#Louise Fury | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

lovinglettersacrosstheverse · 1 month

Text

Special Delivery!

We've got a letter for Louise Worth @mysweetlouise! And there's even some pressed flowers! 💖💕

My Dear Lou.

How long will you make me wait? Dancing on the edge of my reach with the one you know I despise most? I know you enjoy games but hasn’t this gone on long enough?

A part of me feels this is my own fault. Some form of punishment for the state I left you in. I wish you knew how much it has tormented me over the years. Knowing what was only a second in the world was decades in the mirror with Damien and Celine, I can’t imagine how alone you must have been. How much time you spent alone, trapped. The centuries we will never know. You did not deserve that. Which is why I don't understand why you keep playing with Mark. It’s not the same Mark, fine, but they all have that same seed of narcissism inside them that lead to our fates.

We could make a home in this new reality, if you would only give me the chance. I haven't made one without you yet, not really. There’s a building where I meet with others, unusual like us. I have a room with a bed here, but I do not rest. If you were here, it would give the old bed purpose and I would keep you company. The affection of Damian and curiosity to know you of Celine live on in me, memories of you that are not mine haunt me. Your face is what I see most nights Louise, before everything went wrong, the college days, the games, the late walks across the college grounds.

And the look in the mirror when you were left behind. I don’t know which one is worse.

Please! I have been tortured enough, join me and we will make sure Mark receives the same punishment as I or better yet, ensure he can’t hurt another soul when he next feels the need. While I drown in the past of our fury and pain, he lives on free of his sins.

I’ve taken a breath and a moment of reflection. This isn't about him. This is about you and me. And you deserve better than you have ever gotten, Lou. I want to be the one to provide that for you, we can provide a better life and a better future for each other. You never truly got to be the D.A. in our past life, but you can be anything in our future. Not just playing a role, a meaningless game where nothing matters as you do now. We can make something with substance that actually counts for something. But I can’t do it without you.

Maybe I sound like a fool. We haven’t gotten the chance to re-familiarize ourselves with each other in some time, despite how long we’ve had. You’re a different person by now as well, I imagine. I wonder how many habits you still have from the past. What new ones I could learn about you.

When you tire of your current circumstances, remember that my door is always open and a new home of our own making ready to be built.

Sincerely,

Your Ever Waiting Darkiplier

Well, there is one more thing....

I also found a torn paper in the mailbox today, it looks like a journal page? I'm not sure this is supposed to be here... but I think its for a Louise Worth as well so maybe i am supposed to deliver it!

It’s late now. I’m in my office, reading the most recent report from the Jim’s when the radio changed. It started playing this slow jazz and these memories came to my mind, unbidden. Damien's memories of you, late nights listening to jazz as you both studied for exams. A record you’d put on the phonograph that became his go to for focusing on work in the years after. The years apart as you all worked for your separate goals, when Damien would spend these nights wishing for your company once again. Lou.

You're not even here. I write only for myself, a page i will tear and burn when I have the chance. But still, writing to you makes it easier somehow. Calms me in these moments.

This body always aches, and I can imagine at one point the heart would ache for you. If I told you it still did, you would know better than to believe me, wouldn’t you? I saw it in your eyes the last time we met, your silent regard for me. You're getting wiser to the situation. I can’t fool you into thinking the Damien you knew is still in here anymore, can I? Nor can I convince you that being as I am, I can feel anything other than rage and resentment. Perhaps the resentment I feel towards Mark for making that promised future of you and Damian working together side by side once again is a form of love itself?

But it’s not even by his remnants you stand by now is it?

Do you have any idea what it’s like to be in a body constantly in a state of decay? I feel the pull of death over me constantly, trying to drag me away like a fist around my throat, never tightening more than it is but never loosening either. And yet you’re out there in your own new skin, where did it come from?

(Note from here to the * was originally all scribbled out but i managed to make it readable... though maybe I should have left it)

Do you want me to apologize for leaving you there? None of this would have happened if it wasn’t for him, I am trying to get revenge for us all!

And now you go and have your little adventures with that monster! In practically every reality, you two are connected in some way, you really think any Mark in any other universe is any different than the one who did this to us? This is why you couldn’t stay! You’re too soft, you weren’t angry enough at the right people. You are the exact fool Celine pegged you for that night, all those years ago.

How did you get a new body? How, how, who did you take it from, where did you get it, why do YOU have one?*

I apologize. You know how this unstable amalgamation of my being can be. I'm getting better at controlling it over the years, but I still have my moments. Can you not lend a hand to an old friend? Or perhaps those old tales you told Damien once were true, and this is my repentance for breaking a mirror?

No, perhaps you're right. And there is more to atone for on my end. You should not have been pushed out. I was blinded by the mission of my birth. Clearly I underestimated your strength and resolve, if the way you stand against me and the endurance of your soul is anything to go by.

We are still old friends, aren’t we? You were there when I was created, the first face I saw and even behind whatever cloaks me now, still the face I see in every mirror and reflection. What some might say should be guilt or softness I should feel at that is as all things, replaced with the rage of knowing why I carry you with me in such a literal way…

I wish to confide in you one thing Louise, that I barely confide in myself. There’s one other feeling I'm capable of that sits so deep within me it’s but a grain of sand in the void fractures that make up my sewn together soul. Fear. I am the living testament to their hatred and thirst for revenge. If, when I see their retribution through, then what? What will become of me? Will I have any purpose? Will I continue to exist at all? What will be left when there is no one left to despise? You are the only one I can think of to ask. How did you survive the void of the mirror for so long that you escaped? What feeling motivated you? What purpose?

I shouldn’t keep bringing up old wounds, but what else can I do as a living scab of a soul myself? It is only this mission that keeps this broken body together.

If you just let me in, I can fix all of this. Just let your old friend in Lou.

#darkiplier #mail time #special delivery #markiplier egos #wkm #love letter? i think?

10 notes · View notes

marvelstarker-mha98 · 5 months

Text

The Runaway Distance Life Of A Little Stark chapter 30: Last Will And Testament

Pairing: Tony Stark & daughter!Reader, Pepper potts x tony stark, Happy hogan, tony stark & Pepper potts, Maria hill & Tony stark, Ben parker, may parker & peter parker, Matt Murdoch & Foggy Nelson, Steve rogers, Natasha romanoff, Sam Wilson & Nick Fury, Tony Stark & Harley Keener

Summary: Two Families meet and now it is THE WILL

Warning: Tears and flashbacks

Co author with: callikc Tag: @venomsvl @geeksareunique

May found solace when being with friends and family.

She always had.

As she spoke to Ned Leeds' parents, Dulce and Nina, and MJ's mother, Louise, she felt the grief die down just a little. It wasn't gone by any means, but at least it was manageable.

(Pretend This is ned's Filipina moms, Dulce and Nina, up to you which one is who.) "It'll be lonely without her." Nina was saying with a downcast look. "She loved our cooking."

Dulce smiled sadly and put an arm around her shoulders. "She did. She always looked out for Ned, too."

"She loved those boys."

Louise nodded in agreement. "She helped out in the cafe as well. I'd have been lost without her."

(yes this is Hallie Berry as Louise Jones. M.J's mom) "She did?" May asked.

"All the time. If Michelle got sick or I was too busy then (Y/n) was there in a heartbeat. She donated all she had sometimes to keep the place running."

The Peter Pan Donut & Pastry Shop was a cozy little place.

It was warm and open and Louise took pride in keeping the cafe up to the best standards. It was her childhood dream to own a quaint yet homey place like this and now in adulthood she never wavered from that dream.

You were sitting at the counter with a steaming mug of warm coffee and the famous quiche from the menu. It was one of the very rare days where you didn't have to be at SHIELD or take care of the kids and so you took the day for yourself to simply relax. You enjoyed the atmosphere of the cafe and had become quickly acquainted with Louise due to how often you were there.

So when you noticed Louise stressing out after receiving what looked like a troubling phone call, you were understandably concerned. "Is everything okay?" You asked softly.

Louise shook her head as she put down her phone. "It's my mom."

"What happened?"

"She had a fall again."

"Oh, God. Is she okay?"

"They think so. An ambulance was called and she's in the hospital for scans. I can't leave her there but I can't take Michelle either. And with the hospital bills these days, I'd have to sell this place just to pay half!"

"Hey, it's okay." You quickly set down your mug and stood from your stool to walk over. "I'll help. Name anything, I'll do it."

Louise sighed. "Ellen, I couldn't ask you to do that."

"I'm offering. I know it can't be easy running this place and being a mom at the same time so please. I'll take care of MJ, I'll take over here for a bit, I'll even contribute with the bills. I don't want you struggling if I can help."

"You're too good for this world, you know that?"

"Trust me, I'm not. I'm just a good friend."

"I don't want to put you out."

"You wouldn't, I promise. Just go see your mom now and I'll cook for MJ when she finishes school. I'll bring Ned and Peter too."

Louise considered you for a moment before ultimately nodding. "Thank you, Ellen."

"Of course."

Louise smiled as she remembered particular moments such as that.

"She was too good." She said.

Dulce nodded in agreement and then looked to the swing set on the far side of the grounds where the kids were sitting. Ned and MJ were comforting Peter as he cried.

"Poor boy." She said. "I can't imagine how he feels. Losing his parents and then (Y/n)."

May looked over as well with a pained gaze. "He always wanted a sister. For days all we could hear was his crying. We never realized how much he loved her."

"What's happening to her apartment?" Nina asked. "I'm sure you have so many memories there. Will it be sold again after the clear out?"

"Honestly..." May hesitated and shook her head. "I don't know at the moment. I'll have to discuss it with Ben and the landlord. I don't think either of us has the heart to let it go."

"I understand. It can't be easy."

"No. Apparently (Y/n) has a lawyer she talked to about this. We'll see him too I hope."

On cue, Ben appeared. He had previously been talking to some of his friends from work and then Mr. Delmar before Foggy had approached him.

"Hi, honey." He said to May, kissing her cheek softly. "The lawyers are here to talk about (Y/n).”

She didn't reply but did take a very shaky breath and nodded to show she understood. Ben then called for Peter to come over as well.

"Are you sure?" She asked, nervous. "I don't think he's old enough to hear this."

"I know." He assured her. "It's just for a little while, in case she left something for him."

"We could just have the lawyers call us."

"They're here now so we might as well deal with it while we can. I'm sorry."

She sighed, then nodded again. "Okay. I guess so." Once Peter came over, they parted ways with Dulce, Nina, and Louise and joined Foggy who greeted them with a sheepish 'hi' and his condolences. He led them over to where a group of people stood.

"They're here." Agent Hill called.

Soon enough, the Parkers were officially introduced to Tony.

"This is May and Ben Parker." Hill explained. "And their nephew, Peter."

After simple greetings were exchanged, Matt also introduced himself.

"I know this is a hard and trying time and I'm sorry to have to discuss this now, but there are a series of requests that (Y/n) had if she were to die. There's an office inside the cathedral we can talk in."

Tony took a moment to let everything sink in. However, as he went to talk, he noticed Harley again. The boy looked as if he was trying to sneak away.

"Give me a minute." He told the others, disappearing instantly.

Harley seemed as if he was trying to hail down a taxi, and he was attempting to be subtle about it. It didn't work.

Tony crossed the cemetery grounds, his hands shoved in his pockets as he avoided the eyes of the onlookers. It was easier than having to force a smile or muster up yet another thanks for their condolences. Harley was still trying to catch the eye of a taxi driver as Tony stopped behind his old friend.

"Well, well, well." He spoke up, surprising the boy. "Hello again."

Harley froze in surprise and whirled around. "I'm not here."

(idk if he was 11 here so just pretend he is) Tony raised a brow. "Unless I've hit the blind age in the last minute, yeah, you are."

He looked down, not knowing what to say.

"I know what you're doing." Tony told him.

Harley seemed like he wanted to argue but ultimately backed away from the road as he raised his head again.

"Don't tell my mom." He mumbled.

Tony walked over, managing a small but genuine smile. It was one of the only few he could muster up that day. "And what would I not be telling her?" He teased.

"You know..." Harley trailed off for a moment. "That I snuck all the way to New York to go to a funeral."

"Alone?"

"Yeah. Alone."

"What are you now, like... Ten?"

Harley frowned. "Eleven and a half."

He sighed. "Jesus, kid."

Tony then glanced over to where everyone else was still waiting for him to return. He looked back at Harley.

"Stick around for a little bit, alright?" He asked. "We'll catch up later and you can tell me how that potato gun's going."

With a sad but subtle and excited smile, the boy nodded. "Okay."

"Good one. I'll see you later."

He put a hand on Harley's shoulder and gave it a light and comforting squeeze. Then he turned around and headed back to everyone else.

"Everything okay?" Pepper asked once he came back.

Tony nodded. "Yeah. Just an old friend."

"That boy?" Roberta questioned.

"Yeah, long story. Actually, can you keep an eye on him?"

"Of course, dear. What's his name?"

"Harley Keener." He nodded in thanks. "He's a good kid."

She smiled. "I'm sure he is."

As this took place, some others were having a discussion over another grave.

Fury's one.

Steve and Sam were reminiscing on the fall of the Triskelion and how the aftermath and cleanup was going.

"So, you've experienced this sort of thing before." The real Fury spoke up, appearing beside them.

"You get used to it." Steve confessed.

He nodded in agreement. "We've been data mining HYDRA's files. Looks like a lot of rats didn't go down with the ship. I'm headed to Europe tonight. I wanted to ask if you'd come."

He hesitated, still looking down at the grave. "There's something I gotta do first."

"How about you, Wilson? Could use a man with your abilities."

Sam also thought about it for a few moments. "I'm more of a soldier than a spy."

Again, Fury nodded, shaking both their hands. "Alright, then. Anybody asks for me, tell them they can find me. Right here."

He motioned to the grave.

"You should be honored." Natasha spoke up, joining them. "That's about as close as he gets to saying thank you."

"Not going with him?" Steve asked.

"Nope."

"Not staying here?"

"Nah. I blew all my covers. Gotta go figure out a new one."

"That might take a while."

"I'm counting on it." She gave him a smile before showing a file she had tucked away in her jacket. "That thing you asked for. I called in a few favors from Kiev."

She handed Steve the file as the others watched. It was a very old collection of notes and personal entries from long ago, and, hopefully, it would allow him to find his long lost best friend.

"Will you do me a favor?" Natasha asked, causing him to look up. "Call that nurse."

Steve scoffed in amusement. "She's not a nurse."

"And you're not a SHIELD agent."

He looked down, knowing it was very true. "What was her name again?"

"Sharon. She's nice."

Then, with a loving smile, she kissed his cheek softly. Steve also smiled at the gesture before he looked down at the file in his hand again.

"Steve." Natasha said. "Be careful. You might not want to pull on that thread."

"You're going after him." Sam stated, noticing the file also.

"You don't have to come with me." Steve said.

"I know. When do we start?"

"Before you go-" Fury chimed in, drawing their attention. "You might wanna stay behind until after Stark is done with (Y/n)'s lawyer."

Steve looked at him, curious. "Why?"

"Because she didn't just leave something to her father, she left something to the whole team as well."

They each shared a look.

"Now I best be off." Fury continued. "I think you should tell the others."

"We will." Natasha said.

In the private office inside the cathedral, your last will and testament was finally being told.

Tony, Pepper, Happy, and Rhodey were sitting on one side of a table with the Parkers on the other side and Matt and Foggy at the head of it.

Hill was waiting outside with Roberta and Harley. "Now that we're all here..." Matt began. "Mr. Stark, (Y/n) wanted you to know that the Parkers were the family she was assigned to watch over. She always spoke fondly and said family comes in all forms and that you're always allowed more than just one in your life. She thought of both of you as her family."

Tony watched the Parkers curiously, thinking back on seeing them earlier. He had suspected right from the start that it could have been them solely because they were some of the most heartbroken looking people in attendance.

He looked at the boy again. Peter.

He was shy and nervous, hiding behind his aunt and uncle and only occasionally peering out at everyone else.

"(Y/n) also told me that she didn't want Peter to sit through this longer than he needed to." Matt added. "She was worried he was a bit young for it all."

May nodded in understanding. "She left something for him in particular then?"

"Yes, she did."

He nodded to Foggy who took a small and square neatly-wrapped box from his bag. With a friendly smile he offered the gift to Peter.

"It's okay." Ben told him, encouraging his nephew to accept it. "It's a present from (Y/n)."

Everyone watched curiously as Peter gingerly took the box into his own hands.

"What is it?" He mumbled.

"(Y/n) said it was something you always wanted." Foggy explained. "It took her a while to configure but she said it would be worth it to make you happy."

Peter sniffled as he found a part of the wrapped box to tear. He was careful, as if handling glass, and hesitated with each movement until finally he could open it.

Inside, on a velvet cushion, was a watch.

It looked fancy, the color scheme black and red, with a shining face that gleamed in the light. Peter stared long and hard as his bottom lip trembled.

The others waited with bated breath for him to tenderly place the watch around his wrist. His hands trembled too much for him to do the strap and so Ben helped him with it. Then, as it was secured around Peter's arm, the face of the watch began to glow.

(Just ignore the Hairy arm) A pale blue hologram shot up from the face of the watch, catching everyone with the glow. Much to their surprise, a female voice came from the hologram.

"Hello, Peter Parker. My name is Karen. I am the natural-language user interface created by Ellen Campbell, otherwise known as Miss (Y/n) Stark. I was designed to work alongside and aid you in your everyday duties."

Peter gasped in surprise alongside May.

"W-What is that?" She questioned. "I don't... What's a user interface?"

"It's... Some kind of hologram?" Foggy guessed, not knowing what it was either. "A video?"

"An AI." Tony stated, gazing at 'Karen' in genuine awe. "She made her own AI. That's... Amazing."

It was over a year ago now that Peter had discovered who you really were.

He had been dropped off at the apartment building by Ned's moms after school and was heading straight to your place since May and Ben were attending a party at the hospital May worked at. It was adults only so you had volunteered to watch over him immediately, and it wasn't like he was ever going to say no to an evening with his honorary big sister.

When you didn't answer the door right away he simply found the spare key and let himself in since he knew where it was.

"Ellen?" He called out.

The apartment was silent.

He frowned and dropped his bag, continuing to call out your name for a minute before finally someone responded. Only, it wasn't you. It was another voice entirely.

"Good evening, Peter." The voice didn't seem to have a source. "I am glad you got to Miss (Y/n) Stark's residence safely."

Peter stared with bulging eyes as he spun around wildly in an attempt to locate a person.

"W-Where are you?" He asked fearfully. "How do you know Ellen's name?"

"Forgive me, Peter. I did not mean to scare you. My name is FRIDAY. Miss created me to be her artificial intelligence service."

"What? That means... Ellen... Made you?"

"She did."

After this processed, he calmed a little, reassured by the explanation. After all, something made by you wouldn't hurt him.

"Are you alright?" FRIDAY asked. "You appear to have elevated breathing and heart spikes."

Peter found himself staring at the ceiling as he talked. "I'm okay. It's just really cool."

"Me?"

"Yeah! I mean, (Y/n) - Ellen - she has her own AI?"

"Miss is very talented."

"She's awesome!" He grinned. "How did she do it? Do you have a code? Are you portable or just for the apartment? How long did it take?"

"I am sure Miss Stark will explain everything." She replied.

"Oh! Yeah. Sorry. Where is she, by the way?"

"I am afraid she is stuck in traffic. She said, and I quote, 'This goddamn traffic is killing me. Get your douche canoe out of my lane before I kick your ass into next year, you twit-womble.'"

Peter burst out into giggles at that. Not only because it was definitely a thing you'd say, but because the flat tone of FRIDAY's voice somehow made it even funnier.

"A delay of fifty-two minutes is expected." She added.

Peter composed himself, but was admittedly dejected because of the update. It would be boring without you.

"Did she say anything else?" He asked.

"Miss did mention she would bring your favorite pizza and finish the keyboard project to make up for her delay."

He smiled at that.

He then proceeded to spend the next hour of waiting chatting away to FRIDAY and asking all sorts of questions as he worked on his homework for the weekend.

As soon as he heard the lock click he sprung to his feet with a toothy grin plastered on his face.

"Ellen!"

You barely had time to close the door behind you before he barrelled into you at top speed with a tight hug. You couldn't help but laugh, holding a warm pizza box in one hand and your work bag in the other.

"Hey, kiddo." You chuckled, dropping the work bag on the floor so you could ruffle his hair. "How've you been?"

"Alive." Peter shrugged. "I really missed you, though."

"I missed you too, Pete."

He stepped back and noticed the pizza, wiggling his eyebrows suggestively. You playfully rolled your eyes and handed him the box which was thrown open in seconds.

"Am I forgiven?" You asked with a laugh.

Peter, already with a mouthful, nodded enthusiastically. "Always!"

You smiled and sat next to him on the couch. "Sorry about the traffic. Things were hectic."

"I get it. Too many douche canoes out there, huh?"

Your eyes widened. "What?"

He smirked. "I got your voice message from FRIDAY."

"Oh... Oh! Right, uh... Don't tell your aunt and uncle. I'm on thin ice after the pool incident."

"I promise. As long as I get free pizza for life."

"Sure thing. Anything for you." You relaxed in the seat. "So you met FRIDAY?"

He nodded. "She's super cool. She said you created her years ago."

"I did."

"No way! How?"

"Weeks of insomnia, rock music classics, and a whole lotta free time."

"Can you make me one?"

You playfully shrugged. "I don't know."

He pouted, putting the pizza box down to grab your arm with both hands.

"Please." He begged, shaking your arm several times. "I'll be so good! I'll clean the apartment, I'll bake you cookies, I'll make you something too! Anything!"

You laughed as he started listing all the possible chores he could think of.

"Relax, child." You said. "I'll see what I can do."

His entire face lit up.

"Thank you!" He threw himself at you in another hug. "I love you so much, Ellen!"

You held him close and kissed the top of his head. "I love you too, Pete."

"Miss Stark wanted me to assist you with whatever you may require." Karen explained.

Peter, shaken from the memory, tried desperately not to start crying again. He couldn't believe that even after all you dealt with in your life, both as Ellen and as (Y/n), that you still found the time to make him something he asked for over a year ago. He wished he could thank you in person.

"I hope we can be friends." He said after mustering the courage to talk again.

"I'm sure we will." She replied. "Miss Stark made sure we were compatible as friends were she to have to leave."

It was horrible to have to see such a young kid mourn the loss of someone who clearly meant the world to him. It was hitting Tony particularly hard. He didn't even know the kid and yet the thought of you making such an important gift for him just showed how much you loved Peter. Because of this, he couldn't help but feel as if he had to know him, to understand what it was like being so close to you.

If this was just the first gift, he couldn't help but wonder what else lay in store.

A little while later, Peter had been sent out of the room to stay with Roberta and the others while the rest of the will was read and the mementos given out.

"(Y/n) left a message." Matt explained near the end. "In the case of her death she wanted to leave something personal, to tell her family what we can't."

Foggy had placed a laptop on the table by now and positioned it so everyone could see. Right away the screen showed an image of you sitting in a very big and comfy looking chair with a warm smile.

The mixed feelings could be seen all over in the room. Tony reached for Pepper's hand, scared to hear your voice again, to hear what you had to say to him.

"Everyone ready?" Foggy asked.

A few more mixed looks were exchanged but ultimately each person nodded. With this permission, he pressed play.

"Hi, everyone." You greeted.

Immediately the nerves could be heard in your tone. You were scared, or worried, yet it was clear you wanted to appear casual and collected.

"This must be weird, huh? I'm pretty sure you'll only see this if I, uh... Well, if I kick the bucket." You paused, yet forced out another smile. "I mean, that's the plan anyway. If I do happen to be on the highway to hell or stairway to heaven, then I'm sorry. I'm sorry that you're probably sitting there watching this as part of the will I'm writing. Who's shocked, really? After all, us Starks don't tend to get a long life span."

There were sad smiles around the room as you attempted the joke.

"I'm alive for now, at least. I hired lawyers ahead of time because... I don't really know... Just because. I want everything planned. After all, who knows how they're going to die? I could try the cool thing and sacrifice myself. I could be in a car accident. I could even slip on the stairs. You just never know until it's time. Maybe the threat from all those years ago will finally follow through and I'll be assassinated." You tried to smile again but it didn't work that time. "Sorry to keep joking. I think that's another Stark thing. Humor to protect against fear."

You sighed, taking a slow breath.

"I am scared, I won't lie. But not of death. I'm scared to lose you. Dad, Pepper, Happy, Uncle Rhodey... Ben, May, and Peter. You've all changed my life in some way and I think in the end I'm better off for it. I'm glad my two families get to meet each other. I'm sorry that Peter can't stay for this but he's just a kid and I can't put him through this kind of thing again. He's suffered enough. I hope he likes Karen."

There was a silence.

"Uncle Ben, Aunt May." You closed your eyes for a moment. "I love you both so much. I'm leaving you my SHIELD salary. All I saved up, it's yours. Every 60k note."

The couple were shocked and shared a stunned look. Tony and the others were also quite surprised, mostly because of how generous it was and just how much it was to give away.

"Of course she did." May whispered.

"We can't." Ben said. "We can't take that."

As if you were actually in the room, you began talking again.

"I know, I know." You chuckled. "I know you're going to say you can't take it or it's too much or something like that. But please, for me. You're amazing people and I want you to have it, and I want Peter to have it. Send him to MIT. It's where he's always wanted to go. And I'm sorry that I didn't tell you who I was, May."

You sighed.

"There's a lot of reasons, but mostly because I wanted to protect you. You loved me like a mother and I was so scared I'd lose you if you knew the truth. Fury also made the call, and I respected it. You didn't ask, so I didn't tell. I'm so sorry. I'm glad we had some good times, though. Cooking dinner for Ben and Peter was always my favorite thing to do with you. And thank you, Ben, for knowing who I am and keeping my secret. I can never thank you enough for everything you did for me. You might have been ordered to accept me, but I like to think I was genuinely loveable"

Ben and May both smiled sadly. Then there was a pause, and you looked down at the ground.

"Thanks for letting me look after Peter, by the way. I know it can't have been easy letting a stranger into your lives and trusting me with your nephew, but you did. I was vulnerable back then and I guess part of me still is with everything that's happening, but your family was the best gift I ever got. I'm just a normal person with you, and that's a feeling I love."

By the end of the dedication, May could feel tears brimming her eyes. She turned to her husband and leaned into his embrace as Ben watched the rest of the video sadly. Pepper, Rhodey, and Happy watched the Parkers both with curiosity and gratitude. They had each missed you dearly but knowing you were so looked after by loving people was a kind of solace for them.

Tony couldn't say the same. He was also grateful, that much was true, but he couldn't help but feel jealous. He was supposed to protect you, you weren't supposed to be forced into the care of strangers. Still, he was hoping he could talk to them after everything to see if they could help him understand what you were like.

"Now comes the real tear-jerker." You spoke up again, drawing everyone's attention back to the video. "Pepper, Happy, Rhodey... And Dad. I have so much to say but no one to hear it and that's the worst part of all this hiding. Still, talking to a camera is easy compared to everything else, I gotta admit. It's been so many years now... Six, I think? I've lost count. The days all sort of merge into one eventually. But the least you deserve to know is that I never stopped missing everyone. Every day I thought about you and what could happen if I came back. I just... I never found the will to make it happen."

You looked up again and your eyes sparkled with emotion. You spoke so softly that your voice was almost incomprehensible.

"Uncle Rhodey... You were my best friend growing up. You and Mama Rhodes were just... Amazing. Incredible. Thanks for looking out for me, from dropping me off on the first day of school and picking me up on the last, even though you had all those military duties going on. You're a good guy, and you deserve something pretty damn awesome for everything you did. So I'm leaving you my car."

You finally managed another smile.

"I hope it's still around when I'm gone, anyway. I don't know if it'll survive and I guess that would make this pretty disappointing, huh? But no, it's a good car. Reliable. I've got faith it's still going strong. Agent Coulson actually gave it to me on my 18th birthday. Look after it, alright? And, spoilers, it can fly." You dramatically paused, grinning a little. "Was that gasps of awe I just heard? It's true, though. Trust me on that. So, yeah, pretty cool. Thanks for everything, Rhodey."

Tony and Pepper shared a look. Not only were you a celebrated engineer and SHIELD confidant, you also had a flying car? What else had happened while you were on the run?

Rhodey was trying his hardest not to let tears fall. He couldn't speak, and, even if it was just a recording, he nodded to the screen in promise to look after the car.

"Happy, you're next." You then said, jokingly adding a haunting tone to your voice. "Although you were there for my dad, you also never wavered from protecting me too. Thanks for that. When my dad was busy with work stuff or other people couldn't make it, you looked after me. I also want to say thanks for not telling anyone about my hospital visit. It's okay now because everyone knows the truth, but you made good on the promise and I appreciate it. So don't beat yourself up or think my death is your fault in any way because I swear it isn't."

Your smile slowly dropped and you became more serious.

"Keep on living, Happy. Protect my dad, protect Pepper, and look out for yourself as well, okay? That's important. Don't retire, though. I can totally imagine you still kicking ass when you're one hundred. Maybe find a girlfriend, though. You're my family and I want you happy, just like your name. Promise me that." Happy looked down at his hands, thinking on your words carefully. Was it okay to feel relief that you really didn't blame him for anything? Was it okay to feel some margin of peace knowing you could never feel animosity towards him for keeping quiet? He did crack a smile thinking about how you wanted him to get a girlfriend, though.

"Pepper." You said, moving on. "I don't have words. I miss you so much. So much. Whether you intended it or not, you were the mom I never got. You looked after me like one and I'll never forget it. I think that when I get sad I'm reminded of our happiest moments, like you comforting me after I saw my first sad movie, or you putting up my first A+ grade on the wall. I'm proud that you're CEO now, and that you've got a good relationship going with my dad. I'm rooting for you."

There was a pause.

"I'm gonna leave my apartment to you." You explained. "I've lived there for years now, and it's got a ton of memories that I don't want being lost. I've known you my entire life and I think you're the only one who's going to keep it homey and clean. You and Dad can go there for days off or something, I don't know. You can spend time with Ben and May and Peter if you like, I'm sure you'll like each other. As for the furniture and clothes and stuff, you can donate it all or keep some or whatever you like. I trust you to do what you think is right. Thanks again for being the mom I always wanted."

Pepper closed her eyes, being the only one unafraid to show her tears. She held Tony's hand as she cried and did the same as Rhodey, nodding to the laptop screen as if you were really there. Even if she had all the money in the world and all the material objects she wished for, she would never turn down that apartment. She would look after it with everything she had.

You took a long breath and Tony knew it was now his turn. He wasn't prepared at all and squeezed Pepper's hand for both preparation and comfort.

"Dad." You said.

Your own voice trembled.

"We didn't get the best start, I know. Whether you were too busy or I was too much, I'm not sure. But I'm older and... Sort of mature enough to think better of it all. I grew up angry and alone despite having everyone I needed right there in front of me. I could see everyone, but I was still blind to it. That's on me." You paused to take a shaky breath. "I wish I was different. Maybe we could've got a better start if I tried harder or tried less to get your attention? I don't know. Maybe nothing would change at all."

You sighed.

"Still, I hope I can see you again without the fear of being killed or losing you. There's been times where I've seen you, you know? On the streets, on the news, times where all it took was a reach and we could meet each other again. But I was scared. I've left something for everyone, and now it's your turn. I hope it's a good one. For one, you get my apartment with Pepper."

Tony nodded once to himself, glad but also sad that he was included at least. Even after your last goodbye, he couldn't help thinking you still hated him. Yet knowing you loved him throughout it all hurt, too.

"You also get something else." You added. "Before I lived in the apartment, I had somewhere else that I called home. Even after I joined SHIELD and moved into the city, I kept the place as my own vacation hole. I'm leaving this place to you and the Avengers. It's big enough to serve as a base or just an intelligence building or whatever you want to do with it. Fury and Hill know about it. If they're still around, they'll show you I hope. Keep an eye on it."

You gave them all one final pause.

"Thank you. Everyone. I hope I can have some shred of forgiveness for hiding this whole time. Thanks for everything. I love you.”

11 notes · View notes

queerism1969 · 2 years

Text

Here are 50 books Texas parents want banned from school libraries:

"Drama," by Raina Telgemeier

"When Wilma Rudolph Played Basketball," by Mark Weakland

"Lawn Boy," by Jonathan Evison

"Better Nate Than Ever," by Tim Federle

"Five, Six, Seven, Nate!" by Tim Federle

"The Bluest Eye," by Toni Morrison

"Out of Darkness," by Ashley Hope Pérez

"Ghost Boys," by Jewell Parker Rhodes

"l8r, g8r," by Lauren Myracle

"Me and Earl and the Dying Girl," by Jesse Andrews

"White Bird: A Wonder Story," by R.J. Palacio

"Ground Zero: A Novel of 9/11," by Alan Gratz

"Fun Home: A Family Tragicomic," by Alison Bechdel

"Jack of Hearts (and Other Parts)" by L.C. Rosen

"City of Thieves," by David Benioff

"Gender Queer," by Maia Kobabe

"This One Summer," by Mariko Tamaki

"We Are the Ants," by Shaun David Hutchinson

"The Breakaways," by Cathy G. Johnson

"All Boys Aren't Blue," by George M. Johnson

"The Perks of Being a Wallflower," by Stephen Chbosky

"Michelle Obama: Political Icon," by Heather E. Schwartz

"Stamped: Racism, Antiracism, and You," by Jason Reynolds and Ibram X. Kendi

"New Kid," by Jerry Craft

"Class Act," by Jerry Craft

"Salvage the Bones," by Jesmyn Ward

"Woke: A Young Poet's Call to Justice," by Mahogany L. Browne, Elizabeth Acevedo, and Olivia Gatwood

"Not My Idea: A Book About Whiteness," by Anastasia Higginbotham

"How to be an Antiracist," by Ibram X. Kendi

"A Good Kind of Trouble," by Lisa Moore Ramée

"We Rise, We Resist, We Raise Our Voices," by Wade Hudson and Cheryl Willis Hudson

"On the Bright Side, I'm Now the Girlfriend of a Sex God," by Louise Rennison

"The Kite Runner," by Khaled Hosseini

"It's Perfectly Normal," by Robie H. Harris

"Beyond Magenta: Transgender Teens Speak Out," by Susan Kuklin

"Monday's Not Coming," by Tiffany D. Jackson

"Happier Than Not," by Adam Silvera

"George," by Alex Gino

"What Girls Are Made Of," by Elana K. Arnold

"I Am Jazz," by Jessica Herthel and Jazz Jennings

"So You’ve Been Publicly Shamed," by Jon Ronson

"King and the Dragonflies," by Kacen Callender

"Go With the Flow," by Lily Williams and Karen Schneemann

"Last Night at the Telegraph Club," by Malinda Lo

"Weird Girl and What's His Name," by Meagan Brothers

"Flamer," by Mike Curato

"Milk and Honey," by Rupi Kaur

"A Court of Mist and Fury," by Sarah J. Maas

"47," by Walter Mosley

"Girls Like Us," by Gail Giles

167 notes · View notes

fledermoved · 7 months

Text

A woman wakes up to a strange new world after being murdered by her husband. With an agonized, heavy heart, she's forced to come to terms with her new existence, and dons a mask to hide her scars.

Fueled by a new bitterness and fury, will she find meaning in this second chance, or succumb to her grief?

Independent OC multimuse featuring JANE LOUISE. Written by Fledermaus.

𖥔 RULES 𖦹 MUSE LIST 𖦹 VERSES 𖥔

#yippeeee new promo :3 #every1 look at my pretty violent womane......#promotional #ok to reblog #reblogs welcome #rp blog #multimuse #oc #oc rp #oc roleplay #original character rp #disney rp #cartoon rp #cartoon network rp #dc rp #marvel rp #dreamworks rp

14 notes · View notes

littledreamling · 2 years

Text

An Analysis of Power Dynamics Through the Ages (Part 2)

Part 1 | Part 2

The sequel, and we'll jump right back into the thick of it where I left off in part 1 so (again) without further ado, part 2:

1889

The sixth meeting. The worst meeting. You already know the drill, clothes first. Dream arrives very fashionably in his standard all-black, though the top hat is a particularly nice touch. It's important to note that Hob is back to his symbolic brown; he's gotten back in touch with his roots and he's found his empathy for humanity again. He's been humbled by his wrongdoings and growing through his acknowledgement of them. Interestingly, grey has been added to his wardrobe, a color associated with neutrality, balance, and (interestingly) loss. This could symbolize Hob's position between states; he is neither human nor Endless, but something in between, something old enough to see the big picture yet still inherently tied to humanity. It could also be foreshadowing, though I'm sure I don't have to spell out exactly what is looming on the horizon.

I'll preface the rest of this by saying that the power dynamics in this meeting shift repeatedly and rapidly, almost between sentences. This entire scene is both Hob and Dream (whether consciously or not) vying for some semblance of control in the situation, and we'll see that when I get into their actual conversation, but first, let's talk about Lou (though not as in-depth as I could, because this is going to be long enough as it is, but I love Lou and her place in the story). Lou is the first person that Dream sees during this meeting and she (in my opinion, though I'd love to discuss it with anyone willing) represents everything that Dream sees humanity as; quick to startle, quick to flirt, quick to anger, slightly flighty, and greatly damaged by fellow humans. And right off the bat, she puts Dream in a fairly uncomfortable position. Between her fear, flirtatiousness, and fury, it's pretty obvious that Dream doesn't know how to get past her (he's a King, he expects people to get out of the way when he walks up to them; the fact that she physically blocks his path is quite the insult, one that he's not prepared to deal with). He tries to assuage her fears and politely decline her advances, but neither of those work. I'd love to have seen what he would've tried next if Hob hadn't have stepped in, but that's the important part. Hob steps in. One could almost (without too much head tilting or squinting) see it as a rescue. He literally gets rid of a physical barrier to Dream's entrance into the tavern, one that Dream couldn't have gotten around himself (at least not within the confines of his experience and comfort with humans in the Waking). That automatically starts this meeting with Hob in a place of power.

It's a place of power that Dream almost immediately tries to take back. He already feels like he's on the back foot because of his interaction with Lou and his inability to deal with the situation himself, so he falls back on his reliable source of control: his knowledge, a cosmic knowledge that he knows no one else can compete with. There is power in knowing things that no one else does, and Dream knows everything about Louise Baldwin. It's a not-so-subtle grab for power, and it almost works. For a minute, Hob is in awe again. For a minute, Dream is back in control. But then he fucks himself over, because instead of giving even an inkling of who he is and how he knows such things (because god forbid Hob know anything about him), he changes the subject. Not once, but twice. He fumbles the ball by sidestepping Hob's questions, inadvertently showing a sort of weakness. But Hob allows it (because Hob allows everything his stranger does, for a great many reasons that I could speculate wildly on, but that's for another post). I want to emphasize, though, that this isn't Dream taking power, this is Hob giving power. He allows Dream to "brag" (though I'm not sure if that's the right word) about Lady Johanna's success in the task he gave her (for those who don't know, COMIC SPOILERS, that task was finding his son's head, the only part of his body that is still intact. Just a fun little fact for you all) instead of pressing where he very obviously has Dream in a corner.

And then he gets philosophical. And this is a big change. We've seen Hob at his proudest, at his simplest, at his most desperate. He's bragged about his money and raved about new inventions and made very questionable decisions. We've seen the best and worst of him, but never before has he been philosophical, at least not to Dream. And this is very important in a pretty subtle way: it shows that Hob (while still very much counting himself as a part of humanity) is starting to distance himself from his fellow man. He can't reasonably be considered equal to all humans, and I think this is the first time Dream really sees it. Remember when I said that Lou was everything Dream sees humanity as? Hob has grown out of almost everything on that list. No longer is he quick to startle. No longer is he quick to flirt. No longer is he quick to anger. He's not flighty and, despite the considerable damage that humanity has done to him, he's not resentful. He's understanding. He's empathetic. He's a good person. And suddenly, he's the wise one here. He's the one with knowledge. And Dream doesn't like it. Dream is used to being the smartest one in the room by a long shot and for the first time, Hob has more wisdom than him. Despite Hob's attempt to keep the conversation personable, to laugh at a self-deprecating joke with someone who he considers his friend (and has for the past 300 years), it's an undeniable and complete shift.

Dream tries one last grab for power, though I don't think it's a conscious decision (in fact, I know it's not): he points out the change in Hob. It's a reminder that, no matter how old Hob gets, no matter how separated he gets from humanity, no matter how objectively he can view the world and the people in it, Dream will always be able to do it more. He'll always be older, he'll always have more perspective, he'll always be able to take a bigger step back and see a far larger picture than Hob will ever be able to. And Hob allows that, too, because he knows that Dream is right. Hob is intrinsically human and he'll never be able to separate himself from that and everything that comes with it.

And if you stop it right there, it's a perfect episode. But then Hob flips the script again. He says "I think it's you that's changed" and that, my friends, is the first nail in the coffin. This is where Dream's defensiveness starts, and it's not because Hob dares to call him a friend. It's because all of the vulnerability that has been building in Dream, between Lou and his unwillingness to reveal anything about himself and Hob's newfound wisdom, is suddenly coming to a boil. He feels seen and he hates it. Hob had definitive control now. The conversation is his and Dream knows it.

The second nail in the coffin is Hob's body language. He leans in as he speaks, wanting to get closer to his stranger, wanting to share this with him, wanting to confide in him, but all Dream sees is an approaching predator, coming for his newly exposed underbelly.

The third nail: "I think I know why we still meet here, century after century." Hobs dares to presume to know anything about their arrangement. Hob dares to presume to know anything about Dream. It's a shockingly forward statement to make from Dream's perspective, considering the fact that Dream hasn't told Hob anything. Hob doesn't even know his life was a wager, nothing more, nothing less. So the fact that he's assuming things about Dream and his motives is... bold, to say the least. This is the point of no return as well; no mater what Hob says after this, the conversation is going south. There's no stopping this trainwreck.

The fourth nail: "I think you're here for something else." This is the same as above just... worse. Hob is straight up questioning Dream's motives. He's saying "I know you've told me that this is your only reasoning, but I think you're full of shit" and the fact that he's right only makes it worse. We can already see Dream shutting down by this point. He inclines his head, trying to maintain some dignity, and his voice has an edge of caution to it. It's giving strong "I heard what you said but I'm going to say 'what?' to give you the chance to chance to take it back because we both know you didn't mean to say that" vibes, except Hob definitely did mean to say it and it's far too late to back out now.

The fifth nail: you already know what it is. "Friendship. I think you're lonely." At it's core, this is an offer, not a judgement, but Dream cannot see it that way. He's too vulnerable, too exposed to be able to hear the kinship in Hob's voice, to see the loneliness that's painted across Hob's face, a light mirror. And his only defense mechanism is anger. He dons his rage like a suit of armor because it's infinitely better than the raw sensation of being flayed alive by Hob's gaze and his words and the stinging accuracy of both. Because Dream is a King. He's an Endless. He's only slightly younger than Time. He holds the entire human unconscious within himself. He is Above and humanity is Below, as much as he likes to preach to Desire otherwise. And Hob, despite just having proven himself otherwise, is most conveniently placed back into the grouping of humanity in Dream's mind. Dream is Above and Hob is Below, yet Hob is insisting on stepping up to Dream's level. It's an outrageous notion and fairly insulting to boot. (Aside: I want to clarify that I am in no way excusing Dream's actions, but when we start to see this situation from his perspective, when we acknowledge his feeling of powerlessness, we can start to understand at least where he's coming from, even if we don't agree with it)

The sixth and final nail: "Yes. Yes, I do." Hob doubles down. He doubles down hard. He has ripped the floor right out from under Dream and then he throws in a kick for good measure. If the third nail was the point of no return, the sixth nail is the burial. It's the end. Dream cannot stand to stay exposed for any longer; there is no option but to leave. In the moment, leaving seems like taking power back. Once again, he is dictating the parameters of the meeting, specifically when it ends, but he is at the mercy of his pride, and his pride is not his power. He just doesn't see this yet, and won't for about 100 years. In fact, neither of them have power in this moment. They are both simply passengers, reduced to watching the inevitable collision. Both feel hopelessly out of control; Dream feels skinned alive under Hob's scrutiny and Hob is watching the only constant he's ever had walk away. Power has crumbled in the face of anger. A hopeless situation.

1998

The meeting that never was. Hob is again wearing grey, leaning heavily into the sense of loss. He's shed his brown and the surety that comes with it. He's apprehensive about this meeting, or at least he's not excited about it. I'm not sure he even expects Dream to show up. Even when he says "I'm actually waiting for someone," his face screams doubt. He's watching the door like a hawk, but he's known his stranger's pride for too long to really be hopeful. And as the day drags on into night, that doubt, that sinking knowledge that his stranger is sticking to his guns, only grows worse. All the while, the lighting in the scene highlights just how out of place he is. London outside is (predictably) incredibly grey; the sky, the buildings in the background, the river, whereas everything in the White Horse is warm; from the sun slanting through the windows to the clothes around him to the orange glow of the lamps. The White Horse has always been a place of comfort for Hob, of warmth and security, but he's brought some of that outer greyness to it. He's a grey smudge smack in the middle, alone, ageless, other. He's irreparably separated from everything around him and he's realizing it. In fact, it's the point of the entire scene. This is Hob losing everything.

From Hob's perspective, Dream has the upper hand during this non-meeting, specifically because it is a non-meeting. He can't know that Dream couldn't make it, he simply thinks that Dream has abandoned him (I could write a whole separate post about the theme of abandonment in this show but that's for another time), therefore giving Dream the upper hand. Dream once again sets the parameters for their meetings; when he deigns to grace Hob with his presence, they meet, but this time he hasn't, so they aren't meeting. Simple as that (it isn't, but again, Hob has no way of knowing that). And Hob blames himself. He's let Dream's prideful and scornful words actually take residence in his mind and his heart, shaping the way he feels about himself and their relationship. He calls himself an idiot and puts the entirety of the blame onto his own shoulders, simply because he's given Dream the power to influence him in that way.

And then the other shoe drops, and Hob is losing the White Horse too. This is the ultimate loss of control in this scene. Hob has lost not one, but both of the constants in his life within a single day. Even if Dream decides to change his mind, there is nowhere left for them. It is truly the end of an era. For Hob, it must've felt like the end of everything. His entire life, at least everything in his life that has withstood the test of time, is falling like sand through his fingers.

2022

The meeting that never should've been. At this point, I could just copy/paste the post that @cuubism made about the shift in power pre- and post-imprisonment, but I'll at least attempt to put my own spin on it (you should go read their post though, it's a fantastic take).

This is probably the most dressed down we ever see Dream (begging Neil to give us shirtless-and-robe Dream from the comics next season). Every other century, he's been dressed in whatever that century deems to be formal wear, and so has Hob. They've always dressed up for each other. For this meeting, all of that formality, all of the layers of pride and distance and secrecy have been stripped away. Dream is (and I really shouldn't have to say this anymore) in all black once more, but his clothes are loose, especially around his neck and torso. He's relaxed the vice grip of his own making, he’s shed the rigidity he’s always forced himself to adhere to. He is approaching Hob only as himself, nothing more. He knows that he has lost all right to aloofness when he stormed out 133 years ago. His pride is bitter on his tongue but he's swallowing it nonetheless. Hob, for his part, is back to his brown. He's grounded again; he's found stability in this new life he's made for himself in the wake of their missed meeting. He's back to where he's truly comfortable, he’s found who he is outside of Dream, and he's donned his signature color to reflect that.

I’m going to split the behavior during this meeting into two categories; the power that Hob has over Dream, and the power that Dream has over Hob, because (contrary to popular belief) Dream does have power here, albeit not a lot. It’s a very subtle and nuanced scene in terms of everything power dynamics so I want to make sure I can include everything I want to in a somewhat concise way.

First, Hob’s power. When talking about power and control in their 2022 meeting, most would assume that Hob has all of it in the palm of his hand, and with good reason. Dream has essentially forfeited any upper hand he’s ever had and he knows it. There’s a hesitance with which he approaches the New Inn that shows this - he isn’t sure Hob will be there, he isn’t sure how Hob will receive him even if he is (miraculously) there. Hob could’ve fucked off to literally anywhere else in the world; without his meetings with his Stranger, Hob doesn’t have any concrete and lasting reason to stay in London (the fact that he presumably stayed in one place for 33 years is… telling, especially after the 1600’s and everything he went through because he stayed in one place for too long, but we’ll get there in a bit), but there he is! Dream turns the corner in the New Inn and Hob is right there, with his papers and his pint and his steadfast (brown! Again!) hope and loyalty. Hob holds a lot of the power in this situation and it's extremely evident. Dream is the one "crawling back" (though I think Hob would protest greatly at that description, especially after finding out why Dream couldn't make it in 1989). He’s fully admitting that he was wrong all those years ago (I could go on for another seven paragraphs about Dream’s inability to apologize verbally, but he definitely still apologizes to the people who he wrongs, he just does it through his actions instead. But that’s another post, I don’t have room here lmao) and he knows that Hob has every right to use that power against him. While 1689 was the ultimate humbling of Hob Gadling, 2022 is the ultimate humbling of Dream of the Endless. He's admitting defeat and surrendering, knowing that the power in Hob's hands could utterly destroy him. For the first time in his life, he's trusting Hob. There is no regaining control here, there is only reconnecting and for the first time, that is all that matters to Dream.

And thus, we've come full circle. I could wax poetic about how this meeting is a mirror of their first meeting, but @mimisempai beat me to it and said it way better than I ever could’ve in this post, so you should go read it! Anyway, Dream approaches his human stranger friend quite literally with his heart on his sleeve. For the last century, he has been utterly powerless, stripped of everything that made him an Endless, everything that gave him any modicum of control, and now he’s back to that. Even worse (maybe worse isn’t the right word, more meaningfully might be a better way of putting it) he is giving that power to Hob. And Hob. Hob uses all of this extraordinary power for… acceptance. Warmth. Comfort. Kindness. Welcoming. He could abuse the power that he has, he could’ve gotten angry or insulted or flat out left, and maybe in a different century, he would’ve, but he’s grown and changed, just like Dream said he had in 1889. This is a kinder, gentler Hob than we’ve ever seen before. Yes, he opens with a slight tease, a little sass, but the open joy on his face betrays the meaning behind his words. And thus, he actually gives some power back to Dream.

Now, I think Dream is not entirely without power in this scene, even from the very beginning. Yes, Hob is the one (as @cuubism says) arranging the meeting, Hob is unquestionably in control for the first time, but we also have to remember that… Hob could’ve left at any time. He didn’t have to stay in London (and now I’m circling back around to my earlier point) but he did. He stayed, and he stayed for Dream. That in and of itself is a power that Dream has over Hob; he is such an important part of Hob’s life that Hob would face the threat of discovery and risk his own life (because drowning in 1689 was bad, but I can’t even imagine what modern society would do to him if word got out about an actual, honest-to-god immortal) to make sure that his Stranger had a place to come back to, on the off chance that he ever changed his mind. But that is a power that is given by Hob, not one that Dream inherently has over him, which is also a sort of power that Hob has. It’s such a weird exchange and power play between them that, for the first time, they find themselves on somewhat even footing. There’s an understanding of a sorts; Dream knows that Hob could’ve been cruel but wasn’t and Hob knows that Dream could’ve kept him waiting forever but didn’t. They’ve both shown a piece of their hearts simply by showing up, and that mutual vulnerability is something they’ve never shared before, something that sets them up to actually begin to understand each other. For once, they see eye to eye, or as close to eye to eye as they ever have, and they’re taking the first (long-awaited) step towards true friendship

#the sandman #sandman netflix #dream of the endless #morpheus #hob gadling #sandman neil gaiman #neil gaiman

87 notes · View notes

the-knightmare · 6 months

Note

For that "DVD Commentary" ask, I think I've mentioned before how much I enjoy "A Call to Ears"- it is one of my favorite Roudise fics! I would love to hear any comments you have on the below passage (or any other parts of it!):

As they approached Rudy’s place, they were completely soaked. Louise locked herself in the bathroom with a towel and change of clothes courtesy of Rudy, while her clothes were placed in the dryer. Her trademark ears were brought by Rudy into his room, where he promised a portable heater in his closet would dry them quickly without damage. She tugged on a blue shirt and rocket ship pyjama pants, trying not to blush at the scent of Rudy’s detergent. Her heart began to thud with how soft the shirt felt, and for a quiet moment Louise wondered if this was how all those girls felt when they wore their boyfriend’s sweaters.

“It’s nothing, just wearing borrowed clothes, nothing weird,” Louise muttered into the mirror, watching her face flush even more as her heart thudded, “get a grip.”

The slap was gentle, more like she had tapped her cheek than anything, but it was enough for Louise to come back to her senses. She waited a moment longer as her face returned to its normal colour, then exited the bathroom. Padding down the hall to Rudy’s room, Louise pushed the door open with only a brief warning for her presence.

“Hey, Rudy, I hope you’re decent cause-”

The rest of her sentence died in her throat at the sight of Rudy wearing her pink bunny ears. Rudy’s face turned bright red as he began to stammer out an apology and offered to let her slap him if she wanted. Louise was frozen for a moment, waiting for the rage to erupt at someone else wearing her ears. Instead, a laugh bubbled up without warning, and soon Louise was bent double with tears pouring out of her eyes as Rudy continued to apologize and comment on how mad she must be to laugh this wildly.

“Louise, I was just curious and-” a wheeze rasped in Rudy’s lungs that was followed with a cough, “and-”

“And you’re going to take a puff of your inhaler before you pass out on me,” Louise said firmly, laughter replaced with concern, “did you even take it when we got here?”

“No,” Rudy gasped, “didn’t think I needed it then.”

“Well clearly that was wrong,” Louise rifled through Rudy’s bag he’d thrown on the bed earlier, shoving the inhaler in his face, “I’m going to have to look after you forever, aren’t I?”

Her words hung between them as Rudy took a few puffs of his inhaler, looking unconcerned at her words. Louise felt awkward in a way she only felt after hitting puberty, and silently cursed herself for giving in to the very thing she had sworn would never affect her. Louise especially cursed herself for feeling that way about her best friend of all people.

“I suppose so.”

Alright, lets have some late commentary.

I originally wrote that for last year's flufftober prompt sharing clothes. Thinking about the different ships I write for, I settled on Louise and Rudy just for the opportunity to have Rudy try on Louise's bunny ears.

But how would that happen? Even though I imagine Louise softening around the edges as she gets older, I still can't see her just letting anyone wear the ears. So, I had them get caught in the rain on the way to Rudy's house in order to have a need for Louise to be separated from her hat.

Louise's moment in the bathroom was some of that softening. It's partially a callback to her crisis over Boo Boo, while having a crisis over liking her best friend.

Having her catch Rudy in the act, only to not have the righteous fury she previously leveled at Logan for doing a similar thing, was always part of the plan. I really liked the idea of Louise expecting to feel a certain way, only to be met with laughter. Especially as Rudy panics, since he had thought he'd be able to get away with it.

Which leads to the meat of what I really like about the pre-relationship Roudise dynamic: Louise fighting her feelings and Rudy quietly accepting his.

I wanted the exchange where Rudy agrees to having Louise look after him forever to be this quiet moment where he acknowledges the feelings between them without pressure. Afterwards, an almost return to status quo between them, with Louise a little closer to figuring out her feelings and not hating it. (And with Rudy's shirt as her new favourite thing to sleep in, as I like to believe that he never asks for it back.)

Honestly, something I love about these two are the years of friendship and familiarity they have. Each is comfortable around the other, which is perfect to just jump in and explore how it can change and stay the same. It's something I try to do each time I write for them, and keeps coming back.

#ask #bobs burgers #roudise #hopefully that covers everything

7 notes · View notes

gebo4482 · 1 year

Photo

Shazam!: Fury of the Gods by Kelton Cram / Louise Mingenbach

#shazam! fury of the gods #shazam!#kelton cram #louise mingenbach #action movies #fantasy movies #concept art #character design #costume design #artwork

6 notes · View notes

demonsfate · 1 month

Text

Statistical "Which Character" Personality Quiz

take the linked quiz from the perspective of your character, then select 5 - 10 results from the complete matches list that you feel resonate with your character the most

Imperator Furiosa (Mad Max: Fury Road) 82%

Trinity (The Matrix): 80%

Ellen Ripley (Alien): 80%

Jason Bourne (The Bourne Identity): 80%

Hwang Jun-ho (Squid Game): 80%

Jon Snow (Game of Thrones): 79%

Black Widow (Marvel Cinematic Universe): 79%

Aragorn (Lord of the Rings): 79%

Rick Grimes (The Walking Dead): 78%

Katniss Everdeen (The Hunger Games): 78%

Tyler Durden (Fight Club) 87%

Patrizia Reggiani (House of Gucci): 86%

Loki (Marvel Cinematic Universe): 85%

The Joker (The Dark Knight): 85%

Freddy Krueger (A Nightmare on Elm Street): 85%

Jessie (Pokémon): 85%

Ursula (The Little Mermaid): 85%

Louise Belcher (Bob's Burgers): 85%

Jennifer Check (Jennifer's Body): 85%

Randle Patrick McMurphy (One Flew Over the Cuckoo's Nest): 84%

tagged by . . . stole this !

tagging . . . @wistrea @rockstarsoldier @teslagravity @thegermanspelunker @ourladyoflight @pcrplelightning @prismpowa @aceparagon @auburniivenus @grayfxce @littledancingphoenix @bravesung @bittcnneck @mechahero

#🔥 - ɪᴛ's ᴀ ʙᴇᴀᴜᴛɪғᴜʟ ᴛʀᴀɢᴇᴅʏ // (study)#👿 - ᴀ ʜᴏʟʏ ᴡᴀʀ ᴡɪᴛʜɪɴ // (study)#// THESE RESULTS MAKE ME LAUGH ... why did jin get mostly girlbosses #// TYLER BEING THE FIRST RESULT FOR DEVIL IS SO FITTING DFGNJDFGJNGF #// AND JENNIFER - I OFTEN REBLOG GIF SETS OF JEN FOR HIM LOOOL

6 notes · View notes

josefavomjaaga · 1 year

Text

Letter from Napoleon to Madame Soult

Paris, 20 January 1810

I received your letter of 14 January. I am angry about the nasty rumours that some confused lawyers have spread about your husband. I have only ever had cause to praise the zeal he has shown for my service and the signs of attachment he has given me.

A very brief missive that, however, tells a long story. Because those “nasty rumours” concerned Soult’s alleged attempt at making himself king of Portugal. And apparently they had disconcerted Louise Soult in Paris so much that she decided to adress the emperor in person about them.

Her letter probably ran along the lines of “Hey! People are talking bullshit about my husband. Make them stop!”

Those rumours had been spread mostly by the entourage of Marshal Ney (yes, yes, those two again), who had sent Jomini to Schönbrunn in summer 1809 with the special mission of informing Napoleon of Soult’s alleged wrongdoing, but also by some of Soult’s own generals, whom the “circulaire Ricard” had made highly suspicious. When in early 1810 Argenton, the French officer who had secretly spied for Wellington and tried to deliver Soult’s army in Oporto to the Brits, was captured and trialed in Paris, his lawyers used those rumours in order to bolster his defense. (Argenton was judged guilty and shot anyway.) It’s these “confused lawyers” Napoleon talks about.

He’s also not being honest here. Because he had sent Soult a furious letter about the “roi Nicolas” affair from Schönbrunn at the time - while also putting Soult in command of several army corps (Ney’s among them, much to the latter’s fury) and soon making him Joseph’s new chief-of-staff. So, very mixed signals, to say the least.

But he clearly was not willing to discuss them with Madame Soult. Louise’s letter had at least forced Napoleon to give a sign of support for Soult, and as such, I guess it was not a bad move.

#napoleon's marshals #and their wives #jean de dieu soult #louise berg-soult

21 notes · View notes

scapegrace74-blog · 2 years

Text

Don’t Let Me Fall, Chapter 7

A/N This is a pretty crucial chapter which sends our pair spinning off in a brand new direction. That said, you may be cursing me by the time it’s over. All I can say is to trust the process. I officially know where I’m going with this and you won’t hate me for long. Also, don’t be too hard on poor John. He may yet have the chance to redeem himself.

Previous chapters can be found here.

“Are ye planning on ne’er speaking to be again, then?”

Jamie had entered the Finnish sauna one evening to find John Grey on the uppermost bench. Before he’d had the chance to sit down, the other man had silently risen and walked towards the door. Jamie spoke as he poured a ladle of water onto the heated rocks, causing a billow of steam to rise and hang just below the wooden ceiling.

“What’s there to say?” John replied with his eyes averted. “You needed a partner, and I got the shaft. The show must go on, or some such bullshit.”

“I didna request her, if that’s what ye’re thinking. And it wasna Claire’s idea either.” Rather than stand and argue with a white towel draped around his waist, Jamie sat on the lower bench, arms extended along the upper seat behind him.

“Oh, please, spare me. She’s been flashing her tail at you like a filly in heat since she arrived. You cannot possibly be so blind.”

Besides being patently untrue, John’s accusation was uncharacteristically vulgar.

“I dinna ken what ye mean,” Jamie said, a low growl seeping into his voice. He was willing to forgive his friend some hurt feelings, but only up to a point. Incriminating Claire was a bridge too far.

“Do I need to draw you a picture, man? First Anna-Louise, then Geneva, now Claire. You think these attractive, ambitious women just happen to fall in your lap? Christ, Jamie, they’re doing their jobs. Gotta keep the top talent happy.”

A sour kernel solidified in his gut. It wasn’t the first time the idea that his female partners pursued him sexually because they’d been asked to do so by management had occurred to him, but it was the first time someone else had given the thought voice. If the pattern was visible to John, what could have been a coincidence took on the contours of fact.

Back home in Scotland, he’d been the artistic loner, or worse, the effeminate gymnast, and local girls hadn’t gone near him. Likewise in circus school, where his natural shyness and blossoming height did nothing to interest any lass he took a shine to. Then suddenly upon landing a lead role at the Cirque, Anna-Louise had propositioned him. He’d been an awkward twenty-year-old virgin, and here was this beautiful, sophisticated, older woman inviting him to her bed. He’d attributed it to amazing good fortune, but maybe something more craven had been the cause.

“You know what gets me the most?” John continued with frosty malice. “You don’t even want to perform anymore. You should give Marylebone what he wants and bag a role in creative. If you’re being led around by the cock, might as well make it worth your while.”

With those last hurtful words, John left. The wooden door banged closed behind him, leaving Jamie sitting gutted and alone.

***

“Have you seen Jamie?” I asked the moment John Gray opened the door to his suite. It was only after the words left my mouth that I realized how terrible he looked. Normally impeccably put together, he wore a baggy pair of sweatpants, and his shirt was untucked. Even his hair looked unkempt.

“He’s your boyfriend, not mine. How the hell should I know where the big stud is?” my former partner remarked with a shrug.

Pushing my way out of the hallway so as not to be overheard by anyone passing by, I rounded on John in a fury.

“First of all, Jamie is not my boyfriend. He’s my partner. We were supposed to meet with the seamstress for costume alterations tonight after dinner, but he never showed. I’ve looked everywhere. You were my last resort. Which brings me to the fact that you have been acting like a spoiled schoolboy whose favourite toy got stolen at recess. I know you’re attracted to him, but be a goddamned professional and get over it, John. This is no time for melodrama. We all have jobs to do.”

John rolled his eyes as I finished my rant. “Some of us have more pleasant jobs than others.”

“What the fuck do you mean by that?” I was well past being patient with his veiled barbs.

As John spilled his recriminations, the tips of my fingers grew cold. I had no idea whether what he was saying about Anna-Louise and Geneva was true or merely the conjuring of his jealous imagination. What I did know was how hurt Jamie would be if he had even an inkling of the rumour.

“God, John, please tell me you’ve never shared any of this bullshit with Jamie.”

His averted eyes were the only response I needed.

“Okay, here’s how this is going to play out,” I said, grabbing him by the shoulders. “You are going to help me find Jamie. Then I’m locking the two of you into a room until you work this thing out between you. You were friends long before I arrived, and I won’t be the reason you grow apart.”

“He won’t listen to me, Claire,” John muttered, suddenly more subdued. “After what I said to him, I’ll be lucky if he doesn’t cripple me on sight.”

“Good news, John. Jamie’s a pacifist. Unfortunately for you, I’m not. Right now, the only thing keeping me from beating you senseless is the fact I need your help to find him.”

We scoured every inch of campus to no avail. I wanted to go to security, but John cautioned that might only backfire if Jamie had gotten into some sort of trouble that would lead to disciplinary action.

We were walking beneath the streetlights towards the dorms when my phone rang. My heart leapt, but the incoming local number wasn’t familiar.

“Claire Beauchamp,” I answered crisply, praying it wasn’t the police, or worse yet a hospital.

“Allo,” a strong French Canadian accent replied. I could hear faint music in the background. “I am calling for…” a long pause and a muffled exhange… “Pardonnez, mademoiselle. I am calling for a, er, touriste?”

“Oh, thank god,” I gasped with a watery laugh. “Where is he?”

“He is right ‘ere, mademoiselle. At my bar. I do not tink he is enough good for to take the taxi. He asks dat I call you instead.”

“I’ll be right there.”

***

The establishment where we found Jamie gave hole-in-the-wall a new meaning. It was lit by the glow of a video lottery terminal and a few bare bulbs covered in years of cobwebs and cigarette smoke. A single row of chairs faced a high-topped bar. On the last of these sat Jamie, a half-empty glass of something amber resting between his elbows, his head cradled in his hands. He wore only jeans and shirt sleeves, and I wondered if he’d walked from the campus, emotion cocooning his large body from the crisp October air.

John hesitated by the door, looking decidedly out of place, as I went to collect our quarry.

“Was’ he doin’ ‘ere?” Jamie slurred as I climbed onto the chair beside him.

“He’s been recruited to help me maneuver your big drunken limbs into his car. After that I thought we might steal his shoes and leave him in Jarry Park for the vagrants to play with.”

Despite his recent bout of remorse, I still hadn’t forgiven John his heartless actions. Far from it.

“Sae fierce,” Jamie muttered with a dopey smile. I was relieved to see he was a silly rather than a melancholy drunk.

“Come along, Fraser. Let’s get you back to campus before they notice you’ve gone AWOL.”

He threw back his drink with surprising efficiency and pivoted to stand. He held onto the bar rail while his tall body swayed like a tree in a windstorm but managed to stay vertical.

“How much do I owe you?” I inquired of the barkeeper, who was presumably the same man who had called.

“Is good, mademoiselle. He give his Visa before the drinking.”

I shuddered to imagine how much alcohol Jamie had put away since disappearing. He was going to be in a world of hurt tomorrow, especially considering we had an eight o’clock physical training session.

I slid a twenty-dollar bill to the barman in thanks and together John and I managed to wrangle his uncoordinated weight towards John’s idling car. Jamie flopped into the backseat, and I settled beside him. We’d barely begun to move when a heavy head landed in my lap with a sigh. I carefully ran my fingers through his hair, marveling at how soft it was.

“Feels good, mo nighean balnain,” he murmured into my thigh. I could sense John glancing at us through the rearview mirror as he navigated the empty streets.

“That’s temporary,” I advised. “Your future has a lot of pain in it.”

“Aye,” he sighed wistfully. “When ye leave me tae return through the stones.”

I met John’s eyes. He shook his head, indicating he had no idea what Jamie was talking about either.

“I’m not leaving you, Jamie,” I assured him. “We have a routine to nail, after all.”

“S’alright,” he continued as though he hadn’t heard me. “I kent ye were only passing through. Jes a tourist. The Lady of Balnain always goes back to her time, no matter what.”

Mystified by his drunken ramblings in which he seemed to have conflated me with the mythical subject of his proposed circus show, I could nonetheless hear the underlying fear of abandonment in his words.

“The only place I’m going,” I tried to assure him, hoping the sentiment would permeate his intoxication, “is on tour. With you. I’m your partner, Jamie. And more than that, I’m your friend.”

The solid weight on my lap made no indication he had heard me. I looked in the rearview mirror to see John watching me with an indecipherable expression. I held his gaze until he looked back to the road.

***

The moment he had both dreaded and anticipated had finally arrived. Today was the day he and Claire would perform their routine without safety harnesses for the first time. Jamie counselled himself that it was irrational to be nervous. It had been weeks since one of them had needed the support lines to stop them from falling. Still, he knew as well as anyone the boost of confidence that was gained when a performer knew an error would be inconvenient, not fatal.

Claire carefully chalked her hands nearby. He was pleased to see that they weren’t shaking or clammy.

“Are ye ready, Tourist?” He came to stand by her side, watching the twin straps as they were lowered towards the mat.

An insubordinate tilt of her chin. Twin flames of excitement glowing in her eyes. He’d been an adolescent the last time he’d grown aroused while on the mat, but he could feel the telltale tingle now. Then John’s portent words intruded on his thoughts: being led around by his cock. He shook his head to clear it.

“Everything alright, partner?” Claire asked, watching him with concern.

“Aye, dandy. I was jes recalling something an old aerials coach used tae say,” he lied, dragging his focus back to the present challenge.

“What’s that?” Claire asked as she took his hand, leading them both towards the straps.

“Ye have tae be willing tae fall in order tae fly.”

***

“Slainte mhath.” Jamie toasted with a goblet of wine the colour of rubies. I replied in kind, letting the alcohol sit on my palate a moment before swallowing.

“That’s very good. Malbec?”

“Aye. It will pair well wi’ the steak,” Jamie replied as he pivoted back to his cooktop, broad shoulders encased in a button-down shirt for once. His hair caught the light from the range hood, refracting a hundred shades from brass to rust. I did my best to keep my sightline above his waist, though I knew his trousers cupped his arse to perfection.

We were commemorating a minor miracle. With only a few days to spare, we were ready to tour. Last night’s full dress rehearsal had been the final test. When we stood in the middle of the practice tent Cirque des Étoiles kept permanently erected on campus, the stage lights shimmering across our make-up and costumes, I knew without an ounce of doubt that we would nail our routine. I had that much confidence in our partnership, in our ability to face any difficulty and master it.

And we did. As the final note of the sensuous accompaniment faded to a whisper, a single resounding clap rang out from the audience. It was followed by more and still more, until the entire audience – coaches, trainers, costume designers and administrators, even Gilles Lemieux himself – were on their feet, whistling and cheering. I learned later that the first to applaud had been Sergei Panteleenko himself.

Muscles still shaking with exertion, Jamie and I had broken with dress rehearsal protocol and turned to the audience, acknowledging their recognition of all our hard work with a wave and a bow.

Tomorrow we were flying out to Tokyo for the first leg of a nine-month roadtrip, but tonight we were celebrating. With no grueling workouts or early morning costume fittings to discourage me, I indulged in a second glass of wine with my steak, and then a third as we retired to the sitting room to digest. Jamie was recounting a ridiculous story of a prank he played as a youth back in Scotland. Something involving his family’s herd of Cheviot sheep and some food dye. I found myself giggling like a teenager, my eyes watery and skin flushed with mild intoxication. Beside me, Jamie wasn’t faring much better, despite his much larger size.

“Will you go back? Once you’re finished spinning Englishwomen around, that is?”

“Och, how can the Highlands ever compare?” he teased, then replied in earnest. “I may return eventually, but I’d sooner stay on wi’ the circus in a creative capacity once my days in the air are done.”

I remembered the leather portfolio I had been caught examining during my first visit to his suite. The Lady of Balnain. Jamie had called me that name in Gaelic when John and I brought him back from the bar stinking drunk. I wondered why he connected me with her legend.

“Have you spoken with Marylebone?” I asked. “He’s obviously a big fan of yours. Maybe he can help make your dream a reality. When the time comes,” I added hastily, not wanting him to think I was trying to be rid of him so quickly. In truth, I couldn’t imagine being an aerialist with anyone but Jamie as my partner, but he had been performing for years before we met. Having an exit plan was a sound strategy.

Jamie rolled his eyes in truly dramatic fashion. “Oh, aye. He’s a fan, alright. All I need do is offer myself tae him, an’ he’ll put in a good word.”

Alcohol made comprehension sluggish, but when I realized what Jamie was implying, I stared at him in shock.

“He actually said that to you?!” I’d heard the artistic director was prone to having relationships with the much-younger male talent, but to offer to trade influence for sexual favours was far beyond my lowest opinion of the man.

“Wi’out actually saying the words, aye,” Jamie confirmed, taking another sip of his wine.

“Jamie, that’s sexual harassment. You could turn him in. Hell, you should turn him in. Then you could take his place.”

“I canna do that, Tourist. T’would always be a question of whether I stabbed him in the back in order tae secure his spot. Ye ken how circus folk gossip. I’d ne’er have a chance of winning their respect.”

While I didn’t necessarily agree with that assessment, it was Jamie’s career and his decision. It also made me want to help him succeed all the more.

“Show me those sketches again,” I demanded, leaning over him to where I could see the portfolio resting on a nearby end table. “Maybe I can make some suggestions. Help you out with ideas for the musical score, if nothing else.”

Jamie’s expression turned wary. He used the bulk of his shoulder to prevent me from snatching up the illustrations. Which was strange, considering how easily he pardoned my snooping the first time around. To be honest, I was a little bit hurt. I’d assumed the two-way ebb and flow of our partnership extended to matters beyond the mat as well.

My reaction must have been televised via my face, because Jamie hastily relented, handing over the portfolio like a man signing his own warrant.

Upon opening the chapbook, I was once again struck by the uniqueness of Jamie’s vision. His sketches were rudimentary, lacking a background or much context, and yet they burst with feeling and the vibrancy of motion. I could look at each page and imagine the performance coming to life before my eyes.

Something caught my attention and I leaned over the pages to examine it more closely. Next to me Jamie’s weight shifted on the sofa cushion as though he couldn’t get comfortable.

The first time I’d seen these sketches, the main character of the woman who travels through a magic ring of stones into a foreign land had been indistinct, recognizable only by her mass of wavy hair and bold colouring. Now she had unmistakable features, and those features… were mine.

I looked over at Jamie, who had added a grimace to his squirming. The tips of his ears were bright red.

“I hadna meant tae show these tae ye quite yet,” he muttered, sounding like a contrite schoolboy. “I wanted tae wait til… well… no’ now, in any event.”

My fingertips brushed the coarse paper, outlining the topaz eyes and pale salmon lips.

“Is this why you called me, umm, mo nighean balnain? The other night in John’s car? Because I’m the inspiration for this role?”

If he was surprised by the fact that he’d already revealed his secret in a drunken comment, Jamie didn’t let on. Instead, he looked down at his lap as though contemplating an appropriate penance.

“Jamie,” I urged with a light nudge. “Don’t be embarrassed. I’m flattered.”

Seafaring eyes snapped up to meet mine.

“Ye are?” he asked hopefully.

“Of course. I’ve never been someone’s muse before,” I teased gently. “To be the inspiration for something so unique, that you obviously care deeply about, well…” I trailed off, afraid to share just how intensely I felt about this revelation.

“No’ jes the inspiration, Tourist. If by some miracle my idea was ever tae be produced, I’d want ye in the starring role. In fact, I’d insist on it.”

The warm glow that had settled in my belly rose up my gullet and suffused my face. As we spoke, Jamie and I had unconsciously drawn closer and closer, until now I could make out the kaleidoscope of blues and greys that surrounded his pupils.

“You’d want… me?” I clarified, gaze darting down to his lips, over the russet stubble on his cheeks. Somebody’s breath had grown loud in the quiet flat, but I couldn’t match its rhythm to my own.

“Aye," he whispered.

The last few centimetres of air disappeared between our lips. My eyelids fluttered closed, thoughts a noisy collision of anticipation, nervousness and elation. Warm, moist air caressed my mouth as Jamie breathed my name. My true name.

“Claire…”

And then with a sickening lurch, I remembered John’s speculation that Jamie’s previous partners had been tasked by our employer to keep him entertained and happy, by any means necessary. I, of course, knew I was under no such orders, but Jamie did not. How could I ever prove to him that my affection for him was sincere if we moved forward now?

Sensing my hesitation, Jamie drew back and opened his eyes. Whatever he saw caused his hopeful smile to wither like newspaper in flame.

“I’m so-.” he began.

I grabbed his hand from where it had fallen limply from my shoulder, holding it tightly between both of my own.

“Don’t you dare apologize, Jamie. You haven’t done anything wrong. But with everything we’ve gone through over the past eight weeks, and all the pressure we’re about to face, I just think…”

“Aye, ye’re probably right,” he admitted with resignation.

“I’m not saying never,” I clarified, not liking the sting of rejection in his voice. “Just… not yet.”

“Agreed,” the cool fire in Jamie's eyes blazed anew. “No’ yet.”

#my writing #outlander #fanfiction

65 notes · View notes