishes wasn’t typically Savvy’s favorite thing to do, but she didn't mind today. She was thinking about her parents and how they had been spending more time together. It made both Savanna and Timothy extremely happy, but there were things they both noticed about their father’s personality… Things Vic often made comments to him about when she thought the kids weren’t around.

“Aunt Clara?” The seven year old looked up from what she was doing to face the blonde. “Do ya think my mommy an’ daddy are gonna get back t’gether?” The question seemed to catch Clara off guard. Victoria told her things about her relationship, but to her knowledge, a reunion with Declan hadn’t been one of them. “I don’t know, sweetheart.” Clara replied honestly. She finished drying the dish in her hand and put it down so she could give Savanna her undivided attention. “Why do you ask?” Savanna wiped her hands off on her pants and stepped down from the stool at the sink. “Cause they go ‘ta lunch sometimes an’ mommy lets daddy come over ta’ read me an’ Timmy a bedtime story….” Those weren’t the only reasons. Declan and Victoria seemed to make each other happy... Just not all the time. “Daddy makes mommy smile again.”

Clara lead them over to the kitchen table to talk. She pulled out a chair for Savanna to take a seat and pulled her chair up next to the child. She clearly didn’t know what to say. This wasn’t her place. “I think your parents are trying to be friends... Your friends make you smile, don’t they?” Savvy nodded. “They make me smile all the time. ‘Specially Libby. She’s so funny.” So technically Libby was her cousin, but a friend all the same.

Silence hung in the air. There was more on Savanna’s mind than her parent’s getting back together, but Clara didn’t want to pry. “Is there somethin’ wrong with daddy?” The question came out of nowhere and it was another difficult one for the blonde to answer. “I heard mommy say he should see a therapist cause’a the voices in his head.” Her blue eyes locked on Clara’s. The sadness was evident. “What if I have voices in my head too?” She asked. Her’s weren’t quite the same. The voices in her head were more her active imagination than actual voices, but there was a chance she could inherit the trait from Declan. He was, afterall, her father. “How come it’s okay for me ‘ta have ‘maginary friends, but not daddy?” Clara had no idea how she was going to diffuse this situation, but luckily for her she didn’t have to. The timer for the oven went off, signaling that their first batch of cookies were ready to come out of the oven.

“Wanna help me with the next batch?” Clara asked the little girl. Savvy nodded. She would drop the subject for now. Vic and Declan had the same tactic when it came to avoiding difficult conversations. Creating a diversion usually made Savanna forget what they were talking about… At least until bedtime when the question popped into her mind again. “Are we gonna decorate these?” The seven year old asked with a little grin. The cookies were sweet enough on their own, but she was an artist and the cookies were a perfect canvas for her to draw her next masterpiece.

“When I’m bigger...Like maybe as old as Dottie… I wanna open my own bakery so I can sell all kinds’a pretty food.” Clara pulled the baking sheet out and set it on the stove top to cool while she supervised Savanna putting the next batch in. “I might need yer help though. You an’ mommy make the bestest cakes, cookies, an' pies.” Timmy’s birthday was just around the corner and Savanna was probably more excited about it than Timothy was. “Can we make Timmy’s cake’a surprise?” She lowered her voice so he couldn’t hear her in the other room. “Think we can make him a Star Wars cake?” There were many things the almost nine year old liked, but currently Star Wars was among his most favorite. “Mommy can draw the Death Star an’ we can cut it out’a fondant.” She had been brushing up on her baking terminology thanks to Clara. Every time they were in the kitchen the blonde taught Savanna something new. Whether it be technique, special ingredients to make things taste better, or different options they could use (instead of icing) to make their cakes look fancy.

Naturally, Clara agreed. She and Victoria had been making the kid’s birthday cakes for as long as Savanna could remember. This year she wanted to be included. She always wanted to help.

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“Timmy… Are ya’ gonna come decorate cookies with us?” Savvy called from the kitchen. The little boy was sucked into a show about building motorcycles. He was fascinated by things with engines and had been since he was very young. When Declan took the kids for the day he and Timmy would do some work on Declan’s bike. The kid had talent. He picked up on things quickly and Declan was confident that one day he’d even be able to build a bike from scratch… Probably better than DC ever could.

“I’m comin’...” Timothy replied as he turned the television off to rejoin the girls in the kitchen. Savvy seemed to be in a better mood, though she always was when she did things she loved, which included baking with their aunt Clara. She’d choose this over a day at Disneyland. No lines, plus the food was cheaper and way more delicious. “What are you gonna put on your cookies?” Timmy asked his little sister.

Valentine’s Day (and Timothy’s birthday) was coming up, so Savanna opted to decorate her cookies with a combination of hearts and flowers while Timmy chose to decorate his with things the intended recipient would like. For Vic, he did his best to make a butterfly. For Ransom he did a convertible. Dottie’s had a ladybug, and Declan’s had a motorcycle that looked pretty close to the one he rode. He also made Clara a bee.

Decorating took the better part of an hour. Timmy and Savvy just finished cleaning up their mess when Victoria returned to pick them up. “Mommy, guess what we did t’day!?” Savanna said excitedly. Vic could already smell cookies so it wasn’t hard for her to guess. “How much sugar did you give them?” She teased her best friend. It wasn’t uncommon for Clara to let the kids indulge in treats. Since it didn’t happen too often Vic allowed it. She knew the blonde was trying to keep her title as cool aunt, and she was... She was the cool aunt, but so were the others. All for different reasons. Timmy and Savvy genuinely enjoyed any time they got to spend with their extended family.

“We didn’t have that much sugar.” Savvy replied with evidence of frosting on her cheeks and chin. Vic arched a brow and chuckled softly as she wiped it away. “Not that much, huh?” She gave a playful glare to all three members of the guilty party. “No peekin’ at the cookies until after dinner. Ya gotta eat it all b’fore ya can have a snack.” The seven year old smirked. It was a house rule… At least for the kids. No dinner meant no dessert. They were holding this same rule to be true for Victoria and Declan. “Is daddy gonna come over for dinner t’nite?” The little brunette questioned. “We maked one for him too. Me an’ Timmy each maked him one. I don’t think he’s had’a aunt Clara cookie b’fore.” If he hadn’t, he really was missing out.

“Can we come over ‘ta play with you again this weekend? Maybe for’a sleepover?” Savvy turned to the blonde. “I like comin’ over here… Not just cause’a the cookies… We like stayin’ at yer house aunt Clara. We like watching the scaaary movies.” The little girl admitted with a smile identical to her mother’s. There was no doubt she was Victoria’s child, although the sweet talking… That came from the Deschaine’s. “You’ll have to ask your mom.” Clara replied as she, Savanna, and Timmy turned to Vic as if waiting for an answer. “I’ll think about it.” Victoria told them. “Please go grab your things. You have school in the morning so we need to get home.”

Timmy and Savvy collected their belongings, including the cookies they made. They gave Clara a big hug goodbye. “Thank you.” They said in unison. Vic did a double check to make sure nothing (especially Savanna’s teddy bear) was left behind. “Thank you again for watching them. I owe you.” She hugged the blonde and rounded the kids up to head to the car. Declan was waiting for them at home.