#that was more thrown as a question since the author is exploring absolutely everything about eating | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

davidmann95 · 3 years

Note

Sooo… Superman and the Authority?

magnus-king123 asked: Your thoughts on Superman & the authority Give it to me...lol

Anonymous asked: Seeing Bezos take his little trip into space the same day Morrison puts out a Superman comic that touches on how far we’ve fallen from the days when we dreamed of utopian futures where everyone explored the stars was a big gut punch. Not used to Superman being topical in that way.

Anonymous asked: What'd you think of Superman and the Authority#1?

This is far beyond what I can fit in the normal weekly reviews, so taking this as my notes on the first six pages, with this and this as my major lead-in thoughts:

* Janin's such a perfect fit for Morrison - the scale, the power, the facial expressions selling the character work, the screwing around with the panel formatting as necessary to sell the effect, the numinous sense of things going on larger than you can fully perceive amidst the beauty and chaos. It's a shame he wasn't around 25 years ago to draw JLA, but I'll take him going with Morrison onto other future projects.

* His intro action sequence is such a great demonstration of why Black actually does have something to offer, and also how he's such a dumbass desperately needing Superman to save him from himself.

* While Jordie Bellaire didn't legit go with an entirely monochromatic palate the way early previews suggested, it's still an effect frequently and excellently deployed here. And glad to see Steve Wands carry into this from Blackstars since there's such an obvious carryover from its work with Superman.

* "Gentlemen. Ladies. Others." Great both because of the obvious - hey, Superman's nodding at me! - and because it's a phrasing that reinforces that this take on him (and let's be real Morrison) is old as hell.

* I'm mostly past caring about whether this is an alt-Earth Superman until it becomes indisputable one way or another, this and Action both rule so what does it really matter? But while there are still a couple signs in play suggesting some kind of division (the Action Comics #1036 cover, Midnighter up to time-travel shenanigans) the "lost in time" quote clearly thrown in after the fact to explain how he could have met Kennedy outside of 5G that wouldn't be necessary for an Elseworlds, the assorted gestures towards Superman's current status quo, the Kingdom Come symbol appearing in Action, and that Morrison would have had to completely rewrite the ending if this wasn't supposed to be 'the' version of Clark Kent going forward as was the intent when they first planned it all say to me that no, no fooling around, this is our guy going forward one way or another.

* Janin and Bellaire making the first version of the crystal Fortress ever that actually looks as cool as you want it to.

Anonymous asked: I like that Superman and The Authority is basically the anti-All-Star; instead of the laid back, immortal Superman who is supercharged, we have a stressed, ageing Superman whose tremendous powers are fading. The former will always be there to save us, but the latter is running out of time and needs to pull off a Hail Mary. Also, he mentions in his monologue to Black that he was "lost in time" when he met JFK, so maybe he is the main continuity Clark. Or he's the t-shirt Supes from Sideways.

* You're absolutely right - the power reversal is obvious and the ticking clock in play seemingly isn't for his own survival but everyone around him as he wakes up and realizes all the old icons grew complacent with the gains they'd made and he's not leaving behind the world he meant to. Both, however, are built on the idea of preparing the world to not need them anymore - it'll still have a Superman in his son, but that'll only work because of the others he empowers and inspires. The question is what happens to Clark if he's not going to live in the sun for 83000 years.

* Clark's 'exercise' here does more to sell me on the idea of Old Man Superman as a cool idea than however many decades of Earth 2 stuff.

* Intergang being noted alongside Darkseid and Doomsday speaks to how much Kirby informed Morrison's conception of Superman.

* This isn't exactly the most progressive in its disability politics but at least it makes clear Black's being a piece of shit about it.

* It's startling how much Clark can get away with saying stuff in here you'd never expect to come out of Superman's mouth. "I made an executive decision" "Privacy, really...?" "You have nowhere to go, Black. Nothing to live for." "There are few people in my life who I instinctively and viscerally dislike, and you've always been one of them." It only works because there's zero aggression behind it, he's just past the point of niceties and being totally frank while making clear none of these assessments preclude that he cares and is going to unconditionally do the right thing every time. He is absolutely, per Morrison, humanity's dad picking us up when we're too drunk to drive ourselves home.

* The story doesn't put a big flashing light over it, but it's not even a little bit subtle having the material threat of the issue be a ticking timebomb left by the carelessness and hubris of generations past.

* Manchester keeps trying to poke the bear and prove his hot takes about Superman and it's just not working. The front he put up under Kelley is gone after decades of defeats, and as Morrison understands what actually conceptually works about him as a rival to Superman underneath the aging nerd paranoia he's exposed as what he absolutely would be in 2021: a dude with a horrific terminal case of Twitter brainworms. I was PANICKED when I heard there was an 'offensive term' joke in this, I was braced for Morrison at their well-meaning worst, but it's such a goddamn perfect encapsulation of a very specific breed of Twitter leftist who uses their politics first and foremost as a cudgel and justification to label their abrasive, judgmental shittiness as self-righteousness (plus it's a killer payoff to a joke from way back in his original appearance). Cannot believe they pulled that off when they're so very, very open about basically not knowing how the internet works.

* @charlottefinn: Manchester Black using his telekinetic powers to force someone he hates to fave a problematic tweet so that he can screenshot it and start a dogpile

@intergalactic-zoo: “Once they cancel Bibbo, Superman won’t be *anyone’s* fav’rit anymore!”

* Friend noted this issue had to be fully the conversation because the whole premise stands on the house of cards of these two somehow working together, and with three 'silent' inset panels the creative team pulls off that turning point.

* So much of this feels on the surface like Morrison bringing back the All-Star vibes with Clark, but when he drops a "That's all you got?" in a brawl you realize what's underlining that bluntness and confidence in the face of failure is that deep down this is still the Action guy too. This dude ain't gonna get wrecked in his Fortress while the other guy chuckles about him being A SOFT WEE SCIENTIST'S SON!

* Bringing up Jor-El made me realize that Morrison already spelled out that this is the final threat to Superman, what he faces at the end of the road:

"Now it's your turn, Superman."

* A l'il Superman 2000/All-Star reference with the Phantom Zone map!

* There's so much intertextuality going on here even by Morrison standards - Change or Die with the old hero putting together a team of morally nebulous folks out to 'fix' everything, Flex Mentallo with the muscleman trying to redeem the punk, Doomsday Clock with the fate of the world hinging on whether Superman can get through to a meta stand-in for an idea of 'modern' comics cynicism, DKR and New Frontier and Kingdom Come and Multiversity and Seven Soldiers and What's So Funny and All-Star and Action and the last 5 years of monthly Superman comics and Authority and probably Jupiter's Legacy and Tom Strong - but none of that's needed. You could go in with the baseline pop cultural understanding of the character and not care about any of the inside baseball shit and get that this is a story about a leader of a generation that let down the people they made all their grand promises to as inertia and day-to-day demands and complacency let him be satisfied with the accomplishments they'd made long ago, looking at a new era and seeing the ways its own activists are dropping the ball. The only thing that fundamentally matters in a "you have to accept you're reading a superhero story" sense is that because he's Superman he's willing to own up to it and listen to people who might know better about some things and try to set things right while he and those who'll take his place still have a chance. And yes, the oldster looking back on their legacy with a skeptical eye and hoping for better from the next generation, hoping most of all that their little heir apparent can fulfill the promise inside of him instead of being a provocating little shitkicker, is obviously also autobiographical.

* The overlaying Kennedy reprisal is such a great visual of a sudden intrusive thought.

* The Kryptonite secret is the obvious "This is going to matter!" moment, but "He lied about his son" is a bit that doesn't connect to anything going on right now so maybe that's important here too? More significantly, the Justice League can't actually be the villains here but that Ultra-Humanite's crew are in an Earth-orbiting satellite makes pretty clear what's up.

* I've said before that between Superman, OMAC, and a New Gods-affiliated speedster this was going to use all of Morrison's favorite things. King Arthur playing a role isn't exactly dissuading me.

* Love the idea that all the antiheroes have their own community in the same way as the capes and tights crew. They definitely all privately think the rest are posers though and that they alone are Garth Ennis Punisher in a mob of Garth Ennis Wolverines.

* Manchester's fallen so far he's gone from trying to convince Superman to kill to convince him to dunk on people for their bad takes and Clark just doesn't get it. Official prediction of dialogue for upcoming issues:

"According to these bloody Fortress scans, the only thing that can restore your powers is an unfiltered hit of dopamine. Don't worry, Doctor Black has a few ideas."

"Hmm. Maybe I'll plant a nice tree?"

"...fuck you."

* Ok I already talked about how great the Fortress looks in here but LOVE this library.

* A pair of pages this seems like the right spot to discuss from Black's original appearance that underlines both his and Superman's inadequacies up to this point:

Responding to the problem of "the government and penal system are hopelessly corrupt" neither of them has any actual notion of what to do about it in spite of their respective posturing beyond how to handle individual outside actors - each is in their own way every bit as small-minded and reactionary as the other. Clark's coming around though, and he's holding out hope for the other guy.

* Superman: Have a lovely mineral water :) proper hydration is important :)

Manchester Black: *Is a dude who can get so mad he vomits and passes out. At water.*

* That last page is the one to beat for the year, and does more to put over the idea of this as an Authority book than that Midnighter and Apollo are literally going to show up. It also feels like Morrison tacitly acknowledging all the ways the premise could go or at least be received wrong - from Superman saying 'enough is enough' to who he's bringing into the fold to go about it - in the most beautifully on-the-nose fashion imaginable. Maybe they'll save us all! Or maybe they'll drown us in their vomit.

#Superman and The Authority #Superman #The Authority #Manchester Black #Grant Morrison #Mikel Janin #Jordie Bellaire #Steve Wands #Opinion

86 notes · View notes

zenalios · 3 years

Text

[Warning: Long ramble ahead]

I have been thinking about Poseidon for an entire day, and not in the horny way. Much as I love to hate him, if I’m going to write about him, I need to know what makes him tick, right? There’s not much to work with if you look on the surface (seriously, I screenshotted and reread his chapters many many times, this twinky blond’s surface personality is almost as flat as an ironing board).

This all stemmed from me exploring whether or not Poseidon would have affairs. And someone else reminding me that canon Poseidon would not (again, thank you, you know who you are). The answer to this?

It depends. haha thanks law school No, but seriously, I think I have gotten a grasp of his personality, hear me out if you have the time.

How does Poseidon actually function?

If he deems himself to be perfect, what does Poseidon actually do after all, since almost anything could be demeaning for him to do? Author has left us with a few things to work with that he won’t do or associate himself with, and instances where he acted out upon facing them:

Schemes and betrayal - Adamas schemed against Zeus (outcome: Poseidon killed him)

“The herd”/Support - The crowd cheered for Poseidon (outcome: no deaths, but he gave them a death glare and insulted them)

This could possibly extend to more, including protecting his reputation as the “perfect” being, the god of gods (”GOG”).

But if we go along those lines… why did he even show up or participate in Ragnarok? Did Poseidon sign himself up? A tournament of this level could easily be interpreted as scheming too. That, and now he has to perform in front of the other gods, who he called a “useless bunch of bottom feeders”. Excluding the fact that the Author called him in as a champion (or Zeus, if we want to get cheeky), why did he agree to become one? He’s so perfect, he shouldn’t have to waste his time fighting humans, right? Why does he even care to attend anyways? Is it to watch their demise, which, again, they’re so trivial for a perfect being like him, so he shouldn’t give a shit about it anyways? Is he a repressed god who enjoys fighting like Thor, Zeus, and Shiva? We don’t get the impression he does, because Poseidon has never even had to try his hand at fighting someone better than him; he literally just one shot Adamas and that was it. Poseidon could have just turned down being a champion -we know he’s the most feared god, and nobody dares question him, so actually, nobody would have said anything if he decided not to. The audience didn’t even know he was fighting, so really, he didn’t stand to lose anything if he didn’t participate.

Here’s what I think. He participated because he knew he was strong, and he thought he could make a point there about how insignificant humanity is. His arrogance was further boosted by Thor’s crushing defeat of Lü Bu, and Zeus’s defeat of Adam (who was considered mankind’s trump card too). If they can do it, so can he, because he is the GOG.

What if he’s just doing things to prove a point? It’s very childish, yes. But so is the way he talks and behaves (I play a MOBA, and he sounds like all the trashtalkers I’ve ever met “ur trash uninstall game n00b” <3). He is like a teenager that has taken it upon himself to go through that “Nobody understands me” “I’m better than everyone” phase for all eternity.

Take having an affair for example. As pointed out, affairs can lead to a weakening of his divine reputation, and also, vulnerability. These are things Poseidon would be loath to fall for. So... no affairs? Not necessarily. The gods had tons of affairs. Zeus is literally depicted as a lecherous old man, so there is no way he was not having any of his own as well. With the exception of best boi Heracles, Ares, and Hermes (counting those we have seen so far), I think all of them would have had at least one, one way or another.

BUT, is being lustful contrary to being perfect? And if you successfully resist said lust, does that place you above everyone else? Yes, and yes. And how does Poseidon see himself?

Perfect. Above everyone else. The GOG I can’t not use this term, it’s so pretentious to me. On the topic of affairs, this would actually mean he deems himself impervious to lust as well. Poseidon would do it just to prove that he can, that he is fully conscious of himself, to prove that it’s just sex, just libido management to him, that he alone is capable of having an affair and emerging unscathed (this is childish, Poseidon is stupid).

WHICH NOW BRINGS ME TO THIS.

Why, for the love of the gods, is Poseidon like this?

Apart from the Author just writing him like so, I do believe there are certain underlying factors contributing to his trash personality.

In Greek mythology, Poseidon was not always satisfied with Zeus’s rule. Though he was not overly jealous, he did attempt to overthrow him once or twice. Homer’s Iliad even mentions that Poseidon has schemed to bind Zeus, along with Hera and other fellow Olympians (think Adamas gathering everyone to do it).

Poseidon in Ragnarok is never mentioned or shown to be jealous of Zeus; however, this does not exclude him from resenting that he did not become the king of gods. Zeus is their younger brother by order of birth (not counting the second birth), hence he should defer to the older brothers. It’s likely Poseidon thinks the same, there’s literally no evidence he is even loyal to Zeus other than him directly ending a plot that would overthrow Zeus by killing the source of dissent. All he says is that Adamas has defiled everything they stand for a bit harsh, man. Self-projection, maybe? The only difference between them would be that Adamas has chosen to take action and gathered everyone else to do it, while Poseidon just sat there and sulked about it. Then he takes it out on Adamas for bringing it up to begin with.

I really believe this would resonate with Poseidon. If he’s that good, that perfect, the GOG, as they call him, why then was he not made the king of gods? Does it make sense for the GOG to not... become the… GOG? Underneath the entire “gods are perfect we need no one, gods don't need to scheme, gods don't need betrayal, bla bla” spiel, all I see is an entitled bastard salty geddit that he didn’t get the throne despite the fact that he never fought for it, simply because he thinks he’s so good it should have been handed to him on a golden plate instead of it going to Zeus.

And when Sasaki pinpoints what he has not done, he gets even more tilted than a player whose match just got thrown, and winds up throwing his own match. Because even though Hermes mentioned that “the true depths of the ocean god remain a mystery even to his own kind”, someone who has lived life to the fullest like Sasaki can easily call him out on his bullshit. Which he of course becomes absolutely incensed at. Sure, he's played by these rules for eons, but if a person has been that way for so long, they would simply be confident and shake the insult off. Why then, is Poseidon so angered by Sasaki's statements? It's simple. After so long, someone has finally seen through it or dared to call it out after seeing it. The gods might not have, since they all believe they're perfect (re: Zeus, "such are the gods"), but a human certainly would.

Killing Poseidon can essentially be simplified into this:

Passion vs apathy (not empathy, again, it is 7am)

Action vs inaction

People you actually want in your life vs toxic people you don’t (I’m kidding, but seriously)

Overall,

Poseidon is a hypocrite and is so self-absorbed that in his own world, he plays judge, jury, and executioner.

“Perfect” this, “perfect” that. The whole thing is an act, ocean man is a sham. Poseidon excuses away his actions by insisting that perfect beings do not need to do such things. Then he goes and does them, but picks apart other people for it. After Adamas attacks, he becomes history erased from the books -hello, this is another scheme between yourself and Hermes, what about gods not needing to scheme? On top of that, doesn’t killing your brother count as betrayal anyways?

Anyways, yes, he’s stiff, he’s trash, I would not wish meeting / dealing with him upon my enemies, but he is a very nice challenge as a writer to try and pick apart his character.

#snv poseidon #poseidon record of ragnarok #long ramble #it's 7am #i didn't sleep because of this #i spent a whole day trying to figure it out #i feel like sasaki reaching the bottom of the abyss

61 notes · View notes

mizelophsun11 · 3 years

Text

Mizeloph's Tale Chapter 5

Pairing - Right now it is still General Kirigan x OC Sun Summoner, when it switches to Kaz Brekker x OC Sun Summoner I mention it in the pairing

Summary - Everything is changing with rapid pace and it is up to Anna to keep up with everything that is happening. While she might be struggling at times, she is also to seep up a good front and make a friend along the way.

Word Count - 1800

Anna was taken to her new room by the Oprichniki of the Little Palace, once she was shoved inside the doors were closed behind her. The sun had already begun to set so she knew that there wouldn’t be a lot of time to explore. Deep down, Anna knew that she should be upset right now, her entire life was thrown out of control. However, she felt like there were no tears for her to shed, her time with General Kirigan had watered down her sadness. Anna walked around the room, she found an attached room with a bathtub, it was all very elaborate. She walked back into the main room seeing a desk, noticing that there was paper and a pen on the desk. Anna thought of writing letters to her friends so that they could continue to stay in touch, she hoped that maybe she would be able to get them to the Little Palace. Anna walked over to the desk and began to write a letter she would send to Mal and Alina.

Dear Mal and Alina,

If you are getting this then you know I have arrived at the Little Palace, everything is so fancy here, I even have a bathtub. I almost don’t know where to start, everything has happened in such a short amount of time it’s all too much. I want you two to be here so badly, everything just feels overwhelming and maybe if you were both by my side I wouldn’t feel like this. Hopefully I can get you two to the Little Palace at some point, maybe I could show you both around. Please, I need to hear from you two to know that you are both alright, I will try to make sure you are both able to get here to the Little Palace soon.

Sincerely,

Anna Mizeloph

After finishing her letter Anna decided that it would be a good idea to get some sleep, she had no idea what would be going on tomorrow. Before she got into bed Anna went through every compartment in her room and eventually found a knife. She pulled her hair out of the ponytail and took some of her clothes off so she would be more comfortable when she slept. Anna pulled the comforter back and got into the bed, once she got under her comforter and closed her eyes she began to dream. Snow, Anna had remembered how this dream went, she turned around and saw the magnificent stag. She had only dreamt of the stag when she felt lost. As Anna stepped closer to the stag she felt like everything was at peace and there was nothing to worry about. However, as soon as her dream had begun, Anna was awoken by a knock at the door. She quickly sat up and set her hand near the pillow with the knife under it, but as maids walked in she sighed and swung her legs over to the side of the bed.

Genya walked up to her and looked over her once “Saints, have you ever bathed?” she brought her hand up to Anna's face looking at a few scars “and what happened to your face? This is going to be a bit more of a challenge than I previously thought” she sighed and snapped her fingers to get the maids attention “fetch my kit” the maids in the room scrambled around and a few of them brought Anna over to the tub in the attached room

They began to undress her and Anna almost wanted to fight them but she knew that they were only doing their job. Still, she had never had this much attention so of course she was going to be feeling self conscious. Once she was out of her clothes she stepped into the tub that now had warm water in it. Anna had never had such a nice wash before, the water had always been cold, for the first time being clean was comfortable.

However, the maids were not being too kind in scrubbing her arms “hey! You don’t have to be that harsh, you’ll rub my skin off if you keep doing that” Anna said pulling her arm away from the maids “plus I can wash myself thank you very much” she took the spunge and began to wash herself glaring at the maids

Genya smiled a little, she hated having the maids around so it was nice to know Anna did not like them like she did “In an hour, you will be presented to King Pyotr and General Kirigan has asked that I make you look presentable”

“Wait, what did you just say? I am to meet the king? Oh my..” Anna could not believe that she would be meeting with one of the most influential men in Ravka

“Yes, in an hour” Genya said trying to stress that preparations needed to be done quickly

“Oh..” Anna realized that all of this talking was wasting time

“Yes ‘Oh’ so lets get on with it” she motioned for the maids to get her out of the tub and give her a robe

“Oh my, what is this material?” she had never worn something so comfortable underneath her fingers then put it on

Genya looked at Anna rubbing the robe “it’s Velvet”

Anna smiled holding the robe close to her body “this feels absolutely wonderful” she had never worn something that felt so nice

Genya could tell that the robe meant a lot to Anna, it crossed her mind, wondering what other luxuries had Anna been denied “alright.. Now where to start with you”

“I would start with her hair color, make her look less like she just got her head shoved in snow” some of the other maids giggled at the comment

Genya glared at the maid and clapped her hands “everyone out, Now!” the maids stopped giggling and quickly rushed out of the room

Anna watched them leave then grasped onto a piece of her hair, twirling it between her fingers, feeling self conscious about it again. She had hoped that maybe once she was in the Little Palace her white hair wouldn’t be something that people pointed at. Genya looked at Anna and noticed that she was touching her hair and sighed.

“Your hair is beautiful” Genya smiled a little approaching Anna

Anna looked at Genya “really? Thank you..” there was one boy who had once called her hair beautiful in Ketterdam, it had been so long ago. Alina and Mal always said that they liked her hair and that it was cool looking, but they hadn’t used beautiful before

“I am glad you hate those miserable maids as much as I do, I don’t pick my staff the Queen assigns them to me, I wish she wouldn’t, but there isn’t much that I can do about it” Genya started to get her things in order to help Anna look good

“Yeah they definitely seem like a rude bunch who don’t know how to keep their mouths shut” Anna said making Genya laugh a little, Anna laughed a little too “um.. Could you please not change my hair? It’s strange, but for once in my life I don’t want it to be changed”

“Well I am glad you don’t want it to be changed because I didn’t want to change it to begin with” Genya started to work on Annas face tailoring the scars she had “I want to make sure that you don’t look terrible, some of this is on the surface, but there are other pieces that run deeper”

“You are a Healer? I thought they normally stayed on the front lines with the Second Army” Anna asked as she was handed a mirror and saw that the scars she once had on her face where gone

“I’m a Tailor, I can fix and modify, the Second Army wouldn’t have much use for me on the front lines” Genya said as she continued working and went to Anna's hair making it look soft and well kept

“I’ve never met a Tailor before.. Why is that?” she asked, liking that she was learning more about Grisha

“I’m almost as rare as you, though I’d hardly say saving the Queen from sagging tits makes me as important as you” Anna laughed a little, Genya smiled and continued “This only last for a few days, but it be enough for now to meet the king, after we can work on that hair of yours to always keep it soft”

As Genya started working on the final touches to make sure that Anna was presentable for the king. There was more Anna wanted to find out about the Tailor who was working on her appearance. One of those questions was when she had been tested, for Anna she did not know much about being tested to be Grisha as a child. After all she had been thrown to the side when testing came and went, she never understood why and sometimes wished she had asked.

“So.. um how old were you when you were tested? You don’t have to answer, but I was just curious” Anna asked kindly not sure if it was a sore subject or not

Genya smiled at Anna’s kindness “I don't mind talking about it.. The testers found me when I was 11. That is when General Kirigan gifted me to the Queen, but I have been working on myself since I was 3”

Anna was blown away “3? Since you were 3? That is amazing” but then suddenly it dawned on her “wait.. Wait! I cannot go in front of the king!” she started to panic, Genya noticed and through of what she could do to help her calm down so she gently began to brushed her fingers through Anna's hair

“You can and you will, there is nothing to worry about” Genya’s fingers lingered through Anna’s hair

“I have done no formal training, I need to have more time to prepare, I haven’t even known I was Grisha for two days!” Anna in the moment felt Genyas fingers run through her hair and started to calm down

“Maybe you’ve only been aware for two days” Genya said, Anna looked up at her and took a deep breath feeling Genyas hands running through her hair. Anna smiled a little remembering when Kaz would run his fingers through her hair when she was scared. Anna was quickly brought back to the present “but you have been a Grisha your whole life” she continued to run her fingers through Anna’s hair making a mental note that this was the best way to calm her down when it is just them “and now you are here to tear down the Fold”

Author Note - Thank you so much for all of the support! I am extremely thankful to the ones who have been reblogging my chapter. I also love seeing the comments everyone is leaving so if you would like to write one I look forward to reading it! I also am thrilled about my growing tag list! If you would like to be added just let me know and I will try my best to add you! I just had someone added and their name is not popping up, but if this happens to you I will personally messages you when a chapter is added!

Tag List - @rika90 @itsemy01 @hotleaf-juice @teatimeforusreaders @benbarnes-supremacy @graciefullygracie @aleksanderwh0r3 @klaudosh

#shadow and bone #sun summoner #shadow and bone fanfiction #the grisha series #grisha fic #grishaverse #ben barnes #freddy carter #general kirigan #kaz brekker #general kirigan x reader #kaz brekker x reader

31 notes · View notes

teaspoon-full-of-sugar · 4 years

Text

edge

pairing: harry styles x reader (au)

warnings: smut, dom/sub, exhibitionism, degradation, spit play, choking, face fucking, spanking, ring kink (if that’s even a thing ..?), orgasm denial, unprotected sex, subspace, aftercare, very fluffy and cheesy ending (like seriously so cheesy and cliche pls don’t bully me i didn’t know how to end it)

word count: 4.7k

synopsis: harry and y/n are a cam couple

author’s note: i hope you enjoy! xx all the love

masterlist

—

It started by accident, really, with a simple, offhand comment one night.

Already two-and-a-half bottles of wine deep, Y/N was close to tears with one glance at their pitiful bank account, and Harry was trying his best to comfort her and assure her that everything would end up fine, but he had absolutely no way to promise her that. Their part-time jobs did very little to cover their monthly expenses, and their next loan payment for school was coming up; needless to say, they were feeling overwhelmed.

And what better to do than drink and complain about your problems when you’re feeling overwhelmed?

“Maybe I should go into porn,” she sighed, and he rubbed his hand under her shirt, trying to soothe her. They knew that they were taking a risk moving across the world for uni, with no backup plan and nothing to fall back on, but in the end, it will, hopefully, be worth it. In the end, they would have a brighter future, despite the mountain of debt, but the middle part, the part where they struggle and contemplate giving up, is so difficult to get past.

“I—I’d do it with you,” he hiccuped, resting his head against her shoulder.

“Maybe we should do our own videos,” she said, “I heard that people can make a lot of money doing that.” Not noticing that he had gone quiet, she continued, laughing and raving. “Could you imagine? Oh, what if we did one of you going down on me? Harry, babe,” she moans lightly, “that would be hot.”

He smiled widely, eyes nearly rolling into the back of his head at the thought; he felt a rush of blood in his groin. They had talked about recording themselves and posting it online before, so the idea wasn’t something they were unfamiliar with, but it normally only happened when they were tipsy, and they never talked about it in any detail like she was. Now, the thought of her recording him between her legs or vice versa, for them to enjoy over and over, made arousal burn in his belly. He could imagine how the camera would shake as she came on his tongue, her hips bucking wildly, hand pulling at his hair. He holds back a moan.

“That would be so hot,” he said, “we should totally do it.” He downs the rest of his wine and pulls out his laptop.

“No,” she giggled, “no, no…”

“‘M doin’ it,” he said.

“Don’t do it,” she argued weakly, making no actual move to stop him. While she seemed to be on the fence about the idea, she had a slight grin on her face, her heart nearly racing out of her chest.

“We are so doing this,” he said, exploring the page. He gasps suddenly and taps on her leg, making her nearly spill the glass of wine. “Y/N, Y/N, Y/N—”

“What? What? What?” She mocked him. With mischievous smirk on his face, he faces her, a slight purple hue to his lips.

“What if we did cam?”

And the rest is history.

Now, they dedicate their Friday nights to do cam videos. It started off as something they did on special occasions, quick little teasers that lasted no longer than ten minutes, but they ended up getting a lot of money for it. It helped pay their school loans and get a head start on their savings, and it gradually turned into a regular occurance.

By the time they are ready to begin their live one evening, it’s nearing ten o’clock. They’re on their bed, pillows and comforter long gone, leaving nothing but faded floral sheets, stretched tautly beneath them. Y/N is nestled into his side while Harry’s on his knees and fiddles with the computer, brows pulled together and lips puckered slightly. She’s tired, her swollen eyelids closing every few seconds. He kisses her forehead, wrapping an arm around her. Their laptop, with the main webcam, is propped up on a stool right behind the footboard, and the secondary camera, a cheap handheld camcorder connected to the computer with flimsy wires, which is used for close up shots, is thrown off to the side. Harry leans back on his heels.

“Ready?” He asks with a teasing smile. Even with such a small gesture, his grin is still infectious, with cute little dimples and laugh lines. She returns the smile. It’s a redundant question at this point, whether or not she’s ready, but Harry asks every time. It never felt like a chore; it was something they both enjoyed, and if they were to grow tired of it, they would stop. They were finally financially stable enough to be able to make the decision.

While initially they decided to start doing cam for the money, it became something that they both enjoyed doing. She always got this little rush of excitement in the seconds before they finally went live. This was the last moment of secrecy they would have for the next hour or so. To many, the thought of some strangers watching her and Harry at their most intimate would make them apprehensive, but she always got this exhilaration from it.

“Always,” she says, stealing one last kiss from him.

It’s a tradition of theirs to hit the “Go Live” button together, cheesy as it is, and tonight is no different. Their faces light up the screen, and they both grin, arousal building with each thrilling second. There is only a moment of calm before dozens of familiar usernames flood the screen.

“See some new ones,” Harry comments under his breath. She rests her cheek against his shoulder, toying with the rings on his fingers. The introduction part is always the most awkward; there is no decorum or set way that they have to be done, and not feeling comfortable using their first names, she and Harry found it difficult to find their rhythm and interact with the viewers. It felt a bit unforthcoming for them to just dive in without saying anything.

“What are we feelin’ tonight, lovie? Soft and vanilla or rough and dirty?” Harry asks, like he normally does.

Comments fill the screen; a lot of them describe what they would do if they were there, but most of them have similar responses: rough and dirty.

The couple very rarely genuinely ask the viewers what they want to see because the most important thing, to them, is that they are enjoying it. What’s the point of doing it if they aren’t enjoying themselves? Sure, they sometimes cater toward the audience (that’s the easiest ways to make any money), but for the most part, they stick to what they both know the other would enjoy. Harry gives her a soft smile, leaning in a little closer. No matter what she wants, it’s all the same to him; as long as he is with her, he likes just about everything.

“Rough and dirty,” she smirks, tongue curling over her teeth teasingly. “I want you to fucking wreck me.” She whispers that part, low enough for only Harry to hear. He hums appreciatively, leaning back.

Ding!

“Be careful what you wish for.”

He kisses her, rough and gnawing, their teeth knocking together with his tongue slipping through, gently prying her lips apart. He bites on her tongue, and she lets out a small whimper, trying to hold off a smirk. Even after all this time being together, since they were just teens, he still knows what makes her tick and ache and melt; he knows exactly where to kiss and bite and lick to make her fall apart. She tucks her arms beneath his own, draping tightly around his waist, her fingertips tracing along the plain of his back, and he shivers.

His hand wraps easily around her throat, another thing he found early on that she enjoyed. He can feel her breathing pick up. She tugs at his bottom lip, suckling at the skin. He digs his fingers deeper into her neck, pressing harshly onto her pulse point. Eyes rolling back, she moans, strained and muffled, breaking slightly, and wraps her hands around his wrist.

“Open,” he beckons, and she does as best as she can, jaw still confined within his strong grasp. Her tongue dips out, ready and willing. “Good girl,” he says, loosening his grip on her throat. A breath of air slips past her swollen lips. Spit dribbles out from his puckered lips onto her greedy tongue. She closes her mouth quickly to keep it all in, his hand tightening around her neck once again. She sighs, head tipping back.

“You know the rules, babylove. Don’t swallow.”

“Mhm,” she nods, voice muffled. Her fingers dip into his boxers, nails tracing over the inked skin. She can trace the outline of his tattoos from memory at this point, every curve, point, and shadow etched in her brain. She pinches the extra skin at his abdomen lightly, and he smiles, pressing a kiss to her swollen lips.

“Wan’ my cock, huh?” He raises a brow. “Should I make you beg?

Ding! Ding!

“No,” she mumbles, pouting slightly. “Wanna make you feel good.” He hums appreciatively, tapping her cheek lightly.

“Taught you well, lovie,” he says. “Down.” He guides her onto her onto her elbows as he adjusts onto his knees, her hands moving back under the elastic band, the tips of her fingers teasing his skin. “Le’ me see,” he coaxes, fingers tugging on her chin. Sure enough, his spit is still in the divot of her tongue. “Good girl, you can swallow now.”

Ding!

Her fingers tease up his thighs and into his boxers, cupping his balls suddenly. He bites his lip, slapping her on the cheek. It’s not enough to do anything more than a slight burn, but it leaves her tingly with her eyes fluttering closed.

“Don’t be greedy, slut,” he spits, yanking her head back by her hair.

“I’m sorry,” she says, “Just want you so bad.”

She tugs his boxers down, but only enough for his hard cock to slip out. She normally starts off slow, teasing him until he can't take it anymore and pushes her all the way down, using her as he pleases. That’s not the case tonight. A part of her wants to take control, to suck him until he’s nearly falling apart, his knees weak. She takes nearly all of him in her mouth, and he gasps with surprise, his hands combing through her hair, guiding her. She gags on him, her bottom lip pressed tightly to his balls. He tugs her back.

“Watch the teeth,” he hisses. She gasps for air, lips lingering on the red, nearly purple, tip. His hips buck. He breathes out through gritted teeth, shaky and heavy.

“Sorry, just wanna make you feel good,” she says, pressing a wet kiss to his hip. She runs her tongue over the divot of his hip bone.

“Want me to fuck your mouth, lovie?” He asks, his fingers tracing over her tender lips. She nods, and he can feel her trying to move, but he holds her back by the hair, grip tight. “Beg,” he says, brows cocked.

“Please, H, want you to fuck my mouth, use me,” she moans, mouthing over the head of his cock. He holds himself steady, teasing her, just barely letting her feel but not allowing her to fully take him in her mouth. A pool of spit slides down her lips and into his hand, wetting the skin even more, before it falls onto the mattress. Her hands travel up the back of his thighs and onto his partially clothed bum, giving him a cheeky squeeze.

“M’kay, relax, babylove,” he says, brushing flyaways from her forehead, the skin already sticky with sweat. “Hold still and look at me. You know the rules.” She looks up at him, wide eyes never breaking from his as he guides his cock down the length of her throat, squeezing and stroking. She barely winces as he thrusts his hips, shoving himself deeper with every move. Her tongue runs along the bottom ridge of his cock, tracing every vein.

Ding!

She squeezes the skin of his thighs, guiding him further down her throat. The filthy wet sounds make her clit throb and her arousal seep into the sheets. There’s absolutely nothing better than seeing him above her, lost in pleasure, his chest flushing red, nearly incoherent: all because of her. There’s also something incredibly intimate about it as well; he always insists on keeping eye contact until there are tears in her eyes. With one hand gripping her hair tightly while the other gently caresses her cheek, he guides himself into her warm mouth. He nibbles on his lip.

“Take it, baby,” he moans, stuffing his cock deeper in her mouth. He traces his fingers along her throat, feeling the muscles swell and contract beneath them. Saliva dribbles from her lips, down her chin and the length of his shaft. She chokes and gags, but she doesn’t let up.

She barely reaches the base, her nose only just grazing the curls before he’s yanking her back, a string of saliva trailing from the head to her swollen lips, which breaks under the force of her gasps, and his cock twitches at the sight of her looking properly wrecked, eyes wide, blown with lust, her lips swollen and wet from spit and pre-cum, and chest heaving.

“Bend over,” he says, tapping her cheek. “Made such a mess, baby,” he says after she moves up, running a hand over the wet patch that formed on the sheets. Like a good girl, she turns until she’s facing the headboard, her glistening pussy on display to their hundreds of viewers. She shakes with anticipation.

Harry doesn’t deter from his normal routine, not touching her until she’s nearly in tears. She can feel the heat from his hand hovering over her skin, and she can feel hungry eyes on her; a small part of her wants to shrink away, but with Harry right beside her, it makes her feel like the strongest, sexiest woman in the world. Harry finally runs a finger along her slit after a few tense minutes and roughly presses into her clit. Her hips buck into his hand, and she presses a cheek into the mattress, moaning with relief.

“Such a good little slut,” he hums. “So wet for us, baby.”

Us.

When he says that, her pussy clenches and a rush of arousal threatens to slip down her trembling thighs; she sinks further into the mattress, sliding down until her chest is pressed tightly to the sheets, and her thighs spread even further until the joints of her hips ache with overexertion, but the pain is welcomed.

“Keep 'em on or off?” He asks.

“On,” she answers, the feeling of his cool rings against her heated skin is comforting almost. Her stomach tingles when he slips two fingers inside her pussy, with his thumb massaging at the tender skin between her holes. He easily finds that spot inside her, the spot that makes

Her orgasm comes painfully soon, her clit throbbing and begging for attention as he fucks her so close to oblivion, his rings adding extra friction to her sensitive walls. The scent of her arousal is thick in the air as it slips down his hands, traveling either down to her belly or her thighs. She’s so close, close enough to taste it; she just needs one more push until her high completely swallows her, bathing her in a warmth that only he’s been able to give her, but she is, perhaps, a little too optimistic. With every helpless jut of her hips, the more frequent moans, and the tightening of her walls, Harry knows the signs of her impending orgasm, but he can’t let her have it that easily.

A pained yelp slips past her lips when he suddenly pulls away and smacks her clit with wet fingers, the fervent climax drifting away until a dull ache, of yearning and lust, is all that remains. He spanks her sensitive pussy and lands two more on her bum. She groans, savoring the sting from his rings, cold yet burning.

“Not yet,” he says, running his hand along her prickled skin. He spanks her, harder than before, and she groans with pleasure. He wants to see the raised imprint of his hand on her smooth skin.

She can feel herself slipping. It starts off slow, a slight fog behind her eyes, and then it drifts and settles, spreading to her limbs. It feels like being high, swaddled in a soothing haze, and you can only feel yourself. The external earth doesn’t exist, and in that moment, it’s just her and Harry. Her world muffles, the sporadic chimes coming from the laptop ceasing, and the mattress disappears from beneath her, leaving her floating and vulnerable, with nothing to hold her other than him.

Harry.

He has always been able to make her teeter on the edge of pain and pleasure, and with her senses are in overdrive yet dulled at the same time, she feel that edge slip away into the abyss, with each slap delivered to her ass, they’re dulled just a little bit more. Like an addict, she yearns to feel the first one, the one that made her legs tremble, the one that sent tingles up her spine and a burning to her supple skin.

“More,” she says, inching closer to him.

“More?” She can hear the smile in his voice. She stretches her arms in front of her, back arching further than ever before. He lands another slap to her ass, lower and closer to her dripping pussy. He kisses the welts that raised over her skin from the rings, but she can barely feel them, nothing more than a welcomed prickle.

He spits on her pussy and slips three fingers inside this time, stretching her further than before, and with the extra friction from his rings, she tightens up almost instantly, the burning fire from before coming faster and stronger than before.

“Fuck,” she moans, long and drawn out. His free hand spanks her again, and she hisses, her arms giving out. Pleasure rushes through her veins, threatening to envelop her, and she can feel herself give in once again, sinking into him and accepting anything he has to offer. “Close,” she whines, but he pulls away again, slapping her clit roughly. She cries out, wanting to shy away from him, but her body betrays her, and she backs into him, craving yet another stolen high.

“Move t’ the side, button,” he says, tapping her leg, and she does, turning until they’re parallel to the webcam. He only teases the head of his cock through her folds for a moment before he slams into her with little warning, her warmth swallowing him easily. This is something he could never get tired of: the feeling of her hot, wet walls gripping him and of her arousal slipping down his thighs.

Ding! Ding!

His near brutal pace knocks the wind from her chest, making her drawn out cries of pleasure break and split. As he pounds into her, his hips smacking harshly against her raw skin, the remnants of her ruined climaxes leave her walls overly sensitive to every rough thrust, but she backs into him, meeting his hips, eager to finally come undone. He digs his nails into her tender skin, and she lets out a breath.

There has always been a fine line between pain and pleasure, and Harry knows exactly how to dangle her right at the very edge.

“Takin’ me so well,” he coos, but she can’t even fathom his compliment in her addled mind, let alone respond. He wraps his hands around her throat and pulls her head next to his. He wants to feel her, the heat of her breaths, the salt on her skin, the tremors of her thighs, everything. Her body grinds back against him, whether consciously or unconsciously, he doesn’t know. Her eyes are closed, features pinched, chasing her high.

Y/N can feel everything, every rush of blood flowing in her veins, every stroke of his cock inside her, every bead of sweat that drips from his skin and onto her back. She can feel everything, yet nothing at all; it all blurs together into a blanket of warmth and euphoria, and he’s at the center of it all: holding her and pleasing her and giving her everything she never knew she desired. She can barely speak, nothing more than a few broken whimpers filling the thick air, lost amongst his heaving breaths and the chimes from the laptop, which is at the back of their minds at this point.

She hooks her arm behind her, around his neck, her fingers carding through the sweat-drenched locks. She tugs on them painfully hard when he hits her weak spot, and he groans. Her heart is nearly racing out of her chest when yet another taunting orgasm tightens her stomach.

“Need cummies,” she whines, her words slurring, head falling to the side. He nestles his nose into the crook of her neck, hips grinding his cock deeper inside her.

“No cummies, yet, lovie,” he says. “Wait f’ me.” He can feel her struggling to hold her orgasm back, the walls of her pussy fluttering, milking him; he groans, feeling more blood rush to his cock when she squeezes him even tighter. “Relax,” he coos, scratching his nails along her scalp. He slaps her clit, making her twitch and buck even more, and he spreads his fingers around the swollen skin of her pussy, teasing where they’re connected. He lets go of her neck, and she nearly collapses without his support, leaning heavily on her elbows, back arched.

“Please,” she whimpers, shaking her head, “Can’t hold it.”

She slumps onto the mattress, her quivering knees slipping out from under her. Her hips buck, a long, drawn out moan slipping out as toe-curling orgasm washes over her, bathing her in warmth and relief and pure bliss. He comes soon after, hands gripping her hips tightly. Her shallow breaths are barely audible in the thick air, amongst a cacophony of chimes from the cam and his own heavy breathing. He rubs along her back, pressing sporadic kisses to her spine, following the ridges up to her neck.

“Babylove?”

She doesn’t answer, only a weak whimper and a sigh leaving her as she shifts beneath him, causing his softening cock to slip out, their releases pooling beneath them. He quickly closes the laptop to keep some semblance of privacy, and he tries to ease her onto her back, but she’s unresponsive, head nestled deep into the bed, but her breathing becomes more stable, muscles lax.

“Y/N?” She hums and turns onto her back. He cups her cheeks, trying to look into her eyes. They’re half-lidded, and she can’t seem to focus on much of anything. “Can you get up f’me? Need t’ get ya cleaned up.”

She finally looks at him, her pupils dilated, like she’s faded, lost in an empty mind. She blinks and looks down at his hands on her arms. Her brows furrow, and the tremors return, starting in her hands and spreading to her legs. They’re not pleasant, like before when she felt like she was floating; these ones make her blood run cold. Her high lessens, her head still foggy, but the feeling returns in her limbs, leaving her skin burning and bruised. When she meets his gaze again, there’s a sinking feeling in her stomach, shame and dread.

In her current state of mind, she mistakes the concern in his eyes for anger, and tears fill her eyes. She disappointed him; she was being greedy and dirty and bad. She covers her face with her arms to hide the tears that slip out, knees tucking to her chest.

“‘M sorry,” she cries suddenly. His heart stops for a second. What on earth could he have done to make her want to apologize? He tugs her arms away from her face.

“For wha’?”

“You said no cummies, and I couldn’t hold it—” Her face crumbles. “I was being a bad, bad girl.” She mutters to herself, biting her lip, which quivers pitifully. “Please, please, don’t be mad,” she begs, hands clinging to him. Before, she felt absolute euphoria, a high she didn’t want to come down from, but now, her skin aches, and there’s a pang of guilt and shame in her belly that she can’t seem to soothe. She doesn’t even feel it when her teeth break past the skin of her lips.

“Hey, none of that,” he says, easing her bruised lip from her teeth. He runs a thumb over her knuckles. “‘M not mad, never, lovie,” he reassures her. “C’mere,” he says, tugging her into his arms. “Look a’ me.” He rests his forehead against hers. He’s had to coax her out of a subspace only a handful of times, but she has never crashed this hard. Never has she been this shaken, nor has it ever happened during a cam. He just wishes he noticed sooner; he should have known not to go as rough as he did, especially when she was feeling tired to begin with. When she’s in her subspace, she tends to take it a little too far, thinking she can take more than what she would normally handle.

“Better?” He asks her after a moment, and she nods, but her hands still quiver at her side. “Be right back, yeah?” He lays her back down gently and goes into the washroom to draw a bath. When he comes back, he finds her with her hands over her face, shoulders shaking.

“Can ya walk?”

“Yeah,” she says, scooting up off the bed, but her knees buckle, and they barely make it to the bathroom.

“I gotcha,” he says. “Jus’ gonna getcha cleaned up, feelin’ all better.” Her bum, the skin raised with welts made by his own hand, barely touches the water before she’s wincing. There’s a tinge in his stomach, but he continues to help her in, holding her under the armpits.

“In ya go,” he whispers, nursing her like she’s a toddler. The water is hot and comforting against her aching muscles. The lavender oil he tossed in leaves her skin silky with a tingeful burn on her bum and thighs. She clings to his arm, which has now wrapped tightly around her middle, pressing into her tender breasts.

“Come in with me,” she says. He sinks to his knees and cups her neck, elbow dipping in the water.

“Be right back, button,” he says, kissing her forehead lightly, “Jus’ need t’ change the sheets.”

He returns not a moment later and joins her in the tub, washing her body with a sweetly scented scrub. She comes fully down in the bath, with his arms coiled tightly around her, one over her chest and the other around her middle, their fingers toying together. The water’s run cold, but they don’t make any move to get out any time soon, basking in the warmth of each other.

Despite how many years they have been together, he still finds it difficult to believe that he can be so comfortable with another person.

She puts her heart, body, and soul fully in his hands and trusts him not to break it.

He trusts that she’ll do the same for him.

And when she snuggles into him and presses a tired kiss to his cool skin, after he gets them dried and in their bed once again, he knows that there is no other person in the world he would trust more with his heart than her.

—

#harry styles #harry styles imagine #harry styles x reader #ellie writes #ellie writes smut #ellie writes fluff #ish #gif not mine #credit to owner

2K notes · View notes

honeyandbloodpoetry · 3 years

Text

Abuse and Gender Expression - Gender Thoughts Part Three

Huuuuuge trigger warnings for peer abuse, emotional abuse, physical abuse, sexual abuse, religious abuse, a murder attempt and mentions of self harm, suicidal ideation and an eating disorder. 18+ talk of sexual activity also included. Discretion advised!

I feel like the first time I realized I needed to perform high femininity to be accepted was in sixth grade. I was slotted into a rotating elective class, and the first one was a careers class. That careers class was utter hell for me. Every single day, I was tormented by an entire classroom of about twenty of my peers. I was bullied, no, abused for being fat and ugly and weird. I was called a whore, and told the only way I could ever be loved was someone raping me. Things were thrown at me, I was shoved down and tripped. I was bullied for my special interest in Transformers. I was told I was so fat and ugly I should be killed and be made into meat and cheese and fed to starving people because that was my only worth. Every single day I was told I should kill myself in varying ways. And all of that is just a quick summary. It was intense and brutal abuse for an entire semester, and I distinctly remember a day where there was a literal pool of tears on my desk. I couldn’t understand. I reached out to the teacher for help, and genuinely can’t remember exactly what he said. All I know is that he simply watched, and sometimes even joined in with “jokes” of his own. This was also the year abuse from my mother amped up, and home was a warzone--we were constantly arguing, and she became a professional at gaslighting and poking and prodding me until I exploded so I could be blamed for fighting back. My father would vacantly stand by and remind me not to fight back. This was also the year I began to self harm as a way of release.

I remember thinking that if I looked more like the girls in my class, I wouldn’t be bullied so much. I was told I was ugly and unlovable, so I thought that if I performed more femininely, maybe I could be like those who tormented me and therefore not be a target. I thought there was something inherently wrong with the way I presented myself. I convinced my mother to take me to the store, and I bought wedge heels and gaudy jewelry I did not like to wear with my uniform--replacing my autobot necklace and sweatband. In another class I was teased for not shaving and for having ugly feet, so I learned to paint my nails, file my heels, and shave every bit of hair on my body--the echo of my father saying that since I grew pubic hair, I was now a woman and held accountable for all of my sins an echo on the cusp of my mind. I did everything in my power to be more pretty and girly. I used to be loud and rambunctious, and began to go silent and demure.

I remember walking up to the class in the new get-up that was certainly not me. I felt that I would be accepted but as I walked up...I fell flat on my ass. I couldn’t walk in the heels. They all pointed and laughed at me, and the abuse continued in even higher intensity. It was until the next semester that I fought back by throwing a desk at two of my abusers who followed me to the next rotating elective, screaming and snarling at them to leave me alone. Those two in particular stopped, but abuse from others continued for many years in many instances. I developed an eating disorder, continued self harming, and began to try and form femininity and “attractiveness” to the best of my ability. I added things like bows and kitty ears and flower crowns to my wardrobe--sure they were cute, and I did like them in a way, but it felt like putting on a costume or some sort of womanly obligation. It didn’t feel like me. Years later, I was told by someone I trusted that I was “too fat to wear pants”, which I internalized and began to only wear dresses--same thing with feeling like I was wearing a costume. I tried to be beautiful. I wanted to be butch, be myself, but I felt that if I was a cute and girly girl, demure and sweet, I wouldn’t be a target. I would be loved.

And so I locked myself away.

My relationship with my mother was a rocky one. She is definitely a sick and broken person, but I doubt she will ever get help. She swings between extremes, and I was always her doll and punching bag. She had a habit of pushing and pushing, finding all the littles holes in me that triggered autistic meltdowns and despair. She criticized everything about me, from my weight and height to my blaming me for how tangled my hair was. She entered me in sports and spelling bees with gentle but insisting prodding about how good I would be when I would rather be reading or playing, and when I got frustrated she would say it was my choice...when in reality I just wanted her approval. When I got older, and especially after my father killed himself, I began to fight back and question her authority though--sometimes violently. She didn’t like that, and was violent right back, and oftentimes first. I struggled my whole life with blaming myself for my outbursts and reactions, but through therapy I have learned I was a child being gaslit and abused, shown that violence was the only answer… And through therapy, I have learned to do better and grow. The worst instance of abuse was me having an autistic meltdown where I said that we should both just die and her response was to pull out a gun and point it at me--I collapsed down into our trash covered room (I was forced to share a bed with her) and pleaded with her to stop. She threatened to kill me and help me out since I was so suicidal, then turned the gun on herself and threatened to kill herself, in which I had to talk her down. When the gun was down, I fled in a flurry of tears and barely contained screams. It was truly the most horrible moment of my life, and I still struggle with the ptsd of that moment to this day. I was only fourteen.

All that background to say, my mother was extremely possessive of my body. She seemed to love to touch my breasts and butt, jerk me around, slap my butt, watch me get dressed. When I begged her to stop, she would tell me that she made that body and could do whatever she wanted to it. I found messages on her phone of her talking to guys about having sex with me and stealing my panties. She wouldn’t let me do my own hair because I couldn’t do it right. She wouldn’t let me bathe alone until I was over ten years old. I didn’t ever have my own room until I was 18 and shared it with my partner. She never let me play with my hair and kept a close eye on what I wore. This combined with my very religious Christian father, who said things like “if you know more song lyrics than bible verses when you die, you’ll go to hell” and the aforementioned accountability, along with things like letting me know he loved God more than me and always seeming to walk in while I was changing… I always felt owned by something. I never felt like my body or my identity belonged to me alone. And so it was extremely difficult to explore myself.

Sexual exploration became an outlet. I was asexual and didn’t possess sexual attraction or a desire for coital sex (still don’t), but I enjoyed kink play with my partner and playing with myself. I enjoyed porn, mostly stories. I always felt drawn to mlm porn, but never understood why. I saw myself in the big, fat men of the stories. I wished it could be me, wished I was a big hairy man like that. Wished I could be loved like that. Reading those types of erotica always got me off and made me feel relaxed and fulfilled, no matter what kink it regarded. Of course my mom would slutshame me without even knowing what I got up to, but sexual activity and pornography helped me find solace and ownership of my body. When I was aroused and taking care of myself, being taken care of, or taking care of someone else, I felt like I was finally in control of my body and my happiness. I had been sexually abused in different ways by different people throughout my life, and finding a certain safety and security in the kind of sexual activity I explored made me feel like...me. I found myself in those big men, but still didn’t make the connection that I was not cis.

It wasn’t until many years that I began to question my gender. First nonbinary, then agender, then genderfluid, then bigender, then nonbinary again, now finally transmasc. I am autistic and struggle with a resistance to change. I have struggled with shifting my name because it feels like a betrayal to become something new. So I have become Charis instead of Charissa...but I think I may be Myles instead. Since I have struggled with abuse and feeling owned my whole life, it is scary to take my self creation into my own hands. People I am close to have expressed concern and dislike for my transition--especially my mother. I came out to her two days ago over the phone when she guessed I was transgender--or “wanted a sex change” as she put it. She outed me to her anti-lgbt boyfriend without my consent, and now they want to have a discussion. She cried and told me it was too much and she couldn’t talk yet. I am still unsure of what to do about it. I know my mother is broken, and has come far from the cruelty she was once capable of--but she still swings. I see those shattered pieces and their sharp edges and know they have the ability to cut. It is terrifying.

Coming out, especially after so many years of abuse, has been absolutely terrifying and difficult. I am still navigating how to do it, especially with a name change. The clinic I am going to for hrt screwed up with their scheduling and had to reschedule me for later this month, a frustrating thing. I am looking forward to starting hrt, but also scared how people will treat me once those changes begin happening. Even with these fears and struggling with my interpersonal relationships...this is the greatest choice I have ever made. It is my truth and my freedom, and I will fight against that fear to become my most authentic self. I have an incredible partner by my side, and with their support and my own self love, I can do anything.

7 notes · View notes

hockeylvr59 · 4 years

Text

Secret Love Part 19 || Cale Makar

Requested: [ ] yes [x] no

Authors Note: Was hoping to come home to Cale having poured a me a glass of wine ready to celebrate my externship (and me surviving the longest day of my week)....sadly that’s just not reality and this is the only Cale I’ve got so...it’ll just have to do I suppose.

Warnings: moderate angst, internet trolls.

Word Count: 2,443

~~~~~

You were in the middle of a house showing when your phone started buzzing incessantly. Not wanting to seem unprofessional, you ignored it as you talked with your clients about the features of the house before sending them to explore on their own for a few minutes.

Checking your phone you saw that you had missed three calls from Laura. There was no reason for her to be calling you repeatedly unless something was wrong and you quickly called her back, your heart pounding.

“Hey mom I’m in the middle of a showing, what’s up?”

“Have you heard from Cale today?” She asked.

“Not since first thing this morning…” You replied, anxiety growing. “Mom what’s going on?”

“Cale’s not answering his phone. We don’t know where he’s at.” You could hear Gary in the background as the two of them rambled back and forth. “Y/N...there are some pretty nasty rumors online about him…”

Your heart plummeted to the ground and your stomach twisted violently.

“Send me screenshots?” You pleaded. After just a minute or two, images flooded your phone that made you want to physically vomit.

Guess even a Calder trophy winner can be a deadbeat dad.

He’s on vacation while she’s waitressing...classy move there Cale.

Guess he’s not so perfect after all is he? #quinnshouldhavewonthecalder

Hearing the footsteps of your clients, you pocketed your phone attempting to mask all of the emotions rushing through your mind. After chatting with them about the house, you moved to leave and though you had planned to take them to see two more, your heart just wasn’t in it. Explaining that a family emergency had just popped up, you promised them you would reschedule as soon as possible before sliding into your car.

Your attempt to get ahold of Cale went straight to voicemail and you groaned just wishing he would pick up. Opening first instagram and then twitter you realized just what had started it all. The avs had posted a summer update about Cale with a few pictures from Iceland that he must have sent their pr department. The top reply on twitter linked an instagram post from Sara’s page where she was obviously pregnant and wearing a waitressing uniform. Her vague status read ‘working for that dough since my baby daddy is useless’ You’d barely looked at all and you were already furious and devastated, you couldn’t even imagine how Cale was feeling.

Driving home, you called your favorite coworker pleading with her to take what appointments of yours today she could before calling the rest to reschedule. With your work commitments being taken care of, your plan was to go home and change before trying to find Cale. The moment you pulled in your driveway, however, you felt your heart settle because that was definitely Cale’s car. Dialing Laura’s number again you shut your car door quietly, not sure what state you’d find Cale in on the other side of your front door.

“Hey mom...his car is here. I don’t know what I’m about to find but you know I’ll do everything I can…” Laura insisted that you could call right back if there was anything you needed and after hanging up with her, you slipped your key into the lock, pushing your way inside.

The house was quiet and after toeing off your shoes, you padded down the hall in search of your boyfriend. The sight that met you as you reached your bedroom door broke your heart. Cale was curled up on your bed, his shoulders shaking with sobs.

Crawling in beside him, not caring if your dress got rumpled, you pulled his head to your chest, cradling his large frame as best you could.

“I’m here...I got you.” You whispered, one hand scratching gently over his scalp while the other ran up and down his back. Though Cale buried his head against you, he didn’t react otherwise and you felt his tears gathering against your skin. “What can I do Cale?” You whispered eventually, hating the helpless feeling this situation had left you with.

The silence of Cale’s response made you swallow hard. You wanted to scream from the rooftops about how people were making false assumptions, how Cale was the victim in this not his ex, how even if they were right it was none of their fucking business in the first place. But you knew it would only make things worse. The only real option was to let things die down on their own. You knew the truth, Cale’s family knew the truth, your family knew the truth, Cale’s teammates knew the truth. What anyone else thought really didn’t matter but that didn’t make it hurt any less.

When Cale finally cried himself to sleep in your arms, you continued to hold him for a few minutes before you finally pulled yourself from bed. Changing clothes, you grabbed your phone and stepped out to the kitchen for a glass of water, dialing Laura again as you leaned against the kitchen counter.

“How is he?” She asked immediately.

“He’s asleep now. Finally cried himself out.” You mumbled. “He hasn’t said a word mom. It’s obvious he’s devastated, but I don’t know what to do. How do I fix this?”

“You can’t.” She admitted sadly. “Just be there for him. That’s all you can do. It may not feel like much but I’m sure he appreciates it. I appreciate it. I’m glad he’s not alone. That if he didn’t feel comfortable coming home that he felt comfortable enough to go to your home. He’s safe and you can get through this together, we can all get through this together.”

“Why do people have to be so mean?” You vented, just frustrated with all of it.

“I can’t answer that. But don’t let this rock your relationship, that would only be giving these people what they want.” She insisted.

“I’m not going anywhere mom. Cale is stuck with me.” Your words made Laura laugh and you sighed softly.

“I’m sure he’s so upset about that.” She teased. “My son is absolutely gone for you. I don’t know how I didn’t see it before.”

“I don’t know mom…” You grinned shaking your head. “Makes me wonder what else he got away with that you don’t know about.” You joked.

“Not funny Y/N.” She lightly chastised. Taking another sip of water you heard the buzz of a phone that wasn’t yours and you followed the sound, finding Cale’s phone with his keys at the front entry.

“Hey mom...I’m gonna let you go. I don’t want to leave Cale alone too long even if he’s sleeping.” You said, tucking your phone against your ear as you flipped Cale’s over seeing strings of notifications flash across the screen.

“Sounds good dear. Love you. Let us know if you need anything.”

“Will do...love you too mom.”

You didn’t want to invade Cale’s privacy too much but even a quick glance at his phone told you that his teammates were worried about him. Unlocking his phone with the code you’d memorized just a few days into vacation, you opened his group chat and started typing a message.

Hey guys, it’s Y/N...I haven’t read more than the 1 or 2 messages that flashed across the notifications screen because I don’t want to overstep. Just thought you guys should know that Cale really isn’t in a mindset to look at his phone. He’s not ignoring you...I’m sure he’ll get back to you guys soon...he just needs some time to process. If you have any urgent concerns my cell number is (587) 122- 3456.

Before you could talk yourself out of the message, questioning if even that was too intrusive, you pressed send, dropping Cale’s phone back with his car keys. It didn’t take more than a minute for your phone to ring and though you hesitated, answering revealed the voice of Gabe Landeskog.

“Y/N? This is Gabe.” He greeted.

“Hey Gabe.” You whispered, moving over toward the couch so that you were a little bit farther away from the open bedroom door.

“How is he?” The question made you sigh, your head falling back against the couch.

“Not so good.” You admitted. “He’s asleep right now...hopefully his dreams provide him some peace.”

“And how are you?” He followed up, not bothering to comment on Cale’s status any further.

“Heartbroken. Angry. Helpless. Take your pick.” You groaned. “There’s nothing I can do but be here and it’s frustrating.”

“Being there is probably more significant than you realize Y/N. Cale is a very private person and if he trusts you that’s not nothing.” As Gabe spoke you realized that even though you’d told your parents about your relationship, Cale must not have told anyone else yet.

“I know it’s not. I just…I want to fix it. And I know I can’t. I know we just have to wait and let this die out. But in the meantime I have to watch this tear him apart. It’s hard.” Gabe hummed in acknowledgement, a slightly uncomfortable silence filling the air for a moment before he spoke again.

“All the guys have his back...your back if you guys need anything. I’ll try and get them to back off a little so he’s not overwhelmed when he’s ready to talk. And I’m sure Cale will appreciate you reaching out to us on his behalf. I know the guys are relieved to know he’s being taken care of.”

“Thanks.” You breathed, still thrown by everything that had happened today.

“Well I’ll let you go. And Y/N... I’ll have Mel add your number to the Better Halves chat...glad you guys figured it out.” Gabe was just a little too intuitive and you shook your head as you ended the call.

Cale was still asleep when you crawled back into bed beside him, your hands rubbing soothingly along his skin again. With your brain focused on what you could possibly do to make things better, you missed Cale starting to stir, his blue eyes droopy as he peered over at you.

“I’m sorry…” The sound of his voice made you jump and when you looked over at him, you saw the distraught expression remained on his face. “I shouldn’t have dragged you into this…” As he spoke he shifted to sit up, his legs swinging over the edge of the bed. Moving alongside him, you wrapped your arms around his shoulders, pulling his body back against yours.

“You have nothing to be sorry for Cale. You did nothing wrong. This is not on you. This is on the idiots who think they know what they’re talking about when they don’t even have the most basic of their facts straight.” Cale flinched just slightly, but you felt it, your heart picking up speed.

“I still caused you pain. I’m not supposed to do that.” Something told you that the next words to come out of your mouth were possibly the most important words spoken in your relationship...more important than ‘I love you’ had been.

“Cale Douglas Makar…” You declared, refusing to let him get up from the bed as you shuffled to stand in front of him. “You listen to me and you listen to me well. You are not the cause of my pain. I hurt because you hurt. The people that hurt you are the ones that hurt me...not you.” Forcing Cale’s cheeks up to look at you, you brushed your thumbs along his jaw.

“Never apologize for ‘dragging me into’ something. We are partners, we are equals. You cannot carry the emotional burden of this relationship alone. And lately you’ve been doing more work in that regard than you should. So DO NOT apologize. It’s my turn to carry the weight. Let me. Let me support you like you’ve supported me. Let me care for you like you care for me. Maybe I can’t physically carry you out of a lava tube...but I can lift you up emotionally, mentally...I can give you the strength to get through this. You are not alone. You have me. And I’m strong enough to handle this even though it upsets me. Use me. Please. Don’t push me away because you think you have to protect me and handle this on your own.”

Cale’s tears dripped along your fingertips and you leaned forward pulling his body into yours.

“We’re gonna get through this Cale...it’ll all blow over. And when it does it’ll just prove to the rest of the world what we already know. That you’re incredible. And we’re unshakable. So whatever you need. I’m here. All you have to do is say the word.”

“I love you.” Cale’s words were muffled by your clothing, but you heard him loud and clear.

“I love you too. Always will.” You assured him, nails scraping against his scalp again. Staying like that until his breathing steadied, you dipped down to kiss him gently but deeply.

“C’mon...let’s order a bunch of junk food, put some stupid comedy on tv and just relax.” You directed. “Though you should probably call mom first. She’s a little concerned and I know hearing your voice would make a big difference.”

When he nodded, you stepped back, though you didn’t make it far before Cale was wrapped around you again. If he needed to be a koala tonight, you were perfectly okay with that.

“Do you wanna use my phone so you don’t have to look at yours?” You asked softly. “I did jump into your team group chat to tell the boys to back off a little so you shouldn’t have as many notifications but you can use mine if you aren’t ready to deal with any of that.”

Cale didn’t seem at all fazed that you had used his phone but he willingly accepted yours, calling his mom. You’d placed an order for food on your laptop while they talked and upon the end of that conversation, you settled in on the couch for the night, only moving for food or drinks. As another episode of the sitcom Cale had picked ended, you looked down at him snoring softly, his head on your chest.

Today had been exhausting...this week had been exhausting, but you’d dealt with it together and now Cale knew that he didn’t have to bear the weight of the world by himself. You were bound to have bad days every now and then, but together you could get through so much more than either of you could separately.

#cale makar #cale makar imagine #colorado avalanche #colorado avalanche imagine #nhl imagines #nhl imagine #hockey imagines #hockey imagine #cavalanche #038

125 notes · View notes

north-peach · 4 years

Text

WHO WANTS A SNIPPET OF A MEGS/OP FIC I ALMOST WROTE ALMOST TWO YEARS AGO?

plus some notes because, like I said, almost wrote it

also, trigger warning for brief mention of rape, nothing explicit

murder too? kinda mild violence?

Also it’s more Megatronus/Optimus Prime....plus, slight time travel.

When Truth is Shattered (hope is built once more)

There's an Uprising, as there always is in a universe such as this. The rebellion is orchestrated by Megatronus being the kickass he is, poet, philosopher, warrior, slave and leader.

Prime is a title passed down via a fancy relic thing referred to as the Matrix of Leadership, but it's not merged with a spark, it's strung on a chain and worn, or usually displayed somewhere. It signifies the authority invested in someone, either individually or a group of individuals.

The Matrix also acts as an activation key for a great many forms of highly power technology that is rumored to have been created by Primus himself for the Original Thirteen Primes to use.

There's a really old bot called Alpha Trion who bestows it, takes it back and is generally the one who handles it, in between the periods of a new Prime or Council of Prime ascending. He's always been there, he's like super old so no one really questions him, his decisions, his impact on their society or anything at all.

Primus is thought to be something like a myth, Unicron as well. Most of their history of the early days of their civilization is a bit spotty, but their current level of technology cannot compete with what they possessed in the beginning and now lack the ability to craft or use.

That’s why the Matrix is a symbol of leadership as it can activate the technology, including the planetary shield, almost all offensive capabilities, several buildings that manufacture everything from basic building components to extremely energy intensive upgrades.

It is acknowledged history that there were thirteen Original Primes, even though only about half of their names are remembered. However all of their greatest deeds were recorded. So you had the Prime of This and That, when their names were lost to time.

So, save for the ruling few, the nobles, the first class and a majority of the second class citizens, things are bad.

Caste system, energon shortage, bad working conditions, (all of these unnecessary, used only as a means to control the populace because tired, hungry and illiterate people don't raise armies to overthrow the government) abuse of rights, those in power staying in power, inheriting power from family members and corruption running rampant through the levels of government.

Megatronus, former slave/miner turned gladiator, poet, philosopher and revolutionary raises his army and storms into Iacon in order to demand change, or put himself in charge. That is his end goal, but he's absolutely going to throw everyone in power into a deep dark hole somewhere if it's the only thing he manages to do.

The Prime in power, arrogant as all get out, challenges Megatronus and loses his head over it entirely. So Megatronus- who is absolutely an “if I can make god bleed” kinda guy, yanks the Matrix from the corpse, throws it down and swings his sword down on it as hard as he can.

Miner, yes? Gladiator, yes? Yes? Very strong, we appreciate his strong, Matrix is strong enough to survive a very long time, but Megatronus is fueled by righteous fury and the rage of a thousand murdered slaves.

Alpha Trion screams in anguished horror as it shatters into fifty thousand itty bitty pieces. No more Matrix of Leadership, no more cheating to get around the systems lock on technology only meant to be worked by a Prime.

Sad day.

That's when everything lights up like the American’s fourth of July and from that light, a large mech in blue and red appears. Nice sleek lines, brilliant paint, very pretty, we also appreciate this. He's very confused, understandably, looking around in shock, bewilderment and some dawning sense of terror. But then he sees Alpha Trion.

Instantly he leaps to his pedes and reaches towards the old bot.

"Alpha Trion? Where- where am I? What- what is going on?"

Alpha Trion gets emotions, surprising for a bot responsible for so much suffering, the way he screamed shocked a great many people.

Megatronus and his high command all decide to observe because a new player has entered the equation and while everyone’s attention is on him, it gives Megatronus a chance to move more people into a better positions.

Optimus is understandably very upset. He yanks his servos out of Alpha Trion’s grasp, ignoring as the bot’s voice turns cajoling and pleading for him to calm down.

Alpha Trion stands before the new mech, servos grasping onto his and gently starts explaining some of the positives of the new Golden Age but that it's been a while since Optimus walked the planet and this is another Golden Age set a lot of Ages after the very first Golden Age.

And Alpha Trion carefully and quickly explains that Optimus was opposed to a thing that the rest of the thirteen primes were going to do and Megatronus decided to remove him because he was standing in the way of their glory, in the way of the greater good of Cybertron. He did not tell the others and ambushed Optimus-

"Megatronus! He- he," his voice dissolves into a static-y keening, digits digging harshly into the undamaged plating of the cover of his spark chamber. "He stabbed me? My spark? My- He?"

(Megatronus and company trade looks and swift messages)

-to which, Alpha Trion stresses, they were all very upset and Megatronus was duly punished-

-and buried his sword into his spark chamber. The others were alerted when Primus intervened to ensure Optimus’s spark didn’t return to Him. But his frame was badly damaged and extreme measures were taken to ensure his survival.

Optimus doesn't take this well and decides to use his optics and turns and starts looking. He's standing in a place that is lavish and incredibly luxurious. There are dead people around him, in shiny and glimmering frames, and then there's a crowd of dirty, misshapen, mismash, ragtag, thrown together bots and he quickly jumps to the correct conclusion: the people are revolting against a corrupt leadership and-

It’s Alpha Trion, shining and dazzling in the soft lights. Alpha Trion who was not a Prime but was granted a similar though lower security level and was treated like family. True, he was fashioned to be an assistant, a helper but this? Sitting in a throne at the right hand of the front of the room?

Optimus jerks his helm around and make optic contact with the largest mech, the one who stands in front of all the others at the head of the revolution.

There’s power in there that- that- reminds him...

Alpha Trion continues talking though and he's explaining that the rest of the Primes came together and fashioned a stasis orb to keep him alive while his frame repaired and his spark recovered. It was expanded and everything that was his was placed inside and then shrunk.

“Why? Why am I alive?”

It hurts that Alpha Trion looks wrecked at the very idea that Optimus shouldn’t be alive, right before rage crawls over his face plates and vibrates the air with the force of it.

He then starts to explain the people that stand behind him- but-

They’re terrorists and murderers, thieves- Megatronus the Name-Thief, who stole the name of the Betrayer who slaughtered the greatest of them!- liars and rabble raisers who started a war for fun, for profit and glory, to tear down the peace Alpha Trion so carefully crafted all these eons.

Megatronus feels denied his right place, demands more resources, more people, more space, more energon that simply isn’t available! He would take what he wanted from the more deserving to fuel his army!

Optimus can’t help the desperate look he makes as he turns back to take in the whole of these ‘terrorists’. They’re all starving and wounded, clearly the forgotten and abandoned and his optics harden as he turns back to Alpha Trion.

“They do not know their place! They should have remained in their caste, they are not worthy to be acknowledged even as third class citizens! They will ruin all I have built!”

That the matrix- which was composed of tech that kept Optimus’s Prime spark and frame alive and well and provided the required security clearance of a Prime to non-Primes so they could operate the tech meant solely for Primes. To some degree anyway. But after such an amount of time, every bit off eeway was explored to its fullest.

To Optimus Prime, this was a horrific abuse of the power that was entrusted in the Thirteen Primes, to govern and observe but never to oppress and destroy their society to this extent!

He opens his intake, but he cannot speak, even as he stares at this mech he once knew, once called friend.

His spark throbs.

Optimus turns once more to- to M- the one who calls himself Megatronus- a mech who bears the name of his murderer, his betrayer, his brother and says nothing. Surely everyone can see the devastation written all over his faceplates.

Alpha Trion makes a noise, clearly intending to speak, but Optimus silences him, overriding his vocal modulator with brutal efficiency. He’s never had to do that before and something hurts.

Megatronus gives a quick rundown of everything that Alpha Trion left out. The hard, cold truth of the matter. Starvation, oppression, murder, the rich get richer and the poor die alone in the dark. The third class citizens are taken and put to work, denied to ability to speak, rights stripped and designations deleted, forgotten until all that was left was a mindless drone, whose sentient mind retreated deep inside.

Sparklings are taken from carriers who were forced from a higher rank of citizen and neither was ever seen again. Sparklings who were considered the property of their higher ranking parent until they reached an age old enough to take an aptitude test to determine what caste they were joining.

Second class and above never moved unless they offended someone on a higher level. The Primes remained Prime until they died or another was chosen.

Cybertron was built on the bodies of the abandoned, those who had no designation and barely counted as citizens, from third class servants, and janitors, to second class traders, scribes, artists, ect, to first class, the rich, privileged and blessed.

Then the Nobles, the elite, the shining jewels of Cybertron, right below the Primes, the rulers.

Optimus feels numb with horror.

He stares and stares and his optics burn even as Megatronus’s blaze. He turns, only last time, one more time to face Alpha Trion.

He allows him to speak in his defense- but- but.

“This was for the greater good, Optimus, my friend, my lord, in order to keep the best and brightest alive, to ensure we would survive as the years passed and we faced a great many challenges. The survival, the endurance of our race, our species was entirely dependent on our ability to unsure what we had went to the most deserving!”

Alpha Trion looks so very sincere, he is entirely genuine in his ever present affection for his long lost friend, but Optimus can barely speak but for the pain in his spark.

“Surely you must see,” Alpha Trion beseeches, “We did it for you, Optimus.”

Clearly expecting his confession to ensure Optimus is firmly on his side, Alpha Trion takes a single step forward, reaching out from the only true Prime left.

Something shatters in his spark chamber and Optimus rises up, slides back and pulls. The Star Saber materializes in his servos in a boom of light and noise, the voice that leaves his intake is terrifying as it thunders through the great hall and echoes throughout the entire city-

“Freedom is the right of all sentient beings!”

It’s wretched out of him, this undeniable truth that seems to have been forgotten so long ago. There is betrayal on Alpha Trion’s face, heartbreak and disbelief.

He doesn’t understand, he did this for you.

Optimus weeps even as he raises his sword.

Of course, this is being recorded and watched across the entire planet because the Iacon nobles and government were absolutely going to use Megatronus's failure and subsequent death as more incentive to keep your helms down, but that really backfired because okay, wow, real Prime- Original Thirteenth Prime who is supporting a Mech named for another one of the Original Thirteen. The Betrayer at that!

Clearly unexpected, but that’s what you get when the nutjob shadow ruling your planet since almost the beginning of time lies.

I also imagine Optimus with glowing optics and sigils on his frame. Maybe communing with Primus and easily manipulating the AllSpark or something, ect, ect.....

Megatronus will not be understanding Optimus at all. It’s like if the Devil came out of Hell and realized all his demons were running amok and starting crying and killing all of them while asking to borrow your couch because he lives in Hell, not Earth.

(and someone forgot to tell you he was pretty)

#Transformers #Megatron #Megatronus #optimus prime #Alpha Trion #Matrix of Leadership #ficlet #fiction #fanfiction #megs/op #fic i almost wrote #might end up writing it

31 notes · View notes

make-me-imagine · 3 years

Note

Hello love ♡

First of all, I want to congratulate you on your 5500 follower milestone! That's incredible♡! I love your writings, Mera, and I think that your ship celebration is a wonderful idea!

Could I please request a male matchup for Marvel, Harry Potter and Lord of the Rings/Hobbit? With the additional "What you did for your first date" and "Ways they show you they love you without words" headcanons for all three of them? I'm female, she/her.

To begin with, I'm full of contradictions, utterly boring, very insecure and highly complicated. I would say my strongest personality traits are my kindness, calmness and sympathy. It's almost impossible to scare or upset me, because I always see the good in a person and recognize where anger, frustration and despair come from. There's no cruelty in me at all. I'm open and impartial towards everything and everyone, without any judgment or prejudice. I also have a calming/grounding effect on other people and animals, which is great because I honestly love all sorts of animals (I'm also a vegetarian because I refuse to intentionally hurt any animal). I have a faszination for chaos and rebellion, but am quite submessive/timid and a clean-/control freak myself. I'm always well-meaning and there to help others. I despise people who enjoy the suffering of others, just because they have the 'power' to. I'm very open-minded and I think that every opinion matters and that whatever someone has to say is important, at least to them and therefore for me. I will never ignore someone's sorrows and suffering and I try my hardest to help and comfort as best I can. But, even though I see the good in everything, I'm very insecure myself and have little love and understanding for myself. I have a very bad self-esteem and not a particularly positive self-perception, which mostly defines my actions. It makes me believe that I'm a burden to others and that I annoy them. I feel like I'm not "worthy" of love/there's nothing lovable about me, that there are too many problems in contrast to the little good things. Nevertheless, I would never change myself for anything or anyone, I'm who I'm. For me, dealing and interacting with people is really difficult, because I'm so clumsy and nervous around them and easily feel like I'm making a fool out of myself. Another reason is that I fear to be rejected and thrown aside when someone sees how boring, problematic and annoying I actually am. You would be surprised how timid and reserved I'm; I'm sure you wouldn't notice me in a room full of people if it wouldn't be for my different appearance (I'm always wearing only black, have dyed my hair a little and two ear piercings). I almost never like the "typical" heroes and righteous characters. And somehow I have such a undergoing disdain for any figure in the police and law department. Because I'm easily sad and not a funny/joking person, I like and enjoy people who aren't too serious themselves. And I'm the most loyal person you'll ever find, once you earn my trust, I'll always be on and by your side, no matter what. I've always felt like I don't belong anywhere, like I'm the only cat in a room full of dogs. That's probably why I have a soft spot for the weirdos, outcasts, loners and "crazy" ones. Though, in my opinion, the definition of normal, crazy and real are very subjective. My whole life I've felt kinda judged, misunderstood and unwanted. People often falsely think that my unassuming nature is naivity and take my social-insecurity for aloofness and coldness. I'm also quite opinionated and aware of what I want, how I feel and who I am. I'm often questioning my surroundings, the traditions and rules and I have no problem challenging others, even authority. I'm a perfectionist, which often leads me to overthinking and that can be equally good and bad. I'm absolutely clueless in romance and totally oblivious to flirting because I'm 100% inexperienced in this stuff, but I'm a bit of a hopeless romantic.

-Luna 1/2

Hey Luna, I hope you like what I came up with. You provided a bit more information than was necessary lmao, I forgot the word limit for asks was extended. BUT, it was enough to give me a good feel for who to ship you with, so I hope you like them!

All ships are under the cut:

Marvel:

I ship you with Clint.

Clint was my immediate thought when reading your information. He is very loyal and kind-hearted and I think would be most drawn to those who are kind, loyal, and have strong morals. He would try his best to show you how great you are through your insecurities, he loves you for who you are and sees no flaws in you. He would be very good at showing his care and love for everything you are. He does not need words to know how you feel as he is very good at seeing through you and knowing what you feel without them.

What you did for your first date:

You would have a fun yet casual day out date.

First you would go on a walk through a nearby park, talking and joking about everything and nothing.

Then you would go to a musical instrument museum.

He loves music too, so this would be great for both of you.

You got to see the evolution of music and instruments and listened to various kinds of music.

You spent hours in the museum together.

To finish the date of you went to a restaurant, you chose the place to go too since he knew you were vegetarian and he wanted you to share your favorite place and meals with him.

Ways they show you they love you without words:

He loves physical touch as well, so he would often express himself through various physical actions.

Placing a kiss to the back of your hand, or head.

Hugging you close to him randomly.

Wrapping you up in his arms on the couch when watching movies as he randomly kisses the side of your head or face.

Best Friend:

I think your best friend would be Steve. He is a very kind and compassionate person and would be very brotherly to you. he would never force you out of your comfort zone and would often check in on you. He can sometimes be a bit serious, but it never pushy towards you. He is very caring and helps you to accept yourself and things around you.

Harry Potter:

I ship you with Harry.

Harry is a very encouraging and accepting person and I think he would see the best in you and would never stop showing and proving to you that you are worthy of love and compassion. He would find you to be beautiful and never sees the flaws that you try to convince yourself that you have. I think he would be one of the best people to show you that you matter and are beautiful.

What you did for your first date:

You first met at Hogwarts, and since there was not much choice in dates he chose something simple that he knew you would enjoy.

You left during dinner and took an evening stroll around the grounds.

You stayed out past curfew and sat on a nearby hill watching the stars together.

When you began to get sleepy you snuck back in and he walked you back to your room.

Ways they show you they love you without words:

He brings you your favorite snacks and drinks randomly.

Randomly drapes his cloak or jacket over your shoulders when you are cold.

Will take your hand in his and rubs his fingers softly over your skin.

Hugs you from behind randomly.

Will play your favorite music throughout the house when he knows that you are stressed or sad.

Best Friend:

Hermione. She is very good at making you feel better about the world and yourself. She is always open to going on long walks and listening to you rant about anything or just to talk when needed. She is good at giving advice and never lets you feel inferior to anyone.

Lotr:

I ship you with Aragorn.

Out of everyone, I think Aragorn would be the best suited for you. He is kind, and patient and sees the best in everyone. He would see the best in you and is very good at showing it to you too. He will always make you feel wanted and needed. He does not let anyone take you for granted and will always stand up for you. He loves that you love music and will sing for you when you are stressed or having trouble falling asleep.

What you did for your first date:

Aragorn being Aragorn, woud take you on a horse ride to a beautiful forest.

You would go exploring and walking through the meadows.

He would share his knowledge of various plants with you and pick you flowers along the way, making you a small bouquet.

Once it got late, you two sat on the top of a hill and watched the sunset, waiting for the stars to come out before making your way back.

Ways they show you they love you without words:

Surprising you with flowers randomly.

Holding your hand as you walk through town on a quiet evening.

Bringing you various plants and taking care of them for you.

Planting you a garden with all of your favorite plants and flowers.

Hand-making you a special pendant to wear or hang somewhere in your home.

Best Friend:

Out of everyone, I think you would form a bond with Eowyn. She is caring and quiet, and is very easy to get along with She is very good at making people aware of their worth and of feeling wanted. She would never make you angry or disappoint you. I think you two would become so close that you consider each other family.

#ask #ship #ships #ship request #5.5k ships #lunamooney2406

2 notes · View notes

carriagelamp · 3 years

Photo

November 2020: A Months of Familiarity

This November ended up being a month of me either rereading old favourites, exploring new books by favourite authors, or a mix of both.

…Be prepared for so much Terry Prachett, I found his audiobooks on Libby last month and since that I’ve been unstoppable.

The Amazing Maurice and his Educated Rodents

The first of my Terry Practhett books to mention! I chose to include this one on my list because it’s a beautiful stand alone novel, perfect to read if you’ve never touched on of Pratchett’s works before, and is often overlooked.

The book is about Maurice, an “amazing” cat by his own admission, who has teamed up with a stupid boy and his very own plague of rats. The moneymaking scheme is simple: set the rats loose on a town and after causing a panic let the boy stroll in and offer to play his pipe and lead them away… for a fee. This is working well, until Maurice, the boy, and the rats arrive in the town Bad Blintz. Here the rats are beginning to question the morality of their work, the boy gets entangled with a young, mischievous local girl, and they’re all shocked to find out that the town already has a real rat infestation… or so the rat catchers claim. Things quickly turn sinister and deadly as the group is forced to confront not only the cruelty of humanity, but something even more sinister living in the small, dark, hidden place of the town.

This is a YA book, unlike some of Pratchett’s other novels, so it’s a quick, fun read, while still having all of his dry wit and heavy, complicated thoughts about society, morality, belief, and what it means to be a person. It’s a genuine delight to see Maurice and the rats, recently made sentient by wizards’ rubbish, struggle to come to terms with who they were and who they are now.

Black Pearl Ponies: Red Star & Wildflower

Y’all it ain’t a secret at this point that I enjoy a stupid horse girl book, right? I picked up the first two books of the Black Pearl Ponies books from the library on a whim and they were basically what they promised. Girl lives with family on ranch, father helps train horses, girl goes on pony adventures with ponies. A particular focus is given to horse welfare and care. Very mediocre but a nice thoughtless covid read if you, like me, get a craving for animals books written for seven year olds from time to time. Plus this comes with the added humour of it being written, as far as I can tell, by a British author who thinks all Americans are stetson wearing cowboys which I find unreasonably funny.

Crenshaw

I love Katherine Applegate’s work; I read the Endling series earlier this year and they are overwhelmingly good. Crenshaw was also an enjoyable read, though not my favourite by her. It read a little bit like a book I read last fall, No Fixed Address, which was also a very good read though not my usual genre. Crenshaw is about a boy, Jackson, whose family, though close-knit and loving, is experiencing financial difficulties and struggle with food scarcity, homelessness, and all the instability and stress that results from this. During this tumultuous time, Jackson is surprised by the reappearance of a tall, bipedal, snarky cat — Crenshaw, his old imaginary friend. This is a charming book that blends genuine, real world hardships with whimsy and magical realism.

The Enemy Above: A Novel of WWII

Since it was Rememberance Day this month, I decided to pick up a holocaust novel. This book is about 12-year-old Anton, a young Jewish boy who finds himself fleeing from his Polish farm in the middle of the night with his old grandma when a German raiding party that attacks their village in an effort to make the countryside “judenfrei”. The book is, perhaps, not the most well-fleshed out, but it’s fast-paced and exciting for a child/YA audience that’s being introduced to holocaust literature, without trying to downplay the absolutely horror and brutality of the Nazis. It manages to strike a satisfying balance between fear, tragedy, and hope.

“Everything he had heard was true. He was just a twelve-year-old boy and yet they hunted him. He had broken no laws, done nothing wrong. He was simply born Jewish. How could anyone want to kill him for it?”

Gregor the Overlander

Somehow I never knew that Suzanne Collins wrote anything other than The Hunger Games? I stumbled across this series at a used bookstore and was first taken by the cover and then shocked when I realized I recognized the author’s name. Well The Hunger Games was such a good read, how could I not pick up a book with people riding on a giant fucking bat?

Such a good choice. I’m almost done book two and bought book three today after work. It is exactly the sort of low fantasy that I live for, when a fantasy world lives so close to the real world that you can practically touch it. I also love the fact that while all the wild fantastical elements are happening, you still have the main character taking care of his toddler sister the whole time. It’s at times charming, hilarious, and nerve-wracking!

It’s about Gregor, a normal kid who’s doing his best to help his mom take care of his two younger siblings ever since his father disappeared years ago. Gregor expected months of boredom when he agrees to stay home over the summer instead of going to camp like his sister in order to watch his baby sister, Boots, and their grandma while his mom is at work. He never could have expected that a simple trip to the apartment’s laundry room would lead to both him and Boots tumbling miles beneath the earth into the pitch black Underland, a place filled with giant rats and bugs and people with translucent skin who fly through the massive caverns on huge bats. He also could have never expected that he would get wrapped up in a deadly prophecy that would force him to travel into distant, dark lands into the waiting claws of an overwhelming enemy.

Kings, Queens, and In-Between

A Canadian queer novel that I’ve seen trumpeted everywhere. Libraries, classrooms, bookstore, this book got so much hype (and has such a pleasing cover) that I had to get my hands on it. Now, I’ve got to admit that it’s not really my genre; I don’t love realistic fiction. But that being said, it’s a fun, heart-warming, queer romp through that explores gender, sexuality, love, family, friendship… there’s a lot of lovable, quirky, complicated characters that get thrown together in unexpected ways at a local summer carnival. While there’s tension and misunderstandings and mistakes, this is overall a very optimistic and loving novel, and would be a great read if you want a queer novel that reads like cotton candy.

Love, The Tiger

This book is the graphic novel equivalent of a nature documentary. There’s no text, but you follow a day in the life of a tiger as it moves through the jungle on the quest for food. The art is honestly beyond outstanding, and though it’s a really quick read it is so very worth it. I’ve also read Love, The Lion in this series (also good, though a bit more confusing imho) as well as one of the books from his other series Little Tails which is still very nature and education based, though for a slightly younger audience.

Making Money

More Pratchett! Making Money was the first Discworld book I ever read, and it’s one of my most reread ones — it’s an ultimate comfort read! This is technically the sequel to Going Postal (another book I reread this month), in which conman Moist Von Lipwig is saved from a rightful death at the noose in exchange for agreeing to work for the city. Going Postal sees Moist narrowly dodging death in many varied forms as he tries to get the Anhk-Morpork postal service back on its feet and get the drifts of dead, whispering letters moving again. In Making Money things at the post office have become… too easy. Moist is bored, restless, until he finds himself thrust into a new job: head of the Royal Mint. There he has been given not only charge of the biggest bank in Anhk-Morpork, but also a dog with a price on its head, a lethal family with all the money in the world out for his blood, and the fear that his secret past life may be on the verge of being exposed to everyone, all while he’s desperately trying to make money…

The Moist series is honestly an example of Pratchett at his absolute best imo, and the amount of humour, wit, adventure, and scathing commentary he can build around a bank is outstanding. Cannot recommend enough.

The One And Only Ivan

Another book I’ve been hearing everyone talk about, as well as another Katherine Applegate book. It’s been on my radar for a while, but with the sequel and a movie coming out, it had everything at a fever pitch and I finally picked it up. Fantastic read, I definitely enjoyed it more than Crenshaw. This book was based off the true story of Ivan, a gorilla taken from his home in the jungle and sold to the owner of a mall, where he spent years of his life growing from child to adult silverback in a small, concrete enclosure. In this fictionalized version, everything changes for Ivan and his friends, when a new baby elephant is bought to help revitalize the mall attractions and Ivan makes a promise he doesn’t know how to keep: to protect this baby, and keep her from living the life Ivan and his friends were forced to. This book made me very emotional. Applegate’s picture book that goes along with it is also a great companion read.

Ranma ½

I realized that our library had the 2-in-1 editions of Ranma ½ and honestly that was it for me. This has been a favourite series of mine since I was in middle school and realized that the creator of Inuyasha had written other things. It is unapologetically ridiculous and larger-than-life and you have to love the shameless joy it has at being ludicrous. It does start to feel a little repetitive the further into the series you go, but at the moment, with covid, I find I have a huge tolerance for rereading slightly repetitive things so long as they make me happy. And boy howdy does the vaguely queer undertones, endless pining, and relentless slapstick of Ranma ½ make me happy. This is classic manga y’all and if you’ve never read it you should!

The basic premise, for anyone that doesn’t is that of an bonkers martial arts comedy. It follows Ranma and his father who, while training in China, fell into cursed springs. Each spring has the tragic legend of a person or animal who drowned in it, and if someone falls in they inevitably turn into that creature any time they’re doused in cold water. Ranma had the misfortune of falling into “The Spring of Drowned Girl” and, indeed, turns into a girl anytime he’s hit with cold water. Things continue to spiral out of control when Ranma meets his arranged fiancée, Akane, who is as exasperated by this situation as Ranma. Both would rather be fighting people than worrying about things like romance. And don’t worry, there is lots and lots and lots and lots of some of the goofiest martial arts fights that you can imagine for a bunch of high schoolers.

Through the Woods

A beautiful and creepy Canadian graphic novel. I honestly really don’t even know how to describe it in a way that does it justice. It’s a collection of short horror stories, with beautiful, flowing art style that draws you in and sends chills down your spine. I’ll let the art doing the talk, and honestly beg you to go find a way to read this graphic novel:

The Witch’s Vacuum Cleaner: And Other Stories

The last Terry Pratchett book on my list (though shout out to the others I’ve listened to this month: Wee Free Men, Hat Full of Sky, Men At Arms, and Snuff) and one that I actually physically, rather than listening to the audiobook. I included this one because unlike the others, this was a Pratchett book I had never read before. It collects a number of Pratchett’s short stories that had been written for children over a number of years. These weren’t necessarily my favourite examples of Pratchett’s writing (I prefer his longer work that can really dive into social issues) but it was such a quick, easy, fun read that you can’t really help but be charmed by it. I liked the stories that took place in “the wild wild west (of Wales)” in particular.

6 notes · View notes

fantasyoverreality98 · 4 years

Text

Fight the Darkness Pt. 7

Masterlist

Pairing: Gaius Augustine x MC

Summary: Amy begins to give in to her darker desires.

Author’s Note: Gore. Also, possibly disturbing content? MC has some disconcerting thoughts, let’s just leave it at that. I got extremely excited to publish this chapter so apologies for any possible typos or grammatical mistakes.

Word Count: 3,490

-----

Blood. There was so much blood. It coated the walls, her body, her hair. A warm metallic taste filled her mouth as she released her grip on the body and let it fall to the floor.

Amy studied the room, wondering how she had ended up here. The last thing she remembered was the plane landing in Greece.

“Hello?” Her voice seemed to rattle the walls, each word laced with unimaginable power.

No answer.

When she looked down, she saw that her hands were bright red. Bodies lay strewn around the room, the mess so much worse than that in the Irish town.

After a moment, Amy finally realized where she was. Fear of herself grew when she noticed the snacks laid out for the humans. There were couches for people to sit on, some music still played through speakers, and the lack of windows made it obvious. She was at a club for vampires.

Amy started to breathe heavily, panic striking her heart as she began to search through the bodies.

“No, no, please. No.” She let out a sigh of relief when she did not see Gaius among the fallen.

But that relief was only temporary. There were much bigger problems for her to deal with.

What had she done?

The taste of blood suddenly made her nauseous. She scanned the room for a bathroom sign, rushing to it when she found it. Amy burst through the door, collapsing at a toilet as a rush of blood flowed out of her mouth into the bowl. Heaving, she continued until her stomach felt empty.

Tears burned her eyes and she sobbed, shaking as she rose to her feet. It took everything within her not to scream when she saw her reflection in the mirror above the sinks. She stared at herself, trying to convince herself this was all a dream. Her eyes were red, her normally brown hair black from the amount of blood sticking to it, clumping the strands.

They were all dead. And it was all because of her.

A scream unlike any sound she’d ever made before ripped its way out of her throat, and Amy smashed the mirror. The glass shredded her hands, but she didn’t care. She grabbed shards off the wall and threw them on the floor, destroying every piece that was big enough for her to see herself until there was little left but dust.

The wounds on her hands healed soon after, and she screamed again. She should have to deal with the pain. It was the only thing that made her feel even somewhat normal anymore.

Something poked her in the side when she slid to the floor, and Amy reached into her pocket, frowning when she pulled out a key card. It was for a hotel. The name seemed vaguely familiar, the room number giving her a tiny glimmer of hope.

Gaius had to be there. Any other possibility was too horrific to consider.

She knew that she couldn’t go out looking like this. Any sane person would immediately call the police. So, she made her way to the men’s bathroom, making sure to only look at her reflection long enough to clean up as best she could.

The water in the sink ran red, the amount of blood that clung to her alarming. Amy scrubbed at her face, her hands, her neck, trying to get the reminder of her crimes off. Vampire and human alike, all dead because of her growing power.

After nearly ten minutes, it seemed she would not get any cleaner. Amy shut the tap off and stared at her face in the mirror. She took a deep breath and shut her eyes, forcing herself to turn away before she did the same thing she had done in the women’s bathroom.

Upbeat music filled the club when Amy walked back into the main room, her eyes falling on the trails of blood creeping their way across the dancefloor. To count how many bodies there were would be too much. Sometimes it was better not knowing.

Birds were chirping when she stepped out onto the street and lifted a hand to shade her eyes. There were few people on this stretch of sidewalk. Someone met Amy’s eyes and turned around, hurrying back around the corner they had just come from.

With a sigh, she tried to find her bearings. Nothing looked familiar. At this point, it would take all day to get back to the hotel. It seemed unlikely anyone would help her when she looked like this.

The birds stopped chirping. Amy turned around, realizing that the street was empty now. She frowned and started walking in the direction where the person had backtracked away from her.

Uneasiness washed over her as she searched the streets to no avail. They were empty. It seemed like everyone had disappeared.

Even more energy hung in the air, the power of it calling out to her. Before she stopped to consider it, she started drawing more life in. People started to scream, and Amy gasped, her steps faltering.

This is all your doing, the voice laughed. It sounded just like her now.

Amy walked further along the street until she reached the sea. There was a railing separating the street from the beach, and she leaned over it. She felt a pull, an unseen force out in the water calling to her.

Mydiea.

It was summoning her.

“Almost there,” she whispered to herself, scanning the shore for any signs of life. Nothing.

Silence filled the island. It was though everyone had disappeared.

A seagull screeched overhead, the sound startling her after spending so long alone. The bird seemed to break her concentration, and life once more roared around her. When Amy turned back to the city, people seemed to have appeared out of thin air. Brow furrowed, she stepped away from the railing.

Several passersby turned to look at her as she continued her journey to the hotel. They watched with awe, marveling at the being that walked by.

A goddess among men. Infinite power made flesh.

It would be too easy to end their lives. All she had to do was make a choice.

Already, she could sense herself changing. The moments in the club that she could not remember had made her stronger. A new person had emerged from the wreckage. A better person.

People continued to watch her pass, dozens of heads turning as if drawn by an incomprehensible magnetic force. Vehicles stopped for her when she crossed the road in front of the hotel. The employees simply smiled at her as she walked through the front doors, their behavior reminding her of how Rheya had managed to influence those around her in New York all those years ago.

“Morning,” Amy said with a grin, brushing aside the instinct to feed. That could wait until later. Right now, she had to find Gaius. Surely he would be waiting for her in the hotel room.

A chorus of mornings sang back to her, and she glided past them to the elevator. This hotel was much nicer than the one in Ireland. She could imagine herself staying her on a honeymoon.

In another life, she liked to think that’s how it would have been.

“There you are.” Gaius crossed the room in a few strides when she opened the door with the key card, wrapping her in his arms. “Where have you been?”

“Out.” Amy almost felt like her old self. Perhaps even better than her old self. “The last time I was in Greece, I didn’t have the opportunity to explore much.” She tilted her head back to look up at him and smile.

Something drew his attention, and Gaius frowned, pulling back an inch as he reached an arm out. “Is this blood?” He ran a finger across her temple, rubbing at the spot she could not see.

“It’s nothing. So, how are we getting to Mydiea?”

“We’ll have to find a boat to use during nightfall.” Lines appeared between his eyebrows as he studied her face, the frown a sight she hated to see. She reached up and tried to push his lips up into a smile. Gaius’ frown only deepened. “What’s gotten into you? One minute, it’s like you’re on the verge of losing your mind, and then the next, you—”

“Shh.” She smiled, releasing him. Amy brushed past him to the bathroom, ignoring the questions thrown her way. For the first time since last night, she felt at peace. The voice had finally quieted, and everything felt right.

Gaius followed her into the bathroom, leaning against the door frame with his arms crossed over his chest. “Why was there blood on you? The minute we got our hotel room, you left! I tried to find you all night, but I had to return here when the sun started to rise.”

Too many questions. Some peace and quiet was all that she asked for. After six months of horrible flashbacks and a constant war waging within, she deserved some rest. It had been so long since she felt this numb that a part of her enjoyed it.

“I’m fine. I’m okay now.” Amy stripped off her clothes, relieved to be free of the filthy material.

“You may be fine, but what about the humans you fed on?”

She could hear the accusation in his tone, and whirled to face him. “Either you join me in the shower, or you can get out. I’m done with this conversation, Gaius.”

“Fine.” He stood up straight and left the bathroom, slamming the door behind him.

Amy stood in shocked silence for a moment, listening to the sound of water hitting the shower floor. Whatever. She didn’t need him.

How could anyone possibly understand how it felt to possess such power? To know it was dangerous, and yet slowly grow to crave it?

The possibilities with this power were endless. Given enough energy, she could make the world a better place. A safer place. One where people wouldn’t still discriminate against vampires and make them fear for their lives like she had in that town.

Even better than that, she could actually bring Jax back. It wouldn’t be like her dream. No, she would do the world good. The sacrifice of some mortals would be worth it to bring one of her closest friends back.

Amy stepped under the spray of water, smiling as she rinsed off the last remnants of dried blood. If absolutely necessary, she could help Gaius understand. They had a mental connection, after all. She’d seen the real him on that plane to Japan. He would be able to see the real her too. It just might take a little persuading.

Another door slammed, and Amy turned her head in the direction of the sound. She paused, ignoring the fall of water and instead focusing her attention on the room beyond. It sounded empty.

Gaius couldn’t leave the hotel with the sun out. He would be somewhere within the building. She would deal with him later.

Once the water ran clear down the drain, Amy turned the tap off, stepping out of the shower to grab a towel to wrap around her body. As she passed the mirror, she came to a halt, backtracking to glance at her reflection.

The scar from Jax’s katana was gone. Her skin was now flawless, each tiny scar that had once remained from when she’d been human vanished. Her eyes, returned to their usual brown, looked brighter than before. As if something more swirled behind them, buried deep inside her.

There was nothing else for her to change into, so Amy grabbed the outfit she’d been wearing when she first found Gaius and slipped it on. The smell of blood lingered on the fabric, but it was better than the other option.

After she’d dressed, Amy stepped out into the hallway, feeling the life surrounding her but seeing no one. It seemed strange to her that most people remained hidden within their rooms.

A cool breeze blew in through the open window to her left, and she turned to looked outside. Crystalline blue water shone in the sunlight, the calm waves lapping against the shore. The people on the street below went about their day, and she watched as a small family ran toward the sea. She missed the days when life had been so simple. Back before she’d met and started working for Adrian, the most she could hope for in life was to someday have a family of her own.

That would never happen now.

Sadness swelled in her chest, and Amy stood to watch the family for a while. Any chance at a normal life had ended the day she walked into Raines Corporation. Some days, she still regretted that decision. It may have granted her access to a world she’d never known existed, and given her immortality, but it had also destroyed her. Whatever she gained from that job, there was equal loss.

Anger toward both Adrian and herself bloomed, replacing the sadness. She should have left when she had the chance. Now, the world’s very existence was at stake. Maybe it was what was meant to happen all along. Rheya had represented life, the birth of the vampires. Amy was the Bloodkeeper. She could bring life and death, chaos and balance. The world was at her mercy.

Laughter from one of the nearby rooms drew her attention, and turned her head in the direction of the noise. Footsteps pounded down the hallway, accompanied by the sound of rolling wheels, and she straightened, hoping to see the one person she still felt anything for. Instead, an employee rounded the corner, smiling when their eyes met.

“Good morning, miss.” He gave a quick bow with his head before walking to one of the rooms, a cart full of food in front of him. “Can I help you with anything?” the man asked before knocking on the wooden door.

Amy shook her head, the smell of his fresh blood overwhelming her. “No. No, I’m good. Thank you.” She hurried away, sensing his eyes on her back until she reached the end of the hall and rounded a corner, coming to the elevator.

There was a group waiting when the doors opened on the main floor. They all watched her, stepping aside as she emerged from the elevator, as if in a trance. Several pairs of eyes followed her journey across the lobby. Part of her enjoyed the attention. Everyone seemed to notice her for the first time in her less than impressive existence. They saw her. They admired her. She felt none of the fear that her friends had radiated in New York before she left.

Speaking of her friends, she wondered if they really were trying to find her. The curiosity was too much to ignore, and Amy pulled her phone out of her pocket, waiting a moment as it turned on. Her battery was almost dead.

There was an accident in an Irish airport that ended with fourteen dead. Did you have anything to do with that?

Adrian’s message was no surprise to her. Sooner or later, words of the things she had done would reach international news. She really had to learn to be more careful.

Amy, what you’re doing is unnatural. Tell us where you are. We can help you.

The message from Kamilah only made her want to leave sooner. If they found her, she knew that it wasn’t going to end with a simple conversation. She was becoming the enemy, and the enemy always paid the price.

That would not happen to her. She refused.

Without taking the time to consider the consequences, Amy crushed her phone in her hand, reveling in the sound of it crumbling under her strength. Distractions were too big a risk now. For far too long, she had listened to Adrian. He had constantly convinced her to fight the power, to lock away a part of herself that she should feel no shame over.

They did not understand. They would never understand.

Feeling as though a weight had been lifted off her chest, Amy crossed the lobby and disposed of the destroyed cellphone. No one would find her now. She didn’t want to be found. A part of her even considered abandoning Gaius, leaving him here while she finished the plan alone. He would only get in the way.

“What was that that you just threw away?”

A smirk tugged at her lips as she slowly turned to face the very person she was just thinking about. “My phone.”

“Don’t take this as an insult, but you’re starting to concern me.” His clothes were still something she wasn’t used to. It made him like so…normal.

Amy laughed, and the sound momentarily sent shivers down her own spine. “Are you scared?” The sky outside seemed to grow darker, and the lobby revolving door started to spin faster.

Gaius met her stare, and she recognized little affection left in his eyes. “Yes.”

She took a step closer, tilting her head to the side as she studied his face. It was a face that had once haunted her nightmares, and then her dreams. Somehow, she had gone from hating this man to caring about him more than anyone else. Just thinking about it made her want to laugh hysterically.

“Good.”

Gaius shivered when she whispered the word, closing his eyes as their breath mingled. Their lips were inches away, and she pulled away with a smile, admiring his beauty. It was a face she wouldn’t mind seeing forever.

“We leave for Mydiea at dusk. Get some rest while you can.”

And with that, she walked away, straight into the sunlight.

Amy wanted to take advantage of the day while she still could. She didn’t need to stay inside, and so she would walk around the city until sunset.

Hunger gnawed at her; the kind that could only be satisfied by more feeding. More energy. More power.

She needed more.

Amy walked along the sidewalk, admiring Rheya’s plan in New York to gather the masses at the opera house. It had been genius. So much life, so much blood…all in one convenient gathering. She would have to find another way to feed.

The fear she had felt for so long was gone. Amy felt at peace, as though the only solution was to accept the darkness growing within her. She could utterly understand how Rheya had felt now.

Without anyone around to try and stop her, she could reach her full potential. She could bring Jax back, set out to make the world a better place once he was safe. No one would ever have to worry about tyranny ever again. All their problems would be over. If she could just get more power.

Wonder for what other powers of Rheya’s she possessed filled her, and she turned down an alley where no one else could see. Amy looked down at her hands, picturing flames bursting from her palms. Warmth spread throughout her body, and she laughed with disbelief when fire sprang from her fingers. She surveyed the alley, and spotted a garbage bin several feet away. It exploded with fire when she imagined the metal container engulfed in flames.

“Unbelievable,” she said, extinguishing the fire with a wave of her hand. Her face hurt from grinning so much.

Just a little more, and she would be unstoppable. She could become a Goddess. She could do what Rheya could not. Amy took joy in that thought. She was not like The First, she was better.

“Hey! What are you doing? Get away from there!”

Amy turned toward the voice, panicked for a moment until she remembered she had the upper hand. No one was a match for her. She had killed dozens of humans and vampires without even having to try.

The man’s anger turned into fear when he came face to face with her.

“Hello.” She bared her fangs, certain no one would hear his screams over the roar of traffic ten feet away.

---

Amy wiped a drop of blood off her lips and licked it off her finger, strolling out of the alley with a smile.

“Welcome back,” the receptionist said at the hotel, giving her a dreamy smile as she breezed past once more, a bag of new clothes in her hands.

“Good afternoon.” Her voice echoed in the lobby, the musical tone of it making those around her smile.

The elevator ride was short, and when Amy reached her room, she paused outside to listen. It was quiet again.

Surely he would still be here. There was nowhere else for him to go.

When she pushed the door open, Gaius was on the other side, waiting for her.

#choices: stories you play #choices fanfiction #gaius augustine #gaius x mc #gaius augustine x mc #bloodbound #bloodbound 3

16 notes · View notes

winterisakillerwrites · 4 years

Text

Imperfect Tense - Part Three

Title: Imperfect Tense

One Shot: 3/3

Character: Tom Hiddleston/OFC

Genre: Angst

Rating: M

Summary: Secrets are powerful things. They shape who we are and how we interact with others and with the world. Tom assumed his secret was safe and his life would remain as it ever was. He was wrong.

Authors Notes/Warnings: I thought this story was over when I had posted part two. It was an abrupt ending, yes, but it fit.

And then Molly decided there was more that needed to be said and here we are. This story is now complete….The journey Tom and Molly go on, however, most likely is not. There is too much more to explore for me to say I won’t ever come back to these two. But this particular part of their story has come to a close. I hope you all enjoy.

Thank you again to @nonsensicalobsessions, @redfoxwritesstuff and @ciaodarknessmyheart for being sounding boards for this last part of the story. Your help has been so so valuable and I doubt this story would be as good as I feel it is without your help. Thank you. Thank you. Thank you.

“What the fucking hell were you thinking?!” Luke’s voice rose three octaves as he yelled at the pale, drawn man sitting before him. There was a fire in Luke’s eyes that Tom hadn’t seen and, gods above, he knew he deserved it. Every last bit of it.

It had been nearly three days since he’d come home and watched the life he’d left behind shatter beyond repair before him. Nearly three days since he’d seen the broken, angry, disbelieving pain swim in Molly’s eyes. Three days since she’d left and he’d learned he’d been a father. Twice now, if that stupid fucking letter was to be believed. God, it was a mess. A complete and utter travesty and there was nothing he could think of to do; no way he could fathom to fix the utter mess he had made of everything.

Luke had found him sitting on the edge of his bed, head in his hands, almost an hour before. Tom had barely moved since Molly had stormed out; forcing himself to use the bathroom when need became too great, but hardly sleeping (when he had, he woke in a panic searching for Molly only to remember she was gone) and barely eating. He’d known time had passed, but honestly hadn’t been at all aware of just how much. His phone had rung incessantly for what felt like hours and after the dozenth time he’d looked and found Luke’s number instead of Molly’s, he’d thrown the infernal thing across the room, not caring if it broke. And frankly he had enjoyed the thud it made as the bloody thing collided with the wall.

But Luke was not one to be ignored and had Tom been in his right mind, he wouldn’t have been surprised when Luke had finally shown up to say whatever he’d had to say in person. He’d come storming in the house, cursing and yelling for Tom to “show his goddamned idiotic face and show it now.” Tom could remember hearing the thunder of Luke’s feet on the stairs and then the intake of breath as he came down the hall and stopped in the doorway.

Tom raised his head, blinking as Luke’s reddened face came into clear focus. Luke paused for barely a moment before charging in the room, brandishing a manila folder in his right hand. He paused and flipped the damned thing open, throwing their contents at Tom, who watched absently as they fell to the floor at his feet. A letter, he noted, much like the one Molly had been holding when he’d walked in the door and lost everything. And several print outs of what looked to be online articles. He blinked down at them and then up at Luke.

“Do you have any idea the kind of madness I’ve been dealing with for the past 72 hours?! You go off the fucking radar, don’t answer your goddamned phone, and this insanity is spreading like wildfire. Are you aware that she went to the press? That’s she’s told everyone?!”

Once again Tom blinked in confusion.

Molly? Molly had gone to the press and told them what he’d done? The thought froze his heart. He couldn’t believe she would do something like that. He’d known he’d hurt her…That he’d broken what they had, but for her to run off and tell the world? That wasn’t his Molly. That wasn’t the woman he’d known, he’d loved. Who’d loved him. “Molly…She couldn’t…She wouldn’t…” His voice cracked as he spoke the words, both from disuse and disbelief.

It was Luke’s turn to blink in bewilderment.

“Molly? Why would Molly…?” He shook his head. “No, she hasn’t answered any of my calls either….I’m talking about Heather James. You know, the woman you fucked in a club bathroom in LA two years back? She’s gone to the fucking press with not only your affair, which paints you in an absolutely terrific light seeing as your relationship with Molly was public knowledge at the fucking time, but the fact that you have a son by her! Jesus Christ, Tom, this is a fucking shit show.” He paused running a hand through his short, brown hair. “I’m barely managing to keep up with all of it. And with your engagement announcement two months back…This is bad. Very, very, VERY bad.”

Tom found himself nodding but not truly comprehending the words Luke spoke. It all seemed so surreal, like a horrid nightmare, and all he wanted was to wake from it and find that none of it had actually happened. To find Molly beside him, holding him and telling him she loved him. It couldn’t be real. This couldn’t be happening.

“…Are you even fucking listening to me, Tom?”

He slowly raised his head and met Luke’s gaze. Tom watched the exasperation and annoyance play across his publicist’s face as it became abundantly clear he hadn’t truly been listening. “What?” he managed to choke out.

Luke bit back a groan. “I was saying you and Molly need to release a joint statement on the matter. You need to say something to counteract this shit storm that is raining down on you. And you both need to do it now. Ignoring it isn’t going to work, not this time.”

Tom shook his head, his eyes burning once more with tears. “She’s gone.” It was the first time he’d spoken the words aloud and they sounded strange to his ears. Like they couldn’t be the truth. “She left.”

“When you say left…” Luke let the words trail off but Tom could hear the steel in them. It was clear he had a very good idea just what Tom had meant. And it was just as clear that he intended for Tom to say it aloud.

Tom cleared his throat, unsure just how to put this whole mess into words. “She…She had the letter when I got home,” he paused, working to clear his throat as the words threatened to choke him. “ She…She’d read it and asked me to tell her it wasn’t true…And I…I didn’t know what to do…I didn’t mean to…”

Luke blinked. “But she knew about the affair. You told her…” He trailed off, staring at Tom in enraged disbelief as understanding dawned. “You fucking didn’t tell her about it did you?” Fire burned in Luke’s eyes and he threw his hands up in frustrated incredulity. “You stupid, selfish, moronic fucking coward! You didn’t bloody ever tell her and she was blindsided by…Oh my fucking GOD Thomas, I am going to murder you!”

“I didn’t think…” Tom pleaded.

“No, you didn’t fucking think at all did you?” Luke ran a trembling hand through his hair, shaking his head in frustrating disbelief. “She had no idea about any of this…Dammit all Thomas, I thought you had fucking told her. I begged you to tell her. Why the fucking hell didn’t you?” Luke’s dark eyes locked on his own and the guilt and regret burned inside him.

“Because I didn’t want to lose her,” Tom snapped, glaring up at Luke. It didn’t matter that everything Luke said made sense. He should have told her straight off. He should have been honest. But he hadn’t and it had cost him everything. “I fucked up, Luke. Is that what you want to bloody hear?! I. Fucked. Up. I was a coward. A fucking spineless coward and now she’s gone! She’s having my baby and she left me because I fucked it all up!”

Luke’s mouth, which had been open ready to fire a snarky retort, slammed shut. He blinked at Tom for several minutes in apparent incomprehension before gathering himself enough to choke out, “Molly’s pregnant…”

Tom swallowed thickly and nodded.

Luke threw his hands in the air. “Fucking hell, Tom.” He paced feverishly around the room, muttering to himself and occasionally shooting daggers in Tom’s direction.

The guilt that had been simmering merrily away for the last several days boiled over and Tom fought to control his breathing. This was bad. This was very, very bad and he felt as though everything had turned violently on its head.

“…she’ll talk to me.”

“All my fault,” Tom muttered over and over again to himself. Because it was all his fault. Every last miniscule bit of it. He’d made one stupid, cowardly choice after another and suddenly here he was having to answer for each and every one with no idea how the hell he was going to do so.

“It bloody is and don’t you dare expect me to sugar coat it for you,” Luke snapped. “You should have told her from the word go. You had so many fucking chances to say something and you fucking didn’t. If you had this would have been bad but we could have fucking managed it…Now, fuck, I have no idea which way this will go. And when the goddamned media finds out not only that Molly’s pregnant but she’s left you…”

“That’s not the point!” Tom hissed, pushing himself to his feet. He fought off a giddy wave of dizziness and nausea at the sudden movement. “I don’t give a flying fuck what those bastards print about me. You think I honestly care?”

“Honestly, Tom? I don’t know. The way you’ve been…It’s like I don’t know who you are anymore.”

The words stung far more than he’d expected them to, but it could not fault the truth in them. This person he’d become; this lying, secretive, dishonest man wearing his face wasn’t one he’d recognized. And that terrified him. “What am I going to do?” He hadn’t directed the question at Luke, but his friend answered him all the same.

“I’m going to head back to the office and try to contact Heather James’ solicitor and see if we can try to sort this mess.” He paused and let his eyes roll over the broken man who’d fallen back to sit on the edge of the bed once more. “You are going to march yourself into the shower, clean yourself up, and eat. After that we’ll have to play it by ear.”

—

Tom had showered, dressed in the first pieces of clothing his fingers touched, and settled at the wooden table in his kitchen, a plate of toast before him, when he heard his front door open and close followed by Luke’s footsteps in the hallway. “Back here,” he called out, half-heartedly.

He let his eyes raise to the doorway as Luke wandered in the kitchen, a sober expression painted on his face.

“I’ve been in contact with Ms. James’ solicitor and as their letter stated they are requesting a paternity test which we are not contesting. They wanted to discuss financial support for the child but until it’s proven that he is, indeed, yours that subject matter is off the table. As are any visitation and living arrangements. I’ve also requested that neither Ms. James nor any member of her team or her family speak with the press regarding this matter…Though I fear that ship as long since sailed.” He paused taking a deep breath before clasping his hands together before him. “Still better to try to curtail this now then try to fight whatever else gets spread across the papers.”

Silently, Tom nodded not quite taking it all in. He might have a son. A son. A little boy he’d never met. The idea was overwhelming. A father…He’d always wanted to be a father. Had always hoped that if the day came, he would have been able to be involved from the word go. To watch his child grow within the belly of its mother. Had hoped to be in a steady, committed relationship. Had always planned on it happening with Molly.

But he’d been a stupid, selfish idiot and ruined any chance he’d had. And now because of it he could so easily lose the chance to be there for Molly and the child she was carrying. Fresh tears stung at his eyes and he pushed the toast away, his appetite all but gone.

“…can get you into have the bloodwork drawn tomorrow morning. It shouldn’t take more than two to three days for the results and once we’ve got them we can figure out what comes next.”

Tom cleared his throat and raised his eyes towards Luke once more. “If…If he’s mine, I want to be there for him. I need to be there…This mess isn’t his fault and I won’t have him suffering for it, regardless of how all of this came about.”

A brief flash of pity mixed with a resigned understanding flashed in Luke’s eyes and he nodded. “I know, Tom. I know. If he’s yours I’ll help make sure you are as involved as you want to be.” He paused and cleared his throat, eyes darkening slightly. “I spoke with Molly…”

Tom’s head snapped up at this. “Is she alright? Please tell me she’s okay…I can’t…”

Luke threw his hands up, trying to halt Tom’s explosion of words. “She is about as alright as she can be, given the circumstances…She is understandably upset and angry…”

“Did she….Will she let me talk to her…Let me try to explain.” The naked hope in his eyes tore at Luke but he shook his head.

“I don’t think that is such a good idea. I think you’ve done enough damage for now. Just…Just let her be. There will be time enough to sort out the details of how you will both handle this.”

“But I can’t just…” Even if it was hopeless he couldn’t just let it be. He had to try, he had to do something.

“Yes you bloody fucking can.” Luke snapped, hitting his fist against the table with enough force to rattle the forgotten plate of toast. “Do you not get it? Molly has every right in the world to wash her hands of you. To deny you the right to see the baby she’s carrying. Every. Bloody. Right. Fuck, she would be well within her rights to drag you through the courts and destroy you if you push her to it.”

Tom blinked in confusion, his heart thudding in his chest.

“This isn’t something you can smile and charm your way out of, Tom. You. Fucked. Up.” He empathized each word with the slam of his first to the table. “This isn’t going to simply blow over. Not only did you sleep with someone else, you lied to her about it. And you kept right on lying. You fucked up every bloody time you had the chance to come clean with Molly and you chose not to. This isn’t one mistake, Tom. This isn’t one slip-up. This is a series of stupid, fucking decisions and they are all on you. Every. Single. One. And you need to own that and then figure out how to live with it.”

Luke took a deep breath and settled himself onto the chair opposite from Tom. Neither spoke for several minutes.

“How?” Tom’s voice was small, almost broken.

Luke took a deep breath, resting his hand on Tom’s shoulder. “You’ll have to figure that one out for yourself.” He turned towards the doorway, pausing momentarily to pull something from his pocket. “Almost forgot.” He placed it onto the table before Tom who looked at it in confusion. “Your mobile was in pieces…Again. And I have to be able to get hold of you. Try not to destroy this one.”

With a sigh Luke turned once more and headed down the hall and towards the front door. A moment later Tom heard it click shut and once more he was alone.

—

The car Luke had arranged arrived mid-morning the following day. Tom tried not to think about the parallel between this morning and one almost two years ago as he silently climbed into the backseat. He’d slept fitfully the previous night, tossing and turning for several hours before giving up the ghost entirely. It didn’t matter, he’d lost the right to sleep peacefully, and he’d known that.

He rested his head against the cool glass of the window as the city blurred past, paying it little mind. Luke had called shortly before the car had arrived to make sure he was up and ready. Tom wanted to resent Luke for doing so, for babying him, but given the mess he’d been (and honestly still was) he couldn’t bring himself to. Not when it was something Luke would have done before everything had fallen to pieces.

The car slowed and then finally came to a stop forty minutes later. He opened the car door and blinked up at the tall, dull, brick building. It was overcast, overhead rain clouds threatened. Fitting.

Climbing out, Tom made his way into the lobby of the building. It was well lit with several uncomfortable chrome and mutely coloured chairs lined near the wall of glass windows. Standing to the side of the main doors was Luke, absently staring at his mobile. He looked up at the sound of the doors and offered Tom a smile (which was honestly more of a grimace). In silence, they headed towards the lifts and then up towards the laboratory. Giving his blood and saliva samples was a simple matter; Tom and Luke were out of the building and back into the waiting car fifteen minutes later.

Neither man spoke as the car pulled off and merged back into the London late morning traffic. Luke turned his attention back to his mobile. He tapped away busily at the screen. Several minutes later Luke looked up, pocketing his mobile. “I’ve let the solicitors know the samples were obtained and the results pending.”

Tom nodded. “Alright.”

What else could he possibly say? There weren’t words to describe the emotions coursing through him and he found himself both wishing that the little boy wasn’t his (how could he be a father to a child he didn’t know?) and that he was (if he was then maybe some good would come of all the mess he’d made). He didn’t dare voice either thought. How could he?

When the car stopped again it was in front of the offices for Prosper. Luke opened the door, looking back at the broken man staring sightlessly out of the opposite window. “Tom?”

Blinking Tom turned his attention from his thoughts and towards Luke. “Hm?”

“Call your mother. She’s called the office and my mobile several times trying to get hold of you. She’s worried sick.”

He nodded. The idea of talking to his mother, of hearing the disappointment and disapproval in her voice, terrified him. She loved Molly. Had been so incredibly happy when Tom told her of the engagement.

“That woman loves you, my boy, with all of her heart. You are so very lucky to have found her.” His mother’s words echoed in his mind, adding to the weight of the guilt and self-disgust he carried. She would kill him for this and he honestly couldn’t blame her. He’d had something amazing, something so fucking special, and he’d thrown it away. God, how could he have been such a fool?

What was worse was that by now his mother would have seen the articles, known what he’d done. And he knew he deserved every disappointed and disgusted word she would say to him. He was her son, yes, but she adored Molly and he’d broken her heart. But Luke had been right, avoiding his mother wouldn’t change what had happened and he knew, despite whatever anger and disappointment she felt towards him, she was worried. And despite the mess he’d made of everything, he couldn’t stand worrying his mother.

Tom barely noticed the car pulling to a stop and the driver had to call his name twice before he realized he was home. With a murmured thanks, Tom climbed out of the car and slowly up the steps towards his front door. The house felt so cold, so empty without Molly’s light and Tom fought back a sob as he pushed the door closed behind him and stood in the dim entry way.

Swallowing thickly, he stumbled his way into the lounge and dropped himself haphazardly onto the sofa. He sat, head cradled in his hands for what felt like hours before he took another deep breath and fumbled his new mobile from his pocket.

Clumsily, he dialed the familiar number, holding the phone to his ear as it rang once, twice before the line clicked. “Oh Thomas,” his mother’s worn voice answered. “My boy, what have you done?”

“Mum,” he breathed, the tears he’d fought finally breaking free. “Oh God, mum. I really messed up.”

—

Luke called early three days later letting him know the clinic had sent over the test results and that he was needed at Prosper as soon as he was able to go over them. Tom dressed with trepidation, his mind racing over just what fate awaited him. He’d been grateful Luke had sent a car, he didn’t think he could face driving or the chaos that public transport had become.

Since the tabloids had broken with the story of the affair and his illegitimate child, Tom found himself once more under a deluge of press attention. He’d been followed and hounded on his morning run (which he’d only restarted as a means to take his mind off of what was happening). Anytime he was spotted in public there was someone with a camera or yelling for his attention and comment on the story. He’d kept his head down as much as possible, knowing that if he snapped at them the way he longed to he would be making matters so much worse than they already were. And there was the fact that Luke would cheerfully beat him to death if he did anything to rock the boat on this.

The car was outside his gate at half past the hour and Tom quickly made his way out of the house and into its cool interior, mumbling a quiet hello to his driver. Traffic was lighter than he’d expected and they pulled to a stop in front of Prosper’s building in what felt like moments. Tom fought to contain the panic roiling inside of him as he made his way into the building and towards the lifts that would lead him to Luke’s office.

The low murmur of an office at work greeted him as the lift doors pinged open. Tom gave Nancy at reception a small smile as he headed down the hall towards Luke’s door. She’d been with Luke since he started the firm and they’d always gotten on well. She was just as no nonsense as Luke and, having worked in the industry for years, was an invaluable asset to the firm. Nancy nodded back and waved him on.

Luke’s door was ajar and Tom could hear his voice pouring out into the hallway. He paused at the door and knocked on its frame. Luke looked up, placing his hand over the mouthpiece of the phone in his hand and nodded Tom inside.

“Alright, I’ll get back to you about the interview…Alright. Take care.” Luke placed the phone back onto its cradle and turned his full attention on Tom who still stood awkwardly in the doorway. “Seriously mate, come in. I’m not going to bite.”

His jest pulled the tiniest twinge of a smile from Tom and he made his way inside, settling on the black leather chair across from Luke’s desk. They sat in silence for several moments before Tom spoke. “You called about the results?” He fought to keep his voice steady and even, though the extent of his nerves were clear in the way his foot bounced against the carpeted floor.

Luke nodded once. “They sent them over this morning.” He reached across the desk to hand Tom a sealed white envelope. Tom couldn’t hide the visible shake in his hand as he took the envelope. It took him several moments to still them enough to slip his finger beneath the seal and break it. With a deep breath and a mounting sense of foreboding, Tom pulled the sheets of paper from the envelope, unfolding them with care, before allowing his eyes to read over the stark black text.

His blood pounded in his ears and he had to read the words several times before the meaning became clear.

Regarding the child Francis Henry James…No paternal match…

No paternal match.

The boy wasn’t his.

The sharp sense of relief he felt at those words was dulled by a flash of disappointment that Tom couldn’t reconcile. This was a good thing. Wasn’t it? Things would be easier this way. But still, for a brief moment, Tom found himself grieving the loss of a child that might have been his. Of a life that wouldn’t ever be.

Tom swallowed against the lump in his throat. In all the panic and worry of the last several days, he hadn’t truly stopped and thought about what all of this would mean if the child hadn’t been his. Stupidly, he’d been laboring under the belief that the boy was his son and no matter what had happened between himself and the boy’s mother, that little boy, Francis…Frank, was his and was an innocent in all of this. And Tom would do everything in his power to do right by him. He’d been, unconsciously, making plans about what room he’d need to change into a child’s bedroom for when the boy would stay with him. Along with the room that would serve as a nursery for his baby with Molly…But that was all in vain now.

“Do I need to be drafting a press release asking for privacy as you and your son get to know one another?” Luke’s voice broke through the tangle of confusion in Tom’s mind causing him to stare up blankly. His publicist sat perched on the edge of his desk, arms folded across his chest with a carefully constructed neutral, yet expectant, expression painted across his face.

It was several minutes before Tom found his voice. “No,” he choked out, coughing to clear his throat. “You don’t need…He’s not…I’m not his father.” He blinked back tears, wiping at his face in frustrated helplessness.

Without saying a word, Luke was at his side with a box of tissue. Tom reached out and took one, blowing his nose and fighting valiantly to get himself back under control. But try as he might, Tom couldn’t stop the way his shoulders shook nor the tears that were trailing down his face. He was grateful Luke wasn’t forcing him to talk because he honestly didn’t think he could find the words to explain what the fuck was happening in his head.

He couldn’t say just how long he sat in Luke’s office, mourning the loss of the only good thing that could come from this mess he’d made. All he knew for certain was his head ached and his eyes felt raw as he was ushered into the back of the car Luke called for him. He would have winced at the brightness of the afternoon sunlight on his face had he not been wearing a pair of dark sunshades which were thrust at him on his way out the door.

“The last thing we need right now are pictures of you in tears,” Luke has grumbled as he shut the door behind Tom.

The ride back to his home was a blur. He could remember bits and pieces of the journey but he still blinked in confusion when the car pulled to a stop at the gate. Tom stumbled from the back of the car, punching the gate code in with shaking hands, and then slowly up the steps towards his door. He dropped the keys twice before managing to unlock the door and push it open.

The house was silent and dark for all that the midday sunlight was pouring in through the curtains lining the sitting room windows. He hated it. Hated everything about it. Tom fell back against the door, hearing it click shut against the push of his weight, and sank to the floor. He rested his head against his bent knees and simply fought to breathe.

He hadn’t any idea how long he’d been sitting there, he was only now aware that the hallway was now painted in growing shadow. Blinking, Tom rubbed his eyes with the backs of his hands and slowly pushed himself to his feet. His back throbbed as he stood upright, attesting to the fact he must have been sitting for quite some time. He rubbed it absently as he made his way into the kitchen.

Pulling a glass from the cabinet, he carried it to the sink and filled it with cool water, downing it in three gulps. He filled the glass twice more before making his way into the living room and dropping himself onto the sofa. Everything he’d found himself clinging to, the faint glimmer of hope in the storm his life had fallen into, had been for nothing and once more he found himself floundering. How could he ever hope to fix any of this now?

—

The next few days crept past, Tom moving through the motions more than anything. He answered the phone when Luke or his mother called, insisting he was fine in a tone which fooled no one, least of all himself. He read scripts and tried to eat on a regular basis; though he failed more than succeeded in that front. Tom felt as though he was living underwater, he could see things happening around him, hear distant echoes but could not seem to reach out and actually be one with them. Not that he was truly trying over much.

Each time Luke called, Tom found himself asking if he’d heard anything from Molly. Desperate for something, anything to let him know she was alright. How could this ever be alright? She hadn’t called him, not that he’d expected her to but still he’d hoped, and each time he tried her number it rang out as disconnected. Luke had brushed him off nearly every time, “This is your mess, mate, and I won’t get myself involved any more than I need to.”

“Just let me know if she’s okay. I just need to know that she’s alright.”

“Tom,” Luke breathed out in exasperation, “Don’t put me in this situation, I am asking as your friend. And as hers. Please, let it be.”

“I can’t, Luke. Not when things are like this. Not if there isn’t a chance I could try to make this right.”

“No, Tom.”

He couldn’t seem to let the idea go. The need to speak with Molly, to know that she was alright. To try all he could do to fix the mess he’d made. And maybe, just maybe now that he knew for certain that the boy wasn’t his…Maybe she would be able to forgive him. Maybe that could make this work. Maybe they could be a family. Maybe…

—

Tom hadn’t let himself think as he made his way down the brightly lit hallway. Hadn’t acknowledged anything more than the blaze of hope that sparked in him when Molly had finally agreed to meet with him. It had taken nearly two weeks to get her to take his call, let alone speak with him, and even then he knew it was with extreme reluctance.

Luke had played middleman begrudgingly and made it perfectly clear though he was paid to look after Tom’s interests, he was firmly on Molly’s side in this. “Keep your head, Tom,” Luke had cautioned him as he handed over the folded piece of paper on which he’d written Molly’s current number. “She is giving you the chance to talk, don’t fuck this up. And please, for the love of god, don’t make this worse.”

He meticulously scanned each of the numbers on the doors until he’d come to Molly’s, trying to ignore the nerves fluttering steadily in his gut. Molly, he’d learned, had initially been staying at a friend’s while she searched for more permanent arrangements and had moved into her own flat the week before. The flat wasn’t too far from the house they’d shared, Tom had stared at the address she’d given him in disbelief. So close. She’d been so close and he’d not been any the wiser. The knowledge of it stung far more than he’d wanted to admit. But she’d agreed to meet with him. To talk. That had to mean something, didn’t it?

Taking a deep breath he raised his hand and knocked gently on the door. He rocked on his heels, shoving his hands firmly into his pockets to stop their fidgeting. He always seemed to fidget when he was nervous. He could hear a rustling from inside and the click of the lock unlatching. His heart stuttered and froze in his chest as the door opened and he found Molly standing before him.

He could see the toll of the last few weeks painted across her features. There were shadows under her light blue eyes and a wariness in them, and in her posture, he didn’t quite understand. She was clearly exhausted and it took all he had to keep himself from sweeping in and trying to fix things, as every fiber in his being wanted him to. She merely nodded at him, standing firmly in the doorway.

“How are you?” The question slipped from his lips without his bidding and Tom wanted to kick himself for it. “I’m sorry that was…I didn’t mean…”

“Just don’t, Tom,” she whispered. “Please don’t.”

Tom felt his heart constrict in his chest at the pain he could see in Molly’s eyes, no matter how desperately she tried to hide it. He was the worst sort of person and he knew it. But maybe…Just maybe if she let him talk, let him explain, this might be a way to begin to rebuild the shattered trust between them.

Please. Please.

Several silent moments passed between them before Molly stood aside and allowed him to walk past her into the flat. He found his eyes scanning the small, but cozy, looking front room. There wasn’t a great deal in the way of furniture; a squashy grey sofa and matching arm chair, darkly stained coffee and end tables, and a wooden and metal bookshelf still mostly empty. Boxes lined the far left hand wall, stacked neatly with the top-most open.

Molly settled herself on the armchair, crossing her arms loosely across her chest. Tom quietly did the same on the sofa. Neither spoke, the silence between them growing more strained by the moment. He heard rather than saw Molly take a deep breath and quickly raised his eyes to her face. “You wanted to talk, Tom.”

Tom clenched and unclenched his hands in his lap. He could feel her cool eyes locked on him. It was now or never. He swallowed thickly before speaking, knowing he had to get the words out. Had to make her understand. The worst was over now. They could try to rebuild. It wouldn’t be easy, he knew that, but it would be worth it. They could do this.

“I…We got the results back. Of the paternity test. The child he…He isn’t mine.” The words came out in a rush and hope burned brightly in his eyes as Tom stared into Molly’s. It was going to be alright, it had to be. He’d been given a second chance. They both had. Surely, she could see that.

He waited, watching the emotion play across her face. Waited for the confusion to break into a quiet joy. For her to understand that it was over and that they could make this work. They could truly be a family. And he would make all of this up to her. He would make it right. This was his chance to do so.

“Oh.” The word tumbled from her lips. “I’m glad it’s settled for you then.” But she didn’t smile. No sign of relief spread across her features. Nothing had changed…

“Oh,” Tom echoed and felt his heart sink. “But I thought…”

“You thought what, Tom?” Molly’s sharp tone cut straight through him and he flinched at her words. “You thought that just because her paternity claim was false that everything would be fine? You lied to me Tom. You slept with someone else and then lied to me about it. You got a fucking STI and you kept that from me. You took what we had and threw it in the fire and you think that just because you dodged this particular bullet I should be grateful and forgive you?” Frustration and disbelief shone in her bright eyes. “I’m sorry Tom, but that is not how it works. That is not how any of this fucking works.”

“It was a mistake,” he started, needing her to listen to him. To give him a chance to fix it.

“No, Tom,” Molly snapped out, pushing herself to her feet. She paced around the room, hands waving as she carried on. “A mistake is getting the reservation times mixed up. A mistake is forgetting to call after you’ve made it home safe. Sleeping with someone else and lying about it for two years…That…That is not a fucking mistake and don’t you dare try to pass it off as such.”

He stood as well, staring at her as the words she’d thrown at him hit home. “I…Molly, please, tell me how to fix this,” he pleaded, unconsciously reaching out toward her. “Tell me what I need to do and I’ll do it. Anything. Anything at all. Just please, please let me fix this.” He took two cautious steps towards her.

Molly shook her head, taking several steps back from him. “You don’t get it, Tom. There is no fixing this.” She crossed her arms in front of her chest and locked her eyes on his. “That time came and went two fucking years ago. You lied to me. Again and again and again. You made the life I thought we were building together into a nothing more than a mockery of what it should have been. You can’t fix this, Thomas. Not now.”

“Please don’t say that, Molly,” he begged, fear choking his voice. This wasn’t how this was supposed to happen. This couldn’t be happening. He had to fix this. He had to. “Please don’t. I can’t…I have to fix this. Please.”

Molly shook her head. “No, Tom. There is no fixing this.”

“But the baby…” His words trailed off as his eyes lingered on her distant form. Her baby. Their baby. This baby needed them both. They had to fix this. He had to fix this.

Molly’s hands unconsciously dropped to her stomach, cupping now barely visible swell there. He doubted he would have even seen it had she not done so. “Don’t, Tom,” She whispered, taking a deep breath before continuing her voice stronger. “This baby is the only reason I am even speaking to you.” There was a fire in her eyes Tom had never seen and truth be told it terrified him. Anger was never an emotion he’d ever truly seen from Molly, not centered on him, and to see it now let loose a very real spasm of fear. “Don’t you dare try to use this baby to get your own damned way!”

Tom leapt to his feet, hands raised before him, and took a tentative step towards Molly. “That isn’t what I’m trying to do.” And it wasn’t…Not completely. He couldn’t let her shut him out. Not now. He needed to fix this before it was too late.

“I think you should leave, Tom.”

Her words didn’t make any sense. “No, please don’t…” He couldn’t leave now. If he left then he might never get another chance to fix this. And he had to fix it. He had to.

Molly shook her head, walking with steadfast determination to the door. “I want you to leave right now. I can’t do this.”

“But…”

“Tom, please.”

He stood for several moments, indecision painted across his features before his shoulders slumped in defeat and he walked quietly to the door. Tom paused, his eyes roaming over Molly’s stoic face. He took a slow, deep breath and spoke quietly. “For what it’s worth, Molly, I am truly sorry.”

“That’s all well and good, Tom, but sorry doesn’t fix anything.”

Tom nodded, forcing the ghost of a smile as he felt the tears burning in his eyes. “I know.” And god I wish it would. Without another word he turned and walked out of the flat.

—

Luke’s call came almost an hour after Tom had made his way home. He thought, briefly, about simply letting the call go to voicemail; it would be infinitely easier than whatever Luke had to say. Instead he slid his finger across the screen and placed the call on speaker. “Yes, Luke?”

There was a resigned sigh before Luke’s voice echoed throughout the room. “Why can’t you listen to what I tell you? Just once, for the sheer novelty value of it.”

“I just…I wanted to fix it…”

Luke groaned. “Tom, you cannot fix this. Not now. The time to fix it was two damned years ago. And if you’d just told her like I all but begged you to…”

“I know, Luke,” Tom snapped, cutting the man off mid-sentence. “I fucking know! You don’t need to tell me I fucked up the best thing in my life because I’m a selfish bastard. I know, Luke. I can’t ever forget it! I just…I had to try.” He fought to keep his words steady as the composure he’d struggled desperately to keep finally broke. Sobs wracked him and he found himself gasping for breath. It took several minutes to calm himself enough to speak clearly. “I just…I couldn’t not try.”

“Well your trying could make this much, much worse. You have to know that,” Luke stressed and Tom could hear the strain in the man’s voice. “The press doesn’t know Molly is pregnant, and thank god for that, but it’s not something that can be hidden forever. Not with the way the press has been on what’s happened. And when it does come out, they are going to be brutal; not only to you but to her as well. You push her too far and she could wash her hands of you entirely. She could up and leave and keep the baby from you and fuck me, I don’t know if I could blame her.”

Tom felt the barely contained panic threatening to break loose once again. Molly leaving and keeping their baby from him. Both of them gone for good. His knees buckled and it took all he had to lower himself onto the floor lest they give out completely and he collapse. “She wouldn’t…Molly wouldn’t ever…”

“There was a time when she would have said the same thing about you and we both know how that turned out.” Luke let out a frustrated sigh. “Tom, speaking as your publicist, I’m asking…No, Tom, I’m telling you to leave her be. Don’t push. Don’t try to fix it. Just let me handle this. Please. Before it goes from bad to worse. Do you hear me?”

It was several moments before Tom realized that Luke could not see him nodding and croaked out his assent. Yes, he would leave her alone. He would let Luke sort this as best he could. The call ended soon after but Tom remained on the floor, his mind racing.

How had all of this spiraled so far out of control? How could he have let this happen? He knew better. He should have come clean to Molly when she had called him back that night; should have told her the truth and begged her forgiveness. But he hadn’t and now there was nothing he could do to fix the mess he’d made.

—

In the two weeks that followed, Tom did his best to keep to Luke’s request. He kept his head down as best he could, kept mostly to his home and went through the small pile of scripts that had started to accumulate. Not that he could actually focus on them; he’d read the same passage three times in the last ten minutes and still couldn’t make hide nor hair of any of it. With a tired groan, Tom tossed the script aside, rubbing his bleary eyes with the palms of his hands. There was no point in trying to pretend he was going to get anywhere with them, not with the way his mind refused to focus.

Pushing himself to his feet, he padded from the living room towards the kitchen. Mindlessly, he set about making himself a mug of tea; loose leaf tea from the cabinet, water in the kettle and setting it to boil, jug of milk from the refrigerator, mug and strainer set aside waiting. There was something soothing about the whole process; it was something he had done thousands of times. It made him think of home and his mum and the times when all the world’s ails could be cured with a cuppa.

As the kettle boiled he set about measuring out the tea and placing it in the strainer atop the green chipped mug. A few minutes later had the kettle boiled, the water poured, and the fragrant leaves brewing. Once steeped he tossed the used tea leaves, added his milk, and carried the mug back into the living room. Tea might not fix everything, but with all that had happened, it certainly couldn’t hurt.

He settled back onto the couch and sipped while he debated picking up the script once more. It wasn’t the best story he’d ever read, but decent enough. Under normal circumstances, and had his head been clearer, he knew he’d been very much taken in by it. As it was though…

Tom let out a soft sigh, resting his mug atop his knee and rubbed his eyes with his free hand. He needed to get himself together. Falling apart wasn’t going to help anyone, least of all himself; he’d known that. But knowing didn’t make it any easier.

A muffled ring echoed from between the cushions of the sofa.

Perplexed, Tom sat staring for several long moments before his wits caught up with him. He leapt to his feet, placing his mug on the edge of the coffee table, and reached between the cushions where the ringing seemed be loudest. He grumbled as his fingers at first found nothing then just as quickly slid against the smooth metal back of his mobile. He yanked it out and slid his finger across the screen to answer, not bothering to look at the number. It was most likely his mother; she’d spent the past week trying to encourage him to come home for a few days to “get away”. He knew she worried over him and with all the goings on, her mothering instinct had gone into overdrive.

“Hello?”

Luke’s voice echoed through the mobile’s speaker. “Tom, is this a good time?”

While there wasn’t anything off about Luke’s question, there was something in the tone of it that set off alarm bells in Tom’s mind. Panic, potent and strong flooded through. He could hear the blood pounding in his ears as he fought for control of his voice. Something was wrong. Molly’s face flashed before his eyes.

Let her be okay. Let her and the baby be okay. Please. Please.

“Luke, what is it? What’s happened?” He knew his voice was shaking, knew all his bloody training was less than worthless now, and there was little he could do to stop it.

There was a soft sigh and a pause before Luke answered. “I’m about five minutes from yours and I have something we need to talk about.”

He managed to grunt something, he couldn’t say exactly what, in response and only half heard Luke’s answer before the call ended. He stared at the now blank screen as he collapsed back onto the sofa. His hands shook and he felt the mobile slip from his fingers to land on the rug below with a soft thump.

It took several minutes for Tom to register that the buzzing he was hearing was coming from the doorbell and not his head. It took another few moments to get to his feet and stumble towards the door. His fingers felt large, clumsy, and useless as he struggled with the lock. It took two tries to get it undone and to pull the darkly stained wooden door open.

Luke stood in the doorway, an unreadable expression painted across his face. He pulled his sunglasses off as he stepped inside and offered Tom a small, half-hearted smile which did little to put him at ease. They both stood in the entryway, silence spreading between them. There were so many things Tom wanted to ask but the words simply wouldn’t come.

“I think we should probably sit down for this,” Luke suggested, putting a hand on Tom’s shoulder and guiding him towards the living room.

Tom felt his heart plummet at Luke’s words and stumbled into the living room, collapsing onto the sofa. Luke settled in the arm-chair adjacent, his hands clasped tightly in his lap. Clearing his throat, Tom forced himself to raise his eyes towards Luke and choked out. “What is it?”

Luke faltered for a moment before answering. He leant forward, pausing briefly to pull an envelope from his jacket pocket. “Over the last week and a half I’ve been in talks with a solicitor.” He paused once again and handed the envelope to Tom. His brow furrowing in confusion, Tom held the envelope in his hand staring from it to Luke. What could Heather possibly want now? Hadn’t she done enough?

“Molly’s solicitor.”

Tom’s head snapped up at this, his eyes widening as the colour drained slowly from his face. “Wh-what?”

“She had them contact me shortly after…Anyway, with all things being equal and with all that’s been happening, she wanted to get things in writing, as clearly as she could, before all of this gets out in the public. Because it will, Tom, whether you or I or Molly want it to or not.”

It was as if Luke was speaking from someplace far off, his voice was muffled and try as he might Tom could barely make sense of any of it. His fingers shook as he turned the off-white envelope over in his hands, only partially registering his name written across its front, and tore open its seal.

The paper inside was of surprisingly good quality; a creamy white which was a strong contrast to the crisp black of the text. The printed words seemed to blur as he struggled to make sense of them. His breath came in short, pained gasps as slowly, agonizingly their meaning became clear.

She wasn’t contesting his paternity and welcomed him to a paternity test if he so wished; if he wanted to be involved in the life of their child she would not deny him. But that was as far as she was prepared to go. He wasn’t allowed to contact her in any way unless in pertained to the child. She would share important doctor’s visits and any and all test results if requested. His presence at the birth would be up for discussion as the time drew closer though she did not want him alone with her in the room.

A choked sob fell from his lips as the paper slipped from his numb fingers to the floor. Tom couldn’t think, couldn’t breathe. God this wasn’t happening. Please, god, this couldn’t be happening. He jumped at the feel of a hand resting on his shoulder and blinked up through tears he hadn’t realized he’d shed at Luke’s impassive face.

“Deep breath, mate. Just breathe.”

Tom struggled to draw in air, his lungs burning with the effort. It felt as though he was simply fighting to keep his head above the surface of a crushing sea. And each time he thought maybe, just maybe, he’d caught his breath another wave would crest and he’d be dragged back under.

“Why?” He managed to choke out.

Luke let out a soft, resigned sigh. “Because she knew you wouldn’t listen any other way.” He gripped Tom’s shoulder lightly. “You push and you push and you don’t listen. She knows you, Tom. And she took the steps she felt were necessary to protect herself. All you can do now is respect that. Don’t push her on this. Please, if you listen to nothing else I ask of you listen to this, please respect her choice in this matter. Respect the boundaries she is setting. Don’t push her to take this further.”

Unable to speak, Tom simply nodded. He didn’t have it in him to fight anymore, no matter how loudly his mind screamed for him to do so. This was his fault. All of it. Molly hated him and if he pushed any further he wasn’t completely sure if she wouldn’t take away the only remaining tie left between them. And he couldn’t lose that. Not after everything. But knowing that and accepting it were two completely different things and at that moment Tom wasn’t sure if he would ever be able to make that leap. And if he didn’t, what would it cost him?

#Tom Hiddleston #Tom Hiddleston RPF #Tom Hiddleston x oc #Tom Hiddleston x ofc #Tom Hiddleston x original character #tom hiddleston x original female character #Imperfect Tense #mrs-captain-evans writing challenge #mce writing challenge

14 notes · View notes

wordywarriorwrites · 5 years

Text

Chapter 4: Erstwhile

Masterlist: The Boss of Brooklyn A03 Story Link Author: @wordywarriorwrites Summary: When it comes to being The Boss, James Buchanan “JB” Barnes rules with an iron fist. For him, there’s no room for sentiment, and certainly no time for distraction, even if it is in the form of an old flame. Steve Rogers had bowed out of the life a long time ago, but a twist of fate brings him right back into the fold, and face-to-face with a man he once loved. When a game of cat and mouse turns into a matter of life and death, both will be forced to decide whether they’ll be loyal to the business, or faithful to each other. A/N: Bucky Barnes Mob Boss AU. Stucky. For: @star-spangled-man-with-a-plan Star’s Multi-Fandom Follower Celebration & @sherrybaby14 Sherry’s Fall Into You Challenge. Warnings: Language, violence, drug use, alcohol, smoking, explicit sexual content, illegal activities. *Re-blogs are welcome. Plagiarism isn’t. *

Five Years Previously…

Bucky was shoved backward into the couch with such force that it tipped over. Going ass over teakettle jarred him, but he popped up quickly, and introduced both his fists to Steve’s ribs and kidneys.

Steve gave as good as he got with a series of jabs and an uppercut, followed by a takedown that, between their combined weight, obliterated the coffee table, and broke the only lamp he owned.

They grappled and rolled until Bucky was pancaked, but he recovered, and put Steve in a chokehold.

“Fuckin’ prick,” Bucky snarled as he anchored his legs around Steve’s waist.

Steve kicked his feet and threw his elbows, “Piece of shit.”

A bite to the forearm made Bucky yelp, and in response to Steve’s childish tactics, he squeezed harder, but Steve didn’t fight back. Bucky thought for a moment he’d lost consciousness, but when he loosened his grip, Steve sucked in a sharp breath, coughed, and rolled onto his side.

While Steve busied himself with gulping down oxygen, Bucky got himself upright, and saw the aftermath of their bare-knuckled brawl scattered all over the apartment. The passing of the midnight train muffled their hard breathing, but it did nothing to smother the uneasiness between them.

Bucky shouldn’t have survived what had been done to him, but he had, and all he wanted was for things to get back to normal. Steve, on the other hand, was still hung up on the fact that the Families had planned his funeral and divided up his territories. As soon as he’d gotten back on his feet, everything had gone back to the way it was, but it was still a bone of contention Steve was determined to gnaw at, and absolutely refused to let go of.

He wasn’t sure who had thrown the first punch, and really, it didn’t matter; they’d had it out and he hoped it would be the end of things. They remained silent and still for a long time before he defiantly asked Steve if he was done breaking his balls and his shit. The question was supposed to diffuse the tension, but it didn’t. If anything, it made it worse, because Steve let out a warning sound that prompted Bucky to brace himself for round two.

Steve planted both fists into the floorboards and pushed himself up; it was a slow, unsteady rise, but when he got to his feet, he just hung his head, and pressed a hand to his ribs.

“I love you,” he bit out between clenched teeth.

Bucky sighed and stood up from the floor, “Steve, you know I love you too, man, but--”

“Buck, I’m in love with you – been in love with you ever since we were fuckin’ kids,” Steve confessed lowly. “And I know you don’t feel that way about me and that’s okay, but you almost… And I can’t…”

A pained, haunted expression crept across Steve’s face and Bucky knew exactly what images flashed in his mind because they were the same ones he saw in his sleep.

Although Bucky had accepted his life choices and knew any day could be his last, he’d never had a death wish. He’d been ambushed, beaten to a bloody pulp, gutshot, and left for dead. He’d called Steve that night, not only because he’d wanted to live, but because on the off chance he didn’t, his was the last voice Bucky wanted to hear.

Bucky cared for Steve more than anyone or anything, which was precisely the reason why they’d only ever been friends. He knew he didn’t have much of a soul left, but whatever little remained belonged to Steve, because their friendship -- it was uncommon in their world. It was profound, probably the only pure thing he had left, and he didn’t want it tainted or destroyed.

Fucking was just fucking. Sex was just sex.

But love?

Love messed everything up because it opened a door to a whole new world of pain. It could be twisted and used as a weapon against both of them, and Bucky couldn’t have that on his already weighted conscience. He’d seen it happen with others in the business. Some made it work, others couldn’t, and the devastation and inevitable havoc when it ended badly or violently wasn’t something he could handle.

He felt it, but couldn’t reciprocate it, and Steve deserved more than half-measures.

It was a brief moment of soundless, despondent vulnerability, and it disappeared just as quickly as it came. Between one blink and the next, Steve buttoned it up, and he pushed it down.

Even though it could’ve waited until morning, Bucky took the lamp and coffee table to the dumpster. Steve got the broom and dustpan from the kitchen and swept the floor with eyes downcast and lips pressed together in a tight line. They both lifted the couch and put it back where it belonged. The cash Steve dropped on the counter far exceeded the value of the furniture, but Bucky didn’t want to start another argument, so, he kept his mouth shut.

Steve made a beeline for the door, and the hinges squeaked a bit as he exited, but it was only shut for a few moments before it was opened back up again.

“Forgot my coat,” he muttered.

If he’d been smart – if he’d been less selfish – he would have let Steve get his coat and go.

But Bucky had always been a greedy fool.

As with all things in his life, when he wanted something, he took it, and when he stepped into Steve’s path and took his mouth, it wasn’t chaste or polite. Bucky didn’t wade in, he plundered, and Steve didn’t resist or refuse him. A rough bite to his lower lip elicited a gasp, and that was all the invitation Bucky needed to curl his tongue around Steve’s and deepen the kiss.

It was a warm welcome made even hotter when Steve groaned and kissed him back. It was the kind of lip-lock that left no room for discussion or second-guessing, and it only made Bucky want more.

Hands tangled in Steve’s hair, Bucky moved his mouth down his chin, to the underside of his jaw. The scent of his cologne, the heat of his skin, the thud of his pulse – it was all-consuming. Steve’s shirt was discarded first; it was nothing Bucky hadn’t seen before, but this time, the reveal made his mouth water. When he pulled his hoodie over his head, the first thing Steve did was run his fingertips over the scar tissue of his wounds, and the tenderness of his touch made Bucky gulp.

It was unfamiliar territory for them both, but there was no hesitation. Hands and eyes and mouths wandered. Boots kicked off. Belts undone; pants and boxers shoved down; both of them unabashedly naked in the middle of the living room they’d nearly destroyed only minutes prior.

Bucky explored every inch of Steve’s flesh; from throat to groin, across every bump, and over each bruise. On his knees, he took Steve into his mouth; disappeared him down his throat; lifted his head; swallowed him again; cupped and fondled and laved. He was turned on because Steve was turned on, and the husky, needy, guttural noises Steve made were the most seductive sounds Bucky had ever heard.

A tug to his hair and a snarled, “bedroom, now,” was followed up by a frantic shuffle, even more ardent kissing, and a tumble onto the mattress. Nightstand drawer yanked open; condom and lube retrieved; Bucky situated between Steve’s thighs. Slow, careful exploration that was just as imperative as it was arousing. It was too much, but nowhere near enough.

While Steve got on his hands and knees, Bucky tore open the condom, and rolled it on. They were both clamoring and desperate, but he waited in both anticipation and with uncharacteristic patience each time for Steve’s nod of approval before pressing further forward. Soon enough, he was right where he wanted to be, and where he always knew belonged.

Bucky was cautious because it was new, overwhelming, heady, and too fucking good��

And it would never, ever happen again.

Bucky wanted Steve to come, not because he desired to rush, but because he desperately needed Steve to fall apart before he did. It was strange for him to urgently crave something he knew he couldn’t experience again, but he did, and he wanted to watch it happen.

He wanted to remember it.

Eyes wide open. One hand firmly wrapped around Steve’s kicking erection. The other in a white-knuckled grip on the headboard. Even, steady, deep, and then, deeper still. Soft, yellow-hued light from streetlamps that revealed sweat-slicked skin and worn-out cotton sheets. Nothing to stifle the creak of the bedsprings or the harshness of their breathing.

It wasn’t that Steve said his name, but it was how he said it -- in that baritone, assertive voice he used when he was knocking skulls and telling people what was what. It made Bucky feel as if he were being commanded, possessed, and called out at the same time. It was everything he’d been seeking, but nothing he could’ve prepared for.

Bucky bit his lower lip, close his eyes, and pressed his forehead to the space between Steve’s shoulder blades. Steve wasn’t his first and wouldn’t be his last, but nevertheless, being connected to him – it made him feel like some sort of god damn virgin.

It healed him. Saved him. Fulfilled him.

It broke his fucking heart.

They showered together afterward. Changed the sheets. Got beneath the blankets.

Bucky had never kissed or touched another man without it either being foreplay or a prelude for another go around. He’d never granted anyone permission to share his bed for more than a few hours, let alone stay overnight. He’d never experienced intimacy, and he knew he was a rat fucking bastard for taking advantage.

Steve’s chest pressed to his back. His arm around his waist. Tangled legs and laced fingers and soft, warm skin. Bucky didn’t permit anyone to snuggle him, but he allowed Steve to.

For one night – just for one night – he allowed it.

He allowed himself to love.

Chapter 5: Game

Everything: @jennmurawski13 @nerdy-bookworm-1998

Steve Rogers: @patzammit @hearttoearth The Boss of Brooklyn: @star-spangled-man-with-a-plan @jamesbarnesappreciationsociety @captain-rogers-beard @lilliannaansalla

48 notes · View notes

gottagobuycheese · 4 years

Text

Tag Thingy

Thanks @silent--sonata for indulging my terrible sleeping habits XD

(fyi this will probably be unnecessarily long and rambly, so it’s going under a cut (EDIT: whelp the song list got a little out of hand, I’d apologize if I were even remotely sorry))

Rules: Answer 17 questions & tag 17 people you want to get to know better

Nickname: Cheese (or Lactose Wedge, or Dairy Product of Unspecified Origin and Purpose)

Zodiac Sign: Gemini!

Height: 160.5 cm/5′3″ (Bubbles I refuse to believe you’re actually that much taller than me)

Hogwarts house: Somewhere between Ravenclaw and Hufflepuff allegedly, both of which I’d be honored to get sorted into, but honestly I’d just be stoked to get sorted at all

Last thing I googled: I think it was something along the lines of “how to speed up audio playback in GarageBand,” but but my train of thought was derailed before I actually looked at any of the results so ¯\_(ツ)_/¯ (and on a related note, thanks again for the magical audio editing @imperiousheiress!)

Song stuck in my head: The end credits to Legacy of the Wizard (which is SUCH a jam, thank you for enlightening me @jessicafish) Following and followers: 227 (goodness just looking at that number is stress-inducing) and...104?! When the HECK did you all get here??? I think just last summer I was happily floating about in the 50′s. Anyways, to anyone I have not said hello, hello! Hope you enjoy your stay, and I am sincerely sorry if you expected Quality Original Content, or even just regularly scheduled other people’s content. Sadly, neither of these things tend to happen here.

Amount I sleep: During the school year it’s usually anywhere between 30 minutes and 6 hours (DON’T EVEN START BUBBLES YOU HAVE NO RIGHT), usually landing in the 3/4 hour ranges if I’m smart about it, but now that I am on Unofficial Break, it’s usually at least around 6 hours (except today was 3 because Avatar is an excellent show and the weirdos in this house have regularly scheduled breakfast at 9-something every morning). Sadly my sleep schedule can only be forced to tolerate normalcy for so long before careening back in the other direction, so we’ll see if this is just a blip or if we’re back to normal mid-Atlantic Ocean hours!

Lucky number(s): I wouldn’t say these are necessarily favorite numbers, but I do like 2 and 9. But come to think of it, second attempts at Official Things do tend to go better for me than first attempts, so maybe there’s some merit there after all! Dream Job: Don’t think I’m really cut out for dreaming anymore, haha (unless you are a theoretical future employer in which case I am Extremely Full of Ambition and Passion). The bed-adjacent metaphor has been made, and not to brag, but I can sleep on pretty much any surface. Currently studying my Not Favorite aspect of STEM (was there ever a favorite or did I just like being good at things sometimes) and learning how to People™ properly (and also learning a gazillion convoluted drug names like what the heck dude, did you just fall asleep on your typewriter coming up with these), so I’ll take whatever place hires me and pays me enough not to depend on my parents for everything, I suppose. In an ideal world, that would entail a job where I could make friends, and even more importantly, a job where my shortcomings would not cause Massive and Irreparable Harm, but I don’t think this line of work really meshes with that last one, so I guess I’ll either have to get my shit together™ extremely soon or fake my death, adopt an alias, and flee to a completely new place with no ties whatsoever before trying to get another, less high stakes job.

(Though I guess, less cynically, I like helping people well enough? And stories are fun! Maybe there could’ve been something with that. Not that there still can’t be, mind, but there’s still a long way to go between Here and There)

Wearing: Black shorts. Navy t-shirt. Brown some-specific-kind-of-jacket-I-forgot-the-name-of jacket. Is it summer? Is it fall? Am I in middle school? Who can say, but they are COMFY so sadly I have no cares to give

Favourite song(s): way way WAY too many to list here, and I do not have them all organized in a handy playlist separately, but to name a few (and these are not necessarily the MOST favorite okay, it doesn’t mean I don’t love stuff not on this list, it means you can’t force me to pick between my children and I am going to find at least one quick thing from a few things I like before I need to hit post and go back to looking like I’m being studious, and also things I think you should listen to right now, but for everything I’ve linked assuming I mean the whole OST), here’s a spam of links in no particular order:

LoZ Wind Waker - The Great Sea (aka the epitome of optimism)

Undertale - NGAHHH!! (I was about to link more but then I realized it’d be the whole soundtrack lol)

LoZ Breath of the Wild - Hateno Village (Night)

A:tLA - Peace (bad call BAD CALL NOW I HAVE EMOTIONS)

Legend of Korra - Final Scene/Ending Theme (MISTAKES WERE MADE MISTAKES WERE MADE)

Kung Fu Panda - Oogway Ascends (I feel like I’m taking you on a whole little album journey now XD)

PMD: Explorers of Sky - Dialga’s Fight to the Finish (aka the Gotta Shower Fast song)

Phoenix Wright: Ace Attorney - Pursuit ~ Cornered (aka the HURRY UP AND PACK UR SHIT YOUR FLIGHT LEAVES IN THREE HOURS song)

Apollo Justice: A New Trial Is In Session (very underrated soundtrack imo) and also Apollo Justice: Telling the Truth (because these two are very closely associated in my head and it’s getting harder and harder to narrow things down so maybe I should stop lol)

Your Name: Katawaredoki (in which I am forcibly thrown heart first into the bedroom of my second apartment at approximately 12-something A.M.)

Digimon Adventure 01: Butterfly (MASSIVE 90′s childhood anime feels, and also Last Summer Before Everything Went to Shit feels (on a general scale I mean, not personal))

Pokémon: Lugia’s Song multitrack cover by Jordan Moore (would that I could have a talent of that musical talent)

Pokémon the First Movie: Tears of Life (great now I’m on a Pokémon music spiral GUESS IT’S CHILDHOOD NOSTALGIA HOURS NOW)

PMD: Blue Rescue Team - Farewell and Run Away/Fugitives (you CANNOT make me choose between these guys okay, my brain WILL explode, and whoops now I want to link the whole ost)

Palette by A Dear Friend (wink wonk)

Pokémon: Alpha Sapphire - Fortree City (wow talk about mood whiplash)

Detective Conan: Main Theme (I can’t find the specific version since there are so many, but it’s a Good Theme)

Super Smash Bros.: Brawl - Opening Theme

Pokémon Colosseum - Relic Forest

Song for Lindsay by Andrew Boysen Jr. (oh great now it’s time for marching band feelings I guess)

Mt. Everest by Rossano Galante

Deltarune - Field of Hopes and Dreams and A Town Called Hometown (orchestrated) (aka the Lots of Work To Do song) and You Can Always Come Home and Don’t Forget (hey guess what I wrote a bunch of fake extra verses for) (also it looks my pathetic attempts at narrowing things down are getting even more pathetic so I’ll wrap up soon XD)

Guild Wars 2 - Fear Not This Night (never actually played this myself but my friend got me addicted to the music)

Lord of the Rings - May It Be (Enya) (aaaand now I miss choir, THANKS BUBBLES)

Lion King - Can You Feel the Love Tonight (Multilingual) by Travys Kim (aka how I remembered how fun these things are)

Original Song by Anonymous

(The urge to add all the other songs I’m not adding is so strong but I’ve got so much work to do so just assume I mean all Nintendo music from any game I’ve played, all Ghibli movie music, every musical I’ve ever heard, and even more)

Random fact:

Apparently as early as the 17th century, you could guess that a child would have a shortened life span if their foreheads tasted salty. Yes, there is a specific reason, and yes, you may already know what it is, and thankfully no, that life span projection no longer holds true, assuming access to Modern Medicine!

Favourite Authors: Okay I have not read enough various books of enough various authors to be able to answer this, so I’m just gonna go with a few books instead. They are not necessarily all-time favorites, but I enjoyed reading them very much at the time and more often than not go back to them for comfort reads: The Martian, any of first three Harry Potter books, and The Rise of Kiyoshi. (That last one’s not really a comfort read but I am drowning in Loving Kiyoshi juice so here we are)

Favourite Animal Noises: Certain kinds of birds (UNLESS it’s some ungodly hour of the morning and you’re trying to sleep)? Ooh, and crickets!

Aesthetic: A slob, but like...a comfy slob. An incredibly disorganized hermit who is happy to mill about in the uncontrolled entropy. (Are we talking about what aesthetic I give off, or what I like to look at, visually? Because I like space, and water, and mountains, and forests, and forests ON mountains, OOH and forests on mountains at night where you can see space, perhaps reflected in a body of water. Or just water, idk. Different things are pretty to look at at different times)

WELL THAT ONLY TOOK FOREVER SORRY FOR THE OBSCENE LENGTH

@pachelbelsheadcanon @averybritishbumblebee @shingeki-no-korra @sailorlock @yeswevegotavideo @soultheta @queenerdloser @ifeelbetterer @rogueofdragons @peppervl @amadness2method @mutalune and anybody else who wants to do this! This isn’t seventeen, and I don’t know if any of you have already done it/been tagged, but I hear people moving around upstairs so that means this break is over XD. And ABSOLUTELY no pressure to actually do this, this is pretty much just me wishing you well! (and YOU of course, my dear reader! I hope everything’s going all right, or if it’s not, that it does soon)

4 notes · View notes

incarnateirony · 4 years

Text

Alchemical Overview, Cont’d

Okay so -- tumblr went weird and glitched out on a conversation I was holding with @drsilverfish and some others (x) So reposting the commentary and adding some bits, re silverfish’s “The Alchemy of God-Wounds and Marks in S15“ post. Just continued thought share and some notes for audience that might feel like they’ve missed something in what has realistically been a conversation with Dabberens about the nature of existence and personal agency for at least two years.

Okay so phew! Before I responded to this I wanted to make sure I had read all of your referenced meta since I've been so in and out lately, even if I hadn't replied to it all. I have some thoughts I'll include here relevant to your "Jung's Answer to Job" post, (x) and the general operative understanding of your "Raising Hell map and script" (with some additions I had attached x), but pulled together in this more direct and current post of yours. And frankly a lot of old stuff, just so people trying to pick up aren’t lost referencing some conversations as far back as two years ago re: union (x)

Because first of all wow what a RIDE. Now that I’ve had time to sit down, let me mostly heavily nod at everything you have to say; it might be redundant to talk about the feminine principle, from the old concept of general union on this old like S13 post (x) (Look at that it’s us talking about it. Some Things Never Change Dot Gif) or more recent pieces like my Citrinitas/Reno video (x) balancing the elements you’re raising while trying to help visualize the process not just in color but a torch passing of the proverbial light involved as the moontells her secret -- the light is not her own and is reflected from the soul one builds into with the yellowing in awareness. I find, for those reading meta as much to learn as anything, some suddenly understand the balance of this in process.

A great deal of that was the torch of Mary, which Dean had unwittingly even passed the light to Amara, after long ago sharing it with Cas -- before he lost that light and fell into his father’s shadows, before his father had his marriage renewed and gave away the stone to send John back in golden light. Cas now stands, confused, hearing Dean throw away everything he said the day Castiel chose to fall for him, in every sense of the term, but still tried to stay before, while being thrown recklessly at another dark door, in the wake of the death of his son, Castiel walks away after his own time in the red.

While Dean was steeping in the dark, Castiel carried on the torch saving people with Sam and calming the commoners, not just running death missions, and he’s keeping on with it after walking out; he won’t be thrown into the maw, but that alone spawns its whole character based web of what all processes Dean struggles with in his head over what Castiel even is to him, Chuck’s rank and position minded, even after the absence of Mary, is this something he’s even been toyed with, is that real - Castiel tried to affirm it but now that he walks out Dean packed it up and rolled on.

This is a great deal of backdrop, but now far enough back that it’s worth tapping in review in entering these conversations. The colors were also screamingly loud in several overtly named alchemical episodes, another of which was a Yockey-Speight episode: Optimism, and the opposed Nihilism; Ouroboros and Absence followed, -- “not evil, but the absence of good.” (Lmao just read x)

I would call what’s going on more than mildly reliable in regards to the amount of purpose to the general process is actively being given with as much direct reference to the rest as there is, and in general review before doing the full meta dive; I have to say, well DONE gents.

That brief general spurge aside, I can not emphasize *enough* how important to the idea of the Sacred Marriage or the Holy Eucharist is the fact that it quite literally can be depicted as you know, copulation, so the fact that it was vocalized Chuck tried to send Lilith to seduce Dean in the ways of old, and it simply didn’t work on Dean so plan B whatever -- with all of this other *stuff* going on, the loudness of that is wild in that “cancelled” yellow/red transition. Which just as much has pitched a flash of awareness on Dean bound to deepen in 15.06. (In fact here’s some more Sacred Marriage stuff from earlier this season in no particular order [x] [x] [x] and a bunch of posts of those tarot cards about the Art-Lovers transition after Death that I’ve been spamming repeatedly and y’all are probably tired of)

I can’t say how ecstatic I was to have a conversation with Fitz about the use of color, boldest with Dick Speight, but also passed to others like Tapping -- and how equally excited she was about it too. But as for how loud it bounces, just click (x). In fact it loudly surged in Yockey eps. Hard to say what level of that is coincidence really.

In fact, Ashley’s room captured it very loudly. The yellow was hard to miss, but Dean sat in dark clothes, them both on lead blackish blankets and stark white sheets; Dean’s yellowing is upon him at both the start and end of the episode as Sam and Dean stagger through Chuck’s own manufactured story, Lilith and all. This was focal on Dean and seems so; Sam is running another path entirely as you’ve pointed out.

Each character has been facing their own reddenings as you show, a level of dangerous awareness coming with it at many things that are actually surfacing as their own textual burdens to face -- his literal tie to Chuck, rather than Dean facing reflections of the father; Sam’s duty is to subvert the author itself, even if a great deal of that comes from Castiel as Chuck’s roving blind spot. Other metas of course explore that, so not getting deep into it here; Sam has stayed on point despite some violent awakenings for now and what a weird reversal of yellow eyes this all is in the way of the Sins of the Father (can’t find my old post on that but I’m sure @drsilverfish has one similar; if there’s one thing you’ll notice it’s us lobbing back and forth about this for a few years in the referenced posts).

Castiel’s reddening comes from a mix of facing some fairly raw patches with Dean in their relationship as has been covered amply, and general issues of belonging or believing, as well as just general wellness and self care -- his own agency, which is actually a huge step to be leading on ahead of the humans and yet again asserts him as an agent of free will, and sings true of the gorgon blindness to his antics as far back as season 4 (x).

Now round this conversation back up to how I opened and have reminder of even Bobo himself cropping up when I posted Walk Through The Fire to like it; released after 15.03, sung true two episodes later, “He was never going to stop”, but this is, per Lilith, exactly what Chuck has wanted them to see. Just as much as he’s questioned Cas in his life even most of the battle with or for his brother, it’s all just *A LOT*.

Dean’s reddening is mixed with the result that Sam’s shadows stare into, and a great deal of that leaves the question of the blank space.

The hermetic process literally does not work without the 3 prime substances in harmony (x).The intentional Absence of Castiel is a heavy topic many others have meta’ed to death but the danger right now is that a torch has been taken out of their lives. Dean’s most explicitly, but it’s not like it doesn’t effect Sam, but that’s an entire other conversation. But Castiel’s absence quite literally drained and part of Dean’s own coming upon him will be what the absence of Cas does to both him and them -- him and Sam. (x) And just about all reddenings come in the awareness of the importance of this triad in subverting the author, facing the father, brandishing free will and making Man god of his own fate once the existential crisis blows through.

I think what I’m mostly pointing out is a long running set of harmonics of these colors specifically floating Dabb-Berens-Yockey, and Yockey repeated on his way out the door. It’s worth shuffling through and seeing what Cain parallels really do swing us full circle to exploring that arc from a different angle; a Cas, without his powers, walking out in agency before Colette falls to Cain’s drive, or Rowena’s, or-- Dean’s. Or for now the heavyhanded werewolf brothers -- literally what Chuck wanted them to see. “I can’t stop Samuel.” “Tell me that you can stop.” “I will never stop.” - Cain; “He was never going to stop!” cried the young wolf.

Just as much as the queer narrative itself, general agency is upon the Winchesters right now, if perhaps some parts self improving alone and others in parts; but the color scheming bouncing through all of this modernly is absolutely fantastic. Nothing like Castiel’s reddening charging down the phallic demon of marriage blowing a horn and reflecting Dean’s soldier issues, their dead child, and Dean’s insistance to barge into the dark that Castiel had no interest in opening the door for, but by Dean and Belphegor was shoved towards. He still refused, and left as Amara did, and you’re right, the masculine absolutely does need the feminine, but Sam had his half of the sacred marriage display, and now we’re waiting on another. This should be a fun ride.

And seems to echo back to the Lat project Reflection sequence of crucifying the ego (x); but also finding the anima, the goddess, that has been removed from the animus (PLEASE read the post on SPN’s use of Anima, Animus, the Self and the Shadow) -- Dean literally has to stake up that snake of his daddy issues that climbs him, and Castiel his autonomy issues, and they their general connection; and Sam becoming the living concept of the God Man, Chuck and he having part of each other, reflecting the Yellow Eyed Demon who tainted him, and by which he was to become a demon; and now that, with God. How fascinating both Azazel’s wound and Amara’s bond to Dean were so similarly placed all that time ago, really.

** General disclaimer please do not take as some sort of indicator for a particular XYZ level of thing that tends to vary on people’s wants for textual or physical canon I just mean in the general breadth of it, we’re dancing such a loudly and beautifully painted line.

This post doesn’t even begin to grace on Jack’s mercurial or orphic role in this all (x), but that’s almost an aside that needs its own address.

Wonderful post, silverfish, and just wonderful work from the crew.

Oh and in final regards to the reddening, y’all are probably tired of hearing about my lateralus project that I build midseason last year to spec but “The Patient” -- and what parts turned out in season 15 so far -- may be worth entering into discussion with even some nice retroactive flare from Dabb before he really took over from Carver. So, obnoxious but kinda mandatory plug

youtube

Of course, and another old video I may recommend for those parting it together, especially with Chuck starting to twist the world around in front of our eyes, is my “the Shadow” video that resonates with a lot of this, because I remind you of many things alongside it – like heaven had its own physics where Dumah knew Jack was long gone because his burger was cold, and now, Dean recites Chuck making them live their “greatest hits.” So beyond just the idea of “face thyself” in the below video, think also on matrixes of control.

youtube

#supernatural #spn #meta #my meta #tumblr is weird #pagan life #agency #the shadow #jung #anima #animus #alchemy notes

17 notes · View notes

comicteaparty · 4 years

Text

March 23rd-March 29th, 2020 CTP Archive

The archive for the Comic Tea Party week long chat that occurred from March 23rd, 2020 to March 29th, 2020. The chat focused on Puppeteer by Eightfish.

Featured Comment:

Chat:

Comic Tea Party

BOOK CLUB START!

Hello and welcome everyone to Comic Tea Party’s Book Club~! This week we’ll be focusing on Puppeteer by Eightfish~! (https://www.webtoons.com/en/challenge/puppeteer/list?title_no=290620)

You are free to read and comment about the comic all week at your own pace until March 29th, so stop on by whenever it suits your schedule! Discussions are freeform, but we do offer discussion prompts in the pins for those who’d like to have them. Additionally, remember that while constructive criticism is allowed, our focus is to have fun and appreciate the comic! Whether you finish the comic or can only read a few pages, everyone is welcome to join and chat with us!

DISCUSSION PROMPTS – PART 1

1. What did you like about the beginning of the comic?

2. What has been your favorite moment in the comic (so far)?

3. Who is your favorite character?

4. Which characters do like seeing interact the most?

5. What is something you like about the art? If you have a favorite illustration, please share it!

6. What is a theme you like that the comic explores?

7. What do you like about the comic’s story or overall related content?

8. Overall, what do you think the comic’s strengths are?

Don’t feel inspired by the prompts? Feel free to discuss anything else that interested you!

eli [a winged tale]

Ooh exciting! I’ll try and get to this soon!

LadyLazuli (Phantomarine)

Yes yes, I had started reading this last week, want to continue and get in on this convo!!

Joichi / Sarah

Oh I'll take a look at reading Puppeteer!

shadowhood

Ditto. Time for another art binge

eli [a winged tale]

1) I love the colours and lighting! As for the story, the banter really drew me in and when J offered freedom, that was my hook 2) My favourite moment was when J tore Eli out of his body! That was a very striking moment. 3) I really like J and Sam They’re both characters with a strong voice and motivation. 4) I enjoy the friendship chat between Sam and Eli. They really ground the whole college experience and the comic world for me. 5) Let me find it! 6) I think the themes of feeling lost in life or directionless after regimented high school are very relatable. It’s one thing to know where you wanna go and want to be but often we feel we’re just floating in reality. 7) I love the aesthetics! Very unique style yet also clear in storytelling! 8) I would say the strengths tie into the fast pace and great characters. I’m not sure where we’re headed in the comic but I’m sure we will get to know why beings like J and the Ocean lady exist and what roles Eli/Sam would play in the story great work Eightfish!

Love this shot! Great paneling!

sssfrs (JOE IS DEAD)

The artwork is so beautiful!

shadowhood

Yeah, the flow of motion is amazing here that's really good gesture drawing

Feather J. Fern

I have to say I love the way you do the limited palette for the first few pages, it's really cool!

mathtans

Oh! From setup to where some f/f romance is implied. I shall read more. (Nice when the ships are verging on canon, if not there...)

Wonder if J is going to set things up such that Eli has to possess one of them.

Eightfish (Puppeteer)

Aaa, thank you all for the compliments about my art, eli, sssfrs, shadow, feather. I'm really trying to make this thing look good and I'm glad you guys like it.

sssfrs (JOE IS DEAD)

It looks really good!!

eli [a winged tale]

Love it Eightfish! Can’t wait for more!

RebelVampire

What I liked about the beginning is just kind of how jarring it is (in a good way). You get thrown right into a semi-tense/suspicious interaction, and it really kind of sets that tone for the rest of the comic. Which is actually what I like about the story all together. There's always this kind of laid back atmosphere to it where you're never really sure if you should be concerned or not. So it's got this right beat where you aren't always screaming but also aren't ever able to fully relax cause it feels like danger is around the corner. Coincidentally, the beginning is also probably my favorite moment in the comic as well, just cause again, I really love the tone here. My favorite character at the moment is probably J cause I can't figure J out and would like to know more about J. Cause J is just like this chaotic entity who I can't decide is good or evil and it's a complicated mess that I love. As for favorite interactions, definitely Eli and J. I like they're kind of friends, kind or enemies, kind of maybe sort of abusive relationship, maybe kind of sort of cut from the same fabric. There's a lot of levels to their relationship, so I do like seeing where it's going to go.

What I like about the art is just the overall style combined with the color experimentation. I think this in of itself really helps with the tone I keep mentioning, because it'll go from normal colors to suddenly very jarring, dark contrasts. So again, there's always this hint that something just isn't ever right in the world. I also think these features are the comic's strength, since it's a very interesting style that draws the eye.

Lastly for today, themes. I really like that the comic kind of explores ambition vs. lack of ambition. As someone who is more similar to Eli and would be kind of happy to just be people watching mush sometimes, I really relate. However, there are deep questions about whether this is good, whether ambition is better or whether ambition can go too far. So it's kind of good to see this explored and just kind of show that inevitably, people are different and not everyone has the same sorts of drives (or drives at all).

Eightfish (Puppeteer)

Oh my god, you have no idea how happy I am to read that. Everything you said was exactly what I was going for and this is very validating

(also, can we just appreciate Rebel for a moment. They take the time to write these in depth analyses of every comic here and I always enjoy reading them. Even if I knew rebel was going to be the only one in this book club I would still be jumping to sign up.) (Not that I don't appreciate everyone else, those comments were lovely as well haha. So interesting to to read eli's thoughts on the characters and what will happen next)(edited)

BriDanann

Also!! Eightfish!! Your comic is so freaking gorgeous! I absolutely love the color scheme and the surrealist feel the art gives off. It really feels like it's otherworldly, but also familiar. Kind of how old Noir movies felt! I've only read the beginning so far and I am loving the tone.

Comic Tea Party

DISCUSSION PROMPTS – PART 2

9. Will Eli actually be satisfied with his decision to just float around away from responsibility in the long term, or do you think that will change? Additionally, what do you think caused Eli to run away from life so much?

10. Do you think Sam will ever come to accept Eli’s decisions, and how will the situation change the two’s relationship? What will Eli teach Sam about trying to fix everything, and how will the two change each other through their interactions?

11. What do you think J ultimately wants in life, and what does that have to do with giving Eli powers? Why is Sam so convinced that J is a demon? In general, do you think Eli, Sam, and Lily can put a stop to J’s mayhem?

12. How do you interpret the story’s title in terms of its significance to the events of the comic? Also, what significance do you think it has towards the theme of beliefs and how beliefs go stronger the more people believe in them?

Don’t feel inspired by the prompts? Feel free to discuss anything else that interested you!

mathtans

(This week is kinda kicking my ass but I have finished the read and will find time for some comments in the next day or two. Just putting that out there.)

Okay, just a couple quick thoughts in case anyone else wants to react to them... I think Eli felt like there wasn't much of anything left to him. Didn't seem like he had family checking up on him, and major events like breaking your arm are the sorts of times you learn who's rallying around you. Sam distancing herself was probably the last straw.

I wonder a bit whether Vanessa (the one massively possessed by J, only name dropped in the author notes if memory serves) had a similar path. Or whether she's just off the deep end (maybe she pushed J into the arm breaking on some level).

Also think that Lily's pleased to have someone who can finally do something about the visions she's presumably been having all her life (unless it's a puberty awakening thing), though it does seem like her romance with Sam goes deeper than that. I wonder about her romantic history (but then I wonder about that with all f/f ships). And could Sam be bi? Or is she not straight, and part of that is what pulled her from Eli?

As I say, couple quick thoughts.

RebelVampire

@mathtans Those are some good points about Eli's family. I have to say I did kind of where they were at, cause at the very least I do get the impression Eli doesn't feel like they can be relied on. But I do think isolation is playing a big role in Eli's decision making right now.

Do I think Eli will actually be satisfied with his decision? Yes and no. I kind of feel like Eli would be fine with it overall but that inevitably extenuating circumstances will ruin the whole thing. Otherwise I honestly think Eli might be content if people around would accept it. As for why Eli is causing to run away from life, probably social pressure and isolation. It's hard to deal with life if you have no one around you, and also hard to deal with society when you really just don't have ambitions, cause society is very much about ambition. As for Sam, I think this is also a yes and a no. I think Sam will blame herself for Eli's choices as she comes to understand them more, but at the same time learn to let Eli live as Eli sees fit. I do think Sam will learn a valuable lesson though that not everything she thinks is broken is, and even if it is, sometimes people have to learn for themselves. So I think it'll bring Eli and Sam closer.

As for what J wants, I think it's probably friends. I think J fell in with Eli because they're both just kind of lonely souls. And while Eli expresses this in further isolation, J acts out and does everything possible to get attention. I do think the group will put a stop to J's shenanigans though, but I'm also feeling that it won't be a defeating of the villain (but this may be wishful thinking cause I do sympathize with J). I kind of get the feeling the title is meant to reflect both literally that J is turning people into puppets but also the complicated relationship people have with the concept of control. Like Sam for example. Sam clearly wants to fix and "control" things to suit them to how she wants. Also, in the Eli/J relationship, there's a question of who controls who to a degree. As for its connection to belief, I think I'd argue the strong our beliefs are in something, the more those beliefs have control of our lives. And I think that's something we once again see with J a lot in that J is literally controlling people while people seem convinced they control themselves.

Eightfish (Puppeteer)

Oh Rebel, mathtans, your comments make me just want to just spoil the entire story and blurt out everything right here. It's been so good seeing that so much of my intent was coming through.

@mathtans Sam is indeed not straight. I wonder what made you see her as bisexual specifically?(edited)

snuffysam (Super Galaxy Knights)

I don’t think Sam had any malicious intent in keeping her distance from Eli, nor was it a case of “I’ve got a girlfriend now so I don’t need to talk to my other friends”. To me, Sam very much sees herself as the only one with the power to protect people, and because of that she feels it’s her duty to control what people get involved, where everyone goes, etc. Sam can keep this city under control, and thus she must. And, yeah, I agree with @RebelVampire that control is one of the main themes of the comic in general. Like J is constantly egging Eli on to control others, and one of their main points is that ordinary people often are looking to delegate control to someone else. And this current segment is the perfect lesson on how it doesn’t have to be one person in control - Eli and Sam can both be in control at once.(edited)

One thing I feel like should be mentioned though - the factor of Eli potentially being nb factoring into his decision? Like, when he first becomes a puppetmaster, one of the first things Eli says is “how come I still look like me” (i.e., rather than androgynous like J?), and one of the things Eli does to practice out shape shifting is try on dresses.

mathtans

@Eightfish (Puppeteer) Oh, nothing specifically made me see Sam as bisexual, but nothing made me see her as exclusively lesbian either. I've learned not to take that stuff for granted and wait for it be be spelled out (I'm also not the most observant though). In fact I have a f/f relationship in my writing where one of them is stated bisexual.

Also, good point snuffy on the androgynous aspect, never occurred to me there.

Comic Tea Party

DISCUSSION PROMPTS – PART 3

13. What are you most looking forward to seeing in regards to the comic?

14. Any final words of encouragement for the comic?

Don’t feel inspired by the prompts? Feel free to discuss anything else that interested you!

mathtans

Okay, let's address some questions to the best of my abilities. ^.^ Regarding the start, as was mentioned, the muted colours and dark character seemed to fit the tone. I thought the cutaway was a time skip but it made sense when we came back later.

My favourite moment was actually when Sam and Lily spent the night in Eli's apartment. Aside from helping to confirm the f/f relation (a personal taste), it was subtle (like, just a friend wouldn't necessarily go along with things for that time) versus making out or something (which wouldn't fit the tone). And at the same time, it showed that Eli was separating himself from his past life, not even going back to check in... Sam honestly seems to be his only tie. (And I kinda wonder where his original body is, if it even exists?)

Favourite character is tough. Honestly, maybe Lily because she seems so innocent, having been drawn into things... and I wonder if J ever approached her to get to Sam? Or has the focus always been on Eli? It's not that I dislike the other characters, it's more that one of their flaws seems to be a lack of communication. The sort of thing that makes me sigh, even though it fits with what we've seen and is helping motivate the plot.

That said, yeah the Sam and Eli interactions are really good, right from the moment of "don't touch me" and Sam totally respected that as they got caught up. They obviously do care for each other in the friend way. (I wonder if Eli wanted more? Could that be why he shifted female, to be closer to Sam?)

I'm not good with art or themes. -.- The way the being in the harbour was drawn was good though from what I recall, helped to show the scope of the supernatural too. I guess a theme of belonging? Or friendship?

I haven't said much about J yet, but I think that is a something I like and a strength, the plotting... trying to guess the next move. And maybe they want to become as popular as the larger demon? Definitely drives the other characters forwards. And reminds me of Rebel's comment about ambition being a theme... makes sense in retrospect. (And yes, much appreciation to Rebel. ^.- )

9. I think Eli will eventually be satisfied, though I think he's realizing that he's becoming a bit of a pawn in a larger game, not having considered the scope of his transformation. And I already mentioned about his family. And Rebel made good points there too.

I think Sam's starting to accept the change, though not necessarily the reason for it (and I'm not sure she or we truly know what that is). What with her trusting him to possess. In fact, another reason why Eli might have done this was to be of more use to Sam, though that may not have been a conscious decision. The dynamic will be interesting.

Here I'm diverging from Rebel in that I think J wants to be recognized as a more important demon (though that's similar to having friends, it doesn't need to be). Maybe others have tried to take over beings like Sam without success? Or like Ocean Lady are so far above that they don't care? Maybe there's a clue somewhere in why Vanessa isn't enough for J lately.

That's a really interesting point in terms of the title... at first I figured it was the idea of Eli jumping into bodies. But of course, he's not really into that, and it's more J... who is perhaps puppeteering even beyond that, pulling the strings of people that aren't possessed. (There was mention of squid too, I wonder if the tentacles of a squid could be like the strings on a puppet?) Anyhue.

Will be interesting to see Lily's reaction to what's going on, as I have a suspicion that she'll show up... and perhaps blame herself for not being there when Eli was (even though Eli was brought in later). Or she could misinterpret the situation and think Eli's gone evil! Who knows. (How long has she been going out with Lily again?)

I think that's all for now. Best with it!

shadowhood

Yoooo sorry for the late response. Alright I'll try to answer the prompts as succinctly as I can. 1. The art style is very aesthetically pleasing! I love how you use mainly black against a lot of other bright colours like tan/light blue/gold; it gives it almost a Grecian vase vibe!

2. I have two actually!

The first one because it hit a really close hit to home. I loved seeing a real, down to earth conversation between friends and it felt...real. Seeing concerned friends talking about an abusive relationship and not....exploding is very refreshing.

The second one because I absolutely love that last panel, where J plays around with her words and follows through with a similar action. It felt like she was toying with Sam and it reminded me of the scene in Aladdin, where Jafar was toying with Aladdin with his words. Probably my favourite villain scene of J.

3. Funnily enough, I really like Sam. She's that one friend who's shown to be concerned for Eli, but she knows that she can't force him out of the abusive relationship. She respects his boundaries and is overall a good friend. That's rare and usually underappreciated in real life.

4. The interactions between Sam and Eli were the best for me, because they were very heartwarming and the care they show for each other resonates with me

5. The two moments I mentioned were my top favourites, actually!

6. The idea that you can't save everyone is one I really like. Sometimes you have to let the person you love make difficult and maybe even foolhardy decisions in life, but that's to let them grow up and mature.

7. Like I said earlier, it reminded me of Grecian vase paintings, which I love! Another thing I love about it is how free the gesture drawings are; drawings such as the hand drawings are testament to that

8. I think the strongest part of Puppeteer is its use of motion; my eye is always drawn to the line of action and it almost felt like a film at some parts. The story is heavily action oriented, which I like

shadowhood

9. Honestly, I don't know. Like @mathtans said, he doesn't seem to have family who check up on him, but he DOES have friends who do! Maybe someday he'll want to change, he'll see that he stayed stagnant while his friends keep on progressing in life. Either he'll go deeper into his isolation or he ultimately decides that this isn't for him. 10. I think it's a sad case where she's going to have to learn to let Eli make his mistakes and grow up. If she's constantly there to fix or solve everything for him, both characters suffer in that no one will learn everything. But hopefully, like other people have said, it brings them closer. 11. From what she's said, I think she wants control and power. But if you want a more indepth answer, I think she wants absolute control and worship from individuals. She wants to be put on a pedestal (wanting to be higher than other people?) and she wants that rush of feeling, that feeling of being dedicated to. But seeing @RebelVampire 's answer, maybe it's a twisted form of trying to keep people from leaving her, similar to how abusers try to keep their victims close. Heck, she could even develop a form of Lima syndrome and sympathize with the victim. I think Sam's and co. can put a stop to it, but ultimately, it's up to ELI himself to do so. 12. I agree with @RebelVampire on this one; Puppeteer can be a reference to how much we let others and their beliefs control us, and how the characters each covet control in some shape or form. Maybe Eli feels like he's lost control of his life and is trying to escape responsibility in a desperate effort to regain it?

13. I'm really looking forward to how this whole Eli/J relationship will affect Eli and his relationship with his friends. I'm also wondering what J's character development would be, if any; would she start sympathizing more with Eli? Learn something new from Eli? Or even become increasingly antagonistic towards Eli? 14. @Eightfish (Puppeteer) I really look forward to reading more from your webcomic, your art and conversation exchanges between your characters are top notch! Keep up the good work

RebelVampire

What I'm most looking forward to in regards to the comic is finding out more about J I think. I'm interested to learn more about the driving force behind J's actions and how those might cause the characters to rethink what J is. As for final words, I really just still enjoyed the atmosphere. So few comics can nail it, but this one really managed to capture that feeling of dread that really keeps you reading. So I can wait to see that be used more throughout the comic.

Eightfish (Puppeteer)

Thanks @mathtans , @shadowhood , @snuffysam (Super Galaxy Knights) for the recent long comments you've posted! It was wonderful reading what you thought about character motivations and themes. And I'm glad so many people said they were looking forward to learning more about J, because that's what I'm most looking forward to writing as well.

Comic Tea Party

BOOK CLUB END!

Thank you everyone so much for reading and chatting about Puppeteer this week! Please also give a special thank you to Eightfish for volunteering the comic and creating it! If you liked Puppeteer, make sure to continue to support it via some of the links below!

Read and Comment: https://www.webtoons.com/en/challenge/puppeteer/list?title_no=290620

Eightfish’s Patreon: https://www.patreon.com/eightfish

#ctparchive #comics #webcomics #indie comics #comic chat #comic discussion #book club #bookclub #webcomic book club #webcomic bookclub #comic tea party #ctp #puppeteer #eightfish

1 note · View note