that sentiment of loving someone so much but the betrayal is too much too

Torn (Seth Rollins x Reader) Part 1/2

Part 2

Do not post this story without my consent (on any site or platform), under any circumstance, unless I specifically told you that you could. Thanks!

A/N: Yo. Deal with this, because I can’t. This is like angst and heartache for the sake of it, also I don’t even know who I’m rooting for anymore, but hey it’s all good. First things first: this is a fic for @nuroxic because this gurl needed it and she’s AMAZING, so, that’s that. Secondly, please note that this part contains just as much Baron Corbin as it does Seth Rollins, but fear not, the second part will be all Sethie-poo. Finally, please enjoy my feelings, and tell me how you feel, too!

Summary: Today is day one: the first day of the rest of my life. The first day of falling out of love with Seth Rollins.

Warnings: Swearing, crying, betrayal, LOVE. No but really it’s all good.

Word count: 5745

Tags: @hardcorewwetrash @littledeadrottinghood @caramara3 @i-kneel-for-king-loki @princess3733 @queenreignsempire @lisacarter2016 @stacy326 @alexahood21 @roxannaramona @littlemissava13 @drgns8er @skyereignsrollinsmain @imagineall-the-fandoms @blondekel77 @thiickreigns @m-a-t-91 @valeonmars @ihtscuddlesbeeetchx3 @superrezzy00 @momis30 @laochbaineann @alexispoo @crossfitjesusinskinnyjeans

Laters! xx

Originally posted by vaniwin

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anonymous asked:

Dear Ge'els, I would like to ask you some questions: - Who were your parents and what were their names? - Do you have any siblings? - How old are you? - Who is your best friend? - Do you think that all humans are evil? - What do you think about Imlerith or Caranthir? - Do you like painting? - Do you have a wife and children? - Are all elves Aen Elle do not like humans? - Is Avallac'h your friend? - Why did you paint this portrait in the middle of the night? Do you have sleep problems?

[brings out a family journal] 

I had nearly forgotten about it myself, it’s been decades, centuries ago. Would you care for some tea? This will be quite long indeed. Please, take a seat. My servant will bring out some refreshments for you.

I was born into a noble and rich family, here in the capital of Tir ná Lia. My father never hailed from any noble family himself, but he married my mother, the eldest daughter of a high-ranking family of society. Thus, my father claimed his noble rank, as well as worked his way up to become the viscount of Auberon’s court. My mother, Evadne, whose name means “nymph of water”, was a gentle beauty, and my father, Galan, became a respected advisor to Auberon. I grew up at court under the watchful eye of both Auberon and my father. We became very close to the royal family.

I’m an only child. Though, I grew up with Lara Dorren, daughter of Auberon and Shiadhal. My father and Auberon were close companions, resulting in mine and Lara’s early acquaintance as children. However, we barely got along. She was too impulsive, too ruled by emotion. We played together much as children, yet we disagreed in many subjects, on many occasions. 

I was born a decade ahead of Lara, yet our small difference in age mattered little. I am barely four centuries old now, a mere decade younger than Crevan.

I was acquainted with Crevan for many decades since my arrival at court, we were both at a similar age. When we were all living in Tir ná Lia, Lara included, I had great admiration for Crevan, and considered him a close companion. Both of us were entirely faithful to our king Auberon, our close connection lead to the coming together of Lara and Crevan. He, of course, eventually fell in love with her. Lara knew of this, yet she did not reciprocate his feelings. When the events of Lara’s death occurred, it struck Auberon hard, he became a crippled version of his former self. I was affected as well, I grew up with Lara, even though my sentiments for her were brittled. Not to mention how it affected Crevan. It seeded conflict between our friendship, as it had since the moment he started growing affections for Lara, a woman of which I felt lacked better judgement. And our friendship suffered even more after our dear departed King’s death.

I dislike the human race, and the world they’re from. They lack honor, righteousness, they hunger for power whilst lust rules their mind. Evil is a subjective term, one of which I’d not use lightly. However, speaking of them summons a great deal of distaste in my mouth. 

Caranthir grew up near me, as he was raised and reared by Crevan, he was the youngest of the cavalry. Imlerith, quite young too, was the perfect soldier to Eredin. He was steadfast, loyal and brave. Caranthir became more or less like Crevan in many ways, learning from the person he’d spent most time around growing up. I admired this trait in Caranthir, as I had admired Crevan. I viewed Caranthir as a ward of a kind, someone I had witnessed growing up, and occasionally tutored. I’ll admit, however, I wasn’t very fond of Imlerith. We rarely agreed on matters, as he valued many things above my own preferences, such as drinking, fiests, pleasures of the flesh, lust. These distractions I associated with the simple minds of the Aen Seidhe, not the folk of the Alder. Perhaps our vast age gap also lead to a great degree of indifference between us. I cared for Caranthir, he was the ward and student of my friend, yet I felt he was much too bold at times, too proud, this is where he strayed from our lectures. 

Painting is one of my most enjoyable hobbies, and greatest talents. 

No, I’m not married, nor do I have any children. You see, mating in the world of the Aen Elle is largely different from your own, I imagine. We only mate whenever we need to pass on an important gene, or keep a specific blood line alive, occasionally create prodigies, such as Caranthir. Crevan and Lara were meant to marry and reproduce for this reason, as was Caranthir meant to become a golden child. I was born into a noble family, indeed, yet I never carried any important genes, thus I was never obligated to carry them onward.

True, none I’ve met have even bothered with the existence of the Aen Seidhe. Lara was the exception, she never did care for obligations and principles. She was an idealist, indeed, and she cared for her people. Yet her own personal gain and emotional wants mattered much more. Though, I doubt she held much affections for the entirety of their race, only for one human, Cregennan. The only reason our people have even bothered with the Aen Seidhe is their purpose of keeping them as slaves, servants, maids of any kind. Eredin was interested in destroying their species, nothing more. The humans interfered with our plans for Lara, however, and now we must suffer their existence. 

As I was saying earlier, our friendship took a toll after the death of our King. I never doubted his loyalty to Auberon, yet my love for him seeped much deeper, I was prepared to sacrifice all for my king, as my father would’ve. When Auberon died, I was convinced Zireael had been the one responsible. She was the only one in that room, he died in her presence. I never knew Eredin was at fault. At the time of his death, Crevan soon left the capital without a word, and later sided with Zireael. An official act of treason to the state, a massive betrayal to me. I never cared for Zireael either, I saw too much of Lara in her, too much impulse, too much power within one who could never learn to control it properly. Lara would’ve come to break Crevan’s heart, in full conscience. She knew he loved him, but never cared a wit about it. As I doubted Zireael’s judgement equally. When Crevan arrived alongside the witcher Geralt to the Moon Palace, it had been the first we spoken since his betrayal. Crevan wanted to show me the truth, as he did. I understood then that he had never betrayed me. I quickly turned to Eredin, to avenge Auberon’s death. Afterwards, I was indifferent to it all. The supposed betrayal of Crevan still wounded me, yet I knew it wasn’t true. Once Zireael had supposedly entered the tower to stop the White Frost, I received another visit from Crevan. Foolishly enough, he thought he had been pardoned, yet I was still reluctant to his presence there, after everything that had happened. He spoke to me about the dangers, he said he had come to take me from this place, before it was too late. I had no intention of living another existence in a world I abhorred, so I politely declined the offer. He didn’t leave, however. He wished to remain at my side until time would run out. At that point, he were to leave to supervise Zireael at a distance. 

I prefer nighttime to daytime, inspiration comes to me lighter. And the nights are considerably calmer, more to my liking. 

The Betrayal

World: The Royal Romance; Choices Stories You Play
Characters: I used the default names Riley and Prince Liam.
Rating: K (If you read the other chapter first it’s a T)
Timeline: Chapter 8 in the game.
Prompt: “Betrayal” - for #ChoicesCreates round 13. ( @hollyashton​  @firefly-hwufanficwriter)

A/N: This is written as a spin-off/side-line to the story I started based on Drake (A Moment Too Far) and happens after that first chapter. You don’t need to read that first if you don’t want to, as this makes sense on it’s own. For those that do want to it just adds more backstory to this. The option is entirely yours  😊

——————————————————————————————–

Betrayal is a word that cuts through so many layers of emotion and doesn’t stop until it consumes you. I don’t want to feel this way and in my position I am not afforded the luxury of being sentimental. So inside I am torn apart by the different aspects of my life that continually antagonise each other.

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Perspectives

Thank you for your request and thank you so much for waiting!

Originally posted by grayground

CL drummed her fingers impatiently against the arm of her desk chair. They had been working for hours now with only laughable results and Gray could feel her eyes boring into him. He tried to tell himself that he was over thinking it, remind himself that she was actually a sweet person despite her stage persona, but he always found himself being extra cautious around her.

“What’s wrong with you today?”

“Nothing,” he mumbled.

He made a feeble attempt at concentrating. Even putting a hand to his headphones like he was listening for something. CL rolled her chair towards him, her legs practically brushing against his, so that she could study his face more closely.

“We can work on this another day,” she said. “When you’re feeling more up to it.”

She stood up to leave but Gray motioned for her to stay.

“I told you nothing’s wrong. I can do this.”

“Gray, I’ve seen you produce a beat from scratch in five minutes. You’ve been working on just the base for over an hour.”

He dejectedly tossed his headphones on his desk and buried his face in his hands. She was right. He’d come to work this week with the full intention of being productive but his mind kept wandering to all the things he’d been neglecting lately. His social life, his sleep, but most importantly you. What he wouldn’t give just to hear your laugh again.

CL wasn’t his first choice to talk to about what was really going on. But she was there and she was listening which counted for something.

“There’s someone I’ve been talking to lately. I haven’t seen her in a while and I guess I just, you know, miss her.”

“I knew it!”

She let out a short laugh as she relaxed back against the chair, waiting for him to continue.

“You knew it?”

“Just look at your office. It’s so clean. Cleaner than Jiyong’s at least,” she corrected herself when she saw the trashcan nearly overflowing with Soju bottles and food wrappers. “You don’t keep a lot of sentimental stuff around. Except for this one birthday card.” She picked it up to demonstrate. Gray held out his hand to take it from her but she ignored him. “I already read it while you were in the bathroom.”

“You went through my stuff?”

“Just the card. I had to know what made it so special.”

No wonder people are afraid of you, Gray thought as he snatched the card away from her and placed it carefully inside his desk drawer. He saw the guilt flicker across her face just before she looked away and he knew that this wasn’t her idea. Their friendship had never developed the same candidness that she had with the others.  Someone had put her up to this, most likely Simon, but that didn’t make him want to humor the conversation any further.

“So..,” she said hesitantly.

“So?”

“What are you going to do about it?”

He didn’t have an answer for her, not the one he knew she wanted to hear, so he turned his attention back to his monitor as if that could make the conversation dissipate. As if stopping her meant everyone would leave him to bury his intentions until he had time to fathom them out for himself. But that wasn’t possible. Not when the rest of the crew had clearly decided something needed to be done on his behalf.

“Ignoring things won’t solve your problems, Gray.”

“Maybe,” he shrugged. “But it won’t cause any either.”

“It already has. At least from what Simon tells me.”

Knew it.

“You can’t just string her along like she’s a toy,” she continued. “Both of you care about one another. That much is obvious even to me but there will come a point when knowing you care won’t be good enough. You need to say something or do you not think she’s worth it?”

“Of course she’s worth it!” He didn’t mean to yell but losing you was not something he liked thinking about. “Why do you think this is so hard for me?”

“But what are you so afraid of?”

“That I’ll say the wrong thing. That I’ve misinterpreted our friendship. That I’m asking too much of her too soon.”

“That’s you trying to rationalize being selfish.”

“Then what would you have me do?”

“Stop thinking and just do it. No planning. No speeches. And no clichéd song writing.” Seeing Gray cringe at the mention of song writing made CL smile a bit. She moved closer to him; taking hold of his hands before he could shy away from her. “Practice with me.”

It felt weird confessing to her. Gray tried his best to visualize you instead but his words came out stunted and awkward like lines he’d plagiarized from a poorly scripted movie. There was no trace of passion behind them. Only the distinct urge to get this over with as he rattled off words like “love” as if they meant nothing.

If only he hadn’t been too wrapped up in his own embarrassment to hear the shuffling of footsteps outside his office door. Jay’s voice saying your name a little too loudly to give him a warning. You standing frozen in the doorway, your arms laden with food for them all, as you listened to him confess to someone else.

He stood up the moment he noticed you. You let the bags of food fall to the floor before he could say anything as you turned on your heel to leave. By the time Gray called after you, you were already at the lobby. You couldn’t bring yourself to turn back and face him. Your strength was like paper but the one thing you were determined to do was not let him see you cry. You loved Gray and if that meant letting him be happy with someone else then so be it…

                                                     _______

Gray fumbled with the keypad to your apartment. He couldn’t stop his fingers from trembling despite the small wave of relief he felt when he heard the door lock click that you hadn’t changed to code already. None of this was supposed to have happened and the only thing he could think as he hurried through the doorway was that somehow he was going to make things right.

You heard the door and tried to go hide in your bedroom but Gray was quicker than you anticipated. He blocked your way before you could even leave the living room and you both stood there in stunned silence for a moment.

He noticed how you flinched when he said your name and his chest tightened. The betrayal you felt was evident in your eyes in the brief contact you managed to make with his. What was he putting you through? He didn’t even want to imagine the things that had been going through your mind in the time it took him to recover from you running out of the studio.

CL had been right. The things he’d left unsaid too long had caused more damage than he could have anticipated. But he wouldn’t let that happen next time because he didn’t want there to be a next time. He didn’t want to categorize his life from now on as before and after losing you.

Before he could think, Gray was crossing the room and wrapping his arms around the small of your back. His lips were on yours in a heartbeat as he pulled you against him. You were too stunned to reciprocate but he kept trying; his mouth gently imploring you to forgive him.

It was only when he felt your hands pushing against his chest that he realized he’d fucked up. That in his desperation he’d only succeeded in widening the rift between you. His grip tightened in response. In his head he was already scrambling to memorize the details of your face, the sound of his name in your voice, the way you fit in his arms because he knew when he let you go those memories would be all he was left with.

“What the hell, Gray?” You shouted when he finally let you go. Your voice was trembling. Hot tears were streaming down your face but you didn’t care if he saw them anymore.

“I love-”

“No,” you cut him off. “You don’t get to say that to me. Don’t you dare.”

He tried stepping closer to you but you backed away in response. He looked panicked like he was genuinely at a loss as to what to do next which made two of you.

“She doesn’t mean anything to me. She never has.”

“Is that supposed to make me feel better?”

“No you don’t understand,” he said, running his fingers through his hair in an exasperated gesture. “She was trying to help me. Ask her. Ask any of the guys and they’ll tell you the same thing. You’re all I think about. You’re the only one that makes me feel grounded. Whenever I picture my future it’s always me standing beside you because that’s all I want.”

Your face softened as he spoke. The Gray you’d become accustomed to was always so reserved. He only showed what he was feeling in a series of subtleties that’d you’d learned to pick up on. Even after everything that you’d seen, there was something about the way in which he spoke then, how raw his words sounded, that made you want to trust him.

“Please just say something. Anything. Even if it’s that you hate me.”

Gray let his head fall as he braced himself for your response.

“I could never hate you,” you whispered which made Gray perk his head back up.

“You believe me?”

“You’re a lot of things, Gray, but you’ve always been a terrible liar.” You gave him a half smile. This time you didn’t move away when he chanced another step towards you. “But I’m still royally pissed.”

“I know. I’m sorry.”

“You had to go and have our first kiss while I’m angry with you.”

You both couldn’t help but laugh at the situation and you leaned into Gray’s embrace as you tried to wipe the tears from your cheeks. Gray kissed the top of your head, one of his hands rubbing your back to help soothe you, as a smile plastered his face. It was only when your breathing steadied that he broke the silence.

“Are you still mad at me?”

You nodded.

“In that case, I’m sorry again,” he said as he tilted your chin up and kissed you for the second time. Only this time you kissed him back.

the-lady-of-the-blue  asked:

What is it in Edmund that you like the most about?

One of the most compelling things about Edmund is the narrative of his character, the growth of how he starts and what he becomes. Granted, all the Pevensies grow because of their experiences in Narnia, and there are some right on cool subtleties there… but Edmund’s story is by far the most shocking, the most dynamic. And because of its dynamics, it’s powerful.

I will admit I have always been compelled by traitorous characters in stories. I love the sly, the slimy, the tricksters, the manipulators, the betrayers. They almost always have some fascinating motivations behind their choices. Usually in the typical story, good guys choose to be good guys because of their morals (and being thrust into the situation), while the villains are villains because of, perhaps, some self-advancing motivation. The good guys have their sets of values and the villains have theirs. But the traitors… the true traitors… are shifting alliances, from one camp of values to another, and there’s got to be some interesting reasons for why they do so. Sometimes their motivations derive from a sense of self-independence, other times from greed, yet other times… from fascinatingly compelling and understandable logic.

With Edmund, his reasons are interesting, and it builds the story. Edmund’s actions in The Lion, The Witch, and the Wardrobe in many ways fuel critical events that happen. This is certainly the case in the movie version, where much of Peter’s reason to stay is to simply rescue his brother. Without Edmund, would they have even stayed in Narnia? But anyway… Edmund’s decision to slip off and join Jadis starts with some imperfect but still understandable experiences and emotions: his bitterness against his siblings, the White Witch’s seeming friendliness, his own personal temptations and desires. It starts out as something so simple, this bitterness. And then meeting the White Witch seems so harmless - she gives him some delicious Turkish Delight, does she not? But it all spirals downward from there, to the point that Edmund’s bitterness against his siblings… becomes a horrific, life-threatening adventure.

Of course, as much as Edmund’s bitterness can be understandable, it still does highlight a weakness of his personality. And that’s an interesting weakness that gets developed, his personality changed, and the resulting character an incredible hero. This is where Edmund becomes an even more amazing character for the narrative of The Lion, The Witch, and the Wardrobe. The dynamics between him and his siblings, the environment, the war within himself and who he has to become, who he DOES end up becoming… wow.

Let me start from the top and scream about Edmund’s story in depth. I’ll be talking movie version mostly, but of course the book version is the first one that caught my eye, and much of what I talk about here is relevant to Lewis’ original novel.

Edmund’s starting adventures in Narnia are a wholly unique perspective, completely unlike that which any of the other Pevensies experience. What I mean is that, of all his siblings, he is the only one to directly interact with the White Witch before meeting Aslan. Notice how critical that is and how his actions develop because of it. Edmund sees the Witch first hand and has a positive interaction with her. It’s true that he should have picked up on her impatience and other crafty words that she meant harm, but the point of the matter is, Edmund is the only one who sees the Witch. And he thinks she can offer something good.

This is in contrast to Lucy, Peter, and Susan. Lucy gets a negative personal experience with the White Witch because Mr. Tumnus nearly kidnaps her for it. Peter and Susan have to take everything second-hand until they meet the Beavers and have to hide from Maugrim and the other wolves. Peter, Lucy, and Susan receive only anti-Jadis sentiment from those they meet. Of course they’re going to side with Aslan without too much debate. Edmund experiences something pro-Jadis… he meets Jadis… and that changes everything.

It’s easy to see Edmund as the “worst” sibling, the one who is the greatest jerk, the one least cooperative, the one most snappish and sarcastic, that Horrible Traitor at the start before he Found the Light. While in the books it does perhaps paint a bit of this picture, I like what happens in Disney where Peter’s imperfections are hugely exemplified, too. All of the siblings are imperfect. They all have times they get along, they all have times where they snap at each other. Just as Edmund was unkind to Peter, so was Peter a bit of a jerk to Edmund.

All of them could have been susceptible to the White Witch, but Edmund is the one who stumbled into her. She took advantage of his weakness and bitterness against his siblings (a bitterness that was situational, mind), and developed it into something dangerous. This, combined with Edmund’s continuing clash with his siblings, led to him deciding to abandon them at the Beavers and head straight to the Witch’s castle.

And you know what? I love that. I love seeing a character make an understandable decision to charge off and join the White Witch. It’s not that he’s the one bad kid, but his decisions in this circumstance certainly led down the worst path. His bitterness gets fueled… and the betrayal happens.

And backfires.

Edmund’s bitterness lands him into serious danger. He becomes Jadis’ prisoner and has to be rescued by Aslan. There are such heartwrenching dynamics about this. You see Edmund’s realization of the danger he’s in, the recognition that he made the wrong choice. Oh crap. You see the other siblings become terrified about what their brother does. Note that, even though Edmund made a SERIOUS error, they still want their brother home and safe. Aslan’s troops save Edmund in the end.

But the consequences of his decisions linger. That for me is something incredibly emotional, evoking, and makes me like his character more. The way Edmund interacts with this circumstance is raw and real. You see him speaking alone with Aslan about what happened, and then uncomfortably joining his siblings. Gah, ouch. And even when his siblings take him in again, Edmund isn’t out of danger yet. Just look at his face when Jadis enters Aslan’s Camp and demands Edmund’s blood.

Holy cow poor kid.

And yet out of the sniveling, bitter character who takes snappish shots at his siblings, who decides to join Jadis rather than Aslan, who is terrified in this moment that he’s going to die… Edmund grows.

So.

Amazingly.

Much.

Because Edmund turns around completely to Aslan’s side. His life was directly saved by Aslan’s creatures! And even though Edmund ran off and scorned Aslan at first, he enters battle, decked in full war gear. He becomes key in leading the battle. Sure, Peter and Oromis are leading it first and foremost, but Edmund is critical here, too.

You want to talk about amazing turnarounds? How about the fact he is the one to break the White Witch’s wand? This wand turned Tumnus to stone. This wand was used to threaten Edmund to go against his siblings, captive under Jadis. Edmund takes the wand of the person with whom he was once allied… and breaks it. Whereas once Edmund was willing to bring his family into Jadis, now he is the one preventing anyone from being turned to stone by her. Amazing moment. In fact, this makes it even more incredible because Edmund knew how dangerous this move would be. He knew he would probably get killed for making this heroic move… but he also feels so convicted to end the reign of the White Witch that he charges out to do it anyway.

Can we talk about a huge character growth in that like whoa???!!!

Edmund is so willing to fight for Aslan against Jadis he almost dies. Like, this poor kid has such a ridiculous adventure. He almost dies once in the hands of Jadis. Then, once his siblings FINALLY HAVE HIM BACK, he goes about in battle and GETS MORTALLY STABBED. I mean seriously, ARE YOU KIDDING ME???

In the end, Edmund becomes Edmund the Just. And so I love this character. He becomes someone noble, whom you truly think is noble. You don’t think about Edmund as being a horrible traitor by the time his adventures in Narnia finish. That means so much to me, that fact that his turnaround marks him becoming one of the greatest proponents for Narnia’s freedom. The fact that Edmund the traitor can become Edmund the Just is wowing.

He feels the incredibleness of it, too. He feels the incredibleness of Aslan’s forgiveness, how much Aslan believes in him. Look at that amazed smile during his coronation.

So yeah. Amazing character, amazing character interactions, amazing character growth. Edmund is a hero of the story - the most dynamic and the most memorable. I said I liked slimy people? Well, I do. But someone who turns into an honorable hero in the end after all of this previous drama gets me even more excited.

From a theological standpoint (since The Chronicles of Narnia is steeped in Christian allegory), Edmund’s story also means so much. Lucy believed easily. Peter and Susan were more reluctant, but once they came into this world, they went along with the Beavers and the Narnia resistance well enough. Edmund is the character who shows how much God is willing to save, how God is willing to save ANYONE, even traitors. And it shows that even people who have rejected God willingly can turn around and become some of His most loyal, impacting followers. Edmund shows the full extent of God’s salvation and saving grace more than any of the others, for he’s the one who’s shown with the worst “scum” and early decisions. And yet he becomes JUST as worthy of being a king as his siblings. Aslan didn’t discriminate, and God doesn’t either.

Those are just some of the reasons I love Edmund. There are more, of course. The fact that Edmund has SUCH GOOD LINES and SO MUCH SASS. YES KING EDMUND SASS! Best thing ever. Skandar Keynes also happens to be my age, so it was really easy for me to find him very attractive when he and I were teenagers I know I know shut up. But I think what I love most about Edmund is that he is the character who turned away from Aslan first, and then came back. It brings SO much to the story in terms of plot, in terms of character dynamics, in terms of raw emotion, in terms of theological implication. Edmund is an amazing character through and through and through. 

anonymous asked:

As Stony hard-core shipper I hate some fics in this fandom always write Tony as black sheep and he should take all the responsibility of betrayal and guilt for causing Steve's death. They also like to place Steve on a pedestal and how he's so worthy of Tony's sacrifice and love. The worst is they always DO IT FROM TONY'S ANGLE. I know Tony is self-deprecating but the fics make me feel Tony is so undervalued, miserable and Steve comes and graces him. It's not love, it's unrequited relationship

well. it’s….. complicated

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anonymous asked:

hey omg I loved your story from tatinof! did anything more happen like what was their reaction to it?? also idk if this is too personal but I'm really curious to know more about your and peters story it sounds so cute ahh

Awww thank you! So I’ve gotten quite a few asks since I posted our tatinof story (twitter, tumblr) and I’m just going to answer this one and sortof answer a FAQ version of the other ones here, and then return to being a TV blog that talks too much about super-heroines, ok? ;)

When we told Dan and Phil our story at the M&G we just gave a really quick version of it: we just mentioned that their first collab was one of the first videos we watched together, and now we’ve been married for (almost) 4 years. :) They were really sweet about it, they said it was amazing, etc. We didn’t take up too much time really. We got together for the picture and Dan made a joking comment telling us to “be all romantic” and we just kindof did a bit of a group hug pose. They were so sweet and upbeat about it; they always seem to be so nice to fans. :)

As for me and Peter’s story: Fall 2009 we started hanging out a bit more (on campus, we went to the same university and studied in the same off-hours computer lab), and then in the spring semester (2010) he had to take an elective and the only thing that worked with his schedule (he was a super busy engineering student) was this Friday night dance class. The Monday morning following his first class he mentioned that he was one of the people in the class who didn’t have a set partner, and that the instructor said since the class had low enrollment, they could bring someone, and he asked me to go. At the time I thought he was just using me to get an A because I had done theater/dance/etc. before. Somewhere between then and when he proposed summer of 2011, I figured out he wasn’t just using me to get an A in a class he didn’t like. We got married summer of 2012, so hey, not all ships had a rough 2012… ;) 

Here are some FAQs based on what all is sitting in my ask box right now post-tatinof: 

1. Do you still watch Dan and Phil/have you kept up with them through the years/do you know their story/etc?

Yes, we have both watched them pretty regularly ever since 2009, tbh. I had watched Phil off and on since 2008 but nothing regularly til 2009 around the time they met. We still watch them together, it’s very disgustingly cheesy and cute. We’ll sit and watch a 20 minute sims video while eating dinner. I know. So gross. 

In a twist of ultimate betrayal Peter actually watched the latest sims without me and our marriage was almost canceled. 

2. Do you ship Phan/does Peter ship Phan/84 different versions of this question?

We’ve been watching them since 2009, so… (x

3. What’s your favorite video? (I only got this once, so it’s not really an FAQ but)

PINOF 1 obviously is really sentimental, both 1 & 2 honestly (love the Titanic moment in 2, in particular, it was fun seeing some vague call-backs to that in the show). 

Also I would say the Slender video (gaming channel), because that was the first one I showed to my little brother (and he’s now in love with them, it’s fine).

4. Do you have a phan account?

No, but I follow a combination of accounts that pretty well keeps me up to date on everything. I mentioned them a bit leading up to the show, but other than that: Always lurking, never posting, basically. (I post alot of TV fandom stuff)

I think you all are absolutely lovely, honestly. It’s been a wild ride seeing D&P evolve and also their fandom evolve over the years. You’re all so much more fantastic than you give yourselves credit for tbh. 

Thanks for the most fun. :)

Now That We Are One

So I actually broke down and finished a fic for hannigram, post-season 3 finale, more or less a fix-it/what’s next fic that involves an emotional kiss

AO3

~~~

Will gets flashes of consciousness after the fall. The cold of the water with Hannibal’s arms tight around him, the water he willingly drew into his lungs, because that was the whole point of this, wasn’t it?, to die here with Hannibal, to leave the world, but leave it together?

But the next flash he gets is Hannibal dragging him up onto the shore, the bitter chill of the air on his damp skin and clothes, the sting of the open wound on his cheek, coughing roughly, wetly. The world goes dark, and next he wakes up, he’s in the passenger seat of a car, and he’s damp but warm because the heat is on full blast, it’s silent except for the sound of the road beneath the tires and Hannibal’s hand is wrapped around his own, holding on tight, as if letting go means letting Will slip from life.

When he finally comes to for good, he’s first aware of Hannibal’s hands on him, touching his cheek and neck, Hannibal’s hands as gentle as ever. Will is used to Hannibal’s gentleness being followed by violence, but even if that’s the case once again, Will’s not sure he can bring himself to care.

He intended to die from that fall, from the water. If fate, if Hannibal, has seen fit to save him again, then the time he has left belongs solely to the forces of nature now. To fate, and to Hannibal.

(Hannibal is almost certainly a force of nature.)

Keep reading

Caught My Eye

Sherlock stepped back, admiring the work. Straight stitching, clean cuts, thorough investigating. Definitely Molly’s work. There were none of those little imperfections that usually bothered him when he had to check the autopsy for confirmation. He’d gathered all the information he could, as well as the file he wasn’t supposed to have access to. He’d just turned to leave when he spotted something pushed against the wall.

It was a small wallet, innocuous and thin on the tiled floor. It was masculine in leather and worn from at least a decade of wear. The creases were nearly white, the fold soft with years of oils passing over the cracks. Whoever owned this wallet was well overdo for a replacement. Either they hadn’t the money (unlikely, since this was a room only accessed by medical staff), or the wallet was kept for medical reasons.

He checked it, surprised to find the wallet did not belong to a man after all. It had Molly’s driver license, her card, her transit pass. No cash. Something round and small stuck in the corner of the flap, a dull silver catching his eye.

A ring? Tom’s engagement ring?
No. This one was simple, a band of tarnished silver. It had probably been a cheap gift, maybe from an ex or a family member? Whatever the reason, its place outlined in the soft leather revealed it was quite a treasured little gift. Had she gone into a panic over her lost wallet yet? Most people would’ve returned for it by now.

He pocketed the wallet as he headed out the door, the silver circle rolling around his thoughts. It didn’t fit. She hadn’t had any serious boyfriends for at least a decade. The ring was old, but certainly not school days old. She wasn’t the type to hold on to a crushed relationship anyway. She’d moved on quickly from Tom, and only seemed mildly fazed by his flirtations. The band was too simple to be a major gift, unless it came from a poorer younger sibling. Did she have siblings? She’d never mentioned any and he’d never seen any pictures of possible relatives in her home. Of course, that wasn’t unusual. He didn’t have any pictures of Mycroft.

He still pondered the small ring when he knocked on her door. She’d answered quickly, flour dusting a heart covered apron as well as her nose.

“Sherlock! What are you doing here? I didn’t expect you to—”

“I’d really suggest keeping a sharper eye out for your possession Molly, especially ones that have so much personal information.”

She blushed under his scrutiny. He tried to soften his expression with a smile, but felt ridiculous doing so. As her hands were obviously covered in goop and flour, he set the curious wallet into her pocket, purposefully not watching the pink spread down her neck.

“Sorry, I mean, I haven’t hardly had a chance to settle down since I got off work.”

“What on earth are you doing in here?” He stepped into her house without hesitation. She squeaked as he passed her, hands still held up to avoid mess.

“Oh, um, it’s Ari’s birthday tomorrow at work so I’m making some goodies for a little get together we’re having.”

“Ah, yes, ok.” She quirked an eyebrow at his less than enthralled response, then turned back to her work.

“I didn’t think you’d be coming back here after you and Janine split.”

“Well, I had to return your lost item.”

“Hm. Yes, but you came in. And sat down. You’re here for at least a little while.”

She wasn’t wearing much under her apron. He’d learned during his bolt hole days that she preferred to wander around the house in shorts and tank tops when she thought she was going to be alone for the night. Which had been surprisingly often during her engagement to Tom. Her entire disregard for her body allowed him free reign to appreciate all the revealed curves and softness usually hidden under layers and layers of jumpers and jackets. Petite, sharp shoulders and a narrow waist distracted his obsessive mind from the ring for a short time before she turned back to him.

“So, why are you sticking around today? Did you find some other girl you can’t handle the idea of sex with? Am I going to regret letting you stay here when I find out you’ve proposed to her a week from now?”

He winced. She’d not talked to him for a solid month after the Janine ordeal. Of course, it probably also had to do with him shooting Magnusson, but at least part of her had been horrified that she could manipulate a woman’s feelings so thoroughly. He didn’t have to wonder why, when she looked at him with distrust in her eyes and hesitation in her smiles.

“No, no, there’s no girl. I just happened to come across something in relation to you that I cannot figure out.” The ring was warm as he rolled it around in his fingers, the action hidden by the bulk of his coat.

“What? You’ve known me for ten years, Sherlock. There can’t be much you don’t—” She stopped talking as soon as he lifted the ring to the light, her expression shifting from lightheartedness to surprise to anger.

“That was in my wallet. Why’d you take it out?” She snatched it from his hand, fumbling to return it to its corner.

“I wanted to know what it was.”

“Why does it matter?” Arms crossed, shoulders hunched forward, legs braced. Clear sign of defense. He’d really upset her.

“I just wanted to know.”

“You can’t just take things from people Sherlock!” Her cheeks were red, but not in her usual pretty blush.

“You’ve never minded before?”

“You don’t usually steal from me!”

“I didn’t steal! I gave it back to you.”
“After you took it from me.”

“I just wanted to know.”

“Know what?” She was uncomfortably close to him. The frills of her flour covered apron brushed against his coat. Her hands on her hip and the pout of her lip told him he’d messed up. Her eyes squinted at him, studying him for signs of weakness.

“I wanted to know why it was important.” He tried to stick his nose up, to say it with apathy, but her anger stabbed straight through him as always. He hated to make her angry. “I thought you might have gotten it from someone important.”

“You’re a right ass, you know that Sherlock?” She was still irritated, but her face moved away from his, her chest no longer brushing against his. He could breathe easier now.

“So?”

“What?”

“Where’d it come from?” She stiffened, body still.

“Does it matter? Can’t you just deduce it by a smudge or something?” Her gaze stuck to the floor, arms crossed once more.

“It’s old, tarnished despite care. The band is simple, plain silver. It’s been well worn, just like the wallet. It’s sentimental based on the circle it’s left on the corner of the leather. It’s cheap, but not too cheap. I’d place it in the 200-250 range. So it’s more expensive than a promise ring, but less expensive than a wedding band. Certainly has some kind of commitment value.” He faded off as he reached the end of the information he’d gleaned from the singular object.

“It’s my mom’s.” She sat in a kitchen chair, lip quivering. “It was there when I got the wallet and I just left it there.”

“Your mom’s?” He looked at the wallet, reconsidered the masculinity of the design and the creases and wrinkles of wear. “Your mom’s ring in your dad’s wallet.” Realization dawned.

“Yeah. It was part of his possessions the hospital gave me after he passed. I didn’t know he’d kept it all that time.” She sniffled, wiped messy hands against her cheek. Batter smeared under her eye. “It was the ring he’d used to propose. He told me the story all the time.”

“What happened to her?”

“She left when I was a little girl.”

“Why do you keep it then?”

“Because one day she might come back and I want her to know.”

So much he hadn’t known about Molly. How long had he known her exactly? This was going on twelve years and he’d never once asked about her family. She’d tried to talk about her dad a few times. He’d always hushed her, too afraid she’d spark sentiment like only she could. He’d regretted it now, but he couldn’t pretend he wouldn’t do the same thing tomorrow if she tried again.

“What do you want her to know exactly? That you kept a sign of her betrayal? That your father held on to the hope of her until he passed?”
“That we were always ready to welcome her back.”

He couldn’t understand, but then, that was normal for Molly. He didn’t understand how she could see all the things that nobody like about him and still ask him to coffee. Or how she could grin and make a perfectly morbid joke while she wore her cute sweaters and red lipstick. Or how she could comfort the dying or quiet the restless or still the angry. She was everything he’d never be, that he’d never wanted to be but she was always so much stronger than anyone he’d ever known.

Strong enough to love a mother who’d abandoned her.

“You are a remarkable woman, Molly Hooper.” He didn’t know when he’d stood, or when he’d walked over to her. He kissed below the batter caked on her cheek, salty sweetness on his lips as he caught a tear. She blushed and leaned back, still sniffling. “Now, what were you baking in here? Graduate chemist you know, I’m an excellent baker.”

“That’s not what Mycroft says.”

“Oh, he’s just jealous cause I never make him cake.”