#the only times my sister is home are when she's running on fumes from her 12pm-2am days and frankly i just want to hit something about it

[soft-girl-musings]

hmm i think i will buy that punching bag after all. i have needs

[simplydannie]

Based off: “The Runaways”

Inspired by and written for @zephyrmars. Based on their ask:

“Remember the "Under Rageous: The Runaways what if" I ask? In No More segment, I wonder what will Velvet's reaction if she went home and finds out that Veneer accidentally killed Cressida and finds out what she did to him throughout the years?”

TRIGGER WARNING ‼️ REFERENCE TO SA && DEATH ⚠️

Velvet comes home to find Cressida lying lifeless on the ground…. The only one around was her brother…. Secrets start pouring out… and Velvet is left horrified.

Velvet was gone…they were sixteen at the time…

Cressida sent her to run some errands. Once Veneer found out, he made sure to lock himself in his room. Fear entered his body like it always did when he was left alone with his aunt. He never told Velvet, never mentioned anything to her. Why would he? Why stress her out? Why worry her? Veneer didn’t want Velvet hating their aunt either…Right now, they were all the family they had, all the family that connected them to their mother…

Veneer tried to justify what Cressida would do to him. He’d still try to paint her in a light, sympathize with her….but as time went by, it was getting harder and harder. Four years of this…he couldn’t anymore. He wanted to run, he wanted to convince his sister to run with him. But where? Where could they go? Back? No, they weren’t going back.

Veneer sat on his bed hugging his knees, tears stinging his eyes. His heart was pounding…waiting for the knock on his door. What would happen if he didn’t open it? Maybe if he just ignored her? Ignored everything….

KNOCK. KNOCK.

Veneer’s body began to tremble…

“Veneer…I know you’re in there. Open the door, darling.” His aunt called out.

“….I’m not feeling too good Cressida.” He lied.

He could hear the conniving tone in her voice, “Well let me see. Let me check.”

“…….no……” He said. Please Velvet, please come home.

“What…What was that?” She demanded.

He hugged his knees tighter, “…..No…. Please just leave me alone.”

“…You’re in my house. You do as I say. And I am telling you to open this door. NOW.” Her tone was growing angrier.

“….Please Aunt Cressida…I don’t ask for anything. I just want to be left alone for once…Please….” Veneer begged. The door began to shake and tremble as she attempted to open it. She turned the knob desperately.

“OPEN THE DOOR!” She screamed.

Veneer lifted his hands and covered his ears. Go away, go away. He begged, he prayed the door wouldn’t open, that it would hold. The door continued to shake and tremble.

“VENEER!”

Go away, go away.

SNAP! CRACK!

Cressida appeared at the doorway, her eyes fuming. Veneer backed away to the corner of his bed.

“Please! Don’t do this anymore!…CRESSIDA STOP PLEASE!”

Velvet reviewed the list that was given to her. Why the hell did she need all this? She hated running errands for her, it would take forever. Velvet never knew why Cressida couldn’t do it herself, why it always had to be her to go and not Veneer. There were a few things on the list Velvet couldn’t find and she knew she would get an earful from her.

She marched up the steps to their home, pulling out the keys, Velvet unlocked the front door.

“Okay I got everything you asked for Aunt Cressida.” She called. There were no noises, no screaming, no nagging from her, “Cressida?” She must have gone out.

“Ven! Ven, did Cressida leave?” She asked aloud….silence….

“Ven?”…..silence still…..

This was strange…to strange…something in her gut began to settle in telling her that this wasn’t normal….that something was off. Setting the things down on the counter, Velvet made her way up the spiraling stairs.

“Ven? Cressida?” She called out. Velvet stood at the foot of the staircase….She tuned into the silence, and that’s when she heard the soft sobs, the cries coming from Veneers room.

Oh my god, she hurt him! That was her automatic thought. Cressida was not shy in beating her brother. Velvet ran straight to his room….The door was broken down…..

…..She gasped….Her hand shooting straight to her mouth….

“Oh….my….god…..”

….Cressida lay on the floor, blood flowing around her body. She turned to face her brother who was hiding under his desk, knees to his chest, tears flowing from his eyes. Velvet ran to him.

“VEN! Are you okay? Oh my god! Who broke in? Are they still here?” She asked. Velvet attempted to pull him from under the desk, but he didn’t budge. He pulled his hands away from her as he kept crying.

“It’s okay. Stay here I’m going to call the cops.”

“No!” He yelled.

“What do you mean no? Someone killed our aunt! They might want to kill us too!” Again she attempted to run off, but Veneer pulled her back.

“VELVET NO!”

“Veneer stop it! We have too-“ She was cut off.

“I didn’t mean to! I-I….I was trying to tell her to stop! I wanted her to stop! She wouldn’t stop! She wouldn’t!” He cried.

Velvet was stunned. She kneeled down to get at eye level with her brother, “What….What are you talking about Ven? Was….was she beating you again?”

Veneer hugged his knees tighter, closer to his chest, “…No….No she wasn’t…”

“Then what are you saying?”

“I can’t Vels….I can’t….I can’t!! I’m sorry! I couldn’t control myself! I wanted her to stop…I wanted her to stop…But she kept touching me…”

“Touching…..” Velvet’s mind wandered. She turned to look at Cressida lifeless body on the ground, then turned to face her brother. He was clawing at his skin, tears falling like a waterfall down his face. He wasn’t bruised…not beaten….But he said “touching” him….

…Oh…my….god….

It hit her, after all these years, it finally hit her. Cressida separating the twins saying how rooming together was child’s play, always sending Velvet off to run errands and never her brother, the way Veneer would stiffen when she put a hand on his shoulder….After all these years, and he never said a word to her..

“….Ven….Why? Why didn’t you tell me anything?” Tears began to fill her own eyes. He finally looked up to her.

“….What?”

“Why didn’t you tell me what she was doing to you from the beginning!” She yelled. She was mad, she wanted to be mad at him, but she was more angry at herself, for never realizing what was going on behind closed doors.

“….She was family….I didn’t want…”

“FAMILY DOESN’T DO THAT TO OTHER FAMILY! SHE WASN’T FAMILY! SHE WAS A MONSTER VENEER! A MONSTER!” She hugged him tightly, her tears dripping onto his shirt. They both cried, their bodies shaking…

…..I’m a horrible sister… The words kept repeating over and over again in her mind. How could she let this happen for so long? How could she not realize what was going on? She clenched her brother tighter. They held each other in silence, in tears. Finally, Velvet grabbed his hands and stood up.

“Let’s go.” She began to pull him.

“Go? Go where?” He asked.

“Let’s just get out of here Veneer!”

“But….but we don’t have anywhere to go! This is our home.”

“No…no it’s not. Not anymore! Not after what she would do to you. Me and you stick together got that! No one separates us. We’ll find somewhere…someone….But as long as we’re together, as long as NO ONE I repeat, NO ONE, splits us apart, we’ll be safe! Do you hear me?” She grasped her brother’s shoulder’s tightly, giving him a small shake. Veneer stared at her wide eyed, nodding his head ever so slightly.

“Okay Vels.”

“Now, let’s go. Let’s go before anyone figures out anything.” She pulled Veneer out of the room, down the stairs, and out of that prison. Once they stepped outside, it was as if a weight had been lifted from their shoulders. Velvet held Veneer’s hand tightly….

…..No, this wasn’t going to happen to brother….She’d watch him closely. She would never let him out of her sight again….Never ever again….

[homiesondaweb]

This is my theory piece on astv Hobie's Backstory.

Despite the whole Punk lifestyle, living on a repurposed canal boat, minor rock star status, and having active warrants out for both his civilian and Spidey persona thing he's got going on. Hobie had a pretty normal childhood for a bit. 

His Pa managed the local radio stations and his Ma was a lead writer for the newspaper. Hobie found himself the baby out of 5 siblings and their 4 bedroom flat was just a bit too small for the 7 people family but it was great. 

The neighborhood was always lively with community get-togethers, music rattled the bricks and the air was always savory with smell of jerk. Hobie used to eat himself sick with coconut candy and orange cake every weekend. He liked going to 'school' which meant being crammed into Ms. Ngozi and Ms. Freedman's flat with the other neighborhood kids then being taught from books Ms. Freedman had smuggled in when she partnered with Ms. Ngozi. Reading, writing, history, debate, arithmetic, ethics, journalism, all kinds of science but Ngozi loved when Hobie would take a machine apart and remake it. 

His eldest siblings by about 12 years, twin brothers Hudson and Hector ran the 'Shop'. If you needed something fixed within their 6 block neighborhood you took it there. Cars, big appliances, medical equipment, radios, tvs, his brothers could fix it all. They'd fix it good, cheap or free and in a timely manner. (And they greatly encouraged their Little Bart brother to tinker) 

Next was is other older brother, Henry. He was only 9 years older than him. A photographer and worked under their mother getting dynamic shots for any article she posted. He introduced Hobie to a lot of artists and taught him how to observe the world around him. How to sneak in and out of it.

Then there was his only sister, Harley. She was closest in age to him, only 5 years older. She was a badass on the guitar and even slicker at the mouth. She debated anyone under a table and had a right hook to back it up. You never would have pegged her to be the one to run the community garden. Not with her self-done piercings, bleach painted jackets, head fully of bantu knots and black lipstick. But she did, she taught Hobie everything to know about growing orchids and tomatoes.

Life was good. Despite the rising police violence, cost of living, and the fumes of Oscorp rising. 11 year old Hobie didn't know it to be anything else. 

Then, he turns 12. Ma and Henry don't come home.

He's 12 and the Ngozi-Freedman homeschool is raided. He never sees them again but Harley fills her stage trunk with their books and records.

He's 12. Someone reported the shop and President Osborne new "certificate enforcement" squad torches the building. Hudson gets away but the Symbiotes bail out Hector to them and he only has one arm. 

He's 12. The government has taken over the radio station, firing Pa. The house becomes cramped with the equipment Pa had smuggled out. Hudson shows back up and he's as ghost as Hector.

He's 12 and half his friends are just faces on murals and the other half is sick from the water. The garden is sabotaged and the city fines Harley (how the fuck do you fine a 17 year old?) 

And there's a protest. Pa has taken over the radios in the city and rallies the people, he repeats Ma articles over and over informing the people about the propaganda, the contamination, the disappeared people, the injustice. He repeats them and repeated them as the twins litter the city with flyers using Henry's photos of the truth. 

And there's a protest. 

There's hundred of protests of all sizes, all over.

There's a riot. 

There's riots.

There's fire and panic and Symbiotes spill into the neighborhood like oil and-

Hobie turns 13, it's just him and Harley. 

Hobie turns 14, it's just him and Harley's guitar.

Hobie is 15, he's just some punk kid bit by a radioactive spider while trying to find shelter from a Symbiote raid. He uses this to his advantage. 

He turns 16 and instead of blowing out birthday candles he's smashing Harley's guitar through a fascist dictator head with his fellow super powered punks. (He can't think of a better wish)

He's 17 and Miguel makes a mistake in showing up to his dimension with an offer to join his 'society'. 

[elgaladwen]

A Fresh Start

I didn't have the time or inclination for any of my 'tobers today, so instead have an old Nimardril fic from when she first came to live with her uncle and cousins in Rivendell. She is still in her reckless bratty youth phase here, but this is the beginning of where it starts to calm. I always meant to add more to this, but it's been three and a half years now and I haven't, so we'll just leave it!

Her oldest cousin, Gilithion, belongs to Sewer-princess on here, and featured in my Fictober story the other day. <3

More about Nimardril is here.

Nimardril perched high in a tree, peering downward through the boughs toward where a group of guards trained a short distance away. She felt that she should be with them, for how would her combat skills stay sharp if she were reading texts and studying language all day? But Celebithil, her uncle, had insisted she learn of other things before she continued training with weaponry, or practiced any scouting skills, and he bemoaned the fact that she'd never had proper schooling. Nim wholeheartedly disagreed. She could read, so long as the text wasn't overly dry, and sure, she spoke a dialect of Sindarin that was hard for the Dúnedain and other non-elven visitors to the valley to understand, but why did she need to speak with them anyway? Worse, Celebithil insisted that she learn Westron as well. Why in Middle-earth should she learn Westron, as if she'd ever leave elven lands!

Fuming, she continued to watch the training below, her gaze falling in particular upon one ellon, his movements precise as he hurled javelins through the air, each one catching the moving targets as they were flung upward. She tried to see if she could spy any of her mother in his face, for this was the son of her mother's sister. She'd never met any of her family, outside of her parents, until that day, only a few weeks past, when she had walked into Rivendell for the first time, having traveled here with a group of scouts returning home at the behest of her uncle. From what she gathered, her mother's older sister had moved here long before Nim had been born, and had fallen in love, marrying Celebithil, and bearing him two sons. She'd also died, or passed into the west long before Nim was born, and she'd yet to learn what had happened. She'd only been vaguely aware that she even had family outside of Lothlórien, and certainly hadn't known the names of her uncle or cousins, and with her own parents long gone, who would she have even asked?

Celebithil apparently had not known of Nim’s existence either, until her father's friend back home in Lórien, had seen fit to send messages to Rivendell, asking if her mother's sister still had family there. Nim wondered with annoyance why Curonthos had bothered to do such a thing. Sure, he'd made some promise to her father to look in on her if something ever happened to him, but that didn't mean finding some strict uncle she'd never known she had! Some part of her was glad, though. She wanted to feel as though she belonged somewhere, and she'd been burning too many bridges back home, intentionally or not, and it felt especially good to get away after what had happened with Moradan. Yes, she could use a fresh start.

So lost in thought was Nimardril, that she blinked, only just now realizing the training was done, and she no longer saw her cousin, Gilithion. She was about to climb down, when a voice wafted up to her, quiet but stern. "Good day, cousin. Are the treetops part of your studies this afternoon?"

Nimardril scowled. While her cousins weren't as strict with her as their father, they shared his opinion that she needed to learn things other than combat and scouting skills, and urged her to stop trying to run away from such. "I was just taking a break…" She muttered as she slipped down through the branches, finally landing before Gilithion with a short jump.

"Ah, I will walk you back inside then." Was his reply, as he began to stroll in the direction of the Last Homely House. "I hear your archery skills are quite good. Why not let other skills and topics catch up? Worry not, our father is master of many a weapon, and when you've trained your mind, you will learn more of combat. Both are important."

Nimardril still didn't understand why she needed any scholarly studies to be a scout or soldier, but she nodded, not truly wishing to be rude. As they walked, she thought of trying to appeal to her other cousin, Meneladir, again. But no, he might be more carefree than his father and older brother, but he was a poet and musician, and valued written word and language greatly.

They continued on in silence, and though some might have found this off-putting, Nimardril appreciated Gilithion's apparent aversion to smalltalk. It was nice to share company with another, and not always feel as though you must be conversing. Meneladir on the other hand… Well, Nim found him often amusing, but he would not have taken this walk in silence, instead filling it with song, or some anecdote about a plant or bird they passed.

Thinking of Meneladir as she was, Nim almost thought she was imagining it when she heard his voice carrying toward them, raised in song in some language she didn't understand. She soon saw him coming to meet them however, a tome in one arm, and a lute clutched in the other.

Abruptly ending his singing, Meneladir called out, “Ah, Nimardril! I was just looking for you so that we might read a tale I heard you were fond of- In Westron!”

Less than pleased, but still curious, Nim greeted her cousin, trying to spy the title on the tome, even as he continued, “It is the tale of  Beren and Lúthien, and I must say one of the others here has penned quite a passible translation! It may not be as pleasant in Westron, but it will serve as a good learning tool, no?”

Nim enjoyed the tale mostly for the fact that Lúthien was brave and bold, and stood up to any who might foil her, but her impossible romance with Beren was appealing, too. It all seemed so hard to believe, yet their great-grandson was within this very valley even now.

Nodding, Nim made to follow Meneladir, but stopped, asking Gilithion uncertainty, "Won't you join us?"

Her older cousin gave a shrug. "I could use the rest, I suppose. Lead on."

The three of them made their way to a small lawn in the shade of some trees, the leaves beginning to tint red with autumn.

[rowretro]

✧𝐆𝐔𝐀𝐑𝐃𝐈𝐀𝐍 𝐃𝐄𝐌𝐎𝐍✧

WARNINGS: nothing I know of

✧taglist✧: @heeseung-min @jaeneohee @lovingvoidgoatee @neruishoon (anyone I may have missed)

✧CHAPTER 9✧

Just over 2 months into her pregnancy, and Sunghoon has been by her side 24/7. He's even started working from home so he can keep a close eye on her. And in this period of time, y/n has not uttered a single word about it to her family. She was 18, her parents would probably think she's an irresponsible screw up. Sunghoon on the other hand, has grown way more possessive over her.

On to p of that he was extremely over protective now she's pregnant, Every time she'd gasp r trip or feel even the tiniest pain from a paper cut, he was there beside her making sure he'd be able to rush her over to the hospital. It was still a half demon baby in there, who knows when it wants to pop out?

"Sunghoon... we have to tell them... and by we I mean you-" the girl said before turning around to run. The two were at the front door of her family's home. "No... we're doing this together." He said, gripping onto her wrist. The door was then answered by her mother who was screaming at Heeseung "WHY ARE YOU SUCH AN IRRESPONSIBLE PIG!" she yelled as Hee groaned. well this was going to go well...

Why today of all days? everyone seemed so stress and mad over their own problems. Her dad constantly firing people on call, Heeseung having a heated argument with his girlfriend and her mother was stressed over her business deals. "Hoon.... maybe today isn't the right day to tell them..." Y/n said, as Sunghoon sighed "Sweetheart, maybe we should give it some time kay, who knows they might feel better by the end of today~" he reassured.

"UGH I FUCKIN HATE YOU LEE HEESEUNG!" a girl screamed as she left the house, slamming the door. Y/n stared up at Sunghoon, nervous "Are you crazy? you want me to go oh hey mom, hey dad, her brother, I know you're all fuming mad right now but I have news and it's that I'm pregnant?!" she whisper yelled at Sunghoon as he went silent.

"You're pregnant?..." Her mother trailed off, her father shrugged Heeseung stared at her in horror. "A MINI SUNGHOON IS GOING TO POP OUT OF YOU?!!!!" He screamed. "No no- honey that... that's great- I mean you're a little too young, but old enough to make decisions, you have a nice baby safe home... I guess it's not that bad... congrats I guess..." Her mum said. Oh how mad she was at Sunghoon, but she was relieved that it was Sunghoon's baby.

"y-you aren't mad?" the girl asked, teary eyed "Of course Im mad, im disappointed... but to be fair we did kind of expect it... how far long are you?" the woman asked "2 months..." she trailed off as the woman smiled "If you ever need help or anything, we'll be here for you... ok?" her mom reassured, hugging Sunghoon. "BRO I CAN'T BELIEVE YOU IMPREGNATED MY BABY SISTER- AREN'T YOU LIKE A HUNDERED YEARS OLD?!" Heeseung asked " I'm way older- but in Human years I'm only 21, chill-" he said as Heeseung inhaled a deep breath.

A few days have passed, and Y/n's mother decided it'd be best if she accompanied y/n and Sunghoon on their first ultra sound. "It seems that there are 2 heads" The doctor said with a smile as y/n stared up at Sunghoon in horror "2 HEADS- OH MY GOD I SWEAR I DIDN'T KNOW I WAS PREGNANT WHEN I HAD THOSE GUMMIES-" She said as Sunghoon frowned. "No honey... what she meant is you're having twins-" her mom pointed out as she started hyperventilating.

"TWINS? AS IN TWO BABIES? AS IN ONE EXTRA BABY?! THAT'S ONE MORE BABY THAN I HAD EXPECTED TO HAVE! I COULDN'T EVEN TAKE CARE OF A TEDDY BEAR PROPERLY OH NO WE'RE DONE FOR!" She panicked as Sunghoon held her hand. "No no sweetheart... It'll be ok... we're having two bundles of joy, one me n one you, and I'll be here to look after you..." Sunghoon reassured. Her mother smiled at Sunghoon, now a little more relieved at the way he treated her.

✧𝐆𝐔𝐀𝐑𝐃𝐈𝐀𝐍 𝐃𝐄𝐌𝐎𝐍✧

[ricky-tiki-tah]

Damien’s Kid

The Head Engineer of the Invincible II joins a family.

—Story Time—

Damien had been pleasantly surprised when Mark had asked him to play a part in his newest project. Not just any part either, but the main character to boot. He enjoyed the time he got alone from his sister while on set. It had been forever since they had been in separate bodies. He hadn’t thought anything would come of it.

Until, months later, someone showed up on the doorstep.

Dark frowned in confusion as he looked the person up and down. The new Ego looked back, shifting from foot to foot nervously. “Uh, hi! I’m the Head Engineer.” They trailed off uncertainly when Dark raised an eyebrow.

“I know who you are, I’m just curious as to how you’re here.” Dark explained, stepping aside to let him in. “I was unaware anyone would be arriving.”

“Oh, um…” The Engineer looked nervous. “Sorry, I don’t mean to impose, but I don’t really have anywhere else to go, so…”

Dark raised an eyebrow. The way this new ego talked sounded familiar. “You’re not one of Marc’s, are you.” It wasn’t a question, more of an observation. “Who, exactly, are you?”

“Well, my name is Mark, but I go by Engie, if that’s what you mean?” Engie replied fiddling with his red beret. “It seems to fit better.”

Dark nodded, leading the way to his office. “I am Darkiplier, though you may call me Dark. I run this household, home to Egos and Others, as I’m sure you are aware.”

Engie nodded, looking around at the ornate halls in awe. “Yeah, I know, somehow.”

Dark nodded, opening his office door and letting the new ego in before entering himself and closing the door. “Good to know. That knowledge classifies you as an Ego, such as myself and most of this household. If you would give me a moment to sort out the paperwork that just arrived?”

This, too was not a question, which Engie clearly understood. The new ego sat down in one of the chairs spread about the room while Dark sat at his desk.

‘Alright, explain yourself Damien.’ Dark growled, staring blankly down at the paperwork that always came when someone new Arrived.

In the dark void that made up their mind-scape, Damien very clearly glanced sideways at his sister. ‘Uh…’

‘Don’t look at me! You’re the one who accepted the role!’ Celine rolled her eyes at her brother before turning to the fusion. ‘I had nothing to do with this, Dark!’

Dark sighed and pinched the bridge of their nose to ward off the impending headache he always got whenever the twins argued. ‘Are you telling me, that we have a child?’

Damien shifted. ‘Well, if we’re going by Marc’s definition…’

Celine snorted. ‘I can’t believe you went out and made a kid. My baby brother is a father!’ She was laughing aloud now. ‘This is gold!’

Damien scowled, only worsening Dark’s headache. ‘How was I supposed to know I could make an ego? It’s not like I planned for this to happen!’

‘Planned or not, there is still a new ego sitting in our office.’ Dark muttered.

‘Oh this is absolutely beautiful.’ Celine smirked. ‘I’ll leave this up to you two now.’

‘No, wait!’ Both Damien and Dark tried to stop the woman before Damien would inevitably be shoved into the driver’s seat.

“Dammit.” Damien muttered, now looking down at the paperwork and his hands outlined in blue. Dark silently fuming in their mind-scape was not helping his now pounding headache.

Engie visibly startled at his sudden exclamation, drawing the former mayor’s attention. “Sorry?”

Damien shook his head. “You have nothing to be sorry about. This whole mess appears to be by my own doing.” He stood, crossing to get a better look at the Engineer. “Damien Whitacre, one third of Darkiplier. Nice to finally meet you.”

Engie blinked in confusion. “Huh?”

“It appears that my role in Mark Fischbach’s latest endeavor resulted in you being created.” Damien explained, sitting across from him.

“Are you… are you not Dark?” Engie asked, studying Damien.

“No, I myself am not Darkiplier. I am a part of Dark, however. They would not exist without me. I suppose they are the reason that you are the only ego to come from me as opposed to Marc. We’ve only recently learned we can split while in a story.”

“So… you’re saying that you made me?” Engie was trying to connect dots, and apparently he was succeeding. “Like, you’re my…father?”

Damien blinked, internally scowling at Dark, who had snorted a laugh. “I… suppose so?”

“Okay, okay yeah, why not?” Engie looked down at their hands. “Yeah, sure. Cool. Uh, nice you meet you?”

Damien smiled. “Nice to meet you, Engie. How about we find your bedroom?”

Engie nodded. “Yeah, okay.”

Celine reappeared next to Dark. ‘Well, looks like we’re a father now.’

Dark rolled their eyes. ‘Celine, we’ve been parenting Artie for years, I thought that was a given.’

Celine shrugged and nodded. ‘I suppose. Just be sure to remind him that he can’t tell anyone who doesn’t know about us.’

Dark frowned at her. ‘Of course. Shove off Celine, I know how to do my job. I’ve been doing it for decades after all.’

Celine just smirked and the two watched as Damien showed the young ego to a space themed room.

[carefulfears]

speak more about closure (the episode)!!

oh my god literally always. i could talk about sein und zeit & closure every day and never run out of things to say.

(i've talked about it a bit before, here and here.)

i was thinking about recently, this final shot of sein und zeit. how devastating it is. how empty and brutal and mortal it is. how representative it is of what this episode has to say.

mulder has spent his whole life believing that children who go missing from their homes do not die, wanting to believe. he spends this whole episode clinging to that belief.

in the end, he stands alone, separated slightly from the others, over 24 tiny graves. there's no easy out, there's no groundbreaking conspiracy or mythos. there's nothing but dirt and bones and a man in blue jeans.

this is the same conclusion that he had faced the day before, in regards to his mother's death. he walked in with the most hopeful answer, spun up an explanation that would make sense, and in the end, was wrong.

in the end, sometimes it's pills and fumes. sometimes it's purely corporeal, sometimes there's nothing to find solace in.

and so closure opens on the graves of 24 children. teams of men unearthing them, digging in the dirt. one of them with tears streaming down his face.

after seven seasons, we're nearing the end of the road, and there is none of mulder's perfectly reassuring celestial faith in sight.

in the midst of all of this, scully is ever-steady in her facts, and she takes a deep breath before calmly relaying information about the murders to mulder, who doesn't look up from studying the footage of the kids.

when conversation turns to samantha, he sits back to confess that he had badly wanted to find her in one of those graves. he admits, "i guess i just want it to be over."

a long way from "nothing else matters to me" in bellefleur, from shaky relief over fabric hearts, from letters written about goals of reunification, there's resignation before acceptance.

one of my favorite moments of the series is towards the end of sein und zeit when mulder says that they should just go home. that they are not going to find those people's daughter alive, despite the days he had spent insisting to anyone who would listen that they could.

when he says that he is too close to the case, and he wants to take some time away from work.

seven years after scully chased him into the street and yelled for him to stop running after his sister, the morning after she followed him into a hallway to tell him not to go looking for something that he does not want to find, the person whose "relentlessness" has kept him searching for nearly 30 years, just wants to go home.

after mulder says that he just wants it all to stop, and a brief wavering confrontation immediately after, scully heads back to DC and begins her search.

i think it's so important that it took nearly a decade of this "search" for scully to ever even see the file.

despite what they might tell you, this journey has never been the search for samantha. it's why so many leads were left unfollowed, so many questions remained unasked, so many misdirects were accepted without inquiry.

this has never been a search for samantha, it has been a quest to keep searching. a desire to believe, a grasp for hope.

scully has always understood this, so seven years after joining the pursuit, only after mulder said he's ready to stop, she starts looking.

i love this scene between her and agent schoniger, going over mulder's old therapy tapes and seeking expert opinion.

closure spells out in plain terms what has been explicit since the pilot, that aliens and x-files and spectral theory, are all a means to an end.

schoniger tells scully that the "garden-variety compensatory abduction fantasy," is just that, a fantasy that allows for hope, allows for pursuit.

when she asks what he thinks happened to samantha, he shows her the FBI's file. how the treasury department was involved. how much effort went into an investigation, due to bill mulder's status in the government. how nothing was ever found.

he offers the FBI theory. she was kidnapped in the house. body disposed of. never found. it was 1973, predatory crime wasn't as evolved at the bureau.

he asks why she would bring this back up now, and she tells him that it is what mulder is owed. that this wound has never healed, and mulder deserves closure.

back in sacramento, mulder is asleep while planet of the apes plays on the motel television ("there's got to be an answer." "don't look for it, taylor. you may not like what you find," the dialogue that plays through the room.)

as the film rolls, there's a knock at the door, and mulder wakes up to let his friendly neighborhood psychic harold in, and continue their journey.

"what are you afraid of?" mulder is asked outside a military base, continuing the theme of vulnerability in pursuit. of how precarious it is to really seek, when you don't know where you'll end up.

meanwhile, scully returns to tena's house, searching through the remains of what she burned at the end of her life, and finds a document in the garbage signed "C.G.B.S."

she identifies the report as the original copy of the form that effectively ended the FBI's investigation into samantha's disappearance, and the initials as belonging to c.g.b. spender, an alias of the cigarette smoking man.

when she calls mulder to tell him what she found, he's dismissive, and against questioning CSM, but a confrontation at her apartment leads to a warning to stop looking.

you may not like what you find.

as mulder and harold make their way to albatross street.

where they find handprints in cement marked "samantha," in the yard outside of military housing. next to a matching set marked with the name of CSM's son, jeffrey.

scully flies back to sacramento, remaining steadfast, just as she was in the beginning, as she tells mulder about her conversation with CSM. as she tells him that she was told samantha is dead.

mulder, however, is eternally going in "an endless line, two steps forward and three steps back," like she said years ago. miles from his own position at the start, just wanting it to be over is easier said than done, and he's reverting back to the previous theories and fantasies that he's always fallen back on.

though scully tries, this is ultimately not her burden, and she joins mulder and harold as they make their way back to albatross street, where a trip to the house uncovers a journal left behind by samantha.

"she tells him, after his mother dies and his sister writes to them from beyond her adolescent grave, that she’s not going to leave him. she means it as an argument." - tracklist by audries

it is so much easier to live in delusion of our choosing. it is so much easier to look away, to take three steps back, to mask the suffering of the world and of the people we love. it's so much easier to seek comfort in innocence.

but it means something to bear witness. it means something that this little girl was playing a game with her brother one moment, and the next was not, and she was not unharmed and abducted by aliens. it means something that someone knows that.

mulder and scully sit in an empty diner together, two untouched cups of coffee in front of them, and they bear witness.

they read, in her own words, about the tests that were being performed on her. about how she wasn't even treated like a person. about how much she hated it, and how they didn't care.

if you pause on samantha's diary, you can see phrases that mulder doesn't read aloud, like "more tests. more pain. will it ever end?"

"..dream of being with my family. sitting on the beach, playing volleyball...instead, i'm trapped in this cold dark room"

"why can't it all just go away? i'm too young. i didn't do anything wrong."

after so many years of a name in a file, a picture on a desk, a hopeful dream; they sit and they cry and they take in her own words and her own experience.

they read about how she planned on running away. how she just couldn't take it anymore, but she was sure they would kill her if she tried. how she didn't care, she just wanted it to stop. "no more."

they read about how her memories were altered, but she thought she had a brother, and she just wished she could see him. how she hoped he would read this someday and know that.

at the end of the road, there is no closure. there is no "beyond the sea."

there is only mulder and scully looking up at stars, a familiar sight to tie in the mythology of this two-parter.

referencing the theory that was posited in sein und zeit, and then again later by harold, mulder says that maybe they are souls. traveling through time in the starlight.

when scully tells him to "go get some sleep," he laughs; in the same way he did when she said those words years earlier, over scraps of fabric and nightmares of missing girls.

but unlike paper hearts, he complies, and the next scene opens on him asleep back at the motel. the television off and silent, for possibly the first time in the series.

scully wakes him up the next morning, with the police report of a 14-year-old hostage runaway from 1979 in her hand.

"i got it, mulder. i couldn't believe it when i found it. it's like it was looking for me."

following the lead to the hospital records, this is so reminiscent of their early adventure days. back when they were running around searching, back before they were afraid of what they'd find.

mulder uncovers the medical report, a 14-year-old girl who wouldn't give a name and exhibited signs of paranoia. the records note "evidence of probable self-inflicted abuse," small scars on her knees, wrists, and chest from the tests that were being done on her.

once again, sometimes answers are flesh and blood.

"i have this...powerful feeling and i can't explain it, that this is the end of the road."

at the home of the nurse who signed the intake form, mulder hangs back by the car, and scully asks if he's ready, if he wants her to go herself.

this is the moment that makes me emotional the most, i feel like. when scully in all of that steadfast logic and reason goes up alone, to speak to the last person who ever saw samantha alive.

and after seven years of countering every theory, of reigning in blind hope, of skepticism and science, you can tell that part of her stands on that porch and just prays for aliens. prays to have been wrong.

she listens as the nurse describes the young teenager that you remember for how frightened she was, "scared for her sweet life."

and the man who came for her, who would not put out his cigarette.

and that she just disappeared out of a locked room, after the nurse had seen a vision of her dead. an experience in line with that of the parents in sein und zeit, and the theory of children transported in starlight, spared from violent deaths.

this story is not without grace, and there is something to offer mulder in the end, as he's lead to a forest where many souls are waiting. including harold's son, amber lynn lapierre, and a young girl who starts running to him.

i love the tone of this scene. disparate from the original script, which called for them to be crying, they are overjoyed. this is something, after all these years and all this pain. this is holographic, inadequate, reunification. and it is too much and not enough at the same time.

returning from the woods, scully asks where he went, and he answers, "end of the road."

he turns to harold, and tells him that they're all dead. his son, amber lynn, samantha. and it's okay.

"we both have to let go, harold."

but it's not everyone's time to put down the search, and harold still wants to believe, insisting that he will keep looking.

where this episode opened in dirt and bones, it closes in starlight and freedom, the end of the road a balance between realism and hope.

between the mortal evil of "the truth" and the faith that allows you to survive what you find; it's not somewhere you can go alone, or before you're ready.

there is no closure. but there's acceptance, and there's the relief that comes with knowing that someone will always be remembered, even if you go home and get some sleep.

[walker-extended-universe]

Aita for season 3!August?

WIBTA if I took advantage of the fact that my dad ignores me?

I'm aware that I'm probably TA but I also think I deserve it a little bit.

My dad has a habit of ignoring me in favor of my older sister. Normally, I don't mind too much since we have other family that lives close by that I can talk to but things have changed in the past few months.

Ever since our mom died two years ago (and even before that if I'm honest), my older sister has been the loud and reckless one. When our Dad left for business after Mom died, my sister got pissed at him and threw massive parties at our house every other night, even after he came home. She only got arrested once for drug possession but Dad never really punished her for it. She's done a lot of other things in the past few years; her actions include but are not limited to: 1) the time she was going to run away forever with her boyfriend and lied to both us and her soccer team about where she was on the day of the state championships, 2) the time she ditched classes because she was mad at Dad, 3) the time she snuck away from the coaches with some other members of the soccer team to drink and party at another location and they almost got kidnapped by gang members (I was there for this one too but I digress)

Dad's usual response to her antics is to downplay them or occasionally get stern with her before letting her off. He keeps trying to prove to her that he's there for us and he's not going to run away like he did after Mom died.

Recently, my older sister just randomly decided she wasn't going to college after all and she's staying home and working instead. Which is fine, better than her getting a massive debt for a crappy job. But that means that Dad is even more worried about her than usual. He went out of his way to get her a job (it's part time and she complained about it) (also it's the same place I work and my hours got cut to make room for her) and he's always trying to be There For Her if she wants to talk or whatever.

The problem is, he never makes that kind of time for me. I barely get to talk to him about anything outside of weight training (which I'm not even all that into) and he never offers his help with MY issues (not that he bothers to even find out what they are). I decided to try voicing my needs because communication is usually a good idea in these circumstances. I asked him if he could help me out during an alumi flag football game and help my class win a skip day (I go to a small school). He said he'd try but he couldn't make any promises because of work and then he ended up bailing on me at the last minute.

I was pissed about that so I did something that was, admittedly, a little stupid.

See, my family owns this bar and I have a key. To make up for losing the skip day, I opened it up for my classmates and had a party. Things were actually going pretty okay when I was able to keep an eye on things but I got locked in a supply closet when I was changing out the kegs and things started to get a little crazy. I texted my sister to help me out and she came through (she also tried to give me a lecture about what the hell I thought I was doing). Unfortunately, she showed up right before the cops did and we both got arrested.

Naturally, Dad was fuming about this but, then something interesting happened. He blamed my older sister for everything. EVERYTHING! He didn't even give me the chance to apologize (and I did try, for the record). He even left her in the holding cell overnight and made her clean up the mess in the bar!

I know I should probably tell him the truth but, honestly, I feel like if I can throw a massive rager in my dad's freaking bar and get away with it because my sister is an attention hog, then I may as well keep doing whatever I want. It's not like it'll make a difference to him anyway.

[fangirls-fanfiction]

Totally didn’t think I already posted this and forgot about it

Chapter 4

———

♦️𝙰𝚗 𝚄𝚗𝚍𝚎𝚛𝚜𝚝𝚊𝚗𝚍𝚒𝚗𝚐♠️

"Boss, watch your temper, we wouldn't want you burning down the Casino."

"Forget my temper!" The Devil thundered. "I want to know why the Hell you gave them your keys!"

"Boss... I... It's... It's rather funny actually, you see- "

"I swear, if you give me a stupid excuse one more time..." The Devil fumed.

The Devil's rage was beyond its boiling point. She didn't exactly find it acceptable that Queen Dice had not only gave and trusted the girls with her key ring, but she also didn't supervise them and the little finks ended up in the Devil's bedroom. Not only that, but the woman directly disobeyed the Devil's orders, giving them a completely different job than what she had instructed her to give them. It was surely an understatement that Dice was in hot water now.

Letting out a shaky breath, her nerves got to her, Queen Dice looked to the girls. She thought about breaking her promise and completely lying to the Devil to save her own skin. It's what the brats deserved for running off like that. Hell, they broke into the Devil's bedroom of all places as if they owned the place. It was only warranted that they get what they deserved.

But looking into those girls' fearful eyes, she saw that scared little girl that ran away from home all those years ago. When no one came to her aid, she was left with nothing left to lose. She couldn't bare to put those girls through the same pain. It was too much. It was entirely too much.

Turning back to face the Devil, Queen Dice breathed in slowly, her breath shaky. She almost backed down again, looking in those golden eyes. Those shimmering... Elegant golden eyes.

"Well?"

Queen Dice shook her head, snapping out of it.

"I... I..."

"Dice, if you're not going to tell me, I'll just throw them out on the streets- And you're going to go with them if you don't tell me- "

"No! Don't do that!"

Listening, the Devil's anger only seemed to dampen slightly, if at all.

"Boss... I... I gave them my keys because I told them to clean my office..." Queen Dice winced.

"Instead of- "

"Going on patrol in the Underworld?! Boss, please, we both know that they would've either gotten lost or eaten- Knowing your demons down there; probably both." Dice snapped at her Boss.

"I see no downside to that." The Devil mumbled.

"Devil-" Queen Dice growled, getting impatient with her Boss. "Look, I get that you're the ultimate evil and all that, but can't you show even a little sympathy?"

"How do you know that I can even show sympathy?"

"Boss, you remember that night, right?"

The Devil blinked, her golden eyes avoiding Dice's.

"I... I- I don't... I don't know what you're talking about..."

"Yes you do, Boss. 10 years ago. You saved that girl in the allleyway. If you don't have sympathy, why'd you do it then?"

The Devil's face softened, as if she was reminiscing over a memory. Possibly the one Dice spoke of. Furrowing her eyebrows, the Devil locked her eyes on Dice once more.

"That... That was different..."

"I know you and these girls haven't always... Seen eye to eye, but at least try to show them a little sympathy. Just try."

The Devil sunk in her office chair, heaving a long sigh. Covering her face with her hands, she seemed to only be holding up her head with her elbows. She ran her fingers through her raven hair, her bangs momentarily being slicked back before falling right back into place. The demon looked to Queen Dice, then the sisters. Sighing once more, she finally spoke through the silence.

"Fine. I'll... I'll think on it." The Devil said, Queen Dice letting out a relieved sigh. "But,"

The bite to her words sent Dice's guard back up.

"But?"

"If they pull a stunt like that again, it's on you."

Queen Dice nodded, going eerily silent.

"Good, glad we could come to an agreement. Now, be a dear and taken them to their room." The Devil waved the three of them away.

Though they did as they were told with no complaints.

♦️ ♦️ ♦️

Entering the elevator, there was no sound between the three of them. Even the casual conversation Queen Dice attempted to do before wasn't even present. They rode the elevator a couple levels down until they got to the throne room, an eerie, silence still between them. Walking halfway through the room, Queen Dice stopped short. Tensing up, she quietly sniffed and hiccupped, sounding as if she was holding back tears.

Looking at one another, Cuphead and Mugma'am went to ask the woman what was wrong or give her some sort of comfort; that is, until Dice whipped around to face them.

Tears threatening to come rushing out, a few tears ran down her face. Sniffing again, her sadness turned to anger in the blink of an eye.

"I just... I just cannot believe you!" She cried, a few more mascara-filled tears running down her face. "I tried to get you guys an easy way out of what was going to happen to you, and you two run off like that!"

She paused for a moment, trying to fight tears. As if waiting for the girls to speak, she only seemed to cry louder when they didn't say anything.

"All I asked... Was... Was for you two to clean my office and- And wait for me to come back. It was a simple order!" Queen Dice sniffled before burying her face in her hands and bawling. "Y- Y- You two don't understand... You don't get it... What would happen if the Devil were to break my contract..."

Looking to each other, the sisters couldn't help but feel horrible about what they did. Even if they were just messing around, they didn't even take into consideration how it might effect others. Both Dice and the Devil as well as each other. Seeing Queen Dice upset like this showed them exactly what the consequences of their actions might be. Seeing Queen Dice this scared was unnerving to see. It almost gave a new light to her character.

"Let's just..." She wiped her eyes with her gloved hands, uncaring about getting eyeliner and mascara all over them. "Let's just get you two back to your room before anything else happens."

Cuphead didn't dare to even make eye contact with Dice, never mind look at her. Her gaze was glued to the floor, watching one foot step in front of the other.

That is, until Mugma'am tugged on her sleeve.

"What?" She whispered.

"I'm hungry." Mugma'am mumbled.

"Well it's a bit of an awkward moment to be asking for food right now. She’s probably just gonna feed us scraps anyways." Cuphead hissed. "Maybe we can sneak out later and get some dinner- "

"I'm not deaf, you know." Queen Dice snapped, stopping in her tracks.

"Oh... We didn't- "

"But if you're hungry," She interrupted Mugma'am from speaking. "I can send some food to your room. Cuz I doubt the Boss wants to see you two in the Casino for the rest of the day.”

"Yeah... Yeah you're right..."

Going down the hallway, Queen Dice opened the door for them. After they both sat at their designated beds, she went to close the door, sighing. Though Cuphead was still troubled by one thing, and she couldn't wait for an answer;

"Wait, Dice!" She stood up quickly.

"Yes?" Queen Dice asked, rather annoyed.

"You... You mentioned a contract... I always thought you worked for the Devil cuz you liked to." Cuphead said.

"What's what supposed to mean?" Dice placed a hand on her hip.

"I meant- Do you... Do you like working for the Devil?"

"Of course I do."

"Then..." Mugma'am spoke up. "Why do you have a contract with her?"

Queen Dice pursed her lips, letting out a long sigh as she closed her eyes. She looked out the door, glancing both ways to make sure the coast was clear.

"If I tell ya, will you shut up?"

The girls nodded, Dice sighing again.

"Fine." Dice closed the door. "I have a contract with the Devil because... If I didn't... I'd be... I'd be dead..."

The girls looked surprised, but didn't say anything. Letting out yet another sigh, Queen Dice sat on the edge of Cuphead's bed. Mugma'am s opted closer and sat at the edge of her bed.

"I was..." Dice continued reluctantly. "I was once in a situation like the two of you... Wasn't much older than you two either. Was about... 18- Not quite 19, but close. I had ran off from home. Gotten in a whole lot of trouble... A gang finally had enough and hunted me down... Got cornered and... And they shot me..."

"Did you die?" Cuphead gasped.

Expression going deadpan, Dice stared at Cuphead.

"What? I'm just curious is all."

"If the Devil hadn’t been around, I would've." Dice answered. "She gave me an offer I couldn't refuse. I could have my life back. Anything I wanted. Under the condition that I worked for her." Dice shrugged. "I figured it was better than the situation I was in at the time."

"Did you lose your parents too?" Mugma'am asked, Queen Dice shook her head.

"Wait, why'd you run from home, then?" Cuphead tilted her head to the side.

"That's..." Queen Dice broke eye contact. "That's another story for another time." She stood from the bed.

"Oh, come on, Dice!" Cuphead whined loudly.

"No."

"Please?"

"Not tellin ya right now, that's my final word." Dice walked to the door. "Now, I'll send an imp with a dinner for you two. I'm not taking requests, you get what you get."

"Yes ma'am."

"Ok, Cuphead?"

"Fine... But are you sure you- "

"I'm not telling you the story right now."

Queen Dice opened the door, starting to close it as she exited it.

"Thank you, Miss. Dice." The girls said in unison.

Stopping short, the woman looked back to the room but shook her head, assuming the girls were used to living with that Kettle Lady.

"You're welcome." She said, clicking the door shut.

Shaking her head, Queen Dice had to convince herself that she absolutely despised those girls after what they've done.

The only problem was that they knew just how to sneak their way into her heart.

🃏 🃏 🃏

Coming back to the Casino floor, Queen Dice walked her way slowly down the hallway. Taking her time with getting back to work, she wasn't exactly looking forward to cheating suckers out of their money at the moment.

The Devil's office door opened ajar as usual, she walked past it. Though ache stopped short and quickly back tracked.

The Devil seemed to be frustrated by everything at the moment. Trying to rip off a piece of tape off of the dispenser, the piece of tape ended up sticking to her hand. Growling, she tried to wave it off before attempting to peel it off- It just getting stuck on her other hand.

Queen Dice could barely hold back her giggle.

"Got something to say, Dice?" The Devil snarled, Dice tensing up a bit.

"No, I was just..." Dice cleared her throat. "Here, Lemme help you."

Entering the Devil's office, she rounded the demon's desk before taking her hand and peeling off the piece of tape before placing it on the ripped sheet of paper.

"You just gotta be patient and kind to it." Dice offered a smile.

The Devil blinked, her eyes darting back and fourth between Dice and her hand.

"Uhm... You can... You can let go of my hand now... Dice..." The Devil mumbled awkward.

"Oh! Right!" Queen Dice chuckled, quickly letting go of her Boss' hand.

The Devil stared at Dice for a moment. Though she was frowning, she had no glare to her eyes. Just a simple state before she went back to work.

"Hey uhm... Boss...?" Queen Dice mustered up all of her courage.

"Yes?" The Devil said, getting annoyed.

"I'm... I'm sorry..."

"It's... Fine, I just don't like being laughed at- "

"No, I meant for earlier... I'm sorry for that..."

The Devil paused, raising her eyebrows, but didn't turn to face Dice. Though her annoyed expression seemed to have disappeared. Still frowning, it was more of a neutral state than angry.

"Dice... It's..."

"I should've known my place... I'm sorry I brought up... Y'know..."

"I say things I don't mean when I'm angry too." The Devil said, her gaze shifting to look at Dice. "So... I guess I can let it slide."

Queen Dice smiled, staring at her Boss rather idly at this point. The Devil looked up from her desk, Dice tensing up again as she prepared to be yelled at. That is, before the Devil smiled. A warm, genuine smile.

"Hey Dice, could you do me a favor?"

"I gotta get the girls something to eat."

"Ugh, Fine. After that, then can you do me a favor?"

"Of course."

[corndoggod]

The Future of Brooklyn

Gliding backwards up the drowsy Hudson, so wide and slow, retreating from New York where it mouths the Atlantic, swallowing chemicals and commerce and the ocassional paddler. It’s mother’s day and I’m off to White Plains, flowers in hand, heart full, thinking of mother in the Great Plains.  

I’ve been listening to a mammoth biography of Ulysses S. Grant on long bike rides in recent weeks so the train attendant becomes a civil war officer in union blue with spriggy mutton chops. I tell everyone his middle initial of S, creating a comic U.S. Grant, was the result of a clerical error when he enrolled in West Point, which lies on the other side of the Hudson. I listen while biking and every hour of tape is also 15 miles of concrete. Grant had a head for math but not paperwork. He liked horses but not people. By the end of the book I’ll have ridden at least 750 miles. I’m sure my Mom, an American history teacher, and my Dad, a voracious reader with a penchant for war history, have both already read Chernow’s biography of Grant. 

The kinetics of trains activates some tongue inside me. Same for cycling and running. Motion loosens language. 

*****

It has been a tremendous weekend, a healthy, balanced weekend. Sav came to visit and stayed overnight. I watched the end of the Knicks game as she and C jawed and made risotto. Polished my beer and out the door to meet Nicky for another at Sycamore where I bump into a small press editor I worked for in Chicago. We’ve lived in the same neighborhood for years, but have only seen each other a handful of times. We made plans to get a drink Monday. 

Nicky and I go to Mia’s house party and scope out her new spot deep in Brooklyn. Newkirk deep. The lobby is gutted and scarred by fireworks, but there’s ample bike storage. This is the future of New York. A lonely future I lived in for seven years before the market caught up. 

*****

We woke up at a reasonable hour Saturday and took our coffee in the park, looping Sav in on our petition to ban dogs from Brower. Once grassy, the park is now balding, revealing tiny shards of glass and micro plastics, which can and will kill you with enough exposure. 

I retreated back to my desk to promote a story about Trump’s tax audit which could cost him $100 million. I hoped the story would get 100 million page views. 

C went to meet her mom and sister at The Met and I biked up to do laps in Central on standby until they were ready for lunch. The sun was illusory and I never did warm up in my short sleeves no matter how hard I pedaled. (Plus, my legs were still wiped from two days earlier when I ran 8 miles in the morning and banged out a quick 25 after work cycling around Prospect. It was the only way to vanquish my demons.) Worse still the weak sun attracted New Yorkers to Central’s green sanctuary like moths to a flame. There were horse carriages clopping and pooping, blind bike caddies, lazy eyed tourists, indexed runners going long and hordes of pedestrians abusing crosswalks lighting up my path with red, red, red. 

I stopped after two laps. I never stop but it was warmer when idle and the crowds were too annoying and sometimes it’s good to be still and really listen. I found a slab of black rock and read about Justice Clarence Thomas complaining about the “horrible lies” hounding him that just won a Pulitzer Prize. 

Mediocre thai for lunch, but hunger is the best sauce. The calories gave me a second wind and I decided to hit 50 and beelined to Prospect to round out the final 12 miles. Turning home, I noticed the statue on the little island between Rogers/Bedford and Dean/Bergen is of Grant on horseback. 

*****

I was running on fumes by then but we had tickets to go see a saxophonist in Greenwood Cemetery after dark. It turned out to be one of the most incredible performances I’ve seen in one of my favorite New York spots. 

I didn’t fully appreciate Colin Stetson’s genius until the second to last song when he explained he didn’t use any looping pedals. Instead he relied on circular breathing to deliver constant sound, as well as mics on his throat to magnify whale-like moans and a couple more on his sax for percussive finger taps and slaps. The result was eerie, hypnotic and cinematic. Everything felt deserving of a slow zoom in, which only felt appropriate from the man who scored Hereditary. 

We lounged for most of the set, huddling under blankets against the 50 degree chill, but we crowded the stage for the last song. Up close you could see his massive arms grip the sax, and his throat and mouth balloon like a veiny bagpipe. The kids in front of us lost their minds and edged toward moshing but stopped short of freefalling. 

Overgrown, quiet, moonlit: it was all the more special in Greenwood, which is maybe my favorite spot in all of Brooklyn. We lingered after and walked around the cemetery, encircling a pond through lucioius grass and aged stone. It felt like high school.

[nothing0fnothing]

So one day I'm hanging out with a girl. I knew her through track but she wasn't on my team, she was a footballer at the sister school. She had a different coach to me, but I knew who he was. Anyhow, one day it all just bubbles over for me. I'm not sure why. But I hoped she'd understand. I told her it all, the food, the reason why I didn't run track anymore, the weird stepdad comments. She listened empathetically then told me she knew an adult who could help. Put me in contact with her coach well... The guy was a creep. She was clearly being actively abused by him at the time and genuinely felt he was an adult she could trust and by extention, I should too.

Not only did he groom and manipulate me, it felt like he wasn't supporting me, in fact, I was always comforting him. The pressure from it all was building up. I never wanted this kind of attention from this guy and now I'm talking him down at 3am on a school night every time he talks about killing himself. The pressure was building and something had to give, and it was the diet. I'd been almost perfect for a year but that first binge felt like a weight off my shoulders. Elated I filled my face for 45 minutes non stop. Oh when my mom found out she was fuming. I was far too happy to care.So that was my latest coping mechanism, starving to punish myself, cutting when I was angry and now binging to break the tension. That absolute joy i felt to finally eat again never mesured up to the first time, but i kept doing it anyway, chasing that binge as perfect as my first one. That elated euphoric feeling always gave way to shame, and every time the shame came sooner and sooner. After a short handful of binges it was hitting me quick enough a purge was viable. So I started doing that. Then my parents found out about the coach. And spoiler for those reading at home, they were not empathetic at all.

They hit me and kicked me till I told the truth then carried on so I was lying to make them stop. They wanted to make sure I knew this was my fault. I knew it was wrong but it shattered me inside anyway. After that it was more of the same but now my parents hated me. The cutting got worse, the restricting got worse, the binges were bigger than ever before and now I wasnt just purging the binges, I was purging my breakfast chicken salad and my evening oats and banana too. Every meal I could purge I would purge. Always at home. Yikes My mom caught me a few times. Toothbrush down my throat standing over the bog retching it up. She never said anything about it.

[graveyardpublishing]

Sunday the 8th

"Did you find everything you were looking for?" the teenage clerk asks me as he rings up my dinner rolls — the generic kind, because I can't afford the Sweet Hawaiian ones.

"Yeah, I did, thanks," I respond. I watch the little computer add up the tax and pray that the total isn't more than the change I have in my wallet.

$6.27

Reaching into my wallet, I pull out four, one-dollar bills and four quarters. I carefully set them on the counter so that the change doesn't roll away. Digging into my change pouch, I manage to find twelve dimes, a nickel, and two pennies. I hand over my money to the cashier, who begrudgingly sets out to count my change.

"Sorry, just, uh, trying to clean out the old change pouch," I lie. It's actually because this is all the money I have. He finishes counting my change, then hands me my rolls and receipt, blankly telling me to have a good night. Turning from the small register, I head into the darkened parking lot to my car. I toss the rolls into the passenger seat as I slide behind the steering wheel. Roughly jamming my key into the ignition, I send up a silent prayer that my car will start.

Old Betsy gives a few huffs of displeasure, but starts up nonetheless.

"Good girl," I tell her, giving the dash a small pat of approval. A moment later, I'm shifting her into gear and pulling out of the parking lot.

It's almost time for Sunday night dinner at my parents' house. Don't get me wrong, I adore my parents and sister, but it's hard to do this every week while pretending my life is fine. I love our weekly dinners — 6 p.m. on the dot — at my childhood home. Every week, Keshia and I bring a side dish or drinks, Mom makes all the fixings, and Dad barbecues. Good things always happen at Sunday night dinners. Keshia came out at one of these dinners, even bringing her girlfriend to meet the family. They didn't work out in the long run, and it was at another one of these dinners that I comforted my big sister. I told her that people will come into her life for a reason, but they're not always meant to stay.

It was at one of these dinners we found out that Dad's lung cancer was in full remission, and he would live to see many more weekly dinners. 

Unfortunately, I don't have anything to share at this weekly dinner. My car is on empty; it's barely running on fumes. My rent is due next Monday, and, since I could hardly buy bread, I don't think I'll have enough pennies to cover it. 

Truthfully, I could tell my parents. I could even ask my sister for money. But I just can't. I won't. I have pride, and all that. I wanted to move out. I wanted to make it on my own. I just wasn't counting on my main job cutting my hours. It's been nearly impossible to find another side gig to replace those lost hours. When I have found another part-time gig, they weren’t willing to work around my other side job’s schedule. I can’t give up one for another, that would still leave me with a loss.

I turn into the quiet neighborhood where Keshia and I used to ride our bikes up and down the street with the other kids. The only rule was that we couldn't leave the block, and we had to be inside by the time the streetlights came on.

My old, run-down Honda Civic limps her way to the curb, then promptly dies before I even turn the ignition off.

"At least we made it this far, right, girl?" I ask her, running my hand over the steering wheel lovingly.

"Rest up, we gotta make it back home," I whisper as I grab the rolls from the passenger seat, take a deep breath, and open my door.

"Dip!" I hear Keshia's voice call from the porch. I slap a smile on my lips before turning around to face her.

"Kes!" I yell as she bounds off the porch and across the front lawn.

I make my way around the back of my car just in time for her to throw her arms around my neck and nearly knock me to the ground. Keshia is the bubbly one; she's always smiling, always positive. It's rare that I'm the one to console her, but I do my best to take care of my sister when she needs me.

"Glad you could make it," she huffs as she pulls back from our embrace.

"Like Dad would let me miss it," I laugh.

"And Mom would hang you up by your toes if you tried," Keshia laughs and puts her arm around my shoulder.

"God, why do you still drive this clunker?" Keshia asks, giving Old Betsy a kick to her back bumper.

"Hey, leave her alone! She's a good car," I say and lovingly pat the back window. If Betsy hears this trash talk, she might decide not to start when I leave, and then I'll be in for it with the family. They’ll instantly jump into “fix it” mode: Mom will hand over the keys to her car and let me take it home and Dad would step in and take over to solve all my problems. They will spend both their time and hard-earned money to make my life easier. They do it lovingly, and with the best of intentions, but I can’t allow them to baby me forever.

They act like it's a crime that I want to make it on my own, judging by the way they push their help on me. I appreciate how wonderful they are; I have a lot more support than most people get. But my parents and sister don't have much extra — time, or money — to be throwing around to help me. They would go without to ensure that I don’t have to. 

Dad would take me to the used car lot and find something suitable for me to drive. Something that would start each time I get behind the wheel without prayers or crossed fingers. For the last two years, they've been saving up for their first solo vacation. I can't let them use that money to help me.

Keshia would offer me her extra room without missing a beat. She’d claim to charge me half the rent, but I bet she wouldn't tell me the real price, and I’d barely pay a quarter of it. If I questioned her, she’d shrug and say that she'd rather have my company than my money.

My family is the best of the best, but I just can't let them give away their hard-earned anything to pay my bills. I want to look back on these struggles and feel the accomplishment of doing it all on my own.

"Come on, Mom's waiting," Keshia says, pulling me along toward the front steps.

"Hey, whatever happened to that date from last week?" I ask as we clomp up the steps. The best way to not have to talk about me is to always ask questions about them. It's a great distraction technique I’ve perfected over the years.

"She was nice, and we had a good time. We went to a mini-golf course, then walked around the pier. There was just no spark, ya know?" she sighs. I nod.

"Yeah, I getcha."

"I really wanted to like her. Honestly, she was so great — perfect in every way, there just wasn't that thing."

"Maybe you just need to give it another shot. Not everything has to immediately click like a romance novel," I tease and bump my shoulder into Keshia's.

"I know that, Goober, I just want something more. We're going to get together for coffee next week, and we'll see. Maybe I'm putting too much pressure on the whole dating aspect thing. Maybe coffee will be more relaxing."

"If nothing else, you guys can be friends. There’s nothing wrong with making new friends," I suggest as we walk into the kitchen and I set my rolls down on the counter. I turn to switch on the oven broiler and pull out a cookie sheet to heat up the rolls.

"True. I think you’d like her too. Maybe we could arrange a dinner or coffee or something, and you guys can meet," Keshia suggests. I try not to cringe.

That is so not happening. I’d love to meet this girl. But I could barely afford discounted dinner rolls, let alone dinner, coffee, or "something."

"Yeah, totally," I lie. I turn my back to my sister and put the rolls under the broiler.

"There you are! Goodness, I was getting so worried!" Mom fusses as she steps into the kitchen.

"Mom, I'm ten minutes early. You don't need to worry," I tell her as she steps around the small center island and wraps me up in a hug.

"You’re so skinny. Are you eating okay?" Mom whispers. I fight not to roll my eyes.

"Yes, Mother," I reply, sarcastically.

"Don't you give me that sass, Serendipity Jinx. I am your mother; I’m entitled to worry about my baby," she huffs.

"There's my little girl!" Dad's booming voice carries in from the open back door as he steps inside with a plate of perfectly cooked T-Bone steaks. My mouth starts watering.

The truth is, I live off of thirty-five cent ramen noodles during the week. The best meals I get are Sunday dinners. If I work the dinner shift at the coffee shop, I can sometimes snag a sandwich to eat on break. And I go on dates for free food — yes, I know I'm a horrible person — a girl’s gotta eat, man. 

"Hey, Dad," I greet him with a grin. He sets the plate of meat down and wraps his large solid arms around me, lifting me up off the floor. He sets me back down with a kiss to my temple and a smile on his face.

"Who's hungry?" he asks.

Keshia and I shoot our hands up as if we were little kids and declare, "Me!"

#

We sit down to eat, passing around the plates of food: rolls, steaks, pasta, and salad. Mom tops off our glasses with white wine, and Dad sets down his trusty crystal tumbler of bourbon.

“Okay, who wants to go first?” Mom asks once we’re all settled with plenty to eat.

“I will,” Keshia says with a smile as she sets her fork down. “This week, I’m thankful for Dip,” she smiles at me. I smirk back. “You’ve always been my built-in best friend. I know I can call you no matter what, and you’ll always have my back. There are a lot of people in my life who have come and gone, but you’ve always been right by my side. So, I’m thankful for you, and for this family.”

“That was really lovely, Keshia.” Mom nods her approval.

“This week, I’m thankful for all my girls,” Dad says. It’s the same thing he says each and every week.

“And this damn good steak.” He punctuates this statement by shoving another bite into his mouth and chewing contentedly. Mom rolls her eyes, but I see the smile pulling at her lips.

I hope to be lucky enough one day to find someone who loves me the way my parents love each other — thirty-five years in and still going strong.

“Seren?” Mom asks, and all eyes turn to me.

“This week, I’m thankful for Old Betsy.” Keshia rolls her eyes, and Dad stifles a laugh.

“She might be old, and a little worn down, but she still gets me where I need to go each day. That’s a lot more than some people have.”

“That’s lovely, Seren. We should all learn to appreciate the little things when we can,” Mom says and gives me a smile.

“This week, I’m thankful that, after two years of hard work to save every penny, we were finally able to book ourselves a vacation,” Mom says, trying and failing to hide the slight squeal of excitement.

“That’s amazing, Mom!” I lean across the table to give her a hug. Keshia and Dad fist bump.

“Thanks, baby, we’re very excited.”

“When do you leave? Where are you going?” Keshia asks.

“We leave in four weeks, we’ll be gone for two, and we’re going to a resort in Bali!” Mom lets out a full-on a squeal, and I can’t help but smile.

I look over at Dad to check his level of enthusiasm. He has a small smile on his lips, and he’s looking at our Mom with pride and love. He isn’t a resort-in-Bali kind of guy; he’s more a hunting-cabin-in-the-woods kind of man. But that’s part of what love is for them: taking the vacation his wife wants because it makes her happy.

This is why I won’t mention that I’m struggling. I can’t be the reason Mom and Dad don’t get to take this trip, and I would be if I even start to let on that I need help. So, I’ll savor this steak, soak up this time with my family, and pray I can scrape up enough money to make my rent on Monday.

[celinecerberusarchive]

⌝ Celine followed as he gestured, her eyes only on him even as others looked her way, with want or with simple curiosity. The ocean coloured gaze stayed on the tattoos at his throat, complimented by the collared shirt he had around them, a small smile hidden on her lips at the way his ears stuck out just a little, not as bad as when they were kids but still...just a little. Of course, once they were in the private room he had moved them to and turned the smile fell away, not wanting him to have seen it and taunt her.

⌝ "As it happens it's not important to you," she stated, a stoic look to her face that she still hated he didn't object to. How did he not miss her smile? How did he not miss the freedom of her movements? Not simply for himself but for her, how did he not care she was devoid of it all and not act on those concerns? "But I'm done listening to you speak of my actions the way you have been and I can't tell you this in front of the boys." Mostly because the thought of her telling him and Alejandro telling her he didn't care and how that might make her respond worried her, she hated how many times they had already seen her hurt.

⌝ Celine didn't give him a moment to speak, a moment to insult her as he had each time they had seen each other since his return, saying this would already be hard and those things had been what silenced her each time before. "I sent you those divorce papers because my Mother put me in a position with no other options," a statement that sounded, likely, unthinkable. Celine had stopped listening to her mother the moment her mother had decided Celine no longer mattered the way her sisters did. But the factor was less her mother as... "She told me she wouldn't let my brother keep helping me if I stayed married to you, that she was doing it for me and the boys. He was the only person I had left helping me, JD's wife was upset with how often they had the kids and so I tried to handle it by myself."

⌝ The wolf woman swallowed, adjusting her feet because she was not used to standing in heels with such thin bases, or without the ankle support that boots offered. "I couldn't. I'd already been running on fumes with their help. I'd lost the house and trying to give the boys everything you could have, all the things they wanted, I'd picked up a second job, but even with Jagger starting school it meant I was exhausted constantly," He'd already said how Celine hearing the distressed cries of her children was better than him not having them at all in prison, so she did not speak on how hard that was for her that Jagger cried most evenings for his father, or that Blaze had been getting teased for losing their home, instead her gaze just moved slightly in thought. "I actually don't remember not being exhausted that year," she stated, swallowing because she didn't remember not being on the brink of tears either. "We were still driving up but the boys knew not to tell you, and at least Jagger probably didn't understand enough to explain it anyway. I kept telling myself they'd get older, things would get easier when they got older, but we still had seven years of you in there," Celine commented, and seven years was by no means a short amount of time, neither was five since he'd been let out two years early. "But when I missed getting Jagger from school one day because I'd worked a shift at the Craft after an all nighter getting the shit beaten out of me at the Cage and ended up falling asleep in my car, he decided to walk home. In the winter air he got pneumonia," Celine had to admit, with a level of shame, an aspect of things she hadn't told anyone because she did not intend for them to feel as guilty as she did. "He was fine, but I gave in."

⌝ How was she meant to know a year later she'd be a wolf, she'd have a pack to help her? How was she meant to know Ale's brother would want to start helping again? "I sent the papers and I told myself I'd go, I'd go there and I'd tell you why and you'd understand, but I couldn't. Each time I thought of going I thought of how I'd fucking failed our family," Celine let out, a bounce to her chest because despite her intentions to remain stoic she had begun to cry. Thinking about that period of time when the only emotions she remembered were being upset and overwhelmed it trigger those things in her. The dramatic blue of her eyes was now accented by clear tears, making her lower lashes stick together. "How I'd have to tell you Blaze got sick and it was all my fault. That after all those years of telling my mother to get fucked I gave in because I couldn't take care of our kids. So I told the boys I couldn't go anymore. That they could go and I'd find someone to take them but I think Blaze saw it as a betrayal, or maybe he felt like he'd failed you too," because Blaze had known something had happened, knew him getting sick had changed things in some way. "And Jagger just became used to the way things had been."

⌝ Trying to get a handle on herself Celine's hand came up, with the obvious A on her ring finger - now devoid of the ring she had been wearing there upon his return - and complimented by the word 'death' on the back of it. "That was all I came to say," she stated, inhaling sharply. It probably didn't change anything for him, because, at least in Celine's mind, it shouldn't have. In Celine's mind he should have cared regardless of if she had left him of her own volition or not because regardless at one point he'd loved her but it was clear neither one of them knew the other anymore. "I didn't leave you because I wanted to, I left because I failed, because I couldn't handle things without you." And guilt had, very clearly, plagued her since.

Upstairs for the evening, Alejandro was behind the bar making drinks for the different tables when the sight of his ex-wife paralyzed him in place.  No other woman could grasp his attention the way she did, the sight of her made his heart flutter.  Yet, there was that overwhelming anger he had towards her that made everything so conflicting when it came to the two of them.  Alejandro shook his head trying to shake her off in a sense so he could finish what he was doing, he managed to finish the drink and topped it with a thin slice of orange before handing it to the server.

“Hey, you got this handle?”  The man looked over towards his co-worker, who merely nodded their head as he slid over towards Celine.  "Can we talk somewhere private?" The question in itself was alarming to him, what did they need to discuss that could not be seen or heard by everyone in the room?  “Um, yeah.  Gimme a moment.”  He walked over towards the fellow bartender, grateful the place was not packed and told him that he would be back in a few before stepping around the bar and motioning for Celine to follow him.

There were a few private rooms for the VIPs of the establishment.  Alejandro had only ever been in a few.  One by invitation and the other to handle a matter.  Escorting her into one of the rooms on the top floor, Alejandro closed the door behind them and locked it.  “Is this okay?”  He asked, unsure how private of a setting she wanted.  There were windows that looked down at the club, but the ones downstairs merely saw mirrors and could not preview what happened up there.  “Alright, what was so important you had to come to my work to tell me?”

[itshouldvebeenme30]

The Reaper's Keeper

CHAPTER 9 - HAUNTED MEMORIES

Chapter Summary: The aftermath of the battle and flashes of memories from the past.

Pairings: Avengers x Fem!Reader, Natasha x Fem!Reader, Wanda x Fem!Reader

Warnings: graphic description of violence, and trauma.

⧗──────────────────────────⧗

~~

Everything around you is fuzzy. You can barely make out the room you're in as they strapped and attached needles to you. Blinking the fuzziness away, you find yourself looking at someone that strongly reminds you of him. He had this satisfied and knowing look on his face when he noticed your stare. With one final contraption, he motioned someone outside for it to begin. 

Pain starts to shoot throughout your body and your brain can barely comprehend how you will react.  Your consciousness faded in and out throughout the session, barely registering the doctor on your side prepping to cut you up.

You woke up feeling groggy and confused. Sitting up from the bed you're in, you feel the familiar tug of a metal chain around your ankle. Still feeling weak, you just let it be and hugged your knees close to your chest. After some time of silence, your ears perked at the humming sound coming from the small vent in the corner. The chain let out a rattled noise as you descended to the floor to check on it.

You listened for a while when you found out that it somehow soothed you. It stopped abruptly, and you let out a tiny whimper from the lack of it. Instead, it was replaced by a feminine voice through the small space of the vent.

"Hello?" came from the voice.

"I don't know if you can hear me, but... I can feel you, you know." You don't know how to respond to that so you opted to be silent.

"My name is Wanda, by the way. You can talk to me if you want.''  Again, you didn't respond. There's a beat of silence before she starts to speak again.

"What's your name?"  You rack your brain for an answer because, seemingly, you have forgotten your own name.

"I- I don't know..." your voice sounded hoarse when you finally answered. You heard a soft 'oh' from her before the silence takes over once again.

"W-what were you doing earlier? It sounded... nice."  You genuinely ask.

"Oh uhm, thanks I guess. I was just humming to a song."  You wanted to hear it once again, so you didn't hesitate to request from her if she could do it again.

She starts humming again, and a small smile makes its way onto your face. You didn't notice you were starting to drift off to sleep as her humming lulled your disoriented state.

~~

"Hey, Y/N. W-wake up. It's over..."

"Come on. It's t-time to go home..."

"I'm so s-sorry. P-please..."

"We need you. I-I need you..."

~~

The walls of that cell did nothing to keep your agonizing screams from resonating all over the room.  Finding an opportunity to run past the guards, Wanda ran to where you were being held. 

"Dammit  Sestra !" Pietro could only follow his sister as they navigate to your cell. 

"Stop! You're hurting her!"  Before any of the guards could drag them away, a blinding light engulfed everyone's eyes in that room, and after that, there was no one left except you and the twins. Both were sprawled out on the floor, unconscious.

That accident made  Strucker  fume in anger, but it gave him a significant finding from the three of you. From that moment on, the three of you formed a bond as you were subjugated to a series of tests in order to hone your profound abilities. 

Unknowingly to themselves, the twins gave  Strucker  leverage to use you. He successfully made his own version of the Winter Soldier, which is you, the Scythe. The twins were deemed not ready yet, so it was only you being sent out on missions. Of course they were worried about you, but you, under his control, always reassures them that you'll be fine.

Gradually, your recollections of the Avengers faded away, replaced by the memories of the twins and the horrors brought by the Hydra.

~~

"...in a state of comatose."

"Can she h-hear us?"

"S-she's gonna be okay, right? She has to."

"I c-can't get into her mind. It's pushing me back... she d-doesn't want me to..."

"...I can't lose you. Y-you're too important to us... to me."

~~

"P-please. S-spare me. I-I'll give you anything! Let me go!" Piercing the hook through his shoulder blades, he screamed his throat out and struggled. Dozens of lifeless bodies were mercilessly strewn around the vicinity.  

The objective is very clear: to eliminate everyone in this warehouse.  Sweep the entire facility with no life being spared, but not without sending a clear message to those who dare to go behind Strucker. With a little struggle, the man is recklessly hung in the middle for anyone to see when they come to find the place.

Dark crimson blood painted your half-masked face and entire suit.  You left mindlessly and without a conscience after completing the mission.

~~

"Apparently, we are now officially part of the Avengers... but I think they just want to keep an eye on us."

"I know we hated them but... We don't resent them that much now."

"The training sucked... Natasha's really kicking our asses, and Tony is being annoying."

"I want you to meet someone... I just found her again after all these years. I hope the two of you will go along with each other, but I doubt it'll be a problem."

"Pietro gets along with the team now, and he even found a prank buddy. But he made a mistake pranking his own sister, so let's just say, pink is officially his color and it suits him. He's not allowed to dye his own hair back... Not until you see it for yourself. "

"Everything's going fine... Wake up soon, okay?"

~~

"Are you trying to defy me now, pet?!" A calloused large hand harshly gripped your little arm as he found your 11-year-old self cowering at the corner of the room.

"When I say get in here, you follow immediately. Understood?!" A whimper escaped your lips as the doctor pushed you. The procedures are getting painful and you find yourself dreading the sessions more, so you try to hide when it's time for them. The doctor didn't like it a bit, so he became more aggressive and inconsiderate.

"If you ever try to stay away from me, know that I will find you and you will regret that you thought you could. You have no idea what I'm capable of. Do you get it?!" Tears tried to escape, but you held them back and gave the doctor a terrified nod.

"Good, now where were we?"

~~

"You've been resting for so long, you missed your own birthday. I tried baking you a cake, but it was a disaster. Luckily, Wanda was there. Her 'wiggly woos', as Sam would like to tease, are very helpful."

"Natasha should be banned from the kitchen."

"Vision tried making a paprikash. Honestly, it was awful, so I had to re-cook it again. .. I wish you could try it. I'm sure you'll love my cooking."

"I just...really miss you. If you can hear me, please, come back."

⧗──────────────────────────⧗

Wanda groaned in pain as her face came in contact with the mat. She could feel her entire body aching, thanks to Natasha. Having had enough of being a ragdoll, she flicked her wrist to fling Natasha off of her.

"Hey! No using of powers!" Natasha protested as she recovered from being thrown off. She could only roll her eyes at the assassin but stayed in her position, lying face down.

"Yeah, yeah. Sorry, force of habit." She pushed herself up after some time to return to the normal position. Natasha is in front of her in no time. They were the only ones left in the gym as the others finished some time ago.

"You do know why we're doing this, right? You can't always rely on your powers. You have to be prepared." As annoying as she finds Natasha sound, she could only nod at her words.

Natasha gave her a sympathetic glance. She could sense the girl's frustration, and she was well aware of the source cause she feels exactly the same.

Today is a sore spot because it officially marks the first year of you being in that state. She admits guiltily to herself that she's projecting her own frustration through this training. She knows it's unfair, but she can't help it.

"Look, I know it's been hard-" She was taken aback when Wanda snapped. Her eyes, engulfed in a red glow, stared angrily back at her.

"Don't." Wanda's chest heaved as she tried to gain control of herself. Noticing this, Natasha calmly approaches her, but stopped when she sees her take a step back. 

"Wanda..." She gently calls out, but the other girl just tears her gaze away from her.

"I'm going back to my room." Wanda declared as she hugged herself and left Natasha without waiting for her reply

Natasha could only sigh as she watched her walk away. A sudden urge to drink washed over her, so she left soon after.

~

As soon as the door shuts, Wanda collapses on the floor and breaks down. Ugly voices echoed the same words since the accident began haunting her. It's all your fault.

She stayed like that for about an hour before she decided she should take a shower. The sweat and tears that clung to her skin started to bother her. As much as she wants to visit you, she can't bring herself to see you today lying on that bed. Guilt and shame will immediately flood her at the mere sight of you in that state. All because of you, Wanda.

After cleaning herself up, she plops on her bed and turns on the TV for some sitcom she couldn't care less about. The noise from it is just enough to drown out all those awful voices somehow.

Pietro should be back any minute now as he tagged along with Sam and Bucky on an errand. She'll forever owe you her brother's life that day. It was still a mystery how you managed to bring someone back to life, but it nearly cost yours in the process. The team and Nick Fury are keeping a close eye on you right now, with all the precautions, because you have the potential to be their most powerful asset or their worst enemy.

A lot of what-ifs ran through her mind if things had gone differently. She could only hug the pillow tightly and pretend that it was you. She began to drift to sleep as she let her mind wander on the memories of you.

⧗────────────────────────⧗

"Piet, slow down. You're gonna choke yourself if you don't chew carefully." Wanda gently chastised her twin. She flips the pancake so it doesn't burn, and sets another plate for him. He flashed her an apologetic face but still stuffed the pancakes into his mouth. 

Today is a relatively normal day for the group of superheroes. No missions for the day. Sam and Bucky bickering at the table while having their breakfast, Bruce is reading his book and drinking coffee in the armchair, while Natasha brews her own in the corner. Yelena and Kate are annoying Clint on the couch. Tony is nowhere to be found as he spends his mornings at the lab. And Thor is off-world at the moment, while Steve still hasn't come back from his run.

Passing by the room where you're currently at, Vision strongly felt compelled to enter so he did. Needless to say, he's curious about you, especially at the gem, but he hasn't had a chance to get close to you alone. His curiosity led him to phase his hand to where the stone was. As he finally grabbed it, a hand gripped his own. He's met with your e/c eyes staring right back at him.

Their peaceful morning was interrupted when Vision came crashing into the room they're in. Everyone instinctively went into their defensive stance. The sight of you greeted them once you emerged from the hole that Vision came through.

"Y/N..." 

Part 8 || Next

[page150]

Not A Friend - (Sister to Oscar "Spooky" and César Díaz)

Request: "i was wondering if u could do a fic where oscar and cesar have a teen sister and she’s sexually assaulted and tells oscar??"

Pronouns: She/Her

Word Count: 3181

Warnings: Sexual Assault, Guns, Cursing

A/N: I usually don't do a author's note before the imagine, but this is a sensitive topic so if this might be triggering please click away.

Y/N - Your Name f/c - favorite color

Y/N sat quietly in her room, reading a book, illuminated by a white lamp sitting on her dresser.

Outside her brother, Oscar laughed with some men and her other brother, César had left a while ago on another adventure with his friends, leaving Y/N by herself in her room. Placing the book down, she moved the curtains away from her window. She looked at the gathering of Santos socializing in the backyard. Red solo cups in hand, dancing and eating. She remembered how Oscar had let her help decorate the backyard for the party only to be later excluded from it. Looking at him laughing with a with his arm around someone she betted that he had forgotten that she was inside.

She had gotten used to being forgotten and treated differently by people. Ever since she was born her brothers didn’t know what to do with her. Oscar had never expected to have to raise a brother by himself and especially not a sister. Even though she was only a year younger than César, Oscar's idea of keeping her safe was keeping her hidden.

She was only allowed to go straight to school then straight home, never alone either. If César or Monse weren’t going to a place neither was Y/N and that’s how it always was. She was especially not allowed to hang out with any of Oscar's friends, making life extremely lonely.

Glancing at a photo that was taped next to the window, she smiled at herself situated between Jasmine and Monse with Jamal, Ruby and César in the back. César’s friends were nice, but they were his friends not hers. He was the one invited to all their parties. He was the one they had tried to save, not her.

This left school to be the only place Y/N could socialize, but no one wanted to be friends with a girl from a gang. She was labeled dangerous before anything else, leaving her by herself. Always forgotten, and always alone.

That night she went to sleep feeling sorry for herself and woke up the same way. It continued the next few days until one day when while sitting in her algebra class, a new student was introduced. He was placed next to her and, ignoring the strange looks the class gave to him, he introduced himself.

“I’m Luke. Can I sit here?”

Y/N looked up at the blond haired boy. Her table partner had moved schools a few months ago and no one bothered to sit with her since. He looked nice, he had a nice smile and it made her want to lower her guard slightly, “Yeah, you can sit here.”

Luke sat next to her and immediately tried to start a conversation. He talked about how he moved from Florida. She noticed, as they talked more, how similar they were. They both had interesting families. He had two brothers, she had two brothers and they both lived near each other.

Y/N found herself laughing more than usual at his jokes. This led to the teacher having to stop class multiple times to scold them. Y/N never had a connection to someone like this, especially not on the first day. At lunch Luke went to sit with with her and -

“Who’s this?” César asked, suddenly sitting down at the lunch table next to his sister and wrapping an arm around her. Jamal, Ruby, and Monse also sat down. The table that previously consisted of two people quickly turned to six. Other kids nearby, eyed the two “dangerous” siblings sitting together.

Y/N rolled her eyes at the unexpected attention that was now forming. “This is Luke, he’s new.”

“Lukeee,” César trailed, “I’m Y/N’s older brother-”

“By a few months,” Y/N butted in.

“Whatever, I’m César, these are my friends Jamal, Ruby and my girl Monse.”

Monse laughed, “I’m not your girl.”

“Not yet,” César winked.

Y/N sighed and threw César’s arm off her. She turned to Elliot and apologized.

“Sorry for them.”

“No they’re cool,” Luke grinned. “Any friend of mine is my friend as well.”

Y/N raised her eyebrows, “We’re friends now? It’s only been a day.”

“Of course, you’re cool.”

With the compliment Y/N cheeks turned red. As childish as it was, having an established friendship with someone made her feel nice.

“This must be how César and Oscar feel all the time.” She thought.

“I don’t know if Oscar will like you having a friend that is a boy.” Ruby remarked. “No offense, Luke.”

“None taken.”

“Oscar doesn’t like anyone anyways.” Monse muttered, taking a bite into her sandwich.

“Don’t worry” Luke smiled, “I’m one of the good guys.”

“That’s what they all say,” Jamal said suspiciously. He leaned in close to Luke’s face and gave him some crazy faces.

“Okay, great talk guys,” Y/N said sarcastically, “I would love to chat with you more but lunch is about to end and I have to show Luke where his next class is. I’ll see you later.”

“Yeah I have to go, but it was nice meeting you guys.” Luke stated, before he was dragged away by Y/N.

The next few weeks Y/N spent all her time with Luke. He sat next to her in the classes they shared, they talked at lunch and while walking home after school. They even stayed up at night so they could talk on the phone. She found herself smiling every time he talked to her. Every time he offered to carry her books. He was just so nice.

One Friday afternoon, Luke came running up to Y/N, putting her items in her backpack after her last class. He put his hands around her eyes, trying to hold back his laughter.

“Guess who?”

“Mrs. Kurt, I told you we can't see each other here.” Y/N whispered.

Luke removed his hands and his face went white. Y/N turned around and started crying with laughter. She had to sit down, her face turning bright red as she continued to laugh, gasping for air.

“I don’t even want to think about you dating my mom.” He trembled, before returning to his cheerful self. “Stop laughing, I have important news. There’s a party tonight and I was wondering if you wanted to come with me.”

Y/N stopped laughing and thought about it before responding. “I don’t know. I don’t think Oscar would want me to. You know how he is about stuff like that.”

Luke smiled and picked her backpack off the floor. He then put out his hand and helped Y/N to her feet.

“Which is why César and his friends already said they are coming too. Oscar doesn’t have to know you're going as my date.”

“Your date?”

“If you want to be. I want you to be my date.”

Y/N smiled, a pink blush covering her cheeks. “I can be your date.”

“Great,” He took her hand and began to lead her out of the classroom. “It’s going to be amazing, don't worry.”

That night Y/N drank water out of a red solo cup, while sitting on the couch of a kid she had never met before. This time she was the one laughing and partying. Colors flashed around the room as more and more kids came into the house. The air was foggy with smoke and smelt like a mash of perfumes and colognes. Y/N nodded her head to the music enjoying the energy in the room.

To her surprise Luke pulled her up to dance with him. She giggled feeling his hands go around her waist. She put her arms around his neck just like she saw in the movies. Rap was blasting out of speakers placed on the ground. Somewhere someone joked about getting a noise compliment to which the crowd began shouting the rap lyrics louder. Taunting the idea, almost hoping for it so the party could gain extra excitement. Y/N shouted along with them in bliss. Ignoring the past fear she had felt once she noticed César had left. Ignoring the looks she had gotten when she first walked in the party. Ignoring how Luke had moved his hands past the dip in her back...

When she felt his hands squeeze her butt she whispered for him to stop which he did, but she still felt weird. A sinking feeling sat in her gut that this was a mistake. Suddenly the small action made the party feel like too much now. She could smell the stink of alcohol on Luke’s breath and weirdly on herself as well. How did she get drunk?

Y/N moved from Luke to where she had placed her cup. Now she could see scribbled on with a black sharpie, someone else’s name. She must have grabbed the wrong cup sometime during the party. Swaying slightly, she moved back toward Luke.

“I need to go home,” She hiccuped. “I drank someone's drink.”

In the darkness she didn’t see Luke’s small smile. “Wow, I’m sorry. Let’s get you home.”

The two exited the party and began to walk home. Y/N felt more tipsy as she walked, eventually having to lean on the blond boy. She didn’t feel really drunk, she could still tell what was happening, it was just her body felt a little out of balance. Luke seemed the same way, but before they reached Y/N house he grabbed her hips. The sudden movement left her in shock.

“You looked really nice tonight, babe.” He said, pulling her into a kiss as he ran his hands on her back, slowly moving lower onto her butt, then up to her breasts.

Immediately Y/N pushed Luke off of her, moving to wrap her arms around herself. “What the hell? I’m a Santo, pull that shit again and it's over” She yelled, backing away from Luke.

“Like you would, I’m the only one who cares enough to pay attention to you. Do you really think anyone else wants to be around you? I’ll do whatever I want. You would be an idiot to lose me.” He fumed.

Y/N froze. Luke had never acted like that before. He couldn’t truly mean what he was saying. She ran into her house and locked the door behind her. She waited a few minutes to check that he had left, which he did.

After her shower she convinced herself that Luke must have been really drunk. That’s why he acted that way, but on Monday he proved that that was not the case.

At the beginning of algebra it started off okay. Luke kept his eyes on the board and focused on his work. It was okay up to the point where he started rubbing on Y/N's leg. She told him to stop but he ignored her. First rubbing small circles on her knee. Then moving up to her thigh moving closer and closer upwards. No matter how many times she moved his hand he kept putting it back. Eventually she had to stay quiet out of fear of distracting the class, but he kept going. She begged silently for it to stop. Suddenly feeling powerless as he continued to do as he pleased for more days.

At lunch even though Luke continued to joke with César she started to go silent. It was a constant internal battle. If she pushed Luke away more, it would cause her to lose her only friend. If she didn’t she would continue to feel uncomfortable. She told herself it would stop eventually, that things would go back to normal, but they didn’t.

As more days went by Luke tried to do more things. The more he tried to do the quieter Y/N got. But luckily César began to notice. He noticed that Y/N wanted him to sit between her and Luke more. How she stopped laughing at his jokes and how Luke changed his tone when talking to her. It wasn’t always playful like it used to be.

Even though César wasn’t really close to his sister he acknowledged that they had to look out for each other. Y/N had been the one to get Oscar to let him back in the house many times. She looked out for him, and he had to look out for her.

Which is why when César and Monse accidentally walked in on Luke kissing her in an empty classroom while she tried to push him off, he freaked out.

“What the hell do you think you’re doing?” He shouted, pulling Luke off of her and close to his face by the collar of his shirt. “I'm Lil’ Spooky I’ll have your face in the dirt if you do that shit again.”

“César, stop what are you doing here. You’re going to hurt him.” Y/N yelled. Monse gently pulled her away from Luke, but she pushed Monse back.

César punched Luke in the eye and he fell down, crumbling into a fetal position. César continued to kick him in the stomach until Y/N pulled him away.

“You’re hurting him! You can’t do this here! César stop please!”

César turned and grabbed Y/N's arm. He led her out of the classroom and out of the school with Monse trailing after them. Y/N’s items in hand.

“I can’t believe he was on you like that. Shit, Y/N. Wait, don't cry, don’t cry, it's okay.”

Y/N hadn’t realized she was crying until he said that. Tears were falling rapidly down her cheeks. She choked back sobs, trying to keep herself somewhat together.

She was thankful for César stopping it, but afraid for what would happen next. Once they reached their house César guided her up the stairs and inside where Oscar was smoking a cigarette at the dinner table. Hearing the door burst open and crying he instantly got up. He reached for his gun, but seeing that it was his siblings he stopped.

“Shit, what the hell happened César. Why is she crying?”

“Tell him,” César said softly. Monse ran in and went to Y/N’s side pulling her into a hug.

“Tell me what. Why are you crying?”

“He 's not mad at you hermana. Él va a ayudar.”

Y/N sniffled and buried herself into Monse’s shoulder. Trying to hide her embarrassment she whispered, “My friend at school was touching me in a weird way, Oscar. He wouldn’t stop. I told him to stop, though. I did. Please, don’t be mad at me.”

“We’re not mad at you and he’s not a friend anymore, Y/N. That should’ve never happened to you.” Monse murmured.

The room went silent. Monse still slowly rubbed Y/N’s back and César stood tense. Oscar looked from César to Y/N.

“César, do you think he left school yet?”

“Uh yeah, school ended right after I pulled her out.”

“Come on,” Oscar grabbed his gun and began to walk out the door, César following after. Y/N ran after Oscar begging for him to stop.

“Don’t Oscar, don’t hurt hm. He’s my only friend. He’s a kid, it was just a mistake.”

“No no!” He shouted. Oscar turned and placed his hands on Y/N’s shoulder’s. Looking into her teary eyes.

“It’s not your fault. It’s never your fault hermana. My job is to keep you safe. I've failed at a lot of things, but I refuse to fail at that again. Get in the house and rest. He just needs to be taught a lesson. Stay with Monse. Te amo como una hija bebé espeluznante.”

He left with César, leaving Y/N on the lawn. Monse guided her back into the house. She remembered what her dad did whenever she was going through a lot. She treated Y/N the same way. Reassuring her that it will be okay. That it wasn’t her fault.

César and Oscar didn’t come back until later that night.

“We got you this,” Oscar muttered, walking into the house and tossing a stuffed bear to Y/N. “We saw the idea online.” It was a f/c bear with a heart on it that said ‘Te Quiero’ with little messages César and Oscar wrote on the back. There weren't a lot, but the few ones there were were heartfelt.

“Thank you, I love it” Y/N smiled, holding the bear close. Her eyes were still slightly red from crying.

“And pizza,” César quietly cheered. On his face was a bandage, but he moved his face so Y/N couldn’t see it. “Monse do you want to spend the night?”

Monse looked at Y/N, “Yeah I already have clothes here so I’ll stay,”

She picked up a slice of pizza. “Soo, what did you guys do?”

“We took care of it,” Oscar said, sitting on the couch next to Y/N. “He won’t mess with you again. If I didn’t have a reputation I would’ve reported it.” He lowered his voice. “You can always go to us Y/N, we’re going to protect you. If that cabrón messes with you again I’m coming for him. ”

“I know,” Y/N mumbled. “I just wanted a friend, how dumb is that.”

“You can always hang out with us,” Monse added, “We’re your friends. We love having you around.”

Y/N sighed, “I mean my own friend. I love you guys too, but it gets so lonely. No one at school wants to be near me. Soy un marginado.”

The room went silent again. Before Monse spoke up, “You know you’re really smart Y/N. There’s a school in BrentWood that might offer you a scholarship to go there. I know you could pass the entrance exam. ”

“I could get a job for the tuition,” César added, rising from his seat at the dinner table. “Oscar what do you think? You’ve been making more money lately. It would keep her safe. She is really smart.”

Oscar looked at the ceiling, a good sign that he was thinking about the idea. Y/N kept her mouth shut, trying not to get too excited.

“How would she get there?”

“It’s a long bus ride,” Monse remarked, “But it’s safe. Only a bunch of rich kids. Most of them will be nice to you, Y/N. You’re smart, you’re funny, and you’re strong. Not a lot of them are like that there. No one will know who you're related to. I can get my mom to help get you in.”

César, Monse, and Y/N looked at Oscar. He took a deep breath and released it. Pulling a cigarette out his pocket, he lit it. Breathing deep he puffed out the smoke.

“I failed you today as a hermano, if I can keep you safe I will. I’ll work on getting you there.”

Y/N smiled and hugged Oscar, feeling César join as well.

“Thank you Oscar. Thank you Cesar. Thank you Monse. I love you.”

“Yeah, yeah” Oscar grinned. “Get off me I’m going to bed. I think I’ll go to the beach tomorrow. Want to come?”

“Yes!”

Author's Note: My DMs are always open to anyone who needs it. I am also on twitter to anyone who wants to talk @/thepage150. Requests are open. You are important. You are valued. You are loved. Have a wonderful day ~c'k

[tryingmybestpls]

Golden

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Fem!Reader

Summary: The Reader and Bucky go through different stages of the Reader’s pregnancy.

Rating: T

Word Count: 2.6k

Warnings: Mentions of pregnancy, giving birth

Two Months

Y/N had been mulling over how she was going to tell him since she found out a week ago. She had thought her anxiousness and worries would have faded away after she saw those two little lines on the test. No, they had only increased ten-fold, only worsening when she went to her doctor and got an official test. Her stomach tossing and turning when the doctor told her that she's been pregnant for eight weeks. Y/N was now stuck with the most important and difficult part of this whole thing-telling Bucky Barnes that she was pregnant with his baby.

How does one tell an over one hundred year old super soldier that they're going to be a father?  Getting a tiny Brooklyn Dodgers onesie made? Too cliché. Make some awful pun themed dinner that might include "buns in the oven"? Might go over his head. Hand him the sonogram that she had gotten after the pregnancy test just to be sure? He's from the forties, what the fuck is he going to know about a sonogram?

Y/N was terrified over he was going to react. Bucky was barely getting used to the world, barely getting used to having control of his own mind. And while he had been doing a lot better and he makes sure to take care of himself, Y/N didn't know how he would handle the stress of a baby. Did he even want to be a dad? Y/N didn't even know if she wanted to be a mom, but she know that somehow it felt right. They've never even talked about having children and now-well they were sort of past the point of thinking about having kids.

The whole situation made her want to vomit, and she was pretty sure it wasn't just from the morning sickness.

Y/N eventually landed on telling him over dinner. Nothing too fancy, just the usual place they always go to so that Bucky wouldn't think anything was up. All day long as she sat through meeting after meeting, her date got closer and closer, and that dread that had settled in the pit of her stomach grew with every second. Y/N felt like she was going to vomit by the time she met up with her boyfriend back at their apartment. Luckily, Bucky talks the entire car ride to the restaurant, complaining about something Sam did that day. She uses her training for good, covering up her nervousness with a neutral face.

They made their regular small talk as they sit in the back of the restaurant at their usual table. Y/N orders her usual lemonade while Bucky orders a Coke. They share a basket of bread and Y/N hopes that the carbs soak up the acid that keeps threatening to rise up her throat. Each time she wants to bring up her news, their waitress would come up with refills, an E.T.A on their food, or just to ask how they were doing. And each time, Y/N would glare daggers at her back once she was turned around to walk away.

Then their respective plates of pasta were placed in front of them. Bolognese for Bucky, arrabbiata for Y/N. While usually she immediately dives into her plate, the way her stomach is twisting and turning, she's unable to eat. Y/N pushes her pasta around with her fork as she works up the courage to talk to him. She just didn't know how to say it. All she knew is that she had to say it. Y/N puts down her fork, moving to wipe her now sweaty hands on the cloth napkin on her lap as she looks up at him. Bucky was raising a pasta laden fork up to his mouth as she opened hers.

"I'm pregnant." She finally blurts out. Her voice was soft, barely above a whisper, barely audible over the noise of the other guests at the restaurant. She was afraid that he couldn't hear her, afraid that she was going to have to say it again. But by the way Bucky's eyes widen, she knew that he had heard her loud and clear. He lowers his fork, mouth opening and shutting.

"I-What? You're-What?" The super soldier asks, looking from her face to her stomach and back to her face. Y/N felt like she was going to be sick to her stomach, the blood draining from her face.

"I-I'm pregnant. I found out last week." Y/N manages to get out, still looking down at her plate. Her eyes started to sting and she tried to blink her eyes rapidly in order to keep her tears at bay. Bucky's silence is deafening and Y/N wishes she could run out of the restaurant, but it's like she's glued to the chair. She wants him to say something-anything, but he is silent. Y/N is about to say something when he holds his hands up, almost in defense.

"Wait. I-I don't want you to be upset. I'm not mad-I just don't know how to put my feelings into words. I'm happy. I'm really happy. I just-You know I'm not good with words." Bucky finally speaks, stumbling over his words. Her eyes widen and she quickly looks up at him.

"I-Really?" Y/N asks, the knot her stomach slowly unraveling. Bucky nods, a small smile appearing on his face. This time the tears that are filling her eyes from happiness.

"I'm not going to pretend that I know anything about babies or raising a child, but I'm sure I can figure it out." Bucky jokes, his metal hand fiddling with his utensils on the table. Y/N feels a million times better, a huge weight being lifted off of her shoulders. He looks up at her again, "I'm happy, Y/N. I am."

"Me too. Me too."

-

Four Months

As Y/N walked into her apartment, the only thing on her mind was kicking her shoes off, taking off her bra that was digging into her sides, and taking a much deserved nap. Her meeting had ended early and with Rhodey not needing help with anything, she had decided to return to her apartment. Yet, with not even a foot inside of the apartment, she was immediately greeted with an argument.

"No, what I am saying is you're painting wrong." Bucky snaps, which makes Y/N's eyebrow raise. Her boyfriend wasn't in sight, but he certainly was in the apartment somewhere. She sets her things down, walking over to where the arguing is coming from.

"How the hell can I be painting wrong? I'm putting paint on the wall. The wall is getting painted." Sam fires back and Y/N has to force herself to not laugh, covering her mouth. She stands in the doorway of the guest room, taking in the sight in front of her. The floor and furniture was covered in plastic tarp, blue painting tape lining the white molding and outlets. Painting supplies littered the room and standing in the middle of all of it were two idiots, both of them holding paint rollers covered in a light sage green paint.

"I'm sorry-what's going on here?" Y/N questions, motioning to the two of them and the mess in the room. Their heads snapped towards her, nervous smiles spreading across their faces. They looked like two kids that have been caught with their hands in the cookie jar.

"Hey doll-uh fuck-surprise." Bucky announces a little defeatedly while Sam gives a one handed jazz hand. Y/N laughs, carefully stepping into the room as the 106 year old man tries to explain, "I-We were going to surprise you by painting the room. Why are you home so early?"

"My meetings ended early and I am extremely surprised. Thank you and thank you too, Sammy." Y/N says sweetly, smiling at the two of them. Bucky lets out a sigh of relief and Sam chuckles. While the men may not see eye to eye all of the time, Sam has been a great help to both of them. The man had some knowledge about babies and children, being the proud uncle to two little boys, and he had been trying his best to put some of Bucky's worries at ease.

"I'm just trying to be a really great uncle." Sam teases, which makes the super soldier roll his eyes.  Bucky didn't have any living siblings and Y/N's teammates were the closest thing she had to family so it was going to be Uncle Sam, Uncle Rhodey, Auntie Pepper, Auntie Wanda, and so on and so forth. Their little patchwork support system that they were incredibly grateful for.

"Do you two need any help? I can't because I am pretty sure I'm not supposed to be inhaling paint fumes. But I can give Peter a call, I'm sure he wouldn't mind." Y/N offers, grinning from ear to ear. She knows that both men weren't exactly best friends with Peter Parker, both of them having gotten their asses handed to them by a teenager. Y/N didn't have any issues with the kid, hell she talked to him on a weekly basis. He reported to her every Friday, filling Y/N on his week. While it had first started as him telling her what Spider-Man did, it soon turned into a three hour long meeting that included take out while he filled her in the weekly drama and tales of him and his two friends. And every Friday when she would return to the apartment, Sam and Bucky would greet her by calling her traitor.

"Jesus-No, we are okay doll. I think we can manage, right Sam?" Bucky asks, looking at the other man. Sam just nods, holding his paint covered roller a little higher.

"Yeah yeah I think we will be okay. This room will be done in no time."

-

Seven Months

Y/N watched from her seat at the kitchen island as Bucky moved around the kitchen, attempting to make dinner.

Y/N had been put on bed rest due to the fact that the Super Serum that had affected Bucky's DNA was causing the baby to grow at an accelerated rate. Seeing that this is going to be the first baby born with the serum (that they know of), the doctor wanted Y/N to be cautious.

Bucky, had taken the doctor's words incredibly seriously, going so far as to not even let make any food, like he is doing now.

"Bucky, baby, I can help you, y'know." Y/N tells him as Bucky attempted to follow a fairly simple recipe for marinara sauce. It was already going south pretty fast. He hadn't bought the right type of tomatoes and hadn't chopped nearly enough garlic. She kept herself from micromanaging the whole thing, but it was getting harder and harder to do so.

"Doll, I used to make dinner for me and my sister. I think I can handle this." He replies, setting the knife he was using to chop up the yellow onion aside. He scoops up the onion in his hands, moving to toss it into the big pan on the stove. The onions sizzle as soon as it hits the olive oil covered surface of the pan.

When Y/N had told Bucky she was craving pasta, she had kind of meant that they would just pick something up. Bucky had decided that he would make the meal himself and Y/N, once she saw how excited he was, didn't have the heart to tell him that she had wanted take-out.

It was actually sort of sweet, seeing him trying to hard to make this meal for her. All he wanted to do is take care of her, take care of their baby. She loved cooking for him for the same reason. It was a way to show her love, to show how much she cared about him and he just wanted to do the same.

"Alright, Barnes. I believe in you." Y/N responds, smiling at him. She just watched as he cooked (and occasionally danced to the jazz music that was playing on the record player). It didn't matter if the meal sucked, Bucky was just trying his best to take care of his girlfriend and their child.

But for the record, the meal did suck.

-

Eight Months

It was a sight, seeing them together.

Bucky held their daughter close to his chest, bouncing her carefully as the light started to filter through the blinds of her hospital room. A smile was stretched across his tired face as he moved from side to side, cooing to her softly. His hair was a mess, his clothes incredibly wrinkled. The morning light surrounded the two like a halo and if Y/N could, she'd take a picture of them. A picture of her family.

Their daughter had been born a month early, which wasn't too surprising considering with how fast she had been growing. Although it was a shock when Y/N's water broke the night before while they were sleeping. Then Y/N had spent most of yesterday in labor, finally giving birth to their sweet baby girl-Rebecca Natalia Barnes, named after Bucky's little sister and Y/N's best friend-in the evening. Bucky had started crying when Y/N had told him that she had wanted to name their daughter after his sister, not thinking that Y/N would have wanted to pay tribute to his long dead sister.

"Look Rebecca, mommy's awake." Bucky says softly, looking over to where Y/N was laying in her bed. The Super Soldier grinned at her, still rocking their child. Y/N smiled at the two of them, shifting on the bed so she can sit up a bit more as her boyfriend walked over. She looks up at the two, her heart swelling with the way Bucky looks holding their daughter.

"Hi baby." Y/N says hoarsely, the bundle of pink shifting and squirming in Bucky's arms. She holds her arms out, silently asking if she can hold Rebecca. Bucky carefully places the newborn into her arms before he pulls the plastic chair closer to the bed, not wanting to be too far from either of them.

"I can't believe she's actually here." Y/N announces softly, taking in every detail of her daughter's face in the early morning light. She had Bucky's blue-gray eyes and his nose, but her hair. It felt weird to see her, felt weird to be holding her. Y/N felt like she was dreaming, but the pain she had gone through the night before-the pain she was still feeling now-had made it real.

"Isn't she beautiful?" Bucky asks, looking at mother and child interacting. Y/N nods, tears filling her eyes as she looks down at her daughter. She presses her lips against Rebecca's forehead, taking in that baby smell that every parenting book seemed to mention. Bucky is still smiling, looking at the two, "My two beautiful girls."

Hours from now, the hospital room would be filled with friends what were more likely family, wanting to share this incredibly special moment with the Y/L/N-Barnes family. Rebecca would be introduced with her aunts and uncles, each one of them getting a chance to hold and introduce themselves to the newborn.

But for now, for now, the three of them were alone. The three of them sat together in this room, all getting used to each other. Nothing else existed outside of this room, nothing else mattered outside of this room. All that mattered was that they were together.