#this commentator talking about collateral damage what | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

strawberrystepmom · 1 year ago

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izuku x f!reader. enemies to lovers au, workshopped with @izvmimi <33333 her follow up part can be found here. wc 3.6k.

With an exasperated sigh, Izuku points the remote that looks comically small in his hand toward the flat screen TV screwed into his office wall to turn the volume up the moment you come on screen.

“This week, yet another family was displaced by the inaction of heroes. When the focus shifted from merely catching villains rather than protecting the public…”

Your voice drifts into a blur, the man choosing to focus on your mouth and how it’s moving rather than what you’re saying. Plush and soft, topped with camera ready shimmering gloss. Your eyes are wide and doe like, your cheeks round and trustworthy. You’re the picture of empathy, pretty and polished, immaculate in every way.

It certainly isn’t hard to imagine why VOHSV, Victims of Hero Supported Violence, picked you as their spokesperson. Who else could manage this busy talk show circuit with expert precision? Watching you play the crowd and hosts’ emotions like a violin makes him roll his eyes but he can’t deny you are damn good.

Your message is infuriating to him and his colleagues but at least you look like heaven sent while spreading it. It’s probably why everything you say spreads like wildfire across the social media apps he has open on his unlocked phone that rests on his desk.

He’s listened to your spiel enough times that he can already fill in the blanks of what you’re saying but he picks up the remote and turns the volume up an additional click to be certain you haven’t deviated from your usual points. Costly property damage, displacement, lack of available care to those affected by the trauma of villain attacks, blah, blah, blah.

The interviewer appears on screen as the camera pans, nodding at the last comment you made that Izuku didn’t care to actually listen to.

“And how does your organization suggest the Commission begin combating these issues?”

The camera is quick to pan back to you with your perfect smile, teeth striking and bright and dazzling. The man watching from his oversized office and overstuffed chair clenches his fist watching you, uncertain if it’s annoyance or desire that fills his chest, but he doesn’t look away despite the flashing red light on his desk phone telling him he’s being paged by his assistant.

“I am personally calling upon the top heroes to do better.” Your smile doesn’t waver and the camera zooms in on your head and shoulders, allowing your next impassioned plea to land directly where you intend it to. “Deku, you claim you care, yet you are responsible for the most costly property damage caused by a hero in Japanese history. How do you explain that with that big smile plastered on your face?”

Bold of you to be taunting the man chuckling humorlessly from his desk about plastered on smiles with a high definition flat screen sized Cheshire grin of your own on your face but he appreciates the audacity.

“Be a hero instead of just talking about being one.”

Perhaps if your life’s path were different you’d be a hero just like him or maybe he’d even be you, full of righteous anger toward those who only wish to help no matter the means. Or collateral.

Without thinking, Izuku pulls his phone off of the top of his desk and his jaw slackens when he presses the little pen in the corner of the current most popular app in the app store. The speed of his thumbs is almost impressive, big hands on a little phone screen won’t stop the number one hero, and he smirks when his phone pings letting him know his post has gone live.

Deku (@fight4smiles)

Name the time and place, VOHSV. I’ll gladly drop a check by to cover some of the damage you allege I’ve been doing.

He gets to see your reaction in real time, the camera panning from you to the interviewer who grins excitedly, pressing on their in ear microphone and back. The man chuckles to himself, swinging back and forth in his chair, lips curved into a smirk.

“It appears the current number one hero has responded to your challenge. He’s willing to meet.”

Your smile droops but you’re quick to put it back in place, brows raised and head nodding wildly. The adversarial relationship between the two of you is nothing new, Deku having spent the better part of this entire year ducking and dodging your direct invitations to speak with the VOHSV.

He watches you smack your lips together and purse them, primly placing your hands in your lap and laughter comes easily. It’s no big deal to him to cut a check to help put some buildings back together, the many zeros on the end of his bank balance just one of the many perks of being at the top but it has never been about that for him.

Deep down, he knows he’ll never change your mind about your crusade but he would love to shut you up at least for a little while.

“How brave of him to finally step up. I will be reaching out to him soon with details.”

The red light on Izuku’s desk phone continues to blink wildly and just as he leans forward to answer it, his office door opens and his assistant stares at him with disbelief with the current number two Dynamight hot on their heels, pulling his mask off of his head and gently shoving them out of the way.

The assistant scurries back to their position outside of Deku’s office as quickly as possible, allowing the men privacy.

“Why did you do that?”

Izuku looks down at his cell phone and tosses it on his desk with a relaxed shrug. He catches a glance at your pretty face one last time before shutting the TV off, tossing the remote aside and turning his attention toward Katsuki with his arms folded over his chest.

“You know that you’re giving them what they want, right? Giving these shitheads attention is just going to create more of ‘em.”

More of them - outspoken victims’ rights activists. VOHSV is simply one of many groups that have cropped up over the last several years as hero academies have continued to churn out bigger and better heroes with every graduating class. It has been a decade since Izuku and Katsuki graduated and the classes after them have only become stronger, a source of pride for both of the men, given their hefty donations to their alma mater.

Sure the battles have become bigger, spectacles to be adapted into films and documentaries later, but isn’t that what being a hero is all about? What’s left behind after you save the day, no matter who may be affected?

The heroes of today are simply doing what they’ve been taught to do and that’s save the day no matter the cost. It’s hard to hold it against them when it’s systemic and historically that has been the main reason why most advocacy groups have fallen apart but not the VOHSV. They are succeeding because they have you, coiffed to perfection and ready to take anyone you can to task, including the devilishly handsome and arrogant man topping the hero charts.

Izuku sighs, his phone buzzing persistently on the desk in front of him. It’s certainly his agent or his PR team or someone eager to scold him for what he’s done so he ignores it, sliding the little piece of metal aside.

“I’d care more if their points were valid but we both know they aren’t. I’ll cut a check, flash a smile, and hopefully make their mouthpiece look silly enough she’ll stop doing press circuits. It seems like a winning situation to me.”

Bakugou snorts, unimpressed with the answer.

“What if this backfires and you look stupid?”

Izuku’s phone continues to buzz and he opens his desk drawer, sliding the device inside rather than deal with the issue at hand. He’ll comfort everyone later, what matters the most to him right now is when you’ll be brave enough to reach out to show him your hand. Right now, he has you backed into a corner and he simply wants to watch you make your way out of it, smug that he’s the one who has you pinned there.

“Impossible. People don’t take these organizations seriously enough for me to look stupid.”

Katsuki snorts, leaning against the door frame rather than fully entering the office. He was asked to stop by earlier this week, the two of them supposed to be ironing out details to appear at a hospital opening in another part of the city, but the task has clearly been put aside for a petty online feud headed by the Beacon of Hope himself.

“I think you’re already stupid.”

Izuku offers a curt smile and nods at his friend.

“I’ll take that into consideration along with all of your other opinions, don’t worry.”

Any further argument between the two is cut short when Deku’s assistant bursts back onto the scene, peeking around the door frame.

“Uh…the VOHSV spokesperson is on the phone for you, Mr. Midoriya.”

Izuku laughs and raises his brows, shifting forward in his chair and pressing the flashing line one button indicating a call is waiting. He presses his thick finger to his lips to encourage Bakugou and his assistant to be quiet and he hits the speaker button immediately.

“I’ll admit, I wasn’t expecting to hear from you so soon.”

It takes all of you not to toss your phone across the room at the sound of his voice through your speaker. You’re in the back of a chauffeured vehicle, phone pressed to your ear so hard you swear that your cheek and head are going to hurt later, nursing a bottle of water in your free hand.

You weren’t expecting to hear from him so soon, either.

“I figured since you are so eager and have so much to say we may as well get this over with. We have an event on Friday night and you will be forwarded the details on location and attire and we are anticipating your donation of over five million yen. It will help many who have been harmed due to your recklessness.”

The blood pulsing in his ears makes the room seem smaller, the walls caving in on him with your words. You’re so adversarial toward him, so eager to bite and nip and bat with your claws out, and he wants to know why. What happened to make you distrust people like him so much?

Remembering he’s the one who has you backed into a corner, he shifts in his chair and tents his fingers on the desk in front of him.

“I’ll have your check, don’t worry. I won’t let you look silly in front of the fourteen VOHSV supporters you have to impress.”

You scoff incredulously. There is something seriously wrong with this man, his arrogance blinding his common sense. Your fingers ache where they grip into the metal sides of your phone and the driver keeps shifting his gaze from the road to the mirror to see your face twist into varying degrees of frustration and anger. Taking a deep breath, you let your lips curve into a smile and narrow your eyes.

Focus. You have him where you want him.

“I didn’t realize this conversation was meant for stooping to petty insults but I can’t say I’m shocked. It’s hardly a surprise you refuse to take anyone else’s safety given your own personal record of injured civilians while you’re handling villain attacks.”

Bakugou’s jaw drops and Izuku leans forward to lift the phone from its cradle, pressing the button to turn it off speaker at near record speed. It takes all of his self control to keep from snapping the cord in two knowing it would effectively end the call and thus his opportunity to antagonize you further.

“Well, you aren’t the only one who has done their homework. We pulled a profile on you months ago and know your entire background. You have no relevant experience that would allow you to criticize heroes the way that you do. Put yourself in our shoes.”

You snort from the other end of the phone, impressed by how bad he is at lying. Arrogance has truly won out over any logic this man may have in his entire body and you suck your teeth, jaw slackening because you have truly won this round.

“See, Deku, here’s the thing. If you were telling the truth about anything you just said then you would already know that I am a graduate of an international hero academy. I have been where you are, or at least wanted to be, but then I came to my senses. I used to hope you’d be able to do the same but it appears my faith was misplaced.”

Now Izuku’s jaw drops, his emerald eyes darting across the room as though the words he needs will magically spring forth from the walls. Sadly, nothing happens and he sits there with his mouth agape dumbly.

“I look forward to seeing you on Friday. Don’t forget that check.”

You pull the phone from your ear and end the call, laughing to yourself knowing that you left this cocky asshole speechless. He mimics your motion in his own office, pulling his desk phone from his ear and placing it back where it belongs. As badly as he wants to be frustrated by the loss to you, he’s impressed by how easily you hit back without an ounce of fear or worry of what you’re getting yourself into.

A woman as beautiful as she is brave and irritating.

He feels his cock stiffen slightly in his sweatpants the longer he thinks about it and frowns, immediately thinking of exploding buildings and grandmas to distance himself from the fact he’s into how eagerly you spar with him.

His assistant and Bakugou both stare at him, his friend laughing and turning on his heel to leave, waving dismissively.

“Like I said Deku, you’re already stupid. Have fun on Friday.”

Izuku’s assistant follows suit and closes the door behind them, giving him time to lick his wounds.

The rest of the week continues like his weeks usually do. He’s called four times to handle villain attacks, each one ending a little less destructive than the last, and Thursday is when he sees you on TV again, smiling brightly on a different talk show in the same time slot you were in on Monday.

He keeps the TV muted, uninterested in what you have to say about the people he saved this week, but he watches your mouth move silently. His eyes narrow every time your tongue darts out, the tip of it wetting your bottom lip and his freckled cheeks heat when your lips twist into that winning smile.

That damned smile.

This man has made bringing smiles to faces his entire personality since the day he zipped up his prototype suit years ago, vowing on that day to work as hard as he could no matter how bleak things seemed. It worked and it’s what he’s known for, joy and hope and safety the things he strives for the most.

Watching you smile while calling his character into question makes him simultaneously furious and hard again and he has to cross his legs and imagine those same exploding buildings when you press your lips together on the screen in front of him.

A knock on the office door captures his attention and his assistant opens the door, clipboard in hand.

“You have a tux fitting for tomorrow.”

Reaching for the remote he turns his TV off and rises with a nod. Everyone knows you have to look your very best for your biggest battles and he has no intention of showing up to meet you face to face looking like anything less than a magazine cover.

He just never imagined you’d do the same yet here you stand, 8 pm on Friday night, draped in dazzling gold silk that hugs every inch of your body. You’re taller than he expected, one long leg jutting from the slit in your dress and elegant neck draped in simple jewelry.

You’re beautiful in a way that TV did little to capture and the arrogant man finds himself speechless when you hold out your hand in his direction, grinning at him. He searches for hidden fangs and finds none, just perfect pretty teeth.

“I wanted to apologize for earlier this week, this organization is my passion and it gets the best of me sometimes.”

Your words catch him off guard so he just nods and shakes your hand. If you notice his sweaty palm you keep it to yourself and he internally chides himself for his nerves. He is the fucking number one hero, his face is plastered on every single corner of Japan, and he needs to remember that.

“Hey, we all have bad days. I’m just glad to be here to shed some light on a small cause.”

Your smile dims and his widens, your palm quickly leaving his. Heat simmers in your core and you feel disgusted by your own desire. Sure, he’s one of the most attractive men you’ve ever seen - all big muscles that his tuxedo does little to hide and pretty green waves falling over his face but he’s also the biggest asshole you’ve had the unfortunate luck of meeting.

Drawing your hands close to your body, you fight the urge to petulantly fold your arms over your chest, and he digs in his pocket to produce the check he promised. He holds it out in your direction and you pluck it from his hand, eyes widening when you notice that the amount written on the check is far larger than the five million yen previously discussed.

“Doubled your donation. Very kind of you, Deku.”

He smirks and you feel warm again, cheeks heating in perfect time with your core. Perhaps it’s the glass of champagne you downed an hour ago to calm your nerves or the low lighting of the event space but he is undeniably attractive and you are undeniably attracted to him.

A terrible realization to come to while face to face with a man you called a liar and a fraud four short days ago.

Izuku enters your space and crowds around you, dipping his head low enough that his mouth is just above your ear. He’s bigger than you expected, an entire head taller than you, and you feel overwhelmed by the scent of his cologne and the way he carries himself. He has the demeanor of a man who knows he’s the shit and as much as it aggravates you, it thrills you too, the same heat lashing through your stomach with every flutter of his long lashes.

“Call me an optimist but I think we can still salvage a friendship out of this situation.”

You laugh, shaking your head and clutching the check he provided to your chest.

“There’s an after party starting soon if you don’t have more buildings to go destroy. I’m sure the rest of the VOHSV team would love to thank you personally for your generous donation.”

The hero presses his lips together and raises his brow, blazing green eyes meeting yours. The tension between the two of you is so thick that even the most unaware onlooker would feel it but the room is relatively empty and you’re grateful for it.

“Maybe I only want one person to thank me for my donation.”

Raising a brow to match his, you purse your lips and quickly consider your options. You could give in to the undeniable attraction, a sordid affair with a man you seek to change as part of your life’s work couldn’t possibly be good for optics if you were to be exposed. You could walk away and publicly embarrass him but that doesn’t sound like fun either so you do what you do best - think on your feet and hide your true intentions behind big doe eyes and a winning smile.

“There’s a powder room down that hall, last door on the right,” you motion to a corridor to your left and his eyes follow your movements. “Be there in ten minutes.”

Izuku nods, moving enough to allow you to slip past him and he watches the way your dress shifts across your ass with each step you take away from him. He isn’t going to bother to be polite anymore knowing what is coming next, his mouth watering at the mere thought of watching that pretty little dress drop to the ground below both of your feet while he uncovers the treasure beneath it.

His half hard cock presses against the zipper of his tuxedo pants and he doesn’t bother to adjust himself, taking a shortcut that keeps him against the wall and away from prying eyes to the hallway you instructed him to follow. Each step makes his cock throb and he groans when he reaches for the door handle, wondering what he’ll find when he opens it.

Twisting the handle, he chuckles humorlessly when his eyes fall upon an empty powder room. A large mirror framed by lights with a small sink and counter in front of it are all he finds and he shakes his head, eyes falling upon a folded piece of paper sitting on the counter.

Flicking the paper open with his thumb and index finger, he frowns at the words he reads first.

Better luck next time.

Followed by your name signed in delicate penmanship he traces the tip of his thumb over. The ink is still wet and it smears, his thumb marked with black. His eyes trail further down the note and spot your number below your name, the ink the digits were written in still shining.

At least you leaving your number tells him there will certainly be a next time.

#deku x reader #izuku midoriya x reader #izuku x reader #kendall writes

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jerzwriter · 2 months ago

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Hey guys! It's been busy, and I have not been feeling good about writing much lately, but I have a few Smuttember requests I wanted to get done. This is the first one, based on this ask, jealousy for Ethan x Kaycee. Thanks for the ask, Nonny. I hope you enjoy it.

Book: Open Heart (Book 2 Timeline) Pairing: Ethan Ramsey x Kaycee MacClennan (F!MC), Tobias Carrick, Clarissa Stanton (F!OC) Rating: Mature Words: 2,500 ish Summary: Everyone is crazy about the new addition to the team. Dr. Clarissa Stanton is a rising star in the medical community, and Edenbrook is lucky to have her. She seems to warm up to everyone, well... almost everyone... and there is someone she's warming up to a little too much, and it's not sitting well with Kaycee. See how it all works out.

A/N: Participating in @choicesprompts Smuttember. #27 Jealousy, but also #17, Reclaiming, too. I didn't have much time to edit - so forgive errors. :)

“Dr. Stanton, please report to the Diagnostic Team office. Dr. Stanton, Diagnostic Team office.”

It was innocent enough. Just one of the dozens of announcements heard over the PA system at Edenbrook Hospital on any given day. It shouldn’t have caused any alarm, but these days, just the mention of Dr. Stanton’s name made Kaycee’s blood turn cold. She clenched the pencil in her hand so tightly that it snapped in half, taking her and a nurse standing nearby by surprise.

“Dr. MacClennan,” the nurse smiled. “What did that pencil ever do to you?”

Kaycee replied with a pleasant smile, attributing the pencil assault to a lack of sleep and voluminous quantities of caffeine, but she knew that wasn't the truth. The innocent pencil was collateral damage in the cold war taking place between her and Dr. Clarissa Stanton, a war Kaycee was growing tired of.

Clarissa was a new fellow at Edenbrook. She had come to them from “the most distinguished residency program in the U.S.,” as Ethan reminded everyone. Daily. “It was quite the coup for us to land her,” he had told the diagnostic team triumphantly as Tobias made an off-color comment about 'landing.' Kaycee had heard of her; of course, her research had been the talk of the medical community for the past couple of years, and she was excited to have the opportunity to work together. Still, Tobias’s comment piqued her interest, so she quickly Googled her name.

Kaycee raised a brow when she saw the image load on her phone. Clarissa was striking – a face that looked like the girl next door if the girl next door had been a teenage model. Long, light brown hair and big, brown eyes that managed to be innocent and sultry at the same time. Her LinkedIn photo showed her propped up on a desk, her legs crossed and wholly swallowed up by her lab coat. There wasn’t a skirt in sight.

She would definitely have to warn her new colleague about Tobias, but none of this mattered. What mattered was Dr. Stanton’s research on off-label use of psychotropic medications, which had led to breakthroughs in more conditions than Kaycee could recall. What mattered was the impassioned testimony she had made before Congress recently, which landed her in the news cycle for weeks on end. She was a rising star... a once-in-a-generation talent. And because God clearly played favorites, of course, she was beautiful too.

Later that day, Kaycee had lunch with Tobias, and she warned her friend to keep things professional and don’t dare scare her away. Little did Kaycee know that the beautiful newcomer was one of the few women on the planet who were immune to the charms of one Dr. Carrick. No, Clarissa had made it clear from day one that she had her sights set on someone else.

She had a friendly, approachable demeanor, bordering on flirtatious, and she assimilated into both the team and the hospital with ease. Her well-earned air of confidence sometimes bordered on arrogance, but she was charming enough that no one seemed to care. Clarissa was impressive, and everyone was smitten. She seemed happy to be a friend to all, with one exception. Kaycee.

It wasn’t for Kaycee’s lack of trying. In fact, she had to stop herself from fangirling when the new doctor first arrived. But while Clarissa ate up attention from others, when it came to Kaycee, she seemed annoyed and did her best to distance herself.

When Kaycee pointed this out, even to her best friends, they insisted Kaycee was imagining things as they, too, were taken in. She resigned herself to being the sole outsider in the Dr. Stanton fan society, but she could still learn from her, and they could still work together. There was no way Kaycee wouldn’t be supportive of another up-and-coming woman in the medical field; they faced enough and needed to stick together. But there was one thing Kaycee couldn’t continue to ignore.

“There she is!” The normally curmudgeonly Dr. Ramsey beamed when Clarissa appeared for the team’s morning meeting. “And what brilliant theories are you going to grace us with today, Dr. Stanton?”

Kaycee snapped another pencil in half under the desk. Tobias, the only one who noticed, raised a brow. Leaning in close, he whispered, “Pencils are no longer safe in your presence, MacClennan. What gives?”

She ignored him, but she couldn’t ignore the way Clarissa hovered close to Ethan throughout their rounds- again - today. Or the way she asked questions and made comments that felt just a little too… familiar. She watched as Clarissa’s hand lingered on Ethan’s shoulder just a little longer than it should and bit her lip when she erupted in laughter every time Ethan cracked a joke... bad jokes.

Still, Kaycee kept it together. She was a professional, after all, and she had nothing to worry about. Her relationship with Ethan was solid, even if their relationship was a secret to ninety percent of the planet. Her residency was ending in just months, he reminded her constantly, and they’d be Instagram official very soon. But right now, a few months felt like decades away.

That day turned out to be particularly grueling. Kaycee had been assigned to work in oncology with a miserable attending who did everything they could to undermine her at every step of the way. If that weren't enough, she learned the case she had been working on for the past week, the one she knew she was close to breaking, was miraculously solved by none other than Ethan and Clarissa by way of two doctors discussing it in the third-floor lounge where she had gone for a moment of refuge.

“You should have seen them working together,” one doctor said. “It was seamless – like they could read each other’s minds.”

The second doctor concurred. “They have the makings of a medical power couple for sure. Edenbrook is already on the map, but they could make it the favored destination.”

Kaycee swallowed hard. That stung... a lot.

She decided to check in on one more patient before she left for the day. Mrs. Withers was just the ray of sunshine Kaycee needed right now, always bright and cheerful no matter what was taking place. Kaycee needed some of that magic to lift her spirits, and it worked... temporarily. She was about to step out of Mrs. Wither’s room when she heard their voices in the hall.

“I still can’t believe we solved the Dorrant case,” Ethan all but sang. “I was beginning to think that would be one of our rare dead ends.”

No matter that I told him I was close to solving it last night, Kaycee thought as her jaw tightened.

“There are no dead ends, Ethan,” Clarissa ensured. “Only angles that haven’t been examined. We're clever enough to find those angles; don't ever doubt it!"

“I’ve got to admit, I love your attitude.”

Kaycee shuddered; she could hear the smile in his voice, and she was about to break that case!

“Hey, we’re both leaving work,” Clarissa started. “What do you say we go grab a drink to discuss... future opportunities.”

Ethan didn't so much as hesitate before accepting the offer, and when Kaycee stepped out of the patient’s room she watched them step into the elevator together. It felt like a punch in the gut. She didn’t like when that little green monster clawed at her, but right he was drawing blood. She felt invisible, she felt lost, and the one person who could make her feel better was part of the reason why, and now, he was out with Clarissa.

Kaycee didn't go home. Instead, she took advantage of having the key to Ethan's penthouse, and that's where she waited. When Ethan returned to his apartment later that night, Kaycee was there – wearing a hole in his carpet as she paced back and forth. He walked in and glanced at the clock, then Kaycee. He knew something was amiss.

“Kaycee,” he droned, dropping his keys onto the marble counter with a clang. “I didn’t expect you to be here tonight.”

“Oh, I’m sure you didn’t,” she spat, her firey eyes laced with a touch of pain. “I saw you leave the hospital with Clarissa. You two looked really... close.”

Ethan sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose. “Kaycee, you know it isn't like that. We were just sharing a drink to discuss work. That’s all.”

But his answer did not suffice. She crossed her arms defensively before her chest, and her brows knitted together as she stood before him in the kitchen.

“Do you not see the way she looks at you? Or how she hangs on your every word? And she’s not like that with anyone else, Ethan, only with you!”

Ethan took a step closer. “Kaycee, Clarissa is a colleague. You have nothing to be worried about.”

“Don’t I?” she asked, disappointed with the level of desperation in her voice. “I was just a colleague once. Harper was once your colleague... don’t tell me she’s just your colleague and expect it to provide any comfort!” Her anxiety was palpable as her eyes welled up with tears. “Ethan, I know it takes more than a pretty face to turn your head. But Clarissa isn’t just beautiful; she’s brilliant. She’s a rising star! Just the thing to make a sapiosexual like you take note!”

“Sapiosexual?” he chuckled.

“Don’t act like you’re unfamiliar with the term! You don’t get it, Ethan! She’s out there being all flirtatious with you, and I’m forced to keep our relationship hidden in the shadows like it's a dirty secret! Every time I see you two together, it feels like I’m the one who’s invisible. Like I'm the one who can be replaced!"

His eyes softened when he saw the extent of Kaycee’s pain, and he cupped her face in his hands, forcing her to look at him. “No one will ever replace you, Kaycee. No one. You’re it for me.” His voice was low, commanding, and sent shivers down her spine.

She bit her lip, too proud to allow the tears pooling in her eyes to fall. She took a cleansing breath and summoned her courage. “Then why do I feel like I’m fighting for you?”

His hand encircled her wrist, gripping it just tight enough to keep her from pulling away. “You feel that way because you’ve been bottling this up inside instead of coming to me. You haven’t given me a chance to remind you of what we are.” He leaned down, his lips brushing hers. “Let me remind you, Kaycee,” he whispered. “Let me remind you of who we are.”

Kaycee’s breath hitched; resistance was futile as he brought his lips back to hers, kissing her slowly, deliberately, as if she were the only other person alive. All the jealousy, frustration, and angst that had been consuming her melted away with that kiss, the heat between them igniting more with every passing second. He touched her with a wanton hunger that made her knees buckle. She leaned back against the kitchen counter so she wouldn’t fall.

This pleased Ethan, who was taking her in with a devilish grin; his hands began to roam over her body. Gripping her hips and pulling her against him, he lifted her onto the counter as she moaned softly, the frustration of the day unraveling as his hands claimed her and his lips traced down her neck to the sensitive skin of her chest. He unbuttoned her blouse.

“You think I want anyone else?” Ethan growled, his breath hot against her. “I’m yours, Kaycee. Every inch of me.”

Her hands fisted in his shirt, and she pulled him close, her body arching into his as she kissed him, biting his lip, relishing the control he offered her. He let out a low, primal groan as she worked her magic, taking back what was rightfully hers.

She hopped off the counter and led him to the living room, pushing him back on the couch. He didn’t fight her; this was just what he wanted. She shoved him into the cushions, straddling him in one swift movement, her blonde locks falling all around them. The air between them sizzled with a raw, palpable heat, and his heart nearly stopped when she lowered her hand and slipped her panties to the side. His hands gripped her thighs, grounding himself in the reality, the intensity of being inside the woman he loved. He swore all the air had escaped him. He was home.

“Do you think Clarissa could ever do this to you?” Kaycee whispered breathlessly in his ear, her hips grinding into him in a way that made him forget his own name.

“Not a fucking chance,” he rasped, pulling her closer, his lips devouring hers in a breathless kiss.

She kissed back harder, pouring proudly taking back all that belonged to her. She pressed her body against his as if to remind him she was the only one who could have him like this. His hands roamed up her back, their delicate touch sending chills down her spine. He pulled her closer to him as his hips lurched up to meet her. He needed her in every possible way; she was the only one who could set him on fire like this.

“Say it,” she demanded, her breath ragged, her lips swollen from his kisses. “Say it!”

“You’re mine, Kaycee,” he growled, his voice rough and heavy with desire. “You’re mine, and I’m yours... no one else matters.”

A satisfied smile spread on her lips, and his hands cupped her breasts as she threw her head back triumphantly. Heart, mind, and soul satiated; her body quivered around him, and sounds of pleasure filled the air as she found her release. Ethan’s movements became more erratic as he moved inside her; his eyes screwed closed to shut out the world, focusing solely on how they were joined, how he loved her, needed her, and wanted her more than anything he had ever known. He let out a cry as he reached his peak – his mind going blank as he emptied deep inside her. They collapsed together, silent, gasping softly as they tried to catch their breath, lost in the rapture they found themselves in.

There was no longer any doubt between them. He reached up and pushed a lock of hair behind her ear, his finger slowly caressing the curve of Kaycee’s precious face.

“Feeling any better,” he smiled.

“Much,” she grinned, nuzzling under his arm. “I love you, Ethan.”

“I love you, too.”

Sleep came quickly after, as they were lost in a world of their own creation.

~~~~

The following morning, Tobias was in the Diagnostic Team office when Clarissa came barreling in, two steaming hot cups of coffee in her hands.

“For me,” he smiled playfully. “You shouldn’t have.”

“Good," she grinned. "Because I didn’t." She placed one cup in front of Ethan's seat.

"Just for him?" Tobias questioned.

Clarissa shrugged nonchalantly. "It's to celebrate our win yesterday."

“With Starbucks?” he chuckled, raising his own cup of coffee to his lips. “If you’re trying to impress Ethan, that ain’t gonna do it.”

“What do you mean?” She asked, just as Kaycee stepped into the room, beaming as she placed a cup from Derry Roasters right next to Clarissa's offering.

“Tobias is right,” Kaycee smiled. “You have much to learn.”

Ethan entered the office and took in the scene. “I’m glad to see you’re already pouring over the documents for our next case,” he said sarcastically. “The initiative is heartwarming."

His face softened a bit when he saw Kaycee, who offered a clandestine wink. “Sorry, boss,” she grinned. “We were just discussing something far more important,” she motioned to his place at the table. “Like, what’s your favorite coffee.”

Ethan looked at the two cups, trying to stay diplomatic. "Let's just say I prefer local goodness over corporate greed."

"Damn!" Clarissa mock frowned. "I guess I owe you a cup from Derry's."

"Another time," Ethan smiled, taking a long sip from the cup as Tobias slid the Starbucks his way.

"I'm not as particular," Tobias winked.

They reviewed today's cases, and with marching orders given, Ethan was the first on his feet. He walked with purposeful steps toward Kaycee, placing a kiss atop her head before she had a chance to stand. "Have a good day, sweetheart. I'll meet you for lunch."

Clarissa's eyes went wide, choking on her iced latte. Tobias wore a wicked grin. "I thought you two were under wraps until her residency was over," he smirked. "Jesus! You only have two-and-a-half months left!"

Ethan looked back over his shoulder, a smug smile on his lips. "As if we're not the worst kept secret in Edenbrook anyway." With a wink in Kaycee's direction, he was out the door. Kaycee sat back in her chair. The warmth inside her had nothing to do with her beverage of choice. The stupid grin on her face made that perfectly clear.

"You all right there, MacClennan?" Tobias asked.

"Yes," she replied. "I'm perfect." After all, today was going to be a much better day.

@choicesficwriterscreations @openheartfanfics

Tagging others separately.

#open heart #open heart choices #choices open heart #open heart fanfic #ethan ramsey #ethan ramsey x mc #ethan x kaycee #choices #choices fanfic #playchoices #playchoices fanfic #choices the stories you play #mature #smuttember

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hollowed-theory-hall · 8 months ago

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The Riddle of Tom Riddle: Part 7/7

(Part 1, Part 2, Part 3, Part 4, Part 5, Part 6)

The Rise and Fall of Lord Voldemort (the second coming)

The final installment will explain some of Voldemort's odd behavior in the books themselves — from the ludicrous plan that was Goblet of Fire, to why he wasn't involved in the war and what he actually was trying to accomplish.

Alongside that, I want to make note of a few other interesting facets of Voldemort's character by the time we meet him in the books.

What the Hell was he Planning in GOF?

So, a lot of fans poke fun at Tom for the over-convoluted mess that was GOF. Because, really, there are so many moving parts here and so many failure points... and there's literally no reason to wait the whole year when Barty (Moody) could just pluck Harry whenever. I mean, it would've been better to just kidnap him on one of the chances Barty had access to Harry alone throughout the year, why the wait?

Well, I believe the plan in book 4, was not Voldemort's plan, but Barty's. And I have some evidence of what Voldemort had planned:

There was a pause, and then the man called Wormtail spoke again. “My Lord, may I ask how long we are going to stay here?” “A week,” said the cold voice. “Perhaps longer…

(Goblet of Fire, page 23)

Early on in the book, before Barty returns to his service, Tom makes the above comment. He isn't planning on staying in Riddle Manor for long. He's talking about a week, maybe a month, not a whole year. Whatever plan he had to retrieve Harry was not a year-long plan at the beginning of the book.

“Because, fool, at this very moment wizards are pouring into the country from all over the world, and every meddler from the Ministry of Magic will be on duty, on the watch for signs of unusual activity, checking and double-checking identities. They will be obsessed with security, lest the Muggles notice anything. So we wait.”

(Goblet of Fire, page 24)

And the reason for this few weeks' wait is the World Cup. Voldemort planned on waiting until the Quidditch World Cup was over and then had Pettigrew kidnap Harry somehow before Hogwarts (this conversation is in early August).

“I have my reasons for using the boy, as I have already explained to you, and I will use no other. I have waited thirteen years. A few more months will make no difference. As for the protection surrounding the boy, I believe my plan will be effective.

(Goblet of Fire, page 26)

And he makes it clear the plan is to use Harry for the ritual, but he's still talking about a few months max of delay, not a whole year. So what changed?

Barty did. Barty came along after the Quidditch World Cup and changed the plan to retrieve Harry. And why would Barty take this long?

Well, I have a post in the works about Barty Crouch Jr. that would explain just that and more. But for now, what I can say, is that the GOF plan was more Barty's than Voldemort's.

As for Voldemort's reasons for using Harry in the ritual, well, there are two reasons here:

Lily's blood protection - which Voldemort wishes to circumvent

His unhealthy obsession with Harry Potter that I talk about more in this post.

Objective in the War

So, as I covered here, Voldemort wasn't really taking an active part in the Second Wizarding World (if he was Umbridge wouldn't have been able to strut around with Slytherin's locket). So if he isn't involved in the war, what is he doing? Why did he start the war?

Well, in the first war, Voldemort's objective was magical experimentation and discovery, in the second his goals are quite different. It's seen in how much more chaotic the war is. Voldemort's goal is so much more personal and emotional to him, that he doesn't care how much collateral damage his Death Eaters cause in the second war. Because of the second war, Tom is less mentally stable than the first one. But not due to some Dark Magic bullshit, but due to his actual psychological state.

As I already covered in the past posts in this series, Tom is a perfectionist. Tom Marvolo Riddle doesn't do failure. He had 12 NWETS, all Os, he was prefect and head boy. Saying he doesn't like failing is an understatement. Honestly, I'd say failure is the one thing this man fears and hates more than death.

And what is his one failure in his perfect track record of Os and victories?

It's Harry Potter.

Harry Potter, whose very moniker: "The Boy Who Lived" mocks this very failure. Failing to kill Harry Potter.

This leads us to what Voldemort is doing in the second war: Attempting to kill Harry Potter like nothing else exists. Which leads us to the next section:

Obsession With Harry Potter

I don't feel like people realize just how obsessed Voldemort is with Harry. How much Harry is literally the only thing Voldemort cares about in the second war. More than his Death Eaters, more than the ministry, even more than his life.

Throughout his resurrection scene, we have a few interesting moments, I'm not going to cover all of them, but I wanna talk about these two:

“A little break,” said Voldemort, the slit-like nostrils dilating with excitement, “a little pause . . . That hurt, didn’t it, Harry? You don’t want me to do that again, do you?”

(Goblet of Fire, page 661)

“We are not playing hide-and-seek, Harry,” said Voldemort’s soft, cold voice, drawing nearer, as the Death Eaters laughed. “You cannot hide from me. Does this mean you are tired of our duel? Does this mean that you would prefer me to finish it now, Harry? Come out, Harry . . . come out and play, then . . . it will be quick . . . it might even be painless . . . I would not know . . . I have never died. . . .

(Goblet of Fire, page 662)

Both of these are moments I call: "playing with his food". He's playing with Harry, toying with him, and actually seems to honestly enjoy himself playing around and torturing and terrifying Harry. This is interesting because Voldemort doesn't toy around with his enemies, like, ever. He tortures and gloats in front of his Death Eaters, but not in front of enemies, with enemies he does the logical thing — try to kill them as quickly as possible.

Except with Harry. Why?

Because Harry is different. He's a whole different category for Voldemort.

Voldemort doesn't really see Harry as a person, not really, he sees him as a failure. His own failure. Harry Potter, to Voldemort, is that one slightly wrong answer in an exam that lost him the two points he needed for that perfect O. Harry is a stain on his perfect record, and therefore Voldemort treats him as such, and not as an actual person.

“Do nothing!” Voldemort shrieked to the Death Eaters, and Harry saw his red eyes wide with astonishment at what was happening, saw him fighting to break the thread of light still connecting his wand with Harry’s; Harry held onto his wand more tightly, with both hands, and the golden thread remained unbroken. “Do nothing unless I command you!” Voldemort shouted to the Death Eaters.

….

Voldemort who looked astonished, and almost fearful. . . .

(Goblet of Fire, page 664)

This is when Voldemort starts taking Harry seriously. I mentioned he didn't really believe the prophecy, well, he didn't until the graveyard when his and Harry's wands met. That fear, that's real, this is when Harry becomes a threat and not only a failure.

Additionally, we see here something Voldemort will continue doing throughout the war. Harry — well, killing Harry — is the only thing Voldemort cares about in the Second War, but it's more than that. because Harry is his failure only he is allowed to kill Harry. He doesn't care who kills Dumbledore, but only he is allowed to kill Harry even in the later books.

In OOTP, what is Voldemort doing? He's sending Death Eaters to retrieve the prophecy. Why? Because now he knows it and Harry is a real threat. It's not about the war, it's all about Harry and the prophecy connecting them. He hopes it'll tell him how to kill Harry.

In HBP, Voldemort isn't really present either. He doesn't care what his Death Eaters do, he isn't expecting Malfoy to succeed in killing Dumbledore. He only cares about figuring out what happened with his and Harry's wands because Voldemort needs to be the one to kill Harry Potter with his own wand, otherwise, he wouldn't really be rectifying his failure. In his mind.

“My Lord, the Order of the Phoenix intends to move Harry Potter from his current place of safety on Saturday next, at nightfall.” The interest around the table sharpened palpably; Some stiffened, others fidgeted, all gazing at Snape and Voldemort. “Saturday . . . at nightfall,” repeated Voldemort. His red eyes fastened upon Snape’s black ones with such intensity that some of the watchers looked away, apparently fearful that they themselves would be scorched by the ferocity of the gaze.

(Deathly Hollows, page 9)

Even when the war is in full swing by Deathly Hollows, Voldemort doesn't care for the war. He wasn't even in Britain for most of it. But when it comes to Harry Potter, a chance to kill Harry potter, for that Voldemort would grace his followers with his presence. But if it has nothing to do with Harry, he just won't be interested.

Voldemort looked up at the slowly revolving body as he went on, “ I shall attend to the boy in person. There have been too many mistakes where Harry Potter is concerned. Some of them have been my own. That Potter lives is due more to my errors than to his triumphs.” The company around the table watched Voldemort apprehensively, each of them, but his or her expression, afraid that they might be blamed for Harry Potter’s continued existence. Voldemort, however, seemed to be speaking more to himself than to any of them, still addressing the unconscious body above him. “I have been careless, and so have been thwarted by luck and chance, those wreckers of all but the best-laid plans. But I know better now. I understand those things that I did not understand before. I must be the one to kill Harry Potter, and I shall be.”

(Deathly Hollows, page 11)

here, again, Voldemort explains what I just said. He sees Harry as his failure, his error, his mistake, And Tom Riddle despises nothing more than a mistake.

And he explains why that, the fact Harry is alive is due to his mistakes, that he has to be the one to kill him. Voldemort doesn't care about winning the war, or the ministry, or his followers — he just needs to cast a killing curse at Harry and kill him. To rectify that one mistake.

More, Rowle, or shall we end it and feed you to Nagini? Lord Voldemort is not sure that he will forgive this time. . . . You called me back for this, to tell me that Harry Potter has escaped again? Draco, give Rowle another taste of our displeasure. . . . Do it, or feel my wrath yourself!”

(Deathly Hollows, page 152)

Again, Voldemort isn't in Britain, but when his followers informed him they had Harry Potter, he dropped everything and arrived in Britain. Because killing Harry is literally the only thing that matters to him by this point.

“Give me Harry Potter,” said Voldemort’s voice, “and none shall be harmed. Give me Harry Potter, and I shall leave the school untouched. Give me Harry Potter, and you should be rewarded. “You have until midnight.”

(Deathly Hollows, page 516)

And we see it again, nothing matters, no victory matters, besides killing Harry Potter.

“My wand of yew did everything of which I asked it, Severus, except to kill Harry Potter. Twice it failed. Ollivander told me under torture of the twin cores, told me to take another’s wand. I did so, but Lucius’s wand shattered upon meeting Potter’s.”

(Deathly Hollows, page 553)

Here he describes what he's been doing for the entirety of books 6 and 7. Trying to find a wand so he could kill Harry with it. Because that's the only thing that mattered to him. It's why he kidnapped and tortured Ollivanders. It's why he traveled to Germany to track down the Elder Wand. It's why he's killing Severus in this above scene.

And here again, there is an emphasis on failure, mistakes, that his wand failed him. Because that's what Harry is to him — a failure.

Because he wants to kill Harry himself with a wand. This obsession is the thing fueling all his actions in the Second War.

And still, Voldemort and Harry looked at each other, and now Voldemort tilted his head a little to the side, considering the boy standing before him, and a singularly mirthless smile curled the lipless mouth. “Harry Potter,” he said very softly His voice might have been part of the splitting fire. “The Boy Who Lived.” None of the Death Eaters moved. They were waiting: Everything was waiting. Hagrid was struggling, and Bellatrix was panting, and Harry thought inexplicably of Ginny, and her blazing look, and the feel of her lips on his— Voldemort had raised his wand. His head was still tilted to one side, like a curious child, wondering what would happen if he proceeded.

(Deathly Hollows, page 593)

And when he finally does get what he wants, he's happy, curious, and warry. He doesn't fully believe Harry would actually die (which he doesn't).

I just love this description, his head a little to the side like a curious child. Because he is childish in a way at this moment. He finally can rectify the one stain on his perfect record and he could barely believe it really is happening.

Unlike in the graveyard, here he isn't gloating. Contrary to his words, about how Harry only survived by luck, he does fear Harry. Well, his survival. Voldemort actually does believe the prophecy by this point, that there's something more than his own failure stopping him from killing Harry — and keeping him dead.

Because it's easy to believe, almost comforting even, that it's not just his mistakes.

“Yeah, it did,” said Harry. “You’re right. But before you try to kill me, I’d advise you to think about what you’ve done. . . . Think, and try for some remorse, Riddle. . . .” “What is this?” Of all the things that Harry had said to him, beyond any revelation or taunt, nothing had shocked Voldemort like this. Harry saw his pupils contact to thin slits, saw the skin around his eyes whiten. “It’s your one last chance,” said Harry, “it’s all you’ve got left. . . . I’ve seen what you’ll be otherwise. . . . Be a man . . . try . . . Try for some remorse. . . .” “You dare—?” said Voldemort again. “Yes, I dare,” said Harry, “because Dumbledore’s last plan hasn’t backfired on me at all. It’s backfired on you, Riddle.” Voldemort’s hand was trembling on the Elder Wand, and Harry gripped Draco’s very tightly. The moment, he knew, was seconds away.

(Deathly Hollows, page 625)

Right before his death, Harry gloats at him about his mistakes, and how wrong he got it all.

And there is nothing Tom Riddle hates more.

Other Notes

Now, I want to cover a few other smaller notes about Voldemort's character that just didn't really fit anywhere else:

Voldemort in the books almost never shouts. He is described as speaking: "softly" because he doesn't need to be loud. He's intimidating just by his presence alone, when he speaks, everyone shuts up and listens:

“We are not playing hide-and-seek, Harry,” said Voldemort’s soft, cold voice, drawing nearer, as the Death Eaters laughed.

(Goblet of Fire, page 662)

2. As I mentioned before in this series, Voldemort is sentimental. His own past and family, even when they hated him, he cares. He cares so much that his father's abandonment still hurts decades later:

“You stand, Harry Potter, upon the remains of my late father,” he hissed softly. “A Muggle and a fool . . . very like your dear mother. But they both had their uses, did they not? Your mother died to defend you as a child . . . and I killed my father, and see how useful he has proved himself, in death. . . .” Voldemort laughed again. Up and down he paced, looking all around him as he walked, and the snake continued to circle in the grass. “You see that house upon the hillside, Potter? My father lived there. My mother, a witch who lived here in this village, fell in love with him. But he abandoned her when she told him what she was. . . . He didn’t like magic, my father . . . “He left her and returned to his Muggle parents before I was even born, Potter, and she died giving birth to me, leaving me to be raised in a Muggle orphanage . . . but I vowed to find him . . . I revenged myself upon him, that fool who gave me his name . . . Tom Riddle. . . .” Still he paced, his red eyes darting from grave to grave. “Listen to me, reliving family history . . .” he said quietly, “why, I am growing quite sentimental. . . . But look, Harry! My true family returns. . . .”

(Goblet of Fire, page 646)

3. He loves to monologue. I think he just honestly enjoyed hearing himself talk:

“I see you all, whole and healthy, with your powers intact — such prompt appearances! — and I ask myself . . . why did this band of wizards never come to the aid of their master, to whom they swore eternal loyalty?” No one spoke. No one moved except Wormtail, who was upon the ground, still sobbing over his bleeding arm. “And I answer myself,” whispered Voldemort, “they must have believed me broken, they thought I was gone. They slipped back among my enemies, and they pleaded innocence, and ignorance, and bewitchment. . . . “And then I ask myself, but how could they have believed I would not rise again? They, who knew the steps I took, long ago, to guard myself against mortal death? They, who had seen proofs of the immensity of my power in the times when I was mightier than any wizard living? “And I answer myself, perhaps they believed a still greater power could exist, one that could vanquish even Lord Voldemort . . . perhaps they now pay allegiance to another . . . perhaps that champion of commoners, of Mudbloods and Muggles, Albus Dumbledore?” At the mention of Dumbledore’s name, the members of the circle stirred, and some muttered and shook their heads. Voldemort ignored them. “It is a disappointment to me . . . I confess myself disappointed. . . .”

(Goblet of Fire, page 648)

Also I can't help but find this scene funny. "And I ask myself" — "and I answer myself", Tom's just having fun toying with his followers and their fear here (pulse being dramatic). He, in general, does have a sense of fun. He even makes stupid puns:

“I knew that to achieve this — it is an old piece of Dark Magic, the potion that revived me tonight — I would need three powerful ingredients. Well, one of them was already at hand, was it not, Wormtail? Flesh given by a servant. . . .

(Goblet of Fire, page 656)

He's way funnier than we give him credit (and dorkier).

4. I mentioned he didn't plan to truly live forever in a past post, after all, if he did, he would've hidden his Horcruxes better. And yet, he despises the very idea of death:

“You do not seek to kill me, Dumbledore?” called Voldemort, his scarlet eyes narrowed over the top of the shield. “Above such brutality, are you?” “We both know that there are other ways of destroying a man, Tom,” Dumbledore said calmly, continuing to walk toward Voldemort as though he had not a fear in the world, as though nothing had happened to interrupt his stroll up the hall. “Merely taking your life would not satisfy me, I admit —” “There is nothing worse than death, Dumbledore!” snarled Voldemort.

(Order of the Pheonix, page 812)

Voldemort is still, at this moment, is still the orphan at the bomb shelters who doesn't want to die. Death is the worst thing to him because death means everything is over, that he had his chance at life and that's it. Death is the end of the road. It's the ultimate failing, the ultimate loss — something to overcome. At least in Voldemort's mind. Because Tom doesn't do failure. His hatred of death is exasperated by his perfectionism and because of how he sees death.

But even so, he made sure to leave an opening, a chance for him to die if he ever desired it.

Conclusions

The only thing Voldemort cared about in the Second War was killing Harry. Killing Harry Potter was the end goal that motivated all his actions.

He's a perfectionist more than anything else. Dumbledore said Tom feared death the most, but I disagree. What he feared most id failure — his own failure — death was an extension of that, in a way.

Voldemort doesn't need to raise his voice, the fact he speaks softly is a testament to how terrifying he is to others.

He's quite sentimental. I mentioned it before and I'll mention it again.

He has a sense of humor and actually loves to talk and hear his own voice.

#harry potter #harry potter thoughts #harry potter theory #hp theory #wizarding world #hollowedtheory #overthinking #hp #lord voldemort #voldemort #voldemort analysis #tom riddle #tom marvolo riddle #slytherin #first wizarding war #death eaters #hp thoughts #hp meta #harry potter meta

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lucagray813 · 4 days ago

Text

Shadow - Chapter 5

Title: Getting Close

Rating: M (M rated sections are marked with the line break --M-- at the start so skip to the next normal line break (----) if you want to avoid them)

Word Count: ~10,000

Characters: Wukong, Macaque

Minor Characters: Mentioned Lady Bone Demon, Bǎi Hé

Relationships: Macaque/Wukong

Minor Relationships: Macaque & Bǎi Hé

Summary: Discussions about sex and sex-related shenanigans abound as well as some heavier talks about the Lady Bone Demon and the fact Bǎi Hé is growing up.

Additional Tags: Developing Relationship, Acquired Disability, Slice of Life, DBK is called Niú, PIF is called Gōngzhǔ

CW: sexual humour, impotence, sex talk, mentions of casual sex, morning wood, inappropriate artefacts?

Link to AO3 Version

Chapter Navigation: First | Prev | Next

----

Wukong was having a bad day. He'd slept poorly, had woken up in a terrible mood and now nothing seemed to be able to make it better. It definitely wasn't helped by Macaque raising an eyebrow at his "grouchiness" and deciding he'd rather be literally anywhere else than here and getting snapped at over nothing.

And you know, tomorrow when he was no longer feeling so irritable, he'd think that was totally fair. God knows, how many times he'd avoided Macaque or outright told him to go somewhere else because he was in a bad mood. Today, however, it only annoyed him further.

By the time Macaque had returned he had at least gained some awareness of his mood and was a tiny bit better prepared to try and not take it out on someone who really hadn't done anything to deserve it but he knew he didn't have much patience at his disposal today.

Macaque had come back in an odd mood himself, he seemed on edge and when asked about it, he'd replied shortly, saying he'd helped MK out with some hero stuff. Hero stuff that went fine by the sounds of it - bad guy was beat and no notable injuries or collateral damage. He pressed further but all Macaque would tell him was this bad guy of the week had just rubbed him the wrong way.

He wouldn't tell him what the guy had been up to or who he was but everything about Macaque's body language was screaming at him to drop it and huffily he did. Even refrained from making some snippy comment about how much he loved Macaque's habit of keeping him guessing for no good reason.

Whatever. He just needed to get through the day and then they could start a fresh tomorrow. After sitting on it for a while, he realised he probably hadn't exactly been giving off "non-judgemental, you can talk to me" vibes.

But it wasn't at all helped by Macaque flip flopping between seemingly wanting to be as close to him as possible and as far away as possible - with an in between that just seemed to consist of glaring at him from a short distance.

It was during the most recent glaring session that he finally snapped, "What is your problem? You're either clinging to me, nowhere to be seen or glaring at me! What is going on?"

Predictably, Macaque just crossed his arms and looked away from him. A little less predictably, he muttered an apology and disappeared into the shadows.

"Macaque! Wait-! Agh!"

He did not have the patience or tact needed for this today. Why couldn't this have happened yesterday or tomorrow? Or literally any of the hundreds of other days that he wasn't feeling so short tempered.

Macaque did not reappear and Wukong could do nothing but sulk about it. It didn't compare to how awful he felt though when he received a message from MK asking how Macaque was because apparently everyone had been a bit shaken up from hero business today.

And it wasn't at all surprising since the bad guy's whole deal had been death magic.

He buried his face in his hands. Of all the days, of all the bad guys... He took a deep breath before he picked up his phone and told MK that Macaque was a bit on edge but he would be alright before asking after the rest of them. Once he'd heard back that they were all okay and having a slumber party later he let any thoughts of MK leave his mind.

He hoped Macaque was still on the island and not somewhere he couldn't physically reach. He slid off the couch and took up his preferred meditation pose. He'd tried more than once today to meditate to get his head on straight but each failed attempt only added to his frustration.

Right now though, he had ample motivation and finding Macaque like this was almost something he could do in his sleep. He kept his focus light, he just wanted to know if he was still on the island, he wasn't planning to astral project if he was. He sighed in relief when he felt Macaque's soul nearby.

He didn't immediately get up and go to him however. He was going to take a moment and then approach him with compassion and patience. However he'd been feeling today would have to just deal with being moved to one side. Waking up on the wrong side of the bed was not comparable to facing literal trauma.

He couldn't say he was a big fan of the small, dark cave that Macaque had squirreled himself away in. The only reason he could vaguely even see at all without his golden vision was because of the violet glow being emitted from the ball of magic that Macaque held close to his chest.

Not something he'd ever seen him do before but he decided to take it as a positive sign that Macaque was letting him see it now. He could have disappeared the moment he'd heard Wukong's footsteps head in his direction.

He carefully picked his way across the uneven ground, before stopping a short distance away and cautiously starting off, "MK got in touch - wanted to know how you were after this morning. He told me what happened... You want to talk about it?"

The silence that followed was more than a little concerning, so he took a few steps closer, "Macaque?" He was brought to a halt by the dangerous looking shadows taking physical form around them. He backed off slightly and that seemed to appease the shadows.

Macaque hadn't left or forced him out though and Wukong decided to take as a sign his presence wasn't actually unwanted, so he sat down and waited. He was trying to figure out his next course of action when Macaque spoke, "Do you remember anything about being possessed by the Lady Bone Demon?"

Unfortunately, despite his many attempts to repress it, he could in fact remember most of it. Some of the fighting was a bit hazy but the desperate struggle to try and rid himself of her control was much clearer than he'd like.

Reluctantly he offered, "Some of it, yeah."

"Do you remember how it felt? To have her magic inside you?"

A shiver went through him as if he could suddenly feel that unfathomable cold coming from deep within him. It was quite possibly up there as one of his worst experiences - even without the whole being forced to fight his friends nightmare - just that feeling of being both too full, and yet achingly empty. Of having someone strangle his very essence with their own. It was enough to keep him up for nights at a time.

Quietly he admitted, "Yeah, I remember."

"Describe it?"

It felt like an impossible ask. They'd already established that magic didn't like to be put into words. And honestly, he'd rather do anything but make the experience all the more real but he was sure Macaque was going somewhere with this, and would hopefully share his own experiences if he did the same.

He clasped a hand over his heart as he tried to find the words, "It was like... a constricting weight on my magic, wrapped around it tightly with these smaller poisonous tendrils slowly trying to force themselves towards my very core. It was... awful. Violating."

Way, way back in the day magic had often been described as the blood of the soul. And Wukong couldn't help but feel there was some credence to that theory - the Lady Bone Demon's attempt to control him had felt like an attack on his very spirit. Although given the source of her magic perhaps it had been.

Macaque pulled the small manifestation of his magic away from him just enough to look at it. Even if Wukong had had a clear enough view of his face he had a feeling he still wouldn't be able to interpret the complicated expression he was wearing.

Macaque admitted, "Sometimes, I can still feel her magic stitched into mine." He continued before Wukong could offer any reassurances, "I know it's in my head." He held up the ball of magic as if to show him, "I know there's no trace of her left in me but after that run in with that bastard today I just can't shake the feeling that there is."

Wukong had obviously seen the terrible way her magic had engulfed Macaque's right side, had felt the scarring it had left in it's wake but he didn't think that's what he meant, quietly he asked, "Describe it?"

The ball of magic separated into two, one taking on a much deeper colour than the other, they started to move around one another leaving tangled trails behind them - like snakes intertwining themselves with one another.

It was almost beautiful, almost as if they were dancing, but as he watched it became clear that the lighter of the two orbs was following the other, occasionally looping possessively around the tail the darker one was leaving.

Macaque lifted a finger out to touch the darker orb and the lighter one spiked up, aggressively forcing the other to move away from the appendage. He dropped his hand and watched the orbs continue to move as he explained, "I could always feel it, this cold, dead magic running through me. It was only painful if I tried anything to get rid of it but even when it wasn't actively hurting me... It just felt wrong."

He paused for a minute before continuing sounding a little distraught, "It didn't matter where I went or what I did, she was always there with me, burrowed into the very essence of who I am. I hadn't known a moment's peace until she was finally fucking dead."

The cave went totally dark as he buried his head against his knees, "But it's still not enough. She's dead but she's still here with me. I just want her gone. How do I make her leave me alone? How do I make her stop?"

He was powerless to ignore the need to get closer and comfort him but as soon as he stood and took a step forward, he heard a panicked scramble. He stopped as he heard Macaque choke out, "D-don't! Fuck. Please, just- Don't come closer."

He very reluctantly sat back down and tried to make sure none of his own distress was audible as he replied, "Hey, it's fine. I won't come any closer. You're ok."

He couldn't resist the urge to use his golden vision to check on him however. Another time he likely would have been impressed by the strength of Macaque's glamours, all he could see was that there were definitely glamours there but not what they were hiding. Although with the way Macaque was hunched over he likely wouldn't have been able to see anything he wasn't allowed to see yet.

Voice muffled Macaque got out, "Shit. Sorry."

"Hey, we're fine." He tried to joke lightly, "I get it. The mood I've been in today, I wouldn't want to be near me either."

His poor attempt at a smile quickly fell at the sound of a small sniffle. He floundered for the words that would somehow make this better but Macaque spoke before he found them, "Sometimes, I think about how you overcame her control and think you could do the same for me. Just chase out all trace of her. But the thought of anyone's magic, even yours, getting close enough to do that... I just can't..."

Wukong felt his shoulders sink. Well, that went some way to explain Macaque's inconsistent behaviour today. It also explained another mystery that he'd been trying to solve.

Wukong was on board and up-to-date with Macaque's research into magic but there had been a surprising lack of experimentation into how their magic interacted together, they only tended to focus on how their magic reacted to various stimuli, even though he'd made it plenty clear he was willing and able to try out pretty much anything Macaque suggested. Well, within reason anyway.

He was really trying to follow Macaque's lead on this - let him decide how this should progress but he couldn't deny he'd been tempted to try and push him. But he was beginning to understand why Macaque had been so reluctant.

Magic could be combined in incredible ways, such as in show stopping feats that required a hefty amount of magic or to cast spells that needed mastery of more than one magic type. Magic could complement someone else's - just being in sync with someone whose magic you knew well could have both of you performing better, magic flowing smoother, spells easier to cast.

And he knew in theory that magic could combine on a much more personal level. He'd heard of ancient demon clans that shared magic with one another through various means. Personally, he'd never really experienced it but he had somewhat assumed that that's what Macaque meant when he'd told him he had wanted to know how their magic could interact.

He thought feeling his magic intertwined with Macaque's sounded like it could be something wonderful. It wouldn't be at all like the awful feeling of the Lady Bone Demon trying to control him and make his magic her own. It would be a new way to know each other. It would be good, he was sure of it.

Scarily deep and personal but well that's sort of what he aspired to have with Macaque anyway.

He took a breath and tried to soothe him, "I'm not going to do anything you don't want me to. On a better day we can talk more about it but right now all you need to focus on is the fact that the only magic flowing through you is yours."

He started talking him through a sort of basic meditation with the focus being on the way his magic felt. It was something Macaque could do in his sleep, and had quite possibly been doing something similar when he'd found him. In any other situation, Macaque probably would have been more than a little offended by the notion he needed guidance for something so trivial but as it was he seemed to be following along.

He kept talking long after he'd run out of things to say, repeating and reiterating the practice until he felt solid shadows wrap around his hand. He squeezed them gently, confident the gesture wouldn't be lost on Macaque. He asked, "You ready to get out of here?"

With less levity than he was sure was intended, Macaque responded, "The dark getting to you?"

Wukong shook his head, and lifted the shadows still holding onto his hand up to his lips for a moment, "We can stay here as long as you need."

He heard him take a measured breath before Macaque stood and made his way to stand in front of him and offered a hand, voice only sounding slightly unsteady, he responded, "Nah, it's close to dinner time. C'mon, let's go home."

Wukong took his hand and followed Macaque out of the cave. He blinked his golden vision away as his eyes tried to adjust to the late evening light. Macaque squeezed his hand once and then let go.

For the rest of the evening, Wukong had taken the tact to let Macaque do as he pleased when it came to space and touch without commenting or reciprocating. If he wanted to sit close to him for only a handful of minutes before retreating only to repeat the process moments later then Wukong let him without complaint.

It seemed to have been the right strategy as over the next few hours he seemed to settle, until he was curled up against his chest as they watched TV.

Macaque had looked somewhat guilty when it came time for bed but Wukong refused to make a big deal about him obviously wanting to sleep by himself. He just got ready as he normally did but he did appreciate the gentle kiss he got before Macaque wished him good night and left him to it.

----

It had taken Macaque a few days to properly bounce back from his unfortunate run in with death magic but almost immediately following it he'd quite determinedly told Wukong that they should work on casting spells together.

And then he'd dragged him off to the training ground he'd prepared before Wukong could offer any protests. Once he saw what Macaque had in mind however he was more or less on board.

The ground was covered in various seals that required two people to activate them. It technically involved their magic interacting together but it would all happen within the seal and depending on the seal it might not even require them to really synchronise beyond activating the right amount of magic at the same time.

It was by and large a very sensible first step and honestly, Wukong was pretty excited to see what spells Macaque had put together. Although, he decided a little wariness was warranted - he absolutely did not trust Macaque not to try and prank him in the process. For all he knew there was a seal here that would explode magic paint everywhere and only Macaque would know to take cover.

Explosions of all sorts had definitely been on the agenda and Wukong was definitely going to tease Macaque later for including so many firework-like displays. The big sap had clearly done it because he knew Wukong would love it.

And he definitely had. In fact, the whole exercise had been a lot of fun and he was sort of excited to put his own seals together for them to try. He could easily see this becoming a competition to see who could put together the most surprising or spectacular spell and he was here for it.

In his excitement however he had let his guard down and as they approached the last seal, any thoughts of foul play had totally left his head. He blinked in confusion as the seal seemed to do nothing when activated.

He looked over to see Macaque looking equally confused and couldn't help but tease, "You losing your touch, Mac? Better be careful or I'll snatch up your title as the resident seals expert."

Macaque scowled at him, and waved at the ink of the ground, "You think you know so much? Why don't you look at it and see what went wrong then?"

He grinned as he crouched down so he could get a proper look, "Don't worry. I've heard performance issues are common with monkeys your age."

He heard a snort from behind him, "You would know."

He didn't retort as he started looking at the seal in earnest and what he was seeing was absolutely nonsense, "Were you drunk when you did this? What even is any of this?"

That's what he had intended to say at least, he was interrupted by the boot in between his shoulder blades pushing him off balance and sending him tumbling through the shadow portal that had suddenly appeared on the ground.

Between crouching on solid ground and landing face first in the weird pond that turned everything that touched it green, he only had time to curse himself for falling for such an obvious ruse. Unbelievable. He was the King of pranks and tricks and he'd fallen for that? He didn't deserve his metaphorical crown.

He emerged from the water to an audience of hysterically laughing monkeys but his eyes were only for the smirking jerk standing well back from the splash zone. He was going to wipe that look of his face, he swore Macaque was going to be stuck being green with him for the days it took to wear off.

Macaque just grinned widely before he darted off and Wukong was out of the water faster than a blink of an eye. Trying not to take too much delight in the chase, lest he forget about his retribution.

--M--

Waking up with Macaque in his arms was undoubtedly his favourite way to start the day. Despite the number of times they had shared a bed, it was incredibly rare to wake up to one of them holding the other. He tended to toss and turn too much and Macaque generally tucked himself into a ball and didn't move at all, so rarely did the stars a line to allow it.

But today was apparently one of those blessed days and he intended to savour it for as long as he could. It was only as he nosed at the back of Macaque's neck and pulled him closer to his front that he became aware of an unexpected addition to this usually soft and precious moment.

Wukong was not one to be afflicted with morning wood often but he wasn't immune. He thought he could be forgiven however for reacting to Macaque's backside pressed up against him. He was quite happy to ignore it though in favour of dozing with Macaque bundled up in his arms, it certainly wasn't detracting from the experience.

Well, his experience, at least. Macaque didn't seem appreciative of the unexpected addition as he mumbled, "Wukong, if your dick doesn't stop poking me in the ass I promise you'll regret it."

He grumbled back, "As if you can feel it." But he did reach down between them and adjust himself. He couldn't help but pout slightly, he had been exceptionally comfortable, "Happy?"

Macaque absentmindedly grunted his assent, apparently more concerned with trying to go back to sleep than engaging with him any further. Instead of doing the same however he found himself idly playing with the fur on Macaque's hip as his mind wandered.

Sex probably wasn't on the table for their relationship, right? Not that that was a problem, Wukong had never really been that fussed about it in the first place, but he'd be lying if he said it wasn't something he would've never have been interested in trying with Macaque.

Well, trying it properly, at least. Because he and Macaque had actually had sex before - a handful of times a long, long, long time ago - but it was less the tender, loving thing he now was aware it could be and more... well, more like monkeys going at it in the woods.

And as one might imagine it was an activity that generally only benefited one of them and there were no prizes for guessing who. Although, he was sure if Macaque had ever asked it would never have been an issue to change things up but he generally seemed pretty unbothered by the whole thing.

In fact, he could vaguely remember him just rolling his eyes before obliging Wukong's requests. Or... not obliging him if he wasn't in the mood to deal with him. Wukong was no brute, he knew how to take no for an answer, but that didn't mean he hadn't been incredibly annoying about it, and as such, depending on how bad a mood Macaque had been in, he had on occasion found himself dumped in a cold lake somewhere in the world.

So sex hadn't happened often and that had been totally fine but he couldn't help but feel somewhat annoyed at his younger self for being so... monkey about it when it did happen. It could have been something really special, something that brought them closer together. Instead it had been about scratching an itch with the only available demon for miles around.

One more regret to add to the list.

He couldn't help but imagine what it could have been like though - for both of them to get something out of the experience, for both of them to care as much, if not more, about the other's pleasure as their own.

He had no real experience to pull from but a fantasy built upon the familiar was starting to take shape - making out was something they did on occasion and in his mind he could see how hands and lips started to wander. His little daydream however was rudely cut off before it could really get going by a deliberate elbow shoved into his stomach.

He groaned, "What the hell was that for?"

Macaque scoffed as he looked over his shoulder, "Because it turns out blood isn't the only thing that rushes south. Getting a bit excited, were we?"

It took him a moment to understand what he was implying but when it clicked his face was set ablaze, and he suddenly found it difficult to look Macaque in the eye, "You could feel...?"

Unfortunately, his embarrassment was something that Macaque absolutely lapped up and he turned to face him with a delighted grin, "Sure could. You want me to try and describe what it felt like?"

Despite his mortification, he was in fact very interested in the answer, but he in no way wanted to let on how uncool he was feeling about getting caught fantasising. So not trusting his voice he shrugged as nonchalantly as possible.

And he was absolutely not affected by the way Macaque twirled the fur on his hips around his finger as he teased, "What's the matter, Wukong? Cat got your tongue?"

He coughed awkwardly, "No... I just... Er, tell me what it felt like?"

"Tell you what what felt like?"

"Macaque!"

"What? Just tell me what you want. Who knows? Maybe I'll even give it to you."

His suggestive tone left his mouth dry and his mind in the gutters. He bit his tongue before he could say anything foolish. There was no way. This was a trap. It had to be. That coy grin was full of mischief. There was nothing he could say that wouldn't be turned against him somehow.

He bowed his head in defeat, "Just... Tell me what it felt like when I was... Y'know... Turned on."

He wanted to cringe. What was wrong with him? He shouldn't be so embarrassed, he was basically just handing Macaque the upper hand on a silver platter, but this atmosphere that Macaque had created was keeping him off kilter. He felt out of his depth.

Macaque's hand slid from his hip up to his cheek and directed his gaze back up. His amusement was clear to see and Wukong was really hating how none of this seemed to be turning him off at all.

Macaque leaned in a little closer, "What were you thinking about that had you so "turned on", hm?"

Against his will, his eyes flicked down to Macaque's lips briefly and he hoped against hope Macaque somehow wasn't able to "see" that. He heroically tried to gain some control of the situation, "Wh-What does it matter? You some sort of pervert?"

Macaque laughed, "Me? Who's the one so obviously excited right now?" Despite knowing the answer, he still glanced down between them for some reason, and unfortunately he was indeed the only one with any incriminating evidence against him.

Macaque slowly dragged his hand down from his face to his chest, at Wukong's audible swallow, he continued, "But it matters because I want to know exactly what is causing the magic pooling around your balls to feel so hot and heavy. You know I like to be thorough when your magic is involved."

As his hand slipped lower and lower, Wukong's thoughts had been reduced to something along the lines of Holy Shit! Holy Shit! What do I do? Is he really going to-? What do I do?

At the last possible moment, Macaque pulled his hand away with joyous laughter, "You should see your face! Oh, wait, maybe I can recreate it with the shadows for you. Hold on-"

He was cut off as Wukong brought a hand to the back of his head and surged forward to kiss him. Macaque managed a small sound of surprise, and half a second to laugh before he reciprocated, trying to keep up with Wukong's desperation.

God, he was the worst. He hated him so much. Stupid, mouthy jerk with his stupid, sexy teasing. He was going to kiss him until he looked as debauched as he felt.

He brought his hand down to Macaque's hip and dragged him closer but he wasn't so lost in the haze of lust not to feel how tense Macaque became in response. He pulled away with the intent to check on him but Macaque pulled him back in with a hand in his hair before he could utter a word.

Given the enthusiasm of the kissing he was less inclined to believe something was amiss and more inclined to believe that Macaque was perhaps a little less cool and collected than he'd let on. And maybe it was possible he was the teeniest bit nervous about this and didn't want Wukong to call him out on it.

He resisted the urge to grin as he thought about how he could possibly get his own back for earlier and give Macaque a taste of his own medicine. So fully intending not to follow through, he let his hands trail down Macaque's hip and towards his dick. He was not at all expecting the near bruising grip on his wrist before he even got close though.

He pulled back from the kiss immediately and gently removed his hand from Macaque's hold so he could safely place it on his arm, Macaque wouldn't look at him and Wukong started to ramble, "I wasn't planning to... I mean, I just wanted to... I'm sorry? I didn't... Are you ok?"

Macaque bit out, "Fine." Before grumbling, "Stupid. I shouldn't have..." He turned on his side and faced away from him, "My fault. Sorry."

Wukong was trying to recover from the whiplash this situation had given him but he tentatively laid his hand back on Macaque's arm, "It's ok. I... What just happened? Can you... talk me through it?"

He didn't think he'd done anything wrong but something had certainly happened to upset Macaque. He really, really didn't want this to be one of the times that he left him guessing for any length of time. But he was reassured after a long pause when Macaque reached up and laid his hand on top of his.

Wukong couldn't quite stop the quiet sigh of relief and he took that as a go ahead to plaster himself to Macaque's back - finding he really needed the comfort of touching him. He waited as Macaque pulled his hand down from his arm and held it against his chest, certain he was just trying to find the right words.

"I can't feel things, Wukong."

He frowned against the back of his neck. Macaque could feel things. It wasn't how he felt them but between his shadows and his magic, Wukong was pretty sure in some instances he could actually "feel" more than he could.

But he tried to figure out what Macaque was really trying to say here as he quietly waited for him to elaborate. Which he did with a frustrated sound, "I can't- You touching me isn't going to make anything happen."

Still confused, he tried, "You can feel through your magic though...? How is it different from how we normally make out?"

Obviously, he knew kissing and sex were not the same but from a "feeling through magic" perspective surely the same rules applied - if anything Wukong would have thought it would be even more intense.

"For fuck's sake. I can't get it up, you fucking moron."

Oh.

In hindsight maybe it could have been possible for him to have come to the conclusion himself slightly sooner but it wasn't that obvious and he really didn't appreciate being snapped at.

Macaque seemed to realise that though and with his other hand covering his face he apologised, "Fuck. Sorry. Sensitive subject." He laughed bitterly, "Or not-so sensitive."

He tried to soothe him, "It's ok. It's really not that big a deal."

Macaque seemed to sag in defeat, "In the grand scheme of things? No. But it would have been nice."

Well, he couldn't really deny that but before today the thought hadn't really even crossed his mind so while it was admittedly a little disappointing it was something he'd get over quickly. He was more concerned with how Macaque felt about the whole thing.

He held him tightly, "It might have been but everything we already have is plenty nice. And just so we're absolutely, a hundred percent clear I am in no way upset about this. I mean, I'm upset if you're upset but I promise sex hadn't even crossed my mind before."

Macaque managed a weak laugh, "Yeah, I'm well aware."

He pretended to pout, "What's that supposed to mean?"

"Pretty sure there are mushrooms with a higher sex drive than you. You thought about having sex all of maybe ten times before giving it up for good."

Wukong wanted to say he was exaggerating but he probably wasn't actually that far off. Maybe once or twice a century the urge would suddenly hit him but that still seemed to have been more interest than Macaque had ever shown. He wasn't quite sure if it was appropriate to point that out right now though.

A little lamely he said, "Yeah, well, at least you know I'm telling the truth. Are you upset about it though?"

He was quiet for a minute before admitting, "Yeah, I am a bit but I'll get over it." He then laughed slightly, "I'm more upset about how quickly teasing you came back to bite me though. That felt like a new record."

Wukong snorted, "Oh please. You've had almost instant comeuppance plenty of times - you're not as slick as you think you are." He wasn't quite ready to let the topic drop, "But in all seriousness, if you want to talk about it..."

"Yeah, yeah. Chóu's Considerate Husband of the Year award is on it's way."

He puffed up in faux pride, before asking, "Do you think she'll back date me for the awards she didn't know me for yet?"

The bickering over how considerate he had been until this point lasted the rest of the morning.

--M--

Macaque had not so subtly been bringing Wukong seals projects to work on. Sometimes it was under the guise of "Oh, Gōngzhǔ found this artefact and Red Son's too busy to figure out what it does. You've got time, right?" or "Apparently, there's a prize to anyone that can write up a successful counter seal for this. You want to give it a go?"

He generally timed this with whenever Wukong was planning to work on the artefacts that could function as accessibility aids for Macaque and eventually he'd taken the hint and quietly put those projects to one side.

He hadn't outright abandoned them though because even if Macaque wasn't interested they were proving great at teaching him various complicated sealing techniques, including how to redo seals with another type of magic at their core.

But they very rarely got worked on and while he would love for Macaque to actually sit down and talk to him about it - sometimes you just had to pick your battles. Macaque clearly preferred developing his magic over finding ways to "fix" his more conventional senses and Wukong had decided the best option was to support him with that.

So he spent a lot of time working on other projects that Macaque brought him. The one he was currently working on had been niggling at something in the back of his head since he'd started, and it finally dawned on him why. He was sure he'd seen them on a similar artefact he had in the vault and so he stood up with a stretch and told Macaque that he was off to find it.

Macaque had decided he could do with a break from his own project and happily accompanied him to help look for it. His golden vision could make short work of the search but he was sure he knew roughly where it was and it was nice just to go through the treasure piles and see what else there was.

It was as he was doing this, that he came across two artefacts that he remembered throwing over here after deciding they were useless in helping Macaque with his muted senses. He hastily tried to bury them again but the damage had been done.

Macaque's head popped over his shoulder, "What's got your heart racing all of a sudden?"

Racing was a gross overstatement but Macaque could pick up and interpret the slightest changes with annoying accuracy. Foolishly, he turned to face him, shoving the artefacts behind him, "Nothing! Just, er, found some artefacts that might prove useful for a different project later! Not helpful right now though!"

Macaque just raised an eyebrow, "Really? That's what you're going with?"

Wukong just sighed and decided it was best to get the embarrassment over with. He brought the necklace and ring around and presented them to Macaque, "I found these a while back when I was trying to find artefacts that might help you with your sense of touch but they were total write offs. Not even remotely what I was looking for."

Macaque took them off him and held them up curiously, "What do they actually do then?"

He did his best to keep a straight face, "The ring I couldn't actually get to work but the necklace... Well, it does heighten your sense of touch in a manner of speaking..."

Macaque snorted, "It's a sex thing, isn't it?"

He nodded, "It's totally a sex thing. Which I just want to confirm, was not what I was looking for."

Macaque seemed to eye the necklace for a moment before he shrugged and slipped it on. Wukong's eyes widened in disbelief before they immediately shot downwards.

The scuff to the side of his head had been somewhat deserved, "Have some class, Wukong."

He rubbed at his nonexistent pain and tried to defend himself, "Hey, when I tried it on the effect was immediate."

Macaque scoffed, "Maybe you're just easy to please."

Despite himself, he felt his face heat up, "You say that like it's a bad thing! Who wants to be hard to please?"

"Always one extreme or the other with you. Believe it or not, there is in fact this nice middle ground where everyone has a good time."

"I know that! I didn't mean- Ah forget it! Is that necklace doing anything for you or what?"

Macaque hummed and brought a hand to the necklace, "I think I can feel what it's trying to do. But all it's really achieving is making me horny as hell with no way to do anything about it. So thanks for that."

"Wh-? I didn't make you put it on!"

Macaque casually removed the necklace and put it down on the nearest surface before he slipped the ring on and frowned at it, "You said you couldn't get this to work?"

"Yeah, it didn't do anything. Why? You feel something?"

"No... Give me your hand though, I have an idea."

Obligingly, he did so and as soon as Macaque's hand touched his he knew exactly what the ring did. He was going to deny the sound that escaped him for the rest of eternity and he quickly snatched his hand back, "Alrighty! Well, we now know what that does now! That's no help to anyone! Let's put it away, shall we?"

Maybe toss it in a volcano for good measure because he did not like the grin spreading across Macaque's face, "Put it away? Why you haven't even told me what it does yet."

Macaque absolutely knew what it did and for every step forward he took, Wukong took one back, his hands held up in front of him defensively, "We don't have to do this."

Macaque's response was full of delight, "Oh, I think we do. You want a safe word in case you need to tap out?"

He didn't dignify that with a response, he just turned tail and ran. Unfortunately, running from someone with shadow powers was all but impossible and he thought Macaque was taking a truly disproportionate amount of pleasure in this terribly inappropriate game of hide and seek.

Every gentle caress or trailing of his fingers along his skin sent a pleasurable shiver through him and it was all he could do just to not let any more embarrassing sounds escape him. And as if running about with an erection wasn't bad enough, he was appalled to discover that Macaque's vicious laughter was not even nearly the turn off it should be.

It was the ring. It had to be. He refused to accept anything else.

Eventually Macaque had him cornered and Wukong was prepared to beg - for what he wasn't even sure but god was he feeling desperate. As Macaque slowly stalked towards his prey, he suddenly decided this really was way too overwhelming, "Macaque... I... Uh... Safe word? Please?"

He was a little surprised at how immediate an effect that had. Macaque stopped and made a show of removing the ring and having it disappear into the shadows, he spread his arms wide as if to show he had nothing else on him.

He couldn't help but sigh a little in relief, "I, er, didn't think that would actually work."

"Honestly I'm surprised you lasted as long as you did. I thought you would have blown your load after like the third touch."

He was oddly both offended and embarrassingly a little pleased with the backhanded compliment but still slightly aghast at the crude language. He huffed and stood tall, "Guess I'm not so "easy to please" after all."

Macaque shrugged, "It's definitely a step up in duration compared to past performances but I can't say the running away was a shining example of sexual prowess."

Face red, he retorted, "It was a "shining example" of restraint! Something you should think about giving a try sometime!"

Macaque laughed, and he turned away to start heading back, "I think I showed great restraint. I gave you plenty of chances to get away."

Wukong grumbled as he adjusted himself before following after him, "You just wanted to keep the chase going."

"Guilty as charged but don't pretend you don't love that shit too."

It was true - he was almost never happier than he was when they played their game of cat and mouse. It didn't even matter who had what role - it made him feel like he was young again, with no ambitions for power or immortality yet. Just wild and free, without a care in the world.

"Yeah, sure. But for the record? Running with a hard-on really detracts from the whole experience - I could do without that again. What did you do with the ring anyway?"

Macaque just grinned menacingly and forged ahead without answering.

He groaned, silently prayed he would be merciful and jogged after him.

--M--

It was later that evening, after they'd had dinner, that Wukong found himself considering Macaque from the opposite end of the couch, and apropos to nothing he stated, "You've had sex with people other than me."

Macaque looked bemused, "That a problem?"

He made a face, "What? No. I'm just wondering - when? Why? You were even less interested in sex than I was - what changed?"

Macaque seemed to ponder this for a moment before he laughed slightly, "Alright, I'll tell you but it's a story so dumb it defies belief."

His favourite kind of story! He excitedly gestured for him to start.

"So, you know those demons that feed off other people's emotions?"

He was immediately in disbelief, "No... Don't tell me...?"

Macaque nodded, eyes sparkling with mirth, as he set the scene, "It couldn't have been long after your first immortality and we had been out exploring the world when, as per usual, you ditched me because something had caught your eye."

He had the good grace to at least feel sheepish over the reminder of his less than stellar track record as a teammate but Macaque obviously wasn't that upset about it, as he continued, "Lucky for you, I had found my own entertainment in the form of some rumours about some cursed tomb nearby. So, I went to check it out. As it would eventually transpire there was this demon that was "haunting" the place - a shapeshifter that was feeding off the fear of anyone willing to risk the curse for a stab at the rumoured treasure."

Macaque shook his head, "Honestly, it was pretty amateurish - the rumours and the dark were really doing all the work. I was able to see through all their attempts to scare me until eventually they gave up and appeared before me to lecture me for being such a spoil sport.

They explained their whole deal though and that's when they proposed a deal. See, they were starving, not many brave souls had been risking the tomb recently but they didn't need to feast on fear. They not-so-subtly hinted that there were much more pleasurable emotions to be had and they'd make it worth my while if I helped them out."

Wukong interjected, "There's no way you said yes to that!"

Macaque grinned, "You're right. I told them that sex sucks and I wasn't interested but then they were all like "Ah, you've had one too many selfish lovers, eh? But trust me the better you feel, the better I eat." And proceeded to really lay it on thick why this was a good idea. I still wasn't convinced though and eventually they offered up this fancy artefact they had - if they didn't show me the time of my life it was all mine. It was a win-win situation really."

He paused and laughed, "Needless to say, I didn't get that artefact. They were good on their word - although I'd say being a shapeshifting empath really gave them an unfair advantage. But turns out sex doesn't suck - I just had more involved needs than being mounted for two minutes. Go figure. After that I had the occasional fling, but have to say they were a hard act to follow."

Wukong protested, "There's no way that's true! That's some porn level shit! I don't believe you!"

"I told you it was dumb as hell. But I swear, that's what happened. And you don't even know the half of it but I'm not sure your "enlightened" ears could handle the finer details."

He told himself he could totally handle it but he wasn't stupid enough to take the bait - Macaque would go out of his way to embarrass him somehow, instead he continued with his disbelief, "If this happened when you said it did, I would already have known! You would have told me!"

"First of all, I'm not the "kiss and tell" sort of guy. And secondly, just because you liked to over share doesn't mean I did. There's plenty that went on that you never caught wind of."

It was, unfortunately, also quite possible there was plenty that Macaque had actually told him about that he hadn't paid attention to and he was grateful he hadn't felt the need to bring that up. But this hadn't been one of them because his younger self would have been all over this.

Either way he was sort of struck by the notion that there were apparently things he didn't know about Macaque from before his imprisonment - things that flew in the face of what he thought he knew. And he found he really wanted to know the truth.

A little hopeful he asked, "Like what?"

Over the next hour or so Macaque had him in constant awe and hysterics - stories of misbegotten adventures, strange rivalries, pranks gone wrong, backstage drama - and he was sure they were only scratching the tip of the iceberg.

For as amazing as some of these stories were, there was an uncomfortable feeling slowly building in his chest, trying not to sound as affected by it as he was, he asked, "How come you never told me about any of this at the time?"

He could understand a few stories slipping under the radar - Macaque forgetting to tell him because something big came up that distracted him or maybe Wukong had been off the island for so long the moment had passed - but he was getting the feeling there was more to it than that.

Macaque shrugged, "Ah, you know what it was like - always so much going on back in those days. You were away, or we were busy, or I was in a bad mood. But hey! Look on the bright side though! Now you get to hear them all for the first time now!"

"Yeah... That's really all there was to it though? No other reason I'm only hearing these stories now?"

Macaque seemed to waver for a moment before he sighed and turned away slightly embarrassed, "You've not noticed a common theme with these stories? I'm generally the butt of the joke. When we were younger I was sort of, er, hung up on what you thought about me. Didn't want you to think less of me."

He cooed, instantly enamoured, "Aw! You wanted me to think you were cool? That's so cute!"

Macaque crossed his arms with a huff, before grumbling, "Something like that."

Wukong couldn't resist teasing, "You know it didn't work though, right? I've always known you were a big dork. It's obvious no matter what you do."

Macaque scoffed, "You're one to talk. But obviously now that I'm older and wiser I know better. I'm no longer under any delusion that you're the be-all and end-all."

"Uh-huh. Sure. We're just going to pretend I'm not your favourite person in the whole world then?"

"You don't even rank in the top three."

"You're such a rotten liar!" He then leaned over to get in Macaque's space, he let the magic in his hands hum as he poked at him, "C'mon, admit it, I'm your favourite person. Not even top three... As if!"

Macaque squirmed and grappled with his hands to stop his prodding, "See, this right here is why you're not my favourite - you're just so annoying when you don't get your way."

They bickered childishly for a while as they playfully wrestled as best as they could without falling off the couch until eventually he plopped down on top of Macaque.

Macaque ran a hand through his hair, "Giving up?"

"You wish. I'm just biding my time. I'll get that confession. You just wait."

Macaque scoffed, "Sure thing, Monkey Cop."

A comfortable silence took hold as Macaque groomed his fur and Wukong felt his thoughts drift under the gentle ministrations. If he didn't think about it too hard, then a younger Macaque trying to act cool around him was both hilarious and sort of adorable. And it's not like Wukong hadn't ever done the same.

He'd lived for the adulation that others lavished on him but for all his love and loyalty Macaque had often been tight lipped when it came to praising him, probably not wanting to feed his dangerously inflated ego, and he had taken this as something of a challenge. So, there had been plenty of times he'd gone out of his way to try and impress Macaque but it didn't quite feel the same.

Macaque had hidden away parts of himself that he thought Wukong would think less of him for and that rubbed him the wrong way. He shouldn't have felt like he had to do that, he should have been able to trust Wukong with all of him but he couldn't blame him one bit for not being able to.

It was different now though, Wukong could be someone that Macaque could confide in and depend upon, he may tease him or give him a hard time but he knew that Wukong would always have his back. Macaque knew that, right?

"Hey, uh, you know you can talk to me, right? Like, about anything." He tried to make it sound slightly less serious by adding, "You know, even if you come across as super uncool or whatever."

Macaque snorted, "As if I worry about being "cool" around you. Nothing I can say or do can compare to the dumb shit you've done."

"Hey! I am the epitome of cool! You could only dream of being as cool as me!"

"As a general rule, people that go around calling themselves cool are anything but."

He poked him in the side, "Whatever. That wasn't nearly the important part of that question. And I would like an actual response. So... You know that you can talk to me, right?"

The pause almost had him pushing himself up to look at him but the light pressure Macaque had on his head told him he wanted him to stay where he was. Eventually he answered, "I'm getting there."

Oh.

That hurt a bit more than he wanted to admit but he tried not to dwell on it and instead responded, "Anything I can do to help with that?"

Macaque started scratching gently at the base of his skull, right where he knew he liked it, as he leaned down and kissed the top of his head, "Just keep doing what you're doing. Some things just take time, old habits are hard to break."

Time was something they had plenty of and he was in this for the long haul. However long it took, he would prove that to him. For the moment, however he snuggled close and asked to hear more stories.

----

Wukong had been making his way back to the house when he heard what, unfortunately, sounded an awful lot like Macaque's brooding playlist coming from that direction. He had a feeling he knew what might have happened but either way he made his way back and cautiously peeked his head around the door before entering properly.

He found Macaque sprawled out on the couch with his eyes closed as his depressing music filled the air. He leaned on the back of the couch and looked down at him, "I thought you were seeing Bǎi Hé today?"

"She had to cancel."

He'd had a feeling but still he frowned, "That's like the third time in a row."

"She's busy - school, friends, all that jazz."

"Yeah, but she couldn't have told you before now she couldn't make it?"

"Things come up, you lose track of time, it's fine."

"It's clearly not fine. You're here moping and listening to your saddest playlist."

"I'm not moping, I'm just lying down. And that playlist is just the one that came on."

Yeah, right. He could deny it all he wanted but he was obviously super bummed out at being stood up. He tried to play it cool but Macaque really looked forward to his monthly catch up with Bǎi Hé, he would always come back and proudly update him on whatever she'd been up to.

He couldn't help but feel a little annoyed on Macaque's behalf, "What excuse did she give you this time?"

"Study date."

"What? But she knew she had plans with you! That's just plain rude! Did she even apologize?"

"I'm sure she will when she realises."

"Wait. What do you mean?"

Macaque heaved a sigh and sat up, "She didn't show so I thought I'd just go see if I could find her in one of her usual haunts. I did, she was busy."

He groaned slightly, "Macaque! Why didn't you just call her? Once she realised she probably would have come and met you!"

Macaque's phone was all set up to accommodate his visual impairment - all he had to do was pull the damned thing from whatever shadows he usually stashed it in and tell it to call Bǎi Hé and this whole sad thing could have been avoided.

Macaque just shrugged and Wukong tutted as he poked the side of his head, "Don't just shrug. Why are you being all weird about this? You're throwing a pity party for no good reason."

Macaque swatted his hand away, "Look, she was happy where she was. No need to drag her away from that just to go for lunch."

"Macaque, I am actually going to smack you. Having lunch with you isn't some chore - you both have a great time whenever you meet up."

He really could understand being disheartened by the fact that this had been the third time in a row they hadn't met but Macaque hadn't even tried to get in touch with her to see what was up.

Sounding a little annoyed, Macaque responded, "Wukong, just..." He then took an aggravated breath before he sagged and admitted, "She's not a little kid, Wukong. She's growing up. I..."

Ah, okay, maybe this wasn't just Macaque being down on himself. Wukong himself really couldn't stand the thought of befriending any more humans - as fragile and short-lived as they were it was a recipe of heartache. And well, in this case, they grew up and changed fast too.

Macaque continued, "I know I should have called her, alright? I just... I don't know, I guess I'm not sure if I fit into her life anymore. I don't want her to feel like it's an obligation to have a relationship with me. And she's doing so well these days, maybe she's ready to move on from the support she needed after the Lady Bone Demon, y'know? Have a normal life - free from people like us."

They weren't unfair concerns. Humans were creatures of change - it could very well be the case that Bǎi Hé's needs and wants didn't involve Macaque like they used to but that didn't necessarily mean there was no place for Macaque in her life.

That is if Macaque really wanted to suffer through loving a mortal. There was a small part of him that wanted to tell Macaque this could be a good thing - break things off before he loved her so much that losing her haunted him before and after she was gone.

But he didn't doubt Macaque was well aware of her mortality and it felt callous to bring it up now. As he mulled over the correct response, Macaque suddenly looked a little stressed and the reason for it was quickly revealed as he pulled his ringing phone from the shadows, even without the phone explicit voicing who was calling Wukong would have been able to guess who it was.

He clasped Macaque's shoulder, "Answer it."

Macaque took a fortifying breath before using the audio command to accept the call. Wukong squeezed his shoulder once before letting go and leaving to give him some privacy but from what he could grasp from Macaque's reassurances that everything was fine, it sounded like Bǎi Hé was extremely apologetic for what had happened.

Good. She was a good kid, he really hadn't wanted to think she would deliberately blow off Macaque like that. It wasn't even a minute later than Macaque found him and explained he was leaving to go meet up with her. He forwent any "I told you so"'s or the like and just told him to have a good time.

He got a grateful kiss on the cheek and then he was on his own once more. He decided, he really needed to find something to keep him occupied lest thoughts of his relationship with MK started sounding a little too similar to Macaque's concerns about his relationship with Bǎi Hé.

--Chapter End--

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LMK Fanfic Masterlist

#lmk #lmk fanfiction #my fanfiction #originally posted on ao3 #tumblr fic #au: shadow (lmk)#lmk macaque #lmk monkey king #lmk sun wukong #lmk shadowpeach #shadowpeach

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thatone-brightstar · 1 year ago

Text

The Bear & The Fox (Carmy Berzatto x Fem!Reader)

Chapter 11: Collateral Damage

Words: 5.8k

Summary: It's been a month since your breakup with Carmy and Syd wouldn't ask for your help unless they were absolutely slammed.

a/n: 1 more chapter + epilogue to go and I don't know what to do with myselffff!!!!

Thank you for sticking around thus far and commenting is always appreciated!

Heartbreak is a funny little thing. You can walk a delicate line all your life to avoid feeling it, but one way or another it’ll find you. It’s the eternal debate: To avoid all and spare yourself from hurt, but live a life of emptiness and quiet; or to welcome the pain like an old friend, at peace and knowing you never stopped trying. Everyone chooses a side at some point, but you’re never really spared from it.

You’ve always hated the part of you that feels too deeply. The one that created stories out of strangers, wonder struck by microseconds of eye contact, then shattered when they step off the train. The one that no matter how many times was dolefully blown into the ground, it still believes in good grace and happy endings.

“So yeah… That’s basically it since the last time I saw you.” You say, twirling the small ring with the aquamarine stone that you had stopped wearing long ago. You look up to the woman sitting across from you and ask “What? You asked me how I was.”

“And I wasn’t expecting a two hour monologue.”

“Well what did you expect? Haven’t seen you in months, I needed to vent…” You fight back.

You can hear the soft scribbles of her pen for a couple minutes and you make yourself comfortable against the soft pillows that fill up most of her couch.

“So, how long has it been?” She speaks again.

“Bout a month…” You sigh.

“And have either of you tried reaching out?”

“No, I-” You take a breath and ponder over the question, the single unanswered text weighing heavy on your phone. “I wouldn’t know what to say. Besides, I’ve been too busy with my paintings and helping out with the auction. I don’t really have time for… anything else. I-I guess he’s been busy too.”

“But you still know what he’s up to?” She asks with raised brows.

You shrug with a single shoulder and chew at your thumbnail with slight nerves. “Syd talks about work sometimes, when we go out. But I think she kinda feels guilty for bringing him up. I told her it’s fine.” The woman looks at you skeptically through the small circular glasses. “I’m fine.” You half lie. “I am, it's just… The auction is this weekend and they’re catering so… I don’t really know how I’m supposed to feel…”

“Because you’ll see him again?”

“...Yeah.”

The woman calls your name again and you rip your eyes from the ring on your finger, heavy inside your own head to hear her question.

“So, is your set finished?” She asks to change the conversation.

“Mhm. It only took me a couple weeks to finish but -” Your smile curls slowly at the edge of your lips. “I'm really proud of them.”

“That’s great to hear.” She whispers with a genuine smile. “You know, heartbreak can also be a beautiful thing. It’s painful, yes, but it also gives a vulnerability we don’t regularly allow ourselves. It lets us create wonderful things. It’s all part of the human experience. It truly is nice to know you’re doing better, even after going MIA for months.” She says with a practiced tone mothers use to scold you.

She schedules you in for the next month and you promise to not bail this time, then walking out the office with your bag over your shoulder and a lightweight heart. The prospect of seeing him at the auction is still heavy on your mind as you make your way to the train station and the simple thought fills your chest like a crisp breath of air. ‘He could just send Syd’ you think and you try to not engage too much with the idea in fear that it may sour your good mood. Instead you focus on your steady steps and people watching, ‘whatever happens, happens.’ you mumble under your breath.

**********

Syd’s call had pulled you from the comfort of your home before the sun was even visible over the horizon. Her worried tone had you waking up instantly and darting frantically around your darkened room in search of anything that could shield you from the increasing cold, then out the door and in the dreaded direction of The Beef.

It’s been a month since you last spoke with Carmy and even though in the grand scheme of time, it’s only a mere speck of dust, to you it had felt eternal. Small snippets blur together into one long strenuous day, piggy-backing off your grief and pushing your shoulders deeper into the ground. You had called him a few days after in hopes that you could talk things over, but it went straight to voicemail. So you left a text that you anxiously waited an answer for the following days. All of a sudden, one week turned into two, then three and before you knew it, a month had gone by without a response. You kept busy picking up most of the planning to avoid any crossing thought of him, only allowing yourself to break with your canvas in front and acrylics to spear.

You had done enough to convince yourself you were fine, that even if he were to show up tomorrow and not send Syd on his behalf, you'd be fine.

Fine. Fine. Fucking fine.

Everything was fucking fine until this morning when Syd had called to ask for help at the restaurant. Richie had been arrested, the place was a mess and they were behind on prep for the event tomorrow because they were lacking hands. Protesting would only lose you time that they did not have, so in place of that you settle to ignore the treacherous wormhole vacuuming out the few remains of confidence you had saved for tomorrow as you wait for the train that’ll leave you on River North Station.

Twenty three minutes later, you're walking at a brisk pace through the streets with a thick knot for a stomach and a growing unease. You push through the door and stop in your tracks at the shock and disarray of the place.

“What the fuck? Ugh-”

The potent smell of alcohol is the first thing that invades your nose, along with the stickiness of the floor the deeper you walk into the room. There’s solo cups scattered everywhere and half working Christmas lights hanging loosely over the walls. Some frames from the front wall lay broken, spewing shards of glass all around the tiles.

“Mi amor, qué sorpresa!” You hear Tina’s voice from behind the counter and you slowly walk towards her, the small pieces shattering under the weight of your boots.

She hugs you tight and kisses your cheek. “Tina, what the hell happened in here?! It smells like the fuckin’ Hangover…”

“Ay baby, don’t even get me started with these knuckleheads-”

You take another woeful look around, then follow her inside as she recounts the little information Sydney gave them from the frantic phone call she had with Carmen. How they rented out The Beef for a bachelor’s and Richie had knocked out some drunk while defending Carmen’s ass. It’s strange to you, the pair’s relationship. How they were always ready to rip each other to pieces, but would jump to save the other without a second thought. They said they couldn’t stand one another, but you’re sure they’re something either can’t live without.

“So what, he’s in for aggravated assault?” You ask.

“Only if the guy wakes up.” Marcus answers with a broom in hand, sweeping away remnants of glitter and tinsel.

“And if he doesn’t?”

“Could be 5 to 25 for accidental manslaughter…” Sweeps chimes in while carrying a full trash bag to the back.

Your throat closes up and behind your concern, you hear Marcus ask Sweeps how he knows so much about the matter. ‘Bro, I told you. I went to Harvard Law…’ ‘Oh yeah…’

You breathe in deep while maintaining the possibility of his release still in your mind and you head to Syd’s side, pulling your hair up into a ponytail automatically.

“Alright, brigade’s here. What d’you need?” You say after a quick hug hello.

“Guess you know more about it than I do…”

She’s flipping through the binder with all the recipes and images of the canapes they’d be serving, the one you helped Carmy assemble all those months back. Despite a few scribbles and notes at the foot of some recipes, it’s practically the same. You bend the corner lightly on the last page to find the miniature ‘C’ surrounded by purile hearts and your morning coffee grows knotty in your gut.

“Is he…” You try asking, but the sentence loses power half way through.

Syd seems to catch your drift. “No, no. He’s been down at the station since dawn.”

You nod absentmindedly with your eyes glued to the page.

“Okay, um. Marcus left the sourdough for the tapas rising all night yesterday, so we have a good start on that-” Syd began and you pull all your attention to the task at hand. “Beef’s already bracing in the oven but it’ll take a couple more hours. You can start with the ginger- tangerine compote. That’ll go on the brie.” She says, handing you one of the blue aprons.

“Alright, heard.” The words feel unnatural rolling off your tongue after being away from a kitchen for so long.

She leaves you in search of Fak, urging him to finish fixing the backed up sink in the Steward section. You drown out the bicker and hastily make your way into the walk-in, throwing the apron over your head and tying the back securely around your waist. It’s almost as if the familiar pressure unveils a dormant sensation and you soon find yourself navigating with ease through the skills you thought forgotten. The knife feels at home under your palm -heftier than a paint brush but still requires the same level of concentration- as you separate the tangerine supremes and add them to the pot holding clarified butter, sugar and rosemary leaves. Everyone works in a rhythmic but comfortable silence, a stark difference from the frantic, unmeasured mess they seemed to thrive in when you still worked here.

“Yo chef?” Marcus calls from your left.

You lift your head to him while you finish peeling the ginger. “What's up?”

“Mind tasting this for me? It’s for the gig but somethin’ bout the filling don’t feel right…”

You nod and wipe your hands on your rag, then take a bite into the miniature stuffed doughnut that doesn’t seem bigger than an Oreo. The flavors are too thick to tell them apart but the softness of the dough allows it to almost melt in your mouth.

“The dough’s perfect-“ You say between bites, the compliment blooming over his face into a grin. “How bout a different filling though, there’s a lot going on and you can’t really enjoy the texture.”

“Right!? See, that’s what I was thinkin’. Got anything in mind?”

“Mmm, you could try a chai cream filling.”

“Just milk and cinnamon, then?”

“Yes and also no” You answer with a smile. “Try to steep some black tea in milk with cinnamon and ginger. Then instead of sugar, add honey to your crème and the chai milk. It should be a little bit more runny so when it cools it doesn’t get that jelly-like consistency from the egg.” You finish then turn back to peeling off the skin of the ginger with your spoon.

Marcus is still standing beside you with a pleased smile. “You really know your stuff, huh? Thought you was burnt out.” and you lightly hit him over the arm with the back of your spoon.

“Oh, I can totally smoke your ass baker boy..” You grin.

Before he can fight back, a sudden commotion by the entrance has you lifting your head above the second level of the table and searching for the noise. The slick handle of the spoon almost slips past your hand when your eyes capture the image of two very sleep deprived Carmen and Richie walking through the staff door. You can see everyone showering them with attention, how Tina hugs Richie tight then smacks him hard over the head, but the loud ringing in your ears and the sudden rush of cold blood prevent you from moving any closer. Not that you’d want to anyway. You try to pull yourself together, wiping your clammy hands for the tenth time and watching them advance deeper into the room. Richie’s the first to spot you and true to his nature, he lets the whole room know that he’s seen you, with outstretched palms in your direction.

“Oh, shit! This a fuckin’ family reunion?!” His hand falls heavily over the crown of your head and you swat it away with a smack.

“How’s prison?”

“Oh, y'know…free food, can’t complain.”

“D’you get yourself a bitch?” You tease.

“Yeah, brought ‘em home, actually-” He says pointing back to Carmy, causing the forming grin on your face to fall when you see he’s been watching you. You pull your eyes from him and back to your cutting board. “Oh right, my bad…”

You shake your head, mumbling a sharp ‘asshole’ through gritted teeth. Richie takes off to the back and you’re finally left at peace.

You fall into a pronounced balance of chopping and continuously stirring the compote, until it reaches the needed consistency and you pull it off the fire to cool. You check it off Syd’s thoroughly organized list and scroll down to find the next task, then make your way back into the walk-in. With a bowl resting on your hip, you pick out a few pears you’ll need, then hear the creak of the metal door open and you assume it’s Syd coming in to take a breather from the frenetic kitchen.

“Yo, I’m gonna start poaching the pears. You’re out of red wine but I can run to the corner store and try to flirt with the clerk to knock a few bucks off a bottle-”

The slick bowl almost slips from your grip when your eyes catch his. A chill slithers from your neck, down your spine and wraps around your knees, rendering them uselessly immobile as Carmy just stares you down through tired lids. The room grows uncomfortably smaller with the two of you locked inside and you're afraid that he can hear the irregular tempo in your quickening pulse. You wonder if the slight shock in his brows is due to not knowing you were in there. It only flashes for a second, then his features conceal behind a curtain of indifference, making your stand straighter.

“H-hey.” He says with a feign coolness as he wraps his own apron around his waist and moves deeper into the room, as if it’s the most natural thing to find you between the inventory of his restaurant.

You turn back to the shelf so he doesn’t notice the multiple quivery inhales it takes for your voice to sound somewhat even. “Syd asked me for help, that’s why I’m here I-”

“No- yeah, I get it- I wasn’t-” He cuts himself off and takes a breath that has your wavering stare slowly inching towards him. “Thank you…”

You finally turn to him, only holding his stare for a second, then give him a tight smile and wrap both arms securely around the bowl that wants to slip from your clammy palms. His lips part and you wait for anything else to leave his mouth, maybe a ‘How’ve you been?’ or a ‘Can we talk?’. But nothing does and you try to not let it sting as much as it normally does when you get your hopes up. You take a reluctant step towards the door, then another and another, only stopping when your name vibrates in the concealed room.

“Yeah…?” You turn with a full chest.

He holds an unopened bottle of wine in your direction, face blank. “Bottom left shelf.” He says, shrugging.

“Oh. Right.” You take it without meeting his stare so he doesn’t see the grief slapped across it and quickly push yourself out the space.

You spend the better part of half an hour peeling the thin skin off the pears and letting the simmering wine and spices fill the kitchen with a strong sweetness. Carmy’s presence looms around the room as he checks in with every station on their progress, but doesn’t stop with you. All you get is a soft ‘Behind’ and the tingling sensation of his touch on your lower back as he passes by. You don’t know if it’s on purpose or not, although it doesn't really matter to the breath that stops in your throat when he does it. ‘Just finish this and you can leave.’ you repeat to yourself. Though you know you won’t, at least not until they’re up to schedule, even if every second sharing the same space withers at your soul.

You do your best to focus on your task, only talking to Tina when she gently squeezes your forearm to ask if you're okay, because your brows are glued into that permanent scowl that only displays your irritation outward.

“Yeah I, um- just got a lot on my plate.” You tell her and try to not let it trigger the tears you’ve hoarded in the back of your throat.

“No te hará sentir mejor-” She whispers to your side.

“-Probably not-”

“-pero él está igual de miserable que tú. Really baby, you should have a talk with him, y’know, straighten things out.”

“T, ni siquiera me ve a la cara…” You whisper back. “How am I supposed to straighten anything out if he won’t even look at me?”

“Ay, baby I know. But I’ve known that stubborn boy all his life and let me tell you, since he came back from Madison Square Park -or wherever the fuck-, he was all different and… bitchy. And it wasn’t ‘till you came along that he finally felt like the Carmy we all knew before… pues ya tu sabes.” She says in reference to his brother.

“You two are good for each other, but you’re both stubborn as hell… talk it out, okay? Don’t lose somethin’ good ‘cause you're stubborn.” Tina rubs your shoulder reassuringly then with a final smile. she turns yelling ‘Corner!’ and disappears behind the tall stands.

You swallow down the aching knot and distract yourself with the slippery fruit in your hands.

“Can I..?” You see his hands before hearing his voice, as he lightly places a white cutting board a few feet away from you. You eye the curves of discoloring letters above his knuckles, then force your stare back to your own working hands and shrug.

“Sure… your kitchen.”

He only nods, from your side view you see how his eyes linger on you for a few moments then fall back down. The air between you feels thick despite the music playing from the hoarse stereo and a light layer of conversation from the staff. There’s a heavy pressure over your chest that only seems to expand with every silent minute passing between you.

Then Carmy clears his throat. “How’s-uhm- your set.. for the auction?”

Confusion and irritation brew in synchronicity with your wine and you try to hide the annoyance his question brings you. He acts as if he’s just seen you the day before, as if things had ended with a friendly handshake and a mutual agreement, not with him breaking up with you and completely vanishing from your life.

“It’s fine.” You turn to the burners and stir the pot slowly to keep it from burning and also to avoid his heavy gaze.

You taste it to make sure the flavors are correct then turn back to finally finish peeling the last of your pears. Carmy stares at you like he wants to say something else, but just contemplates the seriousness of your features and the flow of your hands as you move the peeler in a frenzy. Each stroke grows closer to your skin and he just feels the need to warn you.

“Careful you’re gonna-”

“Mierda!” You hiss, dropping the handle immediately and cradling your palm under the injured one. “Hijo de puta!”

He’s by your side in a second, with his clean towel hovering under your hands and taking the fruit that you crushed involuntarily when the pain closed your fist.

“It’s fine- I’m fine.”

“No you’re not, you’re bleeding-”

“I said I’m fine!” You pry your hand hard enough to hear a slight pop from your wrist.

Carmy’s hands fall to his sides and you divert your gaze to the floor walking to the nearest sink to clean your wound. You hiss again when the warm water hits your palm and a gash at the bottom of it is finally visible. Fucking perfect. You scrub remnants of puree and blood off, until the water runs a light pink and you're relieved to see it won’t need stitches. A gauze and some tape will suffice, so you wrap it in some paper towels to avoid dripping and march to the small office where you find the kit. The quicker you move, the faster you’ll be out of the confined space that makes you feel like a vulnerable prey. But your fingers tremble from the light sting and the edge of the wrapper isn’t cooperating with your dull nails. Tiny droplets of blood pool in the center of your palm, the frustration grows too quickly and you slam the unopened gauze flat on the desk.

“Fuck!”

‘It’s fine, you’re fine.’ The voice in your head circles through the same phrase, pretending that the sudden proximity of him didn’t unearth something you have tried so hard to bury down for the last month. You thought you could be mature enough to ignore the crushing weight settling over you with every stare, but the wisps of frigid indifference that radiated off him wrapped a tightening noose around your neck and you weren’t sure how long you had until it finally killed you.

A soft click pulls your attention from the crimson in your hand. Carmy stands with raised palms, inching slowly towards your intense glare, then reaches out a hand as if trying to help a wounded animal. Which in a way, you are and the joke forming in your mind about the bear helping a fox would be rather funny if you weren’t so immensely upset with him.

With a ragged sigh, you turn in the small space and stretch out your hand to him, eyes locking on a painting on the wall to evade his stare. You ignore the furor of goosebumps that invade your skin the second his touch is on you. Carmen’s hand holds you in the cocoon of his fist, thumb rubbing delicate circles beside the battered spot while he uses the paper towel to soak up all the blood. You reprimand your wayward beats for their reaction to his innocent touch and you have to constantly pull your wandering gaze from reaching the dangerous borders of his tightened jaw. His deep exhales fan the baby hairs resting at the bottom of your neck, his attention fixed on the small imperfection. His movements are slow, asking each muscle for permission to move the next, because having you this close after so long is a luxury he does not want to rush through, not if he’s never getting it again.

Carmy understood your anger. He could feel it radiating off you in waves that bounced in the small space, but he also understood that he’s never had enough words to properly express the turmoil of everythingness swirling constantly inside his head. He wanted to let you know how hard it had been for him too. Confess the unhealthy amount of time he was spending at the restaurant- only going home to shower then leaving again- because he was afraid of the scent of your perfume and how it lingered on every breathable space in his home… apartment- not home- at least not since you had gone.

He focuses on swabbing the sanitizing wipe tenderly in hopes that his actions can transmit what he can’t say. The alcohol makes you hiss again and his eyes flicker to your frowned brows, mumbling a soft ‘sorry’.

He only lets go to tear open the gauze and some tape, then takes you in his grasp again to wrap your palm up safely. You expect him to let go once he’s done. To create as much needed space to fit the betrayal he portrayed the last time you saw him, this would only explain why he never called back. But he doesn’t. And he doesn’t look up at you either. Your stares meet on the flesh where his thumb still brushes over the blood-stained pit, your chest raises in slow puffs and the uninjured hand grips tightly over the edge hitting behind you. This is all too familiar again, right down to the brewing anxiety trickling heat into your overworked veins. You can't help but to foolishly crawl your pupils over the navy blue of his apron, past the strained tendons of his neck, the sharpness of his nose and to the beautiful blue you had missed so much.

Neither of you notice how the space has reduced to mere inches between you until his eyes flicker to yours and every single speck is bright and visible for your admiration. He swallows down hard, the Adam's apple bouncing in his throat portrays his nerves openly to you. The last reasonable, minute voice in his head tells him to pull away, but the way you’re staring up at him has his body tilting in your direction instead. Eyes wide and glossy dance around the freckles dusting his cheeks, causing his hand to float from your wrist to the dip of your waist and his forehead finally falls against yours.

You gasp in softly when his fingers dig into the center of your spine while his nose brushes along yours longingly. You can feel his sultry exhales ghost over the curve of your parted lips with doubt still present in his movements.

“Carmy…” The voice is above a whisper and you’re not sure you even have the strength to utter the sentence that’s formed in your head.

Your voice seems to trigger something in him. His jaw hardens, his fingers bunch up your shirt in a light fist and just as quickly, his grip on you loses strength and his hand falls to rest beside your fisted one. Then a grave sigh parts his chest and he takes a painful step back, unwilling to lift his eyes from the ground.

It takes a minute for you to react, then the butterflies in your stomach turn to wasps swarming in dangerous circles, unable to fly out due to the knot blocking your throat. He’s eerily silent, eyes glued to the floor to ignore your fiery glare.

“Sorry, I…”

You scoff and shake your head, blinking rapidly to pull back the tears threatening to spill with your anger.

“Screw you, Carmen.” You untie the apron as quickly as you can with your injured hand and throw it at his desk before walking out of the small room.

With strong footsteps, you take your bag from above the lockers and escape out the back. The door slams hard as you push yourself out, Carmen following behind but by the time he calls your name you’re already a couple steps ahead.

“Fox!” He yells and you spin in his direction with nothing but anger over your face.

“Listen, I’m sor-”

“No-fuck you- you don’t get to talk, alright?! It’s my turn.” He takes a step back before crashing into you, jaw locked tight and regardless of the deafening ring in your ears, you refuse to bite your tongue again.

“Look Carmy, I am truly sorry that I didn’t tell you earlier and I’m so sorry that I’m here instead of your brother- but that does not mean you get a fuck-it-all free card and get to pull shit like that!” Tears of anger trickle down your heated skin and tickle the curve of your trembling lips.

“I called you Carmy…” The words burn as they force themselves to spill out. “I called you, and I texted you and I waited cause I knew you were pissed - and you have every fuckin’ right to be- but it doesn’t give you the right to kick me out of your life one second, then act as if everything’s fine the next, cause it’s not!”

The sounds of the city have grown mute between your heavy breaths and the erratic beating in your skull. You don’t expect him to answer and he doesn’t seem to have anything to say. He simply stands before you, eyes glossy and brows knitted as you bare all that you kept since the last time you saw him.

“I know you’re scared. And I know you’re angry and whatever this is-was-” You say pointing between you. “I know it didn’t come at a right time. But I meant what I said, Bear, I do love you. So fucking much. But that doesn’t mean it’s fair of you to take it out on me cause you’re angry at him… I refuse to be collateral damage for whatever the fuck you got going on.”

The weight over your chest might have shrunk, but it didn’t make you feel any less better than before, especially not with the way he’s looking at you. You want nothing more than to run to his side and kiss away the few stray drops that nest in the corner of his red rimmed eyes. You want to hug him tight until the loose pieces of his brokenness stick back together into one whole man, but the last of logic inside you knows that it would only serve as a temporary band-aid. So instead you offer a speck of a smile, just a soft curve that doesn’t reach your teary eyes.

“I love you, Carmy. So I dunno, give me a call when you sort it out- I know it’s more of a ‘when’ than an ‘if’ situation-… I think I’m stupid enough to answer.”

Carmen watches from his frozen position as you rub the tears away with the back of your hand, then the gravel crunches under your boots and in a few seconds you disappear around the corner.

He has enough energy to slump over the crates by the wall and pull the crushed package of smokes from his back pocket. While the wisp of smoke swirls in the wind around him, he rubs his eyes until the image of your tear-soaked face blurs away behind the darkness. The gravel creeks again, heavy steps move from his left then settle with a groan beside him.

“I’m not in the mood, alright?” He says, eyes focused on the street at the end of the alley.

Richie doesn’t say anything, only takes out his own cigarette and joins his cousin in silence.

“Is there, um-” His voice is thick and wavering, barely holding on to controlled breaths. “Is there a name for… when you’re afraid of somethin’ good happening cause you think somethin’ bad’s gonna happen? ”

His thumb rubs anxiously over the same spot on his palm as he waits for Richie’s response.

“Fuck it, I dunno… life?” He takes a long drag, letting the exhale occupy the empty space in front of them. “That bad, huh?”

“Yeah…” Then the silence falls over them again.

When his cigarette burns out, Carmy reaches for another, but before he can settle the lighter back down, Richie pulls out a small envelope from the pocket of his jacket and hands it to him. Carmy’s reluctant to take it, his eyes flicker between his cousin and the piece of paper, then he slowly reaches out.

“What’s this?”

“It’s from your asshole brother… R.I.P and whatnot.” Is all he says.

His hand trembles again, his breath short circuits and a new wave of dread nips at the back of his neck. He swallows hard and breathes in deep, bracing himself, before turning it over. ‘This day just keeps getting better…’

Chapter 12.

Taglist: @pearlstiare @teteminne, @beebslebobs, @harrysmatcha, @yum-yahgurt, @pussy-f41ry, @kirakombat and that’s it lmao

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happysparklingshadows · 1 year ago

Text

𝙻𝚘𝚝𝚝𝚒𝚎 𝙼𝚊𝚝𝚝𝚑𝚎𝚠𝚜 𝙷𝚎𝚊𝚍𝚌𝚊𝚗𝚘𝚗𝚜 ('𝟿𝟼)

Note: Sorry for being away for so long, depression came and kicked my fat ass this month. Chapter 4 of Certain Hunger is coming out September 25 so watch out for that, and i hope you like these headcannons! Comment your own and reblog if you like!

𝙶𝚎𝚗𝚎𝚛𝚊𝚕 𝙻𝚘𝚝𝚝𝚒𝚎 𝙷𝚎𝚊𝚍𝚌𝚊𝚗𝚘𝚗𝚜

♡ Lottie is a Pieces Sun and Libra Rising

♡ Lottie’s favorite color is Purple, Royal purple, to be specific.

♡ Lottie is a cat person through and through. She likes to be very gentle with animals and take things at their speed. If they didn’t want affection, that was okay, they will eventually want something, and Lottie will just be content.

Lottie's spirit Animal is the Bear.

♡ Lottie, for sure, had a pet cat that was her best friend as a child. Her mother wasn’t emotionally available, and her father thought throwing money at problems would fix them. Lottie grew up believing she was messed up and wished she could just be how her parents wanted her, but she never really understood what was wrong with her.

♡ Lottie is a Extervert. She loves connecting with people and talking in general. She is the type of person who always makes little friends in public places. It could be an old lady, a frat dude, or a little girl. It doesn’t matter because she is now their friend, and they are talking.

♡ Lottie likes spicy food a lot, and she would be the person to proudly eat chili without flinching infront of people.

♡ Lottie’s favorite food is a Spicy King Crab roll and Miso Soup from her hometown Japanese restaurant. She likes to add wasabi to all her sushi, even the Californian roll.

♡ Lottie's childhood was not horrible, but it was very lonely. Lottie had all the toys, Nannies, and friends to fill her time. She never went without, and she never really had to worry about her basic needs not getting met. But her mother was emotionally absent because her father was a very intense control freak about how the family should be. Her dad came from money, and her mother did not, and she was the collateral damage of two different philosophies about raising kids. She didn't get any reassurance, and she was seen as messed up in some way. If she wasn't perfect or had opinions against her father, he would throw her mental disorder in her face. Lottie loves her parents and will follow what they say to the word, but she holds so much resentment towards them.

♡ Laura Lee, Taissa, and Van are her closest friends on the team. In high school, Van, Tai, and Lottie always sat together in classes and at lunch. They were their own cliche in the team, and Laura Lee was the innocent add-on they all had a soft spot for.

♡ Lottie's sex drive is pretty normal, it isn't all that crazy. Lottie likes to have sex 1 or 2 times a week, and she likes to have wholesome intimacy in between. Lottie is a Switch! in her normal setting, but she does lead towards Top! most of the time.

♡ I think Lottie’s main vice that she uses at a party, which might be crazy but hear me out, is cocaine. I believe this because she is 1. a girl from NEW money 2. It’s an upper drug 3. It’s the fucking 1990s.

♡ ⚠️Unpopular opinion⚠️ I think that Lottie is not ashamed of being rich and taking her father’s money. It’s the culture of her family and their upper-class peers. She is thrilled that she doesn’t have to work or struggle, and she grows to learn that it is a profound privilege never to have to work or struggle in her early adulthood or ever really.

𝙳𝚒𝚏𝚏𝚎𝚛𝚎𝚗𝚝 𝙰𝚄s/𝚄𝚗𝚒𝚟𝚎𝚛𝚜𝚎s

♡ Royalty AU! Lottie Matthews would be a Merlin or Head Mage of the castle. I can see Lottie playing some kind of magical role in a fantasy setting and that she would be someone who is seen as crazy still because I feel like it is core to Lottie’s character. She would give you healing potions, and she would give you a protective rune for your armor or a necklace for your journey. She would be watching out for you through a looking glass.

♡ Delinquent AU! Lottie is a hardcore shoplifter who got busted for stealing $670 worth of clothes from the mall. She was arrested, her parents paid her bail, and she kept doing it. It gives Lottie feelings that she usually has numbed through her many medications and uses Shoplifting to thrill her in her watered-down, milquetoast privileged life.

♡ Supernatural AU! Lottie is a forest witch for the reasons above in the Royalty AU.

♡ Superhero/Marvel AU! Spiderman. No other words.

♡ College AU! Lottie would be a pothead in college and would get into spirituality. I think in every timeline, Lottie gives off goop vibes and would become some kind of spiritual influencer. She would be on Witchtok for sure. Lottie would change majors a lot. I see English, Communications, French, and even a try in Gender studies. She will eventually drop out because she has her dad’s money to fall back on.

𝙿𝚛𝚎-𝙲𝚛𝚊𝚜𝚑 𝙷𝚎𝚊𝚍𝚌𝚊𝚗𝚘𝚗𝚜

♡ Lottie would be the one to tell you that she likes you first, and she would be very blunt about it. Lottie wants to take bandaids off as quickly as possible, so when she has feelings, she just wants to shoot her shot and lick her wounds as quickly as possible.

♡ Lottie is a firm believer in retail therapy. Lottie has always really liked to go shopping and go to the mall. She likes to try on clothes and make you try on different looks. Want to try goth, preppy, sporty, chic? She would never be shy to buy you some things on her dad’s credit card.

♡ Lottie likes to take you out on dates to restaurants and lovely places like ballets and theatres. I see Lottie taking you out for a good dinner and going off to see the Nutcracker with hot chocolates around Christmas time.

♡ Lottie is the more anxious partner in the relationship. She will call you and try to talk when you are away from her. She wants to ensure you are always okay and doesn’t like her favorite person being away from her.

𝚆𝚒𝚕𝚍𝚎𝚛𝚗𝚎𝚜𝚜 𝙷𝚎𝚊𝚍𝚌𝚊𝚗𝚘𝚗𝚜

♡ Lottie leans on you for support when she runs out of her medication. She entirely relies on you to tell her what reality is anymore because she can’t tell with her chemicals being misplaced. Her delusions become very real, the voices seem more real and responsible, and she doesn’t trust herself. Even with her connection to It, Lottie doesn’t trust her perception of anything. She doesn’t ask you about things most of the time.

♡ Lottie always tells you about her dreams at night, how they happened, and the surreal plots of her mind, and she wants to know yours. She grows to believe that everyone’s dreams tell you something that could bring the Yellowjackets more food and breaks from the wilderness. A deer must be nearby if you see a deer in a dream. If there was a conflict with people or the girls on camp in a dream, that indicates there must be some bad times coming your way (small or big could cast lives)

♡ Lottie cuddles with you all the time in the wilderness for warmth. Lottie is always cold, even in the summer. She likes to have you physically near her to feel your heat. She is very physically affectionate out in the wilderness.

♡ Lottie gets jealous quickly, even before the crash, by giving something or someone more attention than you give her. She doesn’t like it. If you are hanging out with your friends on camp, Lottie will wander into the conversation seamlessly. But if you are getting flirted with, or she perceives someone is flirting with you, she goes a little crazy. She gets confrontational, and she becomes somewhat aggressive in her words, but she always comes to her senses and apologies.

♡ Lottie has more sexual desire now in the wilderness, and the freedom of being in love with you makes her want to have sex anytime you move. In the wilderness, Lottie develops a primal kink and a breeding kink out there and begs to get you pregnant (which can't happen).

#yellowjackets x reader #yellowjackets #lesbian #lottie matthews #lottie matthews x reader #lottie matthews x you #Lottie matthews fluff #Lottie Matthews headcanons

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coeluvr · 6 months ago

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So I just read the demo for the first time and… are you okay? Like do you need to talk to someone? Cuz holy shit, that was depressing. Don’t get me wrong, it was great, but I am just mentally, emotionally, and physically drained now (don’t ask me about that last part). All in all, I really enjoyed it, but I do have some thoughts.

Firstly, I don’t understand how anyone from Rosea (except for Hunter, Fadiya and her mom, and maybe Helios) has any fans. Like did they just forget that everyone else (including Lancelot) contributed to the total destruction of our family? Everyone’s over here shipping Lancelot and Luceris, and to be fair, if this was a different story I would too, but like… they’re the enemy? Speaking of Luceris…

Dude is on some shit. Like I get it’s the point, but everything about our relationship with him just feels weird and wrong, and I’m counting the days til we can kill him. Until then, I guess I’ll have to make do with disrespecting the memory of his dead wife at every opportunity. Also side note, but as a Straight Male tm it does feel a little weird having to fake a romance with another guy, especially a guy that’s like fifty years older than me lol (Luceris really isn’t beating the Catholic Priest allegations)

The rest of the cast are a lot of fun, and I’m glad they all at least have sympathy towards MC. I think Hunter is the coolest character ever and I want to be them, and Fadiya can do no wrong in my eyes. Vincent sucks, but I haven’t really spent much time with him so maybe that’ll change. Helios I feel sorry for. He’s a nice guy and I do like him a lot, but he’s unfortunately collateral damage in my crusade against Father Luceris. I hate that we have to hurt him to get revenge, but it feels very realistic and gives your decisions a lot more weight.

On the flip side, Soarine is perfect and has never done anything wrong in her life ever. If Soarine has a million fans, then I am one of them. If Soarine has ten fans, then I am one of them. If Soarine has only one fan then that is me. If Soarine has no fans, then that means I am no longer on earth. If the world is against Soarine, then I am against the world.

All in all, I love what you’re doing with this game, even if I do have to take a twenty minute break after each playthrough just to decompress lol. I can’t wait to see where this goes and am gonna stare at a wall until the next update drops. Thanks for making such an interesting story and give Soarine my love 💚

Lol hi, anon!

First of all, I'm fine 😭 I'm like that one happy guy that writes horror whose name I keep forgetting but I bet someone knows who I mean.

Regarding the characters from Rosea that are not all that great having fans, I don't know why that's unexpected to you if I am being honest lmao. In every fandom I've ever been in, there have always been people that like the antagonists. I enjoy Lancelot and Luceris' dynamic but I feel like that's to be expected since I literally created them. 💀 The day I write in all of the side couples you'll combust. /j

But also you don't have to fake a "romance" with Luceris? 😥💀 I can only think of the husband comments MC can make and those are entirely optional so...

I'm glad you like the other characters! Soarine is indeed everything. 🙇‍♀️

Thank you for your kind words! 💗

#coe answers

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jesawyer · 2 years ago

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Potentially controversial question, though I don't mean it in that sort of way: One thing I noticed in Deadfire's writing was that there was a far greater likelihood for male characters to be portrayed as the more incompetent or less sympathetic half in most dynamics, whether it was debtor/debtee (Radora/Zamar), boss/subordinate (Furrante/Aeldys), enemies (Rinco/Mokeha) and so on. That's not to say misandry, since the goal is obviously equal representation, but I did notice this enough that I assumed wasn't just me seeing things or wanting to see them to justify a bias, especially also considering that if my observations were accurate, it wouldn't bother me in the slightest considering I would have chalked it down to an understandable difference in context regarding the way genders act based on historical norms and power dynamics (ie. There is possibly more historical weight in a man abusing a woman vs the reverse of that, so it is important to understand that history before portraying something that may or may not be a false equivalency). Essentially I ask this more as a curiosity than anything else: What was the writing team's approach to portraying gender dynamics in Deadfire?

I think the first thing is that we did make a conscious effort to numerically represent women as much as men among NPCs (note: there are not many non-binary characters in Deadfire, so in this answer I'll just be talking about male/female dynamics). We also put more women in authority positions where we felt it made sense in this fictional world that we created. For those who think that's bad, well okay.

That said, I don't really agree that the women consistently come across as more competent or sympathetic. In cases where they do, it's usually a difference of degree, not kind. I think a lot of the female characters are kind of shitty people and/or bad leaders, as many of the male characters are kind of shitty people and/or bad leaders.

If you prefer Aeldys to Furrante, that's understandable, but also Aeldys... sucks? Director Castol and Lueva Alvari are also both bad in different ways. Queen Onekaza II is a sympathetic figure but installed herself as a monarch over the other tribes of the Deadfire and has caused a lot of collateral damage to the Huana in her ongoing defense of the region - literally a gatekeeping girlboss. Prince Aruihi is a flawed character but I don't think he comes across as particularly incompetent or malicious compared to his sister.

Rinco is annoying and pathetic but Mokeha comes across as excessively belligerent even if she was in the right. Radora did get jumped by pirates, which is easy to sympathize with, but I don't think she does much to endear herself to the Watcher. Hazanui Karū is highly effective but she would be perfectly content seeing the RDC effectively steamroll Huana culture. Atsura is below her in rank, but he easily as competent as she is in different areas, but repellent for other, weirder reasons.

And as far as the companions go, Xoti is approaching Permanent Dark Mode, Maia assassinates people with no questions asked, Pallegina is a ultranationalist zealot... I don't know - I just don't think these characters feel "better" or more sympathetic than the male characters.

I think the main difference really is just that there are about as many female characters as male characters and they are more represented in key positions of power. But they often suck ass in those positions of power because they are difficult jobs and inherently corrupting. For better or worse, one of the recurring comments about Deadfire's factions is that they all seem kind of shitty. Even in cases where you can shift the faction head, they still feel a different type of shitty. That's both because of the vibes of the faction overall as well as their leadership. You do not, in fact, "gotta hand it" to the Royal Deadfire Company or Aeldys' nightmare anarcho pirate flotilla with the Ukaizo storm engines permanently set to Max Power.

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sevensoulmates · 7 months ago

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As always it's a delight to get to read your posts and meta, it's just as satisfactory and fun as it is watching the show. You're just awesome ❤️

You know after watching the last episode (and now that we know little bit more about Marisol) it made me feel really sorry for her, because I just know she'll be collateral damage while Eddie figures himself out and that's just so sad. And I wasn't really sure why those comments Eddie made about him/Marisol when they encountered Buck and Tommy at the restaurant and after having sex with her made me feel so uncomfortable, but then you pointed it out and I was like yeah that was kinda like locker room talk, Eddie was overcompensating here like trying to be a big macho man and that's why it felt so weird.

I'm baffled about Eddie's situation the most because I'm sure it's gonna be hell for him for a while since he will have to work through a lot of issues to finally be at peace with himself. And until stated otherwise my headcanon is the same as yours. I'm sure he is a gay repressed man (and not no get into the gay Eddie vs demisexual Eddie discourse but I'm sure he may be both) I grew up in a Mexican household, I was raised catholic and although I wasn't in the army my dad was and he raised me and my siblings with an iron fist. So Eddie's background/storyline has always hit too close to home for me. I'm just dreading all the issues he's going to have to face.

Which brings me to this. To show his coming out arc and make it into completion do you think they will have to show us more about his childhood and upbringing, not just having Eddie talking about it but to have scenes like we did with Buck's childhood?

And why do you think the scene about Buck apologizing to Eddie for hurting him at the basketball court had to happen off screen?

Btw thanks for always replying to my questions.

Hi there!!! No problem!!! You always have super interesting questions to ask, so I am always delighted to answer them!

We all know how Eddie feels about "performance". I just feel like why would Eddie feel like the performance stops once he's actually made it past the dating phase and into the relationship phase? Maybe the external pressure from others is off (none of his family or the firefam questioning him, etc) but in order to KEEP the relationship, it really would require MORE performing.

It's fascinating to me, because we don't see Eddie acting this way with Shannon. You could make some arguments that their relationship was pretty fractured from the get-go and we didn't really see their dating/"honeymoon" phase but even when they were ~slightly~ back together in season 2b, Eddie wasn't acting like that with Shannon. Even when they were sleeping together, he wasn't. The most he did was make a couple of cringe comments about his "dashing good looks" or something, but that was more poking fun at himself. Even when Eddie was telling Buck about how "sex complicates things" with Shannon, he wasn't out here smirking or making comments about how good it feels to finally get some after two years of (apparent) celibacy. Say what you want about their relationship, but at least Eddie respected Shannon enough as a person to not start speaking about her that way. Their relationship was far too serious for that.

With Ana, it was so incredibly hard to watch because even though the storyline ITSELF wasn't about sex, a lot of their scenes had that edge to it? Like the sex-scene fake out in season 4, "grade me on a curve", "you really like to see me dressed up" "and the other thing" it was so ODD and FORCED. At the time of s4/5 airing you could maybe chalk it up to Eddie overcorrecting since it's his first real relationship after Shannon, but then he goes and does the same thing with Marisol which now makes it a pattern.

Once it clicked in my brain that the reason his relationships with women feel so fake is that he is literally putting on a show of hyper-heterosexuality (idk if that's a real term or not but roll with me here) it all made sense. I think seeing him "in a relationship" with Marisol for real was the final puzzle piece to seal this deal for me.

His extreme performances with these women, combined with their purposeful lack of development into full characters, all points to the fact that none of these relationships are going to work out. Eddie is not going to be able to actually settle down with his "endgame" partner until he actually finds someone he can be his true, real self with and "doesn't have to pretend with them" ;)

Is it bad that I actually enjoyed getting to know Marisol a little? Putting aside the actress, Marisol, the character, is interesting, because we're actually getting to know her a little bit more, far more than we got to with Ana. But I find both of these love interests fascinating in one mutual way: the fact that they put up with Eddie. Like I think about other characters and if they would've been okay being treated by their partners the way Eddie treats his girlfriends and I'm like.....hell no!

Oddly enough the only person I could see putting up with it was Buck before he finally started realizing that he doesn't have to be in a relationship with someone just because they want him. Only someone who also has deep insecurities, abandonment issues, and a general lack of self-respect would put up with Eddie's BS to his girlfriends. That's not to say that Eddie's a horrible person or abuses his partners or anything, but it's basically indisputable that he does not ever put in any emotional work to actually create meaningful relationships with his girlfriends. So why were Ana and now Marisol, so willing to accept that?

Ana resisted the break-up even though she could feel Eddie's whole heart wasn't in it. She was willing to keep trying in a dead relationship just in the hopes that something would work out. The same goes for Marisol. Idk about you, but if I was in a relationship with a man for going on 4-6 months and he knew NOTHING about me? I'd feel unloved, uncared for, and unappreciated, and I'd LEAVE.

We know that Marisol was scared of Eddie rejecting her or fetishizing her and that's why she didn't tell him about the nun thing, and I understand her reasoning and fear there. But gworlie, what else do we know about you? Can Eddie name a single hobby you have outside of loving Jesus and DIYing houses? Does Eddie even know your last name? It really makes me think that Marisol is unfortunately the type to just let things like this slide in the hopes that some man will accept her, any man. Since they rarely do because of the nun thing. And boy, do I understand that feeling, but that's NOT real love. I bet you anything once we get to the Eddiemarisol breakup she's gonna be very similar to Ana in that she knew Eddie's heart wasn't fully in it, but she just didn't want to be alone again.

I think that like attracts like, and Eddie's clutching onto this relationship for the same reason Marisol's clutching onto this relationship: because it's easier than being alone and being judged for it.

This is a tangent but I also want to point out that one thing that Eddie found uncomfortable about Marisol being a nun was the fact that nuns used to be his teachers....but was Ana also not a teacher? Just because she wasn't a nun, doesn't mean she couldn't have also been in a position of power that Eddie could've found uncomfortable. I find it interesting that even though Marisol's not a teacher, the show found a way to connect her to teachers and therefore to Ana.

As for Eddie's coming out arc, while I don't think it's entirely a necessity to have flashbacks to how he grew up, I certainly think it would help a lot of people who can't read between the lines if they had some. I especially would like to see scenes of young him + Shannon. Maybe seeing how the pressure from his family and church led him to believe men have to be a certain way, potentially microaggressions about being lgbt that he might've seen from his family/church (I don't necessarily mean full-on homophobia but possibly like little ways in which he was shown that there was no other "acceptable" option from his church other than heterosexuality. I think seeing scenes of how he and Shannon got together could be enlightening too, how their community reacted to them getting pregnant, etc. I think all of this, combined with a mirrored storyline in the present (similar to Buck Begins) would really drive home the point the show is trying to make, especially if they can finally be overt about Eddie's queerness. BUT all of this can still be done present day without the need for flashbacks either. I just think it would be a way to make the storytelling more rich and to spell it out more obviously for the people in the back.

As for Buck apologizing to Eddie for the basketball scene...I would've liked to see it too, but at the end of the day, it's like Ryan said in his interview...Eddie was always going to forgive Buck because he loves him to his core, because he knew Buck didn't come at it from a place of truly wanting to hurt Eddie. All of it was a manifestation of Buck's own issues, and by this point (especially after the lawsuit arc and the deadbrother arc) Eddie is aware of that. We did see plenty of scenes where Buck was scolded and demonstrated he was aware his actions were shitty, and Eddie probably assumed that letting Buck stew in his own guilt was atonement enough. And so I think likely the writers felt that in the end, the sentiment got across. Separately--given all the switcheroo stuff that happened with 7x04 and 7x05, I wouldn't be surprised if there WAS an apology scene and it got cut for time.

#911 abc #speculation #eddie diaz #eddiemarisol

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shelbystales · 1 year ago

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Honor and Blood - Part Twenty One

Tommy Shelby x Reader - Masterlist

Read previous parts here: 1 - 2 - 3 - 4 - 5 - 6 - 7 - 8 - 9 - 10 - 11 - 12 - 13 - 14 - 15 - 16 - 17 - 18 - 19 - 20

Summary: you are a gypsy and your family lives near Birmingham. Tommy Shelby needs a favor and Johnny Dogs says you’re the one he should ask for. A meeting is scheduled and when Tommy meets you, he is instantly drawn to you.

Warning: Swearing, fluff

A/N: Please comment and interact. tell me what you think! it means a looot to me if you do!

English is my second language so I apologize in advance for the grammar mistakes.

︵‿︵‿︵‿︵‿︵‿︵‿︵‿︵‿︵‿︵‿︵‿︵

Towards the end of the day, your father returned to the camp. His steps were heavy and weary, reflecting the weight of the events of this day.

As soon as he saw you sitting on the steps in front of his caravan, he gave you a tired smile, hidden behind his orangey-red beard.

"Long day?" you asked.

"Yes," he replied, kinda down.

"I think we need to talk," you said, getting up.

"Sweetheart, I..." he began, but you interrupted him by gently placing a hand on his arm.

"Maybe not here, Dad? Let's go inside, make some tea, and we can have a calm chat," you suggested, looking into his tired eyes.

He nodded, letting you guide him into the caravan, where you brewed a cup of tea for each of you. Sitting at the table, you looked at him with a concerned expression.

“So what were you up to today?” you asked him, handing him the cup “I expected to see you at the meeting”

“Had a lot of problems to deal with,” he sighed, taking a sip of the tea. The weariness in his voice was evident.

You reached across the table and placed your hand on his. "Dad, I know things are tough right now. I know it’s hard to see past the bad things, but we have to. We have to look forward to the future. If we lose hope in the future then we have nothing else to live for"

He looked at you, a mixture of admiration and sadness in his eyes. "When did you become so clever, hm?" he gave you a shy smile, and you smiled back

“I gave it a lot of thought today,” you shrugged. “You know how my mind is, it never stops. And I figured that, if you don’t want to be a part of it, you don’t have to. I know that the ones who wanted to remain connected to our roots already left, to warmer places, but there is still a part of the group that wouldn’t mind staying in the woods. We can divide ourselves. A part can remain here, under your guidance. while the other part can stay more connected to the city duties, like the shop”

“I don’t want to divide the group, y/n. If we do anything, we do it together” he said and you nodded

“Then we have to be on the same page. And perhaps I should let you know that, in the future I… I want to live in the city. I love the woods, the camp… I do… But city life is exciting, it’s challenging."

He nodded, absorbing your words. His eyes were on you, studying you just like he does with his enemies. Your heart raced a bit under his focused gaze.

“Yeah,” he cleared his throat, his expression softening. “I figured that would happen. Just didn't think it'd be this soon,” he managed a tired smile. “You gotta do what's right for you,” he said.

“Nah, that's not the answer I'm looking for. It’s not just about me, Dad. I’m still a Sinclair. Our family’s interest will always be on my mind," you said with determination, mixing your decision to embrace change with your loyalty to your roots.

He smiled, "You've always been strong-willed, just like your mother."

You grinned, feeling a mix of emotions. "I learned from the best, you and her" you said, giving his hand a reassuring squeeze.

He took another sip of his tea, his gaze distant for a moment. "I just worry, you know? That Shelby kid… he might have the best of intentions, but nothing can guarantee you won't be collateral damage to his problems” he said and you smiled, his voice didn't carry any anger towards Tommy, he mentioned him like he would anyone else.

“Nothing ever guaranteed I wouldn't be to yours” you said, making him take his hand away from yours. his grip on the cup tightening “that’s why you taught me how to defend myself.”

"I just want you to be safe, that's all." he said, his gaze distant, his voice cold.

“Right,” you said, your tone slightly skeptical as you observed his posture and response. You noticed his grip on the cup tightening, a sign that something was bothering him more than he let on. "Are you going to tell me what you did today that was more important than us?"

"What?" he asked, his tone defensive.

"You didn't come to the meeting, Dad. They were afraid, they needed us," you pressed, your voice reflecting your concern.

"I told you. I had problems to deal with," he replied, his voice a bit curt.

"What problems?" you asked, your tone firm and inquisitive.

You saw right through his evasiveness and tried to maintain your patience, but frustration was building within you.You were determined to uncover the truth behind his absence. You leaned forward, your gaze locked onto his eyes.

"Dad, we're a family. We should be able to rely on each other, especially in times like these. But you're shutting me out."

He looked away, his jaw clenched. "There are things you're better off not knowing, y/n."

"Better off not knowing?" you repeated, incredulous. "You can't decide that for me, Dad! I deserve to know what's going on."

He stood up abruptly, the chair scraping against the floor. "You don't understand, y/n. You don't know the kind of people I'm dealing with."

"Then fucking tell me!" you raised your voice, frustration bubbling over. "Tell me, so I can understand. I won't be kept in the dark like a child."

He turned to you, his eyes blazing with anger. "You think you're so grown up now, huh? You think you can handle everything, hm? Well, you can't!"

"Fuck you. I’m helping this family more than you these days!" you shot back, standing up as well, your emotions flaring. "If you won't share with me, fine. That’s your problem. But don't expect me to just sit back and let you make decisions for me." The tension in the room was palpable, both of you locked in a battle of wills. Finally, you took a deep breath, trying to calm down. "Does that mean you know who was responsible for the fire?"

His eyes flickered, a mixture of surprise and guilt passing over his features before he regained his composure. "It's not relevant."

"Not relevant?" you exclaimed, incredulous. "Is that why you skipped the meeting? Were you meeting with these people?" you asked, your voice a mixture of anger and concern. His response was to simply say nothing. He looked at you blankly. You nodded and sank back into your chair, the weight of the situation heavy on your shoulders. "I just wish you would trust me enough to include me in your plans."

He sighed again, his anger seemingly deflating. "I trust you, y/n. I'm just trying to protect you. I've made mistakes in the past, and I don't want to see you hurt because of them."

You looked at him, your heart aching. "I know you're trying to protect me, Dad. But I can't help but feel like you're pushing me away."

He didn't say anything, his gaze focused on the floor. The silence stretched between you, heavy with unspoken emotions. "You don't understand the choices I have to make, the things I have to deal with."

"Then help me understand, Dad," you pleaded, your voice softer now.

He looked torn, his emotions battling within him. "It's not that simple, y/n."

"Isn't it?" you asked, “i think it is. You either tell me or you don’t”

“It's for your own safety,” he said. You couldn't help but scoff, disbelief coloring your features. With a nod, you headed for the door.

You breathed deeply as you reached your own caravan, throwing yourself at your bed feeling so frustrated by your talk with your dad.

You couldn't understand why he was acting so shady. He clearly had something to hide, thoughts swirled through your mind like a storm.With a frustrated sigh, you sat up on your bed, running a hand through your hair.

It wasn't like your dad to be so secretive, or maybe it was and you were just understanding things better now. You had a strong feeling that his actions were connected to the recent events, especially the fire that had destroyed the shop, but how connected? What did he do?

You had no control of his actions and you couldn’t do anything about it now. You decided to use your time for something useful and picked up a book you rented at the library about taxes and started to do your homework. After a while, your eyes felt heavy and you laid in bed hugging Taffee strongly, missing the warmth of Tommy’s body next to yours.

You felt asleep quickly but woke up not long after, hearing someone inside your caravan.You moved abruptly, grabbing the small knife you had hidden beside your bed. In one swift and quick movement you sat with the knife pointing to the manly figure in front you.

“Hey! hey!” He held his hands up. Your eyes adjust trying to see the man’s face in the darkness.

“Tommy?” you asked, lowering the knife and scratching your eyes “what are you doing here?”

“Can’t sleep without you” he said, taking off his gun holster and moving his hands to undo the buttons of his shirt

You smiled and shifted in bed, creating a comfortable space for him. Taffee settled at your feet as Tommy slid under the covers, his arm wrapping around your waist as he became the big spoon, his strong frame enveloping you.

As his touch enveloped you, you felt the tension in his body slowly easing, his breaths evening out. You snuggled even closer, feeling the reassuring rhythm of his heartbeat against your back. His fingers traced soothing patterns on your skin.

“Is everything okay?” you asked, your voice soft and slightly husky from sleep.

“Yes, just go to sleep. I'll tell you tomorrow," he reassured you, his voice gentle

You nodded, nestling yourself against him as if seeking solace in his warmth. His presence was a balm to your anxieties. Your body molded perfectly to his, fitting together like two pieces of a puzzle.

He peppered a few tender kisses on the exposed skin of your shoulders, his lips warm against your skin. Then, with a gentle sigh, he rested his forehead against your shoulder

the night wrapped around you, cocooning you in a sense of comfort and belonging, as you drifted into a peaceful sleep together.

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roxineedstosleep · 2 years ago

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Honestly I feel like Two Face might be the sternest parent between Bruce and Harvey! He did Not grow up with gentle parenting and isn't open to it until Bruce catches him tugging at damians ear and he's like WHAT ARE YOU DOING, " he won't wash the dishes??"

" so you tell him! Gently"

" doll, i think you're too soft--"

" and I think you're forgetting your place in our dynamic. Youre an indulgence, darling. I'm an addiction. We are not. The same. Pack your bags. I'm sure a hotel would be happy to receive you for the night."

Ofc he comes back with chocolates and a new car for Bruce to take apart and tinker with, and gives Damian's ears lots of kisses after. He's also the one who spoils them the most ofc and promises to take mommy and me classes lmaooo

(Two-Face's face, after he saw Jason throw Tim through the Batcave again, after he punished him for doing it a few days ago)

I feel like, Harvey after the acid incident (If we're talking about Oscar Isaac, he's Latino, like me), he's from the old Latino upbringing. He will go physical when clearly something is out of line.

Definitely, as you say, of the three, he is the most severe, the one who will not allow any act of brazenness and rudeness to take place in front of him or his husband. He won't allow it. He'll get physical when the menacing looks and scary tone of his voice aren't enough to warn kids about his disrespect.

And what do I mean by getting physical?

I'm talking about: butt slapping, ear pulling, hand slapping, and the dreaded flip flop. Of course, at least in the case of Two-Face, as a measure of correction after having done a clear disobedience or an outlandish madness. He wouldn't do it to command respect or anything like that.

No, he knows he's bad, but he's not cruel.

Two-Face is one of the first to give the previous look of threat, he is one of those who with a knock on the table leaves everyone silent, and he will not hesitate to lower his voice to that of the afterlife if that prevents his offspring from continuing to do stupid things. He warned first, if his children still descide to be stupid and do stupid things, well, you cannot tell that he did not warned them.

And if he slaps your ass being his son, oh God, be thankful for it, because he's not really slapping you hard. His enemies are the ones he leaves with their coccyx broken and their ears torn off. To the offsprings of him? Well, only the part that was attacked will leave something pink for them.

Clearly, Two-Face would only use those methods when the kids are being aggressive towards each other or Bruce/Alfred, have vandalized something during patrol (things like an important location or serious collateral damage, terribly putting themselves or their siblings at risk), disobeying, and being bold with Alfred/Bruce/Harvey.

Two-Face was raised like this, he was created based on violence and although he may be soft after a time with his wonderfull husband, he also has his violent side. He won't hesitate to pull Dick's sideburns if he insults Bruce during a fight, He'll slap Jason on the butt if he steals guns from safe houses again despite being given his assignment, He'll slap Tim's hand if he rolls his eyes at Alfred again after the good lord only demands he get some sleep, and he won't hesitate to throw Damian's slipper if he dares make a cruel comment about the purity of his dynasty. (Only the slipper because it's his favorite, after Jason, of course.)

But, after the physical part as punishment, comes the completely loving part that many times others tend to forget. Two-Face is the first to defend his cubs at the first risk of threat. He will not hesitate to use his teeth and nails to care for and ensure the safety of his offspring, put his skin on fire and pluck out his eyelashes if it means that his and Bruce's children will have the safety and comfort they deserve.

Two-Face may have pulled Dick by the sideburns, but he's the only one who knows what muscle pain cream his son uses; he may have whacked Jason's ass, but he's also the one who gives him tips to improve his aim and gives him a crate full of ammunition; He will have hit Tim in the hands, but he is the one in charge of singing him a lullaby, tucking him in, and making his followers get all the information so that Tim does not have to do it; And, well, of course he threw Damian's slipper for making fun of his blood purity (you know, that crap about him being Bruce's only true son), but he's also one of the first to defend the boy when someone on the street yells racist and Islamophobic insults at him.

He pampers the boys and gives them love beyond his power. He is the one who cooks breakfast when no one else can, takes them to school if he can, and listens to them when they don't feel heard. He is a good father. Stern, aggressive, but he does the best he can.

Bruce and Harvey don't get it, their upbringing was so different from Two-Face's (Yes, I know Two-Face and Harvey are two parts of the same coin, but I prefer to think that Harvey gets sweet while Two-Face has the bitter), But if they are both sure of something, it is that Two-Face would be the first to cross and burn the line that neither of them dares to cross; especially when it comes to the safety of his children.

Two-Face will torture, kill, burn, smash, and tear apart anyone who dares touch a single hair of his family.

(Two-Face, going to "peacefully" look for the racist idiot who had the fantastic idea to insult his baby Damian… and by the way to get some of Dick's special edition cereal and more marshmallows for Jason's chocolate)

#bruharvey #bruce wayne #harvey dent #batman #dc batfam #batbros #batboys #twoface #bruce x harvey #latino harvey #He's the kind of dad who gets all his kids' ears pulled for missing the school bus #but he'd stop at Dunkin Donuts so they'd at least arrive with something in their stomachs.

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warningsine · 5 months ago

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Whatever message "The Fall" was trying to convey in season 2, it failed.

"I don't hate women. I hate everyone and everything including myself."

Ok, fake ass Hannibal wannabe who thinks that quoting Nietzsche makes you deep.

What makes Hannibal fascinating to watch, unlike Paul in "The Fall," is that despite all the gore and canonical violence, his cannibalism isn't gendered. He is not a bigot (a homophobe, sexist, racist, you name it); that's not what drives him or his murders.

(That's why I don't get all the professional reviewers' "Dornan is so arousing in this role" comments.

Really? When? When he's shirtless or when he's busy violently murdering women? Or when he grooms a child?

And don't get me started on his acting range: it does not even come close to Anderson's or Mikkelsen's.)

Bryan Fuller made some really clever creative decisions (like genderswapping certain key characters); he created his own world that is so far away from our own--a world that is largely inoffensive to women due to the lack of sensationalized sexual violence against them.

When you're surrounded by (sometimes insanely popular) shows that use a woman's degradation, e.g., rapes in "Game of Thrones" or murders in "The Fall" for titillation; that discard female bodies left and right, it's so refreshing to watch a violent series where you don't have to worry that a woman will be raped or discarded without a second thought.

When Alana gets attacked by Hannibal, when Margot is manipulated or when Beverly is killed, it has nothing to do with their gender. In fact, Hannibal is a cheeky bastard that makes lesbian jokes when Alana gets with Margot.

And many men are killed too. That is significant, yes.

In "The Fall," Paul mentions Joe, but that guy was collateral damage. The target was his sister.

In "Hannibal," sometimes the murderers are women.

More importantly, "Hannibal" has many complex and compelling women to begin with: Alana, Bella, Bedelia, Margot, Beverly, Freddy, Abigail, Chiyoh, Reba. And even Molly and Miriam. And these women sometimes interact with each other, not just with Will/Hannibal/the men in their lives. I'm not even talking about the obvious example, i.e., Margot and Alana's lesbian relationship that gets a happy ending.

In "The Fall," Dani and the other secondary female characters (Archie Panjabi's role should have been bigger, her talent was wasted once again) take a backseat so that the show can focus on Paul's evil mastermind. Who cares about the assault survivors' trauma, right? Or Paul's wife and children's for that matter?

Not to mention that the insistence that the feminist protagonist, who has her own sexual trauma, is somehow similar to the misogynistic murderer is enraging to say the least. It's not just that Paul says it, because he obviously tries to rattle her. It's that the narrative pushes this idea.

Thank fuck two years later, "Killing Eve" did what "The Fall" could not do: an interesting gender examination.

#the fall #hannibal #killing eve

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abubblingcandle · 6 months ago

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Collateral Damage!

Ahh thank you for the ask!

Collateral Damage is part 2 in what I am calling my Darkest Timeline Series. This follows up Like a Black Hole which is a fic where Jamie implodes upon his return to Man City.

This follows the same thread but looks at the optics of his season and imagines what if City were pushing him out of the door but he didn't go on LCA. So after S1 Jamie is kinda pushed out of City and a prospective like bottom of the Championship/top of L1 coach calls Ted to be like "we're thinking of signing Tartt but we know he was difficult at Richmond. Will we regret it if we do?" and Ted with all his metaphors and shit tries to compliment Jamie but call him a work in progress but that is not the message he gives off and so the word spreads like a black mark on Jamie's CV.

A little snippet just for you:

“Oh, that is mighty hypocritical of you,” Jamie laughed, the loud harsh sound cutting through the silence like a knife. “I am sorry Jamie but I don’t know why you are here?” Ted tried to guide Jamie into the coaches office but he wasn’t moving from his stage in the middle of the changing room. “You don’t …” Jamie scoffed with his eyebrows raised and then barked another abrasive laugh. No one dared move, lest they bring down Jamie’s wrath upon them. “Guess you never thought I would know when you were ruining my life did you?” “I …” Ted was at a loss. He truly didn’t understand what Jamie was talking about but every time he tired Jamie just assumed he was lying. “You never thought I would know did you but I do not quit,” he spat the last few words and pulled his phone out. “Guess everyone will know what you go around saying then if you wont explain yourself,” he murmured, scrolling. “Jamie,” Keeley tried to interrupt but even she was silenced by the intensity of Jamie’s glare. “Because I happen to know a guy who could get me Huddersfield’s scouting report on me. The one that was mostly made of observations and comments from former teammates and managers,” Jamie rambled, anger dissolving into hysteria. Oh. Now Ted knew what Jamie was talking about. But he still didn’t know why Jamie was angry about it? "Here it is! Character, after discussions with previous coach at AFC Richmond it seems like JT is volatile and resistant to changes of leadership and tactics within the club dynamic. There is no belief from previous coach that this will change in the future due to lack of effort to engage with teammates. He is a risk to add to an established functioning club dynamic despite the prolific upside. Conflict with team leadership resulted in his removal from the Richmond squad and morale improved with his departure. I would not recommend JT as being worth the sizeable transfer or loan fee based on this feedback and the optics of JT within his time at AFC Richmond." You could have heard a pin drop.

#candle writes #jamie tartt #ted lasso #ted lasso fanfic #ask box is always open #darkest timeline tag

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mdhwrites · 1 year ago

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Self Defeating Endings With Grom Factor by MoringMark

A link to the comic's, Grom Factor by Moringmark, beginning.

(If you want to skip the preamble about endings and tragedies, I've bolded the start of the paragraph when I actually start talking about Grom Factor) So I don't like making this. I don't really want to comment too much on fanworks. I have no reason to shit on people who are just celebrating The Owl House. My goal is not to make people despise it, it's to analyze, process my own thoughts, and hopefully teach through sharing those thoughts.

But... I can't talk about tragedies with TOH. The VAST majority of media I consume wouldn't give me the chance and, well... Endings are important. Happy Endings actually happen the most often because they're the most safe. The most gratifying. Everything the characters worked for had the simple point of success and a better future. And, you know, I like that. Their ubiquity though makes them a common point of lazy criticism as people will try to nitpick all the things not fixed or it being so happy because, well, the story had to end eventually. It's why I've never really been like "HoW dO wE aCtUaLlY kNoW tHe IsLeS wIlL bE oKaY!?" I don't care. The show says they're happy because they got rid of the evil guy then fine. It needed to end and at least this means our characters can know peace. The only things I really interrogate about the ending is what it says about those characters and the story that was told because that is part of your ending.

But if you want to claim a more complex story, especially if your story is already ripping off so many elements from a previous one (I'm sorry but Grom Factor is just Grom+Eda's Curse but missing the emotional cores of either because we don't know these characters and there's been no real build up. Not to talk about how ripping off your own series' biggest stories is already going to tank investment), a 'tragic' ending can be a way to do that. A bittersweet ending can be a way to do that. A way to undercut the happy ending everyone expected by instead ripping out their heart.

But you run the risk of making the whole story pointless.

Most people will argue that most tragedies are pointless. Romeo and Juliet is so confident in how pointless the love story is that it tells you the two people die at the end at the BEGINNING. But... It's not. The tragedy of Romeo and Juliet sticks with people and is something people want to retell because the tragedy of it all has a point. It talks of the brashness of youth, the collateral damage of endless fury, of how dangerous emotions can be, even the best of them like love. How things can be torn apart and destroyed, futures ended futilely because people will not let go of their emotions or even try to be calm when they have only ever been told to hate. Romeo's passion is both his most attractive quality but also the dooming element that makes sure he kills himself at the end, a trait that Juliet shares and both have from their families who never let people rest. Never allow there to be more than just extreme emotions and so anytime they're emotional, it's big and dangerous.

And so the ending has a point to it. It is the only one that fits the thematics and condemns properly all the damage that was done. That sweet words cannot fix an endless cycle of hate. It is an ending forced by the entire point of the story. Something is only self defeating when there isn't really a theme, core or narrative goal that requires that sort of tragedy. Or, worse yet, when the ending actively undermines all of those elements.

So let's finally talk about Grom Factor. For those who haven't read it, my description earlier is not far off. Luz and Amity's child, Ayzee, causes herself to be named as the next person who will fight Grom. She does this for the most bog standard next gen reason: Wanting to prove herself in contrast to her successful parents. To be her own person and prove that she can be great too. Meanwhile, her girlfriend Milan doesn't want this, partially due to being a healer and following the hypocratic oath, but then commits to helping her girlfriend no matter what. In this process, she gets a part of Philip's journal that shows that Grom is actually a small, scared child. So while Ayzee is preparing to fight Grom, her girlfriend prepares to try to cure Grom.

Big fight ensues, the elixir they bring (yes, just Eda's eliixir, nothing specialized or more complicated) doesn't work and Grom EXPLODES into something more dangerous than ever before. Ayzee and Milan are given a petrification glyph by Amity and Luz after showing Ayzee doesn't have magic of her own, they do a dance to get to the core of Grom to use the glyph... And Milan instead uses Lilith's spell from the end of S1 in order to split the pain of Grom and take the curse onto herself. It works but now anyone who touches Milan gets their fears shouted at them because her hair is now at least partially Grometheus. Then the two leads talk, kiss but we see in Ayzee's head that she is being tortured during the kiss with her fears of inadequacy and the idea that she will always end up hurting other people.

So there you go. A story about one person selfishly throwing themselves in danger without a care about others or the harm she may cause due to her potentially ready for this while the other lead preaches a stop to all harm and even pushes to save a monster because they're in pain too. All the while, the arc tries to sell us on the relationship and how much they theoretically care about each other, especially since this is their first arc together as a couple.

So the actual way to go for a tragic ending, that has similar results to what the comic does, is actually not that hard to see. Ayzee's fears and inadequacies, and her need to prove herself, has HER save Grom while thinking that this will fix her mistake and make her girlfriend happy because she's now taking part of her girlfriends beliefs: To let no one suffer. She could see about someone else taking the pain or not take charge in this situation her flaw, the thing that set all this up for failure which is a component of tragedies. is being unwilling to allow others to do that. To put the burden on herself. So, knowing that killing Grom would hurt someone she cares about by forcing her to take a life, but also needing to do something to set things right, especially as she sees this as her mistake through her original sin of wanting to fight Grom for glory, she sacrifices her happiness to do a selfless act and save the creature. It's bittersweet because of all the curse will do to her but it does actually resolve an arc to the episode and has something to say about how looking for danger for glory is always going to lead to more trouble than you want to have found. It has a POINT.

Instead... Milan's just such a dang good healer! It was so foolish of her to be a good doctor and not want harm upon others. If she had just been like Ayzee and focused more on herself, she might have been willing to let Grom rot and get to have anything resembling a happy life afterwards. Instead, this genuinely just good trait of this good person who did nothing wrong the entire story, means that she will NEVER have relationships again. Not just with Ayzee but ANYONE because she inherently harms people around her by mentally torturing them. By her own character motivations, this means she isn't going to be okay EVER unless this is cured.

But that doesn't track with the reveal of Grom's backstory. Because, you know, that did happen. The story ends so fast after Grom is saved and barely lets her have any time that it's almost easy to forget. But... Grom was made into what she was by cursing herself for the sake of power... To protect others. She was selfless. With it being Milan who saved her, this is meaningless. At best, it's cycles repeating. If Ayzee had, it would have been part of the point the story theoretically sets up for how one needs to do things for others, not for themselves. Instead, I guess the lesson is no good deed goes unpunished? It's not even that personal glory hurts those around you as collateral damage because that's NOT what Grom did.

And finally, there's just the last comic in general that REALLY highlights how little Milan or Grom matters here. She shrugs off the curse. She shrugs off the consequences. Her pain doesn't matter. The only pain that matters is AYZEE'S because this is still her story and NEVER was Milan's. All of this trivializes the tragedy and sacrifice Milan made, as well as the saving of Grom, because those things had nothing to do with the actual focus of the story which doesn't even payoff because the ending shot is making sure we know just how miserable Milan will make Ayzee's life.

THAT is a self defeating ending. The relationship that this arc ostensibly solidifies and sells to the audience? Dead. Ayzee's fears and worries? Made WORSE. Any themes about the need to do what is best for all instead of best for yourself? Falling on the character who already knew that OR saying that doing so always sucks for the person who actually gives a fuck. Any payoff for this? Dismissed so it can only focus on the person SPARED any consequences from her actions except tangentially. And yes, tangentially since Ayzee just needs to get over a teenage crush while Milan will never be a healthy partner to anyone.

The closest you might want to say is that because Ayzee's life did get worse, it sticks to a theme of her brash actions having consequences but then why is the ONLY person to explicitly be harmed by all of this Manila who didn't share that same flaw? At least in Romeo and Juliet, they BOTH die because they BOTH suffer from dangerous levels of brashness and passion. Not many main characters in tragedies get out unscathed for a reason. Usually even if others do get killed during their story, they still suffer just as badly, if not worse.

You can't even go with "Well, at least this version allows Ayzee to be her own person," something that would have been undercut by fusing with a creature" " which is ostensibly part of the point of this sort of next gen arc. To prove they stand alone from what came before... Except no. Ayzee's angst at the end, blaming herself for this, thinking everything she does will always end up hurting others, is literally just Luz's angst arc post Hollow Mind and just about as unreasonable for self hate as her justification. So even that theme, the most basic, number one next gen theme is pointless here, especially since it doesn't even get resolved in any way. The ending, and even the comments recognize this, reinforces that Ayzee is right: People will only ever see her like a little Luz instead of a strong witch herself.

So is there ANY point to this ending? Well... because it's a next gen retelling. Because TOH already did Grom. Already had Luz wanting to prove herself through being Grom Queen. Literally Ayzee's entire arc here is a more blatantly selfish, less interesting version of what her mom did one generation ago. The twist of Grom actually being a good person... *gestures to every character arc in TOH* so that adds literally nothing new, especially since it ends the same way as Eda's curse with the same spell. As such, if it ends happily, and with the couple okay and stronger than before... It literally is just Grom. So you have to give it a tragic ending or else there's no point to this story existing. There's nothing to say except that it's a worse version of the original and why didn't you try to shake things up at all?

It highlights the fact that yeah, this arc is just flawed from a conceptual standpoint which isn't surprising to me. This arc is much of why I made a post a couple days ago about the Isles being an objectively terrible setting for a follow up story. This story is the epitome of everything people dislike about next gen stories, even up to every change they make in a retelling being just worse than the original.

And here's the final nail in the coffin: I will never care about these characters because of this arc but especially because of this ending. We knew almost nothing about Milan before this besides her being Ayzee's girlfriend. Hell, we barely knew anything about AYZEE because we haven't gotten that many comics with her so the only trait that's really been established is that she's a gamer. And yet, in their first outing, a chance to really show who they are and to make them more distinct than Luz and Amity... Well, doing literally anything for your girlfriend and being a damn near saint is just what Amity turned into eventually and I've talked about how much the arc hammered in that Ayzee is literally just Luz all over again. It's a miracle she's not named Buz. Then the ending says screw you to any payoffs or themes for the sake of having ANYTHING to distinguish this from the original and little else. Even the idea that these characters could lead to a fun, silly extension of the show by how absolutely miserable the ending is.

So at this point... Why should I ever bother with these characters again? That seems like a self defeating goal for myself as a viewer.

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As a note, this isn't because someone brought it to my attention. I still follow Mark and have since even before his started his final Star Versus comic story. I want to support him, I don't think he's a terrible writer and I like plenty of his comics, but it's rough when he took like two years to finally do a large arc like this again and it's just... not good. And no, I don't like A Hint of Blue either unfortunately but unless I just want to talk about how a boring romance happens, I probably won't ever do a blog like this on that.

I have a public Discord for any and all who want to join!

I also have an Amazon page for all of my original works in various forms of character focused romances from cute, teenage romance to erotica series of my past. I have an Ao3 for my fanfiction projects as well if that catches your fancy instead. If you want to hang out with me, I stream from time to time and love to chat with chat.

A Twitter you can follow too

And a Kofi if you like what I do and want to help out with the fact that disability doesn’t pay much.

#the owl house criticism #toh critical #toh #the owl house #Grom Factor #moringmark

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