#pot head ana

[reminiscingtonight]

Love You More

Ana-Maria Crnogorčević x Reader

Word Count: 2.1k

A/N: I told y’all what the plan for this fic was but I didn’t tell you about the twist :)

Everything Has Changed (Part One)

[WOSO Masterlist]

It’s not a competition, you like reminding yourself. Allie has two moms, double the love, double the everything, but it is not a competition. 

Mornings where you wake up to sweet kisses on your cheeks, a sleep mused Ana holding your baby girl to your chest is a reminder of why you play the game you play. The family you have waiting for you every single day is worth the early morning wake ups, the long days training on the pitch. With Ana’s soft smiles and Allie’s infectious joy, what more could you ask for?

So it’s not a competition, the love the two of you have for your daughter. 

Only…

It is.

What do you expect when two professional athletes have a baby together? Everything’s a competition.

Even something as simple as dress attire.

---

One--

Post-maternity leave training is grueling. 

You thought getting back into shape after being sidelined from a broken ankle was hard enough, but giving birth to a whole-ass human? Yeah, that took the cake. 

But despite all the pain and grumbling from your side, you did it. With Ana and Allie cheering you on all the way, the day’s finally here. 

Your first game back as a mom.  

Ana’s rushing around the house downstairs, pots and pans clanging as she quickly cooks up some food suitable for the three of you. The two of you slept in late, not noticing the time until Allie woke you guys up with a hungry cry. After scrambling out of bed, Ana was put on food-making duty while you were in charge of grabbing everyone’s clothes, including dressing Allie up into a suitable gameday get-up. 

Holding Allie in one arm, you make your way down the stairs. Tickling her stomach, the blonde gummily squeals back in excitement, more than ready for another adventure to Meadow Park. 

That’s something you’ve come to love about your daughter. Although you love everything about her, her striking resemblance to your wife definitely takes one of the top spots. Despite you being the one to push her out of your body, Allie somehow had more features of Ana than she did of you. 

Making the last couple steps down the stairs, you hurry to plop Allie down in her highchair. Pressing a kiss to Ana’s cheek in thanks, you scoop up your coffee as she gives Allie her food. 

You only have two seconds of peace until you hear an offended sounding-- “Excuse me, what is that?”

Blinking, you follow Ana’s hands to where she’s tugging at Allie’s shirt. Scrunching up your eyebrows you frown. “Uh, an Arsenal jersey? We do play for Arsenal, babe.”

“No,” she huffs, gently lifting and then turning your daughter around so that her last name is on display. “That! Allie wore my jersey last time! It’s your turn.”

Allie reaches out to poke at Ana’s cheeks in excitement, immune to your playful argument around her. 

Ana’s lips twitch as she tries not to smile, but confronted with your daughter’s delighted grunts, it’s hard for her to keep a straight face. 

You lift your coffee to your lips, more than content watching Ana pull goofy faces at your daughter than to meet her clear demands. Distracted, it takes a couple seconds before Ana remembers why she’s holding Allie in the first place. Putting the baby down in her seat with a kiss on her head, Ana turns back to you with her arms crossed. 

“I thought we agreed to take turns on claiming our daughter?”

You scrunch your nose up at her words. “And I thought we agreed to stop making it sound like our daughter’s a puppy at the pound.”

Ana rolls her eyes, handing you your toast and eggs without you even asking. You mumble your thanks as she settles in beside you, both of you watching Allie happily snack on her cheerios across the counter. 

She’s such a happy baby, always has been from the moment you brought her home from the hospital. Ana always jokes that she doesn’t know where Allie’s got it from, both of you being pretty feisty on the field, but you know she secretly loves it. Ana always turns to mush when Allie lets out a squeal of happiness, something you’re also at fault for but also happily tease Ana for doing. 

Nudging Ana, you give her a look. “How about I make you a deal?”

Ana rips her eyes away from your daughter to raise an eyebrow at you. 

“You let our daughter show her love for you today and we can let her wear my last name next game.”

Ana’s instantly protesting. “You said that last week!” An arm is wrapped around your waist before she starts peppering your face with kisses.

You try to shrug off your wife to no avail, laughing at her attempts to change your mind. “Ana, we’re going to be late for my first game back if we don’t leave soon.”

“That’s exactly why Allie should be wearing your jersey. It’s your first game back!”

“Ana!” you groan.

“(Y/N),” Ana mocks right back. 

.

Kim doesn’t look impressed when the three of you rush into the locker room late, Allie wearing her number thirteen Wälti jersey.

---

Two--

A part of you feels empty.

Waking up alone in bed, no sleepy wife to cuddle with, no bubbly baby to attend to, you’re at a loss.

You and Ana decided pretty early on that you would not be hiding your love from the world, your daughter included. A part of this meant exposing Allie to all your football families, whether it be club or country. And when it comes to country…

Let’s just say when there are 44 aunts eager to spoil your child, the two of you have to plan for trading who gets Allie during international breaks.

And this time Ana is the lucky mom.

Even with your pouting and puppy dog eyes, Ana simply gave you a kiss and waved you goodbye with Allie propped up on her hip when Leah came by to get you. You’re lucky enough that the round of friendlies were in England this time round, but nothing could combat the damper of being away from your little girl.

At this point your late night phone calls are the only thing keeping you sane.

Tonight Lucy had given you the room for privacy, opting to go wrangle some girls for a game of cards in Millie’s room. The first couple days the others had tried getting you to join whatever late night activity they were whipping up, but they quickly abandoned their quest after you nearly took Rachel’s head off for asking you to skip “just one call.”

“Just one call,” you had scoffed, angrily huffing at the way Ana laughed at you when you told her the story. “Ana, our family calls are not ‘just one call.’ Stop laughing at me!”

Safe to say you ended that day’s call early. 

But today’s has gone differently so far. 

You’d even go as far as to say you’ve enjoyed it, all Swiss teasings put aside. 

Ana’s laying it on thick, the charm, the pizzazz, everything that made you fall in love with her in the first place. Having a baby clone of herself plopped onto her lap definitely doesn’t hurt either. You’re stuck constantly gushing over how cute your daughter looks, while also throwing some compliments your wife’s way. 

All is going good, the two of you managing to ignore the fact that Switzerland and England are set to play the next match when… Ana let it slip that Allie’s wearing English colors tomorrow. 

“I’m sorry, Allie’s doing what?!”

Ana blinks, owl-eyed as she realizes her mistake. “… I think your connection is bad, you’re breaking up.”

“Ana-Maria Crnogorčević-Y/L/N--”

“That’s quite a mouthful,” she interrupts, secretly loving the way her full name sounds coming out of your mouth.

“Ana-Maria!” you huff, ignoring her tease. “Don’t you dare--”

Ana sticks her tongue out at you before shoving the phone into your daughter’s face. You’re treated with a close-up of your gleeful one-year-old before you hear a “Tell mama goodnight!” and then the screen goes dead. 

Lucy has to dodge the pillow thrown at her face when she comes to investigate the scream that makes it all the way to Millie’s room. 

.

The Swiss girls try not to give Ana weird looks as she parades around the dining room with Allie dressed head-to-toe in her Lionesses gear at breakfast.

---

Three--

“Your moms are weird,” Lia whispers to Allie, holding the small blonde in her arms. 

Sat on the floor of your living room with your daughter, your wife’s best friend has no choice but to watch the two of you glare at each other across the kitchen counter. 

The four of you were set to go out for lunch at a new place recommended by Beth and Viv. Lia even triple checked the time, knowing you to be a stickler for being on time. Despite arriving early, Lia walks into your house to find you two seconds from strangling Ana, a delighted Allie clapping her hands from her high chair.

Grabbing her goddaughter for some cuddles, Lia settled in, waiting to see how long it would take the two of you to notice her.

Through bits and pieces of your conversation Lia has figured out three things. First, Ana has hidden all of Allie’s Crnogorčević jerseys. Second, you might actually blow an aneurysm if Ana doesn’t “stop being the biggest cheater in the whole world.” And third, she really needs to get new friends who aren’t so sickeningly in love.

When the clock ticks closer and closer to one o’clock, Lia’s had enough. Unable to stay quiet, she raises her hand like a child in a classroom. When the action does nothing but urge Allie to stand on her leg (one of Lia’s hands bracing her back, of course) and try high-fiving her outstretched limb, Lia clears her throat. 

“Or!”

Your conversation instantly comes to a stop, both you and Ana turning to the brunette. 

Shooting Ana a quick look, you cautiously repeat the word. “Or?” you gently urge Lia to continue.

Lia lets out a breath, dropping her hand to the delight of your daughter, who doesn’t hesitate to start playing with Lia’s fingers. All three of you try stifling smiles as Lia struggles to stay on track. She gives Allie a pat on the head, trying not to grimace when Allie instantly goes to gnaw on her fingers. “Why don’t you guys just get her a jersey with your last names hyphenated? That is your guy’s legal last name.”

Although a sensible solution, Ana’s instantly shaking her head, nose scrunched up in denial. “Crnogorčević is long enough.”

You nod, backing up your wife. “I don’t think adding my last name would fit on the jersey.”

Lia groans. “Guys-- You know what, that’s fine. Allie can just wear my jersey from now on, capiche? No more arguing, no more stupid ‘I want the baby to love you more’s. I just want to go out for some food now.”

If looks could kill, Lia would be six feet under. It takes the reminder that Lia’s holding your daughter and Ana wrapping her arms around your waist to stop you from rounding on your best friend.

“Excuse me, whose child is she?”

“Get your own kid, Lia. You can’t claim ours,” Ana agrees beside you, a similar frown on her face.

Sighing, Lia has no choice but to watch the two of you turn back to one another and start another round of attempting to convince the other one of why Allie should wear the other’s jerseys. She stays silent because she knows it doesn’t matter. The two of you love each other too much to really let something as simple as a jersey do too much damage to your relationship. 

And it’s not like nine times out of ten Allie doesn’t show up in her little Wälti jersey when the two of you can’t agree on what she should wear anyways.

.

Years later when Allie is old enough to be choosing her own number for her youth team, you and Ana are left to glare at a smug Lia when your daughter enthusiastically chooses the number thirteen.

[silverstonesainz-archive]

birthday love

summary: just little birthday love for the birthday boy word count: 1.2k requested: no! warnings: google translate spanish. otherwise, this is tooth-rotting fluff. note: obviously i had to write something for carlos's bday. hope u like this little fic. love you all.

taglist: @sluts-inc @sidcrosbyspuck @coffeehurricanes @miniminescapist @amsofftrack @melancholyy-scorpio @strawberrypaul

❃゜·。. ·°゜✼ ゜°· . 。·゜❃

Your fingers gently wrap around Carlos’s wrists, lifting his arm off of you so that you can roll out of bed. He doesn’t stir at your movements, still sleeping peacefully in his childhood bed. His hair is splayed over the grey pillow cases, the moonlight dancing over his soft skin. You admire him for a second longer before grabbing your backpack and slowly slipping out of his room. The Sainz house is quiet at four thirty in the morning, and you do your best to keep the noise down to a minimum. You begin to unload the cheesy birthday decor out of your bag, laying them out on the counter as you look around the kitchen. 

“What are you doing?" Ana's asks from behind you. You jump at the sound of her voice, cheeks tinging red from embarrassment.

“Ahhh… It’s his birthday so I wanted to do something nice for him… something cheesy if you will.” You suddenly felt insecure about your choice, but Ana’s smile eases your anxieties.

“Can I help?”

And that’s how you ended up on the kitchen counter as Carlos’s sister hands you strips of tape. You stand on your tippy toes, taping up a colorful happy birthday sign against his cabinets. You and Ana talk quietly, as she pokes and prods at you to learn more about you. She asks about your career, about your favorite thing, and more importantly how you feel about Carlos. 

“He really likes you,” Ana says, “He always manages to bring you up in a conversation. We were all honestly so excited to meet you.”

“Ditto,” You nod, stepping down from the counter. “I was nervous, but excited. It means a lot that Carlos wants to bring me around you guys… I know how important family is to him.” 

She nods, “He’s really lucky to have you.” She grins widely and looks at the decorated room. From the happy birthday sign, the streamers hanging from the ceiling, and the party hats sitting on the kitchen island. “So what next?”

“Breakfast.” 

“Woah,” A voice says behind you, “Que pasó aquí?” What happened here?

“Es para Carlito,” Ana replies, “Y/n’s idea.” 

You turn around, gaze meeting Blanca and Reyes looking around the room. Carlos’s mom grins excitedly, mumbling something in Spanish about cooking breakfast. You’re frozen in time, looking around the room as the three women in Carlos’s life begin to move around you, quietly trying to help you prepare a surprise for your boyfriend. You felt at home, felt a part of Carlos’s world. Reyes smiles over at you, walking over and giving your shoulders a squeeze. 

“Estás bien?” Reyes asks, “Go rest, we can handle it from here.”

You shake your head, “No no, estoy bien. How can I help?” 

Reyes allows you to cook eggs, while she handles the rest. You enjoy your morning along side his mother and sisters. The kitchen was slowly coming together, the food being put out dish by dish, the coffee pot brewing. It smelled divine, and you gushed over how good everything looked with Blanca. In the time you spent cooking and getting everything together, Blanca managed to put out photos of Carlos and spread them around the room. Photos from childhood up to his moment on the top step of the podium are framed and set in various places.  

“We did good, no?” She asks, grabbing a piece of bacon to snack on. 

“We did. Thank you all so much for helping.��� You look at the three women, who smile and nod. 

“His father should be up soon,” Reyes mentions, “Go upstairs, get him up before the food gets cold.” 

You nod, thanking them once again before making your way back up to his room. When you enter, Carlos is still snoring softly with his back towards the door. Shutting it softly, you slowly tiptoe back into bed, shimmying under the covers and throwing your arm over him. You press soft kisses against the skin of his back, nuzzling your cheek against him. Carlos stirs in your hold, the rumbling of his soft groans vibrating against you. His hands meet yours, fingers intertwining with your as he brings it up to his lips. 

“Morning hermosa.” He greets, voice thick with sleep.

“Morning bebé.” You hum, kissing along his shoulder before he turns around and pulls you against him. 

His fingers find their place beneath your chin to tilt your head up and press a kiss on your lips. The kiss is soft and sweet, his other hand resting lazily on the small of your back to hold you close. 

“Happy birthday mi amor.” You mumble against his lips. 

“Gracias.” You can feel his smile in the kiss and the way his fingers leave your chin to tangle themselves in your hair. 

You spend a couple more minutes in bed, tangled in the other before you finally coax him out of bed. When you get to the bottom of the stairs, you place your hands over his eyes and your boyfriend whines in disapproval.

“Mi amor, por qué?” His hands pull yours off but you’re quick to replace them. 

“Stop being a baby and trust me.” You click your tongue, and nudge him forward. 

Unbeknownst to Carlos, his whole family was standing in the kitchen. A single candle sits on top of a stack of pancakes, everyone in their party hats and ready to sing. You stop him just a couple of feet in front of the kitchen island, pressing another kiss against his shoulder before releasing him. 

“Feliz cumpleaños, mi amor.” You say softly

You step out beside him, looking up at the grin on his face as his family sings him happy birthday. There’s a soft blush on his cheeks, strands of hair either flopping over his forehead or standing up, his grin stretching from ear to ear. There is a twinkle in his eyes as he looks at his family in front of him, and you feel yourself falling for him even more.

“Gracias, gracias.” Carlos slings his arm over your shoulder, pulling you into his side. 

“Todo era plan de Y/n,” Blanca nods towards you. 

Carlos looks down at you, quirking his brow. “Really?”

“Anything for the birthday boy,” You grin. He leans down to press a kiss to your temple.

“Okay okay, vamos. Comamos.” Reyes says, waving you both over.

You all gather around the kitchen island, eating down on the food served. The morning is filled with laughter and love. You enjoy the moments playing out before you, the way Carlos interacts with his sisters. The playful shoves and teasing words, but the love in every gesture. His parents stand back, watching their children with such adoration. You take another bite of your breakfast, enjoying the moment even if you aren’t completely submerged in it. 

“You okay hermosa?” Carlos asks, leaning on the counter next to you. 

“Mhm. You?” Your fingers push the dark locks off his forehead, combing it backwards. 

“I’m more than okay. Thank you so much for this, for everything.” He leans in and gives you a quick peck. “Soy tan suertudo de tenerte. Te amo.” I’m so lucky to have you. I love you.”

“Yo también te quiero, bebé.” 

❃゜·。. ·°゜✼ ゜°· . 。·゜❃

send me an ask if you want to be part of my f1 taglist!

[hb-writes]

For a ‘love’ prompt, I hope they’re still open? If not ignore this ☺️ I love the relationship between Emmeline and Christian Grey, so maybe something cute and fluffy to show the love they have for each other, something like ‘You have three seconds to run.’

"You have three seconds to run."

Emmeline was still giggling and the words took an extra moment to process as she considered her brother's current condition, her mind trying to compute exactly how dropping her breakfast dishes into the suds-filled sink had caused such a strong splash back, one which had left her gloriously dry while Christian looked like she'd dumped a pot of water on him, liquid dripping to the kitchen floor.

"Oops?" Emmeline offered a small smile to her brother, taking a cautious step away from him as she tried to sober herself.

Christian snorted and a dangerous gleam shined in his eye as he wiped a bit of soap from his cheek, his lips pressing into a straight line, though Emmeline could tell it was an effort not to smile.

Christian Grey had a few dangerous looks, a handful of infamous glances and glares that communicated without requiring him to utter a single word. Emmeline was all too familiar with those sorts of looks. She'd been on the receiving end of them often enough. More than most people, she suspected, but as familiar as she was with the looks that communicated Christian's frustrations, she knew this look, too...

Christian would have the world believe that he wasn't the playful sort, that he was a serious businessman. A no-nonsense sort of person and nothing more...but Emmeline knew her brother well enough to know better.

Equal parts of dread and giddiness settled her stomach as Christian started counting out.

"One..."

Emmeline's mind emptied of everything except the goal of putting distance between her and her brother, her sock-clad feet slipping on the floors as she pushed past him and raced through the penthouse.

"Two..."

She let out a scream followed by a peal of laughter as Christian counted out the final number, her foot slipping and sending her into the wall as she turned a corner. Christian had given her a head start, but as she listened to the sounds of his approach, Emmeline had no illusions about the fact that her advantage was fleeting.

She met her brother's eye as he appeared at the end of the hall and a startled shriek escaped her lips as she pushed herself into motion once again, aiming for the nearest room with a locking door—Christian's home office at the end of the hall.

"Ha!" Emmeline shouted as she slid over the threshold, slamming the door in Christian's face as he caught up, both of them fumbling with opposite sides of the door handle—Christian trying to gain entry as Emmeline worked to secure the lock.

She let out a nearly breathless laugh as the lock finally clicked in place, resting her arms above her head as she caught her breath.

Christian called his sister's name through the door, the tone almost alarmingly calm, gentle. "Open the door."

The handle rattled. "Em. Let me in."

She laughed. "No way," she answered, stepping away from the door. "Feel free to contact my assistant to make an appointment."

Emmeline could've sworn she heard Christian laugh on the other side of the door. She wasn't sure if that was a good thing or not.

"I think I can maybe get you in next Tuesday," she continued, slipping her phone from her pocket as it chirped, an email notification popping up on her lock screen—a calendar invite from Christian with the meeting label 'retribution,' scheduled for the next fifteen minutes.

Emmeline snorted, rolling her eyes as she slid into the chair behind his desk and declined the invite. She started scrolling on social media, figuring she could wait him out. Wait until the desire for retribution was replaced by some more important—something with work or Ana's return from her brunch with Kate.

Emmeline shot to her feet, dropping her phone as the door suddenly shot open, revealing her brother, smirking there with a single key in his hand. The key she'd conveniently forgotten to consider.

"Chris..." Emmeline started, hands held up in the space between them as Christian stalked forward. "Chris. Christian! Please just wait." Emmeline stepped around the desk, trying to keep the furniture between them. "It was an accident. They slipped. Please. I—"

Emmeline shrieked as her brother grabbed her arm, pulling her to his chest and trapping her there with one arm, his fingers digging into her ribs as he extracted his retribution.

[aresofparadis]

2 baddies (preview)

pairing: himbo!eren x f!reader x himbo! jean

summary: years of I don't need men attitude led you to rejecting nearly every man who came your way. you knew everything you needed to survive, what did you need a man for?

the reality is... there are some services only a few men... can provide.

tags: ⚠️ 18+ fic!! minors dni!

shared interest, love triangle, no established romantic relationship, FWB, edging, domxdomxdom, switch, car sex, pda, degrading, player eren + jean, multiple partners, adult drinking, legal marj*ana, pot head eren and jean, v*ping, sm*t, oral, m*sterbating, partying, best friend jean and eren.

taglist(OPEN):

coming soon!!

[liminalmemories21]

I know I'm late but if you're still looking for prompts:

"So you stabbed me??"

It's not the first time TK has met his family. It's not even the first big celebration that TK has been to with both of his sisters and their husbands and assorted children in tow. It is, however, the first church picnic that TK has been to with them.

Luisa currently has five plates of pie in front of her and she's angling for the point of the nearest slice of Ana's selection. Ana's fork comes down on top of hers without even looking away from the conversation she's having with Mrs. Cairns. "That's my pie."

"So you stabbed me?"

Ana nods politely at Mrs. Cairns who looks amused, and turns back to Luisa. "You know the consequences for pie theft." She looks at Luisa's hand. "Don't be a baby, it didn't even break skin."

TK's staring at all of them over his one (singular) slice of black bottom cherry pie. Not a bad choice, but it's an amateur move not to start at the other end of the table so you can get to Anabeth Pritchard's buttermilk pie before it's gone. Luisa and Carlos both scored slices, but Ana got waylaid by Lucy Muller on her way to the table. Ana's eying Luisa's slice and Luisa ostentatiously moves it away from Ana.

Ana switches her attention to Carlos. "Trade you half of your buttermilk pie for half of my lemon meringue?" He shakes his head.

She narrows her eyes. "Half of your buttermilk pie for half of my slice of Mary Gearson's peach pie." He starts to shake his head and she holds up a finger. "And I don't tell TK about what happened at your 5th grade square dance recital."

TK looks up, interested, and Carlos narrows his eyes at her. "You really want to play dirty? I can tell Mom about what really happened to that pot of chili," he trails off.

Ana darts her eyes in their mother's direction and hisses, "You wouldn't dare."

TK looks around the room and asks nobody in particular. "What happened to good clean Christian fun?"

Luisa snorts and waves a fork. "It's all fun and games until someone loses a pie."

TK blinks at her, and opens his mouth like he has questions and then thinks better of it and takes a bite of his pie and chews thoughtfully. "It's good pie?"

Carlos sighs and reminds himself that he loves TK and mentally sacrifices his buttermilk pie and cuts a piece off for TK and hands it to him. TK eyes him dubiously, and Ana and Luisa stop talking to stare and him and wait for his reaction. TK's eyes close as he chews and he lets out a tiny broken sound that Carlos is intimately familiar with, and he licks the tines of the fork to chase the rest of the buttermilk filing clinging to them. Carlos's mouth feels dry.

TK swallows and his eyes slowly open. "That was . . ." He eyes the rest of Carlos's pie, and Carlos wordlessly pushes it in his direction.

Ana looks at both of them and smacks Carlos with the back of her hand. "I offer to trade you half my slice of Mary Gearson's peach pie and you give it up for free to a pretty boy who puts on a show?"

He cocks his head and watches TK take another bite, cheeks hollowing a little as he makes sure to suck the filling off the fork, red lips closed around it, long lashes dark against the pale skin of his cheeks. "Worth it."

Luisa leans her head against Ana. "That's how you know it's true love." He spares a glance away from where TK is making eating pie look like something that ought to be done behind closed doors, to find both his sisters looking at him with soft smiles.

Luisa catches him looking and straightens, and makes a play for his slice of Mary Ellen Fahey's banana cream pie, and that is an act of war.

Note - I don't know if Buttermilk Pie is orgasmic per se, but it is really damn good.

[dawnthefox24]

Gabriel: *is talking to Jack* I’m telling you Golden boy, my team is very competent. Ana: *rushing in clearly pissed off and ready to rip someone head off* Gabriel! Cole tried to make pasta in the coffee pot and now it's broken! Also Genji disappeared and I can't find my daughter!!!! REYES YOU BETTER PRAY I DON'T FIND FAREEHA OR GENJI CAUSE IF I DO YOUR ASS IS GRASS GOT THAT!!! Gabriel:*Laughs nervously* haha...see....very competent..... Jack:*facepalming very hard*

[randomshyperson]

Yellow Curtains - Chapter Seven - Wanda Maximoff Series

Summary: Wanda Maximoff's senior year at Novi Grad School is duly planned for her. She has good friends, good grades, and a good system to hide who she really is. Or, the one based on Evak from the Norway Skam series, where Wanda is queer and tries to survive the last year without anyone knowing about it.

Warnings: (+18), general warnings about language and violence, legal drug use, mentions of underage drinking, high school, internalized homophobia and discovery of sexuality, explicit mentions of mental disorders (bipolarity and depression), dysfunctional family, making out, and eventual smut.

Skamverse | Series | General Masterlist | AO3 | Wattpad

--//--

Chapter Seven - The Truth

Četrtek 14:11 (Thursday 2:11 pm)

A beautiful landscape extended in front of Wanda. She adjusted the blanket around her shoulders and blew the tea inside the cup she held, staring at the view while she could hear the sounds of her family playing in the house behind her.

She had been miserable for days after the fight, and Natalya had come up with the suggestion that they all go south of Novi Grad, to the part of the country where Django and Marya, Wanda's aunt and uncle, lived. They had two children, Ana and Mateo, who were very naughty children and whom Wanda liked very much.

It was already the last day of Hanukkah, and since the Maximoffs were not Jewish, Wanda left the table and went to a high spot on the hill in the backyard, and took advantage of the privacy to pray in silence.

She was admiring the landscape now; it would be a lie to say she wasn't thinking of you. She has, without exception, been remembering you every day. But Carol's call the day after yours, made her stop phoning.

"She's not feeling very well right now, Wanda. We're still in the hospital. With the holidays, her psychiatrist is on vacation. And she can't use a cell phone here so don't expect her to call. Just, hold tight okay? Know that she is safe. And surrounded by people who love her. She'll talk to you when she can."

Carol didn't answer any of her questions, and in a way, only made new ones come up. But Wanda was trying not to despair over the whole thing, and being around her family again made her breathe easy.

Pietro was still acting strange, but to her surprise, he was the one who took the first act toward reconciliation.

"I wouldn't want to start the year at war with you." He said - The peace offering being fruit he picked from the Maximoff garden in a decorated pot that Mateo probably helped him build. Wanda offered him a small smile, leaving the tea on a makeshift log as a table, and accepted the fruits. Pietro understood that he could approach. "Did I interrupt your prayer?"

"No, I was done." She murmurs, tasting one of the strawberries. "Did you complete yours?"

He nods, looking at the landscape before turning his gaze back to her. "How are you?"

Wanda chuckles weakly, placing the pot of strawberries next to the tea to hug her own body under the blanket. 

"I keep wondering if I'm the problem." She confesses sincerely, and he stares at her the same minute, frowning. Wanda swallows dryly. "Maybe Y/N is right, and I am just too much."

"Wanda, you're not too much." He assures. "I'm sure she'll explain this story straight out, you can't jump to conclusions."

Her eyes filled with tears. "But it's like you said isn't it Pietro? What if I'm just playing the innocent, and not seeing what I'm doing? I called her a lot and lied and hurt her and now she hates me-"

"Hey, forget I said that I didn't mean it." He interrupts guiltily, pulling her by the shoulders. "You're amazing. You're my favorite person in the whole world. I shouldn't have said that. I'm sorry, okay?"

She sniffles slightly, running a hand over her face to wipe her tears. "You're nothing like Dad, either. I shouldn't-"

He denies it with his head. "Yes, I am." He interrupts with a sad smile, "And it's okay. I'm more like him, and you're more like Mom. It's just the way things are. The difference is that he hurts us on purpose, and I never intended to do that to you." Pietro says. "Can you forgive me, Wanda?"

She nods, hugging him. Her twin responds at the same time, caressing her back over the blanket. 

Pietro sighs a moment later. "I don't know what will happen between you and Y/N, but know that you won't be dealing with this alone. I'm here for whatever you need, sestra."

Wanda sniffles against his chest.

The family on Wanda's mother's side had Romani origins and were at their most devoted to the pagan faith. When Natalya married a Jewish man, it was a shock to both sides. The marriage also ended in scandal - Erik turned up with a mistress and a daughter. The divorce was peaceful after all, but it was safe to say that nobody liked Erik very much at that lunch table.

When Django asked if the twins would like to join them in traditional Wiccan celebrations, Pietro immediately refused. He had always been more connected to his father's Jewish faith than Wanda ever had been, and the girl, although she said she didn't know the customs very well, was more curious and open than her twin.

Yulefest had already started, but it went on until the first day of the new year. There was a big celebration in the nearby village, and Wanda had a good enough time to keep her thoughts away from you for the next few days.

Pietro did not participate in the celebrations but was respectful about everything. When they finally left the house of the days in January, he even surprised Wanda with some items he had asked his aunt and uncle to take home as a present to Wanda - She kept them near her bed.

–//–

Sobota 08:50 (Saturday 08:50 am)

Wanda was checking the New Year's Instagram stories of all her friends when you texted her for the first time in weeks.

"Can we meet? I want to explain everything."

Her heart leaped, and it didn't stop beating hurriedly for many minutes. Her immediate reaction was to type yes, but she hit the brakes before hitting enter.

How dare you disappear and then demand a conversation? She can't remember the last time she slept properly, not since that conversation.

She threw the cell phone on the bed, leaving you with no answer, and went into her brother's room.

Pietro was playing video games in the bedroom, and Wanda had to nudge him to get him to take off his headphones.

"I've already had coffee-"

"Not that." She interrupts gesturing briefly. "Y/N texted me."

He pauses the game on the spot, looking at her in anticipation. "So?"

Wanda crosses her arms. "She wants to meet me."

"Oh, do you need a ride or something?"

"No, I don't know if I want to go."

Pietro makes a confused face. "What, but you've only been talking about her all holiday..."

She grunts impatiently. "Yeah, that's the point!" She retorts. "She's been driving me crazy. And now she can't just text me and expect me to come crawling back. It hardly  fair."

Pietro sighs. "I think you're overthinking it." He retorts, turning his attention back to the TV. "You'll keep suffering if you stay here, and you'll never find out what really happened if you don't go to her. Besides this, it's a chance to be honest, no? You can tell her you don't want the relationship to be like this or whatever."

Wanda sighs in defeat, knowing that Pietro is right.

"I'll take the car." She declares, receiving an indignant exclamation in protest.

"No, it was my Christmas present, not yours!" He yelled in protest, but Wanda had already grabbed the keys to the refurbished car gifted by Uncle Django from the door and fled from the twin through the house.

–//–

Sobota 9:15 (Saturday 9:15 am)

She was surprised that you got there first, and thought that maybe you were waiting for her and working up the courage to send her a message.

The place where you asked to meet her was the municipal park, less than a hundred meters from the Novi Grad Cathedral, where all the commotion started. It didn't make Wanda feel easy.

She parked the car and approached unhurriedly, watching from a distance your restless posture as you checked your cell phone for new messages and looked around for her.

When she was close enough, you spotted her. Your face immediately lit up, and Wanda decided to ignore the way her stomach jumped.

"Hi, Wands."

She kept her hands in her pockets. "Hi? Is that all you have to say to me?"

You grimace softly. "Well, that's how you start a conversation."

Wanda tilts her head to the side, a dry laugh escaping her lips. "Do you really want to make jokes now? After the way you treated me?"

You swallow dryly, denying with your head and taking a step forward. "No, I want to apologize." 

"Yeah, can you clarify for what? For the way, you spoke to me, or for not returning my calls? Or maybe for sending your sister to be your errand girl or instead of having the balls yourself!" Wanda accused angrily, but you only looked guilty yourself.

"Yeah, all of it." You retorted with a sigh. "I wanted to explain everything, but I just didn't have my cell phone and-"

"What the fuck are you talking about? You called me to say you wanted to take some time away from me! I almost died of worry over the damn church video, and instead of telling me what happened, you told me to mind my own business!" She feels like she is on the verge of tears, but you take another step forward.

"Wanda, I'm sorry!" You suddenly firmly. "I wanted to call you again, and take it all back the moment I turned off my cell phone, but the nurse came into my room and took it away and I there's nothing I could do about it."

Wanda shakes her head in confusion, pushing the emotion away. "What happened to you? Why are you in the hospital?"

You look away from hers, swallowing dryly. "It was a misunderstanding. They thought I was going to jump off the church."

Wanda frowned. "Weren't you?"

You laughed dryly. "I may do some acting but if I was going to kill myself it wouldn't be so dramatic."  

Wanda stares at you. "Don't joke about those things." She tells you seriously, and you swallow dryly.

"Sorry."

"What were you doing on top of the church anyway?" She questions, and you sigh in return before pulling your cell phone out of your pocket.

"I wanted to take a picture." You say typing on the device. "I was thinking about our conversation, about faith and all that. I found out that the Cathedral in Novi Grad was built exactly in the center of the city so that everyone would be the same distance from God. And I wanted to take a picture for you from the top. I just thought, even when we are apart, or if we have disagreements, I would always be close to your God, and in this way, to you."

The photo was beautiful, she could see all the architecture of the Cathedral, but Wanda looked at you with concern. "That's almost a hundred meters off the ground. You could have fallen."

You put your cell phone away, shrugging. "I've practice Parkour since I was a kid, it was no big deal."

"No, Y/N, that was very dangerous." Wanda insisted. "It was insanity to take that risk for a photo."

You cleared your throat, taking a step back. "Okay, I understand it wasn't safe, okay, I've already heard that from the police, and the doctors, I don't need to hear it from you." You retort uneasily. "I didn't come here to talk about the church, I need to tell you something."

Wanda sighs faintly, watching you intently. You are acting so strange, and she can't define it.

"What is it?"

You take a deep breath, and then let out a nervous laugh. "Damn, I... I had this whole speech prepared, but this is so hard." You mutter, more to yourself than to her. You clear your throat and take heart. "Well, all this time I've been trying to find the right way to tell you, but I didn't know how, and I never seemed to find the right moment. You know when... I get intense, too impatient, or impulsive?"

Wanda frowns slightly. "Like the church? Or now?"

You chuckle weakly, nodding. "Yeah. Or how suddenly I get kind of gloomy... sad?" You ask, and she confirms with her head. You swallow dryly. "Well, it took a while to get the official diagnosis in my teens, but this doctor in California came to a final opinion. I have an illness. Mental one. It's called BD, which stands for Bipolar Disorder. " You count staring at your feet. "And I don't know, I didn't want to tell you because when I'm feeling good, I believe that there is nothing wrong with my brain. I talk, laugh, and really enjoy the people around me and I can forget that it's temporary while it's happening." You continue with a sad laugh, "I do everything as I should. Exercise, and socialize, and I don't drink or smoke, and I take my meds, but... well, it will never go away. There is no cure, and it's genetic, so I'll have to deal with it for life. Which doesn't mean that people have to, so I didn't want to tell you. I kept imagining your reaction, the face you would make which is very similar to the one you are doing now..."

Wanda looks away, completely in shock. You sigh and wait. She swallows dryly. "I-I don't... I don't know what to say..."

You force a small smile, shaking your head. "You don't have to say anything." You assure her sadly. "I just wanted you to know that it wasn't about you, that you never did anything wrong. I have to go back. I ran away from the hospital to talk to you. See you at school, Wands."

She was too overwhelmed with the revelations to ask you to stay.

–//–

Sobota 15:07 (Saturday 3:07 pm)

Natasha was not surprised, because Carol told her about you as soon as she returned from vacation. Apparently, the Maximoffs were the last to know.

Wanda would have been angry, but she was busy researching what bipolar disorder was with her best friend.

A dozen or so sites opened with descriptions, explanatory videos, and infographics on the computer Natasha held in her hands, and Wanda was upside down, lying on the bed next to her friend.

“Some people with bipolar disorder will have episodes of mania or hypomania many times throughout their life; others may experience them only rarely. Signs and symptoms of a manic episode include excessive happiness, hopefulness, and excitement. Sudden and severe changes in mood, such as going from being joyful to being angry and hostile. Restlessness. Rapid speech and racing thoughts. Increased energy and less need for sleep. Increased impulsivity and poor judgment, such as suddenly quitting your job, ending a relationship…”

“Turn it off.” Wanda asks and Nat pauses the video immediately, watching her friend adjust herself on the bed correctly to bury her face in the pillows.

"Hey, don't be like that. It may look bad now but maybe you just need to look at it another way..."

Wanda chuckles humorlessly, pulling the pillow off her head to look at Nat. "How else would you have done it, Nat? Haven't you heard anything? Impulsiveness, poorly thought out decisions. Like leaving her boyfriend."

"Wanda..."

The brunette sits up. "No, I'm serious!" She insists on the verge of tears. "What if... what if she doesn't even like me? If it all just happened because of one manic episode? I'll end up alone, that's what will happen."

Nat shakes her head. "Wanda, what are you talking about? How would that determine her feelings?"

Wanda sniffles softly. "I don't know, Nat. But just think about it. You've seen the videos. What if she only believes she likes me, but I'm just a fantasy? She may have grown bored of Peter and put it into her head that she could have fun with a girl now. And then she'll get tired of me just like she did of him. And who knows how many people have gone through that."

Nat sighs. "But that's falling in love, isn't it?" She reasons. "You fall in love, and you don't know how long it will last. With or without bipolarity. The insecurity you have now is the same insecurity I have about Carol. We're together today, but I don't know what will happen when we go to college for example." Natasha says, and Wanda falls silent. Her friend smiles, leaving her notebook on the bed. "Think about this, sweetheart. I'll get us something to eat."

–//–

Ponedeljek, 10:20 (Monday, 10:20 am)

"Have you talked to her yet?"

Wanda looked away from the group of people surrounding you, probably peppering you with questions about the church video, to Clint, standing beside her with a soda she asked him to pick up on his way to the cafeteria. The boy had a snack in hand, which Wanda refused a piece.

"What would I say?" She retorts half upset, making room for Clint to sit next to her on the bench in the courtyard. Pietro was a bit back in the surroundings, playing soccer with other classmates, and Natasha was with Carol making out in some bathroom.

"You can start with hello." Clint jokes, but Wanda only returns him a small smile, playing with her straw. She's not very hungry all morning. He clears his throat lightly. "Hey, what's the matter? Is this about her condition?"

Wanda sighs, shrugging. "I've been researching about it, and I think I get more scared every second." She comments sincerely. "Maybe I'm not the best person to deal with it. I don't know if I could."

It's Clint's turn to sigh. "Hey, but it's always like that when you google something, isn't it? Put in a headache and it'll make it sound like you're with terminal cancer."

Wanda gives a weak laugh, muttering a low 'I guess'. She steals glances at you from across the yard again, laughing at something they say to you. You look fine. Normal and healthy. 

"I think you could manage, Wanda." Clint says. "In the end, it's just about liking someone, and you wouldn't have any fears if Y/N said they had diabetes or something."

Wanda twitches her nose. "That's hardly the same thing-"

"Isn't it?" Clint interrupts with an arched eyebrow. "If she had a cardiac problem, you'd have to be careful about physical stimulation next to her. No effort. You could say goodbye to outdoor walks with everyone. Any blood disease, and she wouldn't be able to go to some restaurants you like. She is bipolar, which means that sometimes she will be more intense, and sometimes she will need to be alone, or you to keep her company more than you usually do. It is no big deal. Sick people just want to be well, and there are medicines for that. Carol said she's been on treatment since she was fourteen, so I imagine she can help you deal with that too."

Wanda absorbs her friend's words for a long moment, and Clint offers her a small smile before returning to eating. A moment later, Wanda moves closer to rest her head on his shoulder, and hug him from the side, she keeps her gaze on you from across the room.

"When did you get so wise, Barton?" she jokes, making you laugh.

"I'm a smart boy." He retorts, and a moment later, lets out a soft exclamation, causing Wanda to turn away to look at him curiously. The boy pulls his cell phone out of his pocket. "I almost forgot I found something for you. My stepfather needs an office apprentice at the construction company. It's boring but money is money. Would you be interested?"

Wanda's eyes widen. "What, of course, Clint! Thank you!" She hugs him tightly, both of them laughing. He mutters that she would still have to do the interview and that it was nothing guaranteed, but Wanda is too happy to call.

Ponedeljek, 11:00 (Monday, 11:00 am)

"Let's sit in the back." Natasha whispered to her as soon as they entered the history class, and Wanda laughed because she knew her friend was only asking to keep texting with her girlfriend.

Nat took the window seat, and Wanda was taking off her coat to sit beside her when you entered the room. Your gazes met from the doorway, but before she could smile at you, someone was whistling loudly and attracting your attention.

"Romeo's back from the dead everyone." Mocked Ikaris, one of your colleagues. A good portion of the room laughed, and you lowered your face, holding your backpack tighter. 

But the boy's teasing didn't go unpunished - The guidance counselor Mrs. Harkness was standing behind you at the door, precisely escorting you into the room, and the boy turned pale when she pointed her finger at him. 

"Come into my office, now." She ordered, and he came out clutching his backpack, bumping his shoulders into yours. The room filled with burbling, but Agatha called for silence. "We do not tolerate bullying or harassment of any kind at this institute, am I clear? Any mention of incent before Christmas will be punishable. Good day."

But Agatha's request may have made things worse, because those who were not aware of the video, spent the class searching for the matter and sharing it with their classmates. Wanda noticed how you seemed to cringe with each nasty whisper that circulated.

As soon as the bell rang, you practically jumped out of your seat and some people chuckled from the escape.

"You should talk to her." Natasha told Wanda, but it wasn't even necessary, because the girl was already grabbing the materials and going after you.

As the period ended, the halls filled up quickly, and Wanda had a little trouble getting through the crowd of students and catching up with you in the outer courtyard.

"Y/N, wait." She urged and had to tap your wrist to get you to stop.

You turned to her in irritation. "What do you want?"

Wanda was taken aback by the aggressiveness, but she couldn't blame you. Not after the taunts. "Hey, don't listen to those assholes, okay? They don't know shit."

You laugh dryly, looking away. "Right, because it wasn't the least bit freaky what I did. You said it yourself, it was dangerous and stupid."

Wanda frowns. "Yeah, but I didn't know..."

"That I was crazy? Well, you know now. And it clearly bothers you, because you've been ignoring me all morning!"

"N-no, I just-"

"Look, Wanda, I don't need your coup de grace." You interrupt her. "If you don't want anything to do with me, just say so, stop being a fucking pussy."

Wanda opens her mouth in shock, and you roll your eyes. She grimaces. This attitude makes her blood boil. "Be reasonable, you told me something meaningful, but I still don't know how to give you an answer. I'm still trying to understand what it all means."

You snort angrily. "I told you the truth because I'm in love with you, that's what it means!" You suddenly confess, and Wanda feels her heart stop. "And you're clearly just a fucking coward who can't handle it and doesn't feel the same way. Stop wasting my time."

"I-I didn't... I never said-."

"That's pretty simple, though, Wanda." You cut her off again, adjusting the backpack on your shoulder. "If you felt the same way, my bipolarity wouldn't matter. But you don't. Fuck this, I don't need you. Or anyone."

"Y/N..."

But you practically ran out, and Wanda had no way to call you back.

Ponedeljek, 14:05 (Monday, 02:05 pm)

With no sign that you were back at school, Wanda was leaving the courtyard alone.

Pietro was going to Clint's house to play video games, and although Nat and Carol had invited her to their apartment, Wanda hardly wanted to see her friends making out.

She was finishing putting away her belongings in the locker when Steve Rogers approached her.

"Wanda, glad I caught up with you." He said half uneasily, looking around. "Has your brother gone home already?"

"Yeah, he and Clint went to Barton's together." She replied. Steve sighed.

"Well, I guess by now you must have heard about but Tony managed to get the recording of the market."

Wanda frowned immediately. "What are you talking about?"

Steve makes a confused expression. "The fight, at Nat's birthday?"

Wanda's eyes widen in amazement. "Wait, is it serious? I thought the recording was just a rumor! How did Tony get it, and more importantly, who hit my brother?"

Steve hesitates. "Look, if Pietro didn't tell you, maybe I shouldn't..."

"Spit it out, Rogers." She demands seriously, and Steve swallows dryly before pulling his cell phone out of his pocket. He searches for a moment for the video in the chat room with Tony Stark and then holds out the device for Wanda to see.

It's a security video from a market parking lot. Wanda recognizes Pietro laughing and talking with Barry Allen outside, imagining that Clint and Bucky were inside buying the beers.

And then Barry is grabbing Pietro by the collar of his shirt and kisses him on the mouth. Pietro is clearly surprised but corresponds before pushing him away with a giggle. It all lasts less than five seconds. There is a car stopped a few feet away from them, and from it, three identical boys that Wanda recognizes from the Synagogue get off. 

"Hey, fags!" The audio is precarious but still audible, and it is the tallest boy who steps forward. Wanda thinks his name is Jake, but she's not sure. Of the triplets, Wanda only liked the shy Steven. Jake laughs when the two boys turn around. "Oh my god, is that you Maximoff? Does your daddy know what you're up to?"

Pietro freezes, completely terrified. Jake advances against him, so Barry pushes him away. And at that, the fight escalates.

It's left to Steven to pull the brothers away when Bucky and Clint leave the market and interfere in the fight, the market owner armed with a bat. The action doesn't even last 3 minutes, but Pietro is the one who ends up the most injured.

Steve puts his cell phone away. "Pietro didn't want to press charges, he didn't even want to tell us who the boys were." 

"It's because of our father." Wanda explains, pressing her hands to her face for a moment. "Fuck, fuck, fuck."

"Hey, Tony said he's not going to do anything he doesn't want to." Steve says placing a hand on her shoulder. "But these things shouldn't go unpunished. We have the video, but the complaint has to come from the victim."

"I'll talk to him." Wanda assures. "Thanks, Steve."

"Anytime."

Ponedeljek, 20:31 (Monday, 08:31 pm)

"You took your time."

"Jesus, Wanda!" Pietro gasped in fright, having opened the bedroom door to his sister waiting for him inside.

Wanda rolled her eyes, and got up from the bed, dropping her cell phone and crossing her arms.

"Close the door."

He raised an eyebrow. "What's that, are you going to kill me or something?"

She rolls her eyes, and uncrosses her arms, moving him out of the way to close the door herself. Pietro looks at her with confusion.

"You're going to press charges against Jake Lockley." 

Pietro turns pale before his face flushes with irritation. "How did you... No, you know what, it doesn't matter. You're a damn meddler, aren't you?"

"Pietro-"

"I'm serious! I told you to forget that story, why do you care anyway?" He retorted angrily, stepping aside to take off his sweater and shoes. Wanda crossed her arms.

"You are my brother! I care about you, and whether you are safe outside our house!"

He rolled his eyes stubbornly, but Wanda stepped forward. "I'm serious. This isn't right, Pietro. He can't get away with it!"

"Daddy would kill me!" Pietro squirms with tears in his eyes. Wanda's eyes widen. "You don't... It's different for you, okay? He may say those horrible things, but you're still his little girl. He wouldn't hurt you. But me-"

"Except it's not like that." Wanda insists seriously. "That's the fear talking. Daddy has already hurt me, you know that. And he would have hit me again in that restaurant if you hadn't said anything." She recalls, and the boy looks away. Wanda sighs, moving closer. "Pietro, is that why you told him I liked girls? To find out how he would react when you told him about yourself?"

He nodded sheepishly. "I like girls too, Wanda. I just...I thought I could pretend I didn't care about boys because I'm into Crystal. But that's not how it works. No matter what I do, this part just won't go away."

"Oh, Pietro, there's nothing wrong with liking both. Come here." She sits down next to him, hugging him. He sniffles, seeming to finally relax after many days. "We'll deal with this together, okay, and with Mom, too."

Pietro sobs softly, but nods in acceptance. Wanda holds him until he stops crying.

[pacificgrimsarc]

SO YOU WANNA GET TA KNOW ME 'EH?

NAME?: ana

PRONOUNS?: she/her

PREFERENCE OF COMMUNICATION?: discord or ims!

MOST ACTIVE MUSE(S)?: eli, wrench, beck, and set are living rent free in my head rn

EXPERIENCE / HOW MANY YEARS?: are we gonna talk about pre-tumblr bc i'm so embarrassed that in like 2007 I was rping on a dress up game forum as a miley cyrus oc. so since then?? but i joined tumblr in early 2010, on @pjoontumblr

BEST EXPERIENCE?: probably this one!!! i was irregular on indie for a few years during college/right after college but in like fall/winter 2022 i decided to jump back on and have met some of the most amazing writer friends ever <333 I feel like I can write whatever the hell I want and will still be loved and appreciated

RP PET PEEVES?: not a pet peeve per se bc everyone has their style, but I personally don't like when ppl write with extra spaces or overly format their writing, or have tiny tiny icons. it's an accessibility thing for me!

FLUFF, ANGST, OR SMUT?: all of it ;~; ya girl is a secret smut freak y'all just don't know

PLOTS OR MEMES?: either!!! I rly like throwing spaghetti at a wall with a partner and seeing what sticks. so a mix of both I guess??

LONG OR SHORT REPLIES?: lasjdflasdfl. there's a time and place for both I think. usually on Tumblr I go for 2-3 paragraphs or longer, but I do love the quick back and forth and sharpness that's behind micro replies/shortform stuff that I do on discord.

TIME TO WRITE?: very early in the morning?? it's the only quiet time I have p much where i'm not working or entertaining my pup and hubs.

ARE YOU LIKE YOUR MUSE(S)?: not similar in terms of backgrounds or anything, but dialogue style is similar?? I try and write dialogue the way I talk sometimes and I tend to talk in incomplete sentences, hyperboles, idioms, slang, lolz. i live in the Midwest and in my area it's a melting pot of like, suburban rednecks? bc there's rural and then there's the city real close by, it's so hard to explain. so some of my more loquacious muses'll say shit like "now we're cookin' with grease" or "as all get out" or "goodness sakes alive" bc I say that shit

tagged by @hellfollowed TYSM babey i adore u!!!

tagging: anyone reading this!!! @draconisa @thedevilsbckbone @thesongbiird @someotherdog @thewolfruns @facepeeled @bloodrodeo @falscgcds @lovepctions

[cal-daisies-and-briars]

FIC UPDATE: Things We're All Too Young to Know

Hello! Happy almost midnight here in Ontario. Here is one of my longest chapters yet, and certainly one of the ones with the most pining and angst.

Summary:

Buck's mental health hits the rocks. Eddie struggles with loneliness. Misinterpretations compound these issues. Scenes and missing scenes 06x13: Mixed Feelings, 06x14: Performance Anxiety, 06x15: Death and Taxes

Snippet:

“Hey,” Eddie says. 

Buck stops scrubbing a metal pot and turns to look at him.

“What’s up?” Buck asks.

“Why do you think I shouldn’t text Vanessa back?” 

Just going for it, then, huh, Eddie? Wow. He… His mouth has been doing things without permission, lately.

“What?” Buck asks, eyebrows furrowing. 

Yeah, fair.

“You wanted me to ghost her,” Eddie says.

“Uh… I mean, I suggested it.”

“But you think I should,” Eddie presses.

“W-well, what does it matter, haven’t you answered?” 

Eddie shakes his head. 

“I haven’t confirmed any plans.”

“Oh,” Buck says.

“So, tell me why,” Eddie says again.

Buck rests the dish sponge on the edge of the sink and looks at Eddie for a long moment. Eddie can see thoughts bouncing around behind his eyes, like he’s trying to figure out the best way to phrase something. Eddie’s stomach twists like someone is wringing out a wet rag inside of him. Has Eddie been… No. No, right?

“I-I guess I just don’t want to see you in the same situation as with Ana,” Buck says. “You know, doing something because it’s what you think someone else wants.”

Right.

Yeah.

Yeah, no. That’s what Eddie thought.

[creativepawsworld]

Silence - Chapter 37

Pairing = Thomas Shelby x Reader

Summary = Ana’s parents return from London and reveal some upsetting things for Ana. 

Warnings = Language, Grammar, Sexual Themes, Pregnancy announced, Violence mentioned, Gang Activity mentioned. 

Word Count = 3352

“Good morning” I greeted walking into the tailor shop the next morning. My parents having returned from London yesterday evening when Tommy and I were sharing our news with his family.

It had turned into such a celebration. Arthur disappeared into the betting shop only to return with bottles of rum and whiskey calling for a celebration. John had told Esme to tell the sitter they needed her to stay longer.

I had never seen a family so happier, so excited to welcome a baby into the world it filled my heart with so much love, I had to excuse myself for a good cry.

“Good morning Ana, how are you?” My father smiled glancing up from his work schedule to spare me a glance whereas my mother eyes lifted from her cup of tea to send daggers my way.

I had to refrain from rolling my eyes at her actions. Clearly she was back to hating my very existence, again. Choosing to ignore it, I removed the coat from my shoulders hanging it on the rack beside the door, getting myself ready for the day ahead.

Most of the morning went by without a word, my father and I busy fulfilling orders or fixing whatever came through the door with ease while my mother potted around the shop, turning her nose up at certain fabrics or making unwarranted comments about my work, which I simply choose to ignore.

By late evening, I had started to pack away most of my things, tidying my workspace for tomorrow when my father appeared next to me, a small smile on his face.

“Ana, did Thomas talk to you about the shop?” He asked quietly checking over his shoulder for his wife. “It’s just I haven’t received anything yet and I wondered if he was having second thoughts?”

“You mean about the sell of the shop?” I asked, squinting my eyes in confusion at his choice of words.

“Yes, I know it’s not an investment for him but I am rather desperate.” He nodded, tongue swiping across his bottom lip, a nervous habit he had picked up over the years.

“You’re desperate?” I repeated in question.

“Yes, I thought Thomas would be interested in buying this place because of you. You are an amazing seamstress Ana and deserve your own place, it’s not much now but you can make it your own, Thomas will help you with that.”

“You approached Tommy about the sell, he didn’t approach you?”

“Oh no, no. It was me. Did he tell you otherwise?” My father asked, eyebrow raised in surprise as he looked at me.

“Father why do you want to sell the shop?” I asked employing the Shelby trait of answering a question with a question.

There was just something about this entire situation that felt wrong. Tommy never mentioned considering buying the shop until he slipped the contract into my purse. Unusual but I believed his reasoning as I had learned over the years that Tommy was a big gesture kind of man, especially after a fight.

But my father, he poured his heart and soul into this place, just like his father and grandfather before him.

I knew he wouldn’t have handed it over so easily, not to mention I was under the impression that Tommy made him an offer that was too hard to refuse. My father’s only stipulation being that he wanted the shop to remain under the control of an Alder, that being me.

“That’s not something…”

“Father I am not a little girl anymore and if you expect my partner to buy the shop from you, you will tell me why. This shop is your life so something has clearly happened to make you want to sell it.” I inform him sternly, pushing my shoulders back so I appeared taller, stronger.

“Ana…”

“No father, I am a grown woman not a China doll that will break. I have seen things, been involved with things that will make your head spin at the thought of your daughter being in such situations so you will tell me or I will tell Tommy it’s not happening.”

“You have certainly grown into a fine young woman” He smiled reaching forward stroking my cheek, a sad smile on his face. “Thomas Shelby is one lucky gentleman to have you on his arm.”

“Dad please, just talk to me.”

“You are gonna hate me for this.” He sighed dropping his hand from my face, his head dropping to his chest so he could look at the floor beneath his feet. Inhaling deeply I leaned against my desk, waiting for him to continue.

“It all started with James. We are a small tailor shop in Small Heath, not one of the bigger ones in the bull ring. Money is few and far between Ana, always has been. You know we only made enough to cover the bills, pay for some fabrics that’s it.”

“Yeah but that’s because your savings went to the Shelby’s.” I nod at him remembering him taking a black bag with a large sum of money to the Shelby family the night Arthur had beaten James to a bloody pulp.

It was that night I started taking over the books, monitoring everything that came and went from the shop.

“No, there was no savings Ana. We had nothing, have nothing still.” He continued with a long sigh, his shoulders dropping in sadness.

“But the black bag, it was filled with money. I saw you walk out of here with it.”

“The bag was empty Ana. That night I went somewhere else, somewhere to get the money.” He spoke, finally looking up at me, tears filled his eyes, a few escaping to roll down his cheeks.

My heart began to beat out of my chest as I waited for him to continue, my mind going back to that night. I hadn’t actually seen my father put money into the bag, in fact I hadn’t even seen him go near the safe, I just assumed.

“There was other conditions with the money. Conditions involving you Ana, but then their son left for America after some trouble. We hadn’t heard from them for a long time we thought it was over. Until word got around that you were dating Thomas Shelby.”

I felt vomit rising in my throat at the thought of my parents making a deal with someone and using me as a pawn to secure the money. I knew they didn’t care that much about me but to use me as part of a deal was a brand new level of low.

“They weren’t happy, you were promised to their son. A wife to settle his wild ways…”

“Stop” I held my hand up stopping him mind sentence, my head suddenly becoming light due to everything he was saying. “Stop talking father.”

“I’m sorry Ana, I never wanted this but…”

“You were selling me off to pay a debt?” I spat back, angry tears filling my eyes as I glared at my father. “The Shelby’s would have given you time to pay the money father, free tailoring services probably would have been enough.”

“Then why did they take the money if they are such good hearted people.” My mother’s voice spoke from the doorway.

I wasn’t sure how long she was standing there but with the sour look on her face it had been a while, she was just waiting on her moment to jump in to defend her actions.

“Who wouldn’t take money that was handed to them mother? They are business men. If you wanted to offer above and beyond your means they aren’t going to stop you. They had no loyalties to you, not then.”

“They are monsters who take everything they can to get rich and render the rest of us poor.” She growled back, her frail body barely managing to march over to stand next to her husband who couldn’t even make eye contact with me.

“They are the monsters? You were selling off you daughter to the highest bidder because you couldn’t just sit down and discuss a deal with them and you call yourselves business people?” I scoffed, shaking my head at the pair of them.  

“It’s not something I’m proud of Ana…” My father started to say only to stop himself when he realised he actually didn’t have the words to say. The truth had finally come out.

“But it had to be done.” My mother finished for him, a hateful look on her face as she looked over at me. “Then you had to go and mess it all up, letting that devil in your bed.”

“What is the difference between him and the devil you were trying to marry me off to mother?” I asked knowing that the only people in a town like this, with a lot of money were in fact gangsters just like the Shelby’s.

I watched my mother’s face contorted into shock at me words, her eyes blinking at least ten times a second as she tried to come up with a answer to my question but I knew I had her stomped. She had nothing.

Tommy may be a devil to some, I wasn’t naïve I knew he did bad things. Killed people, hurt people but he always had a reason behind it. He didn’t do it because he wanted to. In his own words, he did bad things to a good end. Mostly.

Shaking my head I walked over to the door, grabbing my coat to place it around my shoulders. My mother stood in shock at the realisation of what I had said.

Tommy was no better than the man she was so hell bent on me marrying, the past two years of her hatred was for nothing and she knew it. She was just blinded by whatever ransom these people held over her. And now she had ruined whatever little relationship we had and there was no coming back from that. 

“Tommy and I are expecting our first child together, we found out yesterday so consider this my resignation father.” I tell him. My words bringing his head up from the floor to look at me with an unknown expression behind his eyes.

I didn’t want to resign, I loved this shop, I loved tailoring but I couldn’t work here anymore, not with the total strangers I once considered my parents. Watching the realisation of the words, their jaws dropped at my words just as I closed the door tightly behind me.

******

It was only when a drop of rain hit off my nose did I break from my thoughts. Since leaving the tailor shop I had walked, just walked becoming completely lost in my thoughts that I was unsure of where I actually ended up.

Looking around I noticed I had walked to Tommy’s office in town. Everything around me was closing. It had just gone after 6pm, people were starting to go home for the day to their families, something Tommy will be doing within the next nine months.

Smiling at the thought I pushed open the large black door, a welcoming warmth hitting my face as I closed the door softly behind me.

“As long as there is more coming in, we are alright.” I heard Tommy’s voice, sighing a breathe a relief that he was here. I just really needed him right now. I needed his arms around me and his chin resting on my head as I inhaled his scent.

“The decorators in the Garrison want paying, Arthur forgot and pulled a gun when they asked so, they’ve stopped.” Lizzie told him, her hands resting on the edge of her desk as she rattled off the information.

“Tommy?” I spoke softly making my presence known as I walked into the room. For once Lizzie wasn’t throwing herself at him, if anything she looked rather stressed with the workload she had been given.

“Alright, just pay em Lizzie.” Tommy brushed off, concern in his eyes when he saw me.

Immediately he knew something wasn’t right as he took in my face. Nodding his head at me, silently summoning me to join him before turning his attention back to the taller, dark haired woman.

“Oh and we need to put an advert in the mail, Garrison grand reopening.” He pointed his index finger at her, immediately Lizzie had a pencil writing his words down.

“And you said there is a letter to go today, special delivery. I wrote it in the diary.” Lizzie spoke up just as Tommy nudged me towards the office door, leading to the staircase and to his office.  

“Yes.” He sighed out a heavy breath, his eyes cast down to me before returning to the other woman.  “I haven’t written it out yet.”

“Well you can just tell me and I’ll write it down. I learned short hand.” Lizzie explained allowing herself to sink into her chair, pencil at the ready to write, a proud look on her face.

“Fair enough” Tommy nodded, leaving me by the door to walk back into the room, clasping his hands behind his back, he began to speak. “Dear Mr Churchill…”

“Is your pencil broken?” Tommy asked after a moment.

Lizzie just looked over at him with wide eyes due to the nature of the letter whereas I stood by the door wide eyed as Tommy had his back to her the entire time, how did he know she wasn’t writing? The man never ceased to amaze me.

“No, no do go on.”

“Dear Mr Churchill…” Tommy began again. 

I felt my eyebrows pull in confusion at the mention of him having to carrying out a task that remain unspecified after being approach by a person of the crown. My mind immediately went to what Major Campbell had said to Tommy at the hospital.

He said he would be back in touch with Tommy once his health had improved and clearly he had been. I dreaded to think how deeply Tommy was involved if this went right up to Churchill. Was everyone corrupt? Was Tommy the good man in all this?  

Once he finished speaking, Lizzie informed him that she will have it written up and posted before 7pm. Thanking her, Tommy came to stand next to me once more taking my hand in his with a light squeeze.

“Oh and this came for you today, from America. A place called Poughkeepsie.” Lizzie spoke after him, pulling a letter from her desk, holding it out for him to take, her face unbothered.

“You’ve go to be fucking kidding me” I growled pulling my hand from Tommy’s roughly.

This was the final straw today. I had enough.

Growling to myself, I held back the tears as I looked over at Lizzie who was taken back by outburst, confused by what was happening.

Shaking my head, I walked towards the main door, unsure of where to go but I just couldn’t be here right now. I couldn’t take anymore, I felt like I needed to be alone right now. Everywhere I went to seek comfort, something happened to ruin it.

“Stace, Stace…” I heard Tommy call after me but I chose to ignore him, the tears already starting to fall. “Fuck sake Anastasia.” He yelled, voice vibrating off the walls. It was a tone he had only used once before in the Garrison when I tried to give back the money.  

Stopping in my tracks, I held my head high, inhaling through my nose as I wiped the tears away on my coat, refusing to turn around. A big change from the shaking, scared mess he had me in before with that voice. 

“Go to my office.” He instructed. Without moving my feet, I looked towards the main door leading out to the street, considering my options. When he spoke again the tone of his voice dangerously low. “Don’t you dare walk out that door.”

I felt something inside of me snap when he said that. Everyone around me was treating me like I was made of glass, afraid that I would break at the slightest touch or cruellest word.

I wasn’t the same Anastasia Adler I was two years ago, I had grown, a lot in those past two years and it was about time everyone had seen it. 

“Stop telling me what to do.” I glared over my shoulder at him.

In my peripheral I saw Lizzie’s eyes widen at my disobedience. With a shake of my head I walked outside the rain fully coming down now, soaking me within seconds.

*****

Tommy didn’t follow after me when I left his office, at least not right away and not that I knew of. After spending some time at the cemetery I walked home, wanting to get out of the wet clothes that was clinging to my skin, what started out as a good day turned into something so horrible and I prayed it was nothing more than a nightmare.

My head was pounding by the time I arrived home, in the space of a few hours I felt like my world had been flip on it’s head once more and I didn’t know how much more I could take.

“Welcome home.” Tommy’s voice carried from the kitchen, he appeared around the corner with a cup of hot tea in his hands, dressed only in his white shirt and waistcoat. The first two buttons of his shirt undone. 

“Thank you” I whispered, taking the hot cup from his hands after fighting with my coat. It was so wet it had attached itself to me like a second skin making the material harder to get off. 

Walking further into the room, the letter from Poughkeepsie sitting on the kitchen table glaring at me. With a scoff and a roll of my eyes I slammed the cup on the table turning on my heel to head back to the bedroom only Tommy stood in my way.

“Read it” He instructed, eyes staring down into my own, the fingers in his left hand pointing towards the table.

“No”

“Why?”

“I’m not reading your whore’s letters Thomas, I do not care for them, nor her” I inform him, making a move to walk around him only he held out his hands taking my upper arms into his carefully stopping my movements.

“Nor do I.” He stated with a shake of his head. Without warning he walked with me back towards the table but he didn’t press me against it. He reached over taking the letter into his hands. “You are who I care about and this baby.”

Releasing me from his grip, he reached into his pocket pulling out his box of matches and taking one from its confines. Striking the stick against the box, a beautiful orange/red flame started to dance between us.

Staring up into his eyes he held the letter between us, the back still sealed, the letter remaining unread. I watched as he put the lit match against it, almost immediately it went up in flames. Tommy’s eyes never looked away from mine as he held the burning letter in his hand. 

Feeling the flame getting closer to his fingers he dropped the paper to the ground stomping on it with his foot so it wouldn’t set fire to anything else.

Lifting my gaze from his foot to his face, his face was emotionless but his eyes were hungry not with lust but with love. He was silently telling me everything I needed to know.

I was his, and he was mine and together we were going to get through anything.

Needing to be in his arms I threw myself into his body, wrapping my arms around his back, burying my face into his chest. His scent bringing a feeling of calm over me.

Tommy placed his arms around me, pulling me tighter into him, his head coming down to rest his chin on my head just like I had wanted, just like I had needed.  

Taglist 

@shelbyteller @seleneshelby @forgottenpeakywriter @babayaga67 @sweetmilkshakeluminary @slutforcoffein @sydneyyyya @happysparklingshadows @margew76   @midnightmagpiemama​ 

[blazenfire223]

[ID in undercut]

Days 6-8

Day 6.

3 witches of the rev au on a coffee break.

This is supposed to be Zaraphim's kitchen. Backgrounds are hard, and colors are too.

Day 7- Weapon

David/Anza- chibiq122 on insta

(Anza is a fusion of Ana and Bun)

Raphael/Azazel- ish7ar on insta

Zaphikiel- windmogica on insta

Day 8. Mushroom

Eden with some mushrooms they collected!

[ID 1/5: A digital illustration of Zaraphim, Madame Tracy, and Anathema, the 3 witches of the Rev AU. They're sitting in Zaraphim's kitchen drinking coffee and tea together. There are various things on the table like gens, crystals, stones, and cards. Zaraphim is leaning back in their chair, tipping it on two legs. There is a green carpet under the table. Tracy and Zaraphim are wearing Witch hats. Zaraphim is wearing a grey dress with a muted green corset vest and brown boots, blue earings, blue hair peice, pink sunglasses. Tracy is wearing a dark greenish blue dress with a light green stripe at the bottom, a pearl necklace, and bright red heels. Anathema is wearing a light blue shirt, a dark greenish blue skirt, dark brown boots, and grey compression sleeves. In the background is a fridge, oven, cookie jar, some higher up pantries, coffee maker, paper towels, and a potted plants. There are also vines that grow along the wall of the kitchen. /End ID]

[ID 2/5: One traditional page of 3 Reverse AU weapons. The top is Ario's sword which looks most like a scimitar. The blade is curved and has a golden guard and a wooden hilt with a gold bulb at the end, the pummel. Next is David's spear. David, belongs to @chibiq122 and his spear made of gold from heaven's gates. It has a sharp triangular tip with two curving spikes just below the arrow head and a dark redish purple cloth attached to the end. Next if Zaphikiel's Katana. Zaphikiel, an angel Crowley who belongs to @windmogica, had a golden katana with a gold circular guard and red and white hilt with gold studs. End ID]

[ID 3/5: A traditional page of 3 Reverse AU weapons. The top is Anza's whip. Anza is a fusion of Ana and Bun, both characters that belong to @chibiq122. Anza's whip is a combination of a magic want with a bunny on one end of the want and then a flower that blooms into a string of web silk. Towards the end of the whip it branches off into 3 other strings with hearts at the end. The design very inspired by Amethyst's whip from Steven Universe. The next weapon is Azazel's sword. Azazel belongs to @ish7ar. It is a long blue sword with the blue eye of a goat as the guard and a dark blue grip with a light blue pummel. Surrounding that eye are 6 spikes, 3 spikes on each side of the eye. The final sword is Raphael's sword, specifically @ish7ar's Raphael. Their sword is gold and has a dark redish grip, a guard that goes out and points down on both sides, and an orange-yellow gem stone as the pummel. /End ID]

[ID 4/5: A traditional illustration of Eden. They are looking down in a basket full of mushrooms with a grin. They're wearing a green sweater and glasses with beads of bugs, circles, and hearts attached on a string around their neck to keep the glasses from getting lost. /End ID]

[ID 5/5: The prompt list. /End ID]

[lacrymatoryao3]

Redemption Was Just The Beginning

Chapter 8: New Years Day, 1900

[1][2][3][4][5][6][7]

To the world, Arthur Morgan is dead. As he tries to face the idea, in a lush valley in Ambarino he comes face to face with a woman from his past, and they must reckon with an era long gone. Especially when she has secrets of her own.

(Rated explicit simply because eventually there’s smut in this.)

Tag: @photo1030

1,824 Words (AO3 Link)

It seemed like only one of Ana’s dreams. One of the fleeting moments where she could be against him. His chest rose and fell calmly, the occasional snore or mutter from whatever he himself was conjuring up in his own mind. His heartbeat was strong and steady. She could feel his large hand on her shoulder, his thumb stroking at the fabric of her dress. It was too cruel of life for her to wake from it, in her big bed by herself.

It was such a pretty dream…

She opened her eyes with an agonized groan, from being ripped away from the imaginary version of him and the pounding headache from her overindulgence from the party. She rolled onto her back, squeezing between her eyes for a moment of relief from the pain.

She awoke Arthur in the process, snapping him into reality feeling every human emotion at once. He blinked a few times, finding her trying to fend off the worst of hangovers to minimally function. An all to familiar experience.

He scratched at the stubble on his jaw, “Mornin’.”

Ana’s eyes widened in surprise, snapping to his groggy face. It hadn’t been just a dream, and given how things went the night before a panic shot through her that made her temporarily forget her suffering. She shot up, nearly falling out of the bed from how sudden she lurched away from him.

“W-what happened here?” She cried, her pulse racing in terror. As much as she desired it, losing herself in that way when so heavily inebriated was a fear worse than injury or death.

“Nothin’.” Arthur replied sedately, “You know I wouldn’t do anythin’ like that. Especially with how drunk you was. Would’ve been wrong.”

Ana sighed in relief, falling back onto the pillows. It took some of the fright away, “So… How did we end up like this, exactly?”

It wasn’t a shock to Arthur that she didn’t remember much, or anything. He didn’t know how to explain everything that happened, but he also felt like she was owed it, “You asked me to stay with you.”

“You didn’t have to. You could have gone when I fell asleep.”

“You were in a bad way by the time we got back. I didn’t feel right just dumping you and leaving you.”

Ana laid there rubbing her forehead. She regretted not making a pot of menudo the previous night for breakfast. She sighed, unable to to feel too sorry for herself. Her body felt like it was made of lead, using the little energy she had to try to roll out of bed.

Arthur caught her by the shoulders, pushing her back down, “Oh no you don’t. You rest for once. I’ll take care of breakfast and get you something to help.”

Ana wanted to protest. She wasn’t fragile. She had toughed out more than a bad case of alcohol withdrawal, but she knew how he was. She instructed him where things were, especially the medicines she kept in the kitchen cabinet. She screwed her eyes shut, letting her body float around around without moving. It made Arthur comfortable enough to gather his clothes and leave the room.

He made quick work of taking care of himself, getting dressed in his own room. He caught his reflection in the mirror of his shaving station, about to open his mouth to criticize his appearance like he often did before stopping and shaking his head. There was no time for that. He went to the kitchen and gathered the remedies for Ana to feel better. He took a tea spoon and a glass. He grabbed a bottle of Doc Crockett’s Miracle Tonic and a bottle of medical bitters. He placed them onto a tray and set the glass on the counter. He cracked an egg in his hands over the waste basket, removing the slimy whites from the yolk and gently sliding it into the glass so it didn’t break. He added to it a few dashes of hot sauce and Worcestershire sauce with a pinch of salt and pepper.

He brought them up to her before going back to the kitchen to figure out what he was going to do. Living outside most of his life, usually having someone do the cooking for him and if they weren’t around only roasting a random and crudely cut of meat from whatever animal he killed, wasn’t conducive to working in a kitchen alone. He knew how to make black coffee. He had eggs, scrambling them wouldn’t be too hard. He could easily open one of the cans of strawberries. There was some bread rolls and a block of cheese on the counter in a basket. Going into the ice box he produced some bacon he could fry.

The next challenge came with the stove. He opened every hatch and lifted every lid he could to figure it out. He had no idea where to put wood, or how to light it. It probably took a long time to warm up to do anything. He got frustrated about it quickly, taking his ingredients and tools into the living room. He sat in front of the fireplace, stoking it and adding new wood to it until the flames began to crackle brightly. He cooked eight pieces of bacon first, holding the pan above the fire and flipping them every minute or so until they were crispy but not burnt. He used the grease they produced to scramble up four of the eggs. He put them on a serving platter to cool while he prepared the coffee.

“I knew I should have told you how to get the range going.” He heard Ana’s voice announced beside him. He looked towards her. She had rallied and gotten dressed, though her face was still a bit haggard and exhausted.

“I must admit though,” She added, “I do admire your ingenuity.”

Ana helped him carry things back to the kitchen, instructing him for the future how the stove worked. They sat down an ate together, both thinking it nice to have time alone for once. They made idle conversation. She praised him for what he did, to which Arthur replied with a remark about how if she kept feeding him like she did he would need pants with a larger waist. She admitted she didn’t think that was at all a bad thing, believing he could benefit from putting on more weight. She remembered how old he was, 36 and going to be 37 at some point in July. She was 32, reminding him she was turning 33 in February though she didn’t want any big to do about it. It felt almost like old times, when they’d be sent away on some lead together. The money was nice, but the time spent talking and laughing freely was – at least for Ana – the favorite part of being away from the others. For the moment, they saw each other as they once were again.

“I got to ask, Anie.” Arthur said cleaning up the mess he made, “Did you mean all those things you said last night?”

She sipped her third cup of coffee, the inquisitiveness in her tone told him she had no memory of it, “Depends on what I said. You know how much of a fool I am when I’ve been drinking.”

Arthur smiled and nodded. There was a time at camp when they all had been drunk off some cheap spirit they stole off a stagecoach. Somehow Ana’s attention turned to Dutch. She slurred something along the lines he’d have been much happier if he had been born a woman, and was someone’s well kept wife. Everyone else thought it was hilarious, though Dutch himself was fuming. He avoided her for a good part of a week, if he needed to tell her anything he either sent Arthur, Hosea, or Susan to relay it.

He took a deep breath, going quieter as he said it, “That… That you’re still… In love with me.”

Ana paused, setting her cup on the table, “Of course I am. I always have been, likely always will be. The happiest moments in my life were with you. You gave to me one of the best things in the world, and that’s my… Our… Little boy. He’s always been like you.”

She got up and went to the sink, placing her hand on his shoulder. It seemed so tiny on his broad body, “What else did I confide?”

“You made a mention about Mary.” he replied.

Ana hummed seriously, “Did I? She had always been in the back of my mind, I suppose. Make no mistake, I do not hate Mary. I never had anything against her, she was a very nice woman. I wished it worked for you two. Like I said before I’m willing to-”

“That part of my life is long over.” Arthur interrupted, “It didn’t work, and it’s best if I put that behind me. Don’t worry about her… Please.”

He wasn’t sure if she believed him, but she didn’t bring it up the rest of the morning. She perked up considerably by the time they were ready to bring Arthur Francisco back home. The apartment the Liangs lived in was at the very top of the inn, making them go up two flights of stairs to get to their door. They were greeted by Mrs. Liang, who welcomed them inside with her usual warm hospitality. Everything was a mixture of the familiar and Oriental, from scrolls with dragons and Chinese writing to hand painted calligraphy. The children sat at a low table on cushions, using sharp knives to slice patterns into blood red paper.

Ana and Arthur joined Mr. Liang at another table. Mrs. Liang joined them carrying a tea set smaller than the Western ones, made of well sculpted clay and glazed to take on the pale green shine of jade. She poured a dark roasted Oolong tea into the handleless cups for them to drink with some dried Mandarin orange slices. They chatted casually until the tea was gone and the children finished the little projects they had taken on. Arthur Francisco presented his to Ana, a simple cutting resembling the petals of a lotus flower.

Both Ana and Arthur Francisco thanked the Liangs for letting him spend the night profusely before they started their return to their own home. The boy talked about everything he did while there on the way. Though the hangover was still making her miserable she didn’t let on around her son, still being the same supportive force. As Arthur followed behind them, he was reminded of the few memories he had of his own mother. It came with a sudden longing, a desire to wholly belong within what he was being offered.

Maybe Arthur did have a future, but he needed to fight hard for the one he wanted.

[homerforsure]

Seven Sentence Sunday!

I haven’t seen anyone else so this yet but I’m reasonably sure that it is Sunday so :

He wishes he was back at work where he could summon that same rush of adrenaline and channel it toward something useful.

Instead, Buck pours a gentle shower of water onto his drying herbs and grinds his teeth. Ana and Veronica and Margaret and Philip and Eddie and Albert all tumble around his head and he can’t snap at any of them so he imagines picking up one of these pots and smashing it on the street below. The satisfying splintering of something that can never be put back together.

But Buck doesn’t break things. He carefully slides baseball cards into protective sleeves and carefully clips them into designated binders and carefully stores them in the bottom drawer of his dresser instead of ripping each fielder into confetti. He moves around the mess in his apartment instead of setting a match to it. He offers to babysit when he wants to slash tires and call in a gas leak at a restaurant just before the lunch rush.

With tags for @rewritetheending @mellaithwen @fleurdebeton @princessfbi @renecdote @bigfootsmom @elvensorceress @shortsighted-owl @littlespoonevan and @ you if you have something to share!

[warningsine]

Iranian-American director Ana Lily Amirpour once said she conceived the idea for her debut film, the vampire thriller “A Girl Walks Home Alone At Night,” while skateboarding down West Coast streets one night. As her black chador whipped behind her like the wings of a bat, Amirpour had a vision of heroine: A young Iranian girl who skateboarded around the streets of the fictional Bad Town, her chador rippling behind her like a cape.

Through combining traditional and modern elements of Iranian culture, as well as including both Western and Eastern influences, Amirpour creates a masterpiece that transcends all previously drawn boundaries. “A Girl Walks Home Alone At Night” is a melting pot of influences, seen in the pairing of chador and fangs, seen in the Iranian tattoos on a crass pimp and, most importantly, seen in the soundtrack itself.

Contrasting the stark, noir aspect of the entirely black and white movie, the soundtrack of “A Girl” is an eclectic mash-up of Iranian songs, both old and new. Novel Iranian bands like Radio Tehran and Kiosk stand next to classic singers like Dariush; it’s a playlist that not only beautifully melds past and present, but also shapes the fictional world of “Bad Town.”

Much like its lack of color, “A Girl” lacks excessive dialogue, choosing instead to let its characters speak through the music that fills the negative space.

The main character, The Girl (played by Sheila Vand), is a pointed collection of contradictions: She is mostly silent, entrapped in shadows, yet the music that accompanies her pays homage to vibrant ‘80s synthpop. At the beginning of the film, The Girl dances alone in her room while Farah’s “Dancing Girls” plays; the song contains both Farsi and English lyrics, yet the techno wave of its background melody, along with the lone disco ball The Girl sways back and forth under, is reminiscent of American bands like a-ha and Blondie. Farah’s lyrics — “she’s just a normal girl / dancing to her favorite song” — create a sense of intimacy and vulnerability at odds with the fantastical vampire nightmare.

Even though the scene contains no dialogue, it speaks volumes about The Girl. Its contrasting components divulge a multi-dimensional character who moves past the flat trope of the stereotypical horror movie monster. Instead, we get a vampire who puts on makeup surrounded by muted fairy lights and saves abused prostitutes, then brutally murders an insolent pimp.

The soundtrack is not just a voice for the characters, but a shape for the movie as a whole. The largely instrumental band Ferderale makes several appearances throughout the film. The American-based ensemble is heavily influenced by soundtracks from the ‘60s & ‘70s era of Italian “Spaghetti Western” genres and, through this, allows “A Girl” to transcend cultural boundaries. Songs like “Sarcophagus” and “Black Sunday” feature dramatic orchestral declarations, bringing to mind the theatrical standoffs of iconic Old Westerns, while the underpinnings of folk melodies speak to conventional Iranian films. A spectral woman’s voice is often intermittently added as a glossy layer over the entire compilation; its echoing European opera sound traces the barren desert setting in fine lines of elegance.

Ferderale’s “Sisyphus” narrates a relatively simple, but quintessential, scene within the film: An unnamed character in drag dances with a balloon to music in a courtyard. The fringe on her button-down shirt and ostentatious silver buckle of her belt is at odds with the hijab on her head. It’s a strange juxtaposition replicated in the song as it weaves together musical elements from a variety of different eras.

The band allows the fictional Bad Town to exist within multiple spheres, blurring the lines between distinct movie genres and distinct cultures. It’s a quiet gesture, this remix of convention to include input from other cultures, but a powerful one. With “A Girl Walks Home Alone At Night,” Amirpour constructs a story without limitations; instead, it masterfully traverses the rift between Eastern and Western ideals and finds a way to mend the disconnect.

What it means to me as an Iranian woman, more than just as a good horror movie, more than even a movie empowering Iranian women, is that it celebrates the power of opportunity. It’s doubtful Amirpour would have been able to create a movie of this magnitude if her family had remained in Iran, instead of taking the chance to immigrate to Europe and, later, to California.

Even though Iran’s culture is based predominantly around the arts — seen in the timeless impact of poets like Hafiz and Saadi — its current political climate has an iron grip around the advancement of artistic expression; it places tight restrictions over any creative production, not allowing for deviation from the established norm.

Many of the artists featured on this soundtrack, though Iranian-based, produce and perform their music outside of Iran; the radical socio-political commentary found in the lyrics of songs from bands like Kiosk or Radio Tehran is explicitly forbidden in Iran. Instead of remaining silent, they chose to immigrate to Europe, Canada and (mainly) the U.S, becoming the voice of a majority of Iran’s younger generation and permitting Iranian culture to continue to progress.

In light of President Donald Trump’s recent ban on travel on seven Muslim-majority countries (Iran being one of them), pieces of art like “A Girl Walks Home Alone At Night” and its soundtrack need attention: The future of Iran lies within the ideas of its youth. When young Iranian citizens emigrate to search for new prospects, they are not fleeing from the historic culture of their homeland. Rather, their innovative ideas push the culture to evolve in order to accommodate new perspectives, redefining what it means to be Iranian.

With its multifaceted soundtrack, “A Girl Walks Home Alone At Night” represents the endlessly creative potential of the Iranian youth.

It’s an ingenuity that I saw whenever I strolled the streets in Iran: Young artists with revolutionary ideas on the brink of looking to make a life for themselves, many of them exploring the option of moving to America.  And even though the ethnocentrism in the continuing view of America as “the land of opportunity” is a problem in itself, it does not draw away from the fact that, for many bright students, closed borders means closed opportunities as well. 

[sleepyjim]

🎉 leo/clancy/clovis ★ xe/him + sol/sols pronouns 🎉

link to my pronouns.page ★ link to my last.fm ★ link to my art blog! (@sleepyjimart)

★ minor , system , autistic + schizospec , kts/cloves syndrome , pots. ★ intersex transfemasc + aro + objectum :3 ★ please tag flashing, eyestrain, loud noises in videos/etc, irl animal harm/death , and unreality ! 💛 ★ terfs/radfems/bigots/exclus and ed/ana blogs get off my page !! south park, dream, hp/jkr fans dni 🙏

stuff i like:

★ twenty one pilots , mcr , daft punk , fob , phoenix , owl city + other projects by adam young , coldplay , aberdeen is dead + mudd puppies ★ pjo + spinoffs , danny phantom , spiderverse , coraline , dragonvale ★ spongebob + sbsp broadway , garfield , sanrio , snoopy/peanuts , wild kratts + zoboomafoo + kratts' creatures , odd squad , kities and oupys :3 ★ computers/tech , plushies , roller coasters + theme parks in general , kandi

i tag triggering content as #tw [subject] . if you need anything tagged just send me an ask or a dm ! 💛 :3

i also tag most fandoms and people/etc involved in posts for organization and blacklisting ^_^

if i like your art without reblogging, it's likely in my queue somewhere!! :3

other tags and info :

★ #text - original posts, signed off sometimes as #[alter name/initial] (pronouns) ★ #my art - art tag :3 ★ #my moodboards - moodboard tag :3 ★ #hunter tag , #chester tag , #pluto tag - pupy images, and other posts that remind me of my dogs!! all basset hound rescues :3 i love them so muchg (pluto tag is only older photos though :( ★ #me and the gf - posts that remind me of my girlfriend max and i :3 ! as well as posts to show her later💛💛 ★ #sam tag , #hector tag , etc - posts to show irl friends ★ #jason rambles - frantic liveblogging when im in Anxious Situations or when i just need to get stuff out of my head (for blacklisting) (sometimes i forget about this tag tho sorry) ★ #vent post - also for blacklisting ★ #q - queued posts ★ #sleepyposting - posts about eepiness that i relate to on account of i am just an eepy guy

★ #ask - talk to me talk tome talk to me talk t ★ #leo reveal - leo leonidas real irl ⁉️ only like .a couple posts on here bc idk how to take selfies 💔

ty for checking out my blog yayy :3

please feel free to send me music recs btw! my favorite kinds of music at the moment are electronic pop as well as ambient , post-rock , scores , etc :D

[violets-in-her-arms-writes]

Find the Word

Thank you for the tag @thewriteflame !!!

My words were space, sound, sleep, flight, and erase

SPACE

Vampires were condemned to live in darkness. They had traded the light and warmth of the sun for immortality. Unless they had a cheat code like Lou's necklace, they had to prowl in the shadows and hunt their prey during the darkest hours. The room itself was round, with a small raised platform, and a staircase leading to a mezzanine on which sat a secretary and a high-backed leather armchair that would have been more at home in a minister's office than in this dilapidated castle. Several wooden chests of drawers with wrought-iron handles occupied the rest of the space. Each was cluttered with loose leaves and potted plants. From my place beside the door, I could see gilded frames resting prominently on the chests of drawers and books stacked in piles.

SOUND

Ana's disheveled head appeared in the doorway. Her arms were stuffed with packets of cake, her face was covered with the trace of her pillow and she had dark circles under her eyes. My dagger fell on the mattress without a sound, and I rubbed my chest with relief. My heart calmed instantly and resumed its usual arrhythmic beat. "Anaëlle Mireille Charles!" barked Lou before pouncing on her. Ana dropped her cakes with a yelp of surprise and slammed Lou against the wall with a wave of her hand before she could reach her. Lou struggled vainly, the veins in her cheeks black as tar and her eyes red as embers. Her canines pierced the skin of her chin and two drops of blood flowed slowly, too slowly.

SLEEP

"Like with Lou," she says with a disdainful grimace. "I'm not her. I don't need you to take me by the hand and fix me. I'm not broken." "Nobody said anything about fixing anything," I sighed, finally handing her her drink. "And Lou isn't broken, either." "Don't kid yourself, Jo," she scolded me unkindly. "Lou is broken beyond repair, and now that she doesn't have the Rodins…" "Who told you about that?" I wanted to know, immediately on the defensive. There was no way it was Ana, and Alex wasn't close enough to the Rodins (no one was, really) for the information to have come from her. So who was it? "Lou told Iris, who told Charlie who told me when I asked how she was doing. Apparently, Lou's situation is keeping her from sleeping." "Lou told Iris about… this," I repeated weakly. She wasn't talking to me, but she was talking to Iris? And what? I was supposed to be relieved that at least she was talking to someone, as if I didn't…

FLIGHT (FLED)

The bedroom wall began to shimmer, a sign that Ana was using her magic to cut us off from the rest of the world. Or to cut us off from Lou at least who, in any case, had fled the confrontation and was probably trying to drown herself in the shower. Ana, who still refused to meet my eyes. "I don't understand how you can be so calm," she said to the wall. "We've had this conversation hundreds of times. It's only you two who are still stuck at the same stage. Yes, Lou almost killed me. Yes, you almost killed Lou in return. No, I don't blame either of you. It's been seven years. It's about time you moved on."

ERASE

"It's not… you're right, I'm sorry. Of course I trust you." "Yes, maybe, but part of you still hopes that one day I'll be wrong and you'll end up biting the bullet, don't you?" She remained silent. Her eyes told me everything I wanted to know. Lou had asked me that question some time ago, during that vampire ball I tried in vain to erase from my memory. She'd asked me if I wanted to die. I didn't think I should have asked her the same question, then. "Don't do this to me," I begged her, kneeling in the damp grass, inches from a crazy vampire who, just a few minutes ago, had wanted to kill Lou to drain me of my blood. "Don't leave me alone. Lou, Lou I couldn't… I couldn't…"

As usual, these excerpts are soooo fluffy...

I'm (soft) tagging @elshells, @tisiphonewolfe and @emelkae. If you want to play, your words are message, mold, memory and midnight.