#patrick at some point turned into an observer; he stopped being a part of the art tashi patrick trio (and tennis!) and turned | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

superman86to99 · 3 years

Photo

Superman #85 (January 1994)

Cat Grant in... "DARK RETRIBUTION"! Which is like normal retribution, but somehow darker. On the receiving end of Cat's darktribution is Winslow Schott, the Toyman, who suddenly changed his MO from "pestering Superman with wacky robots" to "murdering children" back on Superman #84, with one of his victims being Cat's young son Adam. Now Cat has a gun and intends to sneak it into prison to use it on Toyman. She's also pretty pissed at Superman for taking so long to find Toyman after Adam’s death (to be fair, Superman did lose several days being frozen in time by an S&M demon, as seen in Man of Steel #29).

So how did Superman find Toyman anyway? Basically, by spying on like 25% of Metropolis. After finding out from Inspector Turpin that the kids were killed near the docks, Superman goes there and focuses all of his super-senses to get "a quick glimpse of every person" until he sees a bald, robed man sitting on a giant crib, and goes "hmmm, yeah, that looks like someone who murders children." At first, Superman doesn't understand why Toyman would do such a horrible thing, but then Schott starts talking to his mommy in his head and the answer becomes clear: he watched Psycho too many times (or Dan Jurgens did, anyway).

Immediately after wondering why no one buys his toys, Toyman makes some machine guns spring out of his giant crib. I don't know, man, maybe it's because they're all full of explosives and stuff? Anyway, Toyman throws a bunch of exploding toys at Superman, including a robot duplicate of himself, but of course they do nothing. Superman takes him to jail so he can get the help he needs -- which, according to Cat, is a bullet to the face. Or so it seems, until she gets in front of him, pulls the trigger, and...

PSYCHE! It was one of those classic joke guns I’ve only ever seen in comics! Cat says she DID plan to bring a real gun, but then she saw one of these at a toy store and just couldn't resist. Superman, who was watching the whole thing, tells Cat she could get in trouble for this stunt, but he won't tell anyone because she's already been through enough. Then he asks her if she needs help getting home and she says no, because she wants to be more self-sufficient.

I think that's supposed to be an inspiring ending, but I don't know... Adam's eerie face floating in the background there makes me think she's gonna shave her head and climb into a giant crib any day, too. THE END!

Character-Watch:

Cat did become more self-sufficient after this, though. Up to now, all of her storylines seemed to revolve around other people: her ex-husband, Morgan Edge, José Delgado, Vinnie Edge, and finally Toyman. After this, I feel like there was a clear effort to turn her into a character that works by herself. I actually like what they did with Cat in the coming years, though I still don’t think they had to kill her poor kid to do that -- they could have sent him off to boarding school, or maybe to live with his dad. Or with José Delgado, over at Power of Shazam! I bet Jerry Ordway would have taken good care of him.

Plotline-Watch:

Wait, so can Superman just find anyone in Metropolis any time he wants? Not really: this is part of the ongoing storyline about his powers getting boosted after he came back from the dead, which sounds pretty useful now but is about to get very inconvenient.

Don Sparrow points out: "It is interesting that as Superman tries to capture Schott, he at one point instead captures a robot decoy, particularly knowing what Geoff Johns will retroactively do to this storyline in years to come, in Action Comics #865, as we mentioned in our review of Superman #84." Johns also explained that the robot thought he was hearing his mother's voice due to the real Toyman trying to contact him via radio, which I prefer to the "psycho talks to his dead mom" cliche.

Superman says "I never thought he'd get to the point where he'd KILL anyone -- especially children!" Agreed about the children part but, uh, did Superman already forget that Toyman murdered a whole bunch people on his very first appearance, in Superman #13? Or does Superman not count greedy toy company owners as people? Understandable, I guess.

There's a sequence about Cat starting a fire in a paper basket at the prison to sneak past the metal detector, but why do that if she had a toy gun all long? Other than to prevent smartass readers like us from saying "How did she get the gun into the prison?!" before the plot twist, that is.

Patreon-Watch:

Shout out to our patient Patreon patrons, Aaron, Murray Qualie, Chris “Ace” Hendrix, britneyspearsatemyshorts, Patrick D. Ryall, Bheki Latha, Mark Syp, Ryan Bush, Raphael Fischer, Dave Shevlin, and Kit! The latest Patreon-only article was about another episode of the 1988 Superman cartoon written by Marv Wolfman, this one co-starring Wonder Woman (to Lois' frustration).

Another Patreon perk is getting to read Don Sparrow's section early, because he usually finishes his side of these posts long before I do (he ALREADY finished the next one, for instance). But now this one can be posted in public! Take it away, Don:

Art-Watch (by @donsparrow):

We begin with the cover, and it’s a good one— an ultra tight close up for Cat Grant firing a .38 calibre gun, with the titular Superman soaring in, perhaps too late. An interesting thing to notice in this issue (and especially on the cover) is that the paper stock that DC used for their comics changed, so slightly more realistic shading was possible. While it’s nowhere near the sophistication or gloss of the Image Comics stock of the time, there is an attempt at more realistic, airbrushy type shading in the colour. It works well in places, like the muzzle flash, on on Cat Grant’s cheeks and knuckles, but less so in her hair, where the shadow looks a browny green on my copy.

The interior pages open with a pretty good bit of near-silent storytelling. We are deftly shown, and not told the story—there are condolence cards and headlines, and the looming presence of a liquor bottle, until we are shown on the next page splash the real heart of the story, a revolver held aloft by Catherine Grant, bereaved mother, with her targeting in her mind the grim visage of the Toyman.

While their first few issues together meshed pretty well, it’s around this issue that the pencil/inks team of Jurgens and Rubinstein starts to look a little rushed in places. A few inkers who worked with Jurgens that I’ve spoken to have hinted that his pencils can vary in their level of detail, from very finished to pretty loose, and in the latter case, it’s up to the inker to embellish where there’s a lack of detail. Some inkers, like Brett Breeding, really lay down a heavier hand, where there’s quite a bit of actual drawing work in addition to adding value and weight to the lines. I suspect some of the looseness in the figures, as well as empty backgrounds reveals that these pencils were less detailed than we often see from Jurgens.

There’s some weird body language in the tense exchange between Superman and Cat as she angrily confronts him about his lack of progress in capturing her son’s killer—Superman looks a little too dynamic and pleased with himself for someone ostensibly apologizing. Superman taking flight to hunt down Toyman is classic Jurgens, though.

Another example of art weirdness comes on page 7, where Superman gets filled in on the progress of the Adam Morgan investigation. Apparently Suicide Slum has some San Francisco-like hills, as that is one very steep sidewalk separating Superman and Turpin from some central-casting looking punks.

The sequence of Superman concentrating his sight and hearing on the waterfront area is well-drawn, and it’s always nice to see novel uses of his powers. Tyler Hoechlin’s Superman does a similar trick quite often on the excellent first season of Superman & Lois. The full-bleed splash of Superman breaking through the wall to capture Toyman is definitely panel-of-the-week material, as we really feel Superman’s rage and desperation to catch this child-killer.

Pretty much all the pages with Cat Grant confronting Winslow Schott are well-done and tensely paced. While sometimes I think the pupil-less flare of the eye-glasses is a cop-out, it does lend an opaqueness and mystery to what Toyman is thinking. Speaking of cop-outs, the gag gun twist ending really didn’t work for me. I was glad that Cat didn’t lower herself to Schott’s level and become a killer, even for revenge, but the prank gun just felt too silly of a tonal shift for a storyline with this much gravitas. The breakneck denouement that Cat is now depending only on herself didn’t get quite enough breathing room either.

While I appreciated that the ending of this issue avoided an overly simplistic, Death Wish style of justice, this issue extends this troubling but brief era of Superman comics. The casual chalk outlines of yet two more dead children continues the high body count of the previous handful of issues, and the tone remains jarring to me. The issue is also self-aware enough to point out, again, that Schott is generally an ally of children, and not someone who historically wishes them harm, but that doesn’t stop the story from going there, in the most violent of terms. In addition to being a radical change to the Toyman character, it’s handled in a fashion more glib than we’re used to seeing in these pages. The mental health cliché of a matriarchal obsession, a la Norman Bates doesn’t elevate it either. So, another rare misstep from Jurgens the writer, in my opinion. STRAY OBSERVATIONS:

I had thought for sure that Romanove Vodka was a sly reference to a certain Russian Spy turned Marvel superhero, but it turns out there actually is a Russian Vodka called that, minus the “E”, produced not in Russia, as one might think from the Czarist name, but rather, India.

While it made for an awkward exchange, I was glad that Cat pointed out how her tragedy more or less sat on the shelf while Superman dealt with the "Spilled Blood" storyline. A lesser book might not have acknowledged any time had passed. Though I did find it odd for Superman to opine that he wanted to find her son’s murderer even more than she wanted him to. Huh? How so?

I love the detail that Toyman hears the noise of Superman soaring to capture him, likening it to a train coming.

I quibble, but there’s so much I don’t understand about the “new” Toyman. If he’s truly regressing mentally, to an infant-like state, why does he wear this phantom of the opera style long cloak while he sits in his baby crib? Why not go all the way, and wear footie pajamas, like the lost souls on TLC specials about “adult babies”?

I get that Cat Grant is in steely determination mode, but it seemed a little out of place that she had almost no reaction to the taunting she faced from her child’s killer. She doesn’t shed a single tear in the entire issue, and no matter how focused she is on vengeance, that doesn’t seem realistic to me. [Max: That's because this is not just retribution, Don. It's dark retribution. We’ve been over this!]

#superman #dan jurgens #joe rubinstein #cat grant #adam morgan #toyman #dan turpin #joke guns that only exist in comics #cat grant the dark retributor #coming soon to image comics

20 notes · View notes

whatstheproblembaby · 3 years

Text

Fic: Points of Contact

PG-13, 2325 words, intended to be a character study but just kind of turned into a pile of fluff and banter? /shrugs

Also on AO3.

As much as she loved a quiet meal at home with her family, Shelagh appreciated their monthly invitations to dinner at Nonnatus House. The little ones were in ecstasy, surrounded by all of their favorite adults, who had no excuses not to play with them. She herself got to enjoy a meal in which she only had to cook one of the dishes, and now that Cyril and Fred were part of the guest list, she knew that Patrick looked forward to a little time with “the lads,” as he was (unfortunately) wont to call them.

She felt a smile blossom across her face as she re-entered the dining area from the kitchen, fresh cup of tea in hand. The others had adjourned to the parlour, where they were waiting for Doctor Who to start. Patrick, Cyril, and Fred had all dragged dining chairs to the far side of the room and were chatting away animatedly, though Cyril kept turning his gaze to the television every so often, clearly not wanting to miss a moment of the show. Sister Monica Joan was on a low stool, no more than a foot of space between her and the screen. Her focus, though, was on the children, who were listening somewhat attentively to her explanation of what to expect from the programme. Violet had had to step out on council business, so Sister Julienne and Phyllis had commandeered the armchairs, leaving the rest of the nuns and nurses to pile onto the sofa or sprawl out on the surrounding floor. Shelagh scanned the space, trying to see where she could squeeze in, when a gesture between Trixie and Sister Frances stopped her cold.

Trixie had perched on the arm of the sofa, one arm draped across Sister Frances’ shoulders. Even that level of public affection was a surprise to Shelagh, who hadn’t realized that Trixie’s comfort with casual, friendly touches extended past her fellow resident midwives, but Sister Frances’ response was the real stunner.

Sister Frances leaned contentedly into Trixie’s loose embrace, tucking her head as best she could onto Trixie’s shoulder and throwing her right arm over one of Trixie’s legs. She showed no fear of being caught doing something improper - indeed, Sister Julienne looked on with a smile as Sister Hilda finished relating an anecdote and the whole sofa burst into laughter.

Shelagh felt her breath catch. She only realized she had been hovering in the doorway a little too long when a concerned “Shelagh?” came from Patrick’s side of the room.

“Forgot to add milk,” she quipped, raising her cup and hoping the laugh she added at the end sounded less forced to everyone else’s ears. She turned and headed back to the kitchen, where she rummaged through the refrigerator with unseeing eyes.

A religious Sister is holy and separate, Sister Adelaide’s voice swam up from her memories. She rejoices and mourns with the community she serves, but she is not of the community. She cannot confuse the comforts of being a sister of man with her higher purpose fulfilling God’s commands with her Sisters in Christ.

Shelagh pressed her lips together wryly as she imagined Sister Adelaide’s reaction to the current display in the parlour. She knew her former instructor in the religious life had since passed on, but she hadn’t realized quite how different the lessons for the newer Sisters would be.

“My love, are you sure you’re all right?” Patrick reached down and took her teacup, setting it on the counter before securing both of her hands in his. “You’re taking an awfully long time to add milk to your already milky tea.”

“Maybe I want the extra calcium,” Shelagh said, smiling up at him. “These old bones could use some shoring up.”

“I’m not even going to respond to that statement, in order to not incriminate myself in the process,” Patrick said with an echoing smile. The love in his eyes still caught Shelagh off-guard, even after years of marriage. “You didn’t answer my question.”

“I’m fine, Patrick,” Shelagh said tenderly. “The times have changed, that’s all. Now, we’d better get back to the parlour before Sister Monica Joan turns all of our children into mystics and Romantic poets.”

Patrick huffed out a laugh. “You know I’m going to ask you to explain what you mean by that first statement later.”

“I will. I just need a little more time to process it for myself first.”

Shelagh noticed the sensation of Patrick’s hand on the small of her back a little more acutely than usual as he guided her back to the party, marking how he removed it once they were properly in mixed company. Later, too, she became aware of how there was always a careful space left for her amongst the women, close enough to ensure she was included, but not so small that she was nudged playfully in the shoulder or brushed by someone crossing their legs to the other side.

The warm weight of her son in her arms at the end of the evening was her anchor. Teddy was dozing off by the time they left, and May and Angela weren’t too far behind. Thankfully, Sister Julienne offered to carry Angela out to their car to keep Patrick or Shelagh from having to make two trips down the stairs.

“Thank you for inviting us to dinner. We always have such a lovely time,” Shelagh said, rocking Teddy as she waited for Patrick to settle May in the back seat of the station wagon.

“The pleasure is all ours, Shelagh,” Sister Julienne said. She reached out and squeezed Shelagh’s arm once, maternally. “You know you’re part of our family. You are always welcome here.”

Shelagh just smiled, unsure of what her voice would do if she tried to respond aloud. By then, Patrick had secured May, so she focused on getting Teddy into the car next without waking him or disturbing the girls. Once all was in order, she and Patrick wished Sister Julienne a good night and waited for her to get back inside safely before they drove off.

In the car, Patrick started to say her name, but Shelagh cut him off by sliding across the bench seat and dropping her head on his shoulder.

“Get us home, Patrick. I’ll explain once we’ve got the children squared away for the night.”

The ride home was quiet, the soft sound of the radio the only real noise as Patrick navigated the streets of Poplar. Shelagh eventually shifted so her hand was resting loosely on Patrick’s above the gear shift, to allow him to manoeuvre the car better, but she stayed close by his side as they unloaded their children and got them in bed, earning a pleased yet confused look from her husband.

“You’re tactile this evening,” he observed mildly, wrapping his arm around her shoulders as they walked down the hall to their own room.

“I’m tactile plenty of evenings,” Shelagh replied, handing Patrick his pyjamas from the wardrobe before fetching her own. “I just don’t always allow myself to act on it.”

“Because of-” Patrick broke off, freeing himself from his vest before continuing, “Because of something I’ve done? Shelagh, I’m so-”

“Not because of you, Patrick,” Shelagh said decisively. “Quite the opposite, in fact. But I’m not explaining while you’re changing - I don’t want you to smother yourself with your own clothing!”

They separated long enough to get their pyjamas on and wash up for the night, giving Shelagh one last moment to collect her thoughts.

“Come here,” Patrick said when she reentered the bedroom, holding his arms open from where he sat on his side of the bed. “If you’re still allowing yourself to be tactile, that is.”

Shelagh slid under the covers and into his arms gratefully. “I’m going to try. I don’t want to display too much affection in public, but...I think I may have been holding myself to old-fashioned standards.”

Patrick just raised an eyebrow, looking down at her with curiosity.

“Tonight, at Nonnatus, I saw Trixie and Sister Frances cuddle up to each other without a second thought, and I didn’t know what to do for a moment,” Shelagh explained. “When I was a Sister, casual physical touch was not encouraged. One was supposed to focus on one’s commitment to God to find sustenance and support. Perhaps after one’s life vows, or at a funeral for another Sister, there could be a quick embrace, but on a typical day, there should be space between one and one’s Sisters on the sofa at recreation, and one should not even think about touching or embracing a layperson unless they were experiencing labor, bereavement, or a medical emergency.”

“Really?” Patrick asked. “I’ve always thought of the Sisters as the most nurturing community presence - but now that you say that, I can’t count many times I’ve seen them actually offer a hug. An encouraging squeeze of the arm, perhaps, or a parcel of food or clothing if it serves.”

“We were expected to love as God loves, of course,” Shelagh said. “But there were ways we could do that while staying ‘holy and separate.’ Or so I was taught.”

“It would appear that whichever Sister was in charge of your lessons isn’t instructing anymore.”

“No, she’s long gone, may she rest in peace. And perhaps this new embrace of - well - embracing others is more of a Nonnatus trend than a result of any teachings from the Mother House. Still, it caught me by surprise tonight.” Shelagh tucked her head into the crook of Patrick’s neck as she finished speaking.

Patrick kissed Shelagh’s temple. “Because you were uncomfortable?”

“Because I was jealous,” Shelagh replied. She closed her eyes briefly to hide her embarrassment at saying so, but when she straightened up and looked at Patrick again, she saw nothing but understanding in his eyes, emboldening her to go on. “I spent ten years of my life keeping my distance from other people, believing it was the right way to show my devotion to God and my vows to Him. Still, I saw every moment I could have hugged a frightened mother and didn’t, or every moment I refrained from comforting one of the resident nurses at Nonnatus. I didn’t even let you hold me in public for the first year of our marriage because I was afraid everyone would think I was so starved for affection that I left the church the first time a man so much as looked at me. And now the Sisters can just casually curl up with the nurses on the couch in the parlour?”

Shelagh couldn’t restrain her frustrated tears any longer. Before the first of them were even finished trickling down her cheeks, she found herself wrapped in Patrick’s arms, her head cradled against his shoulder. He murmured soothing nonsense in her ear, assuring her he was in no rush for her to pull herself back together.

“I’m sorry, Patrick, I got you soaked,” Shelagh said once she was finally able to sit upright again.

Patrick wiped her cheeks with his thumbs. “You’ve done nothing wrong. I see the reasoning behind what you were taught as a Sister, but good intent doesn’t make up for years of you suppressing instincts that are now being supported by that very same institution.”

“Thankfully, I’ve also had years to work on retraining myself,” Shelagh said, a tentative smile on her face. “You’ve been quite helpful there.”

Patrick’s forehead crinkled. “I have?”

“Maybe not in so many words, but you reached for my hand when I was still afraid to name what I was feeling for you. You wrapped me in your coat when I was lost and cold on the road back to Poplar. You’ve held me time and time again as I’ve cried without me having to say a word - not five minutes ago, even! You have shown me that physical affection can be simple, natural, and meaningful, and it doesn’t diminish the quality of our love or our professionalism.”

“And here I thought I was merely capitalizing on my chances to show my devotion to my lovely wife,” Patrick said, squeezing Shelagh’s hands where they lay in his own. “I’ll always be here if and when you reach out, Shelagh.”

“I know, Patrick. I’ve always known that.” Shelagh leaned up to kiss her husband at that. “And I’m going to let myself reach out to you and to our friends more. I don’t want to give people a show, of course, but I’ve barely let myself hold your hand in public out of concern for propriety. I think we’re still within the bounds of good taste if we go a little beyond that, don’t you?”

“I should say so,” Patrick said, pressing another kiss to Shelagh’s smile. “But I could have a hidden agenda.”

“A hidden agenda? I’m not sure what you mean,” Shelagh teased, rolling onto her back and pulling Patrick on top of her.

“Let me explain.” Patrick leaned down and proceeded to illuminate his agenda quite thoroughly, adding a few items to Shelagh’s own in the process. When they had finally finished, Shelagh curled up with her head on Patrick’s chest, feeling sleep begin to claim her.

“Somehow I don’t think I’m going to add any of what we just did to my ideas of what’s appropriate in public,” she murmured, laughing softly. “But I’m happy for some things to remain just for us.”

“There’s a time and a place for everything,” Patrick agreed.

The last thing Shelagh felt before drifting off was a light kiss to her hair, an action she was all too willing to repeat the next morning as they opened up the surgery. The almost comical look of shock on Miss Higgins’ face in result gave her another reason to keep pushing her former boundaries - after all, where else was she going to find this level of amusement?

#call the midwife #call the midwife fic #turnadette #turnadette fic #jen does words #g: fluff #but also kinda #g: hurt/comfort

16 notes · View notes

boop-le-snoot · 4 years

Text

PARTY FAVOURS I CHAPTER 15

first time reader - click here

TW/SUMMARY: Is bad humour a trigger? Cards against humanity. Loki in the wild. Chaotic Tony, chaotic Reader. Team bonding, a gag chapter lmao

My beta is babey 🥺 @miscmarvelwritings

If someone had bothered to ask me what kind of relationship I had with Tony, it would've made my brain glitch. In the weeks we spent fucking, sciencing and hanging out with the Avengers, it never once crossed my mind. We had fun and it was easy. Unlike both of our lives, it didn't require much mental energy for us to get what we wanted from each other. For me, it was easier to ignore my skin aching for Tony when he was already spending so much time on me. I wasn't sure if it would ever be enough, really, so taking exactly as much as he was giving was my best bet.

We built things in his workshop with Pete by our side and it wasn't awkward. The spiderling said he was happy as long as we were happy and didn't mind it too much when Tony got handsy. The man had at least some morals and stuck to kisses, ass-slaps and lewd comments which made Peter snort and fake-retch sure, yet the boy never displayed any real discomfort. It was endearing. He really became the little brother I never thought I would have.

The sex was fantastic, to say the least. We fucked on just about every flat surface on the residential floors. Steve caught us once, although I am almost hundred percent sure Tony staged it all on purpose. The good Captain didn't even blush, instead just silently closed the door behind him as I stared in his face, gripping Tony's head with my thighs.

The weather grew dreary yet both of my parents still stayed out of New York. Mother went back to Canada and dad continued his never-ending party on the West Coast, conquering California and living his best life. My house was dark and cold, and I started hanging around the tower more often than ever. If I wasn't with Tony, I was busy catching up Wanda and Bucky on pop culture, teaching Thor how to bake cakes and doing other meaningless, domestic stuff. The Avengers tower bustled with life at all hours and there always was someone...

I never felt lonely. It was such an unusual experience. Comfort and reassurance was always one room away. Be it Thor with his gratuitous amount of physical affection or his brother's incredibly witty, dark humor, I never had to stay one-on-one with my thoughts for too long.

Personally witnessing Bruce's coming out of his shell was the highlight of my life, no lie. I was so used to the quiet, mousy Banner that my brain refused to acknowledge his amazing sense of humour at first; I wasn't sure if he was joking or ... Or what? Truth to be told, Brucie-bear was as snarky as Tony,Loki and Stephen. The sorcerer had started visiting more often too, under the guise of tutoring Wanda, but all of us saw the way he lingered in the communal areas after their study time came to an end.

If loneliness was a sickness then the tower's inhabitants and frequent visitors were beginning their recovery journey.

"Have you guys heard about Cards Against Humanity?" I asked one evening once the movie credits began rolling. Wanda was squished into my side with her legs in her brother's lap; Clint laying atop both siblings like the trash bag that he was. And I meant it fondly.

On the other side of me, I had Bucky and Loki, who had begun to discuss their respective collections of sharp and pointy things once they deemed the movie lacked action. Legally Blonde and action, did they really think..? Nevermind.

"Yes, and if you're offering, the answer is yes," Clint mumbled, reaching for his second pack of Cheetos.

We gathered in a circle as I brought the shoebox that had the original deck plus a couple of expansions. This was beginning to look interesting. "So, I have the special Avengers edition right there..."

"Say no more," Clint even abandoned his snacks. "But I'mma put on the episode of Lucifer I missed. Multitasking," He winked, wrestling the remote from Pietro. We waited patiently as they finished the obligatory round of horsing before settling down for the game.

I explained the rules of the game, choosing to disregard Loki's scoffing and Wanda's doubt about the quality of the humor in the game. We played a few rounds with me explaining some of the deeper pop culture references. At a point where all of us were engrossed, laughing and poking fun at each other, more of the Avengers parked themselves on the couch.

Stephen, Tony and Bruce evidently had been sciencing, all three men having had their safety goggles perched forgotten atop their heads. Sam, Natasha and Steve - probably sparring. All three of them brought the smell of soap and laundry detergent to the room. All of the newcomers observed us with mild interest, periodically glance at the TV.

It was Wanda's turn to be the card Czar. I had to take a moment to finish my last giggling fit.

"Okay, the white card goes..." She paused dramatically. "I never truly understood blank until I encountered blank." With that, she poked the timer app on her phone. The sixty second countdown began.

I did a quick inventory check. Then I snorted. I had to quickly stuff two knuckles in my mouth, biting down, to attempt to silence the hysterical fit of laughter I was on the brink of. Loki was definitely going to stab me but the opportunity was too good to pass. No fear, we die like men.

"Ooh, she's got something," Clint teased, having noticed my shaking shoulders.

The timer beeped. Naturally, Loki went first. He wore a mildly disgusted smirk. "I never truly understood parting the red sea until I encountered third base," The trickster caved and began chuckling.

Somewhere behind me, Sam and Tony began cackling while Stephen and Steve groaned loudly in mild distaste.

"Press F to pay respects," Pietro clapped Loki on the shoulder with a sympathetic chuff. "I raise you - I never truly understood licking things to claim as your own until I encountered the clitoris," The young avenger struggled through laughter, followed by everyone else this time.

"That's a keeper, ladies," Sam's rich baritone quipped.

I laughed along, inwardly preparing for the inevitable. "Yikes," I whispered, side-eyeing Loki. "I never truly understood daddy issues..." I trailed off, hearing Bucky and Steve beginning to tease Tony. "... Until I encountered Loki, the trickster God."

The room drowned in a sea of laughter, Tony and Clint busting a gut so hard they fell over. Said trickster God was less than amused, however, glaring in my direction with the force of a pissed off bee swarm.

"Ow, that's cold, Princess, that's just cold," Clint squeezed out.

"Loki," I abandoned my stack of cards, crawling over Pietro and Bucky on all fours, settling prettily on my knees in front of Loki. Making my very best puppy eyes. "I love you, with all my cold black heart. And you're technically the patron saint of fun and shit, so that means you must approve of this very clever joke," I pouted, batting my eyelashes.

"Baby girl, I think you're laying it on too thick," Tony gasped, slumping on the couch, holding his sides. Everyone kept laughing, now at my feeble attempt at placating the upset Loki.

Who, by the way, looked a bit spooked. Subtly but surely, the raven-haired Asgardian leaned away from me.

"Don't be mad, I'm too cute to be mad at," I finally snorted, pat-pat-patting him on the shoulder. "It's okay, you can join my club. We have hot old dudes and cookies."

That broke it. First, the corner of his mouth twitched. Then, Loki looked away. I saw the storm before it crashed; with a weird noise of his own and his cheeks puffed out, Loki joined in on the shit-fest, howling full volume and doubling over. I followed suit, until all of us were writhing around on the floor. We'd stop and then someone would make another remark and it would go into another round again.

"Menace," Loki scoffed at me, smiling. "And for the record, the hottest old dude, as you put it, would be me." That said, he went back to calmly waiting for his next turn. "I'm about a thousand years old."

"Thor's older," Bruce noted thoughtfully.

Loki scoffed. "That man cannot chew with his mouth shut. If that's considered attractive, I'm leaving this forsaken planet."

That struck a thought within me. One that was brewing a long time, to be honest. "Thor is the god of himbos," I said with the same tone as "Eureka!".

"Shit, you're right," Sam exclaimed, following with another, weaker fit of laughter meanwhile Bruce had to be the one explaining the term to the poor, poor, clueless members of the Avengers.

I need to find a way to award them some kind of points for learning the gen-z lingo. "Patrick" stars maybe, since they lived under a fucking rock?

"Princess, never a boring day with you around. You don't half-ass this shit," Tony's warmth reached me as he shuffled around on the couch, sitting directly behind me. I leaned my back against his legs.

"I'm not a clown," I shot back. Tony stiffened. Dramatically flailing my hand I announced: "I am the whole god-damn circus!"

As the game progressed, we found out that Clint was That Guy - meaning, the dude every CAH group had, the one who grossly overused the "Bees?!" card and made Star Wars references whenever humanly possible. The only even slightly funny joke was about a lightsaber up the ass, in the end all of us finding out that Bucky knew a little too much about modern sex toys - "Hey, I saw one on Amazon, I'll send you the link, Birdman" - to Steve's open-mouthed horror.

What Loki lacked in references he made up in wit. The play on "During sex, I like to think about genetically engineered supersoldiers" had Bucky scrambling to switch places with Wanda whilst Loki himself was attempting to shoot bedroom eyes at Steve. It was a mess.

Bucky's own play had Steve abandon all pretense at being in any way appropriate as he struggled for air. "The Avengers new rules prohibit using Mjölnir as a dildo." Me and Tony became somewhat of a messy guffawing octopus of limbs for a moment after the super-soldier said it.

"Don't. Tell. Thor!" Strange gritted out, hiding his laughter behind a palm, uncharacteristically having lost his stuffy attitude. By god's will the man was attractive when he smiled.

As time ticked, each one of the starting players had attracted a newcomer. There weren't enough cards for everyone to play (Tony had, of course, ordered additional ones but they wouldn't arrive until the next day) so people kind of whispered and pointed at what they thought would fit.

Natasha conspired with Wanda, Sam went to his bird-bro, Bruce was forcefully dragged by Bucky to his side. Surprisingly, Steve teamed up with Loki which made Pietro stick his nose up in the air and promptly declare he needed no backup.

I already had Tony on my side. The genius wasn't of much help, however, he simply annoyed me out of my skull by randomly giggling and making immature jokes. It should've alarmed me that Stephen was eager to join me and Tony - usually he just butted heads with anyone who had any opinion whatsoever.

I was left bewildered upon discovering the wizard liked drama as much as the Kardashian clan and was quite competitive at causing the most shit.

My clown crown felt threatened.

"This one," Tony poked at a card in my hand.

"If you think that's funny, your intellect is obviously overestimated." Stephen dismissively waved a hand. "This one," It was unmistakable whom the trembling finger belonged to. It pointed at a card on the other side.

"Wizards are just hilarious," Tony seeped sarcasm.

"Try me, Beyonce," Stephen murmured darkly.

That was just background noise to me. I had all my undivided attention on the TV, my last two functioning brain cells focused on the scene unfolding right in front of me. The Lucifer episode, the devil and his insatiable thirst for honey. The timer buzzed but I was still drawn towards Tom Ellis dipping two of his fingers first in the honeypot, then in his mouth, all the while looking like a damn snack himself. Illegal. I've never simped so hard for a fictional character.

A golden glow snatched a card out of my grasp, levitating it.

"Girl, what the hell?" Wanda saw my face and attempted to revert me back to earth. "Someone turn off the TV, there's not enough water in the tower to quench her thirst."

"Hey, did you two just - don't ignore me!" Tony whined, managing to tug on my hair and attempt to reach for the card now held in Stephen's grasp, simultaneously.

"I don't blame her," Clint mused. "That right there is one very fine dude."

I shook my head, clearing any untoward thoughts. Focus. "First of all, Bird, you're a dude. That there," I pointed up at the TV. "Is a man. A Man." I emphasised, getting a jealous poke in the back from Tony. "Second of all..." I turned towards Stephen. "The quaffle, the snitch and the AUDACITY OF THIS BITCH!" The last of my sentence was pitched. The sorcerer had raised his arm, clutching the card, and I struggled to reach it.

"What... What did you just say?" Stephen was laughing, not at all phased by me climbing him like a tree to take hold of what's mine. Tony was actively helping - or, trying to. One-handed. The other hand attempted to snatch the rest of the cards from my grasp.

"And that's an F on teamwork," Bucky's sarcasm was complemented by Steve's famous Captain America Is Disappointed In You look.

"Uhh... Guys? What's going on?" Peter's timid voice leaked confusion.

"Hello, friends," Thor boomed, drowning out the boy's questioning noises.

"We're playing a game. Cards Against Humanity."

Wordlessly, Peter towed Thor along with him to find a spot amongst us. And even if Thor didn't get any of the references, he still was good fun. His laugh was infectious. The way he cheered for every winner was incredibly wholesome. Golden space puppy. The urge to immediately pet Thor and give him endless pop-tarts was strong in me.

Loki was one dramatic, vengeful bitch. "Women get turned on by the Devil himself"? I was ready to throw hands with the trickster. Everybody's laughter drowned out any cursing I might or might have not directed towards Loki who looked far too satisfied with himself. I was going to substitute the sugar for his tea with salt one day, mark my words.

I wouldn't admit it over my dead body, but the way he got back at me for the daddy issues joke was kinda funny. Okay, very funny. It was fucking hilarious. I admire a clever man.

THE TAG LIST IS NOW OPEN! @another-stark-sub @mostly-marvel-musings @vozit @littlegasps @pilloclock @shereadsinquiet @downeyreads @hermione-grangers-wife @individualistfem @sleep-i-ness @capbrie @lillsxd @agustdowney @dee-vn @justanotherblonde23 @fanngirl19 @persephonehemingway @softie-socks @schemefrenzy @letsby

#party favours #bun writes #tony stark x reader #tony stark x y/n #tony stark x you #bruce banner x you #bruce banner x reader #bruce banner x y/n #stephen strange x y/n #stephen strange x you #stephen strange x reader #avengers team x reader fluff

133 notes · View notes

365days365movies · 3 years

Text

February 19, 2021: The Phantom of the Opera (2004) (Part 1)

I love musicals.

Hands down, when talking cinematic adaptations of musicals, my favorite is Little Shop of Horrors. I’ve seen it MANY times, and will see it many, MANY more. And I’m not the only one. I mean, obviously, but in this case, I’m referring to my girlfriend. She’s chosen to represent herself with a GIF from her favorite musical, Hairspray. So, here she is:

Ravishing. Now, because it’s currently our anniversary, I let her pick today’s movie from my list. And so, she chose a musical that neither she nor I have seen: 2004′s The Phantom of the Opera. And some of you may now be saying, “What, this guy said he liked movie musicals, and he hasn’t seen TPotS? That’s like saying you haven’t seen Grease, or Singin’’ in the Rain, or, PFFT, West Side Story!”

...About that...

Yeah, yeah, I know! It’s insane, and I’m a hypocrite. I’ll be getting to the rest of those eventually, and one of them’ll be coming in the next couple of days, I promise. You can probably guess which one. Anyway, fact of the matter is that we’re gonna watch it tonight, and I’m looking forward to it.

However, there’s another factor to this, and that’s the fact that this film...doesn’t have the best reputation amongst fans of the original musical. And, yeah, this should ideally be the Michael Crawford version, but the Butler version is the one I have access to, so we’re going for it. SPOILERS AHEAD!!!

Recap (1/2)

Paris, 1919, back when the whole city was in black-and-white for a year. They lost the budget for color after World War I. Anyway, at an old opera house, an auction is taking place, and items found within the theater are for sale. One of these is a music box with a monkey on it, an item which sponsors a bidding war between an older woman, and an older man in a wheelchair. I’m sure we’ll find out who they are eventually.

Anyway, a broken chandelier is also up for option, and was involved in the mysterious disaster of the “Phantom of the Opera” fiasco. They turn it on with electric light, and as they raise it to the ceiling, the organist goes fuckin’ NUTS. The song’s so loud that it REVERSES TIME, and we’re now in color, in the year 1870 at the same opera house.

The theatre, managed by the soon-to-retire Monsieur Lefèvre (James Fleet), has just been purchased by Richard Firmin (Ciaran Hinds) and Gilles André (Simon Callow), who are there to observe. On stage, a rehearsal for the opera Hannibal is taking place, and the costume’s are already...like, a LOT, not gonna lie. The headliner for the show is soprano (and drama queen supreme) Carlotta Giudicelli (Minnie Driver), and is being funded by patron Raoul, Vicomte de Chagny (Patrick Wilson).

The background dancers are instructed by Madame Giry (Miranda Richardson), and include her daughter, Meg (Jennifer Ellison), and her adopted daughter, Christine Daaé (Emmy Rossum). As the rehearsal takes place, an accident happens on stage, almost injuring Carlotta. Enraged, she leaves, and refuses to perform.

Meanwhile, Madame Giry finds a letter from the Phantom, who demands his normal monthly salary of 20,000 francs, as for Box 5 to be left open. While the new owners think that this is ridiculous, they also note that it’s pointless without a lead singer for their show.

However, Christine is volunteered, and shows that she is indeed a talented singer. The show goes on, and Christine is a smash, much to Carlotta’s dismay. At this point, Raoul also discovers that this is his long lost childhood friend (and possibly long lost love) Christine, which she also noticed earlier.

But this is because of a mysterious teacher, who sings to her from the walls of the theatre. Meg comes in to congratulate her (through song), and asks who her tutor is. Meg responds...in song (”Angel of Music”).

Afterwards, Madame Giry also congratulates her, and tells her that the Phantom is pleased with her. Right after, Raoul also pays her a visit, and the two reconnect on shared memories of times in an attic in the summer. She tells Raoul that she is visited by an Angel of Music, and cannot go to the dinner that night with him. And the Phantom agrees, as he locks Christine in her room. YIKES.

And as literally every person in the theatre except Christine leaves, the Phantom serenades her, angered by Raoul’s presence, and Christine’s potential dalliance with him (”Mirror”). And through the mirror, he takes her to a mysterious crypt beneath the theatre. And as they sing their strange duet in the form of the title song (”The Phantom of the Opera”)...I try to resist talking about Gerard Butler until later. And it’s hard. It’s SO hard, guys.

But, OK, he takes her away on a...sewer horse...how the FUCK did he get that horse down there? And wait, WAIT, does he put her on that horse to walk her, like, 20 feet to the gondola? Like...WHY DO YOU HAVE THE HORSE? That is...monumentally wasteful. Where do you keep the horse? Does he feed the horse? How much? How often? With what? Does the horse eat the sewer rats? Is there naturally growing sewer hay? Does the Phantom’s salary go towards buying food for the horse, or buying new horses when the original ones DIE OF STARVATION - WHAT THE FUCK IS WITH THIS HORSE?!?!? WHOMSTVE THE FUCK

And yes, I love this fuckin’ song (not the singers, but we’ll get there), but this is distracting me alongside the statues of naked men in the sewer, because...well, Joel Schumacher. What can I say, it’s kind of his aesthetic. Anyway, we get officially introduced to the Phantom of the Opera (Gerard Butler), a very handsome-looking man who likes wearing a half-mask.

I say handsome, because the Phantom in this movie, looks...fine. HE LOOKS OK. HE LOOKS LIKE A DUDE WEARING A MASK. What, did somebody throw a hot candle at his face once, and he freaked out over it and ran into the sewers forever...WITH A HORSE? NOT OVER THE HORSE SHIT.

Look, the Phantom is supposed to be HIDEOUSLY scarred. Famously, in one of the film adaptations of Phantom, actor Lon Chaney Jr. purposely distorted his own face using adhesive face in order to play the role of the hideously disfigured character. Now, other versions have just given him severe, and I mean SEVERE burn scars. But behind the mask, Butler looks...fine. HE LOOKS FINE GODDAMMIT. He looks like he’s wearing the mask because it looks edgy and shit.

But OK, what’s happening in the movie? Oh, right, more serenading (”Music of the Night”), with another song that I like quite a bit. This and the previous song were songs Id heard before, and that I’d already had on my playlist. They’re great, what can I say? Now is Butler doing it justice? Ehhhhhhh, we’ll talk about that in the Review.

During this song he kinda seduces her, or attempts to, and also shows her a wedding dress. She sees herself in it and IMMEDIATELY faints, Jesus! Curtain falls on Christine while she’s in a bed, and we go back to her room, where Meg is looking for her. She finds the mirror, and is about to go back there, but her mother finds and stops her.

Meanwhile, stagehand Joseph Buquet (Kevin McNally) tells the chorus girls of the legend of the Phantom, and describes a physical description that doesn’t match him...even a little. We cut back to Christine, who wakes up in what my girlfriend refers to as a “bomb-ass HQ.” Which is fair, let’s be honest. Anyway, she heads over and tries to unmask her new masked lover (?).

He’s not the biggest fan of this, and he emos all over the screen (”Stranger Than You Dreamt It”). And then, as he puts his mask on, we suddenly (and I mean suddenly) jump to 1919, where the old woman, Madame Giry, bids farewell to...wait, that’s Raoul? HOW DOES HE LOOK SO MUCH OLDER THAN HER, WHAT???

Back in the past, inexplicably, the theatre owners and manager sing about the theatre and the Phantom’s demands ("Notes..."), and are soon joined by Raoul, who brings them a separate note, saying not to look for Christina any further. THEN, Carlotta joins them, delivering a letter of her own from the Phantom, warning her not to return to the theatre.

In his letters, he details how his theatre is to be run, threatening a disaster if Christine is not cast in the lead role, and if Carlotta is not cast in a silent role. However, the theatre owners and Carlotta refuse to obey, and Carlotta is cast in the role, as the owners try to appease her (”Prima Donna”).

That night, during a performance of Il Muto, Carlotta’s singing the lead role. Additionally, Box Five is full, and the Phantom is PISSED. So, like a Phantom do, it’s time for some good old fashioned petty revenge! He switches her throat spray, causing her to lose her voice on stage, and causing the audience to laugh when the show ends abruptly. They quickly and publicly recast the role, giving it to Christine instead. Well, mission accomplished by the Phantom! Guess we’re good without retribution. And then he hangs the stagehand.

Well...fuck, man. Realizing that the Phantom is EXTREMELY dangerous, Christine goes to save Raoul, who she...is in a relationship with now? Wait...wait, hold up, the fuck did I miss? I mean, yeah, he probably is gonna kill Raoul, but there is, like, NO lead-up to their connection before this point.

Anyway, as Christine explains that there is a Phantom when Raoul says he doesn’t exist...wait, WHAT? MOTHER FUCKER BUQUET JUST NOT MURDERED IN FRONT OF EVERYBODY WHAT IN THE FUCK DO YOU MEAN????? YOU LITERALLY HEARD THE...you know what? Break. BREAK. This is...this one’s tough.

See you in Part 2!

23 notes · View notes

xfandomwritingsx · 4 years

Text

The Sweet of Night – Loki Laufeyson – Part 5

-gif source unknown-

Description: After growing up besides Loki and having a complicated friendship with him, you visit him in his cell at night.

Warnings/Labels: Overbearing mother? Is that a warning?

Approx. Word Count: 2,700

Story Masterpost

Flowers in hand, you knock on the large wooden door of your mother’s home. It’s a quaint little cottage in one of the nearby villages. She had moved into it shortly after your father passed despite still being offered a place in the palace. While you missed seeing her daily, it didn’t surprise you that she declined and ventured into her own little home. The quiet, common life simultaneously suited her while making her feel important.

“My daughter!” she greets warmly as she opens the door. Her once golden hair, now slowly melting into white, is tied into an elegant braid draped over the front of her shoulder. “What brings you by?” she asks as though you don’t visit her the same time every week. You smile anyways as she pulls you into a hug which you return. “So beautiful!” She takes the bundle of flowers from your hands. “Come in! I have tea almost ready.” Her robe is a dull, dirty beige color and it always humors you how even with the extravagant and expensive silk robes in her closet, she chooses the most drab clothing for her daily life.

“Mother, you don’t even like tea,” you laugh.

“Ah, but you do!” she points her finger at you and then shuffles you to the table. “So,” she sighs happily as she puts the flowers in an already prepared vase in the center of lace table cloth. “What have you been up to?” You sit as she disappears behind a doorway to her kitchen where you hear her bothering with the tea pot and cups. She comes back quickly and arranges the dishes neatly on the table.

“Just work, Mother.” You know she’s going to ignore your tone. It clearly portrays that you know the real question she’s asking, the one she’s about to ask directly, and that you have no interest in answering. She’s going to ask anyways. It’s what she does. According to her, it’s what every good mother does.

“Not seeing anyone special?” The expected question causes an unexpected squeeze in your ribcage, but you manage to hide it well.

“No, Mother.” You use the same drawn out, placating tone you always use and reach for a tea cup.

“Shame,” she hums, passing you the honey.

“How’s your garden doing?” you ask quickly before she can press further. “It looks like it’s thriving.” She throws a look over her shoulder at the window as if to peer out at it.

“It’s doing well. The children are taking very good care of it.” You smile warmly at her. For all her faults, the woman has always been generous. She regularly pays young children to tend her garden and then usually gives away most of the produce. “The little one, Alistair, he’s quite dedicated.” You sip your tea and nod. “You know, his father is Lord Devereux.” She raises a brow at you and you sigh, setting your tea back down, already sensing where this is going. “Lord Devereux’s eldest son is of age now.” She pauses for merely a moment. “He would make a fine suitor.”

“Mother!” you exclaim, not sure if you’re irritated or amused at this point. “His son is much younger than I!”

“Yes, but he’s of age! And a younger man will certainly ensure he’ll be around long enough to take care of you.” She leans back in her chair and crossing her legs, shrugging. “Plus… think of his stamina.” Your eyes widen and if you’d had tea in your mouth, your sputtering would have sent it all over her table.

“Mother!” She laughs at your outburst and picks dust from the lace cloth.

“Oh, come now!” She always manages to scold you with a smile on her face. “You should at least meet with the boy.”

“The very fact that you’ve referred to him as a boy leads me to believe I should do no such thing.” The woman is relentless and perhaps a little delusional, but she never fails to makes you laugh at the insanity she brings forth.

“When was the last time you were out with a suitor?” she pries. You squint your eyes and look upwards as though thinking deeply.

“Well,” you ponder. “It was roughly two days after the last feast.” Her eyes widen with intrigue and she leans forward.

“Really? With whom?” Her genuine excitement causes laughter to bubble within you.

“Warrior Patrick! You arranged a dinner!”

“Oh,” she shies away with a smile.

“Perhaps you should stop trying to arrange suitors if you’re forgetting every match you’ve tried to make.” You go back to drinking your tea and watch her fluster.

“I wouldn’t have to make so many matches if you weren’t so stubborn.” She sits back with a huff. “You must have gotten that from your father.”

“Obviously, because you clearly still have yours.” You both take a moment and crumble into laughter at one another. When the giggles subside, she reaches across the table for your hand and you allow her to take it.

“Oh my daughter,” she sighs. “I just want to make sure that before I pass, I know you’re going to be taken care of.” You open your mouth to retort, but she stops you. “I want you to have more than I did. I want you to marry wealthy and have not a care in the galaxy. I want my grandkids to grow up lavishly.” Her fingers rub gently over your hand and when she looks up at you, her eyes glisten with the threat of tears. “I want you to be more than okay.” Your heart softens and you place your other hand over hers.

“Mother,” You squeeze her hand. “Rushing me off into the arms of the man with the wealthiest pockets isn’t going to make me okay. I want more than riches and gold gowns. I want love, passion, a man who makes me feel something other than obligation. And if I’m to have children, I want their father to be a man on honor.” You give a small smile and roll your eyes. “Half the noblemen are barely fit to be a good husband, let alone a good father.” She pats underneath her eyes with the pads of her free fingers, dabbing away at any stray tears that may have fallen. “When I find a man, you’ll be the first to know.”

“Well I’d better!” She smiles and retracts her hand. “And I refuse to die until I see you married. Though I suppose if you chose a middle class gentlemen, that would be alright too.” You manage to withhold your eye roll but let you smile out. “Better than some of the women in this village, pining after downright criminals!” She narrows her eyes in disgust and shakes her head, but you find your breath caught in your throat again.

“Yes well, no pining for criminals here.” Did your voice waver? You aren’t certain. If it had, your mother shows no signs of noticing, for which you are very grateful. She starts prattling on about how some of the women talk and some of their men. You choose to stay quiet and finish your tea. Best not to risk any more oddities in your untrustworthy voice.

---

“You seem tense,” Loki observes. You’ve been sitting in the chair Decimus provided for quite some time now, but your body has yet to relax into it. Before you can deny it, he continues. “As long as your habits haven’t changed, I would assume you’ve visited your mother this morning.” You scoff at your own predictability. “What did dear Penelope do now?”

“You know she would have you hanged if she heard you address her like that?” You raise an eyebrow at him, but can’t quite muster the energy to hide your amusement.

“Well, lucky for me then that I’m not high on her list of visits to make.” He leans forward in his own chair which has been pushed further towards the barrier tonight. “So what did our Madam Healer do now?” You give a short roll of your eyes.

“Nothing new. She’s still trying to marry me off to the highest bidder.” He grimaces and you realize your words are perhaps a bit harsher than they should have been. “She means well,” you defend. “She just doesn’t quite understand there’s more to my happiness than a title and wealth.” Another sharp roll of your eyes and a hard, bitter stare at the nearest wall. “Stars forbid I ever get involved with someone less than well off and apparently it would be an utter disgrace to marry a criminal.” You’d learned she is quite quick to harshly judge those men who may not have followed the law to the letter. The thought of her bittiness towards them angers you.

“Was that a proposal?” Loki teases after a short silence. It takes you a moment you put together his question with your statement and your eyes widen, suddenly in a panic.

“Of course not!” You feel heat rise into your face as he bares his teeth in a wide smile. “I would not propose to you!” He shrugs.

“Well if you’re expecting one from myself, I regret to inform you I don’t have access to a selection of fine jewelry from my current state.” Deciding to let yourself relax and simply play along, your fold your hands in your lap and finally lean back.

“Well I suppose you’ll just have to make me a ring out of the paper from my books you borrow, won’t you?” He crinkles his nose up at you.

“A ring?” Shaking his head, he leans forward, his elbows on his knees. “My darling, a bride of mine would have a crown.” He turns to look over his shoulder at his bed where the latest book is hidden. “In fact, I may have to tear up more than one of your books to make a proper piece.”

“Don’t you dare ruin a single of my books.” You point your finger at him, breaking the playful ruse to make sure he wouldn’t actually do such a thing. Some of those you lend are rare! His smile snaps off his face and he holds up his hands.

“I would never,” he promises before breaking back into a smile again. The air settles and you try to relax your body into the hard metal of the chair. You are not successful. Something about your visit with your mother just has strings of your muscles tense and on edge. You roll your shoulders back and Loki watches you with a look of consideration. He seems to make a decision and lifts his chin. “Close your eyes.” You do no such thing.

“What?” You most certainly need more information before obliging his wish. He sighs with a slight impatience.

“Close your eyes,” he repeats. You still do not do as he says. “What do you think I am going to do from in here?” he questions, sensing your uneasiness. “Trust me.”

Trust him? It’s a large thing to ask and yet he commands it so casually. You force yourself to think about it, to mull it over in your mind despite the fact that your first instinct is to do just as asks; trust him.

In the end, with one more curious and unsure glance his way, you let your eyes close and envelope you in darkness. You’re aware, firstly, of where the light sources make the black behind your lids just the slightest bit brighter. The lantern on the wall off to your left. The dull light from his cell. The flicker of barrier wall in front of you.

“Good,” he coos, his voice washing over you. “Let your mind relax and just listen.” A part of you holds a suspicion and wants to open your eyes, but you push it back. “Imagine you’re in your chambers. Warm. Safe. Plush.” You let yourself imagine a small fire underneath your mantle at night, the shadow of the flames dancing along your walls. It’s a comforting image. “You sit on your bed, the blankets thick and soft beneath you.” In your mind you wear short pants cut off mid-thigh so that you can feel the lush fur of your favorite blanket against your legs as you climb atop the bed. “A man is with you, sitting behind you. Hands come to your shoulders, squeezing softly.” The mention of a man threatens to ruin your peace, but his words continue to ease you into relaxation. “He runs his fingertips down your arms, so feather-light it sends small chills through you.” Your body tenses to suppress a real shiver at just the prospect of the sensation. “Fingers glide back up and thumbs press into the space between your neck and your shoulders, kneading there, pushing at your tension, battling it. Slender fingers that hold strength. When the knots break, his thumbs slip down your spine, fingers gliding along the smoothness of your bare back.” You’re mutedly aware of a flicker of light in front of your eyes. The barrier, perhaps? Has he touched it? Lost in the fantasy of the massage Loki is telling, you don’t dare open your eyes to find out. “Fingers back up to your neck, rubbing, pressing. Harder in your tense areas, lighter and softer at your more tender. You can feel his breath at your ear as he eases your tension.”

His words work wonders. Your head even lolls to the side as though leaning into someone or giving someone access. You let out a long, audible sigh and then suddenly it doesn’t feel so imagined anymore. You feel the physical sensation of cool fingertips at the juncture of your neck contrasted with warm breath at the back of your ear. Cold dread plummets down your body and your eyes snap open, your hand darting to your shoulder only to find nothing there. You look back at Loki and he’s not at the barrier as you had thought, but still sitting in his chair. He raises a single brow.

“What did you do?” you question, suddenly slightly out of breath.

“What do you mean?” His voice lacks the coy nature you expected. “I was helping you to relax.”

“Yes, but how did you…” Confused, you turn in your chair to look around. There’s no one in sight, not that you had thought there would be. You narrow your eyes back to him before considering the barrier. You analyze it from your seat, looking for any sort of damage or crack or any kind of vulnerability at all, but can see none. “I thought your magic is contained to your cell, that it can’t reach outside of the walls.”

“It is.” He squints and you can’t tell if he’s genuinely confused or if he’s simply playing you.

“Then how did I feel your hands on me?” There’s the smallest smirk playing at his lips.

“Is that who you were imagining? Were they my hands caressing your skin?” You tighten your robe around yourself and cross your arms, but do not answer. “Words and the mind are powerful things. Perhaps you simply felt what you wanted to feel.” He leans back in his armchair so comfortably. Was he right? He had vowed no trickery for your visits.

“If my mind is playing tricks on me, then I believe that’s a sign it’s time for me to retire.” You can’t seem to decide if you believe him or not, but it makes for an easy and safe exit. Going to bed and sleeping isn’t a bad idea at all right now.

“Then off you go,” he waves at you. “Perhaps your mind will add onto that little scenario as you drift off,” he suggests. “You’ll have to let me know how that little fantasy ends.” His little smirk widens as you turn away. Normally, you’d have a quick retort to throw back at him, but this time you can do nothing more than simply leave. Your body and mind are just a little too unstable, already missing the invisible contact of his touch.

~~~~~

Thanks for reading darling! If you’ve enjoyed, I ask that you like, reply, reblog, or if you’re really feeling generous, buy me a coffee!

Keep up with my progress on Instagram! You'll get to see excepts of upcoming works, writing inspiration, random photos of me, and moodboards!

TAG LIST

SOTN TAG LIST @heda-mikaelson @jessiejunebug MCU TAG LIST @inukako If you wanted to be added to any tag lists, shoot me an ask!

#Loki Laufeyson #loki imagine #loki x reader #loki laufeyson imagine #avengers imagine

38 notes · View notes

clairecrive · 4 years

Text

“Waterloo”- Bane x OC

This is for the anon and @littlewollff that requested Bane. Om I’m so excited for you all to read this! I got pretty ambitious about it and it got me even out of my comfort zone, with writing about fight scenes and smut. Anyway, I really hope you like this! Can’t wait to hear your thoughts!

Tag list: @deaflikehawkeye, @mollybegger-blog, @of-love-and-of-the-sea, @br0ck-eddie, @evelynshelby, @fandom--0verdose, @innerpaperexpertcloud, @shadow-of-wonder , @sopxhiea (let me know if you wanna be added)

Warning: SMUT, flashbacks are in italics

Moving in had proven to be a harder task than Donna first thought but at the same time it turned out to be a pleasant one too. Unpacking her stuff meant that she got to find things she had considered long lost. Her life had not been always easy but Donna soon discovered that with time only the good moments were forever stuck in her memory. Her cherished musicals collection gave her a bittersweet feeling, proud of having so many but as it had always been, they also made her think of her mother. That lovely woman who she had got to know only through her grandparents’ stories. Donna had always felt close to her mother while watching musicals, especially those that her grannie told her were her mother’s favorites. Finding her precious fuchsia pin though was a whole different experience. She had loved that thing, she remembered how she used to wear it all the time. She could recall especially one particular night when she had been wearing that.

When Donna was a teenager, she had started dyeing her hair. The color changed from time to time and when she met Bane, she had been settled on pink hair for a while. According to the hair color, Donna arranged her wardrobe, makeup and accessories. So, she used a sparkly glittery fuchsia clip to hold her baby hair back during that time. The way they met wasn’t a conventional one and neither was the first night they spent together. She reckoned she had been startled and confused, maybe even a little scared. However, now that her mind brought her back to that moment, she couldn’t help but smile fondly at the memory as it played through her mind.

17 March, St Patrick day. Even if Donna had Irish blood in her veins, she couldn’t help but feel indifferent at the festivity. If it hadn’t been for a colleague that had mentioned it to her, she wouldn’t have even remembered it. She had always cherished her Irish heritage knowing how important it had been for her grandparents. Donna was aware that she owed everything to those lovely people and that’s why she had always taken part in the festivities regarding this very day when she was at home. However, since their death and her departure from Ireland, she couldn’t connect to that part of herself anymore. She found it very painful to do so and so locked it stayed, barely acknowledged.

There was something that she used to do with her grandparents on this day that she still did though, a sort of ritual. She didn’t know why but St Patrick day had always been taken by her grannie as a way to celebrate her mother. So, every year they would watch one, or a few, of her favorite films. That’s why Donna had grown up to love musicals, it was inevitable really. Even if she couldn’t seem to be able to cherish her Irish heritage anymore, she couldn’t renounce of that tradition. And so that’s where she was that night when unbeknownst to her, her whole life changed, on her bed singing along to “Mamma Mia”’s songs. At first, she had been too into her karaoke session to notice what was happening behind her. From her bedroom window, Bane was crawling in, trying not to damage his body more than it already was. He didn’t know how or why but Catwoman’s blow didn't kill him. It only left him to wake up in a lot of pain, even more than he was used to bear, and with numerous wounds that needed to be taken care of. The sight before him was rather… unusual. He had expected to be met with screams of fear, tears or a shocked expression even. Instead, Bane was met with the sight of Donna performing along with the actors on the screen. She was absolutely off-key but Bane was amused anyway. When he sat down on her window seat, groaning from the pain and holding his side, that was when Donna spun around startled by the noise he made and froze on the spot. She didn’t indulge in gossip but his face was one that everyone in Gotham knew. After the failed revolution it was almost impossible not to know him. Donna couldn’t help but feel scared at the sight of his masked face. Her mind instantly linked him with the uproar and the danger he put the city in. Not that Donna loved Gotham but she certainly cared for her life. Forcing her mind to work and not give up on her, she took him in. The side he was holding in his hand was bleeding and the mask, his distinctive trait, was damaged.

“Never thought of getting into Hollywood? I’m sure you’d make it.” His voice sounded strange. Strained, muffled. Probably because of the pain he was in and the mask on his mouth.

“What are you doing here?” She found herself asking, completely disregarding his words.

“As you can see I’m in need of a little help.” Bane simply said, silently asking her to clean his wounds.

“I’m not a doctor nor a nurse.”

“I’ll just need a first aid kit and somewhere to stay.” He resolutely told her and Donna couldn’t do much other than supplying him with what he had asked.

Sitting on her bed, she observed him cleaning and bandaging his own wounds in fascination. Donna could barely clean a scratch on her knees without flinching and here it was, an almost fatally wounded man in front of her that was taking care of himself without batting an eye. Bane could feel her eyes on him but continued to act none the wiser. This little woman was taking it well, better than he first expected. He figured that staring at him wasn’t a big of a deal. He was used to being at the centre of attention anyway.

Much to his surprise, when he wrapped the last bandage on his body, she got up and gathered everything he had used to clean after him. Before leaving the room, she almost imperceptibly pointed with her head to the bed she previously had been sitting on. Bane didn’t wait for her to ask twice, so that’s where Donna found him when she returned to the room. He heard her soft steps on the carpet but didn’t open his eyes to acknowledge her. However, his eyes snapped open when he felt the bed dip beside him. Donna was standing on her knees at his side, holding up something in her hands that he later identified as duck tape. Ever so timidly, she pointed to his mask and he understood that she was asking him permission to touch it.

“It probably won’t do much but your mask is broken. I can put the pieces together. Until you find a permanent solution.” Donna had never spoken so softly before and didn’t even know why she was almost whispering now. Like she was talking with a wild beast, afraid that if she spoke too loud she would startle her and made her attack her.

His mask was off-limits, everyone knew. However, Bane felt himself nodding before he could register what he was doing. This little lady was certainly… one of a kind. Not only she hadn’t screamed or tried to hurt him but was also trying to help him. Was she too kind or just insane? Bane couldn’t know, having only met her, but her hands on his face were gentle and unthreatening, he decided. Her touch then left his face and after a few seconds, he heard her leave the bed only to return right away with her laptop. She laid next to him, Bane didn’t know whether it was for keeping an eye on him or checking in on him, put her headphones in and pressed play.

Trying not to let her know, he glanced at the screen but wasn’t able to recognize the film she was watching. He knew it was a musical though, seeing as there were people dancing and singing. He closed his eyes again, trying to relax and didn’t open them even when he heard her whispers. It seemed that she wasn’t doing a good job at preventing herself from singing along, not that Bane minded. Even if his eyes were closed, his ears were always listening in to see if there was any danger approaching. He knew that there were men looking for him and in the state he was in, he couldn’t put up much of a fight. And the lady… well, he didn’t really think her capable of fighting against mercenaries, nevermind the police. The only thing that he could hear were the words that would leave her mouth from time to time. Until he heard it. The lock of her main door squeaked. Someone was trying to break in, he concluded opening his eyes.

Tapping on her shoulder, he got her attention. Turning to him, she removed one headphone and looked questioningly at him.

“Someone’s is trying to break in.” He said calmly trying to not make her panic. To his surprise she didn’t, she only nodded and got out of bed. She walked in her bathroom, opened her shower and put on some music. Walking back into her room, she strolled over the side of her bed where he was resting and helped him get off.

Trying to support as much of his weight as she could, Donna let him wrap one of his big arms around her shoulders and together they slowly limped towards the bathroom. The small walk tired them both, Bane was still weak from the blow and the blood loss while Donna was simply not used to lift something, or in this case, someone, that heavy. She gently helped him so that he was sitting on the edge of her bathtub that could also be used as a shower and turned around to lock the door. When she faced him again, she was met with an inquisitory stare. Bane wasn’t in the state to physically stop her, so he had followed her in the bathroom, but was still able to understand that her plan, if she even had one, simply was going to fail.

“They are looking for you. When they don’t find you here and see that I’m in the shower, they’re just going to go away.” She hoped so at least. Getting into the tub first, she gently turned him around, lifting his legs one at a time so that he was still sitting but was now in the tub. This time, she took both of his arms and wrapped them around her neck, while hers went around his waist. With her feet firmly planted on the ground of the tub, she crunched a little, to give herself a little push to make him stand up. She knew that she couldn’t possibly hold him like this for more than 5 seconds, so she swiftly pivoted. Holding him up with the help of the wall, they were standing close, too close. Their skin touching but their faces apart given the height difference. Donna tried not to think too much about it. They were just doing what was necessary to escape death after all. It didn’t mean anything. Her skin wasn’t reacting funny at his touch. It was for the strain she was putting her muscles through. His breath hadn’t stopped because she was close to him. It’s just that he was in pain. Then, in hope to make her plan work, she started to sing along to the song that was playing.

However, much to Donna’s dread and Bane’s not-at-all surprise, the men didn’t stop at the empty house or at the implication of the water running and loud music playing. When it came to Bane, they weren’t taking any chances. Only standing at his corpse, they would stop. Bane was perfectly aware of their way of thinking because it was also his and a shiver run through his spine at the thought of what was going to happen. No matter how many times he had defeated death, he wasn’t immortal and it seemed that his time had come much sooner than he would have liked. He had never been afraid of death. He had even embraced it, planned for it when he took Gotham. His only regret was that it had to be this way, at the hand of worthless men rather than for a noble cause.

When he heard the door lock creak yet again, his eyes involuntarily moved to the petit body of his unlikely rescuer. He wouldn’t go as far as to say that he cared about her, because then he would be lying. And Bane was above lies. He had never been ungrateful though and was perfectly aware that if it hadn’t been for her, he probably would have died on that filthy road. He didn’t care for her but was mildly sad that she would die in this way. She seemed like a nice person. He knew she was kind and that was a rare thing in this wretched world. She was also full of surprises, he would come to find out. As a matter of fact, when he glanced down at her, the fire and resolution in her eyes startled him. Bane couldn’t possibly know but in her mind, all the different scenarios of what could happen in the next minutes were playing and she was doing her best to try and figure out a way where both of them would come out alive. She would be damned if she’d let those men hurt her, let alone kill her. Completely unaware of Bane’s eyes on her, she slightly nodded to herself when she decided the plan of action.

“Stay here and don’t move,” she told him firmly before hopping out of the tub. Quickly drying her legs, she hid behind the door. Even if they blasted it, and she knew that they would, there was still enough space for her to hide and wait for the right moment to strike. It was in moments like these that she was thankful for her stature. She would push the door right back in their faces, startling them and if she was lucky even sending them back on their asses, as soon as they would open the door.

Her previous plan hadn’t worked but fortunately, this one did. As she predicted, the blow of the door in their faces did startle the intruders but it wasn’t strong enough to make them fall down. Opening the door again, she took advantage of the startled man. Grabbing the hand that was holding a gun, she pulled it to her and closed the door on him at the same time. This time the blow was strong enough to have at least dislocated his wrist and to make him lose the grip on the gun. With her hand still wrapped around the man’s wrist, Donna let the gun drop to the floor and slammed the door on his head again. When she loosened her grip she was met with the comforting noise of his body falling on the floor. Donna wasn’t sure if they had realized what was going on or if they thought it was Bane attacking them. Anyway, she needed to use everything she had to her advantage. Now that the element of surprise was gone she had to think quick on her feet. However, the door shook again preventing her to formulate any kind of plan.

She didn’t know how many men there were outside but when the door busted open again she couldn’t do much except for fighting. Hiding the gun she already had in the waistband of her pants, she braced herself just in time. She could only see other two men beside the one that was still k.o. on the floor. The one that entered first, pointed a gun at her head but before he could fire, Donna thrusted his arm to the ceiling, the shot wasted in the air while she swiftly jabbed him in the guts and in the neck with her elbow. When the man bent in two, she graciously let her knee and his nose get acquainted. Blood sprayed everywhere and even if she didn’t hear it crack because of the music, she knew she had broken his nose. When she spotted at the corner of her eyes that the other man was ready to shoot her, she let her instincts take over her. Pushing the wounded bleeding man to the door knocking him out, she pivoted on herself doing a 360-degree angle with her leg and kicked him in the face. Donna didn’t know what had possessed her to make her act like this, she didn’t even know she could be that flexible. It had been ages since her last martial arts class. She still got it apparently, she mused while she looked as the last man fell down with satisfaction.

Too busy catching her breath and disarming the men while making sure that they stayed out cold, she didn’t notice that the shower had been shut down and that Bane was standing behind her, leaning against the door frame.

“You knocked out three of my men.” He observed. Was that admiration in his voice? Or maybe astonishment? Donna couldn’t tell.

“Well, why the hell were they trying to kill me?” She didn’t feel accusation in his voice but felt the need to defend herself all the same.

“I believe they were trying to rescue me and thought of you as a threat.”

“A threat? Have you seen me?” she scoffed, “ you should recruit less stupid men.” She concluded while walking to him to help him back to the bed.

“You did manage to knock three fully trained mercenaries out cold.” Bane pointed out as a matter of fact and this time Donna could spot the amazement in his voice.

“Didn’t I tell you about my taekwondo skills?” she acted none the wiser and laid back next to him. Bane snorted in amusement even though Donna didn’t hear. His mask emitted a constant low hiss, muffling a lot of his sounds.

“Why didn’t you fight me then?” He had been wondering since she started fighting the men. He didn’t think it possible but this little lady kept surprising him.

“My grandfather always used to say: know when to back off Donna, don’t be like Napoleon at Waterloo.” She explained with a soft smile recalling all the times her beloved grandparent would tell her those exact words. He had been a history teacher and was especially interested in the figure of Napoleon Bonaparte.

“You were Waterloo, even in your state.” she pointed out. Fighting those men had been all about survival. They were trying to take her out so she acted before they could return the favor. With Bane, it had been different. He was hurt and needed help. As long as she provided for him, she knew she didn’t have anything to fear from him. And also that he could strangle her with minimum strength and bare hands.

That night had surprised both her and Bane. She still couldn’t believe what she did. She had been trained to fight but never in that kind of situation. Where both her life and his were at stake. Sure, after that her muscles had been sore for days but it was the least that could happen. She had even feared to have strained something at one point. Fortunately, it was just that she was out of practice. However, she could still feel the pride she felt whenever Bane looked at her like he was seeing her for the first time. It was a really nice first impression, probably her best one. Lost in her memories, she didn’t hear the man of the hour walking behind her.

“Are you having trouble unpacking?” Bane asked her when he noticed her standing still in front of an open box.

“Oh no, I’ve just found something that brought me back,” Donna explained glancing at him over her shoulder, holding the clip up so that he could see. Not that she thought he would remember it or anything. And yet, little did Donna know, that Bane recognized the hair accessory indeed. Only that it brought him back to a completely different time. A sadder memory. A moment in their relationship of which he wasn’t really proud. One that if he could go back, would prevent from happening. But one that Bane knew, looking back to it after five years, helped them made the little jump they needed to bring their relationship to the next level.

Both Bane and Donna had never been fans of labels. Especially when it came to them, they much preferred living in the moment rather than risking ruining what they had by putting it in a box. Despite everything, it was safe to say that they had grown close. Very close. So close that they were now able to enjoy the comfort that only intimacy between two people that shared a bond could bring. As a matter of fact, after sex, they laid together in bed, both of them on their sides so that they were facing each other. One of Bane’s arms was under Donna head acting as a pillow, while the other rested on her back, slowly stroking the skin there. Donna was pretty much draped over him, one of her legs was over his waist and her arms held him in a loose embrace. It had always amazed her how smooth his skin was and after touching him for the first time she was also surprised to learn that his skin was soft and warm too. Always full of surprises this man. So they just were there, in each other arms, contently caressing the other. Skin to skin. Neither of their touches was sensual or provocative. Not at first. They were past round 1 and were just basking into the intimacy of the afterglow. But then Bane’s hand moved slowly from her back, where it was resting, to the curve of her ass cheek. Slowly but firmly he gripped her leg that was draped over his wait to secure it there and also move it a little higher so that their cores were now touching. He didn’t enter her yet, not even stroking, he just moved so that they were touching down there too. Donna gasped at the contact she didn’t expect but smiled a little when she felt him getting hard again. This man’s sexual appetite was endless. She didn’t move, allowing him to touch her and enjoying it at the same time. Bane took this as an invitation to proceed and so he did. He swiftly turned her on her back, his arms taking the most of his weight, otherwise, he would have crushed her, and her legs were now around him. Her hands didn’t stop touching him, they only moved to his neck. Donna would never tell him but his neck and his shoulders, so thick and strong, had always aroused her. And since his mouth wasn’t available to her, they took its place when it came to showing him affection and desire.

On Bane’s part though, he had always liked the striking difference in size between them. She was a tiny little thing, not even over 1.60, so infinitely little compared to him who was a bulky mountain of a man. It was no secret that Bane loved power and being in control, Donna had even compared him once to a certain Monica Geller - not that he knew who she was- and the fact that she was so small and that he could so easily manœuvre her and do anything he wanted, was a huge turn-on for him. Little did he know that it was something that aroused Donna as well.

One of his hand, moved from its position beside her head to instead trace her face. He had the habit of gently feeling her lips with his fingers and Donna had always wondered what it meant for him. If it was maybe a way for him to feel them since he couldn’t with his mouth, a kiss of sorts. In any case, she liked it and the way he carefully moved his fingers and his eyes lit up, would always make Donna curse in her mind at the fact that she couldn’t kiss him. His fingers then moved over her neck. They had been intimate for a while now and she had come to learn that he was as dominant in bed as he was in life and that one of his kinks was choking. Not used to it at first, Donna was, of course, startled and even a bit scared by the threat of his large hand on her throat. But for some unknown reason, she trusted him not to hurt her. And up until now, he didn’t give her a reason for her not to. However, his fingers didn’t wrap themselves around her neck as she expected but instead continued moving to her chest, where he felt her collarbone.

“Look at you, so small and yet so willing to take me.”

“Not going to lie, the first time I saw you I thought you were going to break me,” she confessed

“Oh, I could. I very well could break you, so easily. You never resisted me though.”

“I trust you. I know you won’t.” Taking her words in, Bane didn’t know what surprised him more, the fact that she genuinely believed that or that she trusted him. He didn’t stop to consider it though, he knew for certain what those words made him feel and that was what he was going to focus on.

Startling her yet again, both of his hands grabbed her bottom while he made her open up her legs more by leaning over her body. Adjusting her position so that they were perfectly aligned, he only needed to move his hips a little further and then they would be one. And when he did, both of them moaned for the sensation. Despite the fact that they had been doing this for a while, Donna had yet to get completely adjusted to his length. A part of her thought that she never would but fortunately, it wasn’t unbearable. Bane was very aware that their difference in size also meant that she’d take him with difficulty. And even if she had always been willing and never complained, he had always minded the first thrusts. Not too rough or fast. Just a few slow movements to let her walls accommodate him. But when her breath would quicken and her legs’ grip would tighten around him, he knew it was time. Time to finally ravish her. Bane wasn’t a gentle man, and neither was his approach to sex. His hands were strong and would leave marks where they would grip Donna’s skin. His thrusts became more vigorous and deeper, his pube hitting her sensitive bundle of nerves, his legs slapping against her making her move a little on the bed. She knew him though, knew what he liked, so she braced herself and locked her arms around him as well, staying in place this way. Not that his grip on her ass would let her go anywhere.

The rhythm of Bane’s thrusts was always an increasing one: he would start slow to allow her to get used to his length and then, as her moans would be louder and her hands gripped his shoulders harder, he would quicken until the room was filled with the sound of their pelvis slapping and Donna’s broken breath. Bane was delighted to find out that a little thing like Donna was able to take him, even when it seemed that his mission was to break her in two. Donna, on the other hand, wasn’t so shocked to find out that Bane is very vocal in bed. Not in the sense of dirty talking, sometimes he would do that too, but more in the way of asserting his dominance and her submission.

With his head on her neck, where his mask was gracing her skin, he bashed in the sensation of her tight walls around him. Adjusting his position so that he was leaning on her resting his weight on his hands beside her head. That only lasted for a while though, the urge to wrap his hand around her slim neck was too strong.

“ Such a tiny doll, so tight,” he panted in her ear continuing to mercilessly snap his hips on hers, “and yet taking me so well.”

“I wonder if it wasn’t made especially for me.” Applying more pressure on her neck, he stopped his movement with a strong thrust, opting for going deep rather than fast. “No matter because it’s mine.” The possessiveness was loud and clear in his voice but the growl he made while he slowly entered her again left no doubt.

“Am I right, Donna?” His answer was more of a rhetorical one but Donna knew that he liked to hear her answer nevertheless. And she did open her mouth to answer him. She couldn’t though, only a loud gasp left her lips. He set up a pace that he knew was torturing her and making her unable to make any rational thinking. He would slowly pull away, to the point where only his tip was in, be like this for a moment before going in again with a powerful snap of the hips arriving as deep inside her as he could.

He needed to know, needed for her to talk back, needed the reassurance that she was his and only his.

Moving his hand to press his thumb on her clit, he called for her attention again.

“Answer me.” And with that, his thrusts regained speed adding to his fingers stroking her where she was most sensitive, it brought her over the edge.

“Oh my god, Bane!” Donna was in pure ecstasy. Her legs were shaking but didn’t lose their grip on him, while her fingers had painfully gripped his shoulder blades. She was a mess, heart beating so fast that was ready to leave her body and her breath so quick that it seemed she had been running the marathon. Donna knew though that Bane wasn’t finished and that since she hadn’t answered him, she was in for a delicious punishment. That’s what she thought.

Growling at her like an angry fiend, Bane pulled out of her only to hastily turn her on her stomach and re-entering her from behind. Holding her still by wrapping a hand in her hair, he resumed thrusting only this time even more vigorously. Still coming down from her high, Donna was still sensitive and while normally she was able to take Bane’s strength with no fuss, now it was bordering pain.

His hand, resumed its position on her neck gripping hard and pulling her toward him, while hers snapped behind her on his chest to try and tell him silently to slow down. Bane though didn’t seem to notice. He was too far into his mind, set off by her silence, he was soon reminiscing all the time he would catch her laughing or mingling around with men of his army. He had never thought much about it, sure of where her loyalty stood. Now though he wasn’t so sure anymore.

As the thought registered in his mind, he gripped way harder on her neck while increasing his tempo, not aware of how his actions were putting Donna off, until he was snapped out of it by her screams.

“Bane! Bane, stop!” she pleaded, “I don’t want this anymore,” she repeated more vigorously when he didn’t even slow down. The way he gripped her neck, almost choking her, and the way he was mercilessly pounding into her like he was stabbing her in a way, was all too much for her. Donna didn’t know what had set him off but she needed him to stop. She enjoyed it rough but this was just violence. She tried to push him away with her hand when he ignored her and as he got suddenly pulled back to earth, he released her immediately when he registered and her cries for him to get away from her. She fell back on the bed and immediately turned around to face him, holding her knees to her chest so that not even an inch of her skin was touching his. Donna looked at him like he had wounded her, the betray in her eyes painfully evident for him. And for the first time in his life, Bane didn’t know what to say. He realized that he got carried away, lost himself in his emotions and let them control his body. That alone would have been outrageous for him but the fact that she had witnessed this moment of weakness and had even suffered from it, made it even harder for Bane to comprehend his actions. What had gotten over him?

Donna was busy in a train of thought of her own but unbeknownst to her, she was posing herself the same question. What had gotten over him? Okay, that he was usually rough in bed, but this was a different thing. It felt like he really wanted to hurt her, like he wanted to punish her for some reason. That wasn’t rough, it was hate fucking. And Donna didn’t know what to do with that realization. Locked in his bathroom probably wasn’t the best way to deal with this. But what should she do? What could she do? What could have happened to make Bane despise her so? Did something happen or it was just that he got tired of her and wanted to push her away? Did she think that Bane was capable of doing something like that? To be fair, Donna couldn’t say to really know Bane. But she did spend a lot of time with him and she had always thought him to be articulate and upfront. He didn’t seem the type of man to restore to such low acts instead of facing the problem. But what could she know? At the end of the day, you really can’t say to know your partner. Above all, Bane.

They weren’t even partners, Donna sourly considered. What they had was… something for sure but they never stopped and put a label on it. Yes, they were lovers in the sense that they had sex. Very frequently. But was it just that? Were they at least friends? Did he even care about her or was it just physical? Donna had never cared much for labels. As long as there were mutual trust and respect, she didn’t have any problems. But now that those requirements were abruptly missing, she started to question their relationship. If she could even call what they had that way.

She should talk to him. Yes, that was the best thing to do, she concluded. Maybe it was going to be painful and uncomfortable but she had to do it. It was time to cross some T’s and dot some I’s. Once she returned to the bedroom, she discovered that Bane had left just as she did. Disappointment washed over her. She had expected him to be waiting for her to explain. Apparently not. However, shaking her head, she didn’t let this sway her. She needed to talk to him and she would. Even if she had to wait for him. Sure, she could go and look for him but maybe it was best that she waited for him to cool off. An angry Bane wasn’t one to mess with. Not that Donna was scared of him. She had never been scared of him before, certain that he would never hurt her. Now, however, she wasn’t so sure anymore. And despite her best efforts, she couldn’t help but feel disappointed. Maybe it was wrong of her to trust a mercenary this much but she had always been a firm believer in duality. In the sense that she knew that people were complex beings and one couldn’t just put them in a box and expect them to fit in there. One could be more than one thing. And Bane was more than just a mercenary. Now though, she was beginning to question this very fact. Perhaps she had been wrong. Too naive for trusting him so.

Little did she know though, that she had been right all along. Bane was more than just a mercenary. As a matter of fact, he was troubled by what happened. A man who was just a mercenary wouldn’t have been. He knew that Donna probably expected some sort of explanation from him, if not even an apology. He also knew that he owed her that, but he was also aware of the fact that he needed to sort himself out first. How could he explain to her what happened when he was the first one that hadn’t a clue?

Both of them had spent the rest of the day trying to put their thoughts in order. Clueless to the fact that the only way they could really sort themselves and the situation was by talking to the other. And that, unfortunately, didn’t happen. Bane didn’t return to their shared bedroom, choosing to keep himself busy with work instead, and Donna couldn’t find the strength to seek him out. If only she did, she would have put them both out of their misery. She would have spared herself from making a desperate and rushed decision: to pack her bags and leave.

When Bane didn’t come back, she took his action as a way to dismiss her. As a confirmation of her thoughts: he had grown tired of her and had given her a reason to go. He was pushing her away and even if she hated that they couldn't even talk about it before she left, she wasn’t going to impose her presence where she wasn’t wanted. And so, as it began so it ended: with one of them leaving the scene abruptly.

Needless to say, Donna had misunderstood the whole situation. But she couldn’t know what was going on inside Bane’s mind. She could only wonder. And her mind brought her to the wrong conclusion. But she wouldn’t know that she did for a long while. When Bane finally returned to their bedroom, expecting to find her there, he was upset, to say the least when he realized that she was gone. With just a note to notify him.

“Breaking up is never easy I know but I have to go. Here is where the story ends

this is goodbye. Knowing you it's the best I can do.”

That’s what the note said. In perfect Donna’s style, she had broken up with him through a musical song. That notion had made him smile. Since she had forced him to watch the movie with her, he recognized the lyrics and at what point in the movie it came up. And so, as easily as always, he was able to go through her whole thought process and cursed himself when he realized what must have gone through her mind to make her leave. If he had gone back to the room earlier, he would have been able to stop her from jumping to a rushed and wrong conclusion. But he hadn’t and now she was gone.

Bane never really cared to understand what they were. He knew they were fine with each other, he knew Donna trusted him and since that night in Gotham, he had learned to trust her too. He wasn’t an emotional man. He had been trained to use his mind and to only rely on his logic and instincts when it came to making decisions. But now he was left at a crossroad. There was no one to tell him what to do anymore, he was the boss of himself. And while that had been debilitating at first, since he had been used to follow orders all his life, he had quickly learned to appreciate the power that came with getting to make the call. It was in times like these, however, that he found himself missing that part of his old life. When he didn’t need to think at stuff like this, when he was nothing more than a soldier he had orders and he had to follow them. No questions asked.

But he was not just a soldier anymore. He was a man. He was a person. Donna had helped him discover that through their time together. It had always amazed him how she was able to see through his mask and get through to him. She got to his core. She had managed to know him, to understand him. He had despised her ability at first, he hated that he was such an open book to her. He believed that to be a weakness of his. How foolish of him to think so. After the first few weeks since she left, he had come to find that he missed the closure, the intimacy. He missed her. To acknowledge that, to even admit his feelings to himself, had been a journey of itself. It had taken him a while. Almost a month to be precise. A part of him had feared that it was too late to go back to her. Maybe she had already moved on and forgot all about him. And while that possibility broke his heart, not that he would admit it, he knew that if he didn’t at least try, he would regret it.

So he did. He looked for her and when he acquired her exact position, he went to find her. She was surprised, to say the least when one day she opened the door to find him. She almost had a mind to close the door on his face, but the other part pushed her to hear him out. She just wanted to understand why, after all. So she had moved away and welcomed him in. And thank god she did, otherwise, they wouldn’t be standing here, in each others’ arms, reminiscing about the good old days. They had gone far since that day. Their relationship had grown and blossomed beautifully in something neither of them thought they would ever have.

Once, Donna had told him that one had to know when to surrender when one was facing their Waterloo. After a really long conversation, they had both come to the same conclusion: they were both facing their Waterloo, and surrendering to their feelings, allowing their heart to feel them and allowing themselves to live them freely, wasn’t so bad after all. “No,” Bane thought burying his face in Donna’s neck, “it wasn’t so bad at all”.

#bane #tom hardy bane #bane imagine #bane x oc #bane one shot #bane imagines #the dark knight rises #TDKR #batman #tom hardy #tom hardy imagine #bane smut #bane angst #bane fluff

141 notes · View notes

suchatinyinfinity · 4 years

Note

🦄 + 🌼 for Ryan, and 💣 + 🥛 for Benjamin!

Guess who had to redo all of this? Thank god for Google docs and their auto-save feature. But thank you, you absolute gem! I love doing head canons and don’t do nearly enough, and you gave me four... which I went into way too much detail on each, so this is going under a read more. These were so much fun!

Ryan Brenner

🦄(Physical health):

Ryan is strong, and has to be with the whole train-hopping thing! It takes leg strength, arm strength, back strength, hand strength… which brings me to his strong, long, dexterous fingers. I’ll stop with his fingers there or I’ll get too carried away.

His eating isn’t all that healthy living on the road. He’s not picky with his food, but it’s not all that easy to come by and his pack is full of essentials and non-perishables (like we’ve seen him eating canned food crouched in a train car). When he pops in a shop to buy coffee-- Ryan drinking gas station coffee has always been a HC of mine-- he’ll grab a pack of trail mix or mixed nuts, some granola bars that are “just nuts”.

In general, Ryan is healthy, and though he’s out in the weather all the time, he rarely gets sick. Maybe a sniffle in the winter, but even seasonal allergies don’t really get him down. His voice just gets a bit more gravelly.

🌼(Happiness):

As for happiness, Ryan’s happiest when he’s traveling and when he’s playing. There’s no telling what’s looming around the corner, what he may learn and discover wherever he ends up. There’s no schedule to adhere to, and to Ryan, that contributes a lot to his happiness.

Getting lost in his music is his first love, and he loves sharing it with people. When passersby stop and listen, it’s great, and it’s very rare that they really “hear” him. That brings Ryan happiness. And he doesn’t see loneliness as a bad thing. It’s just the way of life of a drifter most of the time, and he’s okay with that.

This isn’t to say that Ryan is oblivious or naive in his happiness. He knows there is ugliness in the world, and he experiences it, without words necessarily being said. Being very observant and attentive, Ryan notices things many “normal people” wouldn’t.. for example, the way some look at him with disdain or disgust, or turn up their noses, whispering to who they’re walking with because of the way he’s dressed. To them, he’s worthless, a homeless bum... maybe even a dangerous man. For the most part, he’s used to it and lets it roll off his back. He is happy with his freedom and his means of making money, living the vagabond sort of life with nothing to weigh him down... except that pack. It can get pretty heavy.

Benjamin Greene

💣(Stress):

The type of stress/stressor definitely triggers different reactions from Benjamin. For example, when Patrick calls him “Ben”, he is strong and firm in correcting him that his name is Benjamin. The attitude and upset along with the quickness of his response is due to the subject matter: his name, and he is diligent to being Benjamin Greene and not Sean White. He’s determined that he’s left who he used to be behind when he left Kent, and he’s going to make sure of that, so it being a trigger to stress makes sense.

When Julia disappears before the wedding, we see a frantic, hysteric Benjamin. He literally can’t handle what’s happened. He grew up having no one (except his traitorous half-brother) and nothing, and a visceral fear of abandonment and being unloved--or unlovable after what he’s been accused of and incarcerated for-- and to find love and lose it would be devastating. He’s anxious, his hands shake, he’s desperate and nervous and willing to do whatever it takes.

On the other hand, he’s skilled at hiding from some stressors in the moment, and rects to them at a more appropriate time. Julia’s kids being rude is one example. In some instances, he’d take it, brush it off, clench his jaw or laugh it off and seem unaffected for the most part. After, he’d vocalize his distaste for it, but not wanting to make anything uncomfortable for Julia, Benjamin would avoid making a scene.

This is a difficult one because Benjamin is very unique in his character and that means his response is situational. He can be quite passionate and his emotions run high-- we see him afraid, begging at some points; we see him intimidated and red hot with anger; we see him quietly seething or sitting back watching some things unfold. He’s impulsivity, I think, is a significant part of being caught in some stressful situations. (I love Benjamin, but also feel sorry for him at times.)

🥛(Drink):

Benjamin drinking a lot; he’s not an alcoholic by any means, but takes pleasure in his liquor. He obviously very much enjoys his wine, whether white or red, typically with dinner or after. For something a bit stronger, he goes for a nice, smooth, dark brandy (which our cerebral boy knows the higher the brand, the better for your health by way of lowering cholesterol). If he’s having drinks out, it's not rare that he’ll enjoy an Old Fashioned. Any type of whiskey ( bourbon, rye, scotch, etc) is suited to his taste, but his favorite is brandy, straight.

Mr. Greene has been known to make his coffee Irish on occasion, or if drinking iced coffee, to mix in some Kahlua. And if he really wants to jazz up that cold brew, he’ll add in some orange zest.

#send an emoji for a head canon #hc's #ryan brenner #benjamin greene #pheedraws #my inbox

9 notes · View notes

vicstwashington · 3 years

Text

Seen this on Variety website. Though it was really good!

The 9 Biggest Burning Questions Ahead of Friday's WandaVision Finale

SPOILER ALERT: If you haven't seen Episode 8 "Previously On" of WandaVision please don't read!!!

Who is "Fietro"?

Evan Peters arrived at the end of Episode 5 "On A Very Special Episode" , claiming to be Wanda's brother, Pietro. Since then the internet has been in a tizzy over why Peters was playing Pietro Maximoff, and not Aaron Taylor-Johnson, who originated the role in “Avengers: Age of Ultron.”

In Episode 8 ("Previously On"), it was revealed *it was Agatha all along*, having magically pupeteered an alt-Pietro to prompt Wanda into confession over how she is using complex magic (now revealed as Chaos Magic) to control West View.

But why Evan Peters' Quicksilver? Many thought this was Marvel Studios President, Kevin Fiege's way of introducing X-Men into the MCU but it seems likely now - with only one episode to go - that this plot point will go unresolved. Maybe he really was a way for Agatha to get Wanda to spill the magic beans.

Are The Twins Real?

In one of the comic book inspirations for “WandaVision,” Agatha explains to Wanda that the twins she had with Vision disappear from existence when she’s not around to conjure them into beings.

Wanda's magic expands vastly in WandaVision, but it's not perfect and West View townspeople were real before Wanda showed up. Billy and Tommy however, were "conceived" inside the Hex, and grew to 10-year-olds in roughly 48 hours.

Was Agatha behind Billy and Tommy’s rapid aging when she sprayed “lavender” on them as babies? Or did she merely take advantage of the situation as a way to manipulate Wanda and will take them away to provoke emotion from Wanda?

In the [West Coast Marvel] comics, Billy and Tommy end up getting reabsorbed into the soul of Mephisto, the devilish Marvel Big Bad some have surmised is behind Agatha’s set-ups. It’s only later that Billy and Tommy’s souls are freed and placed inside actual human boys, who become the Marvel superheroes Wiccan and Speed - and become part of the Young Avengers.

In Episode 8 we see Wanda create Vision from a yellowish haze that could signify Mind Stone powers are behind his resurrection (inside the Hex) and it's clear here he is his own being, with his own thoughts and dawning awareness (he explores West View and leaves without Wanda's knowledge), but he also cannot survive outside of the Hex. Will this be the same for Billy and Tommy?

Is Monica the MCU's First Mutant?

After Monica dives back into the Hex for a second time (this time willingly) in Episode 7 "Breaking the Fourth Wall" - we see her develop abilities like glowing blue eyes, super strength and the ability to spark blue-tinged energy - though we don't yet know the full extent of her powers.

All evidence seems to point to Monica Rambeau becoming the superhero Photon, who in the comics has also gone by the names of Spectrum, The Lady of Light, Sun Goddess and even in some storylines Captain Marvel.

In the X-Men films and comics, mutant biology is explained as human mutants possessing an X-Gene - that gene is then activated usually by aging, stress or trauma.

If Marvel Studios somehow ties in that Wanda is, in fact, a mutant, then Monica Rambeau would technically not be the first one to step into the MCU scene.

What is Agatha's Book?

In the 7th and 8th episodes of WandaVision we see this book in Agatha's dungeon, emitting a strange mystical orange aura. The focus on it as Wanda first enters the dungeon couldn't mean a mere coincidence; just another prop in a creepy dungeon.

There are plenty of magical books in the MCU - Doctor Strange has seen/read his fair share - including the Darkhold, the Necronomicon and the Tome of Zhered-Na - but none of which have been explored in the films.

It could be the Book of Cagliostro, the book of dark mysticism that was stolen from the Ancient One’s (Tilda Swinton) private library in the first “Doctor Strange” movie. Agatha owning the book is a sure possibility of Doctor Strange's' tie-in for the sequel, Multiverse of Madness, and making his cameo in the season finale highly potential.

Is There a Bigger Bad Beyond Agatha?

Only in Episode 7 did we come to realise that it was *Agatha All Along*, before fingers had been pointed at Wanda for the actions inside of the Hex. But it turns out Wanda wasn't entirely to blame.

Agatha revealed to Wanda in Episode 8 that she sensed Wanda's powers and decided to come check out what was happening, since then it's seemed like Agatha is desperate to know the full extent of Wanda's powers and where she got them from (especially as she knows what Wanda supposedly is - "This is Chaos Magic, Wanda. And that makes you, the Scarlet Witch").

Whether or not Agatha has existing alliances with other Big Bads in the Marvel comics that could become relevant in this current MCU phase (and/or in future ones) — such as Mephisto, the Grim Reaper, Nicholas Scratch, Salem’s Seven, Nightmare, Chthon, Ghost Rider, etcetera - it doesn't necessarily mean they'll be introduced in WandaVision.

That said, this is the MCU and there's no clear "Big Bad" for the next few phases of the MCU for our heroes to fight against. Will they follow a similar route that of Thanos with someone like Mephisto?

Who Is The Mysterious Guest Star?

This could be the trolling of the decade - and we all fell for it.

For weeks Paul Bettany had teased us with a surprise actor popping up at the latter end of WandaVision. He reported that it's been an actor he's “always wanted to work with” and in the show “[they] have fireworks together."(He announced this after Evan Peters' reveal).

Actors including Al Pacino, Mark Hamill, Patrick Stewart, Michael Fassbender, James McAvoy have been theorised from the clues Bettany hinted at, playing various roles such as Professor X, Mephisto, Magneto etc.

At the end of Episode 8, in a post-credit scene, S.W.O.R.D Director Hayward awakened White Vision, who is also played by Bettany. Did Bettany mean himself all along? It's likely we may see White Vision (of S.W.O.R.D creation - he has no memories and doesn't speak in the comics) come head to head with Wanda's Vision in the finale.

Will Vision Survive the Finale? Can He?

Episode 8 heavily showed us the trauma and loss Wanda has experienced in her life, including Vision, who helped her after she lost her twin, Pietro in Sokovia. And the Hex is an example of just how powerful Wanda can be in grief.

If “WandaVision” were to end this season without Wanda confronting what she’s done, and finally allowing herself to accept Vision’s death and move forward, well, this wasn’t the show that we all thought it was going to be.

White Vision may come head to head with Wanda if he manages to kill Wanda's Vision - if she can help create him, surely nothing can stop her from destroying the evil doppelganger of her soulmate in the blink of an eye?

Either way, it looks like Vision will have to die in order for Wanda to move forward.

Will S.W.O.R.D Survive the Finale?

Before WandaVision we had never heard of S.W.O.R.D (Sentient Weapon Observation Response Division), but the organisation has been around for years, in the trusted hands of Monica Rambeau's mother, Maria (played by Lashana Lynch) who was then followed by Tyler Hayward (played by Josh Stamberg).

S.W.O.R.D is like the F.B.I, but for space, and Director Hayward's focus has seemed to be entirely on resurrecting Vision and what powerful weapons can be created from Tony Stark's (and Bruce Banner's) creation.

White Vision could be the end or the beginning of S.W.O.R.D, but with upcoming Marvel films set in outer space incuding Thor Love and Thunder, Guardians of the Galaxy 3, The Eternals, Captain Marvel 2, it's unlikely that the organisation tieing Earth to these other-worldly characters (including the Skrulls) will be wiped out after it's first introduction.

Will Doctor Strange Show Up in the Finale? Or any other Avengers?

We already know that Elizabeth Olsen will be reprising her role as Wanda Maximoff/Scarlet Witch in Doctor Strange 2: Multiverse of Madness, as will Benedict Cumberbatch as Doctor Strange, in March 2022.

Marvel Studios chief Kevin Fiege has remarked repeatedly, that WandaVision directly links up with the events of the Doctor Strange sequel. So it's not entirely unbelievable that Doctor Strange will pop-up in Wanda's self-created reality. Whether this arrival will be a happy visit or not, is the question.

Will he be taking Wanda away to protect her from the likes of Agatha Harkness or S.W.O.R.D? Will he be taking her on a journey through the multiverses to help him save the world? Or will he be taking Wanda to help her study the Chaos Magic and her Mind Stones' powers (like the Ancient One did with him in the first Doctor Strange film)?

#WandaVision #WandaVision Spoilers #Elizabeth Olsen #Paul Bettany #Wanda Maximoff #Vision #Marvel #Disney Plus

2 notes · View notes

twdmusicboxmystery · 4 years

Text

Water Symbols and Ties Between Grady and Terminus: “A” Rewatch by @wdway

This is another re-watch from @wdway. She totally saves my butt on busy weeks when I don’t have time to write new theories, lol.

Here are her observations:

Hi ladies! I hope you're both doing well. I did a rewatch of s4e16 A, series number 51. I think it's important to mention that this episode was co-written by Scott Gimple and Angela Kang.

It starts out with a flashback of the prison and then we have Rick, Carl's and Michonne talking about how hungry they are. Later, they catch a rabbit in a snare. I thought about how much rabbits were featured in this back half of s4. It emphasized the size when Rick says, "A small one." Later, Michonne mentions again it was a small rabbit. This made me think of Lennie talking about the little ones.

I'll skip over the Claimers, other than the car scene where Daryl and Rick were talking. Daryl brings Rick a bottle of water. There's no label. It's just clear. It's actually a good size bottle and he sets it down in front of them. He brought water = Beth into that scene. They brought Beth into the Terminus part of the episode with the use of symbols that we were totally unaware of at the time. We gradually realized them as the seasons went on, the water being a huge symbol.

This is right after they jumped the Terminus fence and found this door propped open. Notice it says that it's a fire door, a way to escape. I think this can be considered a water symbol, just as a fire pull or ceiling sprinkler would be. I cropped this shot so that you could read the sign on the door a little easier. I do want to mention that Daryl is next to Rick and they are the only two in the shot.

Rick and co come out into a common area or plaza and are about to get a plate full of meat when Rick notices objects from people from the prison. He takes a guy to use as a shield against the sharpshooters.

I just mentioned how the door was the symbol of water, even though it was a door. Well, this is similar. That red object against the wall is a fire hose holder. I know this because I noticed it at the end of Us when Maggie and her group first came into Terminus. I noticed how it said fire hose. You can also see the fire hydrant next to it and if you look closely at the base, it's just a prop. There's a bottom section that should be buried or would be connected to some type of piping if it was real, so these are not objects that were already at this location. That means they're symbols.

Notice how this little corner is visible during the majority of this scene. We see it to the side or behind Rick almost the entire time. So, we have a fire hose and a fire hydrant. Both Beth symbols because they = water.

Look straight above the fire hose stand. There are 2 diamonds at the top of the building. I don't think they’re original to the building because of the shadowing around them. They appear to simply be tacked up, serving no particular purpose other than being diamond shaped, which = Beth.

Now look at the corner next to the hose and hydrant. There is a sign on the brick wall that I believe refers to the hose or hydron. It reads, “emergency water key, replace when used.” Just in case we didn't know this was a water reference, they wanted to make sure that they let us know, but I really like the fact that it's a water key.

I just needed to point out Daryl's Poncho which, ironically, he didn't notice, but Rick did.

The three small pictures underneath it are original sketches of the Native Americans’ Thunderbird.

Our little group starts to run for their lives. We follow them as they run past a boneyard, turn different corners, and then all of a sudden we see this shot.

Notice the fire hose stand, a tire, the yellow objects, the abandoned car with a shattered windshield and these stacked train cars. During this shot, we hear a female voice calling for help. Here's the funny thing: we never see our group running through or past this, so this is staged simply to show us symbols. In one of the five flashbacks was of Rick coming into the prison with Beth/Judith sitting on the steps, Patrick was sitting on the floor in front of Beth's cell, making something out of Legos. Carl is cleaning his gun. Rick stops to talk to Patrick and Patrick thanks Rick for picking up the Legos and he makes a comment about that they are for ages 4 through 12. I've always thought that was somewhat odd.

I just want to throw out an idea to you. This might actually be a comment about the story arc lasting from season 4 through season 12. I'm not talking about the series ending at 12, I'm simply thinking that this storyline, Rick, Beth, Daryl and Carol will continue through season 12.

@twdmusicboxmystery:

Love it all! I especially liked the fire and water stuff you pointed out at Terminus and how they brought Beth into it. The combination of water and key is especially interesting. You did spark one idea from me.

And I know I sound like a broken record on this point, but could Terminus have foreshadowed the helicopter group? (Yes, I know I’m saying this WAY too often, and all the things I point to and consider probably do NOT directly equate to the helicopter group, but think of it as a mindset shift on my part. I’m kind of considering all things in light of the helicopter group.)

I was thinking that Terminus was where all the train tracks met, right? And we’ve seen more than one representation of the train tracks representing character paths. So, it would have made more sense if all the characters had met up at Terminus. And most of them did. Beth was the exception. But if this was a foreshadow of all character paths converging at some future point, then that would make sense. Because Beth is the one that’s been gone for a long time, but since then, others, such as Heath and Rick, have also disappeared.

So, all paths need to converge at some point, and we believe that will happen in some way via the helicopter group. See why I’m thinking this? I think what you’ve found here backs this up.

Another insight? Remember in 5x09, we see some train tracks with the camera moving forward along them, and the tracks disappear into the woods up ahead. Maybe those tracks represent Beth’s path, and the fact that it’s going to disappear for a while. But it will reappear and meet up with other character paths at some future point.

Which also reminds me of a kind of famous passage in the book of Revelation about a woman who gives birth to a child but then goes into hiding in the woods. Most scholars interpret it (a total analogy) as that the true gospel Christ taught would go into hiding for a while (Dark Ages) but re-emerge later. I don’t know if this is what they were going for or even considering, but it’s what I thought of. Might be a similar template. Anyway, great rewatch. You always have eagle eyes.

@wdway:

I cannot tell you how much I agree with you. I definitely think Terminus was tied to the helicopter people or, more precisely, that Terminus is connected to Grady and it is Grady who had a connection with the helicopter or what the helicopter group was at the beginning of the turn. I believe it's around a year-and-a-half into the turn when Beth was brought there, and I believe they have evolved over the 10 years.

Dawn pretty well confirmed that there was a group coming soon, so it makes total sense that it could be a military-type organization. I'm going to show you some shots that will totally bring back what I've been obsessing about all the seasons.

Top one is Hansen, Dawn's Superior until he went crazy. I know the second shot is really dark. This is the best I can do with trying to lighten it. Do you remember this at the end of No Sanctuary, where they give a bit of a backstory of Terminus being taken over by this big guy who terrorized them? I believe this guy is Hanson.

Isn't it strange that they tell a backstory about a group that TF has taken down and that they go to a lot of effort to make this person hard to see?

That's right. I think the crazy guy from the train box car is none other than Hanson. If you look at Slabtown and Coda, this person is discussed several times. An awful lot of screen time is taken up with a story of how Hanson went rogue. What's the need of that when Grady is about to be left behind and, more importantly, why do we repeatedly see a picture of him?

The first picture I showed above has his badge next to it. Another question of why do we need to see that? I'm going to throw out a crazy idea. Why not, haha. In the very dark picture below, the guy seems to be wearing some kind of large belt buckle. I think it might be a gun or something stuck in the front of his pants, but I think there's a badge there.

I guess there's a definite yes to me, believing that all of this relates to the helicopter people. More importantly, the new series The World Beyond apparently did not want to start until after we see episode 16. I've said this before. I think at some point, not necessarily the first episode, but I think somewhere within it we will see Grady, pre-Beth.

@frangipanilove

I love you take on Hanson. I totally agree that they alluded to something that we haven’t quite seen yet, and I would love to see Grady tied to the helicopter ppl somehow. I have wondered a lot about the tattoo guy from Terminus and what the deal was with him, and your pics show a remarkable resemblance between Hanson and the crazy terminus dude.

@twdmusicboxmystery:

It would explain the defunct cop cars at Terminus, if Hansen left Grady and arrived in them. And as you’ve said, the weirdness of some of this that hasn’t yet been explained.

That’s it for today. Anybody have any thoughts on these insights?

#beth greene #beth greene lives #beth is alive #beth is coming #td theory #td theories #team delusional #team defiance #beth is almost here #bethyl

8 notes · View notes

mxpseudonym · 5 years

Text

Ada Is Just Perfect

Pairing: Ada x Reader (femme)

Summary: Ada and Reader meet working at the library. The 1920′s gays amirite ladies?

Length: 2017 words (allegedly)

Warnings: None.

A/N: Wow, she’s finally here and queer and ready to party. I went back in to edit this to be shorter and made it like 500 words longer so... yeah. Also, this piece, like all of my work will not feature violence or shaming of marginalized communities because there’s enough of that in the real world. Use your suspension of disbelief to believe in tolerance.

---

Ada.

Your first impression of her was a reflection of your hope that she wasn't a chatty girl come to London for the excitement, only using the library job to pay for nights out. You thought she was someone to be wary of, but lovely nonetheless.

Your position in the library was a godsend. As your grandmother once scolded you for, you often enjoyed the world you'd built in your head a bit more than what was around you. For Ada, her position seemed to be a godsend for the exact opposite reason. She enjoyed meeting new people and quietly discussing social issues in the corner. Many loved her, and many were skeptical. Mostly the men, like Patrick in the archives, who said she was a gangster and a communist.

You didn't have the opportunity to confirm nor deny rumors as your shifts and breaks never aligned in a way where you could do more than smile softly in passing. It wasn't until the morning Ada volunteered to take over for a bedridden Margaret that you met. You put the kettle on while Peter went into too much detail about the new encyclopedia.

Though Ada worked there for nearly a month, it wasn't until you joined the conversation with your cup of tea that you truly took her in. She was beautiful- cheeks rosy and lips a delicate pink. Her skin was freckled, and you suspected it was soft as well. All of your restraint went to not reaching out and touching. Well, some of it went to deciphering the notes of her perfume without breathing her in.

Ada's eyes flicked to yours and snapped you out of your insensibility. You could feel your own blush as you gave her a small smile. She returned it then rolled her eyes slightly, glancing towards Peter who was going on yet another know-it-all tangent. You stifled a laugh, and no sooner did she make her way over to you.

"You're y/n aren't you?" Her voice sounded so assured as it floated to your ears.

"I am." You nodded. "And you're Ada Thorne?"

"Yes, I'm new." She confirmed it. There was a pause as you grabbed two cups. She cleared her throat slightly, then asked, "Are you also interested in encyclopedias?"

"God, no. You'd think someone surrounded by books all day would learn a thing or two about when to piss off," you said the words without thinking. You nearly spilled the tea you were pouring when you jumped at the sound of Ada's sudden laughter. You looked at her with wide eyes, and she shook her head. A few of your coworkers glanced over in jealousy that someone was actually having fun during Peter's lecture.

"Something tells me you don't get nearly enough credit for wit. Women don't usually though."

"You're right about that." You handed her the teacup, and you both moved towards the hallway.

"Alright, so tell me, what does y/n like to read?"

From then on, you began having more talks. You didn't know when, but at some point, Ada's hours shifted to align with yours. She told you it was because she didn't like leaving too late in the evening. You didn't mind. In fact, you secretly hoped she was a chatty woman after all, and would always stop you mid-shelving to tell you about something in the news about women's rights or the union.

At the next staff outing, a bit of a cocktail party with some academics, you found yourself actually showing up. You never went to these things, and it took the first half-hour for everyone to stop commenting on it. Ada seemed to know her way around well, commanding conversations and working the room. You'd work at the library for nearly over the year and hadn't even heard half of these people's voices.

You could hold your own, but your disinterest in many of the perspectives in the room of men tended to make you grin and bear it while Peter from the archive room explained why women's suffrage was foolish to every woman who didn't have the option to not listen. Your eyes always traveled the place, keeping tabs on Ada. Peter's eyes followed yours when you finally found her.

"Ah, the new girl."

"Woman," you corrected to no avail.

"Heard she's a communist and a gangster." He grimaced.

"How exciting. I'll get to the bottom of things and report back." You shamelessly stole his glass of whiskey and made your way over to the conversation Ada was commanding.

"-It's the power and the power and property of the people," she said. You had to admit that, though it was terrible of you, politics were something you were only shallowly versed in before she showed up. You watched her passion as she spoke, the way her eyes lit up, and her hands moved theatrically. When the men she was talking to got pulled away, she gave you all of her attention.

"You're so passionate." You commended her.

"Well, someone has to be, right?" She shrugged and led you both towards a table that held more wine.

"I would really love to hear your perspective on the strikes." You tried to remain calm as you made your ask. "If you have time one of these days, after work even." Ada turned and caught the gaze that you hoped wasn't as eager as you felt.

"I would really like that. But only if you talk to me about mythology." She bargained. Your eyebrows shot up at her observation. You rarely talked about Greek mythology with anyone but the old man who came to the library every Thursday.

"How did-"

"I saw the way your eyes rolled while Edwin spewed his "Zeus doesn't get enough credit" bullshit." She scoffed, and you couldn't help the laugh that bubbled up in you and spilled out your mouth.

"Your laugh is so lovely," she said abruptly. So abruptly that even her own eyes widened a bit in surprise.

"Thank you." You didn't shy away from the compliment.

It was a dangerous realization, but the more you spent time together, to hang out more, you began to feel that there was no denying you were flirting with one another. You used things that a few friends had once told you on a night out at a bar when they saw a stranger making eyes at you. You were tipsy and let them coach you on flirting like a modern woman. While that had been undoubtedly awkward, this was one of the more natural things you had done in life. Ada was easy to get on with.

She came in one day with freshly cut hair, and you couldn't help but admire it.

"You cut it," you pointed out as you shelved the infamous encyclopedia. You turned fully, to see Ada looking at you in earnest.

"Well? Do you like it?" She asked, bumping the ends.

"You look so lovely with it like this," you told her.

"Short?"

"In a way you like it," you clarified. Ada smiled to herself, turning to the stack of books at hand then back to you.

"Are you going to join the wild girls and chop your locks into a bob?" Ada reached out and toyed with your ends. You blushed and shook your head.

"Oh, I don't think I have the face for it."

"Nonsense, I think you've got the face for just about anything, y/n." Ada's fingers slipped under your chin and tilted your head up. Your eyes locked, and you could feel your brow furrow slightly. It was such a blurry line to walk along, this feeling. She turned once again to help a patron but was soon back at your side with jest in her voice. "You do look lovely today, y/n."

"Thank you, Ada," you laughed lightly. "I feel like there's an ask coming on."

"There is actually. You may or may not know this, but I cherish our friendship very much," Ada placed a hand over yours, and you looked up in surprise, "and there's a very important man in my life that I'd like you to meet." The shock on your face was evident. A look of realization came over her.

"Oh, no," she opened her mouth to address it when there was the most unlikely interruption.

"Hello, Ada." The call was accompanied by commanding footsteps, and you both turned to see who it was.

"Tommy Shelby in a library," she breathed the words in exhaustion.

"I need to borrow a book about the Russian Revolution," the man announced.

"Shelby?" You questioned. You knew the name, but were so far removed from that life that it didn't even register that Peter meant that Ada wasn't a Thorne after all. She was a Shelby, a Peaky Blinder. Her head whipped around and you could have sworn she gulped before sighing dejectedly and walking to help who you assumed was her brother. You made yourself scant, continuing shelving, but Thomas Shelby's refusal to use the proper voice level allowed you to hear just enough as you located a shelf near them.

"He was nice, maybe I'd like to see him again. Would I be able to do that?" Ada looked at her brother, expectantly. You quietly shelved the book, but she noticed you as you turned. Ada closed her eyes, seemingly in frustration, and sighed momentarily. You supposed she was speaking about the man she'd wanted to meet. Perhaps a husband if she was a Thorne.

Unfortunately, you left before seeing her again on your shift, and it was the weekend.

There was a picnic, but the part of you who acknowledged the soreness in your chest at the idea of Ada being married and you flirting so recklessly made you stay home. You were at the tail end of Sir Conan Doyle's latest mystery anyway. For all your love of it, you were a slow reader, and you'd need ample time to finish. That was the end of that, you concluded. But it wasn't. You kept thinking about going when you were working and reading and daydreaming. You didn't go after all, and you felt sad about it. Your apartment you'd worked so hard to afford alone felt too quiet. It wasn't until Monday you realized that it was actually your world that felt too quiet and it was only Ada saying "good morning" that turned the sound back on.

"You weren't at the picnic." She said softly, and almost painfully, as she walked into the small kitchen area where you were alone and waiting for the tea to boil.

"No, I had... something." You stumbled of your words. You were both quiet, and you'd taken a particular interest in your shoes until you got your nerve. "Are you married?"

"No," she answered quickly. When you looked up, you caught the redness of her cheeks as she flushed in embarrassment. "I was. I'm a widow." She answered truthfully. You nodded and digested the answer.

"And that was your,"

"My brother, yes. Thomas Shelby." She answered. You nodded again. Looking at your shoes again, you thought how to word your next question. Before you could, she answered it quietly. "There is no man I'd like to see again. It wasn't how it sounded. I wanted, and still want, you to meet my son, Karl."

"After Karl Marx?" You looked up knowingly with an eyebrow raised. For the first time, it was Ada who seemed more nervous than you. She nodded, letting out a light chuckle. You nodded again in understanding, this time while fighting a smile. "So you used to chase rats with a revolver?"

"As a matter of fact, I did." She laughed as the kettle finished. She brought two mugs over for you to pour into, now seeming more relieved. "So what suits me better? Thorne or Shelby?"

"I think Ada is just perfect," you said. You poured, and when you looked up, you were almost startled by the thoughtfulness in her gaze. It was her turn to ask,

"Tonight, are you free?"

"Yes."

"Fantastic."

#Peaky Blinders Fic #peaky blinder imagine #Ada Shelby #Ada Shelby Imagine #ada shelby x reader #Tommy Shelby Imagine #m-pseudonym scribble scrabbles

140 notes · View notes

grapehyasynth · 4 years

Text

the vessel

a david/patrick au drabble-thing

“Hmm. This is not what I was expecting.” David frowns up at the - sculpture? installation? monolith? - as he eats the last of the chili-dusted mango he’d bought from a street vendor.

“What were you expecting, David, if not a ‘transparent tourist trap and a laughable attempt to pretend this whole area isn’t a rich person’s playground’?”

David’s answering look could flatten even the scariest of Patrick’s professors. “Plagiarizing other people’s critiques is gauche.”

Patrick glances away as David licks his fingertips clean of mango juice. “Is it still plagiarism if you fundamentally change the tone? For example, when you said ‘rich person’s playground’ you sounded reverent, whereas I-”

“Give the man the tickets,” David interrupts, nudging him with an elbow.

Patrick grins and holds out his phone for the steward to scan the downloaded code. They’re waved through and they start climbing their way up the labyrinthine hive.

He’s still not sure how he conned David into being his friend, much less how they’ve ended up here, at The Vessel at Hudson Yards at the end of a very long day trip to New York. They’re both at least eight years older than the average graduate student at their tiny school (which David swears is in “upstate New York”, even though Patrick has repeatedly shown him how far south it is on the map), and ostensibly that had been the reason they had started hanging out, to avoid going to keg nights with kids who’ve never not been in school. But it shouldn’t have been enough to sustain the friendship. Two months into the school year, David is still the highlight of Patrick’s everyday.

“Art is not meant to be work,” David huffs, a few levels up. He swats at Patrick’s arm to get him to stop and they move to the side, leaning against the railing as overeager families and nonplussed tourists wind past them.

Patrick laughs out loud. “This from the guy who gave me a lecture on how 90% of art comes from the observer.”

David’s mouth twitches, but he rolls his eyes. “I’m pretty sure I said 87%? And you know what I mean. Like, intellectual work, emotional work, yes, obviously. This? Uncalled for.”

Willing to buy David a bit more breathing time, Patrick goes on, “Really I should be thanking you. I thought we were coming to see The Vessel for you, but with all this climbing, it’s looking to be the best workout I’ve gotten all week.”

“The best-!” David glares at him. “We have been walking all fucking day. I have pain in places I didn’t even know I had muscles! How is walking-” He checks his watch and practically squawks. “-seven godforsaken miles not the best workout you’ve gotten all week?”

“Not all of us take an Uber to every class, David.” Patrick shrugs and turns to ascend the next staircase.

“Patrick Brewer!” He can hear David scurrying after him, loves how easily he can make this graceful man drop his artifices. “Do you condescend to your mother with that tone of face?”

“So what do you think it’s supposed to mean?”

“That in life we wear ourselves out striving for what is ultimately a disappointing summit, but that sometimes you can get some cute pics along the way,” David pants. “I don’t fucking know, or really care, at this point. I wonder if I still have those nuts in my bag...”

“Have I mentioned I’m afraid of heights?”

Patrick stops so abruptly David bounces off his backpack. “David! Why are we climbing a towering, open-air structure, then?” He feels like the dad whose kid waits until they’re five minutes into the three-hour car ride to announce a need to pee.

David waves his hand, aloof as ever, even if he is looking a little wan. “It’s fine. Suffering in pursuit of immersive experiences is sometimes required.”

Patrick bites his lips until he can say without laughing, “I think you’re very brave.”

At the top, David plants himself firmly in the middle of the walkway, a good three feet from either banister, ignoring the dirty looks everyone gives him as they’re forced to walk around him, whole groups parting to accommodate him.

The wind up here is intense, almost uncomfortably so. It catches them both by surprise and Patrick puts out a hand to steady David as he passes him to reach the outer railing.

David had insisted they visit The Vessel at sunset for maximal effect, which means the train ride back to school will be entirely in the dark, but- “Is this - is this it?” Patrick asks, trying not to fully offend David with his lack of awe.

“Ugh, I should’ve known, there are no good vantage points this low in the city, not for free anyway.” David takes a few pictures anyway, even though the surrounding buildings block off any direct view of the sun. Still, there’s a nice glow on the Hudson and on the sheer tower-faces. “Cute pics, disappointing summit, check and check.”

“David,” Patrick says slowly, turning to look at him, unfairly resplendent in the second-hand sun, “I’m starting to think you didn’t really care about The Vessel at all. Between the shitty view, the height, the stairs-”

Focused on fastidiously tucking his phone back into what is ‘not a fanny pack, Patrick, how dare you,’ the little wrinkles at the corners of David’s eyes as he winces are his only tell. “Um. I mean. It’s on the list, right? Of things to do. When you’re here. And I knew we weren’t going to have time to get to any of your stupid sports stadiums, and you’re weirdly into, like, hiking and architecture and stuff, so-”

“David. Thank you.” Patrick tracks the way David’s lips press together, obviously pleased. “You found me the urban modern art equivalent of a hike.”

“Do not defame the name of modern art,” David mutters, but he lifts a shoulder in a kind of recognition.

Patrick moves to stand beside him so they’re getting the same view, in all its shitty, shiny, complicated glory. Maybe David’s metaphor about what it all means holds more depth than he knew.

“Well. If the aliens return to take back their spaceship, at least we’ll be together,” David says bracingly.

Patrick glances at him, all of his vital organs seeming to press upwards against his heart, disbelieving hope sweet on his tongue.

But David is watching the sunset. Patrick allows himself a moment to imagine that David is looking back at him, eyes burning like the horizon, wanting Patrick to kiss him as much as Patrick wants to kiss him.

Then he swallows and looks away.

“At least we’ll have that,” he agrees.

#patrick x david #schitt's creek #writing

5 notes · View notes

retrocelly · 5 years

Text

Friends Share Pt.2 (Auston Matthews+)

A/N: Finally!! Sorry this took so long, but I hope it was worth the wait :)

Warnings: smut, 4some, mentions of patty marleau (sorry leafs fans)

Word count: 2.484

part 1

You’d seen Kappy twice and Freddie once since what you’d been calling “the incident.” Contrary to your beliefs in the moment, Auston apparently had not invited his friends over to fuck you, since it had been nearly a month and no mention of it ever came up again. Or maybe they just backed out of the agreement, you didn’t really know. You were ashamed to admit that you were a little disappointed by the fact that nothing had happened with Kappy or Freddie. Especially after Auston made sure you’d be okay with it, you’d assumed that the plan was set. Obviously not.

Before he left for practice, Auston told you about a dinner he was having at your shared apartment with some of the guys from the team. Naturally, your ears perked up, but when Aus told you that Mitch, Patrick, and their partners would also be present, you slumped back into your disappointment.

Admittedly, the dinner was nice. You truly enjoyed talking to Steph and Christina as well as the boys. However, you were unable to shake the dirty thoughts crossing your mind as you sat opposite of Freddie. Would he be dominant? He was certainly big enough guy and he could use that to his advantage. Do his cheeks tinge bright pink before he cums?

You were pretty sure that Fred caught you looking at him a few times, but he was too much of a gentleman to say anything. In fact, you were pretty sure Auston caught you looking as well, but whenever you turned your head to meet his gaze, he looked somewhere else. It was infuriating, really. You spent half of the night feeling like you were 13 years old all over again, being made fun of for having an obvious crush on the guy in the grade above you.

It wasn’t until a few hours later, when Mitch, Steph, Patty, and Christina trickled out that the tables finally turned. You sat next to Auston on the couch, cheeks tinged pink from the wine and your general mood throughout the night. He had an arm draped around your shoulders, talking lazily to Kappy about off-season plans. You were so zoned out that you almost didn’t recognize Freddie’s voice softly break through the chatter from his place on the chair next to the couch.

You glanced over at him, raising your eyebrows as you noticed him looking at you expectantly.

“I’m sorry, Freddie,” you shook your head, “what did you say?”

He chuckled lightly, his eyes gleaming under the soft amber light of the lamp next to him.

“I said that you look kind of out of it,” his eyebrows furrowed slightly, “you feeling alright?”

He leaned forward with his elbows on his knees, and you reciprocated by sitting up off of Auston’s side. Neither Auston nor Kasperi seemed to notice your conversation with Freddie, keeping their casual talk going as you turned away from them.

“Yeah, I’m all good. I guess my mind is just somewhere else tonight - didn’t think it was that obvious.”

“It’s not,” Freddie reassured, “I just notice you a lot more these days.”

He had a smirk playing on his lips and your jaw fell open. You made a dumb “huh” noise, although you’d very clearly heard what he said. Freddie smiled more at your confusion as he gave you a sweeping look - one that Auston would’ve told him off for if it was any other situation.

“Well, y’know,” Freddie teased, tilting his head to the side, “after we heard you giving Auston a blowjob. We’ve been talking about you a lot more since then too.”

Freddie gestured lazily between himself and Kappy - who was still deep in conversation with your boyfriend.

“I mean that is why Auston set up this dinner in the first place. He just had to invite the chaperones so it wouldn’t be too tense before we got to dessert.”

Oh. Oh. So Auston hadn’t simply forgotten and the boys hadn’t backed out. Part of you was relieved at the news, but another part of you was suddenly feeling very overwhelmed because you hadn’t had any time to mentally prepare for this. Sure, you’d fantasized, but living it out was a much different experience.

You were stuck in your own thoughts and Freddie - wonderful, observant Freddie - did the one thing he knew would bring your head back down to Earth. He had to lean somewhat awkwardly across the armrest of the couch, but his lips were on yours all the same.

It felt different, to say the least. You hadn’t kissed anyone except for Auston in a long time, and it was odd to feel someone else’s lips against yours. However, you leaned into Freddie, a small gasp inadvertently leaving your mouth which allowed him to deepen the kiss. He wasn’t softer than Auston, merely more patient. Kissing him didn’t feel hasty or rushed as you sometimes experienced with your boyfriend. The serenity of the moment put you at ease.

“Couldn’t even wait to get to the bedroom like we agreed.”

“Eh, did you really expect him to? They’ve been staring at each other all night.”

You were aware of the conversation happening around you, you just didn’t process it as Freddie’s large hands found a home along your hips. His tongue was gentle on yours, as if he didn’t come here for the sole purpose of fucking you - as if he had no intentions of taking it further than just a kiss.

How gentlemanly, you thought, moving your hands up to tug on his hair, but that’s not what I want.

The minutes that followed were a blur. You know that Freddie was the one to hoist you up to take you upstairs, and you know that Kappy was the one to strip you of your jeans, but the details were a little fuzzy.

The important part was that you ended up settled on your bed, naked, with all three men over you. Kappy was mouthing along the skin of your neck muttering “fuck, you’re so hot” as you palmed him over his joggers. Auston seemed to be happy on the other side of you with your hand down his pants, moving up and down his hardened length. Freddie was making his way down your body, his fingers trailing across your hipbones and over your thighs, lifting them slightly only to settle them over his shoulders.

Your head fell back and you moaned feeling Freddie lick a bold strip up your slit. He stopped at your clit, circling his tongue agonizingly slowly. You were lost in the feeling when you noticed Kappy pulling down his joggers and boxers to reveal his hard cock. He was slightly longer than Auston, the head a rosy pink and wet with precum. You looked up at him for a second as he stroked himself. Freddie then halted his movements, causing you to look back at him with a whimper.

He met your gaze with a stern glare, tilting his head toward Kappy and telling you to “get to work.” He then moved down to bite along your inner thighs as you resituated yourself. You wasted no time, but it wasn’t until you had your mouth wrapped around Kappy’s cock that Freddie returned to where you wanted him.

Kasperi pulled your hair into a makeshift ponytail as you hollowed your cheeks around him. Just as you began to bob your head, Freddie inserted a finger into your entrance. You moaned around Kappy’s member and he dropped his head back at the vibration. With Freddie moving his finger steadily as he licked and sucked on your clit and Kappy’s cock down your throat, your overwhelmed senses were quickly pushing you toward your first orgasm.

A signal must’ve been exchanged, because within a second, Kasperi was pulling you off of him by your hair and the familiar hand of your boyfriend grabbed your jaw. You adjusted yourself again in order to turn toward Auston, who had at some point stripped from the waist down. You knew what he liked, so it wasn’t surprising when he began thrusting into your mouth as soon as your lips were around him. You used your free hand to pump Kappy, a steady stream of moans from the three of you filling the room.

It wasn’t much longer before Auston pulled out of your mouth and began pumping himself - he must’ve noticed the way your hips were twisting as you got closer and you were finally able to focus on the way Freddie used his mouth. He was relentless, tonguing over your clit repeatedly with his lips wrapped around it, two of his long fingers pushing into your soaked cunt. You could hardly bring yourself to care about how loudly you were moaning, too caught up in the heat of the moment. Auston and Kappy were kneeling on the bed on either side of you, both stroking themselves as they watched you cum.

You were given no time to recover as Auston pulled you up by your waist and flipped you over. You steadied yourself on your hands and knees as you heard someone - you realized it was Fred - murmur a quiet “fuck, she tastes so good.” It took very little communication for the boys to find their positions and you knew they’d planned this all ahead of time, embarrassment briefly flooding your head until you were pulled from your thoughts. Kappy settled behind you, running his thumb up your slit as you whined.

“Holy shit, you’re so fucking pretty. Auston’s a lucky man.”

A blush rose to your cheeks and you smiled lightly at his words. You could feel the head of his cock at your entrance, but he wasn’t pushing into you.

“Kas,” you spoke through a scratchy throat, “please, please fuck me.”

He chuckled from behind you before you felt him push in suddenly. You gasped, moaning loudly at the feeling of him inside you. His thrusts were hard, but not too fast, which made it so you felt every inch of him as he moved into you. Once you’d adjusted to Kappy, your hair was being pushed back again as Freddie moved in front of you.

His cock was thick and long, and he was quick to push your mouth open. However, he simply placed his thumb on your tongue and looked down at you. You closed your mouth, swiping your tongue around Freddie’s thumb, not breaking eye contact. Finally he pulled his finger from your lips, quickly replacing it with his length. You allowed Kappy’s thrusts to push you forward on Freddie’s cock, moaning repeatedly around him as Kappy slowed his pace only to speed it up again.

“Shit, Auston, you were right,” Freddie stated as he stared down at you, “she’s fucking brilliant with her mouth.”

“See, I told you,” your boyfriend responded, “but if you think that’s good, you should feel her pussy - so tight and hot.”

Your eyes closed momentarily and you whimpered around Freddie’s cock as Kappy’s thrusts shallowed.

“Fuck, give me a second here, then you can come in, Fred.”

Kappy continued to fuck you and a few thrusts later you had to pull off of Freddie.

“Yes, Kap, just like that.” You dropped to your elbows as he pounded into you, jaw falling slack.

His rhythm was lost as he chased his finish, pulling out and stroking himself until he came with a deep groan, thick ribbons falling along your ass. He moved and Freddie immediately took his place behind you, pushing into you without warning.

The strong rolls of Freddie’s hips and his fingers gripping bruises into your skin was enough to have you moaning again. Then, you were being pulled up from your elbows as Auston moved front of you. You resumed your previous position, letting the pace of the man behind you determine how you blew Auston.

Auston reached down, pinching one of your nipples. The sensation had you clenching around Freddie, causing his hips to stutter as he moaned. It wasn’t long before the friction became too much and you were nearing your finish again.

“C’mon, baby,” Auston said, running his thumb along your cheek, “I know you’re close, let go for us.”

It was those words that had you crashing over the edge, your legs quivering as you moaned helplessly around Auston’s cock. Freddie fucked you through your orgasm, letting a series of Danish words fall from his lips as you spasmed around him. The vibrations in your throat from your moans had been enough to send Auston into his own orgasm. He pulled out as he began to cum, letting some fall onto your tongue while the rest landed across your face.

You fell to your elbows again, gasping and whining as Freddie continued to fuck into you. Just when you thought the pressure might be too much, Freddie was pulling out of you. He grabbed you firmly by your hips and flipped you onto your back, immediately beginning to pump himself over you. His cheeks were a fiery rose color as his mouth fell open and he came onto your tits.

It was a few minutes of comfortable silence after that where everyone was able to catch their breath before boys started to get dressed. Auston merely pulled on his boxers as he went to the bathroom - no doubt to grab you a washcloth. You stayed where you laid on your bed, mind still racing from the events that just occurred.

Kasperi was the first one to come over to you, placing a gentle kiss on your forehead.

“Thank you, Y/N. I hope you had as good of a time as we all did.” You gave him a soft smile and a nod - all you could muster - before he headed toward your bedroom door. Freddie then walked over to you, smoothing a hand over your hair as he muttered “we should do this again” and followed Kappy out of the room. You heard Auston walk past you, telling you that he was going to see the boys out.

In your haze, you couldn’t convince yourself to move a single muscle. So when Auston returned to you, he laughed lightly.

“Okay, babygirl,” he spoke, “let’s get you into bed, yeah? It’s late.”

You shifted and jolted a few times as he wiped you clean, but he was quick to calm you with his soft shh’s. Auston then moved so you could shift beneath the comforter and he laid down beside you, pulling you close to his chest as he situated the blanket over the both of you. You felt him kiss the top of your head as you nuzzled into him.

“I love you, Aus,” you murmured as he rubbed your back.

“I love you too, baby. I love you so much.”

#auston matthews #auston matthews imagine #auston matthews smut #Freddie Andersen #freddie andersen smut #freddie andersen imagine #frederik andersen #frederik andersen smut #frederik andersen imagine #kasperi kapanen #kasperi kapanen smut #kasperi kapanen imagine #toronto maple leafs imagine

349 notes · View notes