#i have never got more death threats than i did when i was a charles stan

[formulapisces]

.

[transthadymacdermot]

CHARACTER INTRO: JOHN THOMPSONS

John Thompsons is notorious among the population of the Commonwealth for two things: his contributions to society's understanding of nuclear physics, and the fact that he shoved his way to the front of the line to be the first to sign the king's death warrant after the republican military coup which started the Civil War. Today he lives under house arrest in the palace, imprisoned by the monarchy which took over again after the war ended, unable to leave without permission, kept alive mostly for his intimate knowledge of the complex ancient technology which keeps the palace running. But of course he schemes for more. Wouldn't you?

Country of origin: Conriston, a northern member of the Commonwealth loosely based on a combination of eighteenth century Scotland and Puritan Massachusetts

Religion: Hugoist, meaning an adherent of a semi-illegal religious sect started in the year 650 AH by a man called Oliver Hugo. While the Commonwealth's official religion, called Puritanism, argues that the prophet recognised as a god by the powerful Marian Church (which dominates many of the Commonwealth's rivals) was not divine but merely a great human teacher, Hugoism goes a step further and identifies this prophet as an antichrist-like figure of evil who one must constantly guard against the doctrines of with constant prayer, tight-knit communities, persecuting Marians and Puritans, starting decades long civil wars with the aim of killing every heretic within the Commonwealth for good, and so on.

Occupation: pamphleteer, engineer, regicide

Location: unwillingly, the royal court of His Most Godly Majesty King Charles James IV of the Commonwealth of Harnsey and Conriston, Lord of Hieburne, and Defender of the Faith

Personality: notably deeply unpleasant and argumentative. Thompsons never let someone being his nominal friend get in the way of ruining their entire week just because he was in a bad mood when they drank the last energy drink and as a result of spending his entire life since the end of the Civil War (~5 years before the story starts) with the threat of execution hanging over his head he fears neither death nor man, with disastrous results for nearly every single other member of the royal court. At least he seems ruthlessly devoted to his beliefs -- but of course, given their nature, this too could have similarly negative effects for the aristocracy everywhere.

Some info on how Real History influenced his character under the cut

Obviously most prominently he's this universe's equivalent of one of the regicides of Charles I. His role in the Civil War was closer however to that of the Levellers -- he's like a cross between John Lilburne in that he got his foot in the door of politics when he intentionally got himself arrested for distributing outlawed pamphlets + Richard Overton in that his favourite thing ever in the world is writing mean pamphlets AND ALSO not a chance in hell did he ever get anywhere near a battlefield. He wasn't close friends with the Cromwell/Fairfax/Ireton/any other people like that equivalents but he looooves to pretend like he was and who's going to contradict him?

Secondly his role in the story is kind of like... a slightly mangled combination of Titus Oates and Israel Tonge. Like both of them he's kind of disturbingly anti-Catholic Church equivalent but he didn't get ordained as a priest to infiltrate the jesuits like Oates did in real life and, tbh, he's quite a bit more clever with his scheming than Oates was. Additionally, he kickstarts the plot when he accuses Talbott of murdering the king's advisor Lord Ewan for the Marian church (Lord Ewan having really taken an unfortunate but ultimately accidental tumble down the stairs while both of them were drunk) much like Oates and Tonge fabricated the Popish Plot in real life, but in FFAS 1. it's just him; 2. he directly accuses the rough Tyrconnell equivalent + sends him to prison for a month rather than accusing just a bunch of random people and indirectly kind of harming Tyrconnell as in real life; & 3. due to the compression of events in the story this directly leads to everything else that happens within a few months, when the Popish Plot happened nearly a decade before William III was even asked to come over to England. Additionally, no matter what other courtiers may think, he's 100% mentally sound, if unpredictable, and fully understands the implications of what he's doing. Whether or not this is true of Oates and Tonge is... disputed. Also Oates and Tonge were not, that I know of, Levellers who were personal acquaintances of Oliver Cromwell. They weren't threatening enough so I gave them an upgrade etc

[fandomxo00]

X-men - First Class: Part 7- Erik Lehnsheer, Magneto

warnings: fluffy, mentions of past violence, character death, smut 18+, fingering, make out session.

word count: 1.6k

CIA BASE

Moira had gotten a call from the CIA Facility, being quickly informed that Shaw had shown up and killed over a dozen. Sadly, one of the new mutants, Darwin, who had the ablity to adapt to his surroundings, had died by the hands of Shaw. Erik had a blank expression on his face you knew what he felt far more than what he displayed. Charles wasn't quiet about his thoughts on the way back. You wonder if Erik had spoken to Charles about his perspective . That Erik may have been right and you would've listened is there a chance that Darwin would be alive if they hadn't found him?

Charles led the group over to the new mutants, Raven, and Hank. "We've made arrangements for you to be taken home immediately." Charles greeted.

"We're not going home." Cassidy declared; he was who they named, Banshee.

"What?" Charles nipped.

"And Alex isn't going back to prison." Cassidy pointed over to Alex, or rather named Havoc.

"He killed Darwin." Alex stated, one thing you didn't understand is why Darwin couldn't adapt to whatever threat Shaw presented.

"They want to stick together." You explained. "It's all we have, to be unite as one "

"She's right, Charles. Darwin is dead and we can't even bury him. " Raven added.

"We can avenge him." Erik suggested, everyone turned to look at Erik as he stood next to you.

"Erik, a word please." Charles directed as you turned towards the group. You closed your eyes, tapping into Erik's mind. Though if he wished to have privacy the gates of his mind, would be close to a wall that you had taught him to grow. "They're just kids."

"No, they were kids. Shaw has his army, we need ours." Erik retorted as Charles turned away from Erik and you turned to find him staring at you. 

"She's sly." Charles commented. "We'll have to train. All of us. Yes?"

You hummed out a yes as Charles turned back to the rest of the group. Then Hank brought up an argument. "Well we can't stay here. Even if they reopen the department, it's not safe. W'eve got nowhere to go."

"Yes, we do." Charles assured. Moira pulled out the keys to the truck as Charles nodded his head towards the back. "Load up." The rest of you climbed into the back, Erik was behind you his hands going to your hips and helping you up into the truck. You had shown a sense of loyalty going with him and he knew that he could trust you. He followed you into the back of the truck. His hands fall to your lap when you sat down, your hand coming down to cup his hand and start a mean game of thumb war. 

He started the game and you assumed that he did it now because earlier he had been too nervous to even think about playing a silly game. You grinned over at him as you won the first round. Erik couldn't help but let out a chuckle fall from his mouth. 

Moments like these reminded you of when you were first falling in love with Erik. When you sat in a booth together, the lights were dimmed in the restaurant. Your knees were point towards Erik and he possessively had a hand draping over your thigh. It started with your small hand spreading his hand open before tracing the lines of his hands. Then you slipped your hand into his and he flipped over your hands and brought it up to his mouth. Erik left a soft kiss with his plush lips, his deep blue eyes looking up into yours as he laid the kiss upon your skin. You smiled over at him before lining up your thumbs and looked down at you with amusement in his eyes. 

"Play a thumb war with me?" You asked in a sweet way that made Erik desperately want to know what this game was. 

"I have never-." Erik started as you gasped before moving your thumb under his.

"The goal is to squish my thumb under yours." You explained, "Whoever is on top is the winner?" He had quirked a suggestive brow at that, leaning in to you as you giggled before batting him away with your hand. "Do you wanna play or-?"

"Sure, sure." Erik gave in before letting you win the first round, he had picked up the game rather quickly and his thumb was rather larger than yours and it would've been easy to dominate my thumb. 

As Erik won the next match, you pulled up to a large mansion. You peaked through the small window. The group was silent as they took in the mansion. Everyone in the back we're eager to scramble out of the back.

"This is yours?" Cassidy asked. 

"No, it's ours." Charles corrected.

"Honestly Charles, I don't know how you survived living in such hardships." Erik mocked.

Raven moved forward, tucking her arms into Charles side, "Well it was a hardship softened by me." Charles pulled her into his side and pressed a kiss to the side of her head. "C'mon, time for the tour."

Raven enthusiastically showed the group around the mansion before escorting each of us to a respective room. "I'll put you two right next to each other.

"That won't be necessary, I'll be staying with her." Erik declared as you met his eyes, genuine confusion reflected back in your eyes. Erik moved over to the door and you followed in after her. "Finally get you alone." His hands moved to your him as he captured your lips. His hands moved up, framing your face as he pushed your hair back, his elbows gently resting on your shoulders. Erik's kiss grew more intense as his tongue snuck out to taste your mouth. Your hands rest on his waist, you were completely focused on Erik.

You knew that Erik didn't act this way around others for a reason. He refused to ever look weak and you were his weakness. You wondered why he wanted you next to him during battle, you knew that he didn't want anyone to take advantage of their relationship. But it was clear he cared about you and you offered your relentless trust. His hands move down your curves and he pulls you on to a nearby dresser. There was no time to waste as you peaked into Erik's mind, hear his thoughts of lust and desire. He needed to be close to you but he didn't have much time. Erik had to meet Charles in about fifteen minutes, he wonders if he could satisfy you in time. 

Erik didn't care about himself as you melted against him. His goal was to make you feel good and he was succeeding. This was his way of showing you he cared for you, when he couldn't say it allowed, you understood him. His hands gripped your thick thighs pushing them apart and his hands going to the button of your skirt. A part of him wanted you to keep the skirt on, he wanted to rip into your dainty tights. But he loved the black lace that adorned your skin and he wouldn't mind seeing you wear them again. So he tugged down your skirt once it was loosened around your hips, before his hand came down to cup your covered heat. Your legs moved around his waist the material rubbing against his skin and making his dick strain against his jeans. 

His fingers connected with your bud, Erik's lips slowly moving against your hips s your movements were delayed from his rough fingers. He felt the wetness ooze from between your folds. Erik didn't wait to slip a finger into you, curving it against the spongy part inside of you. You breathlessly moan into his mouth and he absolutely sucks it up. He was careful with his movements, stringing you along and letting your orgasm grow in your belly. Erik let out a breath before snuggling his head into your neck. He rubbed his nose against your skin before beginning to suck on your neck. "I wanna taste you." He growled, his voices rough and his accent thick. You rolled your head back as he slipped another finger inside of you. He grinds against your thigh and he pressed his thumb into your clit. 

"Erik." You moaned.

"Yes, Liebling?" Erik grunted, you let out a pitiful cry as you rutt your hips against Erik's hands. "Will you be good and come all over my fingers?"

"Yes." You whispered, leaning into kiss you on the lips. Erik devoured your mouth as you felt pressure welling up in your stomach, making you arch your back into him. His fingers moving harder before you orgasm, trembling against him. 

"Look at me." Erik drawled, and you force yourself to open your eyes and meet his gaze. You shuttered as his blue eyes examined you, watching every twitch and every tremble. Your orgasm explodes through you and he slowly moves his fingers inside of you to help you ride out your high. His fingers slip out of you and he brings his digits to his mouth, the hum lets out sends a shiver down your spine. Erik leant against the dresser to kiss you, your shaky hands falling to his chest. His kiss was longingly as he moved back to look down at you. "I've got to meet Charles." Erik sighed as your hands rubbed against his chest. "Come with me?" He gazed into your eyes.

"Well, I'll need my skirt." You retorted, as he gave you toothy grin, his blue eyes shimmering as he handed you the skirt and lightly pecking his lips. 

[allzelemonz]

Alone: Kieran Duffy X Male Reader

Pronouns: he/him, Reader referred to as ‘boy’ and ‘man’ Physical Sex: AMAB Rating: E/Non-Con elements, near sexual encounters Warnings: Rape/Non-Con, sexual assault, demeaning laguage, threats of violence, threats of sexual violence, beating, torture, blood, death, established relationship with Kieran Summary: In a job gone wrong, you and Kieran are taken by a group of O’Driscolls that are very interested in you.

They took you during a job. They showed up out of nowhere, apparently wanting the take from the stage you were robbing with Sean, Kieran, and John. You and Kieran didn’t get away, your horses got too spooked and ran off. John tried, Sean did too, but the O’Driscolls came in greater numbers. The last thing John said was that they’d come back for you. You know he will. John’s a good man, a man of his word, and Sean isn’t one to take a loss lightly. But, for now, you and Kieran are alone and surrounded by the enemy.

The O’Driscolls get off their horses and execute the people you just robbed. One of them recognises Kieran, leering over him as words fail the stable boy. He tries to reason, beg, anything, but the O’Driscolls just laugh and jeer. They hold you at gunpoint, circling like vultures.

“I bet Colm would love it if we brought a traitor back.” One of them, tall with greasy red hair, says. “The Van Der Linde too.”

“This one’s probably got a price on his head.” Another one, an Irishman judging by the accent, says as he grips your shoulder and shoves you to your knees.

“Everybody loves a good hangin’.” A blonde one says, he looks younger than the rest.

“No, no, no.” A brunette comes close, squatting down to your level. “He could be a lot more fun if we keep him.”

He reaches out and tugs your mask down. A sickly smile spreads over his face and he hums.

“No!” Kieran shouts.

The red head hits him in the stomach with the end of his rifle. Kieran falls down, clutching his stomach.

The brunette chuckles. “Soft as ever, Duffy. Ya sweet on him?”

“Please.” Kieran begs, his arms wrapped around his injured stomach. “I’ll do whatever ya want, Quinn.”

The brunette, Quinn, runs his finger along your jaw. When you try to pull away you feel a gun pressed to your back. You freeze as the man behind you laughs. Quinn grips your chin, making you look at him.

“He seems too tough for ya, Duffy.” Quinn glances over at Kieran. “More my speed.”

“Quinn, please.” Kieran begs again.

The redhead lands another blow, this time to Kieran’s side. He recoils, crying out in pain.

“Let’s take ‘em back.” The man behind you says, the Irish one. “We can have a lot more fun with ‘em back at camp.”

The gun he holds digs into your back, sending shivers up your spine. Quinn turns back to you and his eyes rake over your face, a much worse feeling than the gun at your back. His grip on your jaw tightens and his thumb runs over your bottom lip as he fixes his gaze on your mouth.

“Oh, we’ll have a lot of fun with you.”

You meet his stare and it makes him smile. Kieran groans in pain as they get him up on a horse, tied and all. Quinn takes you, tying only your hands and fixing you on his lap as best he can with a knife pressed to your stomach. The redhead gets tired of Kieran’s whining and hits him so hard in the head that he blacks out. You’re forced to endure the ride, the unsettling feeling of a particularly stiff appendage rubbing against you the whole way.

Their camp is small, only a few tents out in the woods. No one is there waiting, so it must just be your attackers staying there. Four men, all armed when you aren’t. Kieran is out cold, not much help. But John is coming back, Charles is a great tracker, Arthur will fight to the death to get his friends back, Dutch would never let the O’Driscolls win. You’re going to be fine. You have to be.

“Rory, get the traitor tied somewhere uncomfortable.” Quinn orders the redhead as they slow to enter camp. “Conor, ride on and tell Colm what we caught.”

The young blond nods and takes off as fast as his horse will go.

“Colin, come help with this one.” Quinn presses his knife harder against your shirt, digging the tip in enough to start a small tear.

The Irishman, Colin, dismounts his horse and helps Quinn get you on the ground. He holds you by your arm, one hand on your neck to direct you into their small camp. He pushes you to your knees by the fire and you can feel an ache beginning after you land on them. A few feet away is Kieran, tied to the base of a tall tree. He’s still out cold, his head lulled forward.

“Colm will want ta kill him.” Quinn says, kneeling next to you.

His back is pressed to your arm and he leans in close to your face. One of his hands rests on your waist while the other runs over the fabric of your shirt. You stay still, staring at the fire in front of you.

“Maybe if you’re as good as I think ya are, I can convince Colm ta spare ya.” His breath hits your cheek as he speaks.

“Let Kieran go.” You say, eyes glancing over to the man in question.

“Why would I do that?”

You swallow your nerves. “I’ll do what you want if you let him go.”

Quinn chuckles, pressing his head against yours. “I don’t exactly need cooperation, boy.”

“It’d be a lot more fun though.” You try to make your voice steady.

“He’s fuckin’ with ya, Quinn.” Colin says, taking a seat on the other side of the fire. “He wants his sweetheart out a’ the line a’ fire.”

Quinn inhales, taking in your scent and sighing. “I know.”

You shiver involuntarily, unable to hide the reaction.

“Just fuck him so we can turn him in for the bounty.” Colin mutters, glaring at Quinn.

“I will.” Quinn’s hand slowly starts to unbutton your shirt. “We got time.”

Rory appears from the tree line and sits beside Colin, but watching intently as Quinn undoes the final button on your shirt.

“Maybe we should wake Duffy up.” Rory says. “Make him watch.”

Quinn chuckles against your skin. “I like that idea. What do ya think, Van Der Linde?”

You glance up at Kieran. “I told you. Let him go and you can have whatever you want.”

“I don’t like bein’ lied to, boy.” Quinn mutters as his hand wanders over your bare chest. “It don’t matter what I do. You’re gonna take it, you’re gonna scream my name loud enough to wake little Duffy there, and he’s gonna sit there and watch.”

Colin and Rory laugh, evil smiles plastered on their faces. When Quinn’s hand travels down your stomach you put all of your body weight into shoving him. He falls to the ground and you roll over him, grabbing at his knife in the process. Colin draws his gun, but you’re already on your feet and running into the trees.

“Shit!” Quinn yells. “Get him, now, boys!”

You run downhill, your hands tied behind you. You turn the knife as much as you can to get it under the ropes, stopping behind a tree to free yourself.

“Here, here, Van Der Linde.” Colin says in a sing-song. “Quinn ain’t gonna be so forgivin’ now.”

You get your hands undone, letting the rope drop to the ground. You press you back to the tree and clutch the knife tightly, listening for Colin’s footsteps. A few yards away you hear who must be Rory wandering around as well. Then Colin breaks a stick as he steps just a few feet away. You peek around the tree and spot him, his back is to you and he’s walking slowly. You crouch, walking slowly, the knife flipping in your hand to be ready. You grab him, slitting his throat, and he falls to the ground. His gun is buried in the leaves, so you dig it out and check the bullets.

“Not so fast, Van Der Linde.” Rory says.

You stand and turn slowly, hands in the air, one holding Colin’s gun loosely.

Rory smiles evilly. “Let’s go. Would want Quinn ta turn ta Duffy, would ya?”

“Fuck you.”

“Duffy ain’t really his type, but he’d do in a pinch.” Rory reaches his hand out. “Gun, please.”

You lower the gun to his hand and he flips it on you, nodding towards camp. You walk, hands raised, back to the fire. Quinn kneels there, holding his hands above the flames. Kieran is awake now, a bruise forming on his cheek and a cut bleeding through his shirt.

“Bastard got Colin.” Rory says, kicking the back of your knee and making you fall on the ground.

“Colin was the nice one.” Quinn muses. “He woulda just wanted yer hands.”

Rory kicks your side and you fall to the ground, groaning in pain.

“Quinn, please!” Kieran begs, straining against the rope that binds him to the tree.

“I thought I told you ta shut it, Duffy!” Quinn yells, standing and walking to him. “The more ya talk, the more I do to your little sweetheart over there.”

Kieran holds the glare from Quinn, then he glances at you in pain on the ground and he submits, looking at the ground.

Quinn chuckles. “At least yer well behaved. More than I can say for your whore.”

Rory grabs you by the back of your collar, pulling you up to your knees. You meet Kieran’s eyes for a moment before Quinn steps in between you. His hand grips your hair and forces you to look up at him.

“You behave and I’ll let Duffy keep his fingers.”

He tugs at your hair, his other hand reaching for the fastenings for his pants. Then a loud crack fills your ears and Quinn falls to the ground, his blood spraying on you slightly. Rory releases you, leaving his rifle, but he falls too. A shot to the head taking him out just as it did Quinn. You breathe clearly for the first time in a while as a smile comes over your face.

“You boys alright?” Dutch asks, riding in on The Count like an angel.

Kieran sighs in relief. “Oh, Mister Van Der Linde, thank you. Oh my God, Mister, thank you.”

“I’m the one that shot ‘em.” Micah mutters, walking over and cutting Kieran from the tree.

“We ran into a few more of ‘em on the way.” Dutch says, dismounting. “The boys are dealing with them.”

Dutch softly helps you to your feet, his eyes look over you and he understands what was about to happen. Kieran runs to you once Micah’s fully freed him. He wraps his arms around you, clutching you as tight as he can. He buries his face in the crook of your neck and lets out a muffled sob. You hold him tightly, closing your eyes and just feeling the safety of him holding you.

“We are gonna get Colm for this, boys.” Dutch says. “On that, you have my word.”

You meet Dutch’s eyes over Kieran’s shoulder and give him a silent thanks. You press a kiss to Kieran’s head and stroke his hair to sooth him. His grip on you is tight and it hurts you both because of your injuries, but neither of you seem to care.

“I hate ta interrupt.” Micah calls. “But they wasn’t the only O’Driscolls around here.”

You let Kieran go, giving him a kiss before joining Dutch on his horse. Kieran joins Micah and you’re both handed a spare gun for the ride home. They came back for you, they found you. You’re not alone.

[meret118]

What a coincidence they wait till the day after part two of Harry & Meghan to do this.

My thoughts on Harry & Meghan Part 2

The three big takeaways for me on the whole series are how much they not only love, but like each other, how the royals, deliberately sabotaged her to make others, (particularly William and Kate), look better, and how good they could have been for the monarchy. He flat out accuses his brother of doing it.

While there were a few things that made me roll my eyes, (She wears neutrals because she likes them, and there's no way they didn't know what a bombshell the Oprah interview would be.), I do believe those parts of the story.

They became more popular than William and Kate in the polls so William's PR people fed stories to the press to tear her down and stop that.

Harry says he and William saw how Charles' team reacted to Diana being more popular by trying to do the same with her, and promised each other they would never do that, but William did. He straight out accuses William and his team. That's when he stopped sharing a communication team with him, and I think he's right. I think his brother's betrayal was the most hurtful to him personally.

Then leaking lies about her became a way to deflect any negative press about any other member of the family. Multiple people in the press have confirmed they got these stories from royal sources.

Harry points out how much Meghan is like Diana, and how similarly they were treated. (He's like her too.)

They talked to the queen, Charles and William about moving to South Africa and being working royals based there, and the family agreed. Then the palace leaked the story, and idea was squashed. Charles insisted Harry put plans to move to Canada in writing and send it to him, and then the palace leaked that story too.

Harry and Meghan were told to come to the UK to discuss all this, then everyone refused to meet with them until Meghan went back to Canada. He was told he was either all in or all out.

The majority of the millions of anti-Meghan comments on twitter were from 83 coordinated people and bots. Her half-sister Samantha Markle was part of the group. The tweets spread included blatantly racist things and death threats.

One of the people interviewed said a coordinated plan like this publicly attacking a minority is a deliberate campaign to keep others like her in line.

Harry was shocked when the palace removed their security team with very little warning, especially since she had been receiving death threats since the engagement was announced.

Something that comes through is how much Harry has always hated the press. He loved the opportunities being a royal allowed him to help people, but he loathed the tabloids, and the stifling royal system.

[im-constantly-fangirling-backup]

Here Comes the Cavalry

REPOST BECAUSE TUMBLR HATES ME

Thomas Shelby x Reader

Warnings: Swear words

Word Count: ~2.3k

A/N: Thank you so much for requesting this, anon! I had a really fun time writing this and I hope you enjoy!

Summary: Charlie's 10th birthday finds itself the center of a showdown between Thomas and his ex-wife over the new woman in his life.

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Being a friend of the Shelby's- didn’t matter how close or distant- was like walking around with a target on your back. But you didn’t mind. As much violence and chaos that the family attracts, and as much as they try to have power over each other, there was a mutual love and respect between every Shelby that you hadn’t seen anywhere else. For example, when Polly found out Tommy had hidden crucial information, she was pissed; but also proud. It was a bit concerning, if you were going to be honest. Even Grace was kept in the loop after the divorce. Once a Shelby, always a Shelby, you supposed. Grace wasn’t involved in the family business at all, but she and the family met occasionally. Although, as time passed on, it was mostly so Charlie could spend time with his father. Grace was now remarried and her visits were far and in between. She drifted apart from all the Shelbys- not that they minded, as her betrayal was still in their minds all those years later. Thomas started to move on from her as well, now very much used to Grace not being a part of his day-to-day life. Today was the day that Grace and Charlie were making a rare visit to the Arrow House for his 10th birthday. Thomas postponed all of his meetings for the entire week to make time for his son, an action that made you smile when you heard Tom tell his clients of his absence. And they call him heartless, you had laughed to yourself. “Ada! How are you doing!” you said, hugging your best friend before walking into the Arrow House. You took off your coat and hung it on the hook next to the door. “Oh I’m doing great sweetheart,” she said. “Auntie Y/NNNNNN!” you heard a little boy’s voice yell from the stairs. The pitter-patter of their feet running across the wooden floor echoed through the large room and made you chuckle. “Hello, Karl!” you kneeled on your knees and opened your arms for Karl, who ran into them and almost made you topple over. “Someone’s excited to see me!” You squeezed him lightly, resting your cheek on his head. You pulled away from him and reached into your purse, grabbing a chocolate bar that you had bought for Karl. “I got you something!” Karl smiled, his cute crooked teeth on display. “Thank you!” He grabbed the bar from your hand and started unwrapping it, running away from you and towards the living room. “Uncle Arthur, look what Auntie Y/N gave me!” he yelled. “What did I say about the chocolate?” Ada chided you. You laughed. “I couldn’t help it Ada,” you defended yourself. “He’s too adorable to not spoil.” In the background, you heard Karl laugh loudly. “You can’t have any Uncle Arthur, it’s for me!” You chuckled and shook your head, looking down at the floor in mock exasperation. The Arrow House would be nothing without the echoes of Karl’s screams bouncing around the walls from time to time. Even Thomas seemed to brighten up a bit more whenever Karl and Ada visited. You supposed it was because his nephew reminded him of his own son that he barely got to see. At the thought of Charlie, you looked up to Ada. “When are Charlie and Grace showing up?” Ada shrugged. “They should be here in a couple of minutes. Why don’t we head to the living room? Tommy bought a shit ton of food for Charlie so we might be able to steal a bit.” _______________________________________________________________________________________ You and Ada made your way into the living room and smiled at the exquisite birthday decorations. There were balloons of every color bunched up every couple of feet around the room, a large birthday banner hanging proud and true on the wall across from the fireplace. “Hello, Y/N. Ada,” Tom said from where he sat on the couch, his elbows on his knees. You smiled at him. “Thomas.” Tom smirked slightly- which was a fucking bright-ass grin when it came to Thomas. “We’ve been over the ‘Thomas’ shit, Y/n/n,” he said, quirking his brow. You chuckled. “We have,” you said. “Tom. ‘S just fun to be all fucking formal.” Tom pat the spot on the couch next to him while Ada left your side, sensing that you two wanted some

time alone. You walked over to Tom and sat next to him. “You excited?” Thomas nodded, his blue eyes brightening slightly. “I hardly get to see Charles anymore. You bet your ass I’m spoiling me boy when he’s here,” he joked. You laughed. “I’m sure Charlie’s going to like all of this,” you gestured to the decorations around you. “Oh! Before I forget! Where should I put this?” You reached into your purse and pulled out a folded mancala board that Charlie had begged you for the last time he visited. Thomas smiled and took the board from you, leaning down and sliding it under the couch. “We’re going to open presents after cake, so just remember to pick it back up.” From there, you and Thomas began to talk about the family business. Unlike with Grace, Thomas found himself consulting you on many decisions that he made. You weren’t directly involved but your advice was greatly appreciated by the family. Especially since Thomas wanted to get into politics- a field that you knew well because your father ran for MP multiple times before his death- your advice on what not to do gave him valuable insight on how to maintain a favorable public image. “I know your past is something that can’t be erased,” you said in response to Tom’s concerns about the subject. “But that doesn’t mean it can’t be hidden. Or at least left ambiguous enough that people can’t ask the right questions. You keep the public from asking the right questions, and you make sure they can never find the answers.” “It’s a bit unnerving that you know this,” Tom noted, a smirk on his face. In truth, he was impressed. Your knowledge of politics was quite extensive considering your father tried to keep you away from it for most of your life. But you knew how to eavesdrop and read gossip, and so you gained a wealth of knowledge about politics. You laughed. “You’re acting like you don’t already know this.” Thomas took a drag of his cigarette and chuckled. “You got me there.” Your conversation was interrupted by the distinct shrill of the doorbell. Tom perked up and smiled. “Charles is here!” He practically jumped up from his seat on the couch and made his way to the hall. You followed him to the hall, beckoning Karl, Ada, and Arthur- who had been quietly eating food in the corner, thinking Tom hadn’t noticed- to come with you. You and the group walked into the hall to the sight of Thomas laughing and picking up Charlie in his arms and bouncing him up and down, making his son giggle. “Happy birthday Charlie!” you exclaimed, clapping. Arthur, Karl, Ada- and John and Polly, who had been talking in the hall after you arrived- clapped and joined in wishing Charlie a happy birthday. Charlie and Karl shared a hug that resulted in you awing. You looked at Grace and smiled. “Welcome, Grace,” you greeted her respectfully. Grace simply nodded at you and took off her coat. Turning around to put her coat on the coat hooks next to the door, she gasped lightly in shock when she saw your coat resting next to Tom’s. “Whose coat is this?” she asked casually. You apologized profusely. “It’s mine, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to impose. I can find a different place for it-” Thomas waved his hand nonchalantly. “Oh, no need. You’re not imposing, Y/n/n.” You blushed slightly. “Frances can take your coat, Grace. I trust you remember who she is?” He jabbed at her lightly. Grace huffed and nodded. “Alright.” The tension between Tom and Grace was palpable and made everyone make excuses to leave the room. You left as well, saying something about wanting to play around with Karl and Charlie. You knew things were bad between Thomas and Grace. So bad, in fact, that Tom had approached her with a divorce. Tom was many things, but he wasn’t the type of person to reach for a divorce. He believed that marriage lasted for life. But after Tom’s and Grace’s arguments over his ambitions and dreams started to grow from skirmishes to screaming matches littered with threats, Thomas had enough. He told you the night that he decided to divorce Grace that he didn’t want to spend his life with a woman

that didn’t support his political and business ambitions. You found yourself sympathizing with both of them. You understood Grace’s concerns about the target that would always be on her and Charlie’s back because of Thomas’s ambition. But you also understood Thomas’s argument that his ambitions were also the thing that would provide his family with more opportunities than he had. Thomas’s goals were a double-edged sword. Although, Grace had become quite cold to Thomas in retaliation for the divorce, often sending him and his family veiled insults. So you didn’t feel much remorse for her when Tom made barbed comments like the one made in the hall. You sighed while watching Karl and Charlie play. It was going to be a long party. _______________________________________________________________________________________ All of you were eating cake, you talking with Polly about some gossip that you heard when going shopping for groceries. “Apparently Brandon was just using her for her status,” you said, licking the frosting off of your fork. “But then Brandon caught Melissa sleeping with her boss-” “No fucking way!” Polly interrupted, putting her plate down and gasping. “How the hell do these things happen to people!” You laughed. “I know right! My life is boring in comparison- and I hang out with you insane idiots!” “Hey!” John said from across the table, his mouth full of cake. “We’re not that bad!” “Speak for yourself,” Ada muttered from next to her brother, cringing when John stuck his cake-covered tongue out at her. “Honestly, Y/N,” Grace’s refined voice reverberated through the dining room, “You shouldn’t be gossiping this much. It’s a boring pastime.” You quirked your brow. “I’m sorry?” “Oh it’s alright, I understand that some people have nothing better to talk about. I’m just saying, gossip signals a bland personality and I’m sure you don’t have that, hm?” Grace’s implied message was clear. You sat in silence for a moment, surprised. “No?” you said, going along with whatever Grace said. In all honesty, you didn’t care what Grace thought of you. She barely visited enough for you to give a shit. But apparently, Tom didn’t want to let it slide. “Look, Grace, it’s not a big deal to gossip, alright? You’d be a big fucking hypocrite telling Y/n/n not to gossip when pretty much everything you talked about was who was fuckin’ who-” “Thomas!” Grace chided. “What? If you’re going to walk in here and criticize how Y/n/n spends their time, you can fuck off, alright? I don’t need some posh stuck-up woman in me house. So either behave yourself and let Charlie have a good birthday,” Thomas threatened, “Or get out of me house and have fun on the streets for a week.” “You’d let your own son live on the streets for a week?” Grace asked, shocked. “My threat regards only you. Charles is me blood- you make me see blood.” Grace looked down at her plate and picked up her fork and ate her cake again. Tom took that as an agreement to get along with everyone and started eating again as well. You were just thankful that you had sent Karl and Charlie to play upstairs. But regardless of the tense situation, a smile graced your face at the immediacy that Tom defended you with. _______________________________________________________________________________________ “Hey,” you tapped Thomas’s shoulder when you both found yourselves alone in the back room. “Thank you for defending me.” Tom nodded and smiled slightly. “Of course.” “I mean it. No one really defends me so I really appreciate it. Especially since it’s Grace.” Tommy’s brows raised slightly at that comment. “What do you mean?” You shrugged, looking anywhere but at Tom. “I mean, she was the woman that made you the person you used to be before France. I understand there’s some bad blood between you two now, but she’s still special to you.” Tom hummed and walked closer to you, stopping at around 2 feet away from you. “So are you, you know. You’re special to me.” You smiled. “You’re special to me, too.” Thomas’s hand cupped your cheek lightly, his thumb stroking

back and forth. A flush made its way to your cheeks and you smiled shyly at Tom. There was always some unspoken bond between the two of you that you danced around. You were always scared that it was too early after his divorce, but with the way that he was looking at you, he probably got over it a while ago. You don’t know who leaned forward first, but one second later your mouths were connected in a feverish kiss. Tom’s hands were traveling places, touching parts of your body that you caught him eyeing from time to time. Your hands rested against his chest and reveled in the feeling of his heart thumping against his chest as erratically as yours. So you had the same effect on him as he did on you. The kiss was a good indicator of that, but it was nice to have reassurance. Tom pulled away and rested his forehead on yours. “Fuck, I’ve wanted to do that for months now,” Tom confessed. You smiled, pecking him on the lips. “So have I,” you replied, pulling his mouth back to yours.

[kass-storycorner]

An unpleasant surprise

I should definitely do my coursework instead of writing this fic, however the idea just came into my head and I couldn’t focus until I wrote this down. Writing this took waaaay longer than I anticpiated and it was way more spontanious... so it’s not proof read or anything, still hope you’ll enjoy it.

The idea/prompt: character is secretly in love with you, but won’t tell you because you are already in a relationship with someone else. Character however finds out that your partner is cheating on you – this is how they would react/act upon finding it out

Word count: 3637 Words (I’m sorry)

Character: Kaeya x gn!reader (in this it’s still very platonic and one sided love) Genre: Angst (?), Hurt, Comfort, even a bit of humour but maybe not, idk haha

Content warnings: cheating, threats, mention of blood and a major injury, mentioning of Dilucs and Kaeyas past, but nothing to explicit (tried to avoid the major spoilers)

Format: The first part / backstory is written in bullet points, but at the end you’ll find a fic written in the normal text format 

He just wanted to drown his sorrows in peace at the Angel’s Share, but no. He had to be witness to that disgusting display of infidelity of your (hopefully soon to be ex-) boyfriend

Kaeya has known you for several years now, both of you started around the same time in the Knights of Favonius. The early years of your training were some of the most fun times Kaeya had- thinking about it always made him smile. Both of you were known from the beginning as rule benders, mostly breakers, within the Knights and if it weren’t for the influence of Kaeyas adoptive family none of you both would’ve gotten that many chances to stay until each of you proved their own worth without familiar ties.

However, in the last few years you both grew a bit more distant. Kaeya blamed himself entirely for it, after Crepus death he knew he should not have any emotional ties to anyone in Mondstadt, at first he ruined the relationship with his brother by telling him the truth. He then just tried to avoid you more and more, which wasn’t easy, because after Diluc quit his position as a Cavalry Captain Kaeya rose up to his position – only to have you as his subordinate.  

It was not until you were on a mission with Kaeya that went horribly wrong, that Kaeya realised his feelings for you never were platonic, he was in love with you since the early days of training.You are his first love.

That mission was more of a secretive one, a few months after Diluc had left Mond and Crepus died, and one of the first bigger outings Kaeya had to lead as a Cavalry Captain. And the first mission without his brother by his side. The dragon Ursa resurfaced and continued to cause harm to the people of Mond, so Grand Master Varka gave Kaeya the responsibility to find that Dragons lair.

Instead of finding the hiding spot of Ursa, Kaeyas troop stumbled into a hiding spot of the, at that point not known as, Abyss order. That was the last time Kaeya went into a mission without information he himself collected and checked, because looking back it was so obviously a trap. How did he not notice it back then?

The fight was brutal and exhausting – somehow it was a miracle that the only Knight dangerously wounded was you. At least that is what the other Knights who were on that mission too would say, thankful that the worst they had to suffer from back then were a few scars at most. Hearing anyone talk about it enraged Kaeya, though he would never show it. It was because you were the most skilled fighter in that troop, even without a Vision Kaeya was sure that at your peak back then you could’ve bested him even now. But because of one of his mistakes, he did not care to watch his own back, maybe because he knew you would protect him, it was you who was injured and not him.

In that moment, seeing you unconscious on the floor laying in your own blood because you protected him, Kaeya understood his feelings for you.

After bringing you back safely to Mondstadt, and you thankfully not dying because of the injuries, Kaeya became even more distant. At first he wished to be able to tell you his true feelings after you’ve woken up, but he just couldn’t. When the healers and doctors gave the news that the injury was so severe that you would never be able to fight again, or even walk down the streets of Mond without being in pain – Kaeya thought the guilt of keeping that secret from Diluc and Crepus for years was unbearable, but the guilt he felt from being responsible for this? It pained him even more.

You stayed in the Knights, taking over administrative tasks and helping every other department of the Knights in the best ways you possibly could.

What surprised Kaeya is that you were never bitter about it. You never said it was Kaeyas fault, even went out of your way to constantly reassure him after you got the news that he shouldn’t blame himself for it (until this day he refuses to listen to you). Your smile and laughter didn’t stop after it, which he never could understand.

How were you able to be so happy and kind when your dream of leading your own troop just – vanished. To travel around Teyvat, see the world. When you weren’t able to do the things, you loved on your own, like going to Windrise to pick some of your favourite flowers.

Somehow, Kaeya thought, it was because of that guy. He never liked your boyfriend to begin with, but Kaeya thought maybe it was his jealousy that clouded his judgement.

He came into your life shortly after the incident and Kaeya remembered the first time he saw you two together – holding hands, you looked so smitten and the way you laughed when he leaned down to whisper something into your ear. After seeing that Kaeya knew he could never have something like this in his life. Not if its not with you.

Kaeya didn’t spend much time with you outside of the Knights anymore, though he would always have a conversation with you when you came up to him or he had to visit your office. Whenever he saw you outside of the Knights, you were always with your boyfriend, sometimes stopping and having a quick chat with Kaeya. Sometimes he wished you would stop being so nice to him.

Now seeing that disgusting piece of shit of a boyfriend sit in the corner of the Angel’s Share, with his hands all over some young thing made Kaeyas blood boil.

How dared he, the man who should be so lucky to have you, have his eyes and hands on another woman.

Also it’s a good thing that Diluc is not at Angel’s Share today, he was also a close friend of you back in the day and even though the friendship with Diluc didn’t survive his three years absence, Diluc would definitely throw that bastard out

Kaeya was astounded by the audacity your boyfriend had. He never had a high opinion of him but seeing that man openly flirt and make out with a woman that was not you, so obvious for everyone to see… in a bar that was frequently visited by your colleagues and friends. If it weren’t for the fact that he was cheating on you Kaeya could maybe muster up some respect for a man who had so clearly a death wish. Eyeing him from the corner of his eye, Kaeya kept observing that situation. How the hands that always held yours in public were touching all over the body of that unknown woman. How the mouth that told you sweet nothings over and over, told you that he loved you, was occupied with kissing the neck of another woman. That whole display just filled Kaeya with disgust. The loud giggles of that woman in his lap filled the Tavern and that was the moment Kaeya decided he had enough. Calmy, he finished his drink, stood up from the bar and made his way over to the table. “You surely don’t mind if I join you two”, Kaeya said in a nonchalant manner, sitting down opposite to the couple. “Oh, Sir Kaeya!”, the young woman giggled, clearly intoxicated, and embarrassed by the way Kaeya eyed the two. Quickly they both shifted, so the woman sat now besides your boyfriend. The way the cheater looked at Kaeya, it was quite amusing. A mix of fear, shock and uneasiness filled the eyes of him. It filled Kaeya with a weird sense of pride, knowing that being caught by him was something that scared him. “Seemed like you two had quite some fun back here”, Kaeya smugly started his interrogation. It was not unusual for Kaeya to use the Angel’s Share as his interrogation room – the casual setting and the alcohol made it so much easier sometimes for people to spill all their secrets. Especially when Kaeya could just be so charming. What Kaeya interested the most was if this was the first offense of the cheater or if that behaviour was a more… regular occurrence. It was at least for him the first time he caught that man red handed. Getting some information out of the girl was quite easy, she was so eager to tell the Cavalry Captain all about the two. Though from what Kaeya gathered the whole thing between her and your boyfriend was quite fresh. “You two really seem like a fitting pair”, Kaeya replied after a long ramble of that woman on how she was just so in love with your boyfriend. His voice sweet and smooth as silk, not showing how the anger inside him grew. It was just not fair, not fair to you. “Hey,” Kaeya began and eyed the empty glasses on the table, looking then back at the woman. “How about another round of drinks, it’s on me. Would you be so kind and go to Charles and order a few?”, again his voice was charming as ever.  “No, no, Sir Kaeya, that’s too kind, but another drink won’t be necessary. It is quite late; don’t you think flower? We should get going”, the cheater chimed in and Kaeya nearly lost his cool when he heard him call the woman ‘flower’. Whenever Kaeya met you and him on his patrols around Mondstadt he always heard him call you ‘flower’. Fucking bastard, is all Kaeya could think before the voice of the woman protested the cheaters concerns. “Nooo, just one more round. How can you turn down Sir Kaeya, love? Just one more, please”, she looked at him with pleading eyes and he just sighted. “Fine”, he said and with that the woman was on her way to the bar. Kaeya now hoped that Charles would keep her occupied long enough so he could find out everything he wants to know from that cheater. His eye shifted from the woman who made her way to the bar to your boyfriend who sat directly across Kaeya. Now completely alone and vulnerable, for his shield left his side. The tension in the air seemed to be unbearable, Kaeya could see how uncomfortable the silence and his curious glance made the cheater. But Kaeya knew – sometimes saying nothing says it all. Helplessly your boyfriend looked over to the bar only to see that the woman he was with was now totally engrossed in a conversation with Charles. After a few minutes, that might have felt like hours to that cheater, he broke the silence. “So,” he tried to start a conversation, clearly not knowing that he fell right into Kaeyas trap. “What gives us the honour to be invited by the Cavalry Captain?”. “Oh, I think you might be smart enough to come up with an answer yourself,” Kaeya replied, keeping up a smile. Though the look in Kaeyas eye was just as cold as the top of Dragonspine, causing the other man to shiver. “As much as it honours me that you think of me this highly, I sadly have no idea what would make the renowned Sir Kaeya sit down at my table tonight.” “Oh, so this is how you want have this conversation”, now his voice was just as cold as his look. “I don’t understand what you mean.” ‘Bullshit’, Kaeya thought. “I’ve been just curious about that woman that just sat so prominently on your lap earlier this evening, she seems to be not the same I saw you hold hands with earlier this day.” “As nice at it is that the Cavalry Captain seems concerned for me, it isn’t one of the Knights duties to pry into the lives of citizens, now, is it?” Oh, how confident the cheater now sounded, thinking he was winning that conversation. Kaeya couldn’t deny that the entire situation made him furious and that he handled it a bit differently than he usually would if he were to talk with drunk treasure hoarders. “Oh, we’re awfully bold now, are we? Believe me the Knights don’t care about your infidelity, though I guess a certain one might find it awfully interesting to know how you spend your nights.” There was a short moment of silences between the two men, the tension just rising. “Well, they wouldn’t believe you. But if you want to go and be a telltale go, I won’t stop you”, the man gave as an answer. His words did not fit his body language – bold words, but his body was tense and Kaeya could see the fear behind the eyes of the man. But it was not fear of losing you, no he seemed to be quite confident that this would not happen. Kaeya said nothing, he just looked at that man, piercing him with his ice cold look. “You see”, he continued, “I wouldn’t be sitting here in Angle’s Share with that lovely company if I thought they might believe the words of any low-rank Knight coming in their office, believing their lies. Quite sad what pranks some people want to play on them, don’t you think?” Slowly, but surely, Kaeya understood that this tonight was definitely not the first offense of that man. And he now understood why most of the Knights here tonight just looked away from the scene, not batting an eye at what was going on. Kaeya could kick himself in the ass, how did he not notice the behaviour of that rodent before him earlier? If he was so open about cheating on you that even most of the other Knights knew, how come that he did not? “And I think its just so sad, that one of the people they hold in such high regards would join in on those baseless accusations, don’t you think Sir Kaeya? I mean it would be so disappointing for them to find out that you tell them such a lie, only because you just don’t like me.” If Kaeya wasn’t a Knight, if he weren’t Kaeya right now, if he hadn’t to uphold a certain image… the floor of the Tavern would be painted with the blood of this absolute bastard. Oh, how Kaeya wished he could lose his cool. “If you say it like that, then I guess I won’t tell them a word,” Kaeya replied. “I’m glad you understand”, the cheater smiled, the fear in his eyes now subsided and he seemed to relax a bit. At that Kaeya just leaned forward, his look cold and his voice even colder. “You are telling them.” The man just scoffed, looking confused at Kaeya. “Why should I?” Kaeya now coming closer, his voice more threatening than before. “Do you really want to find out, if you don’t?”. Kaeya leaned back, smiling and at that moment the woman came back with the drinks. The face of the man was just pale as snow, the fear back in his eyes. “Oh, thank you dear”, Kaeya said when she places his drink before him, and he took a sip. If your boyfriend is smarter than he seemed to be after fooling around with that woman in public, it would do him good to do as Kaeya said.

                                                             -

Dealing with the pain in your leg was something you were used to now for a few years, but the pain in your heart today… you somehow would prefer a broken leg over your shattered heart. Your eyes were fixated on the documents before you, though trough the tears in your eyes you could barley make out what they said. What they were even for. How could you ignore it for so long, that he cheated. That he fooled around with any woman in Mondstadt willing to be with him. This sleezy asshole. The tears fell down on the paper, you couldn’t care right now what important piece of documents you ruined with your tears. How, how, how??? Why were you so stupid to believe him when he always said that all the people that came to you with their concerns must have been mistaken. Why did you believe him over and over again. You couldn’t stop thinking about how the first person coming to you was Outrider Amber, so nervous to even say anything. How you just laughed her worries away, saying she definitely was mistaken. How after Amber again and again told you how sure she was. Had you just listened to her. Then maybe you wouldn’t feel so humiliated. If you just hadn’t listened to that damn liar. In that moment you heard a knock on the door. Quickly you wiped your tears away with your sleeves, clearing your throat. “Come in,” you said, though you were shocked at how hoarse you sounded. Stepping into your office was Kaeya, but when he saw your red eyes and tear stained face, he quickly closed the door behind him. “Are you alright?”, he asked in such a soft and kind voice. Since you woke up in the infirmary all those years ago you hadn’t heard him talk in that voice. You couldn’t help it, it made you immediately tear up again. Throwing your head into your hands you just couldn’t stop the uncontrollably sobs that took over you. You didn’t even notice that Kaeya was kneeling beside your chair until he felt his hand on your back. “Hey,” you heard him say, again in this soft voice. “It’s alright, let it out.” And you did. For a while you just sat there, crying and sobbing until you ran empty. The whole time Kaeya was on your side, saying nothing. He was just there and somehow, even after you two grew apart in the past years, after all that happened – Crepus death, Dilucs disappearance and return, your injury. Even after all it did not feel awkward to just cry and look for comfort at his side. After all, you still were friends. Slowly you calmed down, looking up to him. “I was so stupid, Kaeya. So many people came to me, told me what they saw, who he was and I- I just ignored it. I ignored it all, my feelings and-“, you felt the lump in your throat, making you stop speaking. It was just too much. “You’re not stupid,” he said, taking you in his arms. It felt so good to just melt into the hug. Just trying to forget the pain for a few seconds, slipping back into the familiarity of Kaeya you haven’t felt in such a long time.

Kaeya on the other hand couldn’t stop asking himself if what he’s doing here was alright. Was it okay to comfort you, he asked. If he hadn’t basically threatened your, obviously now, ex-boyfriend last night to tell you the truth, he might have been met with your bright smile today and not that painful expression. But it was the right thing to do, you deserved to know. You deserved for that guy to tell you, although he should have told you the truth out of his own free will. Not because Kaeya got involved. “Thank you”, he heard you mumble into his chest. “For what?” he asked, both of you now parting from the hug. “For just… for being here. And for being a friend”, you answered, again wiping tears away. Kaeya couldn’t help himself and chuckled at that statement. A friend, yeah. That is what he was and what he must be fine with. However, he didn’t really expect you to view him as one, after all that happened and how much he tried to avoid you in the past. “Well, I have been an awful friend the last years, haven’t I?”. Your eyes shot up, looking directly into his eye. “No, what makes you think that?”. You genuinely looked surprised at his statement. “Well,” he gestured towards your leg. Before he could even say anything, he felt your hands cup his face and looking at him sternly. “Kaeya Alberich, how often do I have to tell you this. What happened to my leg is not your fault, please stop taking blame for it. It was my choice to join you on that mission.” For a short while you both just looked into each other’s eyes until Kaeya couldn’t stand it anymore, a sigh leaving him, and he looked away. “How come that I want to comfort you and you just end up telling me something I just can’t seem to learn.” He stood up and then he saw it. You smiled at him. A sad smile, but a smile, nonetheless. “One day you’ll hopefully learn it”, you said. “Now, to make up for this”, pointing at your leg, trying to joke, “and for threatening a Mondstadt citizen, I think you should get me something from Good Hunter.” Kaeya was surprised. How did you know? He couldn’t even ask you, you already gave him the answer to the question that was so clearly written all over his face. “He literally begged me, after telling me the truth and breaking up with me, that I made sure you wouldn’t hurt him.” Now Kaeya gave out a small laugh, partially because he felt a bit embarrassed by you knowing, but also the thought of that arrogant asshole being so afraid of him amused Kaeya. “And, what did you tell him”, he asked, now back with his more playful tone. “Mmmmmh, I told him I’ll think about it.”

[what-is-denial-if-not-fanfiction]

Charles becomes Peter’s dad AU

PART 4 A few days in, he was already regretting volunteering on teaching Peter – it seems that the boy, contrary to his mutation – was a slow learner. There are times when you think he has it, and then all of a sudden – he most certainly does not. It did not however had anything to do with Peter’s intellect – in fact, Erik quite liked the conversations he had with the young man. They bonded over languages – Romani and Deutsch in particular as it turns out that Charles’…wife? Partner? Had been of Romani descent. It had however, had something to do with the boy’s attention span. Mein gott, no wonder the boy never got into university – Peter was smart, yes. Cunning? Very. And there are bouts of surprising wisdom from the boy here and there. But you would be more likely to be having an afternoon tea with a bear than keep Peter’s attention for more than a few minutes at a time.

He sighs. He had become fond of the boy, that much is true – but he cannot keep going on like this. He has asked Charles’ advice, but the man kicked him out of the room! How can sweet loving Charles be so apathetic to his situation? Well… he supposes, he did ask the man to use his powers on Peter, but that was only for Peter to keep his attention! Never mind, he signed up for this and he was determined to finish it. And if there was something that Erik was, it would be persistent.

So, as the boy was struggling to maintain direction of the floating mantle, his thoughts were running rampant in his mind. Techniques on how to teach the boy, perhaps games to keep him interested? Music. The boy liked music, maybe next time they play music as they practice. Idea after idea and plan after plan form in Erik’s mind and for a while he felt like Magneto again. The Magneto that schemed and prepared a Plan D for his Plan C which was in case his Plan B did not work. There was short rush of thrill in his veins as prepared for every possible occurrence – keyword, of course… short.

A phone rang and it was the loudest, noisiest thing he has ever heard. Bang! He was startled and so was Peter – who dropped the heavy mantle in favor of the ringing phone. The boy being socially inept put it on speaker. Dear God, why?

“Pietro, go in front of the mansion.” A woman’s voice said. Peter’s eyes widened and his mouth floundered open and close. Now he was curious. There was only so much that left the boy and his forever running mouth speechless.

“Alright, just a sec,” Peter said preparing to run.

“Peter wait!” Erik said. Discipline. He had to teach the boy discipline and patience first. And that starts with tempering Peter’s overwhelming cravings to run. Powers were good and all but Peter had to learn when to use them and not to. Erik agrees that they should not have had to, but it is a sad truth of their world that at the moment, he was willing to compromise. Their safety depends on it, and until they have governmental sovereignty or at least some sort of protection by the law, they had to be careful to whom they showed their powers around.

Peter turns to him. “Walk normally,” he instructed.

“What? Come on man, it’s literally just a second,” Peter whined.

“You said that you would follow every word when this began,” shooting him a pointed look.

“On the metal thing!”

“Walk or we stop the lessons. Charles will be very disappointed in you,” the line seeming to work as Peter’s shoulders dropped and the boy mumbling a quick, “Fine.”

Erik followed the boy down the hall, determined to keep Peter from running – which only served to irritate the boy. Good. He mentally scoffs. With the amount of medicine, he drank for migraines this week, surely, he should get just the littlest of revenges.

When they reached the door, a girl – young. Perhaps Peter’s age faced them. She had the reddest hair that he has ever seen. A mutant then. Well, if he was speaking genetically, all redheads are mutants but he does mean the sort of mutant that would have powers. He was still assessing this woman, whether she was threat or not, but Peter seemed to be at ease around her. Did they know each other? “Wanda? What are you doing here?” Peter asked confused. His voice however had an underlying hint of excitement in it.

“Well?” she grinned, mischief in her eyes, “Long gone sis get to squeeze her stinkin’ brother to death or what?”

Sis? What? He was getting confused more and more by the second but he was willing to keep observing before making any moves. They hugged. Peter and the woman- Wanda were laughing and speaking with one another with great levels of familiarity. Which makes sense, since the woman had said that he was her brother. But Charles had not mentioned that he had another child?

Peter who must’ve noticed the puzzled expression on his face, finally showed him mercy and introduced them.

“Erik, this is my twin sister Wanda. Wanda this is Erik – or Magneto. Mags. You know the terrorist guy who floated the stadium?”

“Yeah, I know. Hi!” The woman said, offering her hand. He could only focus on one thing, however.

His voice went shrill with panic and confusion. There were two?

But Charles never mentioned- “Twin???”  

[assassins-and-hidden-blades]

Trust Me -- Part 2

02/06/2021: Wow, uh, wow. This one got me. Almost started crying at the cheesy ending. I will cringe at it in precisely two months from now. Thank you guys SO much for all the positive feedback of PART 1, it really helped me finish this part. Without you guys, this would have been still sitting in my drafts. There's lowkey a bit of pressure in this actually being GOOD, so I'm sitting here with a bit of Imposter SyndromeTM and crossing everything I can cross that you guys like it. I can't tell whether I went overboard or not, though... I guess that's for you guys to tell me lmao.

Also, these commas can be pried from my very cold, extremely dead, fingers.

As always, feedback is greatly appreciated! For the first time in almost ever, I'm a bit very nervous to post this -- I hope you enjoy it!!

Tagging: @marshmallow--3 // @yourlocalfrenchie // @rahdaleigh // @sofiewithat /// @iceboundstar // @mythandmagik // @itseivwhore // @pink-polarfox // @missbenzayb // @ct-5445 // @timbreavery // @dacian-assassin // @thepalaceofmelanie // @asilverraven // @huntheimpossible // @eclectic--assassin // @thehistorynut19 // @ta-ka-shi-ma // @roki3chocoa // @fandomsfanman // @le-nottibianche // @bandit-brunsmeier // @starmoji1 // @spocktheestallion // @salty-thembo // @missingfrye // @xdeimos // If you want to be tagged, let me know!!

Warnings: Lots of swearing, a bit of graphic violence, implicit mention of sexual assault (I hope it's not a spoiler to say that this does not actually happen, but the idea is used as manipulation. It's not done well, but I'm blaming that on the character being a horrible liar, instead of me sucking at write arseholes), implied character death.

Pairing: Edward Kenway x F!Reader

Assassin's Creed Mobile Masterlist

Red Dead Redemption 2 Mobile Masterlist

The neighbouring ship was chaotic. The opponents were drunk on victory, so slipping through unnoticed was easy. The hard part was going to be staying undercover until you could free Edward and the rest of the crew without anyone falling casualty. “Strip them of their weapons and take them to the brig!” You heard the Quartermaster yell. Thinking quickly, you moved to Edward; if you knew where his weapons were, escaping could be much easier. People were already pulling out his pistols and cutlasses, fortunately dumping them in your arms. Looking around, you pulled away to hide them in an inconspicuous barrel for later.

You weren’t planning on staying long.

Quickly rejoining the group, you took hold of one of your crew members -- you recognised him as one named Jonah -- at the back of the crowd, keeping your face covered lest they accidentally reveal your identity. You kept your eye on Edward’s tense shoulders the entire time, heading below deck and to the rows of cells at the end of the ship.

As you gently pushed Jonah into the cell, someone slammed the door shut, chucking the ring of keys your way. “Lock ‘em up.” Swallowing, you nodded, feeling uncomfortable under their gaze while turning the key in the lock. Taking them out of your hands, a mop and bucket was shoved in its place. “You’re on cleaning duty, starting upstairs; let’s go.” With one last glance, your eyes scoured for Edward before they all disappeared from view.

----------

Edward

There was this crushing anxiety he just couldn’t shake. It rendered him almost motionless, crouched in the corner of the cell, picking at his sleeves. There was a commotion heading towards them; he was in for company he was not in the mood for.

Heavy footsteps gave away the visitor. “We searched your boat.” His crew parted to clear a view as Charles Marlowe relaxed against the cell bars. “We found your woman.”

Edward’s eyes snapped to Marlowe’s as he clenched his jaw, almost daring him to say more.

With a chuckle and a disgusting grin, he brought out a small knife to clean. “Don’t you want to know where she is?”

“I expect you’d would tell me regardless.”

“I would advise against winding me up, Kenway. I could always take my anger out on her instead.”

It took a second for Edward’s arms to fly through the bars, constricting around Marlowe’s throat. “What have you done with her?”

Although cold metal pressed against his jaw, he didn’t ease up.

“She’s waiting for me very nicely... in my cabin.”

Edward didn’t have to think very hard to infer his meaning.

“I’ll kill you if you touch her. I’ll kill you.” Growling, he held impossibly tighter, for if he was here, he wasn’t there.

“With your actions come consequences, Kenway. And you might not be the one paying for them.”

A dilemma came to mind: delay him to keep him away from you, or risk the consequences of his revenge?

Somewhat luckily, he didn’t need to choose.

Before Edward could comprehend that he loosened his grip, Marlowe slipped out of his grasp. The distraught Captain pressed himself against the bars, anger drenching his expression as he heaved out breaths. His captor laughed. “You’re very good at empty threats, Kenway.”

“It’s not a threat. It’s a promise.” His cold tone streaked through the crew, setting hairs on end. They had never heard their Captain like this before; so angry, so dangerous.

It terrified them.

“That remains to be seen. In the meantime…” With a mocking whistling tune, Marlowe spun on his heels and began to walk away.

“Come back here, bilge rat!” He pulled harshly against the cell door. “Don’t you dare touch her!”

“Then you better stay in line.”

As he disappeared from view, Edward’s emotions overwhelmed him, frustrated tears coming to his eyes. He turned to a solid wall, slamming the side of his fist against it and yelled.

Fear, anger, guilt, and grief echoed around the brig.

Collapsing against the wood, he hid his face in his hands, aiming to either calm himself or hide his inevitable breakdown.

----------

Y/N

“Finish up downstairs.” Nodding affirmatively, you picked up the mop bucket and eagerly headed beneath deck, having to consciously slow down to avoid suspicion. You were glad you were disguised in the uniform of Marlowe’s crew instead of the rags of the common sailors aboard; it would’ve made the job much harder than it had to be.

Keeping a level head, you walked past the cell holding your family and placed the mop bucket against the wall, scanning the deck.

Empty.

Sighing in relief, you realised that you were alone with your crew at last. As you pulled the covering off of your face, you shushed frantically, the cell almost erupting into cheers. You gestured for them to part, eyeing Edward, almost balled up in the corner of the cell. “Hey, Ed,” you whispered, watching as his head snapped up to you, eyes widening.

Scrambling up, he strode to the bars in a second, reaching through the gaps to hold you. “Thank Christ…” he exhaled in relief, bringing your forehead to his lips between the bars. You pulled away after a few moments, sharing relieved glances. “Are you hurt? Did they do anything to you?” he asked, eyes scanning you for any sign of injuries.

“No, no, I’m okay. Are you alright? Did we lose anyone?”

“I’m... fine; I haven’t done a head count yet.”

You didn’t reply, watching as Jonah came up to tap Edward on the shoulder. “Capt’n?”

He turned around, withdrawing his hands as Ryan came into view. “I can’t find my da’.” His voice was barely stable, cheeks stained with tear tracks. For a second, you both exchanged sorrowful glances.

Edward crouched down, ruffling his hair. “He’ll be around, lad. We just have to find him. Maybe he’s escaped and is planning his own rescue mission for us.”

Ryan nodded, wanting to believe him. Meanwhile, Edward stood and brought Jonah close, leaning to whisper in his ear. He withdrew, a willing but uncertain look on his face. Both retreated back into the small crowd.

“What did you tell him?” you asked.

“...That he has to look after Ryan now.”

You squeezed your eyes shut to stave off tears. “Shit.”

His fingers gently grazed your cheek. “Are you sure you’re alright? Does Marlowe know you’re here?”

Frowning, you shook your head. “I wouldn’t have thought so; if he did, I’d be stuck in there with you.”

His expression was nearly unreadable, but you could sense his anxiety. “I saw him come from here a few moments ago. What was he saying?”

“He…” Pausing for a moment, Edward swallowed. “Just Templar bullshit.”

You scoffed at the notion. “Of course he did. Look, I know how to get out of this.”

“I’ll take anything at this point.” Although his tone was sarcastic, you could tell that for the first time, he didn’t know what to do.

“He needs to die.”

Edward froze, brows narrowing, realising your intention. “No, Y/N, no.”

“‘No’ was an option in Nassau, but we don’t have that choice--”

“No, there must be another way -- “

“There is no other way! This is our only chance--”

“Are you hearing me?! He--”

“Do you understand the situation we’re in?!”

“No, Y/N, please--”

“All it takes is--”

“Just LISTEN to me!” He hissed through gritted teeth, grasping your arm to give it a sharp shake to stop you talking over him. The shock threw you into silence. Lowering his voice, he continued. “If you make so much as one mistake, he won’t just kill you; he’ll make you wish you were dead. Please, please, don’t do this.”

You were stunned. You’ve never seen him so adamant about staying your blade. The desperation in his tone threw you off; you’ve never heard him this serious -- this frantic -- before.

Edward grabbed one of your hands in both of his, bringing your knuckles to rest against his lips. “I love you… with everything I have; I can’t lose you. Not if I can help it,” he murmured, closing his eyes. Your heart broke as you watched a tear escape, trailing down his skin.

“Okay, okay.” You rarely saw Edward cry, and when you did, it was usually due to either drinking or laughing. He took a small, shuddering breath, trying to compose himself.

“We wait for Adé. Then we’ll think about Marlowe.”

“Alright, okay. Hey...” you caressed his jaw. “I’m okay. We’ll be okay. Trust me.”

You heard ruckus above the deck. “Someone’s coming.” Both of you broke away like shrapnel, Edward sitting himself on the floor while you mopped, facing the wall.

And that was how things were.

----------

A couple of weeks had passed since the crew was abducted from the Jackdaw. Everyone had been forced to labour on the deck, doing various jobs, from scrubbing floors to adjusting sails to everything in between. Adé was nowhere to be seen; whether he was hidden on deck and still strategising, or God forbid, something worse, you didn’t know.

A few didn’t make it.

Keeping your identity hidden was becoming increasingly difficult as time went on, of both being a woman and lover of the imprisoned Captain. You had, however, been able to gather intel of Marlowe from the crew that despised him. Each day further validated your belief that this man would be much better off dead; the crew have no loyalty except out of fear, and you could work with that.

You understood Edward’s fear, but it would be selfish of you to stand back and not do anything, watching as almost everyone on the ship suffered; if you did nothing, you would regret it for the rest of your days.

One particular morning was extremely hot, extremely dry, and extremely labour intensive. You were almost halfway through your journey, and you knew you were running out of time. Something had to happen, and soon, or you would never make it to the end of the year.

----------

Edward

After the first week, the crew joined the common sailors around the ship, performing average labour over hours. There was barely time to rest, eat, or drink; he could tell that this was wearing him down more than any form of torture.

The sun’s rays beat down on the nape of his neck as midday approached. Orders were to scrub the floor. He had a brush in his hand the size of a polishing brush, sharing a bucket with four other members of his crew. Each time he made eye contact with one of them, he’d give them a reassuring look; they’d all get out of this, he just needed a plan.

Doors were haphazardly flung open, Marlowe revealing himself from his cabin, followed by an entourage of his closest crew. They clumsily made their way across the ship, bumping into those scrubbing the deck, only to send them a look as if it was their fault in the first place.

One of them knocked over a bucket of water, spilling the liquid across the wood. Edward looked up to observe the situation. It belonged to his crew, including Jonah and Ryan. Marlowe stopped, his stare set on the ones kneeling, completely ignoring the real culprit. “You.” He crooked his finger towards Ryan. “Get up.”

With a petrified look on his face, Ryan stumbled to his feet, shaking like a leaf. “It wasn’t--”

Marlowe put his hand up, a warning to shut up. “It was your bucket, was it not?”

“Y-Yes, but--”

“So it was your responsibility, correct?”

“W-Well--”

“It’s a ‘yes’ or ‘no’ question, boy.”

“... Yes, sir.”

Marlowe turned to call to his second in command. “Get the cat.”

Edward’s heart stopped. By now, the ship had dropped to complete silence. They wouldn’t… he was only a boy. Marlowe was sadistic, but he wouldn’t be that evil, would he?

Before he could stop himself, Edward found himself standing protectively in front of Ryan. The child gripped onto his sleeve as he was pushed behind his Captain by the arm. “Why don’t you give a punishment to someone who deserves it?”

Marlowe held a neutral expression. “You’re right…” With a wave of his hand, arms snaked themselves around Edward’s, pulling him away from the others, restraining his movements.

Edward’s eyes flitted to Ryan for a split second; he was pulled to sit beside Jonah before he gained any more unwanted attention. Marlowe came to stand in front of him, unpinning his cape from around his shoulders. It fell into someone’s arms, who carried it away. Although his limbs were pulled harshly behind him, he held his head high, a hard expression in his eyes.

Undoing his cuffs, Marlowe smirked. “I believe you deserve twenty, in place of that boy…” Without warning, a fist came into contact with Edward’s sternum. If it weren’t for the arms holding him upright, the force would have sent his knees buckling. As he regained his breath, he glared at Marlowe. “Another twenty is in order for disobedience…” Another strike winded him again, this one seemingly worse than before. Keeled over, hair blocking his vision, he almost didn’t notice Marlowe leaning into his ear. “Then, about as many as I deem fit…”

Standing up straight, he shook out his hand. “Get him ready.”

Edward stumbled as he was half-dragged across the deck to the main mast. His chest and face collided with the post, the wood almost burning his skin. His arms were pulled taut above his head, rope quickly entwining itself around his wrists. He gave them an experimental tug, his heart skipping a beat when he found not even an inch of give.

Oh, fuck.

Hands gripped the back of his shirt, swiftly tearing it open. His muscles tensed as the sunlight hit his skin. Closing his eyes, he steeled himself with a breath.

The first strike licked his skin, the force shoving him against the post, ripping open stripes of flesh. Pain shot across his back. Biting a back a groan, Edward clenched his jaw. Sweat trailed down his temples, arms straining against the ropes.

Resting his forehead against the post, he prepared for the next lash.

But the strike never came.

----------

Y/N

Ooh, boy.

You were shocked at yourself for a moment, your hand firmly wrapped around Marlowe’s extended wrist, the cat of nine tails trickling Edward’s blood onto the back of your hand.

“I demand satisfaction.”

Gasps and muttering littered the crowd, and you kept to yourself the true realisation of what you’ve done.

You’ve challenged Marlowe to a duel.

“Don’t…” Edward looked over his shoulder, voice loud enough for only you to hear.

You spared him a side glance, urging him to quiet down.

Instead of the expected anger, Marlowe chuckled. “Alright; who demands it?”

You pulled off your face covering and hat, the sun hitting the skin on your face fully for the first time in two weeks. “Naturally, me.”

He hummed darkly, eyes narrowing with recognition. “Naturally.” He began to unsheathe his sword.

“I thought you were a man of tradition; are pistols not your forte?” You raised an eyebrow, challenging him.

After a prolonged glance, metal clicked back into its leather hold. “You really don’t know what you’re getting into, my dear.”

“Don’t call me that.”

“... Let’s get this over with.”

Your heart pounded. This was such a stupid move.

But it was also your only move.

Hiding your own fear, you held eye contact with Marlowe. With trembling fingers, you drew your own pistol, gifted to you by Edward from your last birthday. It was very much your lucky charm, and you hoped it wouldn’t fail you now.

“Ten paces, on my count.” You had no idea who the voice belonged to, nor did you have the current emotional capacity to care. Pulling the hammer down on your pistol, you turned your back to Marlowe. A blank was fired, the echoing shot a signal to start moving.

1…

2…

3...

It was almost deadly quiet.

4…

5…

6…

This was stupid, this was a bad idea. You won’t make it.

7…

8--

An unexpected shot rang out. You dropped to the floor, a pain beginning to blossom in your side.

“NO!”

Marlowe had cheated. Internally, you scoffed. Of course he did.

Although it stung, you were surprised at how bearable the pain was, given you just got shot.

Or did you?

You lay still, partly in shock and partly to plan what to do next.

“What are you all looking at? Get back to work!”

“Y/N? Y/N/N!” You heard Edward’s voice crack. “You cheating bastard!”

“Now, now, Kenway. Don’t forget the position you��re in.”

Floorboards creaked as someone approached. Pistol miraculously still in hand, you waited for as long as possible. Just a little longer....

A shadow shaded your face from the sun. Without thinking, you turned, aimed, and shot.

Marlowe stared back, glassy eyed, blood trickling down his nose.

A moment later, he collapsed.

No one dared to move, choosing to stare at the body in front of them, not quite believing that he was dead.

The monster of a man was dead.

After the adrenaline ebbed away, you sighed heavily. “Glad that’s over.” A hand came into view, offering assistance to stand up. You locked eyes with someone who should have made himself known a long time ago. “Adé!” Accepting the help, you smirked. “Great timing.”

You quickly moved to Edward to begin untying the knots around his wrists. “What the fuck were you thinking?!” he exclaimed, exertion clear in his eyes.

“I’m sorry for worrying you--”

“Worrying me?” One wrist freed, he deftly moved to the other. “When I saw you lying there, I felt as if I had died!”

You sighed. “I needed to do something, lest you became more bone than back.”

“That was the most stupid plan I’ve ever seen in my life.” His hands free, he paid no heed to his own wounds and immediately tried to inspect yours. “You were so irresponsible--”

Bringing his face to yours, you stopped him talking with a kiss.

He diffused immediately, finally processing that you were in front of him, alive, and Marlowe was the one dead on the floor. Melting into you, the tension in his muscles dissipated, replaced only with relief. He broke apart from you, burying his face in your neck, his arms wrapped around you tightly.

“If the plan worked, it couldn’t have been that stupid,” you remarked.

“I’m so sorry.” His words were mumbled into your shoulder.

“You were looking out for me; I would have done the same if the roles were reversed.” You hugged him back, recoiling when he suddenly flinched in pain. “Oh, God, I’m sorry.”

“Shall we just accept each other’s apologies and call it a day?”

You laughed. “That would be good.”

Turning to the hands on deck, you raised your pistol in the air. “It’s over, lads! We can go home!”

You held your side, the pain greatly subsided under the amount of other emotions you were feeling; joy, relief, but also grief. Not for Marlowe, but for the ones that didn’t see this day.

You made a vow there and then; a vow to live your life the way they would have lived.

With joyful, carefree fun.

With the ability to live in the moment.

With gratitude for what you still have that they lost: For some, love, and for others, life.

[cupcakes-and-pain]

Au where a bloody and hurt Ollie shows up at the front door of <self inserted character>'s house, will <self inserted character> be whumper or caretaker? Who knows?

For some reason that I don't know <self inserted character> is male, and his name is Ken (short for Kennedy), also, he is tall because I want to.

CW: past abuse, past torture,

=====

The storm was not even closer to the end when Ken saw someone outside, he knew that going to take find out who isn't the safest choice, but when he realized he was at the door already.

They saw the man as soon as they opened it, he was curled on the floor, trying to protect himself from the cold, as if his bloody rags could ever win against such a strong storm.

The man looked at Ken with a face full of fear, breaking eyes contact before properly making one, "S-sorry," he said weakly, "P-please, I'm sorry, please."

Interesting, of all things that Ken could find in his front door, this he wasn't expecting.

Bringing a bloodied random person inside is utterly reckless, Ken thought with himself, but I am utterly reckless! he decided with a smile, "Want to get in, dude?" he asked walking closer, making the man even more scared, "It's nice and warm, what do you say? You will end up dying from if you stay there."

So Ollie was on the streets awhile before Charles found him so I’m just going to set this as if he had never got taken in by Charles and no one can stop me because I’m the one writing this.

Ollie hadn’t eaten actual food in weeks and even the dumpsters didn’t have anything good as of late. He couldn’t really risk much, the last thing he wanted is to die slowly and painful for some rotten food or infection.

That, plus the huge storm, drove him to do this. He was going to die soon if he didn’t get food and shelter. He didn’t care how mean whoever finds him will be. He didn’t care what he’d have to do to earn things. He was just so tired of being on the streets.

After knocking on the door, he started to have regrets. What if they don’t want him and will be furious that he bothered them? What if they’re just sadistic and won’t let him earn food? What if- he pushed the doubts down. Now wasn’t the time for them, he had already knocked and if they did take him in, he had to be grateful. He couldn’t be afraid of his owner unless that’s what they wanted.

The door unlocked and opened.

“S-sorry,” Ollie said. His former Master liked when he apologized, even if he hadn’t really done anything wrong. “P-please, I’m sorry, please.”

Ollie wondered what he could say next, not knowing what to do, but luckily the human made the decision for him. The man actually invited him in, without even hearing the proper begging. He frantically nodded, knowing that, assuming this isn’t all a trick, he’d have to act fast. Humans didn’t have a lot of patience for stupid pets.

“O-of course, sir. Please, I know I’m not worthy of shelter from the storm, but please, I promise I will be good.”

The man smiled and led him inside. Ollie had almost forgotten how warm a house could be, not that he earned being upstairs with heaters much, but he still remembered some of the good days when his old owner would allow him to be upstairs even when he wasn’t doing chores.

Ugh, he’s being so stupid and selfish, thinking of someone other than the very gracious man who allowed him into his home. Besides, Ollie was especially nervous around this man. So ready to take in a random slave off the street. And “you will end up dying from it if you stay there.” It felt like a threat. Of course Ollie knew he was close to death. Even the dumbest mitt could see that. The man only mentioned it so it would be clear what would happen if Ollie were to displease him.

Well, what better time to start trying to make this man happy?

“Sir, keep me, please. E-even after the storm. I can cook and c-clean, I can take p-punishments well, c-can keep quiet or be loud. Whatever you want, sir. Just, please allow me to stay. I-I know I’m just a dumb slave in no position to m-make requests like that. I’m sorry, but p-please. I have nowhere else to go, sir.”

Now he could only wait and see what the man would say.

[marvelslut16]

Inseparable

Pairing: Reggie Mantle x reader

Synopsis: Reader and Reggie have been best friends since they were toddlers, nothing tearing them apart until Veronica their Junior year. This follows the rise and downfall of their friendship. Can they mend their friendship and be back to what they once were, will they be too hurt to fix their broken hearts, or will they finally admit their feelings for one another?

Word count: 2.6K+ (my hand slipped)

Warnings: Mr. Honey; he’s the worst villain to ever enter Riverdale, you can’t change my mind. Mentions of child abuse, nothing graphic past the mention of a black eye. Some angst. Spoilers for s4e4 technically, I still can’t believe what Mr. Honey did. 

A/N: I have like 11 requests I still have to get to, yikes. I swear I’ll do them soon, but inspiration hit and I ended up writing this. there isn’t enough Reggie love on Tumblr, plus I have a tiny crush on Charles Melton, so writing this was a win win. let me know what you think, and if I should write more for Riverdale. Veggie is better than Varchie (don’t come for me), but I still think Reggie deserves better than Ronnie. 

Growing up in a small town like Riverdale there weren’t too many kids to become friends with, but when you met Reggie Mantle on your first day of preschool you knew he would be your best friend for life. Archie was showing off on the playground by walking up the slide when the teacher wasn’t looking. The problem then being that Archie's foot slipped right as you were walking passed the bottom of the slide, and he slid down and ended up knocking you on the ground. You started to cry because he scraped your arm bad enough that it started to bleed. Reggie, whom you shared a table with in class, watched from the sidelines as your teacher helped you up and took you to the nurse, he got his revenge during arts and crafts later that day- ‘accidentally’ spilling red paint all over the front of Archie’s khaki pants. When Reggie made it to the table you quietly thanked him and shared your paint with him since the teacher said he couldn’t have new paint as a lesson to be more careful next time. 

As the years went on, yours and Reggie’s friendship only grew until you were inseparable; you two went on family vacations together, you went to every single one of his junior bulldog football games from the ages of eight to twelve, he went to your ballet recitals when you took classes in grade school even bringing you roses. Reggie was your rock at your grandmother’s funeral, you helped him pass his geometry class Sophomore year so he could stay on the football team, and you were the only person that he opened up to about his father’s abuse- having witnessed it with your own eyes a handful of times. 

Your mom was convinced you and Reggie would fall in love and get married one day, and your father was convinced your friendship would crumble and ultimately go down in a blazing fire. Going into your senior year you hate to admit that your father was right, his words bouncing around in your skull every time your brain shut off for longer than two seconds. Veronica Lodge moved to town Sophomore year, enticing every boy within a fifty mile radius with her upper East side charm. Reggie didn’t fall for Veronica right away, he fell for her junior year when he was helping her with La Bonne Nuit. And as cliche as it is, that’s when you realized you were in love with him, you had been for a while. The small nagging voice in the back of your head told you that it had been since that day in preschool. 

But you would grin and bear the pain, the soul crushing pain, if it meant that Reggie would still be in your life. And you did, for a while at least; until Reggie stopped calling and texting you back, until he stopped begging you to come to his games, until he stopped sneaking into your room every friday night after a game to go over the play footage where you would help him come up with new plays and tweaks to the old ones, until he started ignoring you in the halls in favor of making out with Veronica. You never hated the girl, she had been nothing but nice to you anytime you would interact, but God, you just wished she would disappear and give you your Reggie back. 

You resented Veronica, leading your interactions with the girl to be more tense and your answers clipped, and that was what led to the blazing fire your father talked about. Reggie offered you a ride home one day after school, and of course you jumped at the opportunity to spend time with him again. Instead of going to pops and talking like you thought you would, the two of you got into your biggest, and last, fight ever. 

It started with Reggie asking why you hated Veronica, where you defended yourself and swore that you didn’t. But he wouldn’t believe a word that came out of your mouth, continuing to press you as you two kept driving. The closer you got to the edge of town the worse the fighting got, your voice raising along with his. You accuse him of abandoning his friends, abandoning you, to be with Veronica all the time. He gets mad that you don’t understand why he’s with her all the time, claiming that you couldn’t understand not when you’ve never had a boyfriend. Something that he’s the reason for, since he scared all of the guys even remotely interested in you away with just one piercing glare or one lowly growled threat. 

The comment picking on your relationship status, or lack thereof, is the straw that broke the camel's back. You let loose just as you pass the sign thanking you for visiting Riverdale, the town with pep. Pep your ass, the small town is full of death and endless heartache wherever you look. You rip into Reggie, letting the hurt take over as you scream and scream at him-calling him a terrible friend. He finally screams back, claiming that you’re worse because you hate his girlfriend. He has to pull his precious car over, the car you helped him pick out when he turned sixteen, because he started swerving when you two got into a screaming match. 

The interaction ends with you getting out of the car on the side of the road leading into Greendale, slamming the car door behind you, knowing that he’ll get mad with how aggressive you’re being with his baby, his Bella. He does a sharp U-turn driving beside you, trying to coax you into getting back in the car with him. But you can’t do that, you can’t face him right now. So as you watch the taillights of the gun metal grey Chevelle disappear around the curve in the road you finally let the tears fall down your face, they stream harder and faster the closer you get to reentering the town with pep. 

Reggie had dropped your backpack off at your house when he got back into town, so it was sitting there waiting for you in your living room alongside your worried mother. You cried into her arms that night for hours, until you were all cried out, not caring that you look like a big baby. You had just lost Reggie, you had just lost your everything. You hadn’t talked to him since that day in the middle of your junior year, even after him and Veronica broke up and she went back to Archie like always. The days of your senior year seemed to fly by, October coming in what felt like mere days as opposed to months, and your last Halloween in Riverdale is today. 

You and Reggie would always wear matching costumes to trick or treat, and school just for fun as you got older, this always prompted your classmates to wonder if you two were finally dating. But that wouldn’t be happening this year, for the first time ever. You had even dressed up and sat on his porch in costume when you were six, handing out candy to the other kids so you could talk to Reggie, who was in costume too, through the window because he was sick with a 102.2 degree fever. You were dressed as Kim and Ron that year, his mom had even crocheted him a little Rufus to stick in his pocket. You couldn’t wait to get out of this town, away from Reggie, away from the places where you would see ghosts of your younger selves everywhere you went. 

Kevin calls you freaking out after he and Reggie got caught tp’ing Mr. Honey’s office. Kevin caved after Mr. Honey threatened to make sure he wouldn’t get into NYU if he didn’t. Kevin felt guilty for his actions, and even though you hadn’t talked to Reggie in close to a year you were worried about him. Worried what his dad might do to him when he hears he got in trouble at school again, and worried what the unhinged Mr. Honey might do to him himself. 

You don’t hear anything from Reggie the next day, not that you really expect to. You more-so hope he’ll call you, but you know what they say about hope- it breeds eternal misery. The day goes by at a snail's pace as you stare at your phone throughout the entirety of said day. You finally curl in on yourself and go to sleep after midnight, however sleep doesn’t stay for long. You’re awoken around two in the morning from your phone’s incessant ringing, in your dazed stupor you don’t realize it’s Reggie’s special ringtone- the bulldog cheer from Kim Possible. 

“Hello?” you ask hoarsely, making sure to stay quiet so your parents won’t hear. 

“(Y/N/N), can you talk?” your startled to hear Reggie’s voice on the other line. It sounds scratchy, like he was recently in a screaming match with someone. You open your eyes for the first time, finally accepting that you won’t be able to just roll over and slip back into your dreams. You glance at the alarm clock on your bedside table and your eyes widen at the time.

“It’s like two in the morning Reg,” you sigh, hoping he’ll wait till morning. 

“Can I come over?” Reggie’s pleading now.

“Later, we can go to Pop’s for lunch or something,” you yawn loudly into the phone in protest. 

“I’m already here,” before you can respond the line goes dead.

You can hear quiet, almost not there, footsteps outside your window as Reggie expertly navigates his way through the flowers and bushes outside your window. He taps on the window three times in quick succession, your old signal for when he would sneak over letting you know it was him at your window. You reluctantly get out of your warm cozy bed, stumbling to the window to open it for your former best friend. 

Your plans for just slipping back into bed anf hopefully nodding off while he talks go out the window as you come face to face with Reggie’s swollen face. He has a split lip and a black eye, you’re sure he has belt marks on his back too. You don't care that Reggie is climbing through the window a little too loudly, your sole focus now on fixing him up. Once he’s in the room you sneak to the kitchen and quietly grab an ice pack, stopping in the bathroom to grab rubbing alcohol, cotton balls, and ibuprofen.  

You hand him the pain reliever and your bottle of water, it’s not the first time you’ve shared, as soon as you shut your bedroom door behind you. He swallows the pills down with ease, and you both settle on your bed, a sad depressing routine. You don’t say anything as you clean his split lip, he winces slightly when the alcohol drenched cotton ball makes contact with his open wound. 

“Mr. Honey caught Kevin and I last night,” Reggie admits quietly. 

“I heard, Kevin told me,” you murmur unsure of where this conversation is headed, so you continue to dab at his lip.

“Mr Honey, he said that no one takes me seriously, no one since you. He said that he heard around school that I made my ‘persona’ bigger, became more of a prankster, after I lost you. He-he knew about my dad, (Y/N),” Reggie’s voice cracks, you can’t imagine what he must be feeling right now. “Said people at school are laughing at me, worst of all, you’re laughing at me.”

“Oh sweetie, no!” you're quick to jump in and defend. “I would never laugh at you, you know that. Never. No one else is either, he was just saying that to get a rise out of you.” Your arm moves without your permission, you push a strand of black hair out of his eyes before caressing his cheek softly. 

“He tp’d my car, that I get. That was actually funny,” Reggie hisses, you aren’t sure if it’s because you’re lightly pressing the ice pack to his shiner or because of what he’s about to say next. “But he broke Bella’s windshield, shattered her passenger side window, and busted her left headlight.” 

“I’ll kill him!” you jump up from your spot on your bed, no longer caring if you wake your parents. Reggie holds the ice pack to his eye with his right hand, cautiously reaching for your hands with his left. You calm down when his fingers intertwine with yours, sinking back down next to him. 

“I avoided going home all day, but when I did and my dad saw the car,” Reggie takes in a shaky breath, and you rub the back of his hand with your thumb. “He did, well he did this.” He uses your joined hands to gesture towards his face. 

You don’t say anything, instead just pulling him in for a hug. Reggie tenses at first before melting into your warm embrace. You pull him down onto the bed with you so you're laying side by side, he rests his head on your chest as you tuck the two of you in. 

“I know we haven’t talked in a while,” you let out dissatisfied hum as you card your fingers soothingly through his hair. “But you're the only person I wanted to see, the only person I ever want to see. It’s been torture without you (Y/N).”

“It doesn’t seem like it,” you say under your breath, but he hears you clearly with his ear pressed to your chest. 

“I was an idiot, I let my ego keep me from you,” he moves his head to look up at you, his brown eyes shine with sincerity. 

“Don’t do this right now Reggie,: your eyes fill with tears, “Don’t do or say anything you don’t mean just to make me feel better.”

Reggie moves his right arm from around your waist to brush away a stray tear that slipped out of your eye. He moves his thumb down your cheek to your lips, tracing them with the pad of his thumb. Reggie lightly tugs down on your lower lip causing you to uncage it from your teeth, when did you even bite it in the first place? 

“I love you (Y/N), I always have,” he looks away from your mouth so he can stare into your eyes. “And I think you have too.”

“I have, I love you so much Reggie,” he pulls your face down to meet him. The kiss is searing, and a little wet due to the tears leaking out of both of your eyes, but it’s perfect. You pull back when you get the slightly tangy taste of blood on your tongue. You immediately fuss over Reggie’s lip, said lip splitting again during the makeout. Reggie pulls you back down onto the bed and into his arms after you’ve dabbed at his lip with the cotton ball again. 

“How can I make it up to you?” his eyes shine with unshed tears as he stares lovingly at your face, almost like he’s mesmerized by you. “Not just tonight, but leaving you for Ronnie so I could try to get over you, and for every other night you’ve taken care of me.”

“Just never leave me again,” you whimper, which is cut off when he kisses you again. 

“Never,” Reggie’s never been more serious about anything in his life. 

You cuddle up to Reggie’s chest, his warmth and scent quickly lulling you into  a deep comforting sleep. You don’t care that he should sneak out the window and go home, or that your mom will find you two cuddled up in your twisted sheets when she comes to check on you at ten. All you care about is Reggie being safe, in your arms, and finally having him back in your life-but with one vast improvement to your relationship.

Permenent tags: @crimson-knuckled-queen​ @rexorangecouny @mrs-malfoy-always​

[mahixa]

so @maxricciardo messaged me earlier today and maybe possibly probably inspired me to write this cute, fluffy lestappen fic. Listen, she’s great and she deserves to read something nice and comforting about Max after today’s race. And for any of you searching for something sweet and a short fic about the boys being happy together - I hope you will enjoy it as well.

You can read it on ao3 [HERE]

ship: lestappen

word count: 1734

fluff. It’s fluff. Boys kissing. Fluffity fluff. Let there be fluff. Max realises his feelings for Charles and thinks Charles is pretty. We all agree with Max.

The interviewer is someone Max has never seen before during their press conferences. He looks like he could live and survive on drama alone. Beastliness shines dangerously in his eyes and the way he tilts his head before he asks Max the question indicates deviousness.

Max doesn’t like this at all.

“So, Max,” his voice is obnoxious already. “We all know how painfully honest you can be. Let me ask you about Charles Leclerc.”

Something stings Max’s chest. It has been difficult couple of days for Charles, with his bad last racing weekend and a lot of family burden going on right now. The Monegasque, if asked about it, would kindly state that everything is fine and there is nothing to worry about.

But Max knows Charles and he is aware when things become too much for him. And it’s obvious that Charles has his ups and downs. Should anyone be surprised by that? No one. And yet the media keep doing what they do best – they wait for the smallest mistake, the tiniest inconvenience, and they dig deep into the topic. They remind Max of vultures, always ready to find a person during their weak moments and portray such person as the biggest victim possible. A loser. Rend their vulnerable skin and make them bleed for the sake of the headline. Pain them black and white.

For the media everything is zero to one. You either win, or you lose. You drive or you crash. There’s no in between.

And Charles is sitting right next to Max during this press conference, and Max can feel him switching his position uncomfortably as they both hear the begging of question.

“Charles seems to like creating controversy,” the man states the biggest lie Max has heard in a while and dares to continue speaking. “And recently he has been loosing his nerves in the most crucial moments. He is, let’s say, not good under pressure these days. Does it even make him a good driver then?”

Something boils inside Max.

“Does any of it have something to do with the upcoming date of Charles’ father’s death? Should Charles continue to drive during this weekend, or is he a threat to others? Clearly he might be, with his mental condition.”

The conference room goes completely silent.

Max doesn’t take his eyes off of the interviewer. He doesn’t even blink. His gaze must look dangerous enough for everyone to make them to look at him and the man multiple times, anticipating the answer. Max lifts his chin defiantly and squints, and it sends unspoken fulmination all across the room. Someone clears his throat nervously.

“You know,” Max starts, joining his hands together. “I think it takes some fucking audacity to come to this room and say such things about one of the greatest driver of this generation.” Someone gasps in the room and everyone lifts their cameras up. “So you come here, and you have your confidence, and well. You have to be confident, for sure, to ask such dumb questions and state such idiotic statements, clearly not understanding what does it mean to be a normal human in this sport, having better and worse days. So no. Charles is more than the questions about his father, he is more than your silly cheap mind games and neither him, or me, will waste our time on you. And he will drive with us on Sunday. He’s the best person out there when it comes to mental strenght and he doesn’t deserve such crap from the media. So shut up. Next question,” he finishes and points at another man.

His heart is beating incredibly fast and he can hardly hear another question. His mouth is dry, palms sweaty and his legs bouncing nervously.

He does his best to ignore Charles’ stunned look on his face and Lewis’ dropped jaw.

When Max comes back to his hotel room he is exhausted and doesn’t really know why. He has dealt with stupid interviewers on more than one occasion by now, and he thinks he should be able to handle this situation better. Not that he regrets saying what he said.

He just doesn’t know why it caused such him such an emotional response.

Before he can think about it more, there’s a soft knock on the door and there’s only one person who knocks like that.

“Come in, Charles.”

Charles’ smile is small and almost timid, as he enters the room and then looks around. Max smiles to himself, observing a very awkward Charles. As if he wasn’t here yesterday to see the room. And the day before.

“I, eh,” he starts, putting his hands into the pockets of his jeans. “I wanted to say thank you, Max.”

Max doesn’t know how to react to his cheeks which turn bright red.

Charles has always been like that. Like that? So like what? Max thinks, forcing himself to finally understand what he has been feeling for so long, searching in his head for the best word to describe the other man.

Lovely. Charles has always been quite lovely, he admits to himself.

That describes Charles pretty well, actually. And now Max thinks about all those moments they shared together, from the early karting days too. Their fights and arguments when they were children, and Charles coming to check on Max after their races. Bringing him his home-made cookies or lemonade, and thanking Max. Or saying he is sorry. And these confessions were always a bit clumsy, always a bit awkward, but the words were always there. Charles might not always look the most confident during moments like this, but he always is there. Ready to speak and be tender when other people hide themselves and run away from confrontation. Charles is ready to say the things Max is often unable to.

Today’s press conference was different, though. It was the first time Max said so many things about Charles. In a room full of people, on top of that – people who were paying attention to his every word. Wasn’t that rather stupid, to go off like that? But that question has to be one of the dumbest and most arrogant he has heard in a long while. And it was about Charles.

No one should ever talk about Charles like that.

Not about Charles. How dare they? Have they ever seen the way he drives? The way he trains? How he can stay under pressure? The way he achieves his goals and keeps his cool even in the most stressful moments?

Have they seen the way Charles smiles? The way he rolls his eyes when he sees something silly or the way he wrinkles his nose when he laughs, but truly, truly laughs? Have they seen the way Charles can’t cook or dance, but he likes to do these things and it makes it even more enjoyable to observe him?

And what about the way Charles sleeps, with his lips slightly parted and his strong chest moving up and down? Or the way he gets excited over the stupidest TV programs Max doesn’t understand, but doesn’t mind when Charles asks him to watch them together, already too fascinated by the way Charles comments on things? And the way he plays the piano. The way he chooses songs and hums to himself when he plays.

The way he sneezes and then apologizes for it. The way Charles can assemble furniture from IKEA, and refuse to use any instruction, but somehow his chaotic energy helps him manage? And Max knows how it looks like.

Because Charles helped him with his furnitures.

Charles has always been there. When Max was sick and didn’t want to take any pills, Charles was there. Brining him his mum’s soup and talking how much he likes the fact that they both live in Monaco now. And when Max got completely wasted in one of those bars they like to go to, it was Charles who helped him get clean from all the unpleasant post-party aspects of the night. And he didn’t complain. He didn’t make a sound. He took off Max’s clothes, leaving him in nothing but his boxers, and helped him shower. He made sure Max made it to bed and he placed a glass of water on his bedside table.

Charles was there when Max won his most important races and he was there to celebrate it with him. He was there when Max argued with his father and when it all looked like a lost cause. He was there to rub soothing circles on Max’s back with his gentle hand and embrace him with his soft voice.

And he always says “thank you” and “I’m sorry” when other people could never do it, for different reasons. Charles has always been brave and able to rise above others. Be a bigger person.

Charles is kind and lovely.

And so damn handsome.

It all makes Max’s head dizzy. The realisation of his feelings washes over him and he has to grab the chair not to stumble. What now?

Charles looks beautiful in his blue hoodie, messy hair and his confused smile. He looks way too soft to remain reasonable or sensible about this.

“Those things you said during the press conference, did you mean them?” he asks, finally breaking the silence between them.

Max nods, coming closer to Charles who doesn’t move away. His eyes are focused on Max’s and he licks his lips.

“I meant every word,” Max says, his voice becoming almost a whisper, as he moves even closer and cups Charles’ face with his hand. “Jesus, Charles.”

Charles closes his eyes at the contact and breathes in through his nose. He looks stunning and Max is mesmerised.

“Kiss me,” Charles whispers, not opening his eyes. “Please.”

Max feels like melting. He slowly cups Charles’ face with both his hands.

“Look at me,” Max whispers back, and when Charles opens his eyes slightly, Max places a kiss on Charles’ forehead.

Then on his cheek. And then the other.

And then they kiss. They kiss and kiss and kiss, Charles’ arms around Max’s shoulders and Max’s hands on Charles’ waist. It’s the softest thing to kiss Charles, his lips eager and opened and lovely, lovely, so, so lovely, and warm.

Max moves them around the room so Charles can fall on the bed, and as soon as he does, Max climbs on top of him. The way Charles’ reaches out for him, the way he holds him closer, kissing him harder and deeper – that definitely goes on top of “the different ways of Charles Leclerc” list Max has made.

And Charles is beautiful under his touch, and he glows like a golden, Autumn sun, and he sounds like the softest, warm melody.

“I meant every word,” Max says between kisses and touches, between moans and sighs. “Every word.”

[oddshelbyout]

Do Me A Favour // Thomas Shelby X Fem!Reader

Summary: You are married to Tommy, one night he shows up covered in blood and you try to convince him to leave the dirty business behind.

Warnings: Mentions of death (non graphic)

Word Count: 1095

Taglist: @captivatedbycillianmurphy

Author’s Notes:

Please dm me or send anything to my ask box if you think I can develop my writing skills in any way.

English isn’t my first language so I hope you can excuse any mistakes and possibly let me know of any of them.

This is a simple one, I wasn’t sure if I was going to post it because I didn’t like it much. I hope you enjoy it anyway.

Requests are open. You can request any Peaky Blinders related imagines or prompts for me to write. I’m a minor so I don’t take NSFW requests, please keep that in mind.

You can ask to be added to my taglist. You can be tagged to works on a specific character or just any of my works. Please dm me or send your wish to my ask box if you’d like to be added.

———————

It had been a few months since you married Tommy and moved in with him. The big house felt like a castle and you felt like you were in a real life fairytale. Your days there were mostly busy. You played with Charles, he was very fond of you and you were very lucky because of that. You took care of the horses, just for fun. You read a lot, like a lot. The house’s library grew twice since your arrival. You also went back to Small Heath to offer your help to Shelby Company.

Marrying Tommy was exactly what you expected. He was usually absent, taking care of business but he was the most wonderful person when he was there. You never waited at night for him to come back but you would always wake up with him beside you.

When you first met him, you saw so much sorrow behind his eyes. Your first words to him were “They told me you were dangerous but I see nothing but sad eyes.” and he looked at you like he had just found a gold mine.

Those words stuck with him. He chased you for a while, trying to seduce you but you weren’t interested. That was when Polly knocked on your door. She came to you and said “I haven’t seen him like that since Grace’s death.” you of course knew who she was.

After that, he hadn’t left your mind. When he asked you to buy you a drink, you agreed. As you spent more time with him, the sorrow behind his eyes started fading, it never disappeared but wasn’t as strong.

He opened up to you about Grace and he told you that every woman after her just tried to heal him. That was when you told him, “You have to heal yourself, it’s not my job to heal you.” he just smiled at you. It was the first time you saw him smile.

You knew him well, he had opened himself to you which was obviously rare. You were luckily welcomed by the whole family which included his son. After you married him, it got harder, you noticed him drift away from you and Charles.

That was when after months of not caring about when he got home, you started waiting for him at night. Waking up next to him wasn’t enough for you anymore.

One night after putting Charles to sleep, you sat on the chair in your bedroom. You had a glass of vodka in your hand, you were in your night dress, you had a book on your crossed legs. You had no idea what time it was, you didn’t care either.

As you were lost between the words written on your book, you heard your door open. “Darling.” you called softly, turned around to see him stand with his head down.

Your eyes opened wide, you gasped. “Tommy!” you exclaimed, he put his head up and blinked as he was surprised to see you awake. “What happened?” you asked, he was covered in blood. You assumed it was his own blood from the bruises on his face.

“The usual.” Tommy said, you hated it. A few months ago, you accepted what he was doing but now it was unbearable. You hated seeing him get deeper into the dirty side of his business.

“Let’s get you cleaned up.” you said and dragged him into the bedroom. You took off his shirt, got a towel and hot water. You started wiping his chest and face.

“It was supposed to be easy.” Tommy said, you nodded without saying anything. “They were three people, I put all of them down.” a lump placed on your throat. “They beat the shit out of me before I could.” he said with a slight smile.

“I start to think you enjoy getting hurt.” you confessed, “I sometimes do.” he answered. You shook your head, “I don’t.” he knew that.

“When will this be over?” you asked, he didn’t know your perception of his job changed. He grabbed your arm and took it away from his face. “You married me knowing this all.” he said, he was disappointed to hear your view of it change.

“I did but it hurts us all, especially Charles.” you said, knowing nothing was more important to him than his son. “He’s growing up without seeing a gun, no guns in the house just like I promised Grace.” Tommy said, he mentioned her a lot to you and you understood.

“It’s not just the guns Tommy, he sees you drunk or high or bruised.” Tommy nodded knowing you were right but he hated knowing he wasn’t right. “What are you trying to say?” he asked, his voice got really low, it was almost like a threat.

“Drop it, no more dirty business.” you say in the same kind of low, threatening voice. You challenged him, which was why he fell for you. “I can’t promise you that.” he said, his voice got softer, he let his guard down for you.

“Then don’t promise to me, promise to Charles.” you ordered. That wasn’t a question or a wish. Tommy would normally go against that order, he couldn’t leave it all. All of the fucked up things he did have him life, made him feel alive because nothing else did.

“What made you think I will listen to you?” he asked, trying to get his power back. “Charles doesn’t deserve this, he misses you, he needs you as I do.” you simply said, continuing your threatening voice.

“So do me a favour.” you said, “Do Charles a favour.” Tommy shook his head. “Leave this all.” you finished your word and got back to cleaning the blood on your husband’s skin.

“I will, just not now.” he said, “Promise me and Charles then.” he nodded. “You’ll leave all this mess.” Tommy didn’t want to and you knew it. You also knew you and his son were the only ones who could make you do it.

“Okay, I will stop.” he said, “I promise you.” that was all you wanted to hear. You knew he probably wasn’t going to do it anytime soon but the next time anything happened, you were just going to remind him of this conversation.

Once all of the blood was lifted from his skin, you dragged him to bed. He hugged you from behind, placed his chin on your shoulder. “I will only do it for you and Charles.” he whispered lastly before both of you drifted into sleep.

[moonlit-imagines]

Headcanons for being Tony Stark’s Daughter (The Intense Years)

Tony Stark x daughter!reader

warnings:

a/n: y/n is 16-17, also ive really never written anything about team iron man so this was weird, someone needs to tell me i dont need every single movie detail in here

prompt: takes place from cacw and smhc

The Early Years (1) The Teenage Years (2) The Aftermath (4) Continued (5)

after the events in sokovia, you set up the relief fund for displaced sokovians and dealt with physical clean up while the avengers...

well, they had to deal with the press—and the governments of the world

getting to know your new suit AI, JOSHUA

briefly looking for bruce; no luck there

you ended up doing the MIT september foundation presentation with tony

and ending the presentation after pepper’s name popped up on the screen

“it’s probably best we get out of here”

you were his entire support system while he was going through his break with pepper

meeting charles spencer’s mother, who really gave your dad a piece of her mind

“my son died, but your daughter gets to live on. if you lost her, maybe you’d show some sympathy for murdering my child”

*awkward silence from you*

*awkward silence from tony otw to the compound*

HATING the sound of the sokovia accords, yet understanding why they’re being ratified

being torn between signing them or not and having a huge argument with the other avengers

“y/n, why dont you listen to your dad for once and sign the damn thing”

“uncle rhodey, you know why i dont want to sign. if they have us, they have access to our suits. you really think the UN should be telling us how to use them?”

“your defense doesn’t even make sense. i had the war machine or iron patriot or whatever the hell you want to call it, but the military was calling the shots”

“and look where you are now”

“right, well i wouldn’t expect a kid to understand”

“are you kidding me, rhodes? you’re gonna play the ‘im older than you’ card?”

comforting wanda while she feared being taken

and as soon as you heard about what happened in lagos

“think about it, maximoff. if you didnt do what you did, do you know how many more casualties there may have been?”

“but i killed innocents”

“no, rumlow killed innocents. you contained that blast better than anyone else could have and you prevented a whole bunch of deaths, give yourself some credit”

okay, so you weren’t the best at talking someone down while they were upset

staying in berlin with your father while the whole bucky thing began to get sorted out

but he sent you out to stay with nat while he had some “private time” with steve

tony keeping you close to him during the power outage at the base

until it turned out you brought your suit and tony did not!

everyone was looking at you to take down bucky, but it just seemed like a bad idea, you didn’t want to hurt him because you didn’t want to hurt steve

stalling to try and buy steve time to subdue his friend

“y/n, come on, for christ sake!”

“got it, dad! i know what im doing!”

“i dont think you do!”

feeling your stomach drop when bucky shot into your dad’s hand, if it wasn’t for his latest invention, he may have gotten seriously hurt

you had a slight change of heart after that, you couldn’t bare to lose your dad. not after all those close calls...

getting yelled at by secretary ross and the wonderful 36 hour ultimatum you, nat, and tony received

“i have a plan”

“don’t say the spider boy”

“fine, i wont say it”

a nice trip to queens :)

when this parker kid finally got home, tony left you to socialize with his aunt

small talk is sometimes unbearable

“so, what’s it like being tony stark’s daughter?”

“honestly? im always tired”

peter becoming a tagalong on your mission, which you didn’t really think was appropriate

“dad, i dont really think we should’ve brought the kid...”

“why? you’re about the same age as him, its not much different”

“um...no, i meant this isnt his battle. i don’t care how old he is”

face off between tony and cap where you literally just swallowed all your pride and apologized because you couldn’t handle the fact that the team was being ripped apart like this

team ups with Spider-Man

“so, uh, do you hate me or something?”

“hey, kid? we’re kind of in the middle of something, i’ll get back to you on that”

“it’s a yes or no question, y/n”

“pass”

so, things didn’t exactly go as planned...

your (former) teammates were taken to the RAFT and you couldn’t pull it together in front of them

they were pretty pissed at you

“im sorry, im so sorry, i should’ve done better”

they ignored you (up until scott lang)

“all you stark’s are the same”

“stay out of this, bugboy”

taking to the remote hydra base in another famous father/daughter teamup

“just like the old days, right kiddo?”

“i guess so”

“hey, cheer up, it’s not all that bad”

waltzing right in there to meet your friend and foe

seeing the video of your grandparents dying

*being killed

absolutely stunned by seeing such a gruesome thing

even after all you’ve seen, this really got to you

you were robbed of ever meeting them, which made you angry, but you couldn’t stay angry because there were so many things out of everyones control

realizing that this was a good time to hold tony back

“JOSHUA, lock down y/n’s suit. protocol: baby gate”

apparently your dad still had some old protocols in your suit that you hadn’t found yet

“JOSHUA? reboot! override protocol: baby gate”

“i’m sorry, miss y/n, but i cannot do that”

watching your father attempt to get revenge

and get critically injured

simultaneously working on opening the suit back up for a bad plan

finally getting the emergency release and stumbling out of your suit, rushing towards the conflict and throwing yourself in the middle of it

“please, dad. enough damage has been done.”

“y/n, get out of the way”

he saw you shaking and crying and he realized what he was doing

attacking the only family you guys really had

getting shoved out of the way so that they could end this fight once and for all

JOSHUA finally rebooting and bringing the suit over to shield you while you helplessly watched the end of this fight

when bucky and steve left, your suit disarmed and you crouched down beside your father

“come on, let’s just go home”

“im sorry”

“i know, it’s okay”

trying to comfort your dad after his defeat

you picked up cap’s shield and returned to your suit, it was time to go home

after a brief time of recovery (while you helped work on uncle rhodey’s prototype prosthetics), there was a slight change of plans for you

“okay, so for your punishment after what you pulled during my...divorce with cap, you’re going to babysit the spiderling so you gain some perspective”

“hold on, what?! what do you mean ‘perspective?’”

“i mean you dont know what it’s like to be in charge of the life of a teenager, so now you get to find out! congratulations on your promotion!”

it was not fun at all because peter kept blowing up your phone and you kept having to tell him there was nothing for him to do

Y/N: I’ll let you know when there’s a spider-level threat, kapeesh?

P. Parker: Yes, ma’am, sorry.

peter going behind your back to do some “superhero work”

and you having to swoop in to fix everything last second

“come on, you stole my thunder, y/n!”

“no, peter, i saved your life. next time you have a lead, call me first”

and then he didn’t 😌✨💕

“Y/N, incoming call from ‘big fat meanie’”

“put him through, JOSHIE...hey dad, how’s dubai?”

“taking care of a kid is harder than it looks, isn’t it?”

“don’t start with me”

damage control ahahah 🤡

“peter, why cant you just call me in? you don’t stop texting me for months but for this you go radio silent? you almost died. and you put a bunch of lives in danger! do you want me to have to go to your aunt and tell her you died?”

“im sorry! i just...i dont want to be a sidekick”

“kid, you’re gonna have a long time to make a name for yourself...but not if you’re dead!”

he started crying and you were very uncomfortable so you tried to hug him? it helped.

letting him off easy (just like your dad did to you growing up)

but apparently tony came back and took the suit anyways and you were pretty pissed about it

avengers moving day :) yes, part of your punishment was helping happy with moving day and hearing him gush about how you were “growing into such a responsible adult”

“happy i dont know if you noticed but ive basically been an adult since i was 12”

“keep telling yourself that, kiddo”

seeing an explosion and immediately knowing it was peter

“i’ll see you later, happy, love you!”

investigating the crash site and whaddaya know, there’s peter and his first bad guy, you were kind of proud

“peter, you okay?”

“nope!”

“okay, cool”

more damage control lmao (a/n: yall sick of damage control yet?)

a congratulatory call from your dad

“hey! you did pretty good, all things considered. why don’t you take the kid to the avengers compound for his special surprise?”

“aye aye, see you soon.”

“love you, kiddo”

“you too, dad”

quick fast forward to peter rejecting the position as an avenger while the press was outside, yes, you were surprised

but then your dad finally proposed to pepper, it was a pretty cool engagement announcement

“y/n, will you be my maid of honor?”

“duh!”

happily ever after (a/n: until the next part is up)

[classicrocker2000]

So, I got back into Nirvana not long after Taylor Hawkins' death (it was originally a Foo Fighters hyper-fixation that drifted towards Nirvana), and I remembered this absolutely horrid book I read about the band called Heavier Than Heaven.

For the unaware, this book by professional hack Charles Cross came out in 2001, just SEVEN years after Kurt died, btw, and frankly, the only comparison I can draw to describe how awful it is would be The Lives of John Lennon. Both books feature the author clearly preferring someone else to their main subject, and it showing in their writing by portraying their subject in the worst light possible. And as someone who's been diagnosed with depression, his depiction of Kurt honestly reeked of the worst stereotypes of people with mental illnesses (hurting the people and animals around them, being inherently selfish, etc.)

Of course, ideally, I should be finishing finals and getting late homework in, and I don't have the time or patience right now to find another example, but there is one juicy incident I can use to illustrate my point.

In October 1992, Kurt left threatening voicemails on Victoria Clarke's phone over a book that she and another author were working on at the time. The reason? He felt that the content they were putting in it would hurt his family (iirc, this wasn't that long after the whole CPS incident had been resolved). I personally find these voicemails indefensible, but it's an anger I can kind of understand as someone who also gets fiercely protective of the ones I love.

There is a quote from Come As You Are (published in 1993) that Cross "borrowed" where Kurt said, "If I ever find myself destitute and I've lost my family, I won't hesitate to get revenge on people who have fucked with me. I've always been capable of that. I've tried killing people before in a fit of rage when I've gotten in fights with people. [It's definitely a character flaw, to say the least, but I feel so strongly about people unnecessarily causing negative things to happen to people for no reason. I don't enjoy people fucking with my family and carrying on the tradition of lies and slander. I don't deserve it. No one deserves it. We've been scapegoated more than any fucking band I can think of in the history of rock, to my knowledge. People fuck with us and they want dirt and they want to lie about us and I just don't understand it. I've never really tried to do anything scandalous in my life.] When people unnecessarily fuck with me, I just can't help but want to beat them to death." (The stuff with brackets was the stuff Cross didn't use). It's also here that Cross notes, "A month prior he had received death threats; now he was making them."

Here's what Kurt said a few weeks later after calming down and what Cross didn't bother to quote, "I don't ever talk like that. That's the first time I've ever been so vicious and so sexist and weird. I just wanted to seem as extreme and irrational as possible to scare them. For all I care, they are exactly those things. I don't feel bad about saying any of that stuff because they are cunts. Men can be cunts too."

So while it's clear to me that he didn't entirely regret the situation, he did at least simmer down, and for all I know, he probably did regret it later on as well (I am guessing/slightly projecting though, as sometimes I also take a while to realize the full weight of my actions).

The overall point I'm trying to make, however, is that Cross never mentioned the part where Kurt did calm down. He just goes into some screed about late night phone calls becoming a thing for Kurt at that point in his life.

I'm autistic, so I may not always explain things as well as I could, but this does seem to fit into Cross's overall pattern of portraying Kurt in the worst light and Courtney in the best. And personally, I don't really care if one dislikes Kurt and likes Courtney. After all, humans are allowed to agree to disagree. However, Cross never really portrays Kurt in his better moments (from what I can remember), and he never analyzes Courtney's actions in the same light. And I personally feel that if you're going to write a biography about anyone, at the very least, one should take the person as they are, both good and bad, and be willing to analyze their actions in a critical light. I am admittedly biased towards Kurt, but as I've said already, I can't excuse these voicemails. And that's fine. My counselor gave me a good reminder a few weeks ago that I'm allowed to like someone's music and still disagree with their actions.

It is, however, a whole other thing when you're lying about someone, either outright or by omission, which Cross does all throughout HTH.

[bamfdaddio]

X-Men Abridged: 1977

The X-Men, those starjammin' mutants that have sworn to protect a world that hates and fears them, are a cultural juggernaut with a long, tangled history. Want to unravel this tapestry? Then read the Abridged X-Men!

(X-Men 103 - 108) - written by Chris Claremont and art by Dave Cockrum, Bob Brown and John Byrne

The fabled M’Kraan Crystal, a.k.a. Everything’s a butt plug if you’re brave enough. (X-Men 107)

When we last left our X-Men, they were being pummelled into a paste by Black Tom and the Juggernaut at the ancestral Cassidy Keep. Only Nightcrawler was out of their clutches, because he was saved by elves. (All Irish keeps have elves, plz don’t question it.) Apparently, Juggernaut and Black Tom have been holding the inhabitants of the castle hostage under the orders of Eric the Red. Black Tom plans to mindrape the X-Men to lure Charles to Ireland to kill him, which… er… Wouldn’t it be easier to go back to the USA now that Charles is mostly unprotected? Most of the the X-Men are in Oire right now!

Nightcrawler incidentally discovers he turns invisible in the shadows, and it makes total sense that he only realizes this now, because they have no shadows in Germany. Eh, nobody remembers he has this power these days anyway, so! Moving briskly on!

Kurt surprises the gay villainous duo by pretending to be a surprisingly spry Xavier. (Image inducer ftw.) While trying to turn Nightcrawler into a smear of blue fuzz, Juggernaut punches through a wall, exposing Storm to the sky and releasing her from the tight grip of her claustrophobia.

Very few things fill me with more delight than seeing Storm doing loop-de-loops. (X-Men 103)

Storm frees the rest of the X-Men. In the final battle, Banshee tussles with Tom, tossing him off the ramparts and straight into the choppy ocean. Even though tossing a villain into the water is an absolutely sure-fire way to guarantee they'll survive, Juggernaut jumps in after him, desperate to save his boyfriend. Friend. Whatever.

Hilariously, the people at marvel.fandom hate this issue and plotline, saying it’s more riddled with plot holes than Swiss cheese. For example, the elves reveal Wolverine’s real name - Logan - which… “This issue implies that the leprechauns have some prior knowledge of, and even a connection to Wolverine. This plot point, however, was completely dropped and never referenced again (which is probably for the best, considering how goofy it is.)”

I mean, they’re not wrong.

So. Hey. You ready for things to get weird?

Moira has received a VAGUE BUT DISTRESSING call for help from Muir Isle. Off-screen she got upgraded to being an associate at Edinburgh University who owns a lab in Scotland. She left some dude named Jamie Madrox in charge, which - Moira, you have a Phd, you should be able to tell that Madrox is an absolute (entertaining) mess of a person.

Also super surprised that Jamie Madrox was conceived in the seventies, but whatever.

In order to check out the lab, the X-Men rent a hovercraft, which explodes just off the shore of Muir Isle.

Get a bucket and a mop for this wet-ass fuzzy. (X-Men 104)

They are beset on all sides, before being pulled into the laboratory by… MAGNETO?

Magneto accusing anybody other than Dr. Doom or Namor of all-consuming arrogance shows us that self-awareness can’t be taught. (X-Men 104)

Cyclops arrives by airplane, reuniting with the team, while also talking to Moira and Madrox. Absolutely bonkers revelations are made in the space of three pages:

Moira’s lab is a secret Mutant Research Centre. (uh…)

In the Defenders-comic, Magneto was de-aged into a baby. (...what?!)

‘Research Centre’ is a Scottish synonym for a penal colony for all kinds of dangerous mutants, like baby Magneto, Dragonfly, Unus and the mysterious Mutant-X. (...what?!)

Moira quite cavalierly experiments on prisoners and babies. She also has a machine that can manipulate age. Xavier knows and is fine with all of this. (wtf!?!?)

This is such a bonkers, messy way to rewrite both Moira and Magneto. Like, I can’t.

Eric the Red freed Magneto and then used the aging machine to turn Magneto back into an adult man at the peak of his powers. This Magneto is understandably upset at having been turned into a science lab experiment/baby and he mops the floor with the X-Men.

Cyclops makes the executive decision to flee Muir Isle, because they have no chance against Magneto and he now realizes Professor X is unprotected and probably at the mercy of Eric the Red. Wolverine calls him a big fat sissy to his face.

I kind of dig that the X-Men don't win a lot of their fights yet. They’re still treated as relatively unseasoned, especially as a team, and they don’t automatically win at the end of every story. It also gives Magneto more oomph as a villain.

Anyway, when the X-Men arrive at the mansion, they’re defeated by Firelord, Galactus’ former herald. He’s been duped into attacking them by Eric the Red. Firelord is convinced the X-Men are the villains, because Eric went with the Wounded Gazelle Gambit: he even knocked out Havok and Polaris to pretend he was attacked by our merry mutants. (Next time we see them, they’re back to their normal, non-brainwashed selves.)

In her new apartment, Jean is introducing her parents and Professor X to her new girlfriend roommate Misty Knight when princess Neramani (of, uh, space) teleports into the room. And then Firelord attacks Charles! Jean has absolutely zero chill for all of this.

I know very little about Misty Knight, but every time she appears, she responds to anything remotely surprising by drawing her gun. I assume she shoots her paper boy every morning. (X-Men 105)

The entire point of this issue is to show how big a threat Phoenix is. Claremont originally wanted to use a big name like Thor or the Silver Surfer, but editorial nixed that: they feared that it would be emasculating for a popular character to be beaten by a girl. Once again, this proves how badly the Phoenix storyline was needed. Did Jean single-handedly introduce feminism to superhero comics? I’mma say yes.

With Jean distracted and Charles teaching Lilandra English telepathically so he can woo the pretty space-lady and/or get an explanation as to why the universe is ending, Eric the Red strikes, revealing himself to be: SHAKARI.

Yeah, no, I don’t recognize the name either, but the dude’s been working on this reveal for a while, so just let him have it.

He absconds with Lilandra through the Stargate and switches it off, just as the X-Men arrive. Jean casually turns it back on and because the Professor is all, “we’ve got to save her! I mean the universe!”, the X-Men jump through the gate.

Jean’s parents are all out of wtfs to give.

We take a break from Shi´Ar shenanigans with an inconsequential filler issue, where we flashback to Xavier while he was being driven crazy by his Space Trek dreams. It’s established that Moira and Xavier are ex-lovers and that Xavier’s melodramatic subconscious wants to kill the new X-Men. (Probably not for real, but who knows.) Next!

Still a better villain than Onslaught. (X-Men 106)

Anyway, the X-Men find themselves surrounded by aliens in front of the ginormous M’Kraan Crystal. The Shi’Ar are all: ‘dafuq you’re doing here’, Cyclops is all: ‘We’re here for Lilandra’, and the Shi’Ar are all: ‘You mean our prisoner and rogue princess?’ Scott decides that gathering more information is for losers and starts blasting, triggering a fight with the Imperial Guard.

Lilandra, meanwhile, is in the hands of Shakari and her big brother, Emperor D’Ken. He releases some nebulously defined monster - a Soul Drinker - to kill Lilandra. Nightcrawler saves her from its murderous clutches by teleporting two people for the very first time. Lilandra doesn’t barf up her insides, which is apparently a test of character, and proceeds to explain what’s what.

First, she tells the X-Men that she felt Professor Xavier when he was doing the telepathic care bear attack against the Z’Nox way back in the sixties and that she felt instantly drawn to him. She also explains that she’s D’Ken’s younger sister and leading a rebellion against her mad, power hungry brother. Why is he mad? Well...

The X-Men vs. Astrology! Riveting. (Still a better villain than Onslaught.) Although, “I’m a Pisces” sounds a lot lamer than “I was born under the Nine Death Stars. (X-Men 107)

The guy in the mohawk is Gladiator, he is consistently the worst. Even when Lilandra reveals that opening that gate triggers the End of All That Is, he’s still all: “Juuust following orders.”

The Imperial Guard goes in for a smackdown, but the X-Men are fortunately saved by the Starjammers. (Space pirates, not an 80’s rock group.) They are:

Corsair, a debonair dude with one golden earring. Pretty obviously a human.

Raza, cyborg with a temper and somehow bald whilst rocking a ponytail.

Ch’od, lizard creature. Has a white fluffy spider monkey-thing that I don’t recognize and but is apparently called Waldo Ch'ee. (I pray it just got lost in Marvel history and that it doesn’t get squashed at some point. It’s adorable.)

Hepzibah, cute cat girl with a gun. Involved with Corsair, except he can’t pronounce her name so he just gave her the completely unrelated nickname Hepzibah? Dude!

Jean, having learned psychic etiquette from Charles Xavier, immediately violates their privacy and scans their minds, figuring out that Corsair is Scott’s dad. Superficial telepathic read, my ass.

Meanwhile, power builds up in the M’Kraan Crystal and the universe briefly blinks out of existence, threatening to tear open the fabric of the universe if this keeps up. To emphasize that this is a Big Honking Deal, we cut to Earth where the Avengers, Fantastic Four and Peter Corbeau (rumored to have an IQ over 200) are all: oy, did the universe just stop existing?

That’s Hank McCoy for “we’re fucked’”. Hi Jimmy Carter! (X-Men 108)

Apparently, this is the year the X-Men can’t catch a break, because after being beaten by the Juggernaut, Magneto and the Imperial Guard, they are soundly trashed by Jahf, the Guardian of the Crystal. That is, until Phoenix drops a small meteor on him. In a story beat that I really like, Jahf isn’t fazed at all: the Phoenix, despite her immeasurable power, isn’t omnipotent. Sometimes, you need a scalpel instead of a sledge hammer: it’s Banshee whose sonic scream can scramble the guardian’s circuitry.

Unfortunately, defeating the first guardian only awakens a second, stronger one, so…

Raza decides he’s had enough of this nonsense and, displaying admirable proactive problem solving skills, simply tosses D’Ken into the M’Kraan crystal. Presumably, the Crystal is annoyed at being attacked by someone who also has an unnecessary apostrophe in their name, and it lashes out, trapping everyone involved in their own personal hell. For Jean, this is apparently death, but she’s all: “Um, I was recently deceased, no big deal,” and snaps out of it.

The Phoenix reaches out the crystal, which is slowly cracking under the weight of the universe. (Same.) If it shatters, it will destroy the universe, devouring all . Think of it as a cosmic reset button. The Phoenix is its opposite, a bringer of energy and life, so it might be able to fix the crystal. Problem is, Jean has trouble remaining anchored in this reality, because she’s being absorbed by the crystal.

OKAY. SO MANY THINGS TO LOVE. Even when allied with a cosmic force, Storm proves she’s our queen. Furthermore, other than Jean/Scott, Ororo/Jean might the most fleshed out relationship among these new X-Men at this point. Their friendship is consistently a highlight.

Also, rough, rough day for Corsair. (X-Men 108)

Phoenix mends the crystal with a lot of mystical space mumbo jumbo and… er, that’s it. Cosmic balance restored, she poofs the X-Men home.

Lilandra tags along with them, explaining that D’Ken’s tinkering with the Crystal left him catatonic and unfit to rule. As his sister, she’s the rightful heir, but since she also led a rebellion, she kind of cancelled by her empire. She announces she will stay on Earth with Charles while the Shi´Ar iron out the details of the succession. So, instead of consolidating her power base and claim to the throne, she peaces out to explore her feelings for the hairless pink alien who can peek into her brain. Solid.

And with that final bit of space opera, we say goodbye to Dave Cockrum and welcome artist John Byrne. The Claremont/Byrne-run is widely seen as the definitive X-Men run, so hold onto your butts and let’s see where the Phoenix takes us, shall we?

Didn’t you take Art History? I stand by my space mumbo jumbo comment from earlier, but check out these Byrne-pages:

Chef’s kiss. (X-Men 108)

Ugliest Costume: I have a fierce hatred for the Shi'ar's weird wispy triangular hair/feather/thingies, but those are technically not costumes. So: Lilandra, why is your boob window a bug?

Best new character: I’m not much of a fan of space operas or the Shi’Ar and their extended court, but I do have a soft spot for the Starjammers, Hepzibah in particular. I fondly remember her being a part of the X-Men at some point in the future, although I don't think her actual unpronounceable name ever gets revealed.

Most audacious retcon: Moira the housekeeper is actually an evil morally complicated mad scientist.

What to read: Issue 105, 107 and 108, for all your Phoenix Saga needs.