#I know I seemed harsh to Scott but I love him to death | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

catastrophe-cole · 2 years

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Rivendell or Chromia Scott x Empires Male!reader (romantic)

there's not enough fanfics for thay man, You can do anything as long fluffy and soft <3

Colorful Naps

Word count: 1523 words

Summary: To say that other Empire are slightly intimidated by you would be an understatement. But it seems like Scott of Chromia have a different approach on you. What would he do if he found the rumoured cold and stern ruler of the North sleeping right on his backyard?

Genre: Romantic // fluff // male pronouns

Author's note: I got carried away with this HAHAHA writing Scott is fun. His personality is super mischievous and well, what's Scott if he's not flirting with his peers?

Cold and commanding would be the first thing that came to people's mind when it comes to your Empire. Ruling a Kingdom up north right in the middle of a harsh, tundra biome with natural walls of protection provided by nature's ice spikes. This, is your reality.

Being able to survive in such harsh environments, build an Empire and provide a line of trade with the Polar bears' strength have made you into one of the toughest and most resilient Empires. Some would dare to say you're the strongest mortal that can face the God of Stratos and win with nothing but a scratch. All based on their view of your Empire.

You were seen as cold, that is, by others. But by the ruler of Chromia? It became a different story.

Scott, the one ruler of a smaller Chromia Empire, has managed to see through the thick layer of ice and snow to see the underside of you.

The man has his way with words. He's cunning, and mischievous, it's not difficult for him to learn more about you than what people know. Especially when you and him so often trade with each other due to your need of dye to add colour in your white, snowy plain of an Empire.

Knowing about the secrets of the snow Empire is one thing, but knowing about you and falling in love was another.

It was just another day of building, Scott had finished his newly grown nether portal and he's ready to check on the dye farm to pick up any excess flowers he can store in the chest.

Walk was peaceful until he saw a giant pile of white laying by one of his ponds near the flower field.

He didn't remember anything about.. That.

Curiously and cautiously, he walks over to the pile of white, only to come to the realization that the pile by his pond is a giant polar bear, curling and sleeping peacefully with its body slowly rising and falling in a calm manner of breathing.

Usually when there's a polar bear, there's you.

Walking around the giant creature, he spotted a different shade of white and grey laying against the bear. You.

Now it's not unusual for you to pay a visit like this and take small breaks from your travel in other people's Empires. But to see you asleep and peacefully cuddled up with your ride under the warmth of spring that his Kingdom provides is a new sight.

A lovely sight, if he may add.

You had always seemed so tense and cautious all the time, he supposed living in a biome full of unknown death and coldness does that to you. So seeing you resting so peacefully, asleep, and calm is quite a sight that actually made his mischievous heart flutter.

Of course he won't just wake you up, no no. He wouldn't want to disturb you and your companion's sleep now. But also, he just wants to enjoy the sight of you in his Kingdom, feeling safe enough to sleep outdoors.

He plopped himself down by your side, just enough distance away from you and the polar bear to not disturb you. Putting away the items he has in his hands, he leaned forward slightly towards you.

There's several stray petals that seem to have taken place on you. Some obvious ones are across your body, colorful pieces making an obvious contrast against your white getup. He doesn't mind it. In fact, seeing you draped in colours other than black, grey and white is always a pleasure of a sight to him. Especially if it were his colour.

Though instinctively, his hand reached up to a petal of gold stranded on your hair. Leaning forward and hoping to pick it up away from you, he suddenly flinched when a hand grabbed his wrist and stopped his movements then.

Realizing quickly that it's your hand, his body quickly relaxed. Though not before he caught a glimpse of your eyes, half lidded as you stared up to him.

"Scott." You call out his name, voice slightly hoarse from the small nap earlier; you must've been really tired then.

"My Emperor," he hummed, seemingly unaffected by the slight show of intimidation, as he's seen it plenty of times as a result of his teasing on you. "Did I wake you up? Or.. Were you awake this whole time?"

"You did," you huffed slightly, pulling his hand down away from your face right to your side, he noticed you're not letting his hand go. "What makes you think I won't notice such an obvious approach?"

"Wishful thinking, that's all." He giggled before cooing at you, "I'm sorry if it makes you uncomfortable. You were just.. So adorable sleeping here with your friend! I couldn't help myself."

You pouted and furrowed your brows at him before gazing away. You're flustered; clearly. You can't tell whether it's just his charm or it's your interest in the colourful man that made you cherish his compliment more than others.

"Right. But I think I should be the one apologizing to you," you brought your gaze back to him, but lower, showing a small display of guilt. "We just rode from Stratos to trade some stuff. It should be just like any other visit, it's just.. The warden was an absolute surprise."

Scott raised an eyebrow, acting quite amused, "Oh? Someone has a bone to pick with Joel it seems."

"Obviously. That man's ego is bigger than his forehead."

"God, he'd be a little upset if you familiarize him with the likes of men."

"Hah! As if I'd ever admit to that self proclaimed title. He may be taller than trees but his wit is smaller than that of a silverfish." You laughed, another rare occurrence. Watching you seemingly so normal makes Scott unintentionally squeezed your hand with a smile of his own.

"So, did the almighty Emperor of the North manage to defeat the warden?" He asks with a smirk, amused by your small laughter. "Or did the small God manage to kill it before you do?"

"Oh I managed to defeat it just fine. Pixlriffs was there to help, and I suppose Joel too, to some extent, helped in the cleaning of the pest that was released to his Empire. But," your other hand reached back to your fluffy white companion who's still peacefully asleep despite the conversation happening between you and the other Empire. "He got hit by the sonic boom once, and he needed some well deserved rest. I would take a rest in one of Joel's guest houses but.. After a Warden visit? I don't think I'd want to risk losing my buddy here."

He watches you scratch and pet the polar bear's fur. A low purr like noises can be heard as the animal's head shifted closer to your hand, enjoying the affection given to it during its slumber. Oh for Scott to be envious of a bear.

"Well I'm certainly flattered that you'd take refuge in my Empire, but I too have built some guest houses you know?" You chuckled, nodding away at his statement. "I even built a custom one for you and your friend!"

"I know, and I appreciate it, but you see," in that instance, you finally squeezed his hand back, catching him off guard as he thought you didn't actually realize the fact that you have been holding his hand all this time. Pulling his hand up to your face, you placed a firm kiss to the back of his hand, all while looking up to his heterochromia eyes.

"If I were to sleep in one of your guest houses, then I wouldn't be able to greet this Empire's beautiful Emperor as soon as he finishes his build."

That, caught him off guard.

A new shade colour of red spreads through his cheek as he can feel your smile through his skin and the kiss pressed on his hand. What are you doing?

"But well, if you insist I should take up one of the beds around here, then I wouldn't mind spending the night in Chromia, if you'll have us." Pulling his hand away from your lips, you turned your attention back to your companion. "I'm sure he'd be delighted to sleep by a warm fireplace."

"Oh- Of course! Yeah," Scott finally snapped awake from your surprise, gazing back up to you with a smile, the blush on his face now has lightly faded as he tries to gain his composure back.

You were about to tease him; after all it's rare to get him flustered and you really want to bask in the pride of being able to do so. That is, until he cleared his throat and offered you an alternative,

"I mean if you want, you don't have to take the guest house," boldly, in return, he leaned forward and pressed a kiss right on your cheek, just a few distance away from the corner of your lips, "I don't mind if you spend the night in mine."

Well, now how can you say no to that?

#colewrites #empires x reader #empires smp x reader #scott x reader #x reader #reader insert #mcyt x reader #thegeekisheere

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enchi-elm · 11 months

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Apfelessig rewatches Turn

S01E06: Mr. Culpeper

0:00 Blogging this one for the sole reason that I finally, finally found a copy on DVD at the library and can now finally watch on my own time, with no internet connection or ads, an episode of a show in one long uninterrupted stream with no buffering.

0:08 Could it be?? My beloved??

2:44 What about a fic entirely from Sackett's POV

3:58 "It confirms Captain Gamble's account." Oh? Surely not *the* Gamble? There must have been a captain with that name on the Continental side. Okay, I've got a Captain Robert Gamble from the 8th Virginia Regiment and later, in 1779, the 2nd Virginia Regiment. I've also got a Journal from the Continental Congress noting the resolved motion "that the Board of War be directed to inquire into the conduct of Captain Gamble, since he was made prisoner of war, and report to Congress." I guess he reported on the prisoner treatment conditions for POWs?

5:36 Seems harsh for some spoons and apparel. I feel like this thing was frequent in Sgt. Martin's accounts.

6:13 Ben. You getting promoted?

7:45 Sackett's much more tight with Washington than I remember.

8:24 ... ... I think that species of pig is even period accurate. ...Is a hog different from a pig.

9:43 Sackett KING XD did you just interrupt a general

11:26 ...Suppose you could have left Abe there. Something about this guy, I don't remember what he was up to.

13:37 "I want you to feel safe here and perhaps find reason to smile." I think. Like. Even then, this was a smarmy line from Andre. Like, I don't know if we're supposed to be going "oh, he's so generous to Abigail" because certainly I'm thinking "she's not gonna feel safe you twat"

16:12 Love love love love this conversation between Rogers and Akinbode.

17:19 "Failure! Death!" Love you, Sackett

18:20 "Please tell me you're using encryption. My God. They told me you were a graduate of Yale."

19:26 Okay, good point, Scott.

21:00 What was this guy's plan? Ohhhh right this whole mess, oh oh oh. Oh oh, no, Abe, shut up shut up

23:55 "Yes, exactly why [Abe, my friend] trusts me to protect him." Ben, tell me, when did you plan to start doing that exactly

23:57 "Only that which is concealed is protected." <3

24:55 Iconic meeting between Andre and Simcoe.

26:26 I suppose this whole Abe-and-the-rogue-soldier bit is interesting in that--well, it's not on the frontier, it's the road into New York so...still on Long Island. But there's enough empty stretch for someone to be hiding for six months, passing themselves off as whoever they need to, yet unable to cross a checkpoint.

30:46 I'm supposed to feel sorry for him because he, like, represents the Continental Army, but ... meh. I...might have shaped that differently.

32:35 "This man's a liar." Oh, Simcoe. XD "You pale fool."

35:08 Hmm... There's a fic here, between Ben and Sackett and Washington.

36:10 Come on, Aldis, whup his ass!

36:44 Is he using a bit of capoeira, there? Sure looks like it. Totally appropriate, no? It was a martial art developed and disguised as a dance so the enslaved persons could practice it secretly.

38:04 Rogers speaks Abenaki BUT STILL WON'T TELL ME WHO THAT MAN IS.

39:18 Washington, probably: Sackett, give me that hard-boiled egg, I need it for a dramatic moment with Ben.

41:31 Eyyyyy congrats Ben. Now the hard work starts.

42:28 AWASOS. AWASOS. HIS NAME IS AWASOS. I had to get that from the CREDITS. Can't find any historical basis for him specifically though it looks like Rogers tangled with the Abenaki a bunch in the French and Indian War. (By 'tangled a bunch' I mean 'massacred an entire Abenaki village' by command of the British.) Why and how Awasos became his second-in-command in the show, I honestly don't remember. I hope they explain it!

#turn amc #Apfelessig rewatches Turn

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sterek-ao3feed · 19 days

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Teen Wolf New Moon

Read it on AO3 at https://archiveofourown.org/works/55455991

by zzeacat

Preface Stiles was living a nightmare. One of the ones that he had awoken from screaming night after night these past months. One of those nightmares where you awake still panting and sweating from all the running dream you had been doing. Running for your life even though you can never seem to run fast enough. But Stiles wasn’t running for his life. His life was of little consequence to himself right now. The thought of the enemies he was about to face alone was more comforting than frightening. He was glad to know failure would most definitely end in his death. Because if he failed in this, he would lose that which gave him the will to live. So with false confidence, Stile strode into the harsh light and out from the shadows.

Aka part 2 of my Twilight rewrite but Sterek. New Moon addition. Featuring Stiles being left by Derek because of plot reasons plenty of angst NO love triangle. I took New Moon and gave it my own twist to fit these two.

Words: 3377, Chapters: 1/?, Language: English

Series: Part 2 of Twilight saga

Fandoms: Teen Wolf (TV)

Rating: Teen And Up Audiences

Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings

Categories: M/M

Characters: Derek Hale, Stiles Stilinski, Allison Argent, Lydia Martin, Sheriff Stilinski (Teen Wolf), Scott McCall (Teen Wolf), Isaac Lahey, Vernon Boyd, Talia Hale, Cora Hale

Relationships: Derek Hale/Stiles Stilinski

Additional Tags: Hurt/Comfort, Angst and Feels, Angst with a Happy Ending, Twilight AU, New Moon AU, Werewolves, Mates, Spark Stiles Stilinski, BAMF Stiles Stilinski, Depression, stiles gets sad, But then you knew that, because New Moon, It Gets Better, Scott is suipid, Kidnapping, Protective Stiles Stilinski, The red hoodie tm, Temporary Amnesia, Hospitals, Panic Attacks

https://archiveofourown.org/works/55455991

#Sterek #Stiles Stilinski/Derek Hale #Derek Hale/Stiles Stilinski #ao3feed Sterek #ao3feed #fanfic

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garc-i-a · 7 years

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Partners in Crime

There is something that I have realized after learning more about Pentatonix once I joined the fandom. They are all skilled singers who are all capable of singing as solo artists without any trouble. In comparison to most vocal groups who cannot perform individually. Even though this is technically true, there is a little something else. A certain two are best as a duo than solo. I’m sure you can guess who I mean. And if not......Scott and Mitch, people.

Strictly talking about their working relationship (can anyone get what I am referencing here?) they just work best together. I mean we already know they can sing, oh I mean SANG, but there’s an issue when they try to do things alone. Let’s break it down, shall we? Let’s start with Señor Noodle!

Our lovely blond eyebrow denied baritone is a beast on the mic. And is just BURSTING with creativity. I mean that overgrown child came up with the name Pentatonix of all things and it is clever and relates to music. As well as creating one of the most popular parts of the 2012-2015 tours, chair girls. It is such a Scott idea, isn’t it (another reference)? Yet here in lies the problem with him. He is SO creative but doesn’t know how to progress. He is all over the place (ex. the only TWO videos on SF where Scott is by himself, he literally has no idea what to do and jumps from topic to topic or just does something random and uninspired). Let’s go back in time for this break down.

For those who don’t know, Scott actually has TWO YouTube channels. One is Scott Hoying and the other (that we know) is scotthoying. The former is his first channel that he started when he was a freshman in high school. He barely uploaded on the page in the three years he used it. And the content was a little....uneven (?). There were music clips yet then there are videos where he is just goofing around. There was no set use for the channel. He abandoned it in 2010 (or more like forgot the password, I mean it is Scott we’re talking about). Then he created the one we are more familiar with. This was firmly dedicated to music. Even so, he didn’t have a format. He just uploaded covers and didn’t cement the kind of artist he wanted to be. This of course can be contributed to the fact that he was dealing with school at the time when he uploaded a bunch of covers. And then Pentatonix happened. Yet what about Vine?

He joined the site in March of 2013. Now it is apparent that he used it to boost interest in the band but also had a penchant for posting comedy content. This juxtaposition is jarring. He would go from making singing videos to posting random comedy bits in six seconds. For someone who is trying to make a brand, this uncertainty from viewers on what he was focusing on is difficult to follow. It seemed the only two common things that he had a constant focus on overall was his love of music and Mitch. (I may or may not have counted how many Vines that had Mitch in them or involved Mitch in some way, 47% of Scott’s Vines had Mitch in them). From there we can talk about Mitch’s end of this.

Our lovely unreal queen (of basically everything) is not just a singer but a force of nature. Sorry Scott but you are second best to her. Now Mitch kind of has the exact OPPOSITE deal compared to her other half. She doesn’t really put herself out there in terms of ideas or such. Now let’s get back in the time machine so I can explain better. Trust me I love this woman. But we need a few details before I get pitchforked. Back growing up, Mitch was insecure and uncomfortable singing. In the videos that we have of Mitch from high school (since any earlier seem to not exist anywhere, save for that stage performance where he was the water god) he basically regurgitated material and was also EXTREMELY low key about it and was never posted by himself. It was always by either a competition circuit or a friend. It was like Mitch was afraid of the reactions of others. Let’s continue onto Mitch’s Youtube.

Yeah, what Youtube? 1 video doesn’t not a channel make. Girl legit only uploaded ONE in November 2013 and nothing ever again. Mitch even addressed this in the 3 Year Channelversary episode saying that having a separate channel by himself would never work because he would never have the ideas or urge to upload regularly. The channel is just used to like videos every few weeks. Mitch didn’t have anything to showcase what she could do without the others. The closest we have to it is little IG/Snapchat videos of a few seconds. But nothing full out. The thing that Mitch suffers from is a lack of drive (or ambition if you will). Okay to the music careers!

So Scott is obviously someone in the R&B/Soul wheelhouse. Yet he doesn’t know how to stay on track to save his life (driving and getting sidetracked by a dog park, people). I honestly wonder if he has ADD. And I know it is not good to diagnose someone without expertise. Yet based off the way he acts, I’d say there is a real chance for it. I mean it is like his brain moves faster than his mouth (no filter) and he just can’t stay on topic. Based on this I don’t know how well he would do trying to get into that market as a solo artist. Being part giraffe with blond hair and blue eyes and a complexion to rival the bloodsuckers on Vampire Diaries, he sticks out with the demographic that kind of music leans to (African Americans). There are some individuals that are adverse to anyone trying to make it in that genre that isn’t African American, as well. He would be at a disadvantage or not taken seriously. Also he doesn’t know how to control himself and would be just a spastic noodle in interviews by himself. To contrast that cooked pasta is Mitch’s side of things.

She is into more of the EDM/Techno scene. And the otherworldly voice helps to create quite a unique sound. Yet, as I said, she lacks any drive to do anything. There is no effort to do anything. I am not trying to come for Mitchy. Again no fiery torches, please. She has great ideas and tastes but never implements them. They are just thoughts. Never anything set in motion. I attribute this to Mitch’s fear of rejection and thirst for approval. On the surface Mitch appears an unaffected individual, but we know is actually quite sensitive and bottles up pain. To go out and create something that represents him is a scary thing. Especially since Mitch’s anxiety at times has caused things to go south (almost leaving the Sing Off because it was so bad or not taking the boat in Hawaii the other day with the gang). Due to these matters Mitch cannot sustain a solo career. The music would be a back and forth of it ever coming out and Mitch would have trouble in interviews and red carpets all the time without someone there. Finally to what you all have been reading for.

With all these things, Scott and Mitch work to make up for the other’s failings. Mitch is the one that grounds Scott and keeps him focused and inspired. And Scott is the one to encourage Mitch and express how gifted his other half is and how much the public deserves to hear such beauty. Scott has the ideas to create while Mitch has the vocals and little tricks to basically do any crazy idea Scott comes up with. The two of them are able to combine what they love most about music to create material that they can both be proud of. It is the same for whatever endeavor they pursue. Together they are stronger. They are a team. Partners in crime.

#Scott Hoying #Mitch Grassi #Superfruit #I know I seemed harsh to Scott but I love him to death #He's my favorite I swear #Mitch is perfection #Forgive me for the weirdness in here #I was half asleep by the end of ths #Will most likely edit it once I get feedback

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thegrimreality · 2 years

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Friends Quotes as MCU Characters

"I know of two surefire ways to shut a man up, and one of them is sex." - Natasha Romanoff

"Welcome to the real world. It sucks. You're gonna love it." - Yelena Belova (freeing the widows)

"Now, I need you to be careful and efficient. And remember: If I am harsh with you, it's only becausey you're doing it wrong." - Nick Fury

"I'm not great at the advice. Can I interest you in a sarcastic comment?" - Jessica Jones

"I say more dumb things before 9am than most people say all day." - Scott Lang

"I tend to keep talking until somebody stops me." - Pietro Maximoff

"Alright I took the quiz, and it turns out I do put my career before men." - Steve Rogers

"Oh, you like [my name]? You should hear my phone number." - Tony Stark

"Everybody looks so happy. I hate that." - Frank Castle

"You should see me when I actually- oh, actually no, I look good." - Yelena Belova

"I wish I could, but I don't want to." - Loki / Wanda

"It's like there's rock bottom, then 50 feet of crap, then me." - Matt Murdock

"Oh I'm sorry, did my back hurt your knife?" - Tony Stark

"I hope it's still funny when you're in hell." - Steve Rogers

"These are just feelings, they'll go away." - Jessica Jones

"Well the fridge broke, so I had to eat everything." - Scott Lang

"When I actually die, some people are gonna get seriously haunted." - Phil Coulson

"A no-sex pact, huh? I seem to have one of those going with every woman in America." - Wade Wilson

"Have I been living with him too long, or did that all just make sense?" - Bruce Banner (about Tony Stark)

"It's so exhausting, waiting for death." - Natasha Romanoff / Tony Stark

#incorrect mcu quotes #the avengers #the defenders #natasha romanoff #yelena belova #jessica jones #scott lang #pietro maximoff #steve rogers #tony stark #frank castle #loki #matt murdock #phil coulson #wade wilson #bruce banner #wanda maximoff

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storytellerofuntoldlegends · 3 years

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an icarus and his sun: chapter 10

A/N: y’all ever think about that one empires episode of pearl’s where she helps sausage fight off a raid and that turns into a pvp battle between them, and she absolutely destroys him? yeah me too. also check out this awesome art by @amostfoolishgold! anyway back to jimmy pov!

Warnings: injury, unconsciousness, fevers, talk of death, violence, corruption/infection, self-blame

AO3 Link - Tumblr Masterpost

The sun was nearing the horizon, casting the Overgrown in a golden glow. The castle was beginning to take shape, but they had unfortunately run low on materials, and Joel and Lizzie weren’t back from their gathering trip yet. So for the moment, they all just sat in the half-constructed shell of a castle, having light conversation as they waited for Joel and Lizzie to arrive. But soon enough, the conversation dwindled into an awkward silence. That is, until Gem stood up with a determined look in her eyes and a gentle smile.

“Why don’t we head to my empire for dinner? We’ve been working hard all day and could use a break!” she said brightly. Jimmy wasn’t sure how he felt about Gem quite yet, after everything that had happened- but she and Pearl had been a huge help. Meanwhile Shelby looked intrigued by the offer, and while Katherine first nervously glanced to the horizon, she looked back to Gem with a smile.

“That is very kind of you, Gem. I’d love to- we should probably just leave a note for Joel and Lizzie to let them know where we’ve gone,” Katherine said, standing up as well. Gem looked to Jimmy semi-nervously- and well, Jimmy was always a bit of a softie, wasn’t he? He smiled at Gem and stood up too.

“That does sound nice, thank you for inviting us,” Jimmy said. Gem beamed, and Pearl looked relieved as she stood up next to Gem.

“Well, you definitely won’t see me complaining about free food!” Shelby chimed in, hopping up to her feet. That caused the group to break into laughter, and the air between them felt comfortable again.

Once Katherine had written the note and put it where Lizzie and Joel could easily find it, the five of them (minus Pearl, who had wings) equipped their elytra and flew off to the Crystal Cliffs. When they first arrived there, everything seemed normal. The grand cliffs themselves, the buildings nestled in and around them, the towers- it was a beautiful and mystical place. But there was something blue, white, and gold that stood out in a heap on the ground near one of the buildings- a very familiar something blue, white and gold.

“Oh my god-” Gem started, landing on the ground beside the figure.

“Is that-” Pearl said, unable to finish the thought as she landed just behind Gem.

“Scott?” Jimmy finished, voice shaking as he came in for a bit of an unsteady landing a few feet away from where Scott laid on the ground, breathing shallow and upon a closer look, something red pulsing and spreading beneath his skin like some sort of vine. Jimmy barely registered Katherine and Shelby landing on either side of him, too focused on what was before him.

“This- this red stuff reminds me of the redstone spikes in Fwhip’s empire- or maybe something from the nether?” Gem pondered as she knelt beside Scott, a purple glow coming over her hand as she reached out towards the infection in his arm.

“I’ve seen that before,” Shelby said, voice sounding distant and laced with horror. Everyone turned to look at her, surprised to hear such a terrified tone of voice from the usually enthusiastic gnome.

“The infection?” Pearl asked.

“The corruption. I’ve seen it happen to my people back home, until it consumed them until there was nothing left- it’s why I came here, to try and find a cure or some way to stop it. But nothing worked,” Shelby explained shakily, sounding like she was on the verge of tears. Jimmy felt like he was going to cry too- and some awful part of himself thought that he should be glad that this happened to Scott, that it served him right after betraying Jimmy and breaking his heart- but he couldn’t. Despite everything Scott had done, despite never wanting to see Scott again- none of that meant that Jimmy didn’t want a world where the winged elf wasn’t in it. And what about what Pearl had said? Scott didn’t seem happy with Fwhip either, but now Jimmy would never know the truth. Not if it died with Scott.

Jimmy was so wrapped up in his conflicted mess of emotions that he didn’t even notice that someone else had flown in until Katherine let out a sharp gasp. He tore his gaze away from Scott to see what had caused that reaction from Katherine- and saw Fwhip. A mix of anger and terror boiled in his veins and swirled in his stomach at the sight of him. Fwhip looked baffled to see so many people in Gem’s empire, and plastered on a forced friendly smile. Jimmy’s hand found Katherine’s, and she squeezed it back tightly with no intention of letting go.

“Gem! Hi, so I wanted to smooth things over- I think we left things on a bad note-”

“What did you do to Scott,” Gem demanded, cutting off Fwhip as she stood up from beside Scott. Purple sparks danced in the air around her, and Jimmy swallowed nervously- he didn’t think he had ever seen Gem seem so intimidating before. Jimmy was relieved to see that Fwhip looked nervous too.

“Well, I haven’t seen Scott since our meeting, he seemed upset when he left- weird that he ended up here- y’know I was actually gonna go and talk to him after you-”

“If by talk, you mean do whatever you did to Scott to us?!” Pearl demanded, hand on the hilt of her sword as she took a step forward to stand beside Gem.

“I didn’t-”

“I’ve had enough of your lies, Fwhip. What. Did. You. Do,” Gem said evenly. Fwhip swallowed nervously, before sighing and finally giving in.

“Okay, so I may have set a few traps in his empire and got Sausage to help me with letting a raid infiltrate his village and the surrounding lands- but I figured Scott could handle a few traps and some mobs, it was only meant to be a warning, I never meant to kill him! He must have really gotten soft if he couldn’t deal with it,” Fwhip rambled. Gem and Pearl seemed semi-satisfied with his answer, but Pearl kept her hand on her sword and purple sparks still danced around Gem. But there was something that Fwhip said that bothered Jimmy, and along with what Pearl had said… guilt was beginning to settle in the pit of his stomach.

“What do you mean by that?” Jimmy asked tentatively. Fwhip let out a harsh laugh, turning to Jimmy incredulously.

“The idiot actually fell for you. He was just supposed to be a distraction, a contingency plan to make sure you wouldn’t be trouble. But he got in too deep, and look where that got him,” Fwhip scoffed, looking down at Scott’s deathly still form in disdain. Guilt was crashing on Jimmy in waves now. He had pushed Scott away. Scott had actually cared about him and he pushed him away. And then he had no one to go to for help when Fwhip decided to send a “warning” and got hurt as a result.

“You’re lucky I’m a pacifist,” Katherine spat, more angry than Jimmy had ever heard her. He wished he could have shared her anger, shouted at Fwhip too- but Jimmy just felt numb.

“Well unluckily for Fwhip, I don’t have that problem,” Pearl fumed, drawing her sword. Fwhip started to scramble back as Pearl leapt at him. His backwards stumble turned into a run, and Pearl kept pace with him just fine, using her wings if necessary and brandishing her sword to chase him away.

“Pearl can handle him- can you three help me get Scott to the apothecary? I’d do it by myself, but he’s tall and there’s the bulk of his wings to worry about too,” Gem asked, looking down at Scott worriedly.

“Erm- right, of course,” Jimmy said, letting go of Katherine’s hand to join Gem at Scott’s side.

“Hold on- go to the other side and help me turn him over,” Gem said. Jimmy did as she asked, and being mindful of his wings, the two of them gently rolled Scott over so he was on his back. Scott was feverish to the touch, and even unconscious his expression was contorted with pain.

“He’s hot,” Jimmy said, distant horror in his tone.

“Now isn’t the time for that, Jimmy,” Gem teased, trying to lessen the tension in the air. Jimmy’s face scrunched up in irritation as he half-heartedly glared at her.

“He has a fever, Gem,” Jimmy huffed. Gem laughed nervously.

“I know, I know, just trying to make this less terrible than it is,” Gem sighed. Jimmy gave her a weak smile, and together the two of them gently lifted Scott up. Jimmy ended up mostly holding Scott, while Gem supported his wings. Scott’s head lolled against his shoulder, labored breaths fanning his neck. Jimmy should have felt embarrassed or flustered, cradling Scott like this- but he was too concerned with how limp and unresponsive Scott felt in his arms.

“I’ll get the doors for you!” Shelby offered, quickly making her way over to the apothecary door. Katherine hovered around Jimmy and Gem semi-anxiously, making sure that they had a good hold on Scott as they made their way over to the apothecary. But all went well, and they were able to safely transport Scott into one of the apothecary beds. He had begun to shiver and tremble every so often now, and Jimmy could have sworn the corruption had spread, reaching his fingertips.

“There’s gotta be a way to stop that, or at least slow it down,” Gem murmured in thought, pulling up a chair to sit at Scott’s side. She reached out to the cut where the corruption on Scott’s arm stemmed from, hand glowing purple again. She closed her hand over it, and her eyes began to glow the same purple as her hand. But then the glow flickered, turning red for a moment before it dissipated entirely and Gem drew her hand back with a yelp, stumbling backwards out of her seat beside Scott’s bed. Jimmy scrambled over to help her up, eyes darting nervously between her and Scott.

“Is everything alright? I chased Fwhip off, but I swear if he’s done something in here…” Pearl trailed off as she walked into the apothecary, eyes zeroing on Gem as she rubbed at her temples.

“I’m fine. The corruption- it fought back. It’s… alive, somehow,” Gem said with morbid curiosity in her tone.

“It’s a type of fungus. That’s as much as my people could figure out before I came here to try and find a cure. The red stuff is everywhere in my old home- even if you tried to get rid of it, it would just come back. And in the cases where it latched onto a person… there was no getting it out,” Shelby explained, sounding like she was going to cry. Gem hummed thoughtfully.

“Did you try any sort of magic with it?” she asked.

“No, my people were not magic-users- in fact I’d hardly seen magic before I came here, where the air seems charged with the stuff,” Shelby replied, gesturing around her. A determined expression came over Gem’s face.

“Then I’m not gonna stop trying. I don’t know if I can fully fight off the corruption, but I definitely think I can slow its spread. In the meantime, we’re gonna need to get Scott’s fever down- at this rate, that’ll kill him before the corruption will,” Gem said, resting the back of her hand on Scott’s forehead and frowning.

“He’s probably a little beat-up too- Fwhip did say he trapped his empire,” Katherine added. Gem nodded in agreement.

“We’ll need cool water and cloth to make a compress for his forehead- and I should have some healing potions around here- it couldn’t hurt to brew some more though too, just in case,” Gem rambled, starting to stand up before Pearl put up a hand.

“You two stay here with Scott, I know where you keep things around here. Katherine, Shelby and I can worry about getting things for you,” she soothed. Jimmy tilted his head in confusion.

“Wait, I can help get things too…” Jimmy trailed off uncertainly.

“You can help if you want. I just figured you’d wanna stick by Scott,” Pearl shrugged with a gentle smile. Jimmy flushed slightly as he looked down at the floor, away from Pearl’s knowing stare.

“I… yeah. I’ll stick by Scott,” he said softly, gaze shifting to look at the winged elf who always managed to make his emotions into a muddled mess. Scott was an enemy, a friend, a- a something, then an enemy again- but whatever Scott was to Jimmy now, he knew one thing: he wasn’t letting Scott out of his sight again. Doing so the last time caused this to happen. He had to be there if- no, when Scott woke up. He had to apologize for pushing him away, and hope that maybe Scott still cared about him after everything that had happened to accept it.

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smaidjor · 3 years

Text

and i pay for my place by the ring (Chapter 2)

This chapter took me so fucking long but after much struggle I have completed it!

It was supposed to be 3-4k words. It was exactly 6069 pre-editing according to google docs.

You're welcome.

Chapter Title: with your blessing i will go

Chapter Wordcount: 6073

Content warnings: suicidal thoughts, self-esteem issues, discussion of death, non-graphic injury.

AO3

Chapter 1

i know they're losing (companion fic)

Actual fic under the cut:

The next few weeks are miserable, and if Scott tried to claim anything else, he would absolutely be lying to himself. Not that he doesn’t already do that, but he’s not too proud to admit that not seeing Jimmy is torturous. He knows he can’t, he’s firmly placed Jimmy on the off-limits list, but that doesn’t make the self-imposed rule any easier to follow. There’s still a part of him that wants to go running back to Jimmy’s arms, to beg for forgiveness and pray that Jimmy’s warmth is enough to curb the chill in his bones.

Scott shoves that part of him down firmly. He has no time to hesitate or regret, and he will not spend his days pining and sighing over a human. (Or so he tells himself.) He will be the perfect model of an elven king if that’s what it takes to gain his people’s respect, and he will make his parents proud, not that they’re around to see it. He will . Because Scott may not care about what the Council of Elders thinks of him- he hasn’t for twenty years now- but he does care that the people of Rivendell get a leader who cares for their wellbeing. It’s the least he can do, really.

So he takes on the meetings and the paperwork and the aching, gaping hole in his chest with grim determination, ignoring the way his hands always seem to shake a little and he can never quite get warm. It’s fine. Scott is fine. He’s not going to think about golden smiles or warm brown eyes or the look on Jimmy’s face when Scott told him it was over. He’s fine .

Flipping through the stack of official mail he’s received, Scott’s startled when his hand falls on an elegant cream envelope stamped with the crest of the Ocean Empire. How long has this been here? He hurries to get it open, nearly slicing himself on the letter opener in the process.

Out slides an official invitation in neat cursive.

To High King Scott Dangthatsalongname Smajor, Lord King of the Rivendell Empire,

You are cordially invited to a royal ball to be held at the palace of Ocean Queen Lizzie Ldshadowlady, Queen of the Northern Waves and Reefs, at 8 pm on the fifth of August.

Formal attire is required.

RSVP as soon as possible.

At the bottom of it, there’s a note in slightly more rushed handwriting.

Smajor- elvenking or not, I will not appreciate it if you mess with Jimmy in any way, shape or form. This ball is to be a peaceful affair, and I will not hesitate to intervene should anything occur.

Lizzie

Scott winces. He...can’t say he doesn’t deserve the warning, any more than he can say that it doesn’t hurt to be warned away from his own husband. Ex-husband, he quickly reminds himself, reaching for stationary to pen a response.

Dear Ocean Queen Lizzie Ldshadowlady, Queen of the Northern Waves and Reefs,

He stops, giving it a bit of thought. Would avoiding Jimmy be worth the political consequences of refusing an invitation like this? No, he concedes reluctantly, it wouldn’t. He can always just avoid Jimmy at the ball- Lizzie would probably be happy for it, honestly. She’s been protective over him from the start. Scott puts the pen back to paper.

Luckily, I will be able to attend the ball. It sounds like a wonderful event and I eagerly anticipate it. As for your note, I will avoid antagonizing Jimmy as much as possible. I would hate to sacrifice diplomatic relations between our kingdoms for a petty squabble. Will that be satisfactory?

Sincerely,

High King Scott Dangthatsalongname Smajor

What’s going on between him and Jimmy is far more than a petty squabble, but Lizzie doesn’t need to know that. It’s fine. It’s not like he’s going to run into Jimmy anyways, right?

The day of the ball arrives, and Scott spends far too long choosing an outfit. He’s not vain, not usually, but...Jimmy will be there. You’re not supposed to want to impress him , Scott scolds himself, but that doesn’t stop him from wearing his nicest golden jewelry. The rest of his outfit is far more strategically planned- long skirts to hide how terrible his balance is when he’s near-constantly struggling to get a full breath into his lungs, gloves to keep his dance partners from questioning his cold hands.

The ball is already in full swing by the time he arrives, the trip from Rivendell taking longer than he thought it would. He’s still greeted by the Ocean Queen herself, though, gliding over in her stunning ballgown of blue and green.

“Welcome!” Her smile is bright, warm in a way he almost envies.

Scott dips his head just enough to be respectful but not so much as to truly defer to her. He thinks that’s right, anyways; he hasn’t had to think about that particular part of etiquette lessons in some twenty years. “Thank you, Queen Lizzie. I apologize for my lateness, the trip was a bit harrowing.”

“No problem at all, I just hope you enjoy the ball!” Lizzie’s smile gains a sharper edge. “I appreciated your letter, by the way. Thank you for your promise to keep it civil, King Smajor. Now we just all have to follow through on our words!” She accompanies that bit with a little laugh, but Scott’s not a fool enough to take it as anything but a warning. She doesn’t want trouble at her ball, and who would, really?

“Hopefully we can manage at least that,” he offers wryly, earning another laugh and a bright “Hopefully!”

Scott doesn’t mean to cause trouble at the ball, he really doesn’t. But before he has a chance to even get a look around, Jimmy’s standing in front of him. And oh, this really isn’t how he hoped it’d go.

“Lord Codfather,” Scott greets, swallowing the lump in his throat. Jimmy cleans up nicely- really nicely- but Scott’s eyes keep going to the scar on his throat, the permanent reminder of how fragile and mortal Jimmy really is.

“Elvenking,” Jimmy says. The formality sounds awkward in his bright voice, and Scott wants to kiss the uncertainty right off his face. “Care for a dance?”

He can’t- he should, Scott knows. There would be value to an alliance with Jimmy, and he has no good reason to turn him down. That’s not why he says yes, though. It’s that look in Jimmy’s eyes, the hope poorly disguised by indifference. He’s so optimistic. Scott shouldn't encourage it, but he can’t find it in himself to break that fragile hope just yet.

“I suppose I wouldn’t mind,” Scott says finally. He takes Jimmy’s outstretched hand in his own gloved one; Vilya rests on Jimmy’s finger, still, and it’s a battle to keep the memories of giving Jimmy that ring at bay. He wins that battle, though, letting Jimmy put a hand on his waist as they start into a simple waltz.

Jimmy is a terrible dancer, and Scott knows it. He steps on Scott’s feet, he gets off-rhythm- he’s frankly not made for dancing, much as the way he hums along to the tune is adorable. His hair, which was probably once nicely styled, has already fallen out of place, and his tunic is a little wrinkled. His hands are rough, tough from all the work he does with them, and his face has a tiny bit of mud on it that he must have missed when getting ready. He looks very much like a sweet little swamp boy, out of place in the midst of all the more elegant and powerful rulers.

He’s the most beautiful thing Scott’s ever seen.

Unlike the last time they danced, back in 3rd life where Jimmy leaned on Scott for balance as he tried to learn the complicated steps, this time it’s Scott clinging to Jimmy for stability. He feels bad about how harsh his grip gets, but he can’t afford to show weakness. He has to stay on his feet.

Scott’s silently thankful when the dance ends and he can lead them off the dance floor. He’s exhausted and shaky, and he’s not sure how much longer he can be around Jimmy without breaking down or doing something very stupid.

“Thank you for the dance, Codfather,” Scott says. He takes a step back, banishing the lingering emotion of their dance.

A beat of silence, and then.

“Can we please stop acting like we don’t know each other?” Jimmy demands, earning a ripple of gasps from nearby guests.

“What else do you want from me?” Scott snaps back, anger rising to fill the gap in his chest.

“I- something! Anything! Just acknowledge that I exist, won’t you?”

Scott swallows down the lump in his throat. “Acknowledging you exist doesn’t mean I can still be in love with you, you know.”

“I know,” Jimmy says. He sounds so bitter, so tired. “I know , trust me. I just want you to stop- to stop hurting yourself to try and avoid pain!”

“That’s not what I’m do-”

Jimmy cuts him off, a rare occurrence. “Then what are you doing? Enlighten me, o wise elf! You told me it would destroy you to lose me, but you’re losing me now by pushing me away!”

His chest tightens, and he can barely force the words out. “I’m trying to do what’s best for the both of us, Jimmy.”

“No you’re-”

It’s Scott’s turn to cut him off. “I am an elf, and I cannot love a mortal. Humans are quick flames, burning and changing quickly. You’ll fall in love again, and you’ll forget me.” It hurts, but it’s true. There will be a mortal who loves you- I’m sure there are many already.” Jimmy’s so wonderful, there are bound to be others who see it.

“But I don’t want a mortal,” Jimmy says. It’s almost childish, but his next words still break Scott’s heart. “I want you. ”

“You can’t have me.” Scott is vividly aware of the fact that there are eyes on him, that their little spat has attracted the attention of the rest of the ballroom.

“But why? Why, Scott?” Jimmy’s voice breaks, and the crack in it is damn near enough to make Scott lose his tiny bit of remaining self-control. “You said you loved me, you promised me all the time we’d be able to- to carve out, to steal from the universe.” It sounds like an accusation, and maybe it is. Scott did promise him that, after all, and then he went back on it.

It wasn’t for no reason, though. He needs Jimmy to understand that it was for a reason. “I can’t give you that!” He snaps back, and his hands tremble when they try to form fists by his side. “You’ll live sixty more years, maybe, a fraction of my life, a blink of an eye to an elf, and I can’t even give you that long! Not when I have to be the elvenking before anything else. Nothing I can do will ever be enough for you.” It’s bitter, but it’s true. Scott can’t be enough for anyone, in the end.

“Enough for me? For ME?”Jimmy’s voice rises in outrage. “All I want is for you not to die to your own dumb plan and acknowledge my existence once in a while!”

Scott’s voice rises in response. “And all I want is for you to realize I can’t love you again!”

“Why can’t you care about me?”

“Why can’t you move on?”

“You’re not moving on, you’re just trying to forget!” Jimmy shouts.

Scott falls silent, breathing hard as the ballroom goes quiet around them. He spots Lizzie sweeping through the crowd, coming to a stop next to Jimmy.

“Is everything alright, boys?” She’s smiling, but it’s strained, and her eyes promise death if this quarrel was Scott’s fault.

“My apologies, Ocean Queen,” he says, and he tries to gather his composure as he dips his head to her. “Everything is alright, but I am afraid I will have to leave early.” He doesn’t look at Jimmy.

She smiles again, dangerous this time. “No need to worry, Lord Smajor. Do try to avoid picking fights with my allies, next time, though.”

“It won’t happen again,” he promises, and he only nearly stumbles when he turns to leave.

Distantly, he can hear Jimmy shout after him. “Coward!” The word is harsh, but there’s hurt beneath it. “You’re a coward, Scott!”

Scott stumbles away all the quicker.

He keeps composed all the way out the doors and most of the way down the stairs until he’s sure no one can see him from the ballroom. It’s only then that he breaks into a run, lifting up his stupid skirts so he doesn’t fall. One shoe falls off, a twisted parody of a children’s fairy tale, and he doesn’t bother to retrieve it. The prismarine stabs at his exposed foot, but Scott doesn’t have the energy to care. Instead, he beats his wings, trying to get enough momentum for a good takeoff.

For a few precious moments, he gets off the ground, and then he remembers Jimmy’s face as he left, wingbeats stuttering with the sudden emotion, and tumbles back to the rough prismarine path. It hurts , it does, but it’s nothing on the pain in his chest. Nothing on the words still echoing in his head. Coward! You’re a coward, Scott!

Scott lays there for a moment, half-wondering if anyone’s coming after him. It’s unlikely, he knows, given how badly he messed things up. He tells himself that that’s a good thing, that he doesn’t want anyone to come looking. He doesn’t need them. He should be strong.

Before anyone has time to notice or be concerned, he’s forced himself back to his feet, starting the takeoff sequence all over again.

This time, he gets in the air with little difficulty, though he lists to the side as he favors his right wing, which took the brunt of the fall. It’s fine. He’s fine, he doesn’t need help.

If Scott believed in the elven gods anymore, he would thank them for the fact that he gets back to Rivendell at all. There are tears blurring his vision, and every part of his body aches, his chest most of all. His flight is shaky at best, outright dangerous at worst, crashing into trees and rocks and the ground multiple times. Each time, he barely picks himself back up before mobs arrive. Sometimes, he questions if he should at all. He’s as good as dead anyways. And yet, the tiny stubborn part of him that got him through 3rd life won’t let him just lay down and die. For some reason, even though he’s slept enough recently (he thinks, anyways), there are phantoms on him. They sense when their prey is sleep-deprived, Scott knows, and wonders if he’s just weak enough to seem that way to them.

By the time he crash-lands on the mountainside, it’s pushing two in the morning, and Scott is more dead than alive. Not that he hasn’t been for a while now, he thinks, and laughs aloud to himself, bitter.

The night watch give him strange looks, but both elves on guard duty obligingly dip their heads when he stumbles by. He barely musters the energy to nod back.

Finally he makes it back to his house, slamming his door behind him and burying his face in his hands. This is the right thing to do, why does it hurt so much? He already lost Jimmy once, why does it feel like he’s losing him all over again when he never really got him back in the first place?

Someone coughs lightly, breaking through his thoughts. The voice is familiar when they speak- one of his advisors. “Lord Smajor? Any major events we should know of at the ball?”

Cold. Calm. Scott knows this is the way of the elves- their royalty cannot dare be human. “The Codfather’s our enemy and the Ocean Queen probably hates us too.” He doesn’t bother trying to make himself sound calm and collected, pushing off the wall and stalking towards the stairs.

“What?” The advisor’s voice pitches up in shock. “What did you do?”

“None of your business.”

“You cannot have embarrassed the elven realm at the largest event of the year-”

“It wasn’t like I was fucking trying to,” He snaps.

A gasp. “Language.”

“Fuck off.”

They hurry after him, making to follow him up the stairs. “Lord Smajor-”

Scott turns to face them, taking in the shock and rage painted across their ancient face. “Leave me be.”

“Do not disrespect your elders,” the advisor scolds. “I remember when you were a child, you always were reckless, but this is a new level of disrespect! Why, Xornoth would never-”

“ Enough ,” he hisses. “Do not talk about my sibling.”

They freeze, a bit of genuine fear creeping onto their face. “My lord-”

“Get out of my house,” Scott snarls.

They wisely obey. Scott slumps against the banister as the surge of adrenaline abates, suddenly exhausted. He’s freezing, he realizes, a bone-deep chill that he doesn’t bother to pretend is from his trip home. Scott’s done lying to himself- he’s in pain, and he’s in love, but then again, those equate to roughly the same thing when all’s said and done. You can’t have heartbreak without love or love without heartbreak. (But oh how he wishes he could.)

Scott doesn’t get out of bed the next day, and no one dares try to force him. Varying members of Rivendell’s Council of Elders make a decent shot at trying to convince him, but all it takes is him fixing them with his dead-eyed stare to make them leave. The people of Rivendell are used to their ruler’s odd sleep schedule by now, brushing it off easily, and the empire itself is mostly functional without him. So instead of getting up and dealing with the corruption or making sure Rivendell’s stores are prepared for winter or any of the things he should be doing, Scott lays there in his own misery and thinks about Jimmy screaming that he’s a coward.

He’s right, that’s the worst part. Scott is a coward. He’s scared of Xornoth and the corruption and never, ever being enough, he’s scared of responsibility and his own mind, he’s scared of fading and dying alone, and- most of all- he’s absolutely terrified of how much he loves Jimmy.

His father warned him about fading, once, back before Scott was expected to carry a crown on his brow and the weight of a nation on his shoulders. He bounced Scott on his knee and told him that elven hearts are fragile, too fragile for how strongly they love. “Don’t fall too deep in love, son,” he said, and the words carried the weight of years of grief. “Don’t care too much about any one person, not if you want to live to be a legend of the ages. Doesn’t matter what kind of love it is, love can be lethal.”

Scott didn’t listen, of course- reckless, rebellious Scott, who never once listened to his elders, went and did the most dangerous thing an elf could do. He fell in love with a human.

And now he’s dying. Surely that gives him a pass to wallow in his own misery for a day or two. He’s been brave for so long, can’t he just rest a few moments? Just...just a few. He’ll just lay here a bit longer.

At that moment, the front door creaks open somewhere below him.

“My lord? Can I come up?” Someone calls from below. Their voice is also familiar- Gilnar. Gilnar’s a good captain of the guard. Dutiful, clever, and far more willing to respect him than most of Rivendell’s high ranking elves.

“If you’ve come to convince me to get up, it won’t work,” Scott calls back.

Gilnar’s head peeks over the railing a moment later. “Nope, not here for that. Just thought I’d check in, y’know?” The Sindarin words sound almost musical in their accent, rolling up and down with a unique sort of rhythm.

“Alright.”

“Are you okay, my lord?”

“No.” He’s done lying. “Leave me be.”

Gilnar shakes their head. “Sorry, my lord, can’t do that.”

“If you’re going to tell me my people need me, don’t waste your breath. I know .” Scott’s voice cracks on the last word, just a little.

“Not that either. But with all due respect, seems a little like you’re givin’ up on yourself just a bit, my lord.” They lean against the railing.

“What do you mean by that?”

They cough, a little awkwardly. “The soul-sickness. The fading.”

Scott’s mouth opens and closes, and he sputters. “How-”

“Trainin’ with the royal guard a few weeks back, your hands were freezin’ and your balance was off. You haven’t gotten up at a reasonable hour in weeks, and, well, with all due respect- I know what heartbreak looks like.”

He’s silent for a moment, utterly floored. “What do you mean by giving up?”

“Well, Lauriel and I were talkin’, and….your love’s still alive, isn’t he? The Codfather?”

“How did you-”

Gilnar flashes him a tiny grin. “He’s not subtle, and neither are you. Plus, he has Vilya.”

Deciding to shove that to the back of his mind for now, Scott sighs. “He’s a mortal, Gilnar. I’m not giving up anything that I won’t already lose in sixty years or so.”

“Luthien loved Beren, didn’t she?”

“I am not Luthien. I cannot sing so well that the gods grant me pardon.”

“And Idril loved Tuor.”

“I am not Idril. I cannot bring Jimmy to the Undying Lands.”

“Arwen still loved Aragorn.”

“I am not Arwen. I do not have the choice to give up my immortal life.”

Gilnar’s smile turns sad. “Caranthir still loved Haleth. And Celebrimbor loved Narvi just the same, didn’t he? The doomed love all the more fiercely, my lord.”

“The rest of the elves won’t be happy with me,” Scott points out.

“You think Thingol and Turgon and Elrond were happy when their daughters loved mortals? You think Luthien’s people didn’t scorn Beren at first?”

Scott doesn’t have any retort to that, and Gilnar hops up from their seat on the banister. “Well, I need to get back to my duties, my lord. Good luck with your swamp boy!”

They’re gone as soon as they arrive, and Scott stares up at the ceiling, his thoughts dragging him along a spiral of emotion.

“Coward! You’re a coward, Scott!”

Scott is a coward. He’s a liar and a coward. Nothing he does will ever be right.

“Don’t fall too deep in love, son.”

Scott did, though. Like the idiot he is, he fell in love with someone the universe didn’t want him to have.

“Caranthir still loved Haleth.”

He did. And he paid for it. Does it matter? Scott thinks that losing Jimmy might be a price worth paying for the joy of loving him.

“You cannot have embarrassed the elven realm at the largest event of the year-”

Scott didn’t mean to, but he still messed up and shouted at Jimmy. He’s a failure. Jimmy could do better. He deserves better.

“I don’t want a mortal. I want you .”

Jimmy’s so stupid. Stupid Codfather with his stupid bright eyes and stupid, stupid insistence on not giving up on someone he should never have loved to begin with. Scott loves him so much more than he could ever put into words.

“With all due respect, seems a little like you’re givin’ up on yourself just a bit, my lord.”

Jimmy deserves an apology. Scott won’t give up.

(Not on Jimmy, anyways.)

It takes him nearly a month of furious work to make the precious mithril bracelet, refining it over and over again. He picks the flowers and their meanings carefully- love, hope, protection- and the crystals too. Amethysts for protection, carefully traded for filled with any bit of magic he can spare for them. The lettering carved into the underside is yet another layer of blessings and meaning; he does it in Quenya, the Tengwar script, which Scott knows Jimmy can’t read. He has to look up how to write in it after so many years of never so much as looking at elven script, pouring over old books by candlelight. By day, he rules an empire, relying on the rush of adrenaline and motivation to carry him through even on the days when he’s swaying on his feet by the end. By night, he works on a courtship project like none he’s made before until at last, at nearly three in the morning one night, it’s finished.

It’s not the most beautiful it could have been. Scott isn’t one of the great Noldor smiths of old, he’s just an elf in love. His hands are perpetually shaky nowadays, and he has limited time to work on it between every other responsibility in his life. But every centimeter of it is handmade with all the care he could muster, and that has to count for something.

Scott hardly wants to wait to give it to Jimmy, but he forces himself to try and wait for morning. His anxiety doesn’t let him sleep much, exhausted as he is, but he curls up under the covers and stares at the bracelet on his nightstand. He doesn’t want to take his eyes off it, half-convinced it will vanish if he does. Eventually, his eyes slide shut of their own will, carrying him into an uneasy sleep.

He wakes up long after the sun's risen, staggering out of bed and throwing on a cloak for the journey to Jimmy’s. The cold that he’s been banishing with the warmth of a forge has returned tenfold, and he’s shivering despite elves normally being resistant to chills. When he takes a glance at himself in the mirror, he finds that his hair is out of place, there’s a streak of ink across his cheek, and the dark circles under his eyes look like bruises. He looks a mess, and he doesn’t care. Jimmy is all that matters now.

The journey’s both long and rough, and his landing in the swamp is more like a frantic swan dive out of the sky. Luckily, though, the ground is soft here, and Scott’s able to pick himself up and hurry for Jimmy’s house, ignoring the stares of a few Codland citizens. He knocks, heart in his throat as he waits for the door to open.

The hinges squeak, and suddenly Jimmy’s standing there, a mix of emotions that Scott doesn’t even want to try and comprehend scattered across his face. He looks a little sleepy despite the fact that it must be near noon, and so very sweet with his hair falling in his face. The sight of him knocks the air right out of Scott’s lungs, and he has to struggle to remember why he’s here again for a long moment as they stare at each other.

“Hi,” Scott says weakly.

“Scott? What- why are you here?” Jimmy sounds outraged, and Scott can’t blame him.

Scott swallows hard. “I came to apologize.” His tired brain scrambles for words, something, anything to convey how truly sorry he is. “I was scared- I am scared. I’m terrified to lose you again. But I shouldn’t have pushed you away and hurt you.”

“No, you shouldn’t have!” Jimmy snaps.

“I know.” God, he didn’t expect it to hurt this much to hear the rage in Jimmy’s voice. “I- uh- fuck.” Scott fumbles to get the box he put the bracelet in, holding it out. “I brought a gift as an apology.”

Jimmy’s silent for a long moment, examining the bracelet. Scott barely dares breathe as he turns it over and over in his hands, tracing the flower designs with his fingertips. “Did you make this yourself?”

“Mhm. I did my best, but it’s not as nice as I’d like.” And, well, isn’t that just the story of his life?

“It’s pretty,” Jimmy says. He sounds genuine.

Scott lets out a breath, letting some of the tension go. “It’s spelled, too. Protection, good fortune, that sort of thing.”

“Do the flowers mean something?”

“They do.”

Jimmy doesn’t press for details.

“I-” Scott starts, and then pauses. What does he say? An apology would be a start, maybe. “I’m sorry, Jimmy, I really am. I won’t ask you to forgive me, but I needed to apologize before my time ran out.” It’s the truth, as wholly as he can bear to give it.

“Is it that- that dire?” Jimmy’s voice shakes a little, and Scott gives a tiny nod.

“This is what I chose to do with it. Making that, coming here. You deserved an apology.”

Jimmy goes quiet again. His eyes are still on the bracelet, and Scott can hardly breathe again.

Finally, he can’t take the tension. “It wouldn’t be fair of me to ask you to love me. I can’t promise you eternity. I can’t promise you happiness. I can’t promise you that I won’t have to be the elvenking first and a husband second. But I am still yours-” he’s always been, really- “if you’ll have me.”

The silence that falls after that is even more stifling than the previous two. Scott doesn’t expect Jimmy to want him back- far from it. He’s putting his heart in Jimmy’s hands, but he doesn’t expect anything other than it shattering on the floor. Maybe Jimmy will be kind enough to let him down gently, but Scott’s fragile enough that it would only take a tiny nudge to break him. And yet he can’t stop the tiny bit of hope that blooms, though it dwindles minute by minute as Jimmy stares and stares. Finally, he opens his mouth to make his apologies again and leave to his frozen, icy empire-

And then there are hands in his hair and lips on his, warm and sudden and bold. Scott gives a little startled gasp, which is swallowed up by Jimmy’s kiss. Their noses knock together and Jimmy’s teeth click against his just a little in their haste, but Scott’s far too overwhelmed by the sudden rush of warmth to care.

When Jimmy finally pulls away, Scott’s left breathless, cheeks warm in a way no part of him has been since Jimmy died in 3rd life.

He barely pulls himself together enough to manage a wry little “So, I’ll take that as you want to stay married?”

“Of course I do! You absolute idiot!”

Jimmy sounds so startled and offended at the idea that he wouldn’t , Scott’s not sure whether to laugh or cry. “Just checking.”

Jimmy kisses him again in response, and who’s Scott to protest? No, he’s more than happy to let Jimmy pull him close and kiss away the lingering sorrow. When Jimmy pulls away this time, he’s left dizzy, half caught up in the euphoria of being loved, half terrified that this is only a cruel dream.

By the time Scott collects himself again, Jimmy’s holding out the bracelet to him. “Can you help me put this on?”

Scott can only nod, fumbling with the clasp a little. It’s not complicated, but his hands aren’t steady, and it takes him a moment to get it. Jimmy grabs his hands when he lets go, and he’s so warm that Scott can’t muster the energy to even question why.

“Come in and catch up with me?” Jimmy offers.

Scott nods again, and he can’t bear to let go of Jimmy’s hand when Jimmy turns to go inside.

They talk a lot, Jimmy more than Scott. Scott learns that Jimmy’s been picked on by other rulers (no surprise, but his blood still boils at the thought), and he shares minimal details about what he’s been up to. Jimmy doesn’t need to hear about Scott’s issues, he’s already dealing with enough.

Eventually, though, the sun is starting to set.

“I need to get home,” Scott says, though he has to force himself to. “You need sleep, not to stay up all night talking.” He goes to get up, and Jimmy immediately lunges, catching his sleeve.

“Don’t go! Please.” Jimmy sounds almost afraid, which instantly sets off alarm bells.

“Jimmy, darling, we both need to sleep,” Scott tells him, very patiently.

“We can sleep! I just….nevermind.”

Now the alarm bells are really going off in Scott’s head. He knows when his husband is hiding something serious, and Jimmy’s frantic tone isn’t helping his worry. “No, no. What’s wrong?”

“Nothing,” Jimmy claims.

Scott frowns at him lightly. “ Jimmy .”

That’s all it takes. “I don’t want to be alone!” Jimmy blurts. He’s blushing a little. “It’s just, I’ve been alone for a long time, and there’s this demon thing that keeps showing up, and I’ve only just got you back, I’m not ready to let you go, and-”

Oh, Jimmy . Scott holds up a hand in a ‘stop’ gesture. “Hold on. What was that about a demon?”

“There’s this demon creature that I keep seeing, and it’s really messing with me. It sounds like you, sometimes, but all distorted, and I can’t handle it! You know me, I’m not brave or smart or anything, I’m just Jimmy!” Jimmy’s voice pitches up with distress, and Scott’s heart aches for him.

“Alright,” he says, as gently as he can manage. “How about you come to Rivendell for the night, then? I can protect us both easier there.” More like, Aeor can protect them. Scott’s useless, even with Vilya.

Jimmy nods and takes Scott’s hand with a tiny little “Thank you.”

“Always,” Scott murmurs. It comes out softer than he means it to, though it’s the truth. He’ll always do whatever he can to protect Jimmy, which is why he asks “Do you still have the ring I gave you?”

“I do, I just… give me a moment to remember where I put it.”

“Good. It’s important.” Vilya is one of the most important parts of his heritage, actually, and his advisors would pitch a fit if they knew he had given it to a mortal. For once, he can’t bring himself to care what his advisors would think, though. Jimmy is important, more important than any piece of jewelry.

Jimmy follows Scott to Rivendell, and Scott can’t resist a proud smile when Jimmy praises the buildings. He takes Jimmy inside, lets him curl up under the warm covers, his head tucked against Scott’s chest, and it’s only once Jimmy’s asleep that Scott lets himself break. He’s so tired , so utterly exhausted from being brave for so long. Even now that his husband is curled up next to him, warm and solid and real, he can hardly believe that Jimmy actually wanted him back- wanted him at all, really. Scott doesn’t want to move for fear of waking up Jimmy, but luckily for him, he’s good at crying silently. That’s what he does, tears slipping down his face to wet the pillow below. Only the faintest whimper escapes his lips, a tiny broken noise that he’s embarrassed of even in this emotional state. And when another slips out, he buries his face in Jimmy’s hair and forces himself back into silence. He’s not going to cry over the best thing that’s ever happened to him, he isn’t , but he’s just so tired of being alone that being with someone else is almost painful in contrast; he’s so cold that the slightest touch of warmth feels burning.

Jimmy shifts in his sleep, mumbling something that sounds vaguely affectionate and pulling Scott closer, and Scott nearly chokes from the effort of restraining a sob. Gods, Jimmy . He could die like this, tucked in his husband’s arms, and he doesn’t think he’d regret it.

“I love you,” he whispers into the night. It comes out choked. “I love you so much. I’m so sorry, Jimmy, I’m so sorry.”

Jimmy mumbles something that sounds a lot like “I love you too”, and that’s what really breaks Scott. It’s a miracle Jimmy doesn’t wake up, really, with Scott’s quiet sobs shaking the mattress. He cries until he’s all out of tears, as silently as he can manage, and only then does he slip into a sound sleep.

#scott smajor #jimmy solidarity #flower husbands #empires smp #my writing

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astrognossienne · 3 years

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tragic beauty: lupe vélez - an analysis

“I had to play with boys, girls found me too rough.” - Lupe Vélez

This is an analysis I’ve wanted to cover for a while for quite a few reasons. Primarily because, in a few ways, I see myself in her and, as such, feel the need to defend her and assert her true legacy: as a pioneer. Which brings me to the main reason I wanted to do this: to correct the scurrilous rumours about her premature death cooked up by a hating ass imbecilic Aquarius whose infamous book doesn’t deserve to be named. So if you want to hear the truth about this lady, read on.

Known as the “Mexican Spitfire”, Latin bombshell Lupe Vélez was (an to an extent, still is) a much-maligned and terribly misunderstood woman. A true Cancer, she was a force of nature and unconsciously antagonized others and made them uncomfortable because of her authenticity to herself and her emotional nature. Born during a storm, she had a naturally stormy personality. She could be hilarious and charismatic one moment, and depressive and vicious the next. Instead of anyone trying to understand her, they just stuck her with the “spicy fiery Latina” stereotype, not knowing or caring what was behind it. The harshness of her life before stardom may explain some of her fearsome, yet fun, personality; she grew up with violent trauma – watching her father kill and almost be killed during the Mexican Revolution. She also is believed to have had undiagnosed bipolar disorder, which would explain her extreme moodiness and outbursts.

One of the first Latina actresses to make an impact in Hollywood, she was subjected to the racist, sexist Hollywood tropes that forever typecasted her—she was called “senorita cyclone,” and the “hot tamale”. The Hollywood press willfully misunderstood Vélez’s sex positivity and consistently portrayed her as a woman who took great pleasure in her body, and indeed, the tempestuous Vélez had numerous affairs, including a particularly torrid one with a young Gary Cooper, and a tumultuous marriage to “Tarzan” star Johnny Weissmuller. But in 1944, at age 36, she found herself pregnant with the child of a little known-actor name Harald Ramond, who would not marry her and this reality made her come undone, and like my other baby Carole Landis, she succumbed to an drug overdose. Her promiscuity, right or wrong, became part of the way her stardom was packaged and promoted. Also, the press naturally compared her to (and pitted her against) Hollywood’s only other female Mexican star—the “high-class” and elegant Dolores Del Rio. The press couldn’t even find sympathy for her even in death and a false story was printed that she drowned in the toilet after vomiting up a spicy Mexican dinner. Her death is parodied and mocked to this day. Again, she’s a true Cancer in the sense that the same imperfections that everyone else has, she is seen as less than human for having them. I hope to help right that wrong by honoring Vélez for being the trailblazer that she is. At any rate, Vélez would seem to be a prototype for contemporary female stars, from Madonna to Rihanna, who have proclaimed their pleasure in their body and their sexual liberation — a pro-sex activist before her time, doomed to suffer the rejection of a more puritanical age.

Lupe Vélez, according to astrotheme, was a Cancer sun and Leo moon. She was born María Guadalupe Villalobos Vélez in San Luis Potosí, Mexico, to young upper-middle class parents. Her father, Jacobo Villalobos Reyes, was a colonel in the military, and her mother, Josefina Vélez, was an opera singer. They also had another son, John and daughter, Annette. The Villalobos family were considered prominent in San Luis Potosí and most of the male family members were college educated. The family was also financially comfortable and lived in a large home with servants. As a young girl Lupe showed an interest in performing, but her father was outraged at his daughter’s “low-class” dreams, and forbade his daughter from being in show business. All that changed during the war. Her family was in a state of upheaval—the Mexican Revolution was happening, her father had been presumed dead in the war and all their money was gone. While most of her family members were too proud to get jobs, a teenage Vélez did just that, supporting the family by working as a saleswoman in a department store. She then finagled an audition with a local theater. However, her father was indded alive and well and soon returned home from the war. Because at that time becoming an artist and coming from a well-to-do family was seen as embarrassing, her father refused to let her use his last name in theater, so she used her mother’s surname.

She proceeded to seek out venues where she could dance the then-popular “shimmy.” In 1925 she was cast in the big stage revues Mexican Rataplan and !No lo tapes! and became a big audience favourite. Her name got around to American stage star Richard Bennett (father of American film stars Constance and Joan Bennett), who was looking for a Mexican cantina singer for his new play. Lupe traveled to Hollywood but was rejected for the part for being too young. While in Hollywood, Lupe met film and stage comedienne Fanny Brice, who took a liking to Lupe because of her sparkling personality. She put in a good word for Lupe to impresario Florenz Ziegfeld (creator of the Ziegfeld’s Follies), who could use Lupe in one of his Broadway musicals. However, MGM producer Harry Rapf heard of Lupe as well, and offered her a screen test. When producer Hal Roach saw the test, he immediately signed her to a contract. Vélez soon made her major film debut in Douglas Fairbanks’ action-romance The Gaucho in 1927. The film was a huge hit and Vélez was an overnight sensation.

Along with her professional life gaining steam, so did her love life. Vélez sought out some of Hollywood’s hottest men, which wasn’t hard for a hot and sexy number like Lupe; men flocked to her like bees to honey. She was romantically linked with Gary Cooper, Charlie Chaplin, Clark Gable, cowboy Tom Mix, “Tarzan” actor Johnny Weissmuller, Errol Flynn, John Gilbert, Henry Wilcoxon, singer Russ Columbo, Randolph Scott, author Erich Maria Remarque (who wrote All Quiet On The Western Front and later married Paulette Goddard), Clayton “Lone Ranger” Moore, director Victor Fleming (director of Gone With The Wind), and boxers Jack Johnson and Jack Dempsey.

One of her first conquests was cowboy star Tom Mix. She also had an with newcomer Clark Gable, who cut off their romance because he was afraid Lupe would run all over town discussing their sexual secrets, which she did. Soon she had a torrid affair with comic genius Charlie Chaplin in 1928. Lupe revitalized Chaplin’s libido after he had gone through a torturous divorce from his wife. Whatever time she had for the many men in her life, that same appreciation didn’t extend to other women and she would frequently battle with the other females with whom she had to work with and would often threaten them; when she was starring in director D.W. Griffith’s Lady of the Pavements, she had to co-star with an actress named Jedda Goudall, whom she hated, and the two had a ferocious cat-fight on the set. When she made her final appearance on Broadway in the Cole Porter musical “You Never Know”, Vélez and fellow cast member Libby Holman feuded viciously. The feud came to a head during a performance where Vélez punched Holman in between curtain calls and gave her a black eye, which pretty much ended the run of the show. Vélez was territorial about the men in her life, she was vicious toward any woman who might be competition for her man or an acting role. She mocked Marlene Dietrich, Greta Garbo, Katharine Hepburn and Shirley Temple, and her arch nemesis Dolores Del Dio by doing imitations of them.

When she was cast in the film The Wolf Song in 1929, she met Gary Cooper and immediately started what would be her first widely publicized romance. Theirs was a one-sidedly volatile relationship; he would often appear in public with scratches and bruises. One time, she attacked him with a knife during a fight. He needed stitches. By the end of their time as a couple, Copper had lost 45 pounds and was physically exhausted. He was ordered by the studio to take a vacation. As he boarded a train, Vélez shot at Cooper but missed. Lupe soon moved on to other men; she had a thing for fighters. In addition to having a brief fling with boxer Jack Dempsey, she conducted a flagrant, but secret, affair with the black boxer Jack Johnson. In those days, blacks and whites almost never conducted sexual affairs out in the open. She met Olympic swimming champion Johnny Weissmuller at the hotel where she was staying that was owned by film star Marion Davies. One problem: Weissmuller was already married. But no matter, he dumped his wife for Lupe and married her October 8, 1933 in Las Vegas. Theirs was not a happy, serene marriage, and they constantly battled, with Lupe filing for divorce several times in 1934 and changing her mind each time. Weissmuller’s patience was so strained he dumped a plate of salad on her head at Ciro’s nightclub. Finally, in 1938 she filed a petition that was finalized in 1939.

After having many hit pictures with MGM, they unceremoniously dropped her. The excuse was that the studios were no longer going to make Spanish versions of their films and there was no longer a need for Latin actresses. Vélez returned to Mexico in 1938 to star in her first Spanish-language film. Arriving in Mexico City, she was greeted by 10,000 fans. The film La Zandunga, was a critical and financial success and Vélez was slated to appear in four more Mexican films, but instead, she returned to Los Angeles. She soon went to RKO Studios and starred in the B-movie The Girl From Mexico. Despite its lowly status, the picture became a tremendous hit with audiences. RKO rushed her into another film, this time called Mexican Spitfire, playing an emotionally volatile singer named Carmelita. The 1940 film became another smash for Lupe. The Spitfire series of eight slapstick comedy films rejuvenated Lupe’s sagging career. In late 1941, she had an affair with writer Erich Maria Remarque whose wife, actress Luise Rainer later wrote that Remarque told her “with the greatest of glee” that he found Vélez’s volatility hot.

At this same time Lupe took on another lover in the form of a French 27-year-old bit actor named Harald Ramond. He was a strong and controlling man who knew how to tame Lupe. After she discovered that she was three months pregnant, she announced her engagement to Ramond without his knowledge or consent. When he learned of her pregnancy, he refused to marry her. Deeply hurt and stunned, she felt backed into a corner; she knew her career would be ruined in Hollywood if word got out she was pregnant and unmarried. It just wasn’t done in those days. And despite her wildness, Lupe was a devout Catholic, so abortion was out of the question. She could see only one way out: suicide. On December 18, 1944, at the age of 36, Vélez swallowed 70 Seconal pills, she lay down on her pink satin pillow on her over-sized Hollywood bed and arranged herself like a movie star, with her hands folded across her chest and went into an eternal sleep. Dramatic to the end, Lupe went out of this world in glamorous style. She left a suicide note addressed to Harald, which read:

“To Harald, May God forgive you and forgive me too, but I prefer to take my life away and our baby’s before I bring him with shame or killing him. How could you, Harald, fake such a great love for me and our baby when all the time you didn’t want us? I see no other way out for me so goodbye and good luck to you, Love Lupe.”

THAT is the truth. But the bottom line is: how she lived her life as well as the circumstances around her death are all irrelevant at the end of the day. What matters is the loss of a great multi-talented, pioneering Mexican star and a legacy unrealized and stunted by a world that wasn’t ready for her.

Next, I’ll talk about the most famous of her paramours, the yin to her yang, a perfect example of the special chemistry that Taureans and Cancers share, the strong, silent hero of the silver screen: Taurus Gary Cooper.

Stats

birthdate: July 18, 1908

major planets:

Sun: Cancer

Moon: Leo

Rising: Gemini

Mercury: Cancer

Venus: Leo

Mars: Pisces

Midheaven: Pisces

Jupiter: Virgo

Saturn: Aries

Uranus: Capricorn

Neptune: Cancer

Pluto: Gemini

Overall personality snapshot: She may have seemed at times to be a shy, vulnerable, romantic individual who only wanted to please, but underneath she had a voracious appetite for adoration and respect, and would not stop until she got it. Without a doubt, she had a very warm feeling for others, and domestic security with plenty of happy togetherness is high on her list of priorities. When it came to cooperation with others, however, she had her limits because she was profoundly individualistic and, albeit in a charming manner, she insisted on doing things her way. Ultimately the most important thing for her was believing in herself and being true to her standards and aspirations. Most of all, she needed to fulfill her creative potential, which was like an intimate companion with whom she shared her life. You nurture it, protect it, and then you show it off, and whatever walk of life you are in, you tend to be a fine performer.

This gave her a lot of self-respect and a touch of vanity as well, and her emotional sensitivity combined with her underlying imperiousness tended to impress others and made them take her seriously. She was a devoted member of her flock, and she zealously and jealously protected and promoted whomever she was devoted to. When it came to developing her own talents, however, she seemed to know that she had to pull away in order to grow into her greatest self. Others may have thought she was a bit of a show-off but that was not the case: she simply had a deep sense of the importance of her own creative talents, and she felt only half alive if she did not honour them. Although she was pretty sensitive to criticism or rebuffs, she was just as committed to honesty and personal integrity; and despite her vanity, she eventually learned to laugh at herself.

She had a very good memory and found it easy to learn subjects that interested her. She was very kind and thoughtful towards others. Her imagination was very keen, but if it got carried away, she may have experienced irrational fears. Even though she may have tried to maintain a scientific and objective outlook, her mind was actually dominated by her emotions. When it came to careers, she may have felt initially vague or confused about what she really wanted to do. She was eventually forced to give up her career of choice by events out of her control (as was evidenced by the tides turning from the “Mexican spitfire” female ideal due to the changing of the times). There was probably some element of self-sacrifice involved somewhere in her choice of career (the element of sacrifice being that she had to sacrifice her child, and ultimately her life, in relation to her reputation as an unwed mother as well as her unborn child’s reputation as an illegitimate child). She had good technical and scientific ability due to her, at times almost fanatical, attention to detail. She was also fastidious when it came to matters of health, diet and appearance. She was not afraid of work and was very resourceful and capable. She also worked well in a team. She became very annoyed if somebody else questioned the way that she operated. Her energy levels were somewhat inhibited, her self-confidence reduced, and her ambitions restricted through fear of failure. Times of strength and weakness alternated within her. Even though her decision-making ability could be ineffectual through over-caution, she often seemed to be placed in situations where a quick decision was needed. When she succeeded, it was mainly through her own efforts. She also showed a tendency towards wanting to start at the top, wanting to avoid the hard work that gets you there.

She belonged to a generation with a rational and logical attitude to life. There was a conflict between tradition and convention, and the experimental and unconventional. As an individual, she had to learn to strike a balance between the erratic and the conventional. As a member of this generation, she had the ability to come up with original ideas which could be of practical value. She was part of a very artistically talented and creative generation that wanted to escape from the demands of the world around them into a world of excitement and glamour. She was part of an emotionally sensitive generation that was extremely conscious of the domestic environment and the atmosphere surrounding her home place and home country. In fact, she could be quite nostalgic about her homeland, religion and traditions, often seeing them in a romantic light. She felt a degree of escapism from everyday reality, and was very sensitive to the moods of those around her. Bow embodied all of these Cancer Neptunian ideals. As a Gemini Plutonian, she was mentally restless and willing to examine and change old doctrines, ideas and ways of thinking. As a member of this generation, she showed an enormous amount of mental vitality, originality and perception. Traditional customs and taboos were examined and rejected for newer and more original ways of doing things. As opportunities with education expanded, she questioned more and learned more. As a member of this generation, having more than one occupation at a time would not have been unusual to her.

Love/sex life: It wasn’t easy to be passionate and emotionally explosive and also hold on to her dignity, but this was what she wanted to accomplish. She tried to conceal the pulsating softness of her sexual nature behind a façade of control and bluster. She thought that her display of strength and jolly self-confidence would hide her vulnerability and her susceptibility to virtually any sexual diversion. Of course, no one was really buying this cover up. They saw the luscious edges of her erotic hunger peeking through her disguise. That’s why they were all so anxious to be around her. The biggest problem in her sex life was how to deal with change. She loved it and she hated it. She loved following the lead of her feelings and surrendering herself to the moment. Too much consistency, even loving consistency, was apt to leave her bored and dissatisfied. But she also saw change as a threat to her sense of control and to the emotional security that she valued so highly. Because of this duality in her thinking, her reaction to changes in her sex life was abrupt, contradictory, and (horror of horrors) a little undignified.

minor asteroids and points:

North Node: Gemini

Lilith: Libra

Vertex: Scorpio

Fortune: Gemini

East Point: Gemini

Her North Node in Gemini dictated that she needed to prevent her idealism from influencing her thoughts to such a high degree. She needed to consciously develop a more clear-minded and analytical approach involving her thought processes. Her Lilith in Libra was definitely working overtime here. Relationships somehow caused her to err, and her partner choices caused much suffering. She expressed herself through others. As a lover, she was aggressive, yet co-dependent. As a mistress, she was not above trying to cause a divorce, which she did with Johnny Weissmuller and she ultimately became fatally despondent when she found herself pregnant with a bit actor's baby. She used her good looks as a weapon to help her get ahead in the movie industry. Also, Lilith in Libra strangely enough, manifested itself as a sort of lighter female Capricorn archetype, and she pulled herself up by the bootstraps in a rather glamorous way, going to work after her father left the family unit. As such, she exhibited graceful gumption right until the very end. Her Vertex in Scorpio, 5th house dictated that she had a desire or continual need for feeling irresistible and irreplaceable on all levels of intimacy, whether spiritual, intellectual, emotional, or physical. From the fires of hell to the heights of heaven, the further and deeper the range of interaction she could experience with another the more fulfilling. She had a childlike orientation, in all of its manifestations, toward relationships on an internal level. That implicit trust, or perhaps naivete, that was instilled in our childhood persisted far into maturity. The concomitant explosions and occasional tantrums when these constructs are violated also accompany this position. She had a need for fun, creativity, and excitement in a committed relationship, no matter how many years it has endured. She often had deep fears, typical of children, of abandonment, as well as a need for universal acceptance, no matter how she acted, which she needed her partner to respect and nurture, rather than rebuke, especially in adulthood. Her Part of Fortune in Gemini and Part of Spirit in Sagittarius dictated that her destiny lay in travel, education and communication. She was able to overcome enemies by her words and by her writing. Happiness and fulfillment came from being able to express herself fully. Her soul’s purpose lay in seeking truth, justice and fairness. She felt spiritual connections and saw the spark of the divine when she studied, broadened her mind through new philosophies, or looked for inspiration outside the home. East Point in Gemini dictated that she was often insatiably curious and loved to collect little bits of (what seemed to be useless) information and trivia. Her interests were quite varied, and she may have been somewhat scattered. Sometimes her curiosity could appear cold and callous as her level of objectivity was potentially high. There was usually an openness to learning in any situation.

elemental dominance:

water

fire

She had high sensitivity and elevation through feelings. Her heart and her emotions were her driving forces, and she couldn’t do anything on earth if she didn’t feel a strong effective charge. She needed to love in order to understand, and to feel in order to take action, which caused a certain vulnerability which she should (and often did) fight against. She was dynamic and passionate, with strong leadership ability. She generated enormous warmth and vibrancy. She was exciting to be around, because she was genuinely enthusiastic and usually friendly. However, she could either be harnessed into helpful energy or flame up and cause destruction. Ultimately, she chose the latter. Confident and opinionated, she was fond of declarative statements such as “I will do this” or “It’s this way.” When out of control—usually because she was bored, or hadn’t been acknowledged—she was bossy, demanding, and even tyrannical. But at her best, her confidence and vision inspired others to conquer new territory in the world, in society, and in themselves.

modality dominance:

mutable

She wasn’t particularly interested in spearheading new ventures or dealing with the day-to-day challenges of organization and management. She excelled at performing tasks and producing outcomes. She was flexible and liked to finish things. Was also likely undependable, lacking in initiative, and disorganized. Had an itchy restlessness and an unwillingness to buckle down to the task at hand. Probably had a chronic inability to commit—to a job, a relationship, or even to a set of values.

house dominants:

2nd

3rd

1st

The material side of life including money and finances, income and expenditure, and worldly goods was emphasized in her life. Also the areas of innate resources, such as her self-worth, feelings and emotions were paramount in her life. What she considered her personal security and what she desired was also paramount. Short journeys, traveling within her own country were themes throughout her life; her immediate environment, and relationships with her siblings, neighbours and friends were of importance. The way her mental processes operated, as well as the manner and style in which she communicated was emphasized in her life. As such, much was revealed about her schooling and childhood and adolescence. Her personality, disposition and temperament is highlighted in her life. The manner in which she expressed herself and the way she approached other people is also highlighted. The way she approached new situations and circumstances contributed to show how she set about her life’s goals. The general state of her health is also shown, as well as her early childhood experiences defining the rest of her life.

planet dominants:

Neptune

Mercury

Sun

She was of a contemplative nature, particularly receptive to ambiances, places, and people. She gladly cultivated the art of letting go, and allowed the natural unfolding of events to construct her world. She followed her inspirations, for better or for worse. She was intellectual, mentally quick, and had excellent verbal acuity. She dealt in terms of logic and reasoning. It was likely that she was left-brained. She was restless, craved movement, newness, and the bright hope of undiscovered terrains. She had vitality and creativity, as well as a strong ego and was authoritarian and powerful. She likely had strong leadership qualities, she definitely knew who she was, and she had tremendous will. She met challenges and believed in expanding her life.

sign dominants:

Cancer

Gemini

Leo

At first meeting, she seemed enigmatic, elusive. She needed roots, a place or even a state of mind that she could call her own. She needed a safe harbor, a refuge in which to retreat for solitude. She was generally gentle and kind, unless she was hurt. Then she could become vindictive and sharp-spoken. She was affectionate, passionate, and even possessive at times. She was intuitive and was perhaps even psychic. Experience flowed through her emotionally. She was often moody and always changeable; her interests and social circles shifted constantly. She was emotion distilled into its purest form. She ventured out to see what else was there and seized upon new ideas that expanded her community. Her innate curiosity kept her on the move. She used her rational, intellectual mind to explore and understand her personal world. She needed to answer the single burning question in her mind: why? This applied to most facets of her life, from the personal to the impersonal. This need to know sent her off to foreign countries, where her need to explore other cultures and traditions ranked high. She was changeable and often moody. This meant that she was often at odds with herself—the mind demanding one thing, the heart demanding the opposite. To someone else, this internal conflict often manifested as two very different people. She loved being the center of attention and often surrounded herself with admirers. She had an innate dramatic sense, and life was definitely her stage. Her flamboyance and personal magnetism extended to every facet of her life. She wanted to succeed and make an impact in every situation. She was, at her best, optimistic, honorable, loyal, and ambitious.

Read more about her under the cut.

Lupe Velez was born on July 18, 1908, in San Luis Potosi, Mexico, as Maria Guadalupe Villalobos Velez. She was sent to Texas at the age of 13 to live in a convent. She later admitted that she wasn't much of a student because she was so rambunctious. She had planned to become a champion roller skater, but that would change. Life was hard for her family, and Lupe returned to Mexico to help them out financially. She worked as a salesgirl for a department store for the princely sum of $4 a week. Every week she would turn most of her salary over to her mother, but she kept a little for herself so she could take dancing lessons. With her mature shape and grand personality, she thought she could make a try at show business, which she figured was a lot more glamorous than dancing or working as a salesclerk. In 1924 Lupe started her show business career on the Mexican stage and wowed audiences with her natural beauty and talent. By 1927 she had emigrated to Hollywood, where she was discovered by Hal Roach, who cast her in a comedy with Stan Laurel and Oliver Hardy. Douglas Fairbanks then cast her in his feature film The Gaucho (1927) with himself and wife Mary Pickford. Lupe played dramatic roles for five years before she switched to comedy. In 1933 she played the lead role of Pepper in Hot Pepper (1933). This film showcased her comedic talents and helped her to show the world her vital personality. She was delightful. In 1934 Lupe appeared in three fine comedies: Strictly Dynamite (1934), Palooka (1934) and Laughing Boy (1934). By now her popularity was such that a series of "Mexican Spitfire" films were written around her. She portrayed Carmelita Lindsay in Mexican Spitfire (1940), Mexican Spitfire Out West (1940), The Mexican Spitfire's Baby (1941) and Mexican Spitfire's Blessed Event (1943), among others. Audiences loved her in these madcap adventures, but it seemed at times that she was better known for her stormy love affairs. She married one of her lovers, Johnny Weissmuller, but the marriage only lasted five years and was filled with battles. Lupe certainly did live up to her nickname. She had a failed romance with Gary Cooper, who never wanted to wed her. By 1943 her career was waning. She went to Mexico in the hopes of jump-starting her career. She gained her best reviews yet in the Mexican version of Naná (1944). Bolstered by the success of that movie, Lupe returned to the US, where she starred in her final film as Pepita Zorita, Ladies' Day (1943). There were to be no others. On December 13, 1944, tired of yet another failed romance, with a part-time actor named Harald Maresch, and pregnant with his child, Lupe committed suicide with an overdose of Seconal. She was only 36 years old. (x)

#lupe velez #cancer #star analyses #astrology #long ass post #tragic beauty #mine

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celest1all · 3 years

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flowers of the heart • [s.s] 2

part two

pairing: stiles stilinski x fem!reader [Hanahaki AU]

chapter summary: stiles and you finally talk after what happened at the clinic.

warning(s): sadness, angst, reader has a panic attack, coughing, coughing up blood, mentions of death, let me know if i've forgotten any.

authors note: i have an idea where i'm going with this which is good but also bad as it might be filled with angst so yay? also please read part one if you haven't already otherwise this will make zero sense k bye

part one | part two | part three | tbc...

Ever since you were little, the rain was something you took comfort in -- something that always managed to bring a small smile to your face and soothe your worries. You loved it, the way the little droplets raced each other down the glass before dropping off, the sound of it patting against the window. You loved everything about the rain.

The key word here; was.

As of right now, you hated it. The rain was causing a massive dampener on your mood, as if it was a good mood in the first place, and you hated it. It also made your clothes significantly wet, sticking to you like a second skin. Eugh.

The only reason you had left the damn house was because you started coughing up blood and flowers again, another harsh and painful reminder that the one you love didn’t reciprocate your feelings.

Oh God, Stiles.

You hadn’t seen or spoken to him since that day at the clinic, he didn’t even try and contact you. You can’t blame him though, what are you supposed to do when your best friend is dying all because you don’t love them back?

As you were walking, the sheer severity of the situation hit you like a bus, panic gripping at your heart like a vice causing you to stop in your tracks, the rain still falling down around you.

You were dying. You were dying and there was no cure.

Staring down at the floor, your chest heavy with dread and fear, a car pulled up besides you. With laboured breaths, trying hard to grasp a small amount of oxygen you seemed to be deprived of, you turned to your left, “Stiles?” you spoke breathlessly, the sight of him not helping your current situation in the slightest.

“[Y/N]?” His eyebrows were furrowed, confusion evident in his tone. He stared down at you, watching the way you were breathing heavily, almost like you had just gone on a run. Stiles, though, knew better. He knew that you would never go on a run, not even when Coach forced you. “Woah, hey, [Y/N],” he unbuckled his seatbelt and opened the jeep’s door, shutting it with a slam before moving towards you.

“W-What the hell--” another sharp intake of breath, “is happening?”

Stiles grabbed onto your shoulders, making your gaze whip up to meet his. “I think you’re having a panic attack.” his tone was soft, not wanting to increase your evident anxiety.

“A panic... attack?” your breath was still laboured, you were struggling to chase that small piece of air that you needed to fill your lungs, to bring you back.

“Okay, so just listen to me, okay? Can you do that?” He asked you, eyes still boring into yours. You nodded, opting to not talk. “Good, okay, follow my breathing. In...out...in...out...in…”

You mirrored the way he was breathing, the panic slowly but surely subsiding, leaving room for the oxygen that you will now forever be grateful for.

“In...out...good.” he rubbed your back soothingly “Are you okay?”

You nodded once again, “Y-Yeah, I think so. Thank you.” He smiled softly at you, making you almost forget about your last encounter with you.

Almost.

You scratched the back of your neck as the air around you two went from comforting to extreme awkwardness and tension, not entirely unsure of what to say. That was until your throat started to become scratchy which meant one of two things; it was happening again or -- this is the one you hoped -- it was just a side effect from the panic attack. Clearing your throat slightly, you hoped that it would go away and that it was only a side effect from the lack of oxygen, but no. The familiar feel of a flower blooming in your lungs to only spew out from your mouth with a disgusting hack told you that it was not a side effect.

Stiles, who was completely at a loss for what he was supposed to do, watched you turn your back to him and hunch over. He thought for a second that you were going to pile but when you turned around with blood smeared across your lip slightly, hands enclosed around something, he realised that you weren't being sick.

You wiped the back of your now socked sleeve across your mouth, ensuring that no excess blood (or petals) were around it. You made an effort to not look in Stiles’ direction, not wanting to see the no doubt guilt ridden look he was sporting.

“[Y/N]...”

You knew what he was going to say so you stuck your hand up to stop him, “Don’t.” your voice was croaky and your throat was sore. “Just don’t, Stiles.”

He bit his lip, “Please just -- just hear me out and then you can leave. Please?” he begged, eyes pleading even though you weren't even looking at him.

Stiles knew that you were currently debating whether or not you should listen to him, the way you squeezed your eyes shut and balled your hands into fists was the telltale sign. After about ten seconds of mental torture, for him and you, you gestured for him to go on. “I’m so sorry [Y/N].” Stiles winced at his poor choice of words and he heard you scoff slightly whilst simultaneously kicking a pebble with your shoe. “I never ever meant for any of this to happen to you. And-and if I could fix it then I would.--”

“But you can’t.” your tone was soft, much like Stiles' earlier on. But it wasn't for the same reason, not in the slightest. You looked up at him finally, teary and tired eyes meeting his saddened ones. “I’m dying, Stiles. And nothings going to change it unless you miraculously fall in love with me,” you let out a dry laugh with a small smile on your lips “but I don’t blame you.”

Stiles eyebrows furrowed at your statement, “Y-You don’t?” he asked quizzically.

You shook your head, “No. I thought I did, but I don’t.”

“You should blame me though, [Y/N]. I mean Jesus, I’m the reason you're in this fucking mess.” his voice grew louder with every passing second and you knew that anger was replacing his previous sadness. “I mean, there has to be a cure, right? There has to be. Especially in this town, anything can happen! What about Scott gives you the bite, then you’ll survive and then--”

“Stiles.” the smooth honey-like voice that came from you made him stop his ramblings abruptly. “Stop.” There was no anger, no malice to your tone, just a simple plea. A plea for him to stop giving you false hope and to stop giving himself false hope. Even though he didn't love you back, he was still your best friend. You were his best friend and he couldn’t lose you. Not now, not ever. “Look, I gotta go back home as Mom’s probably wondering where I am, but I’ll come see you and Scott tomorrow if you’ll like?”

The quick subject change made Stiles’ head spin slightly, he almost had to shake his head to regather his thoughts. “Oh, uh, yeah! Yeah, sure. I’ll text Scott and let him know.”

“Okay,” you smiled at him before turning away and back towards your house, heart hammering slightly.

Stiles watched you walk away, guilt swallowing him up from the inside. You didn't deserve this, no way in hell did you deserve this. You were the sweetest, caring and most loving person he had ever met and now you were destined for a fate such as this? No. Not if he had anything to do with it. He knew what he was going to do, and it involved not sleeping at all.

He was going to find away to save you.

#stiles stilinski x y/n #stiles stilinski x you #stiles x yn #teen wolf stiles #stiles stilinski x reader #stiles stilinski imagines #stiles stilinski one shots #stiles stilinski fanfic #teen wolf #stiles stilinski #dylan o'brien #stiles x reader #stiles x you #angst

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oldshrewsburyian · 3 years

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Rowena Defense Squad

Possibly elements of this essay have been pent up within me for lo, two decades. You have been warned.

Poor Rowena. She’s been criticized almost since Ivanhoe’s publication for being less awesome than Rebecca. In part, this criticism seems harsh to me because everyone is less awesome than Rebecca; that’s just the way it is. But also: I think Scott himself is unfair to Rowena, because he gives a very different portrait of her character in what he shows than in what he tells. And I think we should feel free to ignore the latter in favor of the former.

I’ve just reached Chapter 23 in the Ivanhoe read-along, and said to myself: “Oh, that’s where everyone gets their ideas about Rowena being blonde and boring: from Scott himself! For shame, Sir Walter!” Based on 19th-century pseudo-science (sorry/not sorry, Sir Walter), Scott claims that she is naturally “mild, timid, and gentle,” and only outspoken because she has been spoiled and unused to contradiction. But his own dang novel contradicts him. I am here to argue that Rowena is smart, politically savvy, and that she has the courage of her moral as well as emotional convictions. I’m going to try to keep relatively pithy, with items, like a medieval charter.

Item: social intelligence/courage. Even veiling herself in Cedric’s hall shows, I think, that Rowena has a keen sense for interpersonal dynamics and the atmosphere in a room. We’re told later that she’s monolingual, but she is clearly picking up on the essence of Bois-Guilbert’s conversation with the prior. Also, her refusal to attend Prince John’s banquet is not childish pique; she hasn’t been insulted! That’s a political statement! She’s not interested in the honors these men can give. True, it’s a risk that she can take when Cedric can’t; she has plausible deniability (women’s frailty, whatever) and she doesn’t have possessions to take. But I think we need to take this refusal seriously as a deliberate choice.

Item: more political sense than Cedric. Rowena, we are told, views the ~restoration of Saxon monarchy~ through her marriage to Athelstane as “neither practicable nor desirable.” TRUE. And Cedric ought to be able to see this, and doesn’t. One thing that drives me up the wall about Bad King John™ historical fiction and Robin Hood movies is that no one seems to remember the interregnum! Everyone suddenly has collective amnesia about how England had twenty years of civil war as a result of rival claimants to the throne after the death of Henry I. That only ended with the accession of Henry II, 1154. The Stephen/Matilda wars would have been ongoing throughout the prime of Cedric’s parents, into his childhood. And he just wants to... restart that kind of division? Absolutely wild. Apparently it’s fine because his cause is right. I wish that kind of attitude didn’t seem so familiar. But Rowena is smarter, and she loves her sweet, smart, code-switching boyfriend, and sees a culturally hybrid way forward for England where Cedric can’t. I support her.

Item: moral/emotional convictions. I do not think that we should take lightly the fact that Rowena is deeply attached to Ivanhoe. If she were as mild and yielding as Scott suggests, I do not think that we would meet her as a woman firmly resisting her guardian’s attempts to use her as a political pawn. Moreover, she has declared, repeatedly, that she will take permanent religious vows if marrying Athelstane is the alternative. Now, being a nun in the twelfth century could be a great life, but Rowena is clearly willing to do this without any sense of vocation in order to avoid civil war. That’s hardcore of her. Also a big deal: crowning Wilfred and declaring that no one could be worthier of chivalric honors. Stick with me here: I know she’s partial. But also: he has been one of the most high-profile allies of a king who is borne no love by his brother. Since Wilfred is a culturally-hybrid Saxon, absolutely no one likes him, except the servants he grew up with and Isaac, whose life he has saved. [Pause for me to cry about it. Thoughts on Isaac and Wilfred as culturally-hybrid figures are another essay.] Also: when Cedric’s party picks up Isaac’s party in the woods, Rowena is very committed to doing more than the bare minimum. Not only does she successfully argue for taking the whole group with them, but she asks Rebecca to ride with her, publicly demonstrating their social equality. I’m supposed to believe that a woman who chooses to do that is “mild” and just sometimes “despotic” because she’s been spoiled? Absolutely not, Sir Walter Scott. Rowena deserves better.

#ivanhoe #medievalism readalong #rowena #admittedly the hollywood casting does not help her image #i love joan fontaine #but she AND her star image were very 'blonde frailty'#lysette anthony #ringlets and eyeshadow in the 80s #yeah #(now victoria smurfit rowena for the bbc is a different story)

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littleoldrachel · 3 years

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"how much did you drink?"

for the utterly wonderful @gumnut-logic who asked for how much did you drink? with virgil and scott from this prompt list. tysm my lovely 💚💚💚💚 this ran away from me a bit and i am Not Sure but i hope you still enjoy!

[if you wanna prompt me, hmu! but beware i am slooooow]

Scott slinks through the sliding doors, relishing the cooling sweat on his skin as the sky begins its raspberry ripple across the tropical island. His dawn runs are the only time he gets to really be - he loves his family with everything he has and more, but that half hour with just the consistent crunch of earth beneath his feet is his own perfect sanctuary.

And goodness knows he needs it after the past couple of days.

A flash of Alan’s terrified face as the grapple line gave way and he’d plunged -

Scott screws up his face, crumpling the image like one of Virgil’s discarded “rubbish” (read: brilliant, if rough around the edges) sketches.

Speaking of which, it’s time for Scott to do the rounds and check in on his sleeping brothers.

There’s Alan, sprawled haphazardly across the floor of his bedroom - the only sign of his near-death encounter in the careful bandaging around his forearm (“I can too still game like this, Scott, I’m not balancing the controller on my wrists??”). Gordon too, is starfished on his duvet, but beginning to stir as fractured sunlight dances across his room.

Virgil, however - most unusually - is not burritoed in blankets, which sets Scott’s choir of alarm bells ringing. He hesitates, then sighs, patching through to Thunderbird Five even as he makes his way to Virgil’s studio (also empty).

“John?” he asks quietly, because John works on an unpredictable sleep schedule that gives Scott more stress than he cares to admit, but he would like John to be sleeping right now.

“John is sleeping, Commander. May I be of service?” EOS’ voice is more than a little grating in comparison to the bird song that floats through Virgil’s open windows. Scott resists the urge to grit his teeth - he is trying, okay?

“EOS. Hi.” He rubs his chin, eyes catching on the top sketch of Virgil’s messy pile: Thunderbird One streaking across a stormy sky mid-lightning strike. “Can you tell me where Virgil is?”

“Virgil is in the hangars, where he has been for the last thirteen and a half hours,” EOS says primly.

Scott’s head snaps up, even though there’s nobody there to stare at. “What? Did he fall asleep down there?”

“No, Commander, he is very much awake.” There’s something in her tone that riles him up, a pre-rehearsed nature to it, but he deliberately sets it aside for Future Scott. He’s given a curt thanks to EOS before he’s even registered that he’s striding down to the hangars, concern driving him with a speed usually reserved for rescues.

He hears Virgil before he sees him, a loud swear and a clatter of tools as he’s rounding the corner into the workshop.

Virgil is kneeling over a workbench, picking glumly through the jumble of parts skidding across the surface. Dark brows knitted tight, skin pale beneath fluorescent white lights, a graveyard of abandoned mechanisms, drained mugs, and scraps of graph paper all around him.

"Virgil."

It comes out a little sharper than intended, slicing through the silent workshop and causing Virgil to start violently.

"Scott! What are you doing here?"

"I came to ask you the same thing?"

"I'm…" Virgil gestures vaguely at the chaotic work surface. "Fixing."

"Have you had any sleep?

Virgil frowns. "I'm fine, it's not that late yet."

Scott stares, concern steadily rising. Virgil is known for losing track of time when absorbed in a task, but only usually with his art, and only for this period of time when he's upset, working something through, or...

Only then does Scott take in the way Virgil's hands tremble around the pieces of metal in his fingers, the jittering beat of his leg like helicopter wings, and slight dampness of the unstyled waves of hair across his forehead. He blinks at Scott, squinting a little in that way that Scott knows means a killer headache is brewing.

Methodically, the Commander of International Rescue surveys the room, searching for the source of the issue. His eyes land on the culprit: a coffee-stained jug, completely drained save the dregs of coffee grounds plastering the sides of the container.

It’s a big jug.

Scott swears.

“Virg. How much did you drink?”

Virgil’s eyes dart all over, not resting for a second on Scott’s face. “I - I don’t know. I just had some whenever I got tired and now I’m-” He wrings his hands, sending metal parts spilling from his palms.

“But why? What the hell were you thinking?” Scott’s tone is chiding, too harsh, and he makes a deliberate effort to reign in the reprimand that’s rearing up inside him.

“I just... “ Virgil swallows, meeting his eyes for a moment, looking away at the disappointment there. “I just needed to understand what happened to the grapple lines. To make sure it doesn’t happen again.”

Oh, Virg.

Scott softens, Commander melting back into Protective Big Brother because he gets it. God knows he gets it. He steps towards Virgil, wraps a hand around his elbow, feels it shake beneath his touch.

But why like this, Virgil?

“For thirteen hours?”

Virgil blinks and the genuine surprise in his eyes is enough that Scott accepts that this wasn’t a deliberate act of self-destruction and that loosens the anxious knot in his chest a little.

“I didn’t mean -”

“I know.”

Virgil ducks. “I just needed to find out -”

“I know.”

Virgil bites his lip, and Scott knows the image of their littlest brother’s panicked face is stuck on repeat in his mind. Scott closes his eyes, allows the video to roll in his own head, and the pain that rips through his chest has him tugging Virgil into his arms for a hug. Big as he is, Virgil is never one to say no to a hug, and he folds himself into Scott’s chest with a sigh. Scott can still feel the tension thrumming through Virgil’s body, and he instinctively tightens his grip.

Trust Virgil to hurt himself with his bean-juice addiction. Frankly, they’re lucky this hasn’t happened before with the amount of the stuff he pours into his body.

“I know I’m not having a heart attack, but -”

“You know I love it when you begin a sentence like that -”

Virgil tries to laugh but it comes out a little shaky. "Shut it, you." He rests his head on Scott's shoulder. "My heart is going so fast it hurts. Feels like a goddamn panic attack."

“What the hell have you done to yourself?”

“Mild caffeine overdose,” Virgil’s voice comes out muffled. “Sorry.”

“Mild. Caffeine. Overdose.”

Virgil laughs again, a little surer this time and pulls back from the hug. “I’ll be okay. Just gonna feel horrible for a bit, I think.”

“You think. Let’s see if Grandma agrees.”

“No! Let her have her time away - this is - it’s stupid. I’m fine.”

Scott gives him a Look, but Virgil glowers right back.

Scott loves him, but Jesus, does he wish he could trust Virgil to be honest with him about his health.

“Don’t make me set you up in the infirmary. You know I’m not bluffing.”

The glare intensifies. “I’m fine, Scott.”

Scott resists the urge to roll his eyes with a truly Herculean effort. “I want to do a scan, just to be sure.” “Scott -”

He plays the trump card (regrets playing it at the look on Virgil’s face, but needs must). “I could have lost Allie too, Virg. Don’t make this harder than it is.”

Virgil sags. He taps his watch. “EOS?”

“Yes, Virgil?”

“Please can you pull up my vitals for my dear big brother to fret over?”

“Of course, Virgil. Though I don’t understand why you want Scott to fret, he seems grumpy en-”

“Thank you, EOS.”

A holograph flickers into view, and Scott scans them, relaxing slightly at the lack of danger. Virgil’s heart rate is too high, as expected, and he’s dehydrated and exhausted, but otherwise, he really does seem okay. Still, Scott knows how dangerous dehydration and exhaustion can be, and more to the point, so does Virgil.

“You’re a stubborn idiot, you know that, right?”

“I learned from the best.” Virgil’s smile is teasing, but he’s okay, and Scott releases the breath he didn’t know he was holding.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Sure, Scooter, whatever you say.” Scott glares. “Right. You’re grounded for at least a day -” To his credit, Virgil only looks a little crestfallen. “- And you’re going to rest.”

Scott can practically see the cogs turning in his brother’s mind as he seeks a loophole or way to escape, but for now, he’s going to ignore it. Another problem for Future Scott, poor guy …

“Let’s go. Up to the lounge, now.”

“I should clear up -”

“Nuh-uh. Lounge. Now.”

Virgil lets out a loud sigh, and with much griping about leaving the workshop messy for Brains, leads the way up to the lounge. Scott follows closely, eyeing how Virgil’s feet drag with exhaustion even as his fingers tap away with restless energy.

Scott deposits him on one of the couches, tosses a throw over him, and resists the urge to tuck him in, but only because -

“I’m not sick, Scott. I’m okay! This isn’t necessary,” Virgil calls after him. Scott returns seconds later, a glass full of water.

“Drink all of this. And then have these.” Scott drops two electrolyte tabs beside Virgil. “Now excuse me, but I’m going to consult a qualified medical opinion before I believe you.”

“I am a qualified medical opinion -”

“- Who hasn’t overdosed on caffeine this morning.”

Virgil scowls. “I’m never going to live this down, am I?”

*****

Scott returns with Gordon, whose concerned professionalism quickly morphs into a shit-eating grin when it becomes apparent that actually, Virgil - for all his brilliance and talent - is an idiot.

But he’s surprisingly gentle when he fetches Virgil another glass of water and suitably soothing as they take a calm stroll around the flatter paths of the island to help Virgil burn some restless energy. The waft of pancakes draws them back into the lounge where Scott has stacked up thick, fluffy pancakes that melt on their tongues and warm them inside out.

By now, Virgil is visibly less shaky, and Gordon’s concern has dissipated to the extent that he blatantly steals three pancakes off Virgil’s plate. To be fair, Virgil probably doesn’t need six pancakes, but still. It’s the principle of the matter.

Scott - bless his heart - has also queued up the latest series of the ocean documentary that Gordon and Virgil gush over, but that Scott himself finds mind-numbing. The three of them squash together on one sofa, chomping pancakes and squabbling over blankets as the sun rises on another beautiful day.

Alan strolls in, nose first and still half-asleep. “Pancakes?” he says hopefully.

He catches sight of Virgil and seems to shake himself awake immediately. “Virgil? What the hell are you doing up?”

“Language,” Scott says thickly, the effect lessened by the mouthful of pancake and chocolate spread inside it.

“What the heck,” Alan waves a dismissive hand. “It’s barely ten, Virg?”

“Tell him what you’ve gone and done,” Scott says, because damn straight is he going to hold onto this one the next time Virgil’s yelling at him for taking a stupid risk. Well, at least I can drink coffee without poisoning myself, Virgil can just hear it now. .

“I drank too much coffee,” Virgil tells the ceiling.

“Sorry, V,” Gordon says, his smile wicked. “Allie didn’t quite catch that.”

Virgil sighs. “I overdosed on caffeine,” he says loudly.

“That’s a thing?!” Alan splutters. And then he bursts out laughing and Virgil wants to glare because he’s exhausted and his head is throbbing and there’s an anxious wriggle in his chest that keeps poking at his limbs.

But he also thought for one terrible moment yesterday that he wouldn’t get to hear that laugh again. The relief is infectious.

It never takes much to set Gordon off, but cracking Scott is a true victory, because for a second, the lines around his eyes crinkle with something other than stress.

Alan sets himself up with pancakes (far too smug that he’s allowed the chocolate spread on his where Virgil was only allowed syrup), and plonks himself down on Virgil’s right, bandaged arm and all. Whilst Gordon and Alan quarrel over species of tropical fish, Scott looks over at Virgil, raising his eyebrows. Are you okay? it says.

Virgil smiles and nods.

Inevitably, Scott and Gordon are called away on a rescue, just as Alan has grown tired of the nature documentary and is demanding something more exciting. Virgil consents to the first movie Alan picks out, because he’s too busy watching Gordon fly his beloved ‘Bird away with an expert hand.

God, he’s so tired. His limbs are heavy and aching from the tension of holding them in place all night and his head pounds in beat with his too-fast heart..

He’s utterly exhausted. If only his mind could get the memo. Instead it careens between thought processes: the grapple lines, his failed calculations, the disaster zone he’s left the workshop in -

It doesn’t matter though.

Because Alan’s alive and that’s all that matters.

Alan, whose gentle hand snakes through Virgil’s hair in a tender, soothing way that plucks at the knot of anxiety in Virgil’s chest, whose ministrations are a blessed, momentary pain relief for his sore head.

*****

It’s dark when he wakes, though he doesn’t remember his overwrought brain finally giving into sleep. His limbs no longer feel like they’re spasming out of control and his head aches with a more manageable pain, but he’s still drained. On the floor next to him, Alan is snoring at the centre of a nest of blankets - at least two of which Virgil is sure were wrapped around himself before...

He raises his head to look for his water glass, and nearly jumps out of his skin at the sight of his oldest brother standing in the shadows, watching. He’s still in his uniform, which suggests Thunderbird One just docked - presumably her engines through the open patio doors are what woke him.

“What the fuck, Scott?” he hisses.

“Sorry,” Scott says, though he doesn’t sound particularly apologetic. He moves into the light, and repositions Alan so that he can rescue one of the blankets for Virgil once more. “Go back to sleep.”

“Did the rescue go okay?” Virgil asks instead, relieved at Scott’s easy nod - and relatively clean, dry appearance.

“Gordon’s heading back now, all good. And no issues with grapples today, thank God.” Scott’s voice is low but Virgil still flinches from it.

“I’m going to find out what happened, Scott, I swear -”

“I know you will.” Scott’s voice is so firm, so strong that it momentarily steals Virgil’s breath how much faith Scott has in him. "I know you’ll figure it out, Virg. But you don’t have to do it on your own. You and Brains will work on it and find a solution, John’s going to identify the person responsible, and EOS will make sure they can never do it again. But it’ll be when you haven't overdosed on caffeine. Do you understand?”

It’s the kindest of reprimands. The same kind of pleading why won’t you just take care of yourself tone that Virgil finds himself using more and more on Scott these days, but with so much understanding and love, Virgil finds himself blinking back tears.

He can only nod and Scott steps back. “I’m going to go shower. Get some rest, Virgil.”

Scott turns to leave and Virgil forces himself to muster up his barely replenished energy reserves. He snags Scott’s sleeve, “Scott - thank you.”

Scott smiles a smile that’s just them, soft and trusting and concerned. “God knows you’ve looked after me through far worse hangovers than this. But don’t you dare do this again, Virg. I mean it. Don’t make me confiscate all the coffee on the island, because you know I’ll do it if I have to.”

“I know you will.”

Scott runs a hand through Virgil’s messy waves fondly, letting his hand rest at the nape of his neck where the headache pain is regrouping. “Sleep, Virg.”

And he does.

#thunderbirds are go #littleoldrachel writes #virgil tracy #scott tracy #earth and sky

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chillassimagines · 4 years

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Prized - Stiles Stilinksi Smut

(REQUESTED)

Ever since you had a near death experience with the pack, your boyfriend Stiles, has never been the same. You went to his house more often, per his request, and your parents joked with you that your room was collecting dust. In public he’d wrap his arm around you tighter. When you kissed he’d make it last longer. When you were intimate he would be hesitant and soft. He became possessive at times or over protective when it came to pack things.

Of course, you felt effected by the events, but it seemed Stiles felt the effects almost constantly.

“Scott!” Stiles shouted loudly from downstairs. You watched as Scott sighed and peeked his head out from his room.

“She’s in here, Stiles.” Before Scott could even sit back down on the bed, Stiles was thumping up the stairs. You stood up from Scott’s side, offered Stiles a smile, and open arms as he appeared in the doorway.

“Hi baby.” You spoke softly, hoping your tone dialed his back a few notches.

“I missed you.” He wrapped his arms around you tightly and kissed your forehead a few times.

“You saw me at school today, Stiles.” You once again, kept your tone kind, because Stiles was obviously in a fragile state.

“I know, I know...I know, it’s just, too long.” You looked up at him as he was encapturing you in his arms.

“I think Scott’s okay to finish without me looming over his shoulder, why don’t we head back to your house?” You asked him, knowing full and well what his answer would be.

“I’ll go warm up the car.” He smiled and gave you one of those sweet long kisses, before thumping back downstairs.

“Y/N.” Scott said in a warning tone. You groaned and turned around to begin getting your things off of his bed.

“Scott, I don’t want him to pull away from me!” You whined.

“He needs reassurance, Y/N. That you’re okay when he’s not around, that other people won’t just stand by, and that you can actually sleep peacefully alone. This isn’t healthy for him, Y/N, and you know it. He won’t listen to anyone else either.” Scott helped you put your school supplies in your bag.

“I know...you’re right. I’m just scared. I love him.” Scott smiled sweetly at you, knowing how much you cared for his best friend, and that’s how he knew this would turn out fine.

“That’s why he will still love you after you talk with him. Love him enough to give him what he needs.” He squeezed your hand before handing you your backpack strap in its place. You swung your bag over your shoulder and blew him a kiss.

“Thanks Scotty.” He rolled his eyes playfully and nodded.

“Anytime.”

“C’mere.” You gestured for Stiles to approach you in the kitchen. He was making some of your favorite popcorn, unbuttered and drizzled with white and dark chocolate. He didn’t hesitate to walk over to you and allow you to put your hands on his cheeks. You leant up and gave him a long kiss, which you prompted into more kisses. When you pulled away Stiles’ cheeks were a bit tinted.

“Woah, best random act of the day.” He mumbled making you laugh and wrap you arm around his waist as he went back to putting the chocolate covered popcorn on the counter to cool.

“Well, I can tell you it had purpose.” You slipped your hands under his long sleeved shirt to rest your hands on his stomach. He looked down at you with a raised brow and you couldn’t help but grin.

“Is that right?” You could have shivered right out of your panties then and there. He knew when he said that line, that you were going to jump his bones.

“Mhmm. The purpose of you taking all, of my clothes off, upstairs.” You winked at him and speedy walked out of the kitchen and upstairs to Stiles’ room. You could hear him walking calmly up the stairs and you were growing impatient. “Stiles! If you don’t run your ass in here right now-” The thumping sounded and soon he was in the doorway.

“I was trying to be sexy.” He teased. You rolled your eyes and hooked your fingers around his waistband.

“You already are all the sexy I need, Stilinski.” You pushed his pants down to his knees and forced him to move so that his back was facing the bed. You sat him down on the edge of the bed.

“I thought I was taking your clothes off?” He teased once more. With that you took your shirt off and unclipped your bra.

“I changed my mind.” You moved to straddle his waist. “But you can definitely remove your shirt.” He didn’t hesitate. You softly tilted his chin upwards so you could place your lips on his jawline. You began sucking along his skin to give him bursts of purple and red patches. His hands were only rested on your hips, but you grabbed his hands with your own and placed them on your breasts.

“Fuck.” He whispered in your ear and you could feel him growing hard underneath you. He softly fondled your breasts, which was enjoyable, but you wanted something more.

“Harder, Stiles, please.” You pleaded directly into his ear and wrapped your lips around his earlobe. He began rolling your nipples between his fingers, eliciting soft moans from your mouth. You began grinding your hips against his hard on and you didn’t start slow.

“Ugh fuck, Y/N, baby, slow down.” You raised your head and looked him in his eyes as you shook your head.

“I’ll help you.” You quickly pulled off your shorts and tugged his boxers down his thighs just enough so you could unhand his member from his restraints. Your wet underwear pressed against his length and you continued your grinding. Stiles threw his head back with his mouth hung open, making you want to finish right then and there. “You like that?” You moaned right above his ear.

“If you don’t, slow-I’m gonna, cum.” You smiled lazily as you pressed his hand tighter around one of your breasts.

“Then cum, Stiles.” You hummed, relishing in the feeling of his short nails digging into your breast.

“I can’t.” You gasped as you felt your body being turned over onto your back. Stiles stood up at the edge of the bed and began fully undressing himself.

“Stiles, you know it’s okay if you cum first once in awhile, right?” He tossed his bottoms over into his hamper and turned to you. He began shimmying your bottoms off as well.

“Sure.” You furrowed your brows and sat up. He was taken aback at your movements.

“Stiles, I’m being serious.” You spoke firmly.

“I know, but not tonight.” He softly caressed your cheek. You licked your hand, leaving as much saliva as you could, and grabbed onto his member. You began tugging at a fast pace, seeing how worked up he had gotten previously, and he was bound to cum soon. “Y/N, fuck!” He moved his hand off of your cheek to grip your shoulder.

“Just let go, Stiles.” You cooed softly, slowly sinking to your knees. He threw his head back and grunted into the air. You wrapped your lips around his head and his other hand whipped around so fast to grasp at your skull. You moaned around him and took him further into your mouth.

Stiles could be rougher, impatient, and many other things. He just clammed them all up after that night. You were ready for that guy to come back freely.

“Fuck, do that again!” He ordered through grinding teeth. You kept continuously moaning around him and he thrusted himself into your mouth. “I’m there, I’m there.” You felt him try to pull back, so you smacked your hands against his thighs to keep him close. “Fuuck.” He let out a high pitched whine as you tasted him and his bliss on your tongue. You kept him in your mouth as you made sure he rode out his high.

You released him from your mouth, your tongue catching the mix of saliva and his cum that strung from his tip.

“I’ve been waiting for that for 3 months, Stiles.” You exhaled deeply and sat yourself back up on the bed, licking your lips.

“To give me head?” He asked in confusion, breathing heavily.

“To have you let go and be yourself. Not worry about me.” You threw your hair up into a ponytail and Stiles leant down to press his lips to yours while you were doing so.

“I’ll always worry about you, Y/N.” You flinched as you felt his finger rub against your clit.

“Stiles, I’m trying to talk-“

“And I’m trying to fuck, okay?” Your eyes widened, but Stiles pressed his lips against yours once again. The kiss turned into kisses pretty quickly and he pressed his other hand against your stomach so you would lean back onto the bed. You moaned against his mouth as he sped up his pace. The hand that was no longer busy lifted you knee up and out to give him more access. “Keep it there.” He broke the kissing session.

“Faster, Stiles.” You begged him, hoping he would finally not be hesitant. He leant his forehead against yours, but his eyes were angled downward.

“Louder.” You opened your mouth to do so when one finger was inserted inside of you, taking your breath away momentarily. You only let out a whimper. “What was that?” He asked softly, only pumping in and out of you at the same pace that he was rubbing you.

“Shit, Stiles...faster, please.” You whined a little louder.

“One more time, baby.” You arched your back so your breasts were pressing against his heated chest.

“Fuck me, Stiles!” You shouted, as your hips grinded up against his hand.

“Good enough.” His speed picked up within a blink of an eye. Your harsh gasps seemed to egg him on.

“Just like that.” You cried as you tightened your grip on the sheets. He entered another finger inside of you and you clamped your legs together, trapping his arm. “Oh fuck!” You cried as you could feel his fingers struggling, but still going at your sensitive areas.

“Open your legs, Y/N.” He spoke calmly. You shook your head and clamped your eyes shut too.

“I can’t, fuck, I can’t Stiles.” You whimpered quietly. Your hips were lifting up off of the bed to gain more friction against the digits inside of you. Stiles took his free hand and ripped your thigh away from the other. His other hand left you and held the other thigh apart as well.

“You’re so wet.” You opened your eyes to see Stiles staring down at your throbbing privates. He usually wasn’t so bold. You watched as he scooted further up onto the bed and thrust inside of you. Your eyes rolled to the back of your head as he thrusted harshly inside of you repeatedly.

“Oh my god!” You cried loudly and you could feel Stiles lean his chest down against yours. His arms released your thighs and went under your back so his hands cradled your head. Your thighs smacked against his as your wrapped them around his. At this he slowed down the pace, so he could slowly grind up into you.

You opened your eyes once more to watch the man you love squeeze his eyes closed in immense pleasure.

“Stiles, I’m gonna cum.” You whimpered, feeling his hips jut into you at the end of each grinding motion. You wrapped your arms around his back, loving the heat you two were creating.

“I love you. And fuck, I will let go.” He opened his eyes and leaned his forehead onto yours again.

“Thank you.” And right after you felt euphoria. Your nails dug into his back, making him grunt, as he sped up the thrusting just a little. You moaned out loudly and graciously as your thighs shook from your orgasm. You felt his cum shoot sporadically inside of you and in that moment you loved the feeling so much you thanked god for birth control.

#stiles imagine #stiles stilinski imagine #stiles stilinski smut #stiles teen wolf #teen wolf stiles #stiles stilinski #imagines #one shots #smut #chillassimagines #dylan o'brien #dylan o'brien imagines #dylan o'brian imagine #teen wolf smut

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izzylikesfilms · 3 years

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Dark Phoenix: The Fall of X-men

I have a love-hate relationship with the X-Men franchise, some being 5/5 and considered my favourite superhero films and others being disappointing and dull. Dark Phoenix unfortunately falling in the latter. Unlike Avengers Endgame, another Marvel creation burdened with the task of wrapping up a popular superhero franchise, Dark Phoenix fell flat in most areas which made Endgame so enjoyable for the fans. It's easy to compare the two films with Dark Phoenix coming out less than two months after the record-breaking triumph that was Endgame. But even without the large Endgame shadow it has to follow, Dark Phoenix remains to be an underwhelming finale.

This is what I wrote in my journal immediatly after watching the film for the first time,"It was okay just not very exciting" and I think this perfectly encompasses my feelings on it. Was it the worst film iv'e ever seen? Definately not. But would i watch it again? Unlikely. One of the main problems was characters. To start, the main and most well-known character in the franchise Wolverine, didn't appear at all in the film which was very dissapointing considering he had been in every other film. Although, maybe Hugh Jackman missed a train wreck there (Haha get it train wreck ;) ). His presence in the film would yes make little sense because of the timeline,(but did the timeline REALLY ever make sense) but it would make the film feel more like an Endgame level finish. One last hurrah of all the characters we know and love fighting together for the last time. But, it wasn't just Wolverine left out of the film but my personal favourite Quicksilver AKA Peter Maximoff. In the prevoius two films, Peter was a great source of comedy which helped lighten the sometimes serious films but Dark Phoinex lacked this and wasn't funny. At all. Like i don't think I laughed once (except Jennifer Lawrence saying x-Women but we will get to that later). All the charm and iconic speed scenes of Peter were missed and the only times I even THOUGHT about laughing in the film were the brief two minutes he was in. Even Mystique whose character in this film wasn't what i would like was missed in the film as she was a recognisable charcter and one who we had seen from the start.

This left only the most boring and underdeveloped charcters left: Jean Grey and Scott Summers. They left the main role in the film to two boring loved up teenagers who I didn't care one bit about. That may sound harsh but there were very few moments i cared about any of the characters espcially Scott. He is annoying in all of the films to be honest, but especially in Apocalypse and Dark Phoenix. All he did wast be obsessed with Jean thats all he did.Furthmore, Professor X’s personality and overwhelming need to be in power was extremely annoying and frustrating because after seeing his loveable character in first class turn until THIS. Ugh. I knows he is meant to be presented as more as a villain, but he way he is portrayed I, saw an uncaring and completely different character. Also, Magneto, one of my favourite characters, was ruined yet again. The development Eric had in Forst Class and DOFP was brilliant but it was ruined once more.This happens when they use the same storyline of him being the bad guy then joining the good guys for the third act the reluctantly leaving again was repeated again and again and again and still was boring in Dark Phoenix.

Although this post mainly has focused on characters I would like to reiterate that other aspects of the film were done poorly too; the pacing was as painful painfully slow, the deaths seemed unnecessary and done for shock value and it was just plain boring.It also failed at trying to i very be progressive just came off as cringe and uncool when Raven (Jennifer Lawrence) said they should call the team x-wome. As a young women and proud feminist myself, this acne made me laugh. It was so obviously trying to be woke when there was no need to be in this moment. Yes superhero films especially need more and better female representation, but there are so many others ways to do this.In conclusion,I wish I had more good things to say about this film but unfortunately I don’t. It was very disappointing and made a future for x-men even more unlikely.

-I hope you enjoyed my first blog post! Sorry if it’s not great yet I’m still figuring this out and trying to refine my style but it was fun so I’m going to keep trying :)-

#actors #celebrities #writers #television #x men comics #x men days of future past #x men #x men first class #x men cast #marvel #quicksilver #wolverine #charles xavier #magneto #charles x erik

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anika-ann · 3 years

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WINSoD - Pt.6

...We Both Will Drop

Type: series, soulmate AU series (part 1, part 2, part 3)

Pairing: Steve Rogers x reader Word count: 4820

Summary: In which the mission to retrieve stones is on and you and Steve arrive to Vormir. Some things are simply... inevitable.

Warnings: (we all know what’s coming don’t we), blood and violence, character death, mentions of suicide, language

A/N: Don’t blame me, it’s the large scheme and shit. *runs and hides in a middle of nowehere*

Part 5

༻༺༻༺༻ღ༺༻༺༻༺

Everyone on the team had been through having their heart broken at least once; hell, find one of humankind who hadn’t. After the Snap, it was an impossible task; even children, when asked, felt like something was missing to them, feeling a deeply-embedded longing they couldn’t quite comprehend. Surely, they wouldn’t use such big words, having only been five years old now, but the sentiment was all the same.

And when all humanity felt like that, there was little space for hope.

However, the hope that barely started to take roots in the team when they figured out a way to unlimitedly travel in time and space, grew rapidly when Natasha winced in a middle of summarizing the plan once more; only to reveal that the source of pain was… insane.

It was a tattoo-like message on her collarbone.

She had received a new set of words. And they happened to be written in Sam Wilson’s handwriting, a sentence little snarky and little sappy and… no one blamed Scott for asking the question that itched everyone on the tip of their tongue.

“So… that means we succeed, right? And they meet again, more or less for the first time? I mean, we already saw a case like that.”

Despite the cold shiver running up your spine, your heart was wrapped in a fluffy warmth at that thought. It would be worth it. The sacrifice made will be worth it.

You swiftly dried the tear forming in the corner of your eye at the memory of Natasha’s reluctant but bright smile before Steve could notice. You followed him as he climbed towards the peak of which your instincts told you was exactly the place to go.

He was gallantly helping you to follow without a single ‘I told you so,’ even when you slipped and nearly face-planted. Instead, he smiled at you tenderly, concern furrowing his brow, but not once he complained about you being a liability instead of the help you were supposed to provide.

Vormir was an inhospitable planet. All built of rocks, with icy wind, sweeping snowflakes into your face and you were grateful for your gloves and Steve’s broad shoulders that shielded you at least partly.

Finally reaching a plateau, you were welcomed by a creature floating above the surface; his face red, a bald scalp, head stripped to a bone with nearly no skin, muscles or fat, partly hidden by a hood of his tattered cloak.

You never liked studying history, but even you knew who this was – or who he seemed to be. If Steve’s face and posture was anything to go by, he thought the same.

But that couldn’t be, right? The Red Skull had died- disappeared when touching an Infinity Stone. Would it really be so crazy if he was still connected to one?

“Steven, son of Sarah,” the peculiar creature welcomed your soulmate with a hiss, repeating a greeting of similar nature with you, only showing off he knew your father’s name, not mother’s like with Steve, and obviously calling you a daughter.

Which wasn’t creepy at all.

“You-“ Steve only growled and was already lunging at the man, only for his body to go through him as if the figure was nothing but a unsubstantial illusion.

You yelped in fright for Steve, but he didn’t even fall to the ground, his training preparing him for more surprising situations that his opponent being immaterial.

The Red Skull appeared to be annoyed at Steve’s antics at best; he didn’t make any attempt at attacking either him or you, only watching you with freakily knowing gaze as if he already learned your purpose here. Which was impossible, right?

But was it?

“Steve… I don’t think we need to fight him,” you whispered, averting the piercing glare of the Skull on you.

Steve looked at you as if you were crazy and threw himself on the cloaked figure again; shockingly, with the very same result.

It was an irony for God’s pleasure, you guessed, Steve fighting an old enemy, an enemy that couldn’t be defeated it seemed. Funny metaphor of his life no one laughed at; certainly not you.

Feeling two pairs of eyes on you now, you shivered.

“You don’t, indeed,” the Skull howled over the wind that picked up. “I know why you’re here and I only act as a guide. No matter how much I’d like to go another round with you, Captain, that is all I am.”

Steve snarled, but didn’t come after him again, stopping in mid-motion when you gently placed a hand of his shoulder. He ended up only leaning forward, ready to strike, shield in his hand.

He was handsome even with the scowl on his face, you thought absently and quickly brushed it off, scolding yourself for such ideas at a time like this. But why wouldn’t you let your mind wander into such territory? At the moment, you felt strangely detached from the whole scene in front of you. You wondered if that would change or if you could fulfil your purpose with your soul at peace.

“Then guide us,” Steve hissed, protectively standing between you and the Red Skull.

“Careful what you wish for, Captain.”

You followed the floating figure towards the edge of the plateau, stopping several feet from a bottomless gulf.

You closed your eyes when the vertigo overtook you, the crushing weight of your mission causing you to sway. Steve allowed you to lean onto his body, your palm sprawled across his chest, and he pulled you even farther from the edge into safer distance.

“Why are you showing us this?”

“Because that is the face of destiny you’re staring into,” your guide explained, a smirk forming on his face. Steve instantly let you go in favour to brace himself for the fight to come. Except you already knew it wouldn’t come; not the fight Steve was readying himself for. “I’m not gonna push either of you, Captain. You manage that on your own.”

“What makes you think we would ever do that?”

“The fact that it’s what we need to do to get the Stone,” you answered quietly to the question Steve had spitted out, earning a horrified glance from him.

“Indeed. A Soul Stone is a special entity. To get a hold of it, you must sacrifice a soul. You have found yourself a smart wife, Captain, for she knows this. Too bad she won’t be able to make it back.”

“Over my dead body,” Steve snarled and for a good measure grabbed your hand and dragged you away from the floating figure.

“That certainly is an option too.”

“Fuck. You. Liar!” Steve snapped at him and not even his anger moved you this time. Anger was good. Anger was familiar and in a pleasant contrast to your serenity returning.

“Am I? Or does your team have another explanation for Gamora’s death? Never in my lifetime I thought I’d see a Titan shed tears…” the Skull mused.

Steve’s eyes met yours as he faced you and what he saw in them must have shook him to a core, because his face lost all colour, his irises flashing with rage and something else you couldn’t quite place.

“He’s a slippery bastard, doll. I don’t trust one word-“

Denial. The other thing you saw in his eyes was denial.

“I do,” you breathed out softly, tears finally appearing in your eyes as your scarily high walls that had kept you detached from the whole ordeal came slowly crumbling down. “Thanos arrived here with whom he considered his daughter. And she didn’t make it back.”

Your heart skipped a beat, startled when Steve’s large palms gripped your shoulders and shook you.

“He’s tricking us, that’s what he does! Don’t let him play with your head,” he thundered, his fingers digging into your muscle even through your thick coat, strong enough to bruise.

Swallowing thickly as Steve stared at you, pleading, determined and still unwilling to accept the reality laid in front of him. You forced yourself not to avert his gaze when you responded in a whisper, a sound nearly lost in the howling wind.

“You know he’s telling the truth, Steve.”

You felt hollow. The cold started to seep through your clothing, or maybe it was coming from the inside, leaving your fingers and nose freezing in a desperate attempt to warm your torso up.

Steve’s hands slid from your shoulders as if they lost all strength, his own shoulders slumping, light shake of his head when he turned away from you, fingers plunging in his hair for the shortest of moments before facing you again.

You could see the shift in his attitude; you could see the fight vaporizing from his body, all harshness dissolved and blossoming into tenderness you didn’t deserve at the moment.

Yet you let him touch you, eyelids fluttering shut at the sensation, ignoring the weight in your stomach and letting yourself indulge the kindness of his touch. A lightest brush of fingers along your jaw, over your cheekbones, the pad of is thumb running over your no doubt purple lips.

He was committing himself to a memory of you and you loved him for it more than you could put into words, warm tears escaping from under your eyelids. He was a good man. Once again, he understood what had to be done and that for some reason, God seemed to hate him, asking him to sacrifice his own happiness in favour of others. He had to let you go.

“Then I go,” he breathed out and you snapped your eyes open, startled.

Of course, he got it wrong.

God, you were such an idiot, you should have known.

You threw your arms around him, tight embrace he didn’t fight, burying his face in your neck instead.

“We both know I can’t let you do that, Steve,” you negotiated, allowing the harshness of your attitude – read, thinking he was being utterly stupid – into your voice. He didn’t seem to mind, breathing in deeply, melting into your frame and you knew it was time to act before he could.

You managed to sneak one arm lower, around his waist instead. He just adjusted the hug, his lips brushing your cheek, angrily red from the whips by the biting cold.

“I love you, sweetheart. You were right. You had to come here with me,” he continued as if he hadn’t heard your protest and you squeezed your eyes shut, more burning tears rolling down your cheeks. Fuck, how much you hated this. “You’ll get the Stone back, yeah? And you live a life. Buck, Sam, Ryan, Pietro… they’ll be back and take care of you. They all love you too. Hey, you might even get a third soulmark-”

“Steve-“ you couldn’t help but growl at his dickish words.

“Shh, doll. It’s all going to be okay. “

Moving your hands over his back as he rubbed to-be-soothing circles on your own, your trembling fingers got a hold of what you were looking for in one of the pockets on his belt. You were a terrible actress, even worse spy, but here you were, succeeding in the worst mission you had ever been given; not that there had been many to compete with.

God sucked as a boss and clearly was short off staff if he was sending the king of Hell as his messenger.

You buried your face in Steve’s chest, basking in the warmth he was radiating, the irreplaceable sensation of safety and content his arms around you offered, something you would miss immensely.

“Promise?” you mumbled, choking on a sob, the hatred for yourself deeper than ever in your life.

You needed that promise. What did it matter Steve didn’t know what he was promising? You had no clue what was awaiting you; he couldn’t either. But he was a good man, you had learned that in thousands different ways through your years together.

“Promise.”

“…it’s going to be okay,” you repeated after him and he squeezed you tighter, as much as you squeezed the object in your palm.

“One for the road?” he mumbled, voice shaky, never letting you to answer him before his lips found yours, thirsty and demanding, breathing your soul in, leaving you feel floaty. You nibbled at his lower lip in response, low growl rumbling in his chest, echoing against your own ribcage, the kiss consuming your whole being.

One for the road, your mind parroted dreamily and you instinctively melted into Steve’s frame, indulging the last kiss of your lifetime.

Christ, that fact alone caused your chest to constrict with blinding panic, your tears like waterfalls.

You inhaled shakily as Steve withdrew with a sigh, both of you turning to the Red Skull.

Steve stepped forward, never registering your little theft.

How could he?

He had been through so much, enough punches to his face and back-stabbing for a life-time. He had learned how to stay alert, to expect another blow at any moment. You could tell he was never letting go of that, not entirely, not even with his friends, no matter how it crushed his good soul, his faith in people. He was always ready to look for danger so he could avoid another stab in the back. But not with you.

Never with you.

Which had been exactly what you had relied on when you did what you did. The analogy with back-stabbing wasn’t even funny.

“Alright. What do I have to do?” Steve asked with determination, his voice only wavering enough for you to hear it, and the stone-keeper looked at him with one corner of his mouth raised in an evil cocky smirk.

Bastard. Enjoying this a little too much.

“You mourn, Captain,” he whispered and met your eyes as you subtly undone a part of your coat. He must have noticed then, unlike Steve. Or maybe he truly had known all along, even before you had come here.

Seeing Steve already spinning on his heels when he understood the guide was having a wordless conversation with you, you had no time to actually brace yourself before wrapping both of your hands around the handle and driving the blade into your torso.

No one had told you it would hurt like motherfucker, but no one had told you how loud Steve’s scream would seem even over the ringing in your ears either.

No one had warned you that pulling the blade away would be really fucking hard, impossible even. But you had lived in the impossible for the past eight years, hadn’t you? You tore it away with a grunt, shocked at the dull agony.

You had planned two stabs, just not to give Steve any ideas, but the blinding pain slowed your movements. Before the tip of the knife could as much as graze you skin for the second time, Steve was easily twisting it from your hold and throwing it away.

You watched the weapon clank on the stony surface of the plateau, leaving droplets of crimson in the snow, hypnotized by the contrast.

The moment Steve’s hands touched you, your knees gave away and the throbbing in the wound intensified as you nearly collapsed to the ground. But he was here – he was always here to catch you, strong arms supporting you and shakily helping you to sit down.

For the first time, you allowed yourself to tear your gaze away from the blood and look up at him. His face was drained of all colour – funny, yours must have too, mustn’t it? –, his expression pure horror, blue and green fighting in his terrified eyes.

“What did you do?” he demanded breathlessly. “Oh god, what did you do?!”

You would think it was obvious, but your head spun too much to point that out. Too many words to form. Too much work.

“Played my part,” you mumbled instead.

Inspecting the wound shortly, but very much painfully, Steve was fast to press against it and make you howl in agony. And shit, there was so much blood… who would have thought there would be so much so fast? It was strangely warm against your body, soon cooling off. The contrast was fascinating.

“Fuck- hey, hey, you’re going to be okay! Look at me!” Steve ordered and the commanding voice left your fingers tingling. Or was it the cold? “We’ll get you to the compound and then I’ll be back here, figuring it out, okay? Now, breathe with me and do not-“

You smiled at him kindly or at least you attempted it. He was a true fighter in heart, never giving up. That was why you had needed to injure yourself fatally, which he effectively attempted to avoid when disarming you. But the biting cold prevented your body from resisting the brutal intrusion. The fact you had pulled out the stopper out in attempt to stab again had probably helped.

A part of you was getting nauseous at such formulation, at being content at succeeding in… yeah, there was no euphemism for this, it was a fucking suicide. A different part yelled ‘good’, because that had been the plan.

What Steve was offering sounded so, so tempting. He would make sure to pamper you when you got to the compound, falling asleep in the chair, holding your hand, sitting guard by your bedside and you would be warm, feeling oh so immensely loved… but you couldn’t allow that.

You forced the next words out of your mouth while your brain yelled at you to just give in and nod instead.

“No. Steve… I’m already halfway gone. You need to throw me-“

“NO! No! Not a fucking option!“ he bellowed, his vision possibly gaining crimson edges of rage if his expression was anything to go by. It was swimming in front of your eyes, but even in his anger, he was so damn beautiful. A piece of art. Man too beautiful not to be sculptured by angels themselves. “What were you thinking?!”

I wasn’t thinking. God had. The King of Hell told me to do it. This way we win, you know?

“We both know I won’t make it there if you try to take me-“

“You will!“ he spat back stubbornly, his frame shaking and you suspected it wasn’t because of the temperature. No, either he was pissed off beyond belief or… or scared. Because he was well-aware of the fact you were right.

Your body started feeling like floating, your eyes turning to the sky on their own and you gritted your teeth, fighting it.

Not yet. Not fucking yet. Not until he knew this wasn’t on him, that this was something you simply had to do.

“Steve, Stevie- this is why I was resurrected. This is it. I go, so you could continue the mission, get the Stone back, fight whatever fight might come. I’m so sorry for this, but you know it has to be me.”

He looked at you with so much hurt in his eyes that you would have thought you stabbed him. He shook his head violently, trembling hands pushing harder against your wound and making you let out a sound way too close to a whine. You thought at least. The ringing in your ears was getting louder and the world was losing its colours… or was it like this the whole time, on this planet? You couldn’t remember…

Yet, you would swear that a crack in his conviction appeared on his face, one he swiftly disguised and shook off, determination replacing it as he fought the tears streaming down his face. You felt nothing but relief when you realized he started accepting the truth, started accepting what was happening. What had to happen.

“No. No, that’s not true.”

Your next words tasted bitter and dripped venom, but you said them anyway, a harsh reminder of your first goodbye. You hated yourself for speaking them; however, Steve had to understand.

“We’re out of time, Steve,” you mumbled, your tongue growing heavy, funny taste on it. “We’re always out of time.”

“Please, doll, not again, I can’t-“ The way he choked on his sob told you your shot found its target, the memory crushing his hope, slowly, but surely forcing him to resign. The calm you had felt when you arrived here returned, embracing you gently and you hoped your attempt at smile turned out decent.

“You can. You’re the brave-“ You hissed in pain as you wanted to straighten yourself just a bit, to be closer to him, instantly regretting not asking Steve to move you instead. Fuck, that hurt. “-bravest person I’ve ever met.”

“That’s bullshit-” he spitted out, but he helped you sit up straighter, allowing you to nearly drown in the pools of his irises.

God, he was so beautiful, even in his grief, eyes red-rimmed, his nose running. He was yours. Always yours, you knew as much.

“My hero-“

“I’m not a Captain for while, you know,” he chucked humourlessly, a glint of something you didn’t like displaying on his face. “Just let me take you-“

“Not the Captain,” you shook your head, lamenting yourself for muddling it up. Calling him your hero was a bad, very bad idea. But you couldn’t think anymore, your head was buzzing with too many thoughts, wrapped in sensation of endless pain radiating from your gut. “You, S-s-stevie. Now let me go.”

“NO!”

“If I d-die before-re you throw m-me-“ you negotiated, only to be interrupted by the creature you had completely forgotten was there as well.

“She’s right,” the Red Skull confirmed flatly.

“SHUT THE FUCK UP!” Steve roared, not bothering to look at him as he gathered you in his arms, not without a serious wave of vertigo on your part. And pain. Fuck, always pain. Being stabbed fucking hurt.

He only stood, torn between the tinniest chance at your survival and doing the right thing. It was ridiculous and disgusting how much it reminded you of your first goodbye. Left, or right door? You or millions, this time?

“Doll-“

“’s okay, Stevie. I love you. Al-always. Br-- the edge. ‘d let go,” you breathed out, your words slurring as you were losing control. He must throw you soon. That sucked. You would like few more moments with him.

Or a lifetime. Kisses, cuddles, playful lovemaking, friends and kids… maybe you could adopt, or just keep trying…

Steve’s features twisted in denial, jaw clenched, but it did nothing to disguise the tremble in it. His eyes were squeezed shut, glittering drops of salty water escaping, your own waterfalls never stopping. You clenched your teeth with effort to raise your hand, bloody fingers caressing his smooth cheek.

“’s ‘kay.”

He shook his head desperately, but his grip grew firmer, his steps heavy as he carried you to the edge as if he was about to meet his own end.

You swallowed your own sobs.

You didn’t want to die. You wished you could say you were at peace, you had thought you were but you weren’t. Yet, you needed to convince Steve about the opposite – again.

Life was so fucking unfair.

If that was true though… was at least death just?

Your eyes flickered to the terrible chasm, vertigo taking over once more at the image of just how long the fall would last.

Endless seconds of free fall.

But it wouldn’t be the fall that would kill you, would it now? It would be the landing.

It was always the landing.

Hovering above the edge in Steve’s arms, his eyes turned up towards the colourful sky, as if he was trying to keep his tears at bay or simply couldn’t look at you. Seconds felt like hours. Like forever, even. It was obvious he couldn’t make himself let go.

Jesus fucking Christ, how could he, after all? You wouldn’t if in his place, your roles reversed.

“Down-“ you muttered lowly and he instantly obeyed with his gaze returning to you.

The gaze he focused on you would always be carved into your memory, even in death, you had no doubt. You never knew a man could say so much about the agony that was tearing him apart with one look, but here he was. Your Steve.

When he kneeled, lowering your body to the ground, his hold slacking a fraction, you knew it was time. You forced another teary smile, lips quivering, no longer able to tell if it was from pain, the cold seeping into your bones and core or simple fear.

What was waiting at the bottom? More pain or something else? Maybe the peace, finally? How would you be able to rest in peace though, knowing you were leaving Steve behind?

“S-so good t-to me,” you breathed out shakily, memorizing every feature, every wrinkle of laughter and worry, even as the darkness started eating out the edges of your vision. You needed to go, now. You gathered the last remnants of strength, bracing yourself. “Love ya’.”

Propping your palms against his chest, you pushed away from him, the feeling of the sudden lack of ground under your body dizzying.

Wind slapped your cheeks, freezing the tears in your eyes and cutting through the wound.

The gale carried Steve’s broken scream to your ears and you sent him one last whispered sorry.

The fall seemed to have no end. But for once, God was truly merciful; you didn’t feel the landing.

༻༺༻༺༻ღ༺༻༺༻༺

Seeing their past selves was strange to say at least and Natasha mused how long of a path they had all walked since the first assemble of the Avengers.

In a way, it carried hope too though. She had buried hope for her soulmate and lost friends a long time ago; but now it was back. They had retrieved the Stones from New York relatively smoothly – though Clint had got a bit perplexed at having his soul punched out of his body by the Sorcerer Supreme – and were on their way back to their time.

This mission was a pretty ambitious stretch from Budapest. She had told so to Clint and found herself honestly smiling at his burst of laughter after years of mourning. Some lives had been ruined, but others still remained; and the chances that what they had lost in the dust could be brought back had concrete outlines now; outlines visible on her own skin as well. Her chest ached, but her heart fluttered with the memory of her soulmate.

Her feet landed on the platform with a rather ungraceful thud, but she still managed to keep herself standing upright. One glance around was all she spent to check up on everyone; only to find two people missing.

Blood froze in her veins, the satisfied smile at completed mission slipping from her face as her heart changed its pace from excited to horrified.

No.

No, this was not how this was supposed to go! Everyone should have come back!

So why was one whole pair missing? Why-

Strangely enough, her horror only escalated when she noticed that it was in fact one person missing only; because the other was on the platform with them, closer to the ground that she had expected, stripped of the nano-suit, stealth suit darker as it was dripping water; pink as it mixed with crimson stains on his thighs and torso.

No.

Oh no.

This was not happening. It couldn’t. Not again.

Steve had fallen to his knees, hands by his side clenched in tight fists. Blankly staring ahead, not actually seeing anything in front of him, a smudge of red – three lines clearly drawn by bloody fingertips – on his cheek and his face free of any colour and emotion telling enough of a story; screaming a story, in fact.

Natasha’s insides twisted painfully and she nearly spilled the contents of her stomach. She recognized that look – she had seen it before on Steve. On herself in a mirror.

Tears stinging in her eyes, she took a shaky step towards him, her heart weeping and grieving for her friends.

“…Steve?” Bruce questioned lowly from behind the machine he had controlled, but it only filled the deadly silence.

They all already knew what happened – or understood enough.

The Stone giving away warm amber glow slipped from Steve’s palm, his fingers plunging in his hair and gripping tightly, pulling enough to make it hurt like hell no doubt.

Yet, Natasha was well-aware it did nothing to dull the deep visceral pain that overtook his whole being, swallowed his whole shattered soul.

A guttural moan left his lips as he curled into himself and she didn’t bother blinking away her tears anymore.

Nothing she could do would sooth his grief. Yet, she placed her trembling palm on Steve’s shoulder in attempt to ground him, to show him she was there for him.

A desperate shriek, a helpless cry loud enough to tear ear-drums and hearts, cut the thick air of the compound and the large frame of a supersoldier went limp, swaying aside.

Natasha didn’t try and stop the fall. God knew that he would be falling for too long anyway.

The fucked-up thing about this kind of fall was that the landing, the only thing that could bring relief, would never come.

༻༺༻༺༻ღ༺༻༺༻༺

Epilogue

༻༺༻༺༻ღ༺༻༺༻༺

HOLD THE FIRE!

If you don’t kill me, you might get an epilogue, you know? One you might actually like. Just SAYING!

Also, thank you for reading :-*

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