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jawabear · 3 years

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Marcus Moreno NSFW Alphabet

Not my GIF

A/N: You know I had to write one for this boy. It would be wrong not too. As with the others, these are just my interpretations of his character and may differ to yours, but please be respectful of others’ views. Hope you enjoy. Sorry for any mistakes. Stay safe.

Genre: smut

Warnings: fem!hero!reader, mentions of sex, but nothing explicitly described, Pedro Pascal comes with his own warning

Summary: An A-Z of Marcus Moreno’s bedroom antics...

A = Aftercare (What they’re like after sex)

Marcus is such a kind man. He’ll make sure you’re okay. And he’ll make sure you don’t need anything before pulling you into his arms if you’re in bed. If you’re else were, he’ll still make sure you’re alright, making you look perfect before you get to where ever you’re meant to be.

B = Body part (Their favorite body part of theirs and also their partner’s)

On you, he finds your neck irresistible. Other than your lips, it’s his favourite thing to kiss. He loves to mark it with bites that show everyone you belong to him. He loves to bury his face into your neck while he fucks you, he loves the way your fingers feel in his hair when he does.

On him, he’s rather fond of his arms and his tights (so am I). Mainly because he likes it when you grip his arms when he fucks you, and he loves when you ride his thighs. It’s one of his favourite things, and you always seem to enjoy yourself when you make yourself come on his thighs.

C = Cum (Anything to do with cum basically… I’m a disgusting person)

He loves to come on you. Over your breasts, your stomach...

And he loves to come in your mouth, he loves to see you swallow his come.

D = Dirty Secret (Pretty self-explanatory, a dirty secret of theirs)

Before you two got together, and after his wife died, he would find him self in need of release. And being one of Heroics as well, there were many clips of you online doing awesome super hero things. He loved watching those. He loved watching the way you moved. The way your muscles flexed. The way you beat up the bad guys so effortlessly. And it was so sexy. He’d watch them in the dead of night while getting himself off. But he doesn’t know if he should ever tell you, because it is a little weird.

E = Experience (How experienced are they? Do they know what they’re doing?)

I mean, he’s got a kid. Clearly he knows what he’s doing.

He certainly does know what he’s doing. He knows where exactly to touch you to make you feel good before you even know.

F = Favourite Position (This goes without saying. Will probably include a visual)

He’s a big fan of the classic missionary because he can see your face and kiss you as well as being able to hold your hands which is a big thing that he likes to do.

He also loves when you are on top. Riding him, facing him or not or riding his thighs. He also loves 69......

G = Goofy (Are they more serious in the moment, or are they humorous, etc)

He can be more funny then serious depending on his mood and the circumstances for the sex. He likes to enjoy it and wants to make sure you are enjoying it as well so if he needs to make you laugh he will. But he is mostly serious when it comes to sex.

H = Hair (How well groomed are they, does the carpet match the drapes, etc.)

He’s pretty neat down there. It seems he takes more care of his hair down there than he does on his face or his head.

I = Intimacy (How are they during the moment, romantic aspect…)

Marcus is a very romantic person. He wants to make sure you are happy. He wants to make sure you know how much he loves and worships you. So he will do whatever he can to put those points across to you as he makes love to you. This would usually be by kissing you for an extended amount of time or just simply telling you how much he loves and adores you.

J = Jack Off (Masturbation headcanon)

As stated before, in the time he was on his own, he would jack off quite a lot at night or in the shower (mostly to the thought of you). But now, less so. He’ll still do it on the odd occasion, say if your out on hero business, but you’re usually there to help him out if he needs it.

K = Kink (One or more of their kinks)

He wants to be your hero. So he’s a big fan of role play. He loves when you decided to put yourself “in danger” for him to have to come and rescue you. Or you acting as someone who is evil and he has to stop you...and punish you.

And he has a slight weapons kink. He would never hurt you with the blade but something about seeing you with his katanas and nothing else drives him mad.

And I’m not saying he has a daddy kink, but I wouldn’t put it past him....

L = Location (Favourite places to do the do)

Bedroom. Or the shower. He doesn’t really have a preference between the two. But he’ll go anywhere as long as you are comfortable and happy.

M = Motivation (What turns them on, gets them going)

A lot of things came get him going. The main ones being when you are in your hero uniform or when your fingers with lightly brush over any part of him.

But mostly the uniform. Definitely the uniform. Yours or his....

N = NO (Something they wouldn’t do, turn-offs)

As much as he loves the role play and the weapons, he’d never actually use it to draw blood or cause you any sort of discomfort.

And he wouldn’t want to have sex in a public setting where people could see. He’s not so much against say touching you under the table or what ever, but if it came down to him having to fuck you in front of someone he wouldn’t do it.

O = Oral (Preference in giving or receiving, skill, etc)

Marcus loves to be between your legs. He’ll eat you out at any given moment. He’s all about pleasing you. And he loves the way you squeak, moan and whimper as he eats you. As well as the way you grab at him to hold his head closer to you.

But he’s an absolute sucker for you sucking him off. As mentioned, he loves to watch you swallow his come. And he loves the feeling of your mouth and tongue on him. You can easily turn him into mush the second your tongue touches his dick.

P = Pace (Are they fast and rough? Slow and sensual? etc.)

He’s kind of in the middle. He can be both extremes (favouring slow and sensual) but he falls some where in between. He’s not exactly slow, but he’s not exactly fast. But somehow it’s the perfect balance that gives you the best orgasms of your life.

Q = Quickie (Their opinions on quickies rather than proper sex, how often, etc.)

He’s not too against them. Sometimes that’s what it will have to be, what with his job and Missy being around.

Sometimes it will have to be a quick fuck in the supply cupboard at HQ. Or a quick one in the kitchen before Missy comes down for breakfast.

But he much prefers to take his time with you.

R = Risk (Are they game to experiment, do they take risks, etc.)

He used to risk his life every day fighting the dangers of the world, and that mentality does transfer to the bedroom.

If you want to try something, he’ll do it. Unless it’s super dangerous or really really risky.

S = Stamina (How many rounds can they go for, how long do they last…)

He’s not a young as he used to be so he can’t go for that many rounds. In a row that is. If you spaced them out over the days he could got for quite a few. But in a row he’s good for about two.

T = Toy (Do they own toys? Do they use them? On a partner or themselves?)

He’s never really needed them so he’s never really owned any. But when you brought your trusty little purple vibrator to the party, he grew embarrassingly fond of it. He loves to watch you use it on yourself and he loves using it on you while he eats you out, making you scream. And he likes it when you use it on him, teasing him with it or taking him all the way.

U = Unfair (how much they like to tease)

He not necessarily a tease with actions, more with faces or words. He’ll constantly be whispering dirty things into your ear whenever he gets the chance and he’ll send you sexy looks or winks from across the room. He’s very good at getting you worked up with our having to touch you.

V = Volume (How loud they are, what sounds they make)

With Missy in the house, it’s very much hush hush. For multiple reasons that are pretty obvious. But when she’s gone, he doesn’t hold back. He lets out every sound he had to hold in. He’s not exactly loud, he just makes a lot of noises. But they’re amazing to listen too.

W = Wild Card (Get a random headcanon for the character of your choice)

Marcus does find it difficult to make the first move. Even when he does, when just charges at you or something, he will always backtrack or stop to ask you if you want it. You will always want him and you’ve told him that on many occasions but it doesn’t seem to stick in his head. He’s just too sweet to let the beast inside him run free for once.

X = X-Ray (Let’s see what’s going on in those pants, picture or words)

He’s pretty decent. He’s longer than he is thick but he’s perfect for you.

Y = Yearning (How high is their sex drive?)

To be fair, it’s not all that high. He has a lot on his plate and sex is usually quite far down the list. He’s so busy all the time that he barely even has time for sex. Which is kind of sad and annoying for both you and him, but most of the time you’re pretty busy as well.

Z = ZZZ (… how quickly they fall asleep afterward)

His mind never stops so he finds it difficult to sleep full stop. But sex always seems to relax him enough to make him feel comfortable in getting some sleep. But he is a very light sleeper. And he won’t fall asleep until he has checked you are okay and he’s given the house a once over to make sure everything was locked and everything was where it should be. He’ll take a quick peek into Missy’s room to make sure she is okay before he comes back to bed and eventually falls asleep with you wrapped in his arms.

28/12/20

Taglist: @linkpk88

#marcus moreno #marcus moreno x reader #Marcus Moreno fanfic #we can be heroes #smut #pedro pascal #fanfic

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nctsjiho · 3 years

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Heart-to-Heart

warnings: mentions of the pandemic and about mental health, but we don’t go deep into the topic (I hope you are pulling through loves🤍💚🤍 Stay healthy!)

❀ JiHo opens up about her past and how she’s currently feeling

JiHo waits a few seconds for the comments to roll in to make sure she’s live before bringing her hand up and waving at the camera. She looks a lot more tired than normal, but that could be because it was currently 3 in the morning.

It looks like she’s sitting on a couch or maybe even her bed with her knees close to her sweater clad chest. The hood of the sweater hiding her hair and ears with the strings tied tightly at the neckline.

“Why are you awake this early?” She hums after reading the question. A smile starting to form on her lips before she answers. “I’ve been up all night playing games with Haechan, Chenle and Jeno.” She chuckles.

“Everyone. My hair has become so long.” JiHo starts to undo the strings of her hoodie and uncovers her head. Her hair is pulled back in a loose ponytail, which she also undoes to show her hair longer than it had ever been (during her time in NCT at least). The strands of hair fall to her chest and she cards her hands trough it. “I would usually cut it by now, but I’m too lazy to go to the salon.” She sheepishly grins. “And I’m actually starting to like it a little, what do you guys think?”

It’s been a while since the fans had seen JiHo’s hair like this. Messy with her natural curls much more visible. “I love your hair unnie!” JiHo laughs at the comment before thanking the fan. “I like your short hair, but the long hair is also really pretty.”

“Did you celebrate Ten’s birthday?” She reads out. “There’s a lot of birthdays in February so I tried to do something for every birthday boy. I’ve already wished Ten a happy birthday and gave him his gift, but this year I could only really celebrate with the boys who I live with.” She nods to herself, hoping the fans would understand.

While reading comments on her phone a creaking noise could be heard, JiHo’s gaze moving to her side. “Is there something?” She asks, followed by footsteps that become gradually louder. “I saw the light from the hallway so I wanted to make sure you didn’t fall asleep with the lights on.” It was Taeyong’s voice. The girl nods and then looks at the screen in front of her. Taeyong moves into frame while asking if she was live on V App. “Yes, I was playing with the dreamies earlier and then wanted to go live for a little.” She explains and the leader hums in reply. “Don’t stay up too late okay? Bye everyone.” Taeyong leaves, but not before patting JiHo on the shoulder, somewhat using the girl’s shoulder as leverage to help him stand up.

“How are you today?” An English comment catches JiHo’s eye and she reads it out loud. A deep sigh leaves her lips and she looks back into the camera. “It’s not that I’m feeling bad, I’m just really tired lately. I got sick before our gimme gimme comeback because I was so exhausted. But don’t worry I’m better now. I just think the situation we’re in right now with the pandemic is taking a toll on my body and mental health. Luckily I have NCT with me and they all try to help each other feel better.” A genuine smile covers the slight frown she sported while talking. “I’m not an expert and I’m pretty bad at giving advice, but if you’re feeling down please reach out to someone. They might not be able to help much either, but just talking about how you feel is so much better than keeping everything to yourself. I also hope that NCT can be a light in your day whenever you feel down. We still have a lot of content going out on YouTube and our music is always there for you to listen to.”

The live stream had really taken a turn. With JiHo reading out a lot of comments and sympathising with the fans, every now and than trying to lighten the mood by cracking a dumb joke. The jokes were never funny, but JiHo was slowly getting sleep-drunk and everything started to seem funny to her. Despite that she couldn’t change the overall mood of the V Live, with comments still as sombre as before.

“I live with my roommates but I still feel lonely, sometimes I just miss my family.” As she reads the comment, something in JiHo’s eyes changes. Her soft expression falls into almost a frown, the word ‘family’ coming out as only a whisper. It’s quiet for the next minute or so, the fans clearly picking up on something as comments flood in about her family or asking if everything was alright.

It’s clear that the girl is trying to hide her true feelings as she forces a smile back on her face.”Don’t worry everyone, I’m fine.” She laughs softly. “I’ve never talked about my family right?” JiHo can’t even keep her eyes on the camera. “I don’t really talk to them a lot.” She realises how people could misinterpret the meaning behind those words and shoots up in her seat. “Don’t get me wrong, I’m not on bad terms with my family. I’m just not really close to them either.”

“I moved to Korea on my own when I was almost 14, I spent that birthday here with some of the trainees I used to live with.” She smiles at the fond memory and the fans in the comments seem to be more at ease after seeing her smile so genuinely. “Before that I used to live with my grandparents for most of my life. So I’m closest to them, and I call them at least once a month. It used to be a lot more but now I usually just message them.”

“I have a lot of friends in France though and we video chat a lot.” She laughs and tells a story about a late night video call session where they played Jack Box together. “I do miss them a lot, so I hope I get to see them in real life after the pandemic is over.”

“What about your parents? My parents? It’s a bit complicated.” She takes a deep breath before speaking again. “I lived with them for 4 years before my mother got really sick. She needed special treatment, and my dad got a big job opportunity. The moved together because she’d be closer to a hospital where they could help her even better. That’s when i moved in with my grandparents and I could stay close to my friends and the rest of my family.”

“When I was 11, my mother was healthy again and so we all moved back in together close to my grandparent’s home. It was a little awkward at first.” JiHo brings her hand up to scratch her scalp, her head drooping down for a second. “I only lived with them for 2 more years before I got scouted, so we didn’t get really close again. But they were always so supportive of me, so they still feel like my real parents.”

“They even host parties every now and then to celebrate new albums or milestones NCT achieves, and then they’ll send me pictures and tell me that they are proud of me.” The fans who were all listening intently had resorted to spamming the comments with hearts and an occasional ‘aww’. “I sometimes think that if I didn’t get scouted I’d be really close to my parents now and I’d have such an amazing childhood. Not that I haven’t had a great childhood already.”

That last comment had just left her mouth without much thought and people started to fill the comments with questions again. “Don’t say that, otherwise NCT wouldn’t have you in it” JiHo laughs before explaining herself. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean it like that. I think getting scouted is the best thing that ever happened to me. NCT and Czennie are like my second family. Please forgive me.” She brings her palms together in front of her face and bows, a bright smile clearly visible. JiHo then moves her hands away from each other before twisting her fingers into 2 finger-hearts. “I love you guys.”

Though she didn’t tell the fans everything about her past and her life in France was still a big mystery, everyone seemed pleased to know more about their neo girl. JiHo, herself, even felt a bit relieved like she lifted a big weight off her shoulders by telling her about her past and how she was feeling.

She knew now that she could trust her fans with a few more personal things. What she didn’t know though, was that her roommates had also been watching her live stream and just as she was about to end the stream on a high note, 4 boys barge in her room, with the tallest and the youngest of the four launching themselves on the girl.

“Ack-” She shrieks, surprised by the sudden appearance of her roommates. “What’s going on?” “Hmm, I’m so proud of you!” Haechan had JiHo’s shoulders locked in his arms and he was squeezing her tightly. “We’re all proud of you.” Doyoung had said from behind the camera.

The girl rests her head against Johnny’s chest, acting as if she was trying to get as far as possible from her same-aged-friend who was still holding on to her. “Okay! Okay! I think we’re good now. You guys can leave.” JiHo shoos the boys away and Johnny takes the hint, ruffling the girls hair before leaving with the 2 men who weren’t trying to suffocate the youngest. “Haechan~” She whines and the boy mutters something about letting him do his thing a little longer.

She had managed to wedge her hand out his hold and started to push him by his chest and head. When she realised he wasn’t budging she just gave up, her body going limp and now she was almost leaning into his embrace. “Czennie, see what I have to live with. He only hugs me on camera, otherwise he’s only bullying me.” Haechan gasps letting the girl go. “The audacity! JiHo is a liar.” He places his hands on his chest where his heart would be and feigns being hurt. He gets a shake of JiHo’s head in response before she ends her stream by telling the fans that they should take care of themselves and their loved ones.

#jiho.video #nct 24th member #nct addition #nct fluff #nct imagines #nct scenarios #nct female member #nct extra member #nct additional member #kpop!addition #kpop!oc #kpop imagines

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icequeenoriginal · 4 years

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The Prince of Mean

Summary: Takes place right after Putting Others First, when Roman goes to his room with the knowledge of what he is

Warning: Roman angst, spoilers for new episode, no happy ending, ducking out. self-hatred, putting yourself down, bad choices, heartbroken, self-deprecating thoughts, crying (let me know if I need to add anything else)

Author’s Note: Omg, what an episode, this is definitely one of my favorite ones. We got so much info and this just proved to me more than Roman is definitely not okay. I probably won’t make a reaction post to episode but I putting a pause on everything to write this because I need to get it out of my brain. DM if you want to talk about the episode though

Song: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=r9o1QS-itsU If someone makes an AMV with this song and Roman, please send it to me

I'm so tired of pretending

Where's my happy ending?

Roman fell to his knees when he reached his room. His palms hitting the floor in a dramatic fashion that would have impressed himself if he wasn’t so upset. Everything, everything was so so wrong. Why couldn’t anyone else see that? He was right! He was the prince! The good guy! He had to be right! ...Right?

I followed all the rules

I drew inside the lines

I never asked for anything that wasn't mine

Roman forced himself and over to his desk. He looks at what littered it: Unfinished ideas, sketches, project ideas. All the hard work he did. Because he was good. He did everything he needed to do. He was a good boy. And yet...

I waited patiently for my time

But when it finally came

He called his name

What was Thomas thinking?! Letting Deceit, or Janus as he claimed, be at the table, and working with them! Virgil warned them against that! He is just trying to protect Thomas. This was clearly a bad idea. He didn’t even come up with it, so it must be. He is the one who comes up with good ideas. That’s who he is. That is his job.

And now I feel this overwhelming pain

I mean it's in my veins

I mean it's in my brain

Roman whipped his eyes as the tears began to form. It hurt, everything hurt. He just wanted to scream, curse, or fight. Thomas and Patton could spin it any way they could. He knew that look in their faces. They were definitely disappointed with him. Or many they did not want him there. It was both. He knew it. Then he let himself cry more.

My thoughts are running in a circle like a toy train

I'm kinda like a perfect picture with a broken frame

I know exactly who to blame

This was all Janus’ fault. He called that snake out on what he was doing to him and the snake did what he always does. He twisted the situation so that it would look like he, Roman, was the true bad guy. He wasn’t going to fall for it. It was a classic trick all villains use to try and make the protagonist lose all his allies. But Thomas was smart enough to figure it out, sooner or later. Patton says he will always need Roman so he won’t push him to the side. ...Right?

I never thought of myself as mean

I always thought that I'd be the queen

And there's no in-between

Why was everyone glaring at him when he said it? He was just laughing, it wasn’t like he hadn’t done it before? But...they told him to stop during the first time with Virgil? He really can’t stop being mean, can’t he? He just a big fat meanie who will always be this way. He is just like his brother, isn’t he?

'Cause if I can't have that

Then I would be the leader of the dark

And the bad

Roman sat on his bed and just...thought to himself. He through all of his memories of how he is with everyone. The name-calling, the dismissals, his behavior. Wow, maybe he was the evil twin after all, and Janus was right. Wow. Everything is truly falling apart in front of him. Perfect.

Now there's a devil on my shoulder

Where the angels used to be

And he's calling me the king

There are four spots. That was how it always was. They were the core four. But now there were five? It doesn’t work, it’s uneven. Thomas’ living room isn’t big enough. They all have to squish together. Unless someone left. It made the most sense. Someone would have to go.

Being nice was my pastime

But I've been hurt for the last time

And I won't ever let another person take advantage of me

Why could he never do anything? Why was he always in the wrong? He could never pick a side without everyone tell him that it was the wrong side. He switches, he has now tainted that side and made it wrong. He was just wrong. When everyone hated Janus, he was the only one to agree with him? He was the one who played into Janus’’ hand. And now hating Janus was wrong?! Maybe they are just looking for reasons to hate him.

The anger burns my skin, third-degree

Now my blood's boiling hotter than a fiery sea

There's nobody getting close to me

They're gonna bow to the Evil King

How would he be like as a dark side? Could he even do it? Working with his brother, wearing black? Not seeing his family again? No, he couldn’t do it.

Your nightmare's my dream

Just wait until they fall to my wicked schemes

Roman knew it was selfish, that him getting the boot from the light sides was not something he could deny. But he didn’t want that. He liked being a good guy. He liked all the fun things he got to do with Thomas and the others. He did not want to give it up. He wanted to do what Thomas needed but he didn’t want to lose what he had. Roman groans and leans back, laying on his bed. There was nothing he could do.

I never thought of myself as mean

I always thought that I'd be the queen

Wait a minute...

And there's no in-between

'Cause if I can't have that

There is something he can do.

Then I would be the leader of the dark

And the bad

Now there's a devil on my shoulder

Where the angels used to be

And he's calling me the prince of mean (calling me, calling me)

He just hopes Virgil doesn’t get mad at him for stealing his idea.

The prince of mean (calling me, calling me)

Roman sighed, he accepted his decision. And this time no one was going to influence his choice, much less change it.

Something's pulling me

It's so magnetic

My body is moving

Unsure where I'm headed

Roman looks up at the knock of the door. “Kiddo? Can we talk?” He put a pillow in his face to muffle his batted breath.

All of my senses have left me defenseless

This darkness around me

Is promising vengeance

“Kiddo?” Patton asks again, shaking his doorknob. Thank Zeus he always makes sure it’s locked. “I just want to make sure you’re okay.” Patton’s voice sounded a bit desperate, maybe he knew what he was about to do.

The price that I'm willing to pay is expensive

There's nothing to lose

When you're lonely and friendless

“I’m fine Padre” Roman replied, make sure his voice sounded as normal as he could, even holding his breath when he felt it about to break. When Patton tried to continue, Roman was quick enough to cut him off “I just don’t want to talk right now? I just need to be alone.”

So my only interest is showing this prince

That I am the queen

And my reign will be endless (endless)

Patton sighed from behind the door, he knew he wasn’t going to get through to Roman. He understands about needing space to process his emotions. “Okay kiddo, just call me when you are ready to talk”.

I want what I deserve

I want to rule the world

Sit back and watch them learn

It's finally my turn

“Will do!” Roman shouted and waited for Patton’s footsteps to descend down the hallway. He had a lot of work to do and needed to so before he got too tired from all this crying he was doing. He first sent all the work on his desk to the Mind Palace. That was a place anyone can go to. If anyone cared enough to look for him, they have those ideas. It should be enough so no one will come looking for him. Not like they would anyway.

If they want a villain for a king

I'm gonna be one like they've never seen

I'll show them what it means

He summoned plenty of food, water, and movies to keep himself occupied so he would have no reason to leave his room. It was proud of his ability to do so with so many tears falling. He then ripped off his prince outfit, he didn’t deserve it. Like he didn’t deserve his famILY, or Thomas’ praise or anything.

Now that I am that

I will be the ruler of the dark and the bad

'Cause the devil's on my shoulder

Where the angels used to be

Lastly, wished them all well. He summoned a flower and picked off a petal “To Patton, I won’t get in your way anymore.” Pluck “To Logan, you never have to deal with me again.” Pluck “To Virgil, I won’t annoy you again.” Pluck “To Remus, have fun being the main creativity” Pluck goes the last petal “To Janus, enjoy my spot”

And he's calling me the prince of mean (calling me, calling me)

The prince of mean (calling me, calling me)

Roman climbed under his blanket with a broke smile on his face. This was it. They didn’t want him so he didn’t need them. He could sleep for a very, very long time. He hadn’t done that in a while and boy did he need it. He didn’t have to worry anyone kissing him awake.

He knew this was the right choice. Now the stupid, egotistical, annoying baby was gone. He finally killed what was making Thomas’ life difficult.

I want what I deserve

#thomas sanders #roman sanders #roman angst #sanders sides #ts sides #deciet sanders #patton sanders #janus sanders

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endlessfangirlao3 · 4 years

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Why I like Gen

@assagirigen on twitter dared me so-

Gen Asagiri is an interesting person.

When we first meet him he shows himself as a shallow man who wants nothing more than to be on the winning side. Does matter to him which side wins he just wants to be on that side. The reader already knows about Tsukasa and his plan at this point. We know he is killing older people and only letting the young live, so to hear Gen say he doesn’t care about that and saying he was leaning more to Tsukasa. was a great way of showing how shallow he can be. All though I don’t think he is as shallow as he claimed.

Right after he says all of this he saves Senkuu from being killed by Magma. At this point Gen only heard claims of what Senkuu could do and has no proof for himself. Gen’s mission was to make sure Senkuu was dead so if Gen stepped aside and let Magma kill him Gen would be done with his mission, but no Gen stands up to one of the strongest people in the village with only flowers. The moment Gen saw electricity in the stone world his thoughts of a harem were totally outweighed. (Literally. Chapter 24 last page) If Gen really was on Tsukasa’s side his harem would be more important to him, but Gen isn’t and even praises Senkuu saying “Y..You can’t be serious Senkuu!! In this completely empty stone world starting from zero! I can’t believe you really did it..”. At this point Gen has proof of Senkuu’s genius, but he still knows being in the Kingdom of science meant manual labor. Something he was not about. Still, he helped Senkuu by convincing Kinro and Girno to help with the generator. I think the moment Gen saw the light bulb he knew Senkuu could 100% bring back the old world.

In chapter 26 we see a flashback Tsukasa depetrified Gen. The moment Tsukasa says he killed a man (That at this point Gen had no idea who) Gen looks suspicious of Tsukasa.

In the same chapter we see the group talk about Gen and asking if he is a good guy. Chrome even asks if Gen is listening trying to rile him up. Gen blows off the statements from Chrome saying he is a silver tongue mentalist and he doesn’t care, but us the reader already know where his loyalties are. Even part of his name means loyalty. Asagiri, Giri (ぎり) being loyal/ duty. Gen walks over to the generator and runs his hand over it foundly. Even after Gen got stabbed and almost died by Magma he was still loyal to Senkuu and the kingdom of science. We find out that he used blood bags and that dulled some of the blows but it still left Gen hurt. One thing I want to point out quickly is when did Gen back the blood bags? You could say before he got to the village, but he didn’t know he would be attacked there. He was so confident in his flower trick why would he need blood bags? I think Gen knew he had to get away from Tsukasa because it wasn’t safe there. In chapter 50 we see another flashback where Gen thinks “It’ll be hard to break through with just eloquent words” when he looks at the blissfully happy people in the empire of might. Gen was planning to leave/ stop Tsukasa but he couldn’t do it alone. So what he said before was just a lie to see what Senkuu could do and if Gen was truly safe if he joined the kingdom of science. Gen heard what Kohaku said about if he didn’t go back to tell Tsukasa Senkuu was Dead Tsukasa was suely going to find out. Gen could have asked a lot of Senkuu seeing how smart he was, but no he just just asked for a cola.

The next morning Gen, still recovering, ran up a mountain to the empire of might. He makes it there and is clearly out of breath but waste no time telling Tsukasa that Senkuu was dead. In short Gen in that moment laced his fate with the Kingdom of science. If they went down so did he. Even adding “Without a shadow of a doubt”.

We don’t see Gen again for quite a bit of time but the next time we see him he says that “I need the kingdom of science to win this too,” He knows he had tied his fate with the Kingdom of science. He frames it like it is all for Cola but a few pages later Gen says “heh well, I don’t exactly think he is that nice of a person” When Gen finds the carbonic acid. Gen didn’t actually think Senkuu was going to make him a cola. When Gen walks back to the lab and sees the cola he is surprised too and the smile he had on his face while drinking the cola too says a lot about how this isn’t something he expected but an unexpected gift.

Gen is still a double agent in chapter 45 when he informs Senkuu that Tsukasa’s armies are coming. He still acts like he is just a shallow person but when Gen says that he is sweating and his scar is a bit beant. Gen puts himself in harm's way again By telling Hyoga goons that he is going to be a spy in the village. When Hyoga shows up Gen picks up on Senkuu’s plan and manipulates Magma into doing what Gen asks of him. Gen used his knowledge of Magma and his wants to help Senkuu. Gen made it look like the village had guns and forced Hyoga to retreat. Gen knows that will make the prideful idiots pissed off that they lost and they will want revenge as quick as possible so Gen brings up attacking during a storm. Gen leaves small trail flowers and makes small cuts into Hyoga’s spear with the hope that it will help save someone. Gen knows damn well how strong Hyoga is but he still risks his life making those cuts and leaving a trail. Gen has 100% of confidence In Senkuu and the kingdom of science and so officially sides with them. Even with a seemingly impossible goal of a phone Gen still gets the villages on Senkuu’s side and they help with the telephone.

Once Gen officially joins the kingdom of science we see him enjoying himself and actually smiling a lot more. He goes along with a meme, appreciates a christmas tree, and he even does a little song while making batteries. (adorable). I also noticed that part of Gen’s manipulation is through his hand movements so when he is relaxed he hides his hands. (he does it a lot)

Chapter 54, Senkuu is visibly more stressed and then Gen notices he looks a bit sad. (excuse me fangirling) What does Gen do? Leave it be and let Senkuu be stressed? NOPE! He gets Senkuu up to watch the first sunrise of the new year. He even says “Changing the mood and refreshing one’s spirits… that is my job isn’t it?” Gen didn't say everyone. He said one’s like he knows Senkuu is worried and wants to help him relax a bit.

When Gen sees that Magma is clearlying going to try and kill Senkuu, Gen tells Mamga a quick story and saves both Chrome and Senkuu. I am guessing he told the same story to the village and convinced them to help with an observatory for Senkuu’s birthday. Did Gen have to do this? No. It didn’t do anything besides just make work for him (I swear this is not going to be a Sengen rant). The pleased face Gen has looking at Senkuu just says everything.

Not saying Gen isn’t still a manipulative person who will lie to get to his goals but it’s not really his goals anymore. It’s the goals of the kingdom of science Gen is now lying for. Even with his beyond crazy plan of tricking the Empire of might into thinking Lillian is still alive he knows that it’s wrong morally but that doesn’t matter. It will help take Tsukasa and Hyoga down. Gen was fully ready to be hated and hunted down by the others for lying but as long as they can save everyone that doesn’t matter.

Chapter 64,

Gen is with Chrome and Magma when they find the people that are going to be depetrified. Magma brings up just killing them and how that would just be the easiest thing. Gen’s logical side agrees and he says breaking them would be for the best, but right before Magma can smash the man Gen thinks about how the statue isn’t just a sauce but a human with a family, memories, and loved ones that would miss him. Gen stops Magma and says that they have done nothing wrong. “Even for a realist like me.. When the time comes that we take direct action we’re really weak aren’t we~? So weak…” Even though it would be the easiest plan Gen can’t bring himself to let people be killed.

Skipping the treasure arccc! I refuse.

American arc!

Last one alright. Gen is captured by Stan and is questioned about the leader of the ship. Gen being the master liar says it’s Taiju. Gen even apologized to Taiju for doing that to him. Gen knows he is in a lot of danger. This isn’t science v raw brute force anymore. This was science v science but still Gen remains loyal to Senkuu and buys him time.

Gen is full of cheap tricks he uses for the kingdom of science. While yes Gen is manipulative he uses it for good which I like. He could use it for his own gain but he never really uses his knowagle against people for his gain. Gen knows he is manipulative and is honest with himself about it. He was willing to take on the hate of others just to save other people. That’s why I love Gen Asagiri. (Also he’s design is great)

#dr. stone #drst #dr stone #gen asagiri #asagiri gen

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weird-incarnate · 3 years

Text

The Origins of Dr. Valentine Ch.2

TW: Blood, Wounds, Alcohol, An Attempted Stabbing

So Part 2! I don’t know how many of these there will be. I write these when I’m bored lol. Enjoy the introduction of Mortus Memori! Summary: Mortus just wanted to go for a walk. What he did not want was a near dead nephilim with tons of emotional issues.

Read under the cut

Mortus looked at the scene before him. He was just going for a walk after spending all night running the pub and the last thing he expected to see was a dead body. Like he wasn’t not expecting to see a dead body. The supernatural creatures that frequented his pub often dragged in all sorts of treats, and he as an imp was not unfavorable to it. Blood was just part of the job.

But it didn’t take long for him to piece together that this was not a normal dead body. She was wrapped in a pathetic attempt at clothing, crude bandages wrapped around her chest, and shorts made of a stiff cotton fabric. She was attractive looking, not Mortus’s type but she would’ve had many suitors, certainly. The large bleeding wounds on her back had to be the cause of death. They were massive V-shaped cuts that trailed from the tip of her shoulder down to her lower spine. They looked painfully deep too.

Mortus felt his cursed humanity getting to him. If the girl was left here like this, she must not have had much. He didn’t like murder per se. It was just something that happened around him. He would bury his victims and others when he could, not to hide them but to at least give them a shred of respect. He moved closer to the body, most of her obscured by the fetal position she took in death, her hair covering her face. Only to be scared straight out of his skin. She whipped over, very alive, and pinned his frame down with her arm, brandishing a ruby blade covered in blood in the other, immediately recognizable as a devil’s blade. “DON’T FUCKING TOUCH ME!!!” She screamed her eyes visible. Mortus realized he made a major mistake. Her eyes were pink, with her pupils shaped like hearts. They glowed in the darkness of the night around them. She wasn’t just some mortal… This was a nephilim. A fallen angel. And from the looks of her bleeding back, someone had just stolen her wings. “H-Hey! I’m sorry I didn’t mean to startle you. I-I thought you were dead!” Mortus stuttered out, cursing his fear. “I… wanted to help you!” “LIAR!!” She screamed, her breath shaking, and tears forming in her eyes. She gasped as if she had the wind knocked out of her. Ooookay, clearly she had some sort of issue. Besides the obscene amount of bodily trauma. “YOU HUMANS ARE DISGUSTING.” Oh… Oh she thought Mortus was a human… He was in fact not human. He was a demon imp, but he wasn’t sure if that would help the situation.. Yet he took a risk “I’m… not human,” He stated carefully. She stopped pushing him down as hard for a moment, and loosened her grip on the blade, readjusting. “Another… nonhuman?” She mumbled, “What are you then? You look human.”

“I’m… a demon…” He said taking the chance. He closed his eyes preparing to die, but it didn’t come. She just sat on top of him for a moment, her blade wielding arm falling to her side sadly. He awkwardly shifted under her as she was half straddling him and he was sure a newly fallen angel wouldn’t understand how uncomfortably intimate this was for him. As if taking the que, she rolled off of him and laid on the ground nearby. “Then you know what I am,” She stated matter of factly. It wasn’t a question. “A nephilim yes,” Mortus responded, lifting himself off the dirt, and dusting off his bar uniform. His heart hurt at the look on her face. She winced at the word ‘nephilim’ as if he had spat acid on her. How soon had she fallen before they stole her wings? Who stole her wings? She had to have felt so violated losing something so important. He couldn’t imagine losing his wings, but at least he could summon and unsummon them at will. Angel’s wings didn’t go away till they were stripped of them. He stood up quietly and looked over at her, and held out a hand. She winced as if expecting to be hit, or hurt in some way. “Woah woah… I’m not gonna hurt you,” He said softly, “You’re... Pretty banged up. You’re probably really scared right? That’s okay… It’s okay to be scared right now. Or angry even! Just… let me patch you up okay? I don’t want you to die cold and alone out here…” “It’s… okay?” She asked, gazing up at him. Her eyes looked at him, and he could’ve swam in the sorrow he saw in them. The tears spilled out, falling to the dirt and she shakily reached for his hand, stopping inches away. “I… can’t walk…” “That’s okay. I can use my magic to carry you back. It’s late so no one will see.” He closed the distance taking her hand and rubbing comforting circles on the back of it with his thumb. She shifted over in the grass, sitting up fully. He showed her his other hand that glowed with a black and red energy. The energy surrounded her, allowing her to float slightly. She yelped at the feeling, but didn’t let go of his hand, if anything her grip tightened. Smiling, he pulled on her hand, guiding her like an awkward balloon into town.

The town was dark except for a lone pub, Mortus’s pub. He took her inside and set her on top of an empty table. No one was in the bar but the woman walked around with curiosity watching the flickering light of his lanterns, and the red curtains of the stage. She seemed most fascinated by the arrangement of colorful bottles holding different levels of alcohol in them. He wondered if she’s had alcohol before. Probably. He remembered angels being very finicky about wine.

It took three hours to patch her up. One hour was spent from Mortus convincing her to let him patch her up, and she never agreed, but she passed back out again from blood loss. The majority of the patching up took another hour and the last hour was spent scrubbing blood off the table and floor. Angel’s blood was made to fucking stain floors, he swears. After everything was cleaned up, he carried her upstairs to the rooms above the bar and placed her in his bed. He would’ve placed her in one of the guest room beds but he didn’t trust the cleanliness of them and he wanted to keep an eye on her anyways. God, he had gotten soft. He just wasted three hours of his time off fixing up an angel that tried to kill him. But he couldn’t help it. She looked so scared. He tucked her into bed, with a little too much care for his own tough guy schtick to handle, and sat at his desk nearby, glancing out the window. During the hour-long coaxing situation she had yelled something about just having her wings ripped off by a complete stranger and not wanting to trust Mortus to treat the wounds. It had struck a chord with him. She didn’t know who stole her wings. Most times it’s an act saved for the bitterest of rivals. And angels were rare on earth. So what person met an angel… and hurt her in such a way? Some part of him was angry. Okay, a massive part of him was angry, but there was nothing to do now. He looked out the window at the moonlight pouring in. He thought about it for a moment and sighed. What was the old saying? When a bell rings an angel gets their wings? He wished it was that simple that he could bring the woman’s wings back. He realized through all this he never got her name. He had just called her the nickname he called every hurt woman he comes across. Valentine. He smiled at the thought again and looked back at her before heading to a guest room to sleep. He blew out the lamp and stepped out the door but not before looking back one last time. “See you in the morning… Ms. Valentine.”

#writing #plaguecore #plague doctor #plaguesona #OC origin story

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stevenuniversetanzanite · 4 years

Text

Fallen Angel (Venable X reader) Part 3

General Notice: I’m trying to get more works out during this time that is rough for all of us. That being said I am trying to keep it's quality up.

I googled Ms Venable’s cane to find out what the topper was for like one line in this chapter and boy was I not disappointed. Also, I am going to post the first chapter of the prequel later tonight. I’ll shove the link under and at the end if you want to check that.

Prequel Link: The Angel Among Us (Cordelia x reader) Plot: The event’s leading up to Y/N joining Michael and the Cooperative.

Summary/idea: Two strangers come to ‘save’ the occupants of outpost 3. Neither are what they seem.

Warnings: N/A

Parts: Part 1, Part 2, Part 3 , Part 4, Part 5 (Will add as I go)

It was the first time you had been up at mealtime since the first day. You decided to grace the dinner hall with your presence. Upon entering Venable commanded two of the greys to get you a meal and a chair and place it at the end of the table opposite her. It was the only vacant spot unless you did some shuffling the chairs around.

You had no problem with where you were placed. It allowed you to chat with the nearby purples while occasionally glancing up to see Venable deciphering you.

You were too much and yet too little. A hindrance to her whole way of running and yet the few rules you followed you followed to a T. She should kill you, save any trouble you could cause but she didn’t mind your presence. Not to mention they would have to deal with Michael as well.

It was better to leave you alive for now. You may still have something useful in you.

After last night, her tolerance to your presence changed. For a moment, she was warming up to you. Were you eccentric? For sure but it was tolerable.

You wouldn’t look at her after her examination, she disgusted you, or so her mind had led her to believe. She couldn’t see a noticeable change in your behaviour besides you being awake and present for dinner.

You got stuck into your cube the moment it was placed before you. Venable watched eyes glued onto your every move as you indulged in your mediocre cube. You acted like it was the best meal you had in years.

"So, Ms L/N, tell us about yourself." Venable said. This was the first time she actively sought out a conversation during mealtime. All the occupants looked around at each other confused but remained silent.

"There's not much to say-"

"You always seem to have a comment to make in the most mundane of things, I'm sure you can come up with something."

"Alright? Uh~" you tried to remember what you were going to say. There was so much, maybe too much to tell. "My childhood was uneventful, I went to finishing school in New Orleans, didn't do too much for me clearly, uh, left, and ended up getting hired there. It's been a boring journey. I'm sure yours was more interesting, I mean the head of an outpost, that's pretty impressive."

"Well-"

"That or it was pure coincidence." Venable choked on her food.

"Pardon." Venable was offended.

"Just like the Gallants' -and Coco's assistant Mallory- I know all about her." You adjusted yourself in your chair into a power sitting position. "I'm sure it was pure coincidence that Coco's family were on vacation at the time of the apocalypse and not some external sources doing."

"What are you in about?" Coco asked.

"Nothing," you said innocently.

Did the Cooperative plan all of this or was this another one of your mind games? Venable thought.

You messed with Emily's mind the first day you met the purples, talking about how you couldn't get all the information you needed via interview. When Venable thought about it, maybe you weren't joking. It made perfect sense- well no it didn't but nothing about you did. You were playing a game of good cop and bad cop. Michael, hellbent on the interview structure and always having his way while you weren’t so picky on how you got your information. You were most likely analysing everyone and feeding your findings back to the man, seeing if they were being honest.

Or were you more like an angel and a devil? You weren't so keen on following Langdon's rules and were hell-bent on studying up trouble for him, considering putting him to Venable.

You played with fire, bringing up her unconventional means of landing her current job. What she didn't expect was for you to question the Gallants', Coco's and someone named Mallory- must have been grey. No one needed to know about her past which you knew an alarming amount about. She decided to approach you about your misbehaviour. If you were going hang around here, you were going to be treated for your crimes.

You tried to walk to your haven when a cane blocked your path. You smirked to yourself.

"Wipe that smug look off your face this instant," Venable said. without having to see your face she knew your reaction. "How dare you question my authority?"

"I didn't question your authority, you can boss me around any day, I only suggested you weren't as qualified as others." That was as bad if not worse, Venable thought.

"You think you can wreck my reputation without consequences," Venable snarled.

"So, I did strike a nerve? I thought you would be above this."

"Shut up for once in your goddamn life."

"What do you intend to do if I don't?" She didn't respond. "That's what I thought. You're just as bland as the rest of them. I should have-"

"Fuck you."

"Fuck you too-"

"I answered your question. Into my office now!"

You spun around and raised your eyebrow, "Wait- what?" This had to be a joke. Maybe you were still asleep.

"You wanted me so badly earlier, was that all a game?"

"Wait- you actually bite?" From her records you found have thought she was aro or ace or something.

"Oh, I can and so much more," she growled. It was off, an underlying level of uncomfortableness to it. Maybe you were right? Or- OH MY GOD- HAS SHE EVEN-

“You’re bluffing,” you said calmly. “Right?” She wasn’t. “No.”

“What?!” Venable was in disbelief. Were you telling her no? Really? After all you're forcing yourself out you reject your chance. “You had no problem galivanting about earlier. Is it my deformity?”

“V, I don’t give a shit about your back as long as it doesn’t hurt you.”

She hasn't caught on that you'd done a similar thing before with the wine. You would play your game and when you get her attention to say no, wanting something else instead. This time, you didn't want a physical thing like wine but for her to be comfortable, something you could tell she wasn't.

“What about last night?”

“What about it?”

“You- aren’t you disgusted? By it? By me?”

“Did I give you that impression? I am so sorry. I didn’t mean to- I was...” Venable waited for whatever excuse you were coming up with. “I was having a problem with Michael- uh, I mean Mickey.”

“Would you…" She wasn't sure how to do this, "like to talk about it?”

You looked around the hallway. “You’re office still available?” She nodded. You allowed her to lead, setting the pace of how fast you walked.

Rested in the spare office chair in Venable’s office, you yanked your skirt up so you could sit cross-legged in your chair. You rubbed your hands rigorously together trying to warm them up. The fireplace was on the other side of the room. So long to being warm. You settled down when the redhead's attention was comfortably in her chair. She sighed, happy to relieve some of the pain of standing upright. You half-smiled, erasing the smile from your face when her attention is shifted to you. You decided against looking at her, raw emotions relating to your pain and suffering felt different to delivering a snide comment or even your bubbly normal self- as normal as your life has been the last thirty-odd years.

“Are your having a falling out?”

“Hmm~” you hummed. Your attention was transfixed on the fireplace. Your hand’s subconsciously rubbing your arm trying to create some heat. It was the first time in the outpost you’d worn something sleeveless. “He just gets on my nerves is all.” The light from the fireplace lit half of your face with its warm orange glow. The shadows enhanced your soft features on your sombre expression.

Venable couldn’t help but be transfixed by your beauty under the fireplace’s light. Curled up in her spare office chair, disheartened by the previous day’s events, your attention on to her. Unlike last night, she didn’t mind. She was witnessing a rare beauty, something she had yet to witness before. The chaotic energy of Ms L/N subdued. She knew somewhere in you there was a soft yet less dysfunctional human.

“Have you ever been in love?” You asked.

Venable was taken aback by the question. It was out of nowhere. Unless- where you and Michael a thing? She didn’t think he was your type, or you his. She couldn’t have missed the signs. She would have noticed something like that by now. You barely spent your time together, only a few hours a night if that.

“Can’t say I have.”

“You aren’t missing out on much.” You turned further away from her. You were now sitting completely sideways in your chair, huddled up, your head leant up against the backing of the seat. Less of your face was visible. Venable wished you would face her. “It’s a vile feeling. It infects your mind so it’s the only thing you think about.” You continued to rub your hands together. “I thought I was in love once. I wasn’t myself.” Literally.

“What happened?”

“The same as everyone else. We had a falling out.” You breathed into your hands hoping your breath would warm you up. “Conflicting morals.”

“Are you cold?” Venable asked.

“Nah, it’s fine.” you turned to look at her face. Her staple stone-cold expression replaced with concern, doe-eyed look. She was simply adorable. Thanks be to the devil that she couldn’t read minds, or you’d be dead.

'Kill what it wants.’ Michael's words echoed in your mind, ‘Kill Venable.' You couldn't bear the thought of doing such a thing, but you weren't sure siding with Michael was the best. Yes, you were partner's in this whole orchestration of this plan, but did you have to join him in the first place? You had a good life, a girlfriend, a 'family' of sorts, it all seemed fine for years… but it was all a lie. You were living someone else's life- not literally, you were in your body. Your life was written, your experiences and interests weren't yours. You were rewritten. It could only be compared to whatever had happened to Mallory and Coco. You knew the supreme or whoever survived brainwashed them. Coco was never that insufferable.

“You can move closer to the fire.” Venable played with the raven skull topper of her cane, twirling it about absentmindedly.

“It’s fine.”

Venable sighed. She didn’t realise you were going to be stubborn. Something compelled her to beckon you closer. The atmosphere for the room was peaceful, the only sounds were the crackling of the fire and your occasional sigh. From the moment you walked in the room smelt of your scent. It was truly intoxicating how everything was about you in that moment. She had everything but your attention. Your mind caught in a dream of the past and of someone who wasn’t her.

“Come here.” You looked at her confused. She repeated herself in a more commanding tone. Warily, you shuffled closer. Your fragrance got stronger the closer you got. Venable wondered how even though you were significantly taller than her, you managed to be cute. From the way you dressed, to the way you acted you had her captivated.

Once by her side, she said, “Sit.” You sat down where you were. She meant on her lap, but this would do for now. “Shuffle closer.” You followed orders. She gently moved your head to lean against her outer thing. She brushed her hand through your hair, untangling some of the notes with her free hand. The other hand still playing with her cane. You went to speak but was hushed by Venable telling you to relax.

“You're surprising good at this,” you thought aloud.

“I know how to care for people, I’m not heartless.” Venable continued to run her hand through her hair, taking care not to tug it. “You should dress more appropriately. As much as I like your outfit, it’s not appropriate for winter. Where did you even get this outfit?”

You shrugged, “Found it.” You moved your head. Venable was bemused by it. “That reminds me. I have a gift.” You leapt up and stuck out your hand.

“What is it?”

“You’ll have to follow me to see.”

She took your ice-cold hand and allowed you to guide her through the halls she ruled for months now. What could you show her that she hadn’t already seen? If it were a simple material gift, couldn’t you have brought it to her instead of the other way around?

“I was the main person in charge of fulfilling all your odd requests,” you informed her. “I studied the layout knowing that one day I would have to come here.” You mentioned that the school belonged to an elite boys’ school as she already knew. You added the information she didn’t know. “The boys were all murdered back in 2018 allowing me plenty of time to mess around with the infrastructure. Knowing that I would have to visit this place, I designed a little getaway. I think you’ll like it, it’s the only room with functioning power.”

Your words explained a few of her questions about you. The main one being how you knew so much about her and what she’s been doing here. You’d help orchestrate it. Unlike Michael who only found out about her rule-breaking here, you’d would have predicted it, only having your suspicions confirmed here.

She was led to a bookcase in the library. The purples didn’t appreciate literature as much as Venable leaving the room vacant of people. “I knew the library was here, how is this room special?”

“You’ve clearly never read the great works of… The Beautiful Poetry of Donald Trump (Unabridged)? What the fuck this?” You looked at the cover. You had expected some post-apocalyptic book there or hell even the holy bible would be funny, but this? “Oh, bless, it wasn’t written by him, I didn’t want him ruining poetry for me too.” You slid your hand where the book was feeling around for a button. Once found you pressed it, opening a secret door. You shoved the book back in its place before allowing the redhead to enter the room ahead of yourself.

Venable stepped into the darkness, you kept close behind. Only when the door had been sealed had the light switched on.

Light scattered across the room appearing like little shards of light on the walls and flooring. The chandelier spun slowly moving the light about like a disco ball. The floor was one for dancing in ballrooms. An expensive piano sat in the corner of the room. The room was laid out like an auditorium, a stage at the back with a massive pull-down projector screen. A door was wide open revealing a busted looking generator. You close the door saying, “I was working on that last night, I must have forgotten to close the door.”

“Is this where you come at night?”

“No. I’m usually here during the day when I can't sleep.”

“How often is that?”

“I haven't even showed you the best part yet.” You ignored her question, dashing to the door beside the generates room. “Open it.”

Venable did. Instead the room was a desk with three monitors all pointing towards the desk chair.

“A computer?”

“With full internet access.”

“And that’s good because?”

“No one’s monitoring it.” You said over her shoulder. “Everything about everything was done online, you can find anything about anyone on there, with no one to stop you.”

“There would still be passwords-”

“Oh, look beside the keyboard, a handy book on all the passwords you’d need to any government site. How did that get there?”

“You want me to use that on Michael?”

“I’m not telling you what to do. I’m merely giving you the equipment. You can watch cat videos for all I care. However, it may be good for blackmail or getting to know your residents, guests or workers. Again, it’s down to you.” You to stood in silence for a few seconds longer than you should have. You cleared your thought pulling away from the awkward silence. “I could hook up the power to your office if you would like- or bedroom. You can’t mention this room to anyone else, or out there. It’s our little secret. Only we know about its existence or how to get in here.”

“Why are you showing me this?” Venable asked.

“I don’t mind your company.” You giggled, “I thought I already established this.”

You switched from a depressive state to a happy state in what seemed sudden. To be honest, Venable had taken her mind of you briefly to take in the place, she could have missed the build-up.

You lead her to the office chair, so she didn’t need to stand longer than needed. She quietly thanked you.

You set up the computer for her. You propped yourself up against the arm of the chair, messing with some programs to change the language settings for her. Venable didn’t recognise the language on the monitor. It was nothing like she had ever seen, she would be surprised if it was even from earth. “There. Sorry about that, I should have prepped it for you before I brought you here, but I was way too excited to show you.”

“It’s no problem Y/N. The fact that your showing me this at all, astounds me.” Your eyes light up at the mention of your first name. She remembered- and even chose to call you that.

You chuckled. You went to move off the chair when two hands wrapped around your waist tugging you forward. You collapsed into Venable’s lap, “V?”

“Yes, Y/N?”

“What are you doing?”

“If I recall correctly, you were cold earlier. I’m simply trying to warm you up.”

“Isn’t that usually done naked?”

Venable froze, “You’re straightforward, aren’t you?”

“What?” Then it clicked. “Oh~ That’s not what I meant.” Venable didn’t believe you. “I wouldn’t refuse if you wanted to do that,” You said.

“Maybe another time.” She used your own trick against you.

“No, that’s no fair~” you whined, playfully hitting Venable.

“You had your chance tonight.”

“You’re torture.”

“I know.”

The link first chapter to the prequel if you want it.

Link to next chapter

#wilhemina venable x reader #wilhelmina venable x reader #wilhelmina x reader #venable x reader

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themysteryofwriting · 4 years

Text

How Ray Became Anxiety

Quick Note: this work is based off an au of mine. Roman and Patton are NOT meant to be unsympathetic. Just really not understanding and both kind of jerks to Virgil and also to Ray and the other darks later. Pretty much they don't get what they did wrong, not even realizing how bad they messed up, but they're not intentionally trying to hurt anyone

TW: Light Sides being Jerks, Major Character Death, Virgil ducks out, Transformation of Character

For Rachel, that day would forever be a reminder of how she messed up. It was her job to protect, and yet she couldn’t protect the one person who had always been there for her.

They had just finished filming the episode ‘Am I Original?’ and even before they headed back to the mindscape Rachel could tell something was off with Virgil.

At the time she thought it had been a mix of Virgil’s recent fight and separation from Janus and Remus, along with having to deal with the lights treatment of him.

She wouldn’t know until later that night how wrong she was.

Fortunately, she did have a bad feeling so she went to go check on Virgil, after making sure the others weren’t around so they didn’t overhear. Not because she was ashamed of her brother or anything, it had actually been Virgil’s idea to keep their relationship a secret. Mainly because he was scared of what they would do if they found out they were related. Especially with how the others treated him.

Rachel had originally argued against it, knowing that they knew about the Creativity Twins and didn’t treat Roman badly, but a few very convincing arguments later, she finally agreed.

The second none of the others were around, Rachel headed to Virgil’s room and knocked on the door. “Anx you in there,” she called, just in case some of the others were still within earshot.

Fortunately, it didn’t take long for Virgil to open the door. He smiled slightly upon seeing Rachel and let her in. “Hey, Ray, what’s up?”

Rachel smiled slightly at her brother, but couldn’t help but notice he was fidgeting with his hands a bit as he talked. He normally didn’t do that around her unless he was really anxious. That wasn’t good at all.

“You seemed nervous during filming, I wanted to check on you,” Rachel said softly.

“Well, I’m fine now.”

“The way you’re fidgeting says otherwise.”

That caused Virgil to freeze, he clearly hadn’t noticed Rachel noticed him fidgeting. “Okay maybe I was a little anxious but it wasn’t too bad.”

“Virgil….”

“I’m fine Ray it’s nothing,” Virgil said, trying to shrug Rachel off, “Just a little thrown off by everything. I’ll be back to normal in a little bit.”

Rachel just sighed. “Okay how about we do a movie night or something? Make you feel better?”

“Nah, it shouldn’t be that bad Ray,” Virgil said, “Go work on that thing you said you were making me.”

“You sure V? I can stay if you need me to,” Rachel couldn’t explain why, but something was telling her she needed to stay with Virgil, that she shouldn’t leave.

“I’m fine Ray, you don’t need to worry about me.”

“I know I just...have a bad feeling,” Rachel admitted, “I don’t know what it is but I feel like if I leave you alone something bad is going to happen.”

“Hey everything’s going to be fine Ray,” Virgil said, “How about you come back over after you finish the jacket? I promise I won’t go anywhere and that will help you calm some.”

Rachel nodded and smiled. “Yeah that should work. I guess I’ll see you later Vee.”

Virgil nodded. “See ya Ray.”

Rachel smiled as she headed out and back to her room. Not knowing that would be the last time she’d see Virgil alive.

As soon as she got to her room, she pulled out Virgil’s jacket that she had been working on and got to work. She didn’t have too much left to do, just a few finishing touches to make the jacket look better, and she wanted to finish as soon as possible as the bad feeling about Virgil wasn’t going away.

Unfortunately, once Ray started to work on something, she tended to get in a zone. This meant if anything happened outside her little bubble of focus and it wasn’t loud enough to break her out of it she didn’t realize what was going on.

The only things that were able to break her out of that state were someone coming to check up on her, one of the others being in enough trouble that they summoned her, or Thomas summoning her.

This was usually used to help guide Thomas out of a situation he got himself into, but it also worked when she was working on something.

Which means she didn’t get up that night until she finished. And by that point, it was too late.

Rachel could tell something was wrong as soon as she looked up. The feeling had only gotten stronger. And her blood ran cold as she started to head over to Virgil’s room and found a purple flower crown and a letter waiting for her.

Rachel put the flower crown to the side for now and decided to read the letter.

Ray,

By the time you’re reading this, I’ll probably already be gone. I’m sorry I know I promised to be there for you but I guess your feeling earlier was right. I can’t do this anymore Ray. I thought I at least had Logan but well...you were there for today’s episode. Thomas will be better off without me anyway. He has you after all, and we practically do the same to help him. I’m sorry Ray, I’ll hope you’ll do better without me.

-V

Rachel wasn’t even sure when she had dropped the letter and starting to bolt to Virgil’s room. She had to stop him.

As she ran she felt a sense of danger radiating from Virgil and tried to get there faster. He would have already locked his room so she couldn’t sink in and stop him. She had to make sure she got there in time.

But just as she arrived at the door, it started to fade.

“No,” Rachel cried out, reaching for the doorknob, hoping by some miracle she’d be able to stop it from fading. She didn’t care if it was improbable. She had to try. Not even giving up as the doorknob faded from her hands.

It wasn’t until the door completely faded that Rachel collapsed in front of it. It wasn’t until she saw the tears drip onto the ground that she realized she was sobbing.

He was gone. He had left her.

Her body started to shake with sobs. She didn’t want to do this alone. She should have stayed with him, maybe then everything would be okay.

She wasn’t sure how long she was there, just sobbing, not aware of her surroundings, but she did know that after a while she ran out of tears.

Just as she started to push herself off the ground she heard someone call out. “Rachel wait! You might not want to get up quite yet.”

Rachel turned in surprise and saw Logan standing there. She wasn’t sure how long he had been there and was about to ask him what he meant when the pain hit.

At the time Ray had been about halfway off the ground, but the pain made her fall back down as she gripped her head. It hurt so much. Why did she hurt so much?

She couldn’t really focus on what was going on but it sounded like Logan was trying to talk to her? She definitely felt hands on her shoulder, maybe trying to ground her?

All she knew is the pain was bad enough that her vision was wavering. “I don’t,” she muttered before her vision started going black, quickly losing consciousness afterward.

By the time Rachel regained consciousness, she was in Logan’s room. While she was still in slight pain, her head was still pounding slightly but nothing like the pain she had been feeling earlier. She looked around the room in confusion before noticing Logan working at his desk. “Logan,” she asked, noticing her voice was slightly sore as she spoke, “What happened?”

Upon hearing her speak, Logan looked up from what he was working on. “Oh you’re awake. That’s good, I wasn’t sure how long you would be out. As far as I know it’s only happened once before and-”

“Logan, my head hurts. Just get to the point.” Rachel may have been a little harsher with Logan than she needed to, but the words in the letter kept running through her mind. He had thought he had Logan before today’s episode.

Logan didn’t seem to notice as he started explaining. “So the human mind is strange. There are always sides that are needed and they’re the ones that appear in the mindscape. If a side ducks out, then said person is left without that side. However, that’s not the case if there are two similar sides in the mindscape.”

“What are you talking about,” Rachel asked, still confused.

“Basically, when a side ducks out and a similar side exists in the mindscape, that side gains the trait of the other side. Meaning what happened back there was that after Anxiety ducked out, you being the closest trait to him, ended up gaining the trait of Anxiety.”

“Wait no I couldn’t- I can’t just- that’s-,” Rachel said stumbling over her words, not sure what to say.

“It has happened before. You can ask Deceit if you want to know. As for proof it happened to you,” Logan said as he summoned a small hand mirror and handed it to Rachel, “All you have to do is look in a mirror.”

Rachel practically snatched the mirror from Logan as she looked in it. The first thing she noticed was her eyes. While the two different colors weren’t new, Rachel’s eyes had been green and brown before this had happened, what was new was her brown eye had turned a deep purple. The same shade of purple that Virgil’s eyes had been. Not to mention there was now eyeshadow under her eyes that she didn’t remember applying. Trying to smudge it off did nothing, not even leaving any on her fingers.

“When you take on the trait, you also tend to take on some of their traits,” Logan said, “At least that’s what happened with Deceit, he didn’t have the scales until after it happened.”

Rachel nodded in slight agreement before realizing something. “Logan, you want to explain to me why you were there earlier? V-Anxiety left me a note but Anxiety’s room in nowhere close to yours, there’s no way you should have known what was going on,” Rachel practically growled at Logan.

Logan paled slightly, Rachel could be scary when she angry and all Rachel could think of was that Logan was the only one mentioned by name in the letter and he just happened to be in the area.

Logan took a breath to calm himself before speaking. “I felt a disturbance in the mindscape and went to go check it out. I didn’t expect it to be him. I passed by his room on the way to check it out, I noticed that the door was gone and noticed you crying in front of it. From that, it wasn’t too hard to figure out what happened. I never meant for this to happen, I may not have gotten along with Anxiety,but I never meant to push him this far.”

Rachel paused at that, trying to figure out if Logan was lying. Enough time around Janus, and unless someone was really skilled at lying she was normally able to tell. And Logan...didn’t seem like he was lying.

“....You still shouldn’t have done it,” she finally responded.

“I shouldn’t have,” Loga agreed, “And Roman and Patton shouldn’t have either.”

That made Rachel freeze a bit. She didn’t realize that any of the ‘light sides’ went against the others, nothing more than small fights at least. And yet here was Logan, saying that what they had been doing was wrong.

“I- Yeah...they shouldn’t have,” Rachel said getting up.

“Oh before you go, I should warn you, while the physical changes have already happened, there’s still going to be the other changes, mainly gaining Anxiety’s powers and anything else he had to deal with,” Logan said, “And...while Roman and Patton will probably be...iffy about all of this, I will be here if you need anything.”

“...I’ll probably go to the others for a bit first, I still need time to process and….most of all I’m going to need time Logan, I’ll approach you when I’m ready.”

Logan nodded in understanding. “Completely understandable Rachel.”

Rachel waved slightly as she headed back to her room. She thought she was going to be okay, until she saw the letter and flower crown on the ground once she stepped inside and she could feel the tears welling up again.

She quickly glanced between the jacket she had just finished for him and the flower crown and made a decision before slipping both on. Anything to feel closer to Virgil. She started curling up in a ball as she sobbed her eyes out.

It wasn’t until after she calmed down again that she realized she had to tell Janus and Remus what had happened and somehow keep both of them from murdering the lights….or at least Logan since he had apologized. …..Crap.

#logan sanders #virgil sanders #Rachel #rachel angst #virgil angst #mentioned janus #mentioned remus #patton and roman are jerks #pre AA #mentioned patton #mentioned roman #transformation #of a sort #let me know if i need to tag anything else #MAJOR CHARACTER DEATH #virgil death

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radiojamming · 5 years

Text

The Terror Meta - Tom Hartnell: Symbol of Death, Redemption, and Bravery

By now, I think it’s been established that The Terror’s writers went above and beyond when it came to making their characters. The question board picture has been circulated (including the question of when a character went from being in a high adventure story to horror), so it’s probably not a reach to say that every character had their place in the show carefully considered. And one of those characters is Tom Hartnell.

(Warning: Long post and spoiler heavy. Uh, people die. A lot.)

For the show’s time constraints, Tom’s backstory is mentioned in snippets, mostly in the first episode. David Young provides the majority of it:

“I don’t want you to do to me what you did to Tom Hartnell’s brother. [...] I want to go to my grave as I am. Don’t cut me open.”

Several times in the same episode, references are made to the men on Beechey Island, having been the first three casualties of the Expedition. Clearly, Tom’s brother was one of these three.

I’ve posted this on my blog before, but the original pilot script also gave Tom an extra role and provided deeper backstory, such as this:

With Tom on the Erebus watching Billy Orren drown and attempting to go after him, a role that was eventually given to Collins. And again in a removed flashback to Beechey Island, which provides not only backstory, but further explanation to why Tom is the way that he is:

While this isn’t included in the show, the writers probably kept this scene in mind with his character. Yeah, Tom walked in on his brother’s autopsy. From the very beginning of the Expedition, he dealt with death in the most direct and horrifying way possible. In the sense of the writer’s question of when it went from high adventure to horror? It was probably this moment, before the show even begins.

From this point, Tom is transferred to Terror for reasons not explained, but now everyone knows what’s happened to him. Even people as far down the hierarchy rungs as David Young know, and it makes them uneasy. But here’s where it gets interesting.

At the moment David Young starts coughing, Tom Hartnell appears in nearly every single scene involving a person either dying or about to die. Case in point.

He’s sitting right behind Hickey and looks over his shoulder when David starts coughing. Shortly after, when David retches, he’s standing up and watching him.

(It should probably be noted that David dies of exactly the same disease that killed Tom’s brother. Wuh-oh.)

“Okay, DJ, but that’s just one time. He’s an AB, so of course he would be there!” you might say.

You’re right! But the next time he appears in Episode 2 (”Gore”), look who he’s standing next to.

Lieutenant Graham Gore, that’s who! (And Morfin by extension, but that’s for later. Same with Des Voeux.)

Aaaand who goes next?

(Really big UH-OH.)

And if you want to go by extension, he’s also present when Silna’s father is shot, and is the one assigned to collect Silna’s things that are in the Erebus sick bay with her father’s body in Ep. 3 (”The Ladder”).

Where he looks, appropriately, uncomfortable. @theiceandbones absolutely brilliantly pointed out that yes, this is the Erebus sick bay where Tom walked in on his brother’s autopsy. It stands to mind that of course he’d be anxious. He knocks on the doorframe before he enters, walking in slowly and nervously. His body language here is interesting and hard to capture with just screenshots, but he keeps trying to look away from the body as much as possible, but is finding it very hard to look away. Even as he’s leaving the room, he looks again, while also bodily backing away from it. With his brother’s death in mind, he’s revisiting the place where it all happened, possibly for the first time since then.

While I think his death symbolism starts with David Young, it really picks up between here and the next scene, where he speaks to Silna.

In the short time he speaks to her, a few things are established, both said and unsaid. Unlike some of the crew, Tom doesn’t appear to be uneasy about Silna, but instead is sympathetic. His job was probably just to get her things and deliver them, but he goes out of his way to help her and extends kindness in packing her food. He offers his condolences, and again, in something that is hard to catch in screenshots, he thinks about it for a moment, looking conflicted before offering them and giving her the nickname she’ll have for the rest of the series.

It’s unsaid, but undoubtedly, he’s thinking of his own loss as well.

We don’t see Tom for a little while until near the end of the episode when Sir John is taken into the firehole. And then, sure enough:

There he is. (For an AB, he’s sure showing up with officers quite a bit.)

Tom is in-frame for death after death after death.

It gets subverted (like a lot of things) in Ep. 4 (”Punished, As a Boy”). Tom is not in frame during Private Heather’s attack, which may be owed to Heather not dying. Strong is taken off-screen, and Evans is only with Crozier when he’s killed. He reappears briefly and in-focus, sitting with Hickey and Peglar, when Tozer is talking about how baffled they all are that Heather hasn’t died.

He also doesn’t appear when the Strong-Evans mismatched corpse is found by Hickey, who proceeds to actually see the Tuunbaq for the first time. The next time he’s seen is at a very pivotal scene for not only him, but the entire plot.

At this point, Hickey’s claimed responsibility for capturing Silna, and Tom stands up a few seconds after to also claim responsibility. This is where I think the tone of his subplot changes completely, all in the matter of one scene:

The interrogation.

Now the above shot is kind of amazing, and I’ve only noticed it recently, but knowing how much detail the show crew put into this, I feel like it’s relevant to point out a few things. First, this shot is framed with Hartnell in the center and Hickey and Manson off to the side, just after Hickey says that Tom saw the Tuunbaq first. There’s a brief shot of Hartnell sort of side-glaring at Hickey with his lip twitching before he steels himself, and then this composition. Little and Fitzjames are looking at Hickey, but Crozier’s looking at Tom, fully and completely. He knows something, and it feels relevant to note that Hickey is level with a chessboard, while Tom is level with the light.

I’ve posted about Tom’s face journey here before, and I’ll recycle a few shots for this, but the turning point comes just after Crozier outlines what Hickey’s being accosted and punished for. He names the punishment (the lashes), and Tom’s face says it all.

Fear. His eyes are watering. He has to take in a few breaths, but then Crozier asks what do they have to say and without even a full second of hesitation (I counted):

Tom says, “Yes, sir!” as clearly as possible. He accepts the punishment immediately. Crozier’s reaction:

He stares at Tom for a long moment, thoughtful, until Little draws his attention away.

Now, what does this have to do with the theory of Tom being a symbol of death? Well, a lot. I’ll get to that.

First, during the lashing, you only hear Tom’s v/o telling Manson that the lashings will hurt, and that the pain is the point of why they’re lashed. He is deliberately kept out of sight and focus, because the punishment isn’t really for him in the audience’s eyes anymore. He was probably absolved the moment Crozier looked at him. The punishment is completely directed on Hickey after that.

Ep. 5 (”First Shot a Winner, Lads”) is where the change in Hartnell really shows. The episode starts off with scenes of life now. Officers and men are taking measurements of temperature and gauging the speed of sound and light. Fitzjames is working on the charts (towards Back’s Fish River). Goodsir and Lady Silence are talking and translating, and the trinkets from the men are shown as they’ve interacted with her. The show physically leans away from death for a moment, which up until now has been bloody and gruesome. The first person who dies is Hornby, and all that happens to him?

He simply falls to the ground. No blood. No viscera. His heart’s just stopped.

Of course, the next time Tom appears:

He’s handling Hornby’s body and taking it down to the dead room.

This scene is very poignant because it shows how four different characters handle the idea of death and the afterlife, all in very short order.

You have Magnus, scared of the hold because he’s certain he’s heard the voices of Strong and Evans. He’s afraid of the ghosts that he’s sure are there.

You have Irving, who is oddly indignant, technical when it comes to the dead with explaining that all that’s left of them are frozen remains and canvas shrouds, and furious at the idea of Manson believing in ghosts.

Hickey, who at first seems to be doing Manson a kindness, but probably just more eager to show Irving up.

And then Tom, completely unafraid of handling a body, and offering to Manson that he can get the job done if Manson lowers Hornby down.

The next shot we see is another interesting one, with Hartnell leading the way to the dead room, Hickey bringing up the rear, and Manson, the lantern-bearer, several steps behind. (You could say a lot for crossing the River Styx energies here, ya.)

And then the dead room is shown at a Dutch angle or Dutch tilt, a technique used to establish uneasiness or tension.

Manson is watching the two of them work in the dead room, out of the light, in a shot that is off-kilter (yes, the ship is off-kilter as well, but up until this point, everyone has been shown standing upright) to suggest that something is going to go wrong. But then:

Tom steps out of the dead room first, in the lantern light, standing upright against the angle, diffusing the tension. There are no ghosts, no eerie disembodied voices. And just like that, with a quiet affirmation--

The scene ends, with nothing having gone wrong.

To follow up on this in the sense of Tom’s character, he’s gone from being nervous and touchy around the dead to being completely alright with their presence.

Following this, there are more scenes of life against all odds. Tozer is cutting Heather’s nails and speaking to him as though he’s awake. Hodgson supervises another scientific experiment with the cannons. Goodsir and Lady Silence meet with Blanky and Crozier and speak, ending up with the fight that culminates between Fitzjames and Crozier. No one is killed. If anything, this is one the liveliest scenes thusfar.

The next time he appears?

Is when the Tuunbaq is on the ship and about to appear in full. Before, his appearance might have suggested that someone was about to die, but something kind of interesting happens.

The crew fire on the Tuunbaq after Blanky marks it with the lantern fire, and for one of the first times in the show, Tom actually appears happy.

He’s excited! He’s standing with Little, Hodgson, and Tozer, and they’re all thrilled. Even more amazing?

Blanky does not die.

He’s injured. His injuries require a pretty gruesome amputation, but of all the episodes in the show, Ep. 5 ends with the lowest body count.

Now Ep. 6 (”A Mercy”) is kind of all over the place for Tom and everyone else. He appears first talking to Hickey about Armitage, who is now revealed to have been part of their plot to kidnap Lady Silence. Hickey asks why Tom didn’t turn Armitage in, even after being flogged.

Hickey: You’d have been in your rights to.

Hartnell: I didn’t see the point in it.

Hickey: Even still? After getting flogged? That sort of thing can change your sense of what the point is.

Hartnell: It did. I’m grateful... is the point.

Hickey: [pause] Reformed you, did it?

Hartnell: I shouldn’t have listened to you. And I deserved to be flogged.

Hickey: [silence]

Hartnell: Yeah, and by ordering it, the Captain, he’s given me a chance to clean my record and start anew.

Hickey: Do you think Crozier sees it like that? A new Mr. Hartnell?

Hartnell: I do, yeah. [smiles] And I intend to use that charter well.

This is another turning point for both Hartnell and Hickey. Hickey is realizing that his list of allies is getting shorter (he starts by trying to drive a wedge between Tom and command, reminding him that he physically suffered because of them, and when he realizes that it isn’t going to work, he mocks him and leaves him) and now understands that Tom probably won’t work with him again.

Tom shows that his loyalty is now completely with Crozier. I’d even say that he never followed Hickey’s ideals in the first place, even with the kidnapping (remember how he acted toward Lady Silence before, and how quick he was to be held responsible). This is him now completely, as the phrase goes, on the side of angels. It’s going to add a new tone to his next few interactions, and really drive home his place as a death symbol.

Ep. 6 is as bloody and horrific as Ep. 5 was not. Fitzjames holds his Carnivale, Jopson and Crozier attend, and it all goes wrong very, very fast. One thing that @theiceandbones and I noticed was that before it-shay hits the an-fay, Tom is seen once in costume.

And he’s dressed as what appears to be a lion - a very poignant symbol of bravery (and Britain, if you want to go that far).

Of course, during the fire, Tom is there (as is everyone except Hickey who is outside of the tent), so I’d hesitate to call that a connection. His first mention after Carnivale is through Bridgens, who tells Crozier that Tom reported Dr. Peddie lost during the fire.

Going into Episode 7 (”Horrible from Supper”), Tom is officially an outlier to the people who are going to become the Mutineers. He’s excluded from anything Hickey begins to plan and is completely on the captains’ side. Literally. His next shot shows him between Crozier and Jopson.

But more relevant is the next time he’s seen with Crozier and Blanky, making notes of the ice and the movement of the compass. Blanky remarks:

Tom’s been completely redeemed in the eyes of Crozier, enough that he’s being asked to step outside the grunt work of hauling sledges, and his opinions and observations are trusted (”Very well. I’ll continue to rely on your eyes.”). The way he gives his observations also show an uptick in confidence and enthusiasm. He’s happy, and a far step away from his nervous, mournful attitude of earlier episodes.

Has he stepped out of the role of being a death symbol? Yes, and no.

Death has started to dog the crew of the Expedition again. Madness is seeping in with the lead. Hickey begins to weave the tapestry of his mutiny as the gruesome discovery of Fairholme’s party takes place (note that Tom isn’t present for this). Rescue seems impossible, and death is starting to become imminent.

Tom Hartnell’s role begins to change, and he goes from being present at the deaths to aiding in the recovery. Whereas death is everywhere, Tom is a symbol of something gentler (on a whole, this is talked about beautifully in this meta piece).

It starts with Morfin.

Remember that Tom was in the shot with Gore, Morfin, and Des Voeux in Ep. 2, and he’s seen with Morfin again with Lady Silence’s father in the Erebus sick bay later. His role changes with Morfin in Ep. 7 (I’d even through in the symbolism of Morfin singing The Silver Swan if we really want to go wild with the death icons). Morfin is shot, put out of his misery effectively, and Tom does not appear until after he is killed. More importantly, he’s now interacting with the scene - helping, as it were.

He’s at the center of the shot with Goodsir - not Morfin, who is technically the subject. His hand is on Goodsir, and he silently says something to him before Goodsir stands. Unlike with the other deaths, Tom is no longer directing his attention on the bodies, but on the people who are dealing with them.

Further on, he privately speaks with Crozier about Armitage’s involvement in Hickey’s earlier plot. Once more, he’s on Crozier’s side completely, which Crozier affirms for him, saying that he trusts him and does not want to put him in a position where he feels like he can’t speak. He says they’ll work together, and thanks Tom, earning a smile out of him.

D’awwww.

But back with his death symbolism, Tom is the first shown to be handling Morfin’s body, drawn into sharp focus against the corpse.

He’s responsible for the handling and burial, but rather than appearing nervous or upset about his job, he handles it as he did with Hornby’s body. It’s a job to do, and one that he doesn’t appear to mind doing anymore. He helps dig Morfin’s grave, juxtaposed with shots and conversation of Crozier talking about the lead in the cans that led to Morfin’s madness and death.

The episode ends with Jopson’s promotion and the start of Hickey’s bloody mutiny, in a way signaling the beginning of the end.

Tom doesn’t appear for a portion of Ep. 8 (”Terror Camp Clear”), removed from Irving’s violent death where he probably would have been before, and instead placed in the silent, mournful atmosphere of the dead Netsilik group.

He’s also removed from the general chaos of the imaginary raid on Terror Camp, but appears in probably one of the most pivotal and brilliantly-arranged scenes that he gets in the entire show.

The Tuunbaq attacks in full force, ripping the camp asunder, causing so much chaos that the mutineers manage to get away. Men are killed left and right, gruesomely torn apart. The fog makes it difficult to see what’s happening and where, and so only the sounds of roaring and screaming indicate what is happening around them.

And then there’s Tom.

He’s scared. Of course he is. He’s seen what the Tuunbaq can do, and he knows it’s coming. All he can do is tell the men with him to get down and out of sight, while he stands.

Trembling, he raises his gun and waits for the inevitable. He was on deck with they shot the Tuunbaq with the cannon, and he knows that even then, it got away. He knows its size and what it’s capable of doing. His gun will do nothing to it, and he knows this. All he can do is buy the men time and take at least one shot.

Tom Hartnell literally faces down death itself, and does not back away.

The camera pans in on him, drawing into focus how he steels himself, furrowing his brows, keeping his aim steady. If anything, this shot establishes his bravery in full detail. And then--

A rocket is launched at the Tuunbaq from behind -- completely parallel to Tom. In a similar focused shot is Fitzjames.

Complete with the same steely resolve and surety, establishing his own bravery. With him on one side and Tom on the other, the Tuunbaq is caught in a perfect intersection of selflessness and courage, even when no one’s around to witness it (”A man like me will do amazing things to be seen.”).

Ep. 9 (”The C, The C, The Open C”) opens with Lady Franklin formally, but with Tom and Golding on the Arctic side, dealing with the dead in the day after the attack on Terror Camp.

Once again, Tom is no longer present during the deaths, but is dealing with the aftermath. He offers to help Golding move the body. Golding wonders after the identity of the body, clearly shaken by what he’s seen. But Tom, turning his focus way from the corpse, puts his hand on Golding’s arm to comfort him, as he did with Goodsir.

“That won’t change what we do for him.”

It’s no longer a matter of the how’s and why’s, but rather how the men move on. Tom has come to represent something so much more in death than its execution. His own grief was mired in the memory of his brother and what was done to his body. Lashing out, curling into himself, allowing others to control his path, and then finding his own way to redemption, Tom has made the full walk of his own sorrow and gone through its stages, coming out on the other side with the sense of mind to help others cope with their losses.

Then, he’s standing before the row of the dead, hands respectfully folded in front of him. He’s in their presence again, but not in the violent hour of their death, but again, in the aftermath.

Crozier’s speech is examined so, so gorgeously in this post, with the words “courage” and “the end” focused on Tom. @theiceandbones also pointed out (and subsequently broke my heart) that after Crozier mentions bringing home the names of the dead so that their loved once can find solace, Tom’s bottom lip is trembling. I fully believe in his character, Jack Colgrave Hirst chose to keep the real Thomas Hartnell’s life in mind, thinking that he was going to have to go back to their mother with news of his brother’s death. He embodies this concept so well in that moment.

After Fitzjames’ death, Tom is seen again in that same role.

He’s at the center of the shot with Fitzjames’ body, sewing him into his shroud, surrounded and at the center of the focus of their party. He’s either volunteered or been chosen to the handle the body, which he does respectfully. As Shannon, my brilliant cohort noticed:

He’s working diligently and carefully. And again, it won’t change what he does for him.

Tom also helps with Peglar, who he has been shown with multiple times since the very first episode, possibly suggesting that they’ve been friends all along.

He helps lift Peglar into Bridgens’ arms, clearly worrying for him.

He’s not shown during Peglar’s death, but he helps handle him, allowing him to rest a little easier before he quietly passes on. Compared to what’s been happening in the mutineer camp, what Tom’s witnessing is a gentle passing of people.

It’s the last scene that stings the worst, as Crozier’s group is confronted by the mutineers, including Des Voeux, Hodgson, and Manson.

Des Voeux’s gun misfires, hitting Tom square in the chest.

Tom’s own death is not through the Tuunbaq, or through any of Hickey’s machinations, or anything more than an accident. It’s quick, but painful. Crozier kneels beside him, stroking his hair, comforting him as Tom’s done for others before. The next few lines speak for themselves.

It’s the end of Tom’s redemption, a sign of his bravery, of his own recovery and progress. Crozier calls him son, affirming a bond between them. Tom is not dying alone. Instead, he has someone at his side who cares for him, just as Tom had been for his own brother only a few years before.

He holds on, struggling against the agony of his wound, until Crozier, eyes filling with tears, lets him go with one phrase -- one that includes something that hasn’t been mentioned since Ep. 1.

John Hartnell hasn’t been mentioned since the first episode, and it’s been several years at that point since his death. But Crozier knows what Tom’s been through, and he’s certainly seen his displays of grief and development. If anything would cause Tom to let go, this would be it. With it, Tom goes quietly in only a few seconds. He goes without a sound, simply closing his eyes and letting out a breath.

Des Voeux, shaken, asks Crozier to stand up. With it, Crozier does Tom a final respect by asking Little to bury him, and to live. Tom’s body is kept out of sight completely, not seen again.

After his death, the others go quickly. By the time of Ep. 10, it’s almost wholesale loss, between Goodsir’s heroic suicide, the Tuunbaq, and others just disappearing into the mists of the Arctic. But Tom’s character appears to have represented a balance, showing grief and loss, but also recovery and redemption. He appears with nearly every major death in the show, going from anxious and shaken to brave and kind, more eager to help those left in the wake of death, making him the perfect representation to the concepts of loss, grief, and recovery for The Terror.

#amc the terror #terror blogging #thomas hartnell #jack colgrave hirst #meta #long post #really really long post #i just really love him a lot #this was originally titled THE TOM HARTNELL GRIM REAPER THEORY

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dextervexter · 4 years

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god it really wasn’t as bad as it could have been but it certainly wasn’t the best. I will say it was definitely no where near as horny as everyone is making it out to be.

so first of all, I’m opening with I’m not gonna talk about the ENTIRE movie but just some parts of it but there will definitely be spoilers

I was right about a LOT of stuff going in, like Macavity whisking away a lot of the contenders for rebirth so he could be chosen. I was also right about Taylor Swift not being in the movie for more than five minutes, I was right about Tugger not having a massive role, I was right about Grizabella being given a past with Macavity, and I was right about the dancing being fuckin bad

I was also unfortunately right about Jenny eating her cockroaches and I literally could not look at the screen during her whole number I was so upset I felt so trapped The Gumbie Cat Number Is A Fucking Hostage Situation

H o w e v e r -wheeze-

Over all, it was Cats. It was a really REALLY weird take on Cats, but it was consistent with the stage play save for some changes with characters and pacing. Hooper clearly watched multiple versions of the play to try and get the vision he liked the best. He understood that this would be difficult, and he did what he could to try and get this weird ass musical on screen. There are parts of it I liked, there are parts of it I didn’t care for, and there were parts I astral projected to get away from. But if you go see this movie, you will be seeing Cats as it was when it first arrive on Westend in 1981. Original arrangements of the songs are used as well, for example, Mungojerrie and Rumpleteazer is sung as the jazzy and insidious number from the OLC rather than the bouncy and fun 98 version. I don’t think it’s awful but it’s definitely not what younger fans are familiar with.

I think the only issue with the musical arrangements I have was the singing because Hooper once again insisted on having everyone sing live and it really hinders a lot of talented people. Often times I found myself wondering if these people were capable of singing in the slightest. But I think that’s just bad choices on Hooper’s part.

Let’s talk about the Good:

The best part of the film is definitely Skimbleshanks, and not just because he fucks and later kills a man with his supreme tap skills. The visuals are great, this is the only part with actual good dancing, and Steven Macrea has fantastic energy. Skimbleshanks is already one of my favorite numbers in the stage musical, and they get pretty creative with this. It was one of the moments in the movie where I could say for sure I was REALLY having a good time.

Also Les Twins were absolutely a treat to watch. They were funny, talented, clearly having a ton of fun, and played off each other as though they weren’t in a movie, they were just goofing around like real siblings do. I found myself actually missing them when they weren’t on screen

Robbie Fairchild does a decent Munkustrap and has some fun exchanges with the other characters. I also thought Jason Derulo did a wonderful job as Tugger despite not being in the film a lot. He’s self centered, clearly caught up in his own world, and is so obsessed with himself he doesn’t really flirt with anyone or focus a lot on Victoria for too long because he’s just so in love with himself and what he wants. And honestly that is basically just tugger.

The visuals are also really nice. The sets and practical effects help the movie feel more real and bring a great sense of life to this world that is happening right under the human one. The whole movie has this lovely, dream like quality to it, and it helped remind everyone we weren’t supposed to take it so seriously.

There were also a moment with Munkustrap that I thought was really cute, where Jenny complains she’s just as good as Tugger because she can break dance too. You hear Munkustrap chuckle and say “oh yeah? show me.” in a really playful way and it was adorable, even if it resulted in me seeing Rebel Wilson pop and lock,

Lastly, and this is a big one I know a lot of fans were angry about: Misto is implied to like victoria, but it’s never stated that they end up together. Actually a lot of their interactions can be interpreted as Just Friends Being Pals. It’s definitely not as big of a problem as a lot of people were making it out to be, but it’s just not interesting and doesn’t really matter to the plot.

I liked more of it than I was expecting, especially the little shout outs to Eliot’s original drafts of the poems. I’m seeing it again tomorrow with friends so I’ll probably post more about the things I missed (i seriously missed a lot of the gumbie cat number because i was too horrified to look so maybe i will be braver this time)

NOW THE BAD!!!

This is literally the worst fucking Macavity ever and Idris Elba had every right to be as piss drunk as he was at the premier. In fact I’m pretty sure he was drunk for a majority of the film. It’s very clear he is not having a good time, he is not enjoying the story, and he doesn’t want to be there. Granted, I’m willing to place a lot of the blame on Hooper’s take on the story, which required Macavity to be a greater presence, but a lot of what we see is a clowning, pathetic, loser who is throwing a tantrum because he isn’t getting his way and he’s very very naked for most of it. His last moments in the film were so laughable, so embarrassing, and so unbelievably desperate that I could barely watch. There is no dignity in Elba’s performance, and nothing mysterious or threatening about him. It’s not just 2019 Macavity that hurts this movie though, it’s how Macavity changes a massive part of the story with his nonsense, but I’m saving that for last because it’s a big one and I hate it!

Victoria is basically really bland. There was absolutely no reason to try and make this from her perspective. Like Webber and Hooper say they wanted her to serve as the character we see the world through but she’s bland, uninteresting, and just very boring. I understand their reasoning for making her the lead, as Victoria is a very recognizable character and easy to follow in dark lighting and crowded dancing, but she just simply exists to stare in wonder and ask questions that are answered in songs that she will stare in wonder over. If they wanted to have the audience experience the world through a character they probably should have gone with Munkustrap or something considering he’s narrating a majority of the film and knows what’s going on and can explain things a little better. He’s also a stronger character. Victoria is boasted to be this strong but shy little thing who approaches this new world with curiosity and hope and she’s really not. She doesn’t really get the chance to do or say anything that would help with the plot. she barely speaks to anyone but munk or misto, and it is very much a downgrade from her stage counterpart. Frankie Hayward is a very pretty dancer, but she’s not given much to work with and I found myself not caring in the slightest what she was up to.

This also leads into Beautiful Ghosts, which I posted about before so I’ll just leave this here and move on because I’ve said all I can say and I have more important things to talk about regarding Grizabella. to summarize, I was right and the song sucked.

The dancing is lamentable mess as well. God I sometimes forgot they were dancing. They are moving, but it’s not dancing. I would say only Les Twins and Jaih Bote were the clear dancers because they were pretty much the only ones allowed to put their own personal spins on the choreography. I’ve said it so many times and I will say it again Andy Blankenbluer is a fucking awful choreographer. His work is claustrophobic and ugly to look at. You lose the person in the movement but in the sense that you really don’t care if you see them again. Blankenbluer has stated so many times he feels as though audiences don’t have the attention spans for long dances sequences anymore and want more than one thing to see, but for the love of god could you give us something to look at? The dances are quick, ugly, and the moves are put down before they can make a good impression. He has no understanding of how to define a character through movement, which makes telling everyone apart very difficult, especially since the designs are already so unrecognizale. His work was atrocious in the 2016 Cats Revival, but at least he had Gillian Lynne’s original choreography to lean on. Without the backing of better choreographers, his work is downright forgettable.

Now the Big One, the inexcusable and awful part that I hate hate hate: Grizabella.

God I was rooting for her we were all rooting for her. Remember how in the 98 film she’s this broken down, cast aside, character barely hanging by a thread? Yeah in this she not only is given a throw away past where she chooses to side with Macavity for some unknown reason, but she’s chosen as a last resort. Yeah. Remember how I said Macavity’s plot paves the way for the mishandling of a beloved and tragic character. This is it. After Macavity steals literally everyone who is competing for rebirth, after Old D is returned, the Jellicles realize they have no one to choose from for rebirth. Victoria goes outside, brings Grizabella in, they sing memory, and she gets chosen. It is framed in a way that the cats all realize how badly she has it, but oh my god does it come off as heartless, careless and pis aller. Old D has no interaction with Grizabella until this point. The Jellicles don’t really interact with her unless to shoo her away. She is basically a background character for the whole movie. Giving her a past with Macavity was pointless. It never comes up. Macavity never sees her in the film. It’s never stated why she chose him or what she did with him. There is not a shred of dignity in Hudson’s performance, and I fully attribute that to Hooper making all his actors sing on set. Grizabella comes off as pitiable, but not enough to want to see her be reborn. It was downright heartless.

OVERALL!!

I give this movie a 6/10 stars. When they are doing Cats, it’s pretty enjoyable. Not everything I wanted, and some things I genuinely didn’t fucking ask for, but overall it is not as big of a problem as I thought it was going to be. I think if you’re apprehensive or angry about the film, I think you should give it a watch and you’ll either like it or you won’t.

you should definitely not expect the 98 version, because no version will ever be that perfect, but go in with an open mind and give it a chance.

#cats #cats 2019 #cats movie #probably the only horn dog scene #was when munk was high out of his mind #and writhing on the table like he was getting rawed to kingdom come #that was certainly a scene i watched with my eyes #and enjoyed

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benscursedkid · 5 years

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Must Have Been The Wind

synopsis: ben’s just a stressed and tired college student looking for a break. strangely enough, the girl who cries in the middle of the night from the apartment directly above his might be just what he was looking for...

pairing: ben copper x f!mc reader

genre: romance, muggle!au, modern!au, f2l???

warnings: implied mentions of insomnia and anxiety if you squint, mature language (v mild)

words: 8k

tag: @badeeaswife

a/n: so this turned out longer than i expected it to be, heh heh. i haven’t seen very many modern aus or muggle aus so i hope whoever reads this enjoys!!

*inspired by the song of the same name by Alec Benjamin*

“we can talk about the noise when you’re ready

but ‘till then

i’ll say it must have been the wind”

“Hey, Ben! How was work today?”

Ben turns at the familiar voice of his neighbor, the pretty blonde girl as cheerful as ever. “It was work, Penny,” Ben shrugs his shoulders, sagging with exhaustion. “There’s not really much one can expect from a job working at a 7-Eleven.”

Penny frowns, leaning against her door frame, mail forgotten in her hand as she gives the man a once over. “You looked tired, Ben. Are you sure you should be taking the midnight shifts?”

Fumbling with his keys, his own mail hanging from his mouth, Ben shakes his head in response. “They’re the only ones I can actually make, Pen. I’m busy all day long with classes and I don't have the time for any others.”

“Yeah, but, I’m worried about you,” Penny sighs, watching the fellow blonde struggle to open the door to his apartment. “You never get any sleep, you rely solely on Mountain Dew to keep you awake, and you barely make your morning classes on time rushing out the door, you’re a full-time college student– double major… You need to take better care of yourself.”

The door finally opens and Ben allows himself a silent victory before turning to address his friend.

“I know, Penny, and thank you for caring about me,” She offers him a grin, but it doesn’t quite reach her eyes, worry replacing the usual brightness. “It’s just until Jae and I get things here a bit more stable, I promise.”

For a moment Penny peers at him doubtfully, but eventually trusts him to come to her if things go astray and she nods. Ben smiles at her, trying his best not to let his eyes droop too low and makes for his apartment.

“Oh, Ben?”

“Yeah?”

“Someone just moved in upstairs, so y’know,” Pointing towards the ceiling, Penny begins to retreat back into her own home. “In case there’s a lot of noise, don’t worry about it. They’ll move in soon enough.”

A tired groan escapes him, but he manages to shoot the girl a curious glance. “How do you always know everything?”

“I ask.”

“Fair,” He concedes before his door shuts behind him.

⏭

Ben is woken from his sleep by the loud sound of a crash.

Immediately, his head lifts from its place on his desk, drool already dry on the corners of his mouth and neck popping in protest of his sudden movement. He casts a long, cautious look about his apartment. Jae’s pulling an all-nighter with Badeea, their new partner assignment due first thing tomorrow, so he’s all alone in the empty space, the moonlight just managing to peek through his bedroom window.

At first, Ben’s afraid the sound came from within his own apartment and he begins to panic, his blood running cold. His mind is sifting through all the worst case scenarios out of habit, sweat starting to bead on the back of his neck. Has someone broken in? Did they shatter their windows? It is just the first floor, not exactly difficult to sneak into. Are they coming for him? Are they here to steal? Are they going to hurt him?

However, these fears are quickly quelled by another sound, this time clearly coming from the apartment directly above his.

Someone’s crying.

From what he can tell in his half-asleep state, he thinks it sounds like a woman. The sobs coming from upstairs are faint, but unmistakable. He’s had enough breakdowns in his stressful college career to know what cries sound like.

Ben ponders what’s happened to warrant the tears from the obviously upset woman. This hasn’t happened before and he’s not quite sure what to do. Briefly he considers leaving her be, knowing that sometimes in bad situations the best thing you can do for someone is to give them space. Though the sound of breaking glass worries him and with a grunt, he gets up to go investigate, despite every bone in his body telling him it’s a bad idea and begging him for sleep.

On his way out he checks the time on his microwave.

3:53 a.m.

He just got back from his shift close to forty-five minutes ago, likely having fallen asleep finishing up his classwork. Great, he’ll have to finish that when he gets back.

Taking a breath and ignoring his frantic nerves, his walks quietly to the elevator, careful not to wake up any of his neighbors. If Merula or Andre hear him at this hour he’ll be apologizing for weeks.

Once he reaches the elevator, he checks one last time for any angry complaints, before hitting the button for the second floor. As he goes up, he briefly wonders what he’s getting himself into, questioning whether someone has broken into this woman’s apartment and if he’s walking straight into his own demise.

A ding sounds upon reaching his destination and he walks down the hall to her apartment, counting each number until he finds the seventh from the right of the elevator, like his own counterpart. Without taking time for thought, in fear of backing out, he raps his knuckles against the door.

At the intrusion, the tell-tale sound of pattering feet fill his ears and idly Ben thinks of how wrinkled his clothes must be and how dark the circles under his eyes probably are. If he opened the door to that in the middle of the night, he’d probably send whoever it is straight back.

The knob twists and the door cracks open just enough for a young woman, looking to be around his age, to peak out. Upon deducing he’s likely not a threat, the door opens to allow them a better view of each other.

He doesn’t recognize you and assumes you must be the new neighbor Penny had told him about. You look as tired as he feels and this brings a small sense of relief to his mind, a tiny solace in this strange situation. Your eye bags, Ben thinks, could give his own a run for their money and your hair is disheveled and shoulders slouched low. Your oversized sweater is pulled up all the way to your chin, almost enough for you to bury your nose in it.

“Can I help you?”

Your voice is scratchy and raw and Ben is sure you’re the one he’d heard from downstairs. It’s only once he realizes this does he notice the puffiness by your eyes, clearly a sign you’ve been crying. Yet you act as if they aren’t there, looking at him wearily from your place in the doorway.

Ben shakes himself from his thoughts, a reply spilling swiftly from his lips. “I’m from the apartment below yours and I heard a noise. It sounded like something broke… I just wanted to see if you needed any help.”

Your hand itches to wipe the lingering wetness from your eyes but you refrain, shrugging (hopefully) nonchalantly. “I think your ears are playing tricks on you.”

His eyebrow furrows, unconvinced, but not wanting to pry too much. Still, he persists once more. “Are you sure? Nothing happened? I thought I heard someone…” He hesitates, wondering if he should mention the sobs he’d heard. “...someone break something.”

You gift him a shake of your head and a half-smile with no light to it. “Thanks for caring, sir–”

“Ben.”

“–Ben, that’s nice of you, but I should probably go back in,” You back up from the door and wave to him. “Wish I could tell you about the noise, but I didn’t hear a thing. It must have been the wind.”

“Yeah,” He nods to himself, suddenly wondering why on Earth he’d dragged himself up here at this ungodly hour. You’ve made it clear that whatever was going on is something you can handle on your own. Still, he wonders if you’ll be okay tonight. “Yeah, okay. Sorry to bother you.”

“You’re fine, sorry you came all this way for nothing.”

“It’s okay,” He waves off your concerns like batting away a fly. “Have a goodnight.”

“You, too.”

You close your door and Ben makes his way back to the elevator, more tired than he was before. His feet drag as he shuffles back to his apartment, practically able to hear his bed crying out from lack of use.

True to character, he takes a Mountain Dew from his fridge, making note to buy some more tomorrow at work, and takes a seat at his desk to finish his assignment.

It’s only when he crawls into bed an hour later does he realize he never asked your name.

⏭

The second time he hears it, Ben knows it’s not the wind.

It’s been two weeks since he’d gone up to your apartment that night and he hasn’t spoken to you much more since then. Penny was quick to befriend you, though Ben knows first-hand that it’s just a talent of hers. That girl was even able to befriend Talbott from 5D and in the two years Ben and Jae have lived in that apartment, he can count on one hand the amount of times he’s heard him speak.

Your name is MC, from what he gathered during his talks with Penny. Apparently, you took swiftly to Chiara and Tulip from your floor, two people Ben has only ever encountered during one of Penny’s or Diego’s house parties. He also heard that this is your third move in a year and ponders how long you’ll be staying this time.

Strangely, he finds himself hoping it’s a while.

He’s only seen you a few times around the building, with his busy schedule and your free time occupied with moving into your place, it’s rare to catch either of you with a spare moment these days. On those occasions, the two of you weren’t able to move beyond nods of acknowledgement and brief pleasantries. Though, the one time he helped you carry some boxes up to your apartment, he found that he’d really enjoy getting to know you better.

At current, Ben looks up at your apartment from his place on the floor. He’d collapsed onto the floor of his room after getting off his shift early that night. Evidently, his co-worker –Ismelda?– had been asking around to trade shifts to make her sister’s wedding and for once Ben jumped at the chance for a good night’s rest. Granted he’ll have to make time to come in early tomorrow, but it’s worth it.

You’re crying again, he realizes upon further inspection. He hadn’t heard a shatter this time, but that doesn’t do much to ease his worries. Slowly, he sneaks into Jae’s room and taps on his sleeping figure, his mind already made up.

Jae groans into his pillow, burying his head further into the white cushion. Ben takes this as his que to explain.

“Hey, um– I’ll be right back, okay? I gotta go.. get something.”

His roommate simply grunts and Ben figures that’s as good a response as he’ll get from him at the moment.

This time it’s only ten past midnight when he leaves his apartment, pajamas definitely wrinkled and hair a mess, but that’s the least of his worries. Making his way into the elevator, he waits until the doors open and makes a beeline to your door, pulling nervously at his sleeves. He’s not sure how you’ll take another late night disturbance, but tells himself it’s best to make sure you’re okay before going back to bed.

After two knocks, your door swings open and you yawn before greeting your visitor.

“Ben?” You ask, the same puffy eyes and raspy voice from last time. “What are you doing here? Do you need something?”

Ben chuckles, antsy, and shakes his head. “No, well, actually I was wondering if you’re okay? I was downstairs and I– uh, thought I heard something.”

You smile at his thoughtfulness, but deny the notion nonetheless. “Nothing up here, sorry. Must have been the wind.”

“The wind, yeah,” The man hums, though it’s clear that he doesn't believe you. You don’t attempt to come up with a better excuse, however, and Ben decides that you’ll tell him when, and if, you’re ready. “Okay, well– um, if you ever need anything, I guess you know where to find me.”

“Yes, thank you,” You reply as sweetly as you can, ready to bid your goodbyes. Though as Ben turns to leave, you can’t help but call out to him. “Oh and, Ben?”

He just turns and the sincerity in his soft brown eyes catch you just a little off guard. “Thanks for caring.”

This time he’s the one who smiles, an actual, genuine smile that makes his eyes sparkle with an energy you don’t recall from last time. You can’t help but reciprocate and you wish him a goodnight before retreating back to the empty shadows of your apartment.

⏭

Ben stifles a yawn as he struggles to keep his head from falling on the counter. The store is quiet and empty, not a single person around for entertainment. The sky has long since darkened into an inky black, the clouds shielding the stars from sight. The shift is slow, but then again, he never really gets more than four customers at these hours, anyway.

He’s resting his head in his hands, preparing to lose his battle against sleep when the bell above the entrance door chimes and he bolts up right.

Certain he’ll get whiplash at this rate, he peers around the store for the wandering customer. It’s hard to see from his place by the register, but a girl is looking around, huge jacket practically dangling off her smaller figure. She has a hood pulled over her head and he’s unable to identify her, too used to the regulars, but he dismisses it and checks the time.

He has another half hour before he can go home and Ben tries his best to stay awake until then.

After five more minutes of looking around, the girl brings a handful of things to the checkout, finally pulling off her hood. He recognizes her immediately.

“MC?”

You look up from your phone, a shocked expression on your face. Despite the time of night, you don’t look as tired as the last few times he’s seen you and Ben takes that as a good sign. Your eyes also don’t seem to hide the remnants of tears, another good thing that almost has him smiling. Instead, he rubs the back of his neck shyly as a more proper greeting.

“Hey, Ben,” You offer a half-smile for the first time and it brightens up your entire face, leaving Ben a little short of breath. “I didn’t know you worked here?”

One by one, Ben begins to ring up your things, anxiously chewing at his bottom lip. He’s not used to the attention from anyone besides Penny and he’s not quite sure what to say.

“I take the late night shifts…”

“I can see that.”

“Right.”

A grimace finds its way on his face, the awkwardness of this conversation enough to make him wish the ground would swallow him whole. However, he’s rendered slightly speechless when a tiny, barely there giggle falls from your mouth. Now he’s sure his cheeks, neck, all the way up to his ears are probably dusted an embarrassing shade of pink, but he can’t really find it in himself to care too much if that sound becomes more commonplace between you.

“I don’t really see you around the building too much,” You start, examining the nutrition labels of your items with suspicious interest. “Is this where you always run off to?”

Ben shakes his head, going a little slower on ringing up your –groceries?– things. “Ah, not all the time. Most of my time is actually spent at the library, I hardly do anything but study these days.”

“Oh, you attend college here?”

“Yeah,” He’s still a little unnerved, but he’s significantly pleased with how easy conversation flows with you. “I knew going for a double major was a bad idea…”

You purse your lips in thought, taking a pause to sweep over the man before you one more time. He does look exhausted, every time you’ve seen him since moving in he hasn’t been without the company of tired eyes and a spent expression. Though, you think he could say the same for you, always seeming to catch you at the worst of times…

“I’ve always wondered what it’s like to double major, seems like it’s not for everyone.”

Ben laughs at this, dry and uneven, almost like it were an inside joke that you don’t understand. “To be honest, I’m not quite sure it’s for me.”

“Then why did you do it?”

He shrugs then, mindlessly, rotating to bagging the things you’ve bought. “I don’t know, I guess I just couldn’t decide what I wanted to do and I thought I’d do both? Even I don’t understand my logic there, but I can’t just quit now.”

You fish the appropriate amount of money from the pocket of your jacket and hand it to him. He takes it with a customary smile and starts adding your change. “Well, I think it was very brave of you. Not everyone has the courage to chase their dream, let alone two of them.”

Ben halts his calculations, his brown irises snapping up to meet yours, the question on his tongue reflected in his eyes.

“You think so?” He asks, and when he speaks his voice is so soft, so uncertain, like he has no idea what he’s doing and your heart clenches just slightly in your chest.

Maybe it’s the time of night that loosens his lips, or possibly his significant lack of sleep, but he finds that your opinion matters a lot to him for someone he hardly knows.

You nod then, the action relieving some of the weight from his shoulders and he hands you the rest of your change. “I, uh– thanks.”

“No problem.”

With nothing left to say, you’re about to head back over to your shared building when he asks you a last minute question.

“Do you go to school, too?” He stutters for a second, seemingly rethinking his decision to ask in the first place. “If you don’t mind me asking that is. I don’t mean to intrude.”

It’s endearing, you think, the way he tries his hardest not to offend you, his cheeks pinking just a smidge.

“I used to,” You say, hesitating on whether or not he deserves an explanation. Well, he doesn’t necessarily deserve one, per se, but you like him. You find that you don’t mind if he knows why. “I never finished my junior year… family troubles.”

The store clerk senses that he won’t get anything more than that, not that he cares. He’s really just happy you haven’t asked him to shut up yet.

He nods, picking his hand up off the counter to wave you farewell in lieu of an actual goodbye. You wave back, your steps a bit lighter than they were when you came in.

Likewise, when Ben stumbles into his apartment later that night and isn’t greeted with the sound of sobs coming from upstairs, he decides that he definitely wants to get to know you better.

⏭

Since that night, you, oddly as far as Ben is concerned, have taken to visiting him during his shift. You always come in around the same time –ten past two in the morning– and he’s starting to wonder if the two of you are just simply nocturnal.

You don’t ever get more than a handful of items, sometimes you don’t even get anything at all. You’ll just come in and have a seat by his checkout counter and the both of you will talk until it’s time for you to take your leave. The topic of your conversations are mindless subjects, never on the same thing for long. At first you adventured the typical subjects of favorites; food, color, movie, song, etc. However, it didn’t take long for him to grow comfortable in your presence and he’s going out on a limb here, but he thinks you feel the same way.

Now, you often times walk in with something random on your tongue, likely having been stuck in your head all day long. Ben doesn’t mind, he’s grateful for a friendly face to keep him going during his utterly boring shifts, and it’s humorous to him the things that occupy your mind.

At the current moment, you’re seated in a chair Ben has set up just for your visits, humming along to the song on the radio overhead, a bag of popcorn in hand. You had managed to convince him to stay on this one station that doesn’t play anything that came out after the 80’s, but it’s nice to see you relaxed and happier. Besides, he secretly listens to this station before you show up, anyway.

Since your first visit two months ago, Ben hasn’t heard you crying late at night more than three times. Ben hopes these sessions of yours will continue to diminish until it becomes a thing of the past, causing him to wonder if maybe his groggy state had made up the entire thing. Until then, all he can do is give you his employee discounts and hope for the best.

“Do you know this song?” You inquire, ending the comfortable silence that had enveloped you when you came in.

Ben scoffs, the familiar melody flooding his ears. “I’d be more surprised if I didn’t. Penny listens to these guys like it’s her job. ‘Can hear it from across the hall at least once a week.”

You snicker, hiding behind your hand. The ABBA lyrics flowing in your ears, providing you with a bit more energy this early in the morning. “Waterloo is nice, but I personally like Fernando a bit more.”

The blonde shakes his head fondly and you raise your eyebrow at him. “What?”

“Nothing,” He denies, the tiniest hint of a smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. “I just thought that you’d like something less… mainstream.”

“Mainstream?” You gasp, not believing what you were hearing. You mock offense and Ben chuckles under his breath, careful not to be so loud as to disturb the customer in the back. “Well, what’s your favorite, then?”

He ponders this for a moment, but eventually he sighs, not having come to a definite conclusion. His pink lips curve into a tiny pout that’s much cuter than what you think is fair. “Truthfully, I’m more of a Billy Joel-David Bowie person.”

You want to tease him, but in truth it’s fits him well. It’s all too easy to imagine him sweeping this store, whistling along to the tune of Piano Man, and you grin at the thought.

“Don’t let Penny hear you say that,” You warn goodnaturedly and Ben shakes his head. “She won’t be as understanding.”

Ben shudders at the implication, a shiver traveling all the way down his spine. “God, no. That girl is really scary sometimes.”

Waterloo comes to its end and is replaced by the melody of Three Dog Night, accompanied by a hint of nostalgia for a time you never experienced. A mistake, you’re sure.

A memory comes to mind, one that has you pausing in your humming and Ben admires you curiously. “My brother liked David Bowie…”

Taking notice of your use of past tense, Ben halts as you kick at the dust by your shoe. Only once have you mentioned your brother in the, admittedly short, time he’s known you, but it’s not hard to deduce that it’s a sensitive subject with you. All he knows about the guy is that you don’t talk often, a fact you had stuttered out from nervousness. He knows better than to pry, but he can’t say he isn’t curious.

It’s as he’s debating on changing the topic that you pull yourself from your reverie, playfully throwing a piece of popcorn at him. It’s a half-assed effort, but Ben doesn’t complain as the snack bounces off his forehead.

Ben huffs and steals a piece to throw at you in return and within seconds you’re littering the floor with cheese powder and popcorn. A piece he throws your way finds purchase in your hair and he can’t help the laugh that tumbles from his throat, or his resulting smile when you do the same. It’s not until he hears the clearing of a throat do you cease fire long enough for Ben to actually do his job.

After a minute, Ben rings up the man’s things and hands them back to him, waving a weak goodbye to the regular and the store is empty once again. This time, it’s you who clears their throat as you ask him something that you meant to a while ago.

“Do you have any siblings?” You regard him, tilting your head out of interest. The man looks to you briefly and shakes his head. “Only child, then?”

“Yep. I always wanted one growing up, until this one family moved in next door,” He laughs as he recalls the memory of his neighbors, each one with fiery red hair. To this day he still does a double take whenever he sees someone else with the color, expecting six others to be in tough. “After that I realized I didn’t need one to be happy.”

You nod along to his words, suddenly quiet. For some reasons unknown to him, this unnerves Ben, already used to the harmonious sound of your voice and the spark in your eye when you talk about things you like. Watching you now, a look of thoughtfulness on your face, he’d do anything to know what you’re thinking.

He’s about to interrupt, to ask for himself, but you beat him to it.

“Do you ever feel lonely?”

You survey him with sad eyes, not quite glossy with tears, but he swears he can see the ones that escape when you think no one is listening. There’s a sense of vulnerability there that he didn’t expect; didn’t expect you to share with him, to allow him to see. In their depths he can see pain, too, though it’s nothing new; everyone knows that it’s loneliness’ best friend.

Idly, he wonders who put it there.

However, when you ask him this, your voice wavers, shaky and almost afraid, something he is closely acquainted with himself. You’re seeking answers for something more than just the question voiced, from someone who doesn’t have them. And, dear God, he wished he did, even if just for your sake. Never did he anticipate something like this from someone he’s only known a few months, but that ceases to matter to him as he softens at your imploring gaze.

The college student decides to answer your question, as that’s the best he can do for you at the moment.

“Sometimes,” He confesses and somehow he knows that’s not the answer you wanted. You deflate, shrinking back into your winter coat.

Not giving himself the chance to second guess himself, he reaches an arm out and tucks a stray piece of hair out of your face. His hands are clammy and his nerves are eating at him, but he thinks you’re more important right now. You look up at him like a deer caught in the headlights, but gently lean into the touch even so.

His licks his lips, which are much more dry than they were a minute ago. “But,” He murmurs, the song filtering through the speakers long forgotten, fading into background noise. You cling onto every word he says, desperate for the words of wisdom from someone with experience. “Sometimes the people I surround myself with are all I need.”

⏭

“We are not watching a horror movie,” Ben pouts as his roommate laughs, the sound filling his ears like an echo, mocking him. “You know I don’t like those!”

“Yes, Benjamin, we’re aware that you’re a baby,” Jae sniggers as the other man tosses the closest pillow at his head, the former just barely dodging it. Penny laughs, nudging her own roommate with an ‘that’s totally us’ look.

The aforementioned roommate, Tonks, takes the opening to throw another pillow at the raven haired boy, causing him to smirk, and Ben knows what that means. Thus a full blown pillow fight arises and Ben is left to pull back to the sidelines.

Feathers and stuffing is falling from the pillows and Ben decides that they’ll have to get new pillows on his next day off.

“They’re fighting again?” You sigh from his left, a fresh bowl of popcorn and m&m’s, per Tonks’ request, observing the chaos before you.

He shoots you a quick glance before humming his response. “Well, if you count pillow fighting ‘fighting’.”

“What other kind is there?” You grin and Ben doesn’t fight the one spreading his own lips apart.

Tilting his head in a rare moment of snark, he gestures to the bowl in your hand. “The popcorn kind.”

“Touché,” You surrender with a chuckle, going back to admiring your neighbors. “Are they always like this?” Laughing, you offer the bowl to him.

Ben caves and grabs a handful, earning a sharp glare from you, though the both of you know there’s no legitimate malice behind it. “Yeah, when you put them together.”

“Wow,” Is all you can say as the two of you continue to eat the popcorn for what was supposed to be a joint movie and ‘get to know the new girl’ night, unbeknownst to the others.

“You think this is bad, you should have seen Diego and Barnaby’s party in July,” He whistles low, recalling the night from last year, a grimace painting his face. “Man, that was insane. Or New Year’s! Honestly, I’m surprised Binns hasn’t kicked them out, yet.”

Sparing him a glimpse, you make no move to join in the battle that’s taken up residence in his living room, albeit beginning to wind down. “I take it you don’t like parties?”

The question has him fidgeting a little, taking his bottom lip between his teeth and twiddling his thumbs. “I’m, uh, not good with groups.”

You nod, taking a leap. “Then thank God two isn’t a crowd.”

His eyes snap to you, but you ignore the look on his face as Tonks points an accusatory finger at you both.

“Hey! Don’t eat all the popcorn, you fiends!”

...

Ben snaps awake when he registers movement to his left as you get up from where you’d been sitting beside him. He wipes the drool from his chin as you head into the bathroom and he takes a quick scan around the room.

Everyone is still there, sitting on the sofa, asleep. Jae’s snoring is the only other sound in the room aside from the credits of their third movie. Penny has fallen asleep on his friend’s shoulder and Tonks is spread out across the rest of the couch, head resting on her lap. The glare of the television reflects off the bubblegum pink of her hair and Ben stifles a laugh. Though, it’s not something he sees frequently and it does bring a hidden smile to his face.

Even if Penny had threatened to spill something into all their drinks to watch Pretty in Pink, he does appreciate their companionship, and he’s glad that they can still find the time to have fun together.

Ben reaches for the remote to shut off The Breakfast Club, Jae’s pick, and checks the time on his phone.

1:27 a.m.

Running a tired hand down his face, Ben debates waking up his friends to seek the comfort of their own beds or leaving them be to sleep on his couch. He’s about to wake up Jae to ask his opinion when you reappear from the bathroom.

Even from his place on the couch he can see the tear stains on your cheeks, the moonlight the only thing aiding his vision as it casts a glow upon your face. You pause when you see him awake, surely knowing you’ve been caught, but you stride back over to your seat and wrap yourself back up in the blanket.

Without much thought, Ben offers you more of it and you take it gratefully. Sniffling, you look anywhere but at him and he wonders why it hurts so much.

Rubbing the back of his neck, a nervous habit, he glances around to make sure the rest of their friends are still asleep before going to question you. When all appears well, he opens his mouth, but you beat him to the punch, something he realizes isn’t so unusual with you.

“I should probably head back,” You say, providing a small, mirthless smile, and shuffling under the blankets. You pass the rest of them over to him and head for your phone by the outlet in the tiny kitchen. “I’m meeting with someone in the morning about maybe being my roommate so…”

He nods on instinct, getting up to walk you to the door, remembering you mention something to him earlier. “Yeah, uh- Rowan, right?”

He doesn’t know why it matters, why he’d said it, but you give your confirmation, anyway. “Yeah. Rowan.”

He can’t help but fidget with his fingers, not quite sure what to do with his hands as you shrug on your coat. Words are failing him, nothing forming or stringing together right as he goes about asking you about what happened. Every time he’s caught you in the past, you brush him off, which Ben isn’t sure is healthy. He’s aware you’re probably not comfortable talking about it with him, and that’s fine, but he can’t just let you walk away while in a bad state of mind. This is especially considering you’ve been a very welcomed outlet for him these past months, helping his handle and manage all his stress, something he’s immensely thankful for. He’s just not sure how to return the favor when you won’t let him…

His cheeks feel hot now and he’s positive that were there better lighting in the room you’d be able to see it. For once, he is grateful for the darkness of night.

“You don’t have to, you know. If you don’t want to,” You send him a puzzled look and he sighs, fearing that he’d have to explain. “It’s late and we’re all tired, so you– er, you don’t have to go if you don’t want to. I know it’s not necessarily a long journey or anything, but you can sleep on the couch if you want, or you can have my bed if you’d prefer that.”

He’s cringing internally, already anticipating your rejection. He was too nervous, too jittery, and now you’re not going to want to come back. Why would you, when all he does is interrogate you and ask questions you don’t want to answer?

You take ahold of his hands that he hasn’t left alone since you got to the door and pull his attention back to you. There’s a smile on your lips when he looks up from his shoes, something that looks out of place on your tear stained face, but still enchanting nonetheless. He’s rendered speechless by the strength he finds in you and you wrap your arms sagely around his neck.

Ben freezes for a moment, not sure if this is real or not, but when you don’t pull away and he doesn’t wake up back on the couch, he realizes that he is indeed awake. With a start, he goes to snake his own arms around your waist and you grin against his neck. After a few more seconds of reveling in each other’s embrace, you pull away and you don’t look quite as sad anymore.

“Thank you,” You whisper into the void, silence surrounding you like a mist. You almost go to pull him into another hug as he lets out a breath of relief, finding the action more endearing than you probably should. “But I couldn’t do that to you.”

“It’s fine,” He assures, one hand still lingering on your hip, seemingly going unnoticed by him. “You know you’re always welcome here.”

The words I know are on the tip of your tongue, ready to fall off, to be said and heard, but you swallow them. Instead, you just smile wider, hoping that he senses this is nothing to do with him and that regardless of whether you stay or don’t, nothing is his fault. However, he’s stubborn, something not a lot of people know, and you know full well that his habit of blaming himself is almost as bad as yours. You know that, right now, with your decision made, there’s nothing you could say to convince him otherwise.

That alone has you close to reconsidering.

Still, you’re stubborn, too, and insist. “You’ve got enough on your hands with the three of them,” Gesturing over to your other friends, still asleep on the sofa, you open the door and bid your goodnight. “Don’t worry about me, Ben, I’ll be fine.”

“Yeah, yeah, alright. Goodnight then, MC.”

Your heart breaks just a little for him as he closes the door, no mistaking the solemn expression on his face as he does so. It clicks shut and you sigh, asking why you always have to ruin things for yourself.

“Goodnight, Ben.”

⏭

The door to his apartment creaks open as he tumbles in, his muscles begging him for sleep. Thankfully, he finished up his coursework during his shift tonight and he has nothing left to do other than crash and attempt to get as much sleep as he can before his 8 a.m. class.

The place is eerily silent when he closes the door behind him, the sound of Jae’s loud snores absent, something he’s become accustomed to hearing upon his return home.

Walking around, he manages to spot a note taped to the fridge and he walks over to read it.

Ben,

staying at billingsley’s tonight, assignment due tomorrow.

be back later.

-J

With a sigh and a shrug, he tosses the note and grabs a glass of water before heading to bed. Grabbing one from the cabinet, he does his best not to fall asleep before reaching his room. He never likes being home alone after a shift, something about the complete and utter silence always unsettles him.

He’s ready to go to sleep, skipping putting on pajamas and going straight to bed, when he’s met with a familiar sound, one he hasn’t heard in a while.

It’s you, and you’re crying again.

A curse leaves his lips and his chest feels tight. You’re crying, again, and he doesn’t know what to do. He still doesn’t know why you’re always up at this hour or what it is that makes you cry, but he swears if he has to hear you suffer one more time…

His hands itch for a plan, something to do to help you, make you feel better, but his mind is blank. If you hadn’t confided in him all the times before, what makes this time any different? I mean, why would you let him in this time? Even so, he decides, there has to be something he can do, because Ben knows that the whispering of the wind doesn’t sound like heart wrenching sobs and a promise broken by empty words.

With nothing else to do, he trusts his instincts and goes with the first thing that comes to mind.

Dragging one of the chairs from their poor excuse of a dining table, he walks it over to where the sound is loudest, figuring that must be where you are. Pulling his phone from his pocket and grabbing the bluetooth speaker off the counter, he climbs up onto to chair and pulls up a song the two of you heard on the radio a few days ago during his shift. He places the speaker as close to the ceiling as he can and takes a breath.

He knows how weird this must look from an outside point of view, hell this is weird to him, but it’s the only thing he can think of. He doesn’t know if this will work at all, quite frankly he’s pretty sure it won’t, but he has to try, right?

He closes his eyes for a second and hopes against hope that the walls are thicker than he knows them to be before pressing play.

As the music of Lean On Me begins to play, drifting smoothly throughout the dullness of his apartment and the voice of Bill Withers fill his ears, the crying ceases. He allows the song to play, wondering and wishing that you can hear it and know what it means. He’s never been the best with words, or expressing himself, but he hopes this conveys the message for him.

Seconds pass and he doesn’t hear anything, he just stands there in silence, holding the speaker up to the roof. No sound comes from your apartment and he wonders if maybe you’re ignoring him, or perhaps you went to sleep. Just as he’s starting to think that maybe he fucked up, there’s a knock at his door.

He puts the speaker down, but doesn’t turn it off on the off chance that you’re still upstairs listening to it, and walks over to his door. His first thoughts are that it’s one of his neighbors, here to complain about the noise at three something in the morning. Merula, possibly, or Andre. He’s not really sure which one he prefers.

Though, when it swings open, that’s not what he finds.

You’re there, hair and eyes wild as you regard him. As he expected, there are fresh tears in your eyes, though this time you don’t bother hiding them or wiping them away. You simply stand there, regarding him with a frown tugging your mouth down in a somber expression. You’re in your pajamas, wrinkled and much too big for you, but you don’t seem to care much about how you look right now. Instead, you look at him, a desperate plea dying on your tongue and his mind hurls to a stop.

Without a word, you throw yourself into his arms and this time he doesn’t hesitate to reciprocate the hug, pulling you closer into him. Ben holds you like porcelain, afraid that if he squeezes too tight you’ll break. He cradles you to him, delicately, like one would a distressed child. A few more tears slip from your eyes, dampening the shoulder of his shirt. He doesn’t care.

You stay there like that, in each other’s arms where both of you feel the safest, door wide open for anyone to see while the song reaches its crescendo. As the music fades and the speaker goes quiet, you pull away, but stay nestled against him.

Ben takes this opportunity to speak, deciding to hell with it and saying something he should have said a long time ago.

“Look, MC, I’m not playing tricks on you, okay. You’re always welcome to come in, no matter what time it is or what you’re here for. You can stay here for an hour or two or three or however many you want when it’s too quiet in your apartment or the space feels too big or if you just need a friend,” The words are out in the open now, and distantly a voice in his mind is yelling at him, telling him to stop while he’s ahead, or more accurately, before he’s too far behind, but he can’t. The words, they tumble from his mouth one by one, unable to stop himself. “I’m sorry for always bothering you. I know you probably don’t want to talk about it, but you don’t have to. I’m here if you just want company–”

“Ben–”

“No, you need to hear this!” He pushes on, knowing that if he stops now, he’ll never be able to bring himself to do it again. “We can talk about the noise when you’re ready, but ‘til then…” He sighs, not wanting to give you an out, another excuse to bottle things up, but he knows pushing you won’t do any good either. “...it must have been the wind.”

Your breath catches in your throat, your own words from months ago echoing back in your ears. It sounds fake, even to you, though you always knew it did. There was just nothing else to be said at the time… but there is now.

“It’s not the wind,” You hear yourself say, the words leaving your mouth in a rush, like it was something you had to get off your chest. It is.

The shock you see in his eyes is expected, but the way they begin to soften the longer he looks at you with those gorgeous, sincere brown irises of his gives you the push you need to finally tell him everything.

“That first night you came to my house, the crash you heard was me being a klutz and dropping a picture frame,” You admit sheepishly, the night from all those months ago something you’ve tried not to think about since it happened, though it’s easier said than done. “It wasn’t really the frame that I was upset about as it was the picture in it.”

Ben reaches for your hand, giving you a patient nod to continue. “It’s the last picture I have of my brother and me. I was already stressed with the move and being reminded of things just didn’t help.”

“MC,” Ben whispers, careful not to scare you or make you feel pressured. His tone is soft and light, kind, and you appreciate it in this moment. “What happened to your brother?”

You gulp, dreading saying it out loud, it always makes it feel more real that way. Though it’s not like you doubt the truth in it, anyway.

“He went missing almost two years ago,” The confession causing new tears to sting your eyes, already red and puffy from minutes ago. You ignore them, having grown used to their company. “Nobody knows where he is, how he went missing in the first place, how he’s doing, if he’s even alive…”

“Sometimes I like to call his cellphone, just to hear his voice again when I’m sent to voicemail, though I’m not really sure why I keep doing it. I know it only makes me feel worse,” You shake your head and tears drip onto his shirt. Ben pulls you to him for another hug and your arms wrap around his waist as you tuck your head into the crook of his neck.

“Is that why you haven’t gone back to school?”

You nod, not moving from his hold. “He wasn’t just my brother, he was my best friend, and now that he’s gone I just… I don’t know what to do. He always had all the plans and he always knew what to do when things went wrong, but he never told me what to do if he disappeared.”

“It’s not fair,” You find yourself growling, surprised at the anger, the resentment in your voice, though should you be? He left without a single word and really, what are you to do about that?

“I know, you’re right,” Ben agrees, wishing more than anything that he could help you, that he could fix it, but he knows he can’t. He can’t bring your brother back, he can’t give you closure or any sort of explanation other than: “It’s not fair.”

You sniffle, seeming to have run out of tears for now, or water in your body. Though, you can’t deny that the support of the blonde man before you doesn’t play a big role in that. “Sometimes… sometimes it’s just really hard not to feel completely alone.”

“You’re not,” Is what comes out of his mouth and the persistence behind it is not something he’s used to in himself, but he can’t dwell on that right now. “You’re not alone, MC, I can promise you that.”

“I know,” Those words, they’re not just something you wish were true now; now you know and can say with full, complete confidence and honesty that you believe. “Now I have you.”

And when you pull back to smile at him, a little broken but hopeful for the first time in what feels like forever, and press your lips softly against his, you know that so long as you have him by your side, you have nothing to worry about.

“we can talk about the noise when you’re ready

but ‘till then

i’ll say it must have been the wind”

70 notes · View notes

svumanhattan · 5 years

Text

Sonny Carisi - NSFW Alphabet

Based on this post.

I’ve tried to keep this gender neutral, smut under the cut.

A - Aftercare: He is a very attentive partner and even when he’s totally blissed out he’ll still make sure you have everything you need to be relaxed and happy.

B - Body: Sonny is happy with his body, he’s tall and toned and he knows you love how he looks, which is important to him.

He’s clearly an ass man and he especially loves the way your curves look in your favourite jeans.

C - Cum: He’s not opposed to making a mess but he’ll only enjoy it if makes you feel good. He’d never want you to feel used or dirty.

D - Dirty Secret: Sonny is loud, but he loves it when you’re even louder, he can’t resist teasing and stroking you in just the right ways to really make you scream for more.

E- Experience: He’s not a one night stand kinda guy so all the experience he has is from a couple of long term relationships. He’s excellent at reading people though so he’ll soon learn what you like and don’t like.

F - Favourite Position: He’s happy as long as you can make eye contact. He needs to see exactly how you’re reacting to his body and he loves watching you come apart close to him.

G - Goofy: Sonny can be a silly guy, he loves making you laugh, but if the moment is serious he can do that too.

H - Hair: He’s not a very hairy guy, just a smattering of dark blond hair over his chest and a slightly defined happy trail leading to a thatch of light brown curls.

I - Intimacy: For Sonny sex is all about intimacy. He loves the pleasure too, but the most important thing is that he feels close to you. He needs to see the love in your eyes and is always eager to cuddle you close.

J - Jack Off: He has a naturally high sex drive but he’s not one for random hook ups so when he’s single he jacks off a lot. He likes to go hard and fast, moaning the whole time and usually showering after to take care of the mess.

K - Kink: Sonny loves making desserts and you enjoy helping him. He’s mesmerized by watching you lick chocolate frosting of the spoon and can’t help but accidentally get some on himself for you to lick off.

L - Location: He likes privacy but really once he knows it’s just the two of you any flat surface, floor or piece of furniture will do.

M - Motivation: Sonny is really easy to motivate because when he’s with someone he cares about he can’t get enough of them.

N - No: He has very definitive boundaries due to his job so he would never hurt you or do anything you were even hesitant about.

O - Oral: He is a natural giver with soft pink lips and a very talented tongue. He loves to take his time, teasing you at first before pushing you over the edge as many times as you need.

He’s naturally selfless so he’s not used to receiving much oral, but you always make sure he gets it when he wants it, especially as you love the constant sounds he makes with your lips wrapped around his cock.

P - Pace: Sonny has a lot of energy so he has no problem going fast, but he’s also happy to take his cues from you until he finds a pace to suit you both.

Q - Quickie: He’s very suited to quickies because he always has so much energy but he still usually prefers to take his time with you, to make sure you both get the pleasure you deserve.

R - Risk: Sonny is not a risk taker at home. It’s part of his job so he doesn’t want it with you.

S - Stamina: His stamina always surprises you, he seems to have endless energy, only stopping when you’re both completely spent.

T - Toys: Sonny’s not the sort of guy that’s ever really considered them but once you suggested them he was more than willing to try. He loves watching you use them on yourself, telling you the whole time how hot you look, until you let him take over.

U - Unfair: He does try to tease you but it’s hard for him to resist pushing you over the edge as he loves your pleasure so much.

V - Volume: Sonny is loud, he can’t hold back, he moans and talks in broken sentences the entire time. You make him feel amazing and he can’t stop himself from telling you.

W - Wild Card: Praise Kink! Sonny is always looking for the approval of others and that includes his romantic partners. It starts off slow, you notice how eager his is after you tell him how good he makes you feel or how sexy you think he is. Once you pick up on this you try calling him a good boy during sex and he almost cums on the spot. He can’t get enough of the praise and you love how he always blushes like crazy.

X - X-ray: Sonny has a beautiful dick, it’s long and firm with a pink tip.

Y - Yearning: He has a tight grip on his sex drive as his job can keep him extremly busy for days at a time, but when he’s not working his sex drive is pretty high and he’ll usually come more than once a session if his partner is willing.

Z - Zzzzzz: Sonny falls asleep really easily after sex but only if he knows his partner is happy and satisfied.

#sonny carisi #sonny carisi smut #sonny carisi headcannons #lemons #a to z #svumanhattan

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sleepyverstappens · 5 years

Text

My skin hurts without your touch

Title: My skin hurts without your touch

Pairing: Lando Norris/Max Verstappen

Rating: Explicit

Word Count: ~ 5.6k

Tags: Painplay, Anal Sex, Hand Jobs, Barebacking, Coming Untouched

Summary: He knows this feeling, he’s become all to familiar with it during his racing career. It was part of motorsports, but it didn’t make it any less frustrating. Another DNF behind his name, when he’d had a pretty decent weekend so far, qualifying better than he’d expected even. He wants to forget all about today. Wants to feel the remnants of the pain inflicted tonight on his flight home tomorrow, rather than the disappointment of the race.

A/N: So this fic is set right after the Canadian gp (yes it took me nearly 2 months to write this, shush), which is the race where Lando's rear suspension gave out on him. It's mentioned in the fic as well, but that's kinda all the set up you need to know.

This is part of the Sink your teeth right into my bones verse (aka the painplay verse), so beware of the tags. This can be read seperately I guess, but yeah just know they have an established painplay kink in this verse.

Anyways hope you guys enjoy this :D

Read on AO3

They’d been lazily flipping through the channels of the hotel TV, before they had settled on some random comedy act on Comedy Central that they’re watching now, both of them in their comfies. His head is resting on Max’s stomach, jostling about every time Max laughs at the TV. He’s not really been paying attention to it though, his brain pulling up the scene of his abandoned car at the pit exit yet again. He’s been mulling it over ever since he had found himself stranded there, his rear suspension giving out under him out of nowhere. The team still hadn’t been able to give him an explanation of what had happened, all they had said was that it hadn’t been his fault.

“Gotta piss,” Max says all of a sudden as he untangles Lando’s arms from around his waist and gets up from the bed.

“Great, thanks for letting me know, I was really wondering if you were gonna piss or take a shit,” Lando chuckles as he pulls himself back upright again, arms stretching out over his head as he yawns.

He’s a little sleepy, the post-race adrenaline seeping from his body slowly even with his race ending so quickly today. He’d been restless though, every time he’d start to give in to the lull of sleep his body would jerk him back awake, making Max chuckle in the process as his limbs flailed about. His brain wouldn’t stop bringing up the sensation of the rear giving out on him, his adrenaline spiking suddenly as he tried his best to nurse his car to a safe spot.

His body has been itching with something else though, the need to ache. His body craving the impact of the crash that hadn’t happened. It’s craving the touch of callused hands pushing and pulling at his limbs until they set his body alight, the sting of teeth digging into his skin, leaving bruises.

He hears the toilet flush and watches as Max shuffles back out of the bathroom, his hand scratching at his stomach showing off the v-line there. He gnaws at his lip, debating whether to bring this up, this urge inside of him. Trying to see if Max could be up for it tonight. He knows this doesn’t just take a lot out of himself, it does for Max as well, managing to keep the right kind of balance between not enough and taking things too far.

He’s taking so long mulling it over that Max has now let himself fall into the armchair next to the TV, his fingers tapping away on his phone screen. There’s sound coming from the device as Max switches to Instagram, swiping through his friends’ stories.

“I want you to hurt me,” he finally speaks up, the sound on Max’s phone still playing as the other man looks up at him with wide eyes.

“What?”

“Please.”

“We agreed never to do this as punishment, as a way to punish yourself Lando.” And of course Max’s first thought is that this is about the race, that he’s blaming himself for it somehow, his mind twisting and turning what had happened until he somehow found himself to be the one to blame.

“I know, but I’m not punishing myself, it wasn’t my fault the car broke down. I just… I just need this right now Max.”

He’s sitting criss cross on the bed now, Max’s bed , tugging at a loose thread on the probably way too expensive bed sheets and he really does just need this right now. He’s not feeling sorry for himself necessarily, more so frustrated with today’s events. He kind of wishes it had been his own mistake that took him out of the race instead, because then at least he’d have someone to blame.

He knows Max had seen his car limping along to the pitlane exit, if not in his mirrors he would’ve seen it on the big TV screens lining the track. He knows his boyfriend somehow finds the time to watch those during the races. They had only just had some fun battles, Max passing him and him managing to overtake Max right back using his DRS and softer tyres. And then all of a sudden he was out, his bright orange car still at the side of the track for many laps afterwards.

He knows this feeling, he’s become all to familiar with it during his racing career. It was part of motorsports, but it didn’t make it any less frustrating. Another DNF behind his name, when he’d had a pretty decent weekend so far, qualifying better than he’d expected even. He wants to forget all about today. Wants to feel the remnants of the pain inflicted tonight on his flight home tomorrow, rather than the disappointment of the race.

“Okay,” Max says softly, meeting Lando’s eyes as he raises from the chair he’d been sitting in. He trusts Max with this, to know when he really needs this, to not misuse this power he’s been granted. They have clear boundaries, formed unconsciously over the years and more consciously recently. It was difficult at times, to find the right balance, but they’ve made it work and right now he knows that Max will listen to what he needs, will know just how far to go.

Max walks over to the bed confidently, the soft smile starting to quirk up in a playful smirk, and crawls onto it so he’s sitting on his knees behind Lando. And Lando feels himself lean back into him, Max’s hands heavy on his shoulders as he draws him close.

There’s the press of lips against his neck, dry touches as they work over his skin slowly until they press right behind his ear. He knows what’ll come next, but the bite of teeth against his earlobe still makes him gasp. He sighs out as the pressure disappears, Max’s sucking around his earlobe wetly instead. “Come on,” he groans, getting impatient already.

“Patience babe,” Max says with a chuckle, shifting around a little so he’s sitting up against the headboard, pulling Lando back against him. Lando’s body is pliant under Max’s skilful hands, his legs stretched out in front of him now as Max starts to tug at his t-shirt. He shivers a little at the sudden cold, but Max’s warm arms wrap around his waist quickly. His fingers trace over the scattering of goosebumps covering Lando’s arm, the touch featherlight and only making more goosebumps appear.

And Max is so good at this all, pulling him into a false sense of security, tricking his body, and then all of a sudden his hand grips around his wrist tightly, pulling his arm back roughly and making him scream out in pain. His breathing comes more heavily then, his teeth digging into his bottom lip to fight back against the pain. He can already feel his cock starting to twitch even though they’ve barely even started, the fucked up part of him rearing its ugly head after lying in wait for a while.

It’s not always like this. God it would be pretty fucked up if it were. No most of the time they were pretty fucking vanilla , complete with staring into each other’s eyes and asking if the other one was alright every five minutes. And as much as he loved that part of them, he would never get over the way Max would transform when they were like this. Confidence radiating off of him.

His arm twists further under Max’s grip, his forearm now twisted up against his back, straining just a little bit too much. His teeth are digging into his lip as Max keeps his hold firm with one hand and as the other hand starts to creep towards his crotch. He’s just got some joggers on, the shape of his cock clearly visible by now and he can’t help but buck up into the press of Max’s hand. The movement only makes his arm strain more, making him groan out in both pleasure and pain.

“Come on,” he bites out again through gritted teeth, sighing out in relieve, even with the pressure on his arm still there, as Max’s fingers finally dip underneath the waistband of his bottoms. Max’s hand dips further underneath the fabric and his fingers wrap around his cock loosely, the touch just that little bit too light to really relieve the pressure.

He feels Max’s face press into his shoulder again, the light dusting of stubble scratching at the skin as he presses soft open mouthed kisses there. The pressure of his lips is light, but they leave damp patches as they slowly move closer to his neck, his hand moving over his cock just as slowly. He feels his body relaxing underneath Max’s touch, even though his brain tells him to run, to not let himself be tricked once more. Max does this so well though, manages to trick even his clever brain, until his lips reach the skin behind his ear. One last press of those soft lips and then there the sting of Max’s thumb pressing down against the slit of his cock, digging into the sensitive skin.

There’s a ridiculous sound falling from his lips then, his breath choking up mid-hiss. It’s too much, too much after way too little. The juxtaposition is making his body clench up, freezing up instead of fighting or flying. His muscles go tense, the grip of his fingers on Max’s thigh clenching up, nails digging into the flesh and his breath catching. His mind goes blank, a feeling he usually craves, but it’s too much, too quiet. He doesn’t know how long he stays like that, the phantom pain of Max’s thumb pressing against his cock still there even though the other man has long since stopped pressing down.

“Fuck, babe,” Max hisses out when it doesn’t look like he’s releasing his death grip anytime soon. “Hey, come on, it’s okay, relax,” he continues on softly, his hand wrapping around where Lando’s hand is still digging into his skin, and softly coaxing his grip loose.

He closes his eyes, willing his body to relax as he takes in a deep breath and finally he feels his muscles start to loosen up again, his body sagging back into Max’s chest with another deep breath.

“Shit, sorry.”

“Hey no, don’t. You want me to stop? You really scared me there,” Max asks worry clear in his voice

He takes another deep breath and thinks it over, he should probably stop, but there’s still an itch there. An itch he can’t help but have, even after scaring Max and to be honest himself like that, that needs to be scratched.

“No,” he says resolutely, “Just maybe hold back on the surprises for tonight though.”

“Okay, if you’re sure.”

“I’m sure.” He turns his head around far enough so he can look Max in the eyes, to show him he really is sure about this. He nods once and waits for Max to nod back, his gaze never wavering. Max’s eyes flit over his face a few times, seeking out any traces of hesitation on Lando’s face and when he finds none he nods back, slowly.

Max’s hand is firm but soft on his cheek as he closes the gap between them to press a kiss to his lips. It’s slow, mouth dragging open Lando’s own lips as he licks his tongue into his mouth languidly. Max’s tongue licks over his palate, making him moan out and press into the kiss more firmly. He feels Max’s finger tangle into his messy hair then, tugging at it lightly, letting Lando know he’s still up for it as well. It makes a smile tug at his lips, the easy communication between them that’s at the very base of this all, the thing that makes this work so effortlessly.

He licks back into Max’s mouth, their tongues dragging against each other, making saliva cling to his lips. He can’t stop smiling though, all thoughts of the shitty race erased from his mind for the moment and Max is grinning into his mouth right back. Max’s other hand starts to creep back south again slowly, wrapping around his cock firmly. The dry movement makes his body tingle, the feeling just that little bit painful until Max twists his hand over the head and his movement becomes more smooth.

His mouth falls open into a moan, breaking their kiss. He lets his body sag back into Max’s chest, letting the feeling of Max’s hand moving over him wash over his body. He feels the muscles in Max’s right arm flex with each pull, his other arm wrapped around Lando’s waist, holding him close. Max’s mouth finds his neck again, open mouthed kisses falling to his skin, his tongue lapping up the sweat there.

It’s overwhelming, overwhelming to have someone be so devoted to you, to have his every thought and action be for you and only you. It’s why with just a few of Max’s precise strokes he feels like he’s close to the edge already. Another moan is bubbling up from deep in his stomach, rumbling up his throat and finally falling from his lips. His mouth drops open as he takes in gulps of air, his hips trying to buck up into Max’s hand. Max’s grip around his waist is strong though, keeping him in place.

“Fuck baby, look at you, so desperate already. Does it feel good?” Max’s voice is low and he can feel it rumbling against his back where Max’s chest is pressed against him. He bites at his lip, trying to keep the whimper from falling from his mouth, but it escapes through the cracks anyway. His hands clenching in the sheets as another wave of pleasure washes over him. “Tell me.”

“Fuck, so good,” he says with a whine, his body trying to twist up into the touch again. Max’s movements are slick now, precum making his hand slide easily, the noise of it starting the sound obscene.

“You wanna come? Gonna come for me, baby?

He’s breathless and so close to coming and his body is begging him not to do this, but he can’t stop his hand when it grips around Max’s wrist and stops its movements. He squeezes his eyes shut tight for a second, trying to stave off the orgasm that was about to rip through him, barely noticing the questioning sound that Max makes behind him.

“No,” he says instead, “Want you to fuck me. Want to feel you on the plane tomorrow.”

“Fuck,” Max breathes out, mouth warm where it presses against his neck. “Let me get my bag.”

He knows what Max means, there’s a fresh bottle of lube sitting there waiting after they finished the other one on Thursday, but it’s not what he wants. He doesn’t want careful fingers pressed into him, stretching him open slowly. That’s not what he meant when he said he wanted to feel Max tomorrow. He wants to really feel him, to be squirming in his plane seat all the way back to England, no matter how plush the first class seats are.

So he holds his grip firm on Max’s wrist, even as the other man tries to move out from behind him. “Stay,” he breathes out.

“Lando.”

“Spit will be fine.”

“It will hurt so fucking much. At least let me make you come first, help you relax?”

What happened earlier was clearly still playing on his mind, a hint of worry staining his words. And God does he loves this man, this beautiful man that cares so much for the people he loves. An aspect of his personality that so few people get to see, something he hides away from the media, the people that try to find cracks in his armour for them to peck at. He keeps it locked away, only opening up that part of him for a select few, and Lando still can’t quite believe he falls into that category.

But he still can’t help but laugh at Max’s words, because of course it will hurt, that’s what he fucking wants. He twists his body around a little so he can look at Max, the grip he had on Max’s wrist slipping free, and he gives him a look that says Really? How long have we been doing this now?

Max rolls his eyes a little. He doesn’t say I just want you to be sure but it’s written all over his face, the way he gnaws at his bottom lip, the slightly worried frown pulling his brows down. He knows Max worries about taking things too far, that he will push Lando too much and break what they have built so carefully, that he doesn’t want to lose this either.

“Milk,” he says without breaking their eye contact, trying to stop the corners of his mouth from pulling up in a teasing grin. It makes Max roll his eyes again, a soft huff of air falling from his lips, still annoyed that they’ve somehow ended up with milk as their safeword.

“I still hate that one!”

“Why?”

“Makes me think bad things everytime you use it on your Instagram posts.”

“Yeah? What kind of bad things?” He says with a teasing smirk, gasping out a burst of air as Max’s finger dig into his hips suddenly. His hands slip further down then, until he’s grabbing a cheek with each hand, his arms straining as he pulls Lando up. He has only just enough time to catch himself as Max pushes him forward until he’s on his hands and knees.

“Like this,” Max says before biting at his arse, his breath hot against his skin as he inches closer to the crack between his cheeks. He can’t help but moan out as Max’s fingers dig into the flesh, pulling the cheeks apart until he feels hot air against his hole.

He’s expecting the drag of a tongue over his hole next, but instead he’s left aching, his hole clenching tightly as Max’s hands leave his arse and instead fall to the waistband of the joggers that are still clinging onto his thighs. The fabric is finally pulled free from his legs along with Max’s own pants. Max’s hand presses against his lower back to get him on his belly, his hands moving onto his thighs next, pushing and pulling at his legs until he has Lando right how he wants him.

He yelps out as suddenly there’s the sharp sting of Max’s hand on his left arsecheek, his fingers running over the imprint it leaves behind, admiring his handiwork. It’s the furthest he’ll go with this, Lando knows, slaps and hits not usually their thing. And sure enough Max’s hand doesn’t pull back for another smack, instead he clenches the fingers into the flesh of each cheek, pulling them apart once more. His hole flutters against the air, anticipation running through his veins as he waits for Max’s next move.

Lips find his lower back, pressing against the dip there, licking over each mole they come across until they’re finally at his crack. Teeth nip at his cheeks again before finally, finally those plump lips press against his hole, tongue slipping out slowly. The wet pressure of Max’s tongue feels amazing, sending a shiver up his body. He’s good at this to, his mouth warm and wet as it slides over Lando, making him press his body back against the flat of his tongue when it drags over him. Max draws lazy circles with his tongue, making saliva start to drip down his teint and onto his heavy balls, before he points it, making his tongue go as stiff as he can as he pushes it against the ring of muscles. He sighs out at the feeling, his body going rigid for a second before recognising the intrusion for what it is and relaxing against the strong muscle of Max’s tongue.

There’s a few more drags and pushes of his tongue, the movements slowly making his muscles relax and opening up more and more and then all of a sudden it’s gone, the heat of Max’s mouth leaving him, his hole fluttering against the empty air. And he can’t help but whine, his body wriggling up into where Max’s hands are still holding onto him firmly. He expects a ‘Stay still’ or another ‘Look at you’ to come from Max, but he stays quiet, almost eerily so, the only sound he can hear from him the even breaths he takes in through his nose.

He waits and waits, waits for him to do something until finally he can’t take it anymore and looks back over his shoulder at Max, and fuck he looks like the epitome of a pornstar. There’s a line of spit dangling from his lips, falling down slowly, his eyes focussed on where he’s spreading Lando’s cheeks open, making sure his aim is correct. Lando continues watching him as the spit drops lower and lower until finally the string breaks. His eyes fall shut as he feels it fall onto his skin, his hole clenching against it before Max gathers it up with his thumb and presses it into him slowly.

Max’s thumb slips in with little resistance, his mouth having worked him open enough for it to press passed the ring of muscle easily. Max presses the digit down against the walls inside of him, his teeth nipping at his skin with a bite, before he sits back up again and pulls his thumb away from him. He leans forward, his chest pressing against Lando’s back as he balances himself on one hand and presses the pointer and middle finger of his other hand against Lando’s lips. He lets them fall open easily, his tongue licking over each thick finger and wetting them.

He can feel Max’s arousal press against his arse with how he’s leaning over him now, his mouth working over the skin of Lando’s neck, the sound of a groan vibrating against his skin as Max presses himself against him. He presses back into the other man, urging him on, wanting to feel his cock press into him already but knows he needs to wait for fingers first. And Max doesn’t need any more encouragement, the muscles in his arms bulging up for a moment as he pushes himself away from Lando.

Wet fingers press against him then, his body giving way to the pressure easily. Max’s fingers scissor open inside of him, slowly opening him up more and more as his fingers run dry again. Fingers ease out to just the tip and he hears the wet sound of spit being pushed from Max’s lips, before they press back in again, a third finger joining them. It’s a stinging ache, the wide stretch making him grit his teeth, his body pushing back against the intrusion to ease the slide of fingers. Max stretches him open carefully, trying to ease the tip of a fourth finger in when Lando’s body relaxes into his touch. And he just wants his cock, to feel the wide stretch of it inside of him, that all consuming feeling of being connected like that.

“Come on,” he grits out, pressing back into Max’s touch, urging him on, letting him know he’s ready.

There’s one more press of fingers into him and then Max slowly eases them out, shushing Lando’s whimpers as he clenches up against the empty feeling. He twists his head back to look up at Max, the other man’s hand raised to his lips, more spit getting pushed onto it with a wet sound before Max twists his hand around his straining cock.

“You ready?” Max asks, eyes focussed on Lando’s as he shuffles forward a little more, a fist around his cock for him to guide it into Lando as soon as he has his confirmation. So he nods slowly, eyes determined as he does so, keeping them on Max as he pushes his hips forward and presses his cock against him. He pushes in slowly, so slow, the pressure against his hole building little by little, and Lando can’t help but let his head fall back down again, hung low between his shoulders as he tries his best to keep himself upright, the sensation overwhelming.

It hurts, it fucking hurts, even with Max’s fingers having worked him open, but finally the head of Max’s cock squeezes passed the ring of muscles, the widest part of him snug inside now. He feels so much bigger than normal like this, Max’s cock dragging against his insides as he continues to press forward, the spit barely easing the slide. Max inches in deeper slowly, shushing each of his whimpers with soft kisses against his skin and words of encouragement until finally he’s pressed into him right to the hilt. His mouth falls open in a choked up gasp and it’s only then that he realises how hard he’d been biting at his lip, the tang of iron on his taste buds as his tongue connects with his ruined lips.

“Fuck baby, you’re so tight,” Max groans out, his voice a low rumble.

He can’t stop the keen that forms on his lips, the sound bursting out as he takes in the sensation of Max stretching him open. “Fuck Max, fuck it hurts,” he says at the same time he closes his hand over Max’s hip to keep him close, telling Max that he can handle it. Max’s sweaty forehead falls against the back of his neck, a soft hum resonating against his skin as he keeps close and lets Lando get used to the feeling.

He waits for his body to relax a little more, to get used to the feeling of Max stretching him open and then relaxes his grip on Max’s hip, his hand falling back to the bed instead and fingers tangling around Max’s beside him. He squeezes once and feels Max press a kiss against his neck, his hips inching back ever so slightly. It still hurts and the feeling of Max stretching him open with just the tip of his cock, feeling both empty and full, draws a confused little sound from him, his brain not knowing yet whether it likes this or not. But then Max pushes back in, parting his walls once more, and pleasure is starting to seep in along with the pain, the urge to press back into the intrusion rather than pull back starting to win out.

Max’s rhythm stays slow, his mouth pressed below his ear, sucking and biting on the tender skin there in between words of praise.

“You’re doing so well, taking my cock so good baby. Fuck you’re tight, feels like you’ve never been fucked before, like you’re all for me, just me,” Max groans, words more of a ramble now as his hips pick up a little more speed. “Does it feel good, hmm?”

“So. Good,” he chokes out, his head pressing into the pillow beneath him as his arms start to give out, but Max’s arm wrapping around his chest is strong, keeping him from completely falling into the soft sheets. The fabric of the pillow feels foreign against his tongue as he clenches his teeth into it, his whimpers turning into moans as they rumble up his throat.

“Let me hear you baby, lemme know how good I’m making you feel huh.”

He spits the fabric back out of his mouth, his head pressing against the wet spot now as he lets out a loud keen, following Max’s orders. By now the slide of Max inside of him is more pleasure than pain, Max’s precum making the slide a little smoother. He can feel Max trying to find his prostate, the angle of his trust changing ever so slightly, until he lets out a frustrated groan and draws his body away from Lando. With Max’s arm slipping away from his chest his upper body collapses against the bed, his fingers twisting into the sheets as the change in position makes him feel even more. Max’s hands wrap around his hips tightly, the nails of his fingers digging into the skin as he thrusts forward again, trying to find the right angle once more.

It takes just two more thrusts and then finally he pushes in just right, the tip of his head hitting that magical spot inside of him, making him gasp in a breath of air before a loud moan falls from his lips. It feels so good, the last remnants of pain seeping away now as Max keeps pressing in at the right angle. “Yes, just like that Max, just like that. Fuck!”

He twists his head to the side, his cheek connecting with the pillow now instead, breathing in air that isn’t dry and cloyed with the scent of fabric softener. He can see Max from the corner of his eye like this, his head gone red from exertion, mouth hanging open a little. Their eyes meet again, a smile that’s too tender for what they’re doing right now spreading on Max’s face, before something wicked comes over his face instead. With one last squeeze of his fingers around his hips Max shifts his position again, one of his hands leaving his hip to reach for Lando’s face instead. He runs his thumb over Lando’s still tender lip softly, before he brushes away some sweaty hair from his forehead, the touches such a juxtaposition to what he knows is coming. He can already feel Max’s heavy palm resting against his face, the weight of his body pressing him down against the pillow.

He doesn’t have to wait long, Max’s broad hand spanning the whole side of his face, the tips of his fingers scratching against his hairline as he presses his face down into the pillow roughly. He closes his eyes and really takes in the feeling. Of the soft pillowcase beneath his cheek, the slightly callused tips of Max’s fingers, the way his thumb curls over his jaw, the pressure of it firm as Max continues to fuck him. And fuck he’s already getting so close, his cock bouncing up against his stomach with each of Max’s thrusts, he could probably come untouched, the slap of his cock against his stomach enough to tip him over the edge.

“Close,” he moans, his voice muffled as he struggles to move his jaw underneath the pressure of Max’s hand, his lips brushing against Max’s palm as he speaks. The warning barely tumbles from his lips in time, the rough jerk of Max’s hips at his words tipping him over the edge. His orgasms rips through him almost painfully, like coming untouched always does, cum spurting out over his stomach and dripping down onto the sheets, making his body feel like tiny fires are lit up underneath his skin.

“Fuck, fuck,” he hears Max’s groan filter through the ringing in his ears, the clenching of his body sucking Max into him even tighter. The slide of Max’s cock inside of him is starting to hurt though, his body going over-sensitive quickly, a soft whimper falling from his lips.

Another pained sound from him has Max halt, his hand drawing away from his face and brushing down his back softly as he slips out of him. He knows Max must’ve been so close, but even in the throes of pleasure he knows when to stop, that the pained sound Lando let out wasn’t like the ones in the midst of their plays. And he can’t stop the stinging of tears at the corners of his eyes, the love he feels for this man is overwhelming, the trust between them so effortless.

Max’s hand is a blur as it moves over his cock, pulling him towards his own release, a low grunt the only signal that he’s coming, his hips jerking reflexively before he feels the splash of warm spunk against his arse and across his lower back. Max’s breathing is heavy, his forehead pressing into the back of Lando’s neck for a second, before he whispers stay into his skin, drawing away from him and stumbling off the bed, shushing the needy sound Lando can’t keep in.

He lets his body sag into the bed, still splayed awkwardly with his arse up in the air, but he can’t get himself to move, exhaustion settling in as he lets his eyes fall shut for a moment, letting the quiet wash over him. Max isn’t gone for long, the soft shuffle of his feet making Lando blink his eyes back open. There’s a wet cloth in his hands as he kneels back onto the bed, the brush of the warm fabric soft against his skin as Max wipes away their mess. His hands are so gentle as he slowly pulls his legs down to the bed, before he carefully turns him over onto his back away from the soiled spot of the sheets and wipes away the mess on his stomach. And he can’t stop the tears from falling this time, everything so overwhelming, the gentle caress from Max’s fingers, the absolute exhaustion, the ache in his arse and the quiet in his head.

“Hey, don’t cry. Did I hurt you?” Max asks worriedly.

He quickly shakes his head, chokes out no , and watches the frown between Max’s brows smooth over again. Max lets himself fall down onto the bed next to him, throwing the cloth over his shoulder, before pulling Lando close. He brushes away the tears from his eyes, a soft smile on his face as does so. “You really okay?”

“Yeah, perfect.”

#max verstappen/lando norris #my fic #f1 fic #formula one fanfiction #it's finally here guys

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kayincolwyn · 6 years

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Mad World (reflection, 10/28/2018)

When I was about 19 or 20, after my parents had split up, for about six months or so and for the first and only time in my life, I was living on my own, in a rental room in this old lady’s house, in St. Johns on the outskirts of Portland, where I was working my first job at a McDonald’s, and that was when I first watched this now cult classic film called Donnie Darko, and when I got to the end of the film, sitting there alone on a bed watching a TV in some stranger’s house, and heard Gary Jules’ cover of Mad World (originally by Tears For Fears), I was so moved that I wept.

For those who haven’t seen it, Donnie Darko is the story of a somewhat outcast and antisocial high schooler (much as I was when I was in high school), played by Jake Gyllenhall, who, after an engine of a plane crashes into his house, and specifically into his room, when he is away, begins experiencing visions and other weird happenings in his life, and begins losing touch with reality as he tries to understand what is going on and what some higher power seems to want from him, all while he meets and falls in love with this girl named Gretchen. Eventually events lead up to Gretchen’s death when she is hit by a car, and then everything falls into place, and he finds himself traveling back in time, and he realizes that he was meant to be there and die on that day when the plane engine crashed into his room, which will spare Gretchen’s life at the cost of his life and the cost of them ever knowing one another. In this scene, as Mad World plays in the background, we see shots of different people throughout his town that we see throughout the film, sitting in their rooms in the middle of the night, smoking or drinking or crying or just starting blankly into the dark, people who during the day pretend to be things that they’re not or wear masks or keep secrets, all while Donnie laughs alone in his room on that fateful day, knowing that death is coming for him, but embracing it to save someone he loves who will not know who saved her or that she was even saved at all. I believe he laughs as he finds the comedy in the tragedy, the joy in the sadness, the light in the madness...

Looking back, I think I was deeply moved by this not only because of that beautiful cover of Mad World by Gary Jules, but also because this scene showcased the sadness and, yes, the madness of the world, in how we say or do things in life that don’t reflect who we really are or who we really want to be, just to survive or to get by or to fit in or for reasons that we don’t even really know ourselves, all while under the surface and behind closed doors we feel empty or alone or broken or wounded, not even really knowing how to express how we feel... and yet it also showcased the beauty in knowing that we’re all in the same boat, we’re all human, so we’re not alone in all of this, in trying to cope and figure out this thing that we call life, and the beauty in love and relationship and giving to and sacrificing for others and how that can give our lives a sense of meaning and purpose in a world that otherwise doesn’t seem to make a whole lot of sense. In this post I wanted to try and talk about this, about how maybe we can find, or at least try to find, like I believe Donnie does in the film, some kind of meaning and purpose in this world that is so full of sadness and madness, or at least that’s my aim here... There have been times in my life when I have experienced nothing but sadness and madness, whether because of stressful or painful circumstances or because of internal existential struggles, times when I have been that person crying or staring blankly in the dark, empty and alone and broken and wounded, and yet I’ve also been someone who was comforted or encouraged by others, or has been someone who has comforted and encouraged others, and someone who has found some meaning and purpose in love and relationship (even in spite of its many ups and downs) and has both received from others and given to others, and all of this lives within me simultaneously, because, as poet Walt Whitman once said, “I am large, I contain multitudes”.

I recently discovered and have become a fan of the young Norwegian musician Aurora Aksnes (and I recently purchased a ticket to a concert here in Portland next February, which I will be looking forward to), whose music is as creative as it is thoughtful, and whose personality is very unique and refreshing, as she has a pure and childlike spirit while also having an intelligence and wisdom beyond her years. Many of her fans consider her something of a real life Luna Lovegood, who is one of the more popular characters from the Harry Potter universe (and who also happens to be my favorite HP character), known for her eccentricity and non-conformity as well as her wise and empathetic nature. Of course Aurora is just a human being like you or me, and no doubt with her own fair share of faults and flaws, who makes mistakes and doesn’t know everything and doesn’t have all the answers, but she has an angelic or fey-like quality about her that is wonderful and attractive. She calls her fans ‘Warriors and Weirdos’, and I think she is a combination of those herself, a warrior and a weirdo, and I believe she encourages others to embrace those qualities within themselves. When you watch interviews with Aurora she comes off as very authentic, speaking and acting in sometimes strange and funny ways, but you can tell she is entirely herself without putting on any airs, which makes her very endearing and charming and magnetic, but then much of her music, which she writes herself, is thought provoking and heartfelt, clearly written by someone who has thought and felt about life, both the darkness and the light in it, deeply. I wanted to focus on a couple of her songs, which are among my favorites of hers, one from her debut album All My Demons Greeting Me As A Friend, and the second from her new album Infections Of A Different Kind (Step 1). Through The Eyes Of A Child, a beautiful and moving song that has a lullaby-like quality to it, was Aurora’s favorite song from her debut album according to an interview from 2016, and in the interview she said this of its meaning: ‘It’s a very important song for me that’s about getting older and seeing the real world and how cruel people can be. You discover this more and more as you grow older, and it gets quite hard on your shoulders knowing all of these things. So it’s about being able to see the beauty in everything and everyone, and innocence in the world, which I miss.’ Here are the lyrics to the song: World is covered by our trails Scars we covered up with paint Watch them preach in sour lies I would rather see this world through the eyes of a child, Through the eyes of a child Darker times will come and go Times you need to see her smile And mother's hands are warm and mild I would rather feel this world through the skin of a child Through the skin of a child When a human strokes your skin That is when you let them in Let them in before they go I would rather feel alive with a childlike soul With a childlike soul Please don't leave me here I remember when I first discovered this song I listened to it on my music player while walking home from work in the middle of the night and it moved me to tears as I resonated so strongly with it. Like Aurora I’ve learned as I’ve gotten older that life is full of pain and as humans it is so easy for us to hurt or disappoint one another, and then sometimes we find ourselves longing, as impossible as it may seem, for a world where it wasn’t like that, a world where there was only joy and where we just loved one another, a simpler and kinder world where we didn’t feel any need to hide ourselves from others for fear of getting hurt or being misunderstood, or where we didn’t feel as though we were just stumbling through the dark, or where we didn’t feel like we were alone. And tonight as I was writing this I watched a live video of Aurora singing this (which you can watch here: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ncG9zTzsisE) and when she sings that last line, ‘please don’t leave me here’, there is this look on her face afterwards that’s so real and moving and that brought me to tears, as it felt like she was putting her soul into those words, and because I have felt, ached, and prayed, those words at times myself... I’m reminded of Mad World, which I quoted above, where in the chorus it says ‘the dreams in which I’m dying are the best I’ve ever had’, which certainly sounds morbid, but I have to admit there is a part of me that looks forward to death, not because I hate life or because I really want to die (and please don’t take this as me being suicidal, as that’s not where I’m at, though I have been there in the past no doubt), but because, in spite of my uncertainty about life beyond this one, I hope that if there is life beyond this one that it is more like that kind of life, life through the eyes of a child, that Aurora sings about. And it’s not so much that part of me wants to die, but more that part of me wants to die to a world full of sadness and madness and instead find myself in a better one full of joy and light, if that makes any sense. But I don’t believe that we have to, or even should, wait for death to see if that might bring us into that kind of world, even if we may have hope for that, as we can also try to create that kind of world here, or at least as much as we are able. And I think that’s what people like Aurora are trying to do, and I suppose what all of us who are capable of love in this world try to do for those we love.

The next song, Infections Of A Different Kind, the title track and the final track of her new album, was, according to Aurora in a recent interview, the most personal song on her new album, which came to her in the middle of the night and was the seed that inspired her new album. I feel like this song in some way addresses that desire to create a better world (and here’s a link to the song: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=9bdasfyaPjA). Here are the lyrics: It's a feeling growing old with time Like a restless in the leaves coming down The world is a hole and we all seem to fall Down and down And the universe is growing tall And we all are caving into dreams of this space Unfolding her arms cannot do any harm Violent contractions And if there is a God, would we even know his name? And if there is a God, I think he would shake his head And turn away So belong to us all Be God in the shape of a girl Who walks this world And I beg, I beg to be drained From the pain I have soaked myself in So I can stay Okay, and more than okay for a while For a while, for a while Infections of a different kind The world is being attacked by your pain If I am the world then why would I hurt All that is living? And if there is a God, would he then believe in us? And if there is a God, I think he can't hear all of us Belong to us all Be God in the shape of a girl Who walks this world And I beg, I beg to be drained From the pain I've soaked myself in So I can stay Okay, and more than okay for a while For a while, for a while This is the breath, this is the breath... There was a discussion on one of her Youtube videos that I was reading tonight that came out of a fan wondering if this song was questioning and even jabbing at belief in God and I can understand why some people would take it that way (though as far as I can tell Aurora seems to be a very spiritual person, if not particularly religious), but I resonated more with what another fan said: ‘For me, I would say that she is rather asking us to be reflective on what we've done for each other so far, and how much more we can do in the years to come. "I think he would shake his head" and "Would he believe in us?" are powerful statements that make us realize that the only one causing our pain and distress is ourselves. To me, she's not saying that there isn't a God, she’s saying it doesn't matter if there is, because he is not responsible for our problems that we created.’ I can agree with this for the most part, and I would add that I felt her line where she says ‘Be God in the shape of a girl who walks this world’, rather than being some blasphemous statement as some might take it, is referring to that spark of the divine in every one of us (or the image of God as it is referred to in the Bible, or the inner light as Quakers call it), including herself, and then to how we have the ability to be a kind of divine presence (where one might say that God is working through us) in one another’s lives if we choose to be. This reminds me, putting this into a more Christian context, of this quote from Catholic saint Teresa of Avila: “Christ has no body now but yours. No hands, no feet on earth but yours. Yours are the eyes through which he looks compassion on this world. Yours are the feet with which he walks to do good. Yours are the hands through which he blesses all the world. Yours are the hands, yours are the feet, yours are the eyes, you are his body. Christ has no body now on earth but yours.” Now as I’ve said elsewhere I no longer consider myself Christian, at least not in a traditional sense, but I can resonate with this idea of our being a channel or conduit for the divine in one another’s lives, and I believe this is kind of what Aurora meant or was trying to say through her song, and there can be truth in this whether one believes in a God or not. Even the end where she says ‘this is the breath, this is the breath’ reminds me of the Greek word pneuma, which means both breath and spirit, so she could also be saying ‘this is the spirit, this is the spirit’. Of course I’m not really sure whether that was what Aurora was getting at here (would love to pick her brain about this song by the way), but in the context of the song I think it makes sense. I admit that I don’t feel as though I am really a channel or conduit for anything like a divine presence much of the time. It’s something I aspire to be, and maybe sometimes in spite of myself I can be that, but much of the time I feel that I fall short of that. I often find myself feeling irritated and annoyed by people, and I often feel numb and apathetic to others and their lives. I have my bad habits and negative tendencies, my faults and flaws, and I certainly don’t feel very angelic or Christlike or whatever one may call it much of the time, and if anything I often feel like something of, well, an asshole. I know there are people that love and care about me that would disagree with this feeling I have, which I appreciate, but it’s something I often feel regardless. I feel like I contribute my own share of sadness and madness to the world you could say, and though that may not be my intention, or any of our intentions really when we do that, it is what it is and there’s really no way around it save for me to try and balance that out by bringing more joy and light into the world, as I believe Aurora and many people, or maybe even most people, are trying to do. As author George Eliot (aka Mary Anne Evans) once said, ‘ What do we live for, if it is not to make life less difficult for each other?’ I think this is a question that we all have to wrestle with, especially in times like these where there is so much division and fear and uncertainty, where that sense of being in a world full of sadness and madness is all the more acute (or at least that’s how it feels for many of us) and it’s not an easy question when many of us, like myself, struggle just to deal with our own problems, let alone anyone else’s, but it’s a question we have to ask ourselves because we all share this world, and in large part I believe how we choose to live our lives in it, or what we choose to bring into this world, can add either to its sadness or joy, to its madness or light. In Donnie Darko, Donnie was willing to give his life to save the life of someone he loved. Aurora, like many artists out there, gives her time and energy to her music to hopefully bring some more joy and light into the world. What can I do to make the world better, to make it a simpler and kinder one? Honestly I’m still trying to figure that out.

Last weekend I spent most of the day with some of my family on my grandpa Allan’s side, including his wife Miriam, my aunt Angela, my aunt Shannon and her husband Jeff, and my cousin Andrea. My grandpa Allan passed away from cancer in March of last year, and he would have been 82 years old on October 21st, so we observed his birthday by visiting his gravesite. I remember as we gathered around his grave I felt awkward and uncertain, as I imagine all of us did to some extent, because death can’t help but leave us feeling awkward and uncertain on some level I think, and yet I know that we all felt, and feel, love for him, and we tried to, and continue to try to, honor him, being grateful for the part that he played in our lives, for the ways in which he loved us, gave to us, and brought joy and light into our lives. We went to lunch at Shari’s and I remember talking with my aunt Shannon who was sitting next to me much of the time, and I remember telling her how Allan’s story of how he found his faith resonated with me, the story of being a foster child who was often abandoned and rejected, who then had an experience where he felt that God told him that he would not abandon him or reject him as others had, and it resonated with me because it had a message that was so universal and childlike, so basic and primal, and uncomplicated by theology and doctrine, that I believe almost anyone could connect with it, that desire and longing to be unconditionally loved and accepted where you are and as you are, and that that desire and longing can be answered. Perhaps, much like Aurora, through that experience Allan learned to see through the eyes of a child. Maybe at bottom he had the faith of a child, and even if he may have built different theology and doctrine around that experience that he had over the years, that experience, and the message within it, was still somewhere at the heart of his faith, and I can resonate with that. After lunch I was at Allan’s house, and Miriam and Angie gave me some of Allan’s things that they wanted me to have, including a tie and some cufflinks and some of his rocks from his rock collection (he was a big rockhound), and I spent some time with my cousin Andrea, connecting over music (including some music by Aurora, which she liked), and I remember looking at pictures of Allan on the walls and thanking him for whatever hand he may have had in helping me to connect more with his family, and I remember telling Andrea that I felt like maybe that was his final gift to me. We didn’t really discuss politics at all throughout the day, although it is something that Allan’s family has had some conflict over from what I’ve heard as there are some in the family who are more conservative and others who are more liberal, and since the 2016 election there has been some tension among some of the family members. The only time it ever came up in any way was when Angie, who is a little more conservative herself, pointed out a letter that acknowledged Allan’s service in Korea that was signed by President Trump, and she wondered what I thought of that and if I would like a copy, and I told her that even though I don’t like Trump myself that if it’s something that is meant to honor Allan then I’m okay with it as that’s what really matters to me, and not who signs it, and I would be okay with having a copy. I think it’s safe to say, being the elephant in the room, that politics causes much of the sadness and madness in this country and in this world, and I think this is something that people on both sides of the political spectrum can agree on. But my day with Allan’s family was a reminder to me of a potential answer to much of the division and tension, the sadness and madness, in this country and this world, that being the awareness that we’re all in the same boat, that we’re all human, that we’re not alone in this, that love and relationship is what matters most of all, and a desire, and really a choice, to try and find what brings us together rather than what divides us. I may not completely agree with Allan’s family when it comes to politics or religion or when it comes to this or that, but at the end of the day we all loved and love Allan and we all miss him and hope to see him again whenever we cross the veil, and that is something that we all have in common in spite of whatever differences we may have, and while as human beings we may all be capable of bringing more sadness and madness into the world, we are all equally capable of bringing more joy and light into it as well, and into one another’s lives, just as Allan did. And just as Donnie Darko left an impact on the world after his death, I believe Allan did as well, just as he did in life, and maybe we can all do that.

A couple weeks ago I watched the Netflix series The Haunting Of Hill House, which I really enjoyed and found equally frightening and moving. The basic premise of the series is there is this family, the Crains, who move into Hill House for a few months and begin having strange experiences which lead to the mother’s suicide, and as the season progresses you find out what happened in the house from the perspectives of each of the family members in flashbacks as you also see how their experiences in the house have continued to impact them as adults, leading to different ways of coping with the trauma, and effecting their relationships with one another and with others. The two children who were impacted most by the events that took place when they were in Hill House were the two youngest children, Luke and Nell, who were twins and have a psychic twin connection. My favorite scene in the whole series was in the last episode when Nell (who is found dead in Hill House after a nervous breakdown not long after the death of her husband, presumably killing herself) reunites with her siblings in spirit and reassures all of them, forgiving them for however they let her down in life, and letting them know that she is not truly gone. When Luke, who was closest to her, tells her that he doesn’t know how to go on without her, she responds tenderly: “There’s no without. I’m not gone. I’m scattered into so many pieces, sprinkled on your life like new snow.” I remember being really moved when I heard this, thinking of Allan and others that I’ve lost in recent years. While my own beliefs about life after death may not be in line with this in a literal sense, as I believe, or hope, that a consciousness, or a soul, continues somehow after death not just in the memories of those who loved them but also in some other dimension that is beyond (if also in some way connected to) this one. But I interpret this as the impact that that person had on us (and continue to have on us even after their death), all the different ways that they loved us and gave to us, all the ways they brought joy and light into our lives, sprinkled onto our lives like new snow. And whether you may believe in a God or not, whether you may believe in life after death or not, I believe the impact you leave, the legacy you leave, matters. Even my mom, who is a self-proclaimed atheist, hopes that when she dies that she will be have made a difference in the lives of people she loved, and maybe in the world too, and that she will be remembered well. I believe she hopes, as many of us do I think, that she will leave this oftentimes sad and mad world just a little better for her being in it, that she can do her part to take away a little of the sadness and madness and bring a little more joy and light into it. While I don’t consider myself as an atheist, I can resonate with this desire and this hope, as I share it, even if I may also desire and hope for some kind of life beyond this one where I am reunited with Allan and others. In short, if in living our lives we made life a little less difficult for others than maybe we have lived life well...

It’s only a few days till Halloween, one of my favorite holidays, when children, and children at heart, dress up in costumes and go trick or treating or simply party and have fun, embracing the spooky and creepy, and in some small way answering darkness and the night and death with laughter as Donnie Darko did, bringing joy and light into it, seeing the world through the eyes of a child, and maybe being channels and conduits of something, well, holy, in what some may see as unholy, being divine sparks in the night, and I think it’s kind of wonderful. The world is kind of wonderful, and it’s kind of horrible, the world is kind of funny, and it’s kind of sad, the world is kind of beautiful, and it’s kind of mad, and I dream of a better world, a simpler and kinder one, beyond this one, but I also dream and hope to help make this world I am living in a better one if I can, even if only in some small way, and it’s hard to know how to express everything that I feel about this world, and it’s hard to take everything that I go through in it, and people are running around and I’m running around, and it can feel pretty crazy sometimes, that’s for sure. But like Donnie I will keep trying to find some kind of meaning and purpose in this world in which I live, and like Aurora I will try to hold onto my childlike soul and be open to being a channel and conduit of the divine in the world, and like Allan I’ll try to hold onto those experiences that help me to feel unconditionally loved and accepted, as I hope like him to make an impact on the lives of others, even after it is my turn to cross the veil, hopefully leaving a little more joy and light behind me in this world than sadness and madness, leaving pieces of myself sprinkled over other’s lives like new snow. And I know that this world can be very very mad indeed, but I know it can also be very very beautiful, because, like me, and like all of us, the world is large and it contains multitudes.

#mad world #donnie darko #aurora aksnes #luna lovegood #haunting of hill house #Halloween #life reflections

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