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jpmarvel90 · 3 days ago

Text

Dont Belong Part 3

Masterlist Natasha Masterlist

Part 1 Part 2

Word Count: 7175

Relationship: Mother WandaNat x Daugher Reader

Summary: Y/n's infection is hitting her hard and she's still struggling with her feelings on her parents. Thankfully, Yelena is there to help cheer her up and she brings along a surprise that might just make everything feel better!

Nat: Mama Wanda: Mom

Y/n POV:

These last two days in the hospital have blurred together, a monotonous cycle of dull light and beeping machines. The weight of my infection drags on me, leaving me shivering one moment and sweating the next. I've spent far too much time staring at the ceiling, feeling trapped in this sterile room, yearning for the freedom of my life before the mission went sideways. The boredom is suffocating, and I feel like I'm losing pieces of myself with every passing hour.

I feel a constant gaze from my parents who rarely leave my side. It's strange to go from having them ignore you to being around all the time. Part of me feels like things were like they used to be when I was a full part of their family. The other part of me is screaming saying they don't mean it and will soon be gone again.

But today feels different, a whisper of hope fluttering in the air. I've been waiting for this moment, and when a familiar knock sounds at the door, my heart races with anticipation. "Can I come in?" Yelena's voice calls softly, and I can't suppress the grin that spreads across my face at the sound of her.

"Of course!" I call back, the eagerness spilling over in my tone. I sit up a little straighter, my heart pounding as I manage to prop myself up, using the button on the side of the bed to elevate myself.

The door swings open, and Yelena steps in, her expression a mix of relief and worry. Her golden hair catches the light, and I can see the telltale signs of sleepless nights etched under her eyes. "Y/n!" she breathes, rushing to my side, her voice trembling slightly as she takes my hand.

"Yelena! I'm so glad to see you." The words come out a little breathless, and I can't help the surge of emotion that washes over me. Just seeing her makes the room feel a little less confining, a little brighter.

"I can't believe you're awake," she says, her grip tightening around my fingers. "I was so scared. We all were. You had everyone worried sick." Her eyes shimmer with unshed tears, and for a moment, it feels like the weight of my situation lifts just a bit. I don't think I've ever seen Yelena emotional like this before and it helps me realise how bad this whole situation is. She would never allow anyone to see her this vulnerable except for Mama.

"Hey, I'm okay. Well, sort of." I gesture weakly to the IV drip, the hospital bed, and the machines that surround me. "Just a little out of commission at the moment."

Yelena's smile is tentative but bright, yet it's overshadowed by the concern etched on her face. "I just hate seeing you hurt like this. You're my niece and I thought I would always be here to protect you." She shares honestly.

I give her hand a squeeze and share a warm smile when she finally looks up to me. "I can't be protected forever. Besides, I need you now. This recovery is going to be shit and I need you to help me when it gets too much." I reassure her and she nods. "I'm not going anywhere. I'm here to help you through it all. Stark has even set me up on the same floor as you. So, I'll be there whenever you need me." She explains, making my heart warm with the thought of seeing her for a while to come.

"What about the widows?" I ask, knowing how much that means to her. "I've already been able to help so many. Now I need to help you. The others can wait. Besides, Kate can do the research on where we need to go next." She replies. "Who's Kate?" I ask, surprised to hear that she is working with someone else.

"Just a stray that Clint found. She's annoying, but oddly fun to be around. I think you'd like her. I'm sure she'll be around at some point to say hi." She explains with a shrug.

As the initial shock of seeing me seems to fade, I can see the corners of Yelena's mouth twitching upward, her eyes sparkling with mischief. It's as if she's flipping a switch, her demeanour transforming from worried auntie to the playful, teasing friend I know and love.

"You know," she starts, leaning back slightly and crossing her arms, "for someone who just woke up from a dramatic hospital nap, you look surprisingly like a zombie. I mean, I thought they had strict rules against bringing the undead into the hospital."

I let out a soft laugh, despite the ache in my chest. "Yeah, well, the food here isn't exactly helping my cause. I'm pretty sure I could survive off of those tasteless mushy meals for a week and still look better than this."

Yelena raises an eyebrow, clearly entertained. "Mushy meals? I'd expect you to be on some gourmet diet, considering all the special treatments they give you. I'm starting to think you should at least get some ice cream as a post-surgery reward." She chuckles. "Now that's the kind of thinking I can get behind. Have a word with Tony yeah?" I reply, feeling my spirits lift. "Ice cream sounds amazing. But what are the odds of that happening here?"

"Zero. But I'm prepared for this. I'll break you out of this place and take you for ice cream. You just need to give me the signal, and I'll burst in through the window like a stealthy ninja." She mimics a dramatic leap and landing in mama's pose. "See, I'll even do my best poser impersonation!" She playfully teases and she now starts to pretend to scale the invisible walls of my hospital room, her expression shifting to one of exaggerated seriousness. "You can count on me, Y/n. Ice cream shall be yours!"

I chuckle, the image of Yelena performing an acrobatic escape making the heaviness of the past days lift a little more. "What flavour are we talking here? I hope it's not vanilla. I have standards, you know."

"Vanilla? Please! I was thinking more along the lines of double chocolate fudge with extra sprinkles. And maybe a side of cherry sauce because why not go big, right?" She shares her thoughts whilst taking the seat next to me again. Her hand resting over mine. "Now you're speaking my language," I respond, shaking my head in mock seriousness. "If I'm risking a hospital breakout, it better be worth it." I laugh.

Yelena sits back in her seat, her chest still rising and falling as she laughs at her own hilariousness. She then looks back up at me. "But seriously, let's plan this for when you're feeling better. I'm not above a hospital escape." Her grin is contagious, and I can feel the tension in my shoulders easing. "Deal. Just don't forget the sprinkles."

As our laughter fills the room, I realize how much I've missed this lightness, this camaraderie. It's comforting to think about having Yelena by my side as I navigate the uncertainty of recovery and family dynamics.

But beneath the playful banter, there's an unspoken understanding between us, a bond that allows me to express my fears without words. With Yelena around, I feel like I can face whatever comes next, armed with humour and the knowledge that I'm not alone in this fight.

"Just promise me one thing," I say, my voice turning more serious again. "Anything," she replies, her gaze earnest. "Don't let me give up on the ice cream party, okay? No matter what happens."

"Never! I'll be your ice cream guardian," she declares, puffing out her chest with mock pride. "We will have that party, and it will be legendary. I will personally ensure that you have the sprinkles of life!"

With that promise hanging in the air, I know I can count on her not just for ice cream but for so much more as I navigate this complicated recovery. Even amidst the challenges, I feel a renewed sense of strength.

Though the playful atmosphere soon disappears as Yelena looks at me with a hurt look. "You know," Yelena begins cautiously, glancing around the room as if making sure no one else can hear, "I've been really worried about you. Seeing you like this. It's been hard. I didn't expect to walk in and see my Y/n looking so weak."

"Yeah, well, welcome to the aftermath of a bullet wound," I respond, a hint of sarcasm lacing my tone, but her expression remains sombre. "I mean it, Y/n," she says, her voice low. "I can handle all sorts of dangerous missions, but this... this was different. You're my niece. I've seen too many people get hurt, and it scares me to think about what could have happened if things went even more wrong."

"I know. I didn't want to worry you, but... it's not like I planned to get shot," I reply, my voice softening. "I was trying to do my best, and it went sideways."

"It's not your fault," Yelena reassures me, squeezing my hand gently. "But promise me you'll be careful. Don't rush back into missions. I can't go through this again. I thought I lost you."

"I'm not going anywhere yet. You've got me for a while longer," I say with a playful lilt, trying to lighten the atmosphere. Her smile falters, but she doesn't let go of my hand. "You have to promise me you won't get hurt again. I mean it. You don't have to be the hero all the time, you know." The gravity of her words sinks in, and I can feel a lump forming in my throat. "I thought I was doing well. I thought it was my chance to prove myself," I admit, my voice quieter now. "Prove yourself? You don't need to do that. You're already a part of this family," she insists, her voice firm but gentle.

But I can't shake the feeling of inadequacy, the bitter sting of doubt that lingers in the corners of my mind. "I don't feel like it," I confess, looking down at our hands intertwined. "Not after everything that's happened. My parents... I don't know. It's complicated." I begin tentatively, not sure how to express the turmoil inside me.

"They've hurt me for so long, and I'm still trying to wrap my head around why they suddenly seem to care. It feels like. I don't know, like they're trying to make up for lost time. They've been... around. Too around, if you know what I mean. They've been acting all concerned, but it feels more like an obligation."

I've felt torn about this since I've woke up. They're around all the time and trying to do everything that can to help me. But all I can think about is how much they have hurt me and if they would ever be able to make up for their past actions.

Yelena nods, her expression serious. "It's okay to be conflicted. They've done wrong by you, and you have every right to be angry. But if they're genuinely trying to change, maybe there's a chance for you to heal too." She suggests, similar to how Steve has these last two days.

"I don't want to forgive them just because they're here now. It feels disingenuous," I admit, frustration seeping into my voice. "I've been raised to believe that actions speak louder than words, and I need to see real change." I state irritated. "Then hold them to that standard," she urges, her voice steady. "Don't let them slide by just because they're your parents. You deserve more than that." She iterates.

"I guess I'm just afraid of being disappointed again," I whisper, feeling a shiver of vulnerability wash over me. It hurt so much when I slowly seemed to disappear from their lives. I don't think I could experience that again. "What if they go back to ignoring me once I'm healed? What's the point of this?" I share, tears stinging my eyes.

Yelena leans closer, her brow furrowing as she studies my face. "That's not fair to you. They hurt you, and it's okay to be angry about that. But you deserve to feel loved and cared for. You're so much stronger than you give yourself credit for." "Stronger?" I scoff lightly, but inside I feel a flicker of hope. "I barely survived my first mission and ended up in a hospital bed. That doesn't feel strong."

"Strength isn't just about fighting, Y/n. It's about surviving, too. You survived, and you're still here. You're still fighting." Her voice softens, and I can see her eyes glistening with tears. I nod slowly, her words resonating with me. "You're right. I just don't want to get hurt like that again. I thought joining SHIELD would mean I'd finally be seen, but now... it feels like a mess."

Yelena shakes her head, frustration evident in her expression. "No. You're not a mess. You're human. They need to step up and show you that you matter, but that doesn't mean you have to accept their love without question. You get to set the boundaries. You get to decide what you want from them moving forward. But I do believe that you have to give them a chance to show you that they've changed." She shares, taking me by surprise.

"It was years Yelena. How can I move to just forgive them for everything that's happened? Just because they're here for my recovery, doesn't mean it makes up for everything that they've done." I raise my voice getting frustrated that no one seems to understand the depth of how much this has affected me.

She thinks for a moment before speaking up. "I know I can't understand the pain they caused you. When I heard about what they did to you, I was ready to kick both of their asses. But I've seen this determination in them. Especially Nat. I just don't want you to let the anger eat you alive. You deserve more than that. You deserve to heal, not just physically, but emotionally, too." Her words resonate deep within me. I can feel the weight of my resentment pressing against my chest, threatening to suffocate me. "It's just hard, Yelena. I don't know if I can trust them again. What if they just go back to how things were?"

"That's the risk, but it's also a chance for something better. Maybe this could be the start of a new chapter for you all," she replies, her voice filled with hope. "I mean, how many people get a second chance to rewrite their story? You can make it count." She tries to reason with me. "Or I could just end up disappointed again," I say, my voice barely above a whisper.

"Hey, no one said life was easy," she counters, leaning forward, her tone shifting to a playful challenge. "You've faced worse. You survived a bullet wound, for Christ's sake! How about you take that strength and channel it into something more positive? Like confronting your parents." She suggests. "Confront them?" I echo, feeling a knot of anxiety tighten in my stomach.

"Yeah! You're a badass. You fought off those Hydra agents; you can fight for your own happiness." she encourages. "Don't let anyone else dictate your worth. Not your parents, not Hydra. No one."

"I'll think about it," I concede, knowing that deep down, she's right. Maybe facing my parents isn't just about them; it's about taking control of my own narrative, my own healing. "Good," Yelena replies, her smile brightening the room once more. "And remember, no matter what you decide, I'll be right here, cheering you on. We're in this together, ice cream and all."

As I gaze into her determined eyes, I feel the flicker of hope igniting within me. Yelena is right. I can't let the past dictate my future. Perhaps I can find a way to reclaim my voice, my choices. And with her by my side, I feel like I can face whatever comes next.

__________

The soft hum of the machines is a constant companion, a backdrop to the quiet conversation happening in the room. Mama and mom sit nearby, each offering their own version of silent support. Mama, with her usual calm demeanour, sits crossed legged in the chair near the foot of my bed. Her posture is relaxed, but her sharp eyes betray her constant vigilance. She notices everything, always has, and I can feel her observing me like she's looking for something beneath the surface. Mom on the other hand, has stationed herself at my side, like aways. She's less fussy, thankfully, but still has to be close, like I'm going to disappear if she's not.

Sometimes, I find the silence unbearable compared to their constant and sometimes suffocating fussing over me. I feel on edge, like they're waiting for me to talk to them. I think back to what Yelena said about confronting them and doing it on my terms. But I want to do it in the right frame of mind, and at the moment, this infection is still kicking my ass.

Mama breaks the silence as her well trained eyes watch me for a while. "How are you feeling Y/n?" She asks, her eyes narrowing slightly as she studies me, as though she's trying to catch me out if I say the wrong thing. "A bit better." I respond with a slight nod, my words carefully measured. I don't want to give too much away. Not about how I'm feeling and especially not about the swirl of doubt that's been growing inside of me since the incident.

"Are you sure? You're sweating." She points out, sitting up. Mom goes to reach for my forehead, but quickly retreats her hand. She's been trying really hard not to be too much and I'm grateful for that. I should have known that she could see straight through me and notice the discomfort I'm in. "Just a little." I admit. "Is there anything we can do? Would you like some water? Or we could change the quilt for a blanket if that would help?" Mom suggests.

I think for a moment before giving in, knowing that I am burning up a little too quickly. "The blanket would be better if that's ok." I respond, earning a warm smile from mom as she stands and moves to grab the blanket as mama takes the quilt and folds it up. "Better?" Mom asks as the thin blanket now rests over my legs. "Yes. Thank you." I quietly respond.

"You're being strong, but you don't have to be." Mom says, her voice soft but persuasive. Her green eyes watching me too closely. "We're here for you." She states. Something I've heard more these last few days than I have in my whole like.

I offer a tight smile. "I appreciate that." I reply, but there's something hollow in my words, something they both notice. I see it in the flicker of mama's eyes, in the slight frown mom tries to hide. They want me to let them in, to trust them. But I can't. No right now.

The knock on the door interrupts the thick atmosphere. As we all look to the door, a smile grows on my face as Yelena pushes open the door, bursting in to the room with her usual energy. Her blonde hair bounces around her shoulders as she strides in, a smirk on her lips. She's a welcome distraction from the unspoken suspicions swirling in my mind.

Behind her, there's someone new. A brunette with wide eyes and a slightly awkward smile follows in her wake, holding a small bouquet of flowers in her hands. It's clear she doesn't quite know what to do with them as she shifts nervously, standing next to Yelena like she's trying to figure out how to fit in. "This is Kate." Yelena says with a grin, motioning to the brunette with a flourish. "Oh, right. The annoying stray Clint picked up." I reply with a grin, my eyes flicking between Yelena and the new girl. I feel a small flutter of nerves in my chest, but I push it aside, trying to appear casual.

Kate gasps dramatically, placing her hand over her chest as if wounded. "Annoying stray? Really? Is that how Yelena described me?" She shoots Yelena a mocking glare, then turns to me with a playful twinkle in her eyes. "Don't listen to her. I'm delightful, I promise." She smirks.

There is something instantly disarming about her. Her smile is infectious, and I find myself grinning back before I can stop myself. "I'll be the judge of that." I say, raising an eyebrow in challenge. Kate's laugh is light. "Well, I guess I better make a good impression then huh. I'm Kate. Nice to finally meet you."

As if she suddenly becomes aware of the other two people in the room, Kate suddenly becomes a lot more nervous as she steps forward, holding out the flowers a little awkwardly. "I, uh, thought some flowers might brighten up the place." She says her voice light but tinged with nervousness. "If you don't like them, I can... I don't know, take them back or something."

I can't help but smile at the sudden awkwardness, feeling some of the tension ease from my shoulders. There's something captivating about her, a clumsy sincerity that feels genuine. Like she's not trying to be anything other than who she is. If's refreshing, in contrast to the more guarded and calculated vibes in the room.

"No, no. They're nice. I love them." I say, accepting the flowers with a smile. "Thank you." I say gratefully. Mom steps in to help, taking the flowers from Kate and placing them on the beside table. She flashes Kate a smile, but I can't help but notice the way her eyes flick between me and Kate, like she's sizing up the interaction. Her protective nature is sweet, but right now it feels like an intrusion, like she's watching too closely.

Yelena of course, can't let the moment go without making it awkward. "Oh great. The two of you are already making goo-goo eyes at each other." She says with a snort, dropping herself into a chair next to mama with a dramatic sigh. "I should have seen this coming." She says to her sister. "Goo-goo eyes?" I sputter, my cheeks burning. "Yelena, we literally just met." Kate for her part, looks just as flustered, running a hand through her hair as she laughs awkwardly. "Yeah wow, not even five minutes in and I'm already being roasted. Thanks Yelena." Yelena has a mischievous grin as she gives Kate a thumbs up. "Hey, I call it like I see it." She shrugs.

I glance at Kate again, and despite the teasing, there's something about her that puts me at ease. Something feels unguarded in a way that I haven't felt around my parents lately. She seems real, no hidden motives, no unreadable layers. Just Kate, awkward and charming in her own way.

Mama raises an eyebrow at Yelena's comment but stays quiet, observing as always. Mom though let's out a soft chuckle, her eyes softening for a moment as she looks between Kate and me. "I think it's sweet." She says, but there's an undercurrent to her words. A subtle probing as if she's gauging how close I'm willing to let this new person get.

I shift uncomfortably in my bed, trying to shake off the unease. "Kate seems nice." I say, trying to keep things light. "But you don't need to start planning a wedding already." I joke, earning a loud laugh from Kate.

Yelena leans back in her chair, a satisfied smirk on her face. "Well, you're already doing better than most people who meet Y/n. She doesn't usually warm up to strangers this fast."

"Yelena." I mutter, shooting her a look, but the playful banter is enough to make me feel a bit more like myself again. Even if the tension with my parents still lingers beneath the surface.

Mama exchanges a glance with mom, and I can feel the weight of their unspoken thoughts. They're both protective, maybe even a little suspicious of the new dynamic. I know they're trying to look out for me, but their watchful eyes feel too heavy right now and to be honest, they don't have the right to have any thoughts on this right now. They've barely been my parents for the last couple of years. They don't suddenly have a say in who I'm friends with.

"Well, at least you brought someone who isn't here to lecture me about being shot." I tease, giving Yelena a pointed look. Kate grins clearly relieved the conversation has shifted. "I'm just here for the heist planning." She smiles, her tone light. "Whatever Yelena has you roped into, I'm in." I join in the joke. Yelena perks up at that. "Oh, you have no idea what you've signed up for Bishop. This one here," she jerks her thumb at me, "has a history with getting into trouble."

Kate moves to take the seat next to me as both my parents decide to give us some space and grab some lunch. I'm grateful for them being able to read the room, but I notice the observant and narrow gaze of mama as she passes by Kate. I'm pretty sure I see Kate gulp a little which makes me laugh lightly.

"So," Kate asks, crossing her arms. "what's the plan for today? Ice cream, hospital jailbreak or maybe both?" She smiles, making the butterflies in my stomach flutter. "Oh, Yelena's already promised me ice cream, but she keeps postponing the jailbreak." I tease, glancing over at Yelena who's pretending not to listen.

Kate lets out a dramatic sigh, shaking her head. "Typical. She makes all these grand promises, and then when it comes time to actually execute..." Kate starts teasingly before Yelena speaks up. "I'm literally right here." She complains, throwing her hands up in mock exasperation. "And for the record. I would have busted you out, but your mother threatened to remove all the mac and cheese from the building if I did." She admits with a child like huff.

"Still scared of mama huh?" I smirk, earning a harsh stare from my aunt. "No!" She defends loudly. "Well, maybe when it comes down to you." She admits quietly, making Kate and I laugh. "Well, well. I've finally discovered the one thing Yelena Belova is scared of." Kate torments Yelena. "Yeah, well don't forget that you're the one scared of me." Yelena points out giving her fiercest glare. Something that makes Kate shrink back into her seat. "Yep. You're right. Sorry." She apologises goofily, making me smile even wider.

There's a beat of silence, but it's not awkward. It's easy, comfortable, and I'm surprised at how quickly I've warmed up to Kate. She's sharp, funny and there's a confidence about her that makes me feel more at ease. I can tell she's someone who doesn't take life too seriously, but there's a genuine warmth underneath the sarcasm.

Yelena is watching us again, her arms crossed, and her eyebrow arched like she's trying to figure out how this is going to play out. "You know, I might actually enjoy watching this." She says, her voice laced with amusement. "You two are way too cute. It's like watching a rom-com in real time." She smirks

"Okay, enough of that." I say quickly, feeling my face begin to flush, this time not due to my infection! I glance to Kate who is grinning like she's in on some joke that I'm not, and I can't help but laugh. "Yelena, don't you have some Widow business to attend to?" I question hopefully. "Nope." She says cheerfully, popping the 'p' for emphasis. "I'm on babysitting duty today." She smiles proudly whilst I just roll my eyes. Maybe I do want my parents back right now!

Kate leans closer to me, lowering her voice conspiratorially. "Does she always talk like that, or is it just for us?" She questions. "Always." I whisper back, earning a glare from Yelena. "Alright, alright." Yelena says, pretending to be offended, but her eyes twinkle with amusement. "I can see when I'm not wanted. I'll give you two some space. Try not to flirt too much while I'm gone." She teases.

"And you," she stops in front of Kate, a stern look on her face. "If she so much as flinches you call the nurse. I will have your head if anything happens to her." She warns her lowly. Kate just nods, gulping at the threat. "P-promise." She stutters. "Good. Text me if you need anything. Now have fun being all awkward and flirty." She smirks as she saunters out of the room.

Suddenly, it's just the two of us, the room quieter but still filled with that easy, playful energy. I glance over at Kate, feeling a bit of awkwardness settle in. But it's the good kind that makes my heart race a little.

"So, what now?" I ask, trying to sound casual? Kate shrugs, a teasing smile tugging at the corners of her lips. "I don't know. I mean, we could plot that jailbreak. Or maybe..." She pauses, her eyes meeting mine. "We could just hang out and get to know each other a little better." She suggests.

There's a warmth in her gaze, something that makes my heart flutter, and for the first time in a while, I feel a sense of excitement. Not just for the ice cream or the jokes, but the possibility of something new. Something good. And maybe, just maybe, I'm ready for it.

Nat's POV:

My sharp eyes have always picked up on the subtle shift in a person's demeanour, the tiniest details that others overlook. Right now, I'm studying Kate Bishop. She's awkward sure. A little too wide-eyed and jittery, holding onto those flowers like she's afraid they might combust. There's a clumsy sincerity to her that I can't decide if I trust yet. Y/n though... Y/n is smiling. Laughing even, and I haven't seen that kind of lightness in her face in far too long. Still, I remain cautious.

I watch as Y/n teases Kate, the easy flow of their banter rolling off Y/n's tongue without the weight that usually accompanies her words. It's almost as if she's forgotten, if only for a few minutes, about the turmoil she's been going through. And while I want that for her, there's a part of me that can't let go of my protective instincts. That part that wants to dig deeper into who Kate Bishop really is, figure out if she's worthy of my daughter's trust.

Because Y/n doesn't let people in easily. Wanda and I have made that even harder for her now. To be able to trust is a difficult thing. I don't want to see her hurt more than she currently is. Not after everything that I've caused.

Wanda's voice pulls me out of my thoughts as she steps up beside me, her arms crossed but her expression soft, watching the interaction with a gentler gaze than I have. "She looks happy." Wanda murmurs. Her voice has that quiet thoughtful tone that always means she's been observing the situation for longer than I realised.

I nod, though I don't take my eyes off of Y/n. "She does." I admit reluctantly. Wanda notices this and quickly makes up an excuse of going to get some lunch and we quickly exit the room. Probably much to Y/n's delight!

"You don't like it?" Wanda asks, her lips twitching into a small smile. She can read me too easily, knows exactly what I'm feeling even when I try to keep it to myself. We hover in the corridor outside of Y/n's room as I sigh. "I didn't say that." I glance towards my wife, raising an eyebrow.

"No, but I know you." She chuckles softly, and it's a warm, comforting sound that cuts through the tension I've been holding in my chest. "Nat, you don't trust her yet." It's not a question, and I don't answer right away. Instead, I look back through the window into Y/n's room. My eyes falling to the pair of them. Y/n has leaned a little closer to Kate, her laughter soft, her smile genuine. Kate's making some grand gesture with her hands, her enthusiasm endearing in its awkwardness. Okay, I think. Maybe she's not so bad.

But still. "I just don't know her." I say finally, my voice low. Wanda hums in understanding, her gaze never leaving Y/n. "But look at her, Nat. She's the happiest we've seen her in a long while." She points out. I know she's right. Y/n hasn't had this kind of lightness in her eyes since the incident. Even in the days leading up to it, she was closed off, burdened by the trauma we had caused her. I couldn't do anything to help her, I couldn't fix what I had broken. And now here comes this Kate Bishop, breezing in like a ray of sunshine, making Y/n smile like it's the easiest thing in the world.

I sigh, crossing my arms tighter over my chest. "Maybe." I admit after a pause, my voice quieter now, more reflective. "Maybe Kate is what Y/n needs right now." Wanda turns her head to look at me fully, a surprised look on her face, but she soon gives me a soft knowing smile. "That's not easy for you to say."

"No, it's not." I say honestly. "But I can't ignore how she's acting. It's good to see her like this." I glance to Yelena who's still grinning like a proud instigator of all this chaos. Y/n has her laughing too, which is aways a good sign. "And Kate, she's not what I expected." I share.

There's an awkward clumsiness about the girl sure. But underneath that, there's a kindness in her eyes, something genuine that makes me reconsider my initial assessment. She's not just some reckless kid, despite the reputation. She cares and that means something.

Wanda places a gentle hand on my arm, squeezing lightly. "It's ok to let your guard down a little." I chuckle under my breath at her words. "I don't think I'm wired that way, Wanda." I reply. "I know." She laughs softly. "But maybe you can try. Kate isn't here to hurt Y/n. She's just, being a friend. Maybe that's exactly what Y/n needs right now." I nod, though my instincts still bristle at the idea of lowering my walls completely. "You're right. But I'm not going to stop being protective. Not after we failed her so badly." My gaze hardens just a fraction. "I can't."

Wanda's expression softens further, understanding in her eyes. "No one's asking you to stop protecting her Nat. Just, give this a chance. What ever it might be." She pleads. I look at Y/n again. She's relaxed in a way I haven't seen her in months. The tightness in her shoulders is gone, replaced by something lighter, freer. And I realise that I'm not the only one trying to protect her. Maybe, in her own way, Kate is too.

"I'll give it a chance." I mutter quietly. "But I'll be watching." Wanda smiles knowingly. "I wouldn't expect anything less." She says as both our gazes fall to our daughter. Just then, Kate says something that makes Y/n burst out laughing, the sound so full of life that it catches me off guard. My heart clenches that it's taken this long. That Wanda and I created an environment where she felt like she no longer belonged in this family.

I know it's going to take time for her to even consider forgiving us. But I know that it's important that she has other people around her that she can talk to and have fun with. If it's just Wanda and me she'll become completely closed off. Maybe being around Kate is exactly what she needs. It doesn't mean I'll let my guard down completely. Not yet. I will always protect her. That's what mother's do. Even if I haven't proven my right to that title in a long time.

_________

As Wanda and I step back into our home, the familiar chaos of our boys welcomes us like a warm embrace. The scent of something sweet wafts through the air, mixing with the sharp, clean smell of wood polish from our recent cleaning efforts. I can hear the muffled sounds of laughter and playful shouting emanating from the living room, and it brings a smile to my face despite the heaviness still clinging to my heart.

Tommy and Billy have been asking about their sister non-stop over the last few days, and every time, I see the worry deepen in their little faces. They've felt the weight of Y/n's absences as much as we have, maybe more.

"Hey, you two!" I call out, my voice breaking through the din. Almost immediately, Tommy and Billy come barrelling into the hallway, their faces lighting up like it's Christmas morning. They launch themselves at us, wrapping their arms around my waist and Wanda's legs in a tangle of limbs and giggles. It's a comforting noise, one that momentarily pulls me away from the weight of the world outside these walls.

"Mom! Mom! How's Y/n? Is she okay?" Tommy's voice rises with excitement, his wide eyes sparkling with a mixture of hope and anxiety. I exchange a glance with Wanda, who stands beside me, her own expression tinged with a protective softness. It's a moment like this that reminds me just how much the boys adore their sister.

"She's still unwell, sweetheart," I say gently, kneeling down to meet Tommy's gaze at eye level. "But she's doing better than she was. She'll be home soon." I try to sound optimistic, but the knot in my stomach betrays me. I know how much they want to see Y/n, and how hard it's been for them to understand why she isn't here with us.

"Soon? Like tomorrow?" Billy asks, bouncing on his toes, his dark hair flopping into his eyes. There's a slight hopefulness in his voice, and it makes my heart ache, knowing they're so eager for good news. Wanda steps in beside me, placing a hand on Tommy's shoulder, her touch gentle and reassuring. "She's going to need a few more days in the hospital, honey. She's got to rest and get better first." I watch the way Wanda's eyes soften when she speaks to the boys, how she has an innate ability to make even the hardest truths sound a little lighter.

"But her birthday is coming up!" Tommy exclaims suddenly, his expression shifting from concern to realization. "We have to make it special for her! Can we plan a perfect birthday for her in her hospital room?" His enthusiasm is infectious, and a flicker of warmth spreads in my chest at his determination. Billy nods vigorously, his face lighting up with ideas. "Yeah! We can decorate it and bring her cake! She'll love that!" The energy in the room shifts, and I can see both boys imagining the decorations they might hang, the cake they might bake, and the joy they hope to bring their sister.

"That's a great idea," I agree, feeling a swell of pride as I watch them brainstorm. "But we need to wait until she's feeling a bit better, okay? We don't want to overwhelm her." Tommy frowns slightly, his brow furrowing in thought. "When can we see her?" His voice is earnest, full of longing. I can hear the worry tucked beneath his words, and it tugs at my heart. "Yeah, we want to see Y/n!" Billy adds, his expression mirroring his brother's eagerness.

Wanda glances at me, and I can feel the weight of our responsibilities bearing down. "We'll take you to see her in the morning," I promise, seeing their faces light up with hope. "But remember, she might be tired and need to rest, so we have to be gentle with her."

"Yay!" Tommy cheers, his voice ringing through the hallway, and Billy joins in, practically bouncing on his heels with excitement. Their joy is palpable, a reminder of the happiness that can still exist even amidst uncertainty and pain.

Just then, Steve steps out from the kitchen, having been quietly observing the boys from a distance. His presence brings a calmness to the chaos, and I find comfort in knowing he's here. "Hey, how are you two doing?" he asks, his eyes twinkling as he takes in the scene of our little family reunion.

"Mama and mom just told us that Y/n is coming home soon!" Tommy exclaims, practically vibrating with excitement, his hands flailing as he gestures animatedly.

"Yeah, and we're planning the best birthday for her ever!" Billy adds, his voice bubbling over with enthusiasm, his cheeks flushed with energy.

"Sounds like you're all set for a celebration," Steve says with a smile, nodding approvingly. He leans against the wall, crossing his arms as he watches the boys with fondness. "I'll leave you to it. Just let me know if you need anything." He shoots us a knowing look, one that acknowledges the weight of what we're dealing with, before stepping back into the kitchen.

As Wanda and I stand there, our boys filled with excitable plans, I can't help but feel a mix of gratitude and dread. Gratitude for the moments of joy, the laughter that fills our home, and the love that binds us together. Sadness that our family isn't complete and dread for the challenges still ahead. We're still on shaky ground, still trying to piece together the remnants of our family after everything that's happened.

But for now, I push those worries aside. I take a deep breath, inhaling the comforting scent of our home, and look around at the smiling faces of my children. "Okay, let's start planning for this birthday celebration!" I suggest, my heart lifting at the idea of planning something special for Y/n.

"We need balloons. And streamers!" Tommy states excitedly, his eyes bright with ideas. "And cake!" Billy insists, his mouth already watering at the thought. "What kind should we get her?"

As we brainstorm, I can't help but smile. We'll take this one step at a time. Tomorrow, we'll bring the boys to see Y/n, and hopefully, we'll be one step closer to bringing her home where she belongs. Hopefully, she'll see that we plan to be the best parents to her and in time she'll forgive us. I feel a flicker of hope, ignited by the boys' excitement and determination to make their sister smile, to show her that she is loved and missed.

"Let's get started," I say, my voice full of warmth as I gather them into a huddle, my heart swelling with pride. Together, we can do this. Together, we can find a way to help Y/n heal, and maybe even begin to mend the cracks that have formed in our family.

Taglist: @reggierizzoli @ordelixx @mousetheorist @oh-thats-cute @bstvst @waiqui @fxckmiup @kosmichs1 @theprincipality

#marvel fanfiction #marvel #natasha romanoff #avengers fanfiction #natasha romanoff x reader #natasha romanoff fanfiction #natasha romanoff x daughter #avengers #romanoff #wanda maximoff fanfiction #wanda maximoff x reader #wandanat #wandanat x reader

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serpentface · 5 hours ago

Text

Come On Man.

(Extensive linguistic notes for this 'balls in my mouth' comic under the cut)

The extensive linguistic notes for this "balls in my mouth" comic:

Brakul's first language is the West Rivers dialect of the broader Highlands language, which is part of the Finnic language family. It first split from the Proto-Finnic spoken north of the Viper about a millennia ago with migrants traveling south overseas, and further split into what are now the two native Finnic language groups in Wardin (the Highlands and North Wardi tongues). The Highlands language is a dialect continuum- most neighboring dialects are mutually intelligible, but people from opposite ends of the language's home region would have troubles communicating clearly (though the continuum is not wide enough for any to be fully incomprehensible).

Brakul knew some very, very basic Wardi from occasional contact with Ephenni traders as a teenager, and would later become fluent in the South Wardi dialect as a second language. Wardi is from a wholly separate language family than the Finnic languages with EXTREMELY distant common ancestry, and very different in form and function. Wardi is in many ways less specified and direct, having a smaller variety of individual words to communicate emotional/sensory states and instead imparting many layers of meaning to the same words in different contexts, which Brakul sometimes finds difficult and irritating to navigate. This is one of a number of reasons he often expresses himself more fully in his mother tongue.

Janeys is a native Wardi speaker (South Wardi dialect), fluent in 'Seaway Burri' (which is a lingua franca of the Mouth sea powers, many people along the coastal cities know it as a second language), and semi-fluent in 'High Burri' (state language of the Burri Republic), and in the present day has a modest comprehension of the West Rivers Highlands dialect. This takes place 4.5 years after he and Brakul met, and he mostly just knows basic utilitarian conversational terms and parts of speech, and has a decent understanding of the grammar and how to conjugate verbs. After 13 years of exposure to Brakul talking at him and occasionally deigning to explain what he's saying, Janeys can Sort Of hold a conversation.

---

NOTES ON THE POST ITSELF:

I = Sí

My= Sig

You= Mí (casual) Mís (formal)

---

Mí vírim is “I love you”.

The unconjugated form of the verb is vírir. The dead literal translation is “to need”, but "mí vírim" translates more accurately as "I love you" than "I need you". It DOES have connotations of need, it expresses love as a sense of wholeness and natural dependency- you say it to express affection towards someone to whom you owe your existence, to a line of ancestors, to your descendants, to the people you create or provide for your descendants with. It says "you are part of my sense of place in this world, you connect me to something greater than myself that sustains me". It will mostly be spoken between immediate kin (parents, children, siblings), husbands and wives, and in practice of venerating your ancestors. This is a gay as fuck thing to say to an unrelated man.

There's at least three other ways to directly say "I love ___" one of which is an affectionate expression of camaraderie, one of which communicates strong aesthetic appreciation, and one that is used in practice specifically to express affection/gratitude towards livestock (though can be used more broadly).

Janeys comprehends the phrase "Mí vírim" as “(I) [UNKNOWN VERB] you” and he's able to discern from Subtle Context Clues that it's something like 'I love you'.

He guesses the unconjugated verb inaccurately as (v)írer, as -Er and -Ur verb endings are more common than -Ir endings, and -Er/-Ir verbs share all the same conjugated forms.

Wardi languages have no ‘v’ sound to begin with, and the ‘v’ here is very soft, between a ‘vuh’ and ‘fuh’. This doesn’t come naturally to Janeys (or most Wardi speakers in general) and comes out as a 'wuh' on first impulse and a hard ‘fuh’ when he tries to replicate it.

This is something he never gets good at and Brakul is grateful that it’s his brother who was named ‘Vrailedh’ (Vrai-lehd-hh)) and not him so he doesn’t have to hear ‘Wrai-lehd’ or ‘Frai-lehd’ all the damn time by his Wardi compatriots. (Many of them don't even get his actual name right, but it's a lesser sin of not rolling the R and under-emphasizing the -ul)

---

"Sí brūlmim fágh filshíbe" is “I am very gullible”. The use here is not particularly cruel and is more just that his first impulse upon realizing Janeys will repeat anything he says right now is to make a "someone wrote gullible on the ceiling" level joke at his expense.

Fágh is a word used to emphasize an adjective and some nouns, functionally close to 'very' but used specifically for non-physical/non-sensory qualities (emotion, personality, etc). You could use fágh in the sentence “I’m so sorry” "he's such an asshole".

Brūlmim is "I am" in present tense. The unconjugated form is brūlmur, meaning 'to be' in a permanent sense, as a matter of nature. Other verbs are used for ‘to be’ in a purely transitory sense (“I am tired”) or describing a prolonged but impermanent state, usually past tense (“I was a stupid teenager”).

Filshíbe straightforwardly means 'gullible'.

The 'h' at the end of fágh is vocalized as an exhale, sounds a little like 'fog-uh' with a VERY soft and breathy 'uh'. The '-e' at the end filshíbe is also exhaled, coming out as a quick, soft 'eh'. Neither of these sounds are natural to a Wardi speaker (especially the breathy 'eh', most -e ending words are pronounced with a strong '-ey').

Janeys is comprehending “I’m (very/so) [UNKNOWN WORD]” here, and his face is being touched so softly so [UNKNOWN WORD] is very compelling and he's learning new things and is kind of in the zone so might as well say it back.

---

"Mísig uns drótes vísti sig bahrég, s'vaige do mi?" means "Your balls in my mouth, please?". What makes the sentence Particularly funny to Brakul here is that it's Excessively polite (using a formal and deferential 'your' and very gracious 'please') and jarringly accompanied with lowbrow slang for testicles. A more tonally accurate english translation would be "Sir, may I please perchance take your fat fucking sack in my mouth?"

Mísig means 'your', but specifically implies deference- it's a word you would use to address an elder or authority figure, or to use while being very, very polite. (Mís is the equivalent deferential 'you').

Uns drótes is one of several slang terms for testicles. This one uses the word 'boulders', and is thus Specifically implying 'big balls'. It's lowbrow and a very mild expletive (in the same degree 'ass' is in English).

Vísti means 'in' or 'inside', as a physical state of something being inside of another thing- you would use it for 'there's a bird in that cage' but not 'there's fear in my heart'.

Bahrég means 'mouth', which is almost always used in the purely anatomical sense. The other word for 'mouth' in the language more commonly refers to the mouths of animals (might be better translated as 'maw') and also gets applied to non-anatomical objects (ie 'the mouth of the cave').

S'vaige do mi means 'thank you' (dead literally 'my gratitude to you', the S in S'vaige is a contracted sig/'my') but is translated here as 'please' for clarity. There isn't actually a word that directly correlates to 'please' in the Highlands language, a polite request is accompanied with a 'thank you' instead (IE: "Could you pass the salt, thank you?"). This is one of two direct ways to say 'thank you' and this is the more intensely polite of the two.

Janeys will have understood this sentence as "(polite 'Your') [UNKNOWN WORD] (in? inside? within?) my [UNKNOWN WORD], please." This one throws him off, but he's pretty sure he's about to be kissed on the mouth for the first time in his life so he's willing to go with it.

#This information is buried in the Linguistic Notes Section but this takes place about 4 and a half years after they met #At which point no ones balls have been in anyone's mouth yet #brakul red dog #janeys haidamane

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ladykailitha · 6 hours ago

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The Hellfire Exotic Club Part 11

Just two more chapters to go. The tension is ramping up and you're gonna want to hold on to your seats. This is the penultimate chapter before everything is revealed. And hooboy is it going to be great fun.

In this we find out who the cleaner was and he gives Eddie the final clue he needs to stop his troubles once and for all.

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6 Part 7 Part 8 Part 9 Part 10

Eddie enjoyed watching the cleaning crew. They were like bees in a hive, not bumping up against each other or trying to do the same tasks. Cleaning up after some days was hell, like Tuesdays and Saturdays and he always made sure to pay extra on those days.

That said, he really didn’t know any of them. The only familiar faces were the foremen. Eddie has asked the head forman about it once and was told that cleaning Hellfire was such a cushy job that he rotated teams so that everyone got a chance at it.

So imagine his surprise when one of the cleaners stopped Steve on his way out of the dressing room for a short chat.

It looked a little heated, if Eddie was being honest and was about to step in when Steve broke away from the conversation and drifted his direction.

Eddie cocked his head toward the cleaner. “Who was that?”

“An old friend of mine,” Steve said with a shrug. “I didn’t realize he had fallen on such hard times. Apparently his mom broke her hip and hasn’t been able to work for the last year.”

“That’s rough,” Eddie said, and waved his arm for Steve to go first. “I don’t know how much the cleaners make, but maybe if he puts in an application we can find him something to do here. Hell, he could work in the kitchen if Monty liked him well enough.”

His chef was a thin, wiry looking fellow, but he knew how to make the best club food anyone had ever tasted. He was also particular about who worked with him. But Monty could always use an extra hand or two and it would never hurt to try.

“I’ll let him know the next time I see him,” Steve said with a fond smile. “He’s also got a little brother in college, maybe have him apply too. Couldn’t hurt. What’s the least that’s going to happen, you say no? They won’t be any worse off for applying.”

“Yeah,” Eddie agreed. He didn’t think that he would hire either of them if he was honest, but like Steve said, they wouldn’t be worse off for it. “So how was Creepy McCreepy?”

Steve bumped Eddie with his hip. “Henry Creel was fine. He’s just passing through, by the way, Mr. Worry Wort. I think he has bigger fish to fry then some high end exotic dancing club. Not that this place isn’t worth scalping, but I think he’s aiming for higher?”

“World domination?” Eddie teased, leaning into Steve space.

He laughed and nudged him away with his elbow. “Yeah, probably.”

Eddie ended up meeting with Steve’s friend because the guy needed consistent money coming in and while cleaning job paid okay, it really didn’t have many regular clients other than the club. Mostly they cleaned up after major sporting events, political conventions, stuff like that. And with their boss Murray always rotating the crew who cleaned the club, some weeks were good, others not so much.

Eddie had to admit that guy cleaned up really good. With his hair out of his face and wearing nice clothes, he wasn’t bad to look at.

“Jonathan Byers?” he said, rising to greet him from a table he had sectioned off for the interview.

“Yeah,” he said, shaking Eddie’s hand. “Thanks for agreeing to see me.”

Eddie smiled. “No problem. I’m sorry to hear about your mom.”

“Thank you.”

Eddie pulled out three pages and spread them out in front of Jonathan. “There are three positions open right now, let’s see if you fit any one of them.”

He pointed to the first one. “This is for the busser position. Basically you go around after people have left to take away plates and glasses as well as pick up any tips. You’ll get a small portion of the tips but mostly it’s a flat rate of $15 an hour.”

Jonathan nodded.

“This one is for a cook’s assistant,” Eddie said tapping on the second one. “Often called a prep chef in bigger kitchens. Basically you’ll prepare everything for the chef and put it in the fridge for him to grab as he goes. You’ll get here at 4pm and leave at 8pm when the club opens. Pay is $22 an hour because it’s only four hours a day.”

Again Jonathan nodded. “That makes sense.”

“And finally the waiter position,” Eddie said. “This one in the highest paid, but also the most demanding. You’ll only have two days off a week and you’ll work from 8pm-2am. Base pay is $15 an hour, but you get a set amount of tips every night. Usually it’s percentage, but if it’s a rough night, you’ll see a base pay of $200 in tips for the night. You aren’t expected to pimp for tips as it were, as you aren’t the main attraction. You’ll be invisible for most of the time and some will even get mad at you for blocking their view of the show.”

“Wow,” Jonathan said. “That’s really fucking generous.”

“I try to be,” Eddie said cocking his head to side, “because living in this hellscape we call American Capitalism is hard enough without having to worry about not having enough money for shit.”

“Can I take these with me and then send over my resume for the position I’m most interested in applying for?” Jonathan asked, placing his hand over the a couple of the pages.

“Sure thing,” Eddie said. “I have copies on my computer. I’ll give you to the end of the week, otherwise I’m going to have to start looking elsewhere.” He stood up and Jonathan did the same.

“That’s fair,” Jonathan said, holding up the pages. “Thanks for this. Because you gave me a chance, even if I don’t end up working here.”

They shook hands.

“Let me walk you to your car,” Eddie said, waving his arm for Jonathan to go first.

He huffed out a laugh. “I don’t have a car right now, my girlfriend is coming to pick me.”

“Then I’ll wait with you,” Eddie offered.

Jonathan considered it a moment and then shrugged. “Sure, man. Whatever.”

They walked out to the curb and chatted about Jonathan’s family and how his mom was doing. “My brother is going to be famous one day,” Jonathan said with pride. “He is such an amazing painter, his work should be hung galleries.”

“Yeah?” Eddie said with a smile. He knew that tone of voice. It was the same tone Wayne got when he talked about him. “So what did baby Jonathan Byers want to be when he grew up?”

“This is going to sound so weird,” Jonathan said with a smirk, “but a bug photographer. Not wild life in general. Bugs. Creepy crawlies. Insects and spiders. I loved that shit as a kid. I don’t know how many times I freaked out my mom by bringing in a new bug to take pictures of and then release back into the wild.”

“Young Eddie would have loved you,” he said softly. “I liked bugs and critters you aren’t supposed to go anywhere near. Raccoons, possums, squirrels. Baby Eddie loved them all. My mom,” he wagged his hand back and forth, “not so much.”

“There she is now,” Jonathan said jutting his chin at the red hatchback pulling into the parking lot.

Eddie pursed his lips and resolved not to say a damn word until she did.

And oh boy did she ever. She got out of the car and immediately started yelling at Jonathan.

“What on earth are you doing here?” she cried. “I thought you had an interview.”

Eddie tilted his head to side. “Not an interview yet, more like a fact finding mission. But I like him.” He grinned at her.

“I forbid you from working here!” she shrieked. “This is a den of sin! I have vowed to take it down.”

“Nancy,” Jonathan said warningly. “We’ve had this discussion. If I didn’t work at every place you found morally objectionable, I wouldn’t be able to work at all. I just need something stable until Will graduates and Mom can move around on her own again.”

“When you told me that Steve was working in this hive of iniquity ,” Nancy growled, “I made it my responsibility to shut it down once and for all. To save Steve, to save you from having to sweep the vile filth from its floors.”

“What?!” Jonathan cried. “I didn’t tell you Steve was working here to have you go on one of your crusades. I told you because Steve was a good friend when both of you were dancing ballet together.”

“It’s a sin!” she cried one more time.

“So is fornication,” Jonathan huffed. “And breaking and entering and a shit ton of other things you do that are supposedly okay as long as you do them.”

Nancy folded her arms and stomped her foot. “That’s not the same and you know it. They have actual fucking nights dedicated to a specific deadly sin. I may have broken a few laws in my time, but I would never stoop the depths of depravity that his club sinks to!”

“You continue with this vendetta,” Jonathan warned, “and I swear to God, we’re through. There is nothing wrong with what they do. So what if people see them naked. Don’t go see it. Your rights stop at their personhood. You can only dictate what you do and not anyone else.”

He turned to Eddie. “Can you take me home? I don’t think I want to be in the same car as her.”

“Sure thing, man,” he replied, thumbing behind him. “Just let me lock up and I’ll be right out.”

When he came back Nancy had gone and Jonathan looked like a kicked puppy.

“You ready to go?”

Jonathan nodded and without a word followed him to his car. After get the address and putting it into the GPS, Eddie said, “I’m sorry about how she acted. Has she done this sort of thing before?”

“When I first graduated high school I got a job at a photography studio,” he muttered. “I took pictures of babies and toddlers. I had this cute little pink rabbit that never failed to get a smile.” He cleared his throat. “She found out that in addition to family portraits, bridal and wedding photos, they also did boudoir photo shoots.”

“Oh no,” Eddie moaned, completely seeing where this was going.

“Yeah,” Jonathan said with a sniffle. “She got the place shut down when she found out that some official’s daughter got them for the guy she was sleeping with, who was not her fiancé.”

Eddie frowned. That sounded too familiar.

“Anyway,” Jonathan continued, “this bitch got the whole place shut down and suddenly I was without a job. If I ever find her, I think I’d like to strangle her with my bare hands.”

“Her named wouldn’t be Heather Holloway, would it? Mayor Kirk Holloway’s daughter?” Eddie asked running his tongue over his upper lip slowly.

Jonathan snapped his fingers. “Yeah, that’s the snake in the grass.”

Eddie pulled off to the side of the road and closed his eyes. “It’s a fucking scam. Holy shit! It’s a fucking scam.”

“What is?” Jonathan asked.

Eddie turned around. “I just figured the whole thing out. All of it. The attacks against Steve, Billy getting caught with his hands up the wrong skirt, Jason fucking Carver. I’ve got to give it to your girl, she is one smart manipulative bitch. But I’m smarter.”

Tag List:

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#my writing #stranger things #steddie #ladykailtiha writes #dance club au

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actual-sleeping-beauty · 2 days ago

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about a half an hour ago i turned twenty-two. i feel a little like eeyore saying, "it's my birthday pooh," about it. hard to celebrate right now. hard to know if i can trust the people around me.

but also. for about twenty four hours now, all i have been able to think about is the newborn child of a couple i have never met and likely never will. i keep thinking about susanna wolff and caldwell tanner. i keep thinking about how their first daughter was born in december of 2020. (i am not weird or creepy for knowing this, she wrote an article in the new yorker about having a pandemic pregnancy.) i keep thinking about how their second child was born recently, almost certainly within two weeks of the election. (i am also not weird or creepy for knowing this, the birth was announced by his podcast so he can take some paternity leave.) i keep thinking about these children, about the difference in the circumstances of their births. about the world we, as a country, have decided is fit for them.

and then i keep thinking about the fact that the world keeps turning. barring something awful happening, these children will get to grow up. they will go to kindergarten and learn to read and tie their shoes. they'll learn that the world is not fair and that there's something unexplainably beautiful about light pouring through the trees in late fall and that there comes a time when you gt to pull out your sweaters and get excited about clothes you had forgotten you owned and that people you love can come back into your life when you thought they were gone and that you will have favorite songs and poems and games and books and movies and and and.

i think about how every day people live their lives. a old woman i knew died last monday. twenty two years ago today i was born, too early and unprepared. every day people are living and loving and breaking. someone got married today. someone got divorced. yesterday i cried for hours and then spent two hours with my friends cheering them on in volleyball. twenty two years ago this week my parents took their incredibly ill baby to the hospital and a group of very dedicated medical professionals saved her life. twenty two years ago this week my grandmother got the call that she had breast cancer. a year ago i was diagnosed with a chronic illness. thirteen months ago i thought i might die before i saw twenty-one, let alone twenty-two. a month from now my grandfather is coming from his home, decimated by a hurricane, to watch me graduate from college.

what i'm saying is there are terrible awful things every day. there are. and yesterday was particularly awful. it's hard to know these things, to see where we are headed. but we cannot succumb. no nos podemos rendir. we cannot. the world needs us. we need us. there are so many quotes for this moment, and i am a magpie who collects shiny phrases instead of metals. i want you to say it with me - come on now, do it; i am trusting you with my earnestness. Hope is the thing with feathers. the light-soaked days are coming. we're here because we're here because we're here because we're here. unless someone like you cares a whole awful lot, nothing is going to get better, it's not.

or, perhaps more appropriately, i'll instead quote caldwell's friend, creating one of the most lovely scenes i have ever heard with him in a dnd game, shortly before the events of susanna's article:

you are afflicted with duty... the world should have protected you, but you have been asked to protect it. what an honor. what an injustice.

#rose writes #more personally than when i usually use that tag but it will suffice #us elections #<- because this is what prompted this post #and now i will tag source material for the quotes mentioned ->#emily dickinson #the anthropocene reviewed #john green #the lorax #naddpod

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starkwlkr · 1 day ago

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Hi, it’s been a rough week for many women, children, people of color, disabled people, senior citizens, the lgbtq community in America. I come from two hardworking mexican immigrant parents who came to the United States in the 90s. They left friends and family behind and thankfully after 25 years, both my parents were finally able to get their residency and go back home. I had the honor of joining my mother on her trip back to Mexico and it was filled with tears. Watching her go back to her childhood home, now empty because both of her parents had passed away, was heartbreaking.

My grandmother, my mother’s mother, passed away in 2018 and I remember hearing her tell my mom over the phone: “I don’t have much to live, but I don’t want you coming to Mexico when I die because you won’t be able to go back. Your babies need you.”

It hurt so much seeing my mother sob while watching her own mother’s funeral through FaceTime. I wouldn’t wish that upon anyone.

It hurts even more to see Latinos be so vocal about their support for a racist, criminal, rapist, piece of shit. How could you do that to your own people? How could you do that to the thousands of dreamers?

It’s obvious where I stand and I stand with the millions of women, children, lgbtq community, senior citizens, the people of color, the immigrants who want access to healthcare, education, freedom!!

To everyone who is upset about the election results, we will get through this together. This is not the end!

To Vice President Kamala Harris, thank you for giving us hope and for trying. I hope one day I, like many others, get to see you become president.

And since this account started as a Formula 1 account, I want to say to the President of the FIA:

You should be ashamed of yourself.

“Politics isn’t allowed in Formula 1” but you post a picture with a convicted felon who is now president. You ban putting any sort of support to the lgbtq community or the black community on their helmets and you proudly support the worst person in America?

You a disgusting human.

And don’t even get me started on this

Fuck you, Fuck anyone that supports this and most importantly Fuck Zak Brown.

To the Lando fangirl that might be upset that I’m bringing that up, you’re embarrassing yourself. I know what he said, you know what he said, it’s online.

America, you failed miserably. You are not the land of the free and living here is not ‘living the American dream’, especially when you live in a red state like Texas. (Just want to thank my home of Dallas for voting blue! Thank you and love you <3)

Take care of yourself and we will get through this together.

#formula 1 #election 2024

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helphowdoiusethis · 1 day ago

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When will you admit you are wrong?

It's not often that Edwin and Charles find themselves in the situation where a fight had been so petty that it created the need to apologise in quite a way that warranted a dance that the pair created five years into their thirty year existence after one case that left Edwin rather pissed off with the other.

"Do you not understand how completely stupid you are Charles! In these five years have you not learned, your impulsive actions will end with" but Charles had cut him off like he was fed up with the constant bringing up of hell; at least when not asked.

"One of us getting taken by death, I know Edwin, I know mate." Charles groans and flops onto their relatively newly acquired sofa thankfully not through the thing, not that Charles had a direct date of when it was gotten he lost count of the days about four months into his first year with Edwin when the lines of days and nights had blurred.

Edwin has frowned, it’s not alright for Charles to just know! Charles is not the one going back to hell if Death catches them; he had been sure to inform the younger just how terrible hell was at every inquirer that the not long dead ghost had looked for.

Charles sighs and looks up at the older boy and with a slight eye roll, he speaks “What? Do you want me to say I was wrong for protecting us?”

Edwin only simply nodded and tagged on a quite simple statement of, “and do a little dance while you're at it”

And that, that was how the ‘I was wrong’ dance was formed.

It was at the time a better way for the pair to communicate the dislike for their new found friend putting themselves in danger during cases for the other; it was mates worrying about mates after all. Anytime after the twentieth year that they had been partners, the reason for the dance changed it went from being consumed about the other with the introduction of communication; albeit limited but communication no less it had shifted to a petty more ridiculous nuance of change throughout the further years.

When Crystal and the journey to Port Townsend had taken place, Edwin had been the first to do the dance on the roof of the tongue and tail butchers, expertly doing the splits half way through the designed choreography which had been added about 4 years prior; that Edwin himself inputted after Charles had complained about the ease in which he was able to follow the choreography now after so long. When Edwin looked up through his thick eyelashes into Charles’s eyes and he had seen the familiar smirk that Charles wore now many times over the years. Charles had gone after; he had possessed a witch after all and while nothing had happened Edwin was still very mad. Both the dead boys with something they were willing to admit that they were wrong over and it wasn’t like Edwin ever tired hearing that he was right not when Charles has to of his own fruition bow down further than necessary with a “you were right” echoing out into the space between the pair.

The second instance of the dance whilst in port Townsend came not even twenty four hours later after saving Niko from the spirits. Edwin had of course done the dance for the fact that he had felt so much guilt over the ‘’wrong’’ action for performing magic on a cat and scaring Charles very very much when he had been taken by the Cat King for hours. Charles had danced for the sake of breaking the vessel in a successful attempt to save Edwin from a skeleton and Crystal had added after she had seen Edwin dance; that Charles had almost let the spirits possess her despite the many apologies that Charles had given after the fact.

Crystal and Niko had been privy to seeing the dance that time as Charles had addressed the reason but not the reason for why the dance existed at all or how in everyone’s name that Edwin did the splits and why Charles himself had bowing over more than necessary for two best-mates to see; that was waved off with a laugh and a pat to Edwin’s back.

After the Devlin house no dance was done much to Charles’s chagrin, he had been wrong for attempting to hit Mr. Devlin and getting trapped in the loop, losing his cool was something Charles did not do often not in the way that the Devlin house had made him mad and touched too raw nerves that hadn’t been viewed or even thought of since his death all those years ago.

Charles had sounded more devastated when he spoke, something that Edwin had consciously decided to ignore the sad, wounded look that had afflicted the normally sunshine smiling boy’s face.

“You need not apologise Charles. Anyone would have had that reaction if their father was..” Old British sensibility taking hold and reigning over the way that he wanted to explain that Charles need not apologise or do that ridiculous dance that they had made for not apologising and avoiding the actual issues at hand, not communicating in a healthy way. Charles did not need to apologise for this, for the fact that he had lost his cool in response to trauma - not when Edwin had done the same at Crystal three days prior and had been doing so whenever the risk of Death taking them away was an issue.

Charles had a rebuttal “but I almost got us taken by Death, mate” ignoring his trauma over, well his father.

“You did nothing of the sort Charles, you do not need to do the dance. So leave it at that, okay?” Edwin had been quick to stop Charles’s spiral; into his wrong thought about everything had taken place. This was something the younger had done before, not in a while but he had done this before the older knew that.

Charles had at that moment, slumped over slightly before correcting his posture in the most rigid way that the Edwardian ghost had seen, before Charles had gone back to normal with his sunshine smile plastered back in place.

It had been difficult after the Night Nurse had gone over the cliff after Charles had kicked her over. Charles had been ahead of the group from the moment that they had begun to return to the tongue and tail butchers from the lighthouse, silent in a way that had even Niko avoidant in checking in on Charles apart for glancing at him before at Edwin. Crystal and Edwin had spoken in silence almost in a way that seemed too odd for the pair but as the worry that Charles had spiked over the last two days, caused their banter to become more easy and those glances to be able to be passed.

The dance hadn’t been done, not when the group had returned to the butcher shop and separated into pairs, the girls with the boys after quick reassurances of trust had been shared between the boys and Edwin had stared at Charles before following Niko through the door and Charles and Crystal had shared kisses in an attempt to forget the day.

There was nothing wrong, nothing to ‘’apologise’’ for nothing that the boys had felt was due at the time.

The case of the two dead dragons, it had taken too much out of both Charles and Edwin those boy’s had ruined peoples lives just like how they had had their lives ruined at their deaths. Edwin had apologised; after returning from his rather awkward way that his conversation had ended with Monty and the new level of understanding that his feelings had taken on around Charles, about the tackles way in which he asked Charles to leave from the grave yard that day but not for asking Charles leave no that to him was the best choice with the ghost and the days prior.

When Charles had admitted that he was wrong for the way in which he had put on edge Edwin; apologising to Crystal while Edwin had been out. The almost sinful way in which Charles had looked up at the Edwardian ghost through his eyelashes with a “you were right..” whispered out into the air Edwin had almost lost composure in that instant, looking back and down on Charles, saying less through sarcasm and more through a wave of heavy ‘joy’.

Based on a post by @idliketobeatree

#dead boy detectives #dead boy detective netflix #dead boy detective agency #dead boy detective fanfic #charles rowland #edwin dead boy detectives #edwin payne #charles dead boy detectives #crystal palace #crystal palace surname von hoverkraft #niko sasaki #night nurse #my first fic in this fandom #<- it was going to be longer but i lost the drive at the Creeping forest episode

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