multi-muse blog of canon and original characters. a study of dads and fathers. written by tj. she/her. 30+ cst.
I admit I can't shake the idea that there is virtue in suffering. Whereby if you embrace success, happiness, and comfort, these things must be paid for.
a study in: chosen family, care as responsibility, control and authority, staying v. abandonment, high standards, self-destruction, martyrdom. CALLAHAN.
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“WHY IS IT… WHY IS IT CLASSIFIED FROM ME?” His voice is level, he tries not to be too emotional about it, but it’s tough. There is pain and grief that Steve has not yet managed to solidify within himself; locked up in the deepest, furthest place he can manage, and now?
“He’s —- he’s my best friend, Castiel. I — I have a right to know. He’s —… he saved my life, and you can’t tell me what happened to him?” He paces, but even his pacing is organized - 10 steps east and then 10 steps back west. “ — Surely you can… you can talk to some… somebody, right? Like… upstairs? You -… customer service or something?”
HE IS NONE TOO GENTLE, but he doesn’t find he has to be. Dom lifts her with ease up onto the pool table, his lips crashing against Gemma’s own. There’s a rough smile against her lips as his hands slide down to work the buckle of his jeans, though his attention is never fully away from her. He’s efficient in this, doesn’t waste time when time doesn’t require to be wasted, and especially not when she was this fuckin’ hot.
“Door’s locked, yeah? Unless you’re into that kinda thing.” Dom responds, flashing a smile as his lips graze against the soft spot right behind her ear. “ — let all the people walkin’ in watch you get fucked and take it like a good girl.”
IT IS HARD TO KNOW LOSS AT A YOUNG AGE. Steve knows that Peter has seen his fair share, but it does not make it any easier. In fact, there is a sinking suspicion in Steve that every single loss makes it a lot more difficult… or maybe even easier ( depending on how you looked at it ) to stay down. To simply accept the defeat where it felt like all the air was punched out of your lungs.
In this line of work, it feels almost… sometimes, it almost feels as if they’re invincible. It’s a terrible way to think; hell, it’s a naive way to think. But losses here, losses now, feel that much more shocking, and that was from a man who had fought in a world war.
A hand comes to rest on Peter’s shoulder, gripping gently as Steve’s expression mirrors Peter’s own.
“— I know it’s not easy.” There’s a soft sigh, knowing just how much Tony meant to the kid. Took him under his wing — they all did, but… Steve could tell just how much the young man looked up to Tony.
“You just…” Steve hesitates, “ —- I wake up thinking about him every day. I still…” A heavy breath as his shoulders rise and then fall, “ — I sometimes think if I walk around the corner he’ll try and jump scare me.” He smiles softly at the young man, “I miss him too, Pete. I -…” he nods, as if to steady himself.
“But we push forward, I think. We live our lives and we do what we can, because… because I think that’s what Tony would have wanted for all of us.”
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IT DOESN'T HAPPEN OFTEN. Most days, most nights, he keeps himself busy. Keeps his mind active, always ahead, always looking forward to what might come down the pipeline. Minimizing, being proactive...the very idea of him just staying put, staying still was a phenomenon so unfamiliar like the last time he went to church.
But it happens. It happens. because he's human. Nights where he may have had one or two drinks, not too many, that era of life was over, but the itch, the loud clamor inside of his head that buzzes with a raging fury, begging him to do something about it. Sometimes he does.
He found it on accident one day, walking home after a particularly brutal week. Tucked in-between the modern high-rises of the city, an old-school boxing gym, aged and worn but still having its tendrils hooked into the very roots of the foundation. Ben finds himself going inside. Still in his suit, leather satchel across one shoulder, tie still knotted. The gym owner gives him the once over. Sees his jaw set, sees the tension that rides through his every vein. The man just nods, gives Ben a pair of wraps and tosses him some gloves. Takes his jacket off, loosens his tie, and rolls his sleeves up. This is part of the Callahan that he was never able to get rid of, as much as he tried. His father's words echoing, teaching him how to fight from as early as six, because a man's gotta grow up knowing how to throw a punch.
The fury that he delivers on bag is incessant and a continuous stream of frustration that he bludgeons the bag with. He goes until he can't. He goes until his shirt is completely soaked through, beads of sweat rolling off of his temples, and his heart thrumming like crazy. The gym owner has to step in. Ben has punched so hard for so long that he's already messed up his knuckles. When he walks out, he finds there is a calm that settles against him. He goes as often as he can. But his feet don't carry him back home. Every time. A short taxi cab ride later, he's in front of that old baseball field.
Eight year old boy. Shoes worn through and hat too big. The diamond is how he remembers it. Maybe a little smaller. The broken chain link fence, still not fixed, the dirt that stuck to you --- it's all there. It's all familiar. And Ben will walk into the center, the pitcher's mound -- tucks his very expensive suit jacket on the ground and lays on it like a pillow, simply just staying.
• at his law firm. he has offices in New York (main), Boston, Chicago, and London. He travels frequently.
• swanky fundraising events or lawyer awards or banquets. fancy bars. basically… places he has to go to network and be around people (he hates going to these things, but he is very good i.e. very charming and charismatic)
• upscale hotels.
• airports.
• at a new york yankees ball game. he is a die hard fan.
• hole in the wall bars (you will find his more “true” self here)
• old fashioned boxing club / batting cages late at night. If you run into him here… he’s not doing too hot.
• also there is an old baseball field he goes to (same one he went to as a kid) if you want super vulnerable ben… this is it.
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“let’s go for a walk.” Matthew Clairmont to Eva! @corpatrem
eva looks up from her desk , reading glasses balanced on her nose as she was inspecting a centuries-old carving on a bit of stone. the office itself is an organized form of chaos. there's large stacks of papers , bookshelves overflowing into piles on the floor , half-finished projects and artifacts on every horizontal surface.
❝ ― professor clairmont. ❞ eva greeted with a smile , standing as she removed her glasses and placed them atop the large oak desk , beside her work. they had interacted several times , had even served on a committee together a few years back. their work was in different departments , but often dealt with familiar themes.
❝ a walk ? ❞ she hadn't been out of her office since lunch , and it was now beginning to get late. hours sunk into her work , lost in research. she glances around at the state of the office. ❝ sure. i could use a break. let me grab my jacket. ❞ eva turns and takes a green jacket off the wall , wrapping it around herself before motioning for him to lead.
HIS TIME SPENT IN ONE PLACE was never for nothing. It gave him a sense of stability even if Matthew had a knack of making home wherever he chose. That came with being around for as long as he had been, he supposes, but within a classroom walls, within acadamia, that is where he found himself at his best.
He waits, ever the gentleman as his colleague gathers her coat, and he gives her a small smile. He had a bit of a soft spot for Professor Conley, and as they begin to walk, Matthew will match her stride.
"I admit my ask was not simply for a walk about the grounds..." A brief pause, though he doesn't lose his step. "I was wondering if I could request your help in something?" He produces a manuscript, a copy as he hands it gently over to her.
you've been risking your life, and for what? so you can feel like a goddamn hero? ( peggy & steve )
“STOP PUTTING YOURSELF INTO DANGER!” PROMPTS
THE BITE THAT COMES FROM PEGGY'S words strike straight into Steve. Her aim was true & she knew exactly where to aim and what to hit. But... he also hears the hurt. The worry & the pain that comes from their chosen...profession, of the consequence of their love for each other...
Harder now to defend his line of... work, that their family was growing. But it's more than just work -- it always has been more than just work. It was a sense of... responsibility. To his country. To his fellow men & women...
" -- Peggy..." A plead. Brow furrowed as he gently raises his hands to rest on her arms.
"You know I don't... I don't care about being a hero. It's --... that's not it. You know that." He hesitates. How is he supposed to explain to the one woman he thought was on his side? How can he fix this? How can he make this right?
"It's ... this is... bigger. Than... than us, Peg."
my biggest weak in the knees moment is when people wanna write with ben and I start telling them his background cause… I just assume people don’t read it, and then they’re like “oh! yeah, I know. I read it!” like??? That THRILLS me you have no idea. reading is sexy people.
Why are you still here? I mean, you could go anywhere. Be with anyone. - grace for tommy [ @corpatrem ]
The Garrison was unusually quiet, though it brought a strange comfort when the silence was between herself and Thomas. It wasn’t uncomfortable or intense, there was something almost soft about it. Grace’s finger trailed along the edge of her glass, the edge of her lips tugging into a gentle smile. Perhaps there was a touch of amusement towards his question, as though the answer should have been clear enough.
“I didn’t come here because I had nowhere else to go, Tommy.” Her voice was soft, her gaze lifting from her glass and to the man in front of her. Her face studied every line on his face, before she met his eyes. “Is it so difficult to believe that I want to be here? With you?” A careful step forward, the woman attempting to gauge whether or not he would accept the closing distance.
“I have seen what you are, and what you do.” Her head tilted, blonde hair settling against her shoulder. “And yet, I am still here. Should that not say all that you need to know?”
GRACE DOESN'T SHY AWAY FROM HIM. Grace doesn't... ever do exactly what Tommy thinks she's going to do, and perhaps that is part of the draw. Ethereal, yet the solidity of her form and presence could not be denied. A slow exhale from him as he takes a sip of the liquor that burns him all the way down. He stays put, knowing full well that he does not care to break whatever spell she has cast on him.
A calmness, a stillness, a QUIETNESS that has often eluded him.
"I cannot offer whatever it is you are looking for." His own words, barely above a whisper, cross the chasm between them that is steadily closing.
"You cannot pick me and decide you are against this life --- I am this life, and thus... I am giving you an out which would be wise to take."
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u should send in "lights, cameras, action!" so i can tell you how ur muse would be introduced in their debut scene in aisling's tv show/movie series (i.e. the build-up, the hints, the music, the little easter eggs) (even if you've already sent it in on the old blog, and even if we haven't interacted yet!) ( ALWAYS ACCEPTING! )
S2 E15: CAOMHNÓIR. ( TRANSLATION: GUARDIAN )
this episode is brought to us by a very fancy brand of suits (i wanna say tom ford or smth extremely extravagant, yk?) and they're offering a discount of 10% on all tailored suits, bc u know what, ben seems like a man who appreciates a good suit! so much so, that among the breadcrumbs that lead up to his episode are several photos of him in front of the media or at a fancy event, wearing suits that, even to the untrained eye, are actually just jaw-droppingly excellent. very crisp, very choice materials, just. sublime work. we also have ben speaking with the press in televised interviews, fleeting snatches of news reports that mention him by name, just little things to pique the viewers' interest and have them discussing what it all means.
so friday night rolls around, and the viewers take their seats, and with popcorn at the ready, the episode begins.
the sound of a heartbeat can be heard as the opening scene introduces us to ben right away. he's sitting at a desk, studying a file from a large and messy stack. his eyebrows are knitted together, a diary by his side as we listen to the crisp scribble of his pen nib against the page, adding more and more appointments to an a5 sheet which is already overflowing with ink. the heartbeat begins to accelerate, slowly, but hiking up with every new text message, every new email, pings and whooshes gathering in speed and frequency and the heartbeat getting louder and more frantic and--
" is now a bad time? "
a surprised exhale, ben looks up. as the camera ascends, the sunlight filters through the blinds, and he seems to relax a touch. the distraction from the never-ending pile, from the constant flurry of messages and phone calls and emails and letters and visits and meetings and appointments. aisling stands in the doorway, holding two cups of orange juice and a breakfast burrito. " ms. lynch, if this is about the green card, i'm really not the right person to talk to. "
" it isn't. and you are. " the camera pulls back, placing them both on the screen simultaneously as aisling sits across from him, drinking juice while he eats. it's as clear a ritual between them as any; a tradition that's become an eagerly anticipated aspect of their relationship. we can also see that, as of this point in their relationship, nothing romantic has happened yet, but they both clearly would be interested in taking it in that direction.
to establish that this is a pattern, though, we have a sort of montage in which the camera retains the position it's in at the head of the table, and we see the lighting change, the meals switch, and ben and aisling's clothing change to reflect the passage of time. we also see them swapping ingredients, discussing new menu ideas, even just laws (such as jaywalking) or motions debated in court proceedings.it also serves a key purpose of establishing ben's office as being an accidental safe space.
so we get to a point where he has a big swanky event coming up, and at the last minute the catering company cancels. there's a short scene where he's at home, the coffee is pouring, but we can hear that heartbeat picking back up again. as always, he's very good at hiding it on the outside; he looks a little distracted, but nothing out of the ordinary. the heartbeat begins to accelerate as he tries to find a list of caterers online, when suddenly the phone rings, and he answers it quickly. " aisling? "
" hey! do you eat mushrooms? i made this stroganoff yesterday, but i don't think we'll finish it all--- "
" aisling. " the heartbeat fades to silence again. " you mentioned you were trying to get into the catering business, right? "
camera cuts to a vast, sleek lounge, ben dressed immaculately in a crisp black tuxedo, aisling dressed in a snowy white blouse and black pants. both look perfectly in their element; in a cutaway scene, we learn that the allocated funds for the caterers is almost triple what the diner had been nervous to ask for in the first place, plus tips. aisling gives ben a grateful squeeze of the hand, and heads over to start working.
the episode spends ten minutes cutting between them. between subtle revelations and aisling being told directly, we learn that ben is a hard-working man who dedicates himself to doing as much as he possibly can, and more, for those around him. people continue to call him a good man, which is clearly true, but their reasoning for it is often reflected in what he does for them and what he has done for others, as opposed to any other defining quality (for example, aisling responds with "he is, he's so kind and thoughtful, and he always walks on the outside of the pavement when we're walking together" but other people say "he saved us 35% of our payments last year" or "he made absolutely sure that my husband didn't have to pay those fines last year"). we learn that he also took on more cases as a favour to others, increasing his workload to the point where "he's the last to leave the office most nights!"
at multiple points throughout the night, ben tries to find aisling, but they always end up being separated. eventually, aisling texts ben and asks him to meet her by the back entrance by around 12:30AM. we watch as ben prepares to leave, gathering his coat but not putting it on, and heading down the service hallway. he's halfway down, the beginning of a smile on his face, his shoulders just starting to relax. and then he seems to falter. the camera doesn't zoom in; we see him flex his left hand uncertainly, trying to smile through it. he keeps walking. a sheen of sweat is visible on his brow. then, he stiffens, torn between his left arm and his chest, before crumpling to the ground.
camera cuts to aisling. she glances at her watch outside; 12:48AM. a woman in a plush mink coat turns to her with a pitying smile. " he's probably back in the office, dear; burning the candle at both ends! " aisling doesn't respond, but once the woman is in her car, aisling heads back inside through the staff entrance. the camera remains outside in the streets, her footsteps echoing in the corridor. then, we hear her voice, alarmed: " ben? " we hear her begin to sprint, the sound of her back hitting the floor. " ben! hey, call an ambulance! hurry! ben?! "
the screen goes black. fifteen seconds pass, silent. and then... the sound of a heart monitor. we open on a bright, pale morning, aisling's hands resting on ben's arm, his coat draped over her as she dozes in the armchair. ben's hand twitches. then, he turns his arm, wakening aisling, who reaches and cups his face, tears of relief in her eyes as she presses a gentle kiss to his knuckles and then hits the call button, not leaving his side as the room bursts into a flurry of action. the sound of his heart, slower now, returns to the audio, and lingers as the credits roll.
