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ewanmitchellcrumbs · 8 months

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Best Intentions - Chapter One

Pairing: Tom Bennett (World on Fire) x femme Warnings: Angst. Smut. Mentions of shell shock and trauma. Word count: ~4.3k

Summary: An overview of how Tom and her came to be friends, and the set up for the story now that he's returned to Longsight. Series masterlist.

Author's note: I don't have a tag list. Please follow @fics-by-ewanmitchellcrumbs and turn on post notifications. Community labels are for cops.

The imposing red brick building of Plymouth Grove Primary School is gigantic and intimidating to her as she enters through the gates to the playground, the thought of being left here for the entire day makes her clutch at her mum’s hand with tight desperation.

Her first day of school is one she’ll never forget, forever imprinted in her mind, owing to a big pair of blue eyes filled with mischief, and a grin with a pair of front teeth that remind her of a rabbit’s.

It’s morning break as she surveys the playground nervously, trying to decide if she feels brave enough to join in on a nearby game of hopscotch. It’s then that she feels a warm puff of air ruffle the back of her hair, and she spins around to see a sandy haired boy running back towards a group of laughing lads.

“I did it! I gobbed in her hair!” He shouts.

Humiliation warms her skin as tears prickle her eyes, and she hurries inside to the girls’ toilets to unsuccessfully try to locate where the offending spittle has landed, all the while sniffling back sobs.

It’s when dinnertime comes and she sits unhappily sipping her milk that she sees him again. He sidles up to her, alone this time, a sheepish look on his face.

“I didn’t really,” he shifts awkwardly from foot to foot, “Gob in your hair, I mean. I was dared to, so I pretended,”

“Oh,” is all she’s able to manage, not sure of what else to say.

“I’m Tom. Mates, yeah?” He says with his bunny toothed grin, and she can’t help but smile back.

He sits himself next to her, opening his own milk and they spend the remainder of the hour getting to know each other.

She’s surprised to learn that it’s his first day too, she had assumed from his confidence that he would be a couple of years above her. He lives with his dad, Douglas, who works as a bus conductor, his mum - Josie, and his sister, Lois, who is a couple of years above them.

He learns all about how she lives with her mum, and it’s just the two of them as her dad had passed away when she was a baby. Her mum runs the shop off of Stamford Road with her uncle, who lives in the flat above it.

Tom’s eyes light up at the mention of this. “The one with the jars of sherbet straws?”

“Yeah,” she smiles, “And treacle toffees!”

By half past three that afternoon, as the children file back out of the school gates, her and Tom are firm friends.

Her mum and Josie stand waiting to collect them, and they discover that they live only a few streets apart, so the four of them and Lois walk home together, chattering excitedly about her and Tom’s first day of school.

From that day forward, the thought of being at school for the entire day fills her with excitement. Tom makes it a less scary place to be, and is quick to defend her if ever anyone tries to give her trouble.

Their friendship remains solid as the years pass, as does Tom’s compulsion for finding trouble. He adores showing off and being the centre of attention, but it’s always her he runs to when it’s time to face the consequences. She is a privy to a side of him that nobody else is, she has seen his fear, his sadness and his doubt.

They sit on the wall adjacent to her mum’s shop, a paper bag rustling between them as they help themselves to sherbet straws. Tom and Lois had walked home with her and her mum. Josie hadn’t been there to pick them up, she hadn’t been for a few days now.

“Should probably go home soon,” she slurs around a mouthful of sweets, “Need to do my homework.”

Tom nods slowly, moving his own sweet around in his mouth. “D’you…d’you think you could help me with mine?”

“Why?” She chides, “‘Cause you spent all lesson mucking about?”

“Come on,” he pleads, “Me mam’s not well, last thing she needs is me getting into trouble because I can’t do sums.”

She clicks her tongue and sighs. “Fine,” she says, jumping down from the wall.

“Smashing,” he grins, following after her.

She smiles over her shoulder at him. “What are mates for?”

Josie’s illness worsens and she passes away around the time that they start secondary school.

Tom’s behaviour becomes more uncontrollabe, exacerbated by his mum’s death, but with her and Lois at the all girls school, and him at the all boys, there is little that can be done to stop him.

Things come to a head one day when Douglas opens the door to an angry neighbour, who berates him for Tom having stolen the milk from their doorstep, running away laughing, before dropping and smashing it when they’d chased after him.

He’d come to her after Douglas had given him a stern telling off, head bowed and looking sorry for himself.

“He hates me,” Tom had said sullenly.

“He doesn’t hate you, Tom, you just need to behave yourself. Why’d you do it?”

“Was dared to,” he says with a shrug.

“Like when you spat in my hair?”

He presses his lips together, lowering his eyes. “I dunno why I do it. It’s just hard since mam’s gone, dad doesn’t understand me like she did.”

It’s then that she notices the tears that rim his eyes, and she pulls him into a hug.

When had he gotten so tall? He feels massive compared to how he used to.

“Thanks,” he whispers, “I’m glad we’re mates.”

The next few years follow a similar pattern; Tom gets into trouble and immediately runs to her each time, basking in the safety of her presence and comforting words.

As they grow older, Tom’s misbevaiour evolves into petty crimes which soon attract the attention of the police.

She also begins to notice the smell of cigarette smoke clinging to him each time she pulls him into a hug, a troubling new habit he’s developed, no doubt to impress the older boys.

He now seems impossibly tall, and with every inch he grows it feels like he pulls a little bit further away from her. It makes her heart ache.

She grows used to seeing him walking home in the mornings looking bedraggled, a cigarette perched between his lips, after having spent the night in the back of a pub to avoid the police, who would no doubt have been knocking at the door of the Bennett household the previous evening.

When news of war having broken out in Europe reaches them and lads Tom’s age begin signing up to the draft, Tom decides he’s having none of it.

“Signing up as a conchie!” He tells her, as they sit on the wall together, waving the green booklet for emphasis.

“Your dad was a conscientious objector,” she says, narrowing her eyes in disbelief, “Your beliefs are suddenly the same as his are they?”

Tom tuts, flicking his lighter absentmindedly. “Just don’t wanna sign my life away for a load of bollocks that’s got naff all to do with me,”

His mind soon changes once the police come knocking again. He enlists in the Navy, action he considers less direct than fighting on the front lines.

The night before he’s due to ship out, he has a rowdy celebration in the local pub, jeering and clinking glasses with those who’ve not yet joined the draft. She watches on with a heavy feeling in her chest, she knows behind all his claims of how many Germans he’s going to kill and how he’ll have a bird in every port that he’s terrified of what’s to come.

That much is proven as he walks her home later that night, unsteady on his feet and reeking of beer. He sways in front of her once they reach her front door, big blue eyes misty and filled with emotion.

“You okay, sailor?” She asks with a soft smile.

“Can I– can I stay the night?” He asks, suddenly seeming like the little boy he was back when they were in primary school and he’d apologised for pretending to spit in her hair. “I don’t wanna be alone.”

She’s never shared a bed with Tom before. They’ve always been just friends. Her throat runs dry at the thought, but in that moment he seems so vulnerable, she can’t deny him anything.

They creep up the rickety wooden stairs to her bedroom, careful not to wake her mum, and squeeze into the single bed that occupies the space. He clings tightly to her, long limbs wrapped around her, like a drowning man grasping onto a lifesaver.

“I’m so scared,” he whispers into the darkness.

“You’ll come back,” she reassures him, “You have to, who else would be my mate?”

She feels him smile against her shoulder. “Yeah, who else would put up with you?”

They giggle, before shushing each other as she elbows him in the ribs, and they fall asleep curled around each other.

Tom’s gone when wakes up.

They write letters back and forth to each other, but each one feels distant and lifeless. He’s writing with the mask he shows to the rest of the world, giving an emotionless recount of each of his days. She supposes he might be afraid or whose hands his words may end up in, and he doesn’t want to embarrass himself, so she clings to every letter, vapid as they are, grateful to still have a connection to him.

She visits the Bennett household once a week, to share the letters they’ve been exchanging - to her disappointment, the ones she receives are much the same as the ones he sends home to Douglas and Lois.

Over time, her mum and uncle join her on her visits. Her mum brings cakes and her uncle gets into the habit of playing cards with Douglas. She is glad for the closeness between their two families, it makes Tom’s absence seem less daunting.

It’s at the Bennetts’ house where she learns the news of the attack on the HMS Exeter, the Naval ship that Tom is stationed aboard. Her blood runs icy cold at the news, though the Exeter was victorious it is not without deaths and casualties.

The weeks spent waiting for news are agonising, and it’s Tom she’s thinking of as she leans against the shop counter, eyes fixed on the large front window, but too lost in her thoughts to see through it.

“Quarter of sherbet straws when you’re not away with the fairies,”

The familiar voice startles her out of her reverie and she looks up wide eyed at Tom’s smiling face.

God, he’s grown into those bunny teeth. Has his smile always been so handsome?

“Tom!” She squeals, rushing from behind the counter and throwing her arms around his neck. “Do your dad and Lois know you’re back?”

He hugs her warmly before pulling back. “Yeah, popped home first to say hello. Left me new bird there, actually, thought you’d wanna meet her?”

She hates the way her heart sinks at this, but nods regardless, flipping the closed sign on the shop door and locking it behind her.

Tom tells her all about the Battle of the River Plate as they walk back to his house. He grows solemn when he’s finished, glancing sideways at her.

“I saw people die,” he says quietly, “I thought I was gonna die. Can’t believe there’s so much of my life I’ve pissed up the wall.”

It’s then that she notices how much more mature he seems, wise beyond his years. He’s seen things that no man his young age should have seen. She reaches for his hand, giving it a gentle squeeze, a gesture which he returns.

“So, this is Vera,” he gestures towards the kitchen table as they head inside.

She laughs, relief washing over her, when she sees the little canary sitting in her cage.

For a few days it feels like everything is back to normal, until Tom gets a new posting and has to leave again.

“I’ll come back,” he tells her, taking her hands in his, “who else would be your mate?”

She can’t help but smile. “No one else would put up with me,”

He’s away longer this time, his letters are fewer and the worry gnaws at her with more intensity than ever before.

For the second time in her life she cries over Tom Bennett when she hears that he’s been declared as missing in action on the beaches of Dunkirk, a suspected capture by opposing forces.

Lois falls pregnant, and for a time the advancing stages of her pregnancy and eventual birth are a welcome distraction, a reminder that there is life amongst all the death that surrounds them.

Her grief is amplified when bombs fall over Manchester, a bottomless pit opening in her gut when she finds out that there was a direct hit on the Bennett house. Her uncle and Douglas had been inside playing cards at the time, neither had survived.

Her mum moves Lois and her baby into the flat above the shop, with her uncle gone the space is no longer occupied and it makes sense for them to have it, considering they no longer have a roof over their heads.

It’s comforting to have them so close, a little piece of Tom to hold onto until he comes back, if he comes back. She hates herself for thinking it.

When Tom next steps through the shop door, there’s no trace of his grin from last time. He looks skinny, haunted, he’s aged. There’s an anger within his blue eyes that replaces the mischief that used to sparkle there.

He doesn’t need to ask for her to know what he’s after. There will be no hugs of greeting this time.

“She’s upstairs,” she says softly, her stomach tied into knots.

He simply nods and walks towards the back to go up.

It doesn’t take long for her to be able to hear the muffled sounds of arguing and not five minutes later he storms back downstairs and out into the street. She follows after him, grabbing the quarter of sherbet straws she’d bagged up for him.

He’s sat smoking on their usual spot on the wall, and she hops up beside him, placing the paper bag between them. He doesn’t touch them. She wonders when the last time he ate anything at all was, he looks so thin.

The silence between them feels painful, she doesn’t know what to say, but she can tell from the way his hands shake and the urgency with which he drags on his cigarette that if she doesn’t say something then he certainly won’t.

“You can’t be angry with Lois, y’know,” she says gently, “it’s not her fault,”

“Then whose is it?!” He snaps angrily, eyes narrowing as he looks at her.

He’s never spoken to her like that before and she shrinks away from it. “It’s not my fault either,” she whispers sadly.

His face softens, a look of shame replacing his anger as he averts his gaze, his lips twitching. “Sorry about your uncle,”

“Sorry about your dad,”

His return is brief, only a couple of days this time. Enough time for him to visit Douglas’ grave, but not enough for them to talk, not properly anyway. He reveals that he was taken to an American hospital in Paris, after being shot in Dunkirk. A woman named Henriette had helped him to escape France and he’d made his way home via Spain. It’s all so matter of fact the way that he recounts it, but she only has to look into his eyes to see the turmoil he’s feeling. It crushes her.

He looks fearful and uncertain when they say goodbye, the urge to cling to him and beg him not to go is overwhelming.

“You’ll still be here when I get back, won’t you?” He asks.

“Course I will, I always am,” she replies with a sad smile.

He cups her cheek, his large palm engulfing her face and leans down to press his lips to hers. She startles at first, they have never kissed before, but she quickly reciprocates, moving her mouth against Tom’s. His lips are so soft and there is a tenderness behind the gesture that brings tears to her eyes.

She’s breathless when they part, his forehead resting against hers, his hand still cupping her cheek.

“Mates, yeah?” He whispers.

The word makes her heart twinge. “Yeah, mates.”

Her fingers trace lightly across her mouth as she watches him walk away, kit bag slung over his shoulder.

Tom sends no letters at all the third time he leaves, so eventually she stops writing to him. She figures it can’t be nice for him to hear about how life is carrying on without him, how his niece has started to walk and talk, a new house built in place of his old one with a new family living inside it.

She can’t bear how the world continues, while she feels stuck in place, waiting for his return. It isn’t fair that there are people getting to laugh and love and live their lives, while he’s sacrificing his so that they may have the privilege.

With the exception of the morning paper sort, her mum has taken a step back from the shop, needing more rest than usual, and without her uncle around to help out, she’s taking on more hours in order to keep things ticking over. The sweet jars sit empty, rationing is difficult to get used to. She’ll never be able to come to terms with sending people away without the food they want and need, simply because the shop either doesn’t have enough stock, or they have already used their allotted portion for the week.

Her mind drifts back to how skeletal Tom had looked when she’d seen him last. She hopes he’s managing to eat.

It’s the beginning of September, the dying embers of summer glow dark orange on the horizon, as the evening battles the day for dominance in the increasingly earlier darkening of the sky.

Lois is on an evening shift, so her mum is round at the flat looking after the little one. She has the house to herself, and has lost count of the amount of times she’s read and re-read the same passage in her book, unable to take the words in.

She frowns when she hears the door knock, unsure of whether she should answer it or not, she’s not expecting anyone. Her hesitation provides enough time for a second knock, more urgent this time, so she relents, going to the front door and opening it.

It feels as though time freezes when she sees Tom standing there, gaunt and tired looking.

He doesn’t give her time to react, dropping his kit bag to the floor as he closes the door behind him and presses a bruising kiss to her lips. His hands pull at her clothes as he backs her towards the living room sofa, and she lets him.

She just needs to feel that he’s real, that he’s really back, so she loses herself in the moment, allowing him to climb on top of her, her own hands moving to strip him as he does the same to her.

Her fingertips stroke down his back and she’s shocked to find she can feel every vertebrae in his spine, and all the ribs that protrude through the skin. She’s never touched him in such an intimate manner before, but she knows he’s never been so emaciated. He feels hollow, yet there is strength to how he manhandles her.

Pulling her thighs apart, he settles between them, pushing her open with the thickness of his cock. She gasps, arching against him, clutching tightly to his shoulders as he pistons his hips in quick succession against hers. This is no gentle lovemaking, it is filled with raw animalistic need, a desire to feel something, anything.

His breaths are ragged against her neck and he finds release quickly, spilling inside of her with a grunt before collapsing and pulling her tight to his chest.

They lay quietly on the sofa together, nothing but the sounds of their heavy breathing filling the space. She has a thousand questions she longs to ask him, yet none of them seem appropriate. Despite the fact that Tom has just brutally had his way with her, she’s still in shock that he’s returned.

“I’m sorry I never wrote,” he says eventually, “was tired of never having any good news to tell you,”

“You’re back now,” she says quietly, fingers tracing over the bullet wound scar in his shoulder, “that’s all that matters,”

“Still mates then?” He asks.

Her heart lurches at the word. Is that all they are after what’s just happened?

“Yeah, still mates,”

He drifts to sleep in her arms and she holds him, until his thrashing pushes her from the sofa. She lands with a heavy thud on the living room carpet, watching in horror as Tom’s sweaty body writhes and cries out in terror in his sleep.

She kneels beside the sofa, placing a gentle hand on his shoulder to still him and coax him awake. He startles, wide eyed, before clutching at her, burying his face in her neck and sobbing until he drifts into unconsciousness again.

As Tom settles back into life in Longsight, he goes right back to wearing a mask for everyone.

“Are you a hero?” Children shout as he walks down the street.

“Always have been, always will be,” he says with a lopsided grin.

Yet each day ends with him muffling his cries into her neck after she’s soothed his night terrors, she knows better than the act he puts on for everyone else’s benefit. She suspects that Tom may be suffering from shell shock, but doesn’t dare to bring it up. Knowing his father had the same, it is likely a sore subject for him.

His return sees a new development in their friendship, them sleeping together the night he came back isn’t a one off occurrence, yet each time he still continues to refer to her as a mate. It’s confusing for her, but not an issue she wishes to push, knowing that Tom is struggling with enough already. He’ll figure it out when he’s ready, she just needs to be there for him.

Tom gets a flat nearby, and finds a job at the local garage. Having served in the Navy has imparted mechanical skills to him, and he can easily work his way around an engine.

She sits perched on the workbench of the garage, admiring the view. Tom’s sandy coloured hair is pushed back from his forehead, his navy overalls tied around his waist, leaving him in just the white vest he wears underneath. His first customer of the day has yet to arrive, so he’s clean for now. She bites her lip at the thought of how dirty he’ll be by the end of the day.

It has become routine for her to spend a few mornings a week watching him work - her mum has never gotten out of the habit of insisting she wants to open the shop and sort the morning papers before heading home, so she is left to her own devices most days until the early afternoon. Tom doesn’t seem to mind having her hang around the garage.

When a car pulls in, a portly gentleman stepping out, Tom walks to greet him.

“It keeps overheating, I can’t understand why,” he explains to Tom.

“I’ll take a look for ya, mate. Come back in an hour, yeah?”

The man looks over at her with slight concern. “Will she…uh…be assisting you?”

Tom grins. “Nah, she’s just a mate, won’t let her near your motor, don’t worry.”

Just a mate.

She thinks back to how he’d knelt behind her not long after they’d woken up, just a couple of hours ago, pulling her hips back to meet each of his thrusts.

Just a mate.

Mates don’t do that.

Tom’s voice breaks her out of her thoughts. “Stupid old sod, just needs to put coolant in the engine. Gonna tell him I replaced the fan belt and charge him extra.”

She giggles, shaking her head. “You’re unbelievable, you know that?”

He gives an easy shrug. “He’s loaded, he can afford it.”

She sighs, looking at her watch. “I’d better push off, mum’ll be expecting me at the shop. I’ll see you later, yeah?”

“Probably not,” Tom says. “Booked solid tomorrow, but come round to mine after?”

She nods, waving and walking away. She’s used to Tom letting her know when the garage will be busy, so makes a point to stay away so he’s not distracted.

It’s not until the end of the day, when she fishes around in her pocket for the keys to lock up the shop that she realises she has Tom’s lighter. She’s too tired to pop round and drop it off at his, so decides she’ll swing by the garage in the morning to give it back.

Her fingers wrap around it in her pocket, preparing to take it out to hand back as she approaches the garage the next morning.

She stops in her tracks when she sees a sleek black motor car parked in the vehicle bay, a tall, sophisticated, beautiful woman standing beside it. Her perfectly manicured nails stroke down Tom’s bare arm as her ruby red lips pull back into a smile.

Her heart lurches in her chest as she watches him reach out to tuck a strand of the woman’s long, dark hair behind her ear.

Her throat tightens, nausea bubbles in her stomach as she turns and walks away, the lighter long forgotten. It feels as though the bottom of her world has been ripped away. She angrily swipes at the wetness that rims her eyes.

Just mates.

Fine, if that’s what Tom wanted then that’s all they’d ever be.

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justminawrites · 1 month

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None of you understand Amber Bennett: She's just a girl, your honour. A review of the show writers' least favourite love story from Invincible season 1.

Now let me just preface this by saying I have 2 points to make. Just two, very long, super rambly points that does have mild spoilers for Invincible season 2. Read at your own risk.

Point 1: Amber isn't "understanding" enough is utter bullshit.

There’s no indication that civilians outside of the ones associated with the GDA have any idea how brutal fights are for superheroes. Amber quite literally has no idea what the hell Mark is going through, even after the superhero reveal. The only thing she has a smidgeon of understanding of is his dad beating his ass on live TV. And even that is a heavy maybe because we don’t know how much of the fight the cameras could cover and how much was broadcast to the general public.

Point 2: Amber’s dated Losers before.

This is stated explicitly in canon, she's “been down that road." Furthermore, she’s also the daughter of a single-parent household. She used to hang out a community centre as a kid because her mom did late hours. Daddy Issues anyone? She’s got a lot of her own problems that we never get to unpack or linger on because the writing decided she wasn’t going to end up with Mark.

What if she’d already dated an absolute bastard before Mark? Someone who seemed sweet and genuine at first, but then he started slacking. He’d be late to dates, stop taking an interest in anything she did, and just never show up for her in any way that mattered. Amber would make up excuses with her friends and family, oh he’s busy, he’s studying; he cares, I swear, he just has a strange way of showing it.

Her friends and family don’t believe her completely but they humor her because she really seems to like him. And the ex-boyfriend isn’t a douchebag the whole time.. he brings gifts to make up for being late, he plies and pacifies her with honeyed words and promises to be better.

But each time the lies get more and more difficult to believe. Traffic and science projects, traffic and science projects, even when he shows up smelling like weed and alcohol. Her friends and family give her tight-lipped smiles when her ex-boyfriend gives her sloppy kisses and proclaims over and over “She’s too good for me, this one.”

She tries to be empathetic, she tries to be understanding when they’re alone, he can tell her what it is that’s wrong. But every-time she brings up giving them some space, he takes it as an indication of her not believing him and he guilts her with one sob story or another— she knows him, he was so gentle and respectful before they started dating, does she really think he’d do this to her if he didn’t have a good reason? Just a masterclass in gaslighting. So she gives him a second chance, third chance, fourth even.

But then he begins cheating on her. Whenever she confronts him about it, he plays victim and accuses her of being “crazy” even though the entire school knows otherwise. She catches him one fine day, and dumps him on the spot. For a short while, Amber’s very proud of this but as time passes she starts to feel extremely embarrassed that it took that long for her to catch on.

No one blames her, of course, but they all say something along the lines of “We never liked him anyway” which makes Amber doubt the perception of him she had. She internalises their support as a failing on her part to be vigilant, she didn’t want to end up making the same mistakes as her mom, after all.

Amber becomes guarded. She doesn’t entertain male attention (from Todd, for example) but then she finds out resident wimp Mark Grayson takes a beating for her and she feels bad.

So she gives him a chance. Mark was a nonissue, a nobody with no track record of being amazing or awful, just an in-between, normal guy who was maybe a little soft spoken and needed to stand up for himself more.

But every time they try to hang out, something comes in between them. The excuses are laughably obvious this time and Amber is caught between trying to understand if Mark Grayson is trying to let her down easy because he’s not interested or if he’s just another douchebag taking her for a ride.

He leaves her alone during their study date for an hour to do something shady and/or potentially related to Eve (I know she overheard him yelling at Cecil in his bedroom); Mark tells her he’s been to Mount Everest, but can’t tell her How he got there, and leaves on a non-specific trip for two weeks, right after their first date, and can’t even tell her Where he’s going or what he did when he was there?

So she does what she’d wished she’d done in her first relationship, she sets her boundaries. Firmly. She gives Mark multiple chances to come clean when she tells him she’s not riding that wave again. It’s been brought up a few times that Amber has lingering relationship-trauma.

During their study date Amber tells him she’s been in relationships with violent potentially abusive guys (“Met plenty of guys who were willing to throw a punch for me.”); or when he stands her up for the Dinner with her mom she tells him that he needs to make a choice because she’s “Been down this road before, and once was enough.”

But he still keeps at it and she starts getting tired of defending him to her friends and her mom. He’s just busy, he’s just studying; he cares, I swear, he just has a strange way of showing it. And this time they shake their heads and lightly imply that she’s stuck in a pattern. Amber can feel them comparing Mark to her old boyfriend and it all becomes a bit too much.

Either he’s a no good drug dealing prick or he’s just wasting her time, whatever it is, Amber’s had enough of being left in the dark.

The soup kitchen is the final straw, but then she finds out that he gets run over by a bus. He actually gets hurt, this is the first time Amber’s seen him hurt, and she feels awful because if she hadn’t pushed him to show up for her again and again maybe he would’ve been more careful.

He doesn’t let her visit him in the hospital. A hit and run on the wrong side of town was the story this time— he can’t even tell her this, the specifics of his accident! Eve was his first point of contact after his parents?! At this point Amber is convinced that he’s involved in something violent or something to do with Eve, or both and she’s not sure she wants to keep going with this.

Amber is confused and hurt but she also feels responsible for Mark’s injuries. Maybe she Was too paranoid, maybe she Was projecting all her relationship-trauma on him and he would tell her what happened at his own pace. So she backtracks, gives him another chance.

College is really the best of all worlds, Mark makes her promises that this time will be different, and Amber tentatively agrees to college together. (She’s still stressed out about his injuries and on edge the whole time though and asks if he has a concussion).

This is really important because Amber ends up at Upstate U later. She decided to go to college with him, basically because of Him. This wasn’t any specific plan she had before, this was her making room in her life for this boy and potentially everything their lives could be together.

Then the Reanimen Incident happens. And she loses her shit. Mark Grayson is not the flakey but well-intentioned boyfriend she thought he was.. Mark Grayson is not even a good person! He LEFT her and William at the drop of a hat to save his own slimy skin, that bastard! Her intuition was right, she never should’ve given him a chance.

Amber was no longer going to give Mark Grayson the time of day, much less share a bed with the self-serving jerk; she wouldn’t give him the satisfaction of spinning another tall tale. Or seeing her cry. She closes the door to the shower rooms behind her, and overhears Rick leaving to get them all some beer. Dorm room walls are thin, after all.

Then she hears something else.

“You’re Invincible!” William’s voice carries over excitedly, “And you never told me?”

Here goes the "problematic" bit.

I think Amber was lying when she told Mark she knew he was Invincible weeks ago. Amber didn’t even know who Invincible was until a few minutes after the Reanimen attack. She isn’t acting for anyone around her, she’s genuinely confused when the superhero jets off because she’s never seen him in her life.

I think she overheard William freaking out about it in the dorm room and she pieced together Mark’s absences with his vague excuses and why couldn’t visit him at the hospital. She takes a shower to cool off but sitting and stewing on all of it just makes her angrier and she decides to go to the frat party just to get away from Mark for a while.

Now why wouldn’t she just tell him she overheard them talking?

Amber is an assertive independent character with a lot of pride. And that’s not a bad thing. Amber has a lot to be proud of. She has a strong sense of justice, she doesn’t take crap from anyone and she has too much self-worth to put up with liars.

You can clearly see this in the way she approaches Mark in the beginning. She asks William if he’s dating Eve, and then instead of calling him herself, she gets Todd to give Mark her number so he can call her if he’s interested, despite the fact that she already is. She has too much pride to chase him. It’s one of her fixed flaws, and it’s consistent to her character.

So finding out that Mark is actually Invincible almost by accident, is kind of embarrassing for Amber. Not only because she yelled at him for disappearing but for all the times he misled her and lied to her only to actually have a good reason for doing it. There’s a lot of mixed emotions there, shame, guilt, concern. Guilt.

Admitting that she overheard he was Invincible would be like admitting she was a stupid, nagging girlfriend who had no right to be a part of his life (the way the fandom perceives her) so she doesn’t. She tries to distract herself with the party, flirts with someone she just met not ten minutes ago, and feels awful because he immediately drops the girlfriend bomb.

Now she’s forced to confront the fact that she has a boyfriend, and her flakey, well-intentioned superhero boyfriend is sitting and moping in the dorm room because she doesn’t have the guts to tell him she knows. Because telling him she knows would remove the choice he’d need to make when deciding whether or not he was serious about their relationship.

Amber was serious, Amber was going to change her life and potentially open her future to college with him, but was Mark really sure about Them if he couldn’t even tell her of his own accord?

Telling him would be like giving him another out. And Amber was done giving him an out.

When he finally confesses he doesn’t see why she’s mad at him, because he doesn’t see her at all. He can’t even begin to imagine what this roller coaster of a weekend has been for her because she’s been serious about him all this time and it took them breaking up completely for Mark to choose her back in the first place and go all in.

Now it’s true that Mark is entitled to his secrets but Amber is also entitled to being upset that he can’t tell her 1 solid thing about his life. Not one thing does he trust her enough to explain, and at that point why should they even be dating each other? Why should she change the course of her future for a guy who can’t tell her where he was last weekend?

Then Omni-man beats him up on live TV, and now that she knows that he’s Invincible, she finally gets a glimpse into the bloody, gruesome world that is Mark’s. His Dad isn’t a superhero, his Dad is a Monster, and Mark is discovering this the same time as the rest of the world.

So she freaks out because she cares, and she’s so relieved to see him not beat to a bloody pulp like on TV that she kisses him. She likely had no intention of getting back together with him before that, but world-ending fiascos often come with heightened emotions, and they’re just kids at the end of the day.

She’s not a manipulative, narcissistic villain, she’s just a proud girl, in love with a boy who can’t decided whether or not he loves her back.

Now do I think Mark is a terrible jerk who doesn’t deserve Amber? No. I watched Invincible the same way it was intended, almost entirely through Mark’s eyes, and it’s hard to assign blame in this case because we see how horrifying and traumatic being a superhero actually is. But that’s the point, we only see one half of the story.

We see Amber through Mark’s eyes and in his opinion she could afford to be more compassionate to his excuses the moment she finds out he’s a hero, the way Eve can, but that’s not true at all because Amber has no idea what being a hero is like. Eve does, and that’s the difference that Mark is wilfully blind to.

But Mark also has no idea what Amber’s life is like and it’s easy to get lost in the sea of all the lives lost and villains fought, that he genuinely hasn’t spent any time with his girlfriend as a person beyond his Girlfriend. Amber isn’t a person to him, like William stopped being eventually; they became sort of tethers to Mark’s humanity, a way to distinguish himself from his Dad. A way to ground him.

Seriously? When was the last time Mark even talked to William, his once Best Friend? They’re not his Mom, they’re concepts to him. They’re civilians, potential victims he could end up losing if he doesn’t police himself and his powers. Mark slowly becomes disillusioned to his own life as a human, the more the leans into the Viltrumite half of his parentage.

It’s a little tragic but it’s the story we’re seeing. In season 2, when Mark and Amber break up and he gives up his dream for college, these two things are almost explicitly correlated. Mark is coming to terms with the fact that he’s going to outlive everyone he knows, even his new baby brother and that is just the most chaotic example of a slow-burn trauma if I’ve ever seen one. He’s giving up being human, but maybe not giving up his humanity.

______________________________________________________________

TLDR: None of you understand Amber Bennett because the writers decided that Mark would outlive her before he ever had the chance to see things from her perspective and I am SALTY about it

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lucivinyl · 2 years

Text

a message for you

summary: in which soulmates share markings on their skin

characters: diluc, childe, kaeya, thoma

Diluc

doesn’t really do anything about it. as a somewhat solemn figure himself, he understands that appearance is important, and the last thing he wants is to embarrass you in the middle of something serious with some cheesy scribbles

though he doesn’t mind receiving them, given that he doesn’t show that much skin. in fact, he rather anticipates them. sometimes when he’s stuck at work, he’ll roll up his sleeve to see if you’ve left him a message or two

they’re enough to get him through the day

even if he were to write something to you, he’d do it somewhere subtle, like the insides of your upper arms. usually they’re reminders for you to grab lunch or simply ‘miss you’

the only time he won’t hesitate to draw on both your skins is when you get an injury. it could be as small as a paper cut, but diluc will still grab a pen, circle that blooming red line, and leave you an ‘are you alright?’

Childe

he’ll write on his skin whenever he so much as thinks of you, which means pretty much all the time

throughout the day you’ll receive all kinds of messages, from ‘work is boring, i miss you :(’ to ‘OMG i just saw a hilichurl pet a squirrel’

of course, it’s not just words. sometimes he’ll doodle something silly in the centre of your palm (like his face). if he’s sure that you’re just lounging around at home, he may grab a marker and start doing makeup knowing the lines will transfer directly to you

most of the time it ends up with his enemies looking at him with a half puzzled, half amused face

aside from that, he also begins to stay more alert during missions. the thought of indirectly scarring you because of his carelessness or thirst for battles fills him with guilt he can’t quite stomach

Kaeya

exploits this ability with every chance he gets. nothing can stop him from putting his love for you on display, and the fact that the marks show up on both of you just makes it all the better

you’ll be walking down the street when someone hesitantly taps your shoulder and gestures vaguely at your face

now this isn’t a rare occurrence. you’re already muttering under your breath as you find the nearest reflective surface- there it is, a badly drawn peacock head under the corner of your eye, winking and holding a rose in its beak

at the same time kaeya is actually quite a decent painter. sometimes when he’s bored, he’ll sketch the scenery before him: the knights’ headquarters, the tavern, bennett as he runs away from a flock of seagulls. as he draws, you watch the lines appear on the canvas on your skin, and it’s almost like you’re following his train of thoughts

sometimes in the morning, when you have your attention on something else, he throws his arms around you and plants a biggggg kiss on your cheek. for some reason it feels a bit… wet… and sticky-

“did you just-” you rub your face and finds, to your horror, lipstick smudged on your fingers. “kaeya, i swear to barbatos, i’m going to set your wine on fire.”

that does give him quite the fright, but knowing you, it doesn’t really stop him from leaving trails of kisses all over you

Thoma

thoma doesn’t really leave anything for you that often, because he’s worried that they’re ill-timed

what he will write though, are grocery lists. almost every evening, you’ll find a list of products scrawled on your forearm.

it’s not only for convenience, but it’s also an invitation in a sense. he just wants you to add whatever you want him to get for you, whether it be snacks or household items

the first time you found a map of scratches on your arms, you were petrified, thinking that thoma had got into trouble. in the end he had to apologize profusely and explain that he was just trying to befriend some local strays

since then he makes a note to be more careful when he plays with the more feral cats on the streets

on another note, he doesn’t really mind you leaving a little something for him from time to time. anywhere is fine, but he does find his heart glow warmly when you surprise him with sweet comments on his calloused hands. when he closes then into fists, it almost feels like he’s holding a part of you

#genshin x reader #genshin impact #diluc x reader #kaeya x reader #thoma x reader #childe x reader #diluc ragnvindr #kaeya alberich #tartaglia x reader #elfwrites

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assortedseaglass · 1 year

Text

The Seamstress & The Sailor - Chapter Twelve

[Masterlist]

Warnings: Language, World on Fire spoilers

Word Count: 3.4K

Notes: Just a little chapter as the next one is gonna be a hefty mamma.

May 1940

Bess woke up before her alarm and withdrew the blackouts from her windows. Had she her own way, the blackouts would never be up and each morning she’d rise with the sun. Laundry was strung between the windows of the old mills, and she could see Mrs Russo wrestling with some bedsheets. 7 o’clock. The warmth of spring had finally settled, and Bess took her morning cup of tea by the kitchen window, letting open the sash and welcoming the fresh air.

Despite the war, and her part in it, Bess’ life in Manchester was small and she welcomed it. She glanced around her little flat. The tiny kitchenette with its table at the centre, the adjoining bedroom and en suite; a toilet, sitting bath and sink. The metal frame of the small double bed was tied with silk scarves and she had used tape to put up pictures. Cut outs from magazines mostly, but a few photographs. The bedside table was adorned with a lamp she found in a skip, a few books from home, and Tom’s photograph. She’d read a feature in one of her fashion magazines about bohemian apartments in Paris and had attempted to decorate the old flat in its likeness. Bess thought on how many of those beautiful Parisian buildings may be just rubble now and suddenly felt thankful for her peeling wallpaper and cold floors.

While her bacon and eggs cooked on the hob, she reread Tom’s last letter. It had sat on the kitchen table for two weeks, awaiting a reply. Torn between delight and anger, Bess had no idea what to say.

“I could easily understand if you never wanted to talk to me again, but this? These horrible half-given accounts of your day with no substance? I want to know you, Bess”

She remembered how frustrated she got when all Tom sent was tales of shore leave and crass attempts at humour. Really, he deserved more from her. She may not have been his girl, but she was his friend.

“Queenie Warren doesn’t deserve your cruelty just because she likes the company of men”

Never did she think she’d be scolded by Tom. Not when he was so right. Queenie had faults, certainly. Many. She was an obnoxious, selfish gossip. But enjoying men was not one of them. If Bess had the daring and the patience, perhaps she would enjoy them as much as Queenie.

“Please believe me. She asked me about the battle at the dance and it really was just one letter”

Did she believe him? She thought of all the times they had laughed at Queenie, of how many times she had annoyed him. But Tom was all about his reputation. It wouldn’t be the first lie he’d told her, nor would she be the last secret he kept. He’d apologised, yes, but it wasn’t enough for the heartbreak left in his wake. Once upon a time he was her defender, and with supposedly one letter, he had undone Bess’ years of overcoming her insecurities and doubts.

“I loved seeing myself through your eyes”

She resolved to tell him more, and tell Douglas too; his son needed to know he was loved.

“And if anything happened to me out here, I thought it would be easier for you if no-one knew”

Had Bess ever really considered what would happen if he didn’t come home? A violent shiver rocked her body. In the months before the war, Tom Bennett had become her primary source of comfort and joy. Could she content herself to a life looking after an alcoholic father and making clothes for people who scarcely knew her name? A life without Tom?

“I miss you”

Bess kissed the place he had signed his name and tucked the letter into her purse. She would reply that night.

An hour later, Bess stepped through the main doors of Manchester Royal Infirmary with Helen and Joan, her fellow trainees from Carver Mills. Helen was a posh girl a year or two older than Bess. When women were conscripted for war work, she had come to the Infirmary. This was her first job. Joan was from Bolton and had a similar upbringing to Bess. Both were bright, kind women of the world. They enjoyed Bess’ quiet assuredness and never wanted more from her and, in turn, Bess wanted to give them everything. Together, they formed a found family.

Their morning was spent practicing their stitches. Watch one, do one, teach one, as the saying goes. Bess, naturally, was best. Her nimble fingers made quick and neat work of wounds, and she left early to attend to soldiers whose eyes had been damaged by gas. When Helen and Joan finished their lessons with the matron, they met Bess in the canteen.

“Stern by name, stern by nature,” Joan said as she slumped into the seat next to Bess.

“If I never see a needle again it’ll be too soon.” Helen added.

“You’re in the wrong professional, Hels.” Bess smiled over the lip of her cup, and the three settled into an amicable, if exhausted, silence. Helen, sat primly in her seat, broke the silence.

“When’s your next date with James?” Her voice was soft and inquisitive, and Bess couldn’t help but smile at her, even if she hated the question.

“Tomorrow evening, but it’s not a date-”

“She’s too hung up on sailor boy,” Joan cut in. Bess gave her a look that was returned by a coy smile. Late at night, when the girls were missing their families or tired from a day at the hospital, they piled onto Bess’ bed a chattered the night away. They knew everything about each other, from Helen’s troubled relationship with her distant mother to Joan’s scandalous time as a nightclub hostess, and the ongoing saga of Bess Vaughn and Tom Bennett.

“Date or not, he’s a good-looking distraction.” Helen winked and Joan laughed at her.

“And with that, ladies,” Bess stood from her seat. “I shall be off.”

“Hang on, we’ve got about a hundred beds to make this afternoon!” Joan was incredulous.

“Not me. I’m off to job number two.” Bess waved her friends goodbye and stepped into the bright afternoon. A bus ride later and she was walking that familiar gravel path to the grey mansion. It had been months since she had seen Robina Chase, but money was tight and so her mending and sewing had resumed. With fabric now rationed, her clientele were calling upon her services to alter garments from years passed, maintaining to their friends an air of stoicism, normalcy, “keep calm and carry on”.

Half expecting it to open as she approached, Bess made to knock the bolted wooden door when she heard a laugh from the garden. It pealed like bells, tinkling gaily over the hedgerow, and Bess realised that it belonged to a child. Following the sound, she passed a bike leant beneath a window and her curiosity grew. What bizarre gathering had Mrs Chase assembled here this afternoon? A conscientious objector, a seamstress-cum-nurse and…

A little boy. Bess entered the garden through a gap in the hedge and found Douglas Bennett engaged in a game of football with the child. The little boy kicked the ball and it rolled into the makeshift goal post.

“Right between my legs!” Douglas laughed, and Bess noted that it was the first time she had seen him smile, really smile, in years. The man turned to retrieve the ball and saw Bess smiling at him. “Hello, love. Robina said you were coming,” he was a little out of breath, his usually worn face had softened and life shone in his eyes. He looked ten years younger.

Bess indicated to the little boy. “Who’s this then?” she said with a smile. Douglas, ball in hand, put his hand on the boy’s shoulder.

“This is Jan. Harry brought him home from Poland.” The boy, Jan, smiled up at Douglas then looked to Bess. She held out her hand.

“It’s lovely to meet you, Jan. I’m Bess.”

He tentatively shook her hand. “Hello,” his voice was quiet but Bess sensed his timidity was due to the language and not, she thought, his natural character. Jan’s hair was shorn and his clothes looked a little threadbare. For a moment, she observed him. The brightness of his eyes dimmed a little and he looked away. Damn, I’ve made him uncomfortable.

“You’ll get used to Bess, Jan. She’s a quiet one, but kind.” Douglas winked at Bess softly and she blushed. Despite both of their insistence to the contrary, Douglas and Tom were awfully similar.

There was a seconds’ pause. Then, Bess grabbed the ball from Douglas’ arms and sprinted to the end of the garden. “Come on, Jan!” The little boy laughed and ran after her. Dropping the ball on the ground, she kicked it to the him and he shot past Douglas towards the goal. Just as Jan swung his leg to score, Douglas picked him up round the middle and Jan squealed with delight.

“Bess.” A cold, clipped voice cut over the merriment causing Douglas and Jan to still. Robina Chase was stood at the door to the lounge, indicating with her arm that Bess should come inside. Bess looked at Jan and rolled her eyes. The boy laughed and watched her disappear into the house.

“I see you’ve met Jan,” Robina said, a pinched, somewhat pained look on her face.

“Yes, sweet boy.” Bess replied as she began assembling her tailor’s stand.

“Harry brought him back from Poland. Left him for me to look after.” Bess reflected on how Douglas was outside playing with him while Robina lurked inside. She said nothing. Since her outburst at Mrs Chase in August, and Robina’s altercation with Tom, Bess had exchanged very few words with the woman on her visits. Today seemed to be no exception. Aside from asking her to move so she might tailor her clothes, they said very little until Robina called for Jan to come inside.

“He came with barely any clothes. I wondered if you might alter some of Harry’s old things?”

“Of course,”

“It shouldn’t be too hard. Harry was just as wiry at his age. I’ll pay, of course.”

At that moment, Douglas entered the lounge. Seeing Mrs Chase upon the tailor’s stand and Bess on her knees at her feet, he coughed and mumbled something about waiting outside.

“No need, Douglas,” Robina stepped down. “We’re finished here I think.” Bess nodded and began packing away.

“I’ll see myself out, Mrs Chase.” Robina and Douglas were talking lowly in armchairs when Bess had finished tidying her things, and she didn’t want to disturb their bizarre tête-à- tête. She called a goodbye up the stairs to Jan and hurried from the house. The world of Mrs Chase was not the same one that Bess inhabited, and the moment she stepped into the sunlight Bess relaxed, as though every sinew had been pulled taut.

“Bess,” Douglas appeared at the side of the house and reached for his bike. “Need a lift?”

Bess beamed. “As a matter of fact, I do. Off home for dinner, seeing as I’m out this way.”

“Hop on then,” Douglas laughed as Bess eagerly climbed onto the handlebars of his racing bike and they sped down the drive. From an upstairs window, Mrs Chase steered Jan away.

✼　　✼　　✼　　✼　　✼　　✼

They were back in Longsight within the hour. The journey was quiet yet contented; Bess had missed the comfort of Douglas’ broad shoulders and, though he hated to admit it, he had missed the feeling of Bess resting against his chest. When Bess had disembarked outside her father’s house, she invited Douglas inside for a cup of tea.

“You’re alright, got things to be getting on with.” The world-worn man had returned, quiet and reserved. For some reason, Bess didn’t want to let him go just yet.

“How’s Lois getting on?”

“Ah, well,” he removed his cap and rubbed his face. “I suppose you’ll have heard.”

Bess nodded. Cora had told her of Lois’ pregnancy by Harry. “If she ever needs any help, just ask. You know, with the labour and everything.”

“Thanks, love. She’s just so angry at everything and I don’t know how to make it better for her.”

“You can’t make it better Douglas. Just be there for her.” Bess thought of her secret promise to Tom. “And what about Tom? Have you heard from him?”

Douglas sighed. “Not for a little while. No-” He trailed off, thoughts of his son obvious across his face. Bess took his hand in hers.

“Write to him. I know it takes a while what with the auxiliaries getting out there, but he needs to know that your worried for him. I know he worries about you.” Douglas gave her a quizzical look and opened his mouth to speak, but was interrupted when a shrill voice carried along the street.

Queenie Warren was hurrying along the road. She was overdressed as usual, hair haphazardly curled and lipstick far too bright for the spring day. Bess had to admit though, her dress was pretty.

“Hiya Douglas, Bess.” She wobbled past them as fast as her high heels would carry her. “Can’t stop, visiting Frank’s mam.” She blew them a kiss and went on her way. Bess watched her go. No matter how hard she tried, she just couldn’t like Queenie.

“Bess?” She turned at Douglas’ voice. “Everything alright?” He asked, for Bess’ face had grown stormy as she glowered at the other woman. She simply gave Douglas a small nod. He touched his cap once more, and the two unlikely friends went silently about their business.

The house was quiet when she unlocked the door, apart from the ticking of the clock and the chatter of children playing out in the ginnel. Potatoes were sat in the filled sink, next to them a small note.

Bess. In case you’re here early, would you mind peeling the spuds? The cold ham is in the fridge. We should be back by 6. Cora x

Bess looked to the clock. Half past four. She made herself a pot of tea and settled at the table. The potatoes could wait, for the letter in her purse had waited long enough to be answered.

Dear Tom,

It’s taken me a little while to reply. Your letter arrived a few weeks ago, and what with Albie going back and my nursing work, I found that my mind has never been in the right place to reply. As it stands, I am sitting down to write to you at dad’s kitchen table. Cora has tasked me with peeling potatoes while they’re at work, but I’d rather write to you.

As you addressed some of the offences I accused you of, I’ll attempt to do the same. Namely, giving you a letter that isn’t “shit”.

I had work at the infirmary this morning, practicing our surgical stitches with Ms. Stern, our matron. She’s an austere woman, incredibly bony, and Joan says she looks like a heron. After that I escaped to Robina Chase’s. You remember her, the woman you aggravated last time we saw each other? I was going across to alter some clothes for her and you’ll never guess what awaited me. Your dad and a little Polish boy playing football in her garden! Harry came back from Poland with him, Jan he’s called. Your dad looked happier than I’ve seen him in ages. I think he was pretending it was you. He misses you so much, Tom. I can see the worry in his eyes anytime he speaks of you. I’ve asked him to write to you. Told him to, really. There was a moment when he was playing football with Jan that he looked so much like you. It almost took my breath away, it was like you were there. You’re so alike and he loves you. I wish you’d tell each other more. He gave me a lift home after Robina’s (the less said about her the better). I’ve missed our bike rides together. Saw Queenie on the way home, can’t give you any updates there because, being at the Royal, I never see her thank God.

Why had she let Queenie taint the letter? Bess could feel her anger start to quicken.

She was off to see Frank’s mam. You were right, by the way, about everyone coupling up. Jude has a man, another farmer from the Land Army. She and Hattie are working so hard now that summer is approaching. Roberta has been spending more and more time with that teacher from the primary (please don’t tell anyone), and tomorrow I have a date with a solider from the infirmary. Got his eyes injured by gas. He can see now, but insisted on taking me on a date as a thank you for looking after him.

Bess knew full well what she was doing. Let’s see how you like it, Tom Bennett.

He’s called James. I think we’re going to the Palais but I’m not sure, he’s picking me up after my shift. How are you managing with only men aboard ship? Any French girls taken your fancy? We both know you have a reputation to maintain.

She paused her writing and took a deep breath. That’s enough. She looked over his last letter, trying to find something to write about. The apology.

I can’t pretend that I’m not still hurt by what you did, Tom. I wonder, have you told Douglas and Lois about me? All those years you looked out for me and protected me from Walter and the others. They thought me a freak and a witch. Did you really want to keep me secret just so you had something good all to yourself? Or was it because deep down, you agree with them and only see me as an outcast? Or someone to say you got you leg over? If the former, then please know that you don’t need me to discover that you are a good person. You broke my heart, Tom, but I know that deep down you are good, and kind. I wish you’d find it in yourself.

Maybe too much has changed for us to be anything other than acquaintances now, but I’d like to be your friend, if you want me. Stay safe.

Yours,

Bess.

There. It was done. She sealed the envelope and thought about it no more. That was until a knock on the door distracted her from potato peeling. Opening it, she saw the ratty face of the postman, Dennis Warley. She detested the man, but a postman was a postman.

“Dennis,” she nodded at him.

“Bess, is-”

She cut across him. “I have a letter here, could you take it for me.” She pressed it into his hands and he stared at it before looking at her. His eyes were wide, worried, and his hand shook as he placed the letter for Tom in his bag and retrieved another. He cleared his throat.

“Is your father here, Bess?” His voice quavered, and Bess’ eyes narrowed.

“He’s still at work.”

Dennis coughed again. “And Cora?”

“They’re all out.” The man swallowed nervously, and a trickle of panic gripped at Bess’ neck. “Dennis?” Her voice was but a whisper. “What is it?”

The postman handed the letter to Bess. It was a telegram. She didn’t take it. Dennis removed his cap and said solemnly, “Bess. I’m so sorry.”

Notes: I’m sorry too! This is a war drama, the angst levels are gonna be through the roof, but know that I will reward you in a few chapters time!

We’re with Tom for the next chapter, you know what’s coming…

Tags: @aemonds-wifey @multiple-fandoms-girl @jessssica1234 @babyblue711 @anditsmywholeheart @allthefandomtherapy @valerie977 @bookwyrmsblog @phantomontheinternet @chainsawsangel @greenowlfactif @thelittleswanao3 @yentroucnagol @beiigegalx @skikikikiikhhjuuh @just-emmaaaa @mefools @aquakaris @its-actually-minicika @whoknows333 @arcielee @honeymaltgelato @girlwith-thepearlearring

#ewan mitchell #tom bennett #tom bennett x ofc #world on fire #the seamstress & the sailor #tom bennett x reader

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henrykathman · 1 month

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youtube

The Amateur's Guide to Snufkin: Melody of Moominvalley

In this video, I return to the world of Moominvalley to analyze the hotly anticipated game Snufkin: Melody of Moominvalley and its relationship with the original Moomin stories, Tove Jansson, and the philosophies it connects with.

Special Thanks to Kiki from Transparency for looking at the script. You can follow her Moomin Stuff at @marsmombestmom

Disclosure: My copy of the game was provided to me by Hyper Games and Raw Fury. While I think objectivity is overrated, the opinions in this video have not been influenced by the developers and are a reflection of my own thoughts on this game and the Moomins.

Work Cited Page

Bletchly, Rachael. “How Moomin Author Built a Brand Worth £700m and Why Brits Still Love Them.” The Mirror, Reach PLC, 4 Jan. 2021, www.mirror.co.uk/news/world-news/how-moomin-creator-built-brand-23260983. Accessed 15 Mar. 2024.

Dymel-Trzebiatowska, Hanna. “Moomins Take the Floor. Finnish Trolls in Contemporary Mass Social (Media) Events.” Children’s Literature in Education, Aug. 2022, pp. 1–16. EBSCOhost, https://doi.org/10.1007/s10583-022-09497-6 Link

Ellis, Rowan. “Why Is Cottagecore so Gay?” Rowan Ellis, YouTube, 30 July 2020, youtu.be/5odKiL7jRW0.

Kramer, Ash. “Philosophical Materialism: Vital Materialism.” Philosophical Materialism: A Study of Early Modern Literature and Contemporary Theory, The Alliance for Networking Visual Culture, scalar.usc.edu/works/material_philosophy/vital-materialism#:~:text=Frequently gendered female, vital materialism. Accessed 15 Mar. 2024.

Meereboer, Arwen Dagmar. "Moomins and Complicity with Matter: Tove Jansson’s Moominpappa at Sea as an Intervention in Vibrant Matter: A Political Ecology of Things by Jane Bennett." SATS 23.1 (2022): 17-32. https://www.doria.fi/bitstream/handle/10024/180011/meereboer_arwen.pdf?sequence=2

O’Connell, Joe. “The Melancholy Promise of Heidi, Girl of the Alps.” Beyond Ghibli, YouTube, 20 Sept. 2018, youtu.be/_DFPoZN-FoI. Accessed 15 Mar. 2024.

O’Luanaigh, Robin. “Co-Opting Cottagecore: Pastoral Aesthetics in Reactionary and Extremist Movements.” Global Network on Extremism and Technology, The International Centre for the Study of Radicalisation, 19 May 2023, gnet-research.org/2023/05/19/co-opting-cottagecore-pastoral-aesthetics-in-reactionary-and-extremist-movements/.

Peter Marten. “Moomin Characters Ltd Keeps a National Treasure in the Family.” This Is Finland, the Finland Promotion Board , Apr. 2010, finland.fi/business-innovation/moomin-characters-ltd-keeps-a-national-treasure-in-the-family. Accessed 15 Mar. 2024.

Samson, Anna. “How the Moomins Became an Anti-Fascist Symbol.” Huck Magazine, TCO London, 22 Sept. 2021, www.huckmag.com/article/how-the-moomins-became-an-anti-fascist-symbol.

#video #video essay #youtube #moomin #moominvalley #snufkin #snufkin melody of moominvalley #tove jansson #snufmim #snufmumriken #snufmin #melody of moominvalley #Youtube

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offsidenewsco · 5 days

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"The thing about sports is that sometimes the better team wins. Narratives don’t matter. The Deserve To Win O’Meter doesn’t matter. Hell, goaltender interference doesn’t even matter."

Read our #TimetoHunt Round 1 recap here.

#florida panthers #offside news #centre ice #nhl news #game recap #carter verhaeghe #aleksander barkov #brandon montour #sam bennett #matthew tkachuk #stanley cup playoffs

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louisupdates · 6 months

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LOUIS TOMLINSON PULLS OUT ALL THE STOPS FOR HIS SHOW AT THE O2 IN LONDON

WED 22ND NOVEMBER, 2023 | 12:38 PM

At London’s O2 Arena, Louis has it all.

Words: Jessica Goodman. | Photos: Sarah Louise Bennett.

“I’ve got these lot behind me, who the fuck is gonna stop us?” This question, asked by Louis Tomlinson moments after headlining his Away From Home festival for the first time two years ago, has become something of a mantra for his fans. It’s been shared on social media ad infinitum, worn on homemade merch, waved proudly on banners and signs, and shouted to the rafters at his concerts. Headlining a sold-out show at London’s O2 Arena on Friday night, it seems clear that the answer to his question is that no one ever will.

Taking place just over a year after the release of his celebrated second album ‘Faith In The Future’, and almost twelve years to the day after One Direction released their first record ‘Up All Night’, in the city where 1D formed and where he played his first full headline show as a solo artist, this might be the greatest full-circle moment of Louis’ career so far. But tonight isn’t a nostalgia trip, and there’s little time spent walking down memory lane. Instead, this show is all about the here and now, celebrating how a shared passion for music and the community that creates can build something that feels like magic.

From the moment he walks out on centre stage in front of his fans, Louis Tomlinson is at home – and his fans make themselves at home right along with him. Opening with ‘The Greatest’ – a song written for and about crowds and nights like tonight – it’s clear that, though it might’ve taken him a long time to get back here, stages like this one are where he belongs.

For tonight’s landmark show, he pulls out all the stops. A specially recorded video introduction? New and improved light shows? Pyrotechnics? A strings section on stage?! At London’s O2 Arena, Louis has it all. His dedication to making the night special is met by his fans in equal measure, using phone torches and synchronised apps to create light shows of their own.

A distinctive figure in trackies and a vest, Louis commands the room with ease. Playfully flipping fans off while singing, crouching down between songs to be closer to the people he’s talking to, he’s the star with his name in lights, but his show remains just as much about celebrating with the people that support him as it is about celebrating the music. Any mention of this sold-out show’s success is talked about as a collective. “O2, sold out?! You lot, unbelievable, right?!” he congratulates the crowd between songs.

Even when he’s talking about his own emotions, saying, “This might be the first time in my career where I have been under pressure tonight, and I feel fucking great about it,” it’s with acknowledgement to the people filling the room who make what he does possible. “You don’t have that confidence onstage unless you know you’ve got the best fucking fans in the world,” he states. “I never feel like I can find the words to ever truly thank you, but thank you, thank you, thank you.”

Restyling old songs to fit the sound he found for himself on his latest album (sir, we’re going to need a recording of ‘Back To You’ rock version ASAP) and giving a nod to his home county with a cover of fellow South Yorkshire sensations Arctic Monkeys between leading rapturous crowd singalongs to fan favourite hits, this is Louis Tomlinson at the top of his game.

“Look at what we’ve fucking done!” he yells to the room mid-set. The message, it seems, is clear: ain’t no one stopping Louis Tomlinson now.

MORE PHOTOS

#dork magazine #louis tomlinson #fitfwt23: london #17.11.2023 #21.11.2023

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washa · 6 months

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I listened to The Summit audio and here’s my favourite personal comments/thoughts! (IM STILL IN SHOCK WHAT TEH FUCK)

HELP OF COURSE ASHER LOST A FUCKING SHOE

David’s gonna whip your ass Ash

WHY ARE WE ROASTING ASHER SO BAD

Milo being a fashionista cannon

“Good thing belts don't correlate to height.” DAVID

Ash, Baabe, get a fucking room

Sweetheart i’m crying please give a man some dress socks

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Vincent sounds so anxious

AWH NO WILL COME ON MAN NOT THE ASSISTANT

Vincent baby… 😕

“I can't control how people are acting but I can control how I react.” PREACHHH VINCENT

Mhm run past me. OOH MUSIC FUCK YES, THE DRACULA MUSIC I LOVE IT 🙏

Surprise??? He’s spoiling Lovely so bad

I'M SCARED IS IT GONNA JUMP AT ME LIKE THOSE PLASTIC SPIDERS

A CROWN?? NO NO NO THAT’S SO FUCKING SWEET

THE SAME CRAFTSMAN AND EVERYTHING I CANNOT DO THIS😭

Wait, does Sam have a crown too?? Like being a duke

HE CALLED US BABY I CANNOT

-----------------------

Shit these sound effects are FIRE

Yo Sam wassup my guy.

Oh Porter. Hi dear ☹️

Sam is literally the opposite of me I love small talk and big events lmfao

“Good people” He’s so salty lmfao

There’s no way Darlin’ isn’t smoking hot rn

AY ICE CREAM TUBS, Mint chocolate chip for the win 🙌

I imagine them going hand in hand, like elbows connected.

--------------------------

Porter being a smooth bitch. (as usual)

Vincent is surprisingly kind abt this, well as nice as he can

IS TREASURE NOT HERE?? DID PORTER GASLIGHT ALL OF US.. 😰

That went well. Lovely calm your boyfriend before he pulls out his hair

Nah let like Sam punch him it’s funnier.

Are these other vamps that bad oh my god

Ooh business deals?? Yes make that moolah.

Eccentric?? Tf you mean eccentric. I don’t think David can handle more eccentric people in his life.

HELP NOT ASH PICKING UP ON VINCENT (unrelated but can we just acknowledge how emotionally mature and smart Asher is?)

WHAT DID ASH DO?? TEAR DOWN A WALL???

Oh god Bennetts?? They sound pleasant.

Wait wait, House of Baz were allies, and but every word out of Deon's mouth was to diss William??? WHAT TYPE OF SHITTY ALLIES

I want those two to die, for all of their house to run into the sun.

-----------------------

ALEXIS HOLY SHIT AH

Latest conquest?? Come here let me rip you up

JESUS WHAT THE FUCK ALEXIS?? SORRY I'M NOT IMMORTAL GOD DAMN.

I don’t wanna fight you lex. YOU GROW UP?? PETTINESS IS CHILDISH.

You selfish little bitch. I’M GONNA BITE HER URGHSHSHGY

Porter thank FUCK YOU'RE HERE

YES YES YES PORTER OH MY GOD GO PORTER, Thank you Porter 😭

Alexis can suck my dick.

“Like a proper family” That's an interesting view on what your idea of a loving family is Porter.

Sammy BOY??? HELP IM CACKLING

Surprisingly Porter is in the right here.

WOAH SHOWDOWN SHOWDOWN WOO

WAS PORTER JUST LEFT THERE

-----------------------

Oh god what fucking now, i cannot DEAL with anymore self centred fuckers.

Is he warning us? What’s happening.

OH MY GOD ADAM I FORGOT ABT HIM.

Ykw he’s got a point here, a REALLY good point. CONSIDERING THE HOUSE OF BAZ THING.

ALEXIS SHUT THE FUCK UP FOR ONCE IN YOUR WRINKLED SQUEZZED GRAPE ASS LIFE

Sam :((( yes Sam you deserve that.

-----------------------

Asher and Milo bring up the mood woop woop

HOLY SHIT JUMPSCARE

Good lord Porter has a bad rep already w them

Investor gadget woop woop, investor gadget bam bam bam bam go gadget go bup bam bam bam badum badump.

?? CLOSEKNIT?? GOD DAMMIT FUCK CAN WE GO ONE VIDEO WITHOUT REFERENCING THEM

Milo clamp your jaw for a sec

OH MY GOD THE BENNETTS SUPPLIED CLOSEKNIT??

PORTER YOU BEAUTIFUL BASTARD THANK YOOU FOR THE LORE DROP.

Wait wait we’re doing it now? OH GOD WE’RE GONNA INVESTIGATE NOW AT THE SUMMIT.

Sam said a lot of things..

WAIT NO ONE ELSE BUT DAVID KNOWS WHAT MILO DID?? Even after 2 years??

No Sweetheart think abt this please what if ya get caught.

GO BETA GO BETA FUCK IT UP WOOAHH (i’m sorry i'm so stressed.)

-----------------------

You should’ve punched her Sam, you should’ve.

Sam and Darlin’ needed better taste in vamps ffs

Sam therapy time 😇🥳 (as required in every Sam video)

YES SAM STAND UP FOR YOURSELF

God Sam and Darlin’ are so fucking sweet URGDHAKDA

-----------------------

Is Angel stuck talking there or??

Imagine talking to someone for like 15 minutes and come back to find your friends stalking a head of the house. David needs a panadol for the headache coming up.

-----------------------

OOH ARE WE EAVESDROPPING.

Well nobody wants to join a cult tbh, like that’s so suspicious.

This is a surprisingly civil argument, i was expecting someone getting thrown through a wall

UH OH WE ALMOST GOT CAUGHT??

-----------------------

WHY ARE THEY FIGHTING WHAT THE FUCK IS HAPPENING

What’s up w the king

HUH HE’S DEAD????? WHEN I SAID I WANTED HIM DEAD I DIDN'T MEAN ACTUALLY DEAD.

TAH’S IT TAHT ITS WAHTD THE FUCK? DID SWEETHEART KILL HIM? DID CHRIS DO IT HOW DID ALEXIS KNOW, IS THAT WHY PORTER PICKED A FIGHT??? TO CREATE A DISTRACTION??

So no ice cream?? 💔

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moombakiearlylearning · 1 month

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#childcare centre in bennett spring #early learning centre in brabham wa #early learning daycare near me #best daycare for infants near me #best infant care specialist in brabham wa

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ewanmitchellcrumbs · 1 year

Note

Hiiii, wondering if we can get a Tom Bennett one shot of him sneaking into my room and taking my body down to pound down while my parents who hate him are next door sleeping

Warnings: Smut. Word count: ~1300

She settles beneath the duvet, her body relaxing into the softness of the mattress and pillows when she hears it.

Tap.

Her eyes flit to the window where the sound has come from, but after a few seconds pass in silence she rolls over, closing her eyes and preparing to sleep.

Tap. Tap. Tap.

The light dinging against the glass pane is unmistakable. She huffs, throwing back the covers and climbing out of bed. She cannot help the smile that tugs at her lips at the sight in the street below.

Tom Bennett.

He stands on the pavement, head tilted up towards her bedroom, a lit cigarette perched between his lips.

She lifts the window from the bottom by its wooden frame, pushing it upwards to open it. Her heart is hammering so wildly in her chest that she is certain Tom must be able to hear it from where he’s stood.

His forefingers pull the cigarette from his mouth as he exhales billowing smoke, his trademark smirk lighting up his handsome features. “Finally. Was running out of stones to throw.” He teases. “Thought you were gonna leave me to stand out here all night like a drip.”

She rolls her eyes. “You’ll have to put that out before you come up.” She says. “And be quiet.”

He nods, throwing the butt towards the ground and crushing it underfoot, before he begins his ascent up the drainpipe of the small terraced house. He climbs in through the window, sliding it closed behind him and turning to face her.

“You’ve been avoiding me.” He states quietly, eyes roving up and down her nightdress clad figure.

She fidgets awkwardly with the hem, avoiding his gaze. “I haven’t, Tommy, it’s just…”

“Your Mum and Dad are on to us, aren’t they?”

She sighs, finally looking up at him. “Dad’s been asking questions, wants to know where I keep going. Mum smells your fag smoke on my clothes when she does the washing.”

He nods, mischief sparkling in his blue eyes. “We’ll just have to be more careful then.”

She bites back a laugh. “I hardly think you climbing into my bedroom window is being careful, Tom.”

“Needed to see ya, didn’t I? Been thinking about my best girl.”

“Mum and Dad are asleep next door, they’ll hear- oh!”

Her sentence is cut off as Tom captures her lips with his own in a heated kiss. His hand slips beneath her nightdress to palm at her cotton covered centre.

“I can feel you soaking through your knickers already and I’ve hardly touched you.” He grins, as they break the kiss. “Lay on the bed for me.”

She wants to protest, knows she should tell him to leave, because they’ll get caught. However, the power that he has over her is simply too great, she can’t deny him anything. Her actions are led by the throbbing ache in her core, and so she lays back just as he’s instructed.

Tom shrugs out of his jacket, then makes quick work of tugging her nightdress over head and dragging her underwear down her legs. He grabs her knees, prying her legs apart, drawing in a shuddering breath as he takes in the sight of the slick between them.

This is too risky. She is breathing too heavily. Christ, when did she start breathing so loudly?! Her parents are surely going to hear them, and yet she can’t find it in herself to stop him, especially not when she hears the metallic clink of his belt opening.

“Not gonna be all soft and gentle how I know you like it normally.” He whispers, as he leans over her, caging her in with his forearms. He hasn’t even bothered to undress fully, just unfastened his belt and pulled his trousers down enough to free his cock. “You’ve made me wait too long, darlin’.”

She gasps as she feels the head of him tease through her folds, her hands fisting the sheets in anticipation of what’s to come next.

“Shhh.” He coos. “Don’t want mummy and daddy to catch their little girl copping the shagging of her life, do we?”

She clamps her hand over her mouth to stifle her mewl as he pushes inside. He is met with resistance, he always is, no matter how much he prepares her, every time feels like she’s being split open.

“So fuckin’ tight.” He grits out into the crook of her neck, barely giving her a chance to adjust before he begins pistoning his hips against hers.

The motion is making the metal frame of her bed squeak loudly. She doesn’t want him to stop, not ever, yet she knows the sound will awaken her parents - the walls in their little council house are paper thin.

“T-Tommy.” She stammers into his ear. “You’ve gotta slow down, or you’ll wake them up.”

“I’ve got a better idea.” He murmurs, lifting her up.

He staggers slightly, his trousers falling around his ankles, and they both giggle before shushing each other, as he walks her back towards the wall beside the window, pressing her against it.

Instinctively, she wraps her legs around his waist and he resumes his brutal thrusting into her, the renewed angle causing her toes to curl with every brush against the spongy spot deep inside of her.

She drapes her arms around his neck, muffling her soft moans and whimpers into his shoulder. With every strike of his hips she feels herself being nudged closer to the edge, his hot pants against her ear spurring her on.

“I’m close…” She whines.

“I know, darlin’.” He breathes out. “Feels good, doesn’t it?”

She nods fervently. “Tommy, please!” She is unsure of what she is even begging for, she just knows she doesn’t want him to stop, the coil in her lower belly has grown painfully tight.

“You can come if you wanna, know you can’t help it.” He says, his voice low, yet the smugness is unmistakable.

She hates him for that, hates that he knows exactly what he does to her, hates that he is right. The coil finally snaps and she tightens and spasms around him, slapping her hand over mouth to force back the cry of his name that escapes her lips.

Mere moments later, he is pulling out, aiming white hot ropes of sticky spend across her thighs and belly as he releases with a muffled grunt.

He lowers her slowly to the floor, keeping an arm wrapped around her waist to support her shaky legs. He strokes her hair, peppering gentle kisses across her cheeks until their breathing slows.

She watches as he moves away to grab her discarded nightdress and underwear. He hands her the nightie, and as she pulls it back over her head she feels him using her knickers to wipe at the mess he’s made of her. She smiles at the softness of the gesture, a stark contrast to how roughly he has just taken her.

He pulls his trousers back up, fastening his belt and then slipping his jacket back on. Her heart twinges at the thought of letting him go. She wishes he could stay the night, but her dad wakes up so early to do the milk rounds that there’s no way they wouldn’t get caught.

Her eyes widen as she sees him slipping her used underwear into his jacket pocket.

“Tommy!” She hisses. “Mum is gonna start wondering where all my knickers are going!”

He grins wolfishly. “She counting them now, is she?”

Her cheeks burn with shame, though she cannot hide her smile. “It’s not the first pair you’ve taken.”

“Won’t be the last either.” He says with a wink, as he opens the window and climbs back out.

#tom bennett #tom bennett smut #tom bennett x reader #world on fire #tom bennett world on fire #world on fire tom bennett #world on fire smut #tom bennett fanfic #tom bennett fan fiction #tom bennett fan fic #tom bennett fanfiction #world on fire fanfic #world on fire fan fic #world on fire fanfiction #world on fire fan fiction #ewan mitchell

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