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redclercs · 10 months

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DELICATE✰ CHARLES LECLERC.

xii. oh no, i’m falling in love again.

— the one where he changes your ticket home.

“𝘛𝘦𝘭𝘭 𝘩𝘪𝘮 𝘺𝘦𝘴. 𝘌𝘷𝘦𝘯 𝘪𝘧 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘢𝘳𝘦 𝘥𝘺𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘰𝘧 𝘧𝘦𝘢𝘳, 𝘦𝘷𝘦𝘯 𝘪𝘧 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘢𝘳𝘦 𝘴𝘰𝘳𝘳𝘺 𝘭𝘢𝘵𝘦𝘳, 𝘣𝘦𝘤𝘢𝘶𝘴𝘦 𝘸𝘩𝘢𝘵𝘦𝘷𝘦𝘳 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘥𝘰, 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘸𝘪𝘭𝘭 𝘣𝘦 𝘴𝘰𝘳𝘳𝘺 𝘢𝘭𝘭 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘳𝘦𝘴𝘵 𝘰𝘧 𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘭𝘪𝘧𝘦 𝘪𝘧 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘴𝘢𝘺 𝘯𝘰.” ― 𝘎𝘢𝘣𝘳𝘪𝘦𝘭 𝘎𝘢𝘳𝘤í𝘢 𝘔á𝘳𝘲𝘶𝘦𝘻, 𝘓𝘰𝘷𝘦 𝘪𝘯 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘛𝘪𝘮𝘦 𝘰𝘧 𝘊𝘩𝘰𝘭𝘦𝘳𝘢.

warnings: this is fiction so we're going to ignore everything that doesn't adjust to our real world timeline, okay? okay. ft. timothée chalamet, paris inaccuracies, alcohol consumption. 3.4k words (+articles!)

currently playing: labyrinth by taylor swift!

also the song referenced in the first article is this one.

masterlist ✢ next

by Alan Gomez

After months of awaiting its release, Aidan Kim has graced us with the first single of his upcoming album “MIRRORS”.

The first song off the album, called “In Your Pocket” was released last Friday august 4th, and reached its peak at #7 in the billboard 100. The track, in which Aidan participated both as a lyricist and producer, talks about a dying relationship thanks to the girl being a cheater and protecting the evidence by not showing her cellphone to her counterpart.

With a constant “show me yours, I’ll show you mine,” and “it should be really easy if you have nothing to hide” Kim depicts what could be his personal experience with ex-girlfriend y/n y/ln, who was accused of cheating with a Formula 1 pilot last May.

The album expects its release in October 5th.

SEE ALSO:

→ Former Star-5 staff says Aidan Kim played a key part in the group's disbandment.

→ y/n y/ln looks radiant leaving Columbia Pictures HQ.

→ Swifties prove they're #TeamYN with new trend praising the actress.

August 15th, Paris, France.

Laughter fills your hotel suite, you're stumbling around the room barefoot, in an attempt to dance to ABBA's 'Dancing Queen' while Matilde takes pictures with a disposable camera and holds her aching middle.

You're supposed to be getting ready for a Fashion Show happening in an hour and a half, one both Matilde and you got invited as guests for Dior. Your outfits are hanging by the door to the suite, away from the mess you've made with spilled champagne and a half-eaten fruit platter.

It's the first time in days that the lyrics to 'In Your Pocket' aren't playing in the back of your mind as you try to go on with your day. Being with Mati always helps you forget the outside world, even for a little while.

The music fades as you pose in the middle of the room and Matilde snaps a picture that leaves you seeing stars for the following seconds.

"Okay, let's get serious now," you say through a chortle. "We need to be ready!"

These public appearances are becoming increasingly important for you, they are the few chances you get to show everyone that you are still likable enough to get invited to events and therefore, not an awful person at all. Although actual awful people get invited too, you're hoping to give the opposite impression.

Your styling team will be getting there in ten minutes, assuming you're showered and ready and not in pajama shorts and your hair in a bun on the top of your head.

"Fine!" Matilde takes a deep breath, soothing her laughter before giggling again. "Go on, take a shower and I'll pick our stuff up."

"Thank you!"

You make a stop before running to the bathroom. Your cellphone rests on top of your bed, facing down. A text from Charles pops up as soon as you lift the phone, the screen unlocking with your face. It's a simple 'see you later, soleil' that has you smiling like an idiot against your will.

"What's that?" Matilde wonders, picking runaway crushed grapes from the marble floor. She knows exactly what it is that's got you smiling like that, you spilled everything last night, when you were drunk on red wine.

Your stupid little crush on Charles isn't your best kept secret anymore, but there is no one you trust more than Matilde to keep it with you.

Surprisingly, despite her initial warning, Matilde didn't judge you at all as you hiccuped and whined about how good Charles looked at the wedding and how unfair it was that you felt butterflies every time you thought of him.

The butterflies didn't last long, though, supplanted by worms of anxiety. Falling in love was not a conscious decision, no matter how much you wish it would be otherwise. And it was so frightening. Falling felt like flying, until you ended up crushed on the ground.

“Nothing,” you say, locking the phone again.

“Huh,” Mati is holding back a smile, wiping the stickiness from her hands on her pajama top. “Weird.”

You smile at her, a sheepish ‘I’ve been caught’ smile that finally makes Mati herself grin. You’re glad she didn’t repeat her “you don’t wanna do that” sermon, although maybe it would have helped you make your mind up about whether you want to explore your feelings or throw dirt on them to extinguish the fire.

Maybe you just have to get through one day at a time, if there's anything you've learnt since your downfall began is that the future is unpredictable. You wish you had a crystal ball, though.

─────────

It's at the After Party that you actually get five minutes alone with him, or as alone as you possibly can in Le Carmen, surrounded by half-drunk people and loud music blasting.

"Here, soleil," Charles hands you the Vodka Soda you ordered, before taking his whiskey. It makes you remember the smell of his breath, so close to your neck, while you danced at the wedding.

You take a sip of your drink before Charles can clink his glass to yours, and he just laughs as embarrassment fills you. "Sorry."

He looks impeccable in his tailored suit and with his hair slicked back. Your hands are sweating and you try not to let it show how nervous you suddenly feel, this isn't you. Not around Charles, anyway.

"It's okay," he says, sipping his drink too, a smile still on his lips.

Red lights flash on your faces as you try your best to hold a conversation about the fashion show. Charles was a guest for Armani, and had to sit exactly opposite to you facing the runway.

"Hey! y/n!" someone is grabbing the upper part of your arm before you have even turned around.

"Oh, hi!"

You saw Timothée around a couple times tonight, but with his popular kid aura, all he'd done was greet you with a smile and a wave before disappearing through the crowd with a drink in his hand. To be honest, after what you'd said about him on your Youtube video you felt a little shy, but he never seemed to remember or mind your comments, he said he was on your side once or twice, even.

"How's it going?" he asks, his hand has left your shoulder and dropped to his side, but you notice the way Charles' eyes follow it. "Also, nice to meet you," he offers the same hand to Charles who takes it immediately, giving it a strong squeeze.

"C'est mon plaisir," is all Charles responds.

"All good," you half-sigh. Stress is a normal part of your life now, but it doesn't mean you're okay with it. "You?"

Timmy shrugs, imitating your response before drinking from his glass. "Just wanted to say hi, i'll see you soon, yes?"

"Hopefully?"

The exchange can only mean one thing. He has gotten the call.

Your little trip to Los Angeles was for a chemistry read at Columbia Pictures with Timothée for Greta Gerwig's new version of Little Women. It's the furthest you've gotten all year to landing a role and just thinking of it has the vodka churning in your stomach.

Charles watches the conversation with his brows furrowed, gripping the whiskey glass tightly. You give him a smile that he doesn't return before downing his drink.

"I'm sure I'll see you," Timmy is smiling again and his long fingers squeeze your bare shoulder once more. "Exciting, right?"

"Oh, you have no idea," you finish your vodka soda and immediately regret it. The alcohol is going to go straight to your head if you don't slow down.

"What are we talking about?" Charles questions, finally done with being the outsider, and letting his annoyance get the best of his manners.

Timothée and you open your mouths at the same time, but before words can come out, someone is dragging your could-be-costar away not caring at all that he's busy, and all he does is say a quick 'sorry' and 'bye'.

Awkwardness falls between Charles and you as you stare at your shoes, then his, and finally look up at his face, the lights have changed to blue and green and hide the color of his eyes.

"Want to get some air?" you suggest, "I'll tell you all about that." you signal to where Timothée disappeared with your head and bite your lower lip. Charles' expression softens and he nods, following you out as people woo for Rihanna's 'We Found Love'.

You take a deep breath once you're out of the club, the air is warm and pleasant. Charles observes you, leaning against the wall of the building. The back is empty, albeit a little creepy, but you don't mind. It's quiet and you're alone with Charles. Okay, maybe that you mind a little. When did you forget how to act around him?

"So," you begin, standing in front of him. Charles' demeanor is still mildly off-putting and you know you'd be the same had you been excluded in the way you did to him. "It's not a big deal, really. I haven't told anyone because, well, you know how things are right now and, yeah..."

Charles raises both eyebrows, his lips form a thin line briefly, before he switches to a good attempt at being neutral.

"I auditioned for a movie, Little Women, and finally got a callback. We had a chemistry reading a couple weeks ago," you explain quickly, rubbing your forehead in an anxious gesture. "His 'see you soon' is just wishing me luck, he's already got the role."

"Soleil, that's wonderful," Charles pushes himself off the wall, holding both your shoulders with his warm hands. "Why didn't you tell me?"

You shrug, making his palms slide to your biceps. "I didn't want to die of embarrassment when I didn't get the role. Which I can still do, by the way. Die, I mean."

Charles laughs, and you break into a smile too. "Seriously, Charles."

"You're not dying of embarrassment, not on my watch," he squeezes your shoulders. "I'm so proud of you."

"I'm sorry that you felt left out back there," you apologize, and it takes more than a little effort not to look away from his eyes. "It was really rude."

Charles shrugs—all nonchalant—as if he wasn't about to crush a whiskey glass with one hand just ten minutes ago. "That's okay, soleil. You can keep your secrets."

"You can keeps yours too," you joke, and it's like the air shifts around you. Heavy with secrets and unspoken words.

Charles lets go of you then, taking a step back. "I don't want to keep secrets from you, y/n."

Your heart wants to jump out of your chest, and the knot in your stomach tightens so much it turns heavy. You cannot say that you don't want that either, because keeping this secret from him is self-preservation.

It's not the time to think about him, and you hate yourself for it, but when Aidan's face flashes through your mind you're filled with fear. And you hate him more than you could possibly loathe yourself. Because he's made you afraid of falling in love.

You plan to meet up with Charles for brunch the next day. You ignore Mati's chants of 'It's a date!' all morning as you move around your shared suite, trying to pick out the perfect outfit, excusing the indecision with how 'unpredictable' the weather is. Although it's been mild for the past fourteen days.

The flight you're taking back to New York with Matilde leaves the next day, and you're carrying the dread of packing the mess you've left at the hotel. The press has been right about one thing only that involves you or your friends, Matilde is going back to Broadway and since your home is finally just yours again, you offered it to her while she figures her stuff out.

"y/n, chill, okay?" Mati is lying on her unmade bed, holding her phone above her face. "Your packing will be done just in time, just worry about your date."

"It's not a date," you repeat, running the brush up and down your cheeks again, painting them a glowy peach. "Is it?"

Mati rolls her eyes, and before she can turn to face you, she drops her phone right on her face. "God damnit!"

You burst out laughing before you can help it, but still leave your chair to check on Matilde. "Are you okay?"

She rubs her nose, tears in the corner of her eyes. "Never better,"

"You'll be fine," you assure, blood doesn't come out and the redness is probably just from her incessant rubbing. "Be careful next time."

"Sure mom," Mati rolls her eyes again and sits up on the bed. "Oh, loving the makeup!"

"Thank you," you stare at your reflection in the mirror for thirty seconds straight, urging your eyes to find a flaw. Is the line on your eyelid crooked? Are your teeth stained pink? Maybe you should have chosen another shade for your blush.

"y/n," Mati is still pinching the bridge of her nose and you feel really sorry for laughing. "You look beautiful, okay? Stop looking at yourself like that."

You flashback to a time Victoria told you maybe you should just 'stick to what suited you' when you tried a shorter haircut.

"Thank you, Mati," you take your eyes away from yourself. "Sorry for laughing, are you sure you're okay?"

Mati nods, showing you her clean palm. "This has happened to me more times than I care to admit."

You giggle, running your fingers through your hair one last time. "I promise I'll finish packing as soon as I get back."

"Can you just focus on one thing at a time?" Mati picks a stray hair from your forehead and puts it back in place. "If Charles doesn't tell you how beautiful you look, I will kick his ass, by the way."

You laugh, but you hope he will actually think so.

You get a déjà vu feeling when you get to the restaurant and Charles is already there, tapping his foot on the white linoleum and fixing his empty cup on the little plate.

"Am I late again?" you ask after the host leads you to his table. You're smiling and your cheeks are about to protest in pain.

"I'm just too early, again," Charles gets up to pull your chair, and you hold your breath as he kisses your cheek before moving on to the next task. "You look gorgeous, soleil."

At least Mati won't have to kick his ass.

"Thank you Charlie," you beam wider, enjoying the moment of satisfaction before anxiety presents itself. "You look very handsome."

His beige shirt and glasses aren't otherwordly on a normal basis, but you love the way they look on him. And you're proud of yourself for being able to return the compliment for the first time.

Lunch goes by smoothly as you recap last night's party, the good, the bad and the ugly. You spent the rest of the night dancing with him and Mati, and doing your best to stay away from the vodka to soothe your nerves. You even saw Timmy again before he left, and he wished you good luck in his own strange way before saying goodbye in slurred French to Charles and you.

"So, what are you plans for the rest of the break?" you're on your third cup of coffee, not your best idea, really.

There's around twelve days left before Charles has to go back to racing.

"Maybe taking a trip, spending a few days at home too. I just want to rest."

You nod. As an actress sometimes you have to travel a lot, but it can't compare to the way he's always away from home, you just got the tiniest taste as an Elix ambassador.

"Sounds like a great plan, Charlie,"

It's like Charles is always inviting you to join him in anything he plans to do, and this is not the exception, as the words that come out of his mouth next are: "Do you want to come with me?"

“Come where?” You laugh, to be honest, most of the time you think his offers just come out of being polite. Like when you offer someone a piece of your food and you secretly hope they’ll say no.

But Charles is always authentic when it comes to his offers, especially to you. “Anywhere you want,” he smiles, his eyes become small behind his glasses. “Have you ever been to Greece?”

You can’t help but throw your head back and laugh. “Seriously?”

Charles nods, semblance unchanged. He is smiling but he isn’t joking at all. “Italy? though you know that already thanks to Matilde. Carlos says Tenerife is beautiful.”

“Why?” You gulp, your right hand is gripping your thigh under the table, anxious.

“I want to go with you,” Charles admits, and it’s the first time his calmness falters, just for a split second. “I like being with you.”

The line between what you two are and what you’re not is blurring again, and you’re uncertain as to which side it’s the one you want to choose to remain at, although you’re sure which is the safest.

“Why?” You repeat, your tongue is sandpaper in your mouth. You want to hear him say it, and you dread it all the same.

“Because I like you, y/n. I like you a lot, and I want to be with you.” Charles doesn’t skip a beat and the juxtaposition between how soothing his words are and how nervous they make you, has your head spinning. Sure, it’s not the first time he tells you he likes you. But you know this is different. "Why don't we hang out before you get busy with filming?"

You scoff. "Oh you do have a lot of faith in me, don't you?"

Charles frowns, always disliking every time you self-deprecate. "Yes, and so should you. I'm sure you're getting that role."

"Right," you sigh, annoyed at yourself for going straight down the self-hate line in front of him. Though it's not like he hasn't witnessed it before.

"So?" Charles jumps back to the previous topic swiftly, "Where should we go?"

"I have to go back to New York, though," you wince, your excitement and anxiety dying at once. "I made a promise to Mati."

Charles is unable to hide his disappointment as he looks down at the table. He's unsure of how much longer he can keep playing this game where he's okay with being just friends with you although it's clear you keep crossing each other's lines and taking a step back every time it gets too real. And he promised himself he'd be patient, because what he feels for you is real. But the pain he feels every time you find a polite way to reject him is also very real.

"I understand," he assures, smiling.

"Thank you, Charlie. I'd love to go with you, though."

It's the first time Charles isn't sure you're not lying to him.

"Are you actually out of your mind?" Mati gasps, her fork clanking against the plate as she lets it go. "Why did you say no?"

"H-How was I supposed to say yes?" you mutter, directing an apolegetic look to the rest of the customers Mati has startled.

"y/n my beloved, you just had to say yes, just like that. "Yes Charles, I'd love to go" finito."

"Right, you make it sound so easy."

Mati softens then, drinking from her sparkling water to gain some time. "Did you want to go with him?"

You find yourself nodding.

"Then why did you say no?"

"We have to go back to New York, Mati, I couldn't leave you hanging."

"First of all," Mati's accent comes out with her slight exasperation. "I can stay at a hotel, y/n. It's not the end of the world. Or you could always give me a key, you know," she raises both eyebrows, and it makes you laugh. "Why don't you put yourself first, y/n?"

This refers to pretty much everything going on in your life for the past 6 months. But the one time you put yourself first meant the beginning of the end.

"I'm scared," you whisper, avoiding Mati's eyes.

"I know," Matilde reaches for your hand and gives it a soft squeeze. "But you deserve to be happy, inspite of the fear. Maybe Charles can add on to your happiness. How will you find out if you don't even let yourself try?"

You know you cannot keep letting fear control your actions and stop you from getting what you want. You've done that enough, it wasn't patience that stopped you from speaking up for yourself all that time while Aidan and Victoria ran you through the dirt. It was fear.

"Could you excuse me while I make a phone call?"

Mati just cackles in response.

─────────

The prickle on the back of your neck has returned, and you're trying to get more air into your lungs while you wait for Charles to pick up the phone.

"Allo?"

"Hi Charlie," you breathe, failing at hiding your anxiety.

"Hello, soleil," you can hear the smile in his voice, "Are you okay?"

"Um, yes. I just wanted to ask you something."

"Go ahead,"

"So um, is it too late to join your trip?" you speak too fast, but you barely have time to wonder whether Charles understood, because he lets out a short, breathy laugh that's filled with relief.

"It's never too late to change your mind. Can New York really wait, though?" Charles fears he's said too much, or that he sounds sarcastic enough to make you regret taking the initiative.

"New York will be there, and so will Matilde," you laugh.

"Let's change your ticket, then, soleil."

You're still falling. You're still afraid. But you're going headfirst.

─── team principal radio: ❝it's finally here! thank you for reading! I hope you've enjoyed this chapter. please let me know what you think, i appreciate all of your interactions with delicate so much! if you're a ghost reader, don't be afraid to interact too. we're all very nice here❞

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bloodyquillink-blog · 5 months

Note

hi i’m not sure if your taking requests, but if you are can you do a logan walker x reader where the reader and logan were engaged before logan got taken by rorke, and when he gets saved he’s a completely different person and is closed off and even more quiet, but when one of rorkes members send a message to the ghosts team saying they want to take the reader now aswell, logan gets super protective and opens up to her about eveything that happened? if not totally ok!! thank you so much!!

A/N: I am and thank you for being my first tumblr request! I hope I’ve done you justice with this.

Warnings: Big angst, hurt/comfort, descriptions of injuries and torture methods (if I missed anything please let me know)

Word Count: 4.4K

To Be Changed, Logan Walker x Reader

Your marriage was so happy and perfect, even though the world wasn’t. Despite the fear of your whole wedding being destroyed before you and Logan even put on the rings and said your vows, that didn’t stop either of you. If you were going to die, you might as well die tied to one another, surrounded by the people you treasure most. Thankfully, that wasn’t the case. The wedding went without a hitch, ignoring the occasional pitches of anxiety that bubbled in everyone's stomachs. There was a beautiful mountain that overlooked a nearby beach, it felt like the clouds parted just for you two that day. The sun shone down on the white you and Logan wore. The red rose in his breast pocket, the artificial one you gave him when you went on your first date, was accentuated by the surrounding colors of blue water and green grass.

Logan was usually fairly quiet, but that day when he said his vows, he spoke more than you did. He managed to avoid stuttering, though you could feel his hands shaking. You were so proud of him and each word from his lips warmed your heart. That alone let you know that this was the right decision, the only one.

Before you cut the cake, he whispered to you, “I can’t find the words to describe how much stronger you make me feel.” You looked at him, confused and curious, before he continued. “I barely speak to my own family and brothers, maybe because I don’t need to… but you changed that. Now, I’m just droning on and on about whatever’s happening at the moment. Because of you. Hell, my mom barely heard me talk this much.” He wrapped his arms around you, cupping your hands that held the knife for the cake. “I bet she’s watching us now. She’d love you so much.” And with that, you both cut the first slice.

A quote floated through your mind, “To be loved is to be changed.” and by God, did you change Logan.

That’s what made today so painful.

That’s why you sat on the floor in front of the front door to you and Logan’s home. That’s why David held you, holding the back of your head so you didn’t see him silently crying while you sobbed. You held Logan’s mask and dogtags close to your heart. Eventually, Keegan and Merrick had come out of the car they drove here. Keegan knelt down to rub your back, attempting to comfort you as best as he could. Merrick told you more than he, as a Captain, should tell any civilian. He’d made an exception for you. Seeing as he had a job to protect his best friend's children in the most dangerous job they could all have now, you joked that Logan and David were his adopted kids.

He never denied it. Because of that, you might as well have been his adopted kid, now in-law too. And as that in-law, it was his job to tell you that Logan was, for better or worse, not dead. You looked up at him with tears still falling. He explained what happened from the beginning. A man, a horrible man, named Rorke who was a former Ghost that the Federation destroyed and turned into something repulsive. David added that it was Rorke who had dragged Logan away on that beach. That fucking beach. He explained how it was his own fault for not doing more, for not saving him despite his injuries that, even now, two weeks after, he was still healing from.

You almost slapped him. You wanted to slap Merrick too. You were heartbroken and afraid and every negative emotion you could possibly feel nearly boiled over. You sat on the couch, the men around you as they tried to help you breathe. When you calmed down enough to speak coherently, you asked a simple question:

“Will we ever see him again? Alive?”

Merrick answered, as hopeful as he could be.

“We’ll do everything we can to make sure we will.”

That’s all you could really ask for. David moved and carefully dug into his front pocket before he pulled out his hand and offered something small and shiny. It was Logan’s ring. Both of your rings were made of titanium for its durability, Logan was worried about scratching or otherwise damaging it, so he chose titanium. Strong and durable. You had told him it reminded you of his personality, how he just kept going under all circumstances. You would’ve started crying again if this alone hadn’t already exhausted you. As much as you wanted to hold all of Logan’s things to try to feel like he was with you, you handed his mask and dog tags to Hesh. You knew where the mask came from. Who originally wore it.

“I think they’d want you to hold these.” you said, quiet as ever. David knew you weren’t just talking about Logan, but their father, Elias the “Scarecrow”, as well. He grabbed the mask and tags, putting the tags on and clutching the mask like a lifeline. As everyone stood up and walked to the door, you hugged David and whispered to him, your voice still shaking.

“It’s not your fault. I know he doesn’t blame you. I don’t either.”

“Thank you,” He paused, “I’ll do everything in my power to bring him back to you.”

You hugged Merrick and Keegan before they walked back to the car.

“Be safe!” You called out. A useless but well-intentioned farewell to the soldiers. They waved back before pulling out of the driveway, leaving you alone.

That night, you took Logan’s ring and put the chain of your favorite necklace, one he had given you before your marriage, through the ring and laid it around your neck. You cried, holding his cold pillow and wearing an old hoodie you’d stolen from his closet while he was gone. Your body ached with every sob.

Three months later, you began cleaning the house before the depression that kept you in your room most of the time got too bad. It helped a little, going through every nook and cranny. You even went into the attic. Any time either of you traversed into the usually dark storage, it would end with you holding the giant vacuum, claiming you saw a spider the size of your head while Logan chuckled. After a bit, he’d go up with a flashlight only to find some critter that got stuck up there because of a hole. Once he’d patched up the hole and cleaned out as much as he could, it all felt more comfortable.

As you looked through old boxes, you found pictures. The oldest going back to when you both first met. It was a charity for veterans in your old town where Logan, David and Elias were stationed. There were games you and your friends played, competing. At one point, Elias jokingly joined in which pulled David and, naturally, Logan. As the night went on, you and Logan got closer. He barely spoke but his chuckles at your comments were enough for you.

“I was so close to winning! You gotta give me credit for that!” You argued, cheeks hurting from smiling so much. You turned to see Logan looking at you, his brow raised and smirking.

“How? You’re 25 points behind me.” He remarked.

“I would’ve won if… if I had been playing with someone other than you!”

“Like who?”

“One of my friends, probably Ash!”

“You have 10 points.” Each time the tiny basketballs went in the hoop, it was 5 points.

“Yes and I would be 10 points ahead of them which means I would win!” He practically wheezed at that as you giggled. You looked over to see David and Elias staring at the both of you, wide smiles plastered on their faces.

You kept looking through the box. Finding photos from the day you met Keegan and Merrick, then the day you visited Mrs. Walker’s grave for the first time. You stared at that picture of Logan and David sitting together in front of the stone. It was so peaceful.

You held the photo to your chest and thought of Logan. You whispered to yourself, “Please, please protect him. Keep all of them safe. I just want them to be happy… Elias and Diane, please watch over all of them.”.

Another three months later, you hadn’t heard from David, Keegan, Merrick or any other military personnel. It had been a total of eleven months since you last saw your husband. You were Logan’s emergency contact and many people aside from the Ghosts knew you, so if something happened then someone would contact you. This should be comforting. No one calling you means no one’s dead, right? Nothing bad. So why were you so anxious? You couldn’t reach anyone so maybe something did happen and-

Your phone rang. It was David. You answered immediately.

“David? What happened? Where have you been?”

“Come outside, I have to show you something.”

It’d been a long time since you ran that fast. David sat in his truck, as you ran over to the passenger side, he leaned to open the door from his seat. As soon as your door closed and you buckled in, he began driving.

“David, what’s going on?”

He inhaled through his nose, you noticed how hard he was gripping the wheel and that he was going a bit fast. He was a careful driver normally. If he was amongst civilians, he was calm and never dared going above the speed limit in case there was a child or a dog or pedestrian walking when and where they shouldn’t be. This drive, however, was different. Something happened.

“We got him.” He looked at you, your eyes wide as they slowly filled with tears. “He’s back.”

“W-when did he get back?” You stuttered.

“Almost two weeks ago-” You opened your mouth to speak but David put his hand up. You waited. “Knowing Rorke and his history, we kept Logan on base to heal some and do some mental evaluations.”

“David…”

“I need to warn you right now, he’s not gonna be the same man you knew before all this shit happened. He’s gonna have a lot of recovering to do.”

David went on to explain Rorke and what the Federation did to him. You were quiet.

“Did he do all of that to Logan?”

“We aren’t sure. We just know that whatever it was wasn’t good. He’s clear to come home today if both of you are ready, but I just needed to tell you.” Good thing the house was clean.

“Thank you, David. I know this has probably been harder on you than anyone.” David tried to laugh.

“I mean it’s my job-” You put your hand on his shoulder.

“You know what I mean. Thank you. Seriously.” He exhaled slowly, he seemed to relax a little.

“You’re welcome.”

“You can come by whenever you like if Logan comes back. Maybe just give me a warning, ok?”

“I will. I promise.”

David parked the truck after you checked in at the front gate. Your heart beat rapidly despite the slow walk through the base. You recognized some of the men and gave a half-hearted wave when they greeted you. You could already tell. They knew why you were here.

You walked into the base hospital. David took you down numerous hallways you knew there was a chance you’d see one day but never expected, never wanted to walk down. But this was for Logan. David opened the door to the room you stood in front of.

You couldn’t tell if your heart was breaking or if you were having a heart attack or what…

There he was, sitting against the bed he must’ve been in since returning, looking at you.

Logan was in a hospital gown, his arms and legs below the knee exposed. The skin was covered in jagged scars and stitches that were still such a dark and aggressive red. Along with that were numerous bruises, a painful variety of purples, yellows, and green in some spots. His right arm in a cast and sling. On his other hand, his ring and finger are wrapped, probably broken or dislocated. You notice how his left shoulder and upper arm seem to be wrapped with gauze. You don’t want to imagine what injuries he must have that you can’t see.

His face. His handsome face. He looks so tired. Logan turned towards you and tried to limp over, using the bed for stability. You rushed forward instinctually. Once he was close enough, he slowly wrapped his unbroken arm around your back. You looked at him. He had dark circles under his eyes, faded bruising on his left cheekbone, two intersected scars ran across his face. One started between his eyebrows to his cheek. The second from the middle of his chin, across his lips until it passed the other scar on that same cheek. His skin was cool and pale, unlike the warm complexion he had prior to the kidnapping.

You ended up staying for about two hours before you got a list of medications from doctors, some extra gauze wraps and a pamphlet detailing how to handle a deep second degree burn at home. That was why his shoulder and arm were wrapped. You said goodbye to David, Keegan and Merrick soon after.

The first few weeks, Logan mostly stayed in bed. Every day you checked his injuries, the stitches and the burn, to make sure there was no infection and they were healing properly. By the fourth week or so, the burn had healed, leaving behind a large patch of discolored skin. At nearly the sixth week, his cast was removed. His arm and fingers had healed well and correctly. David had told you that when Logan was taken, his arm was broken. When he was found, his arm had healed incorrectly as a result of improper care, assuming any care was given, so the doctors had to re-break it before putting it in the cast.

After the seventh week, Logan was able to walk around without limping. However, he mostly just stayed in your room. Sometimes, you’d spend the day in the living room in hopes it would coax him out. It didn’t work. You cooked his favorite meals but he would usually bring the food back to the room. When it was time for bed, you essentially snuck around the room to avoid scaring him in case he was sleeping. You were pretty sure he wasn’t sleeping, at least not as much as he should’ve been. It remained this way for a few more weeks.

A month and a half into Logan being back home and he’d uttered a scarce amount of words. “Okay”, “alright”, “yes”, “no” and whatever else kept his sentences short. He barely talked to you anymore. Of course, you kept David updated as often as possible. You felt like he just wasn’t there. Now, he was more of a ghost than ever.

Two months in and he started going to the base again. For what? You don’t know. You had asked where he was going, dressed in his “soldier getup” as you called it.

“I’m going to work. Can’t be late. I’ll be back later.” He’d stated hastily before heading out. This continued on for another two weeks until you decided to talk to him before he left.

“Logan, honey, can we talk?”

“Um… sure, but I have to leave before 9.” He was trying to rush again.

“I wanted to ask about that actually…” He looked at you, mostly expressionless. “You were just gone for almost, what, six months? Why are they having you back at work when you might as well have just finished actually healing?”

“I… There’s still work to be done.” he stuttered. You cocked your head. You turned to him from your position on the couch.

“What work?” you asked slowly and quietly. You knew he wasn’t lying. You didn’t want him to think you thought he was lying. You wanted to keep the conversation calm so he wasn’t overwhelmed.

“It’s a lot. I don’t think- right now isn’t the right time.” he began to turn.

“We can talk later if that’s better, but I just want to know. I’m worried about you.”

“You don’t need to worry, I just need to do some things.” His voice carried no emotion. He was almost at the door when you stood suddenly.

“Logan, I just want to understand!” Logan stopped in his tracks. You stared at his back. “I want to just talk, please… I know your job is important and I don’t want to get in the way with complaining…” Your voice cracked. You wrapped your arms around yourself. Logan was here, in the same house as you. You stared at him but you felt lonelier than ever. “You’re so far away, Logan… and… and I know there was so much that happened and we didn’t know if we’d ever see each other again, but we’re together now!” You walked closer to him. He heard your steps but he stayed still. “We don’t have to act like nothing happened. We couldn’t if we wanted to, I know that… but please talk to me again. I married you because I love you. I married you and everything that came with you. I said those vows and ‘in sickness and in health’ because even when you’re hurting, I’ll be there. I’m here right now! But I need you to let me be there. I need you to stop hiding yourself away from me. I want to know you again, Logan.” Your breathing had picked up as tears welled up in your eyes.

Time just stopped. You turned and sat back on the couch facing away from him. You quietly wept into your hands as everything just seemed to spill over. You had reached your boiling point. You didn’t hear the footsteps coming to you until you opened your eyes and noticed the giant boots that faced your much smaller feet. A large pair of hands slowly removed your hands from your face, one tilted your head up.

You saw Logan’s beautiful eyes, a sort of hazel that seemed gold in the light. He slowly knelt down in front of you and hugged you. Not like the barely there hug he mustered at the hospital when he couldn’t even walk on his own. He pulled you tight against him and you immediately curled around him as you sobbed. He let you. Logan pulled back after a moment and held your face. He wiped your tears with his thumbs.

“I love you too… more than anything.” He stared into your reddening, tear-filled eyes for a moment before sighing as he sat next to you. You held his hand, his thumb stroked your knuckles as he thought about his next words. “A couple days ago,” he started, “something happened. I can’t tell you what yet but it was cause for concern. Especially with Ghost team.” He paused and looked at you, directly into you. “I want to tell you everything, but it’s going to be a lot to process and it’ll probably be scary. I don’t want you to deal with this, with all the problems coming to us because of Rorke but you’re right to want to know what’s happening and you deserve to know.” You looked at the time, 8:55 A.M. You stood, Logan followed, still holding your hand. He pressed your hand against his chest and over his heart.

“I love you.” You whispered.

“I love you too. I’ll talk to Merrick today and I’ll try to get home as early as I can. We can talk about everything while we make dinner.”

“Together?”

“Together. I’ll call you if anything comes up and if you need me to, I can get groceries, ok?” You nodded. This is all you asked for. You hugged Logan tightly as he wrapped himself around you. You walked him to the door where he kissed you goodbye, on the lips. It felt like it had been forever since you’d done that. You stopped him before he moved. He almost retorted when you pulled off the necklace you still had on. He stared at the ring hanging from it. You took the ring off and put it back on his hand. He stared at it for a moment and smiled. A tired little smile that took so much weight off of you. Logan grabbed the necklace and took the time to put it back around your neck before he kissed you again.

“Thank you.” He whispered, still smiling. You smiled back as he walked to the car, waving when he began to drive. It had only been 10 minutes at most but those 10 minutes were so freeing. The rest of the morning you spent outside, reading and occasionally texting your friends when they checked in. The sun warmed your skin and the air was so fresh. You went back inside around 3 P.M when Logan called you:

Logan: “I can come back home around 6 tonight.”

You: “Sounds good, any ideas for dinner?”

Logan: “I could really go for lasagna.”

You: “Can you stop at the store on your way back? I have a list!”

Logan: “Yeah, just send it to me.”

With that, you texted everything you needed before moving to clean up the kitchen and free up space.

Later that night, Logan returned with everything you asked for plus a tub of ice cream. Your favorite flavor. You got to cooking, boiling the sheets and preparing the sauce while the oven preheated. You cooked together, like old times. It had been so long. Music quietly played as you both took turns tasting everything. A little extra salt and paprika here, with some pepper too. You laid down the floppy lasagna sheets while Logan poured the sauce over top then you both spread your favorite cheeses before adding more sheets and so on. While the lasagna was in the oven, you sat on the couch together. Logan held you in his arms as you stroked the hair on the back of his neck. After savoring the peace of the moment, Logan started talking.

When he was kidnapped, Rorke had put him through the same trials he himself had experienced. Being force fed poisoned food was the start until Rorke seemed to grow bored and eventually forced him to eat the plants the poison had been extracted from. Logan told you everything. All the grim details. At some points, you actually felt nauseous just hearing the horrors. When he was almost done talking about what he was forced to endure, you just held him and continued to encourage him to talk. He held you tight as he explained. The beatings he was put through. The way his arm healed wrong and he could hardly use it without feeling pain.

Then he looked at you. You felt so fragile with the way he looked at you with his tired eyes. He spoke again.

“Rorke knows about you.”

You never met this man in your life, never saw pictures. But he was like a boogeyman. He could appear from under your bed at any moment.

“His soldiers… left us a message… Threatening to take me again. They said this time they’d take you too.”

That’s why he was going back to base. To work with his brother and everyone to make sure nothing happened. You didn’t live far from the base but they were thinking about bringing you on post to be cautious. That’s why Logan went back to work so soon. To protect you. That’s why he was telling you all of this now, to further protect you.

You were scared. Hearing about something like this happening was one thing, but knowing the man who stole your husband and almost broke him from the inside out was completely different. Especially when you knew that he wanted you too. Oh god. Logan held you and told you that the two of you could always move on base where you’d be protected and closer to him. You’d be amongst him and the other soldiers and Riley, Hesh’s dog. They wouldn’t let anything happen. And so you agreed. That night you just focused on being together, holding one another and eating your delicious lasagna as you reminisced together.

Over the course of the next week, you brought as many of your necessities over to base where you and Logan continued living together. You met some friends of his and their partners, gaining your own group of friends not long after moving. Some had even assisted in bringing more of your things over when Logan had to work.

Later down the line, the Ghost team flew out. You weren’t told anything about what the mission entailed, but when Logan came to you, mask on, and put his ring in your hand before kissing you goodbye, you had an idea.

“I will make sure no one, not a single person touches you. Not a single damn person. I will keep it that way. I promise.” He whispered, voice more stern than ever.

Your friends on base were all a wonderful support system during the next week they were gone for. You weren’t able to reach out again but you believed in them. You took care of Riley, who’d grown to love you.

When the week was done, they came back and Logan had made a beeline for you. You were reading, his ring back on your necklace when the door opened and your husband walked in, covered in dirt and other unidentifiable muck and alive. You rushed to jump into his arms and kiss him, ignoring the weird taste of said dirt in your mouth. You gave his ring back, ignoring the dirt that was on his hands too. While you held him, he whispered in your ear, “It’s all over now. We can go home.”.

So you did. David, Keegan and Merrick were kind enough to assist with moving your things back over and checking your house for anything that wasn’t meant to be there, anything that indicated a break in. Shit, they’d even checked the vents too. When that was all done, you made lasagna for them and spent the evening laughing together and savoring the peace that had finally come over the world again. Later, you and Logan laid in bed together, happy as ever and whispered sweet words to each other. Both of you could finally get some rest.

The end, thank you for reading! I will also post this on my ao3 @ RiversSong82

#cod ghosts #cod ghosts fanfiction #cod fanfiction #cod fanfic #logan walker #cod logan walker #logan walker x reader #logan walker x m!reader #logan walker x f!reader #logan walker x gn!reader #quill writes

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shxtodxroki · 7 months

Text

𝚂𝚊𝚟𝚎𝚍

Summary: Keigo nearly meets his end thanks to a recently freed petty criminal with a revenge streak. Thankfully, you’re there to catch him when he can’t save himself.

Flufftober Day 1 Prompt: “I’ve Got You”

Warnings: Mentions of death/Keigo nearly dies, SPOILERS FOR THE MANGA (specifically chapter 385 I believe), reader flies but it’s not specified whether it’s from their quirk or just from support gear

Pairing: Hawks (Keigo Takami) x Gender Neutral! Reader

Word Count: 1.3k

Check out my full Flufftober masterlist here!

This is it. Keigo Takami, former number two pro hero in all of Japan, is going to die, and he’s going to die in the most pathetic way possible.

It had been about a month since he had lost his quirk. A month since the world’s greatest, most feared supervillain snatched his fierce wings from him, barely allowing him to escape with his life. The emotional fall-out that followed the incident was conflicting, but Keigo trucked on out of necessity more than anything else, attempting to figure out what to do with his hero agency now that he couldn’t realistically do any of what made him the number two hero in the first place. He felt useless when he was at the agency, in all honesty, but he also felt free. The weight of the world had been taken off of his shoulders, and for once he felt like he could just be Keigo, live as normal of a life as he could in this world, and come home to you every evening. The light of his life. Despite the sadness, he felt freer than ever before.

He supposed that was ironic now, as he fell through the air to his certain death below. His freedom stripped in a second by a low-level villain with a grudge, a grudge with fatal consequences.

He hadn’t even recognized the man’s face at first. Keigo rarely remembered the villains he took down, simply thankful that they no longer had the ability to cause more harm to the innocent people of Japan once he had locked them behind bars. But when this man came crashing through the top-story window of his agency right where his office was located with his own set of wings, screaming about how Hawks had gotten him arrested years ago over an attempted robbery turned hostage situation, he was forced to realize just how vulnerable he was now. He had a target on his back from the many recently freed villains who he had once locked up, and no quirk to help him escape or fight back at all. And so, before he could even process what was happening, Keigo was thrown out of the window by the villain and sent flying full-speed to his death, forced to accept his mortality for the second time in only a month.

There isn’t even time for his life to flash before his eyes. Not that Keigo particularly wanted to remember much of his life in the firdt place, but still. There’s truly only one thing he really cares about, one person he'll miss more than anything when he crashes onto the street and loses his life, one person he wishes he could at least see one last time.

Your face floods Keigo’s mind as he hurdles towards the unforgiving ground at incredible speeds, and that, at least, he’s thankful for. If he’s going to die, then at least he’ll die with the person he loved as the last image in his mind, a beautiful send-off into whatever afterlife lays waiting for him on the other side of death. It truly feels like he can feel your warmth surrounding him as he nears the cold, harsh pavement below, like he can hear your voice calling out his name, pleading with him to come home alive. The thought brings tears to his eyes, wishing he could come home to you, but he’s thankful that you’ll be the last thought on his mind before he meets his end.

Just as Keigo begins to close his eyes, accepting his fate and realizing that he's truly met his end this time and couldn’t escape death after all, your voice suddenly sounds much closer to him, much more real. A harsh gust of wind and the prominent feeling of something wrapping around his body causes Keigo’s eyes to shoot open, and when he sees your face staring back at him, eyes wide with unshed tears as you stare at him with a gaze of pure fear and clutch him tightly in your arms, he can’t tell if he’s already passed on or if somehow, he’s truly seeing you in front of him right now.

“Please Keigo, I need you to look at me. I’ve got you, you’re safe, so please just say something.” He hears your wobbly voice begging, pleading with him. It doesn’t sound far away, doesn’t sound muffled or fuzzy or any other indicator that this isn’t real. It sounds anxious and shaky and real, and finally, Keigo manages to understand that he’s no longer flying to his death, instead safely cradled in your arms as you charge towards the safety of the ground with him.

Oh.

You saved him.

Keigo’s mind feels eerily quiet, as if nothing around him was processing in any way, but he can see across your face just how terrified you were, how scared you were that you’d somehow already lost him. Even when he felt lost, you were the one thing he always knew, the one person he could read like the back of his hand. So he pushes himself out of his mind fog just enough to soothe you, just enough to show you that you had saved him and had brought him back from the brink of death.

“Hi, baby. Fancy seeing you here.” He coughs out, his voice a little weak as he attempts to put on the same teasing tone he always uses when trying to ease your mind.

He can see that you want to cry, that you want to yell and chastise him for being so nonchalant about this, for the fact that you could have lost him without a chance to see him even one last time. But he also knows that you can see straight through him as well, that you know how terrified he felt as he was falling, and that you were the only thought on his mind as he was forced to accept his death.

So you let it go for now, opting to comfort him and discuss this matter more seriously in the privacy of your own home later. “You’re just lucky I was here and saw what happened in time to grab you.” You mumble as your feet touch the ground, and the moment you set him down his arms are wrapped around you and his head is buried in your neck. Your fingers quickly entangle themselves in his messy, windswept hair, pressing him closer to you to ease both of your minds, to ground you and show both of you that he’s alive and well and will be coming home with you tonight.

“Thank you for always being here to catch me.” He keeps his tone light but you can feel the relief in his words. You’ve always, always been there to catch him when he’s down, and he couldn’t possibly be more thankful that you managed to be there for him even now, in his absolute worst moment when he truly needed you the most.

“Don’t worry about it.” is all you whisper in response, holding him close for another moment before pulling away enough to look him in the eyes as your hands gently squeeze his arms. “I knew something was wrong the second I saw someone go flying into your agency’s building, so I called in for backup. They should already have the guy who did this taken care of by now.”

Those words ease the last of the worries in Keigo’s mind, now knowing that the man who nearly ended his life is once again in the custody of the heroes, unable to harm any of the other employees at his agency. He quickly decides to allow himself the relief of taking the rest of today off, knowing he couldn't possibly get any work done anyways, so he lets you lead him along the sidewalk with his hand linked in yours.

“Come on, let's get you home. You’ve had a rough day.” You smile softly at him, and though his mind still feels foggy and his stomach still feels scrambled from the fear and adrenaline, you manage to put him at ease for just a moment as he nods and smiles back at you, thankful he has someone who will always be watching over him even when he can’t watch over himself.

Request - Anonymous said: hello! for flufftober, please consider writing something for gojou (jjk), saeyoung (mysme) or keigo (bnha) ):

Anonymous said: hi ~ hope you're doing okay! i saw your flufftober thing and i wanted to request something for keigo, pretty please???

A/N: Hi everyone, welcome to Flufftober 2023! :D I’m super excited to kick this event off, fluff has always been my specialty so I’m stoked for this! Honestly I’m just a little worried about the writing I’ve done for this event, since I usually write in bullet-point style but decided to go for a more traditional one-shot style when writing in this event, and I hope it doesn’t sound too awkward or clunky as the month goes on since I’m not used to writing like this! Honestly I’m pretty happy with how this one came out, and I promise most pieces this month won’t start off this sad lol it’s just what came to mind when I read this prompt! My requests are also open right now, so if you have any requests please feel free to send them into my inbox! :D

Taglist: @applepie-macaroon @babaukulele @swiftbyul @shinsosmatcha @tsukkisukkii @awkwardaardvarkforever @shotos-angelic-whore @flufftober

If you’d like to be added to any of my taglists, you can fill out this form here! Thank you for your support <3

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7-wonders · 2 months

Text

In Waking Hours

Roommate!Calliope & GN!Reader (platonic)

Summary: Calliope's planning to enjoy a nice, quiet evening sitting outside under the moon and enjoying her relative freedom when she sees you still haunted by a particularly brutal nightmare. Plans change, because she's not about to let you face the worst parts of her former husband's realm alone, obviously.

Word count: 3.6k

A note from the author: (You don't have to, but you'll have a lot more backstory if you read To the world we dream about first)

Shitty summary but you have a nightmare and Calliope's like "well this is my emotional support human so I can't not help!" WOW this is the first time I've felt truly inspired when writing in months. S/o Calliope girl hope I'm doing you proud by giving you the stories and love you deserve.

So, I know that this isn't going to get a lot of love since there's no actual Morpheus in this, just mentions which means my normal tags can’t be used, but I love this little fic-verse I've created so much that I have to write it. (All this is to say please show this fic some love if you enjoyed!!!) This isn't romantic, but there are definitely romantic fics in the pipeline. The nice thing about a loose fic-verse is that there are plenty of fics for you to read if you don't want an eventual throuple :)

(But hopefully there will be plenty of fics for you to read if you do want an eventual throuple)

I would be remiss to not shout out the reason this fic-verse exists in the first place and the person that I can talk about any and every random fic idea with, the lovely @ivandra-winters! Thank you, thank you, thank you for everything.

Calliope doesn’t really sleep well anymore.

Not that she needs sleep in general. She’s a goddess, after all, and divine beings such as herself only sleep because they want to, because they feel like indulging in all the wonders available to them upon closing their eyes. Few things truly and regularly excite beings of myth, but the Dreaming is one of those few things. Only very rarely, such as in cases of extreme injury, do they need to sleep. Mostly, sleeping is a comfort, a way to pass the time.

In the early days of her imprisonment, after Erasmus Fry first captured her, Calliope thought that she would use sleep for both. Though her relationship with her husband had ended about as terribly as a relationship can end, the Dreamlord had never reneged on his promise to always give Calliope the sweetest of dreams. She would rest, then, and find a distraction and comfort in the Dreaming until someone, be it her sisters or her mothers or somebody seeking her favor, would save her.

Then, she found out all the terrible things one person can do to another while they’re unconscious.

Even though she’s now safe, the once-familiar action no longer comes easy to her. Almost every time she’s tried—and those have been few and far between—she wakes up in a panic before she can fall asleep enough to even make it to the Dreaming. When she closes her eyes, she sees them once more. Both of them, Fry and Madoc, taking what was never theirs in the first place. She feels their cruel, rough hands on her body, hears their voices demanding that she give them inspiration for their works.

(Works that she wishes would be little more than drivel. But no, nothing inspired—forcefully or not—by her could ever be drivel. They’re wild successes every time, and so the men just continue to take take take until Calliope thinks that she has nothing left to give. But she does, because she is the Muse of Epic Poetry, and for as long as people still believe in her, she shall be a source of inspiration. And so she continues to be drained like a tree of its sap, an essence so integral to her being that she knows not who she is without it. Until one day, when Madoc returns to his home ranting and raving—and there is a knock at the door.)

Calliope’s been doing some reading on the device that you gave her, the one that’s like a digital library, and she believes she might have what today’s humans call Post Traumatic Stress Disorder. The inability to sleep, the flashbacks, the ever-present hum of vigilance that still thrums under her skin and warns her that the threat might be just around the corner—it’s all there, and it’s all her. It’s humiliating to think about it as a possibility, and more humiliating still to see herself in the words written.

Goddesses shouldn’t have trauma! They shouldn’t even be in a position where trauma could be inflicted on them! She misses the age when she was at her strongest, the age when people worshipped the very ground she walked on, dropping to their knees in reverence and begging for her gifts.

But that world is long gone, and Calliope has landed in a new one that is entirely foreign to her. Slowly, though, she likes to think that she’s adjusting. Since the night is long and sleeping is not an option for her at present, she finds other ways to pass the hours when the rest of the world rests. The 21st century is new and exciting, and there is much to catch up on.

Not only is she learning more about this new world, but she’s also learning herself all over. There are hobbies that she gets to discover once more, enjoyments that she forgot were hers. She listens to music (music now is…very different from even a hundred years ago, but there have been some works that she enjoys) and reads—not just the books that tell her things about herself that she does not wish to hear, but she reads epics! And poetry! How she missed poetry; that special language so near and dear to her, the words of her most favorite patrons. She reads all that she can get her hands on, good and bad, for the simple pleasure of being able to read once more.

Oftentimes, she simply enjoys the quiet at night. She basks in the knowledge that she can do what she wants, when she wants, with nobody lording over her or imposing their will. Yes, she is still technically bound to a human, but that is a non-issue. Calliope knows with absolute certainty that you have no idea of who she is or what Richard Madoc had done when he declared that she was your problem now.

She likes living with you, though it has been an adjustment being what you call a ‘roommate’ instead of a captive. Whereas the two men (if such brutes can be referred to as men) had been the worst of humanity, she finds humanity endearing when she sees it through your lens. How can she not develop a fondness for you, with how earnestly you try to include her in your life and make her feel like she belongs?

There is also some level of comfort to be gained from the blissful ignorance you live in, the way that you believe your world to be black-and-white with no potential of the things you were taught to be nothing more than myths and stories. To you, such tales don’t exist—Calliope, the Muse, doesn’t exist—and Calliope, the woman, feels that she is able to let her guard down for the first time in a long, long time.

At times, she can feel your desperation for some sort of inspiration, lost as you attempt to complete your studies. It is comforting to know that you have no idea the being that you now share a home with. It is even more comforting to know that she has the choice of whether to grant you some inspiration or not.

Tonight, Calliope decides for herself once more, and thinks that she would rather like to sit outside on the patio and enjoy the late night. With her mind made up, she sneaks out of her bedroom with a blanket in one hand and a book in the other.

“Oh!” Calliope gasps in surprise, startled upon seeing a figure sitting on the couch.

Moonlight shines through the curtains that were most definitely closed a few short hours ago and illuminates your face staring out at the dark. She relaxes, but her fear immediately shifts to concern upon seeing what look to be tear tracks drying on your face.

“Hey. I’m sorry.” Just as she suspected, your voice is thick with tears. “Didn’t mean to scare you.”

“Do not apologize,” she lightly chastises you. “Are you alright?”

You nod and use your sleeve to wipe under your eyes. “Yeah.”

It’s obvious that you’re planning on leaving it at that, which simply won’t do. Calliope levels you with a stare (a ‘mom stare,’ you teasingly referred to it as the first time she used it, without knowing how true your words were. One day, she thinks, she’ll tell you about Orpheus. Once the pain of losing him stops hurting so much) that you try your hardest to act unaffected by. You sigh after a moment, knowing that the fight is lost.

“I had a nightmare,” you admit. “And like, I’m not a little kid anymore. So why did this nightmare scare me so badly that I literally woke up and jumped out of bed in fear?”

Well, that explains why she heard a noise of surprise from your room, followed by a loud thump. She assumed that you hadn’t yet gone to bed, that you were up late finishing a project or just plain procrastinating your sleep. Why your late night required what sounded like the moving of furniture was beyond her. But no, instead, you’ve found yourself at the whims of a nightmare.

Nightmares are not something that Calliope has a lot of experience with. She’s met nightmares, of course. With how much time she spent in the Dreaming, it was a foregone conclusion that she met a nightmare or two. And when they weren’t performing their duties, a lot of them were really quite nice!

(The only nightmare she truly could not stand was her former husband’s most beloved creation—The Corinthian. He…creeped her out, for lack of a better term. It wasn’t just the ocular mouths, though those were also chill-inducing. Rather, it was his entire demeanor. Like he was simply playing nice, biding his time before he could go in for the kill. She was glad to have never seen him again after the end of her marriage.)

But has Calliope ever actually dealt with a nightmare? The lives of immortals are long (obviously), and while she may have once had nightmares when she was very young, it was so long ago now that she can’t remember any particulars. Even when her own son was young, nightmares were not truly a concern. Though she and Morpheus had mutually agreed that he needed to sleep like a normal child at least sometimes in order to aid in his development, the very first time his little brow creased and frightened whimpers began to well in his throat, that decision was quickly forgotten in favor of comforting the boy and assuring him that nightmares would harm him no longer.

So, while it’s true that she does not have much experience with nightmares, what little experience she has had helps her to know just how frightening they can be—and how frightened it’s made you.

“Would talking about it make you feel better?” Calliope asks.

You shake your head resolutely, determined to keep your fears to your chest. “I don’t remember it anymore.”

For many mortals, dreams and nightmares do not follow them out of the Dreaming. They may remember snippets of it, or certain emotions, but often, they fade away in the few hazy moments after waking. It’s pretty obvious that this isn’t the case for you, however. You continue to hold yourself tense, as though whatever had troubled you while you slept would reappear at any moment. Calliope has also seen you deep in thought a couple of times now, and the way you were looking outside when she first stepped out of her room was the same way she had seen you look when trying to complete schoolwork or focus on making something complicated.

Up until now, you’ve tried so hard to always be positive and to make your home and yourself as comforting as possible so that Calliope may have the best possible environment to heal. She appreciates it—this new life she’s found herself in has truly been conducive to recovery—but now, she struggles to watch you try to keep up this facade so as not to lay your upsets upon her. She wishes that you would, though; that you would feel like you can confide in her the same way that you have made her feel towards you. After all that you’ve done for her, you deserve to feel like you have gained a friendship.

Calliope will let you keep your secrets, then, even though this means that particular avenue of help is closed—she will not force you to do anything that you do not want to do. She moves on to Plan B, into the kitchen where she fumbles around until finding the kettle. Filling it with water, she places it on a burner and turns the stove on. Though she’s still not very confident around newer inventions like kitchen appliances, she’s proud of the fact that she’s slowly learning.

At the sounds, you peek up from the couch. “What are you doing?”

“What you’ve done for me when I find myself particularly upset,” she says, fetching two mugs from the cupboard.

“You’re making me tea?” Your voice sounds strangled, as though you can’t imagine why she would be providing you this small comfort.

You first started making tea for Calliope on the night that she technically became ‘yours.’ After locking herself in the bathroom and scrubbing her skin raw under the stream of hot water until she was sure that every inch of her body was clean from the DNA of another, she spent an interminable amount of time just enjoying the knowledge that she was now safe. While it was true that you were still practically a stranger, she had lived for long enough now and had honed her gifts well enough to be able to get a good read of a person’s intentions.

From the moment that she met you, you held none of the same ill will as the others. No, your immediate concern had been making sure that she was warm. When was the last time somebody cared for how she felt? She watched intently as you grabbed a coat from your vehicle, sure that, at any moment, your intentions toward her would change. Though she didn’t believe that she had the power (both strength and will) to fight you off, she would not be caught off-guard if it came to that.

But it never did. You simply wanted to make sure that she was out of harm’s way. You concluded on your own that whatever had happened to her in that house, at the hands of the man you called your professor, was horrific. To you, Calliope was a woman, battered and scared, with nothing to her name and nowhere to go. It was the obvious option to offer her food and shelter, to ensure her safety, simply because it was the right thing to do.

Still, even after your show of immense kindness, she did not want to face you, for some part of her was waiting for the inevitable. When you would demand the use of her gifts, wanting inspiration and fame and power and riches. She was dreading the potential that you were simply another human wanting to take take take. So she waited until the water ran cold and she was shivering. Even then, it took until she physically could stand the water no longer for her to finally make slow moves to get ready to leave the bathroom. Toweling herself off and putting on the borrowed clothes (clothes that actually covered her skin, so much more than the satin slips that she had been granted by her former captors) could only take so long, so with a heavy sigh, she steeled herself and opened the door.

There was no sign of you, however, and a quick glance at the light from under the closed door of one bedroom indicated that you were inside. The only sign of life that proved that you were once in this space was a plate and a mug sitting on the counter. When Calliope cautiously got closer, she saw a note next to them.

“Made you some dinner and tea. I’ve always been told that tea (or your preferred hot beverage of choice) can do wonders for making you feel better, and I’ve found that to be true a few times now. Sweet dreams!”

Your name was signed at the end, along with what looked like a drawing of a smile.

Aware of the very real possibility that this could be a trap—Fry, after all, had first tried to woo her before taking what he believed to be his by force—she hastily grabbed the ceramicware and made off to the room that you had called hers. She had no real need for food, of course, nor for bathing. But they were those same creature comforts that not even the gods were above, and beyond sporadic, cold baths, they were creature comforts she had been denied for over sixty years. Calliope would take any that she could get, especially when they were (seemingly) freely given. Unfortunately, she was not in a position to spurn such gifts right now.

These gifts kept coming, without an expectation of anything in return from her. She was free to take whatever she wanted, go anywhere she liked, do anything she wished. And you were always there to cheer her on and encourage her, with a smile on your face and (when she wanted it) tea in hand.

“‘Make’ should perhaps be used loosely.” She smiles sheepishly, back in the present as the kettle begins to warm. “Depending on how much of your help I shall need after the water boils.”

You wrap a blanket around yourself and make your way to Calliope. “Then we’ll make it together.”

After the tea has been successfully prepared and you’re both settled back on the couch with a large blanket shared between you, Calliope asks, “Do you have nightmares often?”

“Not like when I was little. I was one of those kids that had night terrors, y’know?” She doesn’t know, because she has never heard of them more beyond being mentioned in passing when she was still wife to Dream of the Endless, but she nods regardless. “Apparently, I would just scream and shake until I ran out of breath and woke myself up.”

“I am so sorry to hear that.”

“It’s okay. Like most kids with night terrors, I never remembered them.” You take another sip from your mug. “This is good tea, by the way.”

“You are the one that determined when the tea was done steeping.”

“Yeah, but you boiled the water, which is an integral part of tea-making.” You smile at her, the first smile she’s seen from you tonight, and it makes her feel a little better, like she’s doing something right. “So well done.”

You fall quiet, having said what you wanted to say regarding your nightmare and choosing instead to enjoy your tea. Though you’re content with companionable silence, Calliope is not. She feels like she should be doing more to help you, to comfort you. Caring for another, helping someone to feel better, does not come easily to her like it once did. She has been burned for too long now, that caring nature snuffed out early on in her imprisonment. But slowly, like the first blades of grass pushing back through the soil of a blackened landscape after a wildfire, new life has started to grow in the middle of this scorched area of her heart. She wants to help you, to care for you.

She wants to make you feel better.

“My younger sister, Thalia, is far better at this than I,” Calliope admits with a sigh.

“Better at what?”

“At cheering people up.”

Indeed, Thalia did not preside over comedy for no reason. Many times over the years that she’s been unwillingly away from her family, Calliope found herself wishing that Thalia would be right next to her. She loves all of her sisters equally, but Thalia would have effortlessly known what to say or told an anecdote that would have made her imprisonment easier. Perhaps it would have even given her the extra strength needed to truly fight and find a way out.

You bump Calliope’s shoulder with your own. “You’ve done a really good job of that yourself, Cal.”

She feels her chest warm, both at the compliment and the term of endearment. Somewhere along the way, you (and your friends, who are just as kind and welcoming to her as you have been) adopted a nickname for her. This is new for her—prior to her imprisonment, she was Calliope, eldest of the Muses Nine, Beautiful-Voiced, Chief of All Muses. She has always been Calliope. But now, sometimes she is Callie, or Cal. Those who call her this do not know that they are in the presence of a goddess, that she should be commanding the respect that she deserves from mortals who believe her one of them.

Instead, she finds that she loves having a nickname.

“You have…eight sisters, right?” you ask.

“Yes. Thalia is the second youngest.” Calliope has only spoken about her sisters in the most vague of ways, hesitant to reveal too much. Telling you the names of a sister or two certainly won’t hurt.

“It must be so much fun when you’re all together.”

Calliope smiles wistfully, feeling that familiar pang of homesickness. “It is. There are lots of laughs shared, and we all leave with enough stories to last until we see one another again.”

It hits her almost as soon as the words leave her mouth: There is something that she can do to help. She can do what she does best, that which is her chief function. She can tell you a story. Already the words come to her, the tale writing itself within her, nestled right at the hollow of her throat, and just waiting for her to speak it aloud. Her inspiration, her gift, is used on herself for the first time in a long time, and as her mind goes to work, she remembers why it is that she is so coveted. It feels intoxicating to think up a story once more, to be inspired to create. It’s an old feeling, one that was once so familiar to her, that it feels quite like a homecoming for her to be experiencing it once more.

“Have I ever told you of the wager that Thalia and our sister Mel once had?” she asks, baiting you.

You look at her curiously and take said bait. “No.”

Calliope smiles, feeling her power hum within her as, for the first time in a long, long time, she prepares an epic of her own. “Well, it started one summer…”

•••

Fic-verse taglist! (If you want to be notified when future parts drop, shoot me a message or an ask and I'll add you!)

@aralezinspace @morpheusbaby3 @juwu-theliciosa @pageswithoutaplot @thatonehumanbeing05

#the sandman #the sandman imagine #calliope the sandman #calliope the sandman imagine

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serialadoptersbracket · 1 month

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Round 2, Match 59: Fukuzawa Yukichi vs. Optimus Prime

Submitted kids:

Fukuzawa Yukichi: The entire detective agency (in order of acquisition— Ranpo, Yosano, Kunikida, Dazai, the Tanizaki siblings, Kenji, Atsushi, Kyoka)

Optimus Prime: Bumblebee, then depending on continuity, Cliffjumper, Smokescreen, Arcee, Sideswipe, Sunstreaker, the Aerialbots, Sari Sumdac, Jack Darby, Miko Nakadai, Raf Esquivel, and possibly others

Propaganda under the cut!

Fukuzawa Yukichi:

1. “At about 32 he used to be an bodyguard for hire who only works alone then he met this 14 year old (Ranpo) who had no parents and was kicked out of the police academy. He ended up feeding him (I think Ranpo was homeless at this point not 100% sure tho. He is also a genius estimated iq as high as 200) and said he would help him free of charge (bodyguard) if he called. He ended up getting called and investigated something with him. Ranpo saw the world very plainly and cried to Fukuzawa about how scary it is. Fukuzawa helped Ranpo realize that not everyone is pretending not to know things they literally don't know what he does (big issue with Ranpo partly what he was crying about too i think. They have an entire episode (i think it's the first one in the 4th season) devoted to their backstory together which is black, white, and gray when it's from Ranpo's perspective until Fukuzawa helps him realize this and it turns colored. Fukuzawa ends up deciding he wants to create a detective agency (working with others!) with Ranpo not yet tho we still have one more kid first. Later when Fukuzawa's doing a bodyguard job he along with Ranpo end up rescuing a girl (Yosano!) from the man he was guarding (future mafia boss currently a doctor). Yosano ends up becoming a doctor for the detective agency when it's created. After it's created he ends up taking in another 14 year old (Kenji).

He also loves cats and has shoujo anime-esque cherry blossom flashbacks with his old childhood friend who asked him if he wanted to go to fight in war with him, Fukuzawa denied his request. They also have a like 15 min soft-lighting conversation while watching their memories of their childhood together in the latest ep.”

2. “This man literally created a whole detective agency for this one really smart boy (Ranpo) and taught him that he wasn't the one in the wrong but everyone else when he couldn't understand people. Then, he saves Yosano from the trauma this other guy was inflicting on her and brings her to the Agency. The Agency basically becomes the place where all his kids are. His special ability lets those in the Agency control their abilities so Atsushi and Kyouka don't have to be afraid of their out of control abilities anymore. He cares so much for all of them and during the Cannibalism arc when his life is literally on the line, they do everything in their power to save him.”

3. “My guy just CANNOT stop adopting kids. He went from lone wolf assassin to Dad of Many. His first (adopted) child, Ranpo, basically forced him to adopt him (he was like “I’m a teenager with no family or home. You GOTTA adopt me. Because I say so.”) From there he kept accidentally adopting every orphan he came across. Honestly the detective agency is more like a glorified orphanage except they let their kids carry guns.”

4. “A former Goverment assassin who stopped once he realized he was starting to enjoy killing people, Fukuzawa is looking for a job when he bumps into Ranpo, a genius capable of figuring out any mystery, who can’t understand how the world works. Taking Ranpo under his wing Fukuzawa tries a white lie that Ranpo has a special ability and manages to let Ranpo interact with the world without fear for the first time in years since he can know understand the problem wasn’t everyone acting like they couldn’t figure out things but that no one was as smart as him. They found the Armed Detective Agency specifically to use Ranpo’s abilities to help people and to have jobs.

He then saves Yosano from Mori, his ex something who after using her special ability to heal any injury as long as the person is about to die during the War, wanted to use it take control of their local mafia. Instead Fukuzawa and Ranpo rescue her and let her recover from her trauma and come into herself.

He then goes on to provide a place for Kunikida to fulfill his ideals, Dazai a place to do good after his own past in the mafia, Kenji a place to help people, Tanizaki and Naomi (siblings that don’t seem to have any guardians) work to support them, and Atsushi a place to work on his own trauma by protecting people. Fukuzawa later let’s Kyouka, another defection from the mafia, stay and work at the agency so she can help people and not have to kill them anymore. The entire Armed Detective Agency live in dorms that Fukuzawa provided. He also is very protective, putting everything on the line to help members of the Agency escape any danger he knows of. Like when Atsushi is kidnapped he bribes Ranpo to find him and sends Kunikida to rescue him. He sees any danger to the agency and its members as something for him to stop.”

Optimus Prime:

“#VOTE OPTIMUS HE'S THE DAD OF ALL TIME AND HAS ISSUES”

#bungou sd #bungou stray dogs #bsd fukuzawa #fukuzawa yukichi #macadam #maccadam #optimus prime #transformers #serial adopters bracket #round 2 #tumblr tournament #tumblr polls

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holylulusworld · 1 year

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History at its best

Summary: You love history.

Square 1 filled for @ultimatechrisbingo: Professor!Steve Rogers

Pairing: Professor (Silver Fox) Steve Rogers x Student!Reader

Warnings: language, undefined age gap (the reader is of age), Silverfox!ASteve, light smut, unprotected sex, creampie, possessive Steve, doggy style, Captain & Sir kink, dirty talk, hand around throat (no choking, but I add it just in case), inappropriate relationship

Words: 1k+

This story is part of my: Adventures with your professor masterlist

History. You love history. Especially when it comes on two long legs, and makes your panties dampen with only one look.

“Today, we will pick up where we stopped last time. Y/N, can you tell me where we stopped last time?”

Damn that man. Professor Rogers. Steve Rogers. He flashes you a bright smile as you nervously shift in your seat.

You cross your legs and try to pretend you’re not having daydreams of your professor and his perfect cock. “Miss Y/L/N.”

“Page 385, Lesson 12,” you reply, praying that you remember the page right. If not, he’ll bend you over his desk and punish you for not listening to his lecture.

“Very good, Miss Y/N,” Professor Rogers points out. “As always. You’re such a good student…and a good girl.”

“I-“ dropping your eyes to your notebook you swallow thickly and pray none of the other students heard his last comment.

“Ladies and gentlemen,” he puts on a big show as he walks toward his table. All tall and bulky he makes an impressive sight.

He puts on his glasses. The ones he doesn’t need. Steve Rogers just wants to act like he’s a normal guy.

But when he almost fucks you through a wall, he proves that he’s more than an average forty-plus guy lusting over one of his students. Steve Rogers is still the man saving the world more than once and a super-soldier.

“Professor, can we talk after classes,” one of the new girls in your course asks. “Please.”

“Sorry, Miss—“ Steve furrows his brows as he can’t remember her name. “What was your name again?”

“Sandi, with an I, not Y,” you dip your head to watch her lean back in her chair to push her tits out. You chuckle and turn your attention back toward the notes you took last time.

If not, Steve will find a way to punish you. And you are not in the mood for a bruised ass and no orgasm again.

Once in a while, you love to be a bad girl and to get some well-deserved punishment. Just not this week. You want to be good this time to make sure he goes easy on you and your still tender ass.

“Right, Miss Y/L/N,” your head snaps up the moment you hear his voice. Steve narrows his eyes as you got lost in thoughts once again. “Do you want me to repeat the question for you?”

“I’m sorry, I was looking over my notes about the Roman Empire and didn’t hear your question, Sir.”

You watch his Adam’s apple bobble when you use the title. “Well, at least you were engrossed in the topic, not some fashion magazine. You are forgiven.”

He smirks as you release a shuddery breath. “Thank you, professor.” Steve doesn’t seem to be mad.

“Anytime, Miss Y/L/N.”

“Why not? Every other girl would gladly join me at that party,” you roll your eyes as one of the frat boys tried to talk you into going to a party with him.

“I told you; I got a boyfriend at home.”

The annoying guy doesn’t need to know your boyfriend is your professor and the former Captain America.

“What he doesn’t know…” he grins, offering you a good time and more. “You don’t want me to tell everyone you’re an uptight bitch, right?”

“Fuck you,” you storm off, muttering under your breath. “No one gives a shit about your opinion.”

“I bet she’s boring in the sheets, bro. Let’s forget about her,” one of the other frat boys pats the guy’s shoulder. “We will find some other bitch for you.”

“Do we have a problem here?” Steve cocks his head to look down at the guy hitting on you. He was hiding behind a corner to jump in if needed. “What did you just say about Miss Y/L/N? How did you call her?”

“Virgins, you know,” the guy dares to snicker. “I bet she will mewl like a cat in heat when she gets fucked. Needy bitch.”

It takes everything in Steve not to break that grinning frat boy’s neck. He balls his hands into fists and takes a deep breath.

“Maybe she only needs a real man. Someone not treating her like a piece of meat. A man who knows how to fuck. I bet, you’d learn a thing or two listening to an experienced man, not a boy who creams his pants the moment he sees boobs...”

Steve storms off. If not, he’ll gladly kill the boys for daring to even lay eyes on you…

The moment Steve sent you a message, demanding that you wear a naughty schoolgirl uniform and no panties you knew, someone fucked up big time.

You just didn’t know it wasn’t you but the guy hitting on you.

Now he has one arm wrapped around your chest, hand gripping your left upper arm tightly. He sinks his teeth into your neck to mark your body all over again.

“Who do you belong to, doll?” you whine at Steve’s words. You’re too out of it to even answer. “I asked you a question and I expect you to answer it.”

“Y-you,” you squeak. “I’m yours…only yours.”

“Fuck, this cunt.”

Steve moves his hand to your neck to force you to crane it. He grins as you look up at him with glassy eyes. “Say it.”

“Your cock feels so good, Captain,” you’re out of breath. Steve is fucking you hard from behind, never missing a beat as you struggle to even keep your body upright. “I love it so much.”

“Of course, you do, doll,” he lowers his head to kiss you greedily, lips and tongue dominating your mouth.

“Steve…please…”

“Not yet,” he growls against your lips while his hips mercilessly snap into your ass. “I’m gonna ruin this cunt first.”

“It’s yours…only yours,” you babble and whine. “Please…Sir…” You’ll do anything to get your high. “I love it when you fuck me.”

“Fuck,” your body goes slack as Steve slaps one hand between your legs to shove two fingers inside your cunt to join his cock. “Fuck…Stevie…Captain…Sir…professor…”

“That’s it. You can cum now, baby doll. Come for me and take all of my spunk,” Steve growls when his warmth fills you. “You’re so good for me. Always so tight and warm.”

You tremble against him. It’s all too much. “Please…I can’t…”

“Shh…I’ve got you baby doll,” Steve immediately wraps his arms around you. “I’ll carry you into the bathroom and we will have a warm bath. Just let me lock the door first…”

“Yes, Captain…”

Steve kisses your temple and mumbles soft words as he pulls out of you. “I’ve got you...baby...I love you.”

“I love you too, Steve.”

Tags in reblog.

#History at its best #steve rogers #ultimatechrisbingo #steve rogers x reader #professor!steve #professor!steve rogers x student!reader #steve rogers x you #Adventures with your professor #smut #steve rogers smut #silver fox steve rogers

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siremasterlawrence · 3 months

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In To The Dark Ages Part 2

Part 1 - 2

We hop on the horse kicking it in the shin as he races past the border going upward in to the north and we sped up to the gates of the castle causing a stir as both former man of kings.

They storm up to the gate demanding that they drop the draw bride to the gate as it comes crashing down and he rode in to the castle as people back off as we stride in so strongly.

We drop to the ground as the guards are on their way arriving with swords lead us inside to meet the king but unfortunately it was his son instead and Prince Stephen is at his side of it.

He stood as a Prince on the thrown proudly he is pumping up his fists in the air and then on his chest like a damn gorilla he howls in to the air excruciatingly and I watch in utter amazement.

He notices me jumping to the stone ground of the area staring at me almost daring me to fight and I wave him off arrogantly I know I am in control and I remove my sword from my sheath.

He does the same waving his sword in a hot rhythmic way but I block it with mine and we are at a stand still but I manage to kick him to the side.

The crowd enrage goes on attack mode in a beautiful display of strength and effort come at me but Ian leaps unfortunately in front of me.

His sword burns on fire as he protects me in a unmatched showmanship of conviction and loyalty like no other I have seen on this planet of will ever see at this point I turn to see Brandon.

He slays through hoard on the defensive he has one aim to be mine, one goal to save me at all cost and mostly importantly to expand my kingdom but it all falls in to place when he and Ian stabbed Stephen.

“You dare choose to question the king and challenge him.”

“He is the rightful heir obviously we learnt that too.”

“For sure Ian! I will not allow you to prevent his rise to this throne.”

“Besides he is not a king yet.”

“I am the only heir to the throne.”

“Foolish!”

“Ian and Brandon you have my permission to finish them all off and free the castle.”

“What should we do with Prince Stephen”

“He will see things my way eventually”

“I cannot see that happening .”

“Then why is my voice calling to you.”

“Yyyeeessss! I - I - I accept and obey “

“Do you comprehend everything?”

“You compelled me”

“ No need to resist”

“We are one body “

“We are all me mind”

“I belong to you “

“Kneel for me”

“Yes! My king”

“Sir Yes Sir”

Part 3 - 4

What we do not the man at the draw bridge drops setting motions that would transform this kingdom in to a magnificent a new off world because I will it to be at the center of it all.

The three men kneeling in front of me enjoy the power sensational bits of pleasure over taking them and spreading through nerves, blood and more all else is lost because I rule all.

I touch the tip bog each sword energetically transporting my presence in to it as if it is all about me because I am King now and own all who dare to fight me and rule against me ever again.

“Take a seat Sire”

“Are you sure boi?”

“Of course you rule”

“I’ll deal with my father “

“Do not worry”

“Mwahahahahaha”

“Ian…Brandon”

“Yes King”

“Join him “

“We will correct our brother “

“After I will pound you Stephen “

“Mmmmm! I can’t wait “

“What treachery is this?”

“Father you are home “

“Master Lawrence meet King”

“Tom”

“Do not deign to speak for me”

“Don’t be ridiculous father”

“Your eyes why are they…evil you have been possessed or enchanted.”

“The level of disrespect boi”

“You are disrespectful father “

“You speak with such rarity to me”

“I speak boldly the truth”

“Block him, hold him down and I’ll strike him “

“Who are you ? What have you infected my son with?”

“Infect no! I merely took what I want.”

“Why are you laughing? No! Do not place your lips on mine. Nnnnoooooo! Fuck! That is the most deliciously empowering experience my King.”

The end

#In To The Dark Ages #alternate timeline #alternate reality #brandon routh #tom ellis #King enslaved #Prince enslaved #hypnosis #mind control #reprogramming #castle #knights #draw bridge

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bisexualpercyjacksons · 3 months

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no wait wait wait hear me out about how the four beads is a truly devious and smart addition

so starting off with four beads from the dryad establishes a few things:

1. getting out of the underworld wasn’t something they really thought about yet (too many steps ahead, I also have ADHD I get it)

2. poseidon HAS thought of that problem and has made the beads in preparation to protect them

3. poseiden thought about rescuing sally when planning how to get everyone back safely, not just percy and his friends

2 & 3 plant the seeds (a long with the dryad’s words and hermes’ comments) that poseiden really does care about percy (and sally!). yes I know I know, bare minimum to care about your kid etc. but considering this is a show and we don’t get percy’s internal monologue it kinda makes sense to have a little more details that make poseiden seem better to the audience

[read more break to not clog up the tag. I promise I get into the angst shortly]

all these little bits that imply poseiden really does want to be there for him but can’t, that he’s been watching from afar because he didn’t want zeus to find out he broke the pact and take his anger out on his son and former love (yes, love! this is the man/god that wanted sally to be his queen with him in his underwater kingdom!!!). I actually really like the idea of those posts about how he has been helping out in little ways over the years because. let’s be real for a second. NO WAY does sally afford that apartment AND have the ability to send percy to specialized boarding schools with the salary of a CANDY SHOP EMPLOYEE. I get it I get it, the gods are deadbeats, but I’ll admit I kind of like the idea that he’s been doing what he feasibly could without getting caught by making extra money appear in sally’s bank account or sm

making him seem (and possibly be) more sympathetic is another reason that fuels percy to change the system rather than join luke to tear it all down. he knows the system is bad but he sees hope and truly believes it can be changed for the better. that is something that can be saved, not destroyed

4. this is kinda irrelevant but I like that it is the dryad that agrees to give percy the pearls after poseiden says for him and his friends to go back to camp because she wants him to have a chance to change things. gives her a little bit more agency. (also y’all she’s SO pretty in gay but moving in)

so. four beads.

if we want to keep the dilemma and character growth that comes with there only being three beads and someone having to make a sacrifice, something needs to happen: one of the beads breaks or someone loses it

is it percy? who has realized they need four beads for EVERYONE to come back and is horrified that they now only have three, meaning either he himself or one of the most important people to him has to be left behind in actual hell in order for the world to be saved? think about the dread and self-loathing that would come from that

or is it annabeth or grover? where the horrifying realization is the same but now there is a gut reaction from percy to be upset with the person who loses/breaks it. he loves his friends and can’t stay mad at them but now they are in this impossible dilemma to choose who stays behind and it’s killing all of them. the impossibly guilt of the person who breaks/loses it knowing that it’s their fault someone doesn’t get to go home, someone has to stay behind in the underworld

and when does this happen? early on, and we spend the episode watching them all try to figure out the dreadful problem of who gets left behind. looking at each other thinking, I can’t leave them behind, I can’t. they’re my family. but we can’t leave percy’s mom behind either.

or does it happen right before they have the chance to go, and they all think everyone is going to make it and sally is in percy’s grasp only for everything to fall apart and now everyone is looking at each other thinking, who is going to have to be left behind? who has to be the sacrifice?

anyways, I think there is something truly devious about them KNOWING there NEEDS to be four beads and HAVING THEM only to have something happen and the option of everyone going home safe being ripped from their grasps

#I let my English muffin sit in the toaster oven for like five extra minutes after it dinged to finish this post #everyone being like FOUR BEADS IM WORRIED and I’m like NO THINK OF THE POTENTIAL #percy jackson and the olympians #percy jackson #pjo #pjo tv #pjo tv spoilers #pjo 1x06 #pjo speculation #grover underwood #annabeth chase #sally jackson #not sure how else to tag this #mine #I haven’t read the books in a decade so I’m slightly rusty on lore but like guys this is how we can still win #yes I know deadbeat parent gods yes but have you considered this makes things more spicy #adds more flavor #also yall this man wanted to make sally his queen you gotta admit that on some level he cares

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vasilissadragomir · 8 days

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🐝 (title) Hair of the Dog

fandom of your choice!

i’ve got two for two different fandoms lol

Vampire Academy - canon-compliant, post-Bloodlines, pre-epilogue

The day Dimitri had planned to propose to Rose was also the first day he ever requested off from Christian. He took it, too, and not because they were celebrating their engagement all day long as he’d planned. Before he could get down on one knee, Rose stopped him, insisting that she was too young to get engaged.

Which is how Dimitri found himself in the company of the Russian barman at the 24/7 Court bar in the middle of the day, wondering how the girl who’d saved his soul wasn’t ready to commit to him. For another thing, as his hangover crept up on him, he was now dreading a return to the nocturnal schedule after his blissful, drunken reprieve. And things got worse when, at seven in the evening, who walked in but the poster boy for a perfect married home life?

Adrian Ivashkov had stopped by his old stomping grounds in search of some liquid courage before the first meeting with his father since announcing his marriage to Sydney. He felt the circumstances warranted a drink, and, living on a human daylight schedule, the hour was acceptable, even. He did not expect to see the man whose picture could be found beside the dictionary definition of self-control in a blubbering, Russian puddle at the end of the bar.

Could an evening drink with his former rival for Rose’s affections be exactly what Dimitri and Adrian needed to get their heads on straight?

The Hunger Games - modern au

The night Glimmer breaks up with Peeta is also the first night he’s ever taken his best friend Finnick up on his offer to go clubbing. If he’s honest, the love hadn’t been there for a long time. But there was something about his high school sweetheart (perhaps his mother’s approval?) that felt safe, habitual, and he hadn’t been prepared to let that go.

Now, faced with no reason to stay in control, he decides to go out with Finnick. He’s hoping maybe, just maybe, the alcohol will give him the courage he needs to make a move on his best friend, who he’s harbored a crush on since the minute they met. But when he spots Finnick in the VIP section locking lips with a beautiful redhead, he takes the shot that makes the world go dark.

The next morning, Peeta wakes up on a sticky floor under a couch to someone prodding him with a broomstick. After bumping his head, he looks up into the most beautiful grey eyes he’s ever seen. As he follows the scowling, striking woman to the bar for a pick-me-up, he can’t help but wonder…had all the heartbreak been worth it?

#fake fic ask game #asks answered #vampire academy #vampire academy fanfic #dimitri belikov #adrian ivashkov #thg fic #the hunger games fanfiction #everlark fic #everlark fanfiction #mollywog

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laireshi · 11 months

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Wu Xie thinking Xiaoge is dead, ch. 54 vol. 8

All the quotes (in block quotes) are from merebear’s translation here, and yes, it’s all canon.

Wu Xie goes into the Zhang Family Mansion to save Xiaoge and finds him unconscious, badly hurt--he thinks Xiaoge died. He does Not deal with it.

I froze, my whole body suddenly going rigid and my mind blanking out.

I couldn’t describe the desolation in my heart and suddenly didn’t know what to do.

Dead?

You’ve got to be kidding me.

Is he really dead? Hey, what kind of international joke is this? “Wake up. Let’s go home.” I patted his face, suddenly finding it all very funny. I turned to Pangzi and laughed. “Look at Xiaoge.” “I know,” Pangzi said in a low voice. Then, my hands began to shake uncontrollably. When I looked at them, I found that even though there wasn’t any sadness in my heart and my consciousness didn’t react, my body still instinctively felt despair.

Starting with denial.

He’s really fucking sitting there, I said to myself. He’s really fucking dead. Menyouping is really fucking dead!

A bit of anger.

There was still such a thing in this world… Menyouping was unexpectedly mortal.

The Zhang family’s ancient building was really amazing. I had always felt that Ghost was just an alarmist, but now I only felt like the sky was spinning.

Menyouping was a walking miracle, so his death suddenly made me feel that the whole world had become extremely real and cruel. Couldn’t all miracles be eternal in this world? Or was there no such thing as a miracle, and everything was a coincidence that had finally ended?

After a long time, I began to feel a touch of sadness. My instincts were pushing down my collapsing emotions, but there were still all kinds of uncomfortable feelings leaking from the “pressure cooker” of emotions. I knew that I couldn’t let my emotions go. If I felt that sadness, I may just die here, too.

Straight into depression here, which is where he’ll stay now. Like... Please look at the third paragraph in the quote above, I can’t. Menyouping was a walking miracle. The whole world had become extremely real and cruel. Also then at the end, If I felt that sadness, I may just die here, too. Wu Xie is so !!!!! about Xiaoge. I Can’t.)

The feelings in my heart were very strange. It wasn’t only sadness, but I didn’t know if others would be able to understand my complicated mood.

First, there was despair. Then, there was disbelief at what I was seeing in front of my eyes. My mind was blank for a long time, and all kinds of emotions came out.

I always wondered how I would feel if Menyouping died. I thought I might be extremely sad or maybe a little numb since I had built up the idea of their deaths in my mind so much in order to bear it. But now that I had really encountered it, my mood was so strange that I couldn’t handle it by myself.

After this, I was in a bind, unsure whether I should be sad or pretend to be calm and endure the pain. Finally, the former gradually gained the upper hand and I couldn’t do anything besides stare at his body blankly.

Not only can no one else comprehend the depth of Wu Xie’s loss: he can’t handle it. He’s going to stay there and die at his side because he can’t even move. The pain. The angst. The delicious co-dependency. The life that’ll ruin you.

I’m not that cruel, so I’ll add the next sentence here, too, for a happy ending:

But just when I felt the tears about to flow down, I suddenly saw Menyouping’s hand move and scratch the floor!

#pingxie #xieping #dmbj #the lost tomb #zhang qiling #xiaoge #wu xie #otp: if i disappeared no one would notice; i would notice #every now and then i reread this scene and then i am ruined FOREVER #FOREVER!!!

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adastra121 · 8 months

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Been thinking. I do love Ada and Leon’s cat-and-mouse dynamic (very Batman vs Catwoman, very fun) and the small ways she protects and looks out for him. But what I really love is the idea of Leon making Ada lose her composure with just the most simple and straightforward acts of care. Like, flirtatious banter? That’s her forte, she’s not going to be the first to back out. Knife fight ending with the edge of the blade on her throat? Ooh, kinky~ It’s tough to fluster her with seduction or violence. She’s a spy — this is her home territory. Might even be the closest thing she can call a home.

The scenario I can’t get out of my head is Ada and Leon — maybe sometime after RE 4 and sometime before…Damnation? — meeting each other while she’s back from some secret solo mission — innocent people died. It wasn’t her job to save them, but she still did what she could without compromising her mission and it wasn’t enough, it usually isn’t, but she’s never quite gotten used to the disappointment — and she’s stressed and exhausted so she wouldn’t turn down a distraction, asking with a dangerous and seductive smirk, “You have me for the night, Leon. What do you want from me?” fully expecting them to finally arrive at the inevitable end of this whole song and dance, and do something about this sexual tension that’s been building between them.

But then Leon looks at her with this unreadable expression — and that’s not right, Leon is never hard to read, not for her — and then he asks if he can just…hold her. And she’s stunned, only semi-aware of her own awkward nod. His embrace is warm and comforting and certain and she…she’s a mess in comparison, she doesn’t know what to do with her hands, it takes a few seconds for her to return the hug as she realizes, oh.

Oh, he really meant just hugging.

Huh.

He’s not kissing her or initiating anything either of them (most probably Ada) would sneak away from in the morning, which is. This really wasn’t what she expected to happen from their serendipitous meeting. But also, no one’s really simply hugged her before, and something about Leon’s arms encircling her like he’s trying to shield her from the world — better that than anymore bullets, she supposes — and voice whispering quiet affirmations into her hair like he knows feels more intimate than if they just fucked and she is weak. It’s a terrible idea, but she lets herself just be held and she feels like she’s supposed to do something more than clenching her fists on his back, but he doesn’t seem to expect anything from her in the moment. It’s been years and this former rookie never stops surprising her.

When they pull away, Ada is awkward and that’s a new one, Leon’s never seen her lose her cool — not even in the rare situations that she has lost control, like when her life is literally in danger. “No, you’re fine. It’s…me.” That’s the only explanation she offers. She hurriedly makes some excuse of having another job in the morning and leaves. And she’ll probably be embarrassed and frustrated with herself about it later, because she basically just…ran away. Because of a hug. How mortifying.

I don’t really know where to continue with that scenario, I just find the idea of Ada getting flustered by genuine care and affection funny. Maybe a few weeks — months? — pass before Leon sees or hears from Ada again after The Hug™️. That’s okay, because if knowing Ada has taught him anything, it’s to have patience.

#a very he fell first she fell harder kind of deal #leon is my self insert I just want to give hot spy lady a hug #resident evil #imagines #this is inspired by choices perfect match and lovestruck queen of thieves #what else…#oh right that hug scene in baldur’s gate 3 #aeon #ada x leon #leon x ada #ada wong #leon kennedy #leon scott kennedy #leon s kennedy #i absolutely hate how I need to tag him three times

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jus-a-lil-mouse · 7 months

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In the small sleepy town of Roswell, Illinois, lights flicker off as the day comes to a quiet end. And yet - a hero arrives to save us all. A guardian angel begins her fight against a formidable adversary. A wayward son finally returns home. A grocery store owner takes a final inventory before closing shop. And a young vagabond prepares to reconnect with friend and foe alike. And above them all, high up in the clear Illinois night, inhuman lights begin flickering on.

A small companion piece to @this-is-z-art-blog ‘s Ectober2023 piece for Oct 6! More information/character details below.

Valliant: Valerie’s character! I picture her weapons being discs with a sharp blade on the edge, and she can use them for melee attacks or “throw” them for ranged ones. They come back to her when thrown, unless they are caught or get stuck in something. She is the Chosen of a group called the Red Hunters, who protect the world from alien invasion. And definitely DON’T secretly intend to take over the world using fear rhetoric/anti-alien propaganda.

Simcha: Sam’s character! ‘Simcha’ (meaning ‘joy’) is Z’s headcanon for Sam’s Hebrew name, and the character is a Jewish angel. Driven towards and created for a singular purpose, her mission is to hunt the Red Hunters and stop them from taking over. However, she doesn’t want to harm their Chosen, believing that there is still time to dissuade her from this path.

Trey: Tucker’s character! A handsome man with a mysterious past. Except for his childhood - that was spent here, in Roswell, where he grew up with his best friend Donnie. When Trey left after high school to try and discover the origin and mysteries of the lights above town, he stayed in touch only with his dear friend. And when things in Roswell started getting weird, Donnie called him home again.

Donnie: Danny’s character! A local man. The owner of the town’s grocery store and a friend to all, Donnie grew up here and plans to stay here all his life. Like most people, he claims the lights are stars and airplanes, and focuses on living his normal life. Eventually he can’t ignore the strange, extraterrestrial happenings - especially after nearly being abducted - and when things start getting even weirder? He knows exactly who to call.

Dahlia: Danielle’s character! A wandering lone wolf-type person, they’ve been adventuring all across the continent. Sometimes taking seasonal jobs for a bit of cash - and sometimes just taking what they need - they do what they can to help people. A dear friend of Valliant, and a former apprentice of Trey’s, they can’t wait to get to Roswell and meet up with two of their favorite people for a good alien-blasting.

Jazz: Is GMing! Swiftly deciding this was NOT the group to run a ghostly game for, she pivoted to aliens, knowing that Danny would enjoy the outer space of it all. Her younger brother and his friends are all teens with Problems, and this is the closest she can get to taking them to therapy. Her campaign involves the group slowly learning that aliens aren’t dangerous, but quite friendly and curious, and needing to go against the Powers That Be to aid them.

#danny phantom #dp #ectober 2023 #ectoberhaunt23 #monster of the week #motw #motw x dp #character sheets #valliant the chosen #simcha the divine #trey the expert #donnie the mundane #dahlia the spell-slinger #jazz the gm

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cjoatprehn · 1 year

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Survival Financial Request!

My mom’s been filing for bankruptcy, has been extremely financially stressed lately, and trying to get me over to her has been really stressful. She’s a burn victim from a Yankee Candle catching on fire on Halloween, she received 3rd degree burns on most of her body for trying to save her support dog. Between support animal costs, food, rent, and hospital recovery, she’s in dire need of aid. If y’all could and are in a position to help, could you send some money over, please, to help ensure she will be able to at the very least have some pressure off her shoulders? And a sweet note, if you want to—? Thank you…

Adding to this post-

I want to make clear I’ve been struggling to keep us and others afloat, and now I’m at a point in my life and health where I am no longer able to do so. They’re cutting away more food stamp money from many households in the legislature not just ours, and I’m in the process of moving to my mom’s to help out. And also—

I’m kinda Flipping out right now. I don’t want to lie, with the US being a 3rd world country now. I’m flipping out because last month…was the last month they would be giving food money in the 100s. With food so high and Rent higher. SSI—I don’t even know. …I’m smiling but I don’t know what else to do. My moms still recovering from 3rd degree burns, surgery, and trying to get me there, and I’ve learned that the Aunt that had control of late great grandma’s reservoir for funds…Help won’t last long.

I’m scared, and I’m losing hope. I don’t want to go out as the person who Fucking struggled and suffered their entire life, never got to flourish. …I’ve never thought of making a gofundme again. Every time I’ve made one it never reached anything. And…I-can’t even maintain a savings for long. If we run out of money or assistance, then my mom stops getting treatment. Her dog doesn’t get food or treatment…and we’ll lose the little we have left.

She doesn’t have any friends or many connections outside of herself or her former government job. So—I’m just—like—trying to convince her to.. at least accept my help. I know everyone’s not in the best financial situation to help but—I can’t continue giving good energy to the universe from an empty cup…so I really appreciate the support..!

For record only, no longer helping someone who wants to gaslight and abuse me. I’ve been evicted as of May 9th, 2023. I found a place to stay for last night and possibly tonight. After that I’m on the streets. I’ve accepted I might not make it. I’m bedbound forced to rest by my body and disabilities. My phone has been deactivated by my mom only to discover she can’t reactivate it due to my phone being 6-7 years old. It’s too old to be reactivated with its old line.

But…hey…I’m no longer at my abusive home situation. I don’t wish to tell my dad’s side of the family. My mom prolly let them know anyway. I don’t know for sure though.

…I’m so flipping screwed. Had to deactivate my throne, due to no longer having that address. So…I’m just.. Here. Waiting. Watching my time come closer.

Thread of some of the abuse from my mom. I don’t feel like typing it all here..

https://cjoatbysamwise.com/donate-to-cjoat

…I’m scared. But I don’t know what else to do so I’m accepting my fate and situation for now at least. So.

Here’s to updates..

Late Update:

Got yelled at, insulted, and screamed at by my mom through text. She’s called AT&T to lock everything down; I asked her for my account information. When she didn’t answer for the next 5-6 hours. I had AT&T send an email and a text to her & asked her for what they sent her. I got accused of hacking. I’m Not getting my phone line back.

Oh and to top it off, she sent me a picture of Storme laying outside of where I used to sleep. With Storme saying hi. I relayed a message to Storme. It would be a goodbye unless we meet again.

…So I’m unable to exactly…Do anything so. Just…Trying to calm my heart rate down…It’s been elevated all damn day…and increasing..

Good News: The Situation has Partly Cleared!

I cued a erasure on the iPhone 14 Pro Max, which my mom gave me and then took away from me after snooping through my iPhone 8+ and kicking me out, as soon as it connects to the internet; that way, my mom gets to return the phone, she gets her $1K+ back, problem solved. However, twice my mom sent 2 “Reset Apple ID Password” pop-ups on my devices, which…fuck off, mom, tf?

In response, after checking with the select few, I have changed my Apple ID email, because she doesn’t know my Apple ID password. I will be working with Apple Customer Servicee to ensure she can not steal my Apple account through Screen Time (which is possible). Conclusively:

I have a bed and address, temporarily but for awhile, unsure of how long, definitely more than a few days. Right now, until things stabilize with assistance, I don’t have to pay yet, despite being willing to. Currently slowly getting out of survival mode. Many of my stuff remain at my mom’s. I am able to get another physical SIM for my phone. Throne should be showing and working now, because I now have a new address, temporary while I figure what to do from here. I am no longer am able to draw due to my stylus breaking and my disc tips running out. Still got to get back. Laptop is out of commission until I get a new laptop charger, or until I get my old one back. That’s the update for now.

…I’m…finally going to heal, now that I’m safe and in a warm & accepting, and lax environment.

Still going to need assistance, thank y’all so much for supporting me so far.

#mutual aid #time sensitive #disabled #homeless #abuse victim #black sheep

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leebrontide · 1 year

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WIP Intro: Names in Their Blood

Title: Names in Their Blood

Format: Novel

Series: Second Sentinels. This is book 2 in the series. Book 1 is currently free as an ebook, or for actual money in paper or audiobook.

Genre: Near future scifi/ low neon cyberpunk/ superheroes/ small town mystery/ little bit Midwest gothic?/ YA into NA. Trust me it all works together I swear.

Status: Release date set! July 4th, 2024!

Themes: Disability, bodily autonomy, identity, queerness, ethics

Tropes: Missing people, secret identities, found family, meetcute, meetugly, the monster within, dodgy government body, reunions

Synopsis Four queer teens on the fringes of the superheroing world head to a small town in Minnesota for what’s supposed to be a month off. Officially, they’re there for some stressful family reunions and to use the only full hospital for genetically altered people in the US. But, when they realize that the government beuro that gives the Sentinels their missions has been hiding the disappearances of missing alterds for years, it sets them in the path of a mission that has them questioning who they can trust.

Meet the characters under the cut, and/or leave any kind of comment to be tagged in future posts about this project!

Characters

(Age 18)

Opal hadn’t realized when she came to Chicago to join the Sentinels that she’d be joining an extremely complicated family. She certainty didn’t plan to start dating the former team leader’s fierce but fragile daughter. But how can she feel like she belongs here when she can’t pick a superhero name, every effort she makes to reform the corruption in superheroing blows up in her face, her superiors are mad at her, and her girlfreind is holding resentments Opal doesn’t understand? At least she finally gets to stay in a fancy, romantic Victorian manor house.

(Age 18)

As the non-superpowered oldest child of legendary hero LodeStar and medical technologies magnate Dr Melissa Tillman, Issac’s born the brunt of much of the worst of growing up embroiled in the world of superheroes. That’s included kidnapping, threats of torture, and losses he doesn’t know how to cope with. Now, he’s trying to set aside his resentment and focus on being a good adoptive dad to the world’s first feeling, sentient AI. But it’s hard to prove you deserve custody of such a powerful kid when you’re struggling to cope with a new disability and you technically have a felony hanging over your head for developing illegal brain-altering nanites.

(Age 17)

The middle child in Sentinel Plaza, xe may call a different superhero xyr father, but has always considered Issac and Jamie xyr siblings. Now that xe knows that some survivors of the genetic-engineering cultist that built xyr father’s first family are still alive, xe has to contend with the fears, connections, and obligations xe’s inherited. The worst injury of xyr life so far, and a growing fear that xe's a danger to the people around xyr isn’t making competing loyalties any easier to deal with.

(Age 17)

After years of very temporary fostercare placements it’s almost a relief to live full time in Coldwater Clinic Hospital, where nobody is paying that much attention to her anymore. When she met a retired superhero, and they saved each other, she counted herself lucky. But now that heroes old family are in town, with very mixed feelings about the new teenager in their lost family members life. Between the 7ft superhero trainee giving her palpitations and the potentially evil scientist suddenly hanging around her defacto home, her secrets- and her heart- might be in danger.

(Age 17)

Now that she’s no longer the youngest in the family thanks to her AI nibbling, Jamie wants to let go of her bitterness for all the ways she’s been left behind, and think about her future. It’s nobodies fault that she didn’t inherit her dad’s superpowers, even if she did get his temperament, and she knows that while Opal may appreciate her acerbic sense of humor, bitternes isn’t going to help her keep the girlfriend she doesn’t really think she deserves. When she gets an offer that would put dreams she gave up long ago within her reach, she has to choose. Will she follow in the other Sentinel's footsteps- all the way to her own self-destruction?

Comment to let me know if you'd like to be added to the tag list! Also, my askbox is always open to questions!

ADDED: Playlist on Spotify

#WIP intro #Writeblr #ya books #scifi #Writeblr WIP #Second Sentinels #Names in Their Blood

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mariacallous · 2 months

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U.S. President Joe Biden delivered one of the most political—and politically significant—State of the Union addresses in memory on Thursday night, laying out in the starkest of terms the stakes of the forthcoming election for the United States and the entire world.

Considering that the United States is not under direct threat of war, perhaps what was most striking about the speech was that Biden opened it by invoking President Franklin Delano Roosevelt’s State of the Union from January 1941, ahead of America’s entry into World War II. “I address you in a moment unprecedented in the history of the union,” Biden quoted FDR as saying.

“Now, it’s we who face an unprecedented moment,” Biden said. And then, without ever naming him, Biden cast his almost-certain 2024 opponent, former President Donald Trump, in the menacing role of Adolf Hitler and the Nazis. If that were not enough, Biden immediately went on to identify Trump and his “Make America Great Again” (MAGA) movement with the Confederates who seceded from the union.

“Not since President Lincoln and the Civil War have freedom and democracy been under assault at home as they are today,” Biden said. “What makes our moment rare is that freedom and democracy are under attack both at home and overseas at the very same time.”

In other words, the president seemed to be saying, the nation faces in Trump an even more perilous threat today than FDR and Abraham Lincoln—generally considered two of the greatest U.S. presidents in history—did individually. Biden then proceeded to lambaste his “predecessor”—as he repeatedly called Trump—over and over. Biden accused Trump of “bowing down” to Russian President Vladimir Putin over his Ukraine invasion; fomenting political violence at home (“You can’t love your country only when you win,” Biden said); sounding like a fascist by saying immigrants are “poison in the blood of our country”; and shrugging his shoulders over endemic gun violence.

Biden repeatedly sounded the theme of the combined domestic and foreign threat posed by Trump: that is, peace in peril abroad, democracy undermined at home. “If the United States walks away, it will put Ukraine at risk. Europe is at risk. The free world will be at risk, emboldening others to what they wish to do us harm,” he said. “History is watching. Just like history watched three years ago on Jan. 6, when insurrectionists stormed this very Capitol and placed a dagger to the throat of American democracy.”

One thing is clear: Biden and his team were intent on overcoming, all at once, the cascading doubts about his age (81) and his record that have left him with grim approval ratings, virtually turning him into an underdog against Trump with just eight months to go. The president waited until the end of his nearly 70-minute speech to confront the single biggest issue of his reelection bid—his age—but he did it forcefully and without any obvious flagging of energy.

“I know I may not look like it, but I’ve been around awhile,” Biden joked, giving his big, white-toothed grin. “When you get to my age, certain things become clearer than ever before. … My fellow Americans, the issue facing our nation isn’t how old we are, it’s how old are our ideas. Hate, anger, revenge, retribution are the oldest of ideas. But you can’t lead America with ancient ideas that only take us back.”

Will it work to save his presidency? Biden’s 2023 State of the Union, despite getting rave reviews, didn’t affect his low approval ratings much. This address, however, landed at a very different moment. Coming only two days after Biden’s big wins on Super Tuesday and the departure of Trump’s last Republican opponent, Nikki Haley, from the presidential race, the speech also served as a harsh reality check for the American electorate. For the first time, it is apparent that Biden isn’t going anywhere and that Trump will be his opponent eight months from now—that only this halting 81-year-old man stands between disaster and the continuation of American democracy, in the eyes of many Americans.

The obvious bet of the Biden campaign is that the threat of a would-be autocrat—much like an imminent hanging—concentrates the mind wonderfully, in Samuel Johnson’s formulation. Suddenly, people no longer have the luxury of wishing they had someone 30 years younger, or more inspirational, to vote for. It’s just Joe and Donald now. People are clearly not excited about a Biden second term, even most Democrats. But if that is all they’re left with—if the choice is a bad cold versus cancer—then the course suddenly becomes clearer.

“People always like to say that they have to choose between the lesser of two evils,” Norm Kurz, Biden’s former Senate communications director, said in an email. “Biden’s refrain that voters should not compare him to the Almighty but to the alternative will begin to resonate.”

His speech recalled past moments when U.S. presidents sought to clarify the stakes at an existential level. None more so than Lincoln’s 1862 State of the Union address, when he said, “The fiery trial through which we pass will light us down in honor or dishonor to the latest generation.” Or John F. Kennedy’s warning in January 1961—at the height of the Cold War—that the nation faced “an hour of national peril and national opportunity” when “we shall have to test anew whether a nation organized and governed such as ours can endure.”

Yet it was also a measure of the delicate balance that Biden has been forced to achieve in his presidency—restoring America’s traditional global cop role while playing to the neo-isolationist sentiment that Trump has awakened—that the president deferred to the millions of voters who believe the United States is overextended in the world. He touted his “Buy American” neo-protectionist approach to national security, saying, “Past administrations including my predecessor … failed to buy American”—and even as he pushed again for a $60.1 billion aid package to Ukraine, he repeated that American troops would not get pulled in.

Biden also sought to stamp out a brewing progressive insurgency over his pro-Israel Middle East policy—hundreds of thousands of primary voters registered their discontent with him on Tuesday, and protesters Thursday sought to block his motorcade to the Capitol—by announcing the creation of a pier off the coast of Gaza that would “enable a massive increase in the amount of humanitarian assistance” going to besieged Palestinians.

Here, as well, Biden pledged, “No U.S. boots will be on the ground.”

Biden spent the majority of his speech in more traditional State of the Union fashion, spelling out a positive agenda that contrasted with Trump’s “ancient ideas” and reminding voters of his greatest accomplishments. Among them, “the most significant action ever on climate in the history of the world”—cutting carbon emissions in half by 2030 and creating tens of thousands of clean-energy jobs—and his Bipartisan Infrastructure Law, including 46,000 new projects “moderniz[ing] our roads and bridges, ports and airports, public transit systems,” as well as a spate of new gun laws. Biden boasted about preserving NATO—“the strongest military alliance the world has ever seen”—and introduced the prime minister of Sweden, the alliance’s newest member, who stood up grinning and waving in the gallery.

The president also announced plans to increase taxes on corporate wealth; remove tax breaks for Big Pharma, Big Oil, and executive pay; and noted he has signed into law a bill that dramatically reduces the cost of prescription drugs. He also hit Trump hard on reproductive rights, which polls show have hurt Republicans badly, saying abortion opponents have “no clue about the power of women” in America. Biden declared, “I will restore Roe v. Wade as the law of the land again.”

On the issue that has most frustrated him, the economy—which polls show a plurality of voters believe Trump would be stronger on despite strong growth numbers—Biden continued to insist that it’s just a matter of time before voters realize how good they now have it. “I inherited an economy that was on the brink. Now our economy is literally the envy of the world. Fifteen million new jobs in just three years—a record, a record. Unemployment at 50-year lows,” he said. “Wages keep going up. Inflation keeps coming down. Inflation has dropped from 9 percent to 3 percent—the lowest in the world.”

The rhetoric was rousing, even incendiary, possibly a little desperate. But Biden, let’s face it, will never be a great speechmaker. The stiffness, slurring, and occasional stutter that seem to make every Biden speech a breathless high-wire act—one never knows if he’ll get all the way through a sentence without stumbling—were all there Thursday night, accompanied by an occasional coughing spell between applause lines.

Yet the president also didn’t commit any major gaffes and finished as strong as he started. The president was effective, too, in repeating his tactic from last year’s speech in mocking GOP lawmakers who shouted out insults, especially given how ineffective and obstructionist the Republican House has been. Without quite saying so, Biden came close to emulating President Harry S. Truman’s successful 1948 tactic of attacking the infamous “do-nothing” Congress. Over and over, Biden challenged the Republican-led House of Representatives to pass long-stalled legislation, especially the Ukraine national security aid. In any case, the Republicans were repeatedly drowned out by chants of “four more years” from Democrats, which also gave the whole affair the flavor of a campaign rally.

Biden’s State of the Union address was always going to be less about what he said than how he said it—how he spoke, how he walked to the podium, how he responded to his hecklers—and by that measure he succeeded. Above all, Biden was plainly showing his confidence that American voters will come to see, finally, that his programs are working.

The challenge for Biden—and Americans—is that his opponent, the previous president, is now deploying similarly apocalyptic rhetoric. In a speech in late February, Trump also drew comparisons to World War II, saying, “This time, the greatest threat is not from the outside of our country, I really believe this. It’s the people from within our country that are more dangerous. They’re very sick people.” And following his victories in 14 states Tuesday night, Trump said that under Biden the United States had been reduced to “a third-world country.”

The data of accomplishments are clearly on Biden’s side. Even so, Biden can no longer be as confident—as he was after the 2022 midterm elections—that it’s just a question of time before voters appreciate his policies. The day after the midterm elections, Biden projected confidence in the country’s direction, responding “nothing” when asked what he will do differently in the next two years.

That tactic didn’t work. It remains to be seen whether the president’s new one will.

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ghostofaboy · 5 months

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Rock Bottom - Benny

Summary: Frankie is spiraling after Tom’s death. Drugs lead to some unhealthy friendships, and too ashamed to reach out to his former teammates for help, Frankie is drawn into a world he’s afraid he can’t get out of.

After settling into his new life Frankie gets a chance to catch up with Benny.

Pairing: Frankie “Catfish” Morale/Original Male Characters Rating: Explicit. Serious over 18s only Word count: 1927 Chapter: 21/?

Warnings: Talk of sex and prostitution, mentions of PTSD, mentions of drug use

Note: This is a fic with gay and bi characters. Please make sure you read the tags/warnings. Header by @gasolinerainbowpuddles

Part 20 / Part 1 / Masterpost

After a few weeks, Frankie had started to settle into his strange new routine. While working two jobs was tiring, it was certainly filling up his savings account, which he knew he’d need later down the road if he wanted to get joint custody of Sofia. And finally, he’d spoken to Will about the Vets Rehab program and was now officially on the waiting list. At the assessment appointment, he’d been told the waiting time was two months. Will, who had come with him, had cursed under his breath at Frankie’s side at that, but honestly, Frankie was grateful to have been accepted. Two months wasn’t too long, and considering the waiting lists for other programs, Frankie knew it could have been a hell of a lot longer.

After the initial flurry of sex during the first weekend, Tilly had only used his services once more since. He’d wanted a quick blow job before he left for a business meeting the following Saturday, and after covering Frankie’s face in come, that had been that. After that day, Frankie had spent the rest of the weekend and the one after taking stock of the garage and working on the cars. The only downside of the past few weeks was that things with Tyler had slowed somewhat after he had started his job with Tilly, but thankfully, they had not completely stalled.

This week had been going by slowly. The repair shop was practically empty, with only a few regular clients to keep them all busy. The unfortunate reality was that there wasn’t enough work for them all. So that morning, Malcolm had called a team meeting to ask for volunteers to go home for the rest of the week. Frankie had immediately put his hand up.

The way he figured it, he was going to be leaving the shop at the end of next week anyway and had no right to take money out of the pockets of any of the other guys. Plus, with his job at Tilly’s, he had more money than he’d had in years. As he gathered his things, he could hear the others still grumbling as Malcolm asked for one more volunteer before heading back to his truck.

It was only Wednesday, and Tilly wouldn’t be expecting him again until Saturday, which left Frankie with more free time than he’d had in almost a year. Sitting in his truck, he knew exactly who he wanted to see and, pulling out his phone, immediately started to text Tyler. After some thought, he composed what he thought sounded like a good enough message. To the point, sincere, and hopefully not too needy.

[Hey, I know things have been a little weird with us since I took the job with Tilly. I’m off for the rest of the week and was hoping to see you. Frankie x]

Pressing send, Frankie dropped the phone down onto the passenger seat next to him. Now what? Tyler might not even reply, might not want to see him, might not… Gripping the steering wheel, Frankie took a long, deep breath in. The last thing he needed to do right now was spiral.

His head was getting clearer, but he still wasn’t sleeping too well. His body was exhausted, and he often felt like he could sleep for days. But no matter how tired he was, Frankie found himself sleeping in bursts, interrupted by bouts of nausea and the increasingly frequent nightmare. Vivid, awful dreams of Tom covered in blood. In the dreams, sometimes Tom was alive, following them through the mountains with his head half gone. He was angry at them, screaming at Pope or Frankie about their failures. Other times, Tom was just the first to die, and Frankie would watch as each of his friends was taken from him by unseen enemies.

But the worst dreams were about something terrible happening to Sofia because of him. Frankie’s mind had managed to conjure up horrific scenario after horrific scenario, covering every possible way his tiny little girl could come to harm.

After a few minutes of focusing on his breathing, Frankie felt a little better. His phone sat silently on the seat next to him, with no reply yet from Tyler. Resisting the urge to pick it up, Frankie started his truck and set off. He didn’t really want to sit at home and stew, the thought of being alone right now didn’t seem like a good idea. Then again, just heading over to Tyler’s trailer also might not be well received. And as much as Frankie wanted to see him, he also knew he needed to give Tyler space.

After that initial weekend at Tilly’s, Tyler had come around to his place just as they had arranged, but the atmosphere was tense. Tyler had admitted his jealousy and discomfort, while acknowledging that he felt like a hypocrite because of it. In the end, they’d watched a movie before Tyler left for the night. Since then, they’d seen each other a handful of times. Each time was getting easier, edging closer to the normalcy they’d once had.

Stopping at a red light, Frankie ran over the options in his mind. Home would drive him stir-crazy and let him dwell on bad shit. Tyler’s wasn’t an option just yet. Then it hit him. Benny. He knew the gym Benny was training at and that he’d be there every day. With a destination in mind, Frankie felt his shoulders relax a little as he set off toward the gym.

Benny was based in a new gym converted from an old factory. From the outside, it didn’t look like much, a little shabby even. But as Frankie made his way through the front door, he was met with a clean and modern gym set-up. The young guy at the front desk looked up when Frankie approached.

“Hi.” He smiled, setting down his notepad. “You lookin’ to join?”

“I’m just looking for Ben Miller.” Frankie shrugged, rubbing the back of his neck. “I’m an old friend and-”

“Wait.” The young guy’s smile grew. “Are you Catfish?”

“Yeah?” Frankie cocked his head, a little confused.

“Oh man!” The guy stood up and made his way around the desk. “Ben talks about you all the time! It’s so cool to meet you! Come on, I’ll take you through.”

Frankie couldn’t stop himself from smiling as he was led through to the main gym and to the back of the large workout area. Men glanced up as he passed, some frowning at his jeans and obvious lack of gym clothes. Frankie blushed as a fit, younger man shimmering with sweat winked at him. Finally, at the very back, Frankie could see a group of men standing and chatting next to a couple of punchbags. And there, in the middle, throwing his head back as he laughed, was Benny.

Frankie’s heart skipped a beat. Even after all this time, even knowing that Benny would never be interested in him, Frankie couldn’t help admiring his friend. Benny was laughing and talking with his friends or trainers, topless in just a set of baggy shorts. Sweat clung to his toned body, making him glisten in the artificial light. Benny turned as head as Frankie approached and his smile grew.

“Fish!”

In a flash, Benny’s sweaty arms were wrapped around Frankie, his face buried in Frankie’s neck, and suddenly everything seemed right in the world. For a few moments, Frankie let Benny just hold him, before Benny eventually stepped away.

“What are you doing here, man!” Benny slapped his shoulder playfully. “Shouldn’t you be at work?”

“Work’s slow, so I’ve got the day off.” Frankie smiled. “Thought I’d come and check up on you.”

“I’m almost done here.” Benny gestured to his trainer behind him. “You ok to wait, then we can go get some lunch?”

“Perfect.”

A couple of hours later, Frankie’s cheeks ached from smiling. It felt so good to spend time with Benny. It felt like old times. Benny told the same crappy jokes, and Frankie laughed at Benny’s terrible Spanish. It was like South America had never happened.

They ate lunch before heading back to Benny’s apartment and sat talking about Benny’s fighting. As the hours passed, Frankie could feel the tension leaving him. He needed this. He needed his old squad. He’d spent far too long in this new world created of his own mistakes, and this afternoon felt like a return to normalcy.

“So…” Benny licked his lips before taking a sip of his tea. “Work is slow?”

“Yeah.” Frankie nodded, blowing on his own drink to cool it. “Only a few regular jobs, not enough for all of us, so Malc asked for volunteers to take the week off.”

“And you volunteered?”

“Yeah.” Frankie cocked his head at Benny. “Why?”

“And you can afford to do that?” Benny was looking at him strangely over his steaming drink.

“Yeah, I can afford it.” Frankie frowned. This conversation had taken a strange turn and he wasn’t sure he liked the way Benny was looking at him. “What’s this about Ben?”

“Have you been working with that new friend? What was his name? Tyler? The streamer?” Benny took another sip. He was keeping his tone light, but Frankie knew this was an interrogation. Benny was digging.

“No.” Frankie answered honestly. He hadn’t decided yet if he was going to do any video with Tyler. Pausing for a moment he weighed his options, before answered making sure to keep his tone equally as light. “I took a private mechanic job. I’m working it on the weekends until I finish my notice at Malc’s place. Ben…” Frankie set his drink down, leaning forward in his seat. “Ben, what is this about? Why does this feel like an interrogation?”

“I’m just worried that’s all.” Benny let out a long sigh. “You’ve only just got clean again and…”

“And?”

“And, a buddy of mine said he saw you a few weeks back.” Benny looked uncomfortable, his cheeks growing redder as he searched for the right words. “You were, um, it was at Cutler’s and… he said he saw…”

As Benny trailed off and Frankie could feel his face beginning to burn with shame. Cutler’s was a dive bar Gavin had taken him to a few times. He’d blow guys in the dimly lit parking lot and sometime get fucked around the back of the place. The last time was around five weeks ago and Frankie had sucked three cocks in the parking lot while Gavin chatted and sold coke.

“And your friend saw me blowing some guys?” Frankie let his head drop, peeking up at Benny from under the brim of his cap. “Is that what you were gonna say?”

“Yeah.” Benny slumped down in his chair, looking at Frankie with those goddam big sad eyes. “He said, fuck, he said that you had a pimp.”

“Fuck.” Frankie could feel his hands shaking as he reached up to take his cap off. Throwing the Standard Oil cap down onto his knee, Frankie heard himself speaking before his brain had a chance to catch up. “Yeah. Yeah, I did. But… that’s over now. I’m clean now, I swear. It’s… all that… I… I don’t have a pimp now.”

“Fuck Fish.” Benny looked heartbroken, and Frankie had to force himself not to bolt out the door. “Fuck. How did you… how did that start?”

“You really wanna know?” Frankie could feel the tears starting to roll down his cheeks.

“Tell me everything.”

#frankie morales #frankie 'catfish' morales #francisco 'catfish' morales #triple frontier #frankie morales x male character #frankie morales x original male character(s)#rock bottom fic

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