#but i didn’t say it was proven just highly suspected

[many-but-one]

(TW rant, I guess. Fake claiming. Suicide bait. Rape threats.)

Disclaimer: this is not targeting specific people. This is just me ranting. If you’re butthurt about it, I really don’t care.

Y’all. I am so fucking tired. Just so tired. I can’t go on any sort of social media and not see bullshit about DID that just makes no sense. The misinfo being spread is fucking monstrous. And people being shamed and bullied for pointing it out is just fucked. The fact that there was a user the other day literally titled “sysmedsshoulddie” going around and anonymously sending shit about people killing themselves and getting raped to death…the fuck dude? Whether you agree with “sysmeds” or not, these people are trauma victims and you’re sending suicide bait to them? What the fuck is wrong with you?

And just the intense uptick in people that when I read their profile I’m just like immediately disheartened. “System of 300+ fictive heavy polyfragmented osdd system, 15 years old, fakeclaimers DNI!!!” Just. Sigh. Idk man like I know it’s not completely abnormal for a 15 year old to be aware of their system, but “polyfragmented” and “osdd” are on completely different levels, not to say osdd is not as bad and polyfragmentation is inherently worse, but it’s just not the same. Not to mention minors are often still in “bad” living conditions, in which you are highly unlikely to know that many alters simply because you are still in survival mode. It’s why when people leave abusive parents or abusive spouses and are finally safe, THAT’S when they start showing symptoms of mental disorders. (Not just DID/OSDD, also C-PTSD/PTSD.) Dissociative disorders are trauma-based disorders and if you are still living in a traumatic situation, your brain is still in survival mode. Leaving toxic environments and your brain letting go of survival mode is when your brain starts to relax and things like trauma and dissociation start to really settle in. This is not proven, but I think that’s one of the main reasons it’s more common for people to discover their system from their early 20s to 30s, because they’ve left their home and started living in a safe environment.

I’m not saying it’s not possible to know or suspect system behavior in your teens. I sure did. I just didn’t have the vocabulary to understand my experiences. I’ve been very open about letting people know I used to think I was endo. That was way back in 2016, when there wasn’t as much of a foothold in the DID community. I did further research and realized that wasn’t possible and so moved on in hopes for answers. It wasn’t until a month before moving out of my parents’ house and moving in with my fiance that I learned I really did have trauma and therefore really did have DID. It took the work of a trauma specialist to recognize this as well. If I hadn’t seen someone who knew what to look for, I probably still wouldn’t have the answers I do now.

I think the part that is most frustrating for me is people just making a complete mockery of something I am truly suffering from. The focus on alters, the focus on fictives, the “I have DID with no dissociation or amnesia” shit. It’s sad. Like I try so hard to give people the benefit of the doubt and I never fakeclaim people specifically (publicly, anyway, I do have my own doubts that I generally keep to myself) but sometimes it seriously pains me when I see young kids who I know are using it as a fun alter disorder and mostly playing on discord with their alters they created. I am almost certain that a huge amount of people that do this aren’t doing it maliciously or to attack people with DID, but they just don’t know any better. Or they’ve done poor research. Or they are misunderstanding their experiences. I usually try to stay in my lane and just ignore those people, but it is so prevalent nowadays it’s almost impossible. They make informational posts on DID despite having been self diagnosed for a few months and all of their information is clearly misconstrued or misunderstood, or from carrds or pluralpedia or whatever the fuck kids get their info from anymore. Then singlets read this shit and people who really do have this disorder are put under the “DIDfaker” label immediately just for saying they have DID.

I went to the hospital last September. I’ve been very open about what happened there, but to say it quickly, I was fakeclaimed by doctors and said I was psychotic and over-emotional. They said a lot of old misinfo that I tried to correct but they wouldn’t listen to me. I tried telling them I see a DID specialist who has seen me switch and talked to other alters, etc and they didn’t care. One thing the doctor said is that they’ve been seeing a huge uptick in kids (like teens) thinking they have DID and that’s just not possible because DID is “so rare.” (It’s not, but whatever.)

Like I know most of y’all really don’t understand how much this effects folks who are actually systems because most of you don’t pursue therapy for your DID/OSDD, but the fact that psychologists in mental hospitals think everyone is faking because of fucking TikTok is alarming. People think Moon Knight being good representation is good. Yeah, in the way that DID is not painted as a monstrosity it is, but now when I tell people I have DID it’s not like “DID? Like in Split?” anymore. It’s more like “DID? Oh! Like in Moon Knight!!! That’s so cool it would be so cool blah blah blah.” Rambling about how cool the disorder is. Yeah having semi-positive rep is great, but now people think of it like a superpower and think it’s “so cool” and don’t realize that IT SHOULD NEVER HAVE TO HAPPEN.

DID is from childhood trauma that was so bad that the child could not handle it. They dissociated so strongly to escape the trauma that they never coalesced into a single person. It is a disorder of CHILD SUFFERING. It is NOT COOL. It is horrible, awful, and upsetting.

Sorry, I honestly don’t even know where I was going with this. People online tell me to “curate my experience” but I can’t even search the most basic DID tags without being bombarded by literal ableist bullshit. It’s fucked. I’m so tired. I wish my suffering wasn’t glamorized. I wish it was taken seriously.

Disclaimer 2: No, I am not saying that DID is always suffering all the time. I just hate how everyone makes it to be all about the alters and how fun it is rather than the reality that C-PTSD and trauma are the main aspects of the disorder. Alters are survival mechanisms for compartmentalizing severe trauma. They’re not fun to have. There are some good and funny moments, but the trauma and the PTSD from that trauma vastly overshadows it.

End rant. Hate me if you want, cancel me if you want, fucking send anon hate idgaf at this point. I’m just so tired of it all.

#syscourse #did osdd #personal post #vent #dissociative identity disorder #did alters #trauma #cptsd #ptsd #childhood trauma

[bappledilk]

My experience with my gender.

So I made a post similar to this one recently about my kintype.  I decided to make another post, this time about my gender, because I want people to know more about me and my experiences!  This blog is (currently) primarily for documenting these things, after all.

I’d say my experience with my gender is more simple than my experience with my kintype.  I’m a lot less confused about my gender… as a matter of fact, I understand my gender very well, and in great detail.

First, I want to address the elephant in the room… I use xenogenders.  A lot of people don’t like that, and I understand, so I’d like to try to explain why I identify with them, and how I feel about mine.

But before I do, quick disclaimer:  I have no idea whether or not xenogenders have anything to do with autism, since that’s not been proven by any science… BUT I will say that someone who works as a teacher for special needs kids once said I act “just like some of his students” and highly suspected I have autism spectrum disorder.  I am not officially diagnosed by anyone, but that person is considered a professional when it comes to autism in children.  He said that about me when I was 4.  My boyfriend is officially diagnosed with ASD, and is 100% sure I have it too, lol.  (That was with me trying to deny it, as I’m a naturally skeptical person.)  Based on all that, among MANY other things, I now personally think I am autistic, but do with that information what you will.  Feel free to draw your own conclusion.  If any of you guys would like me to make another post going more in-depth about my experience with this, I’d be glad to.

So… why?  Simply put, my gender feels VERY weird and different as opposed to the societal norms/expectations for gender.  This might be related to my otherkinity, since I don’t even feel human, often times?  Or, it might not.  To be honest, I’m not sure, but I do know that xenogenders really help me understand myself and my identity.  I know it’s not scientifically proven or anything, but… at least for right now, they make me so much happier than I would be without them… if that makes sense?

The most common statement I hear about xenogender users, which honestly makes me feel really sad/insecure… “They just use gender as an accessory.”.  I can see why people feel this way, because xenogenders are often based on aesthetic things, but it has absolutely nothing to do with whatever is cute or pretty… at least that’s how it is for me.  For me, it’s more like something I feel deeply ingrained within me, and I don’t care what the flag looks like… or how cute it is… or anything like that to be honest.  It has WAY more to do with the descriptions for me, and how those descriptions relate to my identity.

Adding on to that point, I’m also not someone who’s “pretending to be trans”.  I do know what really bad dysphoria feels like.  Flashbacks to the times I cried myself to sleep when I was 13… because a stranger called me a “lady”… yikes…

I didn’t even know what being non-binary was back then, so I was just in this horrible place of “I hate being a girl, but I don’t think I’m a boy either.”.  I considered just coming out as FTM many times because I assumed that was the only possible explanation at the time.  I’m soooo grateful that I finally discovered I’m non-binary 4 years ago!

But anyways, I hope that explained a few things.  I love myself, and I love my identity.  Because this post is already really long as is, I’ll be sharing my list of genders in a separate post tomorrow.  Stay strong guys… and remember, you don’t need dysphoria to be trans, and not all trans individuals are the same.  :)

Rude or passive aggressive comments will be ignored and deleted.  Comments from those who want to have a genuine conversation or debate about this are welcome.

#mogai #mogai identity #xenogender #xenogenders #xenogender identity #non-binary #nonbinary #enby

[knuffled]

Just Practice - Chapter 17

here’s the ao3 link

The hospital garden was nestled along the northern side of the building and overlooked a small pond. Perhaps it was too generous to call it a garden. In reality, it was only a few flower beds of orchids and lilacs stowed carefully in terracotta pots. When the weather was nice, the patients would often spend some time there on the benches to get some fresh air. It wasn’t much but it definitely beat being cooped up in a hospital room with that stale, sterilized air that always made her feel more like a laboratory specimen than a human being.

After her surgery, Annabeth was allowed to visit the garden provided she went in a wheelchair to avoid agitating her knee. The doctor’s initial diagnosis had proven to be accurate once they ran some imaging tests on her: it was, in fact, a torn ACL. Annabeth had suspected as much, and she opted to get it operated on sooner than later. The surgery had gone quite well, actually. She had been lucky enough to only suffer a partial tear, according to her doctor. If she had suffered a complete tear, it could have possibly made both surgery and her subsequent recovery much more difficult.

Nonetheless, Annabeth didn’t feel particularly lucky. Honestly, in the week that she spent at the hospital, she hardly felt anything at all. Just numb. Her physical therapy sessions were the only things she had to look forward to in order to get her mind off of things. Otherwise, she was mainly stuck confined to her bed with her leg suspended in that god awful brace. Piper had brought her some novels to occupy her time, but Annabeth couldn’t be bothered to pay attention to anything she read.

Today was the first day the weather had been clear enough to head outside, and Annabeth had jumped at the chance to get out of her stuffy hospital room as soon as she could. She sat outside staring at the pond with her brain turned off, watching ducks glide across the water’s surface and preen their feathers.

Within another day or two she would be discharged from the hospital and would have to head back home, but she really didn’t want to. Her father had dropped by the day after her injury, but his visit was practically a formality. He had stayed for all of five minutes, only making sure she wasn’t dead really, before he left. On top of every other shitty thing that had happened to her recently, his visit only served to rub salt in the wound.

Sometime mid-afternoon, one of the orderlies told her that she had a visitor. Annabeth had been expecting Piper or Jason, but she was surprised to see Reyna approach her instead.

Reyna gave her a small wave, her hand hidden in the sleeve of her purple sweatshirt. “Hey.”

“Hey,” Annabeth said, blinking. “Fancy seeing you here.”

Reyna shifted on her heels. “I’m not intruding am I?”

“Funnily enough, my schedule is quite free these days,” Annabeth said lightly.

That managed to get the corner of Reyna’s lips to tug upwards. “Glad to see your injury hasn’t done anything to change your god-awful sense of humor.”

“It’s quite bad mannered to bully the infirm, you know,” Annabeth sniffed.

Reyna rolled her eyes and sat down at the bench beside Annabeth. “How’s your leg doing?”

Annabeth sighed and said, “It’s recovering. Just got surgery done a few days ago.”

“Surgery?” Reyna frowned.

Annabeth nodded. “Turns out I tore my ACL.”

Reyna grimaced and said, “Jeez, I’m sorry to hear that.”

“The doctors said that I’m lucky it was only a partial tear,” Annabeth said, smiling weakly. “But I don’t feel particularly lucky.”

“D-Did they say anything about how long it’ll take for you to make a full recovery?” Reyna asked hesitantly.

“They were pretty wishy-washy about it,” Annabeth said, shrugging. “Guessing they don’t want to be liable for being wrong. Only estimate they gave me was that I could walk normally in about two weeks or so. After that, depends on how well I respond to physical therapy.”

Reyna was silent for a while before she said, “Meet me at the college circuit someday. I’ll be waiting there for you. And then we can finally settle things.”

Annabeth picked at the hem of her shirt with a wan smile. “What’s there to settle? I haven’t beat you a single time. There’s a clear winner here, and it sure isn’t me.”

“You of all people should know you’re only as good as your last race,” Reyna said. “People in our sport can never afford to rest on their laurels.”

When Annabeth was silent, Reyna quietly said, “You look like you’ve already given up.”

Reyna’s words stung and made Annabeth recoil. “I’m sick of giving myself false hope.”

“The way I see it, hope has nothing to do with it. The only question is if you still want to try. If you still want to compete, then you’ll keep pushing until you find a way through,” Reyna said, shrugging.

“Now, I’m not here to tell you whether you should keep going or not. That’s up to you. But don’t hide behind hope as an excuse. If you want to stop, then own it.”

Annabeth stared at her lap for a while and said, “I- I don’t know. I need more time to think about it.”

Reyna nodded and said, “I don’t blame you. It’s a big decision.”

There was another pause before Annabeth cleared her throat and said, “I never got a chance to apologize. For what happened at the meet, I mean.”

Reyna furrowed her brow. “What is there to apologize for?”

Annabeth dug her fingernails into her palms. “I cost you the race. If it weren’t for me, you would have won state and placed nationally.”

“From what I recall, a certain someone was screaming at me to let her go because I was, and I quote, ‘throwing the fucking race’,” Reyna said dryly.

“Sorry about that,” Annabeth mumbled.

Reyna gave her a smile and said, “You have nothing to blame yourself for, Annabeth. It was my choice to stay and help you.”

A lump formed in Annabeth’s throat. “But why though? Why did you help me?”

“I already told you,” Reyna said, mock-exasperatedly. “Because we’re friends.”

“And that was enough of a reason?”

“There are more important things than high school cross country races, Annabeth,” Reyna said simply.

Annabeth bit her lower lip and struggled to wrap her head around Reyna’s answer. They were friends, but not so close that it made sense for her to abandon the championship for her sake. Maybe Reyna was just like that with people she deemed friends or perhaps it was just a decision made in the heat of the moment.

“And you don’t resent me or anything for it?” Annabeth asked.

“Not one bit,” Reyna said firmly. “I would do it again if I had to. I’m sure you would have done the same for me.”

“You think too highly of me,” Annabeth said quietly. “But thank you.”

Reyna raised an eyebrow and said, “So you would have left me lying in the mud with a fucked up leg just to a win a race then?”

Annabeth paused and said, “Well, when you put it that way, I suppose not.”

“See? Told you: there are more important things,” Reyna said, smiling. “Besides, I don’t want you using your injury as an excuse for when I inevitably kick your ass.”

That got a watery laugh out of Annabeth. “I’m just glad you don’t hate me.”

Reyna rolled her eyes fondly. “Of course not.”

Annabeth hid a smile and stared up at the clear, blue sky for a while before something occurred to her. “How did you know where to find me?”

“Percy told me,” Reyna said, shrugging.

Annabeth furrowed her brow and said, “You have his number?”

“No, we just happened to run into each other somewhere, and I got a chance to ask him.”

Annabeth’s heart beat faster in her chest. “D-Did he say anything else to you?”

Reyna shook her head. “No, but he looked like a mess though. Did something happen?”

Annabeth nodded and felt a lump form in her throat. Slowly, she told Reyna about everything that had unfolded after she had left her with Percy. Reyna listened quietly and intently the entire time that Annabeth spoke, but Annabeth couldn’t tell what she was thinking.

Annabeth finished by saying, “I know I shouldn’t have cornered him like that just because I was so angry about my knee, especially the whole confession thing, but at the same time, I can’t help being frustrated that he still refused to open up, right to the very end.”

When Reyna was silent, Annabeth looked at her and said, “You once said that you thought he lied all the time about how he felt and what he wanted. Is this what you meant?”

“Not exactly,” Reyna admitted. “I thought it was something more malicious, but after seeing how he is around you, it’s obvious how much he cares for you.”

“If he does,” Annabeth said softly, “it’s not in a way that I understand.”

“You’re not alone in feeling that way, I would imagine,” Reyna said. “We all have different ideas of what it means to love and be loved, and sometimes those ideas don’t match up.”

“And there’s nothing we can do about that then?” Annabeth asked.

Reyna shook her head. “No, it just means you both need to talk to about your needs. It’s not wrong to teach someone how to love you the way you need them to.”

“I would if he bothered to listen,” Annabeth said tersely.

“Really? From what you’ve told me about him, he seems to listen to you a great deal,” Reyna said, sounding surprised.

Annabeth worried her lower lip and hesitantly said, “I mean, yeah, I guess that’s accurate. But there’s still something that gets in the way, and I don’t know what it is.”

“I said this before, but it seems like he’s holding something back,” Reyna said. “Not in the way one hides secrets, but in the way you shoulder a burden, quietly and without complaint. Maybe it’s just that over time that weight has become too much to bear.”

Reyna’s words instantly struck a chord in her, even though she hadn’t fully processed them yet.

A wry smile danced on Reyna’s lips. “Reminds me a lot of my sister. Something about how sad their eyes look.”

Annabeth blinked in surprise - she had always pegged Reyna as an only child. “Wait, you have a sister?”

Reyna nodded and said, “Yeah, seven years older than me. Her name’s Hylla.”

She looked like she had more to say, so Annabeth remained silent and watched her. Reyna buried her hands in the pockets of her sweatshirt and stared up at the sky with a sigh.

“My dad was a physically abusive piece of shit growing up, so much so that my mother left him. Unfortunately, she didn’t bother to take us with her, for whatever reason, so we had to fend for ourselves. As the older sibling, Hylla took it upon herself to protect me until she was old enough to move out and take me with her,” Reyna said.

“Oh my god, I’m so sorry to hear that,” Annabeth said quietly.

“It’s whatever. We’re fine now, for the most part,” Reyna said, shrugging. “But sometimes I can tell that it still eats at Hylla. It wouldn’t be that big a deal, but she has a hard time opening up or putting herself first. Over the years, I’ve tried my best to help her through it, but it’s something she still struggles with.”

“Eventually, I realized that there was really nothing I could do,” Reyna said, pursing her lips. “So instead I swore to myself that I would be open and straight-forward about everything, in the hopes that maybe if I could show her there was another way, it might change something. And who knows, maybe it’s all for nothing, but at least I am being true to myself and honest about what I want.”

Reyna traced the lines on her palm and swallowed thickly. “But it’s really tough. People think it’s easy and assume nothing scares me but they’re wrong. I’m terrified, like all the time, but seeing how much it tears away at my sister, keeping everything locked up inside, I— I don’t ever want to live that way.”

“I think you’re amazing,” Annabeth said softly. “I can’t begin to imagine how much courage that takes.”

Reyna gave her a smile and said, “Thanks. That means a lot.”

Annabeth shook her head. “I should be the one thanking you, for sharing all of this.”

“It’s no problem. I only brought it up because your situation reminded me of my sister and I. Maybe I’m totally off base about that, I don’t know,” Reyna said.

“No, um, it was definitely helpful,” Annabeth said.

Reyna took Annabeth’s hand and gave it a squeeze. “You still look conflicted.”

Annabeth laughed breathlessly and shrugged. “I-I don’t know. I guess I’m still having a hard time accepting that we’re even in this situation. It just hurts to find out that I didn’t know him anywhere near as well as I thought I did.”

“Why does that have to hurt?” Reyna asked. “What is it that troubles you so much?”

Annabeth had to pause and really think about Reyna’s question because nothing immediately came to mind. It was only now that she realized that it was actually kind of strange that she was so distraught about this to begin with. It wasn’t like there was anything particularly awful about the situation. After all, this sort of thing was totally common, but it still seemed to profoundly unsettle her all the same. She was just having a hard time understanding why that was the case.

“It’s hard to say,” Annabeth admitted. “I think it’s because Percy’s the only person in my life that I have ever truly been able to rely on, and finding out that I don’t fully know him scares me. If I don’t know him, utterly and completely, then how can I count on him? It just makes me feel really insecure, like this is all a house of cards that could come tumbling down at any moment.”

Reyna sighed and said, “I don’t know. I just think knowing someone is a pretty impossible standard to set for yourself.”

Annabeth furrowed her brow. “What do you mean?”

“Well, in my experience, a person isn’t something to be known like a fact in a book,” Reyna said. “The human heart isn’t something quite so definitive. A person is always ever in the process of unraveling, constantly revealing themselves moment by moment, piece by piece. None of us ever really knows one another, but that doesn’t really matter. What matters is the effort we make to know one another, not whether we succeed. That’s all that love is: finding someone that you make the effort to know, to discover and rediscover, over and over again. And they do the same for you.”

“But then how can we ever trust anyone?” Annabeth asked desperately.

“You take a leap of faith,” Reyna said simply. “I wish I could say there was some trick to never having your trust broken but that’s not possible. Trust, by its very nature, is a brittle thing, but that’s also what makes it worth anything. The only reason trust holds any value at all is because it is something that needs to be earned.”

Reyna’s words made Annabeth recall what Percy had told her atop Aspen Peak. She hadn’t fully understood what he had meant at the time, but now she realized that there was a power to vulnerability that she didn’t know existed. It was a paradox but only by opening herself to heartbreak could she ever find what she was looking for: something permanent.

Annabeth managed a half-smile and said, “Percy told me it was like letting someone touch your heart with their hands and praying they didn’t crush it between their fingers, but that it was something we needed to do anyways.”

“That’s a pretty good way to put it,” Reyna laughed.

Annabeth sighed and said, “Would be nice if relationships weren’t so fucking complicated.”

“Agreed,” Reyna said, yawning. “I should probably get going. It’s getting late.”

Annabeth nodded. “Thanks again for visiting me and for the advice. It was really helpful.”

“And thank you for listening,” Reyna said, smiling.

“I hope someday I’ll be able to live as strongly as you do,” Annabeth said.

“You already live that way,” Reyna said, shrugging. “You just doubt yourself too much.”

Annabeth worried her lower lip and nodded. “Yeah, maybe you’re right.”

Reyna offered one final smile and said, “Guess I’ll head out then. Keep me posted about your leg and everything. When you can walk, we should hit up the batting cages again. Take your mind off things.”

“I’d like that,” Annabeth smiled.

“See you later, Annabeth.”

“You too, Reyna.”

Annabeth watched and waited for Reyna to leave before she sighed and headed back inside the hospital herself. She felt lighter for the first time in weeks. Reyna’s advice stuck in the back of her mind, and Annabeth took some time to digest it. She had a feeling it would help her figure out her path going forward.

:::

Piper came to pick her up on the day she was discharged from the hospital. By then, Annabeth could walk with the help of a brace that helped keep most of her weight off her knee, but she could only walk for a few minutes or so at most before the strain piled up and became too much. Piper leaned against the side of her car and watched Annabeth hobble over before she rushed in and gave Annabeth a hug.

“Didn’t realize you were so happy to see me,” Annabeth joked.

“Shut up,” Piper mumbled against her skin. “I’ve been worried sick about you.”

Annabeth swallowed thickly and whispered, “Thanks, Pipes.”

Piper pulled away and offered a gentle smile. “Ready to go then?”

“Yep.”

Piper opened the passenger’s side door for Annabeth and waited for Annabeth to take a seat before she did so as well. Annabeth rolled down the windows and relished in the late April breeze when it flowed across her face. Piper started the car and turned the radio on before she pulled out of the hospital parking lot and onto the interstate.

Once they were on their way, Annabeth turned to Piper and said, “You’re still okay with me staying with you right? I complete get if that’s not an option anymore.”

“No, you’re totally fine,” Piper assured her. “It’ll be nice to have some company. Besides, my place is too fucking big for only one person.”

“Your dad’s still away on a shoot then?” Annabeth asked.

Piper shrugged. “Probably. Didn’t bother asking.”

Annabeth nodded slowly and turned back to the window, but Piper looked at her and said, “Your parents aren’t going to flip out about this right?”

“Oh, I’m sure Helen will kick up a fuss, but that’s kind of par for the course,” Annabeth said.

“I’m all for it and everything, but have you really thought this through? I mean, leaving your family is a huge decision,” Piper said.

Annabeth gave her a significant look and said, “In all the time you’ve known me, when have I ever not thought things through?”

“Alright, fair point,” Piper admitted. “I’m still worried though.”

“I was going to have to leave for college anyways. This is basically only moving up the schedule. Besides, I’m pretty sure they’ll be glad to finally see me gone,” Annabeth said.

Piper grimaced and nodded. “I wish you didn’t have to go through all this. Especially now, with your leg and all.”

“It is what it is,” Annabeth said, shrugging.

They drove along in silence for a while before Piper glanced at her again and said, “I, uh, wanted to ask you about something unrelated.”

“Fire away.”

“I’m not sure if you know anything, but Percy has been acting really strange lately,” Piper said. “I’ve tried asking him about it, but he just smiles and says that it’s nothing.”

Annabeth sighed. She had been expecting this, but it was still rough now that it was finally here. Slowly, Annabeth began to explain the whole fake dating arrangement from the start of the school year and everything that had happened since then, culminating in their confrontation after her injury. Piper didn’t say so much as word, but Annabeth noticed the way her fingers tightened around the steering wheel so hard they drained of blood.

When she was done, Annabeth watched Piper with bated breath, waiting for the worst. Piper just exhaled forcefully and said, “Christ, what a mess.”

“I know,” Annabeth said mildly.

“So this whole time, you guys weren’t actually dating then? You were just lying about it?”

Annabeth hung her head and said, “Yeah, pretty much.”

Piper was quiet for a moment before she shook her head incredulously. “I mean, I knew something was up with how jittery you were about the whole dating thing, but I never expected this.”

“I’m sorry for not telling you sooner,” Annabeth said. “I was afraid you’d be mad at me.”

“Oh, I am mad at you. Furious, actually. But I’m equally as frustrated with Percy. As bad an idea as it was on your part, he should never have accepted. He knows better,” Piper said, fuming. “A pair of idiots, the both of you. What were you both thinking?”

“I’m sorry,” Annabeth said.

“Well, what’s done is done, I guess,” Piper sighed. “Honestly, maybe this what the both of you needed. Maybe now you’ll finally sort out your relationship.”

“Or maybe this is the end of it for good,” Annabeth said wryly.

“Love the optimism, babe.”

Annabeth huffed a laugh and said, “I’ll try my best to fix this, but I don’t know if I can.”

Piper was quiet for a while before she said, “Give it another shot. Maybe things will be different now that he’s had time to think about all this on his own too.”

“Yeah, you might be right,” Annabeth said.

There was another pause before Annabeth said, “You’re not gonna rescind your offer to let me crash with you, right?”

Piper snorted and said, “I have half a mind to, but I won’t. As stupid as you are, you’re still my best friend, and I’m not going to turn my back on you.”

“I don’t appreciate the insult, but thank you,” Annabeth said, smiling.

Piper glanced at her and jabbed her with her elbow. “Don’t look so happy with yourself or I might change my mind.”

“What, I’m not allowed to be happy that you called me your best friend?” Annabeth asked innocently.

Piper rolled her eyes and said, “Don’t try and schmooze your way out of this, you know what you’ve done. Especially, after that whole spiel about how you always think things through too.”

They pulled up in front of Annabeth’s house, and the brief levity in the air dissipated immediately. Annabeth set her jaw and took a deep breath, but her heart still beat faster in her chest anyways. Piper gave her a look of concern and squeezed her forearm.

“You sure you don’t want me to come with?” Piper whispered.

Annabeth shook her head. “No, this is something I need to do alone.”

Piper nodded but she still looked worried as Annabeth steadied herself and stepped out of the car. She hobbled to the front door and stepped inside with the spare key hidden beneath the flower pot. It was quiet inside the house, but the cars were still in the driveway so her father and step-mother had to be home. Annabeth pursed her lips and made her way upstairs to her room.

There was a suitcase hidden in her closet, and she pulled it out and opened it on the floor of her bedroom. She packed as many clothes as she could inside and stuffed her laptop, charger, phone charger, and water bottle inside her backpack. Once she was satisfied that she had everything prepared, she sat on her bed with a sigh.

Annabeth took a look around the room and felt a sudden rush of nostalgia wash over her. This was probably the last time she would ever come here, she mused. It was littered with all sorts of knick knacks and photos, posters and sketches. As much as she hated living in this house, this was the only place she could call her own. Leaving it almost felt like killing a part of herself off. Her step-mother would turn it into a storage room or something once she was gone, and soon there would be no trace that she had ever lived here. Something about that hurt, even though Annabeth knew it was for the best.

She stood up, feeling more than a little melancholy, and steeled her heart. There was still one last thing she needed to do. Annabeth put her luggage in the hallway and tentatively stepped into her father’s study. Thankfully, he wasn’t there. She riffled through the drawers of his desk in search of the old brown briefcase he stashed old letters in. It was always weird to her that he just kept letters, but he said he liked to have records in case companies tried to swindle him out of money. It was hidden away in some dark corner, and she dumped the contents onto the carpet.

There were hundreds of envelopes so it took her some time to sift through them all, but a few minutes later Annabeth’s worst fears were confirmed. There was an unopened letter addressed to her from Berkeley, dated October 4th.

That wasn’t the worst of it however.

There was another letter from Stanford. Northwestern. Duke. Cornell. Dartmouth. All dated from late September to early October. All unopened.

Annabeth had always felt something off about the fact that her Berkeley letter never reached her. She had dismissed it as a fluke but during her stay at the hospital it occurred to her that there could have been a more malevolent explanation. Seeing the letters now only confirmed her worst suspicions, but the sense of betrayal still hit her harder than she had anticipated.

She snatched the letters and stormed downstairs, as quickly as she could with her brace. Her father and step-mother were in the living room watching the news.

Helen blinked in surprise and said, “Annabeth? I didn’t know you were home from the hospital.”

Annabeth ignored her and held up the envelopes, her hands trembling. “What’s the meaning of this?”

“You’re going to have to be a little more specific, dear,” Helen said mildly.

“These are college letters. Addressed to me. Why did no one tell me?” Annabeth asked.

Helen shrugged and said, “I didn’t think they were important.”

Her excuse was so bad, it actually made Annabeth’s head hurt. “How could you not think that those might be important to your step-daughter, a senior in high school?”

A gleam of irritation flashed in Helen’s eyes. “You have been getting letters since junior year, and they always just asked you to apply, so I thought these were more of the same.”

“Let’s pretend for a moment that your terrible excuse is valid - you still should have shown me these,” Annabeth said.

“You’re still a child. Talk to your parents with respect,” Helen snapped.

Annabeth crossed her arms over her chest. “You literally lost me the chance to go to fucking Stanford, so you’ll have to forgive me for not having much respect for you.”

“Annabeth,” her father warned.

The smart thing to do would have been to drop it then and there. Nothing good could have come of this. The damage was already done. Continuing this would only make things worse.

Annabeth knew all this, but at that moment, she was filled with such uncontrolled rage, rage that had been built upon years upon years of horrid treatment from Helen and her father who couldn’t be bothered to care about the fact that his new wife routinely emotionally abused his first-born daughter, that she couldn’t bring herself to stop.

“She fucking knew this was important and she hid these from me anyways,” Annabeth snapped. “She’s so insecure about that fact that I’m more intelligent than her kids that she has to sabotage me.”

“Annabeth, that’s enough,” her father said sharply.

Annabeth turned to him and balled her hands in fists. “And you! You never say anything. You just let her treat me like absolute dogshit, and you don’t even care.”

“Young lady, you are so disrespectful that it honestly blows my mind,” Helen said coldly. “How you can accuse me of treating you poorly when you never bother to interact with the family and treat us like strangers is beyond me.”

“That’s rich coming from the person who couldn’t be bothered to visit her step-daughter once in the hospital,” Annabeth snorted.

A vein bulged on Helen’s forehead, and Annabeth knew she had her. “The reason I do my best to stay out of the house isn’t rocket science. From day one, you have done absolutely everything you can to make me feel unwelcome in this family-”

“Let me tell you something that you don’t seem to understand: no one is ruining your life, dear,” Helen interrupted. “You ruin things yourself and blame everyone else for it instead. You are just an ungrateful, spiteful little girl that does nothing but cause people pain.”

Annabeth stiffened like she’d been hit in the face with a shovel. Her thoughts turned to radio static and her chest squeezed so painfully that it was hard for her to breathe.

No words came to her.

Without meaning to, she turned to her father.

“D-Dad?” Annabeth asked, her voice cracking.

Annabeth wasn’t even sure what she was asking for, just that at that moment, she felt very much like she was seven years old again, asking him to check for monsters hiding in the closet. Back then she had taken it for granted that he would help her, that he would keep her safe. Suddenly, it made sense why she kept looking to him whenever Helen tormented her, even though she knew he would never come to her aid. She thought she had abandoned that hope a long time ago, but now Annabeth realized some small part of her had still held on to it, like someone tending to a dying flame.

Still, there was nothing that could prepare her for the silence in the living room at that moment as her father simply sat there, his lips pressed in a hard line, still not looking at her.

Annabeth forced herself to take a deep breath. She wasn’t going to cry. She wasn’t going to let Helen win this.

No, instead, Annabeth turned to her father and offered him a strained smile. “Since it is apparent that you aren’t going to say anything on my behalf, like always, I just wanted to tell you a few things before I left. And yes, I am leaving. I’m done living in this house, which should delight the both of you. I don’t know that would even worry you, but rest assured: I’ll figure things out on my own, like I always have.”

When Helen bristled at the accusation, Annabeth offered her a smile like poisoned honey and said, “Before you open your mouth, feel free to shut the fuck up. I’m talking to my father right now.”

Helen went red, but Annabeth stared her down, begging her to say something. Helen glanced at her father, but for whatever reason, he didn’t come to her aid this time. She shook her head incredulously and left the living room, leaving Annabeth alone with her father.

When she was gone, he looked at Annabeth for the first time and said, “You went too far.”

“I honestly don’t give a shit,” Annabeth said simply.

Her father opened his mouth to chastise her, undoubtedly, but Annabeth bulldozed on through.

“Don’t bother to defend her. I’ll be gone in a few minutes anyways, and then it won’t matter since you’ll never have to see me again. But until then, you are going to shut up and listen to me,” Annabeth said.

Her father pressed his mouth in a thin line, which Annabeth took as permission to keep going.

“I don’t know when or how things went so wrong between us. I still remember how it used to be, back when mom was still around,” Annabeth started.

“She’s gone, Annabeth,” he interrupted.

“Yeah, I fucking know, but you don’t seem to realize you weren’t the only one she left behind,” Annabeth yelled.

“She left me, too, you know? And you have punished me for that, every day since she left,” Annabeth said, her voice cracking.

Annabeth steadied herself before she got too emotional and shook her head. “But I want you to know something - I am proud to be my mother’s daughter. Despite your best efforts to make me feel otherwise, I will not apologize for that, for being here, for existing. And I’m done looking to you for help or safety or even acknowledgement given you’ve long since proven to be utterly incapable of that. And I want you to know that someday I’ll find people who love and accept me, and I won’t ever have to spare a second of my life thinking about you and how you made me feel. Someday, I’ll heal and you’ll be nothing more than a bad memory.”

With that, Annabeth left to retrieve her luggage from the hallway before he could respond and left the house for good. Piper was pacing around her car and rushed over to her once she heard the door open and threw her arms around her.

“Are you okay?” Piper asked. “It sounded pretty bad in there.”

“Yeah,” Annabeth said, nodding. “I finally let go of something I should have a long time ago.”

Piper studied her for a moment before nodding to herself. “Alright, looks like that’s settled then. Let’s go get something to eat!”

Annabeth raised an eyebrow. “You’re dropping it, just like that?”

“You look like you’ve got it figured out on your own,” Piper said, shrugging. “Besides, I can tell this is something I can’t really help you with anyways.”

Annabeth smiled despite herself and shook her head. “I never thought the day would come when Piper McLean would know when to let sleeping dogs lie.”

Piper rolled her eyes and stashed her luggage in her car trunk. “Don’t make me change my mind about letting you stay.”

“That’s an empty threat if I’ve ever heard one,” Annabeth said, sliding into the passenger seat.

“Yeah, I suppose you’re right,” Piper muttered.

“But seriously though,” Annabeth said, clearing her throat. “Thank you. For everything. It means more to me than I can say.”

“You’re welcome,” Piper said softly. “I’m happy for you. Leaving that hellhole was a long time coming. You definitely made the right call.”

“What happened to all the asking me if I was sure about it and stuff?” Annabeth asked.

“I’ve always wanted you to leave. I just didn’t want to influence your decision,” Piper said.

Annabeth was quiet for a moment and said, “You’re actually a really good friend, huh?”

Piper gave her a cheeky grin and started the car. “I’m offended that it took you so long to notice.”

#knuffled fic #just practice #percabeth fic #percabeth fluff #percabeth angst #annabeth chase #percy jackson

[ethernetchord]

i was posed some interesting prompts/questions by @waywardrebelhairdodeputy-blog about iwwv so here are my responses!

1. Why do you think James punched Oliver? (During the sword play practice and also in the beginning of the book Gwendolyn asked James to think of something that would make him wanna punch Oliver and after a minute his eyes became hard, what do you think he thought of then at the moment?

oh, this is a cool question. there are a couple of angles I'd like to take with this so please, bear with me. Firstly I thought about this from the Rio/Oliver narration perspective. So let me pull out some Oliver quotes (concerning James)

"James and I put each other through the kind of reckless passions Gwendolyn once talked about, joy and anger and desire and despair."

"but in the red glare of the fire, he no longer looked so angelic. Instead, he was handsome the way you think of the devil as handsome—forbiddingly so."

"You’re—I don’t know, this fragile, elusive thing, and I feel like if I could just catch you, I could crush you... I should hate you right now. And I want to—God, I want to —but that’s not enough"

“Oliver, I don’t know what’s wrong with me. I want to hurt the whole world.” (James to Oliver)

Now, with all of this in mind, you'll come to realize that one of the most enticing and riveting things about these two is that their love and passion for each other is far from gentle or soft- contrasting greatly how many queer male relationships are represented. It's harsh, bright, sharp- it's ruthless but not uncaring. Oliver, highly repressed in himself becomes inwardly aggressive and violent- "I could crush you." "I should hate you... I want to" "Forbiddingly" - His affections towards James aren't entirely consensual on his own behalf, this makes him assaultive and frustrated. But only internally- he never acts on these feelings, he can't hurt James. James is the opposite of this- and you'd think with his gentle angelic, princely demeanor that he'd be equally repressive of his feelings and impulses but if the book has proven anything- it's that James is perfectly capable of causing physical harm. Rio presents them equally in their aggression but their approaches are foils of each other.

The next thing I'd propose- ultimately- is Meredith, and additionally, internalized homophobia. Now let's clarify: I don't think James had any doubts about his queer identity I just don't think he was entirely accepting of even himself. Because if we look at the one, explicit, instance in which James is murderously aggressive- Richard's murder- what two things does that event and his aggressions towards Oliver have in common? Meredith and homosexuality. Let me explain. Richard and Meredith, Meredick if you will, "She and Richard had been “together” in every typical sense of the word", it's nearly impossible to think of Richard without Meredith- and this might have been less significant if Meredith and Oliver didn't have the relationship they had and if Meredith had never propositioned James also. Her ties with all three of them is important. Now; homosexuality. Richard was acting explicitly homophobic- now whether this is true or not because I know that's been an argument itself- it has to stem from some reality for James. And with Oliver- well it's obvious there. So my point: James might have thought of Meredith and Oliver, of them together, of if she had propositioned Oliver in the same way. He might have thought of Oliver, of wanting to love him but not allowing himself, of Oliver slipping through his fingers, of Oliver hitting him for these very desires.

2. Also also also the part where James was drunk and blabbering like a fool out of guilt, he asked Wren to sleep with her so was he bisexual too? Or that was just a ruse to get away from Oliver at that moment, but there are parts where he was affectionate towards Wren (could be friendship, but he was twirling strands of hair at the nape of her neck and she was smiling so....)

I think different queer people might interpret this differently but this is my reading of it. I do think they were friendly- I think they were very close really. The situation with the photos in which James is playing with her hair while posing + plus the kiss (part of their performance) and finally him asking her to sleep with him- I don't think that it's impossible for him to be bisexual.

I've seen a lot of people say that he must be gay since he rejected Meredith but that's a very surface-level conclusion in my opinion. I think that his inability to be attracted to Mer had more to do with his genuine disliking towards her and that he just really didn't want to be another one of the boys she could play. I don't think it has to be concrete evidence of his complete homosexuality. I don't by any means think he was in love with Wren, however. The nature of James and Wren's relationship is nothing like Oliver and Meredith's. This is important. I think they were close, James loved her platonically enough and like you said, probably used her as a diversion for himself.

But- kinda in a different direction here, that it's not impossible that James and Wren was some form of straight-baiting for readers (and Oliver.) I don't know about other readers but I know that for most of the book I was convinced that the feelings between James and Oliver were unrequited on Oliver's behalf. I never suspected that James might harbor feelings back which leads me to this: Oliver might have over assumed the nature of their relationship due to his feelings of unrequitedness and incompatibility. As we're having to listen to Oliver's particular retelling of all this- it's easy to get lost in the lens he creates for us. After all, there are multiple versions of the truth.

But like I said- It's likely Wren was a similar distraction for James as Mer was for Oliver and It's also likely they genuinely had some form of relationship. Nothing's impossible.

The only just criticism for Iwwv I accept is that we never received a why for the way Richard was behaving (you could say he was always a dick and losing his main part made him more so) but all those violent tendencies toward everyone? Not justified, I would have liked more depth in his character and then there's the eating disorder of Caroline (Older sister) and how fickle and reckless Oliver was about it, he just didn't care (kinda sad to think about)

I TOTALLY agree with this. Some people might disagree with me when I say iwwv was actually a pretty short book- but between the amount that was Shakespeare extracts and due to the formatting, 400 pages really isn't a lot. I think Richard could have had more development- Hell most of the characters could have had more development but him specifically. His spiral into violence did feel really sudden and a little confusing. I mean as readers we were beginning to look for an antagonist, for someone to dislike because all the characters had pretty enjoyable personalities so when Richard begins to seem antagonistic we kind of follow it comfortably because it seems natural. However, thinking about it afterward you realize how little we truly know about Richard and his borderline insanity ykno? Even re-reading- Richard begins to become an uncomfortable character to readers very very early on. I was trying to find some foreshadowing or possible explanations and all I might be able to grasp at is the line:

"I didn't mean there are exactly fourteen," Richard said thinly. "I mean it would be impossible to isolate one that leads him to skewering himself." (page 57, when discussing Brutus.)

I know Richard doesn't play Brutus but I think this is still notable- It's kind of impossible to find the one thing that drew Richard into this downfall and it would have been a combination of many things, like with any human character. But I do agree Rio could have given us some more space to learn about all those factors for him. Reading from the perspective of Oliver makes this hard because well- He is an unreliable narrator and it's impossible to know how everything played out and why because of this. Especially since Oliver and Richard were never the most friendly. Additionally, I think the closest thing Rio really gives us is Oliver's delivery of the iconic "Actors are by nature volatile" line.

The same goes for the situation with Oliver's sister. I think we didn't hear much about her because Oliver didn't care enough. He was far too overwhelmed with anger and disappointment from being put second to his sister to really muster up the energy to care enough to expose more to readers. Unfortunately, she was simply a side character even in his life, too unnotable to him or his plot (as he's retelling the story). Much of the flaws of this book with the lack of development of other characters- particularly their motives and side plots boil down, essentially to the unreliable narration. This is why so many people do not like this book- and others like it. We are, to some degree, always kept in the dark about something. Because so is Oliver- as much as he (and in turn, we) could spectate about why things happened the way they did, he (we) could never really know. There is beauty and frustration in this simultaneously.

I could say so much more about all my thoughts on Richard but I'll save you that (for now) because I don't think I could explain him but I definitely have my theories.

#if we were villains #iwwv critism #oliver marks #iwwv

[alj4890]

Prompt Request

(Thomas Hunt x OC*Amanda) with the prompt, "Well...that was mean." as requested by @krsnlove​ in celebration of 500 followers.

(Thomas Hunt x OC*Amanda) as taken from the Choices: Red Carpet Diaries/ Regency AU storyline, None But You

A/N For my BFF who loves Regency romance just as much as I do, I'm going back to the series she encouraged me on (pretty much like she does with all my crazy ideas) for this prompt. I adored how perfect Thomas Hunt seemed in this time period. His proud, abrupt ways were made for the early 1800s. For this one, we will go even further back to Thomas and Amanda's courtship that wasn't quite a courtship 😂

@graceful-popcorn​   @krsnlove​   @alleksa16​   @hopelessromantic1352​     @emceesynonymroll​​   @buzz-bee-buzz​   @hopefulmoonobject​    @rainbowsinthestorm​   @lxaah11​   @my-heart-beats-for-ya​ @everythingmarvelsherlockspn @friedherringclodthing​   @aworldoffandoms​   @ab1901​  @sophxwithers​

Masterlist

Inclinations

Lord and Lady Clifford's Ball, London...

"Oh!" Millie gripped Amanda's arm. With a jut of her chin, she hissed, "Can you believe the gall of Ms. Timmons? Look at her! That is the fifth time within the last few minutes that she has walked past Lord Summers and Lord Hunt."

Amanda covered her mouth with her fan when Millie compared the unfortunate young lady to a peacock strutting about to show off her plumage.

"If she adjusts her curl once more over her shoulder..." Millie glared at the spectacle. "I've never seen a lady more determined to catch a rich husband."

"Have you not?" Amanda managed to say without laughing. "Isn't that the point to coming to London for The Season? Aren't we all attempting to land ourselves a husband who assures us a life of comfort and security?"

"Hmph." Millie flicked open her own fan and began to use it vigorously. "Be that as it may, we at least attempt to attract gentlemen with decorum." A smile formed. "Of course, you don't have to worry about such a thing anymore."

"I do have to worry about it." Amanda argued. "No man has made me any promises or given any declarations."

"My dear friend," Millie linked her free arm with Amanda's, "some gentlemen make declarations without saying a single word." She gestured with her fan towards Thomas. "I've seen him attend more outings and balls since you first arrived than in the past two years that I have taken part in ton’s gatherings."

Amanda shook her head while her heart began to hope that her friend wasn't simply exaggerating the viscount's surprising appearance once more.

He had at past parties and balls admitted to her that he did not enjoy such and preferred the quiet life at Kirkwood Manor, his estate in Norfolk.

She wondered if he was attending these to see her.

Perhaps, then again, perhaps not.

He had not sought her out this evening for a dance nor for conversation. He had locked eyes with her from across the room and then bowed his head in greeting, but other than that he had not so much as glanced her way.

Which as much as Lady Amanda despised herself for her weakness for him, she had still peeked over at him whenever she could.

Could he possibly feel as I do?

She wished with all her heart that he felt the same for her.

"Pardon me, my lady, but may I request a dance?"

Amanda blinked and refocused on a gentleman she had only seen in passing. "Yes of course, my lord." She handed over her dance card.

*****************

"Do stop glaring, Kirkwood." Ryan insisted. "You'll scare all the ladies off if you're not careful."

Thomas merely shrugged while surreptitiously glancing over at the reason he had journeyed once more into yet another matchmaking mothers' den.

Lady Amanda Bridgerton was smiling and laughing at whatever Lady Millicent Rawlings was saying. Thomas felt his own lips curve upwards when she used her fan to try to hide her amusement.

Her happiness brought a warmth to his heart.

"There now." Ryan patted Thomas on the back. "That wasn't so hard was it?"

"What are you blabbering about now?" Thomas bit out.

"And it's gone." Ryan shook his head and heaved a deep sigh. "Why do you persist in staying away from her?"

"From whom?" Thomas nearly bit his tongue for tempting his friend into pointing out once again that he felt something more for the dark haired lady standing on the other side of the ballroom.

"Hunt." Ryan shook his head in resignation. "Why do you insist on tormenting yourself?"

"Tormenting?" Thomas chuckled as he took a sip of his drink. "I see you are finally seeing these balls in the same light as I do."

"That wasn't what I meant. I intended for you to leave my company for the one you prefer." Ryan grinned at the frustrated anger forming on his friend's face. He couldn't resist adding, "You cannot deny that Lady Amanda's is the one you desire above all others."

Thomas turned his attention once more toward the subject that he was having difficulty ignoring.

"Let's see now." Ryan continued. "I believe you have complimented her intelligence. I have overheard you mention how lovely her appearance is. Ah! And let's not forget that a moment with her has you smiling and even chuckling upon occasion."

"Absurd." Thomas huffed. "Once again, Summers, you turn a mere friendly admiration into some frivolous love story that young girls are want to dream about." He hmphed while studying Amanda. "I do worry about your mind at times. It is becoming even sillier than the ladies twittering about during their first season."

"Well...that was mean." Ryan's rich laughter drew attention to the two of them. "I believe I will find someone to soothe my damaged feelings with a dance."

Thomas rolled his eyes as Lord Summers finally took pity on the unfortunate Ms. Timmons and her efforts to try and gain such an offer from one of them.

Then he noticed their hosts' younger son, who just so happens to have a highly suspect reputation, approach Amanda.

Cursing under his breath, he began to make his way over to her side.

****************

"Shall we?" Lord Roderick Clifford held his hand out toward Amanda.

She smiled and began to take it, only for her hand to be captured in an all too familiar grip.

Her eyes widened at Thomas's nerve.

Millie simply beamed at his actions.

"This is my dance." He said, tucking her hand within the bend of his arm. "You'll have to forgive my tardiness, I was caught in an unfortunately long conversation with Summers."

Roderick merely cocked an eyebrow. "Your name was nowhere on her dance card."

"An oversight of my own, I assure you." Thomas brushed past him, pulling a bemused Amanda in his wake.

Once clear of being overheard, she squeezed his arm.

"I don't recall you requesting a dance from me this evening, Lord Hunt."

"Like I said earlier," he took her into his arms and began to waltz, "it was an oversight on my part."

She shook her head while fighting back a delighted smile. "I do not know what to think of you at times."

"Am I that difficult to figure out?" His frown softened. "I think I am a fairly average gentleman."

"Nothing about you is average, my lord." Her smile grew when she noticed the flush upon his cheeks. "You are an intelligent and interesting gentleman to be sure and yet you rarely converse with others here." She tilted her head as if pondering this great mystery. "Why is that?"

His lips parted then closed. His brow furrowed for a moment. "I suppose it is because I do not enjoy striking up conversations with people I do not know well."

"You struck up one with me when we first met." She reminded him. A soft laugh escaped her lips. "And every moment since then with you only proves that anyone would be fortunate to engage in discussions with you."

His lips curved once more as he held her gaze. "I think of the two of us, it is you that anyone would be fortunate to talk to. You have that rare gift of putting one at ease as he tries to speak."

She beamed at him. "That is a lovely compliment. Thank you for that, Lord Thomas."

He had to bite back the many other compliments that came to mind as he looked upon her. "It was merely the truth, nothing more."

"Just the same." She insisted. "Thank you."

He nodded and happened to glance up to see Ryan's smug smile nearby.

Glaring at the reminder that he had only proven his friend correct, he guided Amanda a few steps away from his nosy friend.

"I meant to ask you, is there something about Lord Clifford I should avoid?"

He focused once more upon the lady in his arms. "Yes, he er..."

Thomas wondered how to delicately say that the man was practically living at some of the brothels that some gentlemen amongst the ton preferred to visit. If not for his elder brother and father physically removing him from such a disreputable establishment, he doubted the man would be wooing ladies in a ballroom this evening.

The thought of Lady Amanda stuck with such a man for even a dance had not sat well with him. It was becoming hard enough to see morally respectable men waltz with her, much less one not fit to even touch her hand.

"His activities of late have caused a strain amongst his family and those close to him."

Her eyes narrowed somewhat as she tried to guess what the man had done.

"Is it," she lowered her voice to a whisper, "gambling?"

"No, though he is a prolific gambler." Thomas muttered.

"Is it--"

"It is not a topic for ladies' ears." He blurted out.

Her eyes widened. There was only one topic that young ladies without a husband were forbidden to discuss.

Her cheeks burned as she lowered her eyes. "I see."

Thomas relaxed somewhat once he saw she was not going to bring Lord Roderick up anymore.

"That's why you insisted on dancing with me." Amanda mumbled.

He blinked at the disappointment he heard in her voice.

Could she have actually wanted to dance with such a libertine?

Amanda sighed over the fact that Thomas was merely acting the gentleman once more. There was no true interest in his lying about this being his dance other than his chivalrous nature needing to protect an innocent lady.

She began to wish that he didn't see her as some damsel in distress in need of a knight to charge in and save her from unsavory men at every single turn.

She wished...it was foolish to wish for something that wasn't there nor would ever be. There was no jealousy or need to be by her side.

He simply was a true gentleman.

"I had planned on asking you to dance earlier." Thomas said, wondering at her despondent expression. "And in all honesty, I was looking forward to continuing our discussion on Persuasion."

She nodded. Of course. The book he insisted she read without spoiling the ending was his true interest.

She forced a smile. "Captain Wentworth, in my opinion, is a character who is determined to make himself miserable."

Thomas nearly missed a step as they made another turn about the ballroom. "What makes you think that?"

"His attempts to keep away from Ann, yet keeps finding himself drawn closer whenever he sees her or hears her voice." She raised her eyes back to his. "Why would he do such a thing, hurting them both in the process, when it is obvious she would welcome his affection?"

Thomas swallowed. "Perhaps...perhaps Captain Wentworth doubts that he could truly hold her heart. He needs to protect himself, even to the point of heartache knowing that Ann is the only one who could truly wound him."

"But he is missing out on a chance for true happiness." Amanda slowed her steps as the music began to die down.

Thomas kept her hand in his as he led her off the floor. "He is a fool." He turned back toward her. "It seems a man's inclination to be foolish when presented with the very object he yearns for most in the world. He at first doubts it's existence then fights against the very notion that it is all he truly needs. Then once the realization strikes, he is at a loss at taking the first step to secure his happiness."

Amanda took a step closer to him, inexplicably drawn by the emotion in his dark eyes. "Do you think that you would ever behave in such a manner when shown what your heart wants most?"

His grip on her hand tightened as he raised it to his lips. "I might be the most foolish of them all." He bowed his head to her. "Thank you for the dance, my lady. I hope that you will find it in your heart to save me another one when next we meet."

Thomas reluctantly released her hand and quickly left the ball.

#thomas hunt x oc #none but you #Thomas Hunt #rcd thomas hunt #thomas hunt x amanda #500 followers celebration #choices red carpet diaries #rcd regency au

[cathyparrlyn]

A warning to Tumblr and Discord users in the Six and WATT fandoms

Tw for stalking, guilt tripping, deception, suicide, death threats, and hate anons.

In the beginning of summer, there was an incident that showed the true colors of some of my former friends, especially one who has proven themself to be hostile and dangerous multiple times. I stayed quiet about this for a while as I wanted to forget the drama and the pain they caused me and my friends, but recently I’ve found out that they have continued to hurt many of my friends, claim a minor who was a victim of the situation had attacked them, and more. Because of such dangers, and because these people are present in both the Six and WATT fandoms, my friends and I found it necessary that we share this story as a warning to others.

On May 11, the Parrlyn Discord server was created. I, being an acquaintance of the server owner, was one of the server’s mods who would talk to everyone and work with the owner to make it a safer place. This server ended up being how I first became close with the person who caused so much drama: @Chess-exists (Chess).

Chess and I would talk on both the Parrlyn server and dms, and I soon joined other servers at their request. We considered each other friends, but they also set off many red flags. Some of the major of these being Chess lying about hacking into the Sixcord and deleting the server because “all the mods hated them”, claiming they can cry when ready and wanting to pretend someone on the Parrlyn server was dead to prank another person on the server.

In mid-June the Parrlyn Discord faced the 3rd big incident that has happened on the server. Someone jokingly entered under Moan-Jeutas’s (Lizzie’s) username, said “I’m 12, don’t attack me !!” and left when they noticed people were beginning to panic.

I was offline whilst this happened, and when I came online shortly afterward I found a few people panicked. Instantly, I was asked by multiple people to call them. I texted some of them while going on call with a friend of mine who is a young minor, @lakes-other-sixes (aka Lake), who was crying. I was then informed by Lake that they knew who had entered the server with Lizzie’s username. At the same time, a friend outside of the server had confessed to me through DM about being behind the Lizzie account along with one other person. They profusely apologized and explained what had happened.

Although my friend had made a mistake, I would like to give context of why they ever thought of the joke in the first place. When they were temporarily on the Parrlyn Discord, it was just starting out, with about ten people including us and nobody who had admitted to being triggered by Lizzie’s writing.

This friend and I constantly talked about Parrlyn fics together, and one of the things we mentioned was Lizzie’s Carrie AU and how I would have liked to talk to her about it but didn’t want to bother her as she disliked the ship. The friend and I had both been going through personal issues at the time, I will openly state that mine was how my uncle died not even two weeks before this happened, and they thought a small joke could cheer us both up.

So this friend and another person thought it would only be an innocent inside joke between friends to pop on the server and mess with me and some other friends. They had no idea how big the server was or that people were triggered by Lizzie and left immediately.

The joke was wrong, and we all have acknowledged that. They both deeply apologized for it to me and some others. They wanted to fix things with the server, but there was one problem; our friend Lake knew who they were.

Lake is an extremely sweet kid. They were never a part of the joke, but were extremely scared that if the people’s names were released then everyone on the server would hate them. It was to the point that they were crying on the phone to me for about half an hour because of the situation. Because of this, me and the friends figured it would be best to apologize anonymously; not for their sake, but for the others who were scared. So I talked with the server owner and made an announcement sending an apology from them through me.

This is just our side, and I know some will disagree with the decision we made, but I was informed that someone had talked to Lizzie about it and that she knew about the situation and the anonymous apology. We kept it anonymous because we would never want to put any kid into the panicked state that Lake was in, and I will take any responsibility if it means I kept a kid from anymore serious panic. I have also apologized to Lizzie formally, as well as getting consent from her to use her name in this post and offering to answer any questions she had, including giving her the names of the people behind the account if she wanted them.

This mistake from my friends, which they had apologised for, was what led to Chess showing their true colours.

A few minutes after I posted the apology announcement, I was instantly added to a separate group chat titled “Smack a bitch” where Chess and their friend, Aine, had requested the name of my friend behind the account. This chat was highly inappropriate and hinted they would possibly send them hate and I didn’t approve of that, so I said no and left. I then later got a message from Lake that Chess was now interrogating them to spill who was behind the account.

Not only had this bothered me since Lake was young and was open about their anxiety, but also nobody but me and Lake’s former partner had known that they knew who was behind the fake account. They were extremely nervous and asked for help and I said I would talk to Chess for them since it made them uncomfortable.

When I went to talk to Chess, I told them to stop interrogating Lake because this was giving people more stress and I wouldn’t talk to them if they continued. They refused and asked me to “back the fuck up”.

After this conversation, I thought it was over. That was until 3 days later when one of my friends behind the account got hateful anons and death threats over the situation.

These anons were alarming, so I went to talk to the server owner about them. After a long discussion, the server owner confessed to Chess telling them everything they had done to find my friend.

This next part might be triggering for some, just a warning about stalking. (Ends after the screenshot)

Chess had confessed to stalking both my Instagram and Tumblr by going through them and making a suspect list of mutuals I interacted with so that they could interrogate Lake, a 14 year old, into saying who was behind the account.

(Note, none of the people mentioned here were either of the people behind the account)

After I sent the message telling them to stop the interrogation, Chess made Lake swear not to tell me anything else, got them and Aine on voice call, and guilt tripped them into feeling forced to agree to be interrogated on who the person was.

After Chess had successfully got the name of one of the people behind the fake account from Lake, they told the server owner and a few others the name of the person. One of whom was @herequeerandreadytokickass (Lex). Chess had also confessed to Lex about wanting to send anons to the person behind the account whose name they had found out. Lex had not only told me this on call, but also told me that the “friend” Chess was referring to in the hateful anons was me.

Utterly disgusted by their actions towards the situation, I blocked Chess. That was it. I explained to my friends why I blocked them and told them that they could still be friends with Chess, and I left the Parrlyn server to avoid drama since I figured Chess needed it more than me and wouldn’t hurt anyone else after this.

Chess was very upset that I blocked them without talking to them, and I refused to unblock them since they made me uncomfortable by this point. They then told a few friends they were framed for the anons even after previous confessions that they had sent them, and the fact that the anons only pointed to them.

One of the people Chess talked to was Lake, who then tried to find who sent the anons. After I found this out, I called Lake and we both shared our sides of the story. This is when Lake told me how Chess guilt tripped them, but also figured out that Chess had lied to them about how they found out Lake knew. Chess had blamed it on me telling someone, when Lake’s former partner confessed to telling Chess that Lake knew.

This new information caused Lake to become extremely panicked. They were already dealing with stress and just found out they had played a small part in their friend getting sent anon hate and death threats. Chess lying had triggered them more. I talked to Lake and helped them calm down and they decided to block Chess as well.

Chess didn’t like this. They immediately began to spam Lake’s user on a server and also had three friends ask them to unblock Chess.

Not only was this disrespecting Lake’s mental health and decision, but one of the people who dmed Lake had angrily blown up at them. This was @flat-dr-pepper-chasers (Robbie).

By blowing up on Lake, who was dragged into this situation and emotionally manipulated, Robbie caused Lake to panic again.

Soon after this, I got notified that Chess was so mad at Lake, that they deleted a server collaborative fanfic because it was Lake’s “pride and joy”.

Lake had now been through so much and they didn’t tell me anything until it was necessary. I had received all this info from another source because I was an ex-mod of the server and a person involved in the incident, but Chess began to blame Lake and continued to hate them.

I couldn’t take it anymore when I found out that Chess, a 16 year old, deleted the fic to spite Lake, a 14 year old who they had until very recently viewed as a friend, when Lake didn’t do anything. I knew I couldn’t let this slide or more people would get hurt, so I rejoined the server as a mod again, kicked Chess and explained the situation so everyone knew what was going on.

Do to a limit on screenshots the next part of the post will be reblogged by me, might take a second though to add in the screenshots.

#six the musical #we are the tigers #watt #discord #warning #callout

[queenbrightwhitly]

Trust You (Pt 5)

Everyone stopped and looked at Vosler, even Malcolm. I walked past JT, taking a hold of Malcolms arm I started to pull him back. “Malcolm,” he looked down at me. “Come with me.” Slipping my hand into Malcolms I could feel his grip tighten. 

Pulling him along we walked away from the others. I took him to the roof, making sure he stayed close behind me. His hand was shaking again, I knew he was upset but his out burst at Vosler could mess with the investigation and we didn’t need that right now. 

Once the rooftop door closed behind us I let go of Malcolms hand. “You okay? “

“No! Why did you bring me up here?” Malcolm walked past and in front of me, pacing now as he became more frustrated. “I know hes lying about Andi.”

“Malcolm you can’t just yell out like that at a possible suspect, okay? Look we are doing what we can, and we will find Andi-”

“Right, because bringing me up to the rooftop is going to help with that!” He shook his head in disbelief, his hands were running though his hair.

“Look at you! You’re aggressive, emotional, you’re not in your right head space right now.” I looked down to his still shaking hand, he was still angry. 

“How would you know what my right head space is? I’m fine, I just need to go downstairs and-” 

“Do you really think Gil is going to let you near Vosler right now? I know you trust that JT, Dani, and Gil will take care of him. Stay up here, clear your head.” I watched as he kept pacing back and forth, his mind was racing with a million thoughts and his hand hadn’t let up even a little bit. “Look, I’m going to head back downstairs, but please promise me you’ll take a moment to try and clear some of those million thoughts, okay?” I smiled gently, hoping that would be enough for now. Turning around, I reached for the door. 

“I really do trust you Y/n, and I wanna talk about the other day. I know now is not the time, but I can’t help but think you’re starting to doubt... us.” 

I froze with my hand on the handle. I didn’t want Malcolm to think I doubted our relationship, I was just so frustrated that he continued to put his life at risk without a thought to those who loved him. He is worth so much more then he gives himself credit for. I turned around ready to tell him this but my phone started buzzing, I looked down and saw it was Dani texting me. 

“Go.” Malcolm looked down to my phone. “It’s probably important, I promise I’ll take a couple minutes up here.” 

I nodded, putting my phone back I looked back over to him. “I promise we will talk after this case is over.”

(cut to )

“Have you ever thought that due to Malcolms trauma as a child, his father being a killer, would make you feel unsafe with him or perhaps unstable to work on any case?”

I nodded. “Malcolm believes his upbringing from his father being a killer has made him understand serial killers in a different way. As far as I can tell, it has proven to be helpful, and I don’t think Malcolm would do anything on purpose to put the team at risk.” 

“You still believe this after the stunt he pulled the other day?” He looked up. 

“What Malcolm did was stupid and reckless but he didn’t hurt anyone. I don’t think that was his intention.” I leaned back in my chair, keeping myself defensive. 

“I see, so tell me, what happened with the case next?”

“Well..”

(cut to)

Gil and Malcolm had brought Jessica in for a little help on a deprogrammer. Since I hadn’t seen Jessica since the hospital, I thought I would make myself known. 

Malcolm said she had a plan to have a meeting with every deprogrammer in New York City and if I wanted to I could come and observe her with him though every meeting she had. Malcolm and I portrayed ourselves as the house help, serving tea, getting small snacks, keeping on the down low as Jessica chatted her way though these meetings.

“My cousin Ariana was recruited by the Moonies in the 80s. Ugh. We had a hell of a time getting her out, but as they say, forgive, love, unite.” That last part Jessica said she was looking right at me. Sending a wink my way she continued. Malcolm seemed to notice. 

The next few went by as normal, up until one lady. “She gave that boy everything she had, and he joins a cult? I mean, how hard is it to accept a trust fund, settle down, and pop out a few grandchildren?” Jessica glanced at Malcolm, seeming like she was talking about him. He managed to keep a straight face but I cracked a smile, lucky I was standing behind the women chair so she couldn’t see my face.

One guy had caught Malcolms eye, he thought this guy was who we were looking for. As soon as Malcolm walked the guy out, Jessica came right beside me. 

“Oh, Y/n, how have you been? You look as wonderful as ever. Tell me, whatever stupid thing my son did this time, I promise to take care of you if you ever need anything. We always have a spare room with your name on it.” She was as chipper as ever, her voice a sweet but still dominating sound.

“Thank you, Jessica. I think Malcolm and I just need to talk somethings out, but after the case.” I smiled at her, however her face fell and she rolled her eyes. 

“You and my son, always with the case comes first, you two are so perfect for each other. I’m not just saying that because I like you ether.” Jessica poured herself a drink and went back to her room. I sighed, I was sure that was something Malcolm would say. 

Once back at the station JT, Gil, Malcolm and I had Mr. Marsh in questioning, however... it wasn’t exactly going well. 

“You got nothing.” Marsh glared at Gil.

“We got your boots. They’re a match to the prints we found at the crime scene. Thats enough to hold you for 24 hours.”

“Tell us where Andi is.” Malcolm spoke up. 

Marsh slammed his hand on the table. JT snapped his fingers. “Easy.” He said, leaning over him. 

“Should’ve known this was a setup. How’d you find me?” Marsh asked, taking a bottle out and popping several pills before throwing it in the trash behind him. 

“You come highly recommended.” Gil said. 

“Because I get results.” 

“Results like murder?” JT spoke up. “Tristan Johnson left Vosler. He didn’t need your help getting out.”

“Everyone needs a little help from time to time. Thats the job.” Marsh stated.

“But this job was tougher then usual.” Malcolm started to walk towards Marsh. I watched him closely, taking a step forward myself to keep an arms length. “That big, important client wanted Andi back, and you couldn’t deliver. You needed to get to Andi, so you tortured Tristan.”

“But then something went wrong.” Gil cut in. “You lost control, you strangled him. Next thing you knew, Tristan was dead.”

“What kind of a deprogrammer allows himself to lose control?” Malcolm asked.

(Cut to)

“Bright didn’t believe the case was closed?”

I shook my head. “He was convinced Marsh was working for someone else.”

“Which is what led to the incident?” The doctor asked.

“I’d been worried about Malcolm all day. Now...now I was scared.” I looked away from the Dr, anywhere but his eyes. I made sure of that.

“Y/n, what happened? Right before the incident?”

(cut to)

I had just walked out the bathroom when I heard Malcolm and Gil talking, Malcolm sounded upset. Looking around the corner, I strolled a bit slowly forward to try and catch what they were saying, keeping my eyes from them to a case file I randomly picked up.

“I’ve been working this case!” Malcolm threw his pen down frustrated. 

Gil leaned down, setting his hands on Malcolms desk. “I brought you onto the team because you’re the best at what you do, Bright, but not when you get like this. 

“Like this?” Malcolm repeated. “I’m “like this” because of Martin Whitly, because of John Watkins, because of you.” 

Gil stood there for a second, he looked taken back. “What?”

“You asked for my help. You knew I couldn’t say no, and you brought them all back into my life. You did that. You started this.” Malcolm leaned back in his chair, letting out a deep sigh. 

My heart broke at the sight of Gils face. I knew Malcolm was hurting, but to take it out on Gil like this cut deeply. 

“Get the hell out of my precinct.” Gil said, turning around and walking straight  to his office. 

“Gil, no” Malcolm called out, following behind him. Gil didn’t turn around, instead he slammed the door to his office. Malcolm stood there, letting out a deep breath, he hung his head. 

I sighed, setting down the folder I was holding I looked back to Malcolm. He looked panicked now, his face looking in all directions. I watched as he suddenly sprinted his way to the investigation office. “Malcolm!” I called out, but he slammed the door behind him. 

I ran to the door, trying to open it, but it was locked. “Malcolm!” I banged on the door. “Malcolm, open this door!” I leaned my head against it to try and listen but all I could hear was rustling from inside. “Malcolm!” I tried again, still nothing. I looked behind me to see if anybody was around. When I saw it was clear, I whispered against the door. “Malcolm, Baby. Please.” All of a sudden the power shortened and the precinct was dark. 

(cut to main storyline)

Everyone was waiting, Malcolm was almost done with his interview, they had the Doctor cornered. Then just like that everyone walked in front of the window, to show him they got him, ready to arrest him. He looked shocked, seeing not only JT, Dani, and Gil and I but a few other officers standing behind us. As soon as we hear Malcolm tell the doctor he was under arrest, we knew the case was closed. 

“I’m impressed. Nothing gets past you Malcolm. One last question? Did you see this?” All of a sudden the Doctor pulled out a gun, holding it in Malcolms face. Everyone pulled out their guns, Gil yelled out something but you couldn’t make it out. You were too focused on Malcolm, the panic setting in as you watched the doctor continue to aim the gun at him. 

“Drop it, now!” Dani yelled.

“We will shoot you!” JT shouted right after. 

“Get me a hostage negotiator down here right now! Have a bus standing by!” Gil called out.

I looked from outside the window, watching Malcolm continue to talk to the doctor. I could see his hand shaking with the gun, he was starting to look panicked now. Malcolm must have said something to make him upset, all of a sudden the doctor yelled out stop, causing Gil to flinch. 

I knew Malcolm had a plan, he always did. No matter how stupid or reckless, I knew he would think of something. Just then I saw Malcolms hand move, he reached for the shock device and jabbed the doctor with it in the chest, causing him to fly back and hit the ground. 

JT and Dani went though the door first, Gil was following me close behind. I ran to Malcolm, forcing him to look at me, I checked his head, his shoulders, his chest, anywhere to find something. Eventually he took a hold of my hands and held them to his chest to keep them from moving, looking at me he sighed. “I’m okay. Not a scratch.” 

I let out a breath I didn’t know I was holding, pulling Malcolm to me, I wrapped my arms around his chest, letting myself hear his heartbeat. I felt him move his good hand to the back of my head, messing with my hair to try and calm me down. 

“He’s alive.” JT spoke up. 

I pulled myself from Malcolm, almost forgetting where we were. I didn’t really wanna detach myself from him. Malcolm must have sensed this, since he took a step behind me, blocking his hand from view, he gently started rubbing circles on my back. 

“Wheres Andi?” JT asked Malcolm. 

“He didn’t give a location. Damn it.” Malcolm said annoyed. 

“You were with him the whole day. He must’ve let something slip.” Gil said. 

“He removed the case boards to make a safe space. He’d want the same for Andi.” Malcolm stated. 

JT nodded. “Someplace remote, hidden.”

Andi reminded him of his daughter.” Dani reminded. 

“Lilly.” Malcolm said. “It was in his story. The last place they were happy: the cottage!” Malcolm shouted out. 

“Sunken Meadow Beach. Go! Now!” Gil yelled out. 

JT broke open the door. “Police!”

Going around the house, the four of us came across a small bedroom. Once you were inside, meet with a women with dark hair tied to a small bed. Malcolm ran straight to her. 

“Andi... Andi, it’s me. You’re gonna be okay.” Malcolm reassured her. Andi, looked relived, but then she started crying. Malcolm pulled her to him, holding her as she sobbed. 

The next day I was supposed to go meet with Malcolm at his apartment to talk. Gil was currently there, I could only assume to discuss the case or even the whole blackout at the precinct. I had used the secret key that Jessica hides to get inside. Walking up the stairs, I found myself starting to hear voices, before I opened the door, I stopped myself once I heard Gil say my name. 

“Are you okay?” Gil asked. “You freaked out Y/n pretty good.” 

“I’m f-” Malcolm stopped himself. “No. I don’t think I am.” 

“You would’ve gone through with it, wouldn’t you?” Gil asked. “If you hadn’t found that pill bottle...you would have shocked yourself.”

Malcolm sighed deeply. “I’m not sure.”

“Okay.” Gil said. I heard him set his cup down and footsteps move to the door a bit. 

“Wait. How is that okay?” Malcolm asked, chuckling nervously. 

“It’s not. But you know you’re not okay, so...that makes it okay.” Gil stated.

“I’m not exactly following.” Malcolm said. 

“You need a vacation. Someplace with a beach.” I heard Malcolm sigh. “I know it’s not easy for you to slow down, Malcolm, but I want you to try. Go hop on a yacht or a helicopter or whatever else they’re doing on Lifestyles of the Rich and Famous.”

Malcolm laughed. “Thats... thats totally not a show anymore.”

“Thats a shame.” 

Malcolm chuckled again. It was so nice to hear him laugh this much, Gil really knew what he was doing. 

“I don’t wanna see you around the precinct for two weeks, you hear me?” Gil stated.

“Loud and clear. Malcolm responded. 

“Maybe take Y/n with you, I’m sure she could use a break having to worry if you are going to be alive the next day or not. Sometimes I think she likes being there as much as you do.” Gil joked. 

“Yeah, thats not such a bad idea.” Malcolm said. “Hey Gil. I was wrong. It’s not because of you. I’m sorry.”

“I know, kid... I know.” 

I heard Gil get closer to the door, opening it he looked down at me and smiled. Shutting the door behind him he took a step towards me. 

“Hey.” He said. 

“Hi. How is he?” I asked.

Gil sighed. “He’s not okay, but now he knows it. So, I guess thats a start.”

I nodded, making my way up the stairs, before I touched the door I felt Gil grip my arm. I looked down at him, waiting for him to speak. 

“You help him, Y/n. I know sometimes it may seem like he’s losing it, but when you’re with him... he almost acts-”

“Let me guess, normal?” I chuckled a bit. 

“Complete.”

I stopped myself, staring at Gil for a moment. “Complete?”

Gil nodded. “He thinks he can only cope his trauma with cases, but I think he has yet to realize that he has been slowly getting better when he’s around you. I don’t know what it is, but being with you is probably the most sane and happy i’ve ever seen him, and he doesn’t even have to try.” At that, Gil left me to be by myself. 

It took me a moment to gain all my thoughts, but when I did I opened the door to Malcolms apartment, shutting the door behind me. When I walked inside I slipped off my shoes, looking around for Malcolm. I spotted him on the couch, his back was to me and it didn’t seem like he noticed I was there. 

“I know you’re there.” Malcolm said. I was about to say something thinking he was talking to me but he continued to speak. “I get it. You’re a manifestation of my subconscious.” Now I knew, he wasn’t talking to me. “It’s all so devastating.” Malcolm looked over to his right, as if he was talking to someone on the couch, but nothing was there. 

“He tired to kill us.” Malcolm spoke again. All of a sudden Sunshine came and flew and landed on Malcolms cast, chirping softly. “I’m a civilian now Sunshine. We’re gonna have lots of time together.” He sighed out. “Just you, me and...” He looked to his right again, but whatever he saw before must have been gone now. “We’re gonna be okay.”

I smiled sadly. This was so hard for him. He had everything crashing down on him at once. But what did he mean, he tried to kill us? He couldn’t possibly mean John Watkins? Maybe someone else? I would ask him later but for now I thought I should make my presence known.

I walked towards the couch. “Mind if I join you two?”

Malcolm turned around smiling at me, he motioned for me to come sit. I made my way over, seating myself next to him, turning my body so I could face him completely, crossing my legs.

“You look comfy. Not very often I see you without the tie.” I brought my hand to the coller of his gray sweater, it was soft and fuzzy, very nice fabric.

Malcolm took my hand in his. Bringing it up to his face he kissed my knuckles, brushing his thumb on top. “I’m sorry, I scared you... Twice, actually.”

“Twice?”

“Once with the doctor and his gun and then...” He stopped himself, thinking back on his stunt he almost pulled. “ I heard you. Calling for me I mean. I could tell you were worried.”

“I was beyond worried, Malcolm. I was scared, I had never seen you and Gil argue like that before, and then to find out you did a shock treatment? What exactly where you trying to forget?” I gripped his hand tighter. His eyes looked at me sadly. He was so tired.

“John Watkins told me something about Dr. Whitly. I just keep thinking about it, and then I start hallucinating-“

“At the crime scene and at the precinct. You had that look in your eye, almost the same look you get you wake from one of your nightmares.” I nodded understanding. “You’re seeing things when you’re awake now.”

“Y/n, darling.” Malcolm sighed, leaning his head down on my shoulder. “I should have never said your feelings don’t matter, that anybody who cares about me doesn’t matter. I just- I can’t stand the thought of more people dying because of me. I trust you. I trust everyone on the team, and I know I need to work on keeping things from you all, I promise I will. I just-“

I didn’t really need to hear anymore. Grabbing Malcolms face I made him look up at me. I pecked his nose lightly before kissing him fully. He moved his arm to go behind my back, pulling my body towards him the only thing I could do was get on top of him.

I moved my leg to the other side of him, resting between the arm of the couch and his waist. I was straddling him now, feeling his hand draw light circles on my back. He pulled back, to which I protested. He just laughed, moving his hand from my back to my face, pushing some little hair that fell in my face behind my ear. “God, you’re beautiful.”

I groaned out, feeling my face getting warm from his staring. Malcolm had some of the most beautiful eyes I had ever scene, but when he looked at me a certain way with them. I was lost.

Hiding my face in his neck I refused to let him do this. I felt Malcolm body shake from laughing at my embarrassment. He moved his neck to kiss the top of my head, he wrapped his arms around me in a hug.

“Hey.” I said looking up at him. “I trust you, completely. I have absolutely no doubt about you. I love you.”

Malcolm smiled at me, kissing my forehead he looked back down. “I trust you, completely. I have absolutely no doubt that I love you. Thank you, for putting up with me.”

“We will see how I feel next week depending on how many times you almost get yourself killed.” Holding on to him tighter, I tucked myself back in.

“Heh, sure. Next week.”

#malcolm bright #malcolm whitly #prodigal son #prodigal son fandom #malcolm bright x reader #x reader

[sugar-petals]

Can u introduce yuzuru to us the caro way?👀

so you want to know about the one and only. ♡😌

yuzuru hanyū (25) of sendai, japan: the most beautiful ice prince with a heart of gold.

….an artist clearly not of this world, he’s been sent to us from another realm. 19 world records, two olympics won, dubbed the greatest figure skater of all time. and the most precious bean on top of that.

but let’s start from the beginning, shall we ♥︎

so, want to spot yuzu on the ice? use this checklist. slender silhouette, an even slimmer waist, feather-like outfits (he sketches those himself; the fandom lovingly calls him swanyu), soft blushy face. he has great androgyny.

outside of performances, you see him either with a deer’s gaze or the brightest, biggest eye smile. also, he’s usually found sitting with his wife: 

which is the ice 😄 these two are together forever. you can discern yuzu from a mile away by how he treats his working ground. 

there is a purity to him. you’d not guess that this is one of the most ardent athletes if you didn’t see what’s around his neck after competitions. the guy’s cuteness is as compelling as his skating technique.

look for it: yuzu’s face is super suave and rosy up close, even after his most energetic performances. some men are handsome, others pretty, he is both. 

even acoustically, he’s hard to miss. applause is all around, and he’s highly expressive. if you see a crying young man getting the high score, that’s yuzuru hanyu. you’ve not seen more beautiful happy tears.

and score reactions, anyway:

so, aye loves, the rumors are true. a cutie-pie off the ice, animated, a real unabashed meme — yuzu is easy-going, talkative. cheery, cheeky, one of a kind. his facial expressions are a league of their own.

if you thought this is the sort of guy who watches cat videos, you are correct 😄

yuz-uwu hanyu, everybody:

his undoubtedly feline behaviour is often unexpected, it stands out with its adorableness, too. a sweetheart par excellence. 

and, how else could it be: vice versa, the big beast on the rink. he’s cutesy, dorky, very well-spoken in daily life, but when it comes to skating, his seriousness escalates. you blink once and suddenly hanyu is a bedazzling, strutting lion :’D his performances stun with confident elegance.

he becomes full of ardor, drama, and focus. you’d never suspect so much fire burns in him. a showman and ambition icon, hands down. 

his skating is dynamic, perfected, and emotional. if you want to see art and the extra mile, tune in when hanyu competes.

the downside is; more light, more shadow. it leaves him crawling on the ice afterwards. yuzu performs so hard, it’s worrying.

he delivers it all. you won’t believe it:

this guy is an asthmatic.

the symptoms aren’t as bad as they used to be, but there are still regular attacks. he said that he’ll never take it as an excuse and often recalls how he started skating because of it. he’s a badass, extremely inspiring. yuzuru defies all limits, including gravity. his jumps have legendary status. 

off the rink, you guessed it: he turns into a wholly different person. 

it all dissolves completely when he’s dorking around again. 

don’t let it deceive you, he’s the no other option than first place type. he could not be any more decorated with titles, he achieved the grand slam in all competitions as of 2020. and still, king of sportsmanship hanyu is respectful and smiley towards all colleagues and never lets anyone feel left out. especially when it comes to his juniors (e.g. yuma kagiyama, 16, below) which says a lot about him.

he bows in every direction before an audience, too. lower than a 90° angle, even. this is more polite than any existing formality in japan.

talk about audience: i introduced fellow japanese skater shoma uno last week, who’s more uncomfortable with social contact and aggression. yuzu, extrovert he is: the exact opposite. he withers away with no people and competition. he’s befriended rivals, had crises over not having someone who could challenge him. when a competitor retires, he’s the one crying in their arms (e.g. with team mate and bff javier fernandez from spain below).

beside his competitive spirit and princely wow factor, hanyu is popular for his winnie pooh tissue box that he caresses, squeezes, and carries everywhere. he loves good luck charms & rituals, pooh is the most important one.

fans throw pooh plushies on the ice after his performances because of it. since it’s gotten so intense, yuzu recently started cleaning them up himself on top of the flower girls for the upcoming skater who could get delayed otherwise. (more about what happens with the piles of plushies later.)

so, the burning question is. 

what made yuzuru hanyu emerge so outstanding an entertainer? how does someone causing so much uproar become like that? it’s not just what kind of appearance he was given, although he really looks his part to a T. you don’t have to be an insider to see it right away.

like literally to a fault. and you can tell the way his blades sound on the ice is different. it’s soft even if he does the most hardcore quadruple jumps. i think it’s because his drive to do this is a higher one, hanyu has an altered relationship with the ice. where his devotion comes from has a more severe reason so, massive trigger warning. 

this is no exaggeration: yuzuru is considered a hero to the japanese. a survivor of the earthquake 2011, he narrowly escaped the collapsing rink in his hometown on that very day. he’s often talked about how the ice shattered underneath his feet and it was the moment that defined his life forever. he could have been dead by the age of 16. his motivation has been set ever since. this man is compelled by something bigger, that’s why you hear it and you feel it. he wants to skate not just for himself but others and seize every day. 

much of his copious charity work — that’s where all the pooh plushies go — went to mend the consequences of the tsunami ever since, he’s looked upon as a great hope in japan. the minister gave him the people’s honor award in 2018. 

now you know why yuzuru has such a fanbase and treats the ice as sacred, you see it in every gesture. his manners are without a single flaw, he helps staff repair the ice after performances. 

you might think it’s odd, but he honors the ground. he’s invested in the integrity of it. that’s why he’s the best skater. it’s gratitude and the will to live fully.

he hates to fall on the ice, he hates to damage it. alongside his feathery weight, that’s why the sound he makes while gliding along is so tender. 

i think that’s also why hanyu’s signature element is the ina bauer. it doesn’t rely on brutal force, instead this element slides across the rink like a swan. yeah, oh my god.

it’s his most well-known dramatic move. the way he surrenders into it. 

hanyu’s back arch and perfect split allow him to do elements no other male skaters can. his biellmann spin, for instance. i know, it’s ridiculous.

and those are just two elements of dozens and dozens. hanyu is a kinetic wizard. i highly rec this record-breaking delivery of his olympic program. in front of his home crowd! he’s just… mind-boggling. i live for his smiles here.

exceptional skater, exceptional mentor: it’s time we look at another puzzle piece that made yuzu the way he is. the masterful brian orser is hanyu’s beloved coach. missing gold by just one mistake at the olympics 1988, brian is now committed to give others what he couldn’t have— successfully so.

orser took the ice prince to gold twice, this hasn’t happened in 66 years. brian is the nicest and most supportive pooh carrier and yuzu’s utmost rock. hanyu’s talent rests safely in these hands.

he gets strict about punctuality lmao! but other than that, his guidance is gentle. canadian he is, brian’s courteousness mixes well with yuzu’s politeness. their bond is strong. as. hell. 

brian picked up yuzu from rock bottom several times. most fateful being hanyu’s accident with a fellow skater during competition warm-ups nov 2014. they collided at a high speed, it was unspeakably nasty. yuzu got knocked out for half a minute and had grave breathing problems but still decided to skate on with what later turned out as an almost-concussion. brian was the most worried ice dad in the world that day.

yuzu cried and crouched and bled like mad and my heart has been broken ever since. i hope he never suffers like that again. promise me you don’t search up the video, it’s a harrowing watch like a stab to the chest. sadly enough, hanyu’s body has still been a notorious wreck, esp. ankle issues regularly give him a hard time 😔

it hurts like a bitch with every jump landing but he takes meds and still manages to win, god knows how. sometimes even with crutches on the podium. at his worst, he’s still the best, it’s a tragedy.

he’s been recovering, or always is, but he pushes himself through injuries. his ambition and perfectionism are boundless. the cause is more important to him than his well-being. this is not an easy guy to stan once you see how he sacrifices and self-destructs. so, it’s good someone protects him. 

mostly from himself because nobody has profoundly surpassed hanyu. he has let himself no choice than to contest himself. not even health, only age can stop yuzu. i think that brian understands this ‘curse of a genius’ effect. his mere presence can make hanyu say these rare words:

his two other coaches contribute to that. tracy wilson (left) has proven to understand his playful side the best while ghislain briand (right) helps yuzuru deal with his fears. so you got 3 people taking care of the golden boy. brian once said: “he is very sheltered” and you can see it’s true.

yuzu eased into learning english and communicates well with his coaches. like with everything, he studies hard and often forces himself to speak during interviews to practice. his skills are astounding. his speaking voice is also very soothing, very amicably low and high alike. yuzu is highly intelligent. he always says something eloquent and interesting.

now, privately, hanyu is very much like you’d expect someone so devoted to skating would be like. he doesn’t go out, has no social media, can’t eat nor sleep very well. no cameras allowed during practice. it figures he is attached to winnie pooh, think about it. in the cartoon, pooh is someone who sleeps, eats, and engages with friends plenty. 

these are the things hanyu can’t do, doesn’t have time/energy/incentive for. he is barred from balance in life but can at least admire this little carefree plushie for it. especially because pooh represents eating lots while yuzuru doesn’t have a good relationship with food (he says it doesn’t go well with jumps etc.), hanyu lives vicariously through him. 

what’s more, you have to see how he throws himself onto others and never wants to let go, yuzuru is extremely cuddly. 

to the degree that mere social customs can’t meet how much he really needs. so, what else can he resort to, he loves mascots and plushies. it’s how the tale goes in japan generally, tough work ethic, high responsibility, high pressure, so people turn to cute fluffy things.

he always fondles pooh’s head, even pretends he’s come to life so he has someone to snuggle with. i think that his isolated lifestyle doesn’t help. so, he gets his affection at least there, you can see how happy it makes him. and again: he does this all for charity.

that’s why fellow skaters are so important to hanyu. it really brings out his social spirit and comforts him best, it’s so wholesome. i’ve not seen someone react so relieved to being embraced, like he’s not been touched for months. skating this, skating that. at the end of the day, hanyu wants love.

as he once said, what motivates him is to express himself in the first place. hanyu is a romantic. it’s written all over him. it reflects in his music choices, his elegant motion, how he designs his outfits:

… and how thoughtfully he talks about marriage. he has big plans for starting a family and coaching after he retires. i won’t be the only one squeezing lucky charm pooh in my imagination so it turns out well for him. please make this heart of gold heal and see all his wishes come true ♡🐻

#thank you for attending this talk ❄️⛸ #i need a moment this was emotional #figure skating #yuzuru hanyu #brian orser #anon #cub mail 🐅 #long post #team japan

[thequillsink]

Go For A Punch/Saki Sanobashi

Published by The Yurei 24/12/20

Hi Y’all, Jim here with an article about somewhat of an internet enigma. I want to have somewhat of a shallow dive into an anime that may have not have ever existed.

Go For A Punch or Saki Sanobashi is a supposed anime OVA from sometime in the early 1980’s that has rose to internet fame due to its obscurity and supposedly disturbing content.  The first mention of this OVA was on a 4Chan thread about deep web discoveries around 2015 where a user commented about an obscure anime that they had seen in the past. Described as “some weird anime about naked girls being stuck in a large bathroom without doors, having a philosophical debate about never getting out of the room... After losing hope and starving for some days everything goes to hell...”. The user goes on to say that the girls, in order to escape their dire situation, all start to commit suicide in various ways. “... Either by smashing their heads on the floors or scratching their necks to bloody pieces. One girl helped another to drown in the sink”. The anime is said to be around 30 minutes in length, it had a Japanese dub but had English subtitles.

As people grew curious and started to ask the user questions, more details about the anime were posted by the user, leading to a very large internet investigation that has spanned several years. As the search has continued, its validity as a real piece of media has come into question on multiple occasions, with the original story being suspected as fake and with people who claimed to have viewed it being proven to just be internet trolls, the search for any information has been made all the more difficult.

As much as I would love for this piece of media to be real, it seems highly unlikely that it is and is just an internet hoax. The original poster’s story has the red flag of a typically made-up story, “I cried myself to sleep right after watching that vid because I just didn’t even know anymore...” has almost become a stereotype when it comes to ending a story about lost media and just makes it seem like a piece of creative writing. Most new evidence found is quickly proven to either be from a different anime or fake and the misinformation flooding the internet is making the investigation slow in momentum.

With that being said, this has not seemed to have harmed people enthusiasm and dedication to the search. Even now, communities are still working together in hopes that they will somehow find a missing detail that can help identify any new information.  Multiple pieces of media thought to have been lost have been documented and found many years after the fact such as the Dragon ball Harmony Gold dub or Luigi Cozzis colourised version of Godzilla but most of these had proof of their existence with TV and cinema releases respectively and were not born out of speculation or conjecture in the way Go For A Punch was.

It could be argued that, despite the original, Go For A Punch has more validity now than it ever has, having the internet so captivated by the idea and unveiling the guro genre to many people that may have not been interested in it beforehand, that fans now turning their attention to try and develop their own interpretation of this anime. A group by the name Team Saki are slowly creating their own vision of Go For A Punch with character sheets and set designs and in September released a short storyboard trailer.

Though it’s past may be clouded, the future may look bright for this piece of media, and who knows, one day this obscure gem may be stumbled across for everyone to finally enjoy.

#writing #horror #saki sanobashi #go for a punch #creepypasta #lost media #journal #journalsim #the yurei

[starkerforlife6969]

Starker, Winterspider, To be a Widow

A continuation of @wandering-night19 ‘s iconic au. Peter’s past three husbands have all died under suspicious circumstances. Detective Stark was convinced that pretty Peter had something to do with it, but more and more lately, Peter’s dangerously loyal butler Bucky has become his prime suspect..read the OG post here thank you for letting me play with the masterpiece world you created.

part two here

TW: mentions of death, murder, obsessive love

 Tony can’t get it out of his head. 

The piercing blue of Barnes’ eyes, the tight coil of his muscles and the silent way he swept into every room. Trailing behind Peter, an ominous shadow, an attack dog. 

But not an attack dog. Because attack dogs had masters, and Tony wasn’t sure that Peter was in control. Wasn’t sure that Barnes had a leash. 

“Come on,” Tony hisses to Steve, as the two of them trudge down the large gravel drive back down to their car. The air is bitter and cold and the sky an ugly grey hanging low over them. “You know something’s going on here.”

Steve shakes his head. “His alibi checks out, Tony.”

“You’re telling me that Barnes didn’t strike you as at all off? He seemed perfectly normal to you. Three husbands, Steve. Parker’s not even twenty-five.”

They get to their car, and Steve pauses with his hand on the door. “I like facts, Tony. Innocent until proven guilty, isn’t that the law?”

“Then lets prove him guilty. A background check on Barnes, is that too much?” Tony resists the urge to grin at Steve’s look of consideration. He reigns it in. “Just to double check. Just to make sure.”

Steve is nothing if not thorough. He hums, but shakes his head. “Nat determined the cause of death as cardiac arrest.”

“Hey,” Tony quips, sliding in on the passenger side. “We all make mistakes.”

***

“I don’t make mistakes.” Natasha says calmly, and Tony sighs.

“You’re telling me that there isn’t even a one percent chance you could be wrong?” 

“No.”

“Nat-”

“I think you’ll have to give it up. Barnes didn’t have a record, did he? Commended soldier. Respected.”

“Three. Dead. Husbands. Why does no one seem to hear that part?” Tony groans into his hands.

She gets up and shrugs. “Some people have lives that really are that tragic. Maybe instead of tormenting Mr Parker, you should be giving him some sympathy.” 

“Or,” Tony murmurs, mind whirring as he thinks, “I just need to get a better look at the house.”

***

He tries to be ready for the sight of Peter. Tries to prepare himself so he won’t be blindsided like he was last time. And the time before. He tries to make his pacing look nervous, instead of investigatory, as he glances surreptitiously over the decor of the dining room. The huge mahogany table, the impressive candle centrepiece, the numerous portraits all over the walls. 

Tony drags his hands over the wallpaper. Hidden doors? Maybe. 

It feels like the portraits are watching him. Is it possible that-

“Detective Stark,” comes a lovely sigh, gentle and musical. 

Tony turns, and there he is. Peter Parker. A vision in bleeding crimson and garnet slippers. “Mr Parker.” He says, trying to inject as much warmth into his voice as he can. It’s a relief, that Barnes doesn’t slink in behind Peter. Tony had received enough of a death glare as the butler had shown him in. 

“You’ll have to forgive me,” Peter murmurs, sitting down at the table near where a silver tray is laid out. “I wasn’t inspecting visitors. I’m not in my mourning attire.”

Tony takes his cue and sits adjacent to Peter at the head of the table, watching as he arranges two delicate tea-cups. “Mourning attire?” He mutters, still feeling the paintings watching him, “people still do that?”

Honey eyes meet his, earnest and sad. “I do. I’ve had a lot of practice with grief in my time, Detective. Something you were keen to mention the last time you came into my home.”

Tony winces. 

Peter deflates. “I’m sorry, it’s been- trying. Would you like some peppermint tea? It’s been calming my nerves.”

Tony politely declines, but looks over Peter anew. Translucent skin, dark smudges under his eyes. “Are you doing okay?”

“Feeling frayed, that’s all.” The boy admits, putting on a brave face. “But enough about me. Was there something you wanted, Detective?”

“We don’t think Mr Osbourne’s death was an accident, Mr Parker. We believe foul play was involved.”

Peter’s plush pink lips part in surprise, and a tiny hand comes up to his chest. “Oh,” he whispers, looking like a Victorian poster for fainting couches, “I suppose I should have guessed you were considering that option given last time, but...the coroner said it was-”

“New evidence has come to light.” Tony lies smoothly. Peter’s tea-cup trembles, the peppermint tea sloshing dangerously towards the lisp. “We want to assign you one of our best detectives.” Here, he smiles winningly. “Me, of course. To look out for you.”

“Oh, oh, there’s- there’s no need for that.” Peter murmurs, “I have-”

Right on cue, silent as a panther, probably as deadly as one, Barnes steps into the room. 

His face almost looks as blank and stoic as usual, but Tony can read people better than that. There’s something there, in the thinly pressed line of his lips. Something angry. 

“Bucky,” Peter beams, all the tension leaving his body, beckoning Bucky in easily. “I was just- Detective Stark, thank you for thinking of me, but Bucky here has always been marvellous at keeping me safe.”

Bucky comes to stand behind Peter’s chair, hands clasped tight in front of him. He says nothing, but his eyes are boring into Tony so hard it almost hurts. 

The detective goes for charming. “I’m sure your old butler was enough before, Peter, but we really insist on you having one of us with you at all times, if possible. As a precautionary measure. Your past three husbands have all been targeted, it’s possible that the real target has been you.” 

Peter looks stunned, before his expression turns to dismayed. “They wanted me? So, it’s my fault that-” his teacup shakes in his hand, and Barnes reaches down smoothly to lift it out of Peter’s grasp and onto the tray. Tony watches, gleaning as much as he can as Barnes stills Peter’s shaking fingers, squeezes once: reassuring. 

Barnes’ eyes look distressed, concerned, lov-

No. Tony thinks, stomach dropping, ice seeping into his veins. He looks between the two of them, as Peter sniffles and dabs at his big, haunting eyes with the edge of a handkerchief, a frail, beautiful thing with such a tragic romantic history. And Barnes behind him, tall, silent, deadly, woven with such power, protective and providing and- jealous. 

This case, for all its intrigue is no different from the most common. Love, obsession, jealousy. 

“That’s awful,” Peter hiccups, unaware to Tony’s colossal realisation. “I’d feel just- just awful if that was the case, Detective. Of course. Of course, whatever you think is best. I have- I have many spare bedrooms. Bucky, you could make one of them up for Detective Stark, couldn’t you?”

“With pleasure.” Bucky hums, but his jaw is locked. 

Tony waits until Bucky has gone, before swallowing hard and looking at Peter. “Is there somewhere we could talk?” He murmurs, “privately?”

Peter looks surprised, eyes still shiny with tears. “We’re alone, Detective.”

“Your butler-”

“I have no secrets from Bucky,” Peter says firmly, “but he’s gone upstairs to make up one of the bedrooms for you.”

“No offence, Peter, but I don’t believe that for a second.” Tony stands up and offers his hand. “Please.”

Peter looks up at him, breath tinged with awe, before slipping his delicate fingers into Tony’s grasp. 

***

The library has a solid door with a gold latch, no paintings hanging, and the walls are all brick. 

Tony checks the door once more as Peter drifts over to the fire. The flames lick heat along his crimson form. His pale skin, the deep red, Tony’s not sure what to make of him. It’s an arresting sight. 

He wants to feel that skin. It looks smooth and soft. Wants to hear that lovely voice sigh his name, he wants-

He wants all of the boy. Completely. And he thinks that most men who meet him do. There’s something about him. It drives men to madness. It’s driven Barnes to madness. 

Stephen Strange, Justin Hammer, Norman Osbourne, they’ve all just fallen in love. And now Tony thinks- he thinks maybe Peter loved them too. And that’s the part Barnes couldn’t take. 

Tony thinks if he looks into those honey eyes too long, if he let himself give into temptation to press just one kiss-

He thinks he might go a little mad too. 

“When did you meet Mr Barnes?”

“Oh, James and I have known each other forever,” Peter hums, wrapping his arms around himself, silk robe fluttering from the heat of the flames. “Since I was a boy. Before he went off to fight. He’s highly decorated, you know.”

Tony frowns, scanning over the book titles on the shelves: The Miracle of Al-Zahrawi catches his eye for a reason he can’t place. “So, childhood sweethearts kind of deal?”

Peter frowns, tumbling hickory curls spilling into his milky face. “We’re like family. He’s the only family I have left now.”

“And you never...”

“Detective,” Peter turns to face him, framed by firelight, “I think you’re beginning to insinuate and assume again. You were wrong last time and you deeply hurt me. I’d like not to be hurt again.”

Tony nods, affected by Peter’s voice and eyes and being. “Sure.” He mutters. “Tread real gentle, I get it.” There’s another book that snags in his peripheral. Understanding IDEF Statistics. Tony points to it, cocking his head. “Eclectic reading list.”

Peter’s voice is confused. “Most of them were passed down.”

“Back to Barnes- you don’t suspect him, then? The only person always with you, your only family, your only friend. First husband, Stephen Strange: gone. Hammer, gone. Now Osbourne.” Tony turns back to face Peter, who’s eyes are wide and expressive and confused. “Car accident, helicopter accident, heart attack. You don’t think there’s any possible way Barnes had something to do with it?”

“These are- are tragedies!” Peter exclaims, backing away. “Horrible tragedies and-and James has helped me through every single one. You don’t know him. I know him. He would never-”

“He loves you.” Tony says, matter-of-fact, “do you know that?”

Peter falters. He looks weak and small and delicate. Like a strong breeze wouldn’t just put out the fire. “He’s...we’re...family.”

Tony softens. He gentles his voice. “It’s not your fault, Peter. He...he loves you. Probably thought they weren’t good enough for you. Thought he was looking out for you.”

The boy screws his eyes shut and shakes his head. His beautiful curls toss this way and that. “Stop it, Detective. I don’t- I don’t like this. I don’t think I want you here- I want you to leave.”

Tony feels frustration well up inside him. “Peter, this will keep happening! You’ll never be happy, he’ll never let-”

He doesn’t realise he’s striding over until Peter topples backwards, grabbing a book off the shelf and using it to shield himself, like he’s preparing to be hit. 

Tony stops. The gleaming cover with the title: The Tragedy of Mendell Stromm. 

“I’m not...” he gets to his knees, and realises he’s shaking. Peter blinks up at him, long lashes framing eyes of sunlight and amber. “I would never hurt you, Peter.” He whispers. His voice feels all choked up. “There’s something...you’re...something precious.”

Peter makes a little noise from his throat, like an endangered, trusting animal. He lowers the book, and edges across the floor towards Tony. 

“I look at you...” Tony whispers, fisting his hands, “it’s like a kind of madness, Peter. I know other people must have felt it when looking at you. I know- I know Barnes is crazy on you. He’s dangerous. I can see it. I can see things, I can read people, I’ve always been able to read people. I can-”

He stutters to a stop. Peter’s soft hands, god they’re just as soft as he imagined, cup his face. Smooth over his goatee. So close, he can smell the scented lotion on Peter’s skin, can see flecks of diamond in Peter’s eyes. Absolutely precious. “It’s okay, Anthony,” he soothes, so giving, even in his grief. “It’s okay, it’s okay.” And he wraps his arms around him. 

Tony buries his face into Peter’s chest, soothing fingers running through his hair. Peter massages his scalp, and hums a melody Tony can’t place. But it’s beautiful, enchanting, just like Peter. “I’m sorry,” Tony hisses, shaking his head, tears staining Peter’s silk clothes. “I-it’s not- it was just a heart attack. I don’t- Barnes’ record is clean, I’m just- maybe I’m mad.” 

“No,” Peter promises, kissing the top of Tony’s head. “You’re just trying to do your job. Keep people safe. Uphold the law.” Peter pulls back, a tiny smile on his face. “I respect that. I appreciate that.”

This close, he’d barely have to lean- he feels crazy, driven almost to insanity with this craving, to feel those lips-

Peter blinks, breath hitching, and he leans forward, just for a second, and presses a quick kiss to Tony’s lips before pulling away like a butterfly, barely landed on a flower.

It’s heaven. Tony captures those lips again, kisses him, and Peter opens up, and it’s so damn addictive and heady and-

The door of the library rattles. 

The two pull away from each other with a start. Peter immediately gets up, brushing himself down and Tony follows suit. He looks at Peter (a lovely, lovely pink) who nods at him, and Tony heads to the door. 

Peter slots the book back into it’s place on the shelf, and Tony slides open the gold latch to let Bucky in. 

It’s as he’s pulling open the door -

The Tragedy of Mendell Stromm

Understanding IDEF Statistics 

The Miracle of Al-Zahrawi

They all spark suddenly, hard, in his head. Obsession cleared only for a moment. Mendell Stromm- Norman Osbourne’s first wife. IDEF, the International Defence Industry Fair that Hammer made an appearance at each year, Al-Zahrawi, one of the world’s first neurosurgeons. 

It’s not Barnes at all, it’s-

The door opens, and Bucky stands there. He takes one look at Tony’s face and grabs his arms before Tony can run. 

Suddenly, there’s a sharp poke to his back, a knife, or, knowing Peter, some ornate dagger, pressing warningly into his flesh. 

“Oh, Tony,”  Peter’s lovely voice sighs, “so clever. Isn’t he clever, James?” Peter noses along Tony’s neck, cool breath fanning into his ear.

Bucky grins, teeth sharp but not feral. Tony sees. Barnes does have a master. And now, Tony does too. 

part 2 here 

Tagging: @clevermuffinalmondpeach @professional-benaddict @thisgirlisastarker @literallyjustdrawingrefsandideas @avengerscollection @myloshinobu @starker-stories @sweeter-than-starker @starkerislife @goldenmogar @starker-prompt-dump @itsrachael @2moonsandsaphael @firefandoming @prettyboiistarker @sofia1926 @silkystark @mauvalencia @plueschpop @starkerbby

#starker #winterspider #winterironspider #dark #murder mystery vibes #mentions of murder #death #au #widow peter #butler bucky #detective tony #soldier bucky #peter x tony #peter x bucky #obsessive love

[llewey-watts]

Work in progress post:

Detective Watts Best Quotes

Concocting A Killer

Watts: “Ah, so you’re the one who botched it.” Murdoch: “Excuse me?”

Watts: “Well, that’s why I’m here, isn’t it?”

Brackenreid: “Listen, Detective Murdoch did nothing wrong. The Crown is just worried that Shanley may claim prejudice if the same detective reinvestigates the case.”

Watts: “Right, right, right. You’re just biased. The coroner’s the one who botched it. Coroners. Odd lot. Far from reliable to say the least. Not to mention the smell.”

Murdoch: “Our coroner has a flawless record. And she also happens to be my wife.”

Watts: “Good God, man. You’re married to the city coroner?”

Murdoch: “Yes.”

Watts: “Oof. Is she pretty? Ah, she’d have to be pretty. I don’t know how else you could tolerate being married to a colleague.”

“The streets of this fine city are my office.”

Crabtree: “Should I read these files?”

Watts: “Absolutely not. The less you know, the more pure you remain. From purity emerges truth. From truth emerges justice. Knowing nothing allows one to see everything.”

“Our mind is where we live our lives. The only home one needs is the human skull.”

Watts: “Oh, no. You interviewed a witness?”

Murdoch: “Oh, no. She called on me.”

Watts: “Your involvement was to cease entirely. Instead, it appears you are continuing to seek a conviction. And based on what? A visual test done 12 years ago by a neophyte coroner?”

Murdoch: “Dr. Ogden is my wife.”

Watts: “Which makes it all the more likely you’re blind to her mistakes. No, it appears this dinner was a poor idea. Good night Detective.”

Watts: “The detective was wrong.”

Ogden: “About what?”

Watts: “You’re not pretty.”

Ogden: “Excuse me?”

Watts: “Look at you. Classic, Romanesque bone structure, excellent physiognomic symmetry. You’re not pretty. You’re beautiful.”

Ogden: “Well, I suppose I’m flattered.”

Watts: “Why? It’s merely an objective assessment. But that necktie **shakes his head**.

“Honestly, Inspector, how does anyone work with this man? He is some kind of renegade to whom rules are a foreign concept.”

“Let’s suppose for a moment that Mr. Shanley is guilty of this current murder. Now, does that make him more or less likely to be guilty of the first? Are you the same man today you were yesterday? Your hair is not the same. You cut and discarded it. Same with your fingernails. Over time, our entire body falls away and is reconstituted. How, then, can you be the same? Oh, but our thinking changes with maturity, with experience. In truth, the continuity of personhood may be nothing more than a delusion. In fact, it makes me question our whole profession..."

“We need to get out of doors detective. The truth is in the air. We must **deep breath** breathe it in.”

“We both know you didn’t do it. — We have to blame someone. The function of the police is to attribute blame on behalf of the community, but the community doesn’t particularly care if we blame the right person. — Why not? Man has been using scapegoats since Leviticus. The sims were placed upon the goat, the goat was banished to the desert, but mo one cared that the goat was innocent.”

“The ignorami at Station One have done it again. I clearly told them to release the man who looks like Karl Marx. They’ve let out some fellow who’s as clean-shaven as bloody Kierkegaard.”

Hades Hath No Fury

“How could I have been so unaware? My sister was in distress, and I suspected nothing. Age is no excuse for inattention. -but, sir, you found her. Your sister’s alive.- Yes. So I’m at peace.”

“Yes. Well life is but a cruel sport for whatever maker you are forced to believe in. -Detective Watts I understand...- Would your sister forsake you for a house of women who have eschewed the world in which you live?-my sister was a nun.-“

“Truth is absolute, unyielding and eternal, Jackson. It is our one constant in a turbulent universe.”

“Your face is *pause* symmetrical, but that hat *shakes his head*”

Merlot Mysteries

Watts: “Wine is proof that God loves us and wants to see us happy.”

Murdoch: “I highly doubt that”

Watts: “Oh, you reject the words of Benjamin Franklin?”

Murdoch: “Even a clever man is capable of a bad idea. no. wine, like any alcohol, is a depressant. It hinders the mind.”

Watts: “Ah, but ‘in wine there is truth.’ -Pliny the Elder.”

Murdoch: “Writers and Philosophers are seldom the best of judges. Especially when it comes to alcohol.

Watts: “Well, no one less than Louis Pasteur called wine, ‘the most helpful and most hygienic of beverages.’ Is it that you don’t enjoy the taste?”

Murdoch: “Ah.”

“Oh. Wait right there. I’m going to show you how wrong you are.”

“‘Wine can of their wits the wise beguile, make the sage frolic, and a serious smile.’”

“In the words of Diogenes, ‘What I like to drink most is wine that belongs to others.’”

Murdoch: “Spectroscopic analysis.”

Watts: “Ah, yes. Not reliable in my experience. How’s it meant to help us?”

Murdoch: “By comparing the wine in question to the light profile of other varying ages, we’ll be able to discern precisely how old it is.”

Ogden: “The older the wine, presumably, the light the color, thanks to the blanching effect of sunlight.”

Watts: “Mm, but it was kept in a cellar. Depending on conditions, two bottles of the same provenance could be wildly different. There’s absolutely to way to determine —“

Murdoch: “Thank you, Detective. Please.”

Watts: “All right.”

Ogden: “Ready?”

Murdoch: “Yes.”

Ogden: “It’s 4.3.”

**Watts waiting + messing around.**

Ogden: “It’s 5.2. 8.5.”

Watts: “Well?”

Murdoch: “[Sighs] They are all different.”

Watts: “Really?”

Murdoch: “Every grape, every year, every bottle.”

Watts: “Hm, you don’t say.”

Murdoch: “It compares to an 1880 Merlot...a 1902 Tempranillo...and...several others.”

Ogden: “Well, I suppose you told us so, Detective.”

Murdoch: “All right. Call in your expert.”

Watts: “Uh, not my expert. My sommelier.”

The Talking Dead

“No one intends to get murder **scratches his beard** and yet.”

Crabtree: “Sir, are you not concerned that you yourself are marked for death?”

Watts: “Oh, I don’y like it, but the truth is death could come to any one of us any day.”

Crabtree: “Still, no need to hurry it along.”

Watts: “Well, very little of life is under our control. Very little death as well.”

Crabtree: “Watts, have you ever been to Paris?”

Watts: “Ah yes, The City of Light.”

Crabtree: “I thought that was Buffalo?”

Watts: “No, I believe Paris came up with it first. Why do you ask?”

Crabtree: “Nina’s involved with a show that’s preforming there. She wants me to go.”

Watts: “Forever?”

Crabtree: “No, no, just a short while.”

Watts: “Well, the world is only an oyster if you choose to open it.”

Crabtree: “So go to Paris today, for tomorrow I might die?”

Watts: “Precisely.”

Crabtree: “What about you? What would you do with your last day?”

Watts: “Just this. Talk to a friend.”

Crabtree: “Who? Oh me?”

Watts: “And solve a crime.This is what were looking for.”

Crabtree: “Brilliant.”

Watts: “The City of Love with a beautiful woman. You’d be a fool to say no.”

Crabtree: “Thought you said it was the City of Light.”

Watts: “Light. Love. Are they not one and the same?”

Crabtree: “I prefer to love with the lights off, sir. I fear I’m bashful.”

Crabtree à la Carte

“A shame. It looks terrific. I think I’ll go out for lunch. Anyone care to join me? —- This disappoints me. But I soldier on.”

“I’ll work with her. People are not to be defined merely by their words, thoughts, and actions.”

“KRRRKRRRKRRRSHING SHING SHING SHING SHING! a moleta.”

“[speaking Italian] RESPONDA TO ME!”

That man’s look tho.

Watts: “It may once again be safe, but I’m not sure I’ll ever regard meat with the same enthusiasm again.”

Cherry: “Perhaps you should stick to freshly butchered cuts.”

Watts: “I thought the same. Then I read up on the abattoir conditions in the stockyards.”

Cherry: “The Shelleys subscribed to a Pythagorean diet. Da Vinci too.”

Watts: “Pythagorean? You mean vegetarian?”

Cherry: “I do. ‘My body,’ said da Vinci, ‘will not be a tomb to other creatures.’”

Watts: “Yes. Yes, it’s the only way to live, isn’t it? Join me, Miss Cherry. From this day forward, we shall follow the ranks of all moral men in our strict adherence to vegetarianism.”

Cherry: “Uh, I don’t think so. What, are we cows?”

Murdoch Schmurdoch

“Are you being facetious?”

“**To Constable John Brackenreid** Let me guess, you invited a lady to accompany you on an outing and she declined. — I would counsel you to persevere. Ask again. As Lord Nelson wrote, ‘the boldest measures are the safest,’ although I suppose a woman is quite unlike a Danish Fleet. — Yes. Tread softly, Young Brackenreid. Let her know that if her inclination changes, your offer still stands.”

Game of Kings

Ogden: “I see. Well, I don’t much fancy being stared at for the next five months.”

Murdoch: “Julia...”

Ogden: “Inspector, I couldn’t help but notice that you and all of the men were staring at the us both. Is there something you’d like to ask?”

Brackenreid: “Uh, no.”

Ogden: “Constable Crabtree?”

Crabtree: “What? [Chuckles]”

Ogden: “Higgins?”

Higgins: “No, ma’am.”

Ogden: “What about you, Detective Watts? You seem like a curious fellow.”

Watts: “Well, there is one thing.”

Murdoch: “What is that?”

Watts: “When’s the baby coming?”

Crabtree: “Oh!”

Brackenreid: “Bloody hell, Watts! They wanted to keep it a secret.”

Watts: “How could they do that when everyone clearly knows what’s going on here?”

Free Falling

Watts: “One hopes this won’t put too much of a strain on their relationship.”

Crabtree: “How so?”

Watts: “In the face of great loss, emotions can be misdirected. Feelings amplified. I knew a young couple who experienced a similar issue. They never recovered.”

Watts: “The secret to dealing with gruesome remains is to replace natural instinct with logic.”

Constable Brackenreid: “Okay. How?”

Watts: “Consider an ant. Imagine you trod upon one, crushing it, and leaving it’s body mangled beyond recognition. Now, does this disturb you?”

Constable Brackenreid: “Not really.”

Watts: “Exactly. So we simply apply the transitive law. If we are not disturbed by an ant, there is no reason to be disturbed by a beetle. If not by a beetle, then not by a caterpillar. Nor a butterfly, nor a sparrow, nor a fish, nor a rabbit, not a dog...nor a human. What we have here, then, is no more disturbing than the squashed remains of an ant.”

Hart: “What’s this?”

Watts: “A reminder of the inhumanity of man, Miss Hart.”

Hart: “How poetic.”

Watts: “Constable? It seems something’s troubling you.”

Crabtree: “How so?”

Watts: “There’s an expression on your face that suggests you have a thought in your head.”

Crabtree: “Do you remember I asked you about visiting Paris?”

Watts: “No.”

Crabtree: “And then I was away for some time?”

Watts: “No.”

Crabtree: “No. Well, in any case, I did. I went to Paris with Nina.”

Watts: “Mm.”

Crabtree: “And she wants to go again, but for good.”

Watts: “So you’re considering leaving us all behind?”

Crabtree: “I don’t want to. My whole life is here. But I could imagine a life there. I don’t know. If I...If I don’t go, I lose Nina. If I do, I lose everything else that’s dear to me.”

Watts: “One loss doesn’t outweigh the other?”

Crabtree: “The enormity of either seems too great to contemplate.”

Watts: “Oof. Well...I can’t give you any advice. But I can tell you what I know. I know that we spend our whole lives holding on to what we have. We fear loss as much as death itself. But without loss, there is no change. Without change, there is no? Life.”

Crabtree: “Detective. You realize there’s nothing written on the blackboard, right?”

Watts: “Uh, yes, but it provides a frame of reference.”

Crabtree: “Ah.”

Brothers Keepers

“Of course I’m not certain. Memories are fragmentary impressions at best. The mind moves like a flock of starlings. It’s hard to pin down a thought, let alone a memory.”

“Did I have reason? Nigel Baker tortured and killed a man I...A man who was in every way my brother. Someone who deserved my protection. I had ample reason to kill Nigel Baker. But as I have already made clear, I didn’t recognize him. So did I kill him with intention? No. Am I sorry he’s dead? No, I’m not. To be honest, even if given the chance to exact my revenge, I’m not sure I’m capable of it. Obviously, my philosophy rejects that very idea. No one asks to be the way they are, not even boys like Nigel Baker.”

In reference to justice being found:

Watts: “Where is that to be found? I’ve been asking myself that. To be honest, I’m unable to think of much else.

Murdoch: “You seek justice.”

Watts: “I crave it. If I could, I would demand it. I want the man who killed my brothers to feel their pain. To feel my grief at what he did to them. But he’s dead. At the hand of his father. Did he even know why? And now the father will likely hang. Is that justice?

Brackenreid: “Of a sort, I suppose.”

Watts: “Then why don’t I feel better?”

Annabella Cinderella

Constable Brackenreid: “Do you think I’ll get a chance to meet him?”

Crabtree: “Who? The lawyer? What do you want to meet him for?”

Constable Brackenreid: “I-I followed the trial. I felt sorry for her.”

Crabtree: “John, she killed her mother with an ax.”

Constable Brackenreid: “Harriet Rawlins wasn’t her mother. Annabella was a home child.”

Crabtree: “So that makes it alright?”

Constable Brackenreid: “She was beaten and tortured. Her home sister admitted as much.”

Crabtree: “The home sister that Annabella then tried to murder?”

Constable Brackenreid: “Rosemary Rawlins was abusive as well.”

Watts: “That’s what made it such a brilliant defense. The victim was painted as a villain, the villain painted as a victim. Annabella Cinderella.”

Crabtree: “So you’re a fan of the lawyer as well?”

Constable Brackenreid: “He took her case for free.”

Watts: “Oh, nobody’s motives are purely altruistic. It’s all in the service of his political aspirations. He running for mayor, don’t you know?”

Crabtree: “Thank you very much, Detective Watts, for everything. You as well, Mr. Daniels.”

Constable Brackenreid: “And I’m terribly sorry about all of this.”

Watts: “Of course you’re sorry. It doesn’t change anything, so why waste energy in saying it?”

Constable Brackenreid: “Does Detective Murdoch know?”

Watts: “No, he doesn’t. And that’s not the question you should be asking right now.”

Constable Brackenreid: “Sorry, I...”

Watts: “Nope.”

Constable Brackenreid: “W-What is?”

Lawyer: “How do we find her?”

Watts: “Ah. On the train over, I went through the file from the Crown prosecutor. There’s one more person we should protect.”

Lawyer: “Who’s that?”

Watts: “The doctor who filed the death certificate and attended the case.”

Lawyer: “Dr. Beattie was never called to testify.”

Watts: “He provided evidence that helped convict her.”

Lawyer: “Good point. Let’s go.”

Watts: “No. You stay. **waves gun in the air** This is police business. All right.”

Constable Brackenreid: “I’m not saying she’s innocent. I just pointed out that there are other people who may have wanted to kill her mother.”

Watts: “Which, if they did, would ipso facto make her innocent.”

Crabtree: “Did she say she was innocent?”

Constable Brackenreid: “She did, yes.”

Watts: “‘Twas ever thus.”

Constable Brackenreid: **opens the door** “Oh, my God.”

Watts: “Still think she’s so innocent?”

Constable Brackenreid: “This is my fault.”

Crabtree: “It’s jot your fault, John.”

Watts: “Losing the prisoner was your fault. This is merely a consequence. One cannot be accountable for every consequence, because the consequences of every action are infinite.”

Constable Brackenreid: “Is that supposed to make me feel better?”

Watts: “Your feelings are irrelevant. It’s simply the truth of it.”

Crabtree: “It does confirm our fears. The girl’s out for bloody revenge.”

#llewellyn watts #murdoch mysteries #jack walker #george crabtree appreciation society #detective watts #quotes

[margridarnauds]

Wishlist for AC: Wrath of the Druids

Because my field is literally only relevant ONCE in a blue moon and I’m making the most of it. 

Look, I’d pretend that this is going to be some sort of profound meditation on Irish Mythology, the nature of medieval literature, etc. But no. Here is the list that, after 9 years of studying these texts, 15 months of which have been in an intensive MA program in Ireland, I have come up with as far as “Members of the Tuatha Dé Who Are The Most Slappable.” I’ve also tried to go with the high profile members, since, if Curse of the Pharaohs and Atlantis were any indication, we’re primarily getting the high rollers here.  (I would like to make it very clear that I say this with the utmost of affection - I would not have studied these guys for 9 years if I actually HATED them.) 

First off, I’m ready and willing to bet money that the Tuatha Dé are going to be controlled by the members of this druid cult mentioned in the adverts, not unlike what we saw in Curse of the Pharaohs. I suspect that the cult will get ahold of an apple of Eden and summon up images of the Tuatha Dé to be a part of their wicked, wicked schemes. A part of me WOULD like for something different, but...well. It’s a proven formula, and why mess with success? 

Lugh. One of the most easily recognizable members of the Tuatha Dé, and SUPER slappable. Would make an EXCELLENT final boss, and would guarantee that I would buy it. Like. It is literally impossible to overstate exactly how much I would be willing to buy this game just for the chance to bitchslap Lugh. 

The Dagda. Another HIGHLY recognizable member. Not as imminently slappable as Lugh, but a massive thot, and, let’s be real, who DOESN’T want to slutshame the Dagda, at least a little? Albeit this time with. A sword. Also has a SICK staff that can bring people to life/kill them, depending on which side he uses, and canonically has a zombie xylophone. Would make a FANTASTIC boss.

Lugh. 

The Morrigan. Look. I don’t WANT to fight the Morrigan, not really. Honestly, of all the Tuatha Dé, I have the most personal respect for her, because she’s very honest about doing her own thing, but do I really think that Ubisoft would pass up the chance for a bloodthirsty raven lady? No I do not. And, tbh, it would be kind of sick. 

Lugh. 

Cú Chulainn. Is Cú Chulainn one of the Tuatha Dé? No, he isn’t. Is there a hint that he’s anything BUT mortal? Not....really, despite some speculation that he might have been x god or y god, he fits fairly firmly into the demigod mold. That being said....(1) I WOULD like to fight Cú Chulainn, on a personal level (#JusticeForAífe) and (2) .....Look, can you imagine fighting against the warp spasm? Yeah. Yeah. Also, given they made you fight King Tut in the Curse of the Pharaohs DLC, it’s obvious that they’re going off of name recognition more than accuracy, and CC IS easily the most recognizable figure from medieval Irish literature. (Bonus: Fighting CC and getting the Gáe Bulg as a reward?)

Lugh. As Cú Chulainn’s father, it’s only appropriate to get the family combo here. 

Midir. Do I think that they WOULD use Midir? No. He’s a little too specialized, even though Tochmarc Étaíne is, arguably, the single most popular of the Mythological Cycle texts. And he is oh so very slappable. That, and he does have a history of fucking with mortals, so he could be a REALLY fun fight. If I was designing the game, I would have him and Óengus in a tag team duo, and there would be horse urine involved. (This is why I do not work at Ubisoft.) 

Lugh. 

If Midir is too specialized, Bres is REALLY too specialized, along with the fact that, if you bring Bres in, you HAVE to bring the Fomoire in. But also. I’ve got to request my boy. He would be so much FUN. But. Unlikely. He tends towards the obscure side, though, and even when people remember he exists, it tends to be in a very small role. I would put more money on Balor being in, because he’s kind of the breakout star of Cath Maige Tuired (and the folklore around it), but I really want Bres.

Lugh.  

Dían Cecht. Grumpiest. Doctor. Ever. And you could do a lot with his whole. “Killing his son”. Thing. 

Lugh. 

Aillén. A little on the obscure side, but imagine. Fighting a member of the Tuatha Dé who breathes fire. Talk about a BADASS boss fight. Also getting to walk in the footsteps of Fionn mac Cumhaill, aka one of the greatest of Ireland’s heroes. It would be a very tempting prospect. 

Lugh.

....look. I want to emphasize this: I do NOT want to slap Bríg. Bríg is quite possibly the purest of the TDD, and that’s because we know next to nothing about her. But also...she IS really high profile, and I could see her acting as a sort of guide or counsellor ala Aletheia. AKA “One of the few sane Isu hanging around.” You could go some really interesting routes there, IF you wanted to. I’m not sure they’d be willing to, but I would personally like it. 

The Otherworld as a location you can visit, like Asgard or the Duat. Bonus if it highlights how reality twists and bends in the Otherworld, because some of the leading scholarship on it at the moment says that the place, as it was understood in medieval Ireland, was batshit insane, and I would LOVE to see them taking it on in a game. Bonus for also bringing in Sidhe mounds. 

Also. I want to fight Lugh. 

Danu - Look. I don’t want to fight Danu. Mainly because Danu, as a figure, doesn’t really EXIST in the myths, as such. The general consensus of the field, at this point, is that the original name for the TDD was....Tuatha Dé, which you’ll note is the term I use. It gets complicated when the name does gain traction, and the question as far as how old some of this goes back is long and extensive and not something I want to tackle at an ungodly hour of the evening, but. I don’t WANT her to be here when there are so many other figures who actually have a presence. But. Well. The cult’s name is “Children of Danu”, so a bitch has got to accept it’s likely. But I’m still putting her at the bottom because I don’t like it. 

For what it’s worth, my final guesses are locked in at Lugh, the Dagda, the Morrigan, and finding some way to bring Cú Chulainn in. Nuada might make for a dark horse option, though....I hate to say this, Nuada doesn’t really have the PERSONALITY to really function as a boss on his own. They could try, but I feel like they’d have to either expand quite a bit or riff off of his Early Modern portrayal as a bitter, jealous king, and...I still don’t trust them to have done the research for that. (I’m sorry, but after the Mari Lwyd, they will have to go a LONG way to earn my trust, especially with my baby.) Danu is...likely, but I won’t be happy if she is, even though it won’t make or break my decision. I feel like the Otherworld has GOT to be a lock, but I’m ready and willing to be disappointed. Also, despite this being based allegedly on the Mythological Cycle materials, I would be VERY surprised if they didn’t bring in later folklore like the banshees, because, let’s be real, why wouldn’t they? 

#assassin's creed valhalla #ac valhalla #ac: valhalla #irish mythology #celtic mythology #long post #wrath of the druids

[shadowhuntertrash]

High Notes

Chapter Eight

I own nothing but the plot

Character belong to Cassandra Clare

When Thomas woke up, he was absolutely terrified and questioning every life choice he had made that got him to where he was. How was he supposed to put on a concert? How many people were coming? Who would even want to come to see him?

  His stomach had dropped all the way down to his feet by the time they were heading down for breakfast. It must have shown on his face because the minute Lucie and Cordelia came down to join them Lucie pulled him into a tight hug and Cordelia smiled providing encouraging words. 

   Thomas just poked his eggs, too nervous to actually eat anything. James and Christopher seemed to be in the same boat, neither of them having touched much of their food while Matthew, Lucie, and Cordelia happily ate their entire breakfast. 

   When Cordelia finished eating she checked her phone, a flash of annoyance on her face. “Alastair isn’t responding so I’m assuming he’s still asleep. I’ll be back.” She stood up grabbing her trash and froze in her spot, his eyes dancing around confused. “Problem?” Matthew asked, taking a bite of his apple. 

   Cordelia continued to look confused for a second before slowly sitting back down. “Umm, I forgot where his room is.” Thomas laughed quietly. “Room 302.” He said easily, still pushing around his eggs, mind running through all the things that could go wrong that night. Looks like sleep didn’t help anyway. He grabbed his cup of orange juice and took a sip.

   Lucie gave him a knowing look and Cordelia smirked at him. “And how exactly do you know where Alastair’s room is?” Thomas’ hand froze midway to his mouth and he laughed awkwardly. “Umm, we all told each other our rooms remember?” Lucie and Cordelia weren’t buying it, Thomas didn’t even have to look at the other Merry Thieves to know that they weren’t either.

   Cordelia’s smirk only deepened. “Oh yes of course. What is our room number Thomas?” She asked innocently, Thomas wished nothing more in that moment than for the earth to open up and swallow him whole. “It’s umm, it’s,” Thomas scratched his head, face far too hot than what was acceptable. He cursed his inability to remember things on the spot.

  “It’s-” Thomas was cut off by someone plopping down into the seat to his left. Alastair grinned at him taking in his flushed face. “What are we talking about that’s making Thomas blush so hard?” Alastair asked with a raised eyebrow. Thomas turned away from him, his embarrassment threatening to bubble over.

   “Oh just y-” Lucie was cut off by Cordelia’s hand over her mouth, stopping what Thomas highly suspected was Lucie saying ‘you’. Lucie pouted, slumping in her chair and Cordelia smiled that deceivingly innocent smile of hers at her brother. “Nothing Alastair, we were just teasing him.” Alastair gave Thomas a hard look, a silent question in his eyes. ‘Really?’ Thomas shook his head numbly, desperately willing Alastair to drop the subject.

   Alastair seemed to get the message and looked around the table at everyone’s plates, Thomas suspected that it was to see who was nervous. His suspicion was proven correct when Alastair smiled a rare genuine smile at everyone. “I know some of you are nervous,” His gaze lingered on Thomas who blushed and looked away. “But you really have no reason to be. It’s scary at first but once everyone is screaming and the music is playing it’s actually a really powerful experience.” 

   Matthew scoffed and rolled his eyes, James elbowed him in the ribs and Matthew pouted. They shared a hard look before Matthew relented, slumping in his chair mumbling a “thanks Alastair” before going back to his previously abandoned apple. 

   Alastair looked smug. 

   Thomas smiled at Alastair, a warm feeling spreading through his body. Alastair when he chose to be could be a really encouraging person, anyone who has been the target of the encouragement could tell you that it was the best feeling in the world. Alastair gave Thomas a sincere smile before sitting back in his chair, his knee brushing against Thomas’. Thomas expected Alastair to move it but instead Alastair just flashed him a grin and winked, his knee staying flush against Thomas’ own.

   Thomas’ heart flipped and Lucie and Cordelia were both watching him with identical ‘We’re talking about this later.’ looks. Thomas started fiddling with his sweatshirt, it had the logo for The Beautiful Cordelia that Lucie had given him as a gag gift last christmas. It had always made Lucie laugh because it was a joke but Thomas actually really enjoyed it and wore it quite frequently.

   Cordelia stood up again, this time going to throw away her food, and when she came back she had a big smile on her face. “Okay so are we ready? We have about a thirty minute drive to the arena and then we are practicing for a bit.” Matthew nodded enthusiastically as Lucie stretched and stood up. Christopher stood as well gathering his things quickly. 

   James and Thomas exchanged anxious glances, both positively sick with worry. Thomas felt a hand on his lower back and then Alastair was whispering in his ear. Thomas almost missed what he said, the only thing he could think about was Alastair’s hand and if he moved it just slightly down-

   “Just calm down, you’ll be fine I promise.” And then Alastair’s hand was gone and Thomas was finally able to breathe, James walked up to him smirking, all nervousness gone without a trace. “You’re so whipped.” Thomas laughed and hit James’ arm lightly, James threw his head back laughing too, his golden eyes sparkling the way they did when he was truly amused. Thomas rolled his eyes, well at least someone was amused.

   When they got on the bus the boys were shocked and a little confused as to why Jesse was there, Anna readily explained that he would be with them a lot making sure everything ran smoothly, she then told them separately to be nice because he really was a good person.

   It came as even more of a shock when the girls climbed onto their bus chatting excitedly only for Lucie to freeze when she saw Jesse. Thomas saw James go to explain who he was but was cut off by Lucie’s confused words. “Jesse? What are you doing here?” Jesse laughed, one of the first emotions Thomas could sense from him and shrugged, still smiling at Lucie. “It’s my job, I didn’t realize this Anna was your cousin Anna.” 

   Jesse turned to look at Anna, dressed nicely in business attire, all black, eyeliner around her eyes making the blue stand out strikingly. Thomas envied her ability to be so utterly comfortable and confident with herself. “Though I guess that’s on me, you certainly are one of a kind, Anna.” Jesse said, turning his charming, and it was charming, smile on Anna.

   Anna rolled her eyes and ruffled his hair which in turn caused Jesse to roll his own eyes, James was watching their interactions with a highly confused expression that Thomas found rather funny. 

   “I’m sorry what is happening?” Lucie laughed and turned to her brother. “This is Jesse we met at a coffee shop once, he spilled coffee on me and in turn offered to buy me another, failing to realize it was his own coffee he spilled.” Lucie said, eyes clouding over slightly as if she was reliving the memory, a soft smile danced on her lips. Jesse blushed, a small smile on his lips too. “I did say sorry.” He said looking at Lucie in a way that told Thomas there was far more to the story than what Lucie had supplied.

   This time it was Thomas who gave Lucie a knowing look, the only one having picked up on what was really happening besides Cordelia who was smirking at Jesse as he tried, failing terribly, to hide his blush.

   “Anyway Jesse,” Thomas said, saving Lucie and Jesse from further embarrassment. “It’s great to have you on the trip, I have a feeling you’ll fit right in.” Jesse smiled gratefully, Thomas was starting to think that maybe he did show emotions and he might have just been closed off to the boys because they were strangers.

   Lucie and Jesse sat next to each other on the couch, Cordelia perched herself on the arm of the chair Matthew was sitting on, James leaning on the back of the chair, chin resting on Matthew’s head as the three talked. Christopher sat down with his sister on the other couch, Thomas felt a weird pang in his chest. He sat on the ground in front of Lucie, leaning against her legs, her hand automatically went to his hair, her fingers running through it in a calming fashion.

   Thomas let out a small sigh. There were occasions, such as this one, where everyone will have conversations and forget to involve him. He is well aware it is not on purpose but it doesn’t help the fact that it still felt bad, bad enough to make him not want to talk to anyone.

   Thomas laid his head back, he was getting antsy and needed someone to touch him. Lucie had her hand in his hair but that wasn’t doing much so he stood up and walked over to James, Matthew, and Cordelia. Cordelia and James were talking and laughing about something, Matthew watched with a smile that soon dissipated when he saw the expression on Thomas’ face.

   Matthew stood up rather abruptly and James let out a small yelp, having bit his tongue since his chin was still resting on Matthew’s head when he shot up. Matthew apologized and kissed him briefly before grabbing Thomas’ hand and pulled him into one of the bedrooms. 

   “Are you okay Tommy?” Matthew asked, his green eyes searching Thomas’ brown ones. “I’m alright.” Thomas said, Matthew stood silently for a few seconds before walking up to Thomas and hugging him tightly. Thomas all but fell into the embrace, glad Matthew knew him well enough to not need words for what was upsetting him.

   When Thomas pulled away they sat on the bed, Thomas’ head resting on Matthew’s lap, Matthew’s hands taking Lucie’s place, his fingers running through Thomas’ hair. “I like him a lot, and I’m just confused.” Thomas said suddenly, knowing full and well Matthew had sat in silence because he knew Thomas hated it.

   Shifting slightly, Matthew smiled sadly down at Thomas. “Talk through it.” Matthew said simply, his hands moving to put Thomas’ relatively short hair into small braids. Thomas hated when Matthew braided his hair but the motions of it was sooting to Thomas and he needed it right now.

   “He’s just so confusing. Before this tour I didn’t even think we were friends but now we’re all buddy buddy and he keeps winking and he called me a snack.” Thomas was talking with his hands and at this point he stopped and looked at Matthew to emphasize his point. “A snack! Who does that! Who calls their friends snacks? Was he joking? Does he flirt with everyone? I just want him to stop if he doesn’t actually like me. I don’t want to keep getting my hopes up if he is just kidding.” Thomas stopped and took a breath sinking further into Matthew.

   He didn’t know how or why but Matthew was by far the best person to go to when you needed to rant or needed comfort. Normally he was dramatic and didn’t take anything seriously but if the need arose Matthew was quite good at being serious and giving advice.

   Matthew hummed in acknowledgement and when it was obvious that Thomas was done talking Mattew looked down at him, a fond smile on his face. “Tommy, if it bothers you it is okay to tell him to stop. I get where you’re coming from so you could just ask him if he cares about you, the worst that can happen is him say no and you can just play it off as a joke. That would suck but then you’d have your answer.”

  Thomas took that in. He could ask Alastair, he could ask him in a teasing way so if he said no Thomas could play it off but in all honesty he didn’t want to just play it off. He wanted Alastair to care, he wanted to live in his head where Alastair did care. He was far too into Alastair to just be okay with Alastair saying he didn’t reciprocate those feelings.

   “Did it hurt,” Thomas asked in a small voice, not meeting Matthew’s eyes. “When you realized you loved James before you two got together?” Matthew’s hand stilled in Thomas’ hair momentarily while he thinks, resuming when he begins talking. “It did a little, it was sort of bittersweet because he’s such a touchy person that it also gave me hope but deep down I was so certain that he didn’t like me. Love will always hurt Thomas.” Matthew said, meeting Thomas’ eyes. “But the thing about love, is that no matter how much it hurts, it’ll always get better. Let it be with the person you’re with or the next person you’re with who fixes what the first person did. Does that make sense?” He asked, caring green eyes staring at Thomas questioningly.

   Thomas smiled softly, “Yeah it does.” He said mulling over the idea in his head. Thomas stands up and stretches, Matthew following suit. Thomas smiled at Matthew and ruffled his perfectly messy hair, causing Matthew to shriek and duck away which only made his hair look worse. Thomas laughed and as they went to the door he looked over at Matthew with a more serious expression. 

   “Honestly though Math, thank you. A lot.” Matthew shook his head and shrugged it off, opening the door and putting his hand out in a signal for Thomas to go first. “After you your highness.” Thomas laughed again and walked out, smiling at Alastair who must have appeared sometime when Matthew and Thomas were talking.

   Alastair smiled back and opened his mouth to say something but abruptly closed it when Matthew came out, smoothing his hair down. Alastair’s face fell momentarily before he masked it with a fake smile that made Thomas wonder how many people it fooled. He wasn’t one of them.

   Thomas quirked an eyebrow and threw him a questioning look which Alastair pointedly ignored, turning back to Cordelia who he had previously been in a conversation with. Thomas stiffened and felt a wave of hurt crash through him.

   Normally Alastair would have laughed or said something sarcastic, Thomas couldn’t remember the last time Alastair blatantly ignored him. He felt a hand land on his shoulder and turned to look at Matthew’s concerned eyes. Thomas just shrugged and walked over to the couch, sinking down to the ground, back against Lucie again.

   Had he done something to offend Alastair? He couldn’t think of any off the top of his head but he was sure there was something he had done, what else explained his hostility towards Thomas? Alastair’s actions threw Thomas for a loop after the conversation he had just had with Matthew.

   Lucie’s fingers were in his hair again and his eyes started to get heavy, anxiety wearing him thin. He tilted his head back, slouching so it was more comfortable and closed his eyes, pretending to sleep. He didn’t really have the energy to do anything or talk to anyone.

   There was only one person he really wanted to talk to but Barbara was off doing wedding plans and had told Thomas that she wouldn’t be available for the next two hours. He briefly thought about blowing her phone up anyway but eventually decided against that.

   Thomas listened to the conversations around him. Matthew and Anna were talking about some bar they couldn’t wait to go to, Thomas had never heard the name. Cordelia, James, and Christopher were talking about their song selection for the concert tonight, Thomas quickly tuned them out instead opting to listen to Jesse and Lucie talk in hushed voices. 

   “What is the likelihood of you getting this job!” Lucie said excitedly, Thomas heard Jesse laugh, “Honestly I was thinking the same thing. All the jobs and I wound up with you, not that I’m complaining.” Thomas mentally pulled a face, reminding himself yet again to talk to Lucie tonight or tomorrow morning.

   The only person who Thomas couldn’t hear was Alastair. Thomas opened his eyes slightly, not wanting to give up his sleeping facade. Alastair was sitting opposite Thomas, his back propped up against Cordelia’s legs, not unlike Thomas and Lucie. Thomas realized with a start Alastair was watching him, but he calmed when he realized Alastair had that far away look in his eyes, a tale tail sign he was deep in thought.

   Thomas briefly wondered what he was thinking about before shaking the thought off and closing his eyes all the way again. It really wasn’t any of his business.

   Thomas woke to someone shaking his shoulders unnecessarily hard, his eyes peeled open and he saw Christopher in front of him. Thomas looked around and was vaguely alarmed at the fact that they were the only two in here.

   “Where is everyone?” Thomas asked, his words slurring slightly in exhaustion. Christopher rolled his eyes, “We tried waking you up and it was decided I was most likely to get you up eventually.” Thomas blushed slightly, normally Thomas was a very light sleeper but other times when he was more emotionally drained than physically it took at least three people to wake up.

   Christopher reached out his hand and Thomas took it, using his hand as leverage to pull himself up. Thomas stretched and followed Christopher off the bus. “Hey Kit, where are we going?” Thomas asked, rubbing the sleep out of his eyes. “We get the stage for rehearsal so we’re heading to the arena.” Thomas nodded as they entered a hall that was made of stone, there was writing all along the lines and Thomas traced some of the names, stories popping up in his head about the people who had been here before.

   Had they been nervous too?

   When the hallway opened up to a big room, Thomas walked over to where James was sitting, a half eaten apple in his hand, his head thrown back laughing at something Matthew had said. Matthew was leaning against the wall in front of his boyfriend, soft smile on his lips, the kind only James got.

   Thomas and Christopher walked over to them and James smiled widely at them. “Are you ready?” He asked looking at all of them in turn, his nervousness from the morning seemingly gone. The closer it got to the concert the number Thomas was getting, he wasn’t sure if that was a good thing or a bad thing but he wasn’t hating it.

   Matthew and Christopher nodded enthusiastically and Thomas shrugged. Christopher threw an arm around his cousin, “Come on Tommy it’ll be amazing, aren’t you the least bit excited?” Thomas found himself smiling, unable to be anxious when all of them were looking at him drowning in anticipation. 

   Thomas threw his arm around Christopher laughing. “Okay maybe a little.” They all cheered and Matthew grabbed James, pulling him up and walking further down the hallway. Christopher and Thomas followed, throwing their feet to the far left and right of each other taking exaggerated steps together.

   Thomas froze when Matthew opened a door that led to the stage. It was relatively dark but that’s not what made him freeze. Once he took a step onto the stage this feeling washed over him as he surveyed the thousands of seats, the lights dancing on the stage, the big posters and drum seat that all read ‘THE MERRY THIEVES’ in big letters.

   It felt like home.

   Fighting off tears from the overwhelming feeling, Thomas walked over to his guitar. Picking at the strings he watched his unbiological brothers get their own instruments, tossing jokes back and forth. 

   Thomas felt a lightness settle in his bones, as long as he had them he would be fine, it had always been like that. He let out a breath, the anxiety from earlier leaving as he exhaled. Matthew clapped dramatically. “Let’s start! Do the order we’re doing for tonight.” Waiting long enough to receive three nods he turned back to the empty chairs and started counting.

   Thomas started strumming and Matthew started singing, he realized the girls were sitting in the audience when he caught sight of Cordelia’s auburn hair. They were both jumping up and down pretending to be fangirls, Lucie was fanning herself as if she might pass out and Cordelia was screaming “I love you!” at the top of her lungs. 

   Smiling at his guitar Thomas leaned into the microphone in front of him to sing backup for the chorus, both girls screamed louder when his voice came through and Thomas had a hard time keeping the laughter out of his voice. 

   After they played through their concert portion and the last song finished Lucie and Cordelia screamed and clapped, jumping up and down while the boys laughed. Thomas was so caught up that he physically jumped when someone grabbed his elbow, turning Thomas realized it was Alastair. 

   “Are you going to sing for us Lightwood?” Thomas almost sighed audibly at the name, so he was back to Lightwood now? “Not tonight no.” Thomas said, shaking his head, Alastair watched him for a second before saying, a small smile on his lips, “Then why don’t you sing now instead of the concert tonight?” Thomas considered it before pulling a face and shaking his head slowly. “Oh come on Tommy!” Matthew said, Alastair and THomas turned to look at him. He was standing next to James, as he almost always was, and James was playing with his fingers, kissing the pads lightly.

   Thomas rolled his eyes at their cuteness and turned back to Alastair who had a very confused look on his face. He turned back to Thomas, eyebrows furrowed as he tried to work something out. “They’re- Are they- wait.” Alastair spluttered. Matthew’s eyes darkened and James froze. “Together? Yes.” Thomas said, watching Alastair’s face carefully. Thomas knew Alastair wasn’t homophobic or anything since the thing with Charles happened and all but it didn’t mean Alastair wouldn’t be uncomfortable with James and Matthew.

   “Is that a problem?” Matthew asked defensively, Alastair’s eyes widened and he shook his head quickly. “No! No, god no. I only meant- well I thought,” Alastair blushed and looked at the empty audience. “Well doesn’t matter, nevermind.” Thomas raised an eyebrow. “Now I’m curious.” Alastair laughed and rubbed the back of his neck awkwardly. “Well I kind of thought- well I thought you and Matthew were dating when you two came out of the room and yo-your hair was messed up and your shirts were wrinkled.” Alastair mumbled quietly.

   The room fell silent and Alastair turned a deeper shade of red before everyone burst into laughter. Matthew slumped against James and Christopher threw his head back, Cordelia and Lucie were giggling loudly as they made their way to the stage. Thomas had his hands on his knees supporting himself as he laughed loudly, Alastair slapped his arm lightly. “Shut up Thomas!” That only made him laugh harder. “A-Are we ba-back to T-Thomas?” Thomas asked between the laughter.

   Alastair groaned, his cheeks going impossibly redder. “Oh god.” He groaned into his hands which had come up to cover his face. Thomas grabbed his stomach which was starting to hurt from the laughter that wouldn’t stop.

    “So are you singing or not?” Alastair asked in a bitter voice as a way to change the subject. “Only if you sing with me.” Thomas said without thinking, as soon as he caught up with his words he shook his head. “Wait no.” Alastair was grinning at him shaking his head. “No no I do believe you’ve already said yes.” Thomas groaned as Christopher, James, and Matthew walked off the stage making themselves comfortable on the front row of seats.

   Matthew winked at Thomas and Thomas returned it by flipping him off. Matthew laughed and Thomas picked up his guitar again, Alastiar walking to the microphone. Thomas walked over to him. “What song are we singing?” Alastiar pulled the microphone down, quietly cursing Matthew and his height. “What about Have It All?” Thomas nodded. Thomas had set down one day with Matthew and wrote that song, it was how Matthew asked him out. James had cried.

   Thomas went back to his microphone and Alastair looked over, watching Thomas for his count before starting. Thomas bobbed his head slightly as he silently counted the beats before strumming slightly, flashing a smile at Alastair who returned it before he started singing.

May you have auspiciousness and causes of success

May you have the confidence to always do your best

May you take no effort in your being generous

Sharing what you can, nothing more nothing less

May you know the meaning of the word happiness

May you always lead from the beating in your chest

May you be treated like an esteemed guest

May you get to rest, may you catch your breath

And may the best of your todays be the worst of your tomorrows

And may the road less paved be the road that you follow

Well here's to the hearts that you're gonna break

Here's to the lives that you're gonna change

Here's to the infinite possible ways to love you

I want you to have it

Here's to the good times we're gonna have

You don't need money, you got a free pass

Here's to the fact that I'll be sad without you

I want you to have it all

Oh! I want you to have it all

I want you to have it

I want you to have it all

May you be as fascinating as a slap bracelet

May you keep the chaos and the clutter off your desk

May you have unquestionable health and less stress

Having no possessions though immeasurable wealth

May you get a gold star on your next test

May your educated guesses always be correct

And may you win prizes shining like diamonds

May you really own it each moment to the next

And may the best of your todays be the worst of your tomorrows

And may the road less paved be the road that you follow

Well here's to the hearts that you're gonna break

Here's to the lives that you're gonna change

Here's to the infinite possible ways to love you

I want you to have it

Here's to the good times we're gonna have

You don't need money, you got a free pass

Here's to the fact that I'll be sad without you

I want you to have it all

Oh, I want you to have it all

I want you to have it

I want you to have it all

Oh, I want you to have it all

All you can imagine

All, no matter what your path is

If you believe it then anything can happen

Go, go, go raise your glasses

Go, go, go you can have it all

I toast you

Here's to the hearts that you're gonna break

Here's to the lives that you're gonna change

Here's to the infinite possible ways to love you

I want you to have it

Here's to the good times we're gonna have

You don't need money, you got a free pass

Here's to the fact that I'll be sad without you

I want you to have it all

Oh, I want you to have it all

I want you to have it

I want you to have it all

Here's to the good times we're gonna have

Here's to you always making me laugh

Here's to the fact that I'll be sad without you

I want you to have it all

   Thomas played the last note numbly. His heart was racing and it took all of Thomas’ focus to not let his hands slip on the strings, cold sweat on his palms. He couldn’t take his eyes off of Alastair who was now looking at him with a huge smile, it took a minute for the other’s cheers and shouts to reach him and when he looked down he saw Lucie with her phone out, the light on. 

   He couldn’t tell if it was the flash from a video or just a flashlight but Thomas hoped it was the latter.

   Alastair came over to him clapping his hands. “Thomas you really should sing at the concert you’re so good!” He said happily, seemingly having forgotten about whatever Thomas had done earlier. Thomas laughed and shook his head.

   Alastair quieted and stared at Thomas, Thomas was about to break the silence when Alastair blurted, “Do you want to go out with me?” Thomas froze, his eyes widening, heart racing. Alastair seemed nervous but he still had that confident smile he always wore. 

   Before he could say anything Anna was on the stage getting everyone’s attention. Thomas couldn’t pull his eyes away from Alastair who was now looking at Anna. “Every go get dressed we start in an hour!” Anna said motioning for them all to leave.

   Alastair turned back to Thomas and smiled. “See you after the concert.” He said in a chipper voice. “Wait what?” Thomas asked quietly, his mind reeling. Alastair was quite a ways away by the time he got his voice back. “Wait what?” He shrieked when he finally processed Alastair’s words. Alastair turned and winked at Thomas before disappearing behind a corner.

   Before he knew it, Thomas was being led to a dressing room to get ready. Thomas didn’t know what he was more nervous about now, the concert or talking to Alastair afterwards. Thomas sighed and changed into some skinny jeans and a too tight shirt that had him questioning Anna’s antics before sitting in a chair and letting the makeup lady apply face paint.

   Thomas closed his eyes and let out a slow breath. He knew one thing for sure, it was going to be a long night.

#thomas lightwood #alastair carstairs #james herondale #anna lightwood #christopher lightwood #matthew fairchild #lucie and cordelia #cordelia carstairs #lucie herondale #lucie x jesse #jesse blackthorn #matthew x james #heronchild #alastair x thomas #thomas and alastair #thomas x alastair #thomastair #tsc fanfiction #high notes

[ollieofthebeholder]

leaves too high to touch (roots to strong to fall): a TMA fanfic

Also on AO3. Chapter 1 on Tumblr here.

Chapter 2: Jon

“Tea, Jon?”

Jon looks up from the paperwork he’s studying to see Martin hovering in the doorway, mug in hands and looking even jumpier and more uncertain than usual. The thought of what did he mess up this time intersects with did something happen last night and means Jon isn’t sure what his expression is doing. He scans Martin’s face, looking for clues to what he might need to be worrying about. If he needs to be worrying, or worrying more than usual. He tries to hide it around the office, but he is concerned about Martin’s comfort and safety. He’s begun leaving less and less and it has very little to do with thinking he, personally, might be in danger (although the idea of Jane Prentiss following him home is not a pleasant one) and more to do with worrying about Martin being in the Archives alone. He says he’s fine, and for the most part seems normal, except the nerves, but Jon can’t help but be concerned. Especially since he’s still carrying a lingering sense of guilt from Martin’s reasoning for being in that basement in the first place. That he felt he needed to prove something to Jon…

Martin’s eyebrows draw together, just slightly, and the worry in his eyes amps up a bit, and Jon realizes abruptly that he’s waiting for an answer to his question. “Oh—ah—thank you, Martin. I appreciate that.”

Martin smiles, just a little, and comes over to set the mug on Jon’s desk. It’s sort of part of the ritual at this point. Usually, Jon is busy, so Martin brings him a cup of tea and sets it on the corner of his desk until he has time to drink it.

Today, though, he’s more or less at a stopping point, and he notices that Martin’s hand is shaking slightly, enough to set the tea sloshing in the cup.

“Here, careful, you’ll spill that in a moment.” Jon reaches up with both hands to take the mug from Martin, then sets it on the desk and studies his assistant. “Are you all right?”

“Fine! Fine, I’m fine, I’m—I’m fine.” Martin swallows. He has never looked less fine to Jon. “It’s just—I’m just—I’m fine.”

“Martin,” Jon says carefully. He rifles through several possible options. It could be lack of sleep making Martin shaky. It could be low blood sugar. It could be he has actually done something wrong with regards to his work and he’s afraid Jon will yell at him. It could be he opened the door and managed to let another animal in. It could just be the general atmosphere of the Archives getting to him. Jon doesn’t feel like playing Twenty Questions right then when a single direct one will suffice. “What’s wrong?”

“N-nothing, it’s just…” Martin worries at his lip for a moment. “I—I need to tell you something.”

“Go ahead.” Jon is still struggling for the balance between his natural personality and the front he put on when he was first appointed to his position—the one he meant to be professional and responsible but turned out more like grouchy asshole—and he’s not sure if his tone of voice comes out right or not.

Martin doesn’t say anything for a moment, and Jon is about to prompt him again when he suddenly blurts out, “I lied.”

Jon stills. He normally has to stop himself from fidgeting—twirling a pen in his fingers, worrying at the cuffs of his shirts, picking at scabs—constant small, nigh-unnoticeable movements that he does without even thinking about and fights any time there is another person present in his office. But at those two words, his entire body seems to seize up. His mind instantly goes to the statement he recorded, the one where he talked about being held hostage in his home for two weeks by what they all believe to be Jane Prentiss. If he lied about that…

No. No, it can’t be that. The worms are real and they are stalking the Institute. Sasha’s encounter with the being calling itself Michael lends more weight to Martin’s statement as well. And surely Martin wouldn’t still be staying in the Archives if he honestly didn’t have to. No story is worth selling that hard. But Jon can’t think of anything else Martin might have said lately that he would feel the need to confess to lying about, unless…

Jon suddenly realizes that Martin has continued talking and he has heard none of it. He holds up a hand to stop him. “Wait. Start over. You what?”

“Lied on my CV,” Martin repeats, and Jon becomes aware that his heart stopped only when it begins to beat again. “I don’t have a master’s in parapsychology. I don’t even have a degree. When I was seventeen, my mum was—she started getting sick, and I had to drop out of school and get a job. We needed the money. Nobody would hire me, and I started getting desperate, so—so I started lying on my applications. I got the interview with Elias and he hired me, but I don’t actually have the credentials I said I did. Most of my employment details are made up. I’m only twenty-eight.”

Martin says all of this in a rush, then falls silent, watching him nervously. Jon suspects that a proper boss would be irritated at best, angry at worst. That he ought to fire Martin immediately for dishonesty, or report him to Elias.

He doesn’t. He can’t. In the first place, the thought of actually firing anyone makes his stomach turn, and he always feels uncomfortable in Elias’s office, like a child being punished for something he can’t quite figure out what he did wrong. In the second place, he doesn’t want to fire Martin specifically, and right now he refuses to examine why.

Besides…there’s something impressive about a seventeen-year-old, even one over six feet tall, walking in off the street claiming to have a master’s degree in a relatively obscure and highly specialized subject and managing to sell it. And Martin’s been here eleven years now, which means that not only has he proven competent enough not to be fired before now, he’s gained enough experience to match the rest of them. Maybe even surpass them. Jon is conscious of a slight feeling of inadequacy, his own degree be damned.

He clears his throat. “Why didn’t you say anything sooner?”

“Because I thought you’d fire me?” Martin’s voice drifts to a slightly higher register, as it often does when he’s nervous.

No, not nervous. Scared. Martin is genuinely scared of what Jon might say or do to him. Jon finds himself instinctively wanting to get up and wrap Martin in a hug, which scares him. It’s another feeling he has no idea what to do with, or where it came from, and so tries to ruthlessly pack it away but only succeeds in shoving it into a mental cupboard like a child who spent the day reading instead of tidying his room like he promised and is now desperately trying to hide the mess before some grown-up comes in to inspect. It’s going to come tumbling out the minute someone touches the handle and he will still not have any idea how to deal with it other than panicked denial of having put it there in the first place.

“I’m not going to fire you,” he says instead, wrapping his hands around his mug of tea for something to do with them. It’s the same mug Martin always brings him tea in, the bone china one printed all over with cats, and Jon’s never been able to figure out how Martin knows he’s a cat person, since he’s never mentioned it and doesn’t own one at the moment. “Good Lord, Martin, you’ve been here eleven years. I think you know your way around the paranormal by now. If you’d told me you didn’t have the experience in academia…well, it certainly would have explained more than a few things.”

Martin’s cheeks turn pink, and he looks down at his shoes. “I know I’m not all that good at the job.”

“You’re…not up to the standards I’d expect from someone with eleven years’ experience and a master’s degree, certainly,” Jon says. He tries to moderate his tone so he doesn’t sound like he’s scolding. He isn’t. “But if I’d known you didn’t have that degree…I would have judged you a lot less harshly. You are a very good researcher, Sasha was right when she said that.”

The blush on Martin’s cheeks deepens, and he mumbles something that might be thanks. Jon decides to take it as such, and also takes a sip of tea to try and cut through the tangle of emotions inside him.

“Ask for help,” he says when he can trust himself to speak again. “If you need it. Tim and Sasha have the experience with academia you don’t, they’ll be more than happy to help you. And…if you’d rather do more of the filing and cataloging duties, the parts that are more like what you would have done in the library, than the researching…”

“I don’t mind researching. I really enjoy it. I just—I don’t always know what I’m doing, and I’m sorry. You’re right. I should have told you that a long time ago.” Martin takes a deep breath. “I—I’ll ask. I will. Thank you. And I’m sorry again.”

“Stop apologizing, Martin.” Jon realizes his tone might have come out a bit harsh and forces himself to soften his voice. “What’s done is done. But…yes. You’re still looking into Tom Haan, correct?”

“I—y-yeah, yeah.”

“Get Tim to help you with that. In fact, have him handle it today. I’d like you to go through the Archives for me and see if you can find anything that seems…relevant to our current situation.” Jon doesn’t know why the thought pops into his head, but it occurs to him that there might be more to the Jane Prentiss situation than he knows, that perhaps Martin can find something relevant. He has faith that if anyone can find it, it’s Martin, and he’s not sure where that certainty comes from. “Perhaps you can do the stapling for Sasha, if you have time?”

Martin hesitates. “Ah—is this a good time to tell you that you’re really not supposed to do that?”

“What, stapling?” Jon frowns.

“Yeah, you—I mean, if they were brass staples, maybe, or the Morel stainless steel ones, but the regular ones? They rust, you know? You’re not supposed to use metals that rust on documents you’re planning to keep permanently. It ruins them. I know you’re trying to record the statements and all, but especially the ones we have to do on the tapes, magnetic files can be corrupted…” Martin trails off, and he’s blushing harder than before.

Jon blinks at him. “I—I didn’t know that. Thank you, Martin, that’s…that’s helpful.”

He offers Martin a small smile, and Martin’s face turns so red Jon worries his hair might actually catch fire. “N-no problem. It’s—I mean, I’ve kind of been going around at night and taking the staples out sometimes, b-but I found a couple plastic paper clips in one of the drawers and I replaced them with those, so…”

“I’ll see about ordering some brass staples,” Jon promises. “I had no idea there were other kinds that weren’t meant for upholstery or surgery or some such. And—thank you again.”

Martin nods quickly. “I’ll go…see what I can find. And thank you. For—for not being mad at me.”

Jon gives a soft huff of laughter. “To tell the truth, Martin, I’m actually rather relieved.”

Martin offers Jon a shy smile, then backs out of his office, still blushing furiously. Jon takes another sip of his tea. It’s made, as usual, exactly the way he likes it.

He silences the part of him that wonders if that was how he liked it before Martin started making it that way and gets back to work.

#tma #the magnus archives #jonmartin #leaves too high to touch (roots too strong to fall) #time travel fix it au #this is the closest s1 Jon and Martin get to actually communicating #ollie writes fanfic

[revasnaslan]

My reading on Hordak’s flashback scene from S3E2 is this… I do not believe it’s an accurate telling of the situation. To be clear, I don’t mean that I think Hordak was lying intentionally. On the contrary, I actually think he was being as truthful as he could have been, given the circumstances. He believes what he was saying to be true, even though I think canon was framed some things differently that throw his flashback into question when it comes to accuracy.

The tl;dr here is that I think Hordak has conflated his health issues with Prime’s dismissal of his agency and autonomy, due to memory issues brought on by previous mind wipes and/or his crash landing on Etheria.

One thing I’ve noticed is that all of the other flashback sequences in the show (e.g., the entirety of Shadow Weaver’s flashbacks in Light Spinner) are animated in the same style as the show proper. In contrast, Hordak’s flashback in animated in an entirely different style, one that is very sketchy and rather vague. In his flashback, faces do not have distinct features aside from their eyes, and the palette is rather simplistic. It is also told in the span of only a few minutes (if that), rather than spanning an entire episode’s B-Plot like Shadow Weaver’s flashbacks did, or how the entirety of Promise was framed. This could be interpreted as a stylistic shift that indicates how vague his memories actually are, in comparison to someone like Shadow Weaver or Catra, who remember their own memories very vividly.

I believe this vagueness is due to the aforementioned memory issues Hordak might have that were caused by a previous mind wipe. I do not imagine that having your brain stem hacked into really does anything good for your ability to recall old memories or create new ones. There is evidence that Hordak has had his mind wiped in the past. We see it in the flashback sequence I previously mentioned. During that sequence, Hordak is clearly lifted by his neck by Prime. Without any additional context brought on by the S4 finale, you wouldn’t be able to tell what was going on aside from Hordak being grabbed.

I highly suspect what we saw there, was Hordak being mind wiped by his brother. However, Hordak does not remember the context of it fully. You’d think he’d mention being mind wiped if he remembered it happening, but he doesn’t, and I suspect that framing is intentional. The only thing he remembers is being grabbed by his brother.

The context we have for why Prime grabbed Hordak in the first place is also sketchy to me upon deeper examination. Hordak tells Entrapta, and the audience, that his defect became apparent during a strategy meeting which caused him to faint in front of Prime. However, we have seen Hordak faint exactly once in canon, outside of that flashback. It was the result of him being upset and/or angry at Entrapta intruding on him when he was in a very vulnerable state. I suspect Hordak fainted during that strategy meeting because he was upset about a plan that Prime was trying to push through… as in, he didn’t agree with what it was Prime wanted to do.

So, he fainted, and Prime was angry because Hordak had argued against him, rather than because of his health issues.

Now, it is not my intention to suggest that Hordak is stupid for conflating his health issues with dismissal of his agency and autonomy. On the contrary I think Hordak is actually pretty intuitive, which is why I suspect he did the conflating in the first place. He was trying to put two-and-two together as best as he was able, with what context clues he had, and ended up coming to a conclusion that makes sense but was ultimately wrong.

And that is because Hordak is an unreliable narrator. However, I only came to that conclusion after the finale of S4, after seeing Prime for the first time. Most of my assumptions about him came from that flashback sequence, as I think a lot of people’s did. There’s a reason we all assumed that Prime would just look like a taller version of Hordak, perhaps with a couple more scars. I’m not going to go on a two thousand word long explanation for why I think Prime was and still is fond of Hordak—which I feel the need to stress, is not a good thing—but the tl;dr for that would simply be that Prime’s main motivation is control and the framing of his relationship with Hordak strikes me as that of a possessive family member who feels entitled to them.

I also want to be clear here. Hordak does not have plot armor. If you are unsure of what constitutes plot armor, I direct your attention to Catra, who survived the season finale despite having Hordak shooting his arm cannon at her for half an episode, which she proceeded to break with her heel. That is plot armor. Hordak doesn’t have it. If he was going to die, he would have done so in the season finale when he was reunited with Prime, and his death would have actually served two narrative purposes. The first is that he would have been fridged for Entrapta’s development, as a gender flip on the much more common trope of a woman being fridged for her male love interest’s development. The second is that his death would have easily set the stakes for the final season, for both the audience as well as Glimmer and Catra who would have witnessed it.

Which brings me to an important question. If Prime wanted Hordak dead so damn badly (as is implied by Hordak’s flashback), why didn’t Prime kill him? Hordak has already proven himself to be a liability at least twice that we know of, and yet Prime did not kill Hordak. He merely sent him away for reconditioning. I have my own theories for why, ranging from Hordak not actually being a clone at all but rather Prime’s younger sickly brother to Prime genuinely being fond of this one clone in particular for whatever reason…

But I guess we’ll just have to wait and see when season five rolls around.

#hordak #horde prime #meta #rev's rambling again #i apologize if there's any typos i wrote this up really quick

[sometimesrosy]

i know what kind of the show the 100 is, but i really expect at least a good ending for bellarke and i hope your spec is right and we get some kind of that with them, in the past years shows did end in dissapointment, so i hope jason is in the group of 12 monkeys, bones, castle, shadowhunters, OUAT....

okay. but are you SURE you know what kind of show The 100 is?

What kind is it? 

Yes, it’s the post apocalyptic sci fi action tragedy, but there are actually two kinds of post apocalyptic stories, the kind where there’s no hope and humanity is doomed and the kind where there IS hope and humanity can be saved.

This one is DEFINITELY the later. Hope is important in this show. THIS kind of pos apocalyptic story CAN have a happy ending, or at least a happy ending that costs a price, a bittersweet happy ending. JR has told us that there would be a “The 100 style” happy ending, and the last time he said that would happen was with one couple in s5, which we now know was Marper, who got to live their lives on their own terms, alone and without people, but in love and happiness and peace while guiding their people towards a new future. I suspect the ending of the series will *match* that description of a happy ending, but with Bellarke, who was HIGHLY mirrored with Marper in the finale of s5.

And seeing as our heroes have had a happy ending with a cost every single season, what we’re watching is a story where there is hope. And *probably* hope for Bellarke.

But. I see that you aren’t really concerned with the story, you’re concerned with if Clarke and Bellamy get together, and this, to you is what’s in doubt, because you’re looking for a romance novel, or bellarke fic or something.

For you, the story ending in disappointment is the story not ending with Bellarke romantically together with a kiss/confession/sex. Or at least that’s what is seems to me, because as I’m watching, I have not felt denied bellarke since season 2. S1 I didn’t ship them yet, not really. S2 gutted me when she left because of bellarke. S3 they were together and closer than ever, S4 okay i was gutted when she was left behind, but had hope for bellarke with the 2199 radio calls. S5 I was not disappointed with bellarke because of that last part of the finale. S6 was so freaking romantic and ended, for all intents and purposes, with that romantic, intimate bellarke hug in the sunrise, so to me, it was clearly romantic bellarke, even without an official kiss(apparently kiss of life doesn’t count)/confess (apparently all the conversation of love and care and pledges not to leave or let each other die, or the confession that he needs her don’t count)/sex.

This is why I ask if you do know what kind of story this is. Because you are acting like my spec about bellarke is based in my personal feelings and not the development of the narrative that I’ve been following, but I don’t know if you have, or you’d see that bellarke is already a romantic story, and has been since AT LEAST season 5, when bellarke shippers abandoned the show because b/e existed, instead of recognizing a canon love triangle when they see one. (I will admit that this has been what has made me most frustrated with the Bellarke fandom. They’re giving us what we want and we’re acting like it’s not happening in canon on screen.)

Like my “spec” is pretending there’s a love triangle, or the love triangle is just an interpretation rather than written in the script, the direction, the cinematography and the acting. 

I cannot tell you if JR will back out of the bellarke love story or not, because I am not in control of what another person creates, but I can tell you that the story of The 100 has been an epic love story, truly from season 1, because it has been about GROWTH, but as a main plot line from season 5, or the end of s4 when he left her behind. 

If you say you know what kind of story The 100 is and you don’t recognize the actual romantic story of Bellarke, then you don’t know what the story is. 

This is not fanon. This is canon. It’s not my speculation. It’s the narrative. JR has called it an epic love story. He has told us it would happen eventually. He has said they were soul mates. He has said they love each other. And the story he is telling has them revolving around each other closer and closer until they connect. 

When I speculate that the story might be following the structure of The Divine Comedy, with the Inferno, Purgatory, and Paradise, giving us the darkest moments in the beginning and ending up NOT a tragedy, that’s a speculation that is based on a remarkable similarity to the narrative and also literal allusions to the text and a painting we stared at in TWO seasons to point out the connection and character names like Dante and Blake to make the connections. So yeah. I’m speculating on the theme of the story that won’t, perhaps, be clear until the end, but it’s less a speculation and more a theory-- a theory has evidence to support it while a speculation doesn’t necessarily. 

There IS a point to the story, though. He’s told us there is. And it will be clear at the end. What I’m saying is that in order to tell a good story, he needs to incorporate that point into the whole story so we can follow along and it will all add up at the end. So I’ve been looking for those breadcrumbs that tell us where it’s going. This is what I do, and I’m pretty good at it. Finding those clues. I know not everyone knows how to do that, and I know a lot of people have been gaslighted by those who have been telling us Bellarke is not romantic or not the central relationship, or not the heroes, or are actually the bad guys, or are unimportant etc. 

Back in season 3 after Hakeldama, I wrote a meta theorizing that this whole story was about Clarke and Bellamy coming together. That in order to succeed, they must be together. It was based on some significant evidence from the first 2.5 seasons, but it has been proven correct in the following 3.5 seasons. This show is DEFINITELY about bellarke, the head and the heart, being TOGETHER and saving the world. There were points where it could have been a sun/moon story, never getting together. There were points where it could have remained platonic with no romantic connection. Those points have all been passed now, and they MUST be together and it is ALREADY romantic, so the eventual COMPLETE union of Bellarke is going to be romantic. They are already married, imo, committed, pledged, intimate, loving, devoted, respecting, trusting, and the ONLY thing separating them from what fandom wants is the physical. Because it has already moved into the romantic (EVERY love triangle is a romantic story, even for the losing couple, it’s still a romantic story, therefore, in the IMPOSSIBLE event that bellamy choses Echo over Clarke, it’s still romantic, just a broken hearted romance without the necessary genre happy ending,) it is no longer a platonic relationship.

What I CAN’T do is tell you how it’s going to end. If Bellarke will live or die. They might die and that’s always been a possibility that I’ve said for the end of the series. Here are the possibilities i can see for a Bellarke ending. In all but one (very unlikely possibility) Bellarke are kiss/confess/sex canon romantic, even if they don’t get a happy ever after.

Bellarke alive, together, romantically, married, raise a family and a peaceful society with their friends. (Happy Ever After ending common in the romance genre.)

Bellarke alive, together, romantically, married, have a family and life with their friends but there are more struggles coming, like maybe another apocalypse or political upheaval or violence. (Happy For Now ending also common in the more ‘realistic’ romance genre or romantic stories.)

Bellarke alive, together, romantically, married, have a family.... but not with their friends who are left behind to create the peaceful society. (Marper ending, The 100 Style Happy Ending, as described by JR. Bittersweet. This is the one I think is most likely in some ways.)

Bellarke dead, together romantically before they die, their family and friends go on without them to create a peaceful society. (Happy Ever After for humanity, but not for Bellarke. Bittersweet. A Romeo and Juliet ending, and though Bellarke has never been framed as R&J it’s possible. This could happen. The sooner they get together romantically in season 7 the more likely they won’t get a happy ending.)

Bellarke together romantically, but Clarke dies saving them, and Bellamy carries on in her absence, broken, perhaps eventually settling for Echo, or perhaps not. He creates a peaceful society for their friends in her name. (this is Happy Ever After for humanity, but a tragedy for Bellarke. I believe this was the ending of s4, and I think it’s developed past that so I don’t think it will happen.)

Bellarke together romantically, but Bellamy dies saving them, and Clarke carries on in his absence. The only way I think this could happen is if she has his baby, so carries him with her. She creates a peaceful society for their friends and her children in his name. (Happy Ever After for humanity, but a tragedy for Bellarke. This was the ending of s4 for Clarke with Madi as the substitute child. I believe we’ve developed past that so I don’t think it will happen.)

Bellarke together platonically... i do not think this can happen, it would have to RETURN to platonic partnership, because we’ve left platonic, but let me explore it. Clarke would need to give up Bellamy to Echo because it was “the right thing to do” and Bellamy would need to stay with Echo because it was “the right thing to do,” and neither of them would make the claim on the other. But I believe part of the journey of s6 was about Bellamy CHOOSING Clarke because he loves her. It’s part of the narrative. So he’s already chosen her, so something would have to happen to reverse that decision and I don’t know what it could be. Clarke looks like she’s ready to wait for him. I don’t think this story would have them together platonically with Bellamy sacrificing his happiness being with Echo, who is Ash and doesn’t want to be king/spy anymore, and leaving Clarke pining for her soulmate. That’s a bad story because there’s no reason for them to not admit they love each other. Staying with Echo because he promised is a bad reason and disrespectful to all involved. But okay. Bellamy chooses Echo and Clarke eventually finds someone else and they lead a peaceful society without fully engaging the heart. Oh that doesn’t make sense. They’re the head and the heart. That would not be living up to what Monty asked of them. No it doesn’t work. This ending is already off the table, sorry. Unless JR really is the asshole that you all think he is. If it happens, I’ll admit that you were right and he’s a dick as bad as D&D. But if it doesn’t happen, then y’all need to go apologize to JR for doubting him and hating him and calling him evil and a bad writer. 

Where I am now, I think the most likely is a mix of the above. I think the bittersweet ending will include a happy ever after for Bellarke, like Marper, as they are separated from their friends and family and assumed dead. So Bellarke will die together saving their people, but they won’t die, rather they will be separated from them so they can have their happy ending although it is alone and they’ve lost everyone they love, except each other. It fits the narrative, the circular storytelling, the bellarke mythos, the breaking of the cycle, clarke and bellamy’s characters, the sacrifice theme, the head and the heart, the marper foreshadowing, “together,” wanheda, the survival plot twists where we think they’re dead but they’re not, soulmates, the bittersweet endings, the victory but with a price, etc. 

#the 100 #the 100 style happy ending #bittersweet #series finale spec #bellarke #together