#and number 5 was just me having a mental breakdown that got turned into a loki post but that's alright | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

jstarr86 · 22 days

Text

I sat watching my son as he played. He was the spitting image of his father, the man he didn’t know and it wasn’t for lack of interest his dad didn’t know he existed. I’d gotten pregnant and ran off leaving my whole world behind and moving. My son was the product of a half drunk night of passion between me and one of my closest friends. I found out 8 weeks later I was pregnant and left in the middle of the night back to America. His dad I’d fallen for my best friend and it scared me cause I figured he wouldn’t look at me the same I was always one of the boys. The First Lady of Bullet Club they’d always tell me. I’d kept with him we’d been friends for years since I started at New Japan. They’d blown me up when I first left and I changed the number I freaked I didn’t wanna ruin his life he had the world ahead of him but I followed his success I was proud of him. Sometimes I wondered what it had been like if I hadn’t ran away, if I didn’t bail. How he would have reacted would he had been mad, happy I know he’d been shocked what would he had done if I told him how I felt. I had no doubts regardless he’d had stepped up and been a amazing father. Sometimes I’d think about telling him but I couldn’t especially not after leaving he’d think I was full of shit and I was scared of how much he’d hate me. But there was no denying him that was his twin. I looked up as I saw movement ending my daydreaming he’d taken off as I ran after him

“Stop!” I sighed “Alipate Tevita Leone!” I yelled I saw someone grab him and ran pushing them “get the hell-“ I stopped looking into the eyes of one of my friends and gasped

“Nat?!”

“You got a kid!”

“Where the fuck have you been!”

“I- I gotta go.” I grabbed my son and went to leave from the three brothers my eyes having never left Tamas. Who immediately stood in my way blocking me.

“Nah you ain’t leaving you been running you ran away 5 years ago and no one could find you and now you got a kid.”

“I-“

“He has my fucking name Natasha.”

“Oh shit.”

“Woah little man stop running off.” T picked him up as he reached for him and I saw him and their younger brother look between my son and their brother in shock. They looked just alike and now that they were near each other it was even more obvious.

“Is- he’s mine.”

“Can we not do this in a fucking public park.”

“Fine we can go to your house.”

“Fine.”

“Come here baby.”

“No.” I closed my eyes sighing as he leaned his head on T “me stay.”

“I’ll carry him, if it’s cool.”

“Fine, stubborn.”

“I’m not ubburn.”

“Stubborn.”

“Stubbon.” They chuckled as we walked me I was having a mental fucking breakdown. Tama was pissed I could see it all over his face but i understood he literally just ran into his child he never knew about a 4 year old spitting image of him. T strapped him in the car seat and shut the door.

“Here’s my address.” I handed them.

“Oh hell naw I’m riding with your ass before you pull some more shit.”

“Shit.” I rolled my eyes looking at him “shit, shit.”

“Tevita.” I sternly said looking at him

“Orry.” He mumbled

“You named him after us.”

“I yeah I- can we talk about this in 10 minutes please.”

“Yeah go bro we’ll meet you.” Getting in the car Tama got in slamming my door

“I understand your upset but don’t break my car.” He glared at me as I started the car I glanced at him seeing the anger in his body language.

“How old is he?”

“He turns 5 in a week his um his birthday is the same day as T.” 10 long minutes later I pulled in my drive. Ali was asleep and I lifted him in my arms as I carried him and his backpack and grabbed my keys which Tama jerked from my hand opening the door. I walked to his room and placed him on top of his blankets I turned jumping as Tama stood silently arms crossed in the doorway as he looked around. I knew he liked it he liked xman and comics and I saw him eye the nightcrawler poster a copy of the same I’d bought him once for his birthday. There was also a image of their mask in a picture the face paint they always wore. I walked out going into the living room “Don’t guys want a drink?”

“Fuck the drink when the fuck we’re you gonna tell me I have a fucking kid! Were you even gonna fucking tell me!”

“Lower your fucking voice.”

“I think I’ve earned the right to raise my voice.”

“I’m not saying you haven’t I’m saying lower your voice because he’s asleep dammit.”

“Don’t start.”

“Both of you stop.” T said “you both need to sit down and talk calmly.”

“Talk Natasha.”

“I.” I sighed “you remember that night?”

“The night we fucked yeah I do.”

“Well I found out I was pregnant.”

“So you ran away is that why you up and dipped.”

“Yes.”

“How could you keep that from me what the fuck.”

“I didn’t know how to tell you I was scared ok, I didn’t want to ruin our friendship more and I didn’t want to fuck up your career.”

“What!”

“I didn’t want you to be obligated and stuck because of our friendship and I fell for you and I was scared Pate ok. I know it wasn’t right and I know sorry don’t fix it.”

“So instead of talking to me like any sane person you just decided for yourself this life changing decision. You robbed OUR child of a parent and me of being one.”

“I know and I’m sorry I know sorry doesn’t fix it but I didn’t want to ruin you.”

“It wouldn’t have ruined me dumbass.” He was so mad his tan face red. “You know I loved you.”

“As a friend as a sister-“

“No I fucking feel in love with you. I never got to tell you cause you disappeared”

“Bullshit you had 8 weeks before I left to tell me I was 8 weeks when I found out.”

“I was scared it was already a bit weird between us after we fucked I didn’t wanna ruin it more telling you I fell in love with your ass.”

“I didn’t know.”

“Cause you ran away you should have told me we could have did this together instead you robbed him and me, I’ve missed everything your pregnancy his birth his first words his first steps his first day of school you took that all from me and I don’t think I’ll ever forgive you for that, that was a bitch move Natasha.”

“I know and his first word was dada.”

“I hate you.”

“I deserve that.”

“When was he born you named him after us.” T said much calmer than his brother.

“On your birthday.”

“What?” He said looking at me

“His birthday is May 7th he was born at 4:20 in the morning. He was 8 pounds 7 ounces and 23 inches long with a head full of hair and is his twin. He loves comics and wrestling he loves climbing trees. His favorite food is pizza and mangoes ”

“Well Pate can’t deny him shit he looks just like him.”

“I know. And I named him after you guys because it was a way for him to have a piece of you guys-“

“He should have had his father and his family in his fucking life is what he should have had.”

“I know that ok I fucked up.”

“Yeah you think.”

“You two need to stop fighting.”

“Don’t tell me what to do.” We both said to Taula. We looked at each other as we spoke simultaneously.

“That hasn’t changed.” He said looking between us

“I looked everywhere for you I’ve been looking.”

“I-“

“If you say sorry one more time I’m having my sister beat your ass for me.”

“I deserve it.”

“Yeah you really do. Why would you do this to me, especially if you loved me? Does he even know about me?”

“He knows he has a dad I told him your a superhero your a good bad guy and beat up other bad guys with his uncles.”

“That’s what you told him?”

“It was the easiest explanation I could give him without breaking his heart every time he asked where you were.”

“You should have brought him to me.”

“How and say oh hey you got a kid, after how I left, be real would you have believed me or thought I was full of shit springing a kid on you.”

“I- he looks just like me not much I could deny.” He sighed angrily “you had no right to make that decision without me he’s half of me I had a right to know and instead you bitched out and ran like a kid instead of being a woman he’s almost 5 Natasha 5 and I missed all of that there isn’t a way to get it back for me or him not only did you keep him from me all this time you kept him from his father who he asked about. That’s selfish as fuck that ain’t you.”

“I’m sorry ok I thought at the time I was making the right choice and when I realized it wasn’t it was too late.”

“It was never too late I’d been pissed shit I’m pissed now and to know I’d never had found out hurts because if it wasn’t for him running and going past us you’d never had told me.” I couldn’t argue I don’t know if I ever would have seeked him out. I turned my head as he stormed out back and I started crying. T walked up hugging me.

“He’s just pissed Nat it’s a lot to take in.”

“He hates me T.”

“No he don’t he never has he’s just confused hurt and upset. He still loves you.”

“Bullshit even if he did he fucking hates me now. I fucked up.”

“You did it was really dumb and not fair to anyone he had a right to know and to have a say but everyone fucks up-“

“Not like this.”

“You were scared I get it and you felt in the moment you’d made the right choice, but he’s right he would have been there for you career or not and it wouldn’t have ruined anything.”

“He’s never gonna forgive me.”

“He will it’ll just take awhile. My brother still cares for you.”

“Do you guys want dinner?”

“Sure but let’s order something you two need to talk.”

“I need to let him cool off.” I grabbed a beer handing them each one before I grabbed a third. I walked outside seeing his head in his hands I sat the beer next to him as he looked at me and I saw tears in his eyes. All the years I’d known him he’d never cried. I walked off when he grabbed my hand.

“I’m mad at you.”

“I know you hate me.”

“I don’t hate you I’m just really fucking pissed we gotta kid that you hid. I you went through that shit alone Nat.”

“I should have told you if I could change it I would I’ve lived with that guilt for years and I didn’t know how to tell you.”

“Well we gotta figure this out cause I’m not leaving him Natasha that’s my kid I’ve already missed enough.”

“I wouldn’t make you.”

“But you’d keep him a secret for 5 years.”

“Pate.” I said blinking as tears feel down my face my guilt eating me

“Mommy.” I looked up hearing his soft voice as he looked between us. “You cry.”

“I’m fine baby.”

“Meanie you make mommy cry.”

“Baby it ain’t his fault mommy was mean to him, can come here sweetheart.” He walked up looking between us “hi are you mommy’s friend.”

“I- yeah little man.”

“What’s your name?”

“Pate.” I silently cried watching the two

“That’s my name Alipate. Mommy said I’m named after daddy and uncle they beats up bad guys.”

“Yeah they do. My names Alipate too.” Our son stopped looking at him and looking at me

“Mommy why are you crying.” He wiped my face

“I just am baby. I’ll be ok.”

“Do you- are you my daddy?” Tama slowly nodded at him as I heard our sons soft gasp and he turned to me “mommy it’s daddy! Daddy!” He jumped into his arms and I watched Tama hold him to his chest as he cried I was a horrible human I’d kept these two apart. Tama looked at me

“I’m so sorry I’m sorry.” I mouthed and he nodded closing his eyes. Our son soon pulled back a bit

“Why you cry daddy.”

“I missed you bud.”

“I missed you too. I knew you’d come back mommy always says you love me and missed me and I always said you’d come home are you done fighting bad guys.”

“I always fight bad guys buddy but I’m here ok, and I’m not leaving like that again I’ll still have beat up the bad guys but I’ll be home.”

5 YEARS LATER

It took awhile but we’d gotten on better terms and after a year we admitted we still loved each other. We admitted it after living together a bit we’d moved in together during Covid when the world shut down. He was home stuck and he’d decided with a lock down he wasn’t leaving our son and we ended up getting back together during it.

“Daddy Ali being mean.” Our 2 years old said looking at her dad as he picked her up. He went to say something to him he was 10 and was getting annoyed she always wanted him so he’d occasionally be mean to her. Amelika Samena Leone was born October 31st my water had broken while we were trick or treating I almost had to get a C-section with her Pate said she was his late birthday present. 8 months after her birth we got married, on the beach in Florida his parents watching the kids while he took me to Tonga for our honeymoon. I grabbed the box I’d hidden and took it to Pate we were having a cookout for Father’s Day.

“Hey you got one more gift.”

“Forreal what.” I handed him the box watching as he opened it the heart slightly moved and he removed it seeing what it said and the picture in the box as his eyes shot to mine and then my stomach. “You shittin me?” I shook my head as a huge smile broke on his face as he jumped up lifting me into his arms.

“What she get him.”

“Oh shit!” Taula said as he’d picked it up seeing what it was

“”We having a baby!” He yelled kissing me. “I love you girl.”

“I love you too handsome.”

#tama tonga x reader #tama tonga imagine #tama tonga fanfiction

12 notes · View notes

iron-sparrow · 2 months

Note

List 5 things that make you happy, then put this in the askbox for the last 10 people who reblogged something from you! get to know your mutuals and followers (ू•‧̫•ू⑅)♡

In no particular order!

LIFTING BIG WEIGHTS. It is a mental and physical struggle I absolutely enjoy, and very few things on this green(ish) earth can give me the same high lifting does. My current highest number is 253 lbs/115 kg for 2 on sumos. The other day I did 227/103 for 3 without pausing. Also, depressed queer lifters are some of the best people you could know!

I freaking love anatomy. Sorta ties into why I'm so into lifting weights + watching others lift. I am obsessed. We all joke about our shitty our meaty flesh suits are, but have you ever just sat and thought about how intricate they are and how long it took nature to evolve us into such efficient sweating endurance machines despite our other shortcomings? I mean, I hate running (flat feet suck), but the IDEA of how long we can hypothetically go for because of how our bodies work mechanically is mind-blowing. And have you seen how an Olympic lifter utilizes momentum and balance with their incredible strength to lift as much as they do off the ground and above their heads? The breakdown of every single limb's motion and muscle movement is SO beautiful that I can't even... WHEEZE...

I don't consider myself a writer, but I really love writing more than drawing sometimes -- no offense to my art degree that definitely wasn't a waste of time or anything. Something about processing images through words just hits different. A freight train slowly crawl by on the tracks versus a bullet train zipping across its rails; a horse breaking into full sprint; bird beating its wings against the air in very specific patterns; houseplant slowly changing directions as it seeks light. My heart feels so heavy that it's threatening to slip from my ribs down into my stomach in search of an escape from the pressure building inside my skin; I think if it burst, I would see it turn my breath into the same abyssal blue we perceive the ocean to be.

I guess music is another sure way to feel anything, including "happy." Some friends of mine talk about stimming with specific types of music, and I think back to how often I find myself unable to function at all without something playing in my ears. I'm actually prone to sensory overload (high ceilings WHY), so I will always carry around headphones or earbuds with me to help! And really, I'm content to listen to the same tune on repeat for 12-14 hours to stabilize my mood. This fucks with my Spotify statistics in the funniest way. Plus, people are more likely to leave you the fuck alone when you got headphones on, and I like being left alone. (Social misanthropes, rise up.)

My friends make me happy, and I am incredibly blessed to have friends that love me. When they can't support me directly, they walk alongside me so that I can still see their shapes while I traverse the fog. They ask me how I'm doing when I change medications. They tell me my muscles look nice after I've finished a gym session. They watch my OCs turning on the hot dog warmer with me. Some nights, when I'm struggling, I remind myself that I'll be able to talk to them again when I wake up. ♡

#tag game #ask game #oh boy oh boy AN ASK!#thank you Pigeon my fren #for putting this in my inbox #ooc post #thx for reading all that

17 notes · View notes

royalbilliards · 1 year

Note

Now that you’re done, what are your thoughts on our fav failking Maruki?

So I’ve been sitting on this question a while. I didn’t know how to really express my opinions properly that weren’t in the usual comedic tone I pick up when I talk about the things I love, but I really wanted to answer this question wholeheartedly, so here we are!

Firstly, I need to get my actual thoughts about Persona 5 Royal out of the way, because I love this game. I truly and completely love this game, and it’s knocked BOTW out of the number one placement spot for my favourite game of all time. Everything from the characters, story, music, even the UI design have me absolutely floored, and I genuinely cannot think of a game I could say tops it for me. I listen to the soundtrack daily, and constantly think about the game when I can. I have so many complex thoughts about the game I could talk about here, but since this is just about my opinions on Maruki, I’ll keep those to myself.

Moving on, Maruki is, I feel, one of my favourite characters of all time. He’s so interesting and well-written, his motives make sense, and for the audience it’s sympathetic. We understand why he’s doing what he does, even if it’s wrong. He cares a lot about people, but he cares too much, and it’s his downfall. He wants to make everyone happy, and it’s just impossible. He can’t live knowing someone would be slightly upset. He worked for multiple years to create his perfect reality, presumably trying to figure out a way to help everyone he could, when the opportunity to help everyone landed right in his lap. This was the most important thing to him, and it’s admirable as it is stupid. The loss of that desire, the loss of that ability to help everyone he could, his failed reality and the fact that no matter how hard he tried, he still couldn’t succeed did a massive number on his mental state. Though, I feel as though he mostly survived on his need to help people rather than any positive mental state for a while. I mean, the second he loses that desire, loses years of work and watches as it crumbles and shatters around him, he fully gives up and tries to kill himself (something which Ren was in no way shape or form going to allow). His love for people is what drove him, and his love for people almost drove him to his death.

I feel like a lot of people misunderstand Maruki and what he was meant to represent, He's not one of those “rotten adults.'' He's a broken and hurt man who hadn’t been allowed to express his emotions, and suffered hit after hit (his studies being cut short, his lab being turned into a stadium, his fiancé having a mental breakdown and going catatonic) and tried to fight his emotions by helping other people instead of focusing oh himself. Hence him becoming a therapist and trying to help other people out with their problems as opposed to focusing on his own.

I’ve realised people tend to get angry at Maruki because he was a twist villain. They trusted him and he turned out to be the last boss of the game, and whilst this is understandable, it’s also fucking stupid to stay mad. Characters like this tend to get a lot of shit treatment and I’ve seen people complain multiple times about games having obvious villains, only to complain and get genuinely angry when a twist villain is revealed to be a character they got attached to or trusted. (An example of this is Volo from Legends: Arceus.) Maruki is very much one of these. People are allowed to feel how they want, however these communities of people are so loud, and it makes it hard to find accurate and earnest portrayals of the characters. Instead, what's more prevalent is an insane twisting of the truth people do to justify their anger, or portrayals present in order to have a “villain” for fan content. They do this without realising that the point is that anyone can mess up, and Maruki isn’t a villain for what he did.

To me, Maruki represents guilt and trying to catch an elusive “happy ending." The story of the game is riddled with tragedy and it mostly sticks to its guns about keeping these tragedies permanent. The characters wouldn’t be who they were without the sadness that’s befallen them. The reality Maruki tried to make (and what a lot of people who try to “fix” the canon of a story) made no sense for the characterisation of the characters or who they became as a person because the reasons were erased. There is no happy ending to Persona 5, there is no way to fix everything, and I feel a lot of people may have seen Maruki as an attack on this. It’s okay to feel sad about how something ended, but sometimes you just gotta accept it.

This has gotten pretty wordy, and it’s just a long winded way to say that my opinions on Maruki haven’t changed all that much, other than those 4 hours I spent on merciless trying to beat his fucking fight and getting more and more wound up each time I fucking failed. Anyways, the point is I love him, I love the game, and if anyone is meanies to him again I’ll fucking kill them all with my autism laser beams.

#anon #ask #virtype

14 notes · View notes

sage-nebula · 2 years

Text

Thinking about how much I suffered in school due to having an undiagnosed learning disability because by and large the world doesn't seem to know that there even is a learning disability when it comes to math . . . jfc

Like I got my first failing grade ever in fourth grade because I didn't understand long division and wasn't allowed to use a calculator to do it for me. It's not that I didn't want to understand, I tried my best, but my brain just can't hold or conceptualize numbers. My brain can't make the connection of what happens to the numbers to get the results. So I had to bring a report card home with an F in math when I was 9 and got torn apart by my biomom as a result of it.

In the grades following I managed to scrape by with Ds only because of participation points. I paid attention in class and I turned in assignments with a fuckton of wrong answers, but that was enough to give me a consolation D on my report card instead. Junior year I failed geometry because, again, my brain just can't hold or understand the numbers, plus I had depression and anxiety and a trauma disorder etc etc, all of which I had no treatment for. The result? Grounded for an entire summer while I went to summer school to make up the credit. I passed summer school only because we had tests at the end of the lesson, when I could still hold the information in my head.

During all of this, did ANYONE suggest I might have a learning disability? No. Because unlike dyslexia, dyscalculia and other learning disabilities related to math aren't well-known. Reading is seen as something that's so hard to grasp, but in math there's only one right answer so how could there be a disability for that? Long words are complicated, but who doesn't understand numbers? Worse still is the people who do struggle with math a little, but who can still manage and retain the information, because they're like, "oh yeah I also suck at math haha maybe I'm disabled too!" and it's like, no, unless you've been driven to tears because a customer gave you additional change after you already input their total into the cash register and now they and all the people in line behind them are expecting you to be able to count the change in the way that means you know what to give them back (since it's now different than what's on the register) but you literally cannot wrap your head around this no matter how many times they explain it to you, you're not disabled, you just don't like it.

In college I majored in creative writing and I was told that I had to take a math class for a gen ed. I was at first told basic math would count, so I took that. It was so difficult, and I got so stressed, that I gave myself stomach ulcers, but I managed to pass with a C-. I was then told, oh sorry! This is too low level of a course to count. So then I tried business math. Failed it. Formal logic. Failed it. College algebra. Failed it. In college algebra I would understand it okay in class, but then when I'd get home I wouldn't remember how to do it. 10 problems would take me 5 hours as I tried to re-teach myself the material from the textbook. But on the test we couldn't use the textbook, so guess what? I failed.

I had a complete emotional and mental breakdown because I wasn't going to be able to graduate without a fucking math course. And it was only after I was literally sobbing in the academic advising office that someone said, "if you can get diagnosed with a learning disability, we can waive the credit."

(Note: I didn't even want the credit waived per se, I just wanted my basic math class to count like I was told it would my freshman year.)

I was 26 years old and this was the FIRST TIME I had EVER heard that there was a learning disability for mathematics. THE FIRST TIME. I paid $600 to get evaluated and was told that while I was in the 99th percentile for language ability, the discrepancy between that and my mathematics ability was the largest the evaluator had ever seen in his 60 years of running these exams. Which, you know, makes sense. When I took the ACT I got a 32 in reading and writing each, but a 15 in math (and 19 in science because of all the math). It tanked my score. Suddenly it all made sense.

But it took TWENTY-SIX (26) YEARS for anyone to even SUGGEST this could be a possibility. And it's still not fully understood or taken seriously! Accommodations can be made in the workplace for dyslexic people, but when I told my boss just this past week that I have dyscalculia, he laughed because he thought the term was a joke, a riff on dyslexia, just for someone being bad at math. Now, my boss is kind of an asshole in general, but still. It's not a joke. I'm not just bad at math. I am INCAPABLE of doing math. My brain can't wrap around numerical concepts. And even in the off-chance that I understand what's going on in the lesson, I can't retain it. When I got evaluated there were problems in the evaluation that we had just discussed the PREVIOUS WEEK in college algebra. Less than seven days prior. I REMEMBERED that we went over it in the lesson. But did I remember how it all fit together? No. I couldn't wrap my head around it. I nearly started crying during the goddamn examination because of how humiliated I was.

I suffered so much into my late twenties because no one at any point in my educational career understood that mathematics disabilities are a thing. Math is thought to be "the universal language" so if you can't do it you're just lazy or not trying or, hey, it's hard, but you still CAN do it, you just need to try harder. It's so angering and so upsetting and drives me fucking bonkers. I've got my diagnosis now so I'm not suffering any longer but jfc. It was a fucking nightmare.

#although i don't really have the paperwork anymore #hopefully it's on file in my medical record or i could get it from my uni or smth #since they'd have it on file from when they waived my math credit

22 notes · View notes

episodicnostalgia · 9 months

Text

Star Trek, 001 (0ct. 4, 1988) - "The Cage"

The Breakdown

In this original initially-unaired Pilot (filmed in 1964 but not released in it’s entirety until 1988), we are introduced to the crew of the Enterprise which canonically precedes Kirk’s legendary five year mission. It’s just another day for the crew when they receive a distress signal to a planet (Talos IV) where some scientists apparently got stranded and lost decades ago. Upon beaming down to check on everyone Captain Pike meets a cute blonde lady named Vina who lures him into a trap, or cage, if you will.

It turns out all the old scientists were just an illusion projected by some big headed aliens (aka the Talosians) with some fairly powerful telepathic abilities. They explain that they want Pike to mate with Vina (who turns out to be real) in order to supply them with a whole zoo of human slave babies. Pike is made to understand that his refusal will result in excruciating mental torture; although in fairness they explain that Pike’s stay could be tantamount to paradise if he cooperates. Pike resists by overwhelming the Talosians with intentionally rageful thoughts (which, conveniently, is their weakness), until he can convince his captors that trapping people against their will is… wait for it… bad. The Talosians, for their part, seem genuinely shocked at this revelation, and so they agree to let Pike go.

Oh, and it turns out Vina was severely damaged from the accident that stranded her on Talos, so she can’t come with Pike because the illusion that grants her beauty would cease if she left the planet. Since ugly women aren’t allowed to be love interests in Starfleet, the Talosians agree to take care of her, and even provide her with a nice sexy illusion of the Captain himself, presumably so she can have a live action Pike-sex-toy to keep her company. So I guess it’s bittersweet ending?

The Verdict

‘The Cage’ is an interesting look at what might have been. Overall I think Kirk’s Enterprise and it’s crew are more entertaining, but I wonder if I might have come to prefer the more-serious Pike over kirk’s swagger. For starters I think Jeffery Hunter is probably a better actor than Shatner at this stage in both of their careers (put the pitchforks down, you’re welcome to disagree), and I also find Pike is written a lot less sexually predatory. Don’t worry though, Pike is still plenty sexist here; apparently having women on the bridge doesn’t sit well with him, which makes me wonder if ‘Strange New Worlds’ will ever give us a flashback episode to explain this change in his attitude (since this episode is still officially canon).

2.5 stars (out of 5)

Additional Observations

Pike’s doctor prescribes drinking as a form of therapy. Don Draper would approve.

I do wish Majel Roddenberry’s ‘Number one’ could have been included amongst Kirk’s crew. I always thought having Spock as both Chief Science Officer and First Officer was odd. But apparently the 60’s weren’t ready for a woman with authority.

I love the pulpy set designs. As cheap as it looks now, it has such a classic aesthetic. I dig it.

I just realized that this episode was filmed roughly as far in time from TNG’s premiere, as Enterprise’s premiere is from us now. I’m going to need a minute to let that sink in.

#star trek the original series #Star Trek Production Order #the cage #retro review #star trek review #star trek #star trek the cage #captain christopher pike #christopher pike #jeffrey hunter #talos #unaired pilot #60s tv #star trek tos #60s tv series #episodic nostalgia

2 notes · View notes

moroneur · 1 year

Text

Pick up, move on.

hi there! this is a little continuation of Wishing upon shooting stars! I originally wanted to leave it be as it is but had to get over my writers block somehow! Also some readers requested a happy ending for our dear Y/n, so heres a little one shot to show you thigs are going good :) its very short but im quite happy with how it turned out . Heres PART 1 {} PART 2

It had been a month or so since your breakup with Wine. You moved out of your apartment, stayed away from any and all bars, got a new job. Things have changed, and you’re too busy to tell if it's for the better or not. At least you don't have to think about any dismissive boyfriends now. Currently at the mall, you try to stay focused on picking the best tomatoes.

You try to focus on this mundane task but sometimes, when your mind decides to mess with you, it strays away. To that night, at grillby’s where your last date with Wine had transpired. Where he met another woman, where you met rejection. In your drunken stupor you’d almost have a mental breakdown, but another skeleton was there to set you on the right path again. He’d been there for you, heard you out, and even called you cab. You were grateful and you hope to get a chance to see him again, maybe give him a thank-you gift. He had been the last push you needed to set yourself free afterall, and it meant a lot to you.

Ah, these ones are good enough. You put the last tomato in your plastic bag and tie it. Next stop will be the pasta section. You sigh. I do wonder how he’s doing right no-

“ow! fuckin’ hell! watch where ya goin’ you... human?” His angry voice fizzled out into one of confusion. “Red!” You’re pleasantly surprised, even if half of your groceries are on the floor. Did you manifest him? You should think about money more then. You reach to pick up your fallen things as he stands up. “Sorry for bumping into you.” You notice something else on the floor, that isn't yours. A bottle of mustard. You reach for it and hand it over to him. He didn't notice anything fell, and accepted the bottle with a little grin. “s’nothing. glad ya remembered m’name, human.”

You went home a lot later that day. You didn't mind though, at least you caught up to Red, his

number saved on your phone (and yours on his).

Work has been getting increasingly difficult lately, and you just can't help but crave for a break. An actual break, not a quick smoke or a 5-minutes coffee break. It’s not healthy, and you’re so frustrated because your stupidass coworkers can't seem to do the stupidass job right and–

Safe to say that your only friend who's awake after 11 p.m. is Red. You both went to each other to vent about work and life in general, and the knowledge of someone having almost the same problems as you makes you (selfishly) sleep better at night. You hope Red feels the same.

Tonight was one of those nights. You didn’t really feel tired, so you were on your phone, talking to Red about the things that transpired today.

Dumb edgy bitch

Yo.

Me: Sup

Dumb edgy bitch: Im heading to grillbys in an hour, dyou feel up to joining me?

Me: If this is a scheme for a date then i must decline

Dumb edgy bitch: Im not just a flirt yknow. Thought u knew me better smh

Me: Just makin sure. Ye im up to it. See u there :)

It’s a good thing you weren't very tired tonight. You were invited to the same Grillby’s as.. That time. But that's fine. You’re not going on a date this time and you will make sure you enjoy yourself (because you know you're gonna hate yourself the next morning once you wake up for work with a headache). You make yourself a strong coffee, just in case, and get dressed in a casual outfit.

You arrive at Grillby’s in no time. Actually, right on time, it's 11:55 p.m., might as well order a beer or whatever. You take a deep breath, nervous. The last time you’ve been here, you’d gotten plenty of pitiful looks from Grillby. Perhaps you’ll flirt with him to see him embarrassed (he seems so stoic, is that even possible? Well, you’ll find out!) as a little bit of revenge.

Determination fueling your steps, you open the door.

#idiones #moroneur #might post this on ao3 maybe #ao3 stuff #undertale #fanfiction #sequel i guess?#live update on y/n's life !!!#besties with fell #I wanted to leave the ending open ended so readers can think of the ending however they want!#be creative #im interested in wat ull come up with :)

7 notes · View notes

cozy-the-overlord · 3 years

Text

I posted 3,646 times in 2021

1338 posts created (37%)

2308 posts reblogged (63%)

For every post I created, I reblogged 1.7 posts.

I added 4,832 tags in 2021

#cozy reblog - 1891 posts

#thanks for the ask :) - 791 posts

#friends - 414 posts

#ask me things pls i'm bored - 351 posts

#writing things - 283 posts

#loki marvel - 263 posts

#anonymous - 253 posts

#taylor swift - 217 posts

#loki fanfic - 192 posts

#cozy writes - 177 posts

Longest Tag: 140 characters

#and people who go on about how it’s anti-feminist because it references loss of virginity as a big deal are just absolutely missing the poin

My Top Posts in 2021

I must stop thinking about Real Things

124 notes • Posted 2021-09-08 01:52:51 GMT

Cozy’s Masterlist

Here are all the stories I’ve posted to Tumblr as of 10/31/21.

Thanks so much for reading! :)

130 notes • Posted 2021-02-16 21:28:35 GMT

Kiss the Girl

Summary: A night of roller-coastering has left you without a voice, Little Mermaid-style. If only you had a dark haired prince of your own to kiss it better ...

Word Count: 1,181

Pairing: Loki x Gender Neutral Reader

A/N: I know what you're thinking. What is Cozy doing writing self indulgent plotless fluff from a second person perspective in the present tense when she had repeatedly stated that she hates writing all of those things? Because peer pressure, that's why. This is all Discord's fault. Also I may or may not have lost my voice screaming on roller coasters two days ago and have been fantasizing about a certain dark-haired prince swooping in to kiss it better but that's besides the point.

Anyways. I usually don't write stuff like this, so please don't judge me too harshly. Thanks for reading!

Warnings: None

Tags: @lucywrites02 @gaitwae @whatafuckingdumbass @the-emo-asgardian @imnotrevealingmyname @electroma89 @lokislittlesigyn @moumouton4

190 notes • Posted 2021-08-01 19:03:10 GMT

Watching the Cruella trailer this was all I was thinking of:

Gif credit (x)

330 notes • Posted 2021-02-17 17:33:52 GMT

I swear this will be the last thing I post about the Cruella trailer, but I was just thinking about this obsession with giving every villain a sympathetic backstory. I love tragic backstories-- they're one of my favorite tropes-- but there are some characters that are better left just being evil. I feel like Disney just looked at Cruella de Vil and how popular of a villain she is and was like "popularity=>movie=>money" without understanding that the reason that she's a popular villain is because she's so despicable. Her motivation is to murder and skin a bunch of puppies to make a coat. She has absolutely no redeemable qualities. The fun comes from how much you love to hate her. This isn't the character you turn into a sympathetic anti-hero, because there is absolutely nothing you can do to make her sympathetic.

395 notes • Posted 2021-02-17 18:10:34 GMT

Get your Tumblr 2021 Year in Review →

#my 2021 tumblr year in review #your tumblr year in review #of course the fucking cruella posts are one and two #they will be my legacy and i hate that that's accurate #also of course the only story to make it on here is the one i hate more than anything else lol #numbers 1-3 are just a massive eye roll #and number 5 was just me having a mental breakdown that got turned into a loki post but that's alright #i get a kick out of that one #i'm really happy my masterlist is up there though!#i didn't realize that got as much traffic

2 notes · View notes

thekingofwinterblog · 3 years

Text

It’s all for his sake - Endeavor and the Sunk Cost Fallacy

My hero academia 301 is a pretty interesting chapter, but for me, the most notable piece of it was how Endeavour reacted to the realization that Touya couldnt surpass All Might.

upon realizing that his son might not be able to do it because of inborn physical limitations, he immediatly stopped his training, which frankly was the responsible and adult thing to do.

This stint of real parenthood did not last long however.

After taking the matter to a doctor, he is flat out told that not only cant Touya achive what endeavor wants, but it is a direct result of his incredibly selfish and irresponsible attempt to play god, by trying to breed the “perfect” hero into being.

It is how you react when you lose however, that shows who you really are, and endeavor illustrates that very, very well.

Upon being told in no uncertain terms that his attempts at Breeding an heir failed magnificently, producing a child that was not capable of resisting his own immense power, but also admonished by his doctor for even attempting it, and adviced not to try again, Endeavor instead doubled down, while focusing on the child he screwed over from the start with his attempt at genetic manipulation.

It was all for him you see. Endeavor doesnt use those words, but that is how he spins it here. it was all for Touya, all for his sake. if i stop now, then Touya was all for nothing, a mistake, im doing this for my son.

if im doing this for my son, then im not responsible for any of this.

his wife however, calls him out on it, as she understands Touya much, much more than endeavor does. or rather, she sees him fully as a human being, instead of as a thing, a weapon, a failed attempt at an heir.

Unlike Endeavor, Rei is able to see the way this all is affecting her son. She is able to see, and understand that Touya has fully accepted what Endeavor wanted him to be. a stronger, and better version of himself. however, unlike Endeavor, she only cares about him as a person.

Endeavour by comparison isnt completely uncaring about Touya. like most abusive parents, he does possess love for his offspring, but it is forever tainted by the fact that however much he might care, or not care about Touya, any familial love he has for his son is tainted by the fact that to Endeavor, he is a failed experiment, a failed heir, not his child.

He is the golden child that Endeavor was building up as his true and only heir, who he breed, trained, and molded to for that single purpose, and now that he’s reached a point where he cant continue that legacy.

so, its time to abandon him, and start over new, despite literarily having just learned how stupid this plan was, and that it can, in fact, go completely wrong, with a quirk that will fuck over the person he brings into the world.

Of course, Endeavor doesnt use those words to frame it. there is no way to pretend to be a hero, if you phrase it like that after all. Intead, this is the words he uses.

this is a very important series of panels for a great number of reasons, some that can be debated, argued, and we will probably never know the full truth to the questions because this is a series published in 2020′s shonen jump, and there are things that probably wasnt gonna fly with Hori’s editors, if it was the case.

but lets start with what can not be debated. Endeavor’s words here.

“If we want him to give it up, then we have no choice... Touya... Cant surpass him.”

These are very telling words, and however you believe The third and fourth children of the Todoroki family was concieved, there is not denying the meaning of what he’s saying here.

The only way that my son will stop being an idiot and fall into line, is if we have another baby. that is the only Right way to move forward. it is morally right, because if we dont do this, then he’s going to destroy himself.

there are two ways to interpret this scene.

The charitable way is to read it as the fact that he used Rei’s oldest son’s mental state as a justification of guilting his wife to have a third child, to give this attempt at a superpowered breeding project another shot, despite the fact that they now know that this can lead to a child who is essentially born crippled from his own powers, and despite the fact that Rei obviously understands the effect of them continuing this insanity will have on their oldest son.

the uncharitable way to look at it, is that he used this as justification for flat out raping her, and forcing a third, and then later a fourth child on her.

I personally believe the last one, given a number of factors shown in this chapter(the way this page is framed, the fact Rei obviously didnt want a third child, given she predicted exactly how touya would react, the way her eyes would latet turn when she looks at who is presumably touya which really brings to mind how she would later react to her youngest son’s face after her mental breakdown, etc.), but i’ll frankly admitt that withouth a direct quote from Hori, its impossible to know for sure one way or another.

either way however, this is a very good example of Endeavor both being influenced by, and using Sunk Cost Fallacy to justify bringing another potentially crippled child into the world for his own, selfish goals.

sunk cost Fallacy, is a mental reaction to when you invest more time and resources into a project, that you becomes so emotionally invested into said project that you will continue to invest into it, even if it reaches a point that it becomes clear that the resources you put into it, far, far outweighs the potential gains you can achieve.

because if you give up after having invested years, and years of effort to breed, raise, and train a kid, and then all that effort was absolutely wasted. hence he choose to keep going, despite having learned what a terrible idea this is.

He doesnt care about the fact that his next child might be even more crippled than his firstborn, he doesnt care about his son’s actual wellbeing. he cares about the fact that if he doesnt continue this insanity, then not only will he not achieve his dreams, but everything he did to get to this point was for absolutely nothing.

and endeavor cannot accept that. and so long as he can justify breeding more children into the world, and there being any chance they might inherit both quirks perfectly, he doesnt care about anything else.

and the moment he realised that this kid wasnt gonna cut it either, he did it again. it is not a coincidence, that the age gap between Endeavor’s second, third, and fourth children were all 3-4 years apart. because thats the age where you can usually tell when a quirk will manifest or not, as established earlier in the series.

While she isnt brought up directly by Endeavor as a justification, it is very telling that Endeavor decided on having a third child, only after his second child was old enough that he could tell that that there was no chance she could take the place as his heir instead.

So, he had his third child, and as time passed and it became obvious that he wasn’t gonna be able to fulfill Endeavor’s goals either, he dumped him, and instead breed a fourth child into existence.

and finally, he struck gold. he did it. he produced Shoto.

everything was finally worth it, and now, everything would be absolutely fine. the cost fallacy had reached its end, and it was now all full sails ahead.

except of course it wasnt.

His oldest son, now in middle school, had been raised from birth to believe he would surpass his father, only to be thrown away, and getting to see his father try to replace him, not once, but twice.

frankly, this scene is probably my favorite in the chapter, because it goes to show Endeavor’s mindset. Natsuo made a point that their father completely ignored his older children. and he did... from Natsuo’s perspective. however, having a more thourough picture of things, we can clearly see that this wasnt the case with Touya.

Endeavor genuinly cared for Touya, enough that once he got that child he tried to breed into existence 4 times, he genuinly wanted him to just abandon trying to be a hero. he genuinly thinks of himself as a good dad here, wanting his son to abandon the mission he set out for him before he was born. of course, with context, this heartwarming scene is incredibly sad and insidious, because we understand why Endeavor got so attached to his oldest child. because he WAS the golden child. he was the child Endeavor genuinly cared about, and invested in, and trained personally with great warmth and enthusiasm.

And not only did he abandon him as a failed project the moment he realized he wasnt gonna live up to his ridiculous standards, but he literarily created 2 more kids to try and replace him, just as his oldest son was old enough to understand what exactly his dad was doing. over the course of this chapter, we get to see Touya’s start as a 5-8 year old, his deteriorating mental state over the years, until he finally seemed to reach the breaking point with Shoto’s birth sometime in his middle school years 12-15.

Endeavor is in this scene, just not capable of understanding why Touya so desperately wants to become a hero, when obviously he isnt physically able to do so. he isnt able to understand that he is 100% to blame for the fact that his son is having a full emotional breakdown after literaly being replaced by his siblings.

In other words, Endeavor genuinly think’s he’s a good person. a person who has made a few mistakes along the way sure, but a person who was always justified in the end, and now that he’s having to face the fact that as dabi would later say “The past never dies” and has to face the aftermath of his inane attempt to play god for the pettiest of reasons, things simply arent going to work out.

He isnt going to have a happy family, who can now put the awful early years behind them, he put way too much effort, caused too much suffering and sacrificed too many years of his life for this not to work out as he wants.

after all, if he walks away from this project now, and lets Shoto have a normal childhood, and decide for himself, with no pressure from him, wheter or not to become a hero, then the sunk cost fallacy will have reached a negative end. it will all have been for nothing.

and we know he did eventually double down on this mentality, literarily beating into Shoto that he WAS going to become a hero, and there was not but’s or no’s about it.

there was no way that Endeavor was EVER going to let things be for nothing. His treatment of his older children could not be for nothing. His treatment of his wife could not be for nothing. His treatment of Shoto, and the way he beat him black and blue to train him, could not be for nothing.

Because if it all was for nothing, if everything he feels guilty about was for absolutely nothing, then he was in fact, a bad, bad person, who had no justification for anything he ever did.

#my hero academia #touya todoroki #dabi #endeavor #endeavour #enji todoroki #rei todoroki #character study #301 #meta

1K notes · View notes

oneoftheprettynerds · 3 years

Text

Fixed: Dark!Steve x Reader (Mob AU)

Chapter 4 in the Lipstick and Crayons Series.

Chapter 3: Love So Soft

Main Masterlist

A/N: It’s shorter than my usual updates but I’m busy so sorry for the delay. My final exam dates have come and all I can do is pray right now lol. Please pray for me if you can, this sis is out here writing fanfics for yall instead of studying so, haha. ANyways, enjoy babies! Shit happens in this chapter.

Warning: Non-Con, Sickening Threats, Mob Themes, Violence, Death, Manipulation, a mild mental breakdown, Cheap Tricks.

Genres + Characters: Mob AU, Single Parents AU, Steve Rogers x Reader.

Summary: Steve can’t ever repay you for what you did. After meeting you, Steve believes his broken family is the missing piece in the puzzle of your own wrecked one. Indebting the crime lord to you has been the biggest mistake of your life, cause now you can’t get rid of him, no matter what. Loyalty and favours go a long way in the mob.

Word count: 5K

Chapter 4: Fixed

You didn’t sleep that night. Or the next few. Your hands shook every time you got a flashback and even though you were numb to emotions that entire day, tears threatened to spill whenever your mind took to you to that overpriced kitchen again.

Now that he had gone to a dangerous and unnerved assaulter from a Dad trying to take care of his daughter, your mind wouldn’t put anything past him. You knew that in the back of your mind that he was a mobster and your ‘friendship’ was alarming to say the least, but now there was no denying his resources and power and the very obvious threat to your life lingering in the air.

At least before you had the luxury to be oblivious and ignorant, not anymore though. Steve felt even more unhinged and liberal now, even messaging you daily, greeting texts that you obviously ignored. He knew you both were aware that you never handed him your number and he felt no need to hide his pursuit.

You read most of the messages, not bothering with a single reply though. You tried to block him but somehow your phone would still receive messages from his number, even though his contact would always peek back at you from the otherwise empty blacklist.

As if his torment wasn’t ample, another message thread from a different number would forward you alarming images, photos of Grace in her daycare, on a class trip to the park and even her playing in your backyard. You had no doubt that this was another game of his to show you his resources.

You skipped daycare for a few days, your mental health worse than it was after the carnival attack, because now you had a personal tormentor and you cursed yourself for falling into this mess. At times, you believed it wasn’t your fault really, you just helped a kid and this situation spiraled itself but what would pointing fingers now get you? The harsh truth was you were in a calamitous situation now and every step from now on had to be thought out.

So, you let Grace attend her daycare and acted if nothing was amiss or altered, after the few initial breakdown days of course, kept going to your job and earning the bread. You considered your options, you really wanted to go to the cops or a higher fair power but those were few these days, almost non existent in your city. You also vaguely recalled meeting three of the Captains of the PD at Sarah’s birthday, all smiley and doe eyed for Steve. You knew they wouldn’t help, fucking kiss-asses.

Maybe you would have to move somewhere else, perhaps to your hometown, at least till things cooled down or better yet were forgotten? But that trail was very predictable and you didn’t want your parents in this mess.

You also came to know that Steve had inserted himself in the other spheres of your life. You were sure your location was always being sent to him, the knowledge a courtesy of the black car following you while you travelled to home at some late day’s end.

Aiden told you whereabouts were easy to track, when you inquired ambiguously. Another instance was when you went to the bank to deposit cash for your debit card, you came face to face with an enormous amount already there. Somehow, the limit on your credit card was also extended. How, you knew. The clerk told you about an email you must have gotten in regards to it, you dismissed that justification away and told them to not accept the cash. To sum the discussion, they weren’t helpful and had no policy against anonymous donors.

Aiden, your trusted coworker cum pal, sensed the shift in your aura and fidgety form very easily, pestering you with questions and you decided to turn to him, stressed and tired and ready to do something. His questioning eyebrows made you confess vaguely but you refused to tell him the extent of it. Just that his prediction came true and you needed help. Let’s just say, Aiden was a good man.

With time, Steve’s ‘affectionate’ messages became deranged, and you found it harder to act nonchalant in your daily life. You were thankful he didn’t come to visit you, possibly occupied with the rumored war between the mobs. You just prayed for a few more days of ignorance, just enough time to think and do something.

“What do you mean someone collected her?!” You had a hard time controlling your voice, you were about to burst, in tears or with anger, you didn’t know.

“The man was verified in the emergency contacts and we got a letter signed and approved by you to skip the day an hour into the first activity.”

“A man? Emergen-, wait no! What fucking approved letter?”

You had three emergency contacts, your mom in another state, Aiden, and one of the other kid’s mom you had grown close to. Aiden was with you at work all day, so did someone disguise themselves as him? And what was the deal with the letter signed by you? You surely didn’t remember writing and authorizing one.

The boy, Pietro, who had been the receptionist for as long as you could remember, shuffled through the chaotic piles of paper and presented a letter to you, and your blood froze as your eyes skimmed the font.

Your beautiful cursive stared right back at you and you knew that no one would ever be able to distinguish between this penmanship and the one in the pocketbook in your clutch. No one but you. Even though you knew you had not written it, the slightly different ‘f’ and ‘g’ told you everything.

Your signature at the bottom though, was done quite perfectly and that made you even more scared.

“I did-, I didn’t write this! What the-” Your widened eyes met Pietro’s from above the paper but all he offered you was a meek smile. Your hands shook with rage and for the first time in your life, you had the urge to slap someone really bad.

“Maybe your family had an emergency to take he-”

“No, you don’t get it!” You stopped yourself from getting frantic, willing yourself to take deep breaths and think rationally. Today of all days, things had to mess up.

He didn’t know you had no family in this city, that you had a mobster after you or the subtle threats that his hired spy sent to you.

Was going to the police an option? Aiden already told you that the cops were as good as Steve’s men. But this was about your missing kid! You’d never forgive yourself if something happened to her. And you were giving Steve way too much credit, what if he wasn’t behind this all? Come to think of it, what if the other number wasn’t his?

Relax yourself! Thinking of disturbing theories wouldn’t help anyone. You thought you should go to the cops, just in case. No mentioning of Steve, just a woman with a ‘missing child’ report.

‘Missing Child’ left an acrid taste behind and you were too close to a breakdown, but your whole journey of single-parenthood taught you to kick vulnerability aside, well most of the times.

You turned and were about to leave, but Pietro stopped you. “If you are going to the cops Ma’am, they require 8 hours of inactivity or disappearance time for kids under 5.”

Well look who just read your mind.

You huffed and kept the tears at bay, your mind thinking of what to do then? Grace was obviously taken-

“How could you let a toddler leave without informing the parents?” You knew your anger was channeling out at the wrong man but didn’t he all but hand Grace to the stranger?

You beat him answering and inquired, “What did the man look like? Do you have any footage? Anything?” The wrinkles in your forehead and stress creases on your face paired with the eyebags betrayed your age surely. You were sure you had aged more this week than an entire decade, juggling your normal life with the hovering threat.

“You shouldn’t be this worried Ma’am.”

The fucking audacity.

“Your daughter recognized him, she all but ran to him and this other little girl he came with. You should maybe ask your parent-friends around? A blonde family perhaps?”

As all the emotions drained from your face and terror took over, the young lad in front of you looked smug. You wondered as if you imagined the faintest of smirks on his face.

You crumpled the letter in your hands, seething with rage as you stepped in your car. Oh, you were mad, more wrathful than ever. You could take any hits on you, any threat but not on Grace, never on her.

You were stupid, you had already decided you wouldn’t put anything past him but unknowingly, you did put this past him. You thought this man had a shred of decency to not use your kid in this adult war, being a parent himself and all but what a surprise! You were wrong.

You drove to your home, your thoughts a mix of trepidation, anxiety and fury. You were scared of him and his reach and resources but if he put Grace in any type of danger; whether to teach you a lesson or use her as bait or both, there’d be consequences.

Lord knows you killed a man a month ago Grace was threatened.

You had one thing to do before contacting Steve about Grace but you never got to do it because unexpectedly the bastard was in your home. In your home.

The black sports car outside was a huge giveaway but your suspicions were confirmed when you opened the door with your house key. The banter and giggles from inside alarmed yet calmed you; the dread of confrontation and the assurance of Grace’s safety reigned your mind.

As the door opened painfully slow like a horror movie, the sight that met your eyes made you sick with a feeling of failure. It wasn’t gore or blood or grunge, it was Steve bouncing Grace in the air and catching her while Sarah twirled around in the living room.

This man was craftier than you thought, every action of his was calculated, each a refined step. You had been so preoccupied to avoid direct encounters with him in your little family’s life that you didn’t think he had other ways. He was always looming around with Sarah and as Grace began to trust Sarah, she consequently began to trust her blonde guardian too.

As you slammed the door behind you, Steve’s eyes snapped to yours and his smirk made you want to punch him so hard. The smugness on his face while he let Grace down without breaking eye contact told you he had no regret, no remorse. In fact, he was loving every second of this cat and mouse chase between you two.

You were a millimeter close to losing your shit, the only check being the kids in the room. But you were mad and he was going to know it.

“What the hell, Steve? Messing with my kid?” You threw your clutch onto the couch, Steve haughty by the reception of his sent message but still holding back because of the kids. He called Wanda and you didn’t really notice where she came from but you did register Steve asking to take the girls to the park for a ‘private discussion’.

As Grace passed by you, you grabbed her arm lightly, making her look at you with doe eyes resembling yours. You gave her a smile trying to ease her, but you knew she was smart enough to sense the change in the atmosphere.

Apparently, the whining Sarah wasn’t.

You looked back to Steve, your hold still on Grace and continued with a frown and raised eyebrows, “She isn’t going anywhere, not out of my sight and obviously not with you or your goons.”

Wanda had the audacity to look offended and you scoffed at her, eyes staring Steve’s down.

“Honey, I don’t think the kids should hear what I think you have to say right now.” He said nodding to Wanda to take Grace.

“You must be deranged to think I trust Grace near anyone even remotely related to you! Take your people and get out.” You held your hand up to stop Wanda and pointed towards the door with the most menacing glare you could form.

Grace looked incomprehensibly between you two, concern and confusion on her face. That might have been the first time such a tone was used in your household. The grumbling Sarah was close to throwing a tantrum, irritated by the change in the playful air or the lack of attention to her, you didn’t know. She was hanging on Wanda’s forearm, her feet slipping on your printed rug. Wanda was trying to not look hurt still by your previous statement, distracting herself by the blonde kid and you were baffled by her obliviousness to all this.

Steve, the beefy blonde Lucifer, was furious and seething. His white knuckles and ticking jaw were the most obvious giveaways, the fingers just itching to beat the shit out of someone no doubt.

Was he imagining striking you into compliance into his weird playhouse game complex? You wouldn’t be surprised given the extent of his attempt to ‘win’ you over.

The ‘get out’ tone and blatant disrespect was a bruise to his ego for sure, and by you, a middle-class woman nonetheless was a worse injury. Steve was the deadly boss to armored men in the vicinity, the kids’ father figure, according to him, and Wanda’s stern yet kind employer.

People had been killed for less and there you were, standing in all your glory, being the only person alive to reject Steve Rogers and now, the only to raise your voice at him.

You almost scoffed at his impudence to look offended, what did he expect? For you to submit to him after the stunt he pulled? His reach was scary he proved today and that any future with him in your life in any way, was a fearsome possibility to entertain but you’d be damned if you went down without a fight.

“You can’t make me leave; we both know. You don’t have the physical edge nor the mental one. I have no problem drawing out G-U-N-S in front of the kids or to throw the warnings around, although I would prefer not to.”

Your free hand itched to slap him, like how his did minutes ago. It wasn’t a mankind problem about men thinking they were entitled to everything; it was a Steve Rogers’s problem. Of course, with him consent didn’t matter. If he had a ‘housewife, kids and fences’ fixation, he’d make it come true.

“Do you even listen to what I say? Or your own words even? Please, go ahead! Traumatise my kid and also yours in your wooing process! Why are you so obsessed? Leave us alone, you freak! I just ignored few messages!” You had a hard time maintaining your cool, if there was any left. You were sure you were scaring Grace and no matter what happened next, you knew she was already traumatized by this entire ordeal already. You were so sorry, so, so, so sorry to your poor baby caught in this mess.

You knew, no, you hoped, he wouldn’t pull out the gun, his actions at the carnival a proof, you remembered how he hid his gun on finding Sarah. That threat was empty but the next one wasn’t, his words making you freeze in your spot.

“I think you keep on misunderstanding me, sweetheart. I don’t make empty promises,”

Posh word for threats.

“For starters, maybe I should pay my future in-laws a visit in their blue duplex. They might need help with the vast garden they have, it is the season for ‘violets’, isn’t it?”

As you froze with your parents being brought up, he also cooled, albeit differently, smirking once again gaining the upper hand, not that he lost it if you were being honest.

“Isn’t threatening my kid enough for you, Steve?” You hated how your loud voice almost broke, your anger slowly subsiding into helplessness and you hated that. You hated his guts, his entitlement, his claim; everything about him.

“You still don’t see it, do you? Our family of four is the most important thing to me right now and I’m not above doing anything to save it.”

“There is no family of four Steve! I keep explaining and you keep coming back to square one with all this bullshit!” The curse word did tick Steve off but he would correct that later, when bigger things weren’t at ploy.

“Your ignorance makes me a little mad sometimes sweetheart and that is why I have to do all I do. You haven’t realized we need each other yet, but I’m staying until you do and even after that, I promise. You know how much it pissed me off to see your tickets and the packed suitcases after I’ve been nothing but nice? I was so generous to spoil you with my riches but instead I find that in your finances.”

This fucker knew. Of course, he did!

You were wondering in the back of your head what had prompted this visit with so many threats and warnings and anguish. He was pissed even before you ‘acted out’, he tracked the tickets and the plan and that meant he even tracked-

“You have so much to learn, but luckily you interact with quite a few people. I am most tempted to start out with this Aiden guy, trying to be the hero and giving you all the ideas. Maybe I should visit him?” Steve wondered out loud, and you flinched at his suggestion, hating how you were trapped by this man.

You couldn’t live with yourself if anyone got hurt because of you, be it your parents or Aiden or any other possibility Steve would come up with. Of course, Grace was your peak priority but you doubted he would hurt her as he threatened to harm them.

“Steve, please.” The fire was almost out, your hands trembling, Grace worried and Steve smug.

“Let the kids go and I think we can come to a conclusion.”

“Steve this needs to stop.” You said, your breaths heavy and helplessness clawing away at you.

“I won’t repeat myself.” He voiced out with a threatening edge, gesturing to Grace and Wanda, clearly telling you to first get the kids out.

For a deranged fucktard, he sure cared about the kids a lot.

You loosened your hold on Grace, patting her arm softly and nudged her to Wanda. Wanda received her little hand and enticed the kids with the promise of ice-cream. Sarah clapped her hands and as the trio left, Grace did look over her shoulders at you in concern and for permission, majorly in concern though. You nodded and waved, a tear dropping as soon as the door clicked shut.

You were still staring at the door, not wanting to meet Steve’s stormy blue orbs when he began, “Today was a slip up that I won’t tolerate again. Neither the cursing nor the dramatics.”

We aren’t in a fucking play, what the fuck is he labelling as dramatics?

Your eyes slowly flickered to his, and you had a hard time not letting the tears escape except the one traitorous one earlier. The fatigue, the worry of Grace’s disappearance, the threats to your friends and family were all catching up to you. It took all in you to stay strong and not fall down right now.

“Steve this isn’t funny anymore. It’s sick and you know it! I just said no! Was that so inexcusable that you had to follow up with this? You have violated me for that, broken into my home and now kidnapped my daughter! At what extent will you stop?” You broke down finally, arms a flailing mess as fat tears rolled down. Nothing scared more than the helplessness this moment. He won and he knew it. The carnival incident was nothing in comparison to this. The only good thing you could hope in all this was a safe Grace but that too only if you complied, which seemed like what you would do now given your attempts at fighting back and scampering have failed laughably.

“Gosh, I forgot how theatrical women are. You are smart darling; you know what I want from day one, just a happy family. Nothing that horrendous has happened and especially not as badly as put it. I’m just looking out for you and me in the long run.” Steve slowly treaded towards you, his hand extended to pat your arm comfortingly but you involuntarily flinched at contact and stepped back. Steve clearly didn’t like that as he caught your arm in a bruising grip and jerked you towards him. Manhandling you as your wet hands rushed to ease his grip was not a tough task for Steve, a surprise to none.

“Stop trembling like I’ve actually done something to harm you!”

Steve clearly didn’t know how to comfort women and it showed.

You stopped with the cowering away, even though it disgusted you to be this much in close proximity with your assaulter. He clearly had anger issues and no clue how to solve them. You needed to steer the conversation right and get him out. You could see your hands visibly shake as you put them on his chest, just to create some distance and in a way of surrendering to not fight. The tears slowed but you don’t think they stopped; it was hard to tell with a million other things on your mind.

As your eyes made contact, Steve loosened his grip, clearly a bit satisfied by your submission, as he began counting to help you breathe. As much as you hated to admit, it helped you and you got a flashback to the time when you freaked out on him about Grace at that extravagant dinner date. That was a sweet gesture then, not so sweet now. Funny how drastically things change with time.

It wasn’t so much Steve’s help as it was your own mind telling you to be fucking smart about the whole ordeal right now.

“Good. Better. Now let’s talk. Why were you planning to run away? I’ve been busy and coming home to find out that wasn’t joyful, you know.” His smile suggested a better mood than before but his voice, his husky voice always had this daring edge that almost challenged you to defy him but at the same time warned you of unpleasant consequences if you did.

“Steve, I’m scared.” You spoke with utmost honesty. “The part of the world you associate yourself with scares me. You can’t blame me for not wanting that life for Grace, I mean you have a kid of your own. Wasn’t the carnival attack specifically on Sarah?”

The reasoning was right but you knew you triggered him the moment his smile evaporated. He either felt insulted as a parent or disrespected in his profession or probably both.

He was fighting his inner demons already and you pointing it out was a slap to his face, a hit he didn’t want to take.

“That was a slip up, I admit. Never again. I’m only human, okay?” He convinced himself and you, his grip tightening a bit again.

Oh no, not the right direction to take.

You reckoned he still had nightmares about it like you, he really did love Sarah a lot, all things aside.

“Besides, I am looking out for you! Out for you and Grace and Sarah. I remember my promise of never putting either of them in harm’s way ever again.”

You definitely didn’t trust his security or his people because what sort of a mobster let his daughter get targeted and possibly abducted? You definitely didn’t know the whole story or if it was just a bad day but he wasn’t a person that deserved some slack. Despite all this, you knew what all he held above you, above a common man. He might not be ‘Kingpin’ skilled but a threat to you nonetheless.

Before you could stop yourself, you blurted out, “Is that what you call following me around, huh?” which you immediately regretted.

“Trust the process, baby. Everything is just to protect you.”

Is that what he called stalking even Grace around and twistedly enough, sending you proof of that? The anonymous thread of photos was another nightmare of yours, thanks to him. The last being a candid photo inside Grace’s room, her sleeping in her bed this morning and that’s when you decided you needed to get out. Of course, that didn’t go as planned.

“How am I supposed to do that when you have cameras in my house?!” You scoffed and he reeled back at the accusation, having the nerve to look impressed at being uncovered and caught red-handed.

“Oh my fucking God, it was you! You sick pervert!” You jumped out of his grip, your eyes wide and horrified. “I wasn’t aware of what to make of it but of course, it was you! Who else would be sick enough to do that?” You let out a humorless chuckle. You always put things past him even when you keep telling yourself you shouldn’t. When will you ever learn huh?

You were full on panicking yet again, this man was an assaulter, a stalker and a creep too. It would have made a good dark, psychological thriller for you to watch if you weren’t the protagonist about to suffer his obsession.

He reached out to steady you again, but you whipped and stumbled back, realizing too late that you elbowed Steve’s nose so bad that there was a crunch. That, right there, was the look a man real-fucking-furious on Steve’s face and now you could see the feared mobster, the man who was personally terrorizing you under the beautiful, Greek God façade.

Steve reacted so fast even with an injury that in a split second, your view of his face turned into a view of his crotch.

“You do realize that there are others ways for me to teach you obedience? I think it’s fucking time you show me your gratitude for my care and attention and apologize for your misconduct and unkind response.” Steve spoke with a hoarse voice, a voice running out of patience and just about done with defiance.

His hand fisted your hair, maintaining eye contact while he nodded between you and his crotch. You knew what he wanted, what he was expecting as ‘thanks’.

“Steve, please no, you don’t-”

His other hand grabbed your jaw, stopping you from speaking as he warned, “I think you have done just enough talking for today, so why don’t you put that tongue to a better use and show me how sorry you are. Better make it convincing because I’d hate to pay one of your friends a visit and then bitch about a nasty blowjob.” He smirked at the end of his monologue, eyes shining with triumph and amusement.

You wouldn’t let him harm anyone else, you couldn’t. You and your daughter were already knee-deep in a pit and at this point, it’d just be cruel to drag someone else in. With shaky hands opening his pants, you just hoped you could get Grace out before you eventually were buried in it.

“Now that’s a good girl. Submissive is a sexy look on you.” His hands patted your hair, playing with your tresses while yours pulled his pants and then briefs down.

His member jerked out, almost slapping you in the face as you recoiled at his insolence to get hard and erect at your torment. Your disdain must have shown which he took as admiration and derision to take his affluent cock in.

“No need to get shy, I have faith you’ll be able take it just as well in your pretty pussy as you will right now. Open up-”

“Steve, I beg you-”

Just as you had cut him off, he interrupted your pleading. Your gag reflex was probably the most efficient in the world but that turned this narcissist on. It had been years since you had done it, never with a man as beefy as Steve.

His taste was salty and if you had to put it into better words, it was the like overpriced sea salt flakes that you never bought. High and pricey and for the entitled.

Your hands clutched at his thighs as you blacked out multiple times; your jaw aching, uvula swaying and tears escaping. Him forcing himself on you brough a new sense of vulnerability as your body trembled. Steve relished like a sadist, practically rutting into you all by himself as you just sat there with your jaw unnaturally open.

His obscene moans and groans were crass and nauseating and you just prayed for this to be over soon and for no one to walk in on this, especially your kid.

It seemed like it would never end, your body dehydrating with all the spit it produced, the drool dribbling and landing just beside your knees on your printed rug. You would have to throw that out.

The tears stooped after some point, the sobbing an unnecessary action that just tired you out more on this eventful day. You moved your tongue around to prevent your teeth from scratching him when he shifted angles. If this was what he did on slightly mad, you didn’t want to find what he did for a more serious punishment.

Apparently, that action was something that turned him on even more, his breath hitching as neared closure. In broken whispers he demanded that again and you complied, wanting to get done with it.

He growled in the moment of his release and you tried to lean back but his grip didn’t relent. “Swallow.” His grainy, exasperated voice said out loud and you knew better than to defy.

He released you and you fell on to the rug, hip bruising by knocking into some furniture and tears coming back again after being hydrated by his seed. He packed himself, his smile smug and content as his expressions truly resembled ecstasy being personified.

“You be a good fiancée from now on and maybe you’ll have all your friends alive and present at our wedding. No cheeky business from now on, got it?” Steve hummed then and strutted out, not even bothering to listen to your reply.

As soon as the door slammed, your eyes closed and your demons danced again.

There was no right direction to take when you were stuck in a loop.

635 notes · View notes

greengrayeyeswrites · 3 years

Text

shit-faced in love (chapter six)

Title: shit-faced in love

Pairing: Corpse Husband x OC (fem!youtuber!reader)

Word Count: 1,066

Warnings: Mental Health/Mental Illnesses are a big topic in this story. Mentions of depression, bpd and other mental illnesses. Angst, Fluff.

Note: This may be a Corpse x OC story but feel free to insert yourself into the main girls role. If Corpse ever announces that he doesn’t like fanfics about him, I’ll delete this.

Prologue — Chapter 1 — Chapter 2 — Chapter 3 — Chapter 4 — Chapter 5 — Chapter 6 — Chapter 7

— — —

It took Imogen two days to reach Greenville, North Carolina. After multiple mental breakdowns while getting lost, she finally reached her destination; the driveway of a pretty normal looking house. Turning the engine off, she grabbed her phone and scrolled through her contacts.

Not even a second later, the young male stepped out of the door and toward the grass green Wrangler. Imogen jumped out of the drivers seat and practically flew into Karl’s arms.

Imogen and Karl got to know each other through Corpse, who invited both of them to a match of Among Us a few months prior and the two of them soon clicked.

Imogen was amazed by Karl’s positivity—something she didn’t really possessed. She liked how energetic Karl was and loved him in the MrBeast videos.

When they started to befriend each other, it took Karl a bit of time to get along with Imogen. He was a bit overwhelmed about how open she was with her mental health—especially her illness. But once the first awkwardness dissolved the two of them started to become inseparable.

Karl laughed into Imogen’s hair, while the older female hugged him. „God, I almost lost hope“, Imogen started. „I got lost at least three times!“ Imogen chuckled and slowly let go of Karl.

The younger male laughed and watched Imogen free Buddy from the car. The husky immediately went to Karl and started sniffing his legs. Karl bend down and held his hand towards the emotional support pet.

Buddy tilted his head before sniffing the boys hand. Sneezing once he bumped his head against Karl’s palm. Imogen chuckled. „That means he approves of you“, the 28-year-old explained, while taking out her baggage from the trunk.

Karl ruffled Buddy’s fur and went over to help Imogen. „I already cleaned the guest room for you. You can use the streaming equipment to your liking!“ He smiled and Imogen grinned.

Her heart felt safe being around Karl—even though she just met him in person. „Thanks for letting me crash over at your house“, she started and Karl laughed carrying one of Imogen’s suitcases into his house.

„You’re welcome!“, he quickly announced and Imogen bit her lip. „I could’ve rented an AirBnB“, she exclaimed but Karl shook his head. „You’re my friend so you get to stay in my house.“

Karl led Imogen up the stairs to the guest bedroom. Buddy followed the adults upstairs. „Especially since we’re starting to work together from tomorrow on“, Karl continued and Imogen nodded.

„What exactly are we doing for the video?“ Imogen asked, when Karl opened the door to the guest room and the YouTuber was presented with a clean and wide bedroom.

Next to the window was a huge streaming set up with a computer, two monitors, a microphone and a tripod for a camera. Next to the computer stood a Play Station 5 and opposite of the desk was a huge bed.

„I hope this is okay“, Karl said, when Imogen turned quiet. „This is more than enough, Karl. I really appreciate it!“ Imogen grinned at Karl and whistled for Buddy, who entered the room and started sniffing around until he laid down on a sunny spot in front of the window and closed his eyes.

„The drive drained him“, Imogen spoke and walked over to her dog, patting him. „Imma leave him here for a while.“ The older woman put her suitcases next to the bed and followed Karl out of the guest room.

Karl showed her around the house and introduced her to his roommates, where Imogen turned shy again. Karl chuckled at her behavior.

The two of them decided to cook together for dinner and Imogen told Karl everything about her best friend Baylee. „God, it was healing staying with her. But life has to go on, right?“, she asked while watching Karl checked the chicken in the oven.

„But you can always come back and visit her. You know that, Mo?“ - „I do… but god! I have to send her a selfie of us! She has a massive crush on you!“ Imogen laughed and went to get her phone.

„She has a crush on me?“, he asked, slightly blushing. Imogen chuckled. „Don’t act like your fans don’t crush on you. I mean look at you, Karl!“ Imogen pointed at Karl. „Baylee loves your style! Sometime she goes thrifting and finds things similar to your wardrobe!“

„Why send her a selfie when you can FaceTime her? I wanna see the girl that has a crush on me!“ Karl laughed and Imogen rolled her eyes. She quickly texted Baylee, asking if it’s okay to FaceTime her. Baylee send an ‚Okay‘ emoji and Imogen dialed her number.

Once the face of her best friend appeared on the screen, Imogen’s heart did a little spin. „Hey Bay!“, she greeted her friend, who immediately asked how the drive has been. „Man… sounds stressful. Especially the getting lost part!“ Baylee was rolling her eyes, when Karl appeared behind Imogen.

The face Baylee made, when she saw the streamer, was priceless. She froze and Imogen thought the connection broke when Baylee started stuttering.

„H-Hi Karl Jacobs“, she spoke and Imogen laughed. „Hi Imogen’s Best Friend“, Karl greeted Baylee who started having a full blown fangirl attack.

„You didn’t lie when you said she has a crush on me“, Karl laughed when they had dinner. Imogen chuckled. „I may be mentally ill but I don’t lie!“ She stuck out her tongue and looked at Karl. „Hey Karl… I have a question?“

Buddy was lying by Imogen’s feet, watching the two of them eating their chicken. „Would you like to help me shoot some TikTok’s?“ Karl immediately noticed Imogen’s sinister smile and coughed. „We’re not speaking of thirst traps, right?“ He asked and Imogen grinned wide.

„I mean I promised my viewers that I’ll go pole dancing when I reach 2 mil and when we’re already planning to hoe on a pole, why not make some thirst traps!“ Imogen’s cheeks were tomato red and Karl gulped.

„Are you sure?“ - „Yeah… I always wanted to do a few traps… show my fans I am more than just a depressed mentally ill chick.“

„You want to show them you’re a hot depressed girl?“ Karl asked and Imogen grinned. „Yes… that’s the plan. And you my pretty friend, have the honor to help me!“

to be continued…

Taglist: @wineandionysus @chanbaeol @rexit-mo

#corpse husband #corpse husband fandom #corpse fandom #corpse fanfiction #corpse husband imagine #corpse #fanfiction #imagine #corpse x reader #corpse x yn #corpse x you #corpse x oc #corpse husband x reader #corpse husband x you #corpse husband x yn #corpse husband x oc

95 notes · View notes

pynkhues · 2 years

Note

So I was thinking about Connor last night (which I hardly ever do; I am not immune to forgetting he exists, much like his family) and about him being this weird gangly teenager with little baby and toddler sibs. I won't go through the whole thought process but I merged that with thinking about how my friend's nine month old can stand now, and for some reason imagined teen Connor starting one of those doorway height marks for the sibs. (1 of... a number)

Like, serious baby Shiv clinging to Connor's fingers while he measures her height against the inside of his wardrobe door, under her brothers'. Kendall is allows to use the pen to draw the little line (a task he takes very seriously) while Roman loudly demands they play trucks soon. Then from that scene I thought about Connor's mum doing this for him - measuring her growing boy against the doorframe and saying how big he was getting. (2/?)

Connor has just turned four and is going to be a big brother soon - his mother will have to go to the hospital for a bit but then she'll come home with the new baby and Connor is so excited. When she marks his height and name and age on the wall she's enormous; the housekeeping staff have already set up the new nursery and Connor put his own favourite teddy in the bassinette for his new brother or sister. (3/?)

When Mrs Roy goes to the hospital in the night the whole household is excited... until they're not. When Connor's mum comes home she doesn't bring the baby, but she does stay in her room for days and days. Dad is in his office a lot and doesn't want to be disturbed. Connor creeps into his mother's room one afternoon and stands on his tip-toes to look at her in bed, lying in her side and staring straight at the wall. (4/?)

Aaaanyway, that's all the say I spent some time today trying to put a timeline on Connor's whole thing*Logan married Connor's mother in his early 20s, presumably*Connor born when Logan is 25 (Alan Ruck's said that's about the age difference and it makes sense for the time period)*Logan takes over WayStar from Noah (who I guess dies) when he's 30; Connor is five (5/?)

~~Missing time where Many Bad Things Probably Happened (but also they started RECNY??)~~*Logan is 40 when Kendall is born; Connor is 15I'd have assumed that the three years where Connor didn't see his dad would have been during that unaccounted for decade, but he seems to say that the sibs were around? Theories? Thoughts? I just need to share this is someone is all or I'll become somehow more unhinged about it. End if asks. Promise!

😭😭😭 Oh man, that headcanon about Connor measuring the golden trio against a doorframe is g u t t i n g me, I love it so much, especially with that added layer of it being this thing that his mother did for him before the unthinkable happened. It really does feel like Logan and Connor's mother's relationship was marked by tragedy, and it makes sense for the era too, given it'd be the mid-1960s, and still-birth in general was about double the rate of what it is now.

Having the loss of a child be potentially the trigger point of not just her own mental health issues, but the breakdown of her marriage and a sort of precursor to Connor adopting such a complicated, brotherly-fatherly role with the golden trio's such an interesting theory, and one that lowkey wrecks me, haha.

Timeline-wise, I agree! – I think Logan must've married Connor's mother in his early twenties, had Connor when he was 25, and was working inside Royco until Noah died when he was 30, and inherited it.

It does seem to me like Logan and Connor's mother were together for a while afterwards – like you said, they got to a point where they were able to set up RECNY, but even beyond that, Logan and Connor have such a weighted conversation in 1.04 about the galas and events they used to attend when they were the family. Connor's mother seemed to be invested in that waspy lifestyle, and Logan used to pull him close and tell him who was who.

I've only just started making up a timeline for the show from every reference dropped, but I actually think Logan and Connor's mother were probably together for a significant amount of time. Enough time for Royco to grow, for Logan to gain social influence, and for Connor to be old enough to not only accompany his parents to these sorts of events, but hear the details in a way that implies Logan did, at one point, see Connor as someone who needed to know them.

My opinion on this might change after my timeline re-watch, but I'm inclined to think as a result that Logan and Connor's mum were together until Connor was about ten or eleven, which is likely when her mental health deteriorated and Logan jumped-ship. I think we've seen just how quickly Logan gets swept up in women now too between Rhea and Kerry, and I think maybe there were a few women in the middle there, but once Logan latched onto Caroline, things moved pretty quickly.

That feels right to me at this stage too if Connor was maybe shipped off to boarding school in the mid-to-late seventies between 11 and 14 while his mother was institutionalised and Logan dealt with a rapidly expanding empire and a courtship, and once he'd decided he was marrying Caroline, pulled Connor out and took him with him to establish their new family.

Again, I could be wrong about Connor being taken to England, but I really do think between him being so knowledgable about Caroline's estates at the end of s1 and being invited to her wedding in s3, plus Logan's possessiveness, that it does make sense.

The alternative though would be that Logan wanted to keep him in boarding school in the US while he swanned off with Caroline, but I don't know - - that doesn't seem to be Logan's style really, at least not to me. The kids all seem to be very familiar with Logan's exes post-Caroline (Sally-Anne! I'm still desperate to know more about her, haha), and given we now know Shiv was either 10 or 13 when Caroline and Logan divorced (depending on who you believe), which says - - well, the golden trio were pretty young when Logan started introducing them to new partners.

In many ways, I think there's a chance Logan could've been more possessive of Connor initially, not less. After all, Logan tends to violently latch onto family, and depending on when Rose died and when Logan fell out with Ewan - - for a while there, Connor was probably all that he had too. What that means for Logan's abandonment of him, honestly, I think I'd read it less as a deliberate abandonment on Logan's part, perhaps, and more a holding pattern for him. If the business was expanding rapidly and things with Connor's mother were messy and Logan was scratching his way up social echelons and trying to lockdown Caroline, I can easily see Logan justifying it to himself as securing something for Connor's future, just like that was how he justified the sale of Waystar Royco to GoJo to the golden trio in 3.09 ("Our blood's in the water...and I need to get myself and you as well, assurances for the future.")

Does that mean Logan didn't abandon Connor? Of course not! But I feel in my bones that Logan would never have thought, nor think of it that way. He justifies every choice he makes as being for them after all, even when it rarely is, and given he keeps Connor basically as close as he keeps all of them when they're outside the family business (closer, you could argue in some ways), I don't really think he'd be any different.

I don't know though! Does anyone else have any theories?

#the idea of gangly teenage connor measuring a toddling golden trio against the door frame unDOES meeeee #i have a dumb headcanon that baby kendall was afraid of the water but logan pushed him into learning how to swim #and the only reason he actually did was because one summer when he was back from college connor taught him #i have too many big brother connor feelings okay #connor roy #logan roy #connor + logan #succ spec #hbo succession

27 notes · View notes

dioko · 3 years

Text

NOT JUST ANYONE.

izuku midoriya x gn! reader

Word Count -> ~ 1810

Genre -> oneshot, fluff

Content -> mildly suggestive (spice rating is 1.5/5), drunk reader, swearing, college au! characters, older reader and younger deku | please lemme know if i missed anything!

Summary -> You really did believe a certain Izuku Midoriya had his nose buried in his textbooks 24/7. Your first impression of him had led you to pin him as a downright nerd - boring and young and nowhere near your type.

a/n -> 1. idk about the cover page i jus thought deku looked cool there and the oneshot title is eh 2. this was in my drafts for a long, LONG time and today i finally got it to the point where i didn't hate it. enjoyy <333

Once, you really did believe a certain Izuku Midoriya had his nose buried in his textbooks 24/7. Your first impression of him had led you to pin him down as a nerd - boring, and young and nowhere near your type.

Boy, were you wrong.

The first time you’d met him, he’d smiled at you with such bright, green eyes, it was almost impossible not to smile back.

“Hello, l/n y/n, s’nice to finally meet you! I’m Midoriya Izuku!” He'd very obviously sunken his voice an octave lower, and whether that was on purpose or not, it was still cute. Still innocent, still pure.

Not attractive, whatsoever.

“Yeah,” you'd turned your attention back to your work,“it’s nice to meet you too.”

After that, your ever-so-impatient brother had rushed him into his room, and Midoriya had obliged - not before shooting you one last glance. In hindsight, there might’ve been something just a teeny bit darker that had resided in Midoriya's lively eyes.

Then, weeks passed.

Was it just you, or did college students grow really, really fast?

As he left your brother's work room for the millionth time that month, you found yourself noticing how different he looked compared to when you’d first met him. Now, when Izuku waved a (large, my god) hand at you, he looked taller, broader… older.

“See you," he chirped to his friend, bringing you back to the reality where he was most definitely not older than you.

Wake up, you're practically a senior citizen, you’d chided yourself, there’s no way he’s mature enough for you. Then, another side of you, presumably the devil that sat on your shoulder, tried to argue. You’re not much older, it said, he’s practically the same age as you.

“Oh wait- there was something I had to ask you, l/n-”

“S’fine, you can call me y/n, ‘Zuku.” you didn’t intend to call him something so intimate, the words just.... absent-mindedly slipped out your mouth.

Oopsies daisies!

“Oh! I - I can? Um… ah,” you watched, mildly entertained by the way he tripped up his words, all from a nickname, “we’re all going out tonight, and I was wondering if you wanted to come-”

“Who’s we?”

“Er- me, and… and your brother! And a few others!”

“Oh?” You couldn’t let yourself smile, not yet.

“It’ll be fun!” He sputtered, “a lot of um, a lot of… um, drinking?” It sounded more like a question than a persuasive statement.

You blinked. “Yeah sure, that sound’s good. I didn’t take you for someone who drank.”

“I don’t?”

“Then why are you going?”

“I thought it would be a good way to spend time with y- my friends.”

“Ah, your friends.”

“Yup,” he squeaked.

“Okay then!” You smacked him playfully on his arm - his large, extremely toned, t-shirt-stretching arm - and jolted him out of his fear, “I’ll see you then, ‘Zuku!”

Izuku Midoriya had a surprising number of friends.

He had, in a gentlemanly fashion, offered to walk with you to the bar (though your brother was there too) and when you stepped in, you were taken aback by the several people at your table.

Your guts told you to sit beside the angry one - he looked… fun.

“Who the fuck is this?” The blond talked like you weren’t there.

“Kacchan,” another blond - with a black streak in his hair - chided, “be nice to the pretty birdie!” Was he drunk already?

“Yeah, Kacchan,” you smirked, “respect your elders.”

The first blond just about exploded on the spot.

“Watch your mouth,” he seethed at you.

“Hot,” you muttered, unaware of evergreen eyes that couldn’t seem to peel themselves off your lips; your soft, pink, kissable lips.

“What the fuck?” Kacchan flinched back.

“Sorry,” you grinned, “I meant ‘little snot’.”

“Yeah? I’ll show you little sn-”

Four flirtatious advances from three of Izuku’s friends, two hours and 1 mental breakdown later, you were finally ready to go home - everyone was, really - but where was your brother?”

“Deku,” he’d hissed at the greenette, “I’m not going back to the apartment today, can you take-” he gestured towards you, slumped over a pile of food, “- that thing back to the apartment?”

Izuku opened his mouth, about to ask why he couldn’t but immediately shut up again when he realized it was more time he had to spend with you. “Yeah, no problem.”

“Don’t try anything.”

“Wasn’t gonna!” Awkwardly, Izuku scooched his way past Sero and Uraraka, trying to find a place to put his hands so he could lift you off the table. Luckily, he didn’t have to.

“Ah, ‘Zuku!” You gave him a cheeky grin, “you’re friends are so…” you watched Bakugou, “... cute. Have a drink!” It was almost laughable how quickly you changed from topic to topic. Almost. The only non-laughable part was that Bakugou seemed to be a recurring theme.

Izuku pursed his lips, “no, you’re drunk. One of us has to be clear-minded enough to take you home.”

“You’re so smart! Good boy,” you ruffled his hair with a sticky hand, and your rapid strokes fell to a halt when you realized how soft his green hair was. “Wow,” you whispered, “I love your hair. Lemme smell it-”

“NO, no. We’re going home.”

“We?” A smirk played on your lips.

“I didn’t mean it like that,” you frowned when he didn’t stutter - he didn’t even go red. Izuku’s entire demeanor had changed; there was no nervous little college guy right now trying to talk to you, there was a friend (haha) genuinely trying to get you home safely. “Now c’mon, can you walk?”

You stood up and skipped a few steps. “Yup.”

“So, Izuku,” you didn’t bother to hide the fact that you were (very greedily) squeezing his biceps, “gotta girlfriend?”

“N-no.”

“... a boyfriend?”

“Nope,” he popped the ‘p’, and pulled you onto the wall-side of the sidewalk when a car drove by.

“Any significant other...ss?” You added the plural, just in case.

“No,” he smiled slyly at you, “why? Are you interested?”

You’d known him for months, but this was the first time he’d said something so forward, enough to make your cheeks flare so hot they felt cold.

“No way,” you spoke like it was obvious, and then quickly checked to make sure he didn’t look hurt. “Hey! Why do you look so amused?”

“M’not,” he turned his head, so you couldn’t see the smile.

“You are. Why?”

“Ah, I can’t say. We’re here,” he punched in the apartment code. “You should get ready for bed.”

There was a small, comfortable pause before drunk-you decided to ignore his advice and speak again. “So, do ya like anyone?”

“I like a lot of people,” Izuku smirked.

Smirked.

“N-no,” you played with the hem of your sweater, “I meant, do you like-like anyone?”

“Hm,” he thought for a second, “that’s a secret.”

“C’mon ‘Zuku! You can trust me!”

“I know that - gimme your coat,” he set it onto a nearby couch and began to flick on random lights, “I still can’t say it, though.”

“Why not?”

“Y/n,” you froze. He’d called you by your first name before, why did it feel so weird now?

“Yes?”

“I’m taking you to your bedroom.”

“You… you are?”

“You’ve got to sleep.”

Oh. Boringggg.

“I don’t wanna,” you hissed, flopping onto your bed anyways. He took a seat at the foot of it.

“Do you… do you ever remember anything once you're sober again?”

“Nope!” You knew you should’ve lied, but you didn’t, “m’friends say I don’t remember a single thing the next morning.”

He chuckled a little bit, almost in disbelief at you. “That’s not something you can just tell anyone.”

“I know, but you’re not just ‘anyone’.”

“I feel like I’m talking to a child.”

“I’m older than you.”

“Yeah,” he laughed, “it’s kinda hot.”

“What?” Did you mishear? “How do you know what hot means?”

“Y/n! I’m not that young!” He laughed, “sheesh, that hurts.”

“Hurts?”

“Yeah,” he smiled coolly. After all, you weren’t going to remember this conversation.

“”Why does it hurt?”

“... No reason, don’t worry,” he laughs again, for the third time in a row, but it feels dry to you, and empty, too.

“So who do you like?” You chirped again, completely disregarding his ‘I’m pretty sure I just got brother-zoned’ ideology.

“I told you, that’s a secret…” then, he bit his lip, “... but you won’t remember anyways, right?”

“Yep!”

“Then... I like you.”

“Who?” You smiled.

“You.”

“Oh, I like you, too.”

“I like-like you.”

“I like-like you, too.”

“You’re drunk,” he smiled sadly, “sleep.”

“I want fruit.”

“Now? You want me to go get you fruit?”

“Please?”

You inhaled the bucket of raspberries, “anyways, I really do like you. You’re so small and cute.”

“I’m small?”

“No, you’re built like a tank,” you giggled. Sober-you would have called drunk-you an airhead, “I think you’re sexy as hell.”

“Yeah?”

You leaned closer to him. You were sure he could smell alcohol and sugar on your breath, but you didn’t care. “Yeah.”

“Then can I tell you something else?”

“Sure!”

“Kacchan annoys me so much,” he wiped off the juice that dribbled down your chin with his thumb, and you made the mistake of leaning into his touch, “especially when he flirts with you.”

“When’s he ever flirted with me?”

“Tonight,” Izuku pulled back, and you (embarrassingly) fell forward. “I didn’t like it.”

“Were you jealous?”

“Yes,” he admitted, and quite shamelessly - but only because you weren’t sober.

“Aw, don’t be jealous,” you cooed at him, and then randomly, “you remind me of bunnies!”

“That’s cute,” his voice was hoarse, “then, can you promise me something, bunny?”

You flushed hot. “That - that’s not what I meant, I meant you’re my bunny.”

“Sure,” he nodded along.

You shuffled yourself a little closer to him. This wasn’t the Midoriya Izuku you’d come to know, who was he? Why was he so different from the twitchy student who cared so much about his grades?

“What did you want me to promise?” It was a good idea to change the topic, you thought, for his sake, not your own. Definitely.

“Promise me you won’t let Kacchan get so close to you anymore,” he played with your fingers, “you can do that, right? You... can be a good bunny for me?”

“Mhm,” you couldn't refuse when he put it like that.

“Go to bed now, it’s late.”

“On one condition.”

“And what’s that?”

“Kiss me.”

Izuku paused. His eyes were on your lips, that was for sure, but he showed no sign of moving closer. “M’not gonna do that when you're drunk.”

You frowned.

“I’ll sit with you ‘till you're asleep. I’m not… touching you, though.”

“Manly,” you murmured.

“Human decency,” he corrected.

The greenette pulled your covers above your waist and moved to the desk chair in your room, “good night, y/n.”

It was a shame this would all be forgotten, and the two of you would be back to square one by morning.

a/n -> yes the nickname has everything to do with my URL and so what

165 notes · View notes

unholyobsessions · 4 years

Text

Story of Another Us

Pairing: Luke Patterson x fem!Reader

Description: After Julie finds a song Luke wrote about you, he reminisces on his moments with you

A/N: The song Luke wrote is Story of Another Us by 5 Seconds of Summer i highly recommend listening to it

Warnings: Cussing

Word count: 1.7k

Part 2

Julie is a curious person by nature, nobody can deny that. So when Luke gave her his journal and told her to look at all the dog eared songs, she couldn’t stop herself from reading them all. When she got to the last song in the journal she hesitated. It was not dog eared and looked to be the newest written. Most words were crossed out and corrections were written between the margins, she turned the page to find the final version of the song, written coherently. She raised her brows at the wet spots that stained some of the words. She read through it, her own eyes tearing up and threatening to smudge the beautiful lyrics composed by her lead guitarist.

The faint pop Julie has grown to recognize startles her. She meets Luke’s eyes and tries to flip the notebook back to another page but he catches sight of it before she can.

He stays quiet for a second and Julie bites her lip in anticipation.

“What is it that you always say Jules? Boundaries?” The look in his eyes is a mixture of anger, betrayal, and pure sadness, and it breaks Julie’s heart.

“I’m sorry,” she whispers. She doesn’t know what else to say and ultimately decides to risk asking the question that is on the forefront of her mind. “Luke, who is the song about?”

He sighs and takes a sit next to her on the bed, there’s no point in lying to her. “My girlfriend.”

“Girlfriend?” Julie asks, both confused and surprised.

“Yeah ex-girlfriend I guess. We uh dated back in the 90s,” a sad smile on his face as he spoke. “She was there the night of the concert but she hated hotdogs so she stayed back with Bobby at the Orpheum. I didn’t want to think about her when we first came back but last week I looked her up and I went to see her. She has a family, married, children everything that we talked about having together.” Tears were falling down his face and Julie wanted nothing more than to be able to hug him.

“I-“ she started but what was she supposed to say? Luke shook his head, not finished talking.

“Her youngest son, his name is-“ he pressed a fist against his mouth, biting back a sob. “She named him Luke.” It’s something that took him by surprise when he heard her call his name. For a second he thought she meant him, but then he saw the cute nine-year-old dashing into the room, smiling brightly at his mother.

“Oh.”

“And I am so happy for her but I just, I guess I finally realized just how much I lost that night.” He finally turned his head and made eye contact with Julie.

“Tell me about her,” she said. Luke’s eyes widened, not expecting that to be her response. He regained his composure and nodded his head, thinking back to the moments you shared together.

. . .

You’re sitting on the couch, waiting for the boys to get back to the studio after playing at the pier for change. You actually had school and therefore could not go and watch them but you have the rest of the day off and decided to spend it with your favorite people.

The loud, excited voice of your boyfriend breaks you from your thoughts. He pushes the door of the garage turned studio open and smiles when he spots you. He rushes to the couch and throws himself on top of you. You grunt and try to push him off, which only causes him to hold you tighter.

“Get off me you doofus. You’re sweaty and gross,” you exclaim. He looks at you in mock hurt and you use his surprise to your advantage and push him off the couch. You sit up and wave at the rest of the guys.

Bobby smiles and shakes his head walking forward to ruffle your hair. Alex and Reggie make it seem like they will throw themselves on top of you too and you scream, raising your arms over your head in defense, making everyone laugh. You stick your tongue out at them and look down at your boyfriend still laying on the floor.

“How was your physics test?” He asks, remembering last night’s mental breakdown about you not understanding anything. He always felt useless in those situations, never having taken physics himself after dropping out, so he couldn’t help you study. He normally just holds you close and hopes you stop crying, because regardless of what Alex says, he would never leave you to cry alone.

“Meh, pretty sure I passed but I never know.” You shrug your shoulders dismissing any thoughts of your grades.

Bobby laughs and points an accusatory finger at you, “You always say that and you always end up being the highest score. Don’t give us that ‘meh’ bullshit.”

You throw a pillow at him but he easily catches it and throws it at Reggie, who gets hit in the head. Reggie complains and both you and Bobby chuckle at his inconvenience.

Luke finally gets up from the floor and sits next to you on the couch, pulling your body to lean against his. You’re used to this proximity, realizing early in your relationship that Luke is a very touchy person and has to have physical contact with someone at all times.

You smile and look up to him, asking how the performance at the pier went. He excitedly goes on about how people complemented them and how he knows that they are on their way to becoming big and you can’t help but agree. If there is one thing you know is that Sunset Curve is on their way to greatness.

. . .

“She believed in me, in all of us. Every second of spare time she had, she spent helping us get gigs. She would even sit on that old coach while we practiced and do her homework.”

Julie smiled at the way his eyes lit up. “She sounds amazing. Though I am surprised she was able to concentrate with you guys playing.”

Luke laughs and shakes his head. “She was not. She would yell at us and blame us if she didn’t do well on a test, but we always convinced her to stay when she tried to leave.”

. . .

You tried to block out the loud playing of instruments as you read Lord of the Flies for your english class. You snap the book shut and let out a frustrated sigh standing up abruptly and making your way out the door.

Luke stops singing and slips his guitar off before rushing over to you.

“Hey where are you going?” Luke asks a little breathless, bouncing on the balls of his feet, his body still full of adrenaline.

“I can’t concentrate,” you reply. “I’m pretty sure I have a test on the first four chapters tomorrow.” You look up to find him pouting adorably at you. You roll your eyes and try to leave again but he grabs your arm.

“We’re almost done. Let us just finish this song and then we were all just going to write. Just don’t leave.” His eyes are pleading with you and you know that you won’t decline. You let him lead you back to the couch and you sit down, reopening your book and trying to finish the chapters assigned.

Five minutes later the guys were all milling on different areas of the studio with a pen and an instrument, working on melodies as Luke works on lyrics on the floor in front of you leaning back against your legs. You run your hand absentmindedly through his hair as the other holds up the book.

The pager clipped to your jeans beeps and you glance down at it, your eyes widening when you see the message. You stand up quickly, dropping your book on Luke’s head in the process. You ignore the calls of pain and protest from your boyfriend as you run out of the shed and into the house. You greet Bobby’s mom and walk to the living room where the landline is at. You dial the number quickly and mumble “pick up” repeatedly under your breath. The club owner picks up and you talk for about fifteen minutes. At the end confirming a gig for Sunset Curve every Saturday this month at one of the hottest clubs in LA.

You scream with joy and run back to the studio yelling for their attention.

“Guess who just booked you guys a gig!” You exclaim, a joyous smile on your lips. The boys all jump up from their places around the room and rush to hug you but you raise your hands stopping them in their tracks. “Sunset Curve will be performing every Saturday this March at The Reserve!”

They all freeze, mouths opening in shock before they tackle you in a hug and jumping around in excitement. Luke pulls you close against him and kisses you desperately, trying to convey every emotion he is feeling at the moment. The guys cheer like they always do whenever Luke kisses you in front of them.

They all give you their thanks and a hug before Luke pulls you back to the couch, picking up his lyric journal and placing your hand back in his hair. The room is still buzzing with excitement but your force yourself to concentrate as you pick your book back up and continued reading.

. . .

Luke looks down at his hands, “She was the love of my life, quite literally, and I guess that now in my death I have to learn to live without her.”

Julie let her hand hover over his and if she concentrated hard enough she swears she could feel the heat radiating off his skin. “It’s a beautiful song Luke and she sounds like she loved you very much. Just remember that getting over her doesn’t mean forgetting her.”

Luke smiles at his friend, thankful to have met her and have her be a part of his (after)life. He looks down at his journal, eyes skimming over the song. “Do you think,” he pauses. “Do you think it’s good enough to perform?”

Julie stares him like he’s insane. “Anything you write is good enough to perform, especially this song.” Luke turns away, a blush creeping up his cheeks.

“Thanks Jules.”

#luke patterson #luke x reader #luke x oc #luke patterson x reader #luke patterson imagine #julie and the phantoms #julie and the phantoms fanfiction #julie and the himbos #jatp netflix #jatp fanfic #julie and the phantoms fanfic #alex jatp #reggie jatp #jatp #julie molina

711 notes · View notes

kmclaude · 3 years

Note

Forgive me Father, I have no awful headcanons for you, only a general question on comic making. How do you do it, writing-wise/how do you decide what points go where, how do you plot it out (or do you have any resources on the writing aspect that you find useful?) Not to get too bogged down in details, but I attended a writer’s workshop and the author in residence suggested I transfer my wordy sci-fi WIP into graphic novel script, as it might work better. (I do draw, but I don’t know if I have it in me to draw a whole comic—characters in motion? Doing things? With backgrounds? How dare, why can’t everyone just stand around looking pretty)

I was interested but it quickly turned into a lot of internal screaming as I tried to figure out how to compress the hell out of it, since novels are free to do a lot more internal monologuing and such compared to a comic format (to say nothing of trying to write a script without seeing how the panels lay out—just for my own sake, I might have to do both concurrently.)

As an aside, to get a feel for graphic novels I was rereading 99RM and was reminded of how great it was—tightly plotted, intriguing, and anything to do with Ashmedai was just beautifully drawn. I need more Monsignor Tiefer and something something there are parallels between Jehan and Daniel in my head and I don’t know if they make sense but it works for me. (As an aside, I liked the emphasis on atonement being more than just the word sorry, but acknowledgment you did wrong and an attempt to remedy it—I don’t know why that spoke to me the way that it did.)

I thought Tumblr had a word count limit for asks but so far it has offered zero resistance, oh well. I don’t have much else to say but on the topic of 99RM, Adam getting under Monsignor’s skin is amazing, 10/10 (about the Pride picture earlier)

wow tumblr got rid of the markdown editor! or at least in asks which means the new editor probably has no markdown....god i hate this site! anyway...

Totally! So first, giant thank you for the compliments! Second, I have a few questions in turn for you before I dive into a sort of answer, since I can give some advice to your questions in general but it also sounds like you have a specific conundrum on your hands.

My questions to your specific situation are:

did the author give any reason for recommending a, in your words, "wordy" story be turned into a graphic novel?

is the story you're writing more, like you said, "internal monologuing"? action packed? where do the visuals come from?

do you WANT it to be a comic? furthermore, do you want it to be a comic you then must turn around and draw? or would you be interested in writing for comics as a comic writer to have your words turned into art?

With those questions in mind, let me jump into the questions you posed me!

Let me start with a confession...

I've said this before but let me say it again: Ninety-Nine Righteous Men was not originally a comic — it was a feature-length screenplay! And furthermore, it was written for a class so it got workshopped again and again to tighten the plot by a classroom of other nerds — so as kind as your compliments are, I'm giving credit where credit is due as that was not just a solo ship sailing on the sea. On top of that, it got adapted (by me) into a comic for my thesis, so my advisor also helped me make it translate or "read" well given I was director, actor, set designer, writer, editor, SFX guy, etc. all in one. And it was a huge help to have someone say "there is no way you can go blow by blow from script to comic: you need to make edits!" For instance, two scenes got compressed to simple dialogue overlaid on the splashpage of Ashmedai raping Caleb (with an insert panel of Adam and Daniel talking the next day.) What had been probably at least 5 pages became 1.

Additionally, I don't consider myself a strong plotter. That said, I found learning to write for film made the plotting process finally make some damn sense since the old plot diagram we all got taught in grammar school English never made sense as a reader and definitely made 0 sense as a writer — for me, for some reason, the breakdown of 25-50-25 (approx. 25 pages for act 1, 50 for act 2 split into 2 parts of 25 each, 25 pages for act 3) and the breaking down of the beats (the act turning points, the mid points, the low point) helped give me a structure that just "draw a mountain, rising action, climax is there, figure it out" never did. Maybe the plot diagram is visually too linear when stories have ebb and flow? I don't know. But it never clicked until screenwriting. So that's where I am coming from. YMMV.

I should also state that there's Official Ways To Write Comic Scripts to Be Drawn By An Artist (Especially If You Work For A Real Publisher As a Writer) and there's What Works For You/Your Team. I don't give a rat's ass about the former (and as an artist, I kind of hate panel by panel breakdowns like you see there) so I'm pretty much entirely writing on the latter here. I don't give a good god damn about official ways of doing anything: what works for you to get it done is what matters.

What Goes Where?

Like I said, 99RM was a screenplay so it follows, beat-wise, the 3-act screenplay structure (hell, it's probably more accurate to say it follows the act 1/act 2A/act 2B/act 3 structure.) So there was the story idea or concept that then got applied to those story beats associated with the structure, and from there came the Scene-by-scene Breakdown (or Expanded Scene Breakdown) which basically is an outline of beats broken down into individual scenes in short prose form so you get an overview of what happens, can see pacing, etc. In the resources at the end I put some links that give information on the whole story beat thing.

(As an aside: for all my short comics, I don't bother with all that, frankly. I usually have an image or a concept or a bit of writing — usually dialogue or monologue, sometimes a concrete scene — that I pick at and pick at in a little sketchbook, going back and forth between writing and thumbnail sketches of the page. Or I just go by the seat of my pants and bullshit my way through. Either or. Those in many ways are a bit more like poems, in my mind: they are images, they are snapshots, they are feelings that I'm capturing in a few panels. Think doing mental math rather than writing out geometric proofs, yanno?)

Personally, I tend to lean on dialogue as it comes easier for me (it's probably why I'm so drawn to screenwriting!) so for me, if I were to do another longform GN, I'd probably take my general "uhhhhhh I have an idea and some beats maybe so I guess this should happen this way?" outline and start breaking it down scene by scene (I tend to write down scenes or scene sketches in that "uhhhh?" outline anyway LOL) and then figure out basic dialogue and action beats — in short, I'd kind of do the work of writing a screenplay without necessarily going full screenplay format (though I did find the format gave me an idea of timing/pacing, as 1 page of formatted script is about equal to 1 minute of screentime, and gave me room to sketch thumbnails or make edits on the large margins!) If you're not a monologue/soliloque/dialogue/speech person and more an image and description person, you may lean more into visuals and scenes that cut to each other.

Either way this of course introduces the elephant in the panel: art! How do you choose what to draw?

The answer is, well, it depends! The freedom of comics is if you can imagine it, you can make it happen. You have the freedoms (and audio limitations) of a truly silent film with none of the physical limitations. Your words can move in real time with the images or they can be a narrative related to the scene or they could be nonsequitors entirely! The better question is how do you think? Do you need all the words and action written first before you break down the visuals? Do you need a panel by panel breakdown to be happy, or can you freewheel and translate from word and general outlines to thumbnails? What suits you? I really cannot answer this because I think when it comes to what goes where with regard to art, it's a bit of "how do you process visuals" and also a bit of "who's drawing this?" — effectively, who is the interpreter for the exact thing you are writing? Is it you or someone else? If it's you, would you benefit from a barebones script alongside thumbnailed paneling? Would you be served by a barebones script, then thumbnails, then a new script that includes panel and page breakdowns? What frees you up to do what you need to do to tell your story?

If I'm being honest, I don't necessarily worry about panels or what something will look like necessarily until I'm done writing. I may have an image that I clearly state needs to happen. I may even have a sequence of panels that I want to see and I do indeed sketch that out and make note of it in my script. But exactly how things will be laid out, paneled, situated? That could change up until I've sketched my final pencils in CSP (but I am writer and artist so admittedly I get that luxury.)

How do I compress from novel to comic?

Honest answer? You don't. Not really. You adapt from one to another. It's more a translation. Something that would take forever to write may take 1 page in a comic or may take a whole issue.

I'm going to pick on Victor Hugo. Victor Hugo spent a whole-ass book in Notre-Dame de Paris talking about a bird's eye view of Paris and other medieval architecture boring stuff, with I guess some foreshadowing with Montfaucon. Who cares. Not me. I like story. Anyway. When we translate that book to a movie any of the billion times someone's done that, we don't spend a billion years talking at length about medieval Paris. There's no great monologuing about the gibbet or whatever: you get to have some establishing shots, maybe a musical number, and then you move tf on. Because it's a movie, right? Your visuals are right there. We can see medieval Paris. We can see the cathedral. We can see the gibbet. We don't need a whole book: it's visually right there. Same with a comic: you may need many paragraphs to describe, say, a space station off of Sirius and one panel to show it.

On the flip side, you may take one line, maybe two, to say a character keyed in the special code to activate the holodeck; depending on the visual pacing, that could be a whole page of panels (are we trying to stretch time? slow it down? what are we emphasizing?) A character gives a sigh of relief — one line of text, yeah? That could be a frozen panel while a conversation continues on or that could be two (or more!) panels, similar to the direction [a beat] in screenwriting.

Sorry there's not a super easy answer there to the question of compression: it's a lot more of a tug, a push-pull, that depends on what you're conveying.

So Do I Have It In Me to Write & Draw a GN?

The only way you'll know is by doing. Scary, right? The thing is, you don't necessarily need to be an animation king or God's gift to background artists to draw a comic.

Hell, I hate backgrounds. I still remember sitting across from my friend who said "Claude you really need to draw an establishing exterior of the church at some point" and me being like "why do you hate me specifically" because drawing architecture? Again? I already drew the interior of the church altar ONCE, that should be enough, right? But I did draw an exterior of the church. Sorta. More like the top steeple. Enough to suggest what I needed to suggest to give the audience a better sense of place without me absolutely losing my gourd trying to render something out of my wheelhouse at the time.

And that's kinda the ticket, I think. Not everyone's a master draftsman. Not everyone has all the skills in every area. And regardless, from page one to page one hundred, your skills will improve. That's all part of it — and in the meantime, you should lean into your strengths and cheat where you can.

Do you need to lovingly render a background every single panel? Christ no! Does every little detail need to be drawn out? Sure if you want your hand to fall off. Cheat! Use Sketchup to build models! Use Blender to sculpt forms to paint over! Use CSP Assets for prebuilt models and brushes if you use CSP! Take photographs and manip them! Cheat! Do what you need to do to convey what you need to convey!

For instance, a tip/axiom/"rule" I've seen is one establishing shot per scene minimum and a corollary to that has been include a background once per page minimum as grounding (no we cannot all have eternal floating heads and characters in the void. Unless your comic is set in the void. In which case, you do you.) People ain't out here drawing hyper detailed backgrounds per each tiny panel. The people who DO do that are insane. Or stupid. Or both. Or have no deadline? Either way, someone's gonna have a repetitive stress injury... Save yourself the pain and the headache. Take shortcuts. Save your punches for the big K.O. moments.

Start small. Make an 8-page zine. Tell a beginning, a middle, an end in comic form. Bring a scene to life in a few pages. See what you're comfortable drawing and where you struggle. See where you can lean heavily into your comfort zones. Learn how to lean out of your comfort zone. Learn when it's worth it to do the latter.

Or start large. Technically my first finished comic (that wasn't "a dumb pencil thing I drew in elementary school" or "that 13 volume manga I outlined and only penciled, what, 7 pages of in sixth grade" or "random one page things I draw about my characters on throw up on the interwebz") was 99RM so what do I know. I'm just some guy on the internet.

(That's not self-deprecating, I literally am some guy on the internet talking about my path. A lot of this is gonna come down to you and what vibes with you.)

Resources on writing

Some of these are things that help me and some are things that I crowd-sourced from others. Some of these are going to be screenwriting based, some will be comic based.

Making Comics by Scott McCloud: I think everyone recommends this but I think it is a useful book if you're like "ahh!!! christ!! where do I start!!!???" It very much breaks down the elements of comics and the world they exist in and the principles involved, with the caveat that there are no rules! In fact, I need to re-read it.

Comic Book Design: I picked this up at B&N on a whim and in terms of just getting a bird's eye view of varied ways to tackle layout and paneling? It's such a great resource and reference! I personally recommend it as a way to really get a feel for what can be done.

the screenwriter's bible: this is a book that was used in my class. we also used another book that's escaping me but to be honest, I never read anything in school and that's why I'm so stupid. anyway, I'd say check it out if you want, especially if you start googling screenwriting stuff and it's like 20 billion pieces of advice that make 0 sense -- get the core advice from one place and then go from there.

Drawing Words & Writing Pictures: many people I know recommended this. I think I have it? It may be in storage. So frankly, I'd already read a bunch of books on comics before grabbing this that it kind of felt like a rehash. Which isn't shade on the authors — I personally was just a sort of "girl, I don't need comics 101!!!"

Invisible Ink: A Practical Guide to Building Stories that Resonate: this has been recommended so many times to me. I cannot personally speak on it but I can say I do trust those who rec'd it to me so I am passing it along

the story circle: this is pretty much the hero's journey. a useful way to think of journeys! a homie pretty much swears by it

a primer on beats: quick google search got me this that outlines storybeats

save the cat!: what the above refers to, this gives a more genre-specific breakdown. also wants to sell you on the software but you don't need that.

I hope this helps and please feel free to touch base with more info about your specific situation and hopefully I'll have more applicable answers.

#writing #making a graphic novel #writing a graphic novel #tutorial #writing tutorial

82 notes · View notes

watery-lane · 3 years

Text

Words into Smoke

The Night You Cared Sequel.

Pairing: Modern!Ivar Lothbrok x Reader

Summary: As a part of his therapy, Ivar writes letters to unwind and keep track of his mental health progress. He writes to his mom, he misses her. He writes to Sigurd, sometimes he regrets his departure. One night, he writes about her.

Warnings: Angst

Words: 3864

A/N: (3/5/20) I had this idea in my head that I simply could not let go.

(10/4/21) P.S: Can’t promise I’m back, but I’m definitely turning to writing as a way of winding down. I hope you guys are alright.

Part I / Part II / Epilogue

Some nights, while the city sleeps, Ivar stays awake. Like an owl looking for a prey, the Ragnarsson remains seated upright at the edge of his bed, his now heavily tattooed chest exposed to the world through the panoramic window, heaving. Beating.

Some nights were amazing. He got his drivers license, and Freydis got him an adapted Bentley as a gift. He would spend the nights driving by himself down the empty streets of Kattegat, not worrying about speeding tickets or angry neighbours.

Not so long ago, he learned his wife was finally carrying a child, her round belly reminding him that he had a legacy to keep, now that the Lothbrok dynasty seemed to be more fragmented than ever. After spending thousands of krone on in vitro fertilisation, the universe seemed to work in his favour. Their favour. If the gods were unwilling to bless them two, science would. These were the nights that were made for celebrations, champaign showers and water for the mother to be.

Some nights were alright. Ivar would come back after a long day of meetings and getting his ass kissed, to find Freydis immersed in her little personal projects. He would tell Erik to pick up some takeaway while he washed away the power and wrapped himself in mundane clothes. He would eat in silence, elbows propped on the counter and eyes on the horizon, watching the sun kiss the skyscrapers goodbye as he mindlessly put food in his mouth. Then he would take his new baby for a ride, to the bar he now owned with his brother Hvitserk.

Ivar would go there, check the inventory and the register, ask the employees how everything was going and what could he do for them. Sometimes he would also find Hvitserk at the bar, practicing the cocktail skills he had been mastering since he took over your share of the bar. Ivar would simply walk past, not entirely avoiding making contact with his sibling but prefering to keep a healthy distance from the person that substituted you. He started visiting the local more often after you left, feeling the responsibility to continue what you started. He found peace in the simplicity of managing a bar: at the office, he was a tyrannic boss, voice always booming through the walls, keeping both employees and investors in check. At the bar, he was just the young lovestruck Ivar he once was. He understood then, why you wished to escape from it all. You are just a memory now, but sometimes he still feels you around, checking on the girls, checking on him.

Some nights were... Painful. Therapy had a big presence in his life. He no longer needed a cane thanks to nurse Hansen, his physical therapist. But on some days, the stress and the weather would simply take a toll on his legs, forcing him to carry around that metal stick that reminded him that he was, in fact, human.

Before you left, Freydis figured out a question that would calm Ivar down and make him focus: “What would Dr. Nielsen tell you to do?”. That was how she got him to control himself and open up the last time he was onstage, the night she met you. They were just engaged back then. Oh, how quick did time pass. Ivar no longer organised events like that. He was too consumed by his two jobs. There were nights where Freydis would be on business trips, or out hanging out with friends until the next morning, nights where absences were felt more than presences. But he was coping now. Dr. Nielsen helped the youngest Lothbrok greatly since his great breakdown.

Ivar had thought he physically felt his heart break the night he got down the stage to find you, only to figure out you were gone after most of the guests had left the hotel ballroom. He felt compelled to call you dozens of times to ask for an explanation. After his calls went unanswered, he decided to drive around town in search of you, not knowing where to start, not knowing where to ask, anger poisoning his brain and taking over his actions. That night he stayed at Loki’s after barging in to see if you were hiding there like “the coward you were”. He hated the fact that you could make him feel that weak. It felt like he was putty and Freydis was fire, hardening him the more he was exposed to her. You were water, turning him into a pliable being, at mercy of your actions.

For five days in a row, he found himself staying at his office until late at night, observing his office telephone with attention and indecision, silently praying for you to pick up the phone, practicing the rage filled words he was about to rain down on you the moment you uttered a response. He prayed with ill intentions, but he prayed nonetheless. It was his last resort.

The earth seemed to crack open and swallow him whole the moment he gathered all his courage and dialed your number, only to hear an automated voice telling him that the number no longer existed. He sat there, phone on his hand as a white noise took over the voice message, thinking about the different possibilities that could have happened for you to cancel your line. Maybe, he thought. Maybe I really asked for too much this time.

“Fuck no,” Ivar reflected out loud as he tossed his phone away, “In no fucking way this is my fault.”

“Ivar?” A distant voice reverberated through the glass corridors. It sounded familiar. The youngest Ragnarsson frowned, weirded out by the fact that one of his brothers was still in the office this late.

It wasn’t just one of his brothers, but the three of them.

“Freydis called us asking where you were. You’ve been out late at night for many days in a row, she literally just confronted each one of us asking whether you were having an affair.” Hvitserk said, arms crossed as he leaned on the door frame. “That woman nearly dragged each one of us out to look for you.” Ivar pursed his lips, outraged by such accusations from his then fiancée.

“Well, tell her I’d never do such thing.” He answered, swatting his hand in annoyance. “I am surprised she came to that conclusion, knowing how busy I always am as the bloody CEO!” He exclaimed, letting the following silence fill the room as he flashed a disdainful look towards his brothers.

“Why are you here, brother?” Ubbe finally dared to ask, observing his youngest sibling sway in his chair from side to side.

Ivar looked up for a brief moment, like a puppy who lost his favourite toy, and decided to tell them the whole story. That the had the hunch you were back from a strange event where someone knocked on his penthouse door. To that, Ubbe awkwardly shifted in his place, still listening intently. Ivar explained that he sent you an invite to his inaguration gala and how he asked you to stay for his speech so you could have a dance afterwards, unaware of the utterly personal turn his speech would take just because an old man decided to drink a bit more than usual that night. How he waited for you, called you and looked for you tirelessly, frustration filling his voice as he talked about how you had been avoiding him for a week now, changing your phone number in the process.

“If she thinks she can avoid me by changing numbers she’s dead wrong. We’re business partners, for fucks sake!” He complained, registering the situation as a burden. “I’ll find her new phone sooner or later.”

Unbeknownst Ivar, tension had been gradually building up as he spoke, his three brothers standing still in their places, not knowing how to break the news. Sure they knew this day would come, but none of the three expected to be trapped with the ticking bomb. It was way too soon. Too recent.

Hell, it was about you. It was most likely no amount of time would soften the blow.

Ubbe took a step forward, leaning on the hardwood desk. With a resigned tone, he mumbled:

“She’s gone, Ivar.” He swallowed. “(Y/n) left Kattegat.”

Already motionless before, Ivar remained still. He darted his eyes to look at his brother, confusion and fear brewing within him, fueling a fire he thought it was extinguished the day he made Sigurd leave. With trembling lips but a determined voice, he asked how did he know. How did Ubbe Ragnarsson, the brother who would stab his youngest sibling in the back at the slightest opportunity, know the whereabouts of his woman, while he sat there completely lost, disoriented.

With an attempt of a soothing voice, Ubbe confessed that months ago he offered you a job position to work on a humanitarian project he had running in Haiti. Aslaug had stated in her will that she wished to expand the non-profit organisation she created to other countries and Ubbe decided to make his deceased mother’s wish come true. He told Ivar that while you rejected the offer at first, you ended up accepting it the night of his gala. That you made him promise to make the process fast and discreet, and that, while you insisted on paying for the plane tickets, Lothbrok Inc. paid for your travel expenses and necessities. You left three days ago, unnanounced, with only Ubbe at the airport to bid you farewell.

Hvitserk, who remained silent all this time, let him know that you were no longer the owner of the bar you opened together. At that, Ivar panicked, his eyes wide open as he snapped his head towards his older brother. You simply signed a transfer contract, with Ubbe as the witness and five krone as the contingency, stating that you were returning the property to Lothbrok Inc., thus paying your debt to the family and releasing yourself from any ties to Ivar. He tried to soften the blow, letting him know that he didn’t know you gave him your share because you were leaving. He thought it was a rash decision that stemmed from seeing Ivar with a fiancée, that you’d come back and take back the business when you were ready. He promised he’d take care of the bar as well as you took care of it, that nothing would change under his management.

Ivar listened intently, motionless. His breathing was deep, yet steady. He never moved a muscle voluntarily, but his nostrils flared with every breath and his hand, hidden under the desk, shook incontrollably as he processed their words. His piercing gaze was focused on the oldest Aslaugsson, who was now relaxing and straightening his back as he regained his composure.

It felt like every action happened in slow motion, yet the blow came fast. In mere seconds, Ivar had propped himself forward from the chair, one of his hands grabbing the jacket Ubbe was wearing while the other, contracted in a fist, made contact with his right cheek. That is when Bjorn, who had been silent during the whole exchange, stepped in, grabbing the torso of his youngest brother as he struggled to keep himself standing, making sure he didn’t hurt himself.

Sometimes, Ivar still hears his own screams.

“YOU TOOK HER FROM ME!” Ivar accused, eyes absent of tears but voice cracking at the end of the sentence. “SHEWAS GOING TO STAY,” He roared, fists swinging towards his brother’s face. “AND YOU FUCKING TOOK HER FROM ME!”

He lost it that night. The screams he released came from the depths of his sorrow, his eyes only registering red while all his nerves could only feel the desperation taking over his soul. Ivar kept trying to reach Ubbe, unaware of how he repeatedly banged his legs against the desk as Bjorn tried to pin him down.

But what started as a justified outburst gradually led to nonsensical, rage-filled accusations.

“You wanted to fuck her, didn’t you? You wanted her and you couldn’t stand the fact that she chose ME!” Ivar recriminated, grabbing a sharp glass ornament and throwing it to his brother. Ubbe pursed his lips, dodging the improvised weapon. “You did this to get back at me, hmm? YOU WANT ALL I HAVE, DON’T YOU?” He seethed, eyes and mouth wide open, exposing his teeth like a menacing predator as he let out a guttural laugh.

Bjorn was having a difficult time restraining him. Years relying on his upper body strength gave Ivar the advantage of resilience amongst his biggest sibling, while Bjorn struggled to keep him in place. Ivar managed to grab the second glass ornament, throwing it as he shrieked.

“DON’T YOU KNOW WHO I AM?” his voice boomed in the room, palm pounding his chest as his free hand signaled the whole place. “YOU CAN’T TAKE THIS AWAY FROM ME, I AM IVAR LOTHBROK! YOU CAN’T TAKE THIS AWAY FROM ME!” Ivar kept shouting, cursing as he spat towards Ubbe.

Hvitserk stepped forward, having seen enough, ready to take on his little brother. To his surprise, Ubbe halted him, his arm creating a barrier between Hvitserk and Ivar as he observed with intent and horror etched on his face.

That night, Ivar lost the little progress he made. He broke his femur, dignity left behind as an ambulance carried him to the emergency room.

As if that wasn’t enough, he lost another family member to Lagertha that night.

With a reedy voice as he laid down in the hospital bed, he asked Ubbe one thing:

“Bring her back.” He whispered, his eyes stuck in the ceiling, pretty certain that if he laid his eyes on his brother, he would kill him. “She is working for Lothbrok Inc. now. Bring her back.” His request was met with silence. “That’s an order.” He swallowed, nostrils flaring with each ticking second.

“I’m sorry, Ivar.” Ubbe mumbled. “The Sigurðdóttir Trust is out of your reach.” He reminded him, reopening a wound that Ivar closed not so long ago. “That’s what mother wished.” Ivar snapped his head at the mention of his beloved mother. The brim of his eyes were red like his sclera, a menacing gaze stabbing his brother as Ivar grabbed his wrist.

“You have three days to gather your stuff and leave Lothbrok Inc.” Ivar seethed as he moved his face closer to his brother. “If you’re not gone after that, I will make sure you’ll leave the premises crawling like I crawled as a child.” Ivar swore, releasing his wrist as he let his head drop back to the sterile pillow.

Up to this day, Ivar still saw Ubbe’s action as a huge betrayal. He knew his older brother would return to his life as the new addition of Lagertha’s legal team, Bjorn granted his little brother this little backup plan.

Tonight, his thoughts weighted a little heavier. His eyes scanned the city before focusing on his bedroom, where he finds the clothes he wore today discarded on the leather chair. Behind him, his wife slept peacefully, her baby bumb protuding more and more each passing day. His legs were alright, but with the absence of physical pain he could sense his yearning looming over his head.

Ivar sighs and stands up silently, his bare feet and metallic support dragging on the tiles as he moved to his home office.

Dr. Nielsen taught him the importance of adapted emotional releases. She actively discouraged Ivar from indulging in his impulses and told him to write them down instead. For business meetings, Ivar was told to count until 10, 20 or even 30 if he was encountered with bad news. When it came to personal affairs, Dr. Nielsen told him to write letters addressed to the pertinent subject. Ivar could write them and discard them, write them and take them to therapy or he could write them and send them to the addressee.

It wasn’t the most effective exercise, but it kept his flame at bay. He needed to learn to do that, now that he knew he had a little one coming soon.

Sometimes he wrote to his mother, asking her questions about ruling an empire he wished he had the answer to. Those he kept, as a tool to reflect later on when his ambition peaked. The more emotional ones he’d take to Dr. Nielsen, a proof of his progress on his journey to... normalcy. The ones he wrote to Sigurd, those he threw away. In those pages filled with guilt and rage, he found himself cornered in a bleak past that seemed to refuse to let him go.

Tonight, he thought about you.

It wasn’t like you weren’t a constant presence in his mind, like an annoying tenant in his brain that refused to leave or pay rent. Ivar just chose to remember the best parts of you, those who could be found at the bar you owned, or on his bed when Freydis left him for the night. If he kept you alive that way, he would also keep alive that part of him he thought he lost. You were inevitable, like the pain after a blow or the kiss after a reencounter.

He wishes he could blame you. For leaving, for stepping outside the gala without waiting for your dance. For silently giving away your shares to Hvitserk, who the only thing he knew about bars was how to empty the alcohol pantry. But there is a part of him that cannot physically repulse you.

Ivar sits down and turns on the desk lamp in front of him. He finds his precious pen and puts a piece of paper on the desk. Before starting, he hesitates.

Dear (Y/n),

He groans, crossing the two words with disdain.

Hello.

“Hello?” Ivar shakes his head, crossing the word again.

Hi, princess.

Ivar cringes. No.

Frustrated, he discards the paper. He had done it before. Why was it so hard to do it all over again now?

Just... Jump right in. Start from the beginning, start from the middle, start from the end if you prefer. He recalls the advice of his therapist. Sometimes, formalities are overrated. It may help when you have nothing to say, but it becomes a burden when you got too much to say. Ivar reflected.

And so he did.

Every night I drive through the streets of Kattegat I find myself looking for you wandering around, looking for me to give you a lift, for the memory of our first reencounters were the ones that helped us find redemption.

It is weird, but I still have the need to find you even though I know you are no longer here. The idea of you lives in my head, that I am sure of. The feel of you, that is what I miss.

I guess part of me feels like I still need to apologise for something that I’ve done.

At the sight of his words written on paper, Ivar blinks. He never consciously thought much more ahead of his negations, his feelings dictating the perspectives he kept imposing to his reality.

He sacrificed so much for you. He tried to change for you. He went to therapy, he learned to walk. Ivar tried to become the right man for you, he really tried.

He wished you were there to see it.

Ivar doesn’t really know what he did wrong. All he knows is...

And now that you’re gone for good,

He shakes his head, crossing the last two words.

all I wish for is to be in the wrong this time.

Ivar huffs in frustration.

I wish I had been selfish, I wish I was the old Ivar. I wish I had begged you to stay, to manage this empire I never chos- by my side.

I know you would have never wanted this.

But I know you would have never said no to us.

Mindlessly, Ivar puts his pen in his mouth, a subconscious tick he developped not-so recently. Passing his hands through his hair, he sighed.

I started to smoke. He confessed. I know you never liked the smell, how it clings to my clothes, my mouth, how it lingered around the house when my brothers decided to have one one in their rooms. Ivar snorts at the memory. Not that you’re here to tell me off.

Freydis has been buying candles, they’re all around the house now. The smell of the cigarettes blends with the essences and I technically get to have fire dispensers in every single room.

“Maybe I’m waiting for you to magically show up and tell me to fuck off.” He whispers.

Suddenly, Ivar shakes his head, as if the physical gesture cleared his mind.

I guess I’ll have to stop soon, I have a baby on the way. He releases an airy laugh as he re-reads what he just wrote. Who would have thought, (Y/n)? A baby. Me. Your Ivar.

The young Ragnarsson lets out a tired sigh, strenghening his grip on the metalling pen as he mindlessly tapped on the crystal desk. With resigned resolution, he decides to write his last lines, telling himself that he is finally starting to accept reality.

I know you’re not going to come back. Not to the place we grew up at, at least.

If you ever do, I just want to let you know, as sappy as it may sound, that my heart will always be open for you, even when my arms are not.

I miss you.

I miss us.

Take care,

Ivar.

Dropping the pen, Ivar stares at his letter. His hands blindly search for an envelope, a frown etched on his face until his fingertips brush against the soft surface of the letter. You don’t know, but he found your new address. He searched around Ubbe’s old files.

With a careful manner, Ivar writes down your address on the envelope.

He stands up, walks to his living room and grabs a jacket as he makes his way to the exit.

All of the sudden he stops right on his tracks, his free hand almost reaching to the door handle. Freydis seemed to have forgotten to put out a lone candle, a tiny fragrance dispenser resting on the entrance drawer.

Ivar may not be aware of a lot of things in life, but one thing he was certain of: smoke traveled faster than mail.

His hand was trembling slightly, but it managed to follow his instructions. With a swift move, Ivar positioned the ephemeral piece of paper on the fire, watching intently how the flames consumed his words and took them to you. Discreetly, he threw the burning letter in the empty bin, the lid cutting short the trail of smoke escaping from the container.

He makes sure ashes are all what it remains from his indecent confession and makes his way back to the bedroom. Slowly but steadily, Ivar returns to bed, nesting himself between the sheets before holding his beloved wife in his embrace.

Tonight, he was human. Tomorrow, he’ll have to be a God.

The end.

Taglist:

Note: This is the old taglist I have noted from my past Ivar ficts. Please let me know if you want to be removed or added by sending an ask here.

@aesstheticallypleasing @captstefanbrandt @unicornbaby741 @fuckthatfeeling @huffelpuffers @yannii04 @collecting-stories @timber3 @darkwolfpeanutskeleton @vampsclassiffied @lenafarn @yourpurplequeen@youbloodymadgenius @lettersofwrittencollective

#ivar x reader #ivar the boneless x reader #ivar lothbrok x reader #ivar ragnarsson x reader #ivar/reader #ivar the boneless/reader #ivar ragnarsson/reader #ivar imagine #ivar the boneless imagine #ivar lothbrok imagine #ivar lothbrok/reader #Ivar One shot #ivar the boneless one shot #ivar lothbrok one shot #ivar ragnarsson one shot #ivar ragnarsson imagine

77 notes · View notes