#listen if you expect me to believe that charles didn’t do everything in his power to avoid the mistakes of the first timeline

[websterss]

𝐀𝐋𝐋 𝐈𝐍 𝐌𝐘 𝐇𝐄𝐀𝐃 — 𝐋𝐔𝐊𝐄 𝐏𝐀𝐓𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐒𝐎𝐍

𝐒𝐔𝐌𝐌𝐀𝐑𝐘: After your power starts getting out of control, Luke does everything he can to make sure you’re alright, but things don’t go as planned.

𝐖𝐀𝐑𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐆(𝐒): Angst, mentions of getting shot, bleeding out, fluff

𝐖𝐎𝐑𝐃 𝐂𝐎𝐔𝐍𝐓: 6,080

𝐏𝐀𝐈𝐑𝐈𝐍𝐆: Mutant!Luke Patterson x Muntant!fem!Reader

𝐀/𝐍: Hope you enjoy it! ♡

𝐌𝐀𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓

You could no longer keep track of how long you had been pacing amongst the lounge area where you and your fellow classmates were gathered. The constant worry of not knowing where your three friends were. Your fingernails were just about nonexistent the more you bit them. 

“How long till she stops pacing?” Carrie whispered to Julie. 

“My guess, never.” Julie’s eyes swiftly followed your movements. 

“They should be back by now.” You coiled a loose string from your t-shirt around your finger, unraveled it, then did it again. “Why aren’t they back yet?” 

“They’re boys, with the ability to travel certain distances. Did you really expect them to stay put behind the gates of this school?” 

“No, but with Stryker out there I would’ve expected them to be less reckless.” You peaked out the window, moving the curtain out of the way with a brush of your fingers. “Mostly Alex with his anxiety. Alex would have never agreed to leave. My best bet…Luke did it! He’s always looking for trouble. No doubt he dragged Reggie along with him too. God knows what they’re doing? Why can’t they listen? I mean we’ve told them numerous amounts of times that it’s not safe to go out in public. Especially alone. I mean are they even up to date with the news. Hello people! They still fear us. I cannot believe they left. How they managed to do it without me knowing, who knows? I mean it’s crazy enough that-” Everyone around you drowned out your voice as you rambled on. 

“I can easily put her to sleep in an instant, just say the word.” Carrie’s fingers sparked with a zap. A hinted grin plastered on her face. Charles shook his head at her. 

“No it’s best we refrain from knocking her unconscious and putting her to sleep while she’s under stress, Miss Wilson.” Charles gave her a pointed look. “We wouldn’t want another incident like the last time to happen.” 

“You know she didn’t mean it.” Julie pushed away Carrie’s hand. “Flynn’s fine.” 

“I know, but we can never be too careful.” Carrie eyed you as electricity moved between each of her fingers. 

- 

“Tell me why were not safely behind the gates of the school and instead looking for a stupid necklace, again?” Alex’s eyes darted around the roof. His fingers fiddled with his oversized sweater that fell past his hands. 

“It’s not stupid, Alex, we’re looking for Y/n’s necklace.” Luke moved around some rocks. His face scrunched in concentration as he knelt down. “She lost it here a few weeks ago. We had to leave in a hurry though and it must’ve fallen off. I came back a few times, but I wasn’t able to find it then, plus she hasn’t been able to sleep without it. Now shut up and look.” Luke met Alex’s eyes. “I just want to make it easier for her again, okay.” Luke sighed as Alex continued to stare at him. 

“By risking your life?” Alex looked at him bewildered. His hands waving around him crazily. “The risk of being seen has increased, people still fear of us, and not to mention some scary soldier guy is out to get us all. Come on Luke, can’t Y/n just- by a new one.” Alex suggested with a hesitant grin. 

“Geeze you sound like Carrie.” Reggie eyed him. 

“Alex, she made Flynn’s worst fear come true.” Luke’s voice was low and steady.

“Isn’t she scared of drowning?” Reggie tilted his head. 

“Yeah and while Y/n was asleep, she flooded Flynn’s entire room with water that came out of nowhere!” Luke exclaimed. “Remember? Professor X had Jean and Julie help us remove the water. The hallways were wet for days.” 

“I thought there was a pipe burst?” Reggie looked confused. There were now two sides of a story he didn’t know which one to believe. ”I’m so confused…”

“That seems like a long time though…” Alex stuffed his hand into his pockets. “We haven’t had a mishap since, and Y/n’s only done it once. Who’s to say it’ll even happen again?” Alex pointed out. 

“That was three weeks ago, Alex.” Luke frowned. “Professor X said she’s getting worse, and if it comes to it. She could possibly set off her own fear. That’s why I have to find that necklace!” Luke turned around and knelt down again. 

“We’ll help.” 

“Yeah.” Alex nodded, going off to one side to begin looking.

“You guys didn’t need to come, ya know. I would’ve been fine on my own. No need for you two to risk your own lives.” Luke gestured to them as they searched. 

“You’d think we’d let you leave by yourself, hilarious.” Alex mocked with a laugh. His hands getting dirty due to the dirt on the ground. 

“Yeah, nothing like the three amigos, working together.” Reggie jokes. 

“She just had to lose it on a rooftop…covered with rocks.” Alex placed his hands on his hips. They had barely covered half the area. From the wind rustling through their hair, to the busy streets below them. It almost felt too normal. Too calm as three mutants walked around on a rooftop. They hadn’t been disturbed.

“Guys is it just me or are you getting an off feeli-“ 

“Hey I think I found it!” Reggie exclaimed as he ran over to Luke. Luke’s eyes crinkled at the corners as he carefully grabbed the gold chain from Reggie’s palm. It was in fact your necklace. The star shaped pendant was a bit dirty, but nothing seemed to be missing or broken. 

“Atta boy Reg!” Luke slapped the side of Reggie’s shoulder. “Y/n is gonna be so happy to have this back!” 

“Great can we go now?” Alex wrapped his arms around himself, feeling the effects of the cold night. He kept looking around, something felt off to him.

“Yeah we should head back before everyone starts worrying.” Reggie agreed.

“No need to worry guys, Y/n and Professor X will be happy as long as we get back in one pi-“ Luke choked up as he felt something pierce through him. Two bullets going through his shoulder and abdomen. He glanced down at his shirt that was now bleeding through. Luke looked up at Alex and Reggie who looked at him with wide eyes. Alex stumbled back as a bullet lodged itself into his shoulder blade.

“A-Alex…” Luke’s voice trembled as he lost his balance. Alex rushed to catch him before he could hit the ground.

“We got you!” Alex held the boy tightly.

“Y-Y/n-“ Luke sputtered out blood from his mouth. “S-She’s-”

“D-Don’t talk okay we’re heading home- Reggie now!” Alex groaned, clutching his shoulder as he heard another shot go off. Reggie closed his eyes, quickly wrapping his arms around his two friends and teleported them back to the school.

-

“Where could they be, and why didn’t they say anything?” You let your arms drop to your sides. Everyone was noticing your frustrations building up. “Why do they always do this? God they are gonna be in so much trouble when they get here!” You curled your fists. Digging your nails into your palms. You hadn’t realized you had closed your eyes. All your fears and concerns building up like a ticking time bomb.

“Help!” You all turned your heads towards the sound of the yells.

You didn’t wait another second before you sprinted out the lounge and towards the grand foyer entrance.

“Charles!” Reggie rasped as he kept looking over his shoulder. Luke was slipping in and out, while Alex sat on the ground applying pressure to Luke’s wound. “Someone help us!”

“Reggie!” You had barely rounded the corner before you saw the horrifying scene. Alex’s hands were covered in your boyfriend’s blood. “Oh my god…” You gasped, tripping over your own feet as you went to him. “L-Luke?” You didn’t know where to place your hands. “What the hell happened?” You snapped. Reggie flinching back against your harsh stares and teary eyes. “Reggie, what happened?” You rasped out.

“I-I don’t it all happened so fast- I don’t know-“ Reggie sputtered out his eyes glossing over.

“Hey, hey, it’s okay.” You cooed at him. “Don’t strain yourself.” Reggie nodded keeping pressure on Luke’s wounds. You glanced down at Luke who’s eyes were barely open. You smiled sadly at him caressing his cheek. “Where’d you go, trouble?” You lightly teased. Your pained laugh slipping past your lips. “You’re gonna be fine, okay. You’re home now.” You reassured him. Luke only gave a slight nod.

“Guys what- Oh god, Carrie go get Hank tell him to meet us down in the lab- now!” Julie rounded the corner just then ushering the blonde to go and find him. Everyone soon rounded around the wall. Taking in the blood and Luke laid across in Reggie’s lap.

“Step aside kids, make room, make room!” Charles rolled in. Going over in his chair to where everyone was.

“T-That’s a lot of blood…” Alex trailed off. His eyes rolling to the back of his head. He fell back with a slight thump.

“Alex, oh god!” Julie hovered over him, patting the side of his face. “Hey buddy, come back to us…” Julie nervously chuckled. “Wake up!” Your mouth agape as you watched her slap Alex back to conscious harshly.

“Well that’s one way to do it.” Charles’ face scrunched up.

“Ow!” Alex moaned out, now placing a hand on his cheek.

“Alex what happened out there?” Julie brought his attention onto her. Alex blinked a few times before he spoke.

“I don’t know, t-they just came out of nowhere…the bullets.” Alex clenched his teeth. You caught sight of his shoulder.

“Alex you’re hurt!” You pushed his sweater past his shoulder. Willie came over to comfort his boyfriend.

“Luke was hit first, then more were fired. We got out of there as fast as we could.” Alex moaned as soon as Willie applied pressure to his shoulder.

“Did you see anyone?” Charles asked.

“No…I’m sorry.” Alex’s pained expression made Charles break.

“It’s alright Alex, we’ll talk more later. Let’s worry about those wounds first.”

“We’re wasting time, I’m taking him down to the lab.” Reggie extended his hand out and grabbed Alex’s hand. Willie held onto Alex, then Reggie teleported them all out of the room.

You stayed back staring down at your hands that were now covered in blood. Julie slid over and wrapped her arms around you. Your body heaving as you cried.

“Hey now, it’s okay. He’s gonna be fine. You’ll see.” Julie rubbed your shoulders, talking softly. “Luke’s gonna be fine.”

-

“I knew I shouldn’t have let them out of my sight. They always have to do something stupid and dangerous. God I’m such an idiot“ You cried as you slid down the wall to the ground curling in on yourself.

“No you’re not!” Charles scolded you. “I’m more to blame than you are my darling.” You looked up at him with tears in your eyes.

“What do you mean?” Your voice rasped as asked him.

“Well…” Charles reached into his pocket to get something. “From the looks of it, it appears Luke’s little field trip didn’t seem stupid to him.” He dangled the golden chain in front of you. Your eyes widened as you recognized the pendant from anywhere. You had lost the piece of jewelry a while ago. You gasped as you gently took it from him. Your thumb rubbing over the star. “I knew where he was going…” Charles averted his gaze away from yours guilty. You looked at him in shock. “He told me that he was going to retrieve that pendant…no matter what.”

“You knew this whole time?” You croaked. “You knew the risks-”

“Luke knew just as much as I did how dangerous it was to leave the school grounds.” You looked up at Charles. “He knew what he was doing, Y/n.”

“It was a stupid necklace though, he shouldn’t have gone. God I should’ve known something was up. I could have gone with-”

“Luke thought it’d be best not to tell you. His concern being you would have wanted to tag along.”

“He’s not wrong.” You smiled sadly.

“He planned it all out so you wouldn’t have found out. He cares deeply about you Y/n. There is nothing he wouldn’t do for you.”

“Luke sure has a habit for the theatrics huh?” You laughed as a few tears fell. “When he said he’d take a bullet for me…I didn’t think he actually meant it.” You palmed your face shaking your head. You recalled the time where he snuck you out of your room, for a midnight date in the garden. He said he would have rather died than let anything happen to you. At the time you thought he was being a sap, but turns out this was only the beginning of many bullets he’d take for you, you just didn’t know it. “Why did he leave? Why did any of them leave? Alex surely would have talked some sense into him, right?”

“Y/n…ever since you lost the necklace, you haven’t been sleeping well.” Charles sighed, not wanting to tell you the extremities of what being a psionic resulted in, and the rude awakening of your power. He had no idea how to handle it, handle you. “Three weeks ago, you were asleep, many of your classmates were still awake, however, while you were napping…” He paused.

“What?” You perked up fearing the worst of what you could have done.

“While asleep, you flooded Flynn’s bedroom while she was sleeping. She almost drowned, Y/n.” You stared at him in horror, your hands covered your mouth in shock. “Luke was the one that didn’t want to tell you because he knew how much you were struggling to control your powers already. He didn’t want this to scare you.”

“You said I was getting better…You said, oh god, Flynn.” Your heart rate was picking up. You now understood why she had been acting strange around you for the past weeks. Why your classmates kept spilling their cups of water in front of you causing you to slip. The pool party, the prank in the bathroom. They knew what you did to Flynn, so they mocked you with her own fear. You made her biggest fear come true, and now she was scared of you. “I hurt Flynn, that’s why she won’t talk to me. It’s because she’s scared of me.” You gripped at your hair. Voices and thoughts began clouding up in your head. “You lied…” Your voice grew small. You stood up from the ground. “You lied to me!” You backed up. The fear in your eyes was prominent. Charles had never seen you so scared, scared of yourself for that matter.

“Now Y/n darling please under-” Charles reached a hand out for you.

“I’m a danger to everyone, you said I’d be safe here, but my friends, my classmates, you, Hank, you’re all in danger...because of me!” You kept backing up, shaking your head. You were in denial. You were scared. “I hurt Flynn…I hurt her, I’m the risk, not Stryker and his team.” You whimpered. “I’m a monster.” You pulled at your roots. You closed your eyes, voices rang through your ears causing you to cup them to try and drown them out.

“Watch out the freak has arrived.” An illusion of your classmate Tessa and a few of her friends walking from one wall of the hallway and disappearing into the other side, appeared.

“Don’t get too close.” The illusions continued right between you and Charles. The voices caught the attention of those who lingered in the foyer.

“I recommend any dorm but the ones on the third floor.”

“Don’t tell her your biggest fear, she’ll use it against you.”

“Leave her alone guys!” Luke appeared next in front of you and Charles. “Oops I spilled a bit of water there.” Fake Tessa laughs at you.

“What did I do?” You continued walking backwards. Your ears covered by your hands, your eyes shut. “What did I do?” You whimpered.

Charles grew scared as you kept creating telepathic illusions of everyone who had been mean to you. You weren’t even asleep, which is when your power would be at its full capacity, but here you were, fully awake, which meant you had somehow reached your powers true potential.

He pressed two fingers to his temple grunting at the excruciating pain he was in. “Y/n dear, their words mean nothing. You are not a freak, okay!”

Julie, Carrie and Reggie, along with Willie and a few others lingered behind him watching you break down. Watching fake illusions of Tessa appear in front of their very eyes. You had opened your eyes shrinking into a ball watching the horrid memory play before you.

“This is what you get for what you did!” Fake Tessa had pushed your head in the toilet.

Alex came up the stairs with a sling on. His eyes widened as he took in the scene in front of him. “Professor X how is she doing this?” Alex yelled over the illusions.

“I don’t know Alex. She’s only ever created them asleep!” Charles exclaimed. In the corner of his eyes he caught Tessa looking at you with fear and regret. Everyone got a taste of her harshness and toxic behavior first hand.

Many of your classmates spared her a glance. “Where’s Luke?” Charles looked up at Alex.

“Hank just finished stitching him up…he’s still under.” Just what Charles didn’t want to hear. Luke was your anchor, and in times like this it helped to have him here.

“Y/n you have to stop this!” Charles’ voice was in your head.

“I don’t know how?”

“Yes you do, you’re strong enough!”

Charles was about to encourage you some more until Tessa felt the need to talk. “Y/n stop this!” You flinched as she walked around the illusion to get to you. “Tessa get back!” Charles demanded.

“I can’t!” You yelled, shaking your head no.

“Yes you can. You can do this, you just don’t believe in yourself enough!” She was not helping. “Stop this right now before you hurt everyone here!” Charles thought she was getting through to you until… “Don’t hurt everyone, like you hurt Flynn!” There it was. Tessa made the mistake of putting her hands on your shoulder. Her fear showing itself in your mind. Your eyes shimmered with tears. A whimper leaving your mouth.

“I’m so sorry…” You cried as you looked behind her in fear. Tessa turned around slowly to see what you had been looking at.

Everyone took a step back looking at the man covered in blood. A pick axe lodged into the side of his head.

“No…” Tessa bottom lip quivered as she tried hiding behind you. “Please no, no no no, make it go away. Make it go away!” Tessa pleaded, beating her fists into your back. “Make it stop!” 

“I’m sorry, I’m so sorry.” You cried as you tried comforting her. “R-Run Tessa, run!” You sobbed, watching as she let you go and took off down the hallway.

Your classmates began running in a panicked frenzy, their screams overwhelming you, you had accidentally created another one of your classmates’ fears. A creepy clown laughed at you, taking off past you.

Charles, Alex, Reggie, Julie, Carrie, Willie, and surprisingly Flynn stayed behind. Watching you fall to the ground as more of your classmates’ fears conjured out of thin air. The harsh reality, every single illusion was real. They could hurt you, touch you. That was the real curse of your so-called gift, as Charles once put it. The problem wasn’t whether they’d tell you their fears or not. Hell Flynn never told you about her fear, and yet…she almost drowned. They just appeared out of nowhere, and you made them real.

“I’m sorry…” You whimpered as a gigantic spider appeared, crawling away. Charles made sure to hide everyone behind him. You looked up defeated. “I can’t stop this, Charles.”

“Yes you can my dear. You can, it’s all about what’s in here.” He motioned to his temple. “It’s all in here!” You only shook your head. You laid your head in between your knees in the middle of the hallway.

“Alex I need you to take the rest of them and hide.” Charles attempted to whisper to Alex, but you heard them.

“Hide?” You looked up at the group. “You’re all scared…” You slowly stood up from the floor. They all shook their heads. “You are! You don’t have to lie…”

“Alex go please!” Charles ushered him.

“Professor X, I don’t think you’re helping?” Julie hit him in the arm. “She’s scared!”

“Okay but- Luke?” Alex stopped himself as he saw Luke appear in front of them. “Luke, what the hell man, I thought you were still under anesthesia?” Alex took a step towards his best friend, but was stopped by Charles’s hand that extended out. Charles gulped nervously.

“Why are you stopping me?” Alex questioned.

“That’s not Luke…” Charles watched as you stared up at the illusion with fear.

“Not Luke, you sure cause I know what he looks like?” Alex gestured to the body and stood in the middle of the hallway.

“How can you tell it’s not him?” Reggie scratched his neck.

“This one isn’t hurt…” Carrie inspected as she watched this Luke cautiously. 

“If that’s not Luke, then who the hell is that?” Julie exclaimed.

“What me and Luke were trying to prevent from happening?”

“Wait I remember hearing you talking to Luke about how her own fear could hurt her…Is this it? This is her fear? Luke is what she fears?” Willie gestured to you crawling backwards away from the figure in front of you. 

“Why do you look so scared?” Fake Luke tilted his head. He smirked as tears fell from your eyes.

“I-I’m not scared.” Your voice shook. 

“You sure about that?”

“Please.” You whimpered.

“Please what? Please don’t hurt you.” Fake Luke stepped closer. “Don’t say what you don’t want me to say.” He laughed. “You’ll break, right? Four little words and your will to stay alive is gone.” 

“I-I won’t break…”

“You will because without me you’re nothing.” You closed your eyes as he got up in your face. “Look at you…pathetic.” He scoffed. “It’s no wonder I don’t love you.”

I don’t love you. I don’t love you. I don’t love you.

You cried as he began screaming the same four words.

“Stop it please, stop it please!” You covered your ears. He kept repeating it over and over like a mantra. Your heart hurt. You were in pain, not just from not being able to control your powers, but your fear was Luke not loving you anymore. “No no no, stop it. Go away, go away, go away….I said go away!” You screeched. A sudden energy blast flung itself forward causing everyone to stumble back. The force you released ended up throwing you back into the table in the hallway. The back of your head collided with the edge of the table. You were knocked unconscious. The illusion of Luke rejecting you disappeared, and so had every other fear roaming and chasing after your classmates.

“Y/n!” Everyone rushed forward to help aid you. Julie had gotten to you first. Catching a glimpse of blood spilling from behind your head.

“She’s bleeding!” Julie frowned with worry.

“Reggie, get her to Hank now!” Reggie carefully picked you up, Julie, Alex, Carrie, and Flynn placed their hands on his shoulders. Then they were gone.

The rest of the group, including Charles were left undefeated. Not knowing what to do. Charles was left feeling helpless. For once in his life he had no way of knowing what power you truly possessed.

-

“Hank!” Julie announced their presence upon teleporting down to the lab again. “We need help!” The group rushed you over to an empty surgical bed.

Hank placed his glasses on, he was taking a break just now. He had just finished stitching up Luke and took a breather. He bolted up from his chair after they startled him.

“Y-Yeah yeah I’m up.” He rushed over to where they put you down. Hank had begun examining you. “Where’s all these injured kids coming from?” He said. “What- are you guys playing mutant roulette or something?”

“Not the time Hank!” Carrie exclaimed.

“What happened to her?” Hank started examining your bleeding head.

“She’s making people’s nightmares come true, what else is there to say.” Carrie shrugged.

“I know she can make nightmares come true Carrie, what I want to know is why she’s bleeding out on my surgical table?” Hank sassed back at her.

“She hit her head…did you know she could blast energy from her hands?” Julie questioned. “Because I thought she could only create telepathic illusions.”

“I did not, but with Y/n everything is a mystery.” Hank furrowed his brows. His eyes taking in the frown etched onto your unconscious face. “Super energy blast huh?” Hank rubbed your arm. “What else you got up your sleeves, Y/L/N?” Hank asked rhetorically.

Suddenly a scream fell past Flynn’s mouth. The lab suddenly began filling up with water just like it happened in her room.

“N-No no no, not again.” Flynn climbed onto one of the cabinets.

“What the hell?” Julie exclaimed. She looked down at her shoes watching them become soaked. Carried grew worried as the water didn’t stop rising. She looked over at Luke who was still unconscious.

“That’s it, I’m waking him!” Carrie grunted. Her fingers released a zap of energy.

“No you could hurt him?” Julie put her hand out.

“He’s already hurt, we need him right now…unless you wanna let him drown in a couple of minutes?” Carrie raised her brow at Julie. When she got no reply, she stepped closer to Luke, she put her hand out and shot a zap of her power at him. In a few seconds, Luke’s eyes sprung open. He gasped loudly. He grunted as he held his stomach. Carrie helped him sit up.

“What the hell Carrie!” Luke groaned as he looked up at her.

“Welcome back my friend!” Hank slowly patted Luke’s back as he sat up slowly. Grunts of pain slipped past his lips. “Sorry for the interruption, but we have bigger problems.”

“What are you-” Luke’s eyes widened as he saw water reaching up to everyone’s knees now. His eyes found your figure lying unconscious. “Y-Y/n?” Luke finally got off the medal bed, and jumped into the water surrounding them. “S-Shit it’s cold!” He complained as he maneuvered his way over to you. “Y/n, hey.” His hand hovered over your injury. “Why is she bleeding, what the hell happened?”

“She lost control, Luke. She was scared because she found out about flooding Flynn’s room and-” Julie began.

“You guys told her about Flynn’s room?” Luke’s head shot up. “I thought we agreed not to tell her!” 

“Well, regardless if we told her or not, she’s still flooding the lab!” Carrie shot him a glare, gesturing to the water that now reached her hips.

Luke looked around watching the water increase. He looked back at you. “Y/n wake up, I’m right here okay! Wake up!” His face turned serious. His hand patting your cheek gently.

“I can wake her up in seconds!” Carrie focused her eyes on you. Her hand now higher by her face. Luke caught the zap of energy in the corner of his eyes.

“Don’t even think about it!” Luke directed a harsh pointed look at her. “If you haven’t noticed, we’re surrounded by water. One stupid zap from you and we’ll all be electrocuted. Think Carrie!” Luke warned her. “You and water shouldn’t exactly be mixing right now!”

“It woke you up.” She scoffed.

“Okay now is not the time to be arguing!” Julie butt in. “Flynn what do you think we should do…Flynn?” They all turned around and watched as Flynn curled into a ball rocking back and forth on the counters.

“Flynn isn’t exactly comprehensive right now…plan B?” Reggie suggested. 

“We don’t even have a plan A!” Alex frowned.

“Kiss her, Luke. You know, like in those fairytales.” Reggie nudged Luke.

“Reggie.” Luke looked at him.

“Yeah?”

“Shut up!”

“No maybe he’s onto something.” Julie protested. “Seriously?” Luke looked at her.

“Do you have another idea?” She shrugged.

Luke sighed and sloshed across the water now up to his stomach, which now reached you. Luke had to hold you up in his arms so that the water wouldn’t hit your face. “Come on baby, wake up for me. Just like before.” He chuckled nervously. “Come on, I know you’re in there. Just follow the sound of my voice, okay?” Luke shook you slightly.

“Luke!” Julie warned him as she climbed onto the cabinet with Flynn. Alex and Reggie, following her movements. As for Carrie she dove into the water for her phone.

“Carrie!” Alex screamed after her. Without a second thought he jumped into the water.

“Happy thoughts, happy thoughts. It’s just water, a deep pool of water. Nope. Get me out of here!” Flynn screeched as she, Julie, and Reggie now had to stand on the cabinets.

“Luke!” Reggie yelled out to him.

“I’m trying!” Luke looked back to you and then at the water that now reached your chests. He had to resort to holding you up. “Y/n!” He yelled for you as the water leveled at your necks. “Y/n!” He yelled again, which was when you gasped awake.

Your eyes widened. Luke treading the water with you in his arms. Water, that’s when you noticed that the lab was flooded. The fear in your eyes returned. Luke immediately caught on. “Hey, hey, you’re okay, we’re okay.” He groaned as he adjusted his hold on you. “No one’s hurt.” He reassured you.

“I-I did it again.” You closed your eyes, wanting to get out of his hold, but he wouldn’t let up on his grip. You looked over at Flynn, who looked relieved to see you conscious again. On your right, Alex and Carrie resurfaced and gasped for air.

“I got her!” Alex exasperated as his lungs begged for air.

“Let me go, you fool!” Carried swam away from Alex, who splatted the water in annoyance, then swam to the counter. They had startled you a bit. “Hey look at me.” You returned your attention to Luke. “It’s all in your head. Just in your head. The fear doesn’t take over…” He urged you to finish.

“I take over it.” You muttered softly out to him. Tears spilling down your eyes.

“Yeah you do.” Luke leaned forward kissing your temple gently. He pulled back to look in your eyes. “Think about what we’ve been working on. Fear isn’t the only thing you can create.” You nodded remembering the last time you and Luke and Charles practiced more on your powers. Charles had suggested that perhaps if people’s fears could be created, then there was the possibility you could conjure up their dreams and desires too. “Hey, Flynn! What do you wish for more than anything right now?” He called over his shoulder still staring at you with a smile. “How ‘bout being able to see the floor, please.” Luke raised his eyebrows, smirking at Flynn’s request.

“How about it angel?” Luke motioned with his head over at Flynn.

“I-I can…I can try.” You nodded nervously. The only time you made a desire come true was outside, when Luke asked for snow. You made it snow, but everyone had to wear sweaters and scarfs for the next few days. You closed your eyes and imagined the water disappearing and sinking into the ground. You took a deep breath and let your power do its work.

Luke beamed as the water began lowering. Everyone still in the water, now met the ground again. The flood was no more than a small ball of water floating in the air above you guys. 

“Yes!” Julie cheered for you, which took you out of your focus causing the ball to land on Carrie. Who was now soaked even more. You grimaced, apologizing, yet Carrie brushed it off not caring at that point. Just glad to be alive.

“W-Will work on it!” Luke nodded, he laughed nervously. You reciprocated the smile, then wrapped your arms around him. Luke flinching slightly made you pull away.

“Sorry, you okay?” You grew worried.

“Yeah, I’ll be okay.” His eyes crinkled at the corners. “Hey, where’s Hank?” Julie asked.

You all looked around the room and saw him lying on the floor unconscious. Your eyes widened as you saw him lay there motionless.

“Oh my god!” You gasped, making the move to rush over to him, until Carried stopped you and began walking over to him.

“I got him.” She reached out with her finger and zapped him. That brought him back instantly. “Welcome back...” She gave him a smile then walked away. “I’m gonna go shower, kay!” She called over her shoulder as she pushed her way out the lab. Then she was gone.

“At least no one’s dead.” Alex laughed, a small smile playing at his lips, as he tried to lighten the mood.

“Yeah... I’m confused though.” You furrowed your brows. 

“About what?” Luke questioned.

“Why didn’t you three think about teleporting us all out of here?” You looked at them curiously. Flynn, and Julie turned their heads ever so slowly to glare at them.

“Oh my god…” Flynn stared at them blankly.

“What?” Julie gritted her teeth. “You mean to tell me…we could have been out of here earlier?” The boys flinched as her voice rose a few octaves.

"They’re so dead.” Flynn nodded, pressing her hands together.

“M-Maybe.” Luke laughed nervously. Rubbing his neck. “Possibly… y-yes?” He squeaked. Hiding behind you, yet you pushed the stupid boy away from you. He felt offended by your shove. Julie slowly shortened the space between her and the guys.

“Run.” She warned them slowly.

“Alex and I were shot!” Luke reminded her, pointing at her as he and the guys continued backing away from her.

“You two get a 10 second head start then.” Julie told him.

“S-Seriously?” Luke’s eyes widened, he was getting scared. 

“Seriously…run!”

“Go, go, go, go, go!” Reggie nodded furiously ushering them out of the lab. You wholeheartedly judged the fact that they were running instead of teleporting.

You walked over to Flynn, who stood by the entrance. She somehow found a bag of chips and you stole one from her bag.

“How long do you think it’ll take them to realize they can teleport?” You asked, biting into the chip.

“Julie I’m sorry, okay!” You heard Reggie yelp. Then a thud. 

“After Julie gets to Luke.”

“Ahhhhh!” That was Alex this time, followed by another thud.

“Hmm.” You nodded. 

“These are so good!” You looked at Flynn nodding at the chips. 

“I know right!”

“No, Julie!” 

Yours and Flynn’s eyes widened, hearing a high pitched scream. “Was that Julie?”

“No that was Luke...” You reached for another chip. 

“I didn’t hear him fall?” Flynn looked down the hall.

*Thud, thud, thud*

“There it is/” Flynn smiled gesturing to the sound.

“W-What did I miss?” You both looked behind you to see Hank rubbing his head.

You both remained quiet, until Flynn offered her bag to him. “Cheeto?” She smiled.

“T-Thanks?” He slowly took one and bit into it slowly.

“Ahhh!” You and Flynn remained calm, whereas Hank was heavily startled.

“What was that?”

“Oh just the boys.” You said nonchalantly. 

“Get back here!” You heard Julie growl.

“Julie Molina, stop this instant!” You heard Charles yell after her. 

“S-Should we help them?” Hank suggested.

“They’re fine.” Flynn reassured him.

A thump and the sound of glass breaking followed. Flynn stopped herself then continued. “They’ll be fine.”

“Oh no…” You pouted. “What?”

“We’re out of cheetos.”

“I think I saw some more in the kitchen.” 

“Let’s go, then!”

“Are you coming Hank?” You called over at him.

“Y-Yeah.” He quickly closed the lab door and trailed behind you two.

You and Flynn smiled your way through the broken furniture and broken vases as you walked down the hallways. Hank looked bewildered as he examined the mess he walked past.

#luke patterson #luke patterson imagines #luke patterson imagine #luke patterson x reader #luke patterson x fem!reader #my gif #writings by juls

[loveframe]

Porsche Car Quotes by Car Admirers

Porsche Car Quotes

…there is no substitute – Ferdinand Porsche

You still owe me a yellow Porsche. – Stephenie Meyer

Porsche and BMW drivers are arrogant. – Carroll Shelby. Porsche car quotes

Fast cars like Porsches and Ferraris – they are things of beauty. – Rod Stewart

Driving a Porsche in London is like bringing a Ming vase to a football game. – Douglas Adams

It was fun to blow off a Porsche with a 3900 donkey [the 1965 Shelby GT350 Mustang]. – Carroll Shelby

Oh, Lord, won’t you buy me a Mercedes Benz – My friends all drive Porsches, I must make amends. – Janis Joplin. Porsche car quotes

If you take off your pants and her first reaction is, “Awwww, look at it…like a little baby Jesus.” Time to buy a Porsche. – Dave Attell. Porsche car quotes

Apple’s market share is bigger than BMW’s or Mercedes’s or Porsche’s in the automotive market. What’s wrong with being a BMW or Mercedes? – Steve Jobs

Long Porsche Car Quotes

Like, what is the least often heard sentence in the English language? That would be: Say, isn’t that the banjo player’s Porsche parked outside? – Jackson Browne

Screw reality. It don’t feed my dog. It don’t make my Porsche payments. It don’t get me laid. Bullshit does that…and I like it that way. (Leo). – Sherrilyn Kenyon

I’ve learned to feel good when I feel good. It’s better to be driven around in a red Porsche than to own one. the luck of the fool is inviolate. – Charles Bukowski. Porsche car quotes

I have every single Ferrari that came out. I have all the Mercedes they came out with, all the Jaguars they came out with, all the Porsches they came out with. – Ion Tiriac. Porsche car quotes

I’m sorry about your Porsche.” “I can replace the Porsche. I can’t replace you. You need to be more careful.” I was just sitting in your car!” Babe, you’re a magnet for disaster. – Janet Evanovich

Wasn’t it his right to listen to opera, read poetry and adventure novels, go to Europe every couple of months for some reason or another, and drive his Porsche over the speed limit until he found out who he was? – Anne Rice

And I’m more sure than in Poland, or elsewhere, it is considered cool to drive a Porsche and wear necklaces and black silk, but at least back in Brooklyn if you did those things you were either a drug dealer or from New Jersey. – Meg Cabot

Growing up in the Midwest, people didn’t drive Porsches and Ferraris. They drive Fords and Chevys. And so even if you have the opportunity to buy a more expensive car, it doesn’t occur to you because it’s not what you relate to. – Luke Perry

Porsche Car Quotes by Ferdinand Porsche

Cars are my life. – Porsche car quotes

Good design should be honest. – Ferdinand Porsche.

Timeless design is wasted if it cannot survive. – Ferdinand Porsche.

To create something timeless. – Ferdinand Porsche. Porsche car quotes

We all harbor a wish to be immortal. – Ferdinand Porsche. Porsche car quotes

Famous Ferdinand Porsche Quotes

I believe that creativity should not be suppressed. – Ferdinand Porsche.

I came into the world at the same time as the auto, if you will. – Ferdinand Porsche.

A car with good accelerating power will automatically give me a high speed performance. – Ferdinand Porsche.

I myself have never attempted to actively build my own profile but rather continued in my father’s image. – Ferdinand Porsche.

In the beginning I looked around and, not finding the automobile of my dreams, decided to build it myself. – Ferdinand Porsche.

I took a different approach and improved its performance by radically reducing its weight rather than increasing engine power. – Ferdinand Porsche.

Independence has always been the attitude at Porsche. To do, not what is expected, but what we feel is right. – Ferdinand Porsche. Porsche car quotes

It is said I believe that so many creations today are just like all the rest. This is why Porsche must remain small and independent. – Ferdinand Porsche.

There is no such thing as the perfect car. But as engineers and designers, we have to do everything in our power to approach this ideal. – Ferdinand Porsche

Time is one of the few things man cannot influence. It gives each of us a beginning and an end. This makes us question what comes in between. – Ferdinand Porsche.

A Porsche will always look like a Porsche. My grandfather took these shapes from nature, so the head lamps of the 911 maybe look a little like the eyes of a frog, but it comes from nature, and the best shapes are from nature, so why change? – Ferdinand Alexander Porsche. Read More

#porsche #porsche car #porsche 911 #ferry porsche quotes #porsche 911 turbo s #porsche 356 #porsche taycan #porsche cayenne #porsche panamera #porsche 911 gt2 rs #porsche 918 spyder #porsche taycan turbo s #fastest porsche #porsche supercar #best porsche #porsche cars #porsche sound #porsche status #porsche 70 years #porsche carrera #porsche car logo #arthur schopenhauer quotes #porsche 997 #porsche 964 #porsche 991 #porsche 993 #porsche 904 #porsche 912

[marvelyningreen]

Out Loud

Father’s Day 1/2

Jean Grey & Charles Xavier

- 🫖-

Father’s Day was always eventful for Charles Xavier. Only the year-round students were at the school in June – the ones who couldn’t go home, or didn’t have homes to return to. For them, the school became home, and everyone there became family.

Charles was the headmaster of the school and, by extension, the head of the family. He was the one who’d welcomed them, who listened to their worries, who understood their fears, who taught them about their powers. After this many years, he’d grown accustomed to the scattered thoughts that referred to him as “dad.”

Most of them would never say it out loud, of course. At least, not on any other day but Father’s Day. Charles had seen the full spectrum of gifts and gestures.

The shyer children would slip hand-drawn cards under the door to his study. Many were unsigned, as though he couldn’t hear the anxious, earnest thoughts hovering in the hallway.

And some of the bolder children would bring him gifts personally – craft projects and neckties and office supplies – beaming and wishing him a happy Father’s Day before scampering off again.

Charles kept every token, and he treasured them. It warmed his heart to know that some of his dream had become reality, that he’d created a place where mutants could truly feel that they belong.

It brought a smile to his face just thinking about it, as he sat at his desk on a Saturday afternoon, going over the proposed syllabi for the upcoming school year. Tomorrow would be Father’s Day, and though Charles did his best not to overhear any stray thoughts, he knew that there would be some macaroni art in his future.

There was a rap at the study door.

“You’re still in here?”

Charles looked up to see Jean standing in the doorway.

“We finally have a quiet day,” Charles said. “Of course I’m going to take advantage of it.”

“You’ve been at this since lunch,” said Jean, smiling, “And you’re missing out on some beautiful summer weather. Come for a walk with me.”

Charles glanced at the clock, and then through the window at the sunny skies.

“Is it after three already? Well, I suppose I’m due for a break.”

He set down his papers, following Jean’s lead out into the gardens.

Jean was a grown woman of thirty, but a part of Charles still saw her as the little girl who’d grown up here at his school. He felt that way about many of his long-time students. But – though he’d never play favorites – Jean had a special place in his heart.

As they rounded the corner, a little table set in an alcove came into view. It held a tea set and a few tiny plates of sandwiches and biscuits.

“What’s all this?” Charles laughed, looking up at Jean.

“Tea, of course,” she said. “You said yourself that you could use a break.”

Charles positioned himself at the table as Jean took a seat. He glanced at the selection of food more closely.

“Did you make these yourself?” he asked.

“I had a little help, but yes,” said Jean. “Don’t worry. I used a recipe this time. Not like the cookies I made you when I was eleven.”

“I wasn’t going to say anything, but-”

“They were terrible, weren’t they?” Jean wrinkled her nose, pouring Charles the first cup of tea.

Charles had vivid memories of Jean’s first attempt at baking. The alleged cookies were crumbly and overbaked, and tasted mostly of flour. But Jean was so proud of herself, so he’d eaten three of them and kept a strict handle on this thoughts.

“Yes, but you worked so hard on them,” said Charles.

Jean laughed. “These ones actually taste like shortbread. I promise.”

When he’d met Logan in ’73, and had seen his memories of a possible future, Charles had been given a glimpse of his own failure. Interwoven with the good he might accomplish was a dark fate for Jean Grey.

Pride may be one of his faults, but Charles was determined to keep that future from coming to pass. He resolved not to lie to the girl, while keeping in mind that she was still a child. He wouldn’t control her powers on the belief that he was protecting her. He’d seen the road to hell those good intentions could pave.

But powers as strong as Jean’s were more than any child should have to bear. Charles was honest with her, telling her that he’d put up a wall in her mind to keep her from being overwhelmed by them. And, bit by bit, as she grew and learned, they’d take the wall down together until she could control all of them without fear.

There were times when she’d grown frustrated and angry with him, saying he was holding her back. Other times, she’d been paralyzed with fear that it was all too much and she’d never learn to control it. Charles did his best to guide her through it all.

There were times when he wondered if he should’ve handled things differently. There were times when he was certain that he could’ve done better. He’d encouraged when he should have reassured, and vice versa. In his view of the bigger picture, he could sometimes see the forest, but forget the trees. And Jean, well, she had been a child, with all the struggles that growing up entails.

And yet, in spite of the struggles and disagreements that all families face, they had always owned up to their mistakes, and had always forgiven each other. They had many wonderful times together, too, after all. There were tea parties and games of make believe, excursions to museums and movie theaters. All of these were memories that Charles held dear.

“I have something else for you,” Jean said. “I made it for you a long time ago, actually, but I couldn’t work up the nerve to give it to you. I guess… Well, I want you to have it.”

Jean slid an envelope across the table. Curious, Charles opened it, unfolding the paper it contained. It was a crayon drawing dated 1976, the year after Jean had come to live at the school. The drawing itself was of a colorful array of flowers. At the bottom of it was written:

Dear professor, Happy Father’s Day. I wish you were my real dad. I love you very much. Love, Jean Grey

As he read the earnest childish note, Charles a felt a lump in his throat.

“I know you know that already,” Jean was saying, “I mean, of course you do. But there’s a difference between knowing something telepathically and having it said out loud, so… I wanted to say it out loud, more or less.”

Blinking back the tears welling in his eyes, Charles reached across the table to take Jean’s hand in his.

“Jean, my dear girl, I’ve loved you as if you were my own child,” he said, “And I always will.”

“Happy Father’s Day, Professor.” Jean looked away, sniffling a little and wiping at her eyes. She laughed, a bit shakily. “Must be a lot of pollen out here. Allergies are acting up.”

“Mine as well. What a coincidence.” Charles tucked the old drawing safely into his pocket.

After a moment, Jean looked up, smiling brightly at him. The teapot levitated gently above the table, drifting inquiringly towards his teacup.

“More?” Jean asked.

“Please,” said Charles. “And I’d love a few of those shortbread biscuits, too.”

#jean grey #charles xavier #professor xavier #x men fanfiction #xmen fanfiction #xcu #fox x men #listen if you expect me to believe that charles didn’t do everything in his power to avoid the mistakes of the first timeline? ya wrong #now have some father/daughter fluff #long post

[xoxoavenger]

Challenge Succeeded, Love

pairing: Young!Charles Xavier x Reader

summary: After a small dispute, Y/N knows she has to make Charles regret talking to the girl at the bar.

word count: 2057

warnings: none

masterlist

“Oh, Charles, when are you going to learn that the girls you meet at the bar just aren’t the right ones?” Y/N asked as they walked out of the bar. Raven and her had just pulled him away from a girl who was trying to get handsy, the three deciding to go home. They walked in the rain outside the bar, Charles reached over to grab the umbrella in the holder outside of the door.

“At the rate he’s going, I doubt he’ll ever learn.” Raven said, and Y/N frowned.

“And what, you two are the only girls I’m allowed to look at?” Charles asked, holding an umbrella up for Y/N while Raven held her own up.

“No.” Y/N said meekly, folding her arms. If she were being honest with herself, she was definitely jealous, but she had to keep these feelings away, because Charles could easily tell.

“Then I don’t see the problem.” He shrugged, and Y/N frowned deeper. She looked to Raven, who was looking straight ahead. Y/N knew, though, that she was upset. She was somewhat a telepath, just as Charles is, but her specialty was emotion. She knew what people were feeling, knew how to manipulate it.

Sometimes she wished-

Y/N didn’t finish her thought, feeling Charles in her head already. She shoved him, making the water on the umbrella fall onto her, along with the rain from outside. She shivered from the cold, but didn't join him back under the umbrella.

“You know I hate it when you do that!” Y/N said, walking away and into the rain to further herself from him.

“Something’s troubling you. Why haven’t you told me?” He asked, and Y/N rolled her eyes.

“Like you would want to hear, much less understand.” Y/N picked up her pace, walking ahead, getting drenched as she tried to ignore him.

“I wouldn’t look if I didn’t feel the need to, Y/N. You are important to me and I care. I want to make sure you’re alright.” Charles said, and Y/N stopped, turning to him. He stopped too, holding the umbrella out to cover her. Raven stopped as well, looking between the two, then at the people still walking, now staring at them.

"Have you ever thought that maybe I do tell you everything I need to? I deserve to keep some things private."

"I understand, but you aren't listening to my side."

"You shouldn't even have a side!"

"Every disagreement has two sides! Otherwise, it wouldn't be a disagreement!"

“Guys, maybe here isn’t the best time to have one of your-“

“You’re just so smart, Charles. It seemed you always know what’s right, don’t you? You can just use those amazing powers of yours and know exactly what’s right or wrong. You know exactly what everyone’s thinking all the time, don’t you?” Y/N said, and Charles tried to grab her arm.

“Y/N, can we talk about this at home?”

It was silent between the three. Y/N turned and walked away, moving out of Charles' grasp.

“Hey, you’re going the wrong way!” Raven called, and Y/N didn’t even look back, just continuing to walk.

“Y/N? Hey, Y/N! What the bloody hell are you doing?” Charles practically ran, finally catching up. “Stop walking away. Don’t make me-“

“You already have! You know everything you want to about me!” Y/N yelled, wiping her face and hair. Charles looked at her, and she knew he was in her mind. She tried not to think about it, tried not to think about him and his eyes and his hair and how she was so in love with him,

“Y/N,” Charles said softly, and she knew that it was too late. He had looked, even when she told him not to. He knew now.

“Please, just, leave me alone.” She said, walking away. Raven and Charles watched, both too shocked to say anything to the girl that was now walking away from them.

~

Charles regretted letting Y/N walk away. It had been a week since he had seen her, and he had thought she would come back last night. He tried to find her, but she seemed just out of reach most of the time. It was frustrating to say the least. He had tried Cerebro, but she knew when he was in her head even before he even called out to her. Once he had her location, she would leave.

He knew where she was that night, however. She was at the bar, the same one the three had been at the day she walked away. He had almost exhausted himself to find her without Cerebro, the connection so weak she wouldn’t be able to know he was even there.

And there she was, standing in a dress Charles had never seen her in. His heart skipped a beat as he looked at her. She had her back turned, but Charles still thought she was the only girl in the room. A thought ran through his head, that maybe she had known he was coming.

Why did he let her leave? Why did he let her just walk away from him? Why was he talking to that girl the night of their fight?

He hated himself for it.

Charles fought himself not to go inter her mind, to see if she was even thinking about him. He didn’t want to betray her trust by looking at what she was thinking. He let his eyes drift from her bare legs to the bottom of her dress, which was purple. Charles had to shake his head to calm down. His eyes traveled further up, studying her curves. He got to her shoulder, where the thin straps lay, making her collar bones pop. When he finally got to her head, the loose curls falling in front and behind her, he saw it.

Y/N was talking to a man. He had dark hair and light eyes. He was tall, muscular.

Charles wasn’t jealous.

He almost stormed in, but then she turned. They made eye contact, and Charles felt his heart stop beating. Logically, he knew this hadn’t happened, but it felt like it as they locked eyes. She raised an eyebrow, and Charles belatedly realized that she had gotten into the mansion while he was out, as she was wearing makeup and holding her favorite clutch that she brought everywhere. There was much more than normal, but she looked beautiful all the same. Her hair was curled in a way he had never seen, and Charles’ breath left him. He couldn’t feel his legs as she winked at him, and then turned back to the man. Charles realized that she had let him find her, this was her plan, not his. He sat at a booth, putting his hands to his temple. Charles finally made his way into her mind.

Well thank God you finally found me, Professor. Y/N thought, and Charles frowned.

You wanted me to find you. Charles said into her mind, and he watched as she smirked, still listening to the man in front of her even though her reactions were for him.

Where did you get your degree? Because I thought that was common knowledge before you came. She said, and Charles let out a sigh.

Who’s the man? I thought you said bar people aren’t the people we need to be with. Charles said, and the smirk faltered. He wondered if he had made the right choice with that comment.

Did I? I believe you’re the one who disputed me on that. She said snarkily, before opening her mouth to reply to the man. Charles knew she barely had a clue what the other man was saying, too focused on the conversation in her mind.

Yes, well, I think I realized I was wrong. Charles said when he saw her finish talking, and she shook her head, laughing to play it off.

Did you? Because I don’t believe you. She said, putting a hand on the other man’s arm. Charles glared at her. He was about to respond when someone came up.

“Are you alright sir?” A girl in a white shirt and a black skirt came up. Charles smiled, barely even taking in what the girl looked like before speaking.

“Just forget I’m here.” He said, and the girl blinked before walking back behind the counter

She was cute. Charles wasn’t sure if Y/N was thinking this for him or if she was just thinking it, but he responded to her anyway.

Bar girls aren’t my style. Charles said, and Y/N laughed out loud, making the man next to her chuckle.

Really? What changed in a week? She asked, and he took a deep breath, heart now pounding out of his chest.

You. He said simply as she took a drink of whiskey. He had caught her off guard, and she coughed, the glass in her hand dropping. It startled Charles enough to break their connection, and he watched as the man jumped back, Y/N staring at the ground.

“Don’t worry about it, I’ll get some napkins.” The man said, and Y/N nodded. She hadn’t expected him to be so forward; hell, she had expected him to come and beg her back for the team. He was asking for himself, because he wanted her. Charles watched the other man move away, and when he looked back at Y/N, she was staring at him. He slid out of the booth, walking to her.

“I’m sorry, love. I messed up.” Charles said, grabbing her hand. She just stared at him, mouth slightly open.

“Hey, Y/N, who’s this?” The man said, and the pair turned to see him holding napkins.

“This is Professor Charles Xavier.” Y/N said, and when Charles looked down at her he didn’t need to read her mind to know that she wanted an out. He didn’t know where she was staying, but it was probably exhausting being on the run. Luckily, he knew the perfect excuse.

“Her boyfriend.” Charles removed his hand from hers and put it around her waist.

“Yeah.” Y/N said, moving closer and putting a hand on his chest. The man looked confused, and Charles almost felt bad.

“Oh, I thought you were-“

“I know. We were fighting, but that doesn’t give me the excuse to say I was single. I am sorry, Jax.” Y/N said, and Charles raised his eyebrows.

“Right, sorry.” Jax seemed to be uncomfortable now. Y/N grabbed Charles’ sweater, trying to tell him she wanted to leave.

“Don’t worry about the glass.” An employee said behind them, and the pair turned to see her picking up the pieces.

“I’m sorry.” Y/N repeated to the employee, and they turned around to see that Jax was gone. “Let’s go.” Y/N said, walking away. Charles grabbed her hand, and she looked up at them as they left the bar.

“Did you mean it?” Y/N asked after a couple minutes of walking in the dark silence. Charles thought for a second as they kept walking, and it made Y/N’s heart drop. Why would he mean it? She wasn’t important.

“Why do you think like that?” Charles finally asked, and she was almost shocked silent. She had been so deep in her thoughts she hadn’t even realized he was as well. She looked up at him, trying to get a read on his emotions, but he blocked her out. Like he always did.

“So you’re always listening to my thoughts now?”

“You’re thoughts are so loud. It’s like you want me to hear them.” Charles said, and she scoffed.

“You didn’t answer me.” Y/N said after awhile. They were almost at the mansion.

“I didn’t think I needed to. Why would I lie to you?” Charles asked, and Y/N shook her head.

“It’s not like you haven’t before.” Y/N said as they made their way to the road the mansion was on.

“When have I ever lied to you?” Charles asked, and Y/N sighed.

“Well, why would you flirt with that girl at the bar?”

“Why did you flirt with the guy?”

“To make you jealous, of course.” She answered without hesitation. He could read her mind, anyway, so it’s not like he wouldn’t eventually figure it out. Charles’ eyebrows raised, and she tried not to look at him, even though she knew he could read her mind at any moment. She would let him, it didn’t matter now, but it was embarrassing looking at him.

“Well,” Charles said, stopping in front of the driveway to the mansion. He lifted her chin, and she leaned, the two kissing. It was soft and pure, a nice first kiss. “Challenge succeeded, love.”

#Young Charles Xavier #Charles Xavier x reader #xmen imagine

[thedeadhandofseldon]

The Anti-Mercer Effect

On the Accessibility of D&D, Why Unprepared Casters is so Fun, and Why Haley Whipjack is possibly the greatest DM of our generation.

(Apologies to my mutuals who aren’t in this fandom for the length of this, but as you all know I have never in my life shut up about anything so… we’ll call it even for the number of posts about Destiel I see every day.

To fellow UC fans - I haven’t listened to arc 4 yet, I started drafting this in early August, and I promise I will write a nice post about how great Gus the Bard is once I get the chance to listen to more of his DMing).

Structure - Or, “This is not the finale, there will be more podding cast”

So, first of all, let’s just talk about how Unprepared Casters works. Because it’s kind of unusual! Most of the other big-name D&D podcasts favor this long, grand arcs; UC has about 10 hours of podcast per each arc. And that’s a major strength in a lot of ways: it makes it really accessible to new listeners, because you can just start with the current arc and understand what’s going on!

And by starting new arcs every six or seven episodes, they can explore lots of ways to play D&D! Classic dungeon delve arc! Heist arc! Epic heroes save the world arc! Sportsball arc! They can touch on all sorts of things!

And while I’m talking about that: Dragons in Dungeons, the first arc, makes it incredibly accessible as a show - because it lets the unfamiliar listener get a sense of what D&D actually is. (It’s about telling stories and making your friends feel heroic and laugh and cry, for the record). If I had to pick a way to introduce someone to the game without actually playing it with them, that arc would definitely be it.

And I’d be remise not to note one very important thing: Haley Whipjack and Gus the Bard are just very funny, very charismatic people. Look. Episode 0s tend to be about 50%(?) those two just talking to each other about their own podcast. It shouldn’t work. And yet it DOES, its one of my favorite parts, because Haley and Gus are just cool.

And a side note that doesn’t fit anywhere else: I throw my soul at him! I throw a scone at him - that’s it, that’s the vibe. The whole podcast alternates between laughing with your friends and brooding alone in a dark tavern corner - but the laughs never forced and the dark corner is never too dark for too long.

Whipjack the Great - Or, the DM is Also a Player!

I think Haley Whipjack is one of the greatest Dungeon Masters alive. The plots and characters! The mechanical shenanigans! The descriptions!

Actually, let’s start there: with the descriptions. (Both Haley and Gus do this really fucking well). As we know, Episode 0 of each arc sees the DM reading a description - of a small town, or the Up North, or the recent history of a great party. And Haley always strikes this tricky balance - one I think a lot of us who DM struggle with - between giving too much description and  worldbuilding, and not telling us anything at all. She describes people and events in just enough detail to imagine them, but never so much they seem static and unreal - just clear enough to envision, but with enough vagueness left to let your imagination begin to run wild.

While I’m thinking about arc 3’s party, let’s talk about a really bold move she made in that arc: letting the players have ongoing control of their history. Loser Lars! She didn’t try to spell out every detail of this high-level party’s history, or restrict their past to only what she decided to allow - she gave them the broad outlines, and let them embellish it. And that made for a much more alive story than any attempt to create it by herself would have - but I think it takes a lot of courage to let your players have that agency. Most Dungeon Masters (myself included) tend to struggle with being control freaks.

And the plots! Yeah, arc one is built of classic tropes - but she actually uses them, she doesn’t get caught up in subverting everything or laughing at the cliches. And it’s fun! In arc 3, there really isn’t a straight line for the players to follow, either - which makes the game much more interesting and much trickier to run. And her NPCs are fantastic and I will talk about them in the next section.

Above all, though, I think what is really impressive is how Haley balances mechanics, and rules as written, with the narrative and rule of cool - and puts both rules and story in the service of playing a fun game. And the secret to that? She’s the DM, but the DM is a player, and the DM is clearly having fun. Hope Lovejoy mechanically shouldn’t get that spellslot back, but she does, and it’s fun. The changeling merchant in Thymore doesn’t really make some Grand Artistic Narrative better, but wow is it fun. And she never tries to force it one way or the other - the story might be more dramatic if Annie didn’t manage to banish the demon from the vault, but it’s a lot cooler and a lot more fun for the players if Annie gets to be a badass instead - and the rules and the dice say that Annie managed it.

Settings feel like places, NPCs feel like people, and the narrative plot feels like a real villainous plot.

Anyway. I could go on about the various ways in which Whipjack is awesome for quite a while - she’s right, first place in D&D is when your friends laugh and super first place is when they cry - but I’m going to stop here and just. Make another post about it some other time. For now, for the record I hold her opinions about the game in higher esteem than I do several official sourcebooks; that is all.

Characters - Or, Bombyx Mori Is Not an Asshole, And That Matters

Okay, I said I would talk about characters! And I will!

Just a general place to start: the party! All of the first three parties are interesting to me, because they all care about each other. Not even necessarily in a Found Family Trope sort of way, though often that too. But they generally aren’t assholes to each other. The players create characters that actually work together, that are interesting; even when there’s internal divisions like SK-73 v. Sir Mr. Person, they aren’t just unpleasant and antagonistic all the time. Listening to the podcast, we’re “with” these people for a couple hours - and it isn’t unpleasant. That matters a lot. (To take a counter-example: I love Critical Role, but the episode when Vox Machina pranked Scanlan after he died and was resurrected wasn’t fun to listen to, it was just uncomfortable and angering and vaguely cruel).

All of the PCs are amazing, and the players in each arc did a great job. If you disagree with me about that, well, you have the right to be incorrect and I am sorry for your loss. Annie Wintersummer, for one example: tragic and sad and I want to give her a hug, but also Fuck Yeah Wintersummer, and also her familiar Charles the Owl is the cutest and funniest and I love him. And we understand what’s going on with Annie, she isn’t some infinite pool of hidden depths because this arc is 7 episodes and we don’t have time for that, but she also has enough complexity to be interesting. Same with Fey Moss: yeah, a lot of her is a silly pun about fame that carries into how she behaves, but a lot of how she behaves is also down to some good classic half-elven angst about parenthood and wanting to be known and seen and important. (Side note: if your half-elf character doesn’t have angst, well, that’s impressive and also I don’t think I believe you).

There are multiple lesbian cat-people in a 4-person party and they both have requited romantic interests who aren’t each other. This is the future liberals want and I am glad for it.

Sir Mister Person, the human fighter! Thavius, the edge lord! Even when a character is “simple,” they’re interesting, because of how they’re played as people and not action-figures. And that matters a lot.

In the same way: the NPCs. There really aren’t a lot of them! And some of them come from Patreon submissions, so uh good work gang, you’re part of the awesomeness and I’m proud of you! The point being, the NPCs work because enough of them are interesting to matter. It’s not just a servant who opens Count Michael’s door, it’s a character with a name (Oleandra!) and a personality and history. They’re interesting. Penny Lovejoy didn’t need to be interesting, the merchant outside the Laughing Mausoleum didn’t need to be interesting, but they ARE! And Haley and Gus EXCEL at making the NPCs matter, not just to the story but to us as viewers. I agree with Sir Mister Person, actually, I would die for the princesses of the kingdom. I actually care about Gem Lovejoy of all people - that wouldn’t happen in an ordinary campaign! That’s the thing that makes Unprepared Casters spectacular - and, frankly, it’s especially impressive because D&D does not tend to be good at making a lot of interesting compared to a lot of other sorts of stories.

And, just as an exemplar of all this: Bombyx Mori. Immortal, reincarnating(?), and described as the incarnation of the player’s ADHD. I expected to hate Bombyx, because as the mom friend both in and out of my friend-group’s campaigns, the chaos-causer is always exhausting to me. And yeah, Bombyx causes problems on purpose! But! She is not an asshole.

And that’s important. Bombyx goes and sits with the queen and comforts her. Bombyx gives Annie emotional support. Bombyx isn’t just a vehicle to jerk around the DM and other players; Bombyx really is a character we can care about. To compare with another case - in the first couple episodes of The Adventure Zone, the PCs are just dicks. Funny, but dicks. Bombyx holds out an arm “covered in larva” to shake with a count, and robs him of magical items, but she also cares about her friends and other people! She uses a powerful magical gem to save her fertilizer guy from death! Yeah, Bombyx is ridiculous, but she’s not just an asshole the party has to keep around for plot reasons; you can see why her party would keep her around. And one layer of meta up, she’s the perfect example of how to make a chaotic character like that while still being fun for everyone you’re playing with, which is often not the case. And I love her.

The Anti-Mercer Effect - Or, “I think we proved it can be fun, you can have a good time with your friends. And it doesn’t have to be scary, you can just work with what you know”

The Mercer Effect basically constitutes this: Matthew Mercer, Dungeon Master of Critical Role, is incredible (as are all of his players). They’re all professional story-tellers in a way, remember, and so Critical Role treats D&D like a narrative art-form, and it’s inspiring. Seeing that on Critical Role sets impossible standards - and people go into their own home games imagining that their campaigns will be like Critical Role, and the burden of that expectation tends to fall disproportionately on the DM. And the end result, I think, of the Mercer Effect is that we get discouraged or intimidated, because our game isn’t “as good as” theirs. (And I should note - Matt certainly doesn’t want that to be our reaction).

So the Anti-Mercer Effect is two things: it’s D&D treated like a game, and it’s inspiring but not intimidating. And Unprepared Casters manages both of those really freaking well. Because they play it like a game! A UC arc looks just like a good campaign in anyone’s home game. They have the vibes of 20-somethings and college students playing D&D for fun because that’s who they are (as a 20-something college student who plays a lot of D&D, watching it felt like watching my friends play an especially good campaign). They’re trying to tell a good story, sure, and they always do. But first and foremost, they’re trying to have fun, and it shows, and I love the UC cast for it.

And that’s the other half of it: it’s inspiring! It’s approachable; you can see that Haley and Gus put plenty of work into preparing the game but it also doesn’t make you feel like you need hundreds of pages of worldbuilding to run a game. Sometimes a cleric makes Haley cry and she gives them back a spell-slot from their deity! That’s fantastic! It’s just inspiring - listening to this over the summer, when my last campaign had fallen apart under the strain of graduation, is why I decided to plan and run my new one!

That quote from Haley Whipjack that I used as the title for this section? That’s the whole core of this idea, and really, I think, the core of the podcast.

The Mercer Effect is when you go “that’s really cool, I could never do that.” But Unprepared Casters makes you look at D&D and go “wow, that looks really fun. I bet I can do that!” And I love the show for it.

And I bet a lot of you do too.

#unprepared casters #bombyx mori #haley whipjack #long post #this is really rough but I don't have time to keep working on it and it's already a month later than intended

[starfanatic]

Me analyzing every scene with Charles and Erik in First Class.

Charles and Erik's experiences

Now in the beginning of the movie, Charles and Erik don't have a scene together but it compares their lives, side by side, and in a way explains why they are so different from one another.

Even as kids there is some clear differences:

The first mutant Erik ever met was Shaw. A nazi who murdered the only person who loved him. Then Shaw experimented and tortured him until Erik inevitably broke out. Shaw made Erik believes his power can only be unlocked through pain and anger. The first mutant Charles ever met is Raven. Raven and Charles became close, basically becoming siblings. Charles was never alone, he had Raven and vice versa.

At such a young age, Charles knew how to use his power efficiently, without needing to be angry to do it. Erik however only could do it (at that age when he's in extremely stressful situations).

Now as adults there is still big differences:

When we first meet Charles he's at a bar, flirting with a woman. It's clear he's very intelligent and talks about mutations. Then in the next scene, hes celebrating after his graduation. This is a good time in Charles' life. Erik however is still plotting revenge against Shaw, hurting people for information or straight up murdering them.

Something I noticed is that Charles seem to have a lot of positive interactions with humans, like Moira for example while Erik seems to only have negative interactions with them.

Erik’s power is naturally more destructive then Charles. Charles can communicate with people and understand their emotions and feelings. Erik destroys the environment around him, to do whatever he’s going to do.

Drowning Scene

Let's talk about Erik's mental state in this scene. He is pumped with adrenaline and anger. The man who made his life a living hell is escaping and he needs to stop and make him pay for what he has done. So he desperately tries to bring the submarine back, and he was going to do it or die trying. This is a once in a lifetime opportunity for Erik, who has been wanting revenge against Shaw since the day he killed his mother. Its symbolic, because in a way he's drowning in his own hate and anger. His hate and anger is what almost killed him. Then Charles jumps in to save him. This is the first time someone wanted to genuinely help him since his mother. Charles was willing to jump in ice cold water just to save him. Immediately Charles knew what Erik has gone through, and as usual he wants to help him. Erik says "I thought I was alone" and he was. I don't think he was only talking about just mutants, but just being alone in general. And then Charles responds with "You are not alone". This can symbolize Charles saving Erik from drowning in his own anger and revenge. He thought he was by himself until Charles came in.

Note: There is multiple times where the main character jumps into the water to save their love interest from drowning. Think about the Little Mermaid where Ariel stopped... Eric from drowning. Think about Wonder Woman, where Diana jumped in the water to save Steve. Just saying....

"Surprised you've managed to stay this long"

This scene basically speaks on it's own so I don't have a lot to say here. But first, Charles was already outside before Erik left. I'm not sure why he was outside in the first place or if he was expecting Erik to leave and catch him on the way out. But Charles is literally the first person (i'm going to assume) that actually cares if Erik leaves. He wants Erik to stay because he cares about him, knows him and what he's gone through, and desperately want to help him. When Charles offers his help, Erik scoffs thinking its a completely ridiculous idea that he can be saved. But instead of saying that he says "I don't need your help". Well... we all know that's a lie. Erik is so used to being alone and working for himself, it's a foreign feeling to be around people who don't want to hurt him. This also can symbolize that despite Erik appearing to want to be alone, Charles won't let him. Then Charles says "I won't stop you from leaving. I could, but i won't" Unlike probably everyone Erik ever encountered in his life, Charles gives him a choice. He treats him like a person (fuck you Shaw).

Cerebro

When Erik walks in the room, Charles is surprised but visibly happy to see Erik. Then Erik says that mutants should be found by its own people, no suits. Charles looks at him for a minute and agrees with him. I’m not sure Charles thought about that in that very moment but listened when given the suggestion. Erik gives Charles a look that also shows visible happiness. They are just so damn happy to be with each other it’s adorable. Then they exchange witty banter. As I said before, A D O R A B L E.

Road Trip

This is the time Erik and Charles bond together even more.I don’t have much to say on the montage besides... it’s nice to see those two bond together and have fun.

Realist vs Optimist

Erik and Charles are playing chess together and Charles starts talking about how he will be able to help the mutants out there. How they can do it together. However Erik points out how they might not be able to. Once the government doesn’t need them, they will discard them or experiment on them.

I would call Erik a pessimist but that’s not entirely true. He’s not thinking the worse of ever situation he’s being realistic. The government would be scared of their power and once they don’t need them, they will try to get rid of them. He’s not even wrong at the end. Another scene is another one where they are playing chess. It seems whenever they start playing chess they start debating. Charles being the optimist, seeing the good in humans while Erik being the realist (but close to the optimist) by seeing the obvious evil humans have in them.

Russia

Something to point out, when dealing with the Russians, Charles tries to deal with them in the least violent way possible. When Erik deals with the Russians, he’s more violent, attacking them directly.

When Erik starts to lose control, Charles stop him. That seems to happen quite often in this movie. Charles is basically Erik’s restraint.

“Brightest Memory in Your Memory Bank” (aka the best Cherik scene ever)

Charles doesn’t want to shoot Erik (Guns probably make him nervous and the possibility of Erik not saving himself in time is scary.) So Charles pushes Erik more. Erik explains how he needs a specific situation, the anger, to be able to move something that big. That’s what he’s been told his whole life but Charles knows that’s not true. Charles contradicts everything that Shaw is, everything that Shaw believes in and says. He knows that there is more power Erik has, that Erik is just not aware of yet.

When you think about it, Charles is the serenity to Erik’s rage. Charles gave the serenity that Erik needed by unlocking a memory, Erik doesn’t even know he had. It’s such a beautiful moment that it brings both Charles and Erik to tears. This is the moment Charles and Erik truly connect completely. Charles understands a part of Erik nobody ever has since his mother.

Then Erik tries again and he succeeds. Both of them laughing in joy, Erik for being able to do it and Charles for being genuinely joyed that Erik succeeded.

Cuba Beach Divorce

This is the moment when things start becoming dark between them. While Shaw was talking to Erik, he managed to basically do the opposite of what Charles was trying to do for Erik. Bringing back his trauma and pain. Making him believe he was a weapon, instead of a person. When he put the helmet on, that symbolizes the disconnect he now had with Charles. Charles main power is communicating with people between minds. Erik putting on the anti-telepathy helmet symbolized the communication they no longer had with each other. Sure they can still speak to each other, but Erik is no longer listening to Charles. He no longer has serenity, only rage. When Erik slowly puts the coin through Shaw’s head, he makes Charles endure through the same pain. Symbolically showing that Erik’s revenge only caused Charles pain and the destruction of the beautiful relationship they had.

As Erik expected, the humans banded together to destroy a race they feel threatened by. Erik attempts to send them back the missles they intended to use to blow them up, but then Charles tries to stop him.

There is multiple times throughout the movie that Charles stops Erik from doing something and Erik stops, relunctantly, but he does. But now there relationship is strained and broken. When Charles tries to stop him he fails, Erik continues to do it, even hurting Charles to do it, until...

The bullet Erik deflected shot Charles in the back. When people usually say “shot in the back” or “stabbed in the back” it usually means betrayal. In Charles’ mind, Erik probably did betray him. Charles will do anything to protect people, even at the cost of hurting HIMSELF. Erik seems to constantly hurt the people around him, no matter how much he loves them.

The whole speech they have with each other is self-explanatory but their eyes show so much pain. They obviously don’t want to let each other go, but they are simply too different.

Erik holds a special type of pain, because he hurt the first man who genuinely loved and cared about him since his mother. The man who didn’t see him as a weapon to be used but a friend. The first mutant Erik has a positive interaction with. The only person who was able to unlock a side of Erik, even he didn’t know exist. In a way, he disappointed Charles and proved him wrong, that there is no good in him and he cannot be helped.

When he looks up he looks angry and hurt because he knows he won’t be able to change his mind. He know lost someone he considered a... (*cherik iykyk*) fRiEnD.

And Erik leaves Charles alone on the beach. Bleeding from the wound he gave him. Hurt from losing his bEsT fRienD and sister.

In conclusion: P A I N

#x-men #charles xavier #professor x #erik lehnsherr #magneto #brotherhood of evil mutants #mutants #cherik #CHERIK #character study #ig #idek what this is #watch this get no notes

[melanielocke]

You have no idea what I’ve done for my sister

CW: mentions of alcoholism, implied PTSD, toxic relationship

The scene in Chain of Gold where Cordelia finds out about Elias’ alcoholism, rewritten from Alastair’s POV. Some of the dialogue is directly from the book. 

https://archiveofourown.org/works/32221615 

‘Why do you need to bring this up again?’ Charles sounded exasperated. ‘I’ve explained my reasons for marrying Grace. I’m doing it all for you, you know that. Why can’t you at least be grateful?’

Alastair was spending the evening with Charles at his house. Matthew would be with his parabatai at the institute and Charles’ parents were still stuck in Idris, so they had the house to themselves. It was a welcome change, to not have to hide even within Charles’ own home.

But the moment Charles had mentioned his new fiancée Alastair felt angry and hurt all over again. Why couldn’t Charles understand that? Why couldn’t Charles at least listen when Alastair said it hurt?

‘I know that,’ Alastair said. ‘But it is not what I want. It is not how I want to live.’

Charles pulled him closer. ‘I know,’ he said, brushing Alastair’s cheek. ‘It is difficult for me too. But this is the way of the world. Neither of us can change that.’

Alastair hated that Charles was right. He knew anything else was impossible. He knew he would never be happy, but at least he had Charles. It still didn’t feel good, the way it had to be, the way Charles never listened to his concerns. But when Charles looked at him like that, Alastair couldn’t refuse him. At least he was loved. At least it was something. And Charles was all he had.

Even with the house all to themselves, sex with Charles was still rushed, as if they could be interrupted any moment and when they were done Alastair knew he was expected to leave and go home. He wished he could have stayed, he wished he could have stayed the night and slept next to Charles like they’d done in Paris. Even then Charles always left before he woke up though. But it was something.

Alastair left after getting dressed. Charles had gotten what he wanted, but Alastair still felt terrible. He put on his coat and left. Just in time, it seemed, as he saw Matthew Fairchild arrive home. Matthew didn’t see him, fortunately, and Alastair took the carriage home.

‘Where have you been?’ his mother asked when he arrived, looking a bit disheveled in his inverness cape.

‘I was visiting Charles,’ Alastair said.

Sona frowned. ‘At this hour?’

‘Charles has been very busy as acting consul,’ Alastair said, deflecting the question. ‘I’ve done the best I could to help him. It hasn’t been easy for him to lead everyone through these difficult times.’

‘Oh that is very considerate of you. Do you want tea? I can make some if you like.’

Alastair wasn’t sure. He was still upset, he couldn’t shake the way Charles had spoken to him. Like his concerns didn’t matter. He knew there was no other way, he knew it would have to be a secret. Cordelia had found out anyway, she had claimed to love him still, but it didn’t feel that way. She didn’t trust him anymore, and that hurt far more than her knowing about him and Charles. He knew he wasn’t close to her like they used to be, but he’d thought she at least knew he wouldn’t betray her. He’d thought she trusted him to do what was best for her.

‘No, but thanks. I think I’m going to the library,’ he said. Reading usually helped him calm down when he was in such a state.

‘Oh, I think it is best you did not go there. You see, Cordelia is there with James.’

Alastair’s eyes went wide. ‘With James? Alone? You cannot be serious.’

It didn’t make sense, his mother surely wouldn’t allow them to be alone? James could easily ruin Cordelia. He knew his sister longed to be liked, and if people heard about James being alone with her, gossip would follow. It always did. She would be devastated, ruined even.

‘Have you not seen the way James looks at Cordelia? He clearly likes her very much, and if he proposes before the truth comes out then she will be saved. He might be proposing right now, and it would not do to interrupt.’

‘You don’t understand,’ Alastair began, but he broke off.

She didn’t understand that James Herondale hated him. She didn’t understand that James Herondale loved Grace Blackthorn and no one else. He walked away and to the library. Perhaps it wasn’t true. Perhaps James had left. But he found the two of them there, Cordelia in her nightclothes, and Alastair was sure James’ intentions with her couldn’t be good. No honorable man would spend time alone with an unmarried lady while she was in her nightclothes of all things. Alastair knew it was a bit hypocritical, only a moment ago he had had sex with another man, but this was his little sister and he wasn’t going to let James Herondale ruin her life.

‘My mother said you were both in here,’ he said with a drawl, trying to control the rage that was building inside of him.

Alastair had never done well controlling his anger, all he knew was to repress everything he felt and right now it had become too much.

‘I didn’t credit it at first,’ he continued, ‘but now I see it is true.’

He glared at James. ‘She may feel that it is permissible to leave you alone with my sister, but I don’t. You brought her home in the dead of the night, injured and looking like a drowned rat.’

Alastair had no clue what had happened to Cordelia, but he did know that ever since they had come to London, ever since she had started spending time with James and his friends, she went from one dangerous situation to the other and Alastair did not know how to keep her safe anymore.

James crossed his arms over his chest, glaring at Alastair with those odd yellow eyes of his. He’d once commented how those eyes were like a goat’s. He no longer saw that resemblance.

‘Actually, Matthew brought her back. I’ve only just arrived.’

James couldn’t really believe that would make a difference, would it? Alastair shrugged off his coat and threw it over the arm of the chair.

‘I thought you had better sense, Herondale, than to put yourself in a position to compromise my sister.’

Cordelia stood up. ‘He brought back Cortana,’ she protested.

‘Your mother welcomed me into this room,’ said James. ‘Hers is the authority here, not yours.’

‘My mother doesn’t understand-‘ Alastair began, but it wouldn’t matter to James.

His mother was expecting a proposal, a happy marriage. Something that would never be. He knew his mother wanted Cordelia married and protected from the shame, but Alastair was certain that James had no intention of marrying her. He took off his gloves, his fingers shaking, desperately trying to keep his emotions under control.

‘I know you hate me for how I treated you in school, and rightfully so,’ Alastair said. ‘But however much you hate me, do not take it out on my sister.’

He didn’t dare show a hint of vulnerability, not to James Herondale. Not to someone who would pick at any weakness he could find to destroy him. It was what everyone did.

‘Alastair, you made my life a living hell at the academy. But I’d never take it out on Cordelia. That is something you would do, not something I would do.’

Alastair flinched at the accusation. I would never do such a thing, he wanted to say. He would never get married, he would never deceive a woman of his love. But he couldn’t say any of that.

‘I see how it is,’ he said. ‘In school I had the power, and here you have the power to lord it over me.’ Alastair knew deep down that he’d never had any power at all, not with his family’s reputation in shambles. He’d desperately held on to the few things he could control all his life. Including his treatment of James in school. He regretted it, of course, hated what he’d allowed himself to become. But it was too late for regret and apologies now, James had decided to take his revenge. And he deserved that, he knew it. But Cordelia did not.

‘What’s your game? What do you want with my sister?’

‘Your sister,’ James said, his voice cold like Alastair’s often was. ‘Your sister is the only thing keeping me from punching you in the face. Your sister loves you, Angel knows why, and you aren’t even the least bit grateful.’

Alastair’s mind went blank. How dare he imply he didn’t love his sister? Everything he’d done, was so she could be happy and safe. He barely heard himself speak. ‘You have no idea what I’ve done for my sister. You have no idea about out family. You don’t know the first thing-‘ Alastair stopped himself. Even now, he couldn’t betray their secrets. No one could know. He’d almost revealed the truth. Stupid. Weak. Every terrible thing his father had called him in his drunken state came to mind. It was a voice stuck in his head, and he feared it would never go away.

‘James,’ Cordelia said softly. ‘James, you’d better go.’

James turned to Cordelia, and Alastair couldn’t hear everything he said. ‘I won’t leave you alone,’  he could make out. Did James seriously think he would hurt his own sister, after everything he’d done for her? Did he not understand that Cordelia’s safety was all that mattered to him?

James raised his hand as if to touch her, but quickly changed his mind and left the room. Cordelia followed him, locking the door behind him. She turned to face him, and Alastair expected her to be angry. He knew Cordelia liked James, perhaps she was even expecting a proposal. He wasn’t sure she’d understand he’d rescued her from a terrible shame, had anyone heard about what happened.

‘What did you mean?’ she asked. ‘By “You have no idea what I’ve done for my sister”?’

Alastair reached down to where he’d dropped his gloves and picked them up. ‘Nothing,’ he said, cursing himself for giving so much away. And for what? To hurt James Herondale? To drive him away? To prove him wrong? ‘I meant nothing, Cordelia.’

Alastair knew it was a terrible excuse, but he couldn’t think of anything. He was desperately trying to maintain his composure, to find a sense of serenity.

‘Yes you did,’ she said, her tone accusatory. ‘I can tell that there is something you’re not telling me, something that has to do with Father. All this time you have acted like my attempts to save him, to save us, are childish and silly. You haven’t stood up for him at all. What are you not telling me?’

His father didn’t deserve anyone to stand up for him. He stood no chance at winning his trial. But Cordelia couldn’t know. Not after everything he’d done to protect her from the truth. Alastair closed his eyes. ‘Please stop asking,’ he said.

‘I won’t,’ Cordelia said, stubborn as always. ‘You think Father did something wrong. Don’t you?’

The gloves Alastair had been holding fell to the floor. ‘It doesn’t matter what I think, Cordelia-‘

‘It does matter!’ Cordelia said, nearly losing her temper. ‘It matters when you hide things from me, you and Mâmân. I got a letter from the Consul. It said that they couldn’t try Father with the Mortal Sword because he didn’t remember a thing about the expedition. How could that be? What did he do-‘

Alastair had to admit to himself that Cordelia would found out sooner or later. She wasn’t going to give up until he told her the truth. ‘He was drunk,’ he said, failing the hide the bitterness he felt towards their father. ‘The night of the expedition, he was drunk, so drunk he probably sent those poor bastards into a nest of vampires because he didn’t know enough not to. So drunk he doesn’t remember a thing. Because he’s always bloody drunk, Cordelia. The only one of us who didn’t know that is you.’

Cordelia sank down on the couch, distress written all over her face. Realization too. She had to know it was true. She had to suspect something. Alastair could only divert her attention so much.

‘Why didn’t you tell me?’ she asked, her voice soft.

‘Because I never wanted you to know,’ Alastair burst out. ‘Because I wanted you to have a childhood, a thing I never had. I wanted you to be able to love and respect your father as I never could. Every time he made a mess, who do you think had to clean it up? Who told you Father was ill or sleeping when he was drunk? Who went out and fetched him when he passed out in a gin palace and smuggled him in through the back door? Who learned at ten years old to refill the brandy bottles with water each morning so no one would notice the levels had sunk-?’

He broke off, breathing hard, desperately trying not to break down in front of his sister. He didn’t want her to see him like this, he didn’t want her to know the truth, how his father had broken him and left him with that awful bitterness everyone saw. But he had little choice.

‘Alastair,’ Cordelia whispered, reaching out her hand, to touch him perhaps, but she dropped it again. She rarely dared touch him anymore, but that was his fault, for pushing her away.

‘He will never win this trial,’ Alastair said, looking away from Cordelia. He didn’t dare look her in the eye. ‘Even though the Mortal Sword is useless, he will indict himself with the way he looks, the way he speaks. The Clave knows a drunk when they see one. That is why Mother wants you married quickly. So you will be safe when the shame of it comes down.’

‘But what of you?’ said Cordelia and Alastair was surprised she would think of him. ‘No shame should accrue to you either- Father’s weakness is not your weakness.’

Alastair looked back at Cordelia. Alcohol was not his weakness, he knew that, but it didn’t matter. He’d failed his family, nothing he’d done had made his father stop drinking and there was nothing he could do to rescue his mother and sister from the shame it brought him. He’d loved his father once, but it hadn’t been enough and in time that love had turned to that awful bitterness he carried with him. He didn’t want Cordelia to have to bear that burden.

‘I have my own weakness, as you well know,’ Alastair said.

‘Love is not a weakness, Alastair dâdâsh,’ Cordelia said.

Alastair hesitated at the use of a Persian word. It had always been a weakness of his. Father had learnt Persian for his mother and spoke it fairly well. He would often turn to his mother’s language when he wanted something from him, when he needed to resurrect whatever love Alastair had left for his father. Alastair had always imagined it very romantic, if a partner was willing to learn their language. Charles had never bothered, of course. But that idea had turned bitter along with everything else with the way his father used it as a weapon.

‘Isn’t it?’ he said, turning to leave the room.

Love was his weakness. His love for his father, turned bitter. He loved Charles the way he was supposed to love a woman, and although he did not feel ashamed of it, he knew it only brought pain to love as he did.

‘Don’t give your heart to James Herondale, Cordelia. He is in love with Grace Blackthorn and he always will be.’

Just like he would always love Charles, no matter how much it hurt him. There was no happiness for Cordelia with James, the sooner she realized that, the better. He would never want her to end up in a marriage like their parents, his mother loving his father when he could never give anything back.

Alastair left Cordelia in the library and went to find his mother downstairs. ‘Are you sure you don’t want tea, Alastair joon,’ she said gently. ‘What has upset you?’

Alastair sank onto the couch. ‘She knows. Layla knows.’

His mother knew what he meant, of course. She sat down next to him. ‘She was bound to find out sooner or later. Better that she heard it from you.’

Alastair wasn’t so sure about that, he hadn’t explained it gently exactly. He hadn’t known how. He desperately tried to compose himself, he certainly couldn’t allow his mother to watch as he broke down.

‘I think I should go to bed,’ he finally said. ‘Helping Charles was enough for today. Good night.’

‘Good night,’ his mother said.

Alastair made his way to his bedroom and changed for bed. His bedroom was neat as it always was, no matter which house he lived in. He wasn’t sure why he was so obsessed with keeping everything neat, but at least it was something he could control. He held onto a pillow as he lay in bed and broke down, using the pillow to silence any sounds he made so Cordelia wouldn’t hear.

It happened regularly lately, some nights he just broke down. He wasn’t sure why, or how to stop it. He knew he wasn’t supposed to be this weak, this emotional, but after repressing so much feeling it all came out at once. He wasn’t sure what exactly he was crying over, if it was Cordelia finally knowing the truth, or his fight with James. Or perhaps Charles. He often cried over Charles lately. He heard his father’s voice in his mind. It had been years since he’d cried in front of his father, but he could still hear his words. Weak, pathetic. Men don’t cry. He wasn’t sure how long he’d been crying, but at some point he stopped. He didn’t feel any better, just empty, tired, yet he couldn’t sleep. He often had nightmares when he did. After a long time he did manage to fall into a restless sleep.

#alastair carstairs #cordelia carstairs #tlh #the last hours #charles fairchild #james herondale

[thesculptedflower]

For who could ever learn to love a Penguin

Heyyy friends! I’m back, and I’m feeling truly better. I had a pretty bad episode of seasonal depression, which I should have seen coming, but like every year, it took me by a surprise. But as we get closer and closer to Halloween and Christmas, I get better and better. Thank you all for giving me the time I needed and a shoulder to cry on if I needed it. You guys are truly irreplaceable. I love you. 

This one took way longer than it should have, but here it is. I hope you like it. 

@kpopgirlbtssvt​

For who could ever learn to love a Penguin

You adored your father. He was everything you aspired to be, kind and generous, compassionate and loving. You knew he was always there to protect you and to have your back if you needed help. After your mother passed away, after losing a hard battle with cancer, your relationship with your father grew more and more closer. You were always together, doing things the two of you loved. It was as perfect as it could be. The pain from the loss of your mother was still present, but it was almost okay, you still had each other. That’s why it probably hurt as much as it did when he told you that he would marry this new woman. He told you that Grace was a kind soul that had endured bad things in her past, that she was down-to-earth and deserved another chance in love. Like he did too. It felt bad that he was moving on already, but all you wanted was for him to be happy. So you smiled and promised to welcome her with open arms.

You should have known it was too good to be true. Everything your father told you about Grace turned out to be just one side of the truth. Whenever she was with him, she was loving and acting like a perfect step-mother. But it all turned sour when your father left the room. She was bitter and mean, always ridiculing you about how you dressed or how you acted around her. Of course your father would listen your worries and cries when you told him, but every time, Grace managed to turn his head. 

Grace’s two children were the spitting image of her. Spoiled teens who in their minds deserved the world on a golden plate. Sasha and Charles were arrogant and spiteful, always bullying you with all kinds of horrible ways. They would steal all your clothes from your closets and replace them with old dirty rags, or pretend to do something nice and bring you a cup of cocoa, which would turn out to be something disgusting. They all treated you like you were a house maid, and not their step-sister. 

Life was tolerable, you tried to focus on the good and spent as much alone time with your father as you could. You were ready to endure what ever treatment you got from your step-mother and step-siblings to keep your father happy. But life had other plans for you.

The funeral was small. Grace refused to invite your fathers old friends from distant towns, having only her family and you present. You were shattered. It felt like nothing mattered anymore, like the damage was too great to fix. The words spoken by the priest never reached your mind, unable to bring any comfort. Grace and her children on the other hand seemed to be fine. Too fine almost. You hated them from the bottom of your soul, but you knew you’d have to live with them for some time. You were in no condition on living on your own now, without anyone to rely on if something happened. You made a promise to yourself to treat Grace like she was air to you, giving her the bare minimum. They were perfectly okay with that. Even pleased that you were spending most of the time alone in your room. You’d just have to deal with this for few years and then you’d be gone. Wrong again.

Elijah Van Dahl, a wealthy socialite who had fallen for Grace. You swore you could see a pattern. You hoped Elijah would see through Grace’s lies and manipulation, but for nothing. He was way too good for her, just like your father had been. In the following few years you learned to know Elijah a lot more. He could never replace your father, but you were starting to think him as a father-figure. He treated you kindly, like you were his own. He stood up for you when Grace or her children spoke ill of you. He nurtured you when you were sick, and always put your wellbeing before his. The place you once called a home, was finally staring to feel like one again. 

After you started spending more time out of your room, you noticed how distant Grace had grown from Elijah. He tried to be the best husband he could, getting nothing back from his wife. Sasha and Charles were as ignorant as ever, rolling their eyes behind his back when he tried to be nice towards them. On top of it all, they were spending huge amounts of his money. You could see that it took a toll on him, but he just kept on smiling, trying to keep them happy. He deserved to have people around him that truly loved and appreciated him and everything he does for them. 

’’Everyone, I’d like to introduce you my son, Oswald.’’ Elijah said proudly, holding his hand firmly on a shoulder of a young man with raven hair. They were both smiling, though Oswald a little awkwardly. It must have been terrifying to suddenly meet so many new people at once. You weren’t expecting a warm welcome from Grace, so you took it upon yourself to make him feel like home. 

’’Hi, I’m Y/N, it’s a pleasure to meet you Oswald.’’ You greeted cheerfully, pulling him to a welcoming hug. 

’’Hello, Y/N, the pleasure is all mine.’’ Oswald replied as he wrapped his arms gently around you. You could feel his nerves easing already. 

You turned around to introduce Grace, Sasha and Charles, who were clearly very unpleased. They were eyeing him from head to toes, not a hint of a smile on their faces. You rolled your eyes and sighed. 

’’Come Oswald, I’ll show you your room.’’ You suggested, glancing towards Elijah for approval. He nodded in return before turning his eyes to his wife. He looked almost angry and you hoped he’d let it out and tell her how to treat his children. 

’’I’m so sorry you had to come home to that.’’ You apologized, trying to make Oswald feel better about staying here. ’’If it helps at all, they’ve always been like that. To me too.’’

’’They shouldn’t treat you like that. You seem like a lovely person.’’

You felt your cheeks getting a little rosy, luckily you were a few steps ahead of Oswald.

’’Thank you Oswald, I’m looking forward to get to know you better.’’ You said kindly, glancing over your shoulder to look at him. His smile was genuine and radiated the same kind of warmth your father did when he smiled at you. It felt bittersweet.

You turned the handle to a spare room and opened the door. ’’Here, it’s all yours.’’

You moved aside to let Oswald in. His eyes widened as he admired the spacious room. He placed his bag on the end of the huge bed and sat down next to it. 

’’It’s- it’s quite a lot to take in.’’ He sounded a little exhausted. It was easy to understand why. Being pulled to a totally new place with complete strangers around would be hard to anyone. 

You smiled softly and took a seat next to him on the bed. 

’’You’ll get used to it, I’m sure your father’ll do anything to make you feel like home.’’ You cheered him up. 

’’That’s very kind of you to say.’’ Oswald replied, carefully placing his hand on top of yours. ’’Thank you, really, for helping me get adjusted.’’

You nodded with a smile as an answer before standing up. 

’’Dinner will be ready in a few moments, I’ll see you downstairs then.’’ You said before leaving him to unpack his things. You didn’t want to be too pushy, even if you already longed to know him better. He was a breeze of fresh air in the house that sometimes felt so stuffy and hostile. He could be someone who you could trust with your heart and soul.

The following weeks went like flying. Oswald opened up more and more everyday, and it didn’t take long for you to grow some very affectionate feelings for him. And he seemed to return those feelings. He was there to comfort you when Sasha and Charles bullied you, and you were there for him. Things got extremely nasty when Grace presented a newspaper to Elijah, with a frontal page of Oswald’s criminal past. She had done everything in her power to get Oswald out of the house. Luckily Elijah was not giving up on Oswald. He had proven he had changed and was perfectly capable of living a proper life, away from crime. Of course Grace wouldn’t believe it. The marriage between the two grew more sour and sour on her end, Elijah still trying to get things to work. You admired how Elijah took Oswald in immediately, how he took you in. You only wished he would for once put his own wellbeing first. 

’’May I have a moment with you, son?’’ Elijah asked, peaking his head in to your room. He knew very well what was going between the two of you, even if you tried to hide it from the rest of the family. You could see that he was glad Oswald had someone like you beside him. You had been reading books together on your bed, in a comfortable silence. 

’’Of course, I’ll join you in a moment.’’ Oswald said happily. Elijah nodded and retreated to the downstairs parlour. 

’’I hope it’s nothing serious.’’ You said quietly. Elijah had some health issues that you worried about. He always assured you that he’d be fine as long as he took his medicine and stayed away fro alcohol. But losing your own father made you even more worried. 

’’It’s probably nothing, maybe he just wants to talk. Just for the pleasure of talking. I’ve been pretty cooped with you most of the time.’’ He said with a soft laugh and placed his book on the nightstand. You lowered yours to your lap and searched Oswalds eyes for comfort. You didn’t need to say anything, he was already moving next to you, to hold you close to his chest. You pressed yourself against him, inhaling his scent to calm down. He caressed your head while holding you tight. 

’’I just feel really anxious for some reason.’’ You whispered. 

’’I know, I can feel it too.’’

You lifted your eyes to look up at him. His features were soft as he gazed down at you. You reached your hand up to his cheek and pulled him in for a gentle kiss. 

’’Will you sleep here tonight?’’ You asked, already knowing the answer.

’’As always.’’

Oswald pressed a kiss to your forehead before making his way to his father.

Elijah was lounging in front of a softly glowing fireplace. He looked happy. Oswald sat down next to him, the warm glow of the fireplace softening his features. For a moment they both just enjoyed the feeling of being together. Grace brought a beautiful bottle of whiskey to the side table and one glass for Oswald. He thanked her kindly.

’’Son, I want you to know, that you are loved, and you’re not alone.’’ Elijah spoke suddenly. His demeanor was filled with emotion, with unconditional love for his son. Oswald was taken aback, his eyes threatening to water. ’’And the sun will come up tomorrow.’’ He continued, bringing hope for their future together.

’’Thank you father.’’ Oswald almost sobbed, too emotional to hide it anymore.

’’Now I feel like a drink.’’ Elijah said, raising the glass Grace had brought. He filled it up with the amber liquid, savoring the strong scent. 

’’But your health?’’ Oswald questioned, a clear worry in his voice.

’’To hell with that.’’

Elijah downed the drink in one go, the liquid pleasantly burning his throat. Oswalds eyes were on his father, looking for any sign of discomfort. But he seemed to be just fine.

’’I want you to have it all my son. This house and everything in it. Just the way it is, a piece of history. Our history. First thing tomorrow, I’ll have my lawyers draw it up.’’ 

Oswald was amazed. He felt like he belonged here, like he had finally found something to live for after losing his mother. This man he had grown to love so quickly, who took him in when he most needed it, wanted to have him continue his legacy. Oswald was just about to lean in to hug his father, when Elijah face distorted to a painful grimace. Oswald’s face dropped. 

Elijah stood up abruptly, holding his stomach. He groaned in pain, his mouth starting to ooze white foam. Oswald stood up to catch him as he started fall, ending up on the floor with him. 

’’Father! Father! No!’’ Oswald cried in agony.

Grace rushed to the parlour, Sasha hot on her heels.

’’Elijah!’’ She screamed, ’’Did he drink that?’’ She kept yelling. 

Oswald nodded, tears streaming down his face as he held his dying father. 

’’But his condition! Sasha, call an ambulance!’’ Grace commanded. Charles had papers behind the side table, worried look on his face.

Oswald was too shocked to notice how Grace motioned Charles to knock the bottle of the table. The liquid sizzled as it hit the carpet, but Oswald was too distraught to care.

’’Y/N!’’ Oswald cried. You were already on your way, running down the halls as fast as you could. You could already hear sirens somewhere on the way. You weren’t ready to face whatever waited you downstairs, but you would be there for Oswald. You’d always be there for him. 

After the funeral, the house felt like a prison. Grace had turned you and Oswald to her personal slaves. She had assured you both that you couldn’t make it out there on your own, that you needed to stay at the manor for your own good. You both were too tired, too emotionally strained to fight back, so you did as she told you. You cleaned and cooked, Oswald drove her around the town and made her drinks. Which she almost always spilled, making you work extra. 

’’Oswald! Make me an apple martini!’’ Grace screamed from the parlour. You and Oswald were both at the kitchen, preparing for tonights dinner. Grace had ordered a very very complicated meat dish, that required tons of pre-work. You could already see her and her children spitting it out and having you do it all over again. 

Oswald sighed and began making the drink. 

’’Yes, ma’am! Coming right up!’’ He replied with a fake happy voice. It pained you to see him like that, but at least you had each other. You swiped your forehead with the back of your hand, leaving a smudge of flour behind. Oswald let out a soft laughter, pulling you out of your thoughts. 

’’What?’’ You asked confused, looking at him working on the drink. He paused for a moment to help you clean yourself. 

’’You have a little something on your forehead.’’ He said with a smile, gripping a towel. He wiped the flour off your head and showed you the now floury cloth. You laughed a little sadly, suddenly realizing how hopeless and unfair your situation really was.

’’I want to leave.’’ You whispered, turning your head down to look at your hands. There was flour and dirt under your nails, little cuts from cleaning up broken glass. Oswald took your hands in his and gently lifted your face towards him.

’’We will leave, as soon as we can. I promise I will get you out of here.’’ He whispered, pressing his lips against yours. The kiss was filled with need, it was a promise that the days ahead would be better. 

’’Oswald! Where’s the damn drink?’’ Grace’s screaming broke the moment between you, forcing Oswald back to work. 

’’Just a moment, it seems I can’t find the olives.’’ Oswald reported back, looking for an excuse. You rolled your eyes, cursing Grace to the deepest hell in your mind. You weren’t usually one for violence, but you were sure Grace had a personal place reserved for her in hell. 

’’On the second drawer on the left! You should know that!’’ 

’’Thank you ma’am, you’re right I should have known.’’ Oswald replied quietly as he opened the said drawer. Grace must have made a mistake, because there surely wasn’t olives. Oswald’s eyes grew wide as he recognized the bottle that laid on the bottom. It was the same bottle Elijah had drinker from on the night he died. Oswald remembered that the bottle fell and the liquid spilled out, but some had remained. It smelled like death. Oswald turned to look at you and lifted the bottle for you to see. It didn’t take long for you to put two and two together and figure out what had happened. You could see Oswald’s eyes turning dark, his whole body growing tense. Just to be sure, he poured some of the liquid on an apple that was left on the counter. As the liquid hit the apple, it turned rotten where ever the poison dripped. You lifted your hand to your mouth, covering your shocked expression. 

’’What are we going to do Oswald?’’ You whispered, scared you would get caught. If Grace could poison her own husband, what horrible things could she do to you if she found out. Oswalds knuckles were turning white around the bottle. You hurried next to him and placed your hand over his, forcing his attention on you.

’’Oswald, talk to me.’’ You begged. 

Oswalds grip around the bottle eased and his muscles relaxed. 

’’I’ll handle this, you will stay out of this.’’ He said, a different tone in his voice. His eyes looked different as he looked at you. You could only nod, afraid for what he was about to do. Oswald finished making the drink and served it to Grace. 

’’Dinner will be served in an hour.’’

*

Oswald had commanded you to stay the rest of the night in your room. You tried to fight back, wanting to help him anyway you could, but he was set. You wouldn’t come out of your room before he told you so. You were feeling more and more anxious by every passing minute. You could smell the roast in the oven, and sometimes hear Oswald moving the pots and pans as he prepared the dinner. Grace was most likely already at the table, waiting fro the moment she could judge the dinner to shreds. 

’’Sasha! Charles! Get down here!’’ 

You heard Grace scream for her children, but you couldn’t hear a reply. In fact, you couldn’t hear anything. No footsteps, no bickering about having to eat something that Oswald had made. It made you awfully uneasy. Something was wrong. 

’’Here’s the first piece. I hope it’s not too gamey.’’ Oswald pretended to be courteous, acting like the best butler. Grace took a small bite of the meat, her face revealing her opinion before she even opened her mouth. ’’Overcooked.’’ She said grimly.

’’Try the other, it’s much more tender.’’ Oswald suggested, cutting her a piece. Once again Grace took a bite. ’’It’s the same.’’ 

Oswald grinned wickedly, standing proudly next to his makings. 

’’You look different. Where are the children, ring the bell again.’’ Grace continued, looking at Oswald suspiciously. 

’’Oh you noticed! I do my hair differently now.’’ Oswald said cheerfully as Grace kept eating. ’’But I doubt Sasha and Charles will hear it.’’ 

Grace turned to look at him with a confused look. 

’’I found the poisoned bottle, the bottle you used to kill my father.’’ 

’’What on earth are you talking about?’’ Grace asked, clearly turning anxious. Maybe even scared. 

’’You should’ve thrown it away, guess you’re a little too mean to waste a good poison, huh.’’ Oswald said darkly, leaning down closer to Grace. She tried to stand up from her seat, but Oswald was quicker to grab a knife and force her to sit back down. Grace tried to call her children for help. You could hear that too. You were pacing around your room, trying to think about anything else than what was going on down there. 

’’They won’t come.’’ Oswald’s grin was turning more and more wicked as he got closer to revealing what he had done to her children. ’’Where are they?’’ She pleaded.

’’You thought they tasted the same, but Sasha, definitely more tender in my opinion.’’ Oswald almost shouted, waving the knife between Grace and the two pieces of meat on the dinner table. Horrified expression on Graces face was bringing joy to Oswald, he was back to his normal wicked self, and he loved it. Grace screamed as Oswald brought the knife down to her chest, multiple times.

You covered your ears and sat down to a corner in your room, furthest from the door. Tears were falling down your cheeks, you didn’t know how to feel. You weren’t scared for yourself, but for Oswald. Could he be good ever again, could he stay on the right side of law for you? Soon the screaming stopped and you could remove your hands from your ears. The quick silence was replaced with footsteps coming closer to your room. You knew it was Oswald but you couldn’t help but feel anxious. The doorknob turned and Oswald stepped in. His face and clothes were covered in blood. You could see that he was exhausted. You stood up slowly and took a few steps closer to him.

’’This is me Y/N, the real me.’’ He said softly, not trying to hide anything. He seemed to be at peace, but a little shameful at the same time. You closed the distance between you and used your sleeve to wipe off some blood on his face. 

’’I know.’’ You answered without any fear in your voice. He wasn’t the Oswald you knew anymore, but there were still undeniable feelings. Oswald lifted his hands to your waist and closed his eyes, enjoying the feeling of your hand on his face. 

’’I love you.’’ He said quietly, keeping his eyes closed. ’’But can you love a Penguin?’’ He continued with sorrow in his voice. 

’’You’re not a Penguin to me. I’ll always love you.’’

#Gotham #gotham series #gotham fanfic #gotham imagine #Oswald Cobblepot #oswald cobblepot x reader #oswald cobblepot x you #oswald cobblepot x y/n #The Penguin #the penguin x reader #the penguin x you #the penguin x y/n

[belle-keys]

I Love Matthew Fairchild aka Incoherent Thoughts about Chain of Iron (2021) by Cassandra Clare

I made one of these rant-rave reviews for SJM's book so check it out if you want, no pressure tho lmao.

Aight so I finished Chain of Iron last night and OMG I HAVE TO YELL like I loved it sooo much like yooo, I have a lot to say. I know the book is new so... beware for spoilers plebs.

Also context: I been reading the Shadowhunter books since I was 12 and I'm 19 now *insert dead emoji face* so yeah, I'm just so happy rn with where the Chronicles have come and the fact that they’re still ongoing *insert uwu face*. I remember when in like 2014-2015 or something when Cassandra Clare teased that Will and Tessa's kids' generation was gonna get a trilogy set in Edwardian London, loosely based on Great Expectations, and holy hell? I think that was perhaps one of the best days of my life considering how much I adore The Infernal Devices (that trilogy really changed the way I see YA literature... don't ask cus I won't shut up about it) (also yes I read TMI and loved it too but there's a “generation gap” between TMI and the other Shadowhunter books stylistically so don't ask me about that either cus I also won't shut up).

Anyway, shoo from here if you want a critical essay on Chain of Iron. I'm not providing that, this is just me raving here for the fun.

Listen... I want the bulk of this to just be two main things: The Matthew Situation, and then all the literary and judeo-christian meta aspects of it.

BUT I ALSO NEED TO TALK ABOUT EVERYTHING ELSE SO FRICK LET'S JUST START WITH THE OBVIOUS SHIT LIKE THE PLOT AND WHATEVER

Okay, the plot and writing and shit, let's get that out of the way:

The WHOLE Jack-the-Ripper-esque ambiance was just sooooo good man wow like I did not expect the book to take this cold turn but it worked so well. There was such a contrast between Jamie and Cordelia's warm little house and then the cold winter and the stabbings and shit and it felt like a nice little callback to the actual Ripper phenomenon that preceded them and a nod to the Whitechapel Fiend story from Tales from the Shadowhunter Academy.

Bitch OFC that whole thing with Wayland was a set-up like nawww that was too easy to spot and I get why Cordelia feels like shit about it.

Dawg Lucie was just the Among Us imposter here in that my girl was just venting and sneaking around with dead people and I was like nooooo girl run, don't deal with Fade this is a set-up THINK ABOUT JULES LUCIE THAT'S LIKE YO GREAT-GRANDSON *sobs* but yeah anyway my girl has death powers she gonna kill some bitches next book.

You see that confrontation between Lilith and Belial? MASTERPIECE DIALOGUE like this was the point within which I was just like "yo is this the book of Genesis or a YA Fantasy novel" like when Lilith said "I may have been cast out but I did not fall" like??????????????????? I YELLED she did not have to END Belial like that. What a bad bitch.

More on Lilith and Belial... "You, who brought nations into darkness? Shall I finally be able to tell the infernal realms you have gone mad, lost even the image of the Creator." HAHAHHAHAHA SHE SAID "YO BELIAL GO GET SOME THERAPY AND GET OFF MY ASS" LIKE??????

Ughhhh yasss Clare has improved writing diverse characters in this book compared to in The Dark Artifices in my opinion... I'm not gonna expand on it cus ain't nobody got time for that but like, I enjoyed how she wove Persian poetry and tales into the story and the way in which she writes Cordelia and Alistair. They're not caricatures of Persian people but rather multi-faceted beings who also happen to be Persian and I appreciate that. Also, Alistair and Thomas and Anna and Ariadne were just so fun and interesting to read as coupbles but also as individuals. She really higlighted diversity in a very natural manner. All I need is a hijabi character and I’ll die a happy woman lmao.

The level of META man like the references to Classics and art (I swear, she might have compared Matthew to angels out of Caravaggio AND Rosetti AND Boticelli paintings and I Am Living For It) and just all the quotes from holy books and shit omg I love it here like you really feel catapulted into the time period, she draws reference to external art and philosophy so well and I feel like she upped the notch on it in this book (didn’t know that was possible but it was the prose is BEAUTIFUL, archaic, but not pretentiously so). No, like the characters live in their OWN worlds of literature and art and history in the way we are living in THEIRS. They quote Wilde and Milton while we'll quote Clare. It's awesome.

This is an unusually structuralist take even from me but: I like the way the milieu social of the book, i.e., the high society Edwardian circles and their values, have a direct influence on the plot. James and Cordelia got married because society’s values essentially forced them to, not a demon. Cordelia abandons Jamie at the end of Iron because her shame as a woman in society and fear for her reputation made her, not a demon. Thomas and Alistair can't be together solely because of how Alistair tarnished the reputation of the Fairchilds and Lightwoods by using the horror of infidelity against them. Issues relating to marriage, gender roles, etc, stemming DIRECTLY from the time period rule the sequence of events to the same degree as the epic fantasy aspects (demons, Princes of Hell, the lore itself) do and I LOVE that dear God above.

OKAY THE GOOD SHIT LET US TALK ABOUT CHARACTERS AND SHIPS (N.B. but imma discuss Matthew and the Fairstairs situation separately below this portion):

Alistair's redemption arc: No, cus Alistair's redemption arc is honestly amazing. He really did change and it's not like his betterment as a person was linked to any one heroic deed but rather he simply decided he wanted to be better especially for his family and he decided to become a proper protective son, a caring brother, and an amiable friend. He fully owned up to his Malfoy tendencies and apologized without expecting forgiveness. He shows how he cares in the little ways and omg it's so sweet and tender. I really do want him to love himself now and be embraced by Matthew especially and the rest of the Thieves.

Dawg Lucie and Jesse are so funny to me like it's so hilarious how this girl fell in love with a whole ass ghost that no one else knows about like HHAHA. Are Lucie and Jesse my ult ship ever? Nah, but it's nothing to do with Clare, it's just that their relationship happened pretty quick and feels quite like something epicly romantic that Lucie herself would write. I just like slow burn and friends-to-lovers the most from Clare. To be honest part of me just wanted Lucie to not have a romantic arc all together but like, it's all good, I'm not complaining.

Okay Grace- like yooooooooooo I never hated her yunno. She has been abused and isolated all her life. It's not that she is a bad person, but rather that she does not know what being a person even entails. Can't even say she's a “doll” of a person cus she's never even been pampered like one by her family. I really started understanding her motivations since when they gave us her half-childhood with Jesse. I want better for her but cmon can she REALLY be saved???

GRACE X CHRISTOPHER *pretends to be shocked*... Okay, sometime in the middle of the Dark Artifices series some big brain put together a very thorough family tree of the families and like, it clearly showed that Grace and Christopher got married so like, lmfaooooo, I knew this was coming one way or another, but the journey to this ship is more important than the destination. Like in a way Christopher is such a cute baby lamb that it makes sense he'd end up being immune to her Grace-ness when he's just a cute little Einstein boiii. Like this is just so funny to me cus he's so oblivious to social conventions while she makes the milieu social her entire life so OFC it's gonna work. Like, this is such a worlds-colliding trope like just Give It To Me.

James and Grace - aw mannn Jamie just had me fricking wanting to hit a wall every two seconds cus like yooooooo every single time I think he and Cordelia are gonna stop being emotionally-constipated spouses, Jamie says some kinda shit like "omg me and Daisy are just friends uwu" like DO I NEED TO HIT YOU?????????? See I can't blame him for not slamming the door on Grace's face even tho he totes should- Jamie is so cerebral and kind that even if Grace wasn't using the enchantment on him, I think he would always be soft for her even if it isn't in a romantic way. There's just so much miscommunication cus like he said "Thank God" when she broke off the engagement with Charles and lowkey embraced her but it also wasn't his fault cus it wasn't even romantic BUT OFC IT LOOKED HORRIBLE TO CORDELIA like James literally never told the woman at least once that he loved her so OFC she thought she was back to square one with him dear God above what a mess. Not his fault, but she DID set down one rule for him: don’t cheat with Grace. And yeah even tho he hasn’t properly cheated, it must FEEL horrible to her cus she’s just been enduring the pain of their unrequeted love for so long :((

See imma just say it but if Cordelia thought that James didn't love Grace then she def would have confessed to him about her feelings right but like James, on the other hand, was delaying his own romantic confession cus he was BEING EMOTIONALLY CONSTIPATED and I can't even say the bracelet was solely to blame cus like my boi was just being so difficult omg I believe he should be lightly spanked by his three parents aka Will, Tessa and Jem *cries*.

Cordelia is such a MOM like she's so mature and stable and her self-preservation instinct? OFF THE CHARTS I love this woman like James definitely treated her well as a hubby but like I JUST WANTED HER TO HAVE CLOSURE ABOUT SOMETHING and boy oh boy she did get that closure she got it good but not from the person she expected in the LEAST *hehe* *pelican screeching*... like Lucie was being sus with the whole ghost business and James was being just, quite a case, dealing with Grace and Belial right and I don't blame them at all for their secrecy and shit but her FATHER DIED and her friends were hiding a lot from her so in a way she turned to Alistair for help but he could only do so much cus of his own pain (she couldn't even talk to her mom cus she's pregnant and she doesn't wanna stress her right) and then there was this emotional block between her and Jamie, Lucie was often absent and conspiring with the dead... the last person remaining was HIM (imma discuss this soon), but yeah my heart just went OUT to her cus she's tryna save herself and her family and she just doesn't know what to do. That's why I love the way her mom told her to stop holding herself back for others and live her own life. Like Cordelia grew on me so much cus in Gold she undoubtedly was a strange Elizabeth Bennet-wallflower hybrid and I... do not usually get attached to wallflowers but in Iron I feel like I finally understood that she was just tryna be unproblematic and self-preserving all along and nottt put her family and friends in a tough situation.... she reminds me of my mom personality-wise so yeah I’m totally rooting for her now that her *situation* in the past seems clearer.

Anna, Thomas and Matthew are such a SQUAD lmfaooooo like united in their gayness they'd be so unstoppable.

Will and Tessa are the most in-love of all the in-loves in this story and I respect that so much.

I lost a year to my life every time the romance between James and Cordelia got cockblocked. Like they were MARRIED and I thought they were gonna at least sleep next to each other at least once BUT NO James couldn't take a hint omg I'm actually gonna eat my fist and sob (but in retrospect, I think this serves a bigger purpose in terms of the narrative structure i.e. the interruption of all the spicy James and Cordelia action serves a bigger purpose which I think brings me to my next section, *exhale*)

Welcome to the Matthew Fairchild Enthusiast Club (this section is me talking out loud; it makes no sense):

bitch.

LISTEN TO ME LISTEN WELL I LOVE THIS BOY SO MUCH IMMA SCREAM I REALLY AM GONNA SCREAM MY FIST IS LITERALLY IN MY MOUTH *BACKFLIPS OFF THE ROOF WITH LANA DEL REY PLAYING*

Okay like where to BEGIN I think the Shadowhunter boy who I'm most attracted to is Julian while the one I love the most is Will but I think I see myself in Matthew the most. Like ever since that first story where the Thieves all met at the Academy then got expelled, I think that I just KNEW Matthew was destined to be epic. Plus the whole Wilde obsession? I’m no libertine myself but I just love his chaos and passion for life.

NO CUS HE'S SO WITTY AND SWEET AND EPIC AND YET SO SECRETIVE AND DEAR GOD ABOVE AHHHHH WILL HE SURPASS JULIAN FOR ME??? Ion even know but this is just sodjsgdwsdygyegydgef

Hear me out but I said after finishing Gold last March that I wanted this book to be Matthew's healing arc right so halfway into the book when I realized that we weren't getting all that good healing arcing I was confused just cus I thought it seemed natural to address all of his alcohol issues and sadness by now. LITTLE DID I KNOW CASSIE WAS SETTING UP A WHOLE OTHER ARC WITH HIM THAT I WOULD HAVE NEVER GUESSED WTH.

At first I thought Matthew didn't have feelings for anyone at all, and if he DID develop feelings unexpectedly, I fricking thought that maybe he's catching feelings for James, if anyone??? I mean, I did have some suspicions about Matthew from the get-go: like he's so secretive and as readers we think we know everything there is to know about him since we were all privy to the truth potion incident in his short story right BUT NO I GOT PLAYED AND I DESERVE IT SO BADDDDDD.

Listen I hadn't shipped him and Cordelia simply because I never thought it in the realm of possibility but it MAKES SENSE as a ship... think about it: he never says what he feels, he flirts with her like he does with EVERYONE, he is kind to her in the way he is with EVERYONE. Really, Matthew is shippable with everyone, doesn’t matter if they’re taken cus that’s just what his Matthewnes allows for ya feel. There is such a beautiful irony that CORDELIA herself did not see this coming. Even the little teasers and hints in Gold have only NOW started making sense to me likejhss. I just felt like the hints in book 1 did not indicate to me that Matthew really harbored real romantic feelings for Daisy. I thought he was upset that James and Cordelia were being fakes, not a developing CRUSH on the woman fgs.

Not to mention that you usually sense a ship building when the emotional connection or sexual tension between the characters is made clearer but to me their FRIENDSHIP grew right but it didn’t feel like Cordelia was thought that she liked him or he liked her so that means me and Cordelia are clowns *together* 😤

Okay I was lowkey having SUSPICIONS but I immediately shut them down right... like firstly when he took her to the White Horse in his car and she went OFF and OFF and off about how she felt free for the first time? I thought Cassie was just tryna develop Cordelia's self-liberation arc through Matthew there. Heck, I didn't even think ANYTHING of it when Matthew confession to Cordelia about the "truth potion" incident at all cus I was like they're FRIENDS??? BUT now it's adding up now...

See when they were at the inn place and he was telling her that she doesn't in the least seem like a 100 year-old married woman? I was like hmmmm he's so sweet but why did Cassie phrase it like that like??? When Cordelia later reiterated that she thought Matthew's flirting was “meaningless”?? I was like hmmm kinda SUS tho. And then when he and James had their fight over the way Jamie kissed Grace like again I thought he was just like? ion know? mad at James for it but I didn't think he was in LOVE with Cordelia??? So I immediately put aside my slight suspicions. The probability that he had a crush on James at that point seemed more likely to me.

BUT THEN it started hitting me that every time Matthew drank, even before he explained his issue with the truth potion, that Cordelia would note it, she would worry about him, she would think of her father which seemed so poetic to me, history repeating itself and all that but this time you can FIX it??? Yeah, but again I didn't think the L WORD would be involved man???

Now imma sound like a delulu shipper here but it just makes sense they would develop feelings logically- reason being that it definitely is possible based on the way Cassie set up the story, like there's a combination of little “friend things” that can turn this into a proper ship: Matthew rescues Cordelia in the ballroom when Grace captures James' attention in Gold. Cordelia sees her father in Matthew all the time but knows now she has a chance to be there for him in the way she couldn't have been there for Elias (classic “history repeats itself” trope, she doesn't want Matthew drinking in Paris like dhshghdfhdhch). Cordelia tastes freedom for the first time when driving with Matthew. Matthew caught James and Cordelia making out in the room and was pissed but not even HE properly knew why then??? Umm, when she thinks James is forreal cheating with Grace on her she subconsciously goes to Matthew??? I also found it funny just how every intimate marital moment between her and James got interrupted somehow. Like, it's as if the narrative is just a living force REFUSING to let James and Cordelia as a ship be consecrated. Heck, every time Matthew is scantily clothed Cordelia notes it. LITTLE CRUMBS I TELL YOU LITTLE CRUMBS.

I tell you when Cordelia showed up to Matthew's flat I thought they were gonna f*ck as friends but I got SOMETHING EVEN BETTER SOMEHOW

THEY ARE GOING TO PARIS LA BELLE EPOQUE PARIS THE PARIS OF DREAMS AND ART LIKE??? FRICKKKKK I DID NOT SEE THIS COMING AT ALLLL MAN? I deadass thought the story would be restrained to the UK but like it MAKES SENSE the trope subversion MAKES SENSE.

“In Paris, with you, I will not need to forget.” SHITTRGEGGGDG

BUT CORDELIA LOVES JAMES TOO LIKE I CAN'T DENY THAT... where are we GOING with this like Matthew wouldn't lie about his feelings and yet Cassie wouldn't give us Matthew and Cordelia crumbs to only end it in the next book immediately for her to just ditch him for James. I mean she was clearly holding back on fleshing out James and Cordelia as a ship for this but to WHAT END??? Daisy feels wild and free with Matthew and she feels warm at home warm with James. I can’t advocate for the sinking of ANY ship here.

Imma say what we're all thinking: Is she gonna give us a Will x Jem x Tessa type situation where Cordelia gets both of them cus I'm not strong enough for this but I also think it'd be really funny if James gets a surprise bi awakening in the next books and then we get POLY even tho this would never happen, it’s actually impossible, because of the whole parabatai thing.

Listen I ship Cordelia and Matthew much more than Cordelia and James, not that I dislike James in any way tho. It's just: Matthew is so unrestrained and she's so composed. They seem like an unlikely pair so it makes sense that they hit harder for me. James and Cordelia have such similar personalities but I ALSO don't ship James with Grace at all so like?? Poly would be... ideal... but it can’t happen especially cus they are fricking parabatai... a Will-Jem-Tessa situation seems more likely but mannnn ion know what to expect. I just want FAIRSTAIRS to have their moment in Paris. I mean James and Matthew clearly don't abhor each other for this.

Take everything I say with several grains of salt, take everything I say with the whole Dead Sea actually, cus I damn well know that Matthew is so flirty and whatnot that I’d have shipped him with anyone in their little circle but now that she set him up with Cordelia it all feels so right?? I have wanted this man in a good relationship since he walked onto the page in Nothing But Shadows so-

ahhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh

I can't believe Cassia duped me like this omg, Matthew is gonna have his healing arc in Paris with Cordelia by his side like- THIS IS ALL I HAVE WANTED AND SO MUCH MORE. Question to yall btw: are you all as surpised at Fairstairs as me or did yall see it coming all along like smart people? Am I a lone clown? 🥺

BRUH okay criticisms of CC?:

Lmfao a part of me feels like I GOTTA say something bad about CC or the book but honestly I have no objective complaints about it as of now. Am I saying that it’s the PEAK of Young Adult literature and Urban Fantasy? I mean, I make no such claims tbh. I’m not here to be critical when I read as a hobby and when CC’s writing makes me happy regardless of how flawed some people see it.

Okay what next?

So like I’m excited for the adult high fantasy she’s releasing in the fall and whatever other works she might be releasing outside of Chain of Gold within the Chronicles.

As for TLH itself? Man I’m just VIBING like I suspect I will reread Chain of Iron soon and maybe one of the anthologies just because I am happy that this series actually happened after me waiting like 6 years for it when it was just a concept: a Dickensian retelling filled with poetry and culture and history and the conventions I so loved in TID at age 12. This is all I been wanting tbh. I’m just enjoying watching this series come to fruition for it to inspire and transform me in some way. I feel like in a way my coming-of-age aligns with that of these specific characters yet I ALSO feel like I raised Jamie since infancy. Wack.

MATTHEW AND CORDELIA IN FRANCE LA BELLE EPOQUE TO BE EXACT IMMA CRY I DID NOT SEE THIS COMING AND AHHHHHH. ALSO WILL AND JAMIE GOING TO CORNWALL TO GET LUCIE AND MAYBE BOND I LOVE WILL. HE WAS ONE OF MY DILF AWAKENINGS AT AGE 12 AND NOW HE’S HERE AGAIN IMMA CRY. I WANNA SEE MATTHEW GET HAPPY. AHHH.

Ending with a fun quote: “In the wise words of someone or other, there are more things in heaven and earth than are dreamt of in your philosophy, Maurice.” 😉

#the last hours #the shadowhuter chronicles #shadowhunters #will herondale #james herondale #cordelia carstairs #fairstairs #matthew fairchild #grace blackthorn #wessa #jessa #chain of iron spoilers #chain of gold #chain of iron #the infernal devices #ya books #books and literature #books #book lover #cassandra clare #cassie clare #tts fandom #book review #james x cordelia #chain of thorns #jordelia

[shadowhuntertrash]

Bad Day

  Matthew woke with a start. He was sweating and shaking and all too aware of his quick breaths. Damn. Matthew thought, shaking his head, trying to shake away the nightmare. He had this dream at least three times a week, most of the time around five. 

   It always started the same, he was at a park with his mother and father. They were having a good day, it was Matthew’s birthday and he had decided he wanted to go outside. They would be sitting there on a bench and then the scene would switch and he’d be at the Shadowmarket with the faerie who sold him the poison.

   The faerie would give him an evil look and then the scene would switch again and he would see Charlotte trembling and sweating in her bed. Tessa was next to her and Charlotte was crying. His father would usher him out and tell him about the child Charlotte was bearing. 

   Then the dream would morph one more time and he would be standing in a room with blood everywhere and Charlotte and Henry sobbing. He would sit there and watch for a minute before Charlotte’s head shot up and she glared at him. “This is your fault! All of this! Look what you’ve done! Get out, leave! I never want to see you again!” Matthew would try to talk to her but before he could say anything she would slap him.

   That’s when he woke up.

   Matthew sat in his bed shaking and running his hand over his face before glancing at the clock. It was six in the morning. He decided to not go back to sleep and got up to go shower. He stood under the hot watch and tried to keep his eyes open, every time they closed he would be back in the room with his parents sobbing and his mother’s face looking at him with disgust and hate. 

   Matthew shook his head again and stepped out of the shower grabbing a towel and drying himself off slowly. He always moved slowly after those dreams. It gave him more time to put on his mask. He always wore it, the happy carefree mask that hid his darkest secrets. 

   Once Matthew was dressed and ready for the day it was eight in the morning. He trudged downstairs and heard voices from the kitchen. “I just don’t know what to do with him Henry.” It was his mother and father. He grimaced and continued walking. “All he does is drink and party. He has to know that he has quite a reputation, mustn't he? I just don’t know what to do.” Matthew froze, were they talking about him?

   “Darling, it’ll be okay. He’ll grow up soon. Don’t you remember Will when he was that age? He was just as bad and he has turned out to be a great man. Matthew will grow up, he just hasn’t had to yet.” Matthew felt a pang in his gut. He always knew his mother looked down on him. How could she not? She was the Consul and he was her problematic son. He knew that she thought lowly of him but his father? 

   That hurt so much more than he ever dreamed. He had always loved his father so much, he would watch over him and help him in any way he could. He was aware that he had a drinking problem and he knew that he had a reputation for partying but surely his father didn’t hate him for that?

  “I know he’ll grow up but he needs to do it soon. I can’t be the Consul with a son like him. Everyone already questions having a woman in the position, but a woman who can’t even control her own son? Everyone looks down on me for it Henry. He needs to stop messing around and step up.” Matthew felt the words hit his heart like daggers. He heard his father sigh. 

   “He will Lottie don’t worry.” Matthew turned on his heel abruptly. After the dream he had he needed to get out. He couldn’t listen to this, not right now.

   He had just gotten in the carriage when Charles stepped in and shoving him over. “Where are you going so early Charles?” Matthew said through clenched teeth. He did not want to deal with Charles right now. Charles huffed and looked at him as if he was nothing but dirt. 

   “I’m going to a meeting as important people do, and what about you? Going to another bloody downworlder party?” Matthew looked away scowling. He wasn’t going to a party, he was going to see James. He knew Charles hated him and thought of him as nothing but it still wasn’t great hearing it from his own mouth.

   “Sod off Charles, I’m going to Jamie’s.” Charles wrinkled his nose. “I do wish you had never befriended him. He’s an awful lot of trouble and honestly you don’t need any help in that department.” Matthew froze all he could see was red. He tried to calm himself down but his brother kept going.

   “The only thing he’s good at is getting into the shadow world and that’s not even on purpose. He doesn’t have his mother’s warlock powers nor does he have his dad’s bravery. He doesn’t even have his parents' charm. He needs to grow up just as much as you do. But then again the worthless ones always find each other don’t they brother.” 

   Matthew couldn’t help himself. He punched Charles in the nose. He heard the sickening crunch when it broke which was accompanied by Charles’ groan as his hand shot up to his face. Charles took his hand away from his face and punched Matthew right back. Matthew felt the pain blooming right under his eye and his only regret was that he was going to have a large bruise. 

   Both boys were fuming and Matthew knew he needed to get out before they did something they would both regret. He stumbled out of the carriage as the driver slowed to see what was going on.

   He started walking to the Institute. It was about a thirty minute walk from his house so he knew he would get a chance to calm down. Today was not his day and all he wanted to do was go see his parabatai. 

   Honestly he would’ve been fine if Charles had just been talking about him but he had never been good at controlling himself when people said bad things about Jamie. Charles seemed to know that and use it every chance he got.

   Matthew put a hand to his eye and winced. It hurt like hell and his head was throbbing. He silently cursed Charles and walked faster. It only took him 20 minutes to get to the Institute and when he walked in there were several shadowhunters in the entryway. Matthew was going to ignore them and go find James but he was distracted when he caught his name.

   “It’s a shame that he’s a bastard child. His parents were so great but it’s common knowledge that Henry can’t have kids and Charlotte wanted more. I mean Gabriel owed Charlotte a lot from when he was younger and have you seen his hideous wife? He would surely need something more than her.” Matthew balled his hands into fists and tried to slow his breathing. 

   “Poor kid no one will want him now. I mean he doesn’t even look like his father and they intend for everyone to believe them?” Matthew was shaking when Will opened the door and ushered the other shadowhunters inside.

   Will spotted him and smiled warmly. “James is in the-” He cut off abruptly and frowned walking over to Matthew quickly. “Math what happened to your face?” He said tilting Matthew’s face up so he could get a better look at his eye. Matthew just shook his head and gave him a charming smile. 

  “Nothing to worry about Mr. Herondale just a little bruise.” Will frowns and shakes his head. “Matthew, I know you aren’t going to talk to me but please tell James how you got that. He’s in the library.” Matthew looked down and nodded with a soft smile. “Yes sir.” 

   Will patted Matthew’s head and walked hesitantly into the room where the rest of the shadowhunters had gathered. Matthew let out his breath and tried to still his trembling form. It didn’t do much so he gave up and walked to the library.

   The library was quiet and Matthew headed over to where he knew James would be. When he got there he climbed on the window seat and put his head in James’ lap. James was reading Great Expectations and the only form of acknowledgement he gave Matthew was readjusting so his book was propped up on Matthew’s head.

   Matthew sighed and let the quiet overtake him. His thoughts went back to his parents as he went over the day again in his head. 

   It was his own fault his parents didn’t like him, his own fault that they wanted him to change. He was a drunk  who was useless at politics who liked to have fun but they didn’t know the half of it. They didn’t know he was a murder who drank to forget. They didn’t know he slept around because he didn’t think he deserved anything better than a one night stand. He could deal with other people hating him because no one hated him more than himself.

   He knew he was a monster. He knew that he had no right to be alive when his sister wasn’t. He wished with all his heart that his sister was here instead of him. If he ever got the chance he would switch their places in a heartbeat. 

   It was times like this that Matthew wished him and Charles were close because maybe he would tell Charles what happened. He didn’t really think he would even if they were close but at least Charles wouldn’t be so awful to him. Maybe then he would protect Matthew from all the cruel words instead of joining in. 

   But only good people deserve good things. That’s why his brother hated him. Because he wasn’t a good person. He was a god awful person and he didn’t understand how anyone could like him. He didn’t understand why James chose to agree to be parabatai. Maybe he did it out of pity or maybe he did it because he didn’t want to have lied to his dad.

   All of his friends were so good, how could any of them want him around. He didn’t deserve the way they treated him. He never had even before everything happened.

   Matthew thought of all the rumors he’d heard, not only about his parentage but about his reputation as well. Many people thought he did it to spite his mother because he didn’t love her. No one knew it was the opposite. No one understood what he did, let alone why he did it. No one cared enough to find out either.

    Matthew was so stuck in his head that he didn’t realize when he started crying. He didn’t respond to James’ anxious questioning either. James ran his hands through Matthew’s hair and repeated his name, a little louder each time.

   By the sixth time James had said it, growing more anxious each time, Matthew had jolted back to reality. He sat up quickly trying to rid of the tears that were flowing but to no avail. Matthew balled his hands into fists and pushed them into his eyes trying to stem the flow of tears forgetting about his bruised eye.

   Matthew gasped and quickly took his hand away. James finally saw his bruised face and gasped as well. “Bloody hell Math, what happened?” He asked frantically kneeling in front of Matthew and holding his hands down with one of his own using his free hand to tilt his chin down so he could see Matthew’s eye.

   Matthew let out a slightly hysterical laugh and shook his head. “You know you’re just like your dad.” Matthew mumbled looking away from James who frowned and pulled out his stele. “Matthew look at me.” Matthew turned his head further away. He couldn’t stop his tears and they were flowing faster now.

   James sighed and brought his chin back so he could look Matthew in his eyes. “Math, what happened?” Matthew shook his head, tears coming impossibly faster. He didn’t deserve James’ concern. He felt a sob in his throat and closed his eyes tightly. He shouldn’t let James see him like this. This was weak; he shouldn’t let anyone’s words get to him. He deserved them anyway.

   James was having none of his silence though and put both his hands on Matthew’s shoulders shaking him gently. “Matthew Fairchild look at me right now.” Matthew opened his eyes hesitantly and saw a fire burning in James’ gold eyes. Golden fire meeting green hills. 

   “Who did that to you.” Matthew broke then. He didn’t bother holding back his tears as he let his head fall on James’ collarbone. James put his arms around Matthew immediately, frowning. Matthew never cried, and when he did it was uncontrollable like this. James rubbed his back and muttered soothing words in his ear.

   “You’re okay, Math. You’re with me in the library. No one else is here, it’s just us. You can talk to me, I’m not going to make you, well I need to know how you got that bruise but I won’t make you talk to me about anything else.” Matthew only sobbed harder at that. James’ frown deepened and he shifted them so he was leaning against the window and Matthew was on his lap straddling him.

   Most people would see this as intimate, and it was, but not in the way other people thought it. This was the best way to calm Matthew down, James knew that better than anyone. Matthew was the kind of person who needed to be touched or held when he was upset and James knew that he felt safe when James held him like this.

   James could feel his shirt getting wet but he didn’t care. All he cared about was what had upset his parabatai so much. He rubbed soothing circles on Matthew’s back and Matthew took stuttering breaths trying to calm himself. James put Matthew’s hand on his back and took exaggerated breaths feeling encouraged as Matthew tried to match them.

   “You’re doing great Math, just breathe.” Matthew nodded against him and a few minutes later he was breathing normally again and the tears had slowed, not stopped, but slowed. James pulled back slightly and rested his forehead against Matthew’s. Matthew’s eyes were still closed but James kept his open trying to read his best friend’s face.

   “Math, can you tell me what happened now?” Matthew let out a bitter laugh. “I punched Charles.” He said, his voice thick from the tears. James looked at Matthew and shook his head. “That’s not what I asked.” James said, slightly confused. Matthew shrugged and moved backwards before settling his head against James’s chest again. “He retaliated.” 

   James felt his eyes widen. “Charles did that?”  He questioned bringing Matthew’s face back up to look at his eye again. It was in the middle of turning black. James scowled and glared at the bruise. “I’ll kill him.” Matthew rolled his eyes and hugged James resting his head on James shoulder. James wrapped his arms around Matthew, pulling him impossibly closer.

  “Did you not hear what I said? I punched him first. I was asking for it.” James made a noise of exasperation. “Okay then what did he do that made you punch him?” Matthew tensed and James started rubbing circles in his back, staying quiet until Matthew relaxed. “He was just talking crap about stuff he knows nothing about.” Matthew said quietly. James sighed, he knew what that meant.

   “You don’t have to protect me from everyone Math. I can protect myself.” Matthew scoffed and shook his head but James could hear the small smile in his voice. “Says the guy who told me he was going to kill my brother.” James rolled his eyes, his own smile playing at his lips. “I’m not the one with a black eye.”

   Matthew laughed softly and tucked his arms into James’ chest. Something James knew he did when he got cold. James pushed Matthew off of him slightly and Matthew pulled away with a poorly masked hurt expression. James grabbed his hand and shook his head.

   “You’re cold, I’m just getting a blanket and we can move to the couch.” Matthew nods standing up walking to the couch. He let’s James sit down first so he can slot himself between James’ legs. James is on his back half propped up on the arm of the couch and Matthew lays down on his stomach propping his chin up on James’ chest.

   James runs his hands through Matthew’s hair again feeling the silky strands. Matthew sighed content for the first time that day. He didn’t understand why James constantly looked after him but he would always appreciate it more than James could ever know. Matthew closes his eyes feeling the calming effect of James running his fingers through Matthew’s hair. 

   Matthew turned so his cheek was on James’ chest. James’ chest was hard but Matthew had always found it comfortable. He’d always considered James his home, his safe place. So this was typically how they ended up when one of them was upset.

   “Hey Math do you feel like talking or do you want to talk about this later? And don’t say later and think we won’t do it because I’ve had enough of giving you space. We need to talk.” James wasn’t looking at him but Matthew felt as if he could see his soul. All his secrets, his heart, his mind.

   Matthew shuddered, he wasn’t ready to tell James his secret. He couldn’t bare to lose his best friend, his soul, his parabatai. Not today.

   “Jamie, do the rumors ever bother you?” James looked down at me in concern but I don’t meet his eyes. “Math is that what this is about?” Matthew shakes his head slowly and raises up again so his chin is resting on James. Matthew looks everywhere but James’ eyes.

   “I just had a long day.” James frowns at him. “Math it’s ten in the morning.” Matthew closes his eyes tightly. “I’m well aware Jamie thank you.” James let out a huff of annoyance. “Okay then tell me about your day.” Matthew starts to shake his head but James groans and cuts him off. “No, you don’t get to deflect or say you don’t want to talk. I’m your parabatai Math, I can tell when something is wrong. Hell I can feel it.”

   Matthew lets out an exasperated sigh. “I’m fine. I just didn’t get much sleep last night.” James frowns, “Nightmares again?” Matthew nods slowly. They had shared a room many times and James was well aware of Matthew’s nightmares. Matthew had told him however, that they had stopped when in reality they had only gotten worse.

   “Okay, what happened after.” James said Matthew is simultaneously glad and annoyed that James knows him well enough to know that wasn’t the only thing that happened.

   “I showered and went to get breakfast but my parents were talking.” James’ eyebrows furrowed in confusion. “About what?” Matthew looked down again his cheeks burning from embarrassment.

   “They were talking about me. My reputation as a drunk partier. They were talking about how I need to grow up. My mother said I’m ruining her career and Jamie they’re right. Don’t.” Matthew said when he saw James open his mouth to protest. James gave him a hard look but stopped talking. “They are right because people already give my mom bloody hell for being a woman and then I ruin it for her further. I make a mess of everything my own parents hate me. I mess up everything and I can’t stop.” 

   James is looking at Matthew with a contemplative expression and stays quiet for a few minutes. Matthew shuffles around a bit, the silence building his anxiety. “Math you don’t really believe that right? You do know that’s not true?” Matthew looked away, frowning and James forced his head back. “Math none of that is true. You have to believe me. None of that is true.” 

   Matthew shook his head sadly and smiled at James. “Jamie I will never stop loving you for seeing the best in people but your being daft. I know I’m your parabatai but it’s okay to agree with them.” James look as if Matthew had struck him across the face.

  “Matthew Fairchild when have I ever led you to believe I thought anything they said was true? Do you believe I should die for being a demon’s grandchild?” James was looking at Matthew furiously and Matthew ducked his head. He was not used to being the target of that look. “James you know I don’t believe that.” James huffed, “Then what in Raziel’s name led you to believe I would?” 

   Matthew furrowed his eyebrows, James wasn’t listening. “Because James you were born this way it’s not something you can change and you constantly prove yourself worthy. James, I do this to myself. Everything they whisper about me aside from me being a bastard child is true. I am a drunk. I do sleep around. Jamie all of that is true.” James flinched and Matthew let out an exasperated sigh. 

   “Jamie I’m not trying to upset you.” Matthew makes a move to get up but James tightens his hold around Matthew’s waist. “Where could you possibly be going Matthew.” James said his golden eyes boring into Matthew’s emerald ones. Matthew sighed and collapsed back onto James too tired to fight. 

   “I’m being a burden so I’m leaving so if you would kindly let me go.” Matthew said, moving to get up again. James frowned and pulled Matthew back to his chest with both arms. “Math please don’t go. We don’t have to talk anymore but please don’t go.” Matthew buried his face in James’ neck in response. 

   They sat like that for a few minutes before Matthew turned his head, pressing his cheek against James’ chest. “Read to me?” Matthew asked quietly, staring at the fire he just realized was burning. James ran his fingers through Matthew’s hair and grabbed his copy of Great Expectations and started reading aloud from where he left off.

   As James read, Matthew found himself nodding off. Right before Matthew lost consciousness he heard James’ gentle voice in his ear as James brushed some hair away that had fallen in his face. “I’ll get you to believe me one day Math I promise. And when you want to talk about why you’re always upset I’ll be here.”

   Matthew fell asleep then, and for the first time in seven days, he didn’t have a single nightmare.

#matthew fairchild #matthew and james #james herondale #heronstairs #parabatai #bad day #charlotte fairchild #henry fairchild #charles fairchild #will herondale #rumors #the last hours

[artemuerto]

Shelby Household Manor

Pairing: Thomas Shelby/Male Reader

Trigger Warning: Intent of Kidnappin, Someone gets shot, Charlis is an Angel, Tommy is still Soft.

Author Notes: The begining scene is the reason why i even started writing part two, but after i finish it, i didn't feel like ending the whole story with such a bloody end and a bad punch line, so instead i made a bonus chapther for this story that seemed to grow by its own.  @sallyjacksontheweirdauthor you said, you would like to read more about the Shelby House.

Part One

Part Two

Read on AO3

Bonus

The Master

—5—

There was blood on the carpet.

There was. So. Much. Blood.

Everywhere. Everywhere he looked, he could see the vicious, sticky colour blooming around the house, the walls; there was a trail of crimson red following his steps combined with shattered glass in a path of destruction, the servant soundlessly walked, relentless, non-stopping and with only one goal in mind until he stood cold in the middle of the empty office, half seated on top of the desk while embracing a silent Charlie who refused to let him go as his tiny fists had an iron grip on his clothes.

He has never seen hell but after a night like the one they just had, the young boy had an idea, a though that maybe this was what hell looked like. Aching limbs, dry throat and broken lips, torn muscles for the continue used and a rising mind with no time for a break, for fresh air and calmness. The servant boy had only one goal in mind and with all his might he would achieved it.

The boy was able to hear the voices approaching. Loud and clear they came as the doors opened up letting through a couple of people he didn’t know, although, by the likes of it seemed as the newcomers were part of the Peaky Blinders, if he had to judge their appearances.

A double pair of eyes set on the shivering boy and started to scream at him once they recognized the quiet shape of Charlie resting in his arms.

“We found him!” One of the boys shouted at whoever was standing by the hall. However, no sense of security it came from the view, he didn’t recognize any of the faces coming toward him. “Boy—” it was cleared by now that those men didn’t knew him either and so did not trust him with having Charlie in his grasp. “You betta give me the child.” Their words were thick with hatred that the boy was not used to hear, no less in his place of work such as the Shelby Household Manor where he got accustomed to listen to Charlie’s laugh at any time of the day.

The boy was about to move when a still frighten Charlie hugged him harder and so in his need to comfort the child, the servant retracted shielding the youngest Shelby from the strangers.

“Listen ‘ere you motherfuck’r…” the Peaky boys started to close onto the servant, trapping him into the desk and by doing so sending Charlie into a frenzy of whips that sent shivers down their spines. The mere thought of their boss finding his son crying was absolute not pleasing even when the man was no way around. “Give me the child.” The tread was made and gun soon followed.

Something broke within him. Who could aim to a baby?

The servant hugged Charlie hiding the child’s face to his neck and yelled.

“Stay away from me!” The adrenaline flooding through his body was burning and busting, his sense of fight or flight was back even when his brain told him it was safe to stay with the Peaky Blinders. They were looking for Charlie after all, they would bring Charlie to his father, the servant knew that, the servant wanted to believe that; but it was, in fact, that belief that led them all to that faithful night of horrors. Someone had passed off as a Peaky boy and tried to Charlie away while his father was gone.

So, no. The young boy could not trust those man. He would not trust those man. He would fight with nails and teeth to protect Charlie until mister Shelby came for the boy.

“LISTEN YOU LIL BITCH—” The obvious threat was forgotten as the servant shot the gun he had in his trembling hand at the unknown gang member. The noise itself was enough to stir something dark and scary. He failed, the young boy was by no means good with guns, he didn’t even have a good aim when playing ball with Charles, but his message was known. If any of them came close to Charlie, they would get a bullet. The Peaky boys were not expecting such a harsh reaction, it was only a scrawny boy, bit tall for his age, with marks and bruises all over his face and disheveled clothes. What harm could the lonely boy do?

Now, they knew.

Nobody moved and Charlie had time to calm down when Arthur came in bursting into the door, his voice loud and clear with orders.

“What the fuck in going on here?” He had heard the gunshot and ran as fast as he could, fearing the worst, when a sheer of light crossed his features. Arthur recognized the darken face that was staring at him in fear and horror. Arthur knew that boy, he knew this servant.

Arthur said his name with a sweet gentleness unknown to others and ordered for the rest of the boys to lower their guns in a silent gesture.

“C’mon now, boy. You know me.” The servant was still tilting the gun at the newcomers before realizing who was talking to him. It was one of the Shelby brothers. It was one of his master’s brothers, the servant knew he could trust this man with his life such as Mister Shelby did.

“Arthur, sir.” The hint of formality even after such a hectic night and moments made Arthur laugh against his best judgement.

“Yes, boy. It’s me.” Arthur smiled looking at the servant boy while relaxing his shoulders. “Good ol’ Arthur.” The young one wanted to smile in return when Charlie turned in his arms and called for his father.

“Sir—” His frighten demeanor and worry was obvious even for the usual clueless Arthur. “Mister Shelby…” The boy didn’t need to finish his request when the oldest Shelby let him know that Tommy was on his way.

It’s alright, Charlie. It’s alright, baby. You’re ok now. You’re all good. He had said to the crying boy as he ran for their lives escaping whoever was after them. The young servant was out doing his usual runs around the manor, locking doors and checking windows when he found an open window thanks to the waving curtains that moved by the tune of the summer wind. Closing it, double checking and turning off the lights, he left and while he was about to go upstairs, he spotted an obscure figure holding a struggling Charlie. Charlie was meant to be put to sleep long hours ago, and Anna had bed him good night respectfully, so that raised a bunch of questions, starting with: Where was Anna?

Anna rested lifeless by a man’s feet.

He had run to Charlie with unknown force to himself, pure panic flood through him while imagining the worst, Charlie called for him and he knew then he wouldn’t trust that man.

Now, still standing in Mr. Shelby’s office with a nervous Arthur trying to calm him down and putting the rest of the boys to a hold while waiting for Tom.

“Tommy’s coming, Charlie.” Arthur reassured his nephew and he could see how the boy calmed after hearing about his father. Soon, shouts were heard. The distinguished voice of one and only Thomas Shelby was hard to miss, the man cried for his baby boy bearing his gun at anyone who dare to cross path with him.

“You hear that, Charlie?” The young one spoke with a tired, raspy voice catching the baby’s attention. “That’s daddy. Daddy’s coming to get you.”

The have both hid in one of the rooms. The servant fought the intruder with a fearless conviction, his need to save the youngest of the family was deep in his bones surpassing his non-existent skills or his lack of knowledge. With angry fists and sharp nails, he hit the man and scratch his face, kicked him between the legs just how mister Shelby had taught him once as he begged for Charlie to go, to hide away but the stubborn boy stood close by crying for him until the kidnapper seemed unconscious enough so they could leave together.

Charlie had whimpered against his clothes and when he went to hug the boy, he realized he was covered in blood. Not his blood, but still. Anna’s blood. The man had shot her after she had tried to elude him and by doing so saving Charlie from getting hurt, dropping him to the floor. The servant took his vest off staying in his shirt only and cleaned Charlie’s face from all trail of heaviness.

“I want daddy.” Charlie had said to him before they tried and looked for a way out. The servant could hear voices looking for them, it seemed someone had planned to attack the house while the head of the family was out doing business for the night. Tommy had left with a short smile and a warm touch Charlie still remembered, his father had promised to spent time with him on the weekend after a long week of work and he was looking forward to it. Charlie had been practicing his violin lessons by playing in front of the servants and other people in the house.

They all compliment him and Charlie only hoped his father would also like it. He had practiced hard all week until the tip of his fingers hurt.

The boy looked at the Shelby child and promised him, they would see his father. He would do everything in his power and would not stop until Charlie was with his father again.

“Don’t worry, Charlie. Daddy’s gonna come for you. Daddy will always come for you.” Little did the boy know, Tommy would search for them both in an equal fiercely need. “You’ll see daddy soon.”

Also, the young one didn’t know how close they would be to find the head of the family.

After hiding in mister Shelby’s office, the boy took the gun he knew Thomas kept in his desk and waited. The voices were long gone as guns were fired, screams and sheers of pain were heard, and an eerie calmness took over. A stillness proper of disaster was approaching and somehow he feared the worst, but what they got were waves of another Peaky Blinders lookalike right before Arthur showed up.

Arthur kept to himself imitating a guardian dog as the young servant whispered to Charlie in anticipation to meeting his father once again, the child held the comforting body of the servant before shrugging at the sound of the door bursting one more time.

Mister Shelby was a mess, to say the least, long forgotten was his pristine suit. The jacket was lost and even when his shirt was still bottom up, it was all wrinkled, the shoulder holster was visible, the shiny straps wide in the open and while his gun was still warm in his hand, the young one couldn’t help but shield Charlie’s view to the bath of blood that was his father, even for a little. Tommy was covered in blood. Both his shoulders were splashed as well as his chest. But what shocked him was mister Shelby’s face.

Thomas’ high cheeks were covered almost completely, barely any spots were left untouched; his forehead had a big stain right in the middle with moving lines that painted him as he walked and moved, the young one didn’t even fathom to imagine how mister Shelby could have gotten blood in his ears and so his lips. His piercing steel blue eyes and his red right hand supporting his warm gun was truly a sight to behold. His expression was wild and non-centered, Thomas was loosing his mind at the thought of loosing his baby boy, the only truthful memory and gift from his long lost wife. So, of course, he had butchered every single one of the people behind that disastrous plan and sent Arthur back to the manor after a tortured man told the true and how the original idea was to take Charlie from his bed that night. Only they hadn’t count with a feisty little thing who fought for Charlie with his life.

Seeing Charlie after being lost in sorrows for so long was like a waterfall of happiness had bath him in peace. His baby boy seemed held together and in one piece, sheltered between protective arms that refuse to leave him alone even after Tom was in the room.

Thomas stood near the door, he could see and hear how the fearful boy whispered to his baby trying to calm him and easily managed to do so. Charlie trusted the boy holding him and so Tommy’s heart was set. Mister Shelby gave Arthur his gun and walked pass him reaching for his son, only to be shock by a sense of cold surprise as the servant dodge him in terror. Tommy felt denied, he felt rejected and almost screamed in need to hold his son and take it away from any harm but soon understood that his baby was in no danger as Charlie melted in the boy’s embrace.

The young one kept whispering slowly not really realizing mister Shelby was in the room, his brain was high-wired in horror, and the only reason he was still in place was because he knew Arthur was close by and the man wouldn’t let anything happen to them. Tommy cleaned his hands and half kneeled trying to relax, showing the boy he had nothing to be scared for; tilting his head to a side, Tommy called the boy by his name like so little times he had done in the past.

The ring of his name awaken him from his lethargic stupor and in his eyes was clear the surprise to be so close to his master. The servant boy straightened his back and met his master eyes with a pinch of uneasiness, as if fearing he had failed mister Shelby and so, the man would be mad in any way. Thou, he had.  He had failed to keep the house safe even with the non-spoken protection of the Peaky Blinders, enemies had managed to enter the house and were almost successful in taking Charlie away from them, away from his family. He had failed Tommy and Charlie almost suffered from it. The boy was about to cry.

Tommy could see the boy’s distress even for moments he thought it was caused by something else. His house was a disaster, chaos and violence was a path he knew very well but had worked so damn hard to keep his son apart form and even the ones that lived with him at the manor. Now, he could see he had been sloppy, Tommy thought by now people would not try and threaten his family, his family name had a price, a status, a terrifying power that only fools would try to break; and there were fools who had tried, he could see it now. Having a couple of Peaky Blinders posting as guards hadn’t been enough for the night and his family had suffered the price for his lack of meticulousness, but no more. He was home now and he would make it all alright.

“Little one…” He called one more time and finally had a reaction from the boy. Tommy could see the boy trembling harder than leaves in winter and with each passing second where he detailed the younger’s appearance, he could see trails of anger, violence and hatred all over his body. His boy lacked his usual clothes and noticed Charlie was missing clothes also, his boy’s hands that still grasped onto Charlie with almost paternal feistiness were splotched with blood being washed away from past struggles. His hair was all over the place but it served a purposed to show him how much his servant had been rough out. His boy had a black eye, cuts all over his face and a nurturing bruise on one of his cheeks, blossoming marks around his neck with a split lip that had stopped bleeding a while back and it only made Tommy ached. Ached for not being there and staying to protect what mattered to him, to keep and safe from harm everything that was important to him. Tommy moved narrowly so after the boy shifted to show his body and his son.

“Mister Shelby…” His voice was low and raspy, missing every little tint of happiness Tommy learnt to love with time. Charlie jumped from his arms to his father with need and shame, the baby started crying; Charlie had been so brave, stood still in silence and seemly unfazed waited for the moment he was reunited with Tom. “They killed her, sir.” The boy mentioned Anna with hollow eyes and Thomas remembered the cold body laying by the stairs lamenting his boys had to be witness of something like that; they had to take care of her family and give a proper burrier. The younger one felt finally at ease and about to give the man a smile he was when his legs failed him after all and almost fell back.

Tommy reached out for him and the boy calmed his nerves by smiling openly with an unknown warmth. That’s it until his senses fully recovered and the realization of his actions hit him harder than a brick. He had shot one of the Peaky Blinders, he had almost killed someone and doesn’t even want to start asking what was about the man he left unconscious in the living room, but yes, he had fired a gun and there was a mark on the floor.  

“Mister Shelby,” the concern was clear as air. There was a gunshot on the floor. And so much blood everywhere. “I’m sorry…” Tommy arched an eyebrow unsure of what would leave his servant’s lips. “There’s blood on the carpets.”

The head of the Shelby family laughed wholeheartedly after so long.

“Sweetheart, you just save my son. I don’t care about the bloody carpets.”

—6—

Tommy played dead. Charlie was resting in his arms as the boy refused to leave his father sight and protective embrace, so the father didn’t want to disrupt his baby’s sleep even when his own mind was thinking, planning and webbing; Charlie curled into his chest and in a mere thought Tommy held him by placing a careful hand on top of his head.

“Daddy,” Charlie still spoke in whispers and low murmurs as in fearing he would be heard and someone would finally come to get him away from home.

“Yes, love?” Tommy kissed his son’s forehead and started at him, letting him know he had his whole attention.

“Can we go?” Where? Tommy wanted to ask but with one look at his son, he knew where the boy longed to be at those moments, even after that long day and tiresome hours, even resting assure in his father’s arms, Charlie still worried for the young boy who kept him safe all this time.

The knock on his door startled him making the boy jump only remaining calm when the known figure of a sleepy Charlie was able to his eyes.

“Charlie? What are you—” his half question wasn’t answer when he saw Tommy going into his room following the steps of his son who had him by the hand. “Mister Shelby!” With a gesture Tommy let him stayed in his sit, half laying on the bed.

The servant didn’t have time to focus on the bizarre feeling that was having his boss in his room when Charlie asked if they could sleep with him that night. “You, what?” Tommy hid an amuse smirk and let Charlie asked for what he wanted that moment.

“Can we sleep here tonight?” The boy was so confused as to why the poor boy wanted to be with him at those hours, he had his father after all, why go for him? “I’m scared someone will take you away.” Charlie confessed after a while and the young servant felt his heart breaking; Charlie had lost so much already; he didn’t want for more people to leave his life.

“It’s alright, love. You can stay here.” Unknown to the servant was how mister Shelby called his son in private but it was a pleasant surprise for Tommy to discover, they both called Charlie the same to reassure him their love and affection. Charlie jumped to the bed and hid under the covers trapping the young one to the wall, only to reappear when he realized his father wasn’t there with him.

“Dad?” Now was the time for the young boy to look mortified while mister Shelby look his old impassive self, as if his own son inviting him to another’s bed was the normal thing to do.

“You go to sleep, Charlie.” Tommy sat near the bed and lighted a cigarette, flicking the light in front of his eyes. He stayed with his back to the wall watching as mister Shelby smoked slowly, dragging every breath and enjoying the peace and quiet. When Tom didn’t say anything else, the boy awkwardly went back to bed, joining Charlie between the sheets; with his head on the pillow, the three of them shared a moment in silent.

Charlie fell asleep short after, the exhaustion of the day finally catching up with him and the Shelby boy drifted away in dreams with sweet gurgling, holding onto the servant with a hand. The young one played with Charlie’s hair until he felt the baby stopped being worried and was left to rest.

He felt himself falling asleep with the combined scent of diluted Tabaco and the passing cologne of Tommy with the dying spark of the cigar that slowly began to be extinguished, by then, Tommy sat on the edge of the bed and placed a hand on his servant boy’s hair.

“Sleep now, little one.” Tommy began to played with his hair imitating what he had done for Charlie hours prior. “You’re safe now, so sleep.”

“Thank you, sir.” He was so grateful for his master, for showing he cared, he appreciated all of them and every person working for him, but specially those taking care of his family. “Thank you.”

Thank you for coming back for me.

#Tommy Shelby #Thomas Shelby #Male Reader #Tommy Shelby x Male Reader #Thomas Shelby x Male Reader #Tommy Shelby x Reader #Shelby Household Manor #in english #mis escritos #Arte Muerto

[marvelyningreen]

Even If it Changes Nothing

[Summary: Erik Lehnsherr isn’t the same man he was in his youth. It may be too late for it to do any good, but there’s someone he needs to apologize to.

Notes: XCU, canon characters only]

Erik took a deep, steadying breath and let it out slowly. After everything he’d seen, after everything he’d done, this was what put his stomach in knots.

He’s certain that Charles would find the moment terribly amusing. Fortunately for him, Charles wasn’t there. Erik squared his shoulders, and rang the doorbell.

For a moment, all he heard was the quiet sounds of life on the suburban street. Then, from within the house, footsteps crossing the floor. The door swung open, and Erik found himself fixed with an icy glare.

“The hell are you doing here,” said Magda.

Somehow, it wasn’t phrased as a question. Erik knew she wouldn’t be happy to see him. That’s part of the reason he’d turned up on her doorstep unannounced, really. That wasn’t to say that Magda wouldn’t slam the door in his face, of course. She had the backbone, the self-respect, and every right to do just that. But maybe, seeing him face-to-face like this, she’d actually hear him out.

Erik summoned up a smile. “May I come in?”

Magda regarded him silently. The years hadn’t changed her keen, scrutinizing gaze, that much was certain. She sighed, her shoulders dropping ever so slightly.

“You might as well,” she said. “I’ll have a lot of explaining to do if any of the neighbors recognize you.”

She unlocked the screen door, stepping aside for Erik to let himself in.

Magda was every bit as beautiful as she’d been when Erik knew her, and just as strong and self-possessed. It’s what he’d always admired about her. He gently closed the door behind himself.

“If you’re looking for Peter, he’s not here,” Magda said. “Try the school.”

“That’s not why I’m here,” said Erik. “I just want to talk, Magda.”

Her jaw tightened, and she folded her arms. “You’re gonna turn up here after this many years and call me ‘Magda?’”

Erik blinked. “That’s your real name.”

“And what makes you think you have any right to use it?”

They’d both had too much to drink that night, and between the alcohol and the warmth of their companionship, Erik found himself saying too much. Bits of his history came out – things that he’d never meant to tell anyone about his past, his family, what’d happened to them.

In return, she’d shared a bit of her own history. Her parents were an Eastern European Romani couple, living in Austria. One the eve of the Anschluss, they fled, eventually making their way to America.

But the fear never left them. They hid their heritage, never saying much about their ancestry, never speaking their native tongue outside their house. And, in a bid to protect their child from facing persecution, they decided to westernize their names.

That’s how Erik learned that Mary Maximoff’s true name was Magda Maximov. She’d never told that to anyone else, she’d said. From that night, Erik never once called her ‘Mary’ again. He’d never thought of her as anything but ‘Magda.’

But using that name now… It implied a great deal of familiarity and trust – both things he’d long since forfeited.

“You’re right,” said Erik.

Magda- No. Mary held his gaze for a second as she turned around – a silent, begrudging invitation to follow her further into the house. In the kitchen, she produced a bottle of whiskey. After another long, hard look at Erik, she brought two glasses down from the cabinet, filling them both and pushing one across the counter to him.

That was the closest thing to an olive branch that he was bound to get.

“So? You said you wanted to talk. Now talk.” Mary took a drink.

Erik picked up his glass, contemplated it for a moment, and set it back down.

“I wanted to apologize,” he said.

Mary let out a harsh, incredulous laugh. “Apologize? For what, leaving me alone as an unwed mother in the 1950’s?”

“I didn’t know-” Erik began, but it sounded like an excuse even to his own ears.

“Of course you didn’t,” said Mary. “You just packed up and left, off on your one-man quest for revenge again. I tried to contact you, you know that? But you did an excellent job of making that impossible.”

He’d gotten a lead on the men he’d been hunting. He didn’t have any time to waste – or so he’d thought at the time. He told himself that he’d always meant to come back. Even then, part of him must have known that it was a lie.

“Are you going to try to tell me it would’ve been different if you’d known about Peter?” Mary asked, raising her chin.

Erik’s gaze drifted to his hands, still resting on the countertop. A family wasn’t part of his plans, not back then.

“That’s what I thought,” Mary said. She took another drink. “You were never one to care about individuals, Erik. All you ever cared about was the big picture, and all your moralizing about tearing it all down and rebuilding a better world.”

It was a painful truth that Erik had tried for many years not to acknowledge. He hadn’t once considered what might’ve become of Mary, or of any other human he’d encountered. The consequences of his actions were simply a byproduct of a higher mission – either necessary sacrifices or too inconsequential to consider.

“I told everyone I was a widow,” Mary continued, “That I’d gone back to my maiden name to avoid painful reminders. It wasn’t too much of a stretch. You were dead to me already.”

He deserved that. Mary cleared her throat, turning her attention to topping off her glass. Erik got the impression that she was saying more than she meant to. Well, if she needed to call him out for his sins, he owed it to her to listen.

“Raising a son on your own,” said Erik, “How did you do it?”

A bitter smile tugged at her mouth. “Luckily, my parents were still alive at the time. They helped me take care of Peter while I went to school to become a nurse. It was hard work, but it let me support us all.”

All. Erik had heard Peter mention a younger sister. He couldn’t help but notice her picture alongside Peter’s – a little red-haired girl named Gwendolyn. Another mouth for Mary to feed on her own.

If things had been different, could this have been his future? A wife, a son, an ordinary life here in America? Would it all have come crashing down around him just the same? Would he have lost them, too?

No, that way lies madness. And in any case, Erik knew himself better than that. Nothing would have deterred him from his goal, not even a loving family. Erik took a slow sip of the whiskey.

“When Peter gained his powers, I was terrified,” Mary said. “Not because he was a mutant. I just didn’t want him to end up like you.”

Not even an attempt to soften the statement. It almost made Erik laugh, but that certainly wouldn’t have helped the situation.

“Well, that makes two of us,” he said. “And then, to see him run headlong into danger the way he did. I can’t imagine how that must’ve felt.”

Mary’s bleak expression answered for her. She took another long sip of whiskey.

“For what it’s worth,” said Erik, “And I know it isn’t worth much, coming from me, but… You raised him well. Peter is a good man – selfless and brave. I know he learned that from you.”

In his younger days, Erik was a man consumed by grief and pain and vengeance. He would’ve been a poor excuse for a father, and they both knew it. But that didn’t erase his neglect.

“You know all my explanations already, and all my excuses,” said Erik. “And nothing I say can undo the past. But I owe you this much – to tell you that I am truly sorry for what I’ve done.”

He retrieved a folded piece of paper from his pocket.

“I also wanted you to have his,” he said, holding it out to Mary.

Her eyes narrowed as she took it. “What is it?”

“It’s my contact information. If there’s ever anything you need-”

“You’ve got a lot of nerve assuming that I’d need your help,” Mary interrupted, “Or that I’d even want it.”

Erik closed his eyes for a moment at the sharpness of her words.

“I know,” he said. “Believe me, I know. You may tear it up, if you wish. But if there’s anything I can do, if there’s any way I can begin to make up for how I’ve hurt you – please. I want to make amends, if I can.”

Mary’s grip on the paper tightened for a moment. She pursed her lips.

“I heard about what happened. In Poland, I mean,” she said softly. “I’m sorry, Erik.”

She looked up again, meeting his gaze. For a moment, the pain and anger were gone. Her expression was simply full of that sincere compassion that first drew him to her those many years ago. The same genuine kindness, even the same name that his beloved wife had possessed.

Erik’s throat tightened.

“Thank you,” he said.

He looked down again, finishing off his whiskey at once.

Once again, someone was being far kinder to him than he deserved. Erik wasn’t sure what he’d expected to feel after this conversation. Closure? He didn’t feel any such thing, and he was certain Mary didn’t either. But maybe – just maybe – there was the beginning of peace.

“I’ll take my leave of you,” he said, setting down the glass.

Mary made no attempt to prevent him from going, and he didn’t expect her to. She followed as he made his way to the door.

“Thank you – for allowing me into your home, and for giving me the chance to apologize.” Erik hesitated, his hand on the door. “May I… May I call you ‘Mary,’ then?”

A faint, exasperated smile crossed her face.

“I suppose I won’t make you call me ‘Ms. Maximoff,’ if that’s what you mean,” she said. “Yes, ‘Mary’ is fine.”

“Alright.” Erik said. “Then, goodbye, Mary.”

He was halfway over the threshold before Mary’s voice stopped him.

“Listen, no matter what’s happened in my life,” she said, “I love my children with all my heart. You’re half the reason that Peter exists. In the grand scheme of things, I guess that counts for something good.”

Erik turned back to her, smiling.

“I may be half the reason he exists,” he said, “But you’re the entire reason he grew up to be a hero.”

It was a little saccharine, but nonetheless true.

“Goodbye, Erik,” Mary said.

Erik closed the door behind him, and stepped out into the day.

#x men fanfiction #fox x men #erik lehnsherr #dadneto #can’t tag peter in good conscience but it’s peter-adjacent #don’t know why this scene came to mind today but here we are #and a bit of an attempt to reconcile the xcu with comics canon #if I goofed anything too badly please let me know #xcu #just shouting into the void #magneto

[themarriageplace321]

Do you know how to hear feedback with grace?

There was a time when I couldn’t hear criticism.

I was easily offended and very defensive.

When someone tried to tell me I was wrong or had hurt them in some way, I would immediately justify my actions, minimize them or dispute the facts.

It wasn’t that I didn’t believe I had flaws. I would frequently admit to being very flawed. You can sound very noble as you paint yourself with broad strokes of imperfection but the grit is in the details.

I could put someone else under a microscope but wanted to keep my own specific transgressions at a distance. Even just writing this makes me feel, well, yuck.

I was so defensive because I had a very fragile sense of my own worth.

When someone gave me tough criticism, I sank into despair.

I easily dropped into toxic shame-that place where I felt worthless and broken. To avoid feeling so badly, I avoided honest feedback.

I didn’t realize then how self-indulgent it is to go to toxic shame.

Think about it: if someone tells you something about yourself you don’t like, and you sink into despair, you still aren’t holding yourself accountable. You are beating yourself up but not changing anything.

In essence, you are sending out the message that you are too fragile for the truth. You are either expecting those around you to soothe you and minimize your actions or enabling them to avoid confronting you. Or both.

Married couples who can’t take criticism land in my office all the time.

Couples dance these same steps over and over. I see it in my office. Charles and Mindy are a particular couple I have in mind. (Names have been changed to maintain confidentiality.)

Charles is a bully. He is big and loud.

When something doesn’t go the way he thinks it should, he yells and curses until his family caves.

Mindy is scared of Charles. Not physically-as far as I know, he has never raised his hand to anyone. But his yelling is just as intimidating to his family.

Charles is like a lot of bullies. He is very charming and playful when he isn’t raging. He comes across like a big, lovable teddy bear-until he shows his claws.

And this is how he justifies his bad behavior. Since only his family sees this other side of him, he is well liked by everyone. He often reasons that his family is overly sensitive because he has no problems with anyone else.

Standing up to a bully

After working with Mindy, she was finally able to stand up to Charles. She stopped letting him have his way and when he would yell, she would set limits on how much she was exposed to that behavior. This infuriated Charles even more. He said he felt attacked and that Mindy was controlling him!

When Mindy told him he was a bully and why, instead of looking at his behavior and feeling remorse, he pouted. He moped around the house for days. He gave everyone the silent treatment.

He took every opportunity to let everyone know that he was apparently a big, bad ogre. Sometimes he appeared to get it and would cry and ask her why she stayed with him if he was so bad. He did everything but actually change his actions.

See the self-indulgence? When you wrong someone, true remorse says, “I’m so sorry. What can I do to make you feel better?” Charles is saying “If what you say is true, I’m a terrible person. What can you do to make me feel better?”

Defensiveness breeds shamelessness.

Giving and receiving feedback increases intimacy in such a powerful way. I cannot underestimate the importance.

Charles and Mindy will never have a truly intimate relationship until Charles can hear what Mindy is trying to tell him AND he holds himself accountable for it.

Right now, Mindy is willing to wait and see if Charles can let go of his defense mechanisms and allow himself to be vulnerable, and if he will accept her vulnerability. I don’t know how long she will wait in this holding pattern.

Charles is on borrowed time but it doesn’t have to be that way. He is risking losing everything he holds dear just because he will not hear the truth.

Are you married to someone who can’t take criticism?

If you are married to someone who cannot hear the truth, I feel particularly bad for you. That’s a tough situation. But you aren’t stuck. Mindy is learning how to set limits on bad behavior.

There is more conflict, but Mindy is getting stronger each day. One day, I believe Charles will have to face the truth or face living alone. But Mindy is more at peace today than any other time in her marriage. Only she can decide if that is good enough.

You need to be able to hear feedback to keep you grounded. Otherwise, you will become shameless.

Shameless people are obnoxious, intrusive, immature people.

The first person who comes to mind when I think of shameless is Donald Trump. He offends in outrageous ways. Whether you love or hate him, you know he is offensive. He needs someone in his life who is willing to tell him the truth and set loving limits on his outrageous behavior.

How a therapist learned to receive criticism and feedback

I learned how to hear criticism and it completely changed my life. It taught me how to be more relational to others, including towards my husband. It also taught me how to be more relational to myself! I no longer dip into toxic shame on a regular basis. I have learned to accept that I am imperfect and it is ok to be imperfect.

I learned how to give feedback in my therapy training, but I didn’t learn how to receive it until a therapist confronted me. It was ugly. But it was also life-changing.

How to give feedback well

When giving feedback, always ask if someone is willing and ready to hear your opinion. Never force your feedback on anyone.

Once they are ready for it, state your feedback without a lot of emotion. It’s so much easier to hear tough criticism if you aren’t angry when you speak your truth. Just state the facts and do so without judgement.

And no name calling, please! Not if you want to give the person on the receiving end even a remote chance of hearing you.

How to receive feedback well

When receiving feedback, fight the urge to defend, minimize or rationalize. Just hear them.

Then run it through 3 filters:

Is it true?

Is it untrue?

Is it questionable?

If it is questionable, find out more information. Ask for examples. Once I have more information, I then have ask myself again if it is true or untrue.

If it is true, make amends if you can and be gentle with yourself. You are human and you are going to mess up.

If it is untrue, step back emotionally. Do not try and convince the feedback giver they are mistaken. They are allowed their perspective. When I experience this, I detach my emotions and I also detach from convincing the other person it is untrue. They are allowed their own opinion and perspective. Sometimes we have to agree to disagree.

If the person giving the feedback has been hurt by your actions or attitude because they misunderstood or misinterpreted the situation, gently let them know you had no intention to hurt them.

Staying accountable with new skills

I never want to go back to the self-indulged ducking and dodging that kept me blind to how others saw me. To make sure I don’t go back, I have people in my life who hold me accountable.

When I hear, “Are you open to some feedback?” I view it as a gift. Even though what I’m about to hear may be painful, seeing how someone else is viewing me is priceless. When I hear feedback, I go through the process I described above. I ask myself, “Is it true? Is it untrue? Is it questionable?”

Instead of being defensive, I brace myself and hang on for the deep dive in the intimacy pool. I listen for the truth in what they are telling me, and I remind myself it is ok to be imperfect.

I make amends when and where I can and I resolve to do it better next time. Then I thank God for putting people in my life who will tell me the truth.

This process keeps me grounded. It keeps me from being shameless. It keeps me relational so that the people in my life feel closer to me. I’m willing to hear their truth.

As a result, I feel stronger and more secure. My relationships are closer and more intimate. And now, I am very adept at appropriately giving honest feedback to others. And that’s a gift too! Because I am no longer putting up with bad behavior or building resentment toward others.

Are you defensive when it comes to criticism?

If you are the person who is defensive, I know how you feel. It can be scary to admit you have an ugly side. But guess what? Everyone has an ugly side. Not looking at it only allows your ugly to get uglier.

Be brave. Clean yourself up. Wash off the shamelessness. When your family sees who you really are, chances are they will love you more not less.

They may stay where they are now because they are afraid or intimidated, but that isn’t love and intimacy. And somewhere inside of you, you know that. It feels cheap because it is​ cheap.

Come out from behind your wall and see if they love you more. It is possible you will be rejected. But that’s why intimacy is so messy and scary and real. It is unpredictable and involves other flawed human beings. All you can do is show up as your best self. But the reward is worth the risk.

I promise.

There’s help for learning how to manage criticism and grow intimacy in relationships

We can help if you or someone you are in relationship with can’t hear the truth.

Our coaches and counselors are trained in telling you the things about yourself that others see but don’t feel safe to tell you. We do this with compassion and without judgment-and then we will hold you accountable. That’s our gift to you.

Learn more at https://themarriageplace.com

#couple counseling #individual counseling #marriage counseling #family counseling #metal health

[violetmuses]

Grey || Chapter 2

Dedications: @clints-lucky-arrow @mymagicsuitcase @mypoisonedvine @punemy-spotted

__________

2023

Helmut Zemo

“I was a God. I did what no other scientist since Erskine was able to do, but mine was going to be different. No clunky machines or jacked up bodies. Mine was going to be subtle, optimized, perfect.” Dr. Nagel held enough arrogance to proclaim so-called immortality. We learned as well that Nagel recreated twenty vials of the damn Serum before Karli Morgenthau had stolen those items. I kept scowling, eying his boxed lab with disgust. Across the room, James and Sam were still alert nearby.

“How have we never heard about this?” Sam reasonably questioned soon after lowering his own firearm. James still kept his weapon close, planning to threaten Nagel once more if need be.

“Before I was able to complete my work, I turned to dust. When I returned, it was five years later. The program had been abandoned, so I came here. The Power Broker was more than happy to fund the recreation of my work.” Nagel continued speaking, his voice low but still purposeful. I quietly armed myself after finding a gun tucked under one silver cart.

“Where’s Karli now?” Sam probed once more as expected, keeping calm despite our current situation of urgency. With each passing moment, I’d become restless, but knew better than to react before questioning truly gripped its strong point.

“I don't know where Karli is, but a couple of days ago, she called and asked if I could help someone named Donya Madani. The poor woman has tuberculosis and it’s a typical consequence of overpopulation in displacement camps like that.” Nagel offered more information and I still listened intently, despite holding the gun.

“What happened to Donya?” Sam then asked logically to volley himself back for this interrogation.

“Not my pig, not my farm.” Nagel acted smug once more, irking my thoughts again.

For a moment, I concealed my weapon and stepped towards him, eying Sam as he allowed me to move forward. If questioning by “good people” didn’t work, then there was a chance that I would be convincing here. There was no other choice.

“If you won’t reveal where Karli is, then perhaps you can tell me where this woman could be found.” I reached for one of my inner coat pockets and showed Nagel this personal photograph. My own heart dropped and raced all at once this time.

“You’re definitely behind the times with this picture, but I know exactly who that is.” Nagel laughed almost menacingly to himself while sitting in the chair. James and Sam stood in place with clueless expressions, but of course I did not care.

Another story for another time.

“Where is she?” I asked, nearly gritted my teeth whilst anger coursed through every vein within me now. James and Sam were still watching us both, but questions had surely crossed their minds as I changed subjects of this probe.

“Dionne Charles has hid in plain sight for decades now. You haven’t been paying attention.” Nagel clued to me, but remained vague. It took everything in me not to shoot, but his answers would've meant quite the breakthrough. I needed more.

“Is she here?” I snapped once more, patience finally growing thin.

“Maybe, maybe not.” Nagel shrugged. I back away, deciding not to pull the trigger yet.

“Back to business. Is there any serum in this lab?” James stepped forward and pressed the barrel of his firearm right up against Nagel’s temple.

“No,” Nagel allowed his voice to tremble as he reached the brink of death once more.

“Guys, we're seriously outta time here!” Unexpectedly, Sharon Carter entered the container and warned us of more incoming trouble.

Not caring, I finally unveiled my firearm soon and pulled the trigger, killing Nagel without any further hesitation.

“No!” Sam and James then yelled towards my direction, pulling me back with his own stronghold.

“What did you do?” Sharon asked, peering towards my eyes. I still couldn’t care less. Impact of the powerful gunshot had shuffled Nagel and forced his hardened chair to fall backward. Blood immediately splattered all over his chest and face.

_______

James, Sam, and I had taken my private jet once more, moving to my safe house in Riga, Latvia the following day. One GRC resettlement camp had been located in this specific city and Donya Madani passed away there, which signaled one step closer towards Karli.

“I’ll ask you again. Who the hell is Dionne Charles? You won’t even show us the picture that Nagel saw yesterday.” Sam questioned me, sitting at the kitchen counter. I’d placed down a drink for him, but he crossed both arms, waiting for me.

“Fine, do you want the truth?” Sarcasm lined my voice, but he was right. I’d quietly spent the past few days hiding behind phones and secrecy to find someone and my veiled movement left them suspicious.

“Lying would put you back in jail without a doubt, so tell me everything.” Sam kept his words leveled, but this sense of curiosity peaked as well.

“Apologies for the old photograph, but this is the image that I showed Nagel yesterday.” I’d taken this laminated Polaroid out of my coat and finally handed the beloved image to Sam.

I’d captured the image myself with a disposable camera. 2003 had marked the year on a white border. In this candid picture, Dionne wore this cocktail dress and drank her favorite wine, sitting on the balcony of my family’s estate in bliss. The dark complexion of her skin tone nearly glowed as daylight turned into evening.

“She’s beautiful.” Sam mumbled gently, but I understood. Of course she was beautiful.

“I know.” I sighed, thinking back. Anyone with two eyes knew that she was arguably one of the most gorgeous people in the world. The phrase “often replicated, but never duplicated” was true, especially considering her presence.

‘Any reason why you’ve kept this picture around? I’m sure that times have obviously changed for both of you.” Sam asked, narrowing his eyes. At least he was not willing to act invasive.

“Nostalgia, perhaps. I haven’t seen her in person since…” I trailed off these words when James entered the safe house, entering my kitchen as well. Even Sam had then caught me and tucked the Polaroid back into that fur-lined coat of mine.

Mission first, memories later. I thought to myself.

“Well, the Wakandans are here and they want Zemo. I just bought us some more time.” James announced, not bothering to greet Sam or I in some content manner.

“Were you followed?” Sam asked James in return, completely forgetting and ignoring my previous conversation with him.

“No.” James answered quickly.

“How can you be so sure?” I joined in, facing the stain-glass window.

“Cause I know when I'm being followed.” James defended himself.

“It was sweet of you to defend me at least.” I turned away from the window and sprayed cologne, faintly smirking.

“Shut it, no one’s defending you. You killed Nagel.” It was not long before Sam spoke up once more, facing me.

“Do we really have to litigate what may or may not have happened?” I volleyed back, prompting Sam to respond again.

“There's nothing to litigate. You straight shot the man.” Sam eyed me as I handed over another beverage.

“Eleven injured, three dead.” James scrolled through his cell and offered information on Karli. A bombing at the GRC supply depot had taken place recently. There would be more attacks if a list of demands weren’t met as soon as possible.

“The very concept of a Super Soldier will always trouble people. It was that warped aspiration that led to Nazis, to Ultron, and to the Avengers.” I reiterated our need to rid the world of these monsters. No one deserved to have that immortality.

“So, Karli is radicalized, but there has to be a peaceful way to stop her.” Sam joined the conversation once more, facing me and James.

“The desire to become a superhuman cannot be separated from supremacist ideals. Anyone with that serum is inherently on that path. She will not stop and she will escalate until you kill her, or she kills you.” I set down the truth of Karli’s intent.

Whilst discussing our mission, I didn’t know what to believe when my burner phone began ringing within the trench coat. Backing away from James and Sam, I discreetly moved towards my coat and reached for that pocket. James and Sam were clueless, just continuing to speak on Karli or the Flag Smashers radicals.

973-675-1342

As soon as I grabbed the phone, this New Jersey phone number flashed before my eyes, signaling memories that had been long buried. Ignoring James and Sam once more, I headed into this cornered master bedroom, closing the door behind me.

“Hello?” Pacing back and forth at the foot of this bed, It was not long before I smiled briefly, trying to register the possibility of hearing her voice without jumping through the answering machine. This chat would be twenty years in the making.

“Who the hell are you?” On the other line, a man’s voice nearly growled unexpectedly to somehow address me. I’d never heard his voice before, but anger coursed through my veins as time stopped. This stranger even sounded American.

“Where’s Dionne?” I snipped with a low tone, conjuring up the worst case scenarios. In short the time when Nagel explained that Dionne could’ve been hiding in plain sight, an abduction could’ve taken place soon after. My skin crawled.

“You really don’t remember me, Colonel? That’s a shame.” This bastard laughed to himself while briefly recalling my years with Eko Skorpion. Despite still holding the title of Baron, I’d taken military service not long before Ultron destroyed Sokovia.

“At least give me your last name during this call, please. You sound like some average and run-of-the-mill American man.” I said, rolling both eyes, regardless of ongoing anger. For all I knew, this man could’ve held Dionne for ransom right now.

“Perkins.”

Back in 2012, Russell Perkins somehow bypassed the no-flight list and failed this harsh attempt to assassinate one of Sokovia’s official diplomats. Not only was Perkins arrested and indicted immediately, but he’d been imprisoned shortly after.

“How the hell did you escape prison?” I grit my teeth. Enough was enough.

“I could ask you the same question.” Perkins chuckled, showing the velvet tone of voice that would’ve rivaled any one of my cousins on their best day.

“How I have now been freed from my cell is none of your concern, Perkins. Where is she?” I returned to our main speaking point: Dionne. My heart dropped and shattered once more, trying to calm, but still enraged now.

“Right here. Hold on.” Perkins lowered his voice once more. Both anxiety and anticipation had quickly raced through my mind as I listened out for Dionne's presence, hoping that Perkins wouldn’t make a joke out of this very situation.

“Z…” Dionne spoke to me at last. Her voice, nearly fleeting, edging on the brink of death, shocked me. Not a hint of joy or content lined her tone as she tried to utter my last name.

“Hello, Sweetheart.” Tears pickled my own eyes. Yet, at that moment, my heart sank. It took everything in me not to shout for her and give myself away during this phone call. Sam and James would’ve immediately noticed that I was not nearby.

“Don’t say that to me.” she warned, reminding my heart of the mistake that led to our breakup many years ago.

“Apologises.” I whispered to her, still keeping my voice leveled despite the anguish that filled my very being now.

“Just say hi to Sam for me and tell James that I’m proud of him. I’ve heard a lot of different things since The Blip took place.” Dionne offered greetings to Sam and James, emoting bittersweetness.

“I promise to speak with James and Sam, but where are you? Where is Perkins hiding you right now? Please tell me.” I tried to keep up this clear facade of strength, but the attempt crumbled with each passing moment.

“I’m so sorry, but I can’t tell you. He’ll...he’ll kill me if you find out.” Dionne whispered back to me. Her perfect voice had shuddered against my left eardrum in response, but one damn gunshot then pierced out loud just moments later.

“No!” I yelled, allowing the phone to drop out of my hand instantly. If James and Sam barged through the door, so be it. To be honest, this moment marked the first time that I’d genuinely cried since the loss of my family, including Heike and Karl.

______

“I took the liberty of crossing my name off in your book. I hold no grudges for what you thought you had to do. Goodbye, James.” I bid farewell to James one last time before members of The Dora Milaje could haul me away towards The Raft now.

“She’s alive.” Whilst lowering his firearm at last, James uttered something from behind me. At one point in time, even one member of the Dora had allowed me to turn around.

“What did you just say?” I asked, narrowing my eyes across the cobblestone path found between us.

“Dionne is alive.” James repeated himself.

#baron zemo #zemo fanfic #tfatws #angst #possibly triggering #violence tw

[ego-driven-one-wing-angel]

1.1 - DEMURE | Sephiroth

A/N: AHHH, this was supposed to be up yesterday but my internet SUCKS sometimes so I’M SO SORRY. I HOPE YA’LL ENJOY IT!!

WARNING: THIS BOOK IS RATED 18+, READER DISCRETION ADVISED. IN THE FUTURE THERE WILL BE SEXUALLY EXPLICIT SCENES, SWEARING, ADULT THEMES SUCH AS PAST ABUSE, ALCOHOL, AND AGAIN SEXUAL SCENES, I CAN NOT REPEAT THIS ENOUGH. This is basically an erotica between OC Kalista Shir and Sephiroth.

PLEASE TAKE CAUTION

1.1 - Chapter 1

“What matters most is how well you walk through the fire.” - Charles Bukowski

[TRACK: Ancient Roman Music - Synaulia I]

(You can listen to the tracks in the background if you wish, these are just the songs that either inspire me/listen to while writing the chapter. Some of them are not in the taste of some readers, so it’s not necessary to listen to it. Anyway, enjoy!)

SEPHIROTH had no time to react. Just the immediate grabbing of a woman falling into his arms, blood coating his gloved hands, the collective angry screams of the other girls ganging up on a man still hiding in the room behind them. When he had entered the Poppy Circus Outlet, there were a number of things he was prepared to witness, but what happened in front of room 423 became more or less an example of how he can never be fully able for everything. 

One moment she had been hiding in his chest for help, her neck nipped with a blade, soaking the white sheet that barely covered her body in a light coat of red and soft tears, the next she was being dragged from his hands, and finding himself in the owner’s office with a wet rag to clean the dried blood upon his leather.

Lockwood “Daring” Heart kept his lips sealed as Sephiroth cleaned up the mess, trying to find words on how to describe the situation they all just had witnessed. Daring, who had owned the Poppy Circus for nearly six months, had never considered a mishap as large as one of his girl’s being targeted, let alone letting one of the top men in Midgar see the action unfold.

Daring was the type of man who was always dressed in a pressed suit of purple stripes, short yet thin, with a mustache curled at his sides. Daring had a kinder personality, especially compared to the others in the business. He’d never allow someone like Mr. Dunes to come cut his girls, let alone his most prized ones. He’d always kept such strict regulations, made sure his girls were just as happy as he was. He missed the ball on that one.

“I wasn’t aware you’d be coming in,” Daring said through his teeth, lighting a cigar with shaky hands. A moment passed as he took in a puff, letting it blow through his nose briefly before he tried to continue with his voice more steady. “Your SOLDIER men enjoy their time here, more so than the Honey Bee Inn apparently.”

Sephiroth didn’t say a word, but the tension building in the room made Daring take in another long inhale of his cigar, this time, taking the moment to let it fester in his lungs. Daring was terrified. Even more so when Sephiroth placed the wet, now bloodied, rag on the table beside him, and the ice-cold stare he had given Daring made his heart beat a little too fast.

“Genesis enjoys-”

“I’m not going to have the place shut down,” Sephiroth said, his voice as icy as his personality, but Daring still let out a deep breath at those words.

For a minute, he had thought his booming business was going to shut down. All his girls would be homeless on the streets, no longer taking refuge in their piece of heaven located in sector two.

The Poppy Circus Outlet was a rival to the infamous Honey Bee Inn, but had a lot less strict rules and more beautiful girls to choose from. The only pop of color amidst the construction, decorated in pinks and red, golds and yellows, the lobby displaying artistic views of the female form just to tease on what was hidden behind the iron doors. 

Daring always believed the underdog slum locals would be taking advantage of the Poppy Inn more than any other demographic, but he had been mistaken, poorly so. SOLDIER and all their tight-ass personnel kept coming back, and the more they did, the more money lined his pockets. The red-head with a bit of an attitude problem, Genesis, was a continuous source of money. Despite his ego problem and ridiculous requests, the girls not only loved him, but he always counted on that big paycheck to pay off the building.

If there was one man with the power to turn heads, Sephiroth would be one of them.

“Kalista is perfectly alright,” Daring reassured him, despite not getting a sense he even cared. “Just a little cut, the cheese knife got a bit too close I guess, caused her to panic, and when she panics,” he tried to smile, “they all panic.” Another deep puff caused Daring’s true personality to shine a little more, the happy-go-lucky, eccentric owner the rest of Midgar knew him to be.

“It would be more than a pleasure to continue having SOLDIER business,” Daring said with a click of his tongue, “and I’m sure Kalista would be willing to give an apology if-”

“An apology isn’t needed, it wasn’t her fault.”

“Right, but you know, for the blood. Can be quite damaging to clothing sometimes.” And his forced laughter cut off with an unexpected silence. “Okay, maybe an apology isn’t needed. But I’ll throw in some deals for your SOLDIER and we can forget this ever happened.”

Sephiroth’s brows furrowed just a little, almost as if his face hadn’t moved at all. But Daring could tell, the type of solace only found in men like Sephiroth, the ones who have kept everything so bottled in sometimes it was hard to convey even the best emotions. An enigma, both the same and different from Genesis.

“I want to meet her.”

Daring’s ears burned a bit, thinking it was some play on his mind in the heat of excitement and adrenaline. “Excuse me?”

The small office appeared smaller. The soft glow of red hiding his locked jaw, Sephiroth’s subtle grin, how Daring wished he wasn’t face-to-face with the one and only 1st class General. Any other man who had asked would have been given a flat out no, unless a payment had been provided first, but his tongue dared not say it. His stomach at his feet, the cigar no longer calming his nerves. A million things jumbled in his brain momentarily. 

He let out a nervous chuckle, but the lack of humor in Sephiroth sent shivers down Daring’s spine.

“Kalista is what we call a circi here in Poppy. You need an appointment, money, you can’t just ask to meet her and expect it to happen.”

“You just offered to have her give me an apology.”

“An apology and a meeting is different, at least here it is. Kalista is a busy girl.”

“Genesis always talked so fondly of this place.”

“We don’t allow mundan meetings, General.”

“Mentioned you could leave them on retainer.”

“I’m sorry.”

“A high price to make sure they’re yours and yours only.”

Daring let off a grin, another puff, nodding his head. “If you’re threatening me over this I won’t go down without a fight.”

“I only came to see where Genesis spends his time. No better way than to apologize than allow me just a meeting.

Daring let the smoke of his nose, finally setting his cigar on the ashtray, leaning forward. “One meeting. Ten minutes.”

Sephiroth’s subtle grin returned, “I’ll see what I can do in that time.”

KALISTA bit her tongue as she cleaned the blood from her skin, the graze stinging from the antiseptic soaked in the towel. She couldn’t help the shaking, how close the knife had gone to her face, the blade in her eye’s vision as he ran it up and down her body, scaring her, waiting for her panicked reaction to take over. But as she sat still, feeling the coldness of steel ponder above her thighs, near her waist, up near her neck, her heart began to beat fast, but she couldn’t move a muscle. She was just silently allowing him to lay wet kisses on her cheeks, the blade moving so close to her artery.

Her body hadn’t reacted in time as he pressed it in, his drunken breath filling her nostrils as she shoved him back. Grabbing the spare sheet on the floor in an attempt to run, her eyes growing wet. She didn’t even make it far in the end, simply colliding with something heavy, smelling of soap and a light sense of musk, a man, no one in the Poppy Inn left without a scent of vanilla and honey.

An outsider.

She couldn’t help but hold onto his arms until one of the other girls heard the running. How the man yelled behind her, requesting her to come back. She wouldn’t look, she wanted to escape in the outsider’s scent for a few moments longer.

Kalista  patted the skin as she glanced back in the mirror, inspecting the small cut like it was a war wound. It hadn’t even pierced deep, but Kalista was shaking like it had cut through her muscle and veins. 

Just focus. And Kalista shut her eyes briefly, trying to pine in on the small burn it left. One deep breath, fists clenched on her knees, She’d have to use all her energy, stop shaking for just a second to get the desired results, and just like that, it was done.

Kal took a moment to inspect again, parting her hair to examine her own work. One moment she had bared an unfortunate cut from a cheese knife, the next, it was as if nothing had happened. Minus the still chipping blood near her ear, the deed was no longer visible. Just as she liked it. Daring wouldn’t question it, nor would the girls. 

They knew her secret as well as she did.

Kal took a long drink of the champagne bottle left on her vanity, hoping the alcohol would ease her shattered nerves even briefly. She could hide it, but she couldn’t hide from it.

Thankfully Daring was a good guy or else Kal would have to do everything in her power to hide from that bastard Mr. Dunes. She’d have no need to wait in the halls for him to pass, for him to glance over her as if she was a piece of meat, he’d never have to endure that again, and neither would the others.

Kal finished off the rest of the bottle when a knock had come at her door. She instinctively wrapped her robe around tighter, wiping the smeared red lipstick with her sleeve before she approached the expected visitation.

But when she opened the door, she wasn’t arranged to meet the tall man standing behind him. For a second she had thought Daring was trying to strike up a conversation as he always did with her and her potential customers, but his solemn look said otherwise. It was like he was trying to send her a neurological signal as a warning, but Kal couldn’t tell why.

“Kalista.” Daring greeted her, a smile popping on his face for a second before it completely disappeared. There was a small amount of happiness in his eyes left, but the unfortunate accident had left Daring just as shaken up as she felt. “this is General Sephiroth. He’s the one you bleed all over.” 

Kalista bit her cheek, as always he was pretty blunt when it came to the job. 

“He works for SOLDIER.”

Kal nodded slowly as if she was intently listening, but she was a bit drunk at that point, not to mention Sephiroth seemed a little chillier than the other men Daring would bring down. She constantly walked cautious, and despite Sephiroth not giving off any terrifying vibes just yet, she still had to remain a bit hesitant. It’s how it started with Mr. Dunes. He was a very generous man in the light, but drunk and in the dark, knife-play was possibly the least dangerous thing he could have pulled. She was lucky to find out so quick.

“He wanted to come meet the bleeding woman.” Daring continued with a revamp of his playful tone. Allowing himself into her bedroom, Sephiroth following, Kal got a quick whiff of his soapy smell yet again as he brushed by, and she took in a deep breath. 

“I’m sorry if that’s worth anything,” Kalista said, trying not to bite her lip. She had already scraped off the excess dried skin the past few hours, anymore and she’d tear off her whole bottom lip. The other girl’s would be constantly tearing her apart with their humor, and after the knife, she needed a few days before she could handle being teased by childish entertainment. 

Daring patted her shoulder, “he doesn’t want an apology, Kal. Calm down. He just needs to ask you a few questions.”

Kalista was prepared to say something, but Daring had shushed her like a disobedient child, closing the door behind him before Kal could protest. She should have guessed he’d spring something on her so quickly. 

Sephiroth took a moment to inspect Kalista’s bedroom as Kal reopened her door, escaping to find Daring wherever he had disappeared to. 

Her room was much different than the bright crimson decorating throughout the rest of the Poppy Circus. Everything was coated with deep wine, burgundy, much more calm compared to the exaggerated golds in the hallways. Huge tapestries hung on the walls, a canopy hanging off her bed, large curtains blocking the sunlight, leaving nothing but the soft glow of the candles surrounding him.

Sephiroth stopped in front of her wall paintings, noticing a white streak that read Kalista Shir hidden in the corner. His fingers scraped over it, letting the leather run over the rough texture slowly, but before he could circle through her name, Kalista had stopped him in his tracks.

“I’d appreciate it if you wouldn’t.” She said, taking in a deep breath. “The oils and dirt on your gloves would erode the paint faster.”

After a quick debriefing with Daring in the hall, she realized Sephiroth was a bigger name than she had originally thought. But that didn’t mean she had to let him run his hands all over her things as if he owned them. Customers paid for sex, not to view an art gallery.

“Do you paint?” Sephiroth asked, and she was taken back by his deeper voice. 

Kal shrugged. “Sometimes.”

“Do you also sometimes bleed on men in the hallways?”

Her eyebrows cocked, suppressing a smile. She had a hard time trying to tell if he was being serious or joking. “Yeah, it’s how I always find my next client. You know, a way to make sure they know I mark them before they mark me.” She let off a small grin.

Sephiroth had seen beautiful women all over Midgar, but none who had captivated him as much as Kalista seemed to. Underneath the soft candlelight glow, he could still see the freckles dusting her olive skin. Everywhere. On her exposed shoulders, her cheeks, small moles seen on her hands. Hair as dark as a raven’s wing, curly, cascading down her back, and eyes unlike one’s he’s ever come across. Auburn, almost even more gold than the designs of the Poppy Circus.

“That’s why I asked to come talk to you,” Sephiroth said, moving from the painting, inspecting Kalista’s vanity clear on the other side of the room. “Daring said you're a circi, what does it mean?”

“Daring has a big mouth,” she said quietly, “it’s a fancy word for reserved whore mind you.”

“A bit brash are we not?”

“You can sugarcoat a lot of things, that’s not one of them.”

Sephiroth tried to hide the grin, “how much are you usually reserved for?”

 “Depends I guess. When you put girls on retainers it adds bonus funds.” Kal swallowed hard, but she still tried to remain still, taking a seat in one of the leather chairs in the middle of the room.

“Hmm, like what?”

“The daily cost alone can range between five thosand to six thosand gil, added costs are unknown to me. You’d have to ask Daring about it.”

“He’s a strange man.”

“He’s annoying,” Kal corrected. “He can be good, but most of the time I’m stuck doing his work. If he allowed me to do my job and he does his, we wouldn’t be crossing paths so often.”

Kalista found another bottle of champagne, half-full, and took a moment to take a drink while he continued to inspect the paintings surrounding her room. She kept her eye on him as she tasted the sweet undertones.

“Kalista, correct?” Sephiroth tested the name on his tongue, pausing, turning back towards the open door. He could hear the small giggles and whispers of the other girl’s on the floor, probably listening in. He couldn’t ask the things he wanted. Not yet anyway. 

She was about to answer when he said a simple “take care, Kalista.” Leaving the room and shutting the door behind him. Quietly, Kal sunk deeper in her chair.

When Sephiroth had officially left the building, Daring had popped back into her bedroom, his boisterous voice back and booming in her ear as she always remembered to be. Him begging her to tell him the things Sephiroth had asked, wondering why he had even walked through the Poppy Circus Outlet in the first place. But Kalista had nothing to say, and it would be another twenty-four hours before Kal could hear what he had wanted. 

CHAPTER TWO WILL BE PUBLISHED APRIL 10th, 2020

#Sephiroth #final fantasy sephiroth #sephiroth fanfic #sephiroth imagines #sephiroth fanfiction #fanfiction #Final Fantasy #final fantasy vii #Final Fantasy 7 #imagines #oneshots #OC #original character #original female character

[gevejsbvdj]

Pt. 2

the continuation of what inspired my leave beneath the cut

I have a friend, who I got along with really well because we are both Afro Latinas (only she can speak Spanish. I don’t, not really) and we are black kids who had an interest in unconventional topics. I messaged her before disappearing about the ending of the server. I was keeping her updated all throughout, but after telling her the ending, I left her on read

I won’t disclose what I got up to during my absence. But again, don’t think that I had a breakdown because of the server ONLY. It was the final straw. I had so much going on in my life and I couldn’t take it anymore. 

Anyways, she took it upon herself to send hateful messages to Ley’s account and thought it was something to be proud of and told me. I...wasn’t impressed. But I still didn’t respond to our chats. Then she (her name is Rex. I’m gonna call her that) dmed Ley and was actually pretty aggressive towards her in an attempt to get answers. Again, not impressed but it was enough for me to actually come online. I feel like that’s why she acted out, to get me online. I don’t think she cared about me and used my pain to hurt others.

I had extremely brief, passing conversations with people who weren’t involved with the situation at all right before I messaged Rex. 

Ley was special to me before her message. I was always very defensive and protective of her like I was everyone else, but her especially because I thought she was nice. And I remembered when people were being mean to me, she reached out. And I still appreciate her for doing that. 

Which was why it was so confusing when Rex told me that they were all mad at me because I ACCUSED JOANE OF GROOMING PEOPLE. They wanted a reason to make me the villain so badly that they made shit up.

Notice how here, she says that I called Joane a FUCKING PEDO. Not even just a groomer but an outright PEDOPHILE. 

I’ve been raped. I’ve been sexually assaulted, groomed, all of that. I don’t say shit. I never say anything. I’ve even been accused- yes, ACTUALLY ACCUSED unlike Joane- to being a paedophile. I’m 19. Not even just that but I’m freshly 19. I got accused when I was 17. But I would never just- ughhhh moving on I don’t wanna get into it. 

When Rex asked for proof, this is way Ley sent her:

In this screenshot, I’m literally discussing how Joane’s childish behaviour could get her killed. I was concerned. Again, where’s the bullying?

Rex told me that Ley said she was wrong for not having proof, and I understand. Ley wasn’t present when it all went down

But really Ley? 

I heard a quote from someone that said something like “if someone believed a lie about you without checking up on you first to see if there was proof, then they were already looking for something to destroy you with to begin with” or SOMETHING like that. So I thought back to that quote and felt awful. I always suspected that they didn’t really like me, but always marked it up to my depression talking nonsense. But after all of this...maybe it was true. Why did I come out the most damage? Why were they making up lies about me? Me, out of all of them. Why was I consistently being seen as the bad guy overall? No really tell me. 

Anyways, this was Ley’s justification to believe that I would say such an awful thing:

Okay. Let’s just say that- Joane WAS a groomer. That she actually is a paedophile and I commented on it. She’s obviously not but I’m pulling a Ben Shapiro here. Everything else is the same only Joane is a paedophile. 

That motherfucking “it’s weird that he only spoke up when they were arguing” argument, and other arguments like that are so fucking toxic. As well as “well it wasn’t a problem that never came up before” so??? That’s what the fucking #metoo movement was all about. Timing means NOTHING when it comes to that. It doesn’t matter if it’s Joane or fucking Bill Cosby. The fact that thought came to Ley’s head is so fucking upsetting and DISGUSTING.THAT mentality is why people never want to believe victims of assault. Same goes for “they could have said that privately” guys she’s talking about that user who said they were uncomfortable with Joane coming onto him. Privately? It was private to him. In that server, we’ve made it known that it’s a very homey and comfortable environment. And who the fuck are you to tell someone where and when they can speak up about something like that???

Also, she accused me of calling her a pedo again. Good for me right? I’m a bully and I’m someone who just blindly calls people paedophiles. Good for me, damn. 

No, you shouldn’t believe someone right away when they call someone a groomer. God don’t I know that. But you definitely don’t say THAT what the fucking fuck. 

Jesus. Okay, moving on. 

Rex aggressively messaged Mel who had something similar to say:

uggh, you WERE the toxic environment i wanted to flee from,.

It hurts. It hurts a lot to see another friend you looked up to call you a bully. And that they just say that you called someone a groomer when you didn’t. 

Mel couldn’t provide proof either. 

Mel also tagged her post with someone kinda ignorant. 

Imagine if (thinking of someone I and others don’t always agree with) someone like James Charles made a post broadcasting all the homophobia he dealt with during his career, and I or some other asshole said something “while I don’t always agree with James…” like now isn’t the time. Now isn’t the time to let people you know you disagree with me ESPECIALLY on a post where you agree with me 100%??? What is the point then? You agreed with me, so agree with me. There. No one is saying that you have to agree with everything I say lord fucking knows I don’t always agree with you guys. fucking DUH. It makes me think you just wanted to put that in to lesson me and my words, even only slightly. Why? That hurts a lot, Mel. It really fucking does bruh.

When Rex called her out on it, she deleted the reblog. Not just the meagre little tag but the whole post. If she couldn’t be slick with me, then she wasn’t going to support me at all. It isn’t worth it if she can’t be shady. That’s the message I got from that. Tells me a lot. 

I am not friends with Rex anymore. She’s always been really aggressive and drama craving and I can’t take it. It’s impacting me negatively as well. But I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t somewhat happy with the screenshots she gave me. Told me a lot about these people I was still willing to talk to. 

Now? I won’t even waste their time.

After all of that. I made the post. The big announcement post. It was too much. I can’t escape the racism in my hometown or in the country in general, but I can leave and distance myself from the fandom. 

I was talking to someone today, and she, as a white woman, admitted that white people act so shitty when it’s implied that they’re racist. Which is so true. 

As I said, people make mistakes. No white person EVER is 0% racist or biased. I’m sorry but it’s not true unless you’re a baby or something. Same goes for other races, but mainly white people who have always had the upper hand, the privilege, the money, the chances, the power, all of that. 

Listen to me. 

When a person of color tells you that you are being microaggressive, biased, ignorant, or prejudice, or straight up RACIST, YOU FUCKING LISTEN TO THEM. Why do you guys get so AGGRESSIVE AND MAD?? That is so fucking WEIRD. 

And yes. I’m talking to you Vulture. 

I really had no ill feelings towards you prior to your comments.

Or your posts. 

peep that clumsily used aave. never fucking talked like that to anyone but me. either way, you sound dumb.

Why?

Why so...mad?

You felt guilty? Why did you feel guilty? 

...I’m gonna let you answer that. 

Moving on. I know that not everything has to be about race. I hate making things about my race. I do, even when I should! But you can be racist unintentionally. Does that mean you’re racist? No! I have yet to receive a genuine apology from any of you, meanwhile, I’ve been over here grovelling and hoping that you like me again. God. Why is it so hard for you to apologize and move on??

No, in that same fucking server, someone sent a racist meme after joking about slavery all day:

And yes, the people in the chat at the time laughed at it... 

I told them that WASNT funny and they freaked out all “WHY CANT I TALK TO PEOPLE IM SO FUCKING STUPID I SUCK” like oh...my god. You guys make it so awkward being black oh my GOD. I- like it makes me never want to say ANYTHING but I know I have to but god what the hell guys???

I wouldn’t really think that the members of the server chat were racially biased if they just accepted the fact that they were micro aggressive and didn’t flip out about it. Not really, at least. That reaction is so- well it’s sus as fuck. People who aren’t prejudiced will apologize, correct themselves and move on. Not dismiss me constantly and DEFINITELY not freak the fuck out. 

I also wouldn’t assume they were racially biased if this SAME EXACT SITUATION DIDNT HAPPEN TO ME BEFORE. 

Yep! On the Beatles Amino, I was called a bully and was reported by the LEADERS. Why? Because I told a curator she was inconsistent with her rules… that’s it. And that was back when I was sugary sweet all the time and was deemed to be a cinnamon roll. Nah. They knew I was black and I got told that people were scared of me and that I was bullying people. Yeah okay. Messaging ONE curator about her rules is the same thing as bullying people. Chile I can’t. And it only happens in the Beatles fandom. But no when someone calls John Lennon a racist it’s all “Zach! Zach! Tell them they’re wrong.” Ugh...

So that’s that on that. I have nothing else to say. Don’t message me about this post if you didn’t read all of this. I’m an idiot and I’m honestly still willing you hear you all out but don’t expect me to ever want to have anything to do with you. Out of the what- 50 people from that server, only two stood up for me? And two separate people APOLOGIZED TO ME. AND THEY HAD NOTHING TO DO WITH ANYTHING. That’s a shame. Thank you Johnny, Lenny, Laurie, and Remy. All of your names rhyme and you didn’t make me feel like I was CRAZY, unlike those I mentioned. There’s so much shit going on in the world rn, especially to do with racism. I know that you guys know. But some posts really....really tried me. oh well. I’m black. I like The Beatles. And I’m a victim of microaggressions, false accusations, gas lighting. I’m also out. bye.

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