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fantastic-nonsense · 1 month

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Thanks for your reply. And, yeah, I definitely agree that Robin is first and foremost Dick’s legacy, and that he chose Damian as his Robin for important reasons that he expresses to Tim later. And, his blessings to both Jason and Tim previously were also extremely important. But, I was thinking about it more in terms of how the transition was handled. I know that Jason and Dick, despite popular belief, had a decent relationship when he was Robin, but Dick didn’t react well initially because he had been completely blindsided by the news, nor had he given his consent. I thought that Alfred was sort of repeating Bruce’s mistakes here, so Tim might have been blindsided by it as well (not that I think he would’ve given his consent either way at that point). You saying that it was a crisis decision on Alfred’s part puts it in perspective though, and it makes sense since Alfred’s generally more sensitive than Bruce. I do think, though, that seeing Damian in a Robin suit (with Alfred’s blessing) would have probably made Tim realise that there was a real possibility that Damian could be Robin.

[referencing this response on how the transition from Tim to Damian as Robin was handled]

I think two things can be true: Tim would be blindsided and hurt by Dick's decision to make Damian Robin regardless of the circumstances, but it was particularly tough for him given the situation that it occurred in (the issue you're talking about and I mostly discussed in my original response), and it was the obvious decision to make based on where all three of those characters were in their character arcs.

Tim during the BFTC/early Reborn era honestly needs to be viewed in the context of him clearly being ready to take the same steps Dick took at his age to become an independent vigilante but wanting to cling to Robin because it was the only sense of stability he had in an incredibly unstable period of his life. Tim had been operating semi-independently for years and had just spent the entirety of Battle for the Cowl telling Dick that if he wouldn't put on the cowl Tim would do it himself…and then he actually did put on the cowl to go fight Jason. It's not like Tim wasn't signaling that he had moved beyond Robin's role as Batman's non-independent protege.

And Dick could see that, especially since Tim had already been the Robin to his Batman once, back in Prodigal. He genuinely meant it when he called Tim his "equal" in Red Robin #1, and I think that's important to understand where both of them are coming from.

Ultimately Tim's problems with Robin "being taken away from him" were not Dick's problems, and Tim's hostility and hurt comes from a fundamentally different place than Dick's did. Dick voluntarily gave up being Robin to become Nightwing, and the rocky transition from Dick to Jason was less about the mantle and more about Dick's personal insecurity about his place in the family and Bruce giving Jason Robin without his permission. Tim's place in the family was very solid during BftC and his RR #1 freakout was mostly about the perception that Dick was taking away his sole source of mental/life stability and choosing Damian (a potential hostile) over Tim to watch his back and keep him alive.

Dick's issues were about insecurity in the face of a father apparently replacing him with a new son and a new partner in his absence. Tim's issues were about feeling unmoored in the face of yet another loved one dying, his civilian life going up in flames (again) and being pushed out of a tenuous stability back into instability, and the percieved lack of trust in his ability to properly fill the role he was already occupying.

So honestly I think Tim's feelings on that transition need to be viewed as an entirely separate thing from how well or poorly the transition itself was handled, because I genuinely believe that Tim's reaction only was what it canonically was due to the unique intersections of events going on in Tim's personal life. Dick could have (and should have) handled the transition with more delicacy, but Tim was always going to react badly because of how hard he had been leaning on the mask to give him a sense of normalcy and balance. That's not really something Dick or Damian (or Alfred) could control, even though the transition itself was rockier than it could have been on their ends and poorly handled out-of universe.

#tl;dr everyone makes messy but understandable choices during that era and that's why it's interesting!#dc comics #tim drake #tim drake meta #dick grayson #dick grayson meta #damian wayne #long post #asks

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dollypopup · 1 month

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I think something we don't talk enough about is just how relatable it is that Colin's completely lost in life and is also just 22 years old. His whole thing in the books was that he was 33 and running away from his responsibilities, not wanting to be in just one place, least of all Mayfair, and frustrated at himself for being aimless and unsure of his future. But that just doesn't work in the same way in the show because. . . who of us wasn't unsure and adrift in our early twenties?

Of course he doesn't know what to do with his life. Did any of us? Personally speaking, I certainly didn't. The modern equivalent is that he almost got married in his undergrad and then finished his degree studying abroad when the engagement fell apart. He was sad and disappointed in himself. He is one of eight siblings, those of whom are around his age already more successful than he is. His eldest brother is the head of the family, his elder brother was in art school and close to his siblings, his younger sister is married with a title. His other younger sister is embroiled in political efforts and another is about to make her debut in society and will also be wildly successful.

Colin is deeply, deeply relatable. He wants to live up to the expectations of his family, expectations that are, in many ways, in his own head. He's a middle child, frequently lost in the shuffle. A chronic people pleaser who just wants to bring some ease. Sure, we have Chaos Colin, but in Season 1 and 2, all he really wants is to be useful. He doesn't have much use in his familial dynamic, so he looks to be useful to other people- Will and Penelope in particular.

I think there's a lot about Colin that, once you scratch beneath the surface, is a reflection of a lot of people. He's unmoored, yes, but especially in our current time, that is incredibly common. He's a young man trying to find his foothold in the world, and nothing he does seems to fulfill that. Colin tries to drink like Benedict, but it doesn't make him happy. He tries to marry like his Mum preaches about, like Daphne is expected to, and it's looked down on. He tries to travel, to be a worldly, educated person, and it doesn't bring him peace. He writes, but not to share with anyone, least of all after he gets so few replies. If his own family doesn't want to hear or read his recollections. . .who will?

We talk about wanting to see Colin humbled in our fandom. . .but let's be honest, he is already humbled. Colin is, for most intents and purposes, alone. He's lost his father and his previous engagement, his mother hardly notices him, he's curled in the shadow of his siblings, he tries things and none of them capture his heart or reveal themselves as his talents, nothing he seems to do is ever good enough. I think almost everyone can find something about him to go 'wow, that's me'.

Colin is discovering who he is, and I'm curious as to his story and how they're going to take it, because so much of the book dynamic with him just can't fit. Sure, he can be jealous of Penelope's success, she's younger than him and seemingly found her purpose, is much more established than he is as a person, but beyond that? I love book Colin deeply, but 22 year old Colin and 33 year old Colin have different struggles and different dynamic. Colin's not a rake. He doesn't frequent brothels or break hearts. Hell, in S2 he even said he's just a bystander, not taking part in any flirting or conversation with women looking to be married (save for Pen). His reputation as a flirt isn't established like it is in the books, and he's struggling to make sense of himself. He's not running from the yoke like his book counterpart, and the argument between him and Pen, in which she accuses him of running away to avoid his responsibilities, just doesn't hold water the same way. He's a confused, lost man, doing his best and trying his best and falling flat on his face. That speaks to a lot of us.

I don't know, I just love both versions of him dearly, and I hope the show allows him the depth of nuance he deserves.

#colin bridgerton #polin #i love colin so much and i hope they do him justice #i hear so much the 'we're sticking close to the books' and i reread the book and go '. . .how?'#how are they gonna thread that needle?#i'm curious but also very nervous

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celluloidbroomcloset · 2 months

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I was thinking a bit more about how Stede and Ed act as the dads/parental figures of the ship.

Stede's struggle in Season 1 is his failure as a father and a husband, and his inadequacy as a captain. In both cases, he's failed to be the father figure he felt he needed to be to fulfill his role. But he starts bonding with the crew via games and stories, which we see is how he made connections with his children.

Ed has succeeded as a captain, but he does so at a cost to himself and his desires. The exhaustion of being Blackbeard has meant a sacrifice of identity and a near-collapse. When he joins with Stede, he's able to shift some of the burden and actually have fun with life again.

Neither man has received a model of how to be a parental figure—both of their fathers were abusive, Ed lost his mother at an early age, and Stede's mother is largely nonexistent. They recognize what they're supposed to be, but they struggle to fulfill the role. Neither man has had a partner in whom he can trust and depend on to listen.

Just one of them struggles to maintain balance and image—Stede is ill-equipped, at the start, to act as a captain. He connects to the crew in his own way, but it's still not enough to protect them from the Spanish or from other pirates. Ed's arrival on the Revenge introduces the dynamic of co-captains, and he and Stede take on increasingly balanced roles right from the start. But Ed shows how very exhausting it is to be a captain when you have to make life or death decisions and know that everyone is looking to you:

"They're all gonna die, and it's all gonna be your fault. All the men who trusted you. All their blood's gonna be on your hands. It's going to be your fault."

It's Stede's presence that allows Ed to relax a little, and Ed's knowledge that guides Stede to his own revelations. They push each other to think differently and see the world from a new angle in which neither of them are the sole guiding light, but act in tandem with each other. Their balance means that they come up with the same idea of the lighthouse, and Ed figures out how to implement it by working together.

When Stede leaves, the balance of the ship is thrown off by the loss of one parental figure. Ed is unmoored and takes on the same weight that he has before, only he's now completely unequipped to manage it, both emotionally and psychologically, just as Stede was in the pilot and first few episodes. The result is a toxic atmosphere that damages the crew and makes Ed suicidal.

Izzy, amazingly, is quite right: they balance each other out. Stede’s return calms everyone, but he also can’t shoulder everything by himself. Ed being there, backing him up, even being someone that the crew still refer to as captain and reminding Stede to “just go with it” about the tub, helps to manage Stede’s authority and avoids him becoming too much of a pirate captain (which is what he'd be in danger of becoming if he only had Izzy there to give him advice). But even then, Stede shows the strain of having to be responsible for his crew - the murder of Low is necessary and it also damages him.

Which is part of why I like that Stede and Ed stay on land at the end. Piracy is indeed about the crew and as captains they both felt the burden of earning and maintaining respect AND being responsible for the crew’s lives and safety. They both need to lose the burden (and the consequent guilt) of being responsible for other people for a while. Stede kills in part to protect his crew, but it takes a piece out of him to do it. Ed can’t do it at all anymore; he’s shown that the weight of it will eventually crush him and endanger them.

It’s actually a lovely ending in terms of both Ed and Stede being allowed and allowing themselves to focus on something other than their family and instead build their relationship with each other. They need to be the focal point of each other’s lives for a while, and in turn get to look at themselves and who they are as men and partners. Stede exchanged one family responsibility for another and Ed was always responsible, for a good bit of his life. In letting go of that for a while, even if it doesn’t ultimately last, will let them become who they are together.

#ofmd #our flag means death #stede bonnet #edward teach #gentlebeard #ofmd meta

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buckets-and-trees · 1 year

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Companion

Fandom: MCU Characters/Pairings: Namor x female!Reader Word Count: 3.3k Summary: A month after the king of Talokan takes you as his betrothed, you question your position and the future as your expectations have been disappointed.

Content Warnings: angst to some relationship resolution, EXPLICIT SMUT (oral-female receiving, fingering), strong language

Additional Notes: This is a direct sequel to Consort - and while there's probably enough context to read this on its own, it will mean far less without reading the first part - the first part that could really be blamed by @nellycanwrite and being a TALENTED ARTIST AND MENACE. We would not be here if not for a particular piece she shared an unfinished sneak peak of last December.

You are restless, agitated, feeling completely unmoored.

Sleep is not going to come to you soon. It hadn’t the past few nights, but tonight you are not going to give yourself over to endless tossing and turning or trying to read yourself to distraction. You are exhausted, but too strung out to find any respite in your room. You quietly slip out of your chambers and begin to wander.

When you eventually find yourself in the throne room, you laugh bitterly to yourself. Naturally this is where your subconscious would take you. This is where your life completely altered course a month ago, betrayed and traded at your father’s hand for peace amongst kingdoms, the tectonic plates of your life not only shifted but shattered.

Only to be picked up by him moments later.

You look out over the expanse of the drop off from the perimeter of the throne room. The view out over Talokan is stunning in the simulated vibranium moonlight, but you resent the view. It’s one more painful piece of your new reality – as beautiful as this kingdom is, it’s still not the picturesque view of Fourchon and your former life in the kingdom of your upbringing.

You squeeze your eyes shut for a few moments, trying to control the anger and sadness.

When the traitorous trade had been made, you thought your father had sealed your fate as a token consultant at best or prisoner at worst, but K’uk’ulkan had spun a different narrative, one where the potential that would have been wasted in your former kingdom was something he saw and wanted at his side as his queen consort. His words had been a balm to your soul, and you had believed him when he said he’d wanted you – to take into counsel, to serve the kingdom, to influence. It was a lifeline offered, and you’d grasped that tether, letting him pull you in. He’d started to put you back together with promises and sealed it with a moment of intimate bliss beyond anything you could have imagined.

Then it was almost as if you’d been banished from his presence. At first you had accepted the explanations of business that needed his attention in other parts of the kingdom and other realms or that his schedule had demanded unanticipated changes, rarely getting to take meals with him, culminating no contact at all for the last two weeks.

You didn’t know it was going to be that way in the beginning though, so you’d spent your month acclimatizing and throwing yourself into life in Talokan. He’d said you were built to rule, driven to do good, why not with him, and since you’d thought he was telling you the truth, you had made the effort to get to know the people, know their culture, know their lives, their struggles, hopes, and dreams. It was intimidating at first – they were a fierce people brought up to be ready for war – but they also created and forged happiness, and you wanted to prove yourself. Before long, you forgot the nerves and tucked away the feeling of being an imposter, because you created relationships, took up projects, and started to create a new routine in your life that meant something to you.

You think the life you are building in this new kingdom is good except for the one perhaps most important thing.

Tomorrow you are supposed to wed the ruler of this kingdom, and you felt that was now a hollow artifice. The final fitting for your wedding clothes today had felt frivolous and futile. How could you be expected to marry K’ul’kulkan with the distance, the disinterest?

You roll your shoulders back and lift your head up, refocusing your gaze out over this new place.

You will wed Namor with the same resolve that had held you together in the initial moments your life had been traded for an alliance – you would always be duty and honor bound. A foolish glimmer of a passionate partnership was more than you had expected growing up, it had been dangled in front of you for a moment but had quickly dwindled and ultimately disappeared. A political arrangement, and if the past few weeks were indicative of the future, then the only consolation was it seemed Namor would at least let you make your own choices and wouldn’t interfere with the projects you pursued, things you knew you could leverage for good with your position of power in his kingdom.

You only wish you hadn’t been given a glimmer of what might have been. It would have been much easier to manage without the taste of more.

“When you were not in your chambers, I thought I might find you here.”

You turn slowly, forcing your face to give away nothing of your shock or your resentment to the king.

“I was looking for you,” he says, crossing the large expanse of the space.

“Really, your highness?”

“Certainly. Tomorrow you are to become my bride.” He stops an arm’s length away from you.

You can’t help the hardening of your features you feel at this proclamation. “I’m amazed you remembered.”

He tilts his head. “Do not be petulant, Princess.”

“The picture you painted a month ago has not been the reality.”

“What complaint can you possibly have to give?”

“You lied to me,” you let your anger finally spill out in your tone. “With my life shattered to pieces in this very room, you started to put me back together by saying you said you wanted me as your queen consort, not just a wife to adorn your arm and give you an heir, a companion.” You take half a step closer to him. “But where have you been these weeks, especially this fortnight? You left the broken pieces of me on a shelf, discarded and forgotten.”

“Make no mistake,” Namor says and grips your chin, pulling you closer, “you are not forgotten.”

Your eyes are locked on each other now, and it seems you are each trying to delve into the soul of the other. He presses his thumb to your bottom lip, opening your mouth. The action is not rough in any way, but it serves to communicate his strength, your vulnerability, and that he could subject you to anything. “You are mine, Princess.”

Then suddenly he wraps an arm around your waist and pulls you into his side before swimming swiftly into the jaws of his throne. He sets you aright and the two of you stand face to face.

“I sought you out tonight to remind you of what we spoke of that day on this very spot. Clearly you did not need a reminder, but perhaps insight into my choices. At present you think me rash and negligent or easily distracted to become betrothed to a stranger in a matter of moments and then seemingly abandon you.

“My offer of marriage was swift but not rash. I told you that day the things I had already learned about you, and the time we spent together showed even more clearly who you were. I have lived and ruled for hundreds of years, I know well how to read a person’s character, and the interaction we shared in those brief moments confirmed you had a fierce and noble spirit with both a compassion to sacrifice for your people and passion to match my own.”

Part of your chest starts to swell, but you dampen it down. He built you up with his words once before, and you are cautious not to get carried away so easily.

“That does not explain why you distanced yourself from me.” You needed more than flattery for your character.

“I am not easily surprised, but I confess I did not expect to be presented with the offer your father made. If you were to become the companion I wanted to see at my side, I knew I could not be the one to put you back together. I wanted the future queen that only you could forge by getting to know my kingdom, my people, our way of life, and integrating yourself into Talokan in your own right. Building your own reputation amongst them these past weeks, they see you are not merely a foreign princess acquired for an alliance, they will accept you as their queen because they know you. You have conquered them with your heart, your goodness, your passion, your sharp mind.”

He pauses to search your face. His words have both softened and strengthened you.

“I did not want to influence or distract in any of that.”

You nod, considering every word, not ready to respond yet.

“Now I did have certain things to attend to, some of which you will know very soon, but I confess I did limit and ultimately withhold the time we could have spent together.”

You open your mouth to argue this point, but he chuckles and shushes you.

“The more time I spent with you – scant as it was – and the more reports that came in from my advisors, my people, even your guards and the servants that attend you – yes, I spoke with them regularly – the more I did not want to share you with anyone else. Since I did not want to rob you of the unique and limited time to integrate into Talokan during our engagement, I cut myself off altogether.”

Your mouth hangs open at this rationalization, your brow furrowing further and further as he had explained his absence. But you do gather your wits, and challenge, “You avoided spending time together because you wanted to spend time with me?”

His smirk is nearly a smolder. “Once we are wed, I’m not sharing your time with anyone until I have to, and we will only spend our days apart as is strictly necessary when we resume royal duties after the honeymoon.”

Oh, he is good with that tongue, you think.

“Tomorrow, I will have you in every way, but for now I want to worship at the altar of what will be mine.”

He seizes your neck and pulls you in for a kiss. The heat is searing, and your lips demand equally of each other. He nips and you whimper, allowing him to plunge his tongue into your mouth. He is hungry for you, and you can’t deny him now.

With one hand still holding your neck and the other now at your shoulder, he moves so the back of your knees meet the edge of the throne, and he slowly pushes you down to sit, stepping between your legs. You look up at him, and you move a hand to his hip.

“Not tonight, my princess,” he says, his eyes dark with lust. “I can wait. I have an atonement and assurance to make of the sincerity of my intentions.”

You’re entranced as he kneels before you. The hand that was on your neck moves down over one of your breasts, along your ribs, and then grabs your hip, pulling you to the edge of the seat. You clutch the stone arms of the throne as his other hand goes beneath your nightdress, finding your knee, and pushes the fabric out of the way as he moves his hand diligently up your soft thigh. When that hand finishes its journey, he tears your underwear away, making you yelp and grasp at the hand he still has on your hip. You know he has preternatural strength, but to experience it, know it’s there in his veins at every moment, and that he must meticulously measure it out is terrifying yet intoxicating.

Much like he is in every sense.

He draws one of your legs over his shoulder and turns his head to press his warm lips to your tender flesh. Slow kisses. Deliberate. Your heart races. You’re desperate with anticipation but the exquisite torture is its own bliss. “Namor,” you plead.

He bites in punishment, and you cry out.

“That is not the name I told you to use,” he says, his voice even but stern. “I will not have you speak the name relegated to my enemies when you have me like this.”

No. Because this is the two of you, intimate. You needed to let him back in. You want to let him back in. “K’uk’ulkan,” you let it fall from your lips.

It draws a small genuine smile that softens this powerful man and warms you even more. He soothes the bite with another kiss, but then the next place his lips land is directly over your core. Your head falls back, and you utter his name again, unbidden as bliss shoots through your body. He is in no hurry as he begins mouthing at your most intimate parts. He warms you up with slow, methodical licks of his broad tongue. He gently draws your nether lips into his mouth, sucking and savoring. Your leg curls around his back as your body surrenders to him. He adjusts the hand over your hip to entwine his fingers with yours, anchoring you to each other while he continues to draw out your pleasure. He pulls back with a long suck, then he dives back in, leading with his nose, following it with another lick behind. When he reaches your clit, he circles it with the tip of his nose, gives a quick flick with his tongue, and then he puckers his lips to suck just the little bead with precision and concentrated force.

Little whimpers, whines, and longer moans fall from your mouth with abandon, and the thought that someone could hear you, could perhaps see this, is a fleeting fear and thrill before he resumes sucking and gliding along your folds, and you discard any worry because you can’t concentrate on anything but his exquisite actions. The king of Talokan is on his knees, continuing to plunder you on his throne. Your free hand threads into his dark hair, gloriously soft in your fingers, and you press him even closer. He hums against your cunt, pausing, and you can feel his lips curling in a smirk, but you don’t care. You need more, and so you tug his locks, and he happily yields to your insistence.

Oh, he is even better at this with his tongue, you think.

He zig-zags his tongue across your slit, then pushes it in your hole. In and out, and again, and again. He begins to speed up, and you’re trembling around him.

Then nothing at your core, and you cry out, your eyes shooting open to look down at him.

He chuckles. You narrow your gaze at him, “You–“

He surges up to put a stop to your words with a kiss, persistent until he feels you soften, then draws away and brushes his thumb over your cheek. “You’re meant for more than instant gratification, my pearl.”

Those words send a shiver down your spine, and you would be irked by the smile that’s still too close to a smirk on his face, but you both know he’s now earned this moment with you. What’s more, there’s a depth in the eyes of the look he’s giving you, proof that it’s not cockiness, but satisfaction tinged with yearning that strikes you to your core. “Please.”

“Tell me what you want, Princess. I will give you everything,” he swears, and you know he means it indefinitely.

“Make me come, my king.”

He nods, eyes remaining fixed on you as his hand moves to your cunt. He inserts one finger, pressing in and then drawing back out, and you hum in approval. He doesn’t hesitate to add a second finger, and you push your hips forward even more. The heat and concentration of his gaze on you is tremendous, and it continues stoking its own fire in your soul, but it’s more than you can handle in this moment, so you close your eyes and draw him back in for another searing kiss, plunging your tongue into his mouth, doing your best to undo him in at least some small way.

He seems to sense this is your intention, as you suck his bottom lip into your mouth, and he curls his fingers up and finds the spot on the wall of your pelvis that will be your undoing. You keen when he finds it, your head falling back. He presses just one open-mouthed kiss to the column of your neck, offered up vulnerably to him, and then he swiftly descends to bury his head back between your thighs. He immediately sucks your clit, his fingers continuing to plunder your tight channel, and you wrap your legs around his neck, crossing your ankles against his muscular back. The pleasure builds, coiling in your stomach, your limbs tightening. He curls those fingers again, expertly, and hurtles you over the edge, cries of ecstasy escaping your chest.

His mouth releases your clit, but his fingers carefully stroke you through your orgasm, drawing out the rippling sensations. He solemnly kisses up and down your leg, and you’re still riding the bliss, but you can feel his eyes trained up on you once more.

Just as you think he will withdraw, his fingers pick up speed up again, but he plunges them in deeper. His lips return to torment you with pleasure, and you grasp at his head, though the action is futile as you are no match for his immense strength. His free hand is now planted at the base of your spine, not allowing you to squirm even one inch away from his ministrations. He is in earnest, and so your second orgasm breaks over you quickly, and you collapse forward, the desperate whimpers of release swallowed up by him a moment later as he straightens up and his lips seek yours. You sink into the kiss, and he pulls you from the throne and into his embrace. He moves easily to reclaim his throne, much as he has reclaimed you. His lips continue to kiss you, but they drift away from your lips and back – moving over your cheeks, your jaw, along your neck, softly over your eyes, over your forehead, your shoulders, the spot beneath your ear, the juncture at your collarbone, ghosting over your temples, every bit of skin that’s exposed to him. He wants all of you. You’re powerless to do anything but accept his ministrations, and you have no desire to refuse this exploration, blissed out as you are.

When his kisses slow, you bring your delicate fingers up to caress his face. He rests his forehead against yours, and his arms around your torso tighten, pressing you closer.

“Do not doubt that you are the companion that I want,” he murmurs. “After so long as the solitary ruler of my people, I have no need to settle for anything less than exactly who I want as my queen consort. Tomorrow you will be crowned.”

“Tomorrow.” You smile. “And I do think I’ll finally be able to sleep.”

“Oh, is that why you were wandering in the first place?”

You laugh. “Well, it was the mind that was agitated, but now…”

“Now we understand each other?”

“We do.”

“Then I hope you understand I’m not done with you yet, Princess.”

You gasp as his hand returns to your quim.

“I want one more, to seal this with three.”

You will be boneless by the time the king of Talokan deigns to surrender you to your bed, but every touch, as lost in pleasure as you are now, only tethers you more strongly to him.

↠ Masterlist | Aspen's Ask Box | Field Guide to the Forest

Reblog, comment, and share please. Well-meaning menaces are WELCOME in my askbox.

@littlet-holmes you asked to be tagged when I published part two, so... here we are. :) Also thinking @nunya7394 @elsolario @amorestevens @writing-for-marvel might be interested.

#namor smut #namor x reader #namor x female reader #namor fic #namor fanfiction #aspen wrote something #to become his queen series

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perotovar · 2 months

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into the beat of the night (ch 7) "in my side"

moodboard by @hellishjoel (ty, honey ♥)

pairing: frankie morales/oc!river price (they/them) rating: E (18+) chapter warnings: deadnaming, misgendering, seriously there's a whole character that just dismisses river's entire being so if that triggers you or you don't want to read it i completely understand, one (1) panic attack, one (1) depressive episode, frankie being the best boyfriend in the world, possible food triggers (river doesn't want to eat while depressed), discussions of past abusive behavior (gaslighting, belittling, etc), if i missed anything lmk! word count: 3.5k dividers by @saradika-graphics beta: @scenaaario

main masterlist | series masterlist

They had been at the mall for a couple of hours now, but Frankie didn’t mind. He enjoyed helping River pick out clothes, but he preferred when they went to thrift stores. Less people, fewer crowds.

Plus, the thrift stores usually had something that he could fix up. He had been working with his hands a lot more lately in his free time.

Now, he leaned against the dressing room outer wall, waiting for River to come out and show him a shirt they wanted to try on. Frankie smiled to himself as he thought about his partner.

They’ve been official for six months now. It feels as fresh as when he first saw them at the Night Owl, and as comfortable as if they had been together for years. They spend an equal amount of time at their respective apartments, and visit each other on their lunch breaks frequently. Frankie isn’t sure he has ever been so happy in a relationship as with River. In previous relationships, there was always an expectation of him. A role he had to play. With River, he can just be. They don’t expect anything of him. Except maybe his attention and love.

And he had no problem giving them that.

“Frankie?” River laughed softly.

Frankie startled and turned his head toward his partner. “Sorry, Riv,” he smiled sheepishly. “Zoned out a little. Is that the shirt?”

River’s face softened at their boyfriend’s easy smile. The past six months had been some of the best in River’s life. They were so thankful for Frankie’s respect and patience.

“Yeah,” River nodded. “What d’you think?” They tugged on the long sleeves, pushing their thumb through the hole cut into the fabric. They twirled a little and did some silly, flirty poses for Frankie. He smirked, his eyes twinkling in interest as he shamelessly checked them out.

“You’re insatiable,” River giggled, pushing Frankie’s shoulder playfully.

“Rachael?”

River froze, their entire body going cold in an instant. Their smile dropped and they shut their eyes, face pinched. They’d recognize that voice anywhere.

“Riv? What’s going on?” Frankie stood, one large hand reaching out to cup their face. When River flinched slightly, his heart cracked, just a little. “Baby?”

“Rachael!” The voice chirped again, “It’s been so long! I didn’t think I’d see you here!”

Tears welled up in River’s eyes at the sound of the voice. Her voice. Why did she have to come back into River’s life now? Of all times?

Frankie felt unmoored, suddenly lost for a way to comfort River. He was interrupted by a short, very pretty woman appearing at River’s side and clutching their bicep. She was blonde, and had an almost ethereal beauty about her. Frankie’s brows furrowed and his chest puffed up a little, feeling possessive. Who was this touching his partner?

River opened their eyes slowly, and when they did, Frankie didn’t see his partner in them. His Río. They looked completely numb. “Hello, Evangeline,” River said in a flat tone Frankie didn’t recognize.

Evangeline? Frankie blinked, his left hand tightening around the handles of the bags he was carrying.

Who was Rachael?

“It’s been such a long time,” Evangeline sighed wistfully. “What have you been up to?”

River hadn’t turned to look at Evangeline yet, staring at Frankie’s chest and tracing the pattern of the t-shirt he was wearing today; Tom Petty and the Heartbreakers. They swallowed around a lump in their throat and let out a shaky breath. “Working,” they answered simply.

Evangeline ignored them and turned towards Frankie, startling like she just realized he was standing there. “Oh, I’m so sorry! How rude of me, I’m Evangeline.” She said her own name like she was someone to know, and held out her hand for Frankie to take. He looked at her face, then her hand, then River, and decided against it. “I’m sure she’s told you about me?”

“Frankie,” he said simply, voice low and eyes never leaving River’s face. He had to get them out of here. “And no. They haven’t,” Frankie bristled, dark eyes finally landing on Evangeline’s face and finding her staring at him, accusation hardening her features. She was judging him.

Well, the feeling was mutual.

“Riv?” He said softly. River blinked away tears as they looked up at him, avoiding his gaze. This was the smallest he’d ever seen them and he hated it. He didn’t know where his confident, loving River went, and had no idea how to get them back.

“Oh, don’t tell me you actually go by that silly nickname still?” Evangeline giggled.

River winced and bit their lip. They turned and went back into the changing room without another word. When Frankie heard them sniffling, his entire body stiffened.

“I’m sorry, who are you?” Frankie snapped, finally finding his voice, and crossed his arms. He stood a good foot taller than her, but that didn’t seem to bother the petite woman. It didn’t seem like much of anything did. “And why are you calling them Rachael?”

“That’s her name, obviously,” Evangeline rolled her eyes. “Her real one. We dated. For a long time.”

Frankie squinted his eyes. This must have been River’s last serious relationship. He had only heard of her in passing, and certainly never a name or how demeaning she was. Not that they ever needed to, now that they had him.

He ignored the name part on purpose.

“You must be her new plaything,” Evangeline sighed, like she felt sorry for him, as she pretended to check her manicure. “It won’t last long.”

“I’m sorry, I don’t remember asking for your opinion. You can leave now,” Frankie grumbled, taking a step closer to tower over her.

“I’m just trying to help,” she rolled her eyes again. “This is what she does. She’ll keep you around for a little while and when she gets bored, or finds someone new, she’ll leave.”

Frankie sighed angrily, the bile in his throat starting to sting. He set the bags of River’s purchases down on the floor next to the dressing room and quickly turned toward the checkout. Making a harassment complaint would probably get rid of her easily enough. He squeezed his fists tighter at his sides, heavy work boots thundering across the linoleum. Before he made it very far, he heard the sound of heels clacking and turned back toward the changing rooms.

Evangeline was gone.

Frankie sighed and made his way back to River. He stood in front of their changing room and knocked softly on the wall next to the curtain. “Río? Baby? Are you okay?”

River felt like they’d been kicked in the stomach. They could barely breathe or stand. They were hunched over on the bench in the changing room and hiding their face in their hands. They sniffled a few times before coughing, their hand pressed against their chest to try and breathe.

“I’m going to open the curtain, okay?” Frankie’s voice sounded like it was a hundred miles away. Light from the store poured into the small room, making them look up. Frankie was illuminated by the shitty fluorescent lighting, but it was one of the most beautiful things River had ever seen. “Mi amorcito,” he said softly, getting down on his knees in front of them. He cupped their face tenderly and rubbed their tears away with his thumbs.

“Frankie,” River sniffled, face pinched in pain.

“Shh, c’mere,” he soothed, pulling them down onto the floor with him so he could hold them close. He rocked them in his arms and pet their hair comfortingly. “Do you wanna go home?”

River nodded against his skin, their face buried in his neck. He felt the collar of his shirt getting wetter by the minute, but he didn’t care at all.

“C’mon, baby.” He patted their arm gently, encouraging them to stand with him. He laced their fingers together as he grabbed their bags, and led River out of the mall.

It took a few days for River to explain just what happened at the mall. They’d asked Frankie for some space and while he really didn’t want to give it to them, he also respected their wishes too much to argue.

When River texted a picture of Jonsey napping on their lap and their Baphomet slippered-feet in the background, he knew he had the greenlight to visit them. He was at work when he received the photo, and he knew River knew that, so he waited. He responded with his own picture of his greased up hand and forearm and the hangar he was currently working in. He spent the rest of his workday thinking up a plan for that evening.

River hadn’t seen nor heard from Evangeline in a long time. At least seven years. Hearing her voice again brought River back to a place they hoped they’d never return to.

River’s therapist told them that Evangeline was gaslighting them. They’d heard the term used before, but didn’t fully understand what it meant until Dr. Owens explained it to them. Evangeline had been emotionally manipulative and abusive, and even got physical once or twice.

She never accepted River for who they were and did everything in her power to downplay River’s feelings. River still didn’t understand why.

Evangeline would tell River that all of their dysphoria was something else. Everything River felt or even thought was strange or abnormal. Evangeline was the only one in the relationship that was of sound mind. River was already in a vulnerable place when they met, and Evangeline knew just how to exploit that.

There was a chance that Evangeline did actually love River. When they first met in their statistics class in college, their connection had been magnetic. They did a lot of the same sort of things that River and Frankie did now, but River could see now how different it was with Frankie. River was never scared that Frankie would judge or make fun of anything they said. With Evangeline it was like trying to cross a minefield. Whether it was a new band they found, or exploring feelings about their sexuality, River could never predict what would set Evangeline off.

The straw that broke the camel’s back for River came when they wanted to get top surgery. Evangeline blew up, throwing things around her apartment because she was “tired of the weird nonbinary bullshit”. She didn’t believe it existed, and was convinced River was just looking for attention.

River left, changed their number, and never looked back. The night Evangeline tried to get into their apartment in the wee hours, they had the locks changed, too.

A soft mrrp beckoned River’s attention from the floor. Jonsey tilted his head to the side as he looked at them before jumping up onto the couch. He walked his way over to them and got comfy on their lap, kneading the skin of River’s tummy like dough. River smiled sadly and scritched his face lovingly. When Jonsey started purring, they knew they would be stuck there for a while.

Looking through their phone at photos of Frankie, they felt awful. They hadn’t told Frankie any of this, hoping that they just didn’t ever have to think about her ever again. Frankie deserved to know, though, and they wanted to get it out in the open and out of the way.

When they received the photo from Frankie at work, their heart thundered in their chest. They really did love him. They just couldn’t voice it.

Yet.

The smell of River’s favorite takeout place filled the air in Frankie’s truck. His stomach roared to life at the smell of noodles and vegetables. Chicken for him, none for River. He looked in the backseat at the giant pillow/stuffed animal of a bat he found at the store. He hoped they’d like it.

He pulled into River’s apartment complex and parked outside their building. He took a deep breath in the silence of the cab, grabbing the food and the bat, and kicked the door shut with his boot. He held the pillow close as he knocked as softly as he could with his boot against the door.

All the tension in Frankie’s shoulders left as soon as he saw River’s tired face. It looked like they hadn’t slept in a while. Their hair was in a high messy bun, and they wore a pair of boxer briefs, an old faded t-shirt with the words Sisters of Mercy across the chest, and their Baphomet slippers.

“Hey, baby,” Frankie hummed softly, a hopeful smile gracing his features. “Got you something to eat in case you were hungry.”

River smiled sadly at the food. They hadn’t eaten in days, and they probably looked like it, too. The smell of the food hit their nose, making their stomach grumble in protest. Frankie chuckled softly at the sound.

“Figured.” He held out the bag toward them before doing the same with the stuffed animal.

“And who– who is this?” River had to clear their throat in the middle of speaking, realizing they hadn’t spoken in days either. They set the food down on the coffee table as Frankie shut the door behind him, looking over the large bat pillow with a raised eyebrow.

“Do you hate it?” Frankie asked, biting his lip. He usually got Marisol a stuffed animal whenever she was upset. He knew River wasn’t a toddler, but he also knew that they deserved something soft, too. “I saw it at the store, and…” He shrugged, scratching the back of his neck nervously.

River hummed and hugged the pillow close. “I love her,” they smiled up at him.

“Her?” Frankie grinned.

“Her name is Agnes.”

Frankie snorted. “Alright. Agnes it is.” He stepped closer to them as they hugged Agnes and tucked a few stray hairs from their bun behind their ear. “How are you doing, mi río?” He asked softly, cupping their face and rubbing his thumb across their cheekbone.

River’s eyes grew a touch sadder at the question, but they smiled anyway. “A little better,” they answered honestly. “Missed you,” they mumbled, setting Agnes down on the couch so they could wrap their arms around Frankie’s middle. They held on tight, squeezing the air out of his lungs but it felt like the first time Frankie properly breathed in days. He held them just as tightly, before kissing the top of their head.

“Missed you too, baby,” he hummed. “Was worried about you.”

River frowned and squeezed him a little more. “‘M sorry for making you worry,” they said into his shirt, the smell of oil and metal wafting off of him. The scent grounded them.

“Shh, no need to apologize, okay?” He pulled back a little, keeping his arms around them, but looking into their eyes seriously. “I’m always gonna worry about you. Even if I know you’re okay. You know I care about you,” he smiled, brushing the knuckle of his index finger against their nose softly.

River’s heart melted at the gesture, their cheeks growing warm. They smiled and looked at the bottom of his neck, a particular freckle catching their eye. They leaned forward to press a soft kiss to it before resting their head on his chest. Frankie held them close and rocked them gently.

River’s stomach roared, causing them to freeze for a second. Frankie chuckled and kissed the top of their head again. “C’mon. Lets get some food in you, yeah?”

They ate in silence. And when it wasn’t silent, Frankie was talking about Marisol or work. River listened intently, the sound of their boyfriend’s voice soothing them. Frankie put down his spoon after he finished off his fried rice, and grabbed some chopsticks. River’s eyes were glued to the thick fingers of his right hand, pupils dilating.

“Baby?” Frankie smiled softly, picking up a piece of chicken with his chopsticks and holding it above his plate. “Did I lose you?” He teased.

River jumped a little in their seat, their eyes snapping up to his face. “Hm? No,” they cleared their throat, picking up a piece of zucchini with their own chopsticks. They stared at the vegetable and bit their lip. They probably wouldn’t be able to finish the meal Frankie went through the trouble of getting for them. Their appetite seemed to have disappeared again.

Frankie raised a brow, face pinched in concern. “You don’t have to eat anymore right now. You ate most of your noodles, which I’m glad to see,” he said softly. “You can always finish it later.”

River nodded, feeling like they were on autopilot. “We were together for five years. I didn’t… I wasn’t… me, yet.”

Frankie froze, watching River’s face carefully. They were staring out into the middle distance, somewhere around Frankie’s shoulder. “Baby, we don’t have to–”

“Yes, we do,” River’s voice was scratchy, but firm. “I went to therapy after we– After I left her. She wouldn’t let me get top surgery.”

Frankie’s eyebrows furrowed and he set down his chopsticks, crossing his arms over his chest on the dining room table. The air in River’s apartment was still, the dim light from the kitchen making River’s dark features even darker. “‘Let’?” He asked quietly.

River nodded as they swallowed around a lump in their throat. “Yes. There were… rules. Well, unspoken ones. She never believed in, well… this,” they sighed, gesturing to their torso. “Still doesn’t, it seems.”

Frankie stayed quiet, letting them continue, despite wanting nothing more than to put his fist through the table in front of them.

“The… name she called me doesn’t apply to me anymore. My parents don’t even call me that anymore,” they whispered, a bitter laugh tacked on at the end.

“Deadnaming,” Frankie mumbled softly.

“Yeah–” River looked up at him, a confused expression on their face. “You know what that is?”

Frankie smiled shyly, but sadly. “Y-yeah, uh,” he chuckled. “I’ve been doing some research. Only fair,” he shrugged easily.

Tears welled up in River’s eyes as they smiled, picking at the nail polish on their fingers. “You’re amazing,” they whispered.

Frankie blushed, but didn’t argue. This wasn’t about him right now. He rested an open hand on the table, inviting them to give him one of their own. When River gave him one of their hands, he held it firmly in his own, thumb rubbing against their knuckles protectively. “Go on,” he encouraged gently.

River sighed heavily and nodded. They talked for a long time. Explaining anything and everything about their relationship with Evangeline, who they were before, and what brought them to him now. Not much was different, just the fact that they were more secure in who they are now.

“Gotta be honest,” River said softly, voice a little hoarse from talking so much. “Was scared how you’d react to a lot of this. I’m not sure why,” they shrugged. They knew deep down that Frankie would never judge them, nor would he be scared. They’d been through too much together.

Frankie lifted their hand and kissed River’s knuckles tenderly. “I get it,” he nodded. “I felt the same way when I told you about the military. About Colombia. I wasn’t sure if you’d see me differently or not.”

River shook their head. “No. Love you too much for that,” they mumbled quietly.

A wide grin broke out onto Frankie’s face slowly, cheeks burning red. “Love you, too, Riv.”

River hummed happily, then froze. With wide eyes, they stared at Frankie for a minute. They pointed at themself, a silent question written all over their face.

Frankie laughed softly. “You did,” he grinned, standing slowly so he could be closer to them. He cupped their face in his big hands as he looked down at them in their seat. “Love you so much,” he whispered, kissing them properly, lips melding easily against theirs.

River was completely lost in it, fingers tangled into the fabric of Frankie’s t-shirt tightly, like if they let go he’d disappear. They moaned softly into his mouth, a tear falling down their cheek. Frankie hummed in response, catching the tear on his thumb. He pulled away slightly to catch his breath and pressed his lips to their forehead. He kept them close like that for a little while, smelling the old dry shampoo stuck to River’s scalp.

“You should take a bath, baby,” Frankie said softly. River snorted into his shirt, face buried in his tummy.

“You saying I smell?”

When Frankie didn’t answer right away, River laughed, really laughed, for the first time since they were at the mall together.

“I–I’m not!”

River rolled their eyes and smiled up at him, chin resting on his torso. “Wanna join me?”

Frankie raised a brow and smirked, but his face grew serious quickly. “Río, we don’t have to do anything like that–”

“I know,” River muttered. “I didn’t want to. Just wanted,” they bit their lip. “Just wanted to be with you.”

Frankie’s heart melted and he nodded, kissing the hook of River’s nose. “I think I can do that,” he winked.

River didn’t doubt that for a second.

a/n: if you're curious, this is agnes and river's slippers ♥

#frankie morales #frankie morales fanfiction #frankie morales fic #frankie morales angst #frankie morales au #triple frontier fanfiction #triple frontier fic #triple frontier au #pedro pascal characters #pedro pascal cinematic universe #oaksfics

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transmutationisms · 2 months

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what did you think of Don Draper as character?

mad men is a fundamentally silly show because it is explicitly an argument about how postwar capitalist production rested on a hollow illusion of desire and both required and created unsatisfied and ethically unmoored people, and yet it is written by people who have nothing to say about capitalism and don't really understand it well enough even if they did. so don being completely sans political conviction is on the one hand salient for the show's subject matter (he's like his job: he speaks the language of money, and little else) but on the other hand it is also partially because the writers have a consistently foolish tendency to present ideology as a kind of individual quirk that some people care about and others don't, and that has no deeper connection to a person's psychology, material circumstances, &c. which is really just to say that don is often afflicted with Backstory Disease in lieu of psychological depth, but, yknow, 2000s tv. i also think the other major misstep with his writing is that it's clear sometimes the writers think he's cool and are projecting that impression onto other characters (everyone thinks he's good at his job, every woman wants to fuck him) and consequently, the more interesting moments with him tend to be when his nuclear family daddy fantasy life is revealed for the childish illusion that it is. also he should've fucked pete obviously

#mm

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neuroticbookworm · 11 months

Text

I was not planning on writing a Step by Step analysis this week, because my mind was too frayed from all the anticipation for the next episode. But then @lurkingshan posted this, and it knocked something loose in my brain, and now here I am.

Shan talks about how even though Jeng and Pat felt the spark of desire when they met a couple of times before they became boss and subordinate, once they knew they had to be professional, they dialed it back using very different mechanisms.

Jeng chose to keep his emotions under control in the workplace, and he harbored and nurtured those feelings in private. Pat, on the other hand, was already under stress in the workplace, and as @ginnymoonbeam and @bengiyo discuss here, he also misinterprets the initial strict mentoring from Jeng as proof that the spark he felt must've been all in his head. That his gaydar made an error, and therefore Jeng must be straight.

So when episode 8 begins, the mutual interest from their initial interactions is the only thing Jeng knows for certain, to assume that Pat might want a relationship with him. He also tells Tae that Pat never looks at him the way he looks at Pat, which makes the confession a pretty huge leap of faith from Jeng.

In the dance floor confession, Jeng observes that Pat is not ready for another relationship yet. He still confesses his feelings, but adds that he can be the safe space for Pat if that is all he wants from him. And that he will never want for anything more. He has already resigned himself here to the fate that he might never get to be Pat's boyfriend.

@respectthepetty explains here that Jeng would've fully gone along with Pat's understanding that Jeng is straight. He was forced to show his hand and come out when Pat referred to himself as Jeng's friend. Here, Jeng was no longer planning on making his feelings clear to Pat. He had no choice but to do it.

In the aftermath, Pat reacts with confusion, dawning realization and horror, and we know that Pat is reeling from this information because his mind is now doing a speedrun of all of their interactions and reevaluating them with the fact that Jeng is gay. But Jeng, oh my poor Jeng, thinks Pat is horrified for two reasons: the previously stated reason offered by his rational and logical brain, and the reason offered by his panicked and frantic brain that Pat is horrified by his advances, and that Pat never liked him in the first place. That he was utterly and completely wrong, right from the glass jelly incident. This thought may not have found deep roots in his mind yet, but it is there, floating and waiting for confirmation.

Now, some speculation for episode 9 (aka clowning). We see Pat has taken the day off, which further fuels Jeng's fears. And later Pat looks visibly unmoored and exhausted, like he hasn't slept for a few nights in a row. I was talking to @chicademartinica and she mentioned how Pat looks like he is disassociating in this episode. And I agree, he looks fully out of it.

Whatever happens that forces Jeng to confess AGAIN, I don't know yet. But what I do know is that there is a high possibility that Pat might say no after this confession, because he needs more time to process things. But, in Jeng's mind, that floating thought will finally get its confirmation and take root, and it will go, AHA I KNEW IT, HE HAS NEVER LIKED YOU, EVER.

I know we are all anxiously waiting for the slowburn to end (hopefully it'll happen before the sun swallows us whole), but we may need to hold our horses. Because the possible roadmap I see right now is: Jeng confesses -> Pat says no -> Jeng thinks Pat has never liked him and drowns himself (and us) in angst -> Pat finally finishes thinking and realizes that he does like Jeng -> Pat tries to tell Jeng -> Jeng is already packing his suitcases to flee the country OR Jeng has built his mental walls so high that Put can't get through to him without a massive effort -> Pat convinces Jeng to hear him out -> They finally sit down and talk to each other -> JengPat FINALLY BURNS

My fellow sufferers of this cursed show, I will be the happiest clown if I get proven wrong, but I think it will take a while for these two to work this mess out, and I think it might take more than one episode *runs*

#step by step #step by step the series #step by step meta

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