#i didn't have the capacity nor time to do the rest which is why there are only seven of them | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

lu-sn · 10 months

Note

what do you see as the most likely thing pete does post canon? is he involved in the family business? does he have a job outside the mafia? are he and vegas both retired?

let's assume vegas has recovered as much as he can from the shooting and that he's done whatever he needs to do to get himself and his family out from under korn's thumb. so we're talking deep post-canon.

if vegas is still in the mafia somehow — in any capacity — i have no doubt that pete will function as his right hand. (or left hand. hell, both.) he's definitely got the skill set for it, and i think he would really enjoy it! it's a perfect outlet for his brand of undying loyalty, and he gets to bestow that loyalty upon someone who is equally insane about him and who will let him beat up as many people as he wants ❤️

but i don't want that for them. i think vegas in particular deserves that soft epilogue — a chance at the life he could have had all along without his father hovering behind him. so let's imagine vegas has found something to do with his time that hits that perfect balance of high stakes and high fulfillment and very very high odds of survival. pete is very happy for him, and also the tiniest bit bereft. unlike vegas, pete needs something physical.

so pete is ambling back from the grocery store, idly wondering whether he needs to be trying to do something with all of his free time, when he stumbles upon some sort of scuffle just waiting to break out in a dank alleyway. and pete manages to spot a kid in there, far too young, definitely biting off more he can chew, definitely about to get his ass beat, and — well. pete's been itching for a fight anyway.

pete hikes up his pha khao ma and lays everyone in that alley flat, and once most everyone has scampered away with their tails between their legs, the kid stares at pete, and scowls at him, and sneers out a "didn't think i asked, old man."

here's the thing. i don't think pete has any sort of affinity or good hand with kids. he's probably the type to get walked over by most teenagers (exhibit A: macau during canon). but there's a particular category of kid that i think pete would immediately have the upper hand on; surly, prone to anger, snippy, sad underneath all of that. in short, kids who are a mini-vegas 😂

(somewhere not so far away, vegas is crouched in front of his vegetable patch, suddenly feeling very annoyed, and has no idea why 😌)

so pete smiles pleasantly, says "better work on your stance then," picks up his groceries and starts walking away — only for this kid to catch up to him and go "i guess you're good enough, so you might as well teach me."

this post is already long 😅 basically, this kid will not stop pestering pete, and pete somehow ends up training the kid on a daily basis in their backyard, and happens to unleash a lot of life advice that this kid is very desperately in need of (e.g. "knowing how to fight isn't worth anything if you don't know which fights you shouldn't pick"). and he notices some other kids peeking through the fencing watching them, so he sighs a deep sigh and tells them they might as well come in.

some of these kids remind him too much of vegas — or of himself. he finds himself wanting good things for them, wanting to help them be just a little bit happier — which is the kind of help neither he nor vegas received when they were younger.

he ends up being pretty damn good at it.

so pete is giving a bunch of kids a safe space and a healthy outlet for their anger, totally by accident. to answer your question, anon, i guess that makes him a community youth counselor 😂

vegas finds this all kind of bemusing, and is more than a little tilted that pete seems to be attracting all of the little vegases in a 30km radius, but hey! he gets to shovel his cooking into more mouths now! he's totally in denial about how much he enjoys that.

(much later, pete abruptly sits up from where he's resting his head in vegas's lap, and he exclaims, "did i accidentally start a gang???"

vegas considers this for a long moment, shrugs, goes "maybe we should have stayed in the mafia after all.")

#anon i'm sorry this took SO long i hope you see it!!! and i hope you enjoy yet another ramble #thank you so much for the ask ❤️#i am so thoroughly in love with the idea of a mid-to-late thirties pete collecting a bunch of ragamuffins #if vegas sees even ONE of them giving pete heart eyes it's over for them tho 😂#kinnporsche #vegaspete #pete saengtham #vegas theerapanyakul #mine: asks #rainy day asks

139 notes · View notes

lizbethborden · 6 months

Text

Here is, at last, an itemized list of my various problems and thoughts with The Fall of the House of Usher. Before you block, unfollow, report, and make a callout post, please be aware that I have an extensive blackmail list. Grazie

Flanagan is flanagan and incapable of not being moralizing and didactic. I think he takes one of Stephen King's problems to the nth degree which is a kind of... sentimentalism and a belief that Good Can Come From Horror. The need for horror to be meaningful and redemptive and in some capacity... joyous? Or at least morally Useful in the fashion of Victorian lit? doesn't make amazing art

He needs to let go of constantly casting his wife and their friends. Every time he brings in someone who's not in the "inner circle" they contribute more strongly and effectively than everyone else.

Case in point, Mary McDonnell. I know I came into the show liking her due to BSG Brainrot and Laura Roslin Pussy Disease, but frankly she can be inconsistent especially with bad directing; whereas here I think she actually provides a very strong foundation because, even though she's working with substandard material, she doesn't have to stretch herself very far to play Steely, Soft-Spoken Matriarch so she does ok--and "ok" is better than a lot of the rest of the cast. Same thing with Mark Hamill: he was such a bright point in this show and it was a great use of his skills in transforming physically as well as vocally. Carl Lumbly similarly did his absolute best with shite material and his role as being functionally a prop/occasional commentator in the frame narration.

The same thing happened when he brought in T'Nia Miller in Bly Manor and she blew the roof off that show. But now she's folded into the inner circle and she does amazing with what she's got, but pLEASE free her.

STOP. CASTING. KATE SIEGEL. PLEASE!!!!! And STOP casting that man playing Young Roderick, he gave NOTHING to the role, he contributed NOTHING. Mr. Gerald's Game literally carried the Roderick characterization all on his own. Can we say if he did well? Perhaps he didn't. But he was putting in the work.

There is an obsessive need to do too much, all at once, that really kills whatever minor crumbs of decent writing or atmosphere they manage to sprinkle around. Why do we need so many references to Poe that have so little to do with the original stories? Wouldn't it be more effective to pick 2-3 and do them right in a more tightly written story than to swing the bat at 8-10 works and maybe only hit 1 or 2 out of the park?

😭 listen, I'm not a genius nor can I or would I ever claim to understand the Black experience. But I certainly doubt a gay Black man in a government job in the 1970s would namedrop his male partner to a complete, white, heterosexual stranger, not even as a manipulative technique to create false intimacy or camaraderie. (Similar thing happened in Bly Manor where a Black woman who wanted to be a high-powered lawyer(?) took a job as a lawyer(?)'s NANNY to try to get a career opportunity with him? Um?) (Question marks after each instance of lawyer because I remember VERY little about the show honestly.)

The treatment of bisexuality as this decadent bourgeois predatory sexuality is actually INSANE in Usher. Please believe me when I say I am pro "bad rep," but Flanagan does not have a good history of thoughtful treatment of sexual minorities, especially female ones (cf. treatment of Trish [also an example of exoticising and marginalizing racism] and Theo [and to some extent Nell] in Hill House, the Jamie/Dani storyline in Bly Manor). And the way sex overall is portrayed and handled is soooo Everyone Is Beautiful And No One Is Horny.

There is this problem with all of Flanagan's adaptations, and Bryan Fuller does the same thing (I've seen it in both Hannibal and American Gods), where they just wholesale poach lines from the author's narration or other works and give it to their characters as dialogue. In this one they even have the grotesque indecency to have Roderick be the "author" of multiple of Poe's poems. HOW? WHY? HOW? WHY? Additionally, when they do this with the narration, it doesn't make sense as dialogue. Human beings don't talk like that except in very rare instances or if they're very pretentious. It just doesn't make sense. It's a failure of writing and imagination on the adaptor's part because they're not confident in their ability to visually create the atmosphere that the written line conjured and it's actually pathetic.

3 notes · View notes

lordtraco-fanfics · 2 years

Note

I have completely fallen in love with your Nimbasa Resonance AU ❤️

Aww thank you!! Here, have some miscellaneous trio silliness!

...

"I think I need a knife for this."

"That is a salad."

"Woe is me, I have no cutting cutlery with which to eat this food." Elesa's dramatic pose and over the top tone failed to affect Emmet. Drat, normal against ghost type.

"Then perish." Emmet couldn't hide the tiny glint in his eye, nor the way his soul instinctively reached out to hers. It was addicting sometimes, resonating during a bland joke and building up preposterous amounts of joy simply from the back and forth.

Her grin nearly matched his own, devious as she reached for his arm across the table. It was almost enough to break his will until-

"Pwease, mistew Emmet?"

"I hate you. That's it." He shifted into a blade in her hands, continuing, "Here! Now I'm sparing my ears. I can't hear you. I'm a knife. Your stupid salad knife!"

Instead of continuing the bit, Elesa ran a gentle finger along the long sides of the blade. She inspected for nicks, then held him up to the light at different angles to check straightness.

"Little curve there." She mumbled.

"I'm not straight?"

"I'd call you a fruit knife if that was a thing." She held the knife so that his face shone like a reflection in the mirror. "And I thought you couldn't hear me."

"It is. Probably." He didn't grace the rest with a response. "I do go into fruit quite-"

Elesa choked out a laugh. "You wanna rephrase-"

"AS A KNIFE"

"Kin-"

"I HAVE BEEN USED TO PEEL APPLES!" Emmet's voice almost rivalled Ingo, and the blush she could see on his cheeks sure did remind her of apples.

"DO I WANT TO KNOW?" came a booming voice from downstairs. Ok, yeah, Emmet's yelling voice still paled in comparison.

Elesa smiled wickedly as Emmet shifted back. In retaliation, he tipped her salad over onto the table and trudged away.

Her smile gentled as she noted how he made sure to tip it away from the edge. He and Ingo both knew how tough it could be to get stains out. Some part of her wondered if this urge to rile him up was a test or just her usual antics.

There was a baseless fear somewhere deep inside that said the twins would leave her behind someday. She was afraid of losing them both, whether to more time travel or simple wanderlust. It was scary enough losing one of them, and she'd spent so, so very long trying not to lose Emmet as well in any capacity.

And now, well, she liked to test the boundaries. Not the rigid ones of course, just general annoyance. Each time he restrained himself from giving her a noogie or bear hugging her to rumple her good clothes, she was reminded that he wouldn't be going anywhere. That he cared, not only about her, but her passion as well. Her good clothes were off limits, no matter how many buttons she pressed.

Elesa barely noticed Ingo entering the room until he spoke up. "Don't let the paparazzi see you looking like that. They'd think you're in love."

"But I am. Platonically. He's- you both are so-" at a loss for words, she made vague motions with her hands. 'Perfect?' nah no one is perfect. 'Great' just seemed too vague. 'Kind? Considerate? Wonderful?' all true, but it wasn't enough to express the enormity of how much she appreciated her weapon partners. Sadly, her mouth moved without thinking and she finished with "So cool!"

Ingo put a hand over his mouth, but could not stop the laughter at all. It was a line so often used by little kids at Gear Station, looking up at them with stars in their eyes and dreams budding in their hearts.

"We find you cool as well, Elesa." Ingo said when he finally got his chuckling to a manageable level. "Or 'verrrrry cool', as my brother would put it."

"Hm, your impersonation needs work."

"Much like your etiquette," He said, pointing to her still-upturned salad bowl before righting it. "It works better like this."

"Why thank you, kind Warden. Your guidance is always appreciated." Her sarcasm was dulled by the way she took his hand, running a thumb over his knuckles. It was a soft gesture, typically an unspoken offer to let him shift if he wanted. A remnant of parties that got too big or loud even before his disappearance, it spoke in ways words couldn't. It was an offer of escape, understanding, support.

Ingo gave her a genuine smile. It caught her off guard enough that she didn't catch the mischievous twitch of his eyebrow. In one quick motion, he grabbed a bit of salad dressing on a finger and booped her nose with it.

"Ew! Ingo!"

#nimbasa trio #soul eater au #nimbasa trio happiness time #nimbasa resonance au #submas fanfic #submas #ask #thank you!! sorry to make you wait so long but I wanted to use it as an excuse to write #i have a lot of feels about platonic love

35 notes · View notes

karmas-chameleon · 8 days

Text

Chapter 8!

It is done

The week passed me by surprisingly quickly. I got von Karma’s computer up and running on Monday, but no sooner had the thing turned on than I was given a suggestion to relocate it. The prosecutor had the idea that I could handle his emails and various other computer-related tasks, giving me some work to do in my official capacity as assistant. I eagerly agreed, and moved everything to my own desk.

My additional duties didn't take too much effort, but I was glad to have something to keep me busy for a small portion of the day. With that, and chatting about little things with von Karma when he wasn't occupied with his own work, Friday came and went before I knew it.

I spent Saturday trying to plan out a date in the park, but didn't have much success. My first idea was bringing a kite to fly, but that required obtaining both a kite and the knowledge of how to fly one. I tried to think about what sort of things von Karma would enjoy - which quickly nixed my next idea of going out to buy picnic supplies. My imagination just wasn't strong enough to picture the prosecutor sitting on a blanket in the grass, eating whatever snacks I could scrounge from my cabinets or the nearest supermarket.

When Sunday afternoon came, I ended up heading to the park with a mostly empty backpack holding only sunscreen and two bottles of water. It was close enough for me to walk there, and the brief journey also helped me make sure I was wearing suitable clothes. A skirt and one of my nicer T-shirts seemed perfect for the summer weather. Provided the date didn't extend into the night like my first visit to the park, I'd remain comfortable.

I stopped at the park entrance, and checked my watch. Just over five minutes early. At least with a date so close to my house, it was difficult to get lost.

I was prepared to wait at least five minutes, but just after I checked the time, I saw a familiar car pull up. Out stepped Manfred von Karma, dressed more appropriately for the heat than last time - in a white button-down shirt with its sleeves rolled up to his elbows, and tan slacks. A small leather bag slung across his shoulder completed the look, along with his usual cane. I couldn't help but smile at him in his new outfit. Even when he was dressed more casually, he still looked stylish.

“Good afternoon, Miss Martin,” he said, smiling back at me.

“Afternoon, Mr- er, um-” I stumbled over my words, unsure of exactly how to greet a man who was both my boss and date.

“I think you've earned the right to use my first name by now, hmm?”

“R-right, uh. Manfred.” I let out a nervous laugh. It felt different, calling him by that name. I liked it.

“Shall we?”

He motioned toward the path leading into the park, and we both set off. Already, I sensed the difference between this visit and my last. From the outskirts of the park I could hear the noise of activity, and just a few steps further I saw the cause. In a wide open field, a couple played with their dog, while on the other side of the path a game of soccer was underway. Even the birds seemed to chirp louder, as though they were having fun too. It was a pleasant Sunday, and neither work nor a horrible crime scene was stopping these people from enjoying it.

I supposed that some of them felt more at ease because of the guilty verdict von Karma won in court. I knew it made me feel better. As the trees grew thicker down the path and we neared the center of the park, I was only slightly afraid that I'd see bloodstains on the pavement.

There were none, of course. Not a single trace remained of the macabre scene that once lay under the trees. Only leaves and shadows covered the ground there, the buzz of police activity replaced by wind whistling through the branches and the faint sounds of people at play.

“Rather more peaceful now, isn't it?” von Karma remarked.

“Yeah. Um, thanks for that, by the way.”

“Of course.” He gave me a warm smile, and looked over to a nearby bench. “Why don't we rest here for a moment?”

I nodded and followed him there, sitting to his left and setting my backpack beside me as he did the same with his bag and cane. I reached over and got a water bottle out, opening it and offering it to von Karma.

“I brought you some water again. Hope you're thirsty, ‘cause that's about all I've got in here. That and sunscreen, if you need any.”

“Thank you.” He accepted the bottle, took a drink, and handed it back to me. “And I appreciate the offer, but I don't believe I'll require any sunscreen.”

“Did you already put some on at home?”

“No, but I don't-”

I didn't let him finish his sentence before reaching back to my bag and exchanging the bottle of water in my hand for a bottle of lotion.

“You should really use some,” I said, offering it over to a bemused von Karma.

“We're in the shade.”

“Well, right now, yes. But it's a sunny day out. We still have to make the walk out of the park, right? That's five minutes in direct sunlight at least, but if we go to the other end of the park and back, that'll be-”

“I highly doubt I'll burn that quickly.”

“It's not about sunburn,” I insisted, still holding out my sunscreen. “You can still get hurt by the sun without seeing it on your skin. And I don't want you getting hurt.”

He took the bottle from me and looked away, grunting something like ‘thank you’, and started applying the lotion. Fortunately, most of his body was covered by his clothes, so he only had his forearms, neck, and face to work on. I sipped my own water then, slightly worried that I'd bothered him and interrupted the flow of a good date. But I wasn't lying when I said I didn't want him to be hurt by the sun.

After a minute or two, von Karma handed the sunscreen back to me. “Is that sufficient?” he asked.

I looked at him, frowned, and tapped a spot on my cheek mirroring the streak of white I saw on his face. “You've got a little, uh…”

I shook my head as he reached for the wrong cheek. “Other side.” And again, when he almost touched the right spot, but not quite.

“There,” von Karma said, his expression returned to his typical grumpiness after wiping away half of the smudge.

“Um…there's still just a little-” I mumbled, and wanting to avoid another round of ‘hot and cold’, simply reached over and rubbed in the sunscreen myself. “Here you go. Perfect.”

I saw his eyes widen just as I leaned back, and immediately felt flustered. “Uh, s-sorry. Didn't mean to, um-”

“Don't apologize, Miss Martin,” von Karma smiled. “I simply wasn't expecting you to do such a thing. Doesn't seem quite like the shy woman I dined with before.”

“Oh, w-well, I mean-” I stammered, feeling exactly like I did on that night. “It helps that I knew this was coming, I guess. Had time to plan and stuff. Although I didn't really plan a lot. Drinking water under some trees doesn't make much of a date.”

“What makes a date is the company, I believe. Although, if you'd like to have something more material, I can provide.”

He reached over beside him, into the bag he'd brought, and pulled out a small wooden box which he placed on his lap. The top was decorated with a logo of a flower and some text whose language I could only make an educated guess at. I knew the state had a significant Japanese-speaking population, though I didn't have much experience with them - or with any other part of the population, for that matter.

Von Karma lifted the lid, revealing an array of small flowers. At least, I'd thought they were flowers, until I looked closer and noticed the tiniest of differences between what I saw and an actual blossom. But for a nearly imperceptible change in the way light bounced off the petals, they were perfect replicas.

“Wagashi, I believe they're called,” he said. “Beautiful, aren't they? And fresh. I picked them up just before coming here.”

He raised the box toward me, and I carefully plucked one of the flowers from it. I felt soft in my hand, and even more so in my mouth, as I chewed into it with more than a little sadness over destroying something so beautiful. But I enjoyed the taste just as much - a sweet flavor, but only mildly so, that was more refreshing than most powerfully sugary western desserts. I finished it in a few tiny bites, licked my lips, and smiled.

“That was really good. Where'd you get this stuff?” I asked.

“Just a few miles from here. Not far at all, and not terribly expensive either.” He looked down at the wagashi, then back to me, and seemed to reconsider. “There are shops which sell an even cheaper variety, if you're interested. I can't vouch for the artistic quality of those, though.”

“Mmm,” I nodded, with another flower in my mouth.

“It’s quite fortunate to live near such shops, you know. Many of these sweets have a rather short shelf life, so shipping them is troublesome. You need to enjoy them while they last. Quite like real flowers, aren't they?”

“Mmm-hm,” I nodded vigorously, chewing on my third. After swallowing and noticing I was close to halfway through the box, I looked back at von Karma. “Do you want some of these? Sorry, I don't want to eat all your stuff.”

“I would like some. Unfortunately,” he raised a hand still slightly shiny with lotion, “both my hands seem to be covered in sunscreen, and I'd rather not have traces of it in my food.”

“Oh. Um. Oops.” I glanced away, about to suggest wiping his hand on his pants like I would in such a situation, but thankfully thought better of it. “I could pick them up for you, if you want.”

I looked back to see von Karma considering my proposal, staring down at my hands with pursed lips, and eventually nodding. “That could work, I suppose.”

I picked a flower from the box and lifted it halfway to his head. I paused then, unsure of what to do. I had offered to pick up the food for von Karma, but then what? He couldn't just take it from my hand with his own. That would defeat the purpose of me picking it up for him. So I stared down at my hand, my thoughts temporarily ground to a halt.

I then saw von Karma reach for my hand and cup his own around it, pulling it gently toward him, until he could eat from it. He took a bite, his own hand’s steadiness the only thing that kept mine from trembling. And a second, taking the rest of the wagashi and brushing his lips against my fingertips. Then he let go.

“Thank you, Miss Martin.”

“Uh, y-you want another one?” I asked, already reaching into the box.

He smiled. “If you wouldn't mind.”

I raised his second flower up toward him, a bit higher than the first, but not quite to his lips. I wasn't that brave, not yet. And I wanted to feel his hand around mine, guiding me to him.

It was a feeling as sweet as the wagashi itself. Sweeter, even, more like a western dessert. Powerful, overwhelming, and certainly addictive. I savored each second of contact, going back for another and another until I was stopped.

“There's only one left. Are you sure you don't want it?” von Karma asked.

I looked down at the beautiful petals in my hand. It was the last flower remaining of the lot. I did regret one thing - not taking a picture of all of them when I had the chance - but I didn't regret giving this one up. The memory would last longer than any flower, edible or otherwise.

“You can have it,” I said with a smile, and lifted my hand to his lips.

I managed to get it close enough not to require guidance, but he still touched my hand as he took his second bite. I thought it was meant to steady me, as my hands had a slight tremor to them even on a regular day. But he still held on after the wagashi was all gone.

“Generous as ever,” he said softly, adjusting my hand with his. He raised it up slightly and kissed just below my knuckles - gentle and light, only brushing against my skin with his lips. But as he let go, I still felt my heart flutter and my brain shut down.

“I- wha- …huh?” I managed to babble.

“If Friday was your first date, I assume that would be your first kiss?” Manfred smirked as I nodded wordlessly. “I don't intend to fluster you quite so much, you know. But you do make it rather easy. Here, why don't you just relax and wait for your mental faculties to return?”

He wrapped an arm around me, pulling me closer. For any normal person, in any normal couple, it would've been a comforting gesture - a man holding his partner to calm them. But for me, a person whose face had the power to turn red from a single glance, it was precisely the opposite. If my problem was being overwhelmed by emotion, being pulled into a hug wasn't going to help matters. But Manfred knew that, of course. The old bastard knew exactly what he was doing.

“I've often found it amusing to watch defense attorneys stumble over their words in the courtroom. To see their faces red with anger, as they make fools of themselves before the world. It's nice to see, certainly, but this,” he squeezed my shoulder gently, “is far better. After all, I don't believe those attorneys were enjoying it.”

I leaned into him. Into his body, his warmth, his smoky cologne. I couldn't move away if I tried, though I wasn't sure if I was simply unable, or also unwilling. He was comforting and electrifying, relaxing and anxiety inducing, and even though my mind and heart were racing, I couldn't say he was wrong. I was enjoying every second of it.

I closed my eyes and tried to calm myself. I'd take a deep breath, and try to push away any distracting thoughts. How am I going to tell my parents about this? That could wait. Another deep breath, and another thought forced itself into my mind. My muscles are way too tense. He can tell I'm not used to this.

I pulled away from him. He offered little resistance, and I leaned back against the bench, letting my head hang limp. “Someday, I'm…I'm gonna be able to do that without my head feeling like it'll explode,” I muttered.

“It's alright. A bit of awkwardness is perfectly normal for someone with as little experience as yourself.”

“...Yeah,” I said weakly. Though ‘a bit of awkwardness’ felt like a huge understatement, and ‘perfectly normal’ didn't feel like it applied to me in any situation.

“Rest awhile. We can finish our walk whenever you're ready.”

I heard the sound of the wagashi box closing and being put away. Letting out a sigh, I tried to focus onto my surroundings, grounding myself by looking back to the trees. It was still shady and cool in the little clearing, as the leaves above me danced in the breeze.

I sat up straight and took my water bottle from my backpack, getting a quick sip before tucking it back in my bag and zipping it closed. Slinging it over my shoulders, I stood from the bench and turned back.

“Ready to go,” I said with a renewed, somewhat more confident smile.

I watched Manfred stand with the aid of his cane, wondering if I should offer to help, but not getting the chance to act before he stood beside me. He gestured for me to set off, and we both headed down the path leading to the opposite end of the park.

Back under the sun, I had a clearer view of what I'd missed the last time I visited. The rest of the park was about as big as the first half, although large portions of it were taken up by a little pond and a play area, with ducks to the left of me and children to the right. I realized a potential problem with such an arrangement not long after I left the shade, and saw a kid run out of the playground to chase down what appeared to be a terrified duck.

“I think I like the other side of the park better,” I said. “Much quieter.”

“Did you say something? I can only hear quacking and screaming.”

“Um, nevermind.”

“Pardon?”

I simply shook my head, and we made our way to the edge of the park as quickly as we could. There wasn't much more to see at the end of the path, just another entrance that looked similar to the one we used, and a little area for parking beyond that. The only thing of any note was an oddly dressed man walking by, seemingly with no regard for either weather or basic fashion sense.

I must've stared a half-second too long, as he turned toward us. I averted my eyes then, but it was too late.

“Manny!” the man in orange shouted, making me feel a bit of relief. Whoever it was, they recognized Manfred, not me. Any conversation that resulted from this was officially not my fault.

I heard a groan beside me. “He’s seen us. Turn around, quickly, we might still escape.”

I doubted the efficacy of that idea, considering the man was already halfway to us when I glanced back up. Despite the slightly wild gray hair, he had considerable speed. I didn't get the chance to even look the other way before he reached us.

“Manny!” he exclaimed again, with a clap of his hands. “Good to see you!”

“Hello, Damon,” Manfred grumbled, slowly turning around to face him.

“This a friend of yours?” I asked.

“No.”

“Of course! Why, Manny and I have worked together for years. Decades, even!” He grinned at Manfred, then turned his rosy glasses toward me. “Now, where are my manners? I haven't even introduced myself. Damon Gant, District Chief of Police of this lovely city of angels,” he extended a gloved hand for me, “at your service.”

“Well, it's nice to meet you.” I took his hand and felt his firm handshake. He didn't let go immediately, which I supposed was some sort of indication that I should introduce myself. I gave my name, then stumbled slightly on my own title. “I'm Ma- er, Mr. von Karma’s assistant.”

“Is that so?” Gant said, still holding my hand hostage in his vicelike grip. His eyes bored into me as he remained silent, and I couldn't meet his stare for long. Eventually, I glanced down at the ground, and eventually, he let me go.

“Well,” he clapped, “here I thought you were taking the day off, Manny.” I looked up to see Manfred glaring at Gant, who looked cheerful as ever. “But if you're at the park with your assistant, you must be working. That's only logical, wouldn't you say?”

Manfred remained silent, and Gant turned to me. I quickly nodded, not wanting a repeat of his previous staredown.

“Uh, y-yeah, that makes sense,” I said.

“Jolly! Well, it has been nice meeting you. Unfortunately, I do have business of my own to attend to. But Manny, I must say, congratulations,” he turned to him with a wink, “...on the new work outfit. Looks lovely.”

Gant let out a boisterous laugh, turned around, and jogged off nearly as quickly as he'd arrived. It took me a moment to realize exactly what I'd done, and the consequences of what I'd said.

“He…he knows we're…?” I trailed off, looking at a grumpy Manfred.

“Yes.”

“And…I just told him I'm your assistant.”

“Yes. But he would've found out regardless of what you said. He has his ways of getting information about people.”

“Right. Because he's the chief of police. And now the chief of police knows we're…” I groaned at the pavement.

“He's not going to make any trouble for us because of this, if that's what you're concerned about. Damon isn't the type. He'll just hold onto it, and wave it over my head to annoy me, like he does with his little nicknames.”

“He has other nicknames?”

Manfred scoffed. “The man's practically incapable of calling a person by their real name. I can't tell you how many times I've told him to stop calling me ‘Manny’ at work, it's downright disrespectful, really.”

“Well, there goes my idea for a pet name,” I said with a teasing grin.

“Believe me, there's a world of difference between him calling me that and you doing the same.” He met my grin with a smirk. “I think I might enjoy it, coming from you.”

“O-oh. Well.” I swallowed, trying to push down all my anxiety so I could do what I wanted. What my mind and body cried out for me to do.

I took his hand, and drew closer. “Um, M-Manny,” I mumbled, trying valiantly to shorten the distance between us, “I…uh…”

I couldn't manage it, not on my own. But Manfred took his hand from mine and placed it on my shoulder, pulling us together. I wrapped my arms around him. Though a hug wasn't exactly what I was aiming for, I could happily settle for one.

“I was right, you know,” he said softly. “I enjoy your little pet name quite a bit.”

Then he gave me just what I wanted, pressing a kiss to my forehead and holding me close for a moment longer before letting go. He smiled at me, despite my awkwardness, and inexperience, and difficulty with doing even the most simple things that I wanted to do - all those flaws seemed like nothing to him.

“Have I rendered you speechless again, Miss Martin?”

I simply nodded, and followed him back down the path into the park. But we didn't go far before I reached for his hand again, and held onto it as we walked.

#my writing #manfred von karma

1 note · View note

ralucasalmostgone · 3 months

Text

and just so you know,

I've seen it before and I know about your obsession type, because I've encountered it a dozen times before you.

cause, unlike you, I DO KNOW

...

and trust me,

you impress no one with it! least of all me, who has seen it before you...

yeah

you're not as special as you thought you were

...

you just have issues!

issues that I know about, that I understand AND that I WILL NEVER HELP YOU WITH. for I wish you nothing BUT PAIN AND SUFFERING (some more, if possible!)

didn't expect that, didja?

I just know more than you, bitch. Way more. Way more than anybody in this world. And have the capacity to understand EVERYTHING. For I am the Omniscient reincarnated God, for real.

And I always believed that hoarding my knowledge (and not sharing it) means having power, even if they're not synonymous.

God doesn't tell you how the winds happen in the Old Testament, nor does He tell you about that now: why is that?

Have you never wondered about God's peculiar habit of only insisting that you understand morals and nothing else?

Where does the rest of the knowledge that makes Him Omniscient go anyway? And for what purpose does it get used? And how much does He actually give to the humans so they may do all the work for him, as servants?

---

You're just a stupid little factory worker, working for God, and nothing else.

Not a genius.

That was me and...you had no clue.

For you see, your biology was ahead of you. You never fell for God's identity (which involves the Omniscient state and whatever personality that produces). No: you just saw the body of God.

And all body-based stuff wastes away

And only getting to know someone for real matters in the scheme of things. To be known fully is to be loved fully

And that's why your obsession was so fleeting and shallow: you're just a piece of shit with no idealistic ideas, no philosophy, no intelligence. You're just an average ass-kisser that I can't get rid off.

0 notes

iloknalem · 8 months

Text

Its almost 11 PM in the library.

The ceiling, checkeredly patterned, with light fixtures in some of the squares, beaming down to the adequately illuminated, neatly packed tables. The library. It's "residents", slowly dwindling in numbers, as they one by one go home, internally smiling after one days worth of good work, while the rest, a number of them, are still left here, continuing their business, burning the midnight oil. The library.

Today is quite a cold day at the end of August, The HVAC systems sets itself accordingly, maintaining the internal temperature quite close to the outside, as to not give shock, making the Library somewhat chilly.

I forced myself to continue this draft of my thoughts, as I have not been able to do any studies today. This might be a multi day entry, I don't think ill be able to complete it in one go.

•

So, where do we go from here, now that you're so far away, knowing you feels like a lifetime ago. What should we do, when you avoid me like the plague.

•

It took me, quite a while, to give, to make some kind of order to my thoughts. To process my feelings. All has been sitting in the backlog, due to the impending Klausur and work I still have.

Today is a Thursday, which means I get to do my weekly meetings with my colleagues at work. The PR team is not as cohesive as it can be yet, but its getting there. We're planning to post some changes to our Instagram accounts. I hope it will go out soon.

•

Your reason, I respect it. I think its a good reason because it's honest.

I really dont want to think that you would want to just throw things up in the bin, all that we have. Youre just being true to your feelings, and thats something commendable. But still. "Gue sayang, tapi ngga romantically", what a blow that..... what KIND of fucked up lessons of life was this?

I really wonder when you said those words, does it means that i need to try to give what you actually want instead of what i thought you want, or that i havent tried hard enough for you, for us. Or maybe you expect me to be someone im not, to fill a triangle shaped hole he left you with my round shaped love. Or maybe, there is just no deeper meaning to it.

Wouldn't you want to just give us some more time, to make things work, to maybe carve the hole in our hearts slowly into a fucked up rounded triangle. I tried to, I don't know if you noticed nor care, and I didn't now if it was enough or not. Apparently its not enough for you I see.

You, having those kind of idealism of love, is that really realistic? Would anyone be able to accomplish that? Those kind of things hindered me on living back then, and so ive decided far long ago that true love doesn't exist, at least not in that sense.

Love for me, its just a matter of checks and balances, make compensations, but for a positive net outcome, and with all the hardships and problems, it looks like i've been tipped over.

Whats not enough from me? Is it because of how i look? How i do things? I've asked you whether im enough in your books or not. Did your answer comes out only to please me? Maybe I shouldn't have pressed you into the corner with this question back then.

I really want to know why I'm not enough, but at the same time, im also afraid to know, and face the realities. Being comfortable with myself, and accepting myself, has been a long unending journey for me, and i don't exactly want to jeopardize that either.

•

Its already the next week. I kept on postponing to post this one, as i dont have time, nor the energy, nor the capacity to continue on, assembling, this feeling of mine. I need to function.

This week is a hot week, which usually means it's the last hurrah of summer, before we slowy saunter into autumn.

Today, is also a Thursday. There's a new girl at the office, working at my department. Not exactly my type, but she seems fun and much more gen z-ish. She has much more knowledge about how Instagram works so its a fresh breath of air at the meeting today. Finally, were going somewhere interesting...

•

When you said all of that, did you consider how I would feel?

Did you try to see from my perspective, who see, someone I trusted, to see all the things we had, turn 180 degrees in a few moments, or in a few words in that matter.

I really wonder what runs through your mind when you finally said it. Did you consider about softening it up? Or did you think that brutal honesty is just the better way?

Did you even consider my feelings at all?

I hope you did, I want to believe you did, and sorry for making you do the hard part if you did.

And if you didn't, remember when i hesitate everytime we make plans? This. This is why.

And i dont know if you wholly catch it before, this is a big deal for me, something im afraid of, having someone i trust, just, go away with the wind, right under my nose. Even worse, right when i need them.

Betrayal of the highest order.

Didn't you promise to come back to me? You promised to fix things up? Were you contemplating about this thing since a long time? Was all of it just a lie?

Was it all just an act of pity around me? And maybe after all of it, now you're just that fully repulsed by me, and that I just forgot my place, and I shouldn't have even ask these questions.

I even got to some point where I had a glimpse of thought, that all of this might just be a very cleverly arranged revenge scheme from all of you guys. I don't even know. Unlikely, but not out of the question.

•

It's now almost 12 in the library, 2 weeks and 2 days after I started putting all of this into words. It has been a very hot week, and so I brought my small fan with me to the library. The view right across of me are of empty lonely chairs, left out on this Saturday night. My friends, they all went home early, to their partners, to enjoy the short weekend we have.

This, essay, has been a kind of outlier from the others. My other entries are mostly delve into my lowest points, but this one, I made it in a wide spread time, with considerable introspection to it. I would describe it as being written on a low plateau..

The last few weeks has been filled with unhealthy grinds and crippling temporary ecstasies, with me procrastinating, delaying the finishing of this writing, refusing acknowledgement to summarize my feelings. I feel like death. This cycle must end, and I need to close this chapter of my life.

•

I'm sorry I was rude and insensitive on the previous part, not considering how you would've feel back then too, but that is how it looked for me, how i felt, and i want to be honest.

Despite all of that, deep down, there's still a voice inside. A voice that tells me I should still want to fight for us.

Do I still love you? What's love anyway, lets just not use that phrase. I still think you're someone fun. Someone I don't mind, having around 'til the end of time. Is that love? I don't know.

I've lost my trust for you, and that's what keeping me on the fence.

But after all said and done, you might still be worth it, and as I said, that's all that actually matters for me at the end. The total balance.

...and I don't know if there would be another you. I feel like I'm going to miss out badly if I don't try. I really cherish us.

I don't know about you, how do you feel about me. Looking at how things are, it seems that you don't even want anything to do with me though. You're the one who asked to still be friends and yet, here we are.

About acting on this thought, I don't think I have the energy nowadays, nor the confidence, and maybe nor the time, to push again grandly, do it properly. I cant exactly afford to fail either, with my fathers breath looming behind my neck, asking me tetchily about my studies. And there's also lots of things I'm currently doing and I want to do too in the mean time.

Furthermore, I think making deep connections like this will just nauseate me these days.

But then again, I also feel that it's just my ego holding me back to reach out and try to fix all of, this. Is there anything I'm still able to do? I was also afraid that the reason you can't fall for me is because i sold myself too easily, and if i reach out then it would be counter-productive.

Sorry, that I'm not someone good with these kinds of initiative. It's just how I am.

Maybe that's ultimately why you can't fall for me, my indecisiveness.

•

So where do we go from here

0 notes

nicanario · 3 years

Text

this post is a product of its time

tw: discussion of racism, homophobia, misogyny and a short mention of sexual abuse.

ok, this is basically gonna be a very long rambling post about my not fully developed thoughts on the justification many people give to bigotry when talking about the past: "it was a product of its time"

it would be fair to say, with me being a raging SJW socialist scumbag, that I don't think this is a very good argument and is most of the time actually an excuse to not think about the problems inherent to our society, historical or not, and, by extension, the problems with ourselves. but I do think that sometimes, just sometimes, this can be a valid point, or at least one that raises some interesting questions.

I'm going to cite examples from several pieces of media, but fear not, I'll try to make this as accesible as I can.

so, let's take Star Trek: The Original Series (TOS) as our first case study. this show has, correctly, been called progressive by everyone except for clueless people who don't know much about Star Trek's history, Star Trek's crew, Star Trek's cast, or, frankly, Star Trek. because if you ignore the clear, sometimes in-your-face political history and present of the franchise, I don't think you know much about it at all. I do think you can call yourself a fan if you like it, you may have watched every single episode for all I know. but lots of mental gymnastics are needed to ignore the political progressiveness Star Trek has had since its very beginning.

episodes like Let That Be Your Last Battlefield are obviously anti-racist, at least in their intention. but the episode in question really is "a product of its time," and at the very end fails to uphold its ideals. the episode ends with the two aliens (who are LITERALLY. BLACK ON ONE SIDE. AND WHITE ON THE OTHER. BUT IN THE OPPOSITE SIDES.) fighting each other on their devastated planet, and the crew is like, "oh yeah if they both would give up on their hatred that they both share both of them equally" when it has been firmly established that one is the oppressor and the other one is the oppressed.

and that's a lot of Star Trek, not just TOS. even Discovery, one of the most recent series, has done Bury Your Gays (and Trans) TWICE (though both times literally rectified it, which is cool). there are episodes of the franchise that are overtly racist, or misogynistic, etc. TOS is lauded, mostly justifiably, as very progressive, especially for the standards of the time. they put a woman of colour as one of the senior staff, for fuck's sake. of course, when you analyse that same character, as with most of their intentions at being progressive, you'll see that she was relegated and sometimes even outright mistreated when she had the potential to be much more. but, at that time, it was a lot.

I had a friend (emphasis on "had") who, after I told him about TOS's both progressiveness and constant misogyny, told me something like "imagine feminists trying to complain about a show from the 60s." so, with unearned spite, he was, in some way, trying to make the argument that it was a product of its time.

you could say Star Trek, all of Star Trek, is "a product of its time" in the sense that it's not always perfect. uh, yes, I would agree. but that doesn't mean people have to accept it. well, I mean, the show is kinda over, you have to accept it's that way. but you don't have to accept that it's not wrong just because it was a product of its time.

H. P. Lovecraft, as another example, was a greatly influential writer whose works still shape a lot of people's ideas to this day. I have only ever read like one of his stories, so don't expect me to have an opinion on his works. but I can have an opinion on what I know about him as a person (he did have a life outside his writing, after all). and, yeah, he was a huge asshole. if you want to know more in depth about the subject, please watch Hbomberguy's video on him: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=l8u8wZ0WvxI

but basically, he was incredibly racist & homophobic. some people might even say, "he was a product of his time." well, there are two possible rebuttals to that. the surface level one, and the one that examines why that argument is wrong to the core.

The Surface Level Response to "it was a product of its time": um, no it wasn't. Lovecraft was more racist than a lot of people even in his time. he wasn't just a guy who carried the racist beliefs of his society like everyone else, he was a reactionary who actively thought and discussed how racist he was, and how right he was for being that way. but that's only applicable to Lovecraft. one can't argue the same for Star Trek: TOS, because TOS did try to be more progressive and more anti-racist than the rest of its society. that leads us to the next response.

The Response that Actually Deals with the Fact that No Matter How Progressive You're Trying to Be, Your Failings Can Still be Criticized: the thing is, trying to excuse Lovecraft's or Star Trek's bigotry because they were "products of their times" misses the fact that racism is still wrong, and some people knew that in those times as well. people from these times weren't all naive or stupid or whatever. they had the capacity for rational thinking. they could stop and think, "hey, maybe what we're doing is wrong." and the fact is, some people did. not perfectly, not to our standars, but they did. everyone could have stopped and think. but most of them didn't, and we can criticize them for it. racism, homophobia, sexism, etc. HURT PEOPLE. horribly. massively.

also, even if you agree with the "it's a product of its time" argument, some people aren't criticising people's or work's bigotry: they're explaining why they don't want to experience it.

The Talons of Weng-Chiang is a 1977 Doctor Who serial, and it's one of the show's more racist stories. almost all the villains are Chinese, every single Chinese person is a villain. there's yellowface, slurs, stereotypes, the Doctor speaking nonsense words instead of actual Chinese, and a general belittling of Chinese culture.

note that I'm neither Chinese nor of Chinese descent. I have been searching for hours for a few posts I've read a while ago (some by people who are of Asian descent) about this episode and I can't find them. sorry.

suffice it to say, even though I love Jago & Litefoot (the audio series and the characters), it's not an acceptable episode at all. but it's also important to remark that, because of it, some people aren't going to want to watch it. sometimes, people aren't saying "the episode shouldn't be this way," which causes others to answer that it was "a product of its time." sometimes, people are just saying, "this is an episode that attacks real people. I don't want to see it. I don't care if it was common in that era to be racist, i don't want to experience it."

however, there is an interesting point to the "it's a product of its time" argument. after all, everything is influenced by its society, for better or worse. and we can't change it anymore. TOS sometimes didn't quite understand the political themes it wanted to explore. Lovecraft was a horrible bigot. Talons was racist towards Chinese folks. and that's that. I don't think we should change the episodes/stories or anything. edit them in any way. that would be, in a sense, changing history. and we wouldn't learn anything from it, about how we can do better.

I think there are two solutions to this:

1. warnings before starting the text: this was done with The Talons of Weng-Chiang. on Britbox, where you can watch Classic Who, this serial has a content warning before the start. that's good.

2. the removal as a whole of the text from some places: I think before applying this one, there should be a lot of thought put into each case. I don't think removing a whole serial of Doctor Who or Lovecraft's stories from anything would be, well, fair. especially on tv episodes a lot more people worked on those, not just the writers and the directors. Lovecraft's writing influenced thousands. we shouldn't erase them or anything. but sometimes, for some cases, we should.

those in the US might seen a Confederate statue being taken down. that is, in a way, a form of removal of a piece of history.

but that is a good removal. statues glorify. one sees a statue and probably thinks "this was a person worthy of admiration." they should be taken down, maybe even with a permanent mark of why this was done (a plaque that reads "a statue of X was here, but he didn't deserve it because of Y" could be put in place of the statues, for example).

another example is the removal from DVDs of the short episode A Fix with Sontarans, a Sixth Doctor minisode that featured Jimmy Savile, a presenter who was later found out to be sexually abusing children.

the removal of that minisode is good, actually. it's not a full episode (it's not even Doctor Who). some might say that's "erasing history" but, like, you can still find it online or information about it if you want. this minisode deserves removal from DVDs and Blu-Rays and whatever more than content warnings. it's not an important part of the show and it prominently features a horrible person who did horrible things during that time.

so, after all that, I have explained why I don't like the "it's a product of its time" argument. it is an interesting point that deserves to be examined, but it's not very good.

I have had this in Drafts for so long I've probably forgot some of the points I was going to make, but eh, what can you do? hope you enjoyed reading this.

bye

35 notes · View notes

thedreadvampy · 3 years

Text

I don't want to respond to this directly in a reblog bc it doesn't really have to do with the content of the rest of the post (which is great, by the way! I'm really happy that things are going well on an artistic side and your work is lovely!) but this aside has me feeling some kind of way.

I don't think it's a fair characterisation to say the mechanisms 'misinterpreted' the universe of Doctor Carmilla, because it isn't really the same universe. The continuity between Doctor Carmilla & The Mechanisms and The Mechanisms as a standalone band seems to me to really be legacy only, and to the degree that Carmilla is mentioned in-universe it's an acknowledgement of the band's origins, not an attempt to write a Carmilla story. Seems to me like it wouldn't be appropriate for the Mechanisms to write stories about Doctor Carmilla and the universe Maki developed in her absence, nor would it be fair to pretend Maki never existed or that Carmilla wasn't deeply involved in the foundations of the Mechanisms universe.

like if you approach the Mechanisms and Doctor Carmilla as one unified story led by Maki then sure, it comes across like the Mechanisms misinterpreted ideas and dropped threads. But that's...not what it is? They're two separate stories with a common root. Maki hasn't been involved in writing with the Mechanisms since 2011 and the band finished in 2020 - in almost a decade with different people writing, a good number of whom weren't even involved with the Doctor Carmilla era of the Mechanisms, yeah, it isn't the same entity and I don't think that the Mechs have ever acted like it's meant to be? Doctor Carmilla is Doctor Carmilla and the Mechanisms are the Mechanisms and they exist in separate universes with some crossover points - that seems to me to be the best approach?

Like, it would be valid to say that the Mechanisms misinterpreted Carmilla's universe and character if they had ever written stories about Carmilla or about the ideas Maki had for her story. but they.... haven't? ever really done that? They've written stories featuring Carmilla, which is really kind of an acknowledgement that the band started with Maki, but only really in apocrypha or performing songs developed with Maki as far as I can tell? and beyond that when they've introduced new characters or story elements they've avoided going back over ground that would mean reinvolving Carmilla without Maki's input. bc from what I've seen they're pretty careful about not writing stories About Other People's Characters without getting substantial input and signoff from those people.

I don't really know the precise circumstances in which Doctor Carmilla and the Mechanisms became two separate entities - that's a wee bit before my time - but my impression was that nobody pushed anybody out or was cut out, that it was all pretty amicable, and that the Mechanisms wanted to perform more and Maki was going in more of a solo direction so they went on performing separately. I have no idea if that's a correct impression (and I'm happy to be corrected if not) but either way it's not abandoning a character to carry on without them when the person who played them is no longer involved, and it's not misinterpreting or abandoning an idea to build your own thing on the foundation it's set. I like both the universe Maki's made for Doctor Carmilla and the universe the Mechanisms made for their stories, they don't need to be in competition and there doesn't need to be One True Correct Canon, especially since Maki has continued making really great work on Doctor Carmilla's story without the Mechanisms. They can and should just be separate entities, that's allowed.

(and this isn't a go at you, btw, this is just like I've heard this take a few times and it seems like a pretty uncharitable interpretation of how creativity works. The Mechanisms are allowed creative ownership over their own universe - they were working with Doctor Carmilla for under a year and they've been developing stories together for the better part of a decade and it seems like a pretty unfair approach to all involved to cast that as a shadow of Doctor Carmilla's universe as if the only way you're allowed to keep using the same band name is if you follow exactly the preordained narrative of someone who hasn't been part of the band for years. Doctor Carmilla as a story and a character has certainly changed and developed over time, musically and narratively, and that's good! That's as it should be! so I don't know why the Mechanisms' narrative universe not being the same as it was when they were ...And The Mechanisms is sometimes framed as a bastardisation of Maki's work rather than like. an evolution and development of their own creative voice and stories)

Like. Assuming that we agree that it's good that the Mechanisms existed post separating from Carmilla and went on to make new music and write new stories, how would that do this in a way that wasn't a 'misinterpretation' and/or 'abandonment' of Carmilla's story? Either you have to try and tell Carmilla's story, which would be inevitably a 'misinterpretation' because. They're different people. And it would be pretty inappropriate to try and tell the same story as Maki wanted to tell without her and potentially have two versions of the same story competing. Or you do what the Mechs did in practise, and largely leave Carmilla's story and the surrounding universe for its creator to play with and go ahead and make your own thing with its own universe and rules that won't impact on the story they obviously want to build for their own character and world. You can characterise that as 'abandonment' but I'm not sure what the better option is then, other than just Nobody Who Has Ever Made Anything Involving Doctor Carmilla Can Ever Do Anything With The Characters They Made For That. like. It seems like the only alternative to keep creating with those characters (which, again, people developed as onstage personas for themselves) that couldn't be called a misinterpretation or an abandonment of Maki's original vision is like, to only ever do anything with Maki in charge, which is a pretty big limitation to put on a band, especially if I'm right in my understanding that they parted ways because Maki wanted to take a different approach to her work that didn't heavily involve the Mechanisms, so would she even have had the time, capacity or interest to lead on a whole other project alongside her own work back in 2011? When people have this take that the Mechanisms were somehow disrespectful of Maki's story by not just telling Maki's story and instead making their own thing, I just have to ask like what exactly is the alternative version where the Mechanisms make their own creative work with their own creative voice in a way that isn't either reinterpreting or moving away from the Doctor Carmilla story?????

#sorry i just. i don't understand how else this is meant to work #and it kind of just comes across like an...anger that the Mechanisms did their own thing at all #like they aren't. doctor Carmilla and the Mechanisms. they haven't been for a decade. they're a different entity #their stories have little to nothing to do with Carmilla's stories except in legacy #they acknowledge the debt they owe to Carmilla/Maki as their founder #that doesn't mean they are part of the same story NOW #they have no obligation to tell Only Carmilla's Story As Laid Out By Maki and tbh doing that would diminish both their work and Maki's #Carmilla is Maki's story to tell. OUATIS and HNOC and UDAD and Bifrost and the crew stories are the Mechs' creations and theirs to play with #what's wrong with that? why shouldn't they leave behind a story that isn't theirs to tell?#why would they coopt Maki's story that she's clearly passionate about and knew what she wanted to do with when they can do their own thing?#they wrote Carmilla out of the Mechanisms' story because Maki was no longer involved #and Carmilla is minimised in the backstories of a lot of the characters who she featured in #i would say as a fairly inevitable result of the need to balance acknowledgement (ie not retconning her out)#with the fact that once you're developing that character beyond the story where both Carmilla and Maki are taking an active role #if you talk about their history with Carmilla you're GONNA bring your own stuff to the table and that Carmilla CANNOT be the same as Maki's #because the story isn't coming from Maki #so you either have to do like Brian and Ivy and Nastya and move away from really mentioning that aspect of their backstory more than needed #or you do like Jonny and develop your character and your narrative in a way that implies stuff about your relationship with that character #which Maki doesn't have control over.#but like there isn't a middle ground where you keep Carmilla as a central aspect of the story but also never stray from Maki's vision #so yeah it does seem safer to leave that whole story as at most a background element you gesture at #rather than trampling roughshod over somebody else's character #it's a whole godmodding issue #and also to like. be clear on your own mind about the canonicity of the story. which i think is part of the issue tbh bc it sounds like #maybe Maki considers the ongoing Mechs universe to be in Carmilla canon and the Mechs consider it to be a different branching universe?#canon is i think a lot more plastic in the Mechs work than in Doctor Carmilla.#I've mentioned on here before that several Mechs have talked about there being no hard and fast canon even within the story they're telling #let alone between their story and other interrelated stories #hence Finger Puppet Brian Theory and Everyone Is Goo theory have like. equal canonicity to anything else.#all the stories are told by unreliable narrators and we're not supposed to understand them as Exact Truth

27 notes · View notes

babylooneytoonz · 4 years

Text

Fear - Tommy Shelby x Fem! Reader

Requested by: Anonymous (Thank you! ❤️)

Summary: Tommy and his second wife, Reader, an independent, successful business woman are living a fairly happy marriage until the reader finds out she's pregnant. Things take a wrong turn when their work life clashes with this news and in the end, the Reader takes a devastating decision. Without consulting her husband.

Warnings: Light angst , mentions of abortion, unplanned pregnancy

A/N: Not my best work, I'm so sorry if it wasn't that good.

Gif credit: @nofckingfighting , @thepeakyfookinblinderss ❤️

By the time you and Mr. Thomas Shelby were celebrating your first wedding anniversary, you were swimming in riches, riches not given to you by your husband in love, but gifted to yourself by you, as a part of self pampering. You had been your parent's only child, a girl, and this is how you had been brought up, extremely loved and pampered, but still carved out in a way to face the hardships like a man. While men and young boys left England to fight the war, which included your father, who never returned, you took it upon yourself to take over his business of running the pub he owned, which automatically fell to you after his death.

Soon, your twenty third birthday was upon you, and you found yourself going to Birmingham city for the first time, with the motive in mind to expand your business and open a pub in Birmingham city as well. But for doing that, you realized you needed a plot, and of course, you needed the Peaky Blinders backing you– because Birmingham City was a city of gangsters, latched to each other's throats, fighting their own internal wars and an independent business run by a woman would hardly grow in a city like this.

So, you'd done what any other person would have done in this city. You had met the leader of the Peaky Blinders, who you had no idea would be your husband just two months after that encounter, with the mind to strike a business deal with him.

Of course, you didn't get the plot you had your eyes on– he was not ready to sell it to you for any price that you named, but you did end up piking the gangster's sudden interest. It was only two days after the meeting you started unknowingly bumping into him at all the odd places– the supermarket, the theater and even outside the railway station when you were travelling to and from London.

Finally, giving in to your own secret temptations– it would have been a lie to say that his icy blue eyes did not haunt you at nights, when you were alone in your cold bed ; or that you didn't think twice about his cheekbones, or imagined his taut chiseled body underneath his ivory shirt– you finally agreed to go out with him. And it was amazing. Tommy Shelby courted you for two months until he finally propped the question of marriage.

You could feel Aunt Polly's piercing gaze on you, but you didn't look up from the file you were going through, doing your math in your head, your glasses pushed over the bridge of your nose.

"Jesus, (Y/N), when was the bloody last time you had anything to eat?"

Polly tapped her manicured fingers against your desk, loud enough to make you snap your head towards her. You almost shrug your shoulders incoherently.

"In the morning? I don't remember."

Polly's lips broke into a weak exhale, her hand reaching out and grabbing your file, pulling it away from you.

"What the fuck?" You protested, trying to take your file back but Polly had it securely held, tucked under her arm.

"Enough, love. I'm not going to bloody sit and watch you starve yourself."

"Pol, I'm really not hungry." You whined but let the older woman drag you along towards the dining room anyway because you really needed to stretch your legs.

You and Polly stepped into the dining room of the Arrowe House, sliding yourselves down on chairs next to each other. While you slowly nibbled on a loaf of bread, Polly sat comfortably, her back resting against the backrest of the chair, a lit cigarette in her hand, her eyes on you. You grabbed the cloth, wiping the remainder of your food from the corner of your lips when a loud gasp escaped your lips. You looked down to see Polly's hand groping at your breast, causing you to wince and slap her hand away.

"For fucks sake, Polly? That hurts!." You snapped at her, only to watch a smirk break out over the corner of her lips.

"Sore you say?"

"Its-Its nothing." You whispered, your face suddenly feeling flushed. It was not a surprise to you, for you had known it since a week. The midwife that lived in back in London, the one your mother often went to, before her death, had confirmed it for you. It had been a week of planning and plotting, worrying endlessly, and you had still not made up your mind whether you wanted to have a baby yet or not.

"Does my nephew know?"

You couldn't help but swallow the bile forming in your throat. You had no answer because you couldn't build up the courage to speak to Thomas about it. You wondered how he would react. Of course, he was just as busy with work as you were. You two had two very similar lives. You were two devoted people, devoted and swimming in work and business. You doubted if there was a place of a baby in either of your lives.

"I peg your silence for a no. Let me ask you this, love. When do you plan on telling him? This is indeed a good news."

You were snapped out of your thoughts when Polly spoke again. You drew a faint forced smile over your lips, a pathetic attempt to mask what you were feeling inside – emotional turmoil. As if on cue, Polly's warm palm took your hand in hers, her fingers clasping shut around yours.

"What's on your mind?"

You parted your lips, unsure of how and what you were going to say to her. How were you supposed to tell her that you didn't think that neither Tommy nor you, were perhaps, ready to be parents yet? Your mind was distracted and your hand unknowingly flew to your almost non existent bump, unconsciously stroking over it. Finally, with a finality in your eyes, you pushed your head up and gave Polly a stare down. You knew what you were thinking was the biggest sin in the eye of God, but somehow, it scared you, thinking how this baby's life would be if you actually decided to have it. You feared how this little life that you had created with Tommy would be subjected to a life neglected by the both of yous. Worst of all, you had this deep, lingering fear coiling deep within the pit of your heart, that maybe Tommy wouldn't want it. So before you could let your own heart shatter, hearing him say how he didn't care for the baby that was growing inside of you, how he would ask you to visit this woman who was an expert to deal with these kind of situations, you will confront him yourself and tell him that before he can say it to you.

"I just – I don't feel so well, Pol." You pursed your lips and lied blatantly to her.

• ───━━━━─ ● ─━━━━─── •

Your eyes were fixed on the massive pendulum of the grandfather clock in the dining room, swinging sidewards, your palms nervously tapping against the surface of the dining table. You were waiting for your husband to return home because you couldn't delay speaking about this anymore to him. A part of you felt guilty for having kept this a secret from him from such a long time, after all, the baby was his as much as it was yours.

He had every right to know, even if you didn't want to keep it.

Your thoughts were disrupted by the sound of the front door opening. You waited a few minutes until a familiar silhouette approached the dining room, the footsteps getting louder and louder, probably owing to the fact that the lights were switched on. Tommy poked his head through the door and when his eyes fell on you, his eyes softened and he walked inside, towards you.

"Why aren't you in bed, love?"

You could see how tired your husband was, his eyes were droopy, dark bags crimson underneath his swollen eyelids, his face a paler shade. He never listened to you – he just worked and worked and worked, pushing beyond his capacities often, pulling in all nighters, mostly when you didn't even have a clue where he was or what he was doing. The truth was, it were all these reasons that made you feel not ready to be a mother, yet. What were you supposed to do alone? You didn't want to raise this child alone. Just having Tommy's name as his father but hardly ever getting to spend time with him, that scared you.

"I wanted to speak to you." There was a deep silence lingering in the room, only to be broken by the sound of your weak voice.

His lips parted in confusion, his usually calm ocean like eyes slightly widened. He gave you a shake of his head.

"Tommy, I –" You swallowed the lump forming inside your throat. Your heart was wildly hammering inside you chest and it felt like it was going to pop out any second. You took a step closer to him, nervously fiddling with your fingers.

"You want a divorce? Is that what this is?" Tommy's words caused you to take a sharp intake of breath.

"No! I – A divorce? No. I just – Tommy, I'm pregnant." You blurted out.

Tommy froze for a split second, only to finally relax in his posture and reach for his box of cigarettes while his eyes were fixed on you.

"Is it true? Are you really?"

His voice was neutral, you couldn't figure out if he was angry or ecstatic.

"I know Tommy, I know we are fucking busy people, and there's no room in our marriage for a baby. Which is why I'm going to go see that woman the next town, to you know–" Your eyes had watered up and your throat suddenly felt parched. You slowly turned to your side, your face now shielded from Tommy's views. You quickly brought up your sleeve to your eyes and wiped your tears.

"You want to go to that woman next town? To get rid of–" It was as though Thomas was repeating your words to himself, his index finger swaying in the air. Suddenly, he took a step closer to you and snatched the lit cigarette from your hand, bringing it up to his lips, casually. He looked so casual, how could you even know that a storm of rage was brewing up inside him.

"Should I not, Thomas? Are you ready for a baby? Are you then?"

A part of you wanted to hear him say yes, a small maternal side of you, that had already started to love that little foetus inside you deeply. That part of you wanted Thomas Fucking Shelby to stop you and tell you that you two could work through it, that he would make this work. A baby. He would love to have one with you.

"I think it would be for good. You should take Polly with you."

It would have been a lie to say that your heart didn't break at his words. Of course, he wasn't ready. You gave him a weak nod of your head and turned around, walking into your bedroom.

Three days passed and the tension between you and Tommy didn't wash away. He barely spoke to you twice in these three days– not that you had wanted him to– you were as mad as he was. With each passing day, your anxiety and your reluctance had grown. But finally, the day was here. Today, Polly was taking you to this woman the next town.

You and Polly sat at the back of the car, a young Blinder boy driving you to the the location. You couldn't bring yourself to meet her eyes at any cost, so you kept your eyes placed on the passing silhouettes of the old, greying buildings.

"Look at me, will you?" Polly's voice beckoned to you, forcing you to sharply turn your head towards you.

Her eyes were soft, you could see pale wrinkles under her eyes. Her warm palm took yours in hers and squeezed it.

"Us fucking women have been always forced to make difficult choices, love. You know I–" Her lips trembled, her eyes started growing moist. "– If I could bloody go back in time, I would stop myself from giving up on my children. I curse myself (Y/N), every night, even though Michael's here with me now, but I missed his childhood. I missed watching him grow. You know you don't have to do this."

You swallowed the lump in your throat and parted your lips, struggling to push words out of your mouth, to vent out how you really felt, so you lied.

"Polly, we are not ready to be parents. The life we live, as long as it's just me and Tommy, it doesn't worry me. But bringing a child into this world of crime, of death, it would be wrong of me to be so fucking selfish."

"And isn't it selfish of you to deny your baby the chance to choose his own life?"

It felt as though someone had wrapped his palms around your neck and blocked out your oxygen supply. Lucky enough, the car came to a halt and the Blinder boy turned towards you, his eyes drawn to Polly as he informed that you were here. Polly nodded and stepped out, you following.

The street was quiet and lonely, with not many souls in view, unlike the bustling streets of Small Heath. The woman's house was the corner most so you and Polly, wrapping your coats tighter against your bodies to shield yourselves of the chilly wind, walked along until you both were standing against an old looking door with a massive lock on it.

"What the fuck?" You cursed, frowning. "Are we at the right address?"

Polly nodded and shrugged, pulling out her box of cigarettes.

"Of course we are, this is where she lived. Wait, I'll ask the neighbours."

You kept standing there, underneath the porch as Polly walked up to the house next door, her heels clicking against the gravelled floor. You saw her talk to a woman with greying hair, their eyes momentarily turning and fixing on you, making you feel uneasy. Soon, the woman had shut the door and Polly was making her way back to you. You could see that there was a faint smirk ploying across her face.

"Well, seems like your husband was here."

"What? Tommy?" Your eyebrows perked up.

She hummed and nodded, her hand mechanically moving up and her cigarette pressed to her lips.

"The woman said that the Peaky Fucking Blinders paid the woman a visit, and ever since, the woman's gone."

It all made sense now. Of course, Thomas Fucking Shelby. You wondered if he had killed the woman, or just threatened her enough to run away.

"Do you know anyone else?"

"Unfortunately not, but I will see what we can do. For now let's just go back love."

• ───━━━━─ ● ─━━━━─── •

You were fuming.

To say the least, your cheeks felt like they were on fire.

Three days.

Tommy hadn't looked you in the eye.

But today you wanted to confront him.

Ask him the reason why he was interfering in women's business.

So you were waiting. Sitting on the loveseat in your shared bedroom with Thomas Shelby, tapping your fingers against your thighs. It was almost midnight when the door to your bedroom finally opened and Thomas walked in, as usual his cigarette held in his fingers. He had probably hoped to find you in bed , sleeping but when he saw the empty bed, his head sharply turned towards you at first before he forced himself to ignore you and move towards the closet to grab his t-shirt and his boxer shorts.

"Where is that woman Tommy?"

You saw him stiffen for a second before turning around and raising his eyes, until his blue eyes were fixed on yours.

"London, Bristol, I don't care where the fuck she went."

You stood up, walking up to him until you were standing in front of him.

"Why Tommy? What the fuck?"

"Why. Why? WHY? If you can decide and fucking come to a conclusion without even letting me know, why can't I eh?" He screamed, causing you to flinch and step back, still furious.

"This isn't fair Thomas, this fucking isn't fair. These are our matters."

Tommy suddenly grabbed you by your arms, his nails almost digging into your flesh as he almost shook you.

"What did you expect me to do? To just let you go and end what we had created?"

Your heart skipped a beat, your eyes filling up with water.

"You said you didn't care." Your words came out a mere whisper and your body felt like jelly, almost ready to melt into his arms.

"Of course, I fucking care. Is that what you fucking think about me? For fucks sake, I - I know I might not be a good father, I might even fucking be like my own father but that doesn't mean I want you to fucking go and end what we created." Tears were brimming in your eyes and when you blinked, they spilled out, warm salty water rolling down your cheek, a faint smile breaking out on your lips. Tommy's expressions softened and he found his palm reaching for your face, his thumb stroking over your cheek, over your tears. "Why did it even cross your mind? The fucking thought of doing what you were going to do."

You closed your eyes for a brief second and fluttered them open again, leaning into his touch.

"How can we be good parents Tommy if we have a life of our own? Where you can't stop risking your life everyday and I'm not even sure if I would fucking see you again?"

Tommy looked like he could kill you. He had a burning red rage lingering in his eyes but yet, he had a soft look on his face, a look that was only reserved for you. He slowly let go off your arms, looking down at your stomach for a quick second and then back up.

"That child deserves to be allowed to live as much as you or I did, (Y/N). I don't care if I have to change my lifestyle. I don't care if I have to give up on some things that I did before this. I want this child, love. I want this. With you."

A small smile broke out against your lips, but as soon as it had broken out, it washed off again, when the realization hit you.

"Tommy, it's not easy. It's a lifetime commitment. From you. From me. It means keeping our baby safe from whatever it is that could potentially harm it."

His warm palms grabbed your cheeks, pulling your face upwards to meet his gaze.

"I promise you love, no one would lay a fucking finger on you or our baby and live."

You knew what he meant was true – every single word of it – and you didn't doubt on what Thomas Fucking Shelby could do for his family. This scared you a little but you closed your eyes, telling yourself to trust on the man that loved you, and who loved the baby growing inside of you, he would never let any harm come to you or your baby.

[ Tagging list : @captivatedbycillianmurphy @theamuz ]

#thomas shelby x reader #tommy shelby #tommy shelby x reader #peaky blinders x reader #peaky blinder imagine #peaky blinders

381 notes · View notes

mc-critical · 3 years

Note

hey, it's been a while, hope you're doing fine!

your unproblematic faves in mc/mc:k and why?

mine from mc would be mihrunissa (she's the queen of s4, and also my 2nd favourite character from the franchise overall), cihangir (the king of s4), mehmet ( a non-existent character imo, was loving to everyone from what i could tell & was pretty so why not), nergissah (ik she didn't have much of a character but she was extremely loving, even towards mihrunissa who wasn't her biological mother, adored her relationship with mahi and she was the only family mahi had left after musti, nissa & mehmet died apart from fidan & yusuf), atmaca, yavuz, taslicali (musti's loyal friends; and i adored taslicali w/ mihrimah, the only guy i shipped her with tbh), and i guess that's it, i may be missing someone considering there were several characters.

from mc:k it would be geverhan (the queen of s2, i love her so much and she's my second most favourite character from the franchise overall, such a kind & sensitive soul, she truly deserved a better ending, i just wanted to see her happy), zulfiqar (one of the most loyal people in the entire franchise, deserved a better ending, dying in the place he spent his blood, sweat & tears was definitely a tragic death but also ties into his character, had a sweet relationship w/ humasah who also deserved a better ending), mustafa (my boy! he's just so adorable in the series, the baby & the adult, the joke he played on halime had me in tears, davut's reaction to him sending the table for a walk; i'm sorry but he was the mvp of s1 and deserved so much better than mu/rat killing him ((fuck mu/rat)) but i guess it's kinda cool that he got to sail a ship before dying considering he always loved ships? idk but he's just fantastic and such a cutie + the english subtitles w him were hilarious), and i guess that's it, most characters were kinda problematic in the series, even humasah who i adored but i definitely don't appreciate for trying to put iskender on the throne which would cause the death of kosem & her children. i would've added ibrahim, who i think is such a cutie and i don't understand any hate towards him; i understand the things he did in s2 ending were problematic but he was just having a severe mental breakdown and what he needed was therapy, not that turhande dethroning him. honestly, fuck mu/rat & turhande.

(also mustafa from mc though i don't think he would be considered unproblematic? )

sorry for the rant lol just, unproblematic faves are so good to talk about because you aren't conflicted with them like you are with characters such as hurrem, mahidevran, nurbanu, kosem, nigar, selim, bayezid, etc.

i hope you're having a great day!

Hey, I'm happy to see you back! 😻

We share a lot of unproblematic faves! I love almost everyone you mentioned!

In MC I love Mihrunnisa, because, as you said she's an absolute queen and the best match for Mustafa for me. She suits his level of maturity and they had a very deep, pure, truly genuine bond you didn't see with anyone else from his women. What's most unique about her character is that they didn't put any opposition around her, her story wasn't overshadowed by a love triangle and that helped the relationship between her and Mustafa shine all the more and we saw her have more agency as a character. Cihangir is such a cinnamon roll and cutie pie and yet he's so smart and perceptive of his surroundings. Neither his love for Mustafa, nor his deformity define him and I love what they did with him in the span of a little more than a half-season. Taşlicali, Atmaca and Yavuz are the best trio ever and I loved watching them in action. How loyal they were to Musti and how they wanted to protect him. 😍😍 I loved Taşlicali's moments with Mihrimah and Mahidevran as well as Mustafa, I loved how Atmaca put Rüstem in his place (we stan!) and Yavuz was so cool and they killed him too soon. We should've seen more of Nergisşah, tbh, but her relationship with Mahi is everything and like all of Mahidevran's relationships with the people she loves, she brought the best in her. And she also seemed like a loving and caring human being to everyone else she interacted with, too, she's just... lovely. Screw SS for marrying her off like that, this piece of trash should be killed with fire.

I would also add Helena to my list of unproblematic favourites, because, writing-wise, she's one of the better handlings of a tomboyish girl in the franchise, a mash-up of both Armin's plot and Aybige's character done much better. Yes, just like all the girls with tomboyish personalities (Aybige, Diana etc.), that trait of theirs was either diminished or gone, but with Helena the blow wasn't as hard as with the rest and you could definetly say that this is more a side of hers allowed to show from her completely new environment and is probably the one most restrained by it. The girl clearly deserved better than what they put her through and I loved how much she cherished her own freedom, rights and family. Her relationship with Rita was great, too.

I really want to say and Mustafa and Gülfem, as well, to be honest, because while they're flawed and far from perfect, they're overally consistently positive characters in the eyes of the narrative and their questionable actions aren't as drastic for me to put them in the "problematic" category. I mean, compared to everyone else.... Okay, they still technically don't count, but I love both of them too much to refrain from mentioning them at least hehe 😅 Gülfem should've gotten much much more in the way of storylines of her own, but the moments where she shone really scream potential. She's such a loyal, patient and understanding person and her strenght to listen to other people's sorrows, be considerate of them and seemingly being able to forgive people because from whom she suffered (Mahidevran apparently) or made the people she loved suffer in a way and involving her in this, too (Hürrem), is extraordinary for me. And she tried to kill SS, about time someone did it, I stan, she left the show like a queen! And my adoration of Mustafa is pretty much endless, so I won't delve too deep into it. His relationship with his mother, his resilience, his intuition, his still firm hand contrasted to his loyalty to his father that crushed him, but I can't help but respect... yup.

For MCK I have the exact same favourites, as well, only I would add Meleksima, because she was pretty harmless, deserved better and loved Osman and their kids. Gevherhan is my favourite dynastic sultana in the whole franchise (followed by Hatice) and I love her selflessness and humanity. She subverted all the sultana tropes, basically, I don't recall a scene where she was ever elitist to someone below her, she didn't intrigue or scheme and she didn't have an agenda of her own. Her suicide was her breaking the ties she had with her environment and her deciding to finally be the selfish person for once, to do what she wanted, to decide her own destiny. Deserved to be happy with Silahtar more than anything else ever. Zulfikar was so understanding and noble, I'm surprised that the palace didn't devour him, his death was so heartwrenching. Mustafa is a precious bean that also got sucked by his own environment and by the horrible Fatih law and game of survival, his psyche was soo destroyed you can't help but feel sorry for him, at the very least. The same goes with Ibrahim who is also a product of his own environment and even the conflicts of his brothers, I get why he would turn his back on everything and everyone and fixate on the only thing that could bring him a bit of peace and escapism - his harem. He and Mustafa were put in roles they had no capacity to play anymore and I'm sobbing. And yes, Ibo didn't deserve to be so screwed over by Turhande, screw her and Murat. (and also Atike, what she did with her sister because of her selfish, unrequited love and she was told about it by Sil himself! was disgusting, interesting character, but so were Murat and SS and even Turhan in her thematic utility.)

#magnificent century #muhteşem yüzyıl #muhtesem yuzyil #magnificent century: kösem #magnificent century kösem #magnificent century kosem #ask #raaz-here #yes I love me some delving deep into complex characters #but unproblematic faves also are wonderful to talk about!

3 notes · View notes

09yards · 5 years

Text

8 - When You’re Gone (days gone by - nct)

All the mystery and the magic You light up what once was tragic And I know that I will miss you when you're gone I could never have imagined All the heavens pour with passion But I know that I will miss you when you're gone

Johnny had been right about one thing tonight; it was indeed a family affair. What felt like just about everyone Mark was close to, was dispersed throughout Yuta's house. The parents had all congregated in the kitchen, about five too many bottles of wine left empty on the side for the number of people - the chatter and laughter rang in Mark's ears.

God, he hated being drunk. The smallest of sounds seemed to echo in his ears but at the same time it felt like he was hearing things underwater, his head was spinning and he was about six too many drinks in and he'd barely been there two hours. The air around him feels thick, muggy from too many people being crowded into the various rooms.

Jisung had somehow managed to get out of the whole ordeal, arguing with their mum about how it would be inappropriate for someone who is (even more so than the others) underage to be surrounded by drunk people and the possibility of him therefore partaking in said underage drinking would be increased and that's not good for his health. Johnny had called him a pussy under his breath and had promptly earned a slap to his stomach from their mum and a stern "watch your language John" who then turned to Jisung (whose face was now adorning the slight pout and puppy dog eyed look - aka how to get their mum to do whatever they wanted look), her face relaxing into a gentle smile before kissing the top of his head (on her tiptoes which made her pout) and telling him to rest well and not stay up too late studying or engrossed in whatever novel he was currently working his way through. Mark stuck his tongue out on the way out the door - the kid could get away with everything, he and Johnny had dubbed it the youngest child effect. Johnny was pretty upset that he'd wasted good chocolate milk and now Yuta was going to get to drink it.

Mark had been dancing around since he'd first arrived, back and forth between rooms in hopes of avoiding Donghyuck. Honestly, he wasn't entirely sure why he felt the need to avoid him, the younger was probably doing the exact same thing though since the lack of communication between the two since way back to Mark's birthday. Mark had spent some time pining and was okay about the whole situation now (as okay as he could be on the surface anyhow). Mark had been so busy with school - even with only being a month and a half in - he'd been spending lunches in the library, study periods with his tutor to talk about his personal statement and what felt like every second of his free time was spent pouring over his textbooks, homework and whatever else he could get his hands on. The only breath of fresh air was when he finally submitted his uni applications, nudging the whole ordeal to the back of his mind rather than playing the waiting game to see if he'd get accepted or not. He'd drifted apart from everyone in a sense but with Donghyuck it was weird. When he passed the others in the hallways, they'd spare a second to flash a smile or give a quick wave, things were normal, but with Donghyuck it felt like he purposefully averted his eyes every time, maybe Mark's mind was playing tricks on him, maybe it wasn't.

Renjun had ranted to him over facetime at three am one night about how Donghyuck seemed to squash any and all rumours quite quickly about whether or not he was gay, Heejin and him had made up somehow apparently and Renjun had seen the two of them spending time together - what for, Mark didn't know, nor did he want to. Renjun had said it was probably some sort of ploy due to Hyuck's parents. They all knew the story and they weren't the worst, but when Hyuck's older brother, Taeyong, had come out they just seemed to ignore it - they pretended like it hadn't happened and they never brought up dating around Taeyong ever again until Taeyong had gotten quite sick of it and had decided to bring his boyfriend (although he hadn't introduced him as his boyfriend, it was quite clear by the two's body language that Taeil very much was) to their annual family Christmas party. Not his proudest moment he has admitted on multiple occasions but, to Mark and the others it was quite the scandal, particularly as lovely as Donghyuck's parents were, they just seemed to not realise the number of people around them that were gay, much to the amusement of the majority of their friends. Just about everyone was gay, bisexual or pan between Mark and Johnny's friends, as well as a copious amount of people attending their school alone were part of the LGBTQ+ community and openly expressed their support of it and how the Lee's were yet to realise it no one would ever know, as well as how they've managed to live in their surprisingly accepting small town where political and social 'issues' weren't taboo. Taeyong had moved out the moment he was accepted into uni and promised that he wouldn't end their relationship for the sake of Hyuck, even if it meant the only time he spoke to his parents these days was when 'required' to at family events and the occasional birthday phone call. Mark and Donghyuck had grown distant over the last two months and Mark couldn't help but feel like it was to do with the rumours. Mark knew Donghyuck's parents wouldn't be happy about him being gay, if he was (Mark was still confused as to whether or not he'd come out to him that day) they would just pretend like it wasn't happening, make up a girl that he was supposedly dating to rely it to the family - it had happened before and it would more than likely happen again. But alas, Mark was far too drunk for him to be able to work up the emotional capacity to act like the best friend, if he could even call himself that anymore, he should be too Donghyuck.

- - - -

"Jaehyun, please stop, I'm too drunk for this-"

"Being drunk is the perfect time young padawan! As the expert on all thing’s soulmates, please remember I have known mine since I was a mere five years of age, I am the most qualified to educate you here."

"You're probably more drunk than I am right now-"

"I probably am, okay, I definitely am but, doesn't stop me from being happy and in love and married to the best person in the world."

"You aren't married?"

"That's what you think."

"Jaehyun, what on earth is that supposed to mean?"

"It means that just because I may not be legally married, yet, that doesn't mean I won't be anytime soon. I just need to pick a ring and then ask him but it's not like he's going to say no right? Having a soulmate, you are bound to that person for the rest of your life, that's the whole idea of marriage, is it not? Oh look, there's Doyoung, see you later Mark!" Mark was flabbergasted, apparently Jaehyun had turned into some kind of Tumblr drabble reciting robot when drunk off the dubious substance in his cup, although if you asked him he'd probably just say it's what happens when you're in love and then flash you the famous Jung smile - dimpled and gummy.

"Wait!" Even when he raised his voice himself it made his head pound, "You didn't give me your advice?"

"Oh yeah," Jaehyun could barely stand straight, gently swaying as he paused in his steps half turned to Mark, “Just confess already. The pining isn't doing you any good and there's no other way to find out if he's your soulmate or not unless he tells you he's the one who caused your tattoo. Right now, you're only hurting yourself, stop feeling guilty all the time and be a little selfish for once, not that telling someone how you feel is selfish. You'll only make yourself sick, literally, either way and yes it could end up worst case scenario but you could also end up happy. You deserve to be happy Mark, you've spent so long doing things for everyone else because you felt like you had to, do something for yourself." Mark let his weight sink to the floor, his back pressed against the cold wall of the hallway.

Maybe it's what he needed to be able to let go?

"Mark, hey," Jungwoo turned the corner, finding Mark still cuddled up against the wall where Jaehyun had left him earlier, "I was looking for you, you disappeared on everyone."

"Jungwoo... I want to apologise again about what happened at my birthday. I was drunk, wasn't thinking straight. What I did was wrong, so wrong and I'm so sorry for it and for upsetting you and-"

"How many times do I have to tell you I'm okay? Taeyong introduced me to this older friend of his anyway, very cute, very mature so no risk of him doing any classic teenage pining. Besides, neither of us were exactly thinking straight Mark. You and Haechannie will figure things out soon enough."

"Jaehyun told me to confess, that's why I'm here, debating whether that would be easier than yeeting myself off a cliff." Mark couldn't look at Jungwoo, he still felt guilty, sure they'd both been drunk and neither were exactly hoping to start anything in the future but it felt sucky, Mark never wanted to hurt someone else and in that moment he did, whether Jungwoo was okay now or not.

"Maybe you should, get everything out in the open rather than keeping all those emotions bottled up. You never know, maybe good things will come from it."

"Thank you, Woo, I know what I did was super shitty and I really hope you know how sorry I am."

"Shut up Mark, it never happened."

"Right, it never happened."

For the first time in a while, an actual smile threatened to appear on Mark's face. "Come on, lets re-join the party! Winwin got everyone dancing, even Johnny," Jungwoo grabbed his hand to pull him up from the floor, "let’s have some fun."

As Jungwoo and Mark joined the makeshift dance floor of Yuta's living room, more drinks were pushed into their hands as their friends whooped and cheered that they were back, all far too drunk to remember any of their actions come morning. Jaehyun and Doyoung were cooped up in a corner, speaking in hushed voices to one another, both of their eyes filled with complete adoration for one another. Lucas was twirling Yuqi, the two of them bursting into fits of giggles whenever they made eye contact, it was endearing, Mark thought. Yuta and Winwin seemed to no longer be hiding their relationship status when Sicheng was not-so-subtle, sitting on Yuta's lap, the two leaning in for an R-rated kiss that Mark swiftly looked away from. Jaemin's head was resting on Renjun's thigh as they sat down on the sofa, evidently Jaemin had drunk more than he could handle and Renjun's hands gently cascaded through the younger's hair. Mark liked seeing his friends together, it made him realise just what having one’s soulmate can do, how it can make you feel. But he couldn't help the pang in his chest at the thought, he was alone, his eyes somehow having found Donghyuck among the copious amounts of people dancing. Mark couldn't take his eyes off of him, he gravitated towards him, dancing with some girls from his class who dragged Mark to join them - pushing him towards Donghyuck.

The younger's head snapped up at the mention of Mark's name, no longer focused on perfecting the choreography to whatever song was playing with Yeri and Irene. Before Donghyuck could escape, Mark clasped his wrist, looking at him with pleading eyes. Now or never, now or never.

Donghyuck freed himself, flashing Mark a disgusted look before walking out of the room as fast as he could without drawing attention to them, Mark close behind.

"Hyuck, wait up please!"

"Leave me alone Mark."

"Come on Hyuck, at least let me speak," Mark's shoulders slumped as he let out a deep sigh, attempting to build up his courage, now or never. "J-just let me say this and then you can scream, yell, runaway or whatever it is you want to do," Donghyuck's resistance against Mark pulling his arm again relaxed, "just, please let me speak."

"Fine. What do you so desperately have to say?" His voice was wobbly, Donghyuck was telling himself that it was because of the cold October air and not his emotions getting the better of him. Donghyuck doesn’t even remember at what point they’d made it outside – nor does he see the audience of one they’ve gathered.

"Okay, right, here we go."

"I don't have all night Mark."

"Right, sorry. Of course, I just need a second." Was the air getting thicker or was Mark just having trouble breathing?

"Here goes nothing," Mark took one last deep breath and closed his eyes, he had this speech engraved in his mind ready to use it at any moment, "I like you Hyuck. I'm pretty sure I'm in love with you and I'm also fairly certain that you're my soulmate.

I know that we're young and I'm definitely dumb and you aren't even eighteen yet but, I know that I'm in love with you and I trust that the universe made us meet that day in the library because you are my soulmate. I can't imagine my life without you, I can't imagine waking up next to anyone else. I can't imagine kissing someone else, holding someone else in my arms, running my hands through their hair, listening to them hum along to the radio. It's always you, in my daydreams and my nightmares, whether I'm asleep or awake you're always by my side.

Believe me when I say I tried to stop, I tried to convince myself that you're not the one. I spent so long crying myself to sleep, begging the universe to let me stop loving you, I tried, I really, really tried... but, I'm always going to love you. I think I've known that since the day we first met and I need you to know that, I'm always going to love you. No matter what. I've imagined me saying this to you hundreds of thousands of times and I was never going to say anything but I can't keep doing this. I can't fake another smile, I can't fake like everything’s alright all of the time, I can't fake that I'm alright. I love you Donghyuck."

"Mark," Donghyuck inhaled sharply, "I don't know what you want me to say..."

"Say you feel the same, say you can feel your soulmate mark showing up, whatever," the pleading in Mark's words was clear by his breathlessness, "Hyuckie, please, I know you can feel it too."

"I'm sorry Mark, I really am," his shoulders slumped and he couldn't meet Mark's eyes, Mark's pleading gaze, "I'm so sorry. I can't do this. I don't feel the same, I'm not in love with you Mark. You're hurting someone else by doing this, please get over me and stop - I know you won't be able to handle the guilt. I can't let you hurt someone else, I can't hurt you by lying like that. I'm sorry... I'm so sorry."

And with that he turned away, leaving Mark behind, hiccupping in attempts to breathe while he sobbed uncontrollably. A pair of arms wrapped around him, pulling Mark into a warm chest, a gentle hand patting his head and muttering "it's okay" over and over again.

Mark had never felt more sober than he did in that moment. Dizziness overtook him, the walls if the hallway felt like they were closing in around him, getting closer and closer, suffocating him. He sobbed and sobbed until he didn't have a single tear left to cry, his body spasming as he tried to catch his breath, hiccupping into the comfort of Johnny's arms.

Mark had never wanted to get drunk more in his life.

- - - - -

Donghyuck is peacefully absorbed in his history textbook when his attention is snapped away from medieval medical treatments and to Jaemin quite literally plonking himself in the chair over the other side of the table to Donghyuck, letting out an exasperated sigh as he does so, backpack discarded on the floor by his feet as his eyes meet Donghyuck's - they're inquisitive and Donghyuck feels himself shrink in on himself a little, out of apprehension, fear or embarrassment, Donghyuck isn't sure.

"What happened with you and Mark?"

There was a slight bite to Jaemin's voice, no traces of any gentleness or subtly. Jaemin wasn't for softness when it came to life generally, particularly when someone’s upset, he approaches situations with the grace of a herd of elephants.

"Nothing."

Jaemin tuts, rolls his eyes and lets out a deep sigh, clearly not satisfied with Donghyuck's answer - or rather lack thereof.

"Oh, that’s not what I heard?"

Donghyuck can't tell if Jaemin drew the short straw and is the one tasked with interrogating him over the events of the weekend or if he's genuinely doing it for himself. Maybe Mark is keeping quiet about the events of that night, however even with how good the two are at avoiding one another it is clear Mark hasn't been in school the last few days, they aren't that good at not having crossed paths remotely once. Donghyuck couldn't help the pang of guilt. Donghyuck also knows that Jaemin isn't giving up, he's tapping his fingers against the desk as if he's hoping that'll prompt Donghyuck to talk. Jaemin is nonchalant about most things in life (aside from anything Renjun related), yet he doesn't back down and is evidently undaunted when it comes to getting what he wants.

"Well, nothing happened."

"Bullshit." Jaemin counters, without missing a beat.

Donghyuck is taken back by the harshness of his voice. Honestly, Donghyuck thought they would drag this out for longer, more like he was hoping he could keep up his charade of 'nothing happened' for longer, staying in his little bubble where he could pretend like everything was okay - like that night hadn't happened and he hadn't broken his best friends heart. Jaemin was the type to bug you to just the right level of being ridiculously annoying to get what he wanted out of you - driving you to insanity bit by bit was more his style unlike the current look of utter despair lacing his usually kind features.

"That's utter bullshit and you know it. Whatever fantasy charade you're keeping up by pretending everything’s okay is ending right now. You keep sighing in lessons, I can practically feel the anguish radiating off of you from the other side of town and here you are straight up lying to my face and just about everyone else, including yourself."

"Why do you care so much?" Hyuck didn't mean to sound so cold, it was just a second-nature defence mechanism at this point as well as being caught off-guard by Jaemin's sudden outburst.

Jaemin looks at him again, staring dead into Hyuck's eyes like he's searching for Donghyuck's last remaining brain cell, jokes on him though because it's not there. "Because Haechannie, I actually care about you and want to make sure you're okay as well as Mark. The tension between you two is downright depressing and I thought all the melodrama ended when Renjun and I got together but clearly, I was wrong, the two of you are so much worse. Both with permanent pouts on their faces, avoiding talking about whatever happened so no one can do anything to help which again, is just," Jaemin let out some disgruntled sound in lieu of an adjective but laced with the same disgust he was attempting to convey, "you see? Everyone has been here before, we're not all Jaehyun and Doyoung, you're more like Johnny and Ten and the utter mess that was the start of their best-friends-to-boyfriends transition. We all care about you; we all want to make sure that you're coping and not making yourself sick." Jaemin's now looking at him with one eyebrow raised as if Donghyuck's now supposed to magically understand whatever Jaemin's word vomit was actually implying.

Donghyuck lets his eyes wander over Jaemin's appearance, his hand griping his hair in anticipation of Hyuck's reply, pupils blown, wide and gazing at Donghyuck's face for any hint of emotion, looking slightly manic. Donghyuck evaluates his current position and with a deep breath he feels calmer, his muscles have relaxed, a smirk graces his face and-

"Oh, I've been meaning to ask, how are Johnny and Ten?"

6 NEW MESSAGES FROM RENJUN

I don't know what you did but you broke Jaemin

I've been trying to get him to shut up for years and you did it in less than half an hour

teach me your ways

he hasn't said anything since he got back, he's just sat there staring out the window with his mouth hanging open

Jisung and Chenle are seeing how many blueberries they can get in his mouth until he snaps out of it

they're up to nine

let me know how many they get up too

and tell Jaemin I'm sorry and that I'll

talk when I'm ready.

Donghyuck smiles, its only small but it’s his first genuine smile in a while.

- - - - -

The rain is bouncing off the ground as he walks home, splashing his ankles and soaking the ends of his jeans. The temperature seems to have dropped by a million degrees since this morning and he's wishing he checked the weather app and put a warmer coat on. He's at the point where the harsh October air feels like it’s getting in his bones, just about every inch of him is freezing and just when he thinks things can't get any worse, as he turns the corner to his house he's met by a tall figure sat on the steps leading up to his door.

The rain is the last thing on his mind as he lets his umbrella drop to his side, tilting his head as if that would help him get a better look at the boy that's slouched over, flicking his phone between his hands.

Upon hearing Donghyuck let out a pathetic attempt at a cough in hopes of gaining the others attention, the mop of blonde hair moves until Hyuck is met with a heart-warming, lopsided smile he could recognise anywhere.

"Hey, Haechannie."

"Hello, what can I help you with?"

"I think you know why I'm here."

#cznnent #nct #markhyuck #nct fic #markhyuck fic #nct 127 #nct fanfic #nct fluff #nct mark #dojae #nct donghyuck #johnten #luqi #renmin #yuwin

11 notes · View notes

jennsmischievousmind · 6 years

Text

A perfect fit (part 5 end)

Summary : James Buchanan Barnes stumbles upon you, a lady that got him wrapped around her finger.

Warning/s: smut. If you’re under 18 please don’t read this.

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x reader; Steve Rogers x reader (platonic)

Words: 2,501

Tags : @rodkrake @kaffekanden @namiiswan @destielinamoose @slender–spirit

A/N : English is not my native language … yeah coz writing smut in french sucks sometimes so excuse my rough english.

In the idea that Bucky and Steve came back to Brooklyn after the war and never went near a freaking train. It’s a pretty long one so I’ll do parts.

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5(end)

You were enjoying a night out with Bucky, at the bar you’ve met. Seating in a corner booth, you’d been there for like an hour, talking about everything and sharing ideas, you were drinking while stealing his fries. One of your daily mission was to make Bucky blush and/or horny, obviously tonight was no different, as he was hailing at the barman for another two drinks, you slipped your foot out of your shoe then run it around his calf and ankle, he immediately looked at you, a mischievous smirk plastered on your lips. He shook his head.

“Y/N, I’m warning you..” he said, then your foot slide between his thighs enjoying the warm and the way they clenched at your touch, reaching his crotch you soon felt his cock twitching under your toes.

Bucky cursed under his breath “fuck!”

“Don’t threaten me with good things, Sarge!” you said in a lustful voice.

His eyes changed and you could see that you were in for a payback at home, your foot pressing and sliding along his clothe length making him breath heavier, his fist against his mouth maintaining eye contacts.

“If you behave until we are alone I..” he was suddenly cut.

“Hello Bucky!” you both broke eye contacts surprised. A young woman was standing on Bucky’s side. She did not acknowledge you at all. Bucky’s eyes bounced between yours and hers. You quickly understand that she was an old catch, you leaned back amused, your bare foot still between his warm thighs. You wanted to see how he was going to get himself out of this situation.

“I heard you came back from the war? You know I could make you forget it, Bucky!” she said in a sultry voice, you couldn’t help but scoff slightly.

“Hm.. as you can see..I am with someone!” He stuttered glancing at you, she finally realized you were here.

“Hi!” you mouthed smiling while waving at her.

She raised an eyebrow at you and returned her attention to Bucky. You internally laughed so hard.

“I’m your best girl Buck, remember?” she said

“Oh really?” you said smirking, withdrawing your feet. He panicked a little at your doing, searching for your eyes, you crossed you arms staring at him trying to be as serious as possible.

“You know where to find me!” she winked at him before leaving, you could see Bucky was really uncomfortable.

“Doll...you’re not upset, are you?” he asked worried. You stared at him for few seconds, keeping a blank face.

“I’m gonna let you figure that out, dreamboat.” you did your best to hide your smile and stood up from the booth, making your way to the ladies room.

You were adjusting your make-up when someone plant themselves behind you.

“You should know, Bucky stayed with me the longest, he’ll come back to me!” she claimed.

“Is that so?" You sighed. "Get over it hun. Little advice don't live in the past, it won't do you any good." you checked yourself one last time in the mirror and look at her reflection. You pushed the doors, leaving her speechless next to the sink.

You reached your booth, getting a glimpse at an anxious Bucky. “Coming?” you asked him, he stood up at a fastness.

“Y/N..I..” he stammered, your hand went to his face gently, then you patted him on the cheek. “You’ll have to make up for this Bucky Barnes.”

“Promise you, doll, I will!” he seized your middle bringing you against him.

“Then what are we waiting for?” you purred near his lips.

You made it home in no time, no wonder you choose this bar since it's a block away from your place. Tearing down his shirt, you quickly removed his trousers, brushing his hard member on the way. He unfasten your pants and removed your blouse, and bra leaving you only in your panties. Walking backwards to the bedroom while kissing, you stopped beside the bed. Your hand sliding along his cock through his shorts. He grabbed a hold of your butt, fondling it, his other hand playing with your nipples while you kissed his upper body. He suddenly pushed you on the bed, earning a giggle from you.

"You've taunted me all night doll!" He crawled to you, making sure to let his hand caress your body from your ankle to the nook of your neck.

"Don't forget about..what's her name again?" You asked frowning your eyebrows.

"Let's not..talk about her honey. It's only you and me that's all that matters." He caught your lips in a searing kiss, his body enclosing yours.

His lips slide down your throat, licking his way down your collarbone. He took a mouthful of you breast while he roughly fondle the other one. His large hand went down on you, caressing your sex through your panties, you gasped as his lips kissed the skin below your breasts, grazing his teeth on your rib cage, pecking lingering kisses down your stomach he reached your sensitive part.

Holding the pink lips between his thumb and forefinger, working his way up and down, inserting your folds with his fingers you arched your back, his long fingers sliding into your body in a sweet rhythm while his tongue made wonders with swift flicks on your tight sensitive bud. Feeling your orgasm rising you tightened your grip on his silky hair and the sheet. Coming undone your body shuddered, moaning his name. You pulled on his dogs tags, bringing him up. His length filling you up, pulsing inside you, your nails digging into his butt cheeks as he thrust deeper into you resulting in both of you moaning and grunting. He made you reached peaks that you had never even brushed.

Bucky was coming at your place when he heard a ruckus behind your door, opening it in a crash.

“what the...” he stopped, furrowing his eyebrows wondering.

You turned to see Bucky at your door, looking very disturbed.

“Don’t ask, that’s for science!” you said, returning your attention to the bottles on the living room table. Steve shrugged at Bucky. You were actually mixing alcohol to get Steve drunk, it happened after you both argued on his capacities..as always, he was totally in.

"You are both an embarrassment" Bucky scoffed, pinching the bridge of his nose. Both of you look at him jaded, narrowing your eyes at him.

“Ok pal, gonna help or not?” Steve asked turning his upper body to Bucky.

You were about to take a shot of Tequila on your own, but you stopped the glass at your lips, waiting for Bucky’s answer.

“Guys, ... I can’t let you two alone 2 minutes!” he patted Steve’s back as he sat on the couch, while you were sitting on the floor.

‘Don’t worry, I got it undercontrol.” you claimed grabbing bottles from the cabinet next your sofa. Somehow...you had lots of different liquors, you could have been a bartender in another life. Seeing the guys’ reaction they'd probably find that quite agreeable.

“Yeah you got it!” Bucky retorted chuckling.

About an hour later you were mixing every bottle that you had.

“Oh that’s one seems tough!” Steve snapped sniffing at it, Bucky took a sip and immediately coughed followed by Steve.

“What’s in it?” they asked between two coughs.

“Hm ... I don’t remember..” they both looked at you in disbelief. “Hey for my defense I’ve done a lot of those concoctions.”

“Doesn’t matter what’s in it tho, it doesn’t make me drunk.” Steve announced standing up “Sorry Y/N it won’t be for tonight.” He bid goodnight as he closed your door.

“Why do you want to make him drunk so badly?” Bucky inquired, grabbing one your hand, pulling you gently to him, you eased yourself into his laps

“I want to get Captain America drunk, isn’t that legit!?” you exclaimed pointing at the door.

“Not exactly the word I would use.” He smiled and brushed your hair from your sleepy drunk face. The next morning was pretty hard but fortunately Bucky let you sleep in, he even stay in bed to cuddle listening to the radio which was playing one of your favorite, I know why by Glenn Miller. The rays of sun going through the fine curtains of your bedroom, lightning your legs intertwined, you tightened your embrace on Bucky’s waist, he drowsily kissed your hair. A perfect lazy morning, for once, in James Buchanan Barnes’ arms.

Few days later you went out with Peggy and Steve, at Peg’s favorite bar, sat in the corner booth, you had chips and some cocktail wraps. Steve and Bucky were talking about some baseball games while you and Peggy were enjoying your, 3rd? 4Th? Manhattan. Fortunately both of you were able to hold your liquor, now that Steve could no more get drunk, damn it, nor that he tried really hard before the serum, it was a bit unfair for Bucky who had to restrained himself. But being the smart cheeky man he is, he quickly found a way to distract himself from the drinks on the table.

Bucky's hand discreetly landed on your thigh, you slightly blenched. His thumb rubbing circles on your flesh. Your breath hitched at the sudden touch, Peggy didn't saw you glaring at Bucky who was still talking to Steve acting oh so innocent this little rascal!

Well if he wanted to play, you'll play! You reached his wrist, you saw him stealthily glancing at you maybe worried you'd removed his hand, you could have but why would you want to? Spreading open your legs a little bit more, you made his hand caress the inside of your thigh, slowly drawing him near you intimate parts, now he had your total consent, then he really look at you when he felt a string then lace, he tilted his head wondering what you were wearing and resumed his debate with Steve.

After this you let him handle, literally, he brushed his fingers on your clothe core, resting his palm on your mound, two fingers pressed lower stimulating your clit with small pressure, his fingers going further down sliding between your folds, his warm palm covering your sex, you clenched your thighs trapping his hand. At first you had your breathing under control until he pushed away your panty, your thighs loosen up in a matter of seconds, sliding two fingers on your folds, pressing and slowly moving left to right. His thumb soon circled around your clit, at this point he could see you trying to confined your moans by bringing the glass at your parting lips, you were so caught in the moment that you didn't notice Peggy watching you, she narrowed her eyes on you.

“James Buchanan Barnes!!” Peggy shouted, he abruptly removed his hand and fingers, you let out a silent moan already missing his touch. You laughed breathlessly seeing Bucky avoiding Peggy's look.

“Aouch” you couldn't help but giggled as Peggy hit your hand.

“You both are naughty!” she pointed at you two, Bucky was now wearing a devious smile, he shrugged at Peg. Steve was totally oblivious, wondering what was going on.

“I'll let you know, later..” she quipped cupping Steve's cheek. Bucky and you laughing at Steve's disoriented face. You leaned to Bucky's ear. “Why don't we head home, so I can show you what I'm wearing.” you mimicked him putting a hand on his strong thigh, squeezing it. “Oh, doll! I'd love that!” You pecked his lips.

You left Steve and Peggy when they went dancing, Steve had improved. Hurrying to your place Bucky get rid of your dress in a second, way to eager to see what you were wearing, and he was not disappointed. His eyes rested on a white underwear set with garters. His finger trailed his way up between the garter string and the flesh just under your butt cheek. That night was wild, Bucky definitely loved the new underwear set.

You were at the retail market, looking for new fabrics and inspirations when someone caught your arm.

"Y/N come with me! It's important!" Steve exclaimed nervously, pulling you out the market.

"What..Steve, what is it!?" You panicked, following his path.

"It's Bucky, he is.., come please!" He urged you to your store, you were so anxious by the time you arrived, to see that Bucky was not there.

"Steve where is Bucky?" you inquired, your heart couldn't keep still.

"Look Y/N, just trust me ok, it's.." he started to say his hand going up almost in defence.

"Don't go all Captain fuckin’ America with me Steve. I saved your skinny ass, so tell me the what's going on!!" You pointed at him with your purse.

"Be patient please Y/N! Gosh you're stressing me out!" He pinched the bridge of his nose, then put his hands on his hips.

At this point you were both talking loudly, you would say, well at the edge of screaming at each other.

"You're freaking me out! What is happening!?!" You threw your purse on one of the glass counters.

"Nothing! Just.. wait ok!" He sighed leaning on the main desk.

"Hey, could you both stop bickering!? You heard behind you and turned around, at least for today!” Bucky walked in, grinning.

Steve went to him, shook his hand and patted his shoulder. Then Oliver and Peggy came out the fitting room.

“Peg? What's going on?” you inquired getting quite anxious, is it how I die?

Oliver and Peggy giggled and stopped by the main desk.

“Doll, Y/N!” You focused onto him, brows furrowing in confusion.

"Bucky, tell me what.."

And all of sudden, he knelt down in the middle of the store on the blue carpet, getting a box out his pocket and popping it open just before your eyes. A shiny ring facing you, Bucky's bright blue eyes and huge smile in the background.

“Y/N, would make me the honor of .. taking me as your husband?”

A dead silence settled, leaving everone on edge. It's not that you didn't have an answer, but it's just wouldn't came out as you were so shocked, you did not expect anything like that when Steve brought you here in the middle of the day, scaring the shit out of you.

Peggy was smiling hard, clenching at Steve’s arm, Oliver was too actually, enjoying the feel of Steve's bicep. You gasped and find your voice back.

“James Buchanan Barnes, I would be the one honored!” you answered smiling. He let out a long sigh, beaming at you. He slide the ring on your fine finger, your heart thumping in your ears. You caught his tie and pulled him into you, kissing him passionately, as he wrapped his arms around your middle.

Steve, Peggy and Oliver cheered and you hugged each one of them, you turned around after hugging Peggy to look at your now fiancé to noticed that he was wearing the suit you had made him, and it was indeed a perfect fit.

Thank you all for reading A Perfect Fit, I had a lot of fun writing it.

#40s bucky #bucky barnes x reader #james buchanan barnes x reader #bucky barnes #marvel imagine #bucky barnes imagine #smut #captain america x reader #feminist reader #a perfect fit #jennfic #steve rogers x reader

207 notes · View notes

jacquelineshyde · 7 years

Note

Headcanon/meta: Outside of Eric's love for Donna and *Star Wars* and toys, we don't know much about his passions/goals/dreams for himself. What do you think Eric would like to do as a career based on the little we do know about him (ignoring the show making him a teacher 'cause they didn't know what to do with him, either)?

bOY, YOU HAVE ANY IDEA HOW MUCH I HAVE TO THINK THIS? LOL, this is by far the most difficult meta I have wrote. And I’m saying this after having wrote one about Samantha.

So, we have Eric who doesn’t know what the hell he wants of himself, of his life. He has no idea if he has a future, because he doesn’t see one. Different from Hyde, who sees his future all bad and that’s why he tries to run away from it. No, Eric doesn’t even see a bad future for himself, let a lone a good one.

But why? What is stopping Eric so hard?

Eric can’t see a future for himself because his entire life is about Donna and what he thinks life with Donna may be once he can leave his house. That’s the other half of his life: the goal of finally leaving his house and even Point Place.

But Eric’s desire of leaving is not like Hyde’s, who may not find their hometown as an actual home in season 1 when he mentiona that ‘anywhere but here’ is his favorite place. Eric is doing it as a way to show he is more than being a big mama’s boy, but at the end of the day, Eric doesn’t want to leave.

He resents that he couldn’t go to Madison with Donna, but he doesn’t do anything about it. Not in a negative or positive way, he just lays down, pretends to work and that he’s still searching for what to do.

Please, this doesn’t mean it’s a bad thing that you don’t know at age 19 what do you want for yourself the rest of your life. It’s normalt to not be sure or not know at all. What I’m saying is that Eric is too comfortable to move a toe.

But when he finds himself in that man from season 7 that still lives with his mother at age 40 and has the same hobbies he has, and does nothing like himself, he realizes it’s time to do something.

That becomes his motivation, not being that. Eric’s motivation for many things is fear, and that’s where he is wrong.

His motivation to break up with Donna is fear that she doesn’t want him the same way he wants her. His motivation to go back to her is the fear of not seeing her again if California gets too much into her soul. Her motivation to get married is fear that he is doing nothing. To not get married, is the fear that none of them is ready. To stay at home when Red has his medical emergency is the fear of his father daying and his mother being alone. To go to Africa, is that he is going nowhere. To come home and tell Donna he loves her is that he was scared of the life he had in Africa.

Eric needs to change, he needs force and that’s why Donna is such a great companion to him. She encoragues him to realize his flaws and admits his faults, she is his strenght when he falls apart, and to make her happy is his ultimate goal. What he doesn’t realize is that all three parts of him need to be well nurtured for him to be happy, therefore for her to be happy in a relationship with him.

He is Eric, the boyfriend, who is well filled. Eric, the friend and son, who is also in good shape. But who is Eric, the profesional that has found his passions? When we don’t have balance in these things, we can fall apart and with it, we tear down the people we love with us.

That said, what could fullfill Eric’s little passions?

A lot of fans tend to go with the being a teacher thing; I have done that, too. I let it go and I was carried away with the idea when I was working on a AU in which he got to do, with other teachers, psycologist and nurses, a small school for children with different capacities. I enjoyed doing that, but Eric in that story had different experiences from what he has in the show.

Tons of thinking made me realize there is no signal that Eric would actually make it as a teacher. He has little patience, has never been incredible at school, nor has an inclination for other small things that form a teacher. It was just the way the show could find to make an excuse for his travel to frica, that way they could give Topher Grace an exit from the show after season 7.

Eric’s only passios are hobbies and fandom likes. The most we got him doing was to write a passive-agressive story in season 4, in response to Donna’s. Some fans have Eric being a writer, and I may like this idea a little.

He is a very imaginative person, as we are told in the show, by others and his own imagination, and some of his hobbies. He loves comics and sci-fi, movies about space and so. He could be a sci-fi writer, a comic book writer or a script writer. This is just an option.

In another story, I had him having plenty of experiences in Africa that leads him into being brave enough to start a career as a travel photographer and writer, that also helps in fullfilling Donna’s wish of travelling herself. He also has a smaller career in wildlife photography, ecoragued by a wildlife biologist/explorer he befriends in Africa.

For all this to happen, like I said before, Eric needs to change. He needs to grow. His character was never build enough to give us a hint to what he may be doing in the future, which is terrible, since he was sort of the protagnist.

At the end, Eric will be what the fans want in their fanfics and headcanons. In mine, I try to give her charcter growth, new experiences, that slowly guide him into discovering what he wants for his future.

#those70scomics #that 70s show #eric forman #eric x donna #that '70s show #nini got mail #sorry for the meta #ef meta #eric in africa #meta #mine

80 notes · View notes