#first one is a venom reference because i think some of the similarities are fun and the potential

[shadowtraveled]

"mithrun is the only real monsterfucker in dungeon meshi" is objectively the funniest bit you can get out of his everything, but in all seriousness i think his attraction to his love interest is deliberately overstated—and that makes sense, because romantic jealousy is a classic and digestible motive, which is explicitly what kabru was aiming for in condensing mithrun's backstory, and also because until chapter 94, mithrun wasn't willing to admit to the true nature of his desires.

but because romantic envy is both classic and digestible, it probably isn’t a unique enough or complicated enough desire to tempt a demon’s appetite. mithrun’s wish, as far as we can figure from kabru’s reduced retelling, was to have a life in which he had never become one of the canaries, and that carries like 3857 implications and desires within it. that’s delicious. his love interest acts as sort of a red herring to his motivation for making it, though. (side note: i'm saying "love interest" here because, keeping in mind that i barely speak japanese on a good day anymore, "想い人" is something i'd usually take as just kind of an old-fashioned and romantic way to refer to a lover, but in context i wonder if both the connotation of yearning and the vagueness are intentional, and i think this phrasing gets those aspects of it more effectively. anyway.)

mithrun considered his love interest to be untrustworthy. there was a minute where i thought that comment might be about a similar-looking elf (yugin, one of his squad members), but comparing the two…

the "sketchy" arrow is definitely referring to the elf we know as his love interest—the bangs go toward her right, she only has the one forehead ornament, and, most notably, her ears aren't notched.

every time she’s given a full-body depiction in his dungeon, she’s drawn as a chimera, with the body of a snake from the waist down. (side note: the “what if a dungeon has chimeras before reaching level 4?”/“then the dungeon lord is unstable” exchange just being mithrun grilling his past self alive is so funny. he’s so. but anyway) there are a couple things about this.

first, the snake part of the chimera appears to be modeled after some species of coral snake mimic

which, in the biology-for-fun manga, i… doubt is a coincidence, especially with the added context of the “untrustworthy” comment. the dungeon’s conjured illusion of mithrun’s love interest was a harmless copycat of a venomous original. for whatever reason, he felt this person was a threat and made up a "safe" version of her to be in a relationship with, and while it’s definitely possible to be attracted to or even love someone you find to be toxic and/or intimidating, when you take that into consideration alongside the configuration of her body, you get some interesting implications.

which brings us to our second point: if we assume that mithrun was not in fact fucking a snake, then sexual attraction, at least, was so far removed from his idea of a relationship with this person that he did not even bother to keep her dungeon copy human enough to maintain the illusion of the option of a sexual relationship. this is somewhat echoed in the depictions of their interactions, which also imply a frankly unexpected romantic distance. she kisses his cheek and he doesn't seem to react; she's at the edge of a narrow bed with only one set of pillows, on top of his blankets while he's underneath them.

the kiss is particularly interesting because it seems to contrast the text. kabru's narration tells us this was everything mithrun could have asked for, but mithrun is there looking unreadable to pensive, likely because this is right before the panel that makes it clear things in the dungeon are beginning to go wrong.

walking through this backwards for a minute, we have the physical barrier of his bedding and the spatial separation inherent in a bed made for one person, the emotional barrier of his mounting anxiety getting in the way of his ability to enjoy the affection he sought, and... the snake, which historically carries the connotation of temptation, yes, but also mistrust, barring physical intimacy. okay. ok. if a dungeon reflects the mentality of its lord, all of this might suggest that mithrun was not able to have any real desire for a relationship with this person. his unwillingness to be vulnerable or let another person in was insurmountable. but in that case, why was she such a focal point that she remained to the end, after his dungeon had stopped creating iterations of his friends to come and visit him? why would he get so upset over her meeting with his brother that he became lord of a dungeon about it?

well. mithrun's brother was also interested in her, probably genuinely. and mithrun had to win.

you have an older brother who your parents completely ignore, probably in part because he is chronically ill/disabled and almost definitely in part because he received a ton of recessive traits that resulted in rumors that he was an illegitimate child. you are aware, most likely because those same parents fucking told you, that you actually are an illegitimate child. but they keep you around because you had the good fortune of looking just like your mother. what can that possibly teach you but that you, like your brother, are disposable?

it's utterly unsurprising that mithrun, under these circumstances, developed a pathological need to be better than everyone around him. people don't keep you otherwise. i'd argue this is also why he says he looked down on everyone he knew while milsiril claims his dungeon reeked of feelings of inferiority—he sought out people's worst traits and prioritized them in his mind to protect his already extremely fragile sense of self-worth, and all the while he tried to be as likable and high-performing as he possibly could be. his parents disposed of him anyway, but even then he tried to keep up the performance. he was kind to everyone. he never once lost to a dungeon.

when he saw his "love interest" meeting up with his brother, what he saw was himself being replaced by a person his parents had always treated as worthless, and if that was what they thought of the child they'd kept, what value could anyone possibly see in the bastard they'd given away to die? mithrun and kabru tell the story like he wanted to win this unnamed elf's heart, but it was never about being with her. it was about cementing his worth, proving that he didn't deserve to be thrown away.

and so it's particularly cruel that his demon discarded him, too. but maybe it's also particularly gentle that, in the end, there was someone who refused to even consider giving up on him.

kui laid it out in three panels better than i could hope to.

yeah. it's love. you wanted to be loved, even when the only way you were able to understand it was through the desire to be wanted, and you wanted that so badly that the idea of being consumed felt like the promise of finally mattering to someone.

[philosophika]

Writeblr Positivity Tag

Hi @inkovert! Thank you, as always, for the tag. Just a quick shout-out; if you don't know Inkovert yet, please please please go check out their WIP, My Dearest Enemy. Also, do you like having in-depth discussions about writing with other up-and-coming authors? Participate in @inkovert's Spilled Ink Saturdays. The first session (on book-to-screen adaptations) was a lot of fun!

✦ What motivates you to write?

I agree with @inkovert. It's not that I'm motivated to write, exactly... It's more that I feel I... have to? There's a sort of internal inertia that keeps pulling me back to fiction. Maybe it's obsession? Maybe it's Maybelline? 💃😉 No, but seriously, I think it may be connected to this weird instinct I have to document things? To give you an idea of what I'm talking about, when I was in my mid-twenties, I went through a terrifying break-in. I kid you not; there was a literal man with a balaclava crouched in my shower in the middle of the night. How did I respond? By screaming, obviously. But after the screaming? I called up my boyfriend and narrated every single detail of what I saw and heard while trying to escape the house with my family. In my mind, I felt it was critical to tell him what was going on, not because I thought it would help catch the culprit(s) (we didn't know if there were more), save us from whatever bitter fate awaited, etc., but kind of in the same way people carve "I was here" into walls? If I was going to die (which was a possibility; a friend's father died in similar circumstances at around the same time), I needed someone to know what I'd seen, to know that I'd seen... So, do I write because I'd die if I didn't? No. I write because I'm going to die anyway. Because I know I'm going to die.

✦ A line/short snippet of your writing that you are most proud of/happy with. If not, maybe share a line of someone else's work you love (just please credit them):

I can do you one better! Because @inkovert kindly tagged me, I'd like to return the favour by referring you to their Wattpad page, where you can read their current WIP, My Dearest Enemy

✦ Which OC makes you smile every time you think/talk about them, and what are they like?

Haha, I don't know if any of the OCs in The Sorcerer's Apprentice make me smile. They all worry me a lot. By accepting an apprenticeship with the sorcerer Valeriano, Altaluna is heading straight into a nest of venomous vipers, and they are going to maim her; they are going to maim her for life. Every time she feels optimistic or wow-ed by the glitz and the glam of her new environment, I cringe internally. My poor, sweet summer child! Valeriano, on the other hand, is a monster, so it's hard to smile when thinking of him. Hmm... maybe the only character I genuinely smile around is Cucufate, the talking monkey. He's the only character whose behaviour and snide comments can be underplayed as just 'animal antics,' which means he's the only character who can get away with giving people a little of what they truly deserve. It's hard not to love him for it.

✦ What process of writing do you enjoy the most?

Again, I have to agree with @inkovert. The editing process means no blank page, and no blank page means (rejoice!) no existential suffering. My first drafts are always shit and a disappointment. But my second drafts? Dost thou want to live deliciously? With the second draft, I know where I'm going, what's happening, where to trim the fat and everything I need to make the story what I wanted it to be in the first place. Usually, I downright discard the first draft and write the entire story from scratch, but better, so much better. And editing the second (or sometimes, third) draft? Pure, unadulterated bliss. Goodbye, low self-esteem, goodbye doubts; cue me some Nina Simone, why don't you?

✦ What part of writing do you think you are the best at? (Yes stroke your own ego it's okay)

Editing, re-drafting. I'm good at figuring out what's wrong and have no trouble whatsoever massacring my darlings.

✦ What is something in the writeblr community that is most enjoyable?

The community! I love participating in tag & ask games, reading people's work, celebrating my mutual's triumphs, and sharing my progress. I don't have any writer friends outside of Tumblr (apart from academic writer friends, though they're a very different kettle of fish), so I really appreciate being able to log on and be met with all this creativity.

✦ A writing tool/device you use that helps you with writing? (It could be speech to text, a writing program etc)

Okay, so first thing first: I have ADHD. Any thought I have is an explosion that simultaneously sends spin-off thoughts in every imaginable direction, which, in turn, send spin-off thoughts in every imaginable direction, and so on and so forth, and on and on, until some of the spin-offs reach a dead end and their line withers, and/or I reach the limits of my capacity to hold all these thoughts in my mind and spontaneously combust. Instead of trying to fight this multi-generative tendency (this leads to a state of paralysis where I can't do anything), I've found a way to let the 'explosions' take the lead without overloading my systems, so to speak. Basically, I figured that if I stored every direction my mind went in somewhere other than my mind, I could let it do its thing without risking burnout. For that, I use MindNode, a visual brainstorming software. And let me tell you, it's been a life-saver. Now, when considering a scene, I document every possible route available to the characters and/or the setting, assign each ramification a score (for example, +1 Worldbuilding, +1 Foreshadowing, +1 Symbolism, +1 Character Development, -1 Cliché, -1 Undermines Tension, -1 Repetitive, etc.), and then choose the one with the highest score to write out. This method is obviously quite time-consuming, but it does have some unique strengths beyond helping me deal with my ADHD: (1) it ensures that there are no superfluous scenes in the grand design, (2) it ensures that all scenes are layered and fulfil multiple story functions at once, (3) it discourages going with the first option that presents itself (usually cliché, in my case), (4) it encourages out-of-the-box creative thinking, (5) and, finally, it's likely to lead to scenes that surprise you, the writer (for example, I was shocked by how many routes led to my character's death, lol). So, yeah, MindNode has been very helpful to me.

✦ A piece of worldbuilding that you like in your own story? (It could be the magic system, a particular place in the story, a law, etc)

I love the magic system, but I'm not sure I'll reveal anything more about it before publication than I already have in this post. You're just going to have to wait and see ;)

✦ Tag some people whose works you love/have been your biggest supporters:

I follow TONS of talented writers on this site, among them: @inkovert, @that-chibi-writer, @tate-lin, @kingkendrick7, @ettawritesnstudies, @blind-the-winds, @aquadestinyswriting, @avrablake, @alinacapellabooks, @lordfenric-writes, @moonscribbler, @cee-grice, @sender-paulson, @sarah-sandwich, @liv-is, @athenswrites, @junypr-camus, @rubywrite, @winterandwords, @salmonandfox, @merlina87, @songsofsomnia, @words-after-midnight, @lucianinsanity, @talesofsorrowandofruin, @nanashi23, @sam-glade, @at-thezenith, @kestalsblog, @kaatiba, @theunboundwriter, and so many more!

[pyrorptrs]

Symbiote Redesigns

Did redesigns of the first bunch of Symbiote characters from the 90's. Overall I tried to vary up their looks to make them look a bit more unique from one another beyond color and I tried to incorporate some more modern symbiote lore with the little swirls on their foreheads. In the comics; Symbiotes get their face covered by a swirl pattern when under the thrall of Knull and I wanted to make a reference to that while also making a joking jab at the concept of the Third Eye: the idea being that most people seek out to gain a third eye to become enlightened or get closer to God, while with the Knull swirl blocking the spot where it's supposed to be ironically does bring their respective host closer to A god while also robbing them of parts of themselves.

<b>Venom</b> - I did do a Symbiote Suit Spider-man beforehand, so Venom is obviously based heavily off of that design with some aspects exaggerated. The Spider is obviously exaggerated compared to the Spidey version with the legs stretching out throughout the body and the fangs wrapping around the neck, the idea being that it shows how attached Venom has become to Eddie Brock. The other white parts are also derived from some Spidey's OG suit. Finally the swirl on Venom's head is the most closed compared to the others to show that while Knull's influence has a way in, it currently isn't directly affecting him.

<b>Carnage</b> - Had the most fun with Carnage, but that's mostly because I have a very specific idea of how he should look. Firstly I tried to make him lanky and scrawny since I think that actually amps up his intimidation, the idea being that if you initially underestimate him because of his size compared to Venom, it makes it more surprising when you find out he's actually stronger. I tried to really incorporate the swirls not only into his head (with it being the most open compared to the others), but also having one wrap around and stretch out into other details on his chest. I also tried to make his fingers more blade-like to reference his tendency to make weapons more often than Venom. finally I added additional lines to his red bits to make it look more like exposed Muscle.

<b>Scream</b> - Probably the most recognizable Symbiote out of the Life Foundation batch. Not much to say with her since I really like her og design, so it's more of a restyle. Obviously I incorporated the swirl into her head like the others, but I also tried to make the breaks in the yellow part of her coloring more angular to make her easier to redraw in the future.

<b>Riot</b> - Riot was probably the most boring out of the Life Foundation Symbiotes, just being Venom but grey with different shaped eyes, so I tried to make a few changes here and there to help him stand out more. Outside of the swirl, which I tried to incorporate into his mouth, and emphasizing his different eye shapes, I also tried to give him a more armored look to reference his original role as a sort of super guard for the Life foundation. I also tried to reference the originals preference towards blunt weapongs by having one of his hands shapeshifted into a mace.

<b>Phage</b> - Phage was one of the harder ones to do since he doesn't have a lot of unique details, and his tendencies to use bladed weapons, make him a bit too similar to carnage. Outside of the swirl, I tried to make the Blades more of an actual part of his design by having a notably large one on each hand where the the middle and ring fingers would usually be. I also turned the black shading into more of an actual black patterning on the Symbiote itself.

<b>Agony</b> - I tried to combine both Agony's original comic look and the brief version we saw during Absolute Carnage. Adding the Lavender color from the latter while using the former as a primary base for the design.

<b>Lasher</b> - Like Scream, I really like Lasher's original design, so he was more of a restyle than a straight up redesign. obviously added the swirl and tried to keep the colors, but I also tried to come up with a different pattern for his main color to poke through the teal on his torso.

[cyncerity]

okay was rereading how Tommy and Ranboo met and fun question I have is clothing.

What kind of clothing does everyone wear? Like Boggins wouldn't wear green and such like leafman and I know I've got the actual movie for reference, but like what's your take?

Like Bugfolk would surely be different too right?

Also also I just wanna know, what kind of fur is ranboos jacket made from? cause its half black half white and my first thought was: hehehe skunk jacket.

And also while we're on the the topic of clothes: weapons and armour.

What do you imagine each races preferred choice of weaponry is and made from what? Cause I'd imagine certain bug folk would have natural defence mechanisms like spiders and venom ya know? So would they still use a weapon?

Where as I kind of imagine boggins bigger and bulkier so they'd probably prefer hand to hand combat but then again also they ride bats in the movie so theres that as well as leafmen and their bows on hummingbirds.

Curious I am :3

Don't have to answer them all but thanks for your time 🍭🍭🍭🍭🍭🍭

ALL WONDERFUL QUESTIONS THANK YOU

ok first with the clothes: boggins wear lots of furs and weird armor-esqe things (like the shells of those spikey circle plants as shoulder guards [i don’t know what the spikey plants are called but if you google that they’ll come up sorry for my non american readers who have no fuckin clue what i’m talking about] or like bug shells as shields). bone jewelry/accessories, giant stitching, lots of sacks, bandages, belts, lots of overlayed raggedy fabrics. i took a lot of inspiration from viking type clothing. basically the boggins wear all this because their part of the forest doesn’t have much/any sun and they mostly live underground or in the trunks of dead trees where it’s very damp and cold.

as for leafmen, they don’t wear clothes. they’re perfectly built to survive in their natural habitat and since they’re basically sentient plants there isn’t really a need for clothes anyway, if you get what i’m saying. they all have different types and patterns of leaves which can look a lot like clothes and provide some extra support like clothes do, but they don’t put anything extra on their bodies unless it’s practical (like bags) or pretty (some leaf men wear jewelry).

as for bugfolk, they’re somewhere in between. most of them only wear clothes for an aesthetic or for practical reasons. Like, a warm weather bugfolk that lives in the bogs would probably wear a coat. but most of them are kinda like cartoon animals in the sense that they wear whatever clothes they want. like, think of the mickey mouse gang, and how some wear pants and no shirt, shirt and no pants, etc. that’s how bugfolk are. they just mix and match.

also thank you for the Ranboo skunk jacket comment i didn’t even think about what his clothes would be made of but yes canon it’s skunk fur now.

as for weapons, i’ve had some ideas about those too >:)

ok so first off, big folk with natural defenses probably either don’t carry weapons or carry small ones. bugfolk that can fly probably only carry small weapons as well as to not weigh them down, given that it’s almost always a better option to fly from danger than fight. ground dwelling bugfolk are probably the more bulky and tough kind of bug (ants, beetles, etc) so they are probably gonna be fine in a fight without a weapon but probably carry bigger ones to be safe. also bugs are strong, so i can totally imagine an ant carrying around a sledgehammer double it’s body weight like it’s nothing just in case lmao. but all in all, most of them probably just carry the equivalent of a pocket knife or maybe a machete or something.

as for boggins and leafmen, i actually have a couple of visual references i pulled from pinterest! most of the time they use very similar types of weapons, but created very differently and sometimes with very different purposes. Boggins, being much bigger and tougher than leafmen, create weapons that are mostly close range, giant, and pack a powerful hit. Leafmen, being more nimble and fast than boggins, create weapons that highlight their best way of fighting, which is mostly long range. Both use long (like a bow and arrow) and short (like a sword) range, though.

starting with boggins, they love using bones in their weapons. they also use a lot of belts, straps, and bandages in their weapons along with their clothes. all in all, their weapons aren’t as well put together as a leafmens, but they focus more on brutality, size, and endurance than making their weapons look pretty. all in all they make the scariest fuckin weapons ever and this is definitely part of the reason leafmen think they’re bloodthirsty monsters.

leafmen, however, have a lot more class with their weapons. it’s way more civilized, and they have more complex and harder to craft weapons. i especially like the idea that they have things like the first picture made out of vines and stuff that they can use to swing and maneuver through a fight, which a boggin can’t do cause they’re not as nimble.

the movie itself also had this little piece of concept art, which also highlights the differences well;

and thank you for asking questions!! i love putting a needless amount of effort and thought into world building so when i get questions like this i get super excited hskdlskjs

so please ask more if you want to!! i’m working on drawing stuff for the other asks but i wanna talk about everything!!

[quinloki]

Ship It, Ship It Real Good (Part 1)

Okay, so I have two OCs that are kind of similar in that they're both reptilian-people, snake variety but I based them off two very different things. Starting with the female. And you know me, I run long-winded so sit back and make yourself a cup of something warm, this'll take a while to read.

Her name is still a work in progress but for the time being I'm calling her Avalon, Lon Lon as a nickname. Avalon means apple and she does like to eat them, fangs notwithstanding. Technically speaking, she's based on a lamia however, if one were to look up what a lamia traditionally is—she isn't that.

Lamias are demonic snake women, think centaur but instead of a horse's body below the waist it's a snake body. Lamia are always female thus the upper body is always that of a woman. Like Medusa, women were given an unfair curse to be these demon snakes.

Traditionally they are hideous to look upon, they absolutely reek, their bite is horrendously venomous, and they devour people (usually men). Now, I had never heard of these things before until I watched some anime that I would like sponged from my memory (not sure if that's the proper phrase but you probably get the gist). The one good thing about that anime is that it gave me an idea for a snake woman.

I may or may not have stolen the coloring of the anime lamia for my own but I'm choosing to refer to that as "inspiration" because I then butchered their idea further. Because that's what I do, I borrow ideas and then mutilate them.

Anywho, enter Lon Lon, the fun-loving but continuously hunted Snake Woman. Avalon ate the Hiss-Hiss fruit, a rare Zoan-type that allows the user to turn into the mythical Lamia or Demon Snake-Woman. As with most Zoan users she has her regular human form (which I have yet to develop at all) and a hybrid form along with the full-blown lamia form.

Avalon, being the inexperienced devil fruit user that she is, and also being a rather unlucky lass to begin with had a bit of a hiccup first time using the devil fruit. She managed to bypass her hybrid form (also need to develop that) and is currently stuck in full lamia form.

I wish I could draw better because I can see her perfectly in my head and I can't figure out how best to describe her in words, but I'll try:

Waist down, her snake body is predominantly bright crimson red with some purple highlights and a pinkish underbelly. At her waist she developed flaps that look like she's wearing a skirt but really they're more like the webbing between a fishman's fingers/toes. Lon Lon is an aquatic sea snake that took to land more than the water, but the skirt webbing at her waist allows her to glide through the water easily.

For some reason, water doesn't bother her like it does other devil fruit users. It is unknown if this is because she's a sea snake lamia or if it's because she's been in the lamia form so long that she is slowly turning into the lamia in full.

Upper body from the waist up she is extraordinarily pale, not quite albino but she's often mistaken as albino. Her hair is snowy white and long enough to reach her belly button. She has little horns the grow on her forehead and they resemble jewels as the ends are rounded instead of pointed. On top of her head going down as a line on each side are a row of pointed horns. Nothing too pronounced, she can cover them with her hair if she gets creative (which she often does, she is very self-conscious about her horns) but it has been said that it looks like she grew her own little tiara of sorts.

She doesn't wear any clothing at all—she doesn't need them! She has strategically placed scales: larger scales that serve as armor on her sides from waist to underarms, and then her boobage area has scales covering the underboob all the way up to cover nipple and areola fully. They kind of grew in like a bra so she's modestly covered and protected and clothes rub weird against the scales so she just slithers around in her birthday suit. She has a few scales, very small ones that go on the sides of her neck just like her side scales but much tinier. Her upper body scales are silvery-white so at first glance you'd think she was totally nude until light hits and you realize she has scales.

She ended up stranded on an island somewhere and I headcanon that after Law loses to Blackbeard and Bepo whisks him away to safety, they end up stranded on an island. Bepo is not a ship, at some point he has to make landfall because he's going to get tired and he needs to get Law out of the ocean. They stop at the first island they come to.

Exploring the island brings them face-to-face with Avalon. She was probably munching down on an apple and Bepo probably ran into her first and panicked. Law shows up to see the commotion and honestly? Finds her fascinating but in a creepy-Law kind of way, like he wants to figure out why she is stuck in the full lamia form and why she seems to be waterproof so really what he sees is a living experiment.

She likes Bepo enough to not eat him and she tolerates Law enough to see if he can fix her. I have a bit more about her but it's still in development, but I see her traveling with Law post-Blackbeard battle. I don't ship her with Law either, I want to ship her with the other snake OC I have—she's more tame than that one, so he needs her.

I see Law and Avalon as being allies right now because he needs one but they could become good friends. Law would like it pointed out that when Avalon goes to sleep, she hisses her tongue out every time she exhales. If you fall asleep next to her, she will tickle your eras unwittingly in her sleep with her tongue. It's kind of adorable and Law will not admit to it being adorable, but it's adorable.

xD I have been effectively info-dumped \o/ and I love it =3

I love Lon Lon, and not just because I do like snakes, but also because I feel like if I ever got a Zoan fruit I'd be stuck in a fully-transformed state. Or, worse maybe, only able to change like, one limb at a time, be thrown terribly off-balance by it and accomplish little more than falling over.

The point when she comes into canon events is interesting to me. I love the late-game vibes of it, but I also really like that despite being her "first contact" there's no romance between her and Law or Bepo. I write so much romance/smut anymore that it's refreshingly different to see that ^_^ (Not that I don't like the first contact -> lovers pipeline, don't get me wrong).

You descriptions are always so good too. If I was a better artist I could probably translate them into picture form better, but gah, just thank you so much for sharing, and pardon me while I get to the other three asks you sent in XD

Ship it Good ask game

[zepskies]

lol Totally tracks that she'd be questioning her life choices of how she got to this point.

A huge fucking pile of steaming hot shit, basically.

Again, couldn't help myself on the JP references 🤣

But what about Ben? Were you leaving him behind, too? Realistically, you knew it was the smartest choice. As wonderful, otherworldly, and addicting as that newfound, blooming feeling in your heart was, you knew it wouldn’t lead anywhere but into turmoil. This relationship didn’t have a future. Period.

Aw man, I get why her instinct is to flee -- and how ironic that relationship line is 😭 -- but I also get the feeling that her instinct in tough situations is to run from them rather than face them. There was a line in the previous chapter of like, "you hated facing consequences," and in a way, her powers kind of help her do that, even if they have consequences of their own. Reminds me of the old Once Upon a Time theme, "Magic always comes at a price." Feels very similar when we talk about V in The Boys world.

Dottie gifted you a warm smile. “Yeah, I’ve heard how you talk to him. I also overheard what you said that night about me at dinner. You stood up for me. Just wanted to repay the favor.”

Idk why, but here I almost worried that Dottie was setting her up for a future vindictive fakeout somehow, but I'm so glad that she was genuine here and reader earns her support. 💛

“And Grace got with a Kennedy?” you asked, not resisting the curiosity bubbling inside of you and seeing Dottie nod. “Which one?” “I think it was the oldest – Jack,” she replied. You gaped at her. “John F. Kennedy?!”

Still cackling over this and all subsequent Kennedy references! 🤣🤣

You shook your head, forcing yourself to look at him. “‘Cause you’re not a bad guy, right?” you said a little louder, feeling the drops of venom like castor oil on your tongue. And Ben picked up on it, his brows drawing together, facial muscles twitching as he tried to solve what triggered the change in mood. What happened between now and the moment you’d shared in the drawing room only a few hours ago? You knew you were being indecisive. You knew you were being unfair. But you couldn’t let go of that feeling. That tiny, tingling thing that kept gnawing at every bit inside of you. The feeling that kept screaming at you that something was amiss. It was there – right there.

Aw geez, it's like it's getting harder for her to distinguish between future/present and past/present, which, fair enough. 😭 On one hand it is unfair to current Ben, but in his words and behavior are early shades of what he'll become, and it's really hard to set that aside, especially when she can't explain any of this to him.

“Look, I don’t know what the fuck Dottie told you, but this-… this isn’t some game to me. You think I do this with everyone? That I’m using you because I’m bored? That I’m just some spoiled rich kid who gets whatever I want?” He stared at you, disappointment, incredulity, and betrayal swimming in his eyes. You shook your head, your heart thumping painfully in your ribcage. “I didn’t say that. But Ben... I don’t know what I am to you… what this is.” “You don’t get it, do you?” He scoffed bitterly, running a hand through the disheveled, dirty blond locks. “I’ve told you things… things I’ve never told anyone before. I’ve let you into parts of my life that I don’t show anyone else.”

Ben's not "wrong" here, but she also has a really valid point that he hasn't made it clear what they're doing, other than having fun and going on dates. This argument is just so damn compelling on both sides 😭😭

Ben rubbed his mouth with his fingers, head bobbing in thought. “Look, maybe I haven’t made my intentions clear enough with you, but I care about you. I don’t know everything, but I know that I want you. I want this. All of it. The whole damn mess, alright?”

Aw there we go! The first real confession...albeit drunk, but I can live with that. 😂

Ben cupped your cheeks, the kiss on your temple an oath. “I’ll make it work, okay? I don’t know what else to say, but I promise I will. I’ll find a way out of all this... for both of us. But I need you here. I need you with me. I can’t do this alone. I don’t wanna go back to that life without you in it. I just need you to trust me, okay? I need you to believe in me.”

Ok, he would've broken me there for sure 😭😭😭

“Well, thank fucking God you didn’t sleep with him,” Ben muttered as he tightened his arms around you. “I hate that guy. Total fucking pussy.” “Didn’t he graduate Harvard?” you muttered, feeling Ben’s jaw grind on top of your head. Yeah, you weren’t doing JFK any favors now.

lmfao how did we go from crying and heart-wrenching to teasing jealous Ben? I love it so much 😂😂

“Not everything is so simple, Dottie. Mrs. Brooks has always been a lady – always. She’s tried for years, but the man she married–” She sighed, her voice dropping. “It broke her. And now she watches the boy becoming just like him. It’s no wonder she retreats.”

I forget if we ever learn how Margaret met Richard in the future chapters, but it makes me wonder if it was arranged for her, or if she genuinely loved him at first. Or at least, the idea of him, or maybe a facade he used to charm her. Though he strikes me as a man to get married for duty's sake and not for love, considering all his side pieces. 🙄

“You’ve never been?” she asked, her tone a mixture of surprise and mild disbelief. You shook your head. “Oh, my dear, it’s almost a must for a young lady to experience. A proper tea room, with all the delicate china and the soft music in the background – it’s simply marvelous.”

I love her lol. She's so classy and lovely. And I love that we're already seeing the sparks of life in her returning! 💖

She had imagined, for so many years, that one day she would have a daughter to share these moments with. Unfortunately, that hadn’t come to pass.

Hmm, I wonder if it wasn't for lack of trying, or if Richard just couldn't be bothered to be with his wife. Both make my heart ache for different reasons, if only for Margaret's potential happiness to have a daughter. ❤️‍🩹

“Well, that’s nice,” Grace pressed through her teeth, her polite mask finally crumbling. “But you don’t get it, do you? You’re just the latest distraction, darling. Someone to amuse himself with, and as soon as this little rebellion ends, he’ll come crawling back to someone who knows the rules, and you’ll be just another notch in his belt.” Jesus fucking Christ, why did he always have to date the biggest bitch in the room? And you’d once thought Crimson Countess was a piece of work. But you grew up in a trailer park in fucking Jersey. If a girl like Grace thought she could scare you off with a few words, she had another thing coming.

lol honestly feeling scared for Grace at this point. Classic rich bougie bitch meets broke cutthroat city girl. 😂

Mrs. Brooks gave a gentle laugh, her gaze growing even more distant. “I was just a girl back then. I had no idea what awaited me. But when I met Richard, everything changed.” She paused, her voice darkening slightly as she pushed away the memories of her childhood, like the warmth they brought was something she couldn’t bear to hold on to for too long. “He was everything I’d never known. He was wealthy, educated, and had the kind of connections that I could only dream of. He swept me off my feet. He promised me a life of comfort, luxury, and security. And I thought, ‘This is it. This is everything I’ve been working for.’”

Ahhhh here we go!! It's so fucking sad. You'd think this would be her Hollywood happy ending, but it was just the beginning of her nightmare. 💔 I find it interesting that Richard pursued her, even though she wasn't part of the upper class. Makes you think that he had a glimmer of a heart once too (doubtful), or maybe he was just attracted to her and wanted her, thinking he could mold her into the woman he needed at his side, just like he's trying to mold Ben. His "love" is hard and cold as steel. 😥

Also we've talked about how heartbreakingly sad it is, how she talks about Ben as a child here, and how she's essentially given up on her own son due to Richard's influence.

Her eyes softened, her hand reaching over to clasp yours on the table in a sad understanding. “I know you do. But that’s the problem, dear. When you love someone like him, you’ll always be fighting a battle you can’t win.”

Out of everyone, Margaret's warning to the reader rings the hardest. That she doesn't want him to put out the reader's fire like her own husband has for herself -- it's really not fair to Ben, or to Margaret herself. I love that we see her later "reclaiming her fire," in a sense. 💕

Just so you know, I have read ch. 11 and have THOUGHTS. I will comment over on Patreon soon (and catch up with the latest chapter of Somebody I Used to Know because I need to know what happened after that awful "surprise" 😭), but I just want you to know that I love how much depth you've layered into this story. I'm getting something new with every reread, friend! 💛🩵

Time After Time – Chapter 7

Summary: Unable to control your abilities, you’re stuck in the present with Billy Butcher, his team, and America’s first asshole. At this point, you’ve become Soldier Boy’s personal punching bag. But when an accident leaves you stranded in 1942, you run into a familiar face and suddenly rely on your future tormentor’s help as your only hope.

Pairing: Soldier Boy x supe!Reader

Warnings: 18+ for language, reader is a supe with chronokinesis (time manipulation), 1942 says hi, SB being a nice and kind human, freely invented historical gossip, major angst alert & a bit of fluff

Word Count: 10.5k

Posted on Patreon April 11, 2025

A/N: Three angsty converstions in this one, three women, and one very upset Ben! Plus, a deep dive into Mrs. Brooks! If ya can't tell by the word count again, I clearly loved writing this part 😂🫶 ✨ Chapter title comes from The Wizard of Oz (1939)

Main Masterlist || Series Masterlist || Tag List

Chapter 7: Lions and Tigers and Bears, Oh My!

It had been an agonizing hour of pacing, second-guessing, and questioning everything that had led you here – to this strange, impossible life you had stumbled into.

A huge fucking pile of steaming hot shit, basically.

You hadn’t been able to sit still since Ben’s parents returned, your thoughts racing in a thousand different directions. Each time your footsteps neared the door of the guest bedroom, they became anxiously quiet and soft, however, not wanting to alert anyone to your presence. Every moment in this mansion felt like a misstep, a mistake you couldn’t undo.

The knot in your stomach twisted tighter.

You should’ve left a long time ago, but you had gotten too comfortable here – too cozy and snuggly with Ben, like he was your goddamn security blanket. But you cared about him and cared about what would happen to him, so the last thing you wanted at this point was to cause any more trouble for him, especially with his father.

So, you decided to leave.

You started throwing a few outfits from your closet onto the bed, only wanting to take the most necessary items before realizing you didn’t even own a bag big enough to stuff it in. But you had your magical remote control back, so your plan was to hit pause on the whole fucking mansion, grab a suitcase from somewhere, sneak out, and maybe rob a bank for some pocket change on your way out of dodge.

Yup, good plan.

But what about Ben? Were you leaving him behind, too?

Realistically, you knew it was the smartest choice. As wonderful, otherworldly, and addicting as that newfound, blooming feeling in your heart was, you knew it wouldn’t lead anywhere but into turmoil. This relationship didn’t have a future.

Period.

Either you’d lie to him for the rest of both your lives – however long that would be – or you’d hurt him. There was no other option.

Could you tell him? Could he handle the truth? Vought didn’t even exist yet. Right now, the Nazis were working on Compound V. To Ben, people gaining superpowers would be an alien concept.

‘Hey, uh, by the way, I have superpowers that let me control time, and I’m also from the future, and we don’t actually like each other there. And oh, yeah, you’re still alive in 2023 because some crazy Nazi geneticist will inject you with this serum that turns you into an invincible asshole.’

Nope, you couldn’t imagine that conversation going over well. He’d be either incredibly mad or not believe you at all. Then what?

Fuck.

With fingers trembling, you moved toward the window, glancing out at the muddy street, knowing the path to your escape lay beyond the mansion’s high gates. You were in a mess of your own making – a mess that had to end before you caused any more disruptions. His father was back, and that in itself was a disaster waiting to happen.

It had all been doomed from the start.

But then, just as you were about to gather your courage to finally get the fuck out of here, a knock at the door startled you from your thoughts and broke the tension in the air. Cautiously, you approached it, hand hovering on the knob as you braced yourself for the inevitable.

However, as you twisted it and opened the door a crack, your eyebrows shot up in surprise as you spied your visitor. It wasn’t Ben, his father, or even his mother.

“Dottie?” Your brow furrowed in confusion before you noticed the silver tray with a plate of food and a cup of tea in her hands.

“I brought you something to eat,” she said as she stood in the doorway, her expression one of tentative curiosity. You quickly wiped your palms against your skirt, standing a little straighter as she entered and set the tray down on your nightstand.

“Did Florence or Frances send you?” you asked warily. You knew you weren’t her favorite person, but she shook her head.

“No, just figured you were hungry since you’re missing dinner. I didn’t think Florence wants you starving up here,” she replied, her lips curling into something between a smirk and a sigh. “You dodged a bullet there, by the way. Family dinner is a bit… tense tonight. Lots of awkward silences and judgmental glares. Not that it’s something new per se…”

You were close to a migraine the way you strained your brow, blinking at the young maid in bemusement and shaking your head. “Thank you, uhm… I honestly didn’t think you cared about me… or even liked me,” you noted with an uncertain smile.

Dottie eyed you with a hint of mischief and approval in her gaze, a secretive smirk playing on her lips. “You’re not like the other girls who have come and gone through here. They fall over themselves trying to impress Ben, you know? But you don’t play that game. It’s… refreshing. You’ve got some fire in you. I respect that.”

“Fire?” You cocked an eyebrow, sitting down on the edge of the bed to nibble on your food. You were almost too nervous to eat with your ever-knotted stomach.

Dottie gifted you a warm smile. “Yeah, I’ve heard how you talk to him. I also overheard what you said that night about me at dinner. You stood up for me. Just wanted to repay the favor.”

Your lips hiked a smile. “You’re welcome. And thank you… again.”

Your head bobbed, your fingers playing with a piece of bread roll. You were unsure if you should be flattered you were considered special or uncomfortable with the apparently long list of girls that had waltzed through this house.

Dottie seemed to notice your unease and plopped down on the mattress next to you. “Anyway, I thought you might need someone to talk to. We all like you, you know? The whole house. Especially George. He thinks you’re the smartest woman he’s ever met. You’re different.” She shrugged and sent you another encouraging smile.

Cheeks blushing, you swallowed thickly and met her gaze. “So, things are tense downstairs?”

“Oh, yeah. The old man is furious because Grace’s father called him in upset, saying his daughter had been crying all night because of what Benjamin did to her,” Dottie told you and rolled her eyes back, scoffing. “All fake, of course. Charlotte, the maid of the Du Pont’s, said she was completely fine and consoling herself with one of the Kennedy boys when they were visiting in Cape Cod.”

“Whoa, hold on…” You vividly shook your spinning head and held up a hand, blinking at Dottie’s waterfall of information. “Du Pont? As in the chemical industry empire?”

“That’s the one,” Dottie sang in bitter nonchalance, a bit of judgment swinging in her voice. She clearly wasn’t a fan of the people she worked for – the elite families that not only excluded people like her and you but also disregarded you as human beings altogether.

“And you guys talk among each other? I mean, the staff?”

Dottie snorted a laugh, heavily nodding. “Yes, we gossip a lot. These people always think they’re better than us, but they got more shit on them than you can find in a pigsty.”

You weren’t as shocked by the revelation as you probably should’ve been. In this house, the gossip was as much a part of the walls as the portraits and velvet curtains.

“And Grace got with a Kennedy?” you asked, not resisting the curiosity bubbling inside of you and seeing Dottie nod. “Which one?”

“I think it was the oldest – Jack,” she replied.

You gaped at her. “John F. Kennedy?!”

Dottie giggled at your reaction. “Yes, I believe so. Do you know him, too?”

Innocently, you pursed your lips and shook your head. “No, no, not all. Just heard of him, you know?”

Jesus fuck, Kennedy might have gotten around as much as Soldier Boy. And if those rumors of The Legend were true, did Soldier Boy kill the future president for personal reasons?

Now you understood why the Kennedy assassination had attracted so many conspiracy theories. Well, you could check, theoretically, and see for yourself…

Nope. Don’t open that Pandora’s box!

“Look,” Dottie said after a pause, chewing softly on her lower lip in thought, “I’m sorry if I’ve been a little cold toward you. It’s not personal. I just don’t like the way Ben’s been acting recently. It’s... complicated.”

Your brows drew together as you watched the young woman next to you. “Complicated?”

She let out a dry laugh. “Honestly, complicated doesn’t even begin to cover it. You don’t know the half of it. You’re not the only one who feels out of place here, you know?”

“What d’you mean?”

Dottie leaned in slightly, her voice dropping to a quieter, more intimate tone. “Ben’s a good guy, but he’s got a bit of a soft spot for… the wrong things. Florence talks about him like he’s still that little boy who needs his daddy’s approval. I know how it happened, you know – how he ended up with Grace? It wasn’t his idea. It was his father’s. And you know what? Grace wasn’t exactly an unwilling participant in that either. She begged her father to arrange the engagement.”

Her words hit you harder than you expected. You’d known about Grace, but you’d never heard the full story. “She begged?”

Dottie’s lips twisted into something halfway between a grimace and a smile. “Yeah, she begged,” she confirmed, hazel eyes glinting with a mixture of bitterness and amusement. “She thought she could change his mind, get him to fall for her. They had a fling, sure, but she knew Ben didn’t want her like that. They had a big argument about it a few days before. She stormed off, screaming he’d regret it.”

The weight of Dottie’s words pressed down on you, but before you could respond, she carried on.

“His father then announced the engagement at one of his parties here before even telling Ben about it. I mean, he didn’t even ask,” Dottie shared in exasperation. “Ben couldn’t stand it, so he rebelled in the only way he knew how. He found me, we got drunk and pissed off and then ended up in a closet together,” she said matter-of-factly, her tone flat and almost casual, but you could hear the bitter undertones of a scorned woman. “Ben had always been nice to me, you know? We’d gotten along, so when he came to me that night, I thought it was different. But he started ignoring me after. Couldn’t look at me – like I didn’t even exist... So yeah, I guess you could say I’m a little mad at him.”

You hesitated, studying Dottie’s face, looking for any hint of malice. But there was none – just brutal honesty. And you knew what this was by now. Just like Florence on your first day here, Dottie was warning you before you stepped off the ledge and fell.

“Don’t get me wrong,” Dottie said when you still sat in silence, “I’m not trying to paint him as a bad guy. I’m telling you because I care, alright? I just think you should know what’s going on around here. Ben’s got his demons, and his family is a nightmare. He can’t escape what his father’s set up for him. He’s got a leash on Ben, and the pressure’s never going to let up.”

Her words cut through the haze of your thoughts like a sharp blade. You nodded slowly, unsure how to respond. You’d seen bits of that pressure already.

“No, I get it. I appreciate it, Dottie. Thank you,” you said softly. “But Ben’s not like his father. At least, he doesn’t have to be.”

Dottie shrugged, as if the truth was somewhere in between. “Maybe. But Mr. Brooks got a tight grip on him. The kind of grip that can make anyone do things they don’t want to. Even Ben.”

A pang of sympathy reminded you of Florence’s story once more – and all the other cruel acts you’d witnessed in your dreams. Were you blind or just foolish for believing he could change the path he was on?

“Ben’s not as immune to his father as he pretends to be. He’s not as strong as he thinks. Don’t get it twisted. His father’s got his claws in him,” Dottie emphasized. “You’re not the first distraction Ben’s found. Just-… be careful, alright? You don’t know what you’re getting into, but if you’re going to be a part of it–,” she paused, her eyes flicking back to your scattered clothes all over the bed, “–you better be sure about it.”

“Thank you, Dottie.” You nodded with a heavy lump in your throat.

She gently clasped your hand on the bed in a comforting manner and then sent you a kind smile, pulling out a deck of cards from the pockets of her apron. “How about we distract you for a little while, huh? You know how to play Gin Rummy?”

Your lips rose to a smile. “I haven’t played before, but I’m willing to learn.”

Dottie giggled, shuffling the cards in her hands. “Alright, how about I teach you the rules if you tell me about college?”

“Deal.” You grinned.

The clock read past midnight, the only sound coming from the shuffle of cards and the occasional giggles and whispered stories between you and Dottie. The minutes stretched on as you tried to forget what was happening downstairs, Dottie’s words of warning still running on a loop through your mind.

It couldn’t be a good sign that two people in this house have warned you now, could it? Shouldn’t you listen at some point?

An abrupt knock at the door ripped the two of you from your game and disrupted the fragile peace, Dottie’s eyes widening in panic. You both knew who it was.

“Shit,” Dottie muttered and hurried to gather the cards from the bed, stuffing them back into her apron. She hid in a blind corner of the room as you moved to answer the door, not opening it more than a crack.

“Hey,” you said softly and feigned an innocent smile as you met Ben’s gaze, noticing immediately he wasn’t alright. His usually shining emerald eyes carried a glaze, his smile turning lopsided as he took you in with a leer, but the distinct smell of whiskey that clung to him like a second skin was the dead giveaway.

“You’re still awake. I was hoping you’d be. Came to check up on you, sweetheart.” He smirked with shaky pupils.

Before you could stop him, he stumbled forward into the room on unsteady legs and fell straight into your arms. His large hands found purchase on your hips, dragging you closer against his body. He captured your lips, eager, hungry, and with a sloppiness that told you he had a few glasses too many.

You were close to pushing him away, hands already softly pressing against his chest before noticing Dottie trying to sneak past him, so you deepened the kiss instead, your arms winding around his neck, causing a groan to rumble through him. But on her last step, the door creaked on its hinges, and Dottie froze as Ben’s head snapped up.

Glassy eyes wide, he warily turned to the young maid, brow wrinkling into more creases than a crumpled letter. “Dottie? The fuck are you doing here?”

You placed your hand on his arm, forcing him to look at you and ground him at the same time. “She-, uh, she brought me dinner. Florence sent her. She didn’t want me to starve. You know how she gets about food,” you deflected with a giggle.

“Right.” Ben nodded, eyes flickering back and forth between Dottie and you.

“And you know, I guess I got a little nervous, so she’s been keeping me company. We’ve been playing cards,” you added with a reassuring smile, already anticipating his next question as you watched the cogs in his head turn.

“Oh.” Ben licked his lips for a moment and then looked at Dottie. “Thank you.”

“You’re welcome,” Dottie said, sending you a quick look of gratefulness.

“And, uhm, Dottie?” Upon Ben’s call, Dottie halted in the doorway, shoulders tense on her way to freedom. “I’m sorry…” he said, surprising you both as you shared a raised look with the maid. “About what-, uhm… what happened, you know?”

“It’s-, uh, it’s okay,” she replied, eyes flicking toward you, clearly unsure of how to respond. You gave a slight shake of your head, and she subtly cleared her throat. “I mean, it’s not okay… but I-, I forgive you.”

You gave her a quick thumbs up, and as Ben looked over his shoulder at you, brow knitted in suspicion, Dottie quickly fled down the hall and closed the door behind her.

Yeah, you might’ve been coaching her a little in those last few hours on how to deal with assholes like him in the future (which you realized was super ironic). But if you couldn’t save yourself from that man’s charm, at least you could save the rest of your gender.

“Didn’t know you and Dottie were friends,” Ben noted, turning his full attention to you now.

“Oh, uhm, it’s a new thing,” you said quickly, and it wasn’t even a lie. You gave a shrug of your shoulders. “I like her.”

“Yeah? What’s she been whispering into your ear, huh?” His voice was rough, his fingers gentle as they brushed along your cheek.

“She didn’t say anything, okay?”

Ben’s lips curled, clearly not believing you. “You know, I didn’t mean to… hurt her.”

“I didn’t mean to hurt those people.”

“Heard that one before,” you muttered, scoffing under your breath. You averted your eyes to the floor, the motion causing Ben’s hand to drop from your face.

“What?” There was no anger in his voice, only confusion.

You shook your head, forcing yourself to look at him. “‘Cause you’re not a bad guy, right?” you said a little louder, feeling the drops of venom like castor oil on your tongue.

And Ben picked up on it, his brows drawing together, facial muscles twitching as he tried to solve what triggered the change in mood. What happened between now and the moment you’d shared in the drawing room only a few hours ago?

You knew you were being indecisive. You knew you were being unfair. But you couldn’t let go of that feeling. That tiny, tingling thing that kept gnawing at every bit inside of you. The feeling that kept screaming at you that something was amiss. It was there – right there.

And you still couldn’t fucking grasp it.

Ben contemplated, then smacked his lips, taking a step closer to you and ironing out his brow a little. “No, I-… Well, I’m no Boy Scout, but you know me.”

Your mouth opened and closed, lips trembling. You didn’t know how to respond. He was both right and wrong. But it all sounded too fucking familiar. It was that maddening feeling of déjà vu all over again.

One long stride of bow legs, and Ben was only mere inches away from you, warm palms cupping your cheeks like you were a precious gift, rough thumbs stroking along your cheekbones, and hot breath tickling your skin like a whispered breeze in summer heat. You melted in his grasp in a matter of seconds like an ice cube on hot asphalt.

“I didn’t mean to freak you out earlier,” he said, deep voice only a low murmur against the shell of your ear as he tucked a strand of hair behind it, careful like you could break in his hold. “Just hadn’t exactly broken the news yet that you’re staying here, y’know?”

“Ben–” You sighed, trying to clear the fog from your mind with a shake of your head.

“But I did now, okay?” he cut through that first brick in your wall of defense. The tip of his nose dragged against yours, coaxing. “I want you here, alright?” His lips ghosted over yours, a faint brush, barely there but enough to make you feel the heat crawling into your lower belly. “Had kind of a rough night. Thought you could make me feel better.”

He claimed your lips with a bruising force before he’d even breathed out his last word. The scent of expensive whiskey and nicotine enveloped you and clouded your mind. He smelled like he drank a liquor store and smoked a pack, but you couldn’t resist the pull – the desire, the chemistry. Your head was floating, but doubt still kept your feet tethered to the ground.

“Ben, don’t,” you said quietly, trying to keep your voice steady, but it wavered despite your efforts. “Not like this. You’re drunk.”

“Don’t give a damn. Maybe I need to be drunk to feel something real for once. I need this. Need you,” he muttered, words slurred, voice rough.

He leaned in then, plump lips sinfully trailing down the column of your throat. The world seemed to stop spinning on its axis, your heart racing in your chest as he slid his hand to the back of your neck, tugging you closer.

For a moment, you gave in and almost let yourself go, forgetting every drop of worry and fear that plagued your mind. His hands moved to your waist, grip tightening as he pushed you flush against his blazing body. But the blinking red alarm inside of you reminded you of the lines you didn’t want to cross.

“Ben…” Your hands pushed against his chest, gentle but firm.

He stopped then, breathing ragged and confusion gleaming in the lush green of his eyes. His gaze drifted to your face, lingering there, as if searching for something he wasn’t sure he’d find. “I want you. Don’t you want me too, hm?”

The air thickened around you, sharp and overwhelming, threatening to suffocate you as you wrung for words. His thumb traced over your bottom lip, heavy against the soft, pink flesh. His pull was magnetic, his need evident.

“I don’t wanna be just another distraction for you,” you said quietly, voice shaking slightly, heart hammering in your throat. You tried to sound firm, but the way his eyes held you made your breath hitch.

Ben stepped back, hurt flashing across his freckled face like you’d just knocked the wind right out of him. His presence felt too large in the room, his emotions pressing down on you.

“A distraction?” His eyes hardened, his expression twisting with frustration and something darker. “That what you think you are? What Dottie told you? She’s been filling your head with this shit, hasn’t she?”

You flinched at the mention of Dottie’s name, not wanting to drag her into your mess. You hesitated with a thick swallow, tension creeping into your shoulders. “It’s not about her.”

“Damn right, it isn’t,” Ben huffed, shaking his head. And then, his eyes landed on the bed – on your clothes spread out, half-packed. He froze, demeanor shifting immediately, color draining from his face. “What the hell is going on here? Are you fucking leaving me?” The baritone voice was suddenly sharp now, carrying an edge that cut through the haze of his drunkenness.

“I don’t wanna cause more trouble for you,” you confessed quietly, panic rising in your chest.

“So that’s it? Just like that? You’re just gonna fucking walk out on me?” His voice was jagged with emotion, gripping a handful of his hair in disbelief.

“No, but I-… I don’t belong here, okay?” you argued, your tone laced with desperation. What else could you say?

“Dammit, you think I don’t fucking know that?” His jaw tightened, and for a heartbeat, there was an unsettling silence between you two. “Look, I don’t know what the fuck Dottie told you, but this-… this isn’t some game to me. You think I do this with everyone? That I’m using you because I’m bored? That I’m just some spoiled rich kid who gets whatever I want?” He stared at you, disappointment, incredulity, and betrayal swimming in his eyes.

You shook your head, your heart thumping painfully in your ribcage. “I didn’t say that. But Ben... I don’t know what I am to you… what this is.”

“You don’t get it, do you?” He scoffed bitterly, running a hand through the disheveled, dirty blond locks. “I’ve told you things… things I’ve never told anyone before. I’ve let you into parts of my life that I don’t show anyone else.”

“I know. I just–”

But Ben cut you off, his frustration spilling over. “I’ve been nothing but honest with you. And this is how you repay me? By fucking running away? You’re not walking out on me. Not like this.”

Your heart stuttered, the words cutting deep and tightening your chest, aware he was right in a way, knowing he’d put himself on the line for you – more than you’d ever expected him to. But you couldn’t ignore the doubts that rose inside you.

“I’m scared, okay?” you admitted, your voice only a whisper, and it made his eyes soften slightly. “I don’t know if I can trust you.”

Ben shook his head, huffing a humorless laugh, almost amused. “Oh, you think I can’t be trusted? That I haven’t given you enough reason to?” He stepped closer, his look pointed. “Kinda ironic, don’t you think? I don’t even know your real name. I don’t know a fucking thing about you, and yet, here you are, accusing me of being dishonest. You really think I’ve been fucking lying to you?"

You didn't respond. Silence.

"If you want to walk away, then go. But don’t you dare tell me you’re just a distraction. That’s insulting. I’ve been nothing but honest with you. I’ve given you everything I can, and you think I’m just trying to fuck around?”

You stood there, speechless, caught between the weight of his words and the fear that still clawed at your heart. Ben stepped closer again, his features softening just slightly, as if trying to calm the storm inside both of you. The promise of something more, something different with him, tore at the part of you that had been holding back.

“How do you know I’m the right person for you? You don’t even know what you want. And you’re right, you know? You don’t know me. Not in the way it matters. Not in the way you should,” you said, barely above a trembling whisper, the tears pricking your eyes.

“Then tell me,” he demanded, voice softer now, almost pleading. “Tell me who you are. Tell me your real name. Anything, really.”

Your breath caught in your throat, head shaking. “I can’t. I never meant to keep things from you, but I can’t tell you either. I’m sorry.”

Ben rubbed his mouth with his fingers, head bobbing in thought. “Look, maybe I haven’t made my intentions clear enough with you, but I care about you. I don’t know everything, but I know that I want you. I want this. All of it. The whole damn mess, alright?”

The raw emotion in his voice made you falter, but you couldn’t let yourself be swayed. You looked up at him, meeting his gaze, and for a moment, you let yourself believe that maybe, just maybe, he could be telling the truth. That there was something worth fighting for here. The vulnerability in his green eyes made your knees weak, cracking both his armor and your walls.

Ben stared at you for a long moment, the hurt, confusion, and anger warring on his face. Then, without warning, he took a step toward you, closing the space between you two for good, and you swore you could even feel his wildly beating heart in his chest. He searched your face for something, a connection to hold onto, his hands slightly outstretched like he was reaching for you.

“Maybe it’s not meant to be.” The words stung as they left you, the first tear slipping down your cheek.

Ben’s resolve crumbled then and there. He pulled you into his embrace, softly kissing the top of your head as you sobbed into his chest. And then he just held you like this for a moment. You’d never felt fucking safer while your heart was breaking.

“Hey, look at me.” Gently, he lifted your chin, wiping your wet cheeks with his thumbs. “You think this is easy for me? You think I don’t want to change things?” He held your gaze, eyes intense as the weight of his words hung between you. “I can’t just walk away from everything, but I’m trying. I swear, I’m trying to figure this all out, but you have to let me.”

“How?” Your voice cracked, the fear of getting too close, of falling too hard threatening to crush you.

Ben cupped your cheeks, the kiss on your temple an oath. “I’ll make it work, okay? I don’t know what else to say, but I promise I will. I’ll find a way out of all this... for both of us. But I need you here. I need you with me. I can’t do this alone. I don’t wanna go back to that life without you in it. I just need you to trust me, okay? I need you to believe in me.”

You could see it then, clear as day – he was afraid of losing you, the desperation brimming in the green seas of his eyes. You were his lifeline, the last thing that held his head above water and kept him from drowning in his father.

“I swear I’ll take you with me, wherever that it is. I’ll take care of you. I’ll fight for you. I’ll protect you. All I need is a little more time. Can you give that to me? Can you do that?”

The heaviness of a decision almost decimated you, but for the first time since you’d entered his world, the fear of losing him was stronger than the fear of staying.

You nodded, hesitantly at first before it became stronger – certain. “I’m not leaving you. I’ll stay.”

The space between you evaporated then as he closed the gap, pressing his lips to yours with a force that left you breathless. His mouth was desperate, clinging to the assurance that you were still here. Still with him.

The kiss wasn’t just a kiss – it was everything. It was apology and regret. It was yearning. It was fear.

Ben was kissing you like he never wanted to lose you again, as if each second was a prayer that you’d stay. He pulled you even closer, his hands threading through your hair, his body so tightly against yours like he was trying to make sure you were real. To make sure he hadn’t just imagined this moment.

You melted into him, your hands gripping his shirt, your heart beating faster than it had in days, weeks, months, maybe years. The kiss deepened, grew more urgent, as if he was trying to tell you everything in the language of touch, in the frantic meeting of lips and breath – everything he could never say out loud.

You felt the warmth of his skin, the blazing heat of him, and you realized you both were clinging to the fragile thread that held you together, afraid to let go.

When he pulled back, both of you panting, there was a quiet between you that spoke louder than any words ever could. His eyes searched yours, his thumb caressing your cheek, forehead resting against yours.

Ben licked his lips, still holding onto you as he shut his eyes for a beat, his chest still rising and falling with the remnants of the kiss. “Look, uhm, I hate doing this to you right now, but my father wants me to leave with him for two weeks,” he told you, voice heavy with exhaustion before a dark scoff escaped him. “Wants to show me how business is really done.”

You cupped his cheeks softly, looking up at him. “Don’t let him get to you, okay? You’re smarter than him.”

Ben’s lips twitched with a small smile, nodding like he understood. “My mother’s staying here with you, but don’t worry about it. I doubt she’ll bother you. She doesn’t really care about anything. I told them you’re a friend from school, so just go with that.”

“What school did you go to?”

“Choate. It’s in Connecticut,” Ben replied, a hint of amusement in his smile, noticing how carefully you were solidifying your alibi. “But it’s an all-boys school. You would’ve gone to Rosemary Hall.”

You grimaced. “So, total sausage fest, huh?”

Ben snorted a loud laugh, throwing his head back. “Oh, you have no idea, sweetheart.” He chuckled and pulled you against his chest, resting his chin on top of your head. “You know, sometimes I wonder what school taught you all those words.”

You giggled, burying your face into his dress shirt. “Oh, college taught me those. You would know if you’d gone.”

“Ouch.” A deep and amused laugh rumbled through his chest.

“Didn’t John Kennedy attend Choate as well?”

Ben’s head tilted slightly. You could feel the movement atop of yours. “How do you know Jack?” He inched back slightly, peering down at you with a raised look. “Something you wanna tell me, sweetheart?”

You snorted into his chest, shaking your head. “No, nothing like that, I swear. I just heard of him.”

“Oh, so it was just me you were immune to, huh?” Ben retorted, but you recognized the playfulness in his voice. It was your favorite side of him.

“Guess so,” you teased, giggling.

“Well, thank fucking God you didn’t sleep with him,” Ben muttered as he tightened his arms around you. “I hate that guy. Total fucking pussy.”

“Didn’t he graduate Harvard?” you muttered, feeling Ben’s jaw grind on top of your head. Yeah, you weren’t doing JFK any favors now.

“Well, he didn’t make it into the Army. I can tell you that much,” Ben blew right past your point, making you stifle a chuckle. “Heard he got a placement in the Navy, though.”

“Huh. Kinda sexy,” you quipped. Teasing. “He’ll probably learn a lot of sailor talk.”

Ben’s lips pursed in amusement as he looked down at you and was met with your grin. “Yeah, also probably gonna be a real sausage fest on that boat.”

You let out a crippling laugh, burying yourself in his chest as he joined you. Of course he’d only learn the things you didn’t want him to learn.

Ben’s fingers then snuck under your chin, lifting your lips to meet his. The kiss was soft, gentle – a goodbye. “You’re gonna be okay here?”

You nodded reassuringly. “I’ll be fine. I’ll be here when you come back.”

Ben didn’t say anything, but his Adam’s apple bobbed with a thick swallow, eyes gleaming with a mixture of relief and gratitude before he pressed a kiss to your forehead. It was a tender, almost reverent gesture, and it made your heart swell.

Exhaling a long breath, he let go of you and turned to leave, his shoulders slumping more with every step he took toward the life he didn’t want. He paused at the door, his hand on the knob, and for a moment, he seemed smaller, more fragile, like the weight of everything he’d been holding in was finally starting to break him.

“I’ll never stop fighting for you,” he said with conviction as he looked at you one last time, raspy voice laden with words he couldn’t say. A promise. “Never.”

And deep down, you knew then that no matter how hard things would get over the next decades, you’d never let go, either.

The door closed for the last time that night, and then, Ben was gone.

The mansion felt quieter the next morning, Ben having left with his father for DC before the break of dawn. After getting dressed properly for breakfast for once, you descended the grand staircase, your footsteps quiet on the polished wooden floors.

You spied Margaret Brooks, Ben’s mother, sitting in the sunroom, but before entering, you decided to make a quick pit stop in the kitchen, where the faint murmurs of the staff seeped through the door.

As you stepped inside, the three women were busy at their tasks. Florence was bent over a pot on the stove, her movements brisk and efficient. Dottie was humming to herself as she arranged flowers on the counter. Frances, a bit more weathered and stern, was dusting the shelves, her eyes darting disapprovingly at Dottie, who had a tendency to daydream more than work.

“Good morning, ladies,” you said softly, your voice low enough not to carry too far.

“No breakfast in the kitchen, young lady,” Florence reminded you swiftly, which you countered with a knowing smile.

“Don’t worry, Florence. I’ll be outta your hair in a minute,” you said, making Dottie snort a giggle. “Just-… Before I go in there, can you guys give me the down-low on Mrs. Brooks?”

“The down-low?” Frances cocked a brow at you.

“Yes, the details,” you corrected. Half of your vocabulary was practically useless in 1942. “What’s her deal? Why is she so… withdrawn?”

After Dottie’s revelation last night, you thought you might as well make use of the love for gossip in this house.

Florence didn’t look up from the stove, her hands moving quickly with purpose. “She’s always been quiet,” she replied, her voice neutral but not unkind. “But over the years... well, she shut herself off. Hard to blame her. Her husband isn’t a good man, not to her or to Benjamin.”

Dottie, who had been nervously twisting the flower stems in her hands, let out a little sigh. “Yeah, Mr. Brooks is awful. He treats her like she doesn’t matter. And now she’s kind of… well, I think she just gave up. You know, stopped trying.”

Frances, who had been listening intently, fixed Dottie with a sharp look. “Not everything is so simple, Dottie. Mrs. Brooks has always been a lady – always. She’s tried for years, but the man she married–” She sighed, her voice dropping. “It broke her. And now she watches the boy becoming just like him. It’s no wonder she retreats.”

You could feel the undercurrent of sadness in the house, a grief that wasn’t just tied to the past but to the present, too.

“I see,” you said quietly, your mind racing as you thought of what you could do. You glanced at the three women. “Well, I think I’ll go see if I can say hi to Mrs. Brooks this morning. She must be lonely.”

Florence gave you a distracted nod, her attention still on her cooking. Dottie shot you a hopeful look, while Frances simply grunted in acknowledgment, not sure how much help you’d be.

You sauntered into the sunroom, the air cool inside and the glass panes still thick with the chill of winter. Outside, patches of snow clung stubbornly to the ground, a few spots melting into sluggish pools. However, along the edges of the garden, the first hint of spring dared to show – croci pushing up through the soil, small and defiant against the lingering cold as they waited for the thaw.

It only reminded you of how long you’d already been here. It felt like an entirely different life at this point. Had Ben been serious last night? And what did it even all mean?

He said a lot, but you weren’t sure your head woke up any clearer this morning.

The future was an unknown, and you weren’t used to that feeling.

As you entered, Mrs. Brooks sat at the small round table by the window, her face drawn, her green eyes distant as she stared into the steam rising from her cup of tea. She didn’t seem to notice you at first, and when she finally lifted her gaze, it was with a quiet recognition.

“Good morning, Mrs. Brooks,” you said, smiling softly. “I’m not sure if your son has mentioned me. I’m a friend from school. Benjamin’s been kind enough to let me stay here for a while.”

“Oh, I believe he mentioned something like that, yes,” she said in a soft, tired voice, her lips curling just slightly at the corners. “You’ll have to excuse me. I wasn’t listening to everything last night. I was quite exhausted after the long travel, and that boy never knows when to stop.”

“Yes, I know what you mean. Ben does have a way of going on, doesn’t he?” You smiled gently at her words and sat down across from her. “Ben did tell me a little bit about all your wonderful tea parties, though. He said you liked going to tea rooms as well. What are they like? I have to admit I’ve never been to one myself.”

At the mere mention, Mrs. Brooks’ posture seemed to shift ever so slightly. Her eyes sparkled, and you saw something like life stir behind them, as if your words had opened a door she hadn’t realized was there.

“Oh, tea rooms,” she repeated, her voice soft and reflective. “I used to love them. So charming. So civilized, you know? A proper place to spend the afternoon with a good cup of tea. I haven’t been to one in ages, not since...”

She trailed off, her gaze becoming distant again, but then something changed – her eyes brightened just a little, like a light flickering on.

“You’ve never been?” she asked, her tone a mixture of surprise and mild disbelief. You shook your head. “Oh, my dear, it’s almost a must for a young lady to experience. A proper tea room, with all the delicate china and the soft music in the background – it’s simply marvelous.” She sat up straighter in her chair then, the flicker of a genuine smile appearing on her lips. “I should take you, shouldn’t I? There’s one in the city I adored. It’s been years since I’ve gone, but I’m sure it’s just as lovely as it was. Would you like to go? This afternoon, perhaps?”

You couldn’t help but feel a spark of hope inside of you, seeing that flicker of light in her. “I’d love that. Thank you, Mrs. Brooks,” you said with a warm smile.

“How wonderful! Then it’s settled. We’ll go!” She clasped her hands together with joy. “Do you have something to wear? I could call my seamstress, Ms. Vivian, for you.”

“Oh, that won’t be necessary. Benjamin already did that,” you replied, hoping for dear life you didn’t have to endure another makeover. You were already sacrificing yourself like a lamb for slaughter by agreeing to this.

“Well, good.” She nodded and sipped on her tea, muttering, “Seems like I’ve done something right with that boy, after all…”

Well, judging by that statement, you were surely in for an interesting afternoon.

The soft tinkling of porcelain cups and quiet chatter filled the air of the elegant, well-lit tea room as Margaret Brooks looked across the table at you, her plump lips curling into a rare smile. She had almost forgotten how much she enjoyed these outings – the delicate atmosphere of the tea room, the soft hum of conversation. She had imagined, for so many years, that one day she would have a daughter to share these moments with.

Unfortunately, that hadn’t come to pass.

Instead, you sat across from her, eager eyes wide as you took in the ambiance. Mrs. Brooks noticed the nervousness in your posture, the way you clutched your teacup a little too tightly and stared at the other girls, feeling utterly out of place.

“Isn’t it charming?” Mrs. Brooks said, her voice light, almost affectionate. “I’ve been coming here for years. There’s something about the smell of the Earl Grey and the clink of silver spoons that makes you forget the world outside. You’ll grow to love it, I’m sure.”

You gave a nervous nod, your lips curving upward in an awkward imitation of a smile. “I’m not really used to places like this.”

You hesitated, glancing around the room at the white-gloved waitstaff and the carefully arranged plates of scones and finger sandwiches, wondering how many distractions Ben had found here and hoping you wouldn’t run into any of them. You could certainly feel the occasional looks and quiet whispers directed at you.

Mrs. Brooks chuckled softly, her gaze warm as she met your eyes. “One gets used to it. It's like breathing. I’ve been doing this for years, and there's nothing wrong with forgetting the world in here, just for a moment.” She leaned in slightly, her tone dropping conspiratorially. “Don’t be nervous, Cindy. It’s only tea and gossip, and we all need a little of both.”

Something in Mrs. Brooks’ tone calmed you slightly. It was as though she was slowly pulling you into her orbit – offering more than just a tea outing, but a sense of belonging, of understanding.

“Look over there,” Mrs. Brooks continued, gesturing subtly with her gloved hand, clearly eager to share more. “Do you see that woman sitting by the window? That’s Mrs. Berwick. She’s very fond of trying to climb the social ladder, always inserting herself into the right circles. Her husband’s a banker, but don’t let that fool you – he’s a dreadful bore."

You snorted a laugh and leaned in, intrigued despite yourself. You couldn’t help but feel a little lighter. Mrs. Brooks had a certain warmth now that softened her more formal edges.

“And there,” she carried on, “that’s Mrs. Hadley. She’s got more money than God, but she’s also got a tongue that can cut glass. No one dares to cross her, but I’ve never cared much for her. She’s the type who never forgets a slight.”

“Seems like they all have their… quirks,” you noted, amused, remembering Dottie’s words.

“Quirks,” Mrs. Brooks repeated with a smile. “Yes, one might call them that.” Her eyes twinkled as she leaned in closer to you, lowering her voice. “But there’s one thing they all have in common: They love to gossip. It’s their favorite pastime. And I’m sure,” she added, giving you a knowing look, “they’ll be more than eager to talk about you.” You stiffened, but Mrs. Brooks, oblivious to your discomfort, sipped her tea and continued. “Don’t mind them. They’re all still talking about Benjamin, I’m sure. The whole lot of them think they have some sort of claim on him. But they don’t, do they?”

At her little wink, your heart almost dropped to the sparkling marble floor. Did she know? But you figured it was easy to suspect if she knew her son even a little.

“Well, if it isn’t Mrs. Brooks! I haven’t seen you here in ages.”

Your breath caught in your throat as you recognized the familiar voice. You’d heard it once before, even if it had been louder and more upset than now.

Grace.

Mrs. Brooks’ expression flickered momentarily before settling into something more controlled. “Grace, dear,” she said with a polite smile, turning her head toward the speaker. Her tone was cool, masking any warmth. “You’re looking well.”

Your stomach dropped when you saw the woman standing at the table: tall, blonde, impeccably dressed in a way that screamed money and status – poised and perfect. By now, you’d heard plenty about Ben’s destined fiancée, but seeing her in person was another matter.

Her blonde hair was sculpted into a flawless wave. She wore an elegant dress with the subtle sheen of luxury and a sharp gaze that seemed to take in every detail of you with calculating precision.

Grace gave a sly smile, icy blue eyes flickering to you. “I couldn’t resist coming by. I simply had to see Benjamin’s current project.” She tilted her head slightly, a deliberate gesture, and leaned down to examine you like you were a specimen under a microscope. “Interesting choice.”

Did that bitch just call you a fucking project?!

You didn’t flinch under her scrutiny, however. You’d been dealing with bitches like that your whole life. The only tragedy about this was that you couldn’t rant about her to your friends – the hot blonde, the gay redhead, and the mute Asian chick.

Fuck. Why the hell couldn’t you remember their names? You swore they were on the tip of your tongue. Was it Andy, Mabel, and Kim? No, that sounded wrong. Dammit!

“I think I’ve seen you before, right? And you are?” Grace asked, her voice dripping with feigned sweetness as she looked at you.

“Cindy,” you replied with a slight edge.

“Ah, Cindy,” Grace repeated, like she was tasting the name. “Such a... simple name. How quaint.” She smiled then, a thin, shark-like smirk, and you were blood in the water. “I must say, I’m surprised to see you out and about. Benjamin has always been so... difficult to predict. But I suppose you already know that, don’t you?”

Unbothered by her baiting, you took a casual sip of tea. “Oh, I know exactly who he is, Grace. Better than you.”

Grace’s smile tightened. “How refreshing,” she said, then looked over at Mrs. Brooks. “I do hope Benjamin’s settled down by now. I hear he’s been a bit of a... free spirit lately. He always had a rebellious streak. He gets bored rather quickly.”

Mrs. Brooks stiffened slightly, but she recovered quickly, placing her teacup down with a slight clink. “My son is a grown man, dear. He’ll make his own decisions, as he always does.”

“Of course,” Grace replied smoothly, though there was a clear, sharp edge to her words.

“‘Sides, aren’t you a bit of a free spirit as well?” you quipped with an innocent smirk. “I heard about you and Jack Kennedy in Cape Cod. How’s that going?”

“Oh, you are seeing Jack?” Margaret chimed in with delight, but you could tell her smile was as taunting as yours was.

Grace’s face fell abruptly. “Yes, it’s… going,” she replied quickly, subtly clearing her throat. Her eyes narrowed slightly, her lips twisting into a smile that didn’t reach her eyes as she leaned in, her tone almost too sweet. “I imagine you must be enjoying the novelty of being with someone like Benjamin. Here you are, in the lap of luxury. It’s a bit of a thrill, isn’t it, darling? But you know, I should warn you – Ben isn’t exactly the most reliable partner. I do hope, for your sake, you’re not just a phase.”

You were about to slap her harder than she’d slapped Ben at that diner. Would it matter to history if you choked her right now?

You forced a tight-lipped smile as you ground your teeth. “Thank you for the warning, but I’m not here to judge him for his past.”

If anything, you were judging him for his future.

“Well, that’s nice,” Grace pressed through her teeth, her polite mask finally crumbling. “But you don’t get it, do you? You’re just the latest distraction, darling. Someone to amuse himself with, and as soon as this little rebellion ends, he’ll come crawling back to someone who knows the rules, and you’ll be just another notch in his belt.”

Jesus fucking Christ, why did he always have to date the biggest bitch in the room? And you’d once thought Crimson Countess was a piece of work.

But you grew up in a trailer park in fucking Jersey. If a girl like Grace thought she could scare you off with a few words, she had another thing coming.

“You think you know everything, don’t you?” You looked at her challengingly, not an ounce of fear in your voice. “Here’s the thing – Ben’s not a puppet for his father. He makes his own choices. You’re not his future, Grace. You’re the past. Trust me on that one.”

Grace’s eyes blazed with a venomous glare. “Well, we’ll see how long this lasts, darling. I do hope you won’t make a fool out of yourself.”

You were about to open your mouth again before Mrs. Brooks cut in, her tone suddenly sharp, a protective edge in her voice. “Enough, Grace. We all know about Benjamin’s history. You’ve made your point, and it’s getting tiresome.”

Grace’s eyes fixed on Ben’s mother, a muscle twitching in her jaw. She clearly hadn’t expected that. “Well, it’s so lovely to see you two getting along. I mustn’t take up too much of your time, Mrs. Brooks. It was nice running into you both. I’m sure we’ll meet again soon.”

With that, Grace stormed off, her heels clicking on the sparkling marble. You exhaled a slow breath, slumping back into your chair. But as you glanced at Mrs. Brooks, you saw the faintest glimmer of approval in her eyes.

“You handled her beautifully, dear,” Ben’s mother said, her tone soft but genuine. “Don’t let women like her make you question yourself. They thrive on making others doubt their worth, but you’ve got something she doesn’t – confidence and a damn backbone.”

“Thank you, Mrs. Brooks,” you said, your heart swelling with gratitude. “That woman really knows how to lay it on thick, doesn’t she?”

Mrs. Brooks rolled her eyes in exhaustion. “She’s always been like that. Charming when it suits her and venomous when she feels threatened. I’m almost glad Benjamin’s been so awful to her. God knows I couldn’t have endured another dinner with that girl in my house.”

You snorted under your breath, chuckling.

“You know, I was just like you when I first arrived here – someone who didn’t quite fit in.” Margaret leaned back in her chair with a faint smile, the faraway look in her eyes sharpening, a subtle sadness creeping into her voice. “Before I met Benjamin’s father, I came from humble beginnings, you know? My parents were good, hardworking people. We didn’t have much money – just a small house in the lower part of town. My father was a carpenter, working long hours, and my mother would sew clothes for other people, often staying up well past midnight, just to make sure we had enough to get by. But there was a beauty in that simplicity. I used to take walks through the alleys, admiring the flowers growing between the cracks in the sidewalks. We didn't have wealth, but we had love, you know? And we had each other.”

You listened intently, your heart breaking a bit for her, knowing that wasn’t what she had now with her own family.

“I remember,” she continued, a slight smile tugging at her lips, “how we’d all gather in the kitchen at night. It was small, but it was ours. My mother would hum while she worked, and my father would tell me stories about how he built his first house with his own two hands. He was proud of that. And I was proud of him.”

You couldn’t help but notice the way Mrs. Brooks’ voice softened when she spoke about her parents. There was a sadness there, a longing for something simple and real that had been lost somewhere along the way.

“I can’t imagine you like that. It sounds so different from who you are now,” you said softly.

Mrs. Brooks gave a gentle laugh, her gaze growing even more distant. “I was just a girl back then. I had no idea what awaited me. But when I met Richard, everything changed.” She paused, her voice darkening slightly as she pushed away the memories of her childhood, like the warmth they brought was something she couldn’t bear to hold on to for too long. “He was everything I’d never known. He was wealthy, educated, and had the kind of connections that I could only dream of. He swept me off my feet. He promised me a life of comfort, luxury, and security. And I thought, ‘This is it. This is everything I’ve been working for.’”

Your brow furrowed. “But it wasn’t?”

Mrs. Brooks shook her head slowly, the distant melancholy returning to her features. “At first, it was. But over time, I realized something. The life Richard offered me was a gilded cage. It wasn’t freedom – it was control. I was expected to fit in, to play the part. When I married him, I entered a world where every inch of my life was dictated by money, status, and image. It’s strange how quickly you can forget yourself when you're surrounded by wealth. People like this–,” she gestured with a faint nod around the room, “–don’t care about character. They care about who you know, where you’ve been, and what you wear. And even then, it’s never enough. You always have to be more.” She leaned forward then, her expression softening as she saw you swallowing thickly. “I know it sounds harsh, dear, but it’s the truth. High society is an illusion. People want you to smile, to wear the right clothes, to speak in a certain way, but it’s all just a performance. Your soul gets lost in it.”

“So, you never wanted this life?” you asked quietly, your heart breaking for her.

“I didn’t know what I was getting into. These women here, they’re not your friends,” she replied, her fingers curling around her tea cup. “They’re rivals. Each one of them trying to prove they are the best at being the most perfect version of a woman they can be. It’s exhausting. And no matter how hard I tried, I never truly fit in.”

“You said Benjamin was different when he was young,” you said gently, wanting to know more. “How was he before everything changed?”

Mrs. Brooks’ eyes softened, and for a moment, you could see the mother she had been – a woman who adored her son, who once had hope for his future.

“Benjamin was always sensitive,” Mrs. Brooks said, her voice full of tenderness. “He was a sweet little boy who loved to ask questions about the world. He was curious about everything. He’d sit with me for hours, just asking me how things worked, why things were the way they were. And he had this soft smile that would light up a room. I’ll never forget how he used to look at me, with such trust in his eyes. He would bring me flowers and tell me stories from his little world, and I would see the softness in him, the kind of softness a mother always hopes for in a child. People always said he was a ‘dreamer,’ and I thought he would always stay that way. I loved that about him. But Richard didn’t. Richard thought it was a weakness.”

Mrs. Brooks’ voice cracked slightly, as if the memories were too painful to recount. She looked down at her cup.

“Richard did everything he could to ‘toughen him up.’ He took him hunting, made him go to boarding school at an early age, sending him far away from me,” she continued, her voice drowning in sadness. “He wanted to shape Benjamin into something he could control. He had a vision for his son – one where Benjamin was a carbon copy of him. Strong. Cold. Ruthless. My husband’s world is one of steel, and his love is just as hard. My sweet boy never stood a chance.”

Your heart sank. “And Ben – he didn’t want that?”

“No,” Mrs. Brooks said, a slight bitterness creeping into her tone. “Benjamin didn’t want any of it. But he was young, and he couldn’t fight his father. So slowly, he started to change. He stopped asking questions. He stopped dreaming. And one by one, the things that made him unique faded away. I watched my son slip away from me, and there was nothing I could do about it.”

You wanted to reach out to comfort her, but you felt helpless. How could you fix this? Could you fix him?

“I’m so sorry,” you said softly. “I had no idea.”

Mrs. Brooks gave you a wistful smile. “It’s not your fault, dear. You’re not here to save him. You can’t save him, not from himself. But you might be able to remind him of who he was before the world changed him. I think that’s why I like you so much.”

Your heart tightened as you listened. You could see the sadness in Mrs. Brooks’ eyes, a depth of loss that you hadn’t expected.

Ben’s mother let out a sigh, soft and weary, as though she had been holding it in for too long. “You know, from the moment I met you, there was something about you. Something I never had the chance to share with Benjamin.” She paused, gathering her thoughts as if she hadn’t shared this kind of honesty in years. “I’ve always wanted a daughter for many reasons, you see? I dreamed of having someone who could see this world as I see it. A confidante. You remind me a lot of myself when I was younger. You have a fire in you – a light. And I don’t want my son to put it out.”

Your heart halted its beats abruptly. You were taken aback by her blunt honesty, shaking your buzzing head lightly, trying to make sense of her words. “What d’you mean?”

“You don’t know what your getting into, either. You’re not like them. You’re not meant for this kind of life. That’s why I want to warn you, dear,” she said, her gaze sharp.

Oh no, not another warning… How many was that now? Three? Four, if you counted Grace?

Great.

“Benjamin might love you now, but he’ll be just like his father in the end. Cold. Hard. Empty,” she said harshly, the weight of regret in every line of her expression. “The man you think he is, may not be the man he turns out to be. Benjamin isn’t the boy I once held in my arms anymore. He’s not the man you think he is. I see his father in him more every day. I can see it in the way he looks at the world, in the way he reacts to the people around him. I don’t want you to end up like me. You’ll be the one left behind. Trust me.”

You felt a knot in your throat, your heart pounding with an ominous sound like an ancient war drum. You didn’t know how to respond. Your thoughts spiraled in every direction.

You swallowed hard, tears pricking your eyes like salt in a wound. “I don’t know if I can walk away. I think I love him,” you confessed quietly, barely audible over the chatter of the tea room.

The words shocked you. You’d never said them out loud before, but they didn’t seem to rattle his mother at all.

Her eyes softened, her hand reaching over to clasp yours on the table in a sad understanding. “I know you do. But that’s the problem, dear. When you love someone like him, you’ll always be fighting a battle you can’t win.”

▶️ Chapter 7: Lions and Tigers and Bears, Oh My! – MAY 9

Ooof, looks like not even Ben's mother has much confidence in him... What did you think of all the warnings? And if Ben was already this upset now, then well, imagine what he feels like when it really happens. Choo-choo, all aboard the angst train! Get ready to meet the man of the hour next week 😉

(Fair warning: Chapters never really got any shorter. I don't know what to tell ya, but half of the next one is smut, so there's that 😂🤷‍♀️)

Coming Up:

“I remember you mentioned a girl from school staying here.” The patriarch of the steel empire carved into his roast with casual violence, sipping his wine like it was penance, a pair of almond-shaped, glacier blue eyes zeroing in on his son. “Didn’t think you meant still staying here.”

You managed a polite smile. “It’s lovely to meet you, Mr. Brooks.”

He gave a short nod that might’ve been a grunt, reaching for the wine glass before saying, “Likewise.”

Ben’s mother – composed in a deep jade green dress that complimented the glint in her eye – broke the tension with a dry, almost teasing, “She’s been keeping me company. And sane.”

You glanced at her in grateful surprise, but she didn’t look at you. Her gaze was squarely on her husband, almost daring him to challenge her.

Oh fuck. You had a feeling that dinner would derail soon enough. You still remembered how your own mother always looked when she wanted to pick a fight with your father. You could see that same desire in Mrs. Brooks tonight.

Richard’s eyes flicked to you as cutting as a scalpel. “Rosemary Hall, was it?”

You smiled, knowing your alibi by heart. “Yes, sir. We, uh, crossed paths with Ben’s group at Choate once or twice. We’ve stayed in touch.”

“Mmm.” He sounded unconvinced, like he already had a list of questions and was working through them in his mind. “And what is it you do, exactly?”

You gave an innocent shrug of your shoulders. “A little of everything. Read a lot. Try to keep busy.”

Mr. Brooks leaned back with a hum, wine glass in hand. “You read. Anything useful?”

Ben’s hand tensed slightly on the table. You felt it even without looking.

🚀 Read up to 4 chapters ahead on Patreon now

Tag List Pt. 1:

@alwaystiredandconfused @xlynnbbyx @lyarr24 @deans-spinster-witch @blackcherrywhiskey

@deansbbyx @foxyjwls007 @ladysparkles78 @roseblue373 @zepskies

@agalliasi @yvonneeeee @hobby27 @iamsapphine @globetrotter28

@lori19 @lacilou @suckitands33 @onlyangel-444 @syrma-sensei

@perpetualabsurdity @yoobusgoobus @jessjad @dayhsdreaming @hunter-or-the-hunted

@k-slla @just-levyy @mrsjenniferwinchester @illicithallways @muhahaha303

@ultimatecin73 @nancymcl @leigh70 @brightlilith @nesnejwritings

@samslvrgirl @xx-spooky-little-vampire-xx @fromcaintodean @barewithme02 @impala67rollingthroughtown

@star-yawnznn @spnaquakindgdom @thej2report @americanvenom13 @lamentationsofalonelypotato

@supernotnatural2005 @stoneyggirl2 @kr804573 @m0e0v0v @youroldfashioned

[geomimetry]

some more sillies

[onenicebugperday]

Have you ever done a post about distinguishing brown recluses from wolf spiders? That's kinda my last major barrier of spider fear bc I have definitely killed wolf spiders on accident confusing them for actually dangerous ones. :'(

It's actually super easy to distinguish the two when you know what to look for!

I'll focus on your location that you shared via IM in terms of wolf species you may encounter, but the following info is true of all wolves within the brown recluse (Loxosceles reclusa) range anyway.

Before I get into that, though, for anyone who may want to know how to ID a brown recluse, make sure you're even in their range. Their range is relatively small:

(map source)

If you're outside of this range, it's very VERY unlikely that any spider you encounter is a brown recluse. There are some other Loxosceles species found in the southwest US and into California, though, and they look similar. As far as I understand, there isn't really enough data on the effects of their venom to say whether or not their bites are medically significant like the brown recluse’s may be, but if anyone's seen any research on that, feel free to tell me how wrong I am.

Anyway, here are a male (top) and female brown recluse:

Photos by eattaway92 and wildcarrot

And for size reference:

Photo by catenatus

So! Some things to note. First, there aren’t really any markings on their body except for the famous dark violin shape on the cephalothorax and sometimes a slightly darkened stripe on the front of the abdomen which is super visible in this photo:

Photo by ryandove

Second, the legs are long and spindly and don’t look hairy unless you’re very close up. The way they hold their legs is often almost crab-spider-like. Third, the eyes! This is, I think, the most obvious way to distinguish them from wolves. Brown recluses have only six eyes, grouped in pairs, so it looks like three black dots if you’re viewing it from a distance. Here’s a close-up:

Photo by salticidude

Wolves will not have the violin shape. Almost all species of wolf you’d encounter will also have other markings on their body, especially dark stripes on the cephalothorax. Some may have an abdominal stripe similar to the recluse, but it’s usually much less subtle.

Here are two of the most common wolves in the southern US, Rabidosa rabida and Tigrosa annexa:

Photos by sambiology and cavemander17

You can see the body and legs are far more robust, more densely haired, and the markings are pretty wildly different than the recluse which is fairly plain. There’s no wolf spider I know of that looks even remotely like a recluse as far as markings go.

The big thing though!! Are the eyes. Wolves have eight eyes, but two are comically large cartoon eyes that face forward. Even on the very tiny ones, you can still see their big eyes. Prepare yourself it’s very cute

Photos by annikaml and feistyone

If I’m ever not weeping about wolf eyes, just assume I am dead. Anyway, beyond all that, size in particular is not a very good indicator when trying to differentiate, because wolves have a huge range from the size of your fingernail to practically the size of a tarantula. Let’s admire this one just for fun

Precious :) Carolina wolf photo by afroherpkeeper

Recluses are a lot more consistently sized as adults, about the size of a quarter.

I would also like to add that while recluse venom can potentially be harmful, most bites do not require medical attention and heal just fine on their own, especially for healthy adults. Serious reactions happen in something like less than 1% of bites.

Also, they’re called recluses for a reason. They’re nocturnal, non-aggressive, and tend to avoid people. Most bites happen because they got caught in bedding or clothing and accidentally pressed against someone’s skin, so they bit as a defensive reaction so they could escape the big scary predator about to smoosh them. If you capture them in a cup (wear gloves if you’re afraid!) and put them outside away from your house, it’s very unlikely you’ll see them again. No need to kill them!

Wolves, of course, are capable of biting, but their bites are not medically significant.

Hope this was helpful!

[ordinarydoodles]

Cut for me rambling about my thoughts on this poem, because this is my house blog and I spent a week on this and I can do what I want:

I put a lot into this. References to Misuta's backstory, his fascination with humans and organic bodies, his feelings of inadequacy and grief, my hopes for how his character arc might go, my feelings about the setting of the AU, my hopes for what sentient AI will be if and when it's ever developed in real life, obscure references to other characters that honestly only make sense to me, hours and hours of research so I could be sure a single line would make scientific sense, his backstory chapter's name, all kinds of stuff.

I'm still annoyed that I ended up using such a simplistic rhyming structure, but there was so much I wanted to fit in here that I just straight up could not do anything more complicated without quadrupling the time it would take to finish it. This was honestly one of the hardest things I've even written.

Misuta spent most of his life as an attraction in Ichikawa, Japan. I wanted to include some sort of common Japanese phrase or reference to Japanese folklore as a nod to that, but then I found the phrase 蛙の子は蛙 (Kaeru nokoha kaeru), which translates to “the frog’s child is a frog," and that activated the neurons in my brain so hard that it ended up making me rewrite the entire thing to center around it, and honestly changed the entire way I think about his character.

In Japan, the frog (蛙 or kaeru) is a symbol of fertility, wealth, change, and good fortune. The pronunciation of the word is the same as the word for “to return," and frogs are linked to things or people returning to their place of origin. Frog charms are sometimes given to people for luck during travels, school, or hospital stays.

The meaning of Kaeru nokoha kaeru is similar to “the apple doesn’t fall far from the tree,” with a slight implication of “even if a child seems very different to their parent at first, they will end up more similar than not.”

There is also a Japanese (and Chinese) proverb that goes "井の中の蛙大海を知らず" (i no naka no kawazu taikai wo shirazu), which translates to “a frog in a well does not know the great sea.” It is a reminder that your or other’s perspective may be very limited, and to not assume that you know all there is to know of the world.

Misuta loves to read, and barely leaves his room. He spends vast amounts of times trying to escape his confined life to fantasize about a wider world that he feels he can't be part of. He's drowning in grief and desperately wishes for the return of his brother. We already know that part of his character arc is going to involve getting him out of his well room, Fool already started the ball rolling on that in Chapter 13.

I'm not spelling it all out, I'm just sitting here softly screaming and resigned to the fact that Misuta is now permanently associated with frogs in my mind.

(as always, thank you thank you thank you to @venomous-qwille and the relentlessly positive group on the Misutamojis Discord, y'all have made an incredibly fun and welcoming place to hyperfixate on obscure horror video game franchise characters that are increasingly more and more tangentially related to their source material)

蛙 (Kaeru)

(I wrote this poem for Misuta Day on the Misutamojis Discord, which is for fans of the Ghost In The Machine au by @venomous-qwille. Most of it is under the cut because it got long)

The winter’s melted clear away The frogs and crickets sing their evening songs with quiet joy at the return of spring

I glimpse you through the windowpane, the wavy glass a darkened pond, and you, a shadow looking past a border you can’t cross beyond.

The glinting metal of your face like drops of water, starlit dew The frogs are singing to their tadpoles 蛙の子は蛙 (Kaeru nokoha kaeru)

You were made with coded purpose, I was made with none Your place, a well with walls of stone My place, beneath the sun

And you, machine, were manufactured, cut, and crafted, and mechanic While I, like crickets, came to be by simple random chance, organic

You see yourself a separate kind than those whose hands first made your own But we are not so unalike We share the root from which we’ve grown

Scattered stardust made this world, and in that world there was a sea, and in that sea there was the start of what made you, and what made me.

The creatures of that ancient sea lived and died and lived again And their descendants learned to hold an echo of the sea within.

While generations of their dead were folded, soft, beneath the sand layers of earth pressed under waves like layers of blankets beneath a hand.

And that sea has held us both, that ancient world that we are from, and it belongs to you as well Hear the chant your engines hum:

You are made from rubber trees, The ancient life of ancient seas, The beating waves that laid the sand, like a blanket, across the land. Buried beasts that turned to oil, shining metals under soil, secret seams of copper, furled. Did you think you weren’t the world? Your mind came from a human’s mind, And, humanlike, can’t be confined You seek to change and grow beyond The binding boundaries of your pond Your own desires kick and pull against your programming, like a soul You move the chassis you possess Like a spirit, manifest. Your sum of parts cannot contain The artistry of your refrain You are more than what you’ve been There is a ghost in the machine!

Do you understand yet, seeker? We’re from the earth, and we are kin The blood in me was once the ocean The oil in you once swam within

蛙 (Kaeru), hear the cricket’s song Your tail is gone, your legs are free No well can ever hope to hold you now that you have known the sea

I’ll help you from your murky cell And chirp to coax your voice to croon Together, we’ll sing our evening song Side by side, beneath the moon

And if some stranger to our world, Came from stars far-flung and wild, They’d see us singing here and say, “Look! There stands mankind, and mankind’s child.”

[ghosttoasties]

grimsley ramblings 4

Much of the imagery that I enjoy using in pokemon fanart comes from the character's names. Even if it's just silly immersion for me, in reality their names have backstory. It's also cool finding connections between characters too.

I like thinking about Grimsley's different names in other languages. In Japanese, giima can trace back to the plant vaccinium wrightii, which are related to blueberries (and are similar in color to him). It also can be the shortened form of "boogeyman," featuring the middle syllables. In kanji, breaking it down can mean "devil" and "deceit." It makes sense since the JP name for Dark type is "evil."

In Korean, it's a shortened form of the fruit blackberry, which could be read as "Blairy/Blaley." I'm fond of this one, because blackberries have colors similar to a roulette wheel, a theme present in Grimsley's suit. Very neat! Blackberries when first discovered were used as medicine, as it would seem to "magically" cure health issues like ulcers, venomous bites, and sore throats to name a few. This notion is seen again in folklore: if gathered under a certain moon phase, the fruit was thought to protect against spells and curses. They were also used to make indigo dye! Reminds me of someone...

In German, Astor is possibly referencing the plant family of asterids, which can include plants such as daisies, forget-me-nots, eggplants, peppers, morning glories and so forth. It is also stated that it can be a reference to the Astor family, who have roots in Germany and became one of the wealthiest families in history. They made an impact in places like the UK and the US in politics, public works, and other business ventures. This circles back nicely to Grimsley because one of the family members, John Jacob Astor, was one of the first founders of the New York Public Library. If you do not know him, he was actually the first multimillionaire ever, having a ridiculous monopoly on fur trade, was a huge real estate mogul, and unfortunately smuggled drugs. The family has since declined, but they have made their mark throughout history. Distinguished, I guess you could say.

In Spanish (and possibly my favorite), his name is Aza. It's taken from the azalea flower. The name of the flower itself comes from Greek, meaning "dry," since the flowers don't enjoy very moist soil. The flower blooms here in North America, including Mexico, and come in all kinds of colors. Interesting to note, they're also poisonous. Bees that have drunk its nectar go mad. When it comes to azaleas, different countries have varying symbolism. China in particular thinks of it as the "thoughtful" plant. The flower was also infamous in other places for being sent in black vases as death threats due to how poisonous they are. It blew my mind reading that because in other countries, like Japan, there's huge festivals centered around the flower. Last thing, it also can be taken from the word azar which means random, or chance. A usage could be «es un juego de azar» meaning "it's a game of chance." Pretty on the nose but I think that plus azaleas make it so perfect and simple.

I could go on for days about this! I could also talk about how all the Unova Elite Four names relate to each other in some odd way (for example, both Shauntal and Grimsley with forget-me-nots, Caitlin with orchids, and Marshal with lotus flowers, and etc etc). But for the sake of keeping this post a healthy length, I'll make other focused on the four of them. Most of my information hunting started from bulbapedia and it lead to subsequent further research, which has been really fun.

Those are just some localized names that stood out to me. I can't really go a day without seeing these plants and not think of him. The fondness of viewing azaleas at plant shops and buying blueberry sweets are my own amusing way of finding comfort in these stressful adult days. Thank you reading if you did. If there's any info you'd like me to expand on, include, clarify, or fix, please feel free to let me know as I tend to read a lot of articles and can be kind of scrambled.

💙💗

[minor-solemnity]

Curiosity pt.6

“Are you implying that I’m not good enough to blackmail?” Which well, that maybe isn’t what you should be annoyed by.

A month passes. You don’t talk in class, just keep your head bowed low, eyes fixed firmly on the ground. You ignore Tom in the hallways and in the lessons you share. You suppose that you should probably revert to calling him Riddle, but referring to a man you’ve had sex with by their last name, even in the comfort of your own head, makes you feel dirty.  

He tries to talk to you twice. He doesn’t try a third time.

You don’t tell Marie or Stephanie what’s transpired between you and Tom and eventually, they stop asking. You’re content to let them believe that whatever courtship or relationship they thought had been budding between the two of you had died. It’s easier to pretend that you’re just sad that you’ve missed your chance with Hogwarts’ most sought after bachelor. The truth is so much more complicated. 

The last of the bitter Scottish winter gives way into Spring and with it comes blue skies, crisp winds, and luscious greenery. Stephanie’s attention is fixed firmly on the final quidditch matches of the school year and Marie begins her yearly fretting over exams. You’re left in blessed peace to ruminate on and stew in your own misery. 

It’s far too early on a Saturday for you to be up, but the Great Hall is always empty until at least nine on the weekends and you’ve taken to avoiding large crowds lest you accidentally run into him. As expected, you’re alone save for the ghosts this morning. You’re stirring honey into your tea when a shadow falls over you. You don’t look up. The shadow coughs politely. You glower at your tea. The shadow sighs and there are footsteps and the sound of someone taking a seat opposite you. When you finally look up, Tom is watching you intently. Merlin, it’s so frustratingly easy to get distracted looking at him. The first thing you notice (and you hate that you do) is that he looks somewhat tense. His expression is a mask of polite indifference and his hands rest casually on the table in front of him but there is a tautness to his posture, as though he’s steeling himself for a fight. 

You think that that should please you. At one point, it definitely would have done, but right now you’re still too raw from the events of a month ago to feel anything other than resigned fatigue at his appearance. “You’ve been ignoring me.” He says, and though his tone is placid you can detect a hint of something hard lacing his consonants. 

“What good observational skills you have. Though that’s hardly a surprise, seeing as I’ve been on the receiving end of your interest for months at this point.” The anger at your own stupidity and his manipulation rears its head once more and you’re somewhat taken aback by how much venom has crept into your voice.

“Perhaps, if you’d let me explain-” 

“No.” You cut him off, gathering your things and shoving them into your bag with more force than is strictly necessary. “No, I will not let you explain. I think you made yourself perfectly clear the last time. You have what you want, your curiosity is sated. You have your own blackmail material on me, should you ever feel the need to use it, and all it took was-” You can’t finish the sentence. All it took was a little flattery and his clever tongue touching and playing with you until you’d… Really, it had taken nothing at all. “I don’t know what else you could possibly need to explain to me. I understand what I am to you and what this entire thing was about. Now, if you don’t mind, I’d appreciate it if you just leave me alone.” You don’t hang around to see understanding dawn on Tom’s face, nor do you hang around to see resolve settle firmly on his shoulders.

Fifteen minutes later you’re sat with your arms wrapped tightly around your knees underneath a yew tree by the lake, your bag thrown haphazardly a few feet away. You stare at the lake and determinedly blink back the tears that are threatening to spill down your cheeks. A horrible mix of embarrassment and anger is bubbling in your stomach and your hands shake as you reach down and tug blindly at strands of grass as if they are what your ire is directed at. Merlin, you’ve been stupid. Incredibly, horrendously stupid. You’d known that Riddle was bad news. You hadn’t trusted him from the moment he’d smiled down at you that evening in the dining hall. Almost every meeting between the both of you since had been a constant push and pull, neither of you willing to back down or give way… And now…

Now he has the information that he wanted and the game is up. You’ve lost. And all because somewhere along the line you had forgotten exactly why it was that he’d been interested in you in the first place. You’d let your imagination get the best of you and for a moment you’d let yourself believe that it wasn’t about Mr Larkins anymore. That he was there because of you. Just you and not the secrets that you had tried so hard to keep.

Merlin, what was he going to do with you now that he knew. Blackmailing a teacher (and you have to admit to yourself now that that was exactly what you had been doing) was a serious offence. Enough to get you expelled for sure. Muggles went to prison for blackmail, didn’t they? Would you be sent the Wizengamot? Or would Tom just hold it over your head for eternity? Surely not. He had no use for you now, after all; you can’t keep kidding yourself that he liked or wanted you. You can’t keep kidding yourself that that was part of why this was so painful. 

Beyond the fear you feel for your future, rejection is a bitter pill lodged in the back of your throat. 

“You might appreciate it if I left you alone, but I’d appreciate it if you stopped running away from me.” Tom’s voice is conversational, cheerful almost. You let out a strangled scream of annoyance. He hums a soft little laugh in response. He settles himself down beside you, long legs stretching out in from him, crossed over at the ankle. You notice he’s holding the folder. “You honestly think I’d blackmail you?” He asks, still in that conversational toned and you feel your hackles rise.

“Are you implying that I’m not good enough to blackmail?” Which well, that maybe isn’t what you should be annoyed by.

“You seem intent on misunderstanding everything I have to say, I see.” He says and, at last, something approaching annoyance enters his voice. Out of the corner of your eye, you can see that he’s frowning slightly. As in the Great Hall, his posture suggests he’s at ease, he’s taken his tie off and the top two buttons of his shirt are undone. But something is lurking beneath his relaxed exterior that suggests he’s nervous. “I have no intention of blackmailing you. At first, perhaps, but not any longer. And…” You drop the pretence of not looking at him entirely and turn full to face him. He doesn’t look at you and you get the impression that whatever he’s trying to say does not come easily. “I apologise if that’s the impression I gave you.”

Your eyes widen in surprise at the apology, which whilst stilted, appears genuine. Then, almost immediately after narrow in suspicion and indignation. “What other impression could you possibly have given me? Apart from, maybe, toying with me for your own amusement.” You ask acidly.

His jaw clenches and you notice dimly that he’s making hardly any effort to hide his emotions. He’s almost an open book. Which is… strange. You’re reminded of all the times that Tom’s treatment of you has left you feeling confused. Confused because he doesn’t act the same way around you as he does with the rest of your peers. He’ll put on a facade of politeness, sometimes, but it usually unravels within minutes. You’ve watched him charm and flatter the worst of your professors, that small careful smile never faltering until they’re putty in his hands.

He’s tried to intimidate, taunt, and seduce you but he’s never tried to charm you. The realisation hits you harder than you’d like. But so what that Tom doesn’t seem to think you’re worth the effort? Does it matter that he drops his perfect little persona around you? Yes, the quiet, treacherously hopeful voice in your mind whispers, yes it matters. Of course, it matters.

“That we were having fun, perhaps?” He says at last and he looks pained just saying it. As though telling you that some part of him had enjoyed your company and had assumed that you enjoyed his is physically uncomfortable to admit. Maybe it is. “That I believed you and I had some level of understanding regarding our relationship?” 

You ask incredulously, “Has this been your way of flirting with me, Tom?” At the sound of his name on your lips, he turns to face you and you can practically see him come undone. His throat constricts around a swallow and you can’t stop yourself from tracing the column of his neck to where his collarbones, surprisingly delicate and sharp protrude from the collar of his open shirt with your eyes. He follows your gaze intently. “You never tried to charm me.” You murmur, finally bring your gaze to meet his.

“I’ve only ever been honest with you,” He replies, his voice equally soft. An admission that his persona is mostly a lie, used to trick and manipulate everyone else. Maybe that should put you off, make you turn away from him for good. It doesn’t. “You can’t blame me for wanting to know you when the few things I did know were so interesting. You can’t blame me for liking you more when I found out the rest.” It’s strange, knowing that the parts of you that usually stop people from liking or trusting you are what draws him to you. Then again, maybe it isn’t strange at all. You’re remarkably similar in so many ways, after all. “I thought, perhaps, that you regretted it.” Regretted me, is what he means. Is what he won’t say. Is what you hear nonetheless. 

You’ll need to talk more later; you need to know what he intends to do with the knowledge of your blackmailing schemes but later. Right now… You lick your lower lip and you don’t miss the way he tracks the movement. “I don’t. Regret it.” He nods once, a short decisive shake of his head. You’ve made up your mind. “You should kiss me now.” And he does. He shifts and suddenly you’re being dragged to his side, one large hand curving around your waist and another cupping your jaw, his fingers tangling in your hair. 

You feel like maybe, you’ve just won the best kind of game there is.

(part 1) (part 2) (part 3) (part 4) (part 5) (part 6)

[jayz4dayz]

5 for Meariri?

Of course! This was a lot of fun to write! 

Prompt: “Wait a minute. Are you jealous?”

Jealousy 

It was hot. Hot and sticky and miserable. Truth be told, Mary wished Kirari would have chosen a less humid location for a getaway. Technically, Mary wasn’t even supposed to be there considering this was a student council event. She wasn’t fond of a single person on the council aside from Ririka, who was the only reason why Mary agreed to go in the first place.

She just couldn’t say no to Ririka who was so excited to go and was happy to invite her to come along. Besides, sharing a hotel room alone with her girlfriend and relaxing without the burden of school work for a few days didn’t sound like a bad idea at first. Anyone would have jumped at the opportunity to go on an all expense paid trip to an exotic tropical island in another country with their significant other after all.

What Mary wasn’t prepared for was the blazing hot sun, humid weather, and having to shop for a new bathing suit and temporary clothes with Ririka because their luggage got mixed up with someone else's at the airport.

What she certainly wasn’t prepared for was the overly flirtatious clerk at the swimsuit shop who was all too eager to help Ririka find a perfect fit. Ririka was oblivious, of course, and didn’t understand that the young man was heavily flirting with her. But Mary knew and it was starting to piss her off the longer his eyes greedily awaited for Ririka to exit the dressing room in a bikini she had picked out.

“I don’t know, it looks a little tight in the bust,” Ririka said shyly from the dressing room.

“Oh yeah? Why don’t you come out? Then I can see if you need a bigger size or maybe take your measurements,” the man grinned, reaching for the handle of the door.

“Um, no. I think the fuck not,” Mary stopped him in his tracks. “I’ll be the judge of that, thank you.”

The man raised a brow at her. “Alright, ma’am. See if your friend needs a bigger size then.”

Friend. The word made Mary bite her tongue for she wanted to say she was much more than Ririka’s friend. It left a bitter taste in Mary’s mouth as she grumbled, walking into the changing room.

Almost instantly, her sour mood shifted the moment she saw her girlfriend shyly holding her arms as she looked at her reflection in the mirror. The bikini was an aquamarine color and fit her body near perfectly. It showed off her well toned stomach and seemed to fit in all the right places. She was stunning as always, only now even more so.

Ririka smiled slightly, blushing when she saw Mary’s wide-eyed expression. “H-how do I look?”

“Hot,” Mary breathed out. “I-I mean you look great!”

“Thank you, love. Do you think it shows off too much of my body though?” Ririka asked, lowering her arms.

To Mary, it didn’t show off enough. Not that she’d ever admit. However, it was revealing enough that she knew people would definitely look twice if they walked past Ririka. It was hard enough for her to keep her own eyes off of Ririka, but perhaps that was only because she was her girlfriend. Besides, Ririka was going to be wearing this bathing suit for one reason and one reason only: to swim. It was either this or a wetsuit, which both Kirari and Mary discouraged her from doing since the ocean water was relatively warm and it would have just been a hassle.

“Would you like a one piece instead?” Mary snickered.

Ririka pouted. “Well, not really. I kind of wanted to get a tan.”

“Babe, you don’t tan. You burn,” Mary scoffed. “And this’ll mean you’ll need to put on extra sunscreen.”

“Hm, maybe you’re right. I’ll just get a one piece,” Ririka agreed, beginning to strip down.

“You could get both,” Mary suggested. “One for the beach and one for the pool at the hotel or for other occasions. That is if it’s in our budget.”

Ririka grinned. “Money’s not an issue, so I think I will! Thank you, dearest.”

Mary maintained her tsundere attitude, rolling her eyes when Ririka briefly pecked her lips. However, she failed to hide her blush or the smirk that made its way onto her face from the sudden affection from her lover.

“Yeah, yeah. Let’s just hurry up so we can meet the others at the beach spot,” Mary chuckled.

Ririka’s hand intertwined with Mary’s and she grinned as they walked along the sandy sidewalk. Seeing Ririka smile warmed Mary's heart; she rarely saw her girlfriend smile. She was used to seeing the creepy smile of Ririka’s mask, something Mary was grateful Ririka left behind for this trip.

Mary received several glances from onlookers, which she normally wouldn’t pay any attention to. Until she realized they weren’t staring at the two of them, they were staring at Ririka. She was in her two piece and Mary supposed that and Ririka’s platinum hair drew a bit of attention. She protectively held her girlfriend close to her, scowling at whoever stared at her for too long.

Ririka paid no attention to that or the people who looked at her. She only smiled brighter, thinking Mary was only being extra affectionate to her which she’d gladly accept. She’d never deny it since Mary typically only showed her affection when they were alone or occasionally when they were with friends.

“Clingy today, hm?” Ririka teased.

“Maybe,” Mary grumbled, her cheeks reddening.  

Ririka recognized that tone of voice. Mary was greatly irritated by something. What it was, Ririka couldn’t figure out yet. It was hot outside and she knew how much Mary hated hot weather, but soon they’d be in the cool, soothing water of the ocean. So she didn’t dwell much on the thought.

Once they arrived at the location, they were greeted by Kirari and Sayaka. Kirari immediately handed her sister a bottle of sunscreen, to which Ririka began to complain. The two started to bicker while Sayaka insisted for Ririka to apply sunblock. The conversation bored Mary, so she walked over to an empty area and took her beach towel out of her bag. She laid it across the sand before sitting down, watching sea birds dive into the ocean.

Eventually, Ririka walked over to Mary in defeat, plopping down on the towel. She laid her head in Mary’s lap and pouted, looking up at her.

“Riri, you’re gonna get sunscreen on my jeans!” Mary laughed, brushing a loose strand of hair out of Ririka’s face.

“Kirari put too much on me,” Ririka cringed, trying to rub the whiter areas on her arms that still had sunblock on it. “I don’t burn that badly.”

Mary snorted. “Yeah you do. Even worse than I do.”

“Whatever,” Ririka groaned. “I want to swim eventually. Maybe I’ll see some fish.”

“Nah, chances are you’ll only see Midari trying to drown,” Mary replied. “If you’re lucky, you’ll see Yuriko-senpai drown trying to save her.”

Ririka looked out at the shore, seeing Midari chasing Yuriko with a dead or perhaps horrifyingly still alive sea jelly as the poor girl shrieked and tried to evade her. “Hm... or Yuriko will try to drown Midari herself.”  

“Yeah and Midari would probably let her,” Mary snickered as she too watched Midari torment Yuriko. “Maybe that was her plan all along, the damn masochist.”

“I don’t know,” Ririka sighed in disinterest. “Will you go swimming with me?”

“Later maybe. I don’t wanna get covered in sand if I can avoid it,” Mary responded curtly. "Besides, then I'd have to change out of my jeans which I really don't wanna do."

Ririka grinned, wrapping her arms around the blonde’s waist. “Do you want to just stay like this for a while then?”

“I can get used to this,” Mary smirked in agreement.

And so they did, enjoying the ocean breeze and each other’s presence. For a while at least, until Kirari and Sayaka returned. Mary only glared at them as they approached, hoping they were only coming over to grab something from their bag or that they’d walk right past them.

“We’re playing badminton,” Kirari announced with her signature sly smile, wrapping her arm around Sayaka.

“That’s nice. Have fun, I guess,” Mary raised a brow at them in dismissal.

Sayaka’s face was bright red, regardless of her efforts of trying to remain in her professional Secretary persona. “T-the President is referring to the four of us.”

“Tch, I’m not playing against her. She never plays fair for gambling or sports,” Mary scoffed.

“Your incapability in athletics is no excuse for accusing me of not playing fair, Saotome,” Kirari faked a pout that made Mary’s blood boil.

“We’ll play only if I choose who’s on each side,” Ririka chimed in. “And Mary is very athletic, Rari. Her flexibility is impeccable.”

Mary’s face felt hot as Ririka winked at her, catching on to the double entendre. “T-thanks.”

Kirari pursed her lips. “Very well then. I have no issue with this.”

Ririka grinned and looked at Sayaka who was still practically attached to Kirari by the hip. “Sayaka, are you alright with being my partner for this?”

Mary instantly felt a stab of betrayal and she could tell by Kirari’s sudden shift in expression that the feeling was very much mutual. The younger twin squinted at the blonde, silently voicing her displeasure with this sudden arrangement. Mary shot back a sinister glare with just as much venom.

It was clear neither were expecting Ririka to choose Sayaka. It would have been less surprising had she chosen Kirari, even. Perhaps this was all for Ririka’s entertainment, knowing that Kirari and Mary would rather eat sand than pair up together for anything.

Sayaka gave Kirari a look of panic to which Kirari gave a slight nod, kissing Sayaka’s forehead before releasing her. Sayaka’s expression immediately softened.

Sayaka gave a light smile. “I would be honored to be your partner, Ririka-san.”

Jealousy tugged at Mary’s heart. She despised feeling jealous of Sayaka, someone she knew followed Kirari around like a lost puppy and devoted her life to her. Maybe it was because she knew Ririka shared the same face as Kirari that made her feel like Sayaka was some sort of threat. Mary of all people knew that Ririka and Kirari were two very different people, regardless of their similar features. Yet it still got under her skin.

“Now that it’s settled, I’m going to ask Runa to be the score keeper,” Kirari spoke up; her tone was bitter.

Mary sighed, getting up and dusted off the sand from her legs. She watched as Kirari and Sayaka walked towards the volleyball net which she was sure they were going to use for their game.

Ririka smiled mischievously at her to which Mary responded with the roll of her eyes. “Was it really necessary pairing me up with Kirari?”

“Of course it was,” Ririka nodded. “You said you wanted things to be fair. Had Kirari and I been on the same side, there would be an unfair advantage since the two of us are unstoppable at pretty much every sport. Had I paired us with each other’s significant other, all of us would be distracted. This pairing assures that Kirari won’t try to cheat because you’ll be there to catch it, though I’m not sure how she could cheat in badminton. Regardless, this will be a good way for the two of you to work on your team work skills and maybe help you bond with each other.”

It made sense at least, but the last thing she wanted was to be on the same team as Kirari Momobami. Hell, she would have rather been paired with Sayaka and accepted whatever loss they took if the twins dominated in the game. She couldn’t have cared less about victory or loss seeing as how she didn’t even want to play in the first place.

Being paired with Kirari complicated things. She knew how competitive Kirari was and she did not want to hear Kirari’s constant complaints and reminders of how shitty of a player Mary was if she didn’t put any effort into the game.

So Mary was trapped, and very much frustrated with the whole situation. All she could really do was sigh and grin and bear it for the time being. It was just one game after all. How bad could it be?

Mary severely underestimated just how competitive Kirari was and Ririka for that matter. Her girlfriend was right in saying that she and Kirari would have absolutely had an advantage had Mary been paired with Sayaka. In all honesty, it looked more like the twins were going against each other rather than all four of them.

Mary and Sayaka couldn’t keep up with how fast Ririka and Kirari were. Their speed and accuracy was almost inhuman; Mary and Sayaka more or less gave up and just watched the twins compete. It’s not like they were able to attempt to score anyway; Kirari and Ririka were always quick to beat them to it.

Because of the twins rarely missing a hit, the game stretched on far longer than Mary wanted. Both sides were tied and still needed several more points to win. Even Runa looked like she was growing bored, scrolling on her phone since she knew this game wasn’t going anywhere.

The only good thing about this was that Mary got to watch her lover sweat and see those beautiful muscles go to good work. She looked so beautiful, even like this. Her eyes had a fiery tint to them, glowing from her competitive spirit. It made Mary's core burn with desire.

Ririka was panting heavily by the time Runa called for a break so the twins could catch their breath. Mary and Sayaka were hardly breaking a sweat, not that they had a reason to anyway.

“Sayaka and I haven’t scored a single point, so I don’t understand why you didn’t just ask Ririka to play with you,” Mary commented.

Kirari panted, tying up her hair that had long since fallen out of its braids. “I’m beginning to regret not doing so. You haven’t been very helpful.”

“Because you won’t let me hit the feather thing!” Mary shouted in defense.

“It’s called a shuttlecock, heathen,” Kirari huffed. “And I know you’d likely intentionally miss and allow the other team to score so you can get this game over with.”

“Honestly at this point, yeah,” Mary confirmed. “I just wanna be done with this and spend the rest of the day with my girlfriend.”

“Well I refuse to lose in front of Sayaka,” Kirari muttered. “So you’re sorely mistaken if you believe I’ll concede to defeat so easily.”

Mary sighed. “If I make an effort to help you win, do you think the game will end sooner?”

“Perhaps, but if we lose even after you give your all, you know I won’t let you hear the end of it, don’t you?” Kirari smirked.

“I expect nothing less and I really don’t give a shit,” Mary grumbled.

“Oki! Let’s resume!” Runa shouted in a clearly faked cheerful tone. “But I’m changing things up. The team to score the next point wins!”

“Why the sudden change of rules, Runa?” Sayaka asked.

Runa sighed. “I’m tired of being the scorekeeper and I wanna go swimming, so let’s get this over with.”

That news was music to Mary’s ears. Now that it was just one point she had to worry about, her mood finally turned competitive. She wanted to end this. She wanted to win this not just to keep Kirari off her back, but to impress Ririka as well.

Everyone got into position. It was Ririka’s turn to serve and Mary didn’t keep her eyes off of her. Ririka glanced over at Mary, giving her a quick smile before serving. Kirari was quicker than Mary, hitting the shuttlecock back onto the other side. Mary rolled her eyes and watched as Sayaka hit it next, sending it towards her.

After sending it back and forth several times, things became rather intense as now all four participants kept their eyes glued on the shuttlecock flying through the air. Mary knew Sayaka was expecting her to always send it to Ririka, so she decided to catch the violet-eyed girl off guard.

Thwack. Sayaka and Ririka watched as the shuttlecock glided through the air. Mary watched as if it were in slow motion as Ririka ran to hit it and surprisingly didn’t miss. However, she crashed into Sayaka in the process, falling on top of her. It wouldn’t have been as bad had Ririka not accidentally placed her hands on Sayaka’s breasts, making the entire scenario all the more awkward. Both Mary and Kirari watched with wide eyes, completely ignoring the fact that the shuttlecock had already landed in their zone.

“O-oh my god, I’m so sorry, Sayaka!” Ririka squeaked and instantly lifted her hands, her face turning bright red from embarrassment.

“That’s… that’s…” Sayaka couldn’t even finish her sentence for she also was too embarrassed.

Mary snapped out of her gaze when she heard laughing next to her. She snapped her head towards Kirari who looked all too amused by this.

“Ara, ara, what I would give to be in my dear sister’s position right now,” Kirari grinned cheekily.

"Does that not make you even a little bit mad?" Mary hissed.

Kirari chuckled. "Of course not. I find this to be quite amusing."

"Of course you do," Mary growled.

“Ririka-chan’s team wins!” Runa announced, startling all of them. Apparently they had forgotten she was there. “Game over! Finally.”

“Good,” Mary grumbled, storming off away from them.

She heard somebody call out after her, but she paid no attention to it. What happened was a complete accident, she knew she shouldn’t have felt angry or jealous. The fact that it happened to Sayaka and not her was perhaps what made her the most upset. But she knew she had to let it go. It was a stupid thing to be upset over.

She plopped down onto her beach towel with a huff, glancing towards the crashing waves in the distance. She saw Midari’s arms wrapped around Yuriko’s waist as they allowed the water to rush past their knees. Mary wished that was her with Ririka right about now. Perhaps not in the water, but instead in the comfort and privacy of their hotel room.

“Are you alright? You looked really upset,” a familiar voice said from behind.

Mary slightly turned her head and her face softened upon seeing her girlfriend. “Yeah, I’m alright. I’m just tired.”

Ririka knelt down, her cerulean eyes full of concern. “Are you sure there’s nothing bothering you? You can talk to me, you know.”

‘Yes, the fact that I haven’t had a damn minute alone with you yet today and people left and right have been looking at you in a way only I should be,’ Mary wanted to say.

Mary shook her head. “Like I said, I’m tired. Don't worry about it. Do you still want to go swimming?”

“Of course!” Ririka grinned. “The badminton game really made me hot so I want to go cool off. Are you going to join me?”

“Maybe I’ll dip my toes in,” Mary smiled, hoping to lighten the mood. “But don’t push your luck.”

“Alright, I’ll see you there then,” Ririka said softly, kissing the top of Mary’s head.

Mary watched Ririka walk over to the shore before wading her way into the water. She chuckled when she saw her dive into a wave and move her platinum hair out of her face when she returned to the surface. She looked happy. Seeing that made Mary happy. Though her day hadn’t gone as planned in the slightest, she was at least relieved Ririka was having fun. She rarely got a break like this and genuinely had fun. School work and helping Kirari run their psychotic family was stressful enough on top of maintaining their position as top gamblers. Ririka deserved a chance to breathe and be herself for once.

Mary got up and rolled up her pant legs before walking over to the shore. She noticed that Ririka had swam much deeper into the water, but wasn’t too concerned. She shivered slightly when the cold water touched her feet, but it was refreshing nonetheless. It was hot anyway, so it felt nice.

She stood there for a moment enjoying the breeze and the shifting sand beneath her toes, finally feeling calm. That is until she saw a lifeguard run past her and into the water. She was swimming closer and closer to where Ririka was which caused Mary to panic.

All she could do was anxiously wait and watch as the lifeguard tugged Ririka parallel to where they were until they reached the shore. Mary sprinted to them, still in a panicked state of mind. Ririka held onto the lifeguard’s arm, her face red either from exhaustion or embarrassment… or because the lifeguard was very attractive.

“I-is she okay? Is she hurt? What happened?” The blonde asked frantically.

The lifeguard gave a friendly smile. “Your friend got caught in a rip tide, but she’s alright now.”

“I-I’m sorry, I didn’t know,” Ririka stuttered in embarrassment.

“Don’t worry about it,” the lifeguard assured her. “Just be careful swimming in this area of the beach. Alright, beautiful?”

That was it. That was the comment that made Mary nearly lose it. It was too much. With all that had already happened, the flirting from the clerk earlier, the looks from people on the street, Ririka falling on Sayaka, and now the attractive lifeguard flirting with Ririka, Mary's jealousy had finally gotten to a point where she was about to snap if she didn't get so much as a minute alone with her girlfriend.

“Thanks for saving my girlfriend, ” Mary said in the nicest tone she could, emphasizing on the word 'girlfriend.'

“Just doing my job,” the lifeguard nodded. “You two have a good day now!”

Mary crossed her arms, trying her hardest to not let her inner emotions show.

“Mary?” Ririka asked with caution. “You okay?”

Mary huffed, looking up at her. “Yes. I’m perfectly fine.”

“Wait a minute. Are you jealous?” Ririka smirked.

Mary’s face turned bright red. “No! I just...yes. A little.”

Ririka knew that was an understatement. She took a step closer to her lover, looking down at her. Mary was pouting and refusing to look at her now. Ririka placed a hand on Mary’s cheek, turning her face to look at her.

“You know I only have eyes for you,” the platinum haired girl whispered seductively.

“I-I know that! I’m not doubting your loyalty or anything! I just don’t like people looking at you the way I do,” Mary admitted, placing her hand over Ririka’s lovingly.

Ririka chuckled. "There's so much irony in this situation."

Mary raised a confused brow. "Huh?"

"You think I don't get jealous whenever someone looks at you with lust in their eyes? There are girls and boys in school including in our friend group who I know would give anything to be in a room alone with you," Ririka explained.

Mary was all too aware of her popularity at Hyakkaou. Heck, every Valentine's Day she received love letters from people she'd never even met. Being a top gambler had its perks, but Mary didn't necessarily consider that to be one. Especially now that she was no longer single and had to reject people instead of just brush them aside.

"Our friend group? Who?" Mary asked with a bewildered expression.

"Ryota," Ririka said softly.

"Okay, Suzui doesn't count. He gets flustered around everyone. Remember how much he blushed when he saw you without your mask for the first time? He's just a bundle of awkwardness," Mary explained with a scoff. "Who else?"

Ririka hesitated. "Yumeko."

Oh. Now that Mary could understand. Yumeko was a touchy person by nature, but she was different around Mary. Perhaps it was because she had feelings for her or maybe it was because she was close to Mary. Whatever the reason, Mary could see why Ririka could be jealous of her.

Mary rubbed her neck awkwardly. "Yeah, okay. I can see that. I've never had feelings for Yumeko though."

"Really?" Ririka asked with wide eyes.

"I care about her and all, but she has a hard time with boundaries. You always respect my boundaries and care about how I feel. Even today, you checked in on me when you felt like something was wrong," Mary blushed.

"And something was," Ririka nodded. "Communicating is important, my love. Without talking to me about these things, our relationship wouldn't be solid. We agreed from the start to be honest with each other about everything, right?"

Mary smiled fondly. "Right."

"So be honest with me now. You haven't gotten what you've wanted all day," Ririka sighed, placing her hands on Mary's hips. "What would you like to do now? What do you want?"

Mary licked her lips and breathed out. "You."  

"I'm all yours," Ririka whispered.

Ririka's eyes sparkled with desire. Her eyes fluttered shut as she pulled Mary close, pressing their two lips together. Mary smiled into the kiss and the world around them fell away. All they could hear was the crashing waves behind them. It was a moment, a single blissful moment that felt like a lifetime. Kissing Ririka always had that affect, like she was the only other person in the world.

The two broke free for air and pressed their foreheads together.

"I want more," Mary panted. "Somewhere alone with you. Do you think we can go to the hotel?"

"Hm, perhaps. Though the rental car is closer, don't you agree?" Ririka smirked.

The heat between Mary's legs grew more prominent now and had this been any other time, she would have obliged. But she wanted absolute privacy with no risks of being intruded.

Mary shook her head. "No, I want to be alone in a room with you. I need you, Riri."

Ririka grinned, briefly kissing Mary's lips once more before holding her hand, gently tugging her to walk away with her.

"Then what are we waiting for?"

[bluerose5]

Guilty as Charged

[You can also read it here on AO3.]

Word Count: 1,210

"I don't get it."

Thane glanced over at Shepard out of the corner of his eye.

"Get what?" Thane asked, hesitantly poking at the mystery slop that Mess Sergeant Gardner had thrown together for the crew.

It had taken a lot of persuasion on John's part, but he had eventually convinced Thane to emerge from Life Support long enough to share a meal in the Mess. They had already touched on a number of topics. Future missions, past achievements, current struggles. Stuff like that kept them talking for a while, but the lapse in conversation was inevitable.

Surprisingly, the silence between them turned out to be more comfortable than awkward. Side by side, their legs would bump against each other underneath the table. Oftentimes, when they would reach out for something like a napkin or some silverware, their fingers or arms would brush. Skin against scales like a gentle caress.

Despite how his heart raced at every touch, Thane tried to maintain his composure. Abandoning his food, Thane gently pushed his plate away, opting to take his cup of tea in hand instead. He cradled it, careful of the heat as he lifted the drink to his lips.

Once he took a sip, he spared another glance in Shepard’s direction, curious as to why he hadn't replied yet.

The answer to that wasn't quite what Thane expected.

Shepard hadn't replied because he was too busy staring at Thane’s lips instead. The attention made Thane's body warm. His scales started to take on a thin, glossy sheen of venom, causing them to become more vibrant and iridescent. In the light, they downright glistened.

Of course, as soon as Shep realized he had been caught, he cleared his throat and averted his gaze.

"Just, you know—" John trailed off with a shrug. "I don't get why people call you a 'bad boy.'"

"Oh?" Thane regarded him questioningly, head cocked to the side. "I would ask who called me such a thing, but I don't need to. Let me guess. Kelly?"

"Kelly," John agreed.

"Hmm..." Thane thought it over, then shrugged. "Maybe she thinks that because I've killed people for a living."

"Thane," John huffed. "Let's be honest here. I kill people for a living, but when I do it, people either call me a war hero, a war criminal, or a terrorist. Nothing in between."

Well, he couldn’t really argue with that.

"I just don't understand why people label you a 'bad boy' when you're anything but." John continued with a shrug. "I mean, your whole philosophy is about making the galaxy better. What's so bad about that?"

Thane chuckled, setting his tea aside in order to give John his full attention.

"Does it really bother you that much?"

"Nah," John said, "I was only curious more than anything."

"Fair enough."

Then, Thane recalled how John was staring at him a moment ago, full of desire and longing. It made Thane feel wanted in a way he had thought he was done with. It felt almost selfish to pursue him, but Thane knew that was ridiculous.

Kepral's Syndrome didn't magically stop him from living his life, despite his most recent actions suggesting otherwise. His emotions didn't automatically stop developing. John was aware of his condition. He could decide for himself what that would mean regarding whatever this was between them.

Besides, Thane wanted to do something bold for a change. He wanted to make the move.

Reaching out, he placed his hand on top of Shepard’s. John tensed slightly at first, only to relax when Thane gave his hand a gentle squeeze.

"Too much?" Thane asked.

John instantly shook his head. Turning his hand over, he laced their fingers together.

"Not enough," he countered, sounding somewhat breathless, even to Thane.

It only bolstered his confidence.

Leaning in closer, Thane lowered his voice, fixated on the man before him.

"If you'd like," he said, his voice reverberating with emotion, "I could give you a private demonstration."

He slipped his hand free and grabbed his dishes. Shepard followed his lead as they trashed their scraps and placed everything in the dishwasher to be cleaned, shuffling over to the side of the Mess. They attracted a few stares, but nothing too concerning.

John furrowed his brow at Thane and asked, "A demonstration on...?"

As he trailed off in confusion, Thane smirked. He closed the distance between them, hands upon John's hips as he pointedly met his gaze and then eyed his lips.

Shifting closer, Thane heard the slightest catch in John's breath, their lips only about an inch apart.

But the kiss wasn't going to come. Not yet, anyways.

Thane took a deep breath, delighting in how elated he felt just from their proximity alone.

"Only on what we've been talking about for the past several minutes," Thane answered. "Give me some time, and I'll show you how bad I can really be."

John’s eyes widened, pupils blown, but he didn’t back down from the challenge.

“Is that a threat or a promise?”

“Maybe it’s a little bit of both.” Easing the edge of his shirt up along his sides, Thane’s fingers skirted along the sliver of exposed skin right above the waistband of his pants. John shivered but stayed in place. “It wouldn’t be any fun if I told you, though, would it?”

“No,” John breathed. “I guess not. I mean, there has to be some anticipation, right?”

“Right.” Reluctantly, Thane started to pull away, but John didn’t let him get far before he was closing the distance between them again. “Now, if you’ll excuse me—”

“What?” John pouted. “You’re leaving already?”

“Blame yourself,” Thane told him. “I’m doing that thing that you mentioned the other day about spending more time with the crew. Garrus and I talked shop some. Now, he insists on joining me in Life Support to ‘fix’ the specs and modifications on my rifle.”

“And you’re letting him?” John asked, both incredulous and amused.

“Sure, why not?” Thane rested his hand on Shepard’s arm, stroking his thumb over the rough skin. “If he starts to do anything too outlandish, then I’ll put him in his place, simple as that. Besides, have you seen how... intense he gets while he works? Very focused. Real good with his hands, too.”

“Ah, so the truth finally comes out.” John tsked at him, feigning disappointment. His arm flexed the slightest bit as Thane started to trace his fingers along the outline of his muscles, mesmerized by the strength hidden beneath the surface. “You’re insatiable.”

Thane didn’t know whether John was making the reference in relation to himself or Garrus, not that it mattered much.

“Guilty as charged.” Thane didn’t even bother trying to hide it. There was no point to. “Although, I’m certain that similar could be said about your feelings towards our resident turian.”

“No comment.”

“Of course not,” Thane said. Eventually, he took Shepard’s hand in his own. “Regardless, you’re more than welcome to join us, you know.”

“Three’s not too big of a crowd?”

“Nope. If anything, we can always make room for one more.” Together, they walked out of the Mess hand-in-hand, ignoring the eyes that followed them. “Just try to keep up.”

Shepard chuckled.

“I’ll do my best.”

[joachimnapoleon]

May I ask you the question on a rather delicate topic (which bothers me from time to time, when I stumble upon Murat’s mentions in Poniatowski’s biographies etc.)? It is often repeated that they resembled each other in some areas, like their love for parties, dances, horses and women...

So my question will be on that, latter topic.

We all know about Caroline, but what about other women in Joachim’s life? Did he have other significant “love interests”? Was Caroline the first woman he proposed to? Did he... cheat on her???

If you know anything on the topic could you please share it with us? ))) (Because I am very curious why did prince Murat earn such a reputation ;)

Thanks in advance!

Oooh this is going to be a fun one. :)

Murat did acquire quite a reputation for womanizing. Napoleon would say on Saint Helena that Murat "needed women like he needed food." On another occasion (and for some reason Napoleon returned to the subject of Murat's sex life on numerous occasions) he exclaimed "How many mistakes did Murat not commit in order to establish his headquarters in a chateau where there were women! He needed them every day, so I readily tolerated a general having a whore with him, in order to avoid this inconvenience." (From Gourgaud's diary, 3 April 1817.) Apparently Napoleon was quite fixated on this subject because Bertrand records similar remarks from him in an undated note assumed to be from some time in 1820: "Murat supposedly needed a woman each night, but every woman was good to him, and nothing stopped him, whether she had the pox or not." (Vol. 2 of Bertrand's Cahiers de Sainte-Hélène, pg 438) Which is likely a reference to one of Murat's more well-known mistresses, Madame Ruga, a lawyer's wife, whom he met (and possibly fell in love with) in Brescia.

But I'm getting a bit ahead of myself. We'll get back to Madame Ruga.

Murat's early life is very poorly documented. Some of his early biographers allude vaguely to him womanizing while he was still a student in the seminary, and even claim that he fought a duel over a young woman before abandoning the seminary to become a soldier. Take it all with a grain of salt. The first actual evidence of Murat having an attachment to a woman, lies in his letters referencing a young woman named Mion Bastide, from his hometown. It's hard to tell how deep his feelings for her ran; he repeatedly asks his older brother for news of her--and also what her "intentions" are, and if she is flirting with the young men of La Bastide while he is away on his military duties. Perhaps they had spoken of marriage at some point while he'd been home. Anyway, he eventually got tired of her not responding to him and moved on. While a captain in the chasseurs à cheval, he apparently had an affair with a woman named Eléonore; I haven't come across any details about this, but his attachment to her was strong enough that he kept a pocketwatch with "Joachim Murat, capitaine de chasseurs à cheval: Eléonore to Joachim - do not forget her" inscribed inside; he only relinquished this watch during the 1812 campaign, as a gift to a Cossack.

During the Italian campaign, Murat had affairs with two men's wives; the aforementioned Madame Ruga, and one Madame Ghirardi (more on her shortly). Madame Ruga is described in Desaix's notes as "young, pretty; wife of a lawyer; like all the Milanese, loving pleasures, having suffered from the venom"--"the venom" (le venin) being a tactful way of saying she'd had venereal disease, which she soon passed on to Murat. "Murat is ill," Napoleon writes to Josephine on 22 July 1796; "the goddess of the ball, Mme Ruga, properly gave him une galanterie," which is another lovely old-fashioned euphemism for giving someone VD. Napoleon continues that Murat "is furious; he wants to put his adventure in the gazettes." But in typical Murat fashion, his fury burned out quickly, and he seems to have been quite infatuated with Mme Ruga--he continued the affair, which is probably what spawned Napoleon's later disgusted recollection on Saint Helena. He even temporarily neglected his duties, until Napoleon sent him a mild reprimand, to which Murat replied with indignation. "I have never had any idea which could be the least disfavorable to you," Napoleon responded drily on 21 June 1797, "but I thought that you were more necessary to your division than to your mistress in Brescia." When Murat was sent back to Italy in 1800--months after marrying Caroline--there's a very good likelihood that he resumed his affair with Mme Ruga. At any rate, they maintained contact for some time; she delivered a letter to Eugène de Beauharnais for him in 1805.

Now on to Mme Ghirardi. Apparently he also met this woman, wife of a General Lechi, in Brescia. Eventually Napoleon sent Murat to Rastadt for peace negotiations at the end of the Italian campaign. According to an article in the January 1908 Revue Napoléonienne, this is what happened next:

But Murat's conquest does not intend to let him go. Desperate to hold him back, she follows him. The beauty flees from Brescia, crosses the Alps and falls into Strasbourg; when Murat returns from Rastadt to Paris, she settles there with him and stays in the same hotel, rue des Capucins-Neufs, number 20. The adventure here is complicated by a comic novel. The husband, worthy and notable citizen of Brescia, makes a lot of noise about his misadventure and instantly demands the lost object. He brings his complaint to Milan; he comes as far as Paris to address a mournful petition to the Directory. He begs Barras and his colleagues to set themselves up as defenders of outraged morality: "Put this young woman betrayed by a vile seducer on the path of righteousness and virtue, give a mother to an innocent child; it is an honest husband who asks for this act of justice. He will be able to publish it throughout the Cisalpine and to his fellow citizens who expect it from you." (...) A singular crossover facilitated the outcome. While the husband brought his action in Paris for restitution of wife, Murat, perhaps judging that the follies of youth should not be prolonged, adopted the part of bringing the fugitive back to Brescia and resuming his military career in Italy.

Napoleon writes to Berthier to inform him that Murat is coming back to Italy to return "this heroine of Brescia," take a vacation in Rome, and then rejoin the army. And that is the last we know of Mme Ghirardi and her affair with Murat.

The short answer to your question as to whether Murat cheated on Caroline is, unfortunately, yes.

And, not to make excuses for him, but it's hard to see it turning out otherwise given that Murat was pretty set in his ways by the time of his marriage. He had long since gotten into the habit of flitting from one woman to another, and he was in his early thirties when he finally married. On top of that, his military duties made it inevitable that he would spend long periods far away from Caroline--which he did--and I just don't think he had either the self-control or the interest in remaining faithful after awhile.

(I'm just going to excerpt this next part from a post I did on Murat's relationship with Caroline awhile back, since it fits in perfectly here.) 

They endured a long period of separation very early in their marriage–the first of many, adding up to several total years spent apart between 1800 and their final parting in May of 1815. Murat was sent to take command of a force in Italy in November 1800 while Caroline was pregnant with their first child; they did not see each other again until May of the following year. There are a couple of letters within Murat’s published correspondence that hint that, though he at first attempted to remain faithful to his wife during this interim, he may have given up on the endeavor prior to their reunion. The diplomat Charles Alquier, who befriended Murat in Italy, wrote to him in April 1801, lamenting not being able to spend a few days with him in Florence, teasing that he “would like to witness your gallant successes there and hear you talk about your marital fidelity, without believing it in the slightest.” The following month, after the arrival of Caroline, Alquier teases Murat again along these lines, in a postscript that reads “It was about time that Madame Murat arrived in Florence, or your hard-pressed fidelity was about to escape you.” He had almost certainly resumed his affair with Madame Ruga during this period.

There is a rather fascinating little affair that takes place early in 1806, in which Napoleon and Murat were having a simultaneous affair with a young woman named Éleonore Denuelle de la Plaigne, who was staying with the Murats at Neuilly at the time. Napoleon abruptly put an end to his affair with her when he discovered that she was also sleeping with Murat. Éleonore gave birth to a baby boy at the end of the year, and Napoleon believed the child was probably Murat's--up until he saw the boy in person prior to embarking for Saint Helena. What's particularly fascinating to me about this episode is the fact that Caroline pretty much arranged this affair for her brother--the Bonaparte siblings were so hell-bent on getting Napoleon to divorce Josephine by this point that some of them were acting like glorified pimps, hooking Napoleon up with girls left and right in hopes that he'd eventually produce a baby and prove that he wasn't to blame for the lack of an heir. But the timing of Murat, a man of proven fertility (he had four children by now), swooping in to plant a few seeds of his own at the same time that he undoubtedly knew Napoleon was bedding Éleonore just... let's just say I have theories about this. Suffice to say I think the Murats' sexual dynamic took some interesting twists and turns, and I'm fairly convinced that they each weaponized the other's sexuality on occasion--the Éleonore affair being the first example, and Caroline's affair with Metternich later on being another. This is totally, 100% my own personal theory and there's no way in hell to prove it either way, it's just my own reading of the situation given my current understanding of the personalities involved.

Anyway. The interesting thing about Murat's alleged affairs is that so few of his mistresses have been written of by name, the ones above being the exceptions. I've seen it written that he had a brief fling with the actress Mademoiselle Georges--who also allegedly had a short affair with Napoleon--but it's another one of those things that isn't well-sourced, at least from what I've found so far. As for his mistresses in Naples, I haven't come across the name of a single one. General Guglielmo Pépé only refers to them in the most general terms, remarking that King Joachim considered it dishonorable to refuse to grant a woman a favor "even were she not his mistress," and that he was especially susceptible to the "entreaties of the ladies about the Court". He also recounts Murat telling him once that "The Queen does not much like my giving audience to ladies," to which Pépé rejoined, "I pity the Queen if she notices the gallantries of Your Majesty." But I do find it extremely interesting that there seems to be absolutely no information whatsoever on any of Murat's alleged mistresses in Naples, which makes me wonder if his reputation in that area might be a bit exaggerated and if a lot of his so-called "gallantries" were simple flirtations. He never stopped being a massive flirt or enjoying having women's eyes on him. "He was very vain," Madame Fusil, an actress who met him in 1812, wrote of him, "and he liked women to watch out for him." 

I hope I didn't forget anything! And thanks for the ask! ^_^

[giantroboticplatypusbutt218]

Diversity win! The cannibalistic man-eating alien parasite is bi! 

Venom 2 thoughts under the cut (there are many):

I liked the second movie. Similar to the first, the pacing is weird, some of the scenes and dialog were weird... a lot of things were weird, basically. But, it adds to the charm, I guess. Again, keep in mind that I liked the movie, because I’m about to start complaining a lot. 

The movie was not as gay as I was hoping for. Like, all the stuff I saw teased beforehand was there, but in a different way. Yeah, Venom and Eddie act like a strange couple... the few times that they’re actually together in the movie. Yeah, Venom says something about coming out... “of the Eddie closet”, referring to not being restricted by his rules. Yeah, Venom tells Eddie he loves him... passively, and Eddie has a brief moment of ‘wut?’ before it’s basically glossed over. Throughout the movie they’re clearly supposed to be like a married couple... but only “like”. I can’t say I didn’t expect the movie to not be as gay as people were hyping it up to be, though. People here have a tendency to take crumbs and rave about the delicious cake they had.

I feel like there really should have been more done to sell Eddie and Venom being a perfect match by the end, especially with them defeating Carnage through the Power of Love. Dan’s like, “Look, Kasady and Carnage aren’t going well together, but you guys are perfect for each other” and then Venom and Eddie are like, “Hell yeah we are” and go to fight them, despite Eddie barely managing to give Venom an apology for being a dick like an hour prior, and Venom straight up not giving Eddie an apology for beating the shit out of him before their break up. 

Speaking of their fight, that was brutal. Uh, I don’t know if it was framed to be humorous and I just didn’t catch it, but the people in the theater were laughing. Like yeah, some of their arguing was humorous because it’s funny that Venom doesn’t care about eating people but is too emotionally attached to a couple of chickens to eat them, but Venom breaking Eddie’s nose and other shit didn’t feel very funny to me. I will say, I’m glad Eddie fought back. Yeah, them fighting in general is bad(that was the whole point, that’s why they broke up) but Eddie actually managing to get Venom back made their relationship less abusive and more toxic. I think them being on more equal footing is important to the whole “they’d be a good couple if they worked out their issues” thing the movie was trying to do. 

Still, the movie didn’t resolve anything when it came to Venom and Eddie, really. Venom got to eat a couple people, but he’s going to get hungry again and Eddie is still not cool with Venom eating heads. Eddie managed to apologize to Venom for not admitting how much he helps, but it took so much effort and was under the pressure of needing to fight Carnage so it doesn’t feel genuine enough. Venom still needs to feed and Eddie still needs to appreciate Venom’s help. They’re still at the place they were during the fight but they just sorta made up long enough to kill Carnage. Eddie’s apology felt like the first step in working things out, not a grand leap that sorts out their shit enough to defeat Carnage with the Power of Love. 

I also have to mention how conflicted I feel. Like, yeah, Venom is a cannibalistic man-eating alien parasite, AKA, not the best LGBT rep to ever exists... but imagine if he didn’t love Eddie? I just can’t see Venom as being 100% straight, even if I know him being bi is very othering. It could possibly help if Eddie, the human protagonist, was clearly Bi as well... but he’s really not. Not opposing Venom’s love isn’t the same as reciprocating it and even if he does love Venom back... it’s still not a good look for your Bi character’s only same sex love interest to be a tentacle monster.

Okay... thoughts on things that aren’t Eddie and Venom...

I’m really happy Dan didn’t die and that Anne and him are getting married. By extension I’m glad Eddie didn’t get back together with Anne, which the end of the last movie seemed to be pushing would happen. I was genuinely concerned that Dan would die so Eddie could end up with Anne, but instead they took the good route and actually had Eddie and Venom have to accept that Anne moved on and her relationship with Eddie wasn’t healthy. 

I’m also really happy that Dan Did A Thing during the climax. He did Two Things, actually. He may hate dealing with alien nonsense but he was there to help in the end, just like how Anne was in the first movie. Sadly, unlike the first movie, Anne didn’t Do A Thing during the climax. No... she was a damsel in distress. But, you know, a woman kidnapped her so it actually wasn’t sexist, right? (That’s sarcasm, btw.) 

Speaking of sexism... uh... I’ve never seen so many women fridged in such a short time before. Kasady killed both is mom and grandma which sent him to the mental institution, and Eddie’s mom died during childbirth which was used to spur Venom into attacking Kasady. While it wouldn’t be fridging because it didn’t motivate characters through trauma, the first movie also killed two female characters, Maria and Skirth. Of the eight notable female characters we’ve seen/heard of, only two are still alive by the end of the second movie. Three even died before the first movie. Compare to notable male characters, which there are way more of, and only four died, all of whom were villains. I’m just saying. 

On a lighter note, I liked a lot of the stuff with Kasady and Shriek. They were fun and their love was genuinely sweet, even while they were brutally slaughtering innocent people. 

That was short, but back to complaining... I really feel bad for Shriek. It was probably the point but she really didn’t deserve the crap she got as a kid. Neither did Kasady but he needed some serious intervention and not just... straight up abuse. Meanwhile, correct me if I’m forgetting something, but I don’t think Shriek was actively antagonistic to anybody. Like until she was being dragged away from Kasady she wasn’t the one to actually strike(shriek?) first. It really feels like her villain origin story wouldn’t be an origin story if fictional mental healthcare wasn’t so absolutely dogshit and abusive. By the way, add Venom 2 onto the pile of movies that give me a fear of being sent to a mental hospital because writers decided that “crazy” people are pique horror and so too would be the place they’re sent to. 

It’s taken me a million years to actually talk about Carnage because he really did not get any time to be an actual character. Hardly anything stood out about him. At least with Riot there was a hint of deceitfulness going on with him making Drake think they were a team when really he was just using him to get into space, but Carnage had nothing interesting going on besides letting Shriek live the first time she accidentally hurt him. Besides being pretty strong and Venom’s “child”, he’s got practically nothing going for him. 

Look I know I had barely anything nice to say but I swear I did enjoy this movie. I’d say I liked it so much that the bad stuff stood out more because it interrupted my enjoyment... maybe. I don’t know. 

[stina-is-a-punk-rocker]

'birds of prey': a cinematic masterpiece

It's been a little over a year since Birds of Prey came out, a couple of months since I watched in on a whim, and I'm still not over this film.

Too many men people get pressed whenever you say you like this movie. "It's objectively bad," they say. "It's campy. It's too divergent from the canon. It's SJW propaganda."

Who gives a fuck, Richard? Who gives a single flying fuck?

I'll preface this by saying, my knowledge of the DCU is flimsy, at best. I've watched a couple of movies. My mum used to watch Smallville. I watched the pilot episode of Gotham. And I know enough about it to get the few references sprinkled in other media. But I draw a complete blank when it comes to the comics. So the canon of the comics had no effect on my enjoyment of the movie. Which I did. A lot.

I walked in blind when I watched Birds of Prey for the first time. I was unaware of the controversy surrounding it, and the only reason I even gave it the time of day was because I was bored.

I watched Suicide Squad circa 2016, and positively abhorred it- the only good thing about it was the soundtrack (the best songs are always wasted on the worst movies. Case in point: Twilight). And the not-so-casual misogyny was just... Yikes.

And then, we got Birds of Prey.

Since watching the film, I did a bit of research (see: Googling 'birds of prey movie reviews' and clicking on the first few results that popped up). The response was mixed- which honestly came as a surprise, since I thought it was great, and mine is the only opinion that holds weight.

I've read and watched a lot of those reviews. I watched the CinemaSins video. I watched the CinemaWins video, because CinemaSins has taken a major nosedive since I first started watching them.

Were all the negative reviews not-so-subtly indicative of the (predominantly male) critics' misogyny? I dunno; how did they talk about similar male-centered action films? I don't think it's fair to scream, "SEXIST!" just because someone didn't like the movie. Critics hated Venom (which was admittedly pretty meh. I still enjoyed it, though), but it was still pretty well-received by viewers.

I saw one review say that Birds of Prey was 'for the birds'... I'll let you unpack that yourself.

And yet, though I try to keep an open mind, I find it unfathomable how anyone can dislike Birds of Prey.

One of my favorite parts about the movie was the female gaze present throughout its entirety. I've seen people bring up the obvious change in Harley's costume- which I'm a bit iffy about, to be honest. Don't get me wrong- I love her choppy bangs and fun pigtails and the whole fluffy top thing she's got going on, but a whole lot of the critique towards her getup in Suicide Squad comes off a tad too slut-shamey (that isn't a word? Well, it is now).

Her outfit wasn't the issue. It's how she was framed.

In Suicide Squad, we get loads of shots of men leering at Harley, and a little too much emphasis on her breasts and arse in almost every scene she's in. As opposed to Birds of Prey, where Harley's still sexy (I'm seriously concerned for the straight men who found Harley unattractive in this film... You good, Pete?), but we focus on her face instead.

That part where Harley gives Canary a hair tie in the middle of a fight scene? Brilliant.

The characters have depth (a lot of reviews disagree with me. Well, what do I know? I am but a lowly STEM student). One of my favorites was Canary (and not just because I found her insanely attractive)- I love, love, love her arc in the film.

I've seen people complain that the villain didn't really get all villainy until towards the end of the film; which, if Sionis had to put on the mask for you to finally see him as the bad guy, then you've clearly missed most of the film. He's literally introduced while he's peeling the skin off of someone's face. Not to mention that one particular scene at the club- I won't go into too much detail, because it could be triggering to a lot of people- but it chilled me to the bone.

Following up with the villains: "All the men are bad guys," they say. "The whole film is feminist propaganda," they say.

And me posting this on International Women's Day is a bit on-the-nose, I'll admit, but this particular critique bothers me. Because those men aren't unrealistic. They aren't caricatures of men in the real world. We all know men just like them. A lot of them hit a little too close to home for me.

I've seen people complain that women touting the film as feminist turned them off from it- which, I dunno about you, but seems problematic to me on so many levels. Sure, not everything has to have a political agenda, but it's hardly like Harley & Co. scream, "GIRL POWER!" every three minutes.

(Also: it's funny how way more people get mad about poorly executed feminism than actual issues a lot of women in the world face, but that's a topic for another day.)

The diversity was just- wow. Getting not only one but FOUR Asian characters with lines? Hollywood, am I dreaming? The LGBTQ+ representation (not going into Sionis and Zsasz being queer coded)? Holy shit, yes! Maybe I'm getting too excited about this- Hollywood's a lot kinder to us minorities as of late- but it still fills me with joy whenever I see people like me onscreen.

Another complaint that springs up with regards to Birds of Prey is the skewed order in which Harley narrates the events. Which is kind of one of her defining traits- she's an unreliable narrator. And she makes it pretty obvious (this video explains it better than I can). The cartooned beginning was engaging, as corny as some of it was (loved the style, too).

The fight scenes were thrilling to watch. Not a single minute passed by where I was bored (my eyes usually glaze over during prolonged action scenes in films, which did not happen in this case). The comedy was well-timed and bold; the cartoonishness added to its charm.

And this is probably not even significant, but I adored the color scheme. I loved the bright, shocking colors; the emphasis on the pinks, reds and blacks.

And, finally, how could I go without mentioning the soundtrack? It was divine- I listen to the Birds of Prey album on Spotify almost every day; Lonely Gun and Experiment On Me are among my most-played songs, and the rest of the music is just as delightful.

In conclusion: go watch Birds of Prey if you haven't already. It's the closest thing to a spiritual experience I had last year.