#their childhoods were short and bitter i'm so sorry my babies

[haventdecidedyet]

Fav part of every TTPD song -

Fortnight = the outro. thought of calling ya/nother fortnight lost in america/buy the car you want but it won't start up til you touch touch touch meee. it's so crazed

TTPD = who's gonna hold you like me? who's gonna know you if not me? and all its repetitions

My Boy... = the second half of each chorus. cause it fit too right.../cause i knew too much... perfectly bitter

Down Bad = bridge bridge bridge. I loved your hostile takeovers encounters closer and closer all your indecent exposures how dare you say that it's !!!

So Long, London = bridge! AND YOU SAY I ABANDONED THE SHIP/AND MY FRIENDS SAID IT ISN'T RIGHT TO BE SCARED

But Daddy I Love Him = i'm running with my dress unbuttoned screaming but daddy i love him i'm having his babyyy - whenever it comes up

Fresh Out The Slammer = as i said in my letters now that i know better i will never lose my baby again (so satifsying)

Florida!!! = bridge and fuck me up Florida

Guilty As Sin? = what if he's written mine on my upper thigh??!! in the last chorus, obviously

Who's Afraid...? = so who's. afraid. of me. in the outro

I Can Fix Him = on a six-lane Texas highway, his hand so calloused from his pistol softly traces hearts on my face?!?! pop off with the imagery taylor, and so ethel-cain-core

loml = the last chorus. it just keeps going. what a valiant roar what a bland goodbye/i'll never leave never mind/your arson's match your sombre eyes!! (this song is becoming such a favourite)

I Can Do It... = he said he'd love me all his life!-- but that life was too short... and its counterpart: he said he'd love me for all time!-- such a good illustration of having to keep those miserable thoughts in check

The Smallest Man... = well clearly the whole raging bridge (YOU SAID NORMAL GIRLS WERE BORING BUT YOU WERE GONE BY THE MORNING)

The Alchemy = i can't lie. no part of it really wows me.

Clara Bow = i'm not trying to exaggerate but i think i might DIE if i made it/DIE if it happened - prechoruses

The Black Dog = the choruses, particularly the one that comes first and last. you jump up but she's too young to know this song that was intertwined with the magic/tragic fabric of our dreaming!!

imgonnagetyouback = say you got somebody i'll say i got someone too EVEN IF IT'S HANDCUFFED I'M LEAVING HERE WITH YOUU

The Albatross = also a song that does not hit me at any point. sorry.

Chloe et al. = the choruses. say i loved you the way that you were/say you've always wondered... also i/you just watched it happen... :(

How Did It End? = bridge bridge bridge the unsympathetic unfeeling roboticness and post-mortem detail and the rhythm and rhyming oh my god (say-it once-a gain-with feel-ing)

So High School = ARE YOU GONNA MARRY KISS OR KILL MEEE and also truth, dare, spin bottles... and all that. satisfying rhythm and rhyme strike again

I Hate It Here = choruses. the I read about it in a book when I was a precocious child/I dreamed about it in the dark the night I felt like I might die line. and no mid-sized city hopes and small-town fears i'm there most of the year cos i hate it here....

thanK you aIMee = lowkey an annoying song for me.

I Look In... = the verses, especially all the south south south and now now now now downtown downtown downtown parts

The Prophecy = and i sound like an infant feeling like the very last drops of an inkpen, a greater woman stays cool!!

Cassandra = so they killed Cassandra first cause she feared the worst is the best line but i don't particularly like this song.

Peter = THE WHOLE SONG. love. verses and choruses and bridge. chef's kiss. maybe best moment is YOU SAID YOU'D COME AND GET ME BUT YOU WERE TWENTY FIVE

The Bolter = verse 1. childhood anecdotes always hit

Robin = the bridge, I cry, reminds me of Ronan, you got the dragonflies above your bed, the echo of you have no idea...

The Manuscript = verse 2, the theme of growing up again, she wished she was thirty/she only ate kids' cereal

that's all thank you bye

[softpine]

i've been meaning to reread the story for so long just bc i wanna see everyone as little kids again they were all so cute

i miss them too ;-; i need to recreate this picture with them now omg.. elaine is probably still small enough to fit in the tree fjksjd

[bumblesimagines]

Green Thumb

Part 17

Request: Yes or No

For anyone curious and if I did my math correctly y/ns dad had him when he was 35. This one feels short and I hate ittt but I tried making it feel longer. The chunks are just thicc

~

"So, why are we going to Belgium?" Natasha asked, setting the course. You looked at her, taking a seat beside her.

"Cause.. I have family there.. She might be family, I don't now." You answered, feeling the jet move forward before it took off into the sky.

"Family? Like, blood related? Who?" Natasha asked, glancing at you. You licked your lips, staring forward.

"My aunt." Natasha's brows raised, looking over at you. You sighed, nodding.

"What if she turns me away?" You asked softly.

"Well.. You're probably her only remaining family. I wouldn't want to turn away a family member." Natasha licked her lips, looking forward at the passing clouds.

"What do I even say? Hey, I'm (Y/N) and I have superpowers?"

"Well, you can introduce yourself and ask about her brother." Natasha gave a small smile. You nodded.

"How's Clint?" Natasha asked, rested her head on her fist. Her hair was long and her natural red locks were returning. It made her hair look a little weird but she was going through a lot of things.

"Who fucking knows." You frowned, arms crossing. Clint had fucked off to god knows where, leaving you to deal with your grief alone. Natashas' brows furrowed.

"Clint has decided not to return home in what feels like weeks. Maybe even months, I haven't been paying attention." You shrugged lightly. Natasha frowned, leaning back in the seat. Definitely didn't sound like Clint but grief could make people do crazy things.

"I've been trying to keep up with the house but I'm just one guy handling everything Clint decided to build and add on." You licked your lips, shaking your head and letting out a heavy sigh.

"I'm sorry." Natasha said softly, giving your arm a squeeze. "I'll talk to him if you want."

"Let him do whatever the hell he wants to do. He's a grown man." You replied, feeling bitter and resentful. Natasha silently nodded. The rest of the ride was silent until the jet reached Belgium.

"We're here." You stepped out of the jet, feeling a small breeze go by. You felt your stomach doing flips, heartbeat quickening. You took in a deep breath, glancing at Natasha. She placed a gentle hand on your back, offering a small smile.

"Are you sure you don't want me to get in touch with Clint?" She asked, head tilting. You shook your head.

"It could make things more complicated." You said, looking around. The house across the street matched with the address Tony had given you. It was more on the outskirts of town, surrounded by trees. You could hear some horses behind the house. You took in a deep breath, trying to ease your nerves as you walked towards the house, crossing the road. Natasha followed, studying the area.

"Seems like gardening might run in the family." Natasha said, motioning to the flower garden.

"Yeah.." You chuckled softly. You stepped onto the porch, noticing some plotted flowers on the windowsill. You raised your hand, pressing the doorbell. You waited a few minutes about to press it again before the door opened. A scowl appeared on Florines' face. She was shorter than you had imagined. Her hair was a bit messy and tied back into a low ponytail.

"Wat wil je?" She asked, gaze flickering over to Natasha. You swallowed, fiddling with your fingers.

"Are you Florine De Meyers?" You asked, watching her narrow her eyes.

"Who's asking?"

"(Y/N).. I think I might be the son of your brother." You said quietly. Florine stared at you, lips parting. Her features softened for a second before the frown returned. She opened the door wider, letting you and Natasha inside. The inside of the house smelled like black tea, earthy and floral. It felt straight out of a country movie.

"I've got some tea and speculoos." Florine called as she entered the kitchen. You looked at the pictures she had up. Most were pictures of horses or her at events with friends. You didn't see any pictures that seemed family related. You took a seat on the floral patterned couch, gazing dropping onto the unbothered elderly sheepdog. It made no attempt to move and simply rolled onto its side to face away from you.

"That's Gerdie. Old girl used to be a good guard dog but now she's more of a house cat." Florine said, sitting down and placing a tray on the coffee table. Natasha reached forward, taking one of the biscuits. Florine reached under the table, looking through the books she had before pulling out what looked like a photo book.

"The reason I didn't slam the door in your face is because Michael had told me he was gonna have a kid named (Y/N)." Florine said, hand wiping away the dust in the book. She scooted forward, placing the book on the table.

"Michael?" You repeated, looking at her. She nodded, opening the book. She flipped to the second page, pointing to a picture of a young boy by a fireplace opening presents.

"Michael, my half brother and your father." Your brows raised, leaning in to take a better look. The photo was old but you could see his face clearly. Natasha leaned in as well, smiling gently.

"You have his smile." She pointed out.

"Michael and his father moved here from America when he was about five. He met my mother and they got married. They had me when Michael was nine. He was a good brother. He held no resentment towards me or my mom. Michael was as stubborn as a mule and he could never keep his mouth shut. He'd let you know if he didn't agree with you." Florine chuckled, shaking her head. You watched the nostalgic look pass over her eyes.

"What happened to him?" You asked softly. Florine let out a heavy sigh, leaning back in her chair. She reached down, giving Gerdie some pats on the head.

"He disappeared for some time." She answered, gaze becoming distant.

"He wrote letters occasionally. Said he was working for a government in another country.. He might've been some sort of spy, my memory's a little fuzzy on the subject. He spent a long time working but.. He came back eventually. He never talked about it but he was good ole Michael." Florine leaned forward again, flipping to another page of a more grown up Michael. You did notice some similar features between him and you.

"By then, our father had passed from cancer and my mother needed all the help she could get. Michael built this house with some friends of his and gave it to my mother. Oh, my mother was so happy. She got the farm she had always wanted and got to garden whenever she could." Florine pointed to a a couple in the photobook.

"This is your grandmother, Sylvie. You would've loved her. She made the best cakes in town. This is your grandfather, Jonathan. He was always up to no good. He loved pulled helping the kids in town with pranks." Florine spoke of them fondly. Her childhood seemed to have been good with Jonathon and Sylvie.

"You have powers, right?" Florine asked, looking at you. You nodded, reaching out to the plant on the coffee table and watching it grow taller.

"She passed on her powers to you." Florine leaned back, clearing her throat. You glanced at Natasha, noticing her eating another biscuit.

"She? Who's she?" You asked, looking back at Florine.

"Your witch of a mother." She answered bitterly. You raised your brows at the hate and disgust in her tone.

"I shouldn't speak ill of her. Even if she deserves it." Florine muttered, standing up with a heavy sigh.

"C'mon." She motioned for you to follow. You turned towards Natasha. Natasha picked up another biscuit, making eye contact with you. You raised your brows.

"What? These are delicious!" Natasha huffed. You chuckled, standing up and following her out the backdoor. You noticed the stables with the horses walking around their fenced area. Florine had a vegetable garden and a greenhouse out back as well.

"Those pretty babies are Ernie, Kuma, and Goldie." Florine said, motioning to the horses. They approached the fence when she walked over to them. You smiled softly as she petted them, cooing in Dutch.

"They won't bite. Well, Ernie might but he's just a playful old man." Florine chuckled, turning back in the original direction. You followed her down a dirt path and into a wooded area. You blinked, seeing what looked like a moss covered statue of a woman. Her eyes were closed though her head was pointed downwards, looking at anyone who walked down the path.

"She was a charming little witch, I'll give her that." Florine crossed her arms, staring up at the statue. You tilted your head, licking your lips.

"Did he make this for her?" You asked, turning to look at her. Florine shook her head, looking down at the ground.

"Gaia, or better known as Mother Nature, is your mother. She took a human form in an attempt to convince humans to cherish what she had given them. When that proved useless, she spread plagues as punishment. What Gaia truly wanted.. Was a child. Animals, humans, and all those things were creations.. Projects she could ignore if she got bored. She met your father and he fell for her." Florine told you, another breeze blowing by. You reached your hand forward, gently touching a flower that rested by the statue. It felt full of life.

"Your mother fell pregnant with you and Michael was thrilled. Gaia had started realizing that human life wasn't for her. She was slowly becoming human herself. She disappeared with Michael and returned without him or you. She explained she couldn't stay and left her human body here."

"She abandonded me for no reason?" You stared up at the statue, features hardening.

"In some sense, she didn't. She's all around us so.. Your mother never truly left you." Florine said, turning to look at you. You scoffed.

"I have a mother. Her name is Laura Barton and she's not here anymore because of Thanos." You looked at Florine, blinking away tears.

"I don't blame you for being angry. I never found out where she took you or if you were even alive. If you want to keep in touch, I don't mind. Lord knows I could use the company." Florine looked forward again. You let out a soft sigh, shoulders slumping.

"And.. And dad? What happened to him?" You asked hesitantly, almost afraid of finding out he had done the same as Gaia. Florine stayed silent for a moment.

"He.. They never told me how it happened but.. He was murdered." Florine revealed, staring at the ground with a small frown. You stared at him, brows furrowing.

"What? By- By who?"

"You might've heard of him. People around town were talking about him a two or three years back. The infamous Winter Soldier."

~

Tags: @geek-and-proud @wolfelocksley @babyvisionisamenace

[everyhowlmarksthedead]

❛ HOTEL ROOM? ❜

with Angel Reyes.

Warnings: nsfw, brief smut described.

Word count: about 1.9k

Aurora says: this writing hasn't been edited, you may find some grammar mistakes, I'm sorry about that!

Gif credits: to the author.

Masterlist. You can subscribe to my broadcast list, to be notified whenever I post a writing!

It was a long day at the hospital and you didn't want to party. But it was EZ night, after being fully patched, and he begged you to go. Even if you know all the Mayans and have a good relationship with them, you feel totally out of place when your friend disappears. He said it was only for some minutes, but one hour has already passed and your drink is almost emptied. You could go home, but the problem is that your housemate asked you to have the house for her own tonight. Another Tinder date. So now, you're freezing because EZ kept your hoodie, sitting on the porch and not knowing where you are going to sleep tonight. Your last option? Search for a hotel room.

Heavily sighing you grab your phone from a pocket of your shorts, curling your body over the couch looking for some warmth. Typing over the screen, you wait for the results. Thirty dollars per night. EZ and Melissa are going to pay for that. Taking off your wallet from your bag, you hold your credit card to hire one room. At least, you will enjoy a good breakfast tomorrow. You don't notice Angel's presence until he asks you what you are doing. Turning your face towards him, you find the oldest Reyes with an arm on one of Vicki's girls shoulders. Mumbling nonsense words, you end up shrugging. If you tell him about your new adventure, he will scold you for not asking him first. But you're weak, and if you stay alone with him, you're going to screw up things between you two.

Before you can't stop him, Angel has grabbed your phone, leaving the girl in the background visibly annoyed. Licking your lips, he looks at you frowning. That look is also enough for the other woman to abandon the porch. Keeping your phone in his back pocket, he takes off his kutte holding it between his legs to offer you his hoodie. Puckering your lips ashamed, you take it to wear it. His smells almost dizzies you, closing the zip over your abdomen and your chest. The warmth of his body concentrated on the fabric comforts you more than anything, holding this time the hand in front of your eyes.

“C'mon, I will take you to my house”.

“You don't have to, Angel”. You whisper, even if you're really desiring it. “You can stay with that girl, and I can g—”.

“Nah”. He clicks his tongue, tangling your fingers with his. “I'm not gonna let you alone, as my shitty brother did”.

He's smirking at you, proud of saving the damsel in distress. Guiding you to his motorbike, he makes you wear on the helmet, assuring that it's tight grip under your chin. Putting away a lock of hair, sticking out by a side, he softly slaps the top of the helmet.

“Let's go, mami”.

The ride is shorter than you thought, clinged to his waist until the bike stops close to the building. Helping you to jump out of it, you follow Angel through the yard to the inside, going upstairs. You have been a lot of times in his house, but this time is different, because it's the first one you're alone. Standing up in the middle of the living room, the man goes to his room to come back a minute later carrying a shirt and a pair of short sweatpants.

“You can wear it, it will be more comfortable to sleep”.

“Thank you”. Whispering with a fleeting smile drawn on your lips, you hold it. “I can… sleep on the sofa”.

“Nah, bed is yours”. Shaking his head, he takes off his kutte to hang it on a chair.

That's not a good idea for you, covered by his smell and dying inside in the meantime. But you just nod, before leaving him to change your clothes. Once that you're ready, tying up your hair, you step out of his room with your new pajamas.

“Wanna beer?”

“Yeah, sure”.

“So, it's supposed that you were staying with EZ?” He asks then, opening the fridge to grab the drinks and sit with you on the sofa.

“It was supposed”. Giggling, you hold your beer to have a sip.

“A toast for my shitty lil brother boiling you”.

“Wow, that's rude!” You laugh, colliding slightly your bottle with his.

“Nah, enjoy our night. It's the first time we're alone, didn't know you?”

“Yes, I know”.

“Why? I mean, we were friends in our childhood. It's not like… you don't know me”. He sounds a little offended and confused.

“Ah… I don't know”. Putting away your gaze, you focus the moves of your fingers on the beer, shrugging somewhat nervous.

Yes, you know it. But you're not going to tell him.

“I always thought you were in love with me”. He laughs loud, shaking his head.

Your heart is jumping inside your chest, about to fly out and leave the earth's atmosphere. But when he finds you not laughing back, he almost chokes on his beer. With an incredulous gesture, he cleans his mouth with the back of his hand, licking his bottom lip. You're fucked. You just want to run away. From his house. From Santo Padre. From California. Maybe, from the United States. But he grabs your left wrist when you're about to get up.

“Are you…?” He mumbles surprised.

“Angel, I do—”.

“I thought you were just mad at me for something”. Now, the tone of his laugh turns to a happy one, confusing you. “Damn! I thought that maybe I did one of those comments that bothers you, and you just simply… kicked me out”.

“Sorry, I didn't mean to… make you feel like that”.

“So, are you actually in love with me?” Angel is still sounding surprised, putting both drinks away over the coffee table.

His ringed fingers grab your forearms making you kneel on the sofa, a little bit closer from his position. You can't barely breathe when he urges you to lie over his body, embracing you tightly as he places his whole anatomy on the sofa. Your pulse is about to stop, after speeding up too much.

“Do you wanna know a secret?”

“No…” You sob between laughs, covering your face with both hands.

He laughs louder, making his chest vibrate under yours. Turning both bodies on a side, he grabs again your wrist to discover your face. Your cheeks are burning. He's too close. Your back is stuck against the sofa and you two barely fit on it, but Angel looks comfy just like that.

“You were my crush on highschool”. He confesses chuckling, putting an arm under your neck.

“No, it's not true”.

“Yeah, it is. But I thought you and EZ were dating”.

“You think too much”. You mock him.

He nods with pursed lips.

“And didn't help at all”. Angel adds then, starting to caress your hair with soft gestures of his fingertips. Having a light deep breath, he places his head on the cushion. “So… what about you dating me?”

You have never heard him so nervous, always being so secure of himself around girls. And you can't even believe what he is asking you. Now, you're the one who feels secure, and he is the one dying inside.

“I've never had a girlfriend and I don't know what to do, but I'm sure about how many times I have to feed you and how many times I have to take you for a walk”.

“Angel, I'm not a dog!” Palming his chest, you almost roll on your back.

“You sure?” He jokes then, trying to hide the fact that you haven't answered his question yet and he's losing his calm.

“We can figure it out”. You finally say, nodding for a second.

He's smiling like a fool, using the hand on the back of your head to push you some inches closer, until your lips touch his. A soft kiss happening in the meantime that your fingers get intertwined on his shirt, and his free hand flies to your cheek. Your mouths molding perfectly, tasting the bitter mix of beer and your salivas. The pace of your heart feeling calmed, almost touching your noses when he tucks his tongue between your lips. Caressing it, you can't help but fit your body with his when his right arm surrounds tightly your waist. You don't know how many times you have dreamt with that kiss, but probably exactly as he has done.

Running out of air, Angel draws a path of wet kisses down to your jaw, sinking his face into the gap of your neck. His dense beard makes you some tickles, as his teeth getting dragged over your skin give you some soft shivers. You can't help but keep your eyes closed, biting your bottom lip while your fingers tighten the grip in his shirt. One of his hands, placed now on your ass, roams the back of your thigh to urge you to raise up your leg over his, settling himself almost under your body.

“Do you still want to sleep alone?” He whispers against your skin, bristling it with his warm breath.

“No”. You gasp unconsciously as soon as he starts to rock his hips with slow moves.

The hardness under his jeans is perfectly seated against your center, enjoying the friction his anatomy does to yours.

“Who you wanna sleep with, baby?” He asks, clearly teasing you, knowing how much he wants to hear it.

“I wanna sleep with my boyfriend”. You can feel the smile on his lips growing up, because his mouth is still pressed on your neck.

Sticking out his face from his hiding place, Angel kisses you again, turning you on your back. With him lying over you, his pelvis can go somewhat deeper into your legs, finally making you moan just with a simple move. The clothes are hindering you more than anything, but seems like he loves to play with you. And you're no one to ask him to stop, aren't you?

“Does mi preciosa novia want to be fucked by his amazing boyfriend?” His ringed fingers are nailed on your sides, securing you against the sofa, to thrust his hard rock to your needed pussy already wet for him.

“Yes, please…”

“Do you like how it sounds, ah?”

You just nod, feeling his right hand traveling down the fabric of the shirt, finding the waistband of the sweatpants. He doesn't lose time on sliding it under your clothes, grunting because of the heat flooding from your core. But he just caress your folds, impregnating his digits with your juices to bring it to his mouth. Barely gulping, you watch him sucking his own fingers and his eyes getting darker.

“You taste so fucking good, mi reina”. He gasps onto your lips.

And you don't need to be asked to. Gripping his wrist, you take his fingers into your mouth. Your lips closing around it and your head bowing up and down slowly. His orbs are glued on yours, as your tongue tastes his skin. Angel bites his bottom lip using his incisors, seeing how his Adam's apple moves in his throat by gulping his own saliva.

“Fuck my life…” He babbles, enraptured by the way your lips suck his fingers.

“Fuck me, Angel”. You correct him, looking now for his mouth.

[imagines-by-a-typical-fangirl]

White Lies (Pt. 09 of 21)

Pairing: Keanu Reeves X Reader

Word count: 2.1 K

Summary: Keanu found the girl almost dead, in the wrecks of what was once her car. While she was in surgery, stuck in a coma, he gathered the best doctors of New York to attend to her. They told him she is likely to have some kind of brain damage, what may lead to memory loss. And this possibility added up wit the fact that she's pregnant, made the council come up with an odd idea. They asked Keanu to pretend to be her husband, since the stress of finding out everything that happened could put the baby in danger. He reluctantly agreed, but only if she does has some kind of memory loss. He still goes she'll wake up soon, with her memories intact.

But when you finally wake up, there's nothing inside. You're quick to find your head is empty, void, like a blank canvas. The only thing that brings you some relief, that makes you feel less lonely is the mention of a husband. And you can't wait to meet him, because you know you can't deal with this by yourself.

<- Previous part (08)

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{Keanu Reeves Masterlist}

{John Wick Masterlist}

×

For Better Or Worse

You sigh when you find yourself back in a hospital bed, eyes adjusting to the light. Blinking a little, a sharp pain on both your knees make you groan, pushing yourself up.

“Slow down, slow down.” Keanu is suddenly by your side, gently pushing you back down. “You need to rest.”

“I'm alright.” You mutter, a hand coming to lay on your stomach.

“I know, beautiful. But try not to get too agitated.” Keanu caresses your cheek, leaning down to peck your lips. “I'm so sorry about the journalists. I make some calls and I'll have them all fired.”

“No, Ke, don't do that.” Taking his hand on yours. “They were just doing their job, and it's not their fault I'm... Like this.”

“They know about your condition, is all over the news. That was unacceptable.” Keanu is angry. You've never seen this angry before. Pushing yourself into a sitting position, you place his hand over your belly.

“I'm fine. We're both fine.” With your forehead touching his, you assure him, keeping your voice soft and sweet.

“I know, I just...” His voice fades, his hand gently rubbing your belly. “When Laura called me I almost lost my mind.”

“Yeah, but I'm here now.” Kissing him again, you hold Keanu close. “Do you think you can take me home? I'm sick and tired of this hospital.” You plead, hoping the doctors won't make you stay.

“Don't worry, they'll discharge you later today. They just need to check if everything is okay with you and the baby.”

“Alright.” Feeling relieved, you lie back down as Keanu settles down on armchair placed next to your bed. “Ke... About earlier today...” Biting your lip, you can't control as your float back to that moment, and you're suddenly a little hot.

“It was yesterday. You spent the night here.”

“Oh...” That sucks. One more night away from home. “Well... About yesterday, I really–”

“I'm sorry, (Y/N).” Keanu cuts you short, elbows on his knees as he looks down before raising his eyes at you. “I shouldn't have kissed you like that. I should've controlled myself and–”

“I really liked it.” Interrupting whatever nonsense Keanu is saying, you speak up. Despite the burn in your cheeks, you need him to know it. “And I... I didn't want you to control yourself.”

“(Y/N), I–” He stops talking when someone comes in, and you look at the door, watching as Dr. Wright comes in.

“Good morning Mr. and Mrs. Reeves.” He says with a smile. “How are you two today?”

“I'm fine.” You answer, feeling as the bed moves up until you're in a half-sitting position. You're tired of this hospital since you're always coming and going for many appointments. “Can I go, home doctor? I fainted because of the questions and flashes, but I feel alright.”

“Don't worry about that. You're recovering well, physically at least, and since your exams came out good, I'll let you go home after we have a little chat, is that alright?” He stands by the edge of the bed, an expression on his face you can't read.

“Sure.”

Dr. Wright takes a deep breath, exchanging a glance with Keanu. You take a look at your husband too, and you wonder if he knows what this is about.

“Mrs. Reeves, we already told you that as times passes, lesser are the chances you'll recover your memories.” He begins, and you immediately sink, looking down at your hands. Of course, you remember it, you just didn't want to think about it. So you pushed everything back, focusing on what's happening now. The pregnancy, trying to fix things with a husband you don't know...

“Yes, doctor. It was one of the first things you told me.” Nodding, you mutter.

“From where we stand now, the brain is healing... So it means that, if absolutely nothing came back until now–”

“It probably won't.” You finish it off for him, trying not to let them notice how your hands are shaking, clenching them into fists.

“Well, there are extremely rare cases, but I can't give you false hopes. And since things have been going well for you, there's no reason to.”

“It's alright.” Clearing your throat, you take a deep breath. “Can I go home now?” Your voice comes out louder than expected, as anger starts kicking in. At what, you have no idea. Probably at yourself.

“Here are the papers.” He hands them over to Keanu, alongside a pen, and you watch as he signs them.

You're silent on the drive home, eyes on the city passing by, heavy gray clouds making everything a little monochromatic. When you get home, you take a long shower, hoping it would help. It didn't. As you come out of the bathroom, you make your way to the window, staring at the rain falling. That makes you finally break, bitter tears rolling down. This isn't fair. With a hand on your heart, you start moving. You need to be outside, you need to do something to get rid of the sadness, growing roots inside your heart.

Rushing through the house, on the tip of your toes not to let Keanu listen, you reach a door on the first floor that leads to the garden on the side of the house. Taking a deep breath, you slide it open, shivering when the cold wind hits your skin. But still, you step forward until the rain is soaking your clothes and hair. But it doesn't make you feel better. It only makes it worse, and you're crying, sobbing.

Your tears are mixed with the cold rain, and it doesn't take much until your soaking wet. But it doesn't matter. You need this. Dr. Wright is right, you won't remember. Nothing has come back. Not in dreams, not in flashes, nothing. When you sleep, your dreams consist of things you learned after. Before the accident, everything is blank. Forever lost. An entire life, childhood, teenage years, gone.

Keanu doesn't want to think much. There used to be a deadline for this lie. Until she remembers. Until she gets her old life back. And he bought the idea. He'd be her husband until that moment, and then, (Y/N) will probably hate him forever. But now... If that day never comes, what will be of them? Of him, whose heart is already on her possession?

Keanu doesn't want to think about that either. About the fact that he's falling for her, drowning in the fake life he built for her sake. As he sits on the kitchen table, looking for something different to cook for (Y/N), his mind takes him back to the day before, when he kissed her in a way he shouldn't have. He knew he had to stop, but he didn't have it in him. She's too beautiful, and she wanted him. At least that's what he thought. The feeling of her hands on him was too much, and if it wasn't for Laura's call, he doesn't know if he'd have stopped at all. His mind was a blur, completely overwhelmed by her.

Putting his phone down, Keanu rests his head on his hands, struggling to push those images away. Her kisses, her touch, her soft breathing. Her. This is driving him crazy, and part of him wants this to go on forever. Keanu wants (Y/N) to be his wife. He wants it to be real. He needs it to be real. He just doesn't know what to do.

A sudden thud makes him look up, and the low yelp that follows has him up to his feet, walking over the source of the sound. His heart almost stops when he sees (Y/N) on the living room floor, soaking wet, sobbing, hugging her knees.

Your thigh burns from the fall as you pull both your knees to your chest. Now, you don't know if you're shaking from the sobs of from the cold. It doesn't really matter. A sudden touch on your back snaps you out of your state and, looking up, you see a very worried Keanu staring at you.

“(Y/N), what happened?” He asks, but you don't have it in you to answer. So you just throw your arms around his neck, an apologize stuck in your throat for getting him all wet. “It's alright, beautiful. It's alright.” He whispers in your ear, softly rubbing the small of your back. “Tell me what's wrong, beautiful.”

“I-I want to remember, Ke...” You mutter, voice all messed up by all the crying. “I haven't had anything. Dreams, flashes, nothing... And I want to. I want to remember my childhood, school, and I want to remember you. Our life together, all of it. And I was trying not to give it must thought because I'm really happy right now, with you but–”

“Breathe, sweetheart. Breathe.” As he speaks, Keanu picks you up, immediately carrying you upstairs. You're holding on to him, hiding your face on his neck, and trying to control the sobbing. He places you down somewhere, and you only notice it's his bathroom when he pulls away. You're seated on the sink, watching as Keanu takes a towel, wrapping it around your shoulders before taking another and starting to dry your hair.

“I'm sorry.” You mumble, finally calming down a little.

“It's alright. You needed this.” He stops before you, a towel in his hands, keeping a certain distance. You're about to question that when you notice he's trying not to position himself in between your legs. Keanu is such a gentleman. “You haven't broken down about it yet, and Dr. Harris warned me about this.”

“I just...” You don't know what to say, so you just take a deep breath, grabbing Keanu's shirt and pulling him to you. You don't mind him being this close. You need him, now more than ever. “If I didn't have you Ke, I... I don't know what I'd do.” Wrapping your arms around his neck, you feel as the towel falls from your shoulders.

“You won't ever have to know.” He assures you, a hand caressing your chin. “For better or worse, in sickness and health. Forever, sweetheart.”

“I'm falling in love with you.” The words come out fast, as you look into his beautiful dark eyes. “All over again.”

His lips break into a smile as he moves even closer, his sides brushing on the inside of your thighs. “I love you, (Y/N).” He whispers before bending down to kiss you.

• • •

The whole sky is coming down tonight as you watch the flashes of lightning that light up your room every once in a while. You've been trying to sleep for quite some time now, but all you manage to do is toss around, uncomfortable. You know exactly what you want to do, but you can't seem to gather enough courage.

Pushing yourself up, you run a hand through your hair. If you don't do this now, you'll just sleep here again. And you're tired of the guest room. Keanu is right there, two doors across the hall, and it's stupid to be here all alone when you can just go there and be with him.

So you swallow your cowardice and move, leaving the guest room and only stopping when you're before his door. He's probably sleeping by now and trying not to wake him up, you carefully turn the handle and push the door open. Keanu keeps it unlocked in case you need him. But the moment your close it behind your back, he moves, getting into a sitting position and eyes easily finding you despite the darkness.

“Sorry... I didn't mean to wake you up.” You have to raise your voice a little to make yourself heard through the small distance and above the sound of the rain. “I just... I think I'm ready to sleep here with you now.” Slowly, you walk to the bed, stopping by the edge. “If that's alright.”

“Of course it is.” He says, and you climb on the bed, still timid, lying down next to him.

You can see his face when lightning crosses the sky, and it makes you smile. Even though you're right next to him, it's not enough. You want more, so you hold your breath as you move, slowly at first, snuggling closer to him. “I-is it alright?” You mumble, stopping suddenly, holding your upper body with your elbow.

“Come here,” Keanu says softly, pulling you down until you have your head on his chest.

That's when you finally feel comfortable, eyes closed as you feel his breathing, as you listen to his heartbeat. “Can I sleep here from now on?”

“You don't have to ask, beautiful. This is our bedroom. And it's great to finally have you here with me.” He places a kiss on the top of your hair and you softly caresses his chest.

“This is good.” A thunder swallows your voice, so you repeat. “This is very good.”

“It is, beautiful.” His huge hand comes to your belly, gently rubbing it. “It is.”

×

@multific @inumorph @aestheticallywinchester @bvbwestfall @liviiii98 @allie1804-fan @gian-giannina @playboygeniusphilanthropist @partypoison00 @mariafetamina @fortheloveoffanfic @trin303

[cavehags]

i realize this will probably bring up old drama so you might not want to answer it. but do you ever regret, however on purpose or on accident, bringing all that unnecesary hate towards Katara? i'm really sad and dissapointed tbh. i'm a woman of color and katara was so important to me growing up. my favorite animated woman ever. and then this resurgence comes and theres so, so much unnecesary hatred for her and everyone ignoring everything that makes her a good character.

(2/3) 2- and you know, i expected this from the male side of the fandom. they were misogynistic to her and the others even back then so i would expect it to be even worse with how internet culture is more mysogistic now that ever. and i wasnt wrong. male atla fans had some truly horrible takes and views that just came across as racism and misogyny. but, i expected these circles to be better. to be a safe space for us woc who love this character. but i found the same weird hatred for her.

(3/3) 3-i just, i cant believe i feel less welcome now that i did even back then. and back then i didnt even paricipate really. but at least i could enjoy fandom content without stumbling into misogyny and racism every other post. also sorry for sending this to your personal blog b i just wanted to let you know you controbuted to that too even if it wasnt your intention. at least you realized that and arent contributing to it anymore right? cause honestly the hate has only gotten worse not less.

hey anon. thanks for asking this question, because i hadn’t addressed this topic previously and this gave me an opportunity to do so. 

no, i don’t regret publicly interpreting a character whom i love through a nuanced and human lens. and i don’t regret combating the one-dimensional interpretation of this character, which posits that she’s merely an vaguely defined object of attraction for some boy or another, and a singularly gentle, mature, maternal figure whose sole purpose in life is to nurture others. those interpretations suck. they rob her of the humanity and complexity that make her character unique and they stem from misogynistic tropes that reduce women to the services they can provide to men. the thing in the world that matters most to me is fighting misogyny, and this trend to diminish a proud and powerful and angry teenage girl by exaggerating only her most socially acceptable traits is misogyny. 

unlike you, i did not grow up watching avatar: the last airbender. the shows i watched growing up did not have a lot of girls who felt real to me. the girls i saw on tv growing up were simple. they were the main characters’ crushes. they were simple, desirable, usually sweet and loving, and not much else. if they had a flaw, it was that they were, at best, “awkward.” whatever that means. or if they were the protagonists, which was rare, they were nice enough and tried to do the right thing, but they never had strong feelings like resentment and anger. they weren’t allowed to be unfeminine which meant they weren’t allowed to be bitter, angry or in any way flawed. they didn’t look like the version of girlhood i knew to be true for me personally, which included a lot of anger and frustration and powerlessness. 

that crappy representation left me with internalized misogyny that chased me for longer than i’d like to admit. i did not learn to think of girls as humans who could be as interesting and flawed and messy as the boys were. i did not value myself as a girl, and later a woman, because i thought the best thing a girl could be was... bland. boring. pretty, but empty. passionless.

it would have meant the world to me to see a character like katara. 

because katara is angry. she has every right to be: she’s had so much stolen from her, including her mother, her people, and her childhood. katara has a short fuse. she yells. she snaps. she fucks up. sometimes she makes mean jokes! i never saw a single one of those dreamily perfect cartoon love interests make mean jokes when i was a kid. she is extremely idealistic--it’s her defining character trait--but we see the bad side of that as well as the good. we see that her need to help others  leads her to act rashly, to get herself into danger, to put others in danger too. 

and she has her very own arc. it’s not about her love for another person, either (what a snooze of a storyline); it’s about growing up and learning to break down some of that stubborn black-and-white thinking that we all indulge in as children. it’s a true coming-of-age arc and it belongs to a fourteen-year-old girl. 

when i, to use a phrase i find crass, “entered the fandom,” i quickly realized that other fans’ perceptions of katara did not line up with the things i valued most about her. other fans seemed to valorize her most socially acceptable feminine qualities: her generosity, her kindness, her dedication to helping others. and of course i love those parts of her--i love everything about her--but what is really remarkable about avatar: the last airbender is that katara’s many important virtues are also counterbalanced by equally significant flaws. a good character has flaws. katara is a good character, and a deviation from the characters who made up my formative media landscape, because she has flaws. her temper, her idealism, her stubbornness--these are flaws. flaws make her seem real and human and challenge the mainstream sentiment that girls are not real or human.

it simply did not occur to me that celebrating these aspects of katara that make her a realistic and well-written teenage girl would spark ire from other adult fans. it absolutely did not occur to me that i would then be blamed for somehow causing misogynistic interpretations of this character, particularly given that misogynistic interpretations of this character are the very thing i sought to correct when i began to blog about this television show.

i’m told there are “fans” on instagram and tiktok who think katara is whiny, annoying, and overly preoccupied with her trauma. i do not use instagram or tiktok, so i wouldn’t know, but i’ll take your word for it. respectfully, however, they didn’t get that from me. misogynistic takes on katara have existed since before i came along. i have never, ever called katara whiny. and seeing as i have been treating my own PTSD in therapy for nine years, you can safely conclude that i don’t think anyone, katara included, is overly preoccupied with their trauma. that’s not a thing. do i think she’s annoying? of course not! as a character, she’s a delight. does she sometimes find real joy in aggravating her brother and her friends? yes, because she’s 14. i, an adult, am not annoyed by her. sokka and toph often are, because that is katara’s goal and katara always succeeds in her goals. she’s not “annoying.” 

if there are “fans” who are indeed following lesbians4sokka and somehow misreading every single post and interpreting them to mean that we hate katara and they should too, i don’t really know what you want me to do about that. l4s has over ten thousand followers and we have already posted so many essays disavowing katara hate. our feminist and antiracist objectives in running the blog are literally pinned with the headline “please read.”

furthermore, you cannot reasonably expect my co-blogger and me to control the way our words will be received. we should not have to, and are not going to, add a disclaimer to every post saying that when we critique or make jokes about a teenage girl we are doing so through a feminist lens. our url is lesbians4sokka, and we are clearly women. if that alone doesn’t make it obvious, then refer back to that pinned post. 

it is indescribably frustrating, and really goddamn depressing as well, that people are so comfortable with the misogynistic binary of Perfect Good Women and Flawed Wicked Bitches that they perceive any discussion of a woman’s flaws to be necessarily relegating her to the latter camp. if that is how you (a generic you) perceive women, then i’m sorry, but you’ve internalized sexism that i cannot cure you of. and it’s unjust to expect my friend and me to write for the lowest common denominator of readers who have not yet had their own feminist awakenings. we do not write picture books for babies. we write for ourselves, and with the expectation that our readers can think critically. reading media through a feminist lens is my primary interest; i have no intention of excising that angle from my writing.

as i go through my life, i am going to embrace the flaws of girls and women because not enough people do. as long as the dominant narratives surrounding women are “good and perfect” and “unlovable wh*re,” you’ll find me highlighting flawed, realistic, righteously angry women in the margins. and for what it’s worth, it’s not just katara. i champion depictions of angry girls in all sorts of media. that’s sort of my whole thing. my favorite movies are part of the angry girl cinematic universe: thoroughbreds, jennifer’s body, hard candy, jojo rabbit, et cetera. on tv, in addition to katara, you’ll find me celebrating tuca and bertie, poppy from mythic quest, tulip and lake from infinity train, korra, and more. i adore all these women and see myself in them. i hope you find this suitably persuasive to establish that i have sufficient Feminist Cred, according to your standards, to observe and write about these very flawed and human fictional women. 

what i’m saying is this: i decline to take responsibility for the misogynistic discourse orbiting a children’s cartoon. as someone who writes about that series from a perspective that seeks to add humanity and nuance to the reductive, one-dimensional, overwhelmingly sexist writing that already exists, i am pretty taken aback that i am the one being blamed for the very problem i sought to address. except not that taken aback because i am a woman online, haha! and this is always how it goes for us. 

finally, i think it sucks that you’ve chosen to blame me for a problem that begins and ends with the patriarchy. i can’t control the way this response will be perceived, just like how i can’t control the way anything will be perceived because i am just one human woman, but i do hope you choose to be reflective, and consider why you’ve chosen this avenue to assign blame. 

[locoluis]

Pam's visit to the doctor

DISCLAIMER: This is a fictional story. I have no medical knowledge, so the following is all artistic licence and stuff taken from the web. Please consult a proper medical professional if you experience any of the symptoms described below. Oh, and sorry for the sloppy writing.

It has been from bad to worse during the last weeks. I don't like summer, I get way too sweaty and dehydrated. I get sunburned easily. I am self conscious about my body and will need to wear less than the normal amount of clothing I usually enjoy wearing, which attracts the stares of people who look like they haven't seen a girl with more than a B cup in their entire lives.

Like they never get out of this town.

I like going to the city, even though the climate is warmer there than up here in the hills, because nobody bats an eye about my appearance there, or at least not that much. The city centre is a couple hours away by bus. Only a few, elderly people are joining me in this trip I absolutely need to carry out.

The local paediatricians are as useless as the painkillers they prescribe. One of them said: “ At this point, you should consider going to an adult's doctor. ” Madam, I'm only twelve, and you're supposed to be able to take care of people through their late teens. Don't come at me with such rubbish.

Then my PE teacher recommended me this children's hospital in the city, and I got an appointment. I got so stressed during the bus trip that the box of chocolates that I brought with me didn't last long enough. I hope this isn't as bad as it feels.

Even though this is the second time I've seen this particular lady, I immediately recognised her. Shorter than me, dangerously skinny, with a childish face despite being in her mid-thirties, and a brunette ponytail of ridiculous length.

— Pamela Evans. I remember you.

— Dr. Eliana Martínez. You were the lady who awarded me the gold medal at the swimming competition a few months ago.

— Indeed. That was… a random, unusual philanthropic gesture from me. I must confess that your victory caught me by surprise, as you looked like you didn't even want to participate.

— Well, Mum taught me to swim at an early age, and she really wanted me to participate. But I hate PE with a passion, and it was really embarrassing for me to be in a swimsuit with all those people around. You can guess why.

— Yeah, I can relate, having been pregnant once. Never again.

I couldn't quite hide my amazement. How does such a twiggy lady manage to have a child growing inside such a tiny belly?

— Indeed, I have a daughter. Her name is Violeta, and she will soon be bigger than me. I carried my baby through full term, with no complications, shattering all expectations. I guess I'm a woman after all, ha ha ha. But enough about me; please tell me what brings you here.

I took a long breath.

— Doctor, during the last few weeks it's been difficult for me to concentrate in class, to get asleep, to get enough rest. I sweat way too much. I feel a lot of anxiety, even to the point of paranoia. Sometimes I feel my heart beating too hard and too fast. Sometimes I feel a burning sensation in my chest. And I've been putting on quite some weight, though I'm not sure how much of that is just going through puberty.

— Well, body changes are normal through puberty, and girls grow and develop at different rates.

— I'm aware of that. All my classmates still look like children. I'm the only one with the shape of a grown-up woman at twelve.

— About that. When I was twelve, it was the exact opposite. The other girls were all grown up, while I still look like a ten years old.

— Well, you sure are tiny, even compared to my classmates.

— Yeah, yeah. Now that I think about it, you look a lot like one of mine. Blue eyes, a different hairstyle and nose shape, a slimmer waist, but otherwise she was a dead ringer for you.

— Even her breast size?

— Indeed. She was curvy and gorgeous, and all the boys were crazy for her, but she only had eyes for one boy… who just wasn't ready for a relationship. And it made me cringe that she didn't seem to feel pretty enough, that she wore more make-up than was necessary, plus her dangerously short, tight-fit school pinafore dress… she looked ridiculous.

— Oh, I have some classmates who are like that. Not me, though; I already get way too much attention without doing anything with my looks.

— Well, you seem more like the forbidden snack type, which ironically is more attractive for some men than the overly sexy type.

— … Ach-y-fi.

— … Excuse me? I'm not a native English speaker, and that's a word I haven't heard before.

— Oh, that's a local expression of disgust. Like, it seems like I can't avoid the male gaze.

— That's their problem, Miss Evans, not yours. Don't make it your problem. I've got nothing here, yet men still stare.

— Well, your body type is even more unusual…

— I know. But you have to excuse me, this is getting way off-topic. I don't usually talk to my patients about my own childhood, and I'm talking to you like we knew each other from long ago.

— Well, I don't mind. Yours seems to have been an interesting childhood.

— Indeed, but that's not why you're here. So let me get through this. Most of the issues that you describe are not necessarily associated with puberty, and no sign of pain or discomfort is worth getting glossed over. First of all, please stand on the scale to get your height and weight measured.

I do. To no surprise, I'm overweight. She also checked my heart rate and blood pressure.

— Now, tell me. Tea, coffee, carbonated drinks. How much do you drink each day?

— Not much, actually. I drink a couple cups of tea each day. Unlike the rest of my family, who just can't get enough of it. And they drink green tea, which tastes horrible to me.

— Hmm. What about chocolate?

She stopped talking when she noticed the sheer expression of horror in my face.

— What? Did I hit a nerve, Miss Evans? Please tell me how much do you eat everyday. Answer truthfully.

I started crying uncontrollably. She patiently bears with me through this.

— … Doctor. I have a lot of admirers. Every day I get several boxes of chocolate in the mail. And I can't control myself.

— Well, chocolates have a high calorie count due to their sugar and fat content. And the symptoms you've been experiences are consistent with an excessive chocolate intake.

— And now you're telling me that I have to eat less chocolates. As if my life wasn't horrible enough.

— Well, at least you don't have acne… yet.

— ACNE!? Oh my God! I need to stop eating chocolates right now!

— Well, acne is more of an issue with eating lots of carbohydrates and dairy products, and there's no consensus about the link between acne and chocolate consumption. But I still advise you to reduce the amount of chocolate you eat everyday.

— I understand.

— To prevent acne, you should eat more fruits, vegetables and fish. Drinking green tea is also good against acne, and it has many more health benefits. It contains caffeine, so it too must be consumed in moderation.

— Green tea. As I said, I don't like it.

— Add lemon juice and stevia to it. There are many types of green tea, you just have to find which one is better tasting for you. And brewing it correctly is quite important in order to get it just right, not too bitter or watery.

— Well, thank you.

— I'll prescribe you some medication in order to treat the symptoms you've mentioned. But you should follow my instructions in order to attack their root cause. Stop eating so many chocolates, and come back in a month or so, in order to check your progress. I most likely won't be around, as I travel a lot and I'm currently on a temporary contract, but Dr. Spencer is an experienced paediatrician who will be able to take your case.

— I'll do. Oh, and I have a last question. Do you think I should get a breast reduction? And how do I get it on the NHS?

— Well, first of all, I don't think it's advisable to get one while you're still developing, except in extreme cases of breast hypertrophy. Second, you should get down to a stable weight, and get an assessment with a psychiatrist or psychologist. Third, as there are many women seeking to get breast reduction surgery on the NHS, the waiting list can be up to several years, and a lot of women are being turned down as not meeting their criteria. Also, private treatment is quite expensive. And… would you like me to measure you?

— Yeah, sure.

Her procedure for measuring my breast size is a bit more complicated than what I knew. She then puts the measurements on a spreadsheet, which gets her a bunch of numbers.

— Wearing a good-fitting bra can alleviate many of the issues associated with large breasts. Also, I'm recommending you some exercises that can strengthen your core muscles, and some tips to improve your posture. But I wouldn't advise a breast reduction surgery on someone like you, as its risks and consequences certainly outweigh the possible benefits. They're not that big, actually; you just have a delicate body frame. Your ideal weight is lower than that of other girls of your age and height.

— I understand.

I need to make a lot of sacrifices in order to stop feeling like this. Mum is going to stare me down and tell me: “ I told you, Pam ”. And then I'm asking her what we should do with so all those chocolates.