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ulalumewitch · 4 years ago

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this was originally inspired by the prompt “The Pet” by @capriprompts … part 3 finally address the prompt proper and my version of it. hope you enjoy!

Author’s Note: This story deals with disappointments during the adoption process as well as references to parental deaths during childhood. Some readers may find this triggering. I hope I handled it with the care and sensitivity it deserves.

This is part 3 (and final part). The links to Part 1 and Part 2 are below:

https://ulalumewitch.tumblr.com/post/658329277505421312/betty-part-1

https://ulalumewitch.tumblr.com/post/658355318446800896/betty-part-1

(not sure why they both read “part 1” but i swear the second one is part 2. one day i’ll figure all this out - lol)

word count: 2,590

themes: angst and fluff

hope you enjoy - i just love these two.

“Betty: Part 3”

Damen frowned as he sat on a stool at the breakfast bar. He looked passed the living room and to the balcony. Autumn finally broke through the summer heat, but despite the chilly temperatures, Laurent had remained outside on the balcony. For over an hour.

He’d been there when Damen got home at dinner. Laurent refused to eat, stated he wasn’t hungry, and turned away from him. Damen didn’t push him. After eight years together he knew which battles to pick, and he knew if he picked this one, he would lose.

His stomach fluttered with nerves. Damen wanted to speak to Laurent about what was coming before it got here. He tapped his phone screen again. No new messages. Dammit, Jokaste.

The woman was always late. While he hated lying to Laurent these past few days, he felt it necessary. He’d never lied to him before and it wasn’t something he ever wanted to repeat. But he wanted this to be a surprise if only so that Laurent couldn’t argue himself out of it. This would be good for them. Damen was sure of it. Well ... mostly sure of it.

Damen opened up his text messages waiting for replies. The texts from the people he talked to most in his life waiting for responses he couldn’t muster himself to give at the moment.

Papa Theo - D. Kastor wants to host Thanksgiving this year. Don’t let him take over. You and Laurent are better hosts. I’m begging you. Do what you have to. If I have to eat salmon on crackers again instead of turkey because Jokaste thinks it’s en vogue or whatever her high snobby ass thinks, I’ll lose it. Thank you. Papa.

Auguste - Laurent keeps ignoring my calls. Everything okay?

Kastor - Bro, Knicks game next weekend?

Nik - Knicks game next weekend? Text Kas for info.

Nicaise - Tell Laurent to call Auguste before I kill them both.

Jokaste - I’ll text you once I’ve valeted with the package.

The text from Jokaste was from two hours ago. It was only a fifteen minute drive between their apartments. But Damen knew from experience if he pressured her she’d delay herself more.

But for the past few days Jokaste was oddly ... maternal. She’d listened without spewing unwanted advice and helped him find exactly what he wanted, pulling strings from a few of the charities she’d help fund over the years. He’d never been so happy she spent money and drank wine for a living.

His phone buzzed in his hand. Damen let out a shaking breath as the text from Jokaste finally came through: The eagle has landed. We’re on our way up.

Damen took a breath and replied back: Laurent is out on the balcony. Door is unlocked. If we’re still outside please wait in the office until I get you. He’s ... not himself right now.

Damen held his breath. It could go one of two ways with Jokaste. Either she would understand or she would say she was too busy and leave the surprise in the living room before walking out.

His phone buzzed: Ok

He let the breath he’d been holding out and resolutely walked around the breakfast bar and to the balcony. Damen opened the glass door and gritted his teeth against the blast of cold wind to his face. Laurent remained sitting in his chair, bundled up in a huge knit sweater, scarf, coat, and hat that left only his eyes visible. He didn’t move as Damen approached. Laurent didn’t even look at him.

Damen’s heart pounded in his chest. Did something else happen? Had he forgotten something important? He and Laurent never had a problem communicating until recently and it killed him. This had to end. And now.

“Laurent,” Damen said.

No movement. No glance of acknowledgement. Nothing.

The wind picked up and howled as if in warning from the gods themselves against the building. Damen grabbed a chair a swung it around directly in front of Laurent and then sat down. Two narrowed eyes of blue ice cut to Damen then.

“You’re blocking my view.”

“Laurent, I know this has been hard -“

“I’m not talking about this. Leave me alone.”

Damen took a breath. He was in a worse mood then he thought. Shit.

“Listen to me. Okay? Just listen.”

Laurent leaned back slightly and with a small flourish of his hand indicated for Damen to proceed before crossing his arms over his chest. Damen took a calming breath and looked away at the same view to steady himself.

“I don’t know how much you’re hurting, because I’m not you. But I’m hurting too. It’s difficult. It’s painful. It’s unfair, and ugly, and all of the things you hope to never experience,” Damen stated, “But we’ll get through this. We will have our family, Laurent. Yes, things are bleak right now but we can’t give up because somewhere out there is our son or daughter. Maybe they’re not born yet, maybe they are. But we don’t give up because that’s not what we do.

“We didn’t give up on each other. Hell, you spent your entire inheritance to start a firm with a man you weren’t even married to yet. You helped raise your younger brother when you were still technically a child yourself because the worst nightmare for children happened. You fought your way through school and internships all while spending hours volunteering with children’s programs when most of us in law school could barely keep up with the average demands. You are a fighter, Laurent. You can’t give up now. Please, don’t give up now.”

Laurent’s eyes flickered for a moment as he regarded Damen silently. He didn’t move a single muscle. He also didn’t respond.

Damen took in a shuddering breath, “I love you. I’m sorry life isn’t as we want it right now. I will keep fighting for it, but I need you with me.”

Laurent still looked at him with cool neutrality as he asked, “Where were you this week, Damianos?”

Damen’s heart lurched in his chest. Oh God ... Damen had known better than to lie to Laurent. But he did it anyway because he’d been giddy at the thought of the surprise now waiting for them in their apartment. Apparently Laurent’s foul mood had been exacerbated because of him. Goddammit this was not how he wanted this to go either.

“I’m sorry.”

“Why are you sorry?”

Damen cleared his throat, “I’m sorry I lied to you. But if you come inside I’ll show you why. I wanted it to be a surprise.”

Laurent huffed, “I’m not in the mood for surprises or apologies. Now, leave me alone.”

“No.”

Laurent’s nostrils flared as he shot up and gracefully moved around him to the door. Damen cursed under his breath as he went after Laurent. Before he could think he caught his arm as they entered the living room.

“Let go,” Laurent growled.

“I was with Jokaste,” Damen surged ahead, “I needed her connections to get something for you and me to expand our family in a different way until our child comes home.”

Laurent stilled. Damen immediately let go of his arm.

Laurent turned, his blue eyes glittering with fury, as he hissed, “What did you do?”

Damen ignored the churning in his stomach and called out, “Bring her out, Jokaste.”

From the other side of the apartment the sound of heels clicking against the floor echoed around them. Then, Jokaste came into view. Her gold hair pulled back, her makeup made her look more devastatingly beautiful than was natural. Her designer clothes understated but somehow still reeked of money - and in her arms she held a basket with pink padding. And within that, a small puppy yipped happily, wagging her tail.

Damen looked at his husband. Laurent’s mouth hung slightly open, eyes wide and staring. Damen took a step closer to him until they were nearly touching but not quite.

Damen murmured, “She’s a King Charles Beagle mix. Her owners were older and couldn’t care for her so they put her up for adoption. She’s twelve weeks old, spayed, up to date on vaccines, and mostly housebroken. Jokaste put word out to the charities for animal adoption she’s helped fundraise for over the years, and then one of her connections emailed her about this beauty. I’ve been meeting with Jokaste to spend time with the puppy and then more recently to finish paperwork on her, as well as visit dog training centers and to research their puppy programs.”

He stopped. Laurent still didn’t respond, though he’d since closed his mouth, his eyes on the puppy in the basket. The white and tan puppy yipped excitedly seeming only to have eyes for Laurent. Damen’s chest ached slightly ... it was like she knew.

“I wanted to talk to you about it earlier but you needed time alone,” Damen whispered, “I’m sorry. I wanted it to be a little bit of a surprise but not this much. Also, if you don’t want her I understand. Jokaste will keep her instead so she’ll have a good home. But ... but I thought it would be nice for us to have a pet to take care of, to start expanding our family this way until ... until we can get what we want. She’s part beagle, so I imagine she’ll utterly lose her mind with happiness on the farm. But again, Laurent, if it’s too much, Jokaste will take her home, no questions asked. It’s up to you.”

Laurent swallowed and Damen heard his throat click as he did so. His face unreadable as he took a step towards Jokaste and the puppy. As he walked towards her, Damen stayed in place, but didn’t suppress the smile as the puppy began to yip louder, and bounced on her front paws the closer Laurent got to her.

“She’s high energy,” Jokaste murmured, “But she does love to cuddle. I think she likes you.”

Laurent remained silent as he brought his fingers up to the puppy. She immediately began to lick them, her tail wagging at such a rate Damen wondered if it possible for the thing to fly off of her. Then, tentatively, Laurent stroked her head. The puppy stopped bouncing but remained with her eyes on Laurent, tail wagging, as he pet her. Damen’s gut lurched as he saw the slight tremor in Laurent’s hand every time he lifted it up to resume stroking her down her back.

Then Laurent picked her up and held her against his chest. The puppy reached up and licked his face. Laurent pursed his lips together but Damen swore a smile was there before he was assaulted with puppy kisses. He cradled her against him, her fur a stark contrast against the black coat he still wore.

When she settled Laurent looked at Damen. He felt Laurent’s stare go through him and straight into his soul.

“Her name is Betty Rue Vere-Akielon,” Laurent announced.

Damen grinned, “Your obsession with the Golden Girls prevails once again.”

Laurent looked at the puppy and whispered, “They are fierce and so are you.”

The puppy licked Laurent’s face happily in response yipping gleefully. Damen cut his eyes to Jokaste and she smiled softly at him.

“I’m going to go,” Jokaste stated, “Have a good evening.”

“Thank you,” Damen said.

She dipped her chin slightly in acknowledgement and left. Damen walked over to Laurent and sat next to him as he set Betty on the ground. The puppy ran over both of their legs as Laurent removed his scarf and jacket, discarding both on the floor behind them.

“I’m sorry I lied to you,” Damen whispered.

Laurent cut his eyes to him before focusing on the puppy again, and said, “Forgiven. I’m sorry I gave you the silent treatment.”

Damen huffed a laugh, “No you’re not.”

A ghost of a smile appeared on Laurent’s lips and he said, “I missed having a dog. We had one when I was a little boy but she passed away just before our parents.”

Damen nodded and said, “They estimate she shouldn’t be more than twenty-five or thirty pounds. Both breeds are good with children. Training is a necessity. But, but I think she’ll fit in well.”

“She’s perfect,” Laurent cooed and picked her up again to hold her to his chest, and then looked at Damen, his smile finally wide and unrestrained, “Thank you.”

“You’re welcome,” Damen said, “I know this doesn’t fix anything, but I thought it would help.”

Laurent leaned closer to him and then pressed his lips softly to Damen’s. He closed his eyes and when Laurent went to retreat, grabbed the back of his head and kept their mouths firmly in place. Damen deepened the kiss, needing the contact, reveling in the taste of them together.

“I love you,” Damen whispered breathlessly, “I love you and I’m here for you. Through good times and bad.”

Laurent smiled softly, “I love you, too. Thank you for ... thank you.”

Damen slipped an arm around Laurent’s waist and pulled him closer. Laurent could talk circles around anyone. But when it came to expressing feelings, he still sometimes had difficulty. But Damen didn’t mind. Laurent loved Damen in ways that went well beyond the words, as it should be.

“Oops,” Laurent tittered, “Betty, darling, we must work on that bladder control. Come on, lets go for a little walk. Does she have a leash?”

Damen smiled, “Everything is stashed in the office, including a couple of different coats for her since it’s getting colder outside.”

Laurent snorted a little and stood up saying, “I’ll get her collar, leash, and coat on. You can clean up the mess.”

“Is that how it’s going to be?” Damen asked.

“Please tell me you bought her a collar and leash to distinguish her as the royalty she is and that it matches whatever clothing you got for her to wear,” Laurent called as he walked away from Damen without looking back or responding to his question.

Damen rolled his eyes and cursed under his breath before stating, “No, because I knew you’d hate anything I bought anyway.”

Laurent’s snort echoed as he made his way down the hall.

Damen smiled even as he cleaned up the puppy’s accident as he heard Laurent’s murmurs to the puppy, “Don’t worry, Betty, daddy is going to get you the most expensive collar, leash, and puppy coats money can buy. Papa doesn’t understand the importance of these things. What do you think pink with diamonds? Yes, I think so too ... or maybe a gold collar to compliment your white and tan coloring? Yes ... we’ll try a few on ...”

The pain of the rejection began to ease slightly in Damen’s heart. He knew it would take more time and more than a puppy for it to heal completely. But his gamble paid off and he reveled in the warm relief that coursed through his veins.

He and Laurent had work to do, but the dark cloud of anguish seemed to lift from over their heads. And as Damen put on his coat and grabbed Laurent’s from off the floor, he smiled as he walked down the hall as Laurent’s lament echoed loudly from the office, “Oh my God, was this made for peasant puppies? Nylon? Really?”

But Damen didn’t mind. He’d endure any cutting remarks on his sense of puppy fashion if it meant his beloved had a respite from his pain. Things weren’t perfect, but it was still a damn good place to be.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~ End of this Little Story

thanks for reading, hope you enjoyed. They are one of the many ships I love to follow and write about. have a lovely day, morning, evening, night wherever you are! xo

#captive prince fanfic #writing prompt #modern au #lamen #damen of akielos #laurent of vere #jokaste

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bigskydreaming · 5 years ago

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With the meta gen thing in the young justice season 3, i started to wonder, which power would each batfam member have?

Okay, so Dick’s is a bit of a cliche, perhaps, and I’m not the first person to think of this for him, its just….its necessary, lol, as nothing else even comes close to being as good a match. So for him, gravity powers….able to make himself lighter than air and thus massively boost the height and distance of his leaps or just float in the air, reorient himself so he can walk straight up walls or upside down on ceilings, multiply his own mass so his punches or kicks do ten times the damage, toss out out gravity grenades or pulses that wipe out the gravity in an area and make everything weightless, unanchored and floating, unable to find any kind of footing anywhere, or perhaps the opposite, tossing out gravity pulses that intensify the gravity in an area, weigh everything down until its impossible to move.

Jason’s power would be something he calls blowback, or maybe a ‘damage bounce.’ Basically an extremely localized reality warp which causes the actual harm or damage caused by someone that’s fighting him or fighting someone nearby him, to be shifted back onto the instigator. So shoot him…you end up the one shot. Beat up someone in his field of view, and all the damage you would otherwise be inflicting on that person ends up displaced onto you. Etc, etc.

Tim’s power is to make leaps forward and back along his own individual timeline. Its not true time travel, he can’t change events that have happened or anything like that, its more like he can at any given moment swap himself out with another version of himself that exists at a different moment in time. So he can kind of shapeshift in a limited, unexpected way…by swapping his current self out with an older version of him from much further along his personal timeline…..with most people unlikely to recognize him with an extra ten to twenty years added to the age and appearance they expect him to have. Or he can heal quickly in a combat situation…by changing places with an uninjured version of himself. And so on and so on.

Cassandra’s power is to piggy-back on the senses of anyone she’s close enough to, effectively letting her see and hear anything they do. She’s not really a telepath despite it involving a psychic component… essentially her power lets her overlay her own mind and senses on top of someone else’s, so from her POV she’s basically seeing through their eyes….but its purely about increasing or adding vantage points for her….she can’t read the thoughts of whomever’s senses she’s sharing, nor can she influence them………..though she can still read body language via someone else’s borrowed senses, just as easily as with her own. She’s begun experimenting with the possibility of reversing the feedback loop….letting someone see through her eyes instead, as a kind of destabilization technique, rendering an opponent temporarily wtf-y, or like, to loop her siblings in on the same intel page, etc.

Damian’s power is switch teleportation. Like castling in a game of chess…he can effectively teleport anywhere within his field of vision….but only by exchanging places with something or someone at the end point he’s aiming for. Used strategically though, this power is as much a tactical advantage as it is a means of transportation or a quick getaway. It affords him a variety of ways to end up inside a location he’s trying to infiltrate even while simultaneously leaving the guard locked out on the wrong side of the door he’s meant to be guarding….he can sow enormous confusion with this in combat, randomly switching his way through a crowd of enemies all trying to cut him down and just ending up doing more damage to their own allies instead….and by combining it with his grappling hook and the right timing, he can launch himself off rooftops and halfway down, just lock eyes with someone like Bane, standing at the roof’s edge far above him….and now the one falling in his place, moments later, instead,.

Stephanie’s power is something she calls her spoiler punch (haymaker, uppercut, anything else along those lines). She’s not a precog herself, capable of seeing her own future, but via skin to skin contact, she can deliver a vision of anyone’s future to them. She has no control over what they see, and only gets the vaguest glimpse of it herself, via a kind of psychic echo - and its not always set in stone. Some of the visions end up coming true, some are averted, some accidentally end up fulfilled by attempting to avert it. However, the visions are always intense, a shock to the person’s system, so as a Hail Mary measure, just slipping off a glove and punching an opponent bare fist to bare cheek can give her all the distraction and advantage she needs, at the very least….and in some cases, such a punch isn’t merely distracting to them, but downright demoralizing.

Duke’s power is essentially just one aspect of his canon power….just pushed further. Instead of his ghost vision, here his power is just the amplifying aura he manifests, that boosts the powers of other metas nearby. Except in this version of it, that amplifying aura isn’t just limited to boosting meta powers….he can focus and channel it to amplify any energy source near him at all. Amping up the ambient light in the atmosphere to create blinding flashes as a diversion…..amping sound waves so a carefully and deliberately boosted snap of the fingers can rattle walls and shatter windows. Boosting temperatures so the heat generated by friction in just the right time and place ends up sparking an actual fire, or just boosting the electrical impulses firing off in a person’s nervous system as just part of its regular synaptic activity….now amped up enough to cause a surge those synapses weren’t prepared for and overloading a person’s nervous system, just enough to knock them out.

And last but not least, since I’m still stumped on something for Bruce….Barbara’s power would be a kind of telekinetic programming. Broad spectrum telekinesis that can perform any number of feats….but that rather than exercise it consciously, like Jean Grey or other telekinetic superheroes are most known for doing….Babs’ telekinesis is run by her subconscious, even as her conscious mind focuses on her hacking and information gathering as Oracle. Essentially, Babs writes ‘code’ for her telekinesis….programming various activities, feats and routines for her telekinesis to accomplish….while her telekinetic programs are being run and enacted by just her own subconscious mind.

This way, Barbara is able to devote her conscious attention to her duties and routines as Oracle, the same as she typically does at various points in canon…..while at the exact same time, in the background of the Clocktower, her telekinesis is going through the motions of conducting various investigations all at the same time and without any requiring her conscious oversight. Her ‘pre-programmed’ directives and the code she’d written for her own psychic powers to use as its operating system, are more than capable of handling various minutiae and the physical activity portion of sorting through the piles of evidence and categorizing it properly, etc.

And thus even while busy as Oracle, Babs can have all of that happening behind her, with her subconscious and her telekinetic powers basically acting in concert as though her Clocktower is a fully staffed and busy precinct, as active as any actual precinct might appear….with just the difference that this particular ‘precinct’s hustle and bustle was the work not of actual manpower, but rather, more like an army of invisible, intangible robots dutifully fulfilling her objectives…..orchestrated by nothing other than the machinery of her subconscious mind, and the psychic powers she’d programmed to need nothing more than that in order to accomplish whatever tasks she set for them to accomplish.

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sincerelyreidburke · 5 years ago

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please please say more about the performances im living for this

That’s all you had to say!!!! We’re going ✈️✈️✈️✈️ to Quinn as Evan Hansen hours, part 2! (Here’s part 1.)

For those of you who are seeing this out of context, I’ve been in my feelings for approximately 48 hours straight about Quinn playing Evan Hansen his freshman year at Samwell. I will continue to be in my feelings about this.

Anyway. Performance ramblings under the cut!

- I’m establishing for the purposes of this entire concept that the Samwell drama club musical happens in the spring, auditioning right after winter break in January and then performing in the end of March/beginning of April.

- Yes, this conflicts pretty directly with a busy part of playoffs. But hear me out. Nando makes it work. The last weekend of playoffs would be the weekend after the show closes. I’ve done the math.

- Anyway, that’s not directly important right now. Quinn gets a little stressed during tech week. He’s not the type to get nervous before performances because of the performances themselves, but his nerves stem more from logistics and wanting to make sure everything falls into place and that things don’t go wrong on the path to get to the performances.

- This translates to Quinn being juuuuuust a little grouchy. Nando can tell. They have a good system going where Nando can detect Quinn’s grouchery, and he’ll snuggle the irritability out of him. Tech week means long nights at rehearsal plus regular class obligations, and not seeing much of each other.

- He helps stick posters up all over campus and makes Nando bring one to the Haus to put on the bulletin board. But it turns out that Ford already put one there.

- They open on a Friday night. I need you all to see Quinn’s outfit in your heads, because I’ve been thinking about this for quite some time. The first thing you should know is that he only owns one pair of jeans. They’re medium-wash and kind of skinny; they cuff up at the ankles. On show day, he wears those jeans with his show t-shirt, which is definitely just blue with some kind of logo and then information about the production. Also a scarf. Obviously. It’s cotton and its colors match the shirt.

- And then one of his co-actors, probably the girl who plays Zoe, gets him these socks in the stripe pattern of That One Blue Polo Shirt You Know The One, and he also wears those. With his Oxfords.

- Okay, apparently I’ve dedicated a lot of thought into just the outfit he wears around on show day. Anyway. Opening night.

- He's very much ready, but he’s also quite nervous. The Samwell theatre program attracts big audiences, and unlike back at home, nobody here has ever seen him perform before. He’s a freshman lead, and he’s damn proud of himself, but he also has to make sure that everything is perfect.

- Look, this needs to be perfect— these emails need to prove that we were actually friends— just— I’ll do it!

- I’m so sorry. Y’all asked for this. Okay, so he and Nando don’t even see each other all day on opening night, because of busy schedule reasons. But Quinn does tell him that he might want to be prepared because the show is sad.

- Nando is like, babe, don’t worry. I won’t cry. And then he cries. Like a child.

- The thing is: Quinn kills it. Knocks it out of the park. Start to finish. He is absolutely wonderful, and everybody loves it. Nando is one proud and emotional boyfriend.

- By the way, Nando wears a suit to the show? Like, his game day suit? I felt like you guys should know that.

- I really want there to be a standing ovation, because as someone who has acted before, there’s really no more exhilarating feeling onstage than when you’re done and the people who came to see you liked it so much that they want to give you a standing O. I mean, the surge of the seats when it all happens at once— wooooo, that’s the good shit. Can you just picture the curtain call???? Can you see it in your head????? Also, can you imagine the shout of pure joy Nando makes when Quinn runs out onto the stage to bow???????

- I can. I’m crying. I love him.

- Now, I really actually will probably write this, but I also want to give you the visual. If you’ve done a show before, you’ll know this feeling— if not, I’ll try to replicate it for you. You know when you walk out the stage door after the show? (At Samwell, this means walking into the lobby.) You know how there are usually a ton of people out there waiting? You know how it’s super wholesome and everybody is telling you how great the show was?

- Right. Okay. Now picture Quinn doing that.

- I’m so sorry, y’all; I just want people to tell him he did a good job because you know he did such a good job 😭🤍💙😭🤍💙

- He’s wearing the same outfit from before. He looks like a cutie and I love him.

- Nando is against the wall at the edge of the crowd. He’s doing the Troy Bolton Cool Guy Hallway Stance. Also he has flowers. Tulips, because they’re Quinn’s favorite. And he’s waiting and also recovering from the definite emotional breakdown he just had in the audience. LOL.

- Quinn makes his very slow way through the people in the lobby, because it’s packed and also he was the lead, so everyone knows who he is. It takes him a solid couple of minutes to even be able to see Nando. And then once they see each other, he’s making his way through more quickly, and then finally he actually reaches him and—

- Big hug. Also Nando picks him up. And spins him around. Because he usually does, in particularly soft moments.

- And then he goes, hey, baby; you were right!! I cried. And then a lot of other soft stuff about how proud he is of him and how fantastic the show is and et cetera, et cetera— it’s the softest shit you’ve ever seen.

- To think, this is only night one of the show!!!!!!! I’ll refrain for now. Let’s just say he absolutely slam dunks the entire run.

- On closing night, he has the whole cast and crew sign his “cast” costume piece. :’) Also there’s a cast party. Until like two in the morning. It’s maybe one of the only times Quinn actually gets tipsy. Off of champagne, of course. The cake has a tree on it.

This is definitely not the last you’ll hear of this, because if you haven’t noticed, I’m very on my Quinn & DEH bullshit right now, and will be for the foreseeable future. You know the drill.... the ask box is wide open.

And yes there is an actual fic coming.

Ask me anything about the crickets!

#oc taddies #crickets #quindo #quinn theatre hours #mini quinny

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sprinklesandsugarcubes · 8 years ago

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Sway

Fandom: Fear The Walking Dead Pairing: Troy Otto x Reader (Past Nick Clark x Reader) Words: 3,161 Rating: NSFW, 18+ Only, Fluff/Smut Warning: angst, cursing, mention of character death, smut!, AU- where Luciana gets well quicker and the Ranch has parties, lol. Part: (1/2) Part 2- Smut! Request: Anon: Hi! I’m so glad I found another Troy lover! Do you take requests? If you do, could you do something a bit fluffy? Something where reader used to be with Nick but he left and gets with Luciana so she’s pissed. Troy wants her and plans to make her his, maybe something with Crazier by TSwift? Smut optional, but I wouldn’t mind! *winks* Thanks, love your writing!

You sat at the table, hardly listening as Madison spoke with a few of the Ranch’s parents, couples who had learned the woman previously made a living by counseling children at a Los Angeles High School. They were speaking to her about a therapy program, recruiting her really, to help the children of Broke Jaw Ranch come to terms with what exactly lay in wait outside the fences. Sure, they were “preppers” as some endearingly called them, but they had never prepared their children for the dead coming back to life, and hunting the living.

Their words fell on deaf ears as you stared out across the yard, the typical eating commune transformed into something fit for a party. Paper decorations and fairy lights hung from low hanging branches and string wound between the trees, multiple fire pits were positioned strategically for both warmth and their flickering flamelight, and an actual cake had been baked, with real frosting scripted across the sugary topping, ‘Happy 32nd Anniversary’ it read.

You didn’t know the couple that had made it so long personally, you’d had little time to meet all the residents of the ranch in the four days you had been living upon their soil. Still, you raised a glass in toast to them, ignoring the lurching pain in your stomach when you thought about how unlikely it was you would accomplish such a feat. You had to turn away as they shared a solitary dance, pressing their lips together, loving smiles on their faces. Your heart ached sharply in your chest, the beat something you could hear in your ears as you tried to breathe through the discomfort, desperately hoping not to attract attention from anyone who might be looking.

Your eyes darted up, sweeping quickly across the crowd, a soothing wave of relief dousing you in coolness when you didn’t find anyone staring back at you…

Until you saw them.

He was walking her from the infirmary, guiding her carefully across the slightly uneven terrain, one strong hand bracing her back and the other cupping her elbow. He didn’t even look up, choosing instead to watch her every little move, murmuring in remedial Spanish, as if he had known the language always. You were frozen in time, unable to comprehend exactly where it had all gone wrong, how he had so easily left you behind and swooped in, playing Price Charming to some damsel in distress. He’d risked his life, risked the life of his mother and sister, of Travis (and though you knew it wasn’t truly his fault the helicopter went down, you blamed him for it anyway); he’d risked your life. Running off as he did, knowing there wasn’t a chance in hell that Madison wouldn’t come looking for him. He’d left you to the dead, quite literally.

Watching him now press his chapped lips to her sweaty temple was the single most painful thing you had ever experienced.

It topped all the times he had gone missing back in L.A., it topped when he would show back up for a few nights, luring you into believing this time it was different, he was different; only to leave you high and dry a day later. It topped the moment you realized your life would never be the same again, and it even topped the moment he walked away from you, disappearing into a crowd of the dead.

And yet…you couldn’t seem to look away.

His easy smile made you sick, and her endlessly brown eyes peering up at him made you want to scratch them right out of her skull, with your own bare hands. You’d never been a violent person, you’d always wondered what possessed people to completely lose their shit, but now? Now you understood.

The bastard turned toward the table you were sitting at, aiming to bring his latest conquest amongst yourself and his family. Your eyes narrowed menacingly and you shot to your feet without thought, quickly disentangling your legs from underneath the picnic table, hissing out a breath in pain after slamming your knee against the tabletop. The sound did the exact opposite of what you had hoped, garnering attention from those at the table, and the two approaching it.

You could feel Nick’s gaze, boring into your body, urging you to meet his eyes, but you refused and quickly strode away from the scene you’d managed to create.

Ignoring Alicia’s sympathetic eyes and the worried call of your name from Madison, you continued to make your way across the part, knowing that you couldn’t make her pick. You’d grown up with Alicia, dated her son and stuck with him through the trials they had faced. You’d been with them from the beginning of this revolting situation you had all been burdened with, killing to live. You were practically her second daughter, in all but blood and name, so you refused to put her in that terrible place; both because the thought made you nauseous and because you were secretly afraid to know just whose side she would align herself with.

Crossing the grass to a long table that held an array of drinks, you spooned what you assumed was apple cider into a clean cup, refusing to acknowledge the way your hand trembled, unable to hold either the cup or the dipping spoon steady. Tears pricked the edges of your eyes as you spilt more than you managed to pour, and you were seriously debating disappearing back toward the cabin, when a deep voice murmured softly near your side.

“Here, let me.”

You gasped softly, nearly dropping both the spoon and cup, had it not been for the strong hands that were suddenly surrounding your own. They stilled under his touch, relaxing into the gentle but firm grip without your permission. Your chest rose and fell quickly with a surge of adrenaline and something else that you refused to name; you hadn’t even heard him come up! You’d been so wrapped up in your own mind; his powerful footfalls hadn’t even broken through to your consciousness.

Wetting your lips quickly, you swallowed through the sudden lump that hung in your throat as you lifted your eyes, sucking in a sharp breath when your gaze met his.

It burned.

His eyes burned into you but, unlike the way your ex-boyfriend’s had earlier, this heat didn’t make you want to run screaming to the opposite side of the ranch’s many acres. Instead, a blooming warmth flowed through your body, rushing along your bloodstream, igniting a spark and flutter within the pit of your stomach.

You could feel yourself instinctively lean toward him, the desire to just give up all the false strength and relax into his strong chest was overwhelming. The expanse was broad, showcased by the hunter green material that was pulled tautly across it, allowing you a peek at some of the definition that displayed his muscles. His shoulders were broader, developed and honed with many hours of work on the ranch, and military training. His legs were long, leaving him towering over your shorter stature, allowing you to feel small and safe in his presence. His jawline was sharp, dusted with a faint shadow of scruff, and his features seemed to be chiseled perfectly, no doubt by some renaissance artist. His eyes were a disarming blue color, you couldn’t name the exact hue because it seemed to change, easing or darkening with his moods and thoughts. His hair was thick and was both brown and blonde, almost like it had been touched by the sun.

You didn’t know much about Troy Otto, aside from the fact that he was both intense and, quite possibly, slightly dangerous.

You had to hand it to him; slightly questionable methods aside, you had to admire the drive and passion it took to do what he had done. His obvious want to understand just what exactly had gone wrong enough in the world that the dead had awoken propelled him forward, gave him purpose, and that was something you had recently called into question for yourself. In all honestly, between his appearance and his warlike adaptation to handling this new world, he reminded you of Ares in Greek Mythology.

You weren’t sure why, perhaps it was just because that book had been the last thing you read before it became impossible to return to your own home.

Troy waited as you looked him over, his lips curling upward in the beginnings of a smirk as he watched you, the expression only growing when your wide eyes finally met his. He squeezed your hands gently, reminding you both of your position, before you gave a jerky little nod, releasing the cup and ladle into his grip. He didn’t even bother to look away from you, leaving you trapped within his gaze as he poured the perfect amount of cider into your mug and offered it to you, a boyish grin upon his lips that left you nearly breathless.

He watched as you took your first sip, his clear blue eyes lingering upon your throat as you swallowed, provoking his own throat to constrict as he shifted in place slightly. Rolling his lip between his teeth, he waited until you lowered the ceramic cup to ask the question that had been festering within since he had watched you dart away from the table minutes before.

Running away wasn’t really a move that he had expected from you, but he could understand it. You had been so desperate back at the military base, pleading with him to let you and the Clark’s go, so that you could find your boyfriend.

Taking you into the building had been nearly impossible.

He had stayed to watch, his back pressed up against the jeep as he observed. You’d turned from seemingly weak and innocent to a complete hellcat; spitting, clawing, throwing both kicks and punches. You’d used your legs, bracing them against the threshold in an attempt to keep the guards from forcing you into the hallway. Alicia had been screaming for you, Madison ordering you to settle down and stop resisting, but you had refused. One of the guard’s had caught his eye after going down, eating pavement when you kicked his knee out from underneath him. Troy had quickly motioned, silently ordering for you to be placed in a room separate from the Clark women, his own intrigue over your disposition piqued as you screamed out for someone who wasn’t even there.

The fact that you had belonged to someone else mattered very little, he had already decided- you were his.

He knew you felt it too, it showed every time he drew near; the way your breath hitched, your pupils dilated, the way you watched him just as closely as he watched you, a barely leashed hunger lurking beneath the surface.

He just needed to get you to see it.

You needed to let him in.

Reaching out, his long fingers wrapped around the mug once more, plucking it from your hands. You turned to him slightly, eyebrows arched in both confusion and a silent question. Instead of answering, or even speaking, his hand found yours and he began tugging you toward the patch of grass that had been lit up with more fairy lights than any other, creating something of an ethereal dance floor.

Your eyes couldn’t have grown any wider if they tried. It almost made him burst out laughing.

“Troy!” You hissed, immediately digging in your heels, attempting to thwart his plans as soon as you caught on. “Stop! Stop it, Troy…Troy!”

He didn’t listen and, if you were honest, you didn’t put up as much of a fight as you could have.

Ducking your head as more and more eyes turned upon you, you quickened your steps behind him, crowding up against the broad expanse of his back, effectively using his body to shield your raging blush from the party goers who had turned, their own eyes wide as they watched the youngest Otto tow you to the handful of couples who swayed together. The music was a mixture of older and newer, each of them perfect for dancing together, each wrapped up in their own little worlds.

Whispers broke out as Troy laced his fingers with yours, using the new grip to swing you out to the side in an arc before pulling you back into his body, that same hand slotting with yours perfectly, while his other found its home in the small of your back, settling there snugly. The opening chords of a new song broke out through the speakers and, surrendering yourself to your (happy) predicament, you dipped your head down to pull a deep breath in through your nose, before lifting your head to peer up at the devious rancher once more.

In doing so, you caught a pair of dark eyes staring back at you.

And they were furious.

Quickly snapping your head in the opposite direction, you allowed yourself to be guided backward, nearly jumping out of your skin when Troy’s voice caressed your ears, the tone surprisingly quiet and soothing.

“You don’t owe him anything, you know.” You knew. “He’s the one that left you behind and shacked up with some other girl.” You knew that too.

Sighing softly, you glanced back up at him, before tearing your eyes away from his imploring gaze, letting your own drift out to take in the crowd as Troy spun you around once more.

A startling amount of people were peering back at you, their faces arranged in various degrees of shock, concern, and curiosity. His brother’s face, in particular, looked entirely too worried for such a simple thing as dancing; while his father’s look was one entirely different from those of the crowd, matching only Madison’s in its calculation and deliberation.

You deliberately avoided making contact with the ones that you could practically feel, like needles pricking at your side.

“I know,” You finally sighed, lifting your head to meet the blue eyes hovering above you, their depths layered with secrets untold. “Part of me just can’t believe it. Part of me thinks…thinks it can’t be real.”

Troy frowned slightly, a fire of jealousy making him tighten his grip on you ever so slightly.

“But it is, Y/N. He almost shot me for her. He didn’t even ask if you were okay.”

You hissed in a breath, ripping your hand out of his so that you could smack his chest roughly. You didn’t even bother to fight it when his fingers closed back over yours, this time holding your hand hostage against his chest where you had hit him.

It stung, his words.

Because he was right.

You had been in that same helicopter that fell out of the damn sky, silently seething. You’d nearly ended up with a hole in your stomach, had Jake not pushed you down, and had to watch as Travis threw himself from the open door. You’d survived the crash, only to witness the pilot become the dead’s dinner, and then you’d had to trek across grass and hills, finally arriving safely at Broke Jaw Ranch. Only to have Madison blow right past you to wrap Alicia up in her arms, and search for Travis to bring up the rear.

And Nick? Well, he hadn’t bothered to look your way once, much less ask if you were alright.

Everything suddenly felt so heavy, as if the entire world sat upon your shoulders, weighing you down with both feelings and responsibilities that you didn’t want.

Your head dropped forward, pressing into the planes of his chest, and you felt as Troy hauled you that much closer. His big hand left yours where it held your hand above his heart, instead threading its way through the loose locks that hung down your back in gentle waves, thanks to braiding it most of the day.

You shuddered when his lips pressed to your forehead, surprisingly soft and smooth, shifting and quirking as he spoke against your skin, his voice rumbling through the bottom of his chest and into your ear.

“I would never, ever leave you behind, doll.” He vowed, still guiding both of your bodies through the steps. “You belong here, on the ranch,” Troy paused for only a moment, dipping his head to brush his lips against your ear as he uttered the last of his sentence. “You belong with me.”

Slowly, you lifted your head from his chest, only just catching the small flash of vulnerability hidden within his gaze, before it flickered away.

He tensed as you continued to remain silent, choosing instead to let your eyes map out his features once more, his words reverberating within your hectic mind. His grip tightened with each passing minute, the only outward sign that he was uncomfortable.

Carefully, you lifted your hand, fingers lightly sweeping over the bruised skin of his eye, your lips pressing into a thin line when you remembered the way he screamed, the pain he must have been in as Madison drove the spoon ever deeper into the socket.

You hadn’t approved.

Part of you could understand her motives, but the rest of you was disgusted; though, for some inexplicable reason, you couldn’t say you wouldn’t do the same if it had been you trying to get to him.

Your breath hitched as that thought took hold, acknowledging you would go to such extreme lengths, despite the fact that you hardly knew the man.

There was just something there, a connection of sorts, something that ran deep within the marrow of your bones.

When his lips covered yours, it wasn’t a surprise.

Still, your stomach flipped over and your heart might have skipped a beat, while your head fell back upon your shoulders and your eyes fluttered closed. His lips were softer than you expected and slightly moistened by the drag of his tongue before he had sealed them over your own. They pressed together and pulled at yours with a passion that you hadn’t expected, sending bolts of electricity rippling down your spine, and heat pooling in your stomach. Your fingers curled tightly around his biceps, desperately latching on for some sort of anchor in the whirlwind that his kiss provided, taking you by storm. Your breath came in quick little pants as he broke away and then dipped forward again, and at some point those same hands and long fingers had taken hold of your waist, lifting your off of your toes when you could stand on them no longer. He seemed to hesitate when it came to deepening the kiss and, growing impatient, you scraped your teeth sharply over his bottom lip, tugging it as you pulled back from him.

The growl that vibrated through his chest left you breathless and embarrassingly damp, though your current position left you unable to clench your thighs together as you might have liked, while a devious smirk lit upon your face.

You knew Troy was right. You belonged with him.

(Gif taken from Google!)

#troy otto x reader #troy otto one shot #troy otto imagine #troy otto #troy otto request #troy otto fanfic #fear the walking dead #FTWD #fear the walking dead fanfic #my first request!#kinda freaking out #squeeee

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steamishot · 5 years ago

Text

WFH Week 3

I’m halfway through WFH week 3. Weekends and weekdays kinda blend in together now. My manager isn’t being as strict with “clocking in” at 8 and “clocking out” at 5 - I think she may want to sleep in too lol. Work has been sometimes busy, sometimes not. I have a general duty of onboarding 80-90 incoming residents and fellows for this upcoming year. The fiscal year is also ending soon so I’m making sure the appropriate fellows are awarded their stipends. Tomorrow, I’m hosting a meeting that is held bi-annually. This meeting normally comes with catering and technical issues in the conference room, but I hope things will run smoothly with everyone on zoom. My friend just posted a quote that said “you are not working from home; you are at your home during a crisis trying to work”. Amen to that.

The surge has started to begin in NYC and NOLA. It’s kinda weird how those are the two last destinations I flew to. Last week, matt was still not very interested in talking about covid. Today, I finally was able to talk to him for more than 20 min, and he calmly acknowledged that covid patients are now taking over the hospital. I heard him speak solemnly about it for the first time, and then he also started coughing a little. He better not get sick! Thankfully, he is finally off night shifts (12 hour nights, 6 days a week) and can transition to day shifts (10 hour days, 6 days a week). One last rotation before his two week vacation! I’m praying that his vacation comes at an opportune time.

I’m most worried about Matt and my friend K who works at an amazon warehouse, which is like a breeding zone for the virus. They’re both slaves to the system. I was reading (source: residency subreddit) about how travel nurses are being compensated at like 5k/week to work at the ICU in nyc and how some nurses are receiving hazard pay. In comparison, residents’ work hour limitations of 80 hours are being lifted by NY governor so they can be worked to death receiving minimum wage?

K has always struggled financially, and she can’t afford to not work. At the same time, her body is giving out (she works 10 hour night shifts, 5 days a week), and she is at risk for the virus as she’s overweight, stressed and isn’t very healthy. On top of not being able to afford not to work, spending money on PPE is also not her priority. I decided to buy her some reusable masks from Etsy, but due to the demand, it’s taking quite a long time to ship out. I don’t think that I’m ill prepared for the pandemic, as I have time and money on my hands to navigate this. But I’m stressed out for these two who work so much and don’t really have anyone in proximity to help them. Their off days are mostly just dedicated to rest and chores. Matt has a higher advantage over kia because he’s healthy-ish, has strong lungs from when he used to run, has PPE, and has money. Disadvantage is being around covid patients all the time.

There was also talk about writing wills. Kia shared a NY times article about how healthcare workers are encouraging others healthcare workers to write their will if they haven’t yet, and said she’s thinking of doing the same. I saw on the subreddit residency that someone’s program was actually passing out will info (don’t remember what exactly). I’m trying to stay updated (mostly via reddit) for the news, and from insider’s perspectives from other residents to understand what my guy is going through. But, I also want to keep a time limit or else I can start feeling anxious and dejected pretty quickly.

The poor were always the ones to suffer, and now the income gap is even more apparent.

Some happier news: I’ve been working out with friends - S&J 3x a week after work, yoga here and there, sometimes with G. I’m trying to start a workout group with my family (brother, cousin in Paris, cousin in texas etc) on the weekend. Last week, it was my brother and Paris cousin - it was successful and nice seeing my mom & grandma video chat with my aunt. My brother also gave them a virtual tour of his new house.

I’m watching some kdrama with matt - Itaewon Class. It’s the first kdrama he’s ever watched. It’s not his usual go to - he tends to like to watch dark, criminal, thought-provoking American shows. It makes me happy that he is watching this with me, and it’s always more entertaining to watch shows with his commentary.

I also feel “closer” to him this past week. Something about being in a crisis and in a place of uncertainty/danger seems to push people to love harder. During his night shift, the first thing he would do when waking up (around 4pm PST) is to call me. Sometimes, he’ll call me when it’s still dark in his room and he hasn’t fully woken up yet. I feel very loved when that happens because it’s like I’m the first thing on his mind (amongst all this craziness that’s going on), and he makes time for me everyday even with an 80 hour work week. I also love it when he does things that I tell him to do. “I’m doing this because you told me to!!” haha

I made progress on my dietitian friend’s website and am like 80% done? I’m trying not to be too perfectionistic, because she’s not. Again, I keep reminding myself that outputting something is better than nothing at all, even if it’s not perfect. I’m helping her with social media, business cards, referral forms, etc. I’m grateful that we reconnected. I definitely would have probably continued to slack on my side hustle if it weren’t for her.

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queenmabscherzo · 8 years ago

Note

Targeting chapter 26 if possible? Looking forward to reading commentary about that kiss. Oh and If you don't mind doing more than one how about the scene in Strong Safety where Bucky yells at T'Challa about his cat in the storm? I wanna know T'Challa's mental process on that one so bad! <3

fdjakslf you asked for the whole chapter 26 I LOVE THAT CHAPTER i love you <3 i’m gonna do it i promise but i’m watching the bama game (FINALLY) so for now, i’m gonna do the scene from strong safety.

ask me for a dvd commentary

On Saturday, Bucky rumbles home and kills his engine and silently mourns the poor Corvette's wax job and kind of considers spending the night in the car just so he doesn't have to face the fucking monsoon—but then he notices the cat underneath a bench by his front door. (somehow the “voice” for bucky in strong safety ended up being ...... long run-ons with curse words. also i try to make very specific references, i mean, in all my writing, but in this story especially. it seems like a very bucky-thing, to think of the corvette’s wax job in this situation. but only for a second--he wouldn’t dwell, or anything.)(anyway.)

So he braves the storm.

Even though it's raining sideways.

It's really slippery and clumsy but he finally gets his front door open and sticks one foot through and then looks back at the cat. Her eyes are fucking huge, and she's fucking frozen in place.

"… Here kitty," he tries. (what a dumb jock)

She stares at him.

How the fuck do you make a cat do what you want. (SAME!!!!!!)

Bucky crouches down near his door and makes sure to leave the entrance wide open in case she wants to sprint past him into the warm dry bright inside, which is what Bucky wants to do, for god's sake. (bucky barnes, very protective slightly anxious boy who just wants to be left alone and kiss other boys and help small animals.) (please don’t think for a SECOND that making him hit people for a living was an accident.) (also honestly isn’t that the most Winter Soldier thing ever??) (i can’t believe there aren’t 2000 football aus) But the cat keeps staring at him. She looks like she's shaking, but that might be an illusion of the sheets of rain.

He holds out a hand and kind of … beckons the cat. Do cats understand hand motions? (ok but i love the idea of bucky loving small animals and having NO idea how to interact with them) "Come on, kitty."

She stretches her neck and her nose does the twitchy sniffy thing, and her whiskers move up and down. But she doesn't budge.

"Okay, fuck it." Bucky slips through the front door with a heavy sigh. He did not fucking get yelled at by like nine-thousand different coaches today just to come home and get ignored by a cat.

He goes to the fridge and pulls out the package of Oscar Mayer roast beef. (like i said, the specific details)

The rain isn't just wet and cold and miserable, it's also loud as balls, which is bullshit because Bucky wants to talk to the cat more but he has to scream to be heard. Screaming would for sure scare her off.

So he pulls up his hood, props the front door open with a pair of old Adidas (!!!), and starts tearing up pieces of roast beef.

That gets the cat's attention.

Her nose goes haywire again.

"Come on kitty," he says, tossing bits of roast beef in a little line. (before tchalla comes in can i just say bucky is A FUCKING DORK!!!!) (this is absolutely something my husband would do if u were curious) (one time we bribed a stray with taco bell and pulled it out of a car engine, so, you know.)

"Hey!" a voice cracks over the storm and Bucky drops a whole piece of lunchmeat with a splat. The cat is instantly all tense-whiskers, arched-back.

"Hey, what are you doing to my cat?!"

His heart is literally racing, what the fuck, when Bucky looks up and tries to see who's yelling through the curtains of rain. A tall figure morphs from a shimmery blob to an angry stranger into—

"T'Challa?"

"Are you trying to steal my cat?!" (was this a good plot twist? i have no idea, lol. but i was REALLY attached to it from the get-go. i wanted to sort of give tchalla and bucky some tension in the beginning, like in the films, and then bond over SOMETHING, and a “stray” cat seemed like the perfect something.)

"What?"

"Leave my cat alone!"

T'Challa cuts a soggy path right across the lawn, and water and mud flies everywhere around his feet, and Bucky can't even make himself stand up, he's so stunned.

"I'm not trying to steal her."

"What's all this?" T'Challa waves an arm at Bucky's little roast-beef trail that only made it half-way to the front door. (ok, so you asked about T’Challa’s mental process. so. from his point of view, he doesn’t know a whole lot about bucky, in this story, it’s all basically what you can glean from the media. so to him, bucky is a pretty violent player, he’s the person who knocked peter parker out for a whole season, he came out of a really corrupt/shady college program, and he’s sullen and quiet in the locker room. so although i imagine tchalla is pretty open-minded, he’s not inclined to like bucky for any reason. and then bucky hit that teammate in practice, and tchalla rightfully called him out for it, and his intentions were solid. the point is, i definitely didn’t ever think tchalla was in the wrong, in this fic. it’s just that neither he or bucky knew each other very well, so their conflict really just came from lack of communication. ALSO, in this exact scene, i kind of put myself in tchalla’s shoes and thought, well, wow, i would TOTALLY freak out if i saw someone else trying to get one of my pets in any way, for any reason. [pls imagine the poised hardass tchalla being a REAL SOFTY with his lil kitty......] IN CONCLUSION, the bulid-up of their miscommunications and bad interactions made tchalla extra suspicious of bucky in this scene. plus he lost his cat in a storm. that’s stressful too.) (i hope all this came off in the narrative, because that’s a long explanation, and if tchalla just comes off as mean, then i kind of failed!!!) Then he strides right over to the little bench and grabs the cat and pulls her to his chest. She clings to him and headbutts his chin like she's done it a million times. (they’re srsly so sweet)

A totally weird and definitely stupid pang of jealousy cuts through Bucky's gut and he's like, fuck, that cat never even let me touch her, and now you're just coming out of nowhere like—what. Like what. He surges to his feet. "I'm not trying to steal nothing, I just didn't want her to drown!" Bucky shouts.

"Sure," T'Challa gives him a hesitant look. (this is the point where tchalla kind of second-guesses his assumptions about bucky. he doesn’t back down right away, or anything. but they break down some barriers: bucky actually COMMUNICATES for once, and so tchalla has a chance to see what’s actually going on) And he takes a couple steps away, but Bucky's had enough. Enough of coaches yelling, enough of thunderstorms, enough of hoity-toity cats and hoity-toity quarterbacks. (ok ... lmao tchalla and his cat are both still divas tho)

"I didn't want her out in the rain, okay?!" he barks.

T'Challa stops and looks at him.

"I'm not a fucking cat thief," Bucky snarls. "She fucking shows up at my door all soaked every day, I'm not gonna leave her out here. Like you apparently do." (ok u don’t have to get aggressive, buck. but like, he still TALKED. and that’s all he needs to do. is talk to people. and tchalla LISTENED. they’re GROWING!) (babies whom i love)

T'Challa doesn't move and doesn't say anything for a long time. A really, thunderously long time. Literally. He just kind of lets the lightning and thunder speak for him while he gazes at Bucky. He doesn't look mad. (T’Challa is simultaneously like “this asshole” and also “aw he’s watchin out for my baby!”)

Then he leaves without a word.

#i'm legit legit gonna do the part from targeting too #THE HOTEL ROOM!!!!#anyway love you thank you #mab hath been with you #dvd commentary #anon

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fancymuffinparty · 8 years ago

Text

Prelude

Rating: T; for language and suggestive material.

Pairing: Levi x Mikasa, RivaMika

Summary: Written for the fifth RivaMika Jam! The story of how an aspiring musician meets and falls for his muse. My partner was @zerolr and my prompt was: “Mikasa is an ordinary person working at a grocery/supermarket store and Levi is a famous musician/actor. He sees her and finds himself attracted/interested in her. So while she checks out his purchase, Levi leaves her his phone number.” I kinda deviated a little from the original premise, but I hope it still turned out okay! :) This was fun to work with and I’m glad I signed up this time around!

Word Count: 3873 (a little long lol oops)

Music is one of many ways people are able to express themselves.

Soft, slow melodies from jazz or classical styles evoke calmness and serenity. Heavier themes can be conveyed through powerhouse ballads of the rock n’ roll variety. Regardless of the genre, there’s almost always a message or meaning to these intricate works of art, crafted from some sort of stimulus.

Some musicians draw inspiration from everyday life and personal experience, travelling and exploring new sights, or through the release of pent up emotions; a coping mechanism for dealing with hardships and complexities of this cruel yet beautiful world.

Aspiring musician Levi Ackerman fears he’s lost any and all inspiration. He has talent, that much is true. However, he recognizes that plenty of other ‘up-and-comers’ and ‘desperate hopefuls’ have talent. His music has hit a plateau, unsure where to take his current career aspirations or how exactly to get where he wants to be. He yearns for a stimulating experience; something to pull him out of this awful rut and set him apart from others in the highly competitive and cut-throat industry, riddled with unoriginal material and blatant narcissism.

Enter Mikasa, and the spark comes back.

She’s a quiet, reserved cashier at a small grocery store he frequents on a weekly basis. Always calm, smiles politely to every customer, and tends the same checkout stand every time.

Every other week-night. From six to midnight. Like clockwork.

Levi’s newfound muse is exactly what he needs as a source of inspiration.

It just so happens that he’s conveniently run out of a few basic necessities, prompting a trip to the grocery store on an unseasonably warm Thursday night.

Before long, he’s face to face with her, setting his gathered items on the counter in a meticulously neat array.

As Mikasa begins ringing up his purchase, she can’t help but engage in harmless conversation.

“That’s… a lot of cleaning supplies.” She suppresses a small chuckle, swiping the items along the scanner to a steady rhythm of beeps.

Levi, the ultimate clean-freak, feels no shame in what he considers a redeemable quality. He also seeks to use the situation as a means for something a bit more meaningful.

“My roommates,” he explains, “can be a handful.” That’s one way to put it.

“I can definitely relate,” Mikasa drawls, nodding her head. “Take on most of the responsibilities, right?”

“For the most part,” Levi replies. “They might be terrible roommates, but I can’t exactly get rid of ‘em.”

Still ringing up the last of the items, Mikasa coyly turns her gaze directly his way. “Some sort of obligation?”

Levi lists off the generalities of his living situation. “Longtime friends, band-mates…”

To his surprise, Mikasa pauses and expresses interest in pursuing the matter. “Band, huh?” A hard-to-read smile perches on her lips. “Is it more of a hobby? Like a side thing?”

He’s used to these kinds of questions, therefore he’s more than willing to answer. “Started out as a hobby, until we started booking gigs and performing here and there.”

“Seems as though you like it enough.”

“The extra money is nice, especially when it’s for something I enjoy doing.” Levi pulls out his wallet, preparing to pay for the cleaning haul. “Some venues are better than others. Some crowds are tougher than others. It’s hit and miss sometimes.”

Upon finishing bagging up the items, Mikasa briefly changes the subject, reverting back to the task at hand. “I might’ve asked you last time you were here, but any chance you’re interested in signing up for our new rewards program?”

Levi knows it’s a part of her job to ask every customer. Hell, the manager probably keeps tabs on which employee has signed up the most people per shift. He himself once worked in retail, so he can relate to working in an environment where employees are pressured to fulfill such menial assignments.

Either way, he’s still reluctant. “What would that entail?”

Utilizing her charismatic skills to their full potential, Mikasa makes an effort to reassure any concerns. “It’s free to sign up. All we need is an email and phone number.” Aligning her gaze with the mountain of cleaning products, she quickly adds, “And given that you’re here every week to stock up for the apocalypse, I think you’d benefit from it.”

Levi ultimately relents. “Well when you put it that way, it sounds reasonable.” A smirk creeps along the corner of his mouth as he begins filling out a sign-up sheet. “I thought maybe you were just playing it cool, trying to get my phone number.”

His attempt at flirting certainly hasn’t gone unnoticed and Mikasa finds it impossible to suppress the surge of red rising to her cheeks.

“Just… doing my job,” is all she can manage.

Thank god it’s a slow night and there’s no one else in line behind him, or this might have been a thousand times weirder. She accepts both the small slip of paper and his form of payment, finalizing the transaction in one fell swoop.

“Have a good night,” she says, handing him his receipt.

Levi, assuming that’s the end of it, nods and moves to grab the plastic bags full of his purchases, thanking her before turning away. Suddenly, and so unexpectedly, Mikasa’s voice pipes up and momentarily stops him from leaving the checkout stand.

“You should let me know when your next gig is,” she states casually. “I’d love to hear you play some time.”

Levi wasn’t sure what he had done to have been rewarded this many 'good karma’ points, but he accepts his lucky break nonetheless. Keeping his tone as casual as hers, he responds with, “Well now that you have my number, maybe you should call me when you’re free.”

Mikasa contemplates his sly remark, shaking her head. “I have a better idea.” She pulls out a pen and small piece of paper, using the counter as a flat surface while she scribbles something down. Once she’s finished, she extends it towards Levi, encouraging him to take it.

Levi gladly accepts, and discovers the contents of the pocket-size note feature her phone number.

“How about you call me when you get the chance?” Mikasa’s clever witticisms are yet another reason Levi is convinced his taste in women is anything but questionable.

He keeps a firm grasp on the slip of paper, as though it’s a prize-winning lotto ticket. “I will.”

And he certainly does.

Levi doesn’t get nervous.

He and his band-mates have performed enough times to get a feel for what the crowd likes and wants to hear. The venues are usually small, local, and full of college-age spectators. The stages rarely ever differ, offering the bare minimum amount of lighting above a sturdy wooden platform.

It’s not the first time he’s performed at this bar in particular. By now, he’s familiar with the amiable staff and finally on a first-name basis with management. Levi and co are a crowd favorite at the popular Colossal Bar, having won the hearts of the locale’s regulars which in turn generates an influx of business for the establishment. It’s a win-win for all parties involved.

There must have been roughly a hundred people in the joint but just as Levi was set to perform his second song, a loose rendition of ‘When You Were Young’ by The Killers, his gaze falls upon a sight that seems unfathomably surreal.

Mikasa is standing in the center of the crowd, a faint smile adorning her face. With one hand occupied, holding her drink of choice, she raises the other and waves.

Levi still doesn’t get nervous. It only fuels his desire to perform his best.

Amid the vast sea of unfamiliar faces, some more sober than others, some more enthused than others, some even singing along, Levi only wants to look at her.

Halfway through the song, the energy of the crowd seems to magnify, with someone in the back whistling loud enough to be heard over the intensity streaming from finely tuned guitars and drums.

Cheers follow shortly after the well-received rendition comes to an end, transitioning to a brief interlude as the band prepares to end the performance with their last song for the evening. This time it’s an original, not a cover.

Levi’s foot taps against the floorboards to the opening of the song; the song he wrote after seeing Mikasa for the first time. Granted, she doesn’t know that…

See it on the people’s faces everywhere

Black ‘n blue but they won’t throw the towel in

And let go of a dream

Man, woman, child, prepare to bleed

The band had initially been weary of the how the audience would react to their original piece, but the reassurance comes flooding in as soon as hoots and hollers from the crowd adorn their ears in tandem with the palpable beat and lyrics.

Levi keeps a level head through and through, eyes still locked on Mikasa, seemingly holding an intense staring contest with the raven-haired beauty that blocks everything else out.

Do you believe that we can conquer this?

Can’t delete all the mess that I have seen

Fall in the fire but these burns will heal you

The array of lights overhead flicker as Levi backs away from the mic. At long last, they complete yet another successful gig. A round of applause echoes from every corner of the establishment, indicating the patrons are more than just satisfied with the evening’s performance. He and his band accept the riotous praise hailing from newfound fans of their music, waving to the plethora of enthusiasts.

Bidding his mates farewell, Levi hops off stage and scrambles among a few tipsy spectators in search of one particularly lovely guest.

Several girls are ogling him from every angle, to which Levi is hopelessly oblivious. Completely uninterested in their advances, Levi finally spots Mikasa at the bar and pulls up a seat in the stool right next to hers.

She’s the first one to speak, greeting the arrival of the band’s front man.

“Seems to me you underestimate yourself, Levi,” she mutters, taking a sip of her gin and tonic.

“How so?” he asks, curiosity brewing.

She blinks lazily, resting her elbows on the counter. “When you told me you were in a band, you failed to mention you guys were actually really good.”

Levi’s glad he doesn’t give her the impression he’s a cocky asshole. He hates cocky assholes who talk up a big game, finding it beyond amusing when their pride and inflated egos are their ultimate downfall.

He accepts the compliment without getting ahead of himself. “’Good’ is a subjective term, but I appreciate it.” He orders a drink and while waiting for the bartender to devise the concoction, he carries on with the conversation. “I’m really glad you came out tonight.”

“That makes two of us,” Mikasa replies, studying him with intoxicating bluish greys.

The bartender sets Levi’s whiskey and coke on a coaster, to which he’s quick to take a hearty swig. The alcohol helps take the edge off, though he’s not much of a drinker and is enjoying the social interaction regardless. He’s about to say something when Mikasa nudges him gently on the shoulder.

“Don’t look now,” she mumbles, “but I think you have a fan.“

Levi only scoffs at that. “Oh yeah?”

“A few tables behind you. Toward the back.” Mikasa chuckles. “She’s been checking you out this whole time.”

Levi doesn’t heed her initial advice and looks over his shoulder to pinpoint this interested fan of his.

Bingo.

Copper colored hair. Large hazel-brown doe eyes. Possible candidate for a one-night stand.

‘Doe eyes’ winks at him, the look on her face begging him to join her and her circle of friends for some chit-chat.

Levi instantly looks away, leaving Mikasa equal parts confused and intrigued.

“She’s cute,” she hums.

“She’s not my type,” Levi affirms. “Besides, I’m right where I want to be.”

Levi and Mikasa eventually make their way to the back of the room, loosening up on a couple of beige lounge chairs as the alcohol only mildly kicks in. There’s about an hour left until closing, most of the noise dying down as the evening fades into the deathly early hours of the morning. A few winks from interested college girls still dart his direction, but right now he’s only focused on the way Mikasa perks her lips every time she’s about to say something. He can’t be half-assed to care what happened to 'doe eyes’ or his band-mates, not while he has Mikasa in front of him.

He learns that she’s not from the area. That she was adopted at the age of three and grew up in a small town a few hours away. Aside from working at the grocery store, she’s a full-time college student, majoring in criminal justice.

Levi on the other hand, admits he’s never really been anywhere else. Small town guy hailing from humble beginnings, content with how his life is turning out.

“Maybe that’ll change,” Mikasa insinuates. “One day when you make it big, you’ll be able to go to all sorts of places.”

Levi huffs at that. “’Make it big?’” He sounds disdainful, as if musicians who only strive for fame and fortune aren’t true musicians at all. He vowed never to be a sell-out long before setting foot on-stage. “Not sure that’s the direction I want to take my career.”

Mikasa half-smiles. “Like I told you. You underestimate yourself.”

“I don’t know,” Levi shrugs. “I think I would grow to hate that kind of lifestyle fairly quickly.” Always on the road, lots of airports and hotels, lots of loud obnoxious people. The exact kind of shit he can’t stand.

Mikasa has always been a realist, so she understands where he’s coming from, but that doesn’t stop her from offering her own perspective. “That’s one way to look at it,” she begins, “but what about the message you’re trying to send? What about the people who look up to you? Your music is more than just an artistic way of expressing yourself. It could inspire the hearts of thousands, bring them all together, and make this messed up world just a tiny bit better.”

You could use your voice for so much more…

Levi blinks a few times, almost at a loss for words until he finally manages to think of how to respond to that. “Forget criminal justice, you should look into becoming a motivational speaker or something.”

“You have to accentuate the positive in life sometimes.”

“That’s funny.” Levi rubs his chin in thought. “I’ve definitely heard that somewhere.”

“You probably have.”

Levi smirks, contemplating his next move when his eyes wander to a mark on her wrist. It’s dark, a couple inches long, and vaguely resembles some sort of symbol. Without hesitation, he bluntly asks about it, the thought of whether or not it’s an inappropriate question never crossing his mind.

“Is there a story behind that scar on your wrist?”

Mikasa merely shakes her head, unmoved by the sudden query. “Only a relatively boring one.”

She leans closer to where he’s sitting, extending her arm and allowing for him to trace along the small indentation. “It’s a… family thing,” she says, breaking the intermittent silence.

His fingers continue lightly tracing along its short length, smooth to the touch. Funny how he’s never noticed it before.

Strange, he thinks to himself. Now he ponders the possibility of penning a song about it.

“So,” Mikasa whispers, drawing him out of his momentary daze, “when you do make it big, are you going to write a song about me?”

Okay, now she’s flirting. Teasing him rather with such irresistible charm ringing in her voice.

Levi realizes he hasn’t let go of her hand yet, and regardless if it’s the buzz or just his attraction to her, he’s not sure he wants to.

He suppresses another smirk. That’s right. She doesn’t know; that he’s written a few songs about her already.

But he doesn’t tell her that. He chooses to keep that to himself, replying in a low quiet voice.

“Maybe,” he finally mumbles, looking up at her, his gaze landing on the scar below her eye. He’s noticed this one in particular on a few occasions. It grazes just above the cheek, resting beneath dark lashes and wisps of jet-black hair. He’s unsure if he should ask about its origins, but something about the way she’s looking at him with seemingly innocent curiosity urges him to fulfill his desire to get to know more about her.

Levi ignores the tension growing tighter and tighter throughout his body, realizing no one has ever made him feel this way. He struggles trying to put it into words, frustrated that he can’t properly articulate the sensation raging beneath his calm demeanor.

“What about… this one?” he asks, reaching out to stroke the scar nestled below her eye.

Mikasa slightly shudders, but surprisingly doesn’t pull away. She lets his hand hover over the scar, his fingers tracing gently along as he had with the mark on her wrist.

She could cop it out to them being alone, secluded in a corner with dangerously low lighting. She could blame it on the alcohol, mere tipsy antics.

But she’s not naïve.

“Story for another day,” comes her response in a smooth, sultry voice.

Levi nods, understanding.

He wants to kiss her. He’s never been more hell-bent on kissing someone in his entire life, but he likes to think he has some semblance of self-control and patience; unlike his rowdy band-mates.

Then, to his ultimate demise, she does something that drives him absolutely crazy.

She bites her lip, as if in suspense, and he pretty much loses it.

He closes the already tight gap between them and presses his mouth against hers, indulging in the incredible warmth. She responds almost immediately by parting her lips, inviting his tongue to slide inside. She tastes like lime, and something unidentifiably sweet. It spurs him to pull her in closer, sliding his hand up to her jaw, cupping her face in his palm.

Somehow he feels dizzier, and her wandering hands and the way she bites his bottom lip playfully further intensify this heated lip lock.

They’re still kissing like long lost lovers when the clock strikes two in the morning. Patrons start to file out through the exit one by one. The bartender begins wiping down the counters. The remaining staff members commence the usual closing routine.

Mikasa pulls away, playfully chastising the both of them for staying out well past their bedtimes. “Can’t believe I’ve been here all night,” she sighs. It’s almost a gasp, though she doesn’t appear too shocked.

“Got a curfew?” Levi deadpans, eyelids heavy. He finds it amusing that she’s more concerned over something as trivial as the hour rather than drunkenly kissing someone she barely knows.

Although during their heavy makeout session, it honest to god really felt like he had known her forever.

Mikasa rolls her eyes. “No, I’m just never usually out this late, is all.”

“Ahhh.” Levi exhales, expecting her to bid him goodnight and promptly ditch his ass without further ado.

He’s taken aback when she grabs him by the hand and begins hauling away for the exit.

What was she thinking about? What was she planning? Levi has a guess, but decides not to assume anything just yet. They awkwardly stumble out onto the street and Mikasa makes an attempt to hail a cab right there off the main drag.

“What’s on your mind?” He feigns uncertainty.

“I was kind of thinking I wanted to take you to-go,” she replies softly but oh-so-sure of herself. “Unless you had other plans…”

Levi merely nods his head, the words straining to dispel from his mouth, only to be suppressed by the tender look in her eye. The lights of cars zooming by hone in on the enticingly dark and mysterious features sheathed within.

Ultimately, he wordlessly agrees to follow, figuring nothing else needs to be said.

Wouldn’t want to keep her waiting.

Years later…

When Levi does make it big, he seems to be the only one out of his small circle of friends that’s surprised. Many were certain it was his calling; that catching a lucky break and garnering all the fame and recognition had been predestined.

From his own perspective, however, he’s simply doing what he loves, and insists on keeping himself grounded.

Maintaining a low profile is nearly impossible for the musician especially with the recent release of a new album, spawning a surge in popularity among fans from coast to coast. People stop and fawn all over him when he’s just trying to take his dog out for a walk, or when he’s making a coffee run in the early mornings before recording at the studio.

He hates it. He really does.

But like someone once told him, he uses his voice for more than just the purpose of entertainment. He advocates for causes he has strong beliefs in and vocalizes support for various organizations that strive for the betterment of society as a whole. It’s one of the few things that keep him sane, convincing him the fame isn’t a total nightmare. Sure, it’s not all that it’s cracked up to be, but he’s grateful the opportunity to help make a difference is there.

A blinding flash jolts his senses back to the present. Today marks the first day of his nation-wide tour, commencing the long trek from home over a span of three months.

As he’s done far more times than he can count, Levi steps up to the microphone, other band members setting up behind him. Unlike the small suffocating venues from before, he’s standing on a giant outdoor stage, unmoved by the masses of screaming people shouting their praises in anticipation for the upcoming concert.

The crowd’s ready, but he’s still getting in the moment, the wild ruckus blurring into low distant hums.

Before he gives the nod to his fellow mates, Levi takes a moment to let out a deep breath, eyes roaming about the entire stadium.

It’s another giant sea of faces; people with names he’ll never know, with lives he’ll never learn about.

He’s taken back to that fateful night at the Colossal Bar. The night Mikasa came to watch him for the first time.

He’s disappointed that her face isn’t among those in the crowd like it was then. None of this would have been possible without her; it’s all meaningless to him otherwise. He glances down at the silver wedding band fitted on his left ring finger, thinking a part of her is still with him even when he’s away on tour.

A half-smile fades as quickly as it appears. He’s ready for the long night ahead of him.

Mikasa, his beautiful muse, his best friend, his wife, might not be there to watch him and his band perform all the heartfelt and deep songs he’s written about her all these years, but he’s immensely satisfied to know that she’ll be there when he finally comes home, waiting for him like she always does.

It’s the only thing that matters.

#rivamikajam #rivamikajam5 #rivamika fanfiction #rivamika #shigenki no kyojin #i had fun with this #10/10 would do again #all for my otp #mywriting

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swearronchanel · 8 years ago

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6.03 aka I’m still crying 2 hrs later

I have no intro, I did this in one watch but had to obviously edit my typing but well yea this episode crushed me. I’m still shook tbh ahh. Read away if you wish

oh shit I’m not ready

SISTER MJ💔💔😭

FREE SISTER MC

ugh omg I can’t, my hearts about to explode about my chest

The Somali mum is so pretty, Nadifa right?

Oh shit she tryna hide the mail

she’s staying we know that

Ahh the cute turner scene ☺️

SHELAGH MY BBY 😭😍 she looks so good & her little behive omg

“Angela and I don’t have a tendency towards hoarding” SAS MASTER FLEX OVER HERE LOVE IT

“I’m no Marie Antoinette, I will not eat cake..” BRB ALREADY CRYING UGH 😰😰

Look at Valarie actually working & being a nurse

oh shit she’s 9months whoops, she ain’t going no where

JFK on the radio!!

Trixie’s tense, I feel

“If we’re all heading for oblivion, we need to be prepared” Fred lol he’s prepared for it all

No more shock treatment yes 😭💔

damn it my chest hurts and I’m emotional

Shelagh’s bump in her uniform 😭💕

PHYLLIS’s FACE WHEN SHE PICKS UP THE DOLL LMAO I LOVE HER

“Very useful fashion features” so precious, are magazines her maternity wardrobe inspo? 😭

LMAO PHYLLIS “I’ve never needed an editorial to instruct me on how to put myself together and I’ve never had any complaints” SHE’s A GEM

LOL @ SHELAGH’s REACTION

Valarie shook

the reality of fgm ..

Sister MC 😰

DOCKERILL AND SISTER MJ OMG I LOVE IT

“How can I be confident your purpose is sincere?” RIGHT SISTER

“I’m very glad to hear it ” PHYLLIS AH, she’s here for it!! I might be too, i have to wait for next week

omg sister MC, she loves her habit 😰💕 why tf did they take it though??!

FREE SISTER MC 😭 YOU DO NOT FALL SHORT LOVE

“How brave for her” and you!😭

PHYLLIS AND TRIXIE >>

“I’m not sure I have the gumption” BBY 💕 you deserve the world!!!

“Failure isn’t fatal, but hesitation can be” Phyllis is so wise & a gift we don’t deserve

Fuck im crying again

WHO STOLE HER BIBLE !!?

ugh fuck Mr Kenley, we don’t like his bedside manner

Patrick doing research so quickly, I’m proud & Phyllis is woke, enlighten us all

VISIT SISTER MC & free her !!!

lol this little girl, stop touching shit

She’s cute though I guess

Ok Val saying the right thing

MY BBY SHELAGH looking adorable💕

TIM HAS A FRIEND! Lmao it seems like he has none because he’s always with his family. Maybe he’ll get a girlfriend next series haha

“It is you, lost to us no longer but here before us perfect and complete ” MY HEART IS FUCKING BROKEN OMG I AM A MESS

PROTECT ALL THE SISTERS 😭💕💕

YES SECURE HER DISCHARGE, ASAP

I’m crying??!!

PHYLLIS RUNNING THE CUBS

LMAO PHYLLIS YELLING AT FRED LOVE IT, SHE IS SO BADASS, A GEM

“My way of making amends” poor sister J it’s not your fault 💔

LMAO SISTER WINNIE FAKE DRIVING ALL WRONG IM DEAD

HER SCREAM HAHA

ugh looking at kenley makes me sick, go away

Sister MJ & SISTER J MAKING HER BED💕 AND THE BIBLE AND CANDY ON THE PILLOW OMGGG

Oh shit where’d nadifa go

SISTER MC IS COMING HOME 😭😭

oh shit that lady had her bible, let her keep it

aw she did

Oh no nadifa’s going into labor?? ah omg

SISTER MC IS HOME😰💖

“Simply by being here” I’m crying again

LOOK AT HER PRECIOUS SELF WHY WOULD THEY HURT HER

Cuban Missile crisis on the tv

Trixie giving sister MC special soap💔

“I’d rather you give her my love” omg 😭😭

Fred painting the windows 😂

“President Kennedy.. he could charm the birds out of the trees” hell yea he was charming, rip. I wonder if next series they’ll mention his assassination? & side note Natalie Portman better win that Oscar for Jackie tonight

Nadifa’s sister is named Deka, got it. She reminds me of one of my cousins

Val and Babs new bffs?

Oh shit she’s in labor for real

“No knife” omg

I’d be freaking TF OUT

AH SHIT SHE’s GONNA DELIVER THIS BABY

AHHH OMG IM SCREAMING

THE BABY IS OKAY, SHE’S OKAY OMG MY HEAD, MY CHEST, EVERYTHING HURTS

damn that was intense

Gold fucking star for Valarie though

“I longed for this baby Patrick, longed for it, prayed for it and now I’m wondering why my prayers were answered because I don’t know what sort of a world we’re bringing it into ” SHELAGH DONT CRY, Ima cry 😰💕

“We just have to hope and we’re good at that” UGH MORE TEARS, YES YOU GUYS ARE 😭💕💔

Delia making another 2 second appearance

“If God loves me and wants me to do this, why is he making it so hard” omg I’ve been tearing this whole episode

DAMN YOU CTM for hurting my hEART and making it better at the same time!

Who are all these extra nuns

Aw Nadifa, but her baby is precious

Sister MJ & MC killing me 💔

“It is no bad thing to be lost in a fog or at sea..” 😭😭😰😰

“Nurse bubsy” um bitch we don’t need that attitude right now

“We’re all going to hell in a handcart” indeed

lol Trixie wasn’t having it though she gave babs the only side eye 😂😭

Shit sister MC reading the paper no

I can’t imagine living through this crisis?! But like my grandparents did

The world was shook. But we’re shook now?? the world is constantly falling apart

Wait I love THIS SONG

DON’T FORGET WHO’S TAKING YOU HOME….SAVE THE LAST DANCE FOR MEEEEE💃🏼💃🏼💃🏼

tom x babs, Delia with the photo of Pats!, fred x violet aw cute montage 💕 💔

Trixie looking spectacular ugh goals

“You’d think the world would’ve learned by now..” YEA TRIXIE WE’RE STILL SAYING THAT IN 2017

“London is your oyster” lol that phrase is funny af idk why 😂

Cute Trixie and Christopher moment though 😭

Patrick and Sister MC! “I was once as lonely..” I’m a w r e c k 😭💔

Trixie in those black pyjamas I still want

SISTER MC AND TRIXIE 😭💔💕

“I generally find that if you can summon the courage to sit through the bleakest day, then in the end the weather will change” 😭I needed that Trixie

“Nothing worse than being wrongly dressed for an occasion” omg she’s gonna ditch the habit

Val you said before there was no normal

THE FLAT IS EMPTY JUST LIKE MY FUckING HEART & SOUL THANKS TO THIS DAMN PROGRAM(ME)

ANGELA’S BABY STUFF

“Maybe I never gave up hope”

They actually fucking kissed again rip to me

“Lots of memories” yes “they don’t belong to the house, they’re ours. They come with us” YEA AND WITH ME TOO AH

IM AN EMOTIONAL PIECE OF GARBAGE, excuse me while jump out the window and throw myself away with the rest of the trash😭😭😭💕💕

BET THEY BORROWED PHYLLIS’S ROOF RACK AGAIN

“A lady never tells” ok Trixie 😉😏👀

CRISIS AVERTED !!!

“We live to see another day” mood every day in america tbh

Phyllis running to the radio😂

“I feel like an absolute fool” “then we’re a fine pair” Pair of fools ugh I’m cryin I love u fools

NORTHFIELD

oh shit, is Sister Mary Cynthia really going to leave the order or just start over? 😭

I know you didn’t get the memo yet son but no liquor for trix😲

My Trixie 😭 look how far she’s come 😭💕and she’s going to tell him soon and I’ll be crying and gushing with pride

Chin chin

THEYRE CAMPING OUT AH, THEN CAMPING TRIP REFERENCE

“We’re very lucky though, aren’t we” ugh MY HEART

SISTER MJ AND MC OMG 💔😭

my heart hurts. That’s all. Fuck I’m crying like real tears

Noo Deka is going to be cut😰😰

yo Val calm tf down, it’s fucked up but you can’t be yelling like that

Nadifa standing up for herself 😭

I can’t deal 💔

“What would you like to be called while your with us?” “If you don’t mind, and if I’m allowed to choose, I’d just like to be called by my name.. which is Cynthia” 😭give Bryony an award😭

“There are so many secret wounds, so many types of hidden scar.” VANESSA YOU CANT LEAVE ME CRYING ON THAT NOTE

Nadifa didn’t circumcise her daughter !!!

“The soul, being stronger than we think, can surges all mutilations and the marks upon it make it perfect and complete” VANESSA IM C R Y I N AND IM D E A D

I hope You all prepare for my funeral, pls arrive well dressed, dios te bendiga

Rest In Peace Gabby Rachel Nuñez, 1998-2017. Cause of death: too many feelings from call the midwife 💔💔

BONUS NEXT WEEK’S PREVIEW:

Susan Mullucks !! She’s so big

Boutta get prosthetic legs, my abuelo has one

“This isn’t funny Valarie” WHAT DUMB SHIT DID VAL SAY TO MY BBY SO I CAN SMACK HER

Trixie slaying though

I thought Mr Mullocks came around last series wtf?!

“Nurse Crane should stand down from duties until the situation is resolved” OMGGG NO

OMG NO SHE HIT THE ANTOINE KID WITH HER CAR NOOO

“If you caused harm to someone else would it not mask you question everything you life has come to stand for?” FUCK NEXT WEEK WILL BE JUST AS BAD FOR ME

PHYLLIS IS SOBBING, I AM SOBBING OMG IM NOT READY

#call the midwife #lets get it 1962 #im actual trash #IM A MESS #my commentaries™

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