#all of this has been said many times before but god
Text
AMERICAN GIRL (PART FOUR)
Pairing: Tommy Shelby x Grace's Stepdaughter!Reader
Warning: Grace is a bully, infidelity, taboo
The following day, you went about your usual routine. Working in the shop, spending time with Ada, and avoiding Grace at all costs. But your mind couldn't stop drifting back to Tommy and that moment last night. The way his eyes bore into yours, igniting a flame inside of you that you couldn't ignore.
It was forbidden, wrong even, but you couldn't help the way you felt. You wanted him, there was no denying it. But at what cost?
You shook your head, trying to dispel the thoughts that plagued your mind but when you saw him again with Lizzie that day, you couldn't help but feel a pang of jealousy.
It was irrational, you knew it was, but you couldn't help the way you felt.
"Why does he see her, you think?" you asked Ada , attempting to sound as casual as possible, hoping she wouldn't catch on to the tightness in your voice or the yearning that was etched into your eyes.
"You mean Tommy?" Ada asked, squinting as she looked in the direction where you were gazing.
"Yes, why do you think Tommy is seeing Lizzie, or any other prostitute for that matter?" you asked Ada, feigning interest in a stack of fabric samples she had spread on the counter before her.
Ada gave you a sidelong glance before turning to face you fully. "I thought that was obvious," she then chuckled. "For pleasure of course,” she nonchalantly said, flipping through the fabrics, but not before catching a hint of a blush on your cheeks.
You felt the sudden knot in your stomach. It was the same question gnawing at the back of your mind ever since that one fateful night, but it took you this long to finally gather enough courage to voice it out. You couldn't help but feel slightly disappointed in her response.
"But he's in a relationship with Grace," you blurted out, biting your lip the moment after. Ada merely shrugged.
"I suppose, but Tommy has never been one to be held down by societal norms and expectations. Despite, many men who can afford it see whores these days,” Ada replied with a casual shrug, as if it was the most natural thing in the world. "Men think with their cocks. It's all about sex for them and, quite frankly, I would be willing to pay for it too if I had the option. It makes things much less complicated,” Ada said offhandedly as she continued to flip through the fabric samples, making a mental note of the ones she wanted to purchase.
"Is it really that good?" you asked, curious and slightly taken aback by her blatant honesty.
"Well, that depends on your definition of good," Ada smiled wryly. "With the right man, it can be amazing," she told you before asking you a question. "Have you never done it before?" Ada asked, raising her eyebrows in surprise. You felt your cheeks heat up in embarrassment and looked away, studying the intricate pattern on the fabric before you.
"No, I haven't," you muttered softly, your voice barely above a whisper. "I've been in jail for two years and before that I never felt...you know, attracted to anyone before." You glanced up at Ada, hoping she would understand.
"I would never have guessed it Y/N. You are so confident, even around my brothers who can be quite intimidating. I thought surely you must have had a lover or two in the past," Ada stated, intrigued.
"No, there was never really anyone who caught my eye and to be honest, I don't think I was ever truly ready for something like that," you confessed, looking up to meet Ada's gaze. "But I can't say I haven't thought about it before. Especially after coming here."
"Oh god, you need to stay away from men in this area," Ada chuckled. "You should come and visit me in London. I will take you out. The men there are different. Sophisticated, even. You will see,” Ada winked slyly.
You smiled at the thought, already beginning to feel the excitement build inside of you. "I would like that, Ada. I truly would."
The exchange with Ada gave you a small reprieve from the chaos inside your mind, but the thoughts of Thomas and your growing desires lingered in your consciousness.
When the day came to an end however, you felt like drowning out these irrational and somewhat irritating thoughts about a man you knew you could not have and asked Ada whether she wanted to join you for a drink at any of the local establishments.
"A drink?" she asked, chuckling. "There are only pubs around here and none of them are really appealing to say the least. Despite, I must be home for Karl. One of my maids is sick," she added, crinkling her nose in distaste.
"I don't think I have ever been to a pub," you confessed, somewhat abashedly, seeing that you had only ever visited a few clubs in New York, all of which had been elegant and modern for the times.
"Well, you are not missing much," Ada replied, screwing her face in a wince. "But, if you insist, there are a few ones around here that are safe. Go to the Garisson and tell them that you are a Shelby. That way you will be served a drink, and no one will lay a hand on you unless you want them to. If you run into any trouble though, get them to call Tommy or Arthur," Ada said with a hint of a smile.
You looked at her, puzzled, not quite understanding the meaning behind her words. You were unsure what you needed protection from and why you wouldn't be served a drink in the first place, but you didn't ask.
"All right, I will keep that in mind," you replied, pursing your lips and nodding your head ever so slightly.
Ada left shortly after that, leaving you alone in the empty shop and you were quick to close up before embarking on your maiden voyage to one of these notorious local establishments.
You walked past the dimly lit streets of Birmingham, the cobblestone illuminated by the soft orange glow from gas streetlamps that lined the streets. You ventured further, passing the occasional passersby, feeling as though all eyes were upon you. Your heartbeat faster with every footstep as you grew closer to your unknown destination and you wondered whether, perhaps, this was not such a good idea after all.
You already felt out of place in this city, with your elegant dress and your high heels from New York. You were aware that this was not the kind of place that women like you dared to step foot in, but you were determined to push your boundaries and, perhaps, learn something new about yourself - and the world around you.
The Garisson was unremarkable among the neighbouring buildings, but once you stepped inside, you felt the atmosphere instantly change. It was charged with a tense, almost palpable energy, a strange combination of excitement and danger that seemed to reverberate through the air.
When you entered, the men inside turned to look at you, their gazes lingering on your figure for a moment before turning back to their drinks. You could feel the weight of their stares, but you didn't let it intimidate you. Instead, you walked with a newfound confidence, feeling an unexpected sense of power.
You made your way to the bar and took a seat, your heart pounding in your chest as you looked around the room. Yet, despite the unfamiliarity of your surroundings, there was something oddly liberating about being in a place where everyone seemed to be living on the edge.
"I am afraid I can't serve you ma'am," the man behind the bar said, breaking the spell of your thoughts.
You blinked, surprised by his words. "I'm sorry?" you asked, unsure if you had heard him correctly.
The bartender nodded, his expression apologetic. "I'm sorry, but we don't serve women here," he explained.
Your eyes widened in surprise. "But I thought the Garisson was a public house?" you asked, your confusion growing.
The bartender shrugged. "It is, but that doesn't mean we serve women," he replied. "It's just the way things are around here."
His words hung heavy in the air, a constant reminder of the unspoken rules that governed this world. You felt a surge of frustration and anger rise within you, but you held your tongue, refusing to let these men see you falter.
"I see," you said calmly, mustering every ounce of strength and dignity to push down the hurt while contemplating your next move just as you heard a familiar voice from the distance.
"It's alright. She's with me," the voice said, cutting through the tension. You turned to see Thomas Shelby making his way towards you, his eyes fixed on yours.
The bartender nodded, his gaze flicking between you and Thomas before he finally relented. "Of course, Mr Shelby. I am sorry. I did not know," the bartender apologized, eyes wide with embarrassment. "What can I get you, ma'am?" the bartender asked, his tone now deferential.
But Thomas hadn't taken his eyes off you. "What are you doing here?" he asked, his voice low and husky. He was so close to you now that you could feel his warm breath on your face.
You swallowed hard; your throat suddenly dry. "I was just... looking for some... entertainment," you stammered, feeling like a schoolgirl again before quickly ordering a drink with the barman.
Thomas raised an eyebrow. "Entertainment, eh?" he chuckled. "This is fucking Birmingham, Love. There is no entertainment here unless you wish to stand up there and fucking sing,” Thomas chuckled, motioning towards the makeshift stage. He was so near that you could feel the heat emanating from his body and it sent a ripple of excitement through you.
"And I just may, after a glass of whiskey or two," you replied, cocking your head to one side as you gave him a playful grin that belied the tension between them.
Thomas chuckled, the deep rumbling sound drawing the attention of those around them. It wasn't long before the whispers and murmurs filled the air, the patrons whispering and speculating about the nature of your relationship.
The thought made you feel uncomfortable, and you shifted uncomfortably on your stool, but Thomas didn't seem to notice or care.
"No," he said, nonetheless. "Have your drink and then I will get one of my men to drive you home, eh. This is no place for a woman like you,” Thomas sighed, his voice low as he leaned against the bar. His words felt almost like a blow, and you couldn't quite understand why.
"Well, I want to stay, and you are going to buy me another drink after I am done with this one," you told him as you quickly downed the amber liquid in front of you before ordering another.
Thomas studied you for a moment, his gaze intense and penetrating. "And why would I do that?" Thomas asked, arching an eyebrow. There was an amused glint in his eyes, but you could also detect a hint of sincerity beneath that.
"Well, because if you do, then I may keep this little secret of yours from my lovely stepmother Grace," you said, matching his smirk as you revealed your trump card.
Thomas' eyes narrowed for a moment, as if sizing you up and assessing whether you were bluffing or not.
"What little secret?" Thomas growled, arching an eyebrow as he leaned closer, invading your personal space.
You swallowed hard, feeling the weight of his gaze on you before leaning closer and whispering into his ear almost seductively. "Lizzie Stark," was all that you said, watching as Thomas's expression shifted at the mention of the name. His jaw clenched and unclenched, his eyes darkening before he too whispered into your ear.
"Another whiskey?" he murmured, his breath warm against your ear and you nodded.
"Yes, and make it a double this time."
The intensity between you and Thomas had grown palpable. You had pushed a button that no one else could, daring to confront him about what usually remained unspoken.
Thomas gave you a curt nod before signalling to the bartender for a double whiskey. He downed his drink in one swift motion, his eyes never leaving yours for even a moment. The look in his eyes was something you had never seen before - it was intense, powerful and overwhelming. It was full of the promise of passion, forbidden and uninhibited.
You watched him as he placed the empty glass back on the counter with a muted clink, swallowed hard and took a deep, steadying breath. Your heart raced in your chest and your head swam dizzily with the potency of the liquor as well as the proximity of Thomas Shelby.
You too drank your double whiskey in one swift motion, feeling the burn as it travelled down your throat and warmed your belly. The world seemed to tilt slightly with each passing moment, and you were glad for the bar to steady you in place.
Eventually, after a few more drinks, you indeed made up on stage, looking way out place in this rather run down establishment. Glamorous and with an unmistakable American charm, you stood out. In that moment, the entire bar fell silent, all eyes trained on you as you stood up tall.
"Fuck," Tommy murmured to himself as Arthur and John took their places next to him by the bar in readiness for the show.
"Finn has been having his eye on that one, Tom. And I can't fucking blame him," John piped up, nodding towards the stage where you now stood.
"Finn couldn't handle her," Tommy brushed John's comment off as he looked at you with a mix of admiration and desire, the latter intensifying as you started singing.
You had chosen a jazzy, sultry tune that perfectly suited your velvety voice and captivating stage presence and the patrons at the pub watched in astonishment at this unexpected interlude, but you paid them no mind.
Your voice, steady and confident, echoed throughout the room, sweeping everyone off their feet. The energy in the room had shifted from tense and uneasy to electric, filled with raw emotion that pulsed through your veins.
The room was full of men, not a single woman in sight, and as you sang, you felt like you commanded their attention, bending them to your will with the melody of your voice.
But then, from the corner of your eye, you saw him rise from his seat. Thomas Shelby.
His presence was overpowering, commanding attention without any effort. A shiver ran down your spine as those deep blue eyes locked onto yours, holding you captive in his gaze.
He moved closer, the throngs of whispering men parting in his wake.
He was a force to be reckoned with, radiating authority and desire that made your heart race: with fear, with excitement, or perhaps a little bit of both.
Two other men whom you did not know also moved closer, trying to make their move as you finished the song. They were rough-looking men, clearly not used to elegance or refinement, the types that frequented such establishments often. But they were no match for Thomas Shelby.
He moved in front of them just as they reached you, his movements quick and lethal, a silent warning etched on his face. The two men hesitated, sensing the danger in his eyes, and then turned around, choosing not to press their luck.
Thomas offered you a hand, and you took it gratefully, feeling like you needed his support more than ever before as you finished signing and descended from the stage.
Cheers erupted around you as you made your way back to the bar, your heart still pounding with the rush of singing onstage.
Tommy's hand lingered at your waist, drawing goosebumps to the surface of your skin. The warmth of his touch sent a ripple of pleasure through you, and you couldn't help but lean into him just a little.
"You shouldn't have done that Love, drawing these men's attention like this," Thomas murmured, his voice low and rough, sending a shiver down your spine.
"I didn't mean to," you replied, looking up at him with a mixture of awe and confusion. "I just...I love to sing, and it felt good to let go, even for just a moment."
Thomas looked at you, his gaze softening just a fraction. "I know," he said. "But around here, attention can quickly turn into danger. Men like these have not seen a woman like you before, and they will try to have you in any way they can," Thomas continued, his eyes filled with an intensity that sent a tremble down your spine.
His finger brushed gently against your cheek, a feather-soft touch that caused you to gasp before blushing scarlet. Your heart raced in your chest, aware that his words had some weight to them but also appreciating the gentle way he offered them.
You nodded silently, a mix of fear and gratitude coursing through you. Thomas Shelby had a reputation for being a dangerous man, but right now, you couldn't help but feel grateful for his protection.
"Now, are you going to have another drink or are you going to allow me to take you home?" Thomas' voice was low and gravelly in your ear, his arm still lightly draped around your waist. His touch was electric, sending shivers down your spine and setting your heart racing.
"Home, please," you replied softly, your emotions still swirling from the impromptu performance and the attention you received from these strange men. The energy in the pub had shifted once again, becoming charged with a tension that unnerved you slightly. But Thomas' presence was a comforting one, drawing you nearer to him with each passing moment.
He signalled to the bartender for your coat, and you slipped it on gratefully, feeling the comforting weight of the fabric against your skin.
The moment you stepped outside, the frigid winter air hit you like a slap in the face, jolting you from the haze of the pub's atmosphere. You shivered involuntarily, wrapping your coat tighter around your body.
Thomas' arm slid around your waist, pulling you closer to him in a protective gesture as several men kept looking at you with predatory eyes from across the street. He led you to the curb, signalling for one of his men to bring the car around.
In the distance, the sound of an approaching motor roared in the silence of the night. Your breath hitched as the vehicle sped towards you, and then slowed down just in time, stopping inches away from where you and Thomas stood.
The door swung open, and Thomas guided you inside, settling into the plush leather seat with a sigh.
The engine hummed to life, and the warmth of the car seeped into your bones, causing you to relax slightly. You watched as the streets of Birmingham passed by in a blur, the city streets abandoned at this late hour.
Thomas didn't speak, his gaze fixed on the road ahead, but you could feel his intensity radiating from him. You shifted awkwardly in your seat, unsure of what to say or do.
Despite your earlier confrontation with him, you couldn't deny the way your body responded to his presence.
A warm flush spread across your cheeks and you swallowed hard, trying to ignore the way your heart raced in your chest.
Thomas stole a glance at you, his eyes softening as he took in your nervous mannerisms. He didn't say anything, but the way he shifted his position in the seat told you that he was closer now, his arm brushing against yours and sending an electric current through your body.
"You did well up there," Thomas murmured, breaking the silence between you. "The men loved you."
Your blush deepened, and you shrugged off his compliment.
"I just sang a song. It's not a big deal," you replied softly, your gaze fixed on the passing buildings.
"You didn't just sign a song Love. You performed. There is a difference," Thomas continued, determination in his voice. The way he said it stirred something inside you, and your heart skipped a beat.
You fell silent again, lost in thoughts as you watched the streets of Birmingham pass by. Your mind raced with everything that had happened since you arrived in the city.
So many changes, so many new experiences, and so many unanswered questions, all of which you put aside when Tommy's Bently pulled up in front of Arrow House, the magnificent building that you and your sister now called home.
He got out of the car, coming around to open the door for you, offering his arm as he led you towards the staircase leading up to the grand wooden entrance.
His touch was firm and reassuring, and despite your earlier reservations, you felt safe under his protection.
"Thank you," you murmured, unsure of what else to say as you entered the house.
"It was nothing," he replied, a ghost of a smile playing on his lips. "You should get some sleep, Y/N. It's been a long day," Thomas said, his voice low and gentle as he caressed your cheek. You blinked, his touch making you feel suddenly lightheaded. You couldn't remember the last time someone had been so tender with you.
"Yes, it has," you agreed, leaning into his touch for a moment.
Thomas' gaze held yours, and you felt your heart skip a beat as you stared into the depths of his blue eyes. Slowly, he closed the distance between you, and before you knew what was happening, his lips were on yours. It was a gentle kiss, one filled with both longing and tenderness, and you found yourself responding in kind. But all too soon, the kiss ended, and Thomas pulled away, leaving you breathless and yearning for more.
"Goodnight, Y/N," he said softly before turning and walking away towards the left as if he had suddenly changed his mind, leaving you to watch him disappear into his office upstairs.
"Goodnight," your murmured almost to yourself, unaware of the fact that you had been watched by someone else.
Tags:
@sunbeamseas @saint-ackerman @oatmealisweird @naxxsstuff @amanda08319 @r-m-cidnah @elysiannook @cillshot @infireddabdab @tastycakee @harrysbestiee @lilybabe22 @adalynlowell @henrywintersdearestgirl @ietss @thatgirlthatreadswattpad @ryiamarie @axionn
@heidimoreton @nela-cutie @futurecorps3 @delishen @nosebleeds-247 @thirteenis-myluckynumber @gills-lounge @hjmalmed @lost-fantasy @tiredkitten @sidechrisporn @smallsoulunknown @charqing-qing @hopefulinlove @aporiasposts @shycrybaby @me-and-your-husband @hjmalmed @lacontroller1991 @galxydefender @aporiasposts
@galxydefender @hunnibearrr @saint-ackerman @lunyyx @gentlemonsterjennie1 @ihavealotoffandomssorry @nadloves @lost-fantasy @nolucesn@mcavoy-girl @hjmalmed @bloodybagels @obeyme4life @richiesgroupie @blushykiss @tatumrileyslover @teawithsatanx @orijanko @rhaenyra4ever @xcinnamonmalfoyx @budugu @nadloves @kmc1989 @bloodybagels @obeyme4life @richiesgroupie @forgottenpeakywriter @smailaway @sophiaaguirred @blondie-22
#cillian murphy x y/n#cillian murphy x you#tommy shelby#peaky blinders#tommy shelby smut#cillian murphy imagine#cillian murphy x reader#cillian murphy smut#cillian murphy#tommy shelby x reader#tommy shelby au#tommy shelby imagine#tommy shelby fanfiction#thomas shelby x reader#thomas shelby fanfic#thomas shelby#thomas shelby imagine#thomas shelby smut#peaky blinders fanfiction#peaky blinders fanfic#tommy shelby fanfic
203 notes
·
View notes
Text
Idia’s video explaining how to defeat the “evil, terrifying Demon King” had me thinking. Idia’s video greatly mischaracterizes Malleus, and I’ve been reading over some criticisms of his plan being all to similar to the fate of Meleanor with the Silver Owls. And as I was thinking it over, the parallels between Idia and Malleus really striked me in this recent update. (Translation credits to GasMask💖🐦⬛)
Throughout the story, we can see how Idia’s curse and family history has affected him greatly. Viewing himself as a monster, someone who is ‘unnatural’ compared to his peers and subject to gossip. The “monster in some tragic tale.” His two lines of getting driven out of town and being poked by a stick reminded me so much of Lilia and Malleus.
Lilia was constantly being driven out of towns and cities after the war, as Fae were viewed as monsters- even though Lilia was just trying to find a way to hatch an egg and meant no harm to anybody. And Malleus was quite literally poked, as in the first Halloween event, the “Draconia Challenge” had the Magicam Monsters poke, touch, and grab Malleus without his consent purely for a ridiculous test of courage. (Translation credits to Otome Ayui💖🐦⬛)
And Idia’s fretting over all the potential rumors about him is what actually happens to Malleus- where if you look at him wrong, or even get too close to him, you’ll get cursed and eaten- a similar way to Idia imagining rumors where he’d pass on his bad luck and family curse. Although I think this part of their parallels is fascinating to me, as most of it from Idia is from his own anxiety and self-esteem, but Malleus it is all reality.
However, I think Book 6 and 7 is truly the parts in the main game where a deliberate connection is made- and I will go over 3 specific instances. This first one was the one that truly caught my attention, because the River Lethe is a system that erases the memory and data of the Shroud family. Their existence is known in some lore, but it’s very little, and most of their history is erased from the rest of the world. They are urban legends at best, and Idia resigns himself to being forgotten by all his classmates, seeing no point in making friends when he will be erased in the end.
Several chapters later, we have a scene of Malleus finding comfort in abandoned buildings, as he finds them a “pleasant reminder we’re not the only ones history has left behind.” Lilia is said to be seen in some of NRC’s history books, but so little is know about Meleanor and Levan, the fate of Wildrose Castle, the war, everything. It was all forgotten so easily as human generations went by, but many of the Fae from that time period are still alive and remember it all. Pretty much all of his classmates don’t really understand Fae, creating repeated misunderstandings and conflict between them. But Malleus finds himself left behind in history the same way Idia does. Both of their families are “meant” to be lost in time through some twisted hand of fate. I also find it EXTREMELY relevant of how long back the Shroud family goes- all the way back to the Age of the Gods, and where mages were known as witches and wizards. I think there is a very high possibility of the Draconia’s and the Shroud’s to be connected from all the way back then.
This one is a bit more of a minor case, but it’s similar to the one above. Idia’s fate was sealed the moment he was born- or even before that, as his mother and father would know that he would inherit the Shroud’s curse, Unique Magic, and Watchman title. Not only does it ring similar to how Malleus was dehumanized by the rest of the world *while he was still an egg,* but it reminds me of the accidental curse Meleanor put on Malleus. He would be a blessing to the Fae, but a curse on the humans…Idia’s role of Watchman is technically a “blessing” because without the continuation of the Shroud family, the phantoms would be unleashed on the entire world- but his overall fate is meant to be a curse nonetheless (Translation credits to Otome Ayui💖🐦⬛)
And finally, I found the reoccurring theme of fighting for your own dream in Book 6 to be very relevant to the plight in Book 7. At first, the groups in Book 6 are rushing to defeat and knock the sense into Idia and Ortho, like they’re just final bosses. But as they get closer and closer to the Underworld, they begin to stop and empathize with them, beginning to figure out that Idia and Ortho are trying to escape their nightmarish reality to fulfill their own dreams- not matter how selfish it may be. Both sides have entirely valid reasons to fight for their own wishes, but this moment of empathy felt very important.
Book 7 centers around Malleus putting everyone in a “world without sorrow,” in dreams where he *thinks* is their ideal world, even though many of the characters in the present have realized their own strengths and don’t need to rely on their drama anymore (e.g Epel being distraught at his dream, since he has fully accepted his role as being the ‘Poison Apple,’ growing out of his more stereotypical ideals of strengths). However, this is also about Malleus wanting to keep the ones he loves close to him, not wanting to be abandoned again- even if it means stopping time and keeping the entire world in an eternal sleep. His power is on a very similar scale of Idia and Ortho, who planned to reset the entire world and cover it with blot and phantoms- where the Shrouds could be on top of the world since their curse incinerates blot. Even the language used is VERY similar, with being reborn, becoming the protagonist…
So…all in all, I think it’s very fascinating that Idia’s plan and the way he speaks about Malleus is ironically similar to the way he himself fears others talking about him. Reduced to some evil, cursed monster, a final boss to be defeated and nothing more. I have read some other analysis’ (although this is my Silidia brain talking too BSXJD) where Idia is akin to Prince Philip in Sleeping Beauty, the prince who slays Maleficent with the Sword of Truth. The Sword is represented by Silver, where in the current update, STYX is directly working with and examining Silver’s Unique Magic as essentially a secret weapon to defeat Malleus. But I think about Yana’s line in an interview, where she wonders about the viewpoints of the items in fairytales- like the apple wouldn’t WANT to become a poisonous apple. And Silver wouldn’t want to be the “sword” that “defeats” Malleus- his older brother.
Even though it is upsetting that Idia so badly mischaracterizes Malleus, I think it is exactly the point. It is not only a reflection of Idia himself, but will lead to the subversion of Malleus’ “defeat.” History keeps repeating itself through Maleficent and Meleanor, but I think this is the time where amends can be made. Idia and Malleus have the very strong capability of seeing each eye-to-eye, as their plights are very similar. It feels like it boils down to the desire of being recognized and connecting not only with their peers, but also with family- especially in Malleus’ case where he, Silver, and Lilia had yet to truly acknowledge each other as family. Malleus doesn’t, or rather, shouldn’t be treated as the evil final boss, or be defeated solely through technology and brute force the way his mother was.
Showing Lilia’s dream sequence and Silver’s battle with himself in Book 7 is reemphasizing the point of family and connection, and how all of them need to talk it out and recognize each other as a true family. But of course, we are the viewers of the story. The story sets up the value of family and talking it out, but then it is purposefully backtracking as more and more NRC students band together. The other characters have no idea of all this backstory and connection, so everything is far more two-dimensional and they are making their judgements based on what Malleus has done to them. It is a continuous style of retribution.
But this is where a moment of empathy like in Book 6 is need. To stop and think if what they’re doing is right, and what Malleus truly needs in his moment of suffering and isolation. He IS in an Overblot state, so a battle is inevitable, but…I think it is what STYX said. We can’t just beat him down through brute force- someone has to bring him out of his form willingly. I find the clash of ideals and viewpoints of these characters to be incredibly well written, and as Yana said, they’re aren’t exactly traditional hero’s of fairytales. And I’m hoping that if Idia and Malleus’ parallels are as intentional as I think they are, I’m hoping that in the end there is more of a mutual understanding between each other and a breaking of a long cycle.
Edit: forgot to mention it, but this is not to say that Malleus hasn’t done anything wrong to his classmates. I think HE DOES need some form of confrontation- which is where Ace may play a role in since he’s repeatedly not been afraid to call others out, even Malleus. Malleus has a lot to learn and grow from, just like everyone else in the story. And I wonder even though the Draconia’s and Shroud’s are opposites at their surface, I hope there can be a reconciliation and mutual relationship between technology and magic in the future!
m(_ _)m Hm I hope this generally made sense lol, I’m not very good at explaining what I mean. I’m really excited to see where this is all going 👀👀👀👀🐦⬛
Also a huge thank you to @/YuuRei20, for their compilation of Malleus and Idia facts 😭💖💖💖💖💖
(Also, back to my brief mention of the Shrouds and Draconia’s being tied back far in the past, I’m still stuck on my theory about what may have happened between STYX and Levan 👉👈)
#this entire post is me struggling to fit in all my screenshots with mobile photo limit Zndjjcf#twisted wonderland#twst#twst analysis#twst theory#twst idia shroud#twst idia#twst malleus draconia#twst malleus#twst spoilers#twst book 7 spoilers#twst jp spoilers#twst shroud family#twst Draconia family#long post#kallistopost
48 notes
·
View notes
Note
hello!! how are you? i hope it won't be difficult for you to write what i ask, but if it's problematic, just ignore it!
let it be a smut with dom Bill and sub reader, where they are each other's best Internet friends, because Bill is always on trains to concerts. when Bill and the reader arrange for the reader to come to his concert, when Tokio Hotel finally turns up in the city where the reader lives, after the concert, Bill and the reader must meet for the first time, since they had not seen each other live before. when the concert ends and they finally meet, Bill takes the reader to his dressing room, from where all the other band members have already left, and Bill has to wash off his makeup, which he asks the reader to help with, sitting her on his lap, which is why she is so embarrassed, but helps Bill. while taking off his makeup, Bill stares at her lips, and when the makeup is done, he kisses her, and it all turns into a smut.
i hope it doesn't look so bad and is feasible. good luck with that, even if you don't write what i asked for, but something else! have a nice day ;)
i believe in you! <3
ONLINE FRIENDS
pairing: bill x female reader
warnings: smut, dom!bill, sub!reader, kissing, head (fem!receiving), p in v
a/n: i love your request!! i hope youre gonna have a good day too!! i really enjoyed writing this!! you guys can send more requests, i will write them as fast as i can!!
For some time now, I have been texting online with a boy named Bill. He told me a lot about himself and his band, but we never met because he rarely visited the city where i lived.
Currently, I was sitting on my bed and scrolling through Instagram when someone started calling me. When I noticed it was Bill, I answered immediately.
"Hey Bill, what's up?" I asked. “Hey y/n, I wanted to tell you that my band will be having a concert in your city soon!” Bill said. You could hear in his voice that he was smiling.
"Oh my god, really?!" I screamed with excitement and almost started jumping around the room with happiness. "Really! I got you tickets, you'll be in the front row!" Bill said. "Thank you Bill, you are the best! I can't wait to see you!" I said with a big smile on my face.
"I can't wait to see you too!" Bill added. We talked for another half hour until Bill had to end because he had band rehearsals.
Time skip to the day of the concert.
Today is the day I will see the Tokio hotel in real life! I put on a black top, a short denim skirt, white heels and took a silver bag in which I put all the most important things.
I texted Bill that I couldn't wait to see him and left the house and got into a taxi. I gave the driver the address and after 20 minutes I arrived at my destination.
Since I had early access to the entrance, I could skip the entire queue and enter as one of the first to occupy the first row.
After half an hour, there was a crowd here. The concert hall accommodated as many as 50,000 people. As I looked around this huge venue, I didn't notice that the band had finally taken the stage.
Together with other fans, I started screaming and waving at the boys. I made eye contact with Bill and we smiled at each other, and in a moment the first song, durch den monsun, could be heard.
Time skip after the concert.
The concert was wonderful, I sang all the songs and I was very excited to see my online friend.
Finally, when the band left the stage, everyone started to get ready to leave, including me. As I reached the exit, a security guard approached me. "Bill Kaulitz asked you to go backstage, please follow me" The man said and started leading me somewhere where fans wouldn't have access.
We walked through long corridors until we finally stopped in front of a room where another security guard stood and let me in. Bill was sitting on the couch in the room.
When I saw him, I immediately approached him. "God Bill, you're even taller in real life than in the photos" I said and looked up at him, hugging him. "And you're even shorter." He laughed and patted me on the back.
"I have to take off my makeup and then we can go to the hotel. The boys have already gone anyway" He announced and sat down at the table with a mirror. "I can help you if you want" I said and smiled, standing behind him.
"Of course. It will be faster if you help me" Bill replied and smiled too, patting his knee, which probably meant that I should sit on it.
I blushed, but I didn't refuse and I sat on his knee, taking a cotton pad in my hand and starting to remove his makeup. I felt his eyes on my lips the whole time, but I didn't say anything.
When I finished, I smiled. "And it's done" I said, but I felt Bill's hand on my waist as he pulled me closer and kissed me.
At first, I was surprised and didn't know what to do, but after a while I kissed him back and placed my hands on his shoulders.
Bill placed his hands on my buttocks and lifted me up from the chair and placed my back against the table behind us as he continued to kiss me.
He started kissing me lower until he crouched down in front of me. "May I?" He asked, pointing to my skirt. I nodded yes and soon I heard the sound of my skirt falling down.
Bill pulled aside my already wet pink panties and buried his head in my folds. "Ahhh, Bill!" I screamed, grabbing his hair and pinning my legs on either side of his head.
"Fuck, you're so wet for me" He said, plunging his tongue into me. When I felt his cold piercing, I moaned loudly. "Bill, I can't, oh" I gasped, grabbing his hair in pleasure.
Bill continued, holding my thigh with one hand and rubbing circles on my clit with the other. Finally I felt a knot forming in my stomach and I cummed on his tongue. "Ahh, I'm cumming!" I moaned.
Bill just smiled and stood up, kissing me again. I felt his tongue, which still had some of my juices on it, and smiled into his lips.
"It's not over yet" He said and started to unbuckle his belt. I smiled and helped him take off his pants, steadying myself on the table with one hand.
He pulled down his pants along with his boxers and that's when I saw how big he was. My eyes widened and I swallowed. Bill pulled a small bottle of lube from his bag and spread it over his length.
After a while I felt him at my entrance. Bill grabbed my hips and kissed me. "Are you ready?" He asked. "Yes please" I said and grabbed his back, impaling myself on his cock.
We both moaned at the same time and Bill started moving. "You're so tight, god" He said. "Don't stop!" I said, feeling tears come to my eyes.
He quickened his pace, gripping my hips tightly and placing soft kisses on my neck. "Fuck Bill!" I screamed, digging my nails into his back and clenching my pussy around his cock.
"I'm about to cum" Bill panted, lowering his head to my shoulder. "Me too, oh my god" I moaned and felt that knot forming in my stomach again.
Bill pushed a few more times and finally he came inside me, and a moment later I came, with a loud moan. My tears fell onto his shirt and my nails dug into his back, leaving red marks on it.
We both put our clothes back on and then cleaned up the mess we had left. "We can go back to the hotel now" Bill said and kissed me.
#tokio hotel#bill kaulitz#bill kaulitz x reader#bill kaulitz x female reader#tom kaulitz#tom kaulitz x reader#tom kaulitz x female reader#gustav schäfer#gustav schäfer x reader#gustav schäfer x female reader#georg listing#georg listing x reader#georg listing x female reader#tokio hotel x reader#tokio hotel x female reader
39 notes
·
View notes
Text
May 16 | Prompt: Experiment
“Aren’t you going to try it?”
John stares at the plate of tangled pasta in front of him, shifting nervously.
It’s sweet. God, it’s adorable. And John did not expect it.
This argument was worse than others. It was after a case. Of course, it was.
Sherlock was snappish.
Of course, he was.
But again, it was worse.
Sherlock threw insults at every moment, yelled at John in front of the met, and even left John at Scotland Yard, hopping in a cab himself without a word. It was a vigorous case, but usually vigorous cases that Sherlock couldn’t put his finger on left him in a foul mood.
John tried to be patient, he really did. Even when Sherlock solved the case and seemed to deflate from the tension that had been constricting him for days, John tried to be happy for him. And he was, to a point.
Sherlock acted as if nothing occurred, as if he didn’t call John twice as many names or dismissed him at every turn.
When they returned to Baker Street, Sherlock was prepared for the praise John usually gave him, the take out they usually ordered, and the crap telly they usually cuddled up on the sofa to watch. But John simply took off his coat and murmured that he was going off to bed.
“What?” Sherlock asked, blinking down at him. “Why?”
“Tired,” John said, then without another word, he disappeared into the room.
The rest of the next day, John only gave Sherlock clipped answers or didn’t answer at all. A genius like himself began to realize that John was upset over something. And Sherlock was starved of John Watson.
When John returned home after a day out for fresh air, he sniffed the stuffy room, it smelling like something was burning.
He made his way into the kitchen and saw Sherlock Holmes in an apron, curls disheveled and pots and pans surrounding him.
Sherlock jumped when John called his name and turned, obviously thinking he had more time before John returned.
“John!” he exclaimed in surprise. “Erm—” Swiftly, he led John to the small table in the living area, sitting him down. “You just…wait there and the food will be ready in a moment.”
“Sherlock, what—”
“John,” the detective interrupted, his voice suddenly small. “Please.”
John looked up at him to see the desperation in his irises. Without waiting for an answer, Sherlock went right back to the kitchen.
And that’s how John has ended up in the predicament. With an unnatural formation of pasta that’s visually dry and topped with an excessive amount of salt. But when John looks into Sherlock’s eyes again, who’s standing above him with anticipation radiating off him, John can’t resist feeling so fond of the man. He’s practically giddy, fidgeting with impatience.
With that, John picks up his fork and attempts to curl the pasta around it. Finally able to, he takes a bite. It’s…something. Difficult to chew and John doesn’t know what recipe Sherlock used, but there is a strong taste of cream, vinegar, and salt.
The combination brings his tastebuds to beg for him to spit out the food, but looking up at Sherlock, John makes a low moan of delight. It’s worth it when Sherlock smiles proudly.
“Yes?”
“Mhm,” John confirms, trying to chew a thick piece of pasta. “That is…wow. Very good, darling.”
“You’re not just saying that?”
“Nope. It’s…delicious.”
Sherlock looks unbelievably pleased, standing tall and holding a small smile. “I…I realize you seemed upset and—well…” He huffs. “I know I was blunt yesterday.”
“You were.”
“Let me finish, John. I was also—”
“Rude, arrogant—”
“Yes, I understand,” Sherlock sneers. John holds a smile of satisfaction. “I apologize. I will…take your feelings in consideration. Next time. Well—maybe. I mean—I will certainly…try.”
John sighs, taking pity on him. His hand places on Sherlock’s hip and he brings him forward, sitting him on his lap. John revels in the blush that creeps onto the detective’s cheeks.
“Yes. You were a dick,” John says, ignoring Sherlock’s glare. “But I know you get…unreasonable—hey. Let me finish. I know you get unreasonable when on difficult cases and this one took a toll on you.” He soothes Sherlock’s side. “Just know I take that into consideration as well. So, next time, when you get like that, instead of snapping at me, talk to me. Or, better yet, tell me when to leave you alone or when to stay by your side so I know when to give you space and let you do your thing. Alright?”
Sherlock stares at him for a long moment, then nods. He rests his head on John’s shoulder, and it barely feels as if a six foot long detective is draped over him.
“I will try to do better,” Sherlock whispers.
“I know you will.” John kisses Sherlock’s forehead. “Thank you for the food.”
“Mm.”
“Have you always liked…experimenting with cooking?”
“I’ve never attempted it, but it seemed simple enough.”
That explains it.
“Aren’t you going to eat the rest of it?” Sherlock asks.
John sucks in a breath. “Um…I’ll save it for later. Not too hungry for food.” He grins, leaning forward and putting their lips centimeters apart. “I’m hungry for something else entirely.”
Sherlock rolls his eyes, though John can see the glittering excitement in them. “That was most horrible.”
“You like it. Don’t deny it.”
“I’ll deny it for the rest of my days.” Sherlock kisses him, and they get lost in each other’s warmth for the rest of the night.
——
Hope you all enjoyed! <3 Thank you @calaisreno for the prompt.
Tags: @a-victorian-girl @whatnext2020 @totallysilvergirl @thegildedbee @with-a-ghost-mr-holmes @jawnn-watson @blogstandbygo @lisbeth-kk @holmesianlove @7-percent @itsonlytext @chinike @peanitbear @helloliriels @keirgreeneyes @ghostofnuggetspast @dw91165 @jolieblack @gwendelaneyisjohnlocked @cortina @kettykika78 @johnlockbbc @dapetty
(Let me know if you do or don’t wish to be tagged in the future).
#johnlock#sherlock#bbc sherlock#johnlock fanfiction#writerscommunity#sherlock fandom#may 2024#may prompts 2024#calaisreno#sherlock and john#sherlockbbc
44 notes
·
View notes
Text
Y’know what, we’re going full swing for the unhinged BoBs today, I don’t give a shit anymore. I’m seeing people trying to spin Ryan’s latest interview again, and I’m actually sick of it. They pushed me away from a ship I loved because of their incessant ramblings about “comphet” and “couch theory”, I’m fucking done.
Ryan has told y’all multiple times now that Eddie is a straight man. Oliver has told you that they’re not doing the “queer man in love with his straight best friend” angle. Tim has told you that Bucktommy is “a romcom for Buck”. JLH has told y’all to let it go, and she was the OG captain of this ship. That should tell you something, but no. You lot have to keep banging on about “oh, they’re just throwing out red herrings, it’s coming, I can feel it!” and “Bucktommy bones!”. You’ve been feeling it for six seasons now. It still hasn’t happened. Give it a fucking rest.
You’re taking BTS pictures of the cast hanging out on set, literally not even in character, and spinning stories about “oh, Tommy isn’t even interested in Buck, look how far apart they are” and “Buck and Eddie touching shoulders again — Buddie canon S8”. I don’t know how many times y’all need to be fucking told before it sinks in, but I swear to God, if you don’t open your ears and listen for once instead of only hearing what you wanna hear? I’m gonna start throwing shit directly at your faces.
Bucktommys are just trying to enjoy our CANON ship, and some of you lot are consistently trying to ruin it for us with your FANON one. You don’t like Tommy, fine, nobody said you had to. Literally fucking nobody. But that doesn’t mean you get to use your ship to trample all over ours because you’re so deluded that you really think you’re going to get Buddie in season 8 when, from all signs so far, Tommy will still be Buck’s love interest/possibly official boyfriend, and Eddie will still be two-timing Marisol with Kim. I hate to burst your bubble, but here’s a newsflash for you all — you’re not getting Buddie next season. Ship it in fanon all you want, but for the sake of literally everyone else’s sanity, stop trying to influence the fucking show with it.
#911 abc#911 season 7#911 season 7 spoilers#Ace Rants 🗣️#new rant tag cuz this shit’s just gonna keep coming#yes this is bitchy and mean. do i give a singular solitary flying fuck? no.
46 notes
·
View notes
Note
okay wait i am not religious and wasn’t raised religious so i don’t think i caught any catholic imagery in this ep. would u be able to explain
it's not really imagery necessarily, more like a comparison my brain made. basically, in the new testament, Jesus (the guy who does all the miracles; main dude of christianity) goes out into the desert to fast. while there, he's tempted by satan (bad guy; master of all evil; etc etc). by the time satan appears to jesus, he's hungry af. he's been in the desert for so many days, without food, so when satan comes to him, he tries to tempt him into making himself bread, making himself rich, etc. three times satan comes to him, and each time jesus tells him to fuck off (the son of god did not actually use the words "fuck off" i am paraphrasing) until finally, satan leaves for good.
so as i was watching the episode, i was just sitting here thinking about the jesus/bobby parallels of it all—the try/fail rinse-and-repeat of bobby trying to make amends (going to the hospital, going to the migrant camp, culminating in walking through the desert) three times before it actually sticks... bobby literally "fasting" from food and water while in the process of "defeating" this demon from his past that's returned with a vengeance (being re-triggered into thinking about/remembering the fire + his guilt associated with the fire). so, like i said, not a direct parallel but enough of one that it has me throwing up into my hands and crawling up the fucking walls.
32 notes
·
View notes
Note
Was Barriston lying about Viserys showing signs of mental illness at a young age? Cause while we all know how he turns out he seemed like a fairly normal kid and Daenerys remembers him being a good brother to her at one point. It's only after where they are forced to sell their mother's crown that he truly loses it.
Hmmm.
Well, let me, a known Barry-hater, try and state my opinion on his credibility as a source.
She turned to Ser Barristan. "You protected my father for many years, fought beside my brother on the Trident, but you abandoned Viserys in his exile and bent your knee to the Usurper instead. Why? And tell it true."
"Some truths are hard to hear. Robert was a . . . a good knight . . . chivalrous, brave . . . he spared my life, and the lives of many others . . . Prince Viserys was only a boy, it would have been years before he was fit to rule, and . . . forgive me, my queen, but you asked for truth . . . even as a child, your brother Viserys oft seemed to be his father's son, in ways that Rhaegar never did."
[...]
"Why ask for truth," Ser Barristan said softly, "if you close your ears to it?" He hesitated, then continued. "I told you before that I used a false name so the Lannisters would not know that I'd joined you. That was less than half of it, Your Grace. The truth is, I wanted to watch you for a time before pledging you my sword. To make certain that you were not . . ."
“… my father’s daughter?” If she was not her father’s daughter, who was she?
“… mad,” he finished. “But I see no taint in you.”
[...]
“So I am a coin in the hands of some god, is that what you are saying, ser?”
“No,” Ser Barristan replied. “You are the trueborn heir of Westeros. To the end of my days I shall remain your faithful knight, should you find me worthy to bear a sword again. If not, I am content to serve Strong Belwas as his squire.”
(ASOS, Daenerys VI)
Barristan Selmy is entitled to his opinion and we are entitled to question the worth of his judgment, if he'll pronounce madness in a boy who was maybe seven years old the last time he saw him, and younger than that the last time he saw him with any sense of regularity. We're talking about a kindergarten-aged little kid.
But in the same breath, he claims the Targ heir who abducted Lyanna Stark, hid in a tower in Dorne for most of the Rebellion and then went and badly lost the only battle he ever fought, was not "his father's son", a.k.a. not dangerously mad.
And then goes on to swear undying loyalty to the teenaged girl who has last been seen ordering people burned alive or killed for wearing a tokar (aged 12 and up!) or crucified by the dozens. Because he sees "no taint" in her.
Convenient, isn't it?
Yeah, sure, Barry.
#sorry but i hate this hypocritical self-serving sanctimonious 'honorable' bag of prejudice and hot air so much#anti barristan selmy#viserys targaryen (son of rhaella)
26 notes
·
View notes
Text
Predictions for whatever the hell is going on with Yaz and Sammy in JWCT
Before it airs tmr on GODDAMN ROBLOX. I've never loved and hated that game so much XDDD
So it does seem like something's going on between them whether it's related to Yaz' PTSD, the fact that she's at college, or because Sammy now has integrated dinosaurs into their daily life (Which loops back to Yaz' PTSD) and it seems kinda weird to me that most of the theories that I've heard have been Yaz-centric, or with Yaz as the larger reason their growing apart.
Maybe not weird but definitely interesting.
1. Because honestly, I can see that if they ever were to break up (I swear to god I'm murdering someone if they do tho) it would be Yaz who ends up doing it. I just can't see Sammy willingly ending things.
2. Because that's somewhat of the problem. Like, JWCC gave Sammy the bare minimum of character and plot development, most of it happening in season 1-2 with her whole "I'm a spy" deal. After that, she sort of just...stays the same. She doesn't have the same amount of development as Ben or Yaz or even Kenji. She's the most consistent character in the series and I'm not sure if that was done on purpose - like, the writers saying "ok, we have 5 really good or decent character arcs, let's have this one stay the same so there's diversity in not having change" - or they just didn't have time to really develop her character outside of the "Looks like a cinnimonroll but could actually kill you"
So something I'd like to see is Sammy having a bit more of a voice than she did in JWCC and I think the writers knew that was a problem and seem to have made her part of the main trio (Darius, Ben, and Sammy) for JWCT.
I made a previous post about the *tension* everyone seemed to get in the most recent clip > https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=8HQffL_R1F4
in which Ben and Sammy go to visit Yaz at her university.
I ABSOLUTELY LOVE that they're diving more into Yaz' PTSD that we get a glimpse of in Seasons 4-5 of CC. She seems like she's doing better and actually trying to help out others who struggled with the same things that she did which is cool.
And then we have this scene =>
And it's cute and Sammy and Ben look fine af and there are so many amazing things about this clip but like...
Sammy's not coming to Yaz' defense, like, at all.
Like, Yaz' thing isn't working and I feel like CC Sammy would have said something like "That's a really cool view!" or "Coool...?" or even like "That's...awesome Yaz!" in her wtf-is-this-but-ima-be-positive-anyway and maybe it's the writers doing what I mentioned before and giving Sammy a deeper personality and the change in demeanor is small enough that it might just be me overspeculating, but there's tension there.
And pair that with the fact that Ben says "Get in-between two girlfriends?" Like, are they arguing?! Sammy's trying to get him to choose sides? Am I getting that right?
*Cough* I mean, though, Ben would probably choose Yaz ngl, they besties. No hate on Sammy but *Cough*
Sorry, what was I saying 😅
And the line right before that when Sammy says "Ben, help me out here!" Makes me think that Sammy has been trying to get Yaz to stop obsessing over this hologram thing for a while, and maybe the only reason they came to the university was to get her to stop her research and come with them since I'm assuming this is maybe when Darius is picking up the rest of the gang. Again, I could be wrong, but that's personally what I think.
Speaking of the picking up of the campers, I love how most of us collectively agreed that the order was Sammy Kenji Yaz. That was just funny to me :)
Anyway, does that mean Yaz is just living at the University doing her hologram shit and Sammy has been trying to convince her to just come home? Cause that would be so incredibly sweet and terribly sad at the same time, like, c'mon :(((
And now there's dinosaurs chasing them again and everyone thinks Brooklyn is dead and now it's not a matter of "I miss you" but "It's not safe anymore"?
God, this show has so much potential how tf am I so invested in animated characters.
This post ended up being way longer than I anticipated so Ima end it here <333
Toodles!
33 notes
·
View notes
Text
EPISODE 15 : ❛ froyo works every time ❜
Mark has to be completely honest, he is insanely nervous.
Why did he give into Johnny's incessant demands to ask you to get frozen yogurt Friday? He should've kicked the giant out of his room the moment he even tried to bring up you, texting you, or talking to you face to face once more.
Does he have enough time to run away before you show up? Maybe he can make an excuse about Yuta calling him for something, the older always covers for him, but he can't just bail out on you! He's been trying to do this for months, he gets to see you today and he immediately wants to chicken out? That's low..
He grits his teeth and shoves his hand into his pockets, seeing the weird look the employee at the counter is giving him through his peripheral vision. Oh he must look so pathetic right now, waiting around outside for what seems like forever, he's almost convinced your not going to show up.
But of course, you kept your word.
"Oh god I'm sorry I'm late! Practice went on for much longer than usual and when I realized the time Dejun purposefully held me up—"
Mark immediately snickers when you begin your ramble, and you pause, blinking at him. You caress the material of your sweater, suddenly feeling your cheeks grow hot. Why's he looking at you like that? Why is he smiling like that? Why is he being Mark Lee?
You're going to kill him, literally.
"Why'd you stop?"
"I don't want to sound like I'm making an excuse, did I make you wait too long?"
Mark is baffled that you'd even think so, he knows you care a lot about your time management, he knows you well enough to know you'd never make anyone wait on purpose. "No, no! I was just.. I don't know what I was doing if I'm being honest I was sort of just standing around".
You laugh at the words, still not looking at Mark directly. "Was the guy at the counter giving you dirty looks?"
"More like pitiful looks".
You let another laugh slip at the words, and Mark's lips turn up at the sight. "I'm stalling, aren't I? You came here for froyo, let me treat you".
He doesn't have to say anything more, you pretend your cheeks don't go red at the basic words. Maybe it's simply the way he said them, or maybe because it's Mark, it's always Mark, he just has always had this affect on you.
Mark glances back at you, catching you midway through your little zoning out session, he nudges you lightly with his shoulder. "Are you alright?" He asks, voice hushed, as if indirectly saying you didn't really have to answer the question verbally.
"Hm? Yeah, yeah sorry" You shake your head, pushing Mark forward as a way to beckon him to go in. He simply gives you one last glance before following your silent demand, walking into the shop as you slowly followed behind him.
You allow for your eyes to scan the place, it's recognizable, and the nostalgia hits you much harder than you thought it would. You two, you and Mark that is, used to come here all the time back when you were dating, it was your regular spot, you loved the place's strawberry frozen yogurt, and Mark would indulge in your addiction all the time, of course making sure to judge your overuse of sprinkles.
You went there so often, in fact, that the employees behind the counter began recognizing you. Mark isn't as big a fan of froyo as you are, but he still followed you out whenever you wanted to go get frozen yogurt.
Your stomach begins to hurt, it hurts you in just the slightest.
Mark narrows his eyes at the many flavors displayed before him, humming. "You want strawberry right?"
You nod.
"Extra sprinkles?"
You simply smile, he does still know you. Mark hums again, biting his inner cheek. You then stop him from getting his wallet with your hand. "You're not actually paying, are you?" You inquire, and Mark rolls his eyes.
"Yn, I literally offered to pay".
"You don't have to, I was joking".
"Yn" He gently lowers your hand, but you can't focus on that with the way he's staring at you. Oh you're about to fall for him all over again, you want so badly to slip back into that lovesick fool you were before you broke up with Mark. "Don't argue with me, I'm paying".
You open your mouth to argue again, but Mark gives you a look, and it falls shut. Mark grins at his victory, snickering as a frown crosses your face. "That's so unfair.."
Mark hears your mutter, but he doesn't respond to it.
You really do love strawberry frozen yogurt, Mark doesn't really get it, but he finds your love for the treat cute either way (everything about you is cute, that's what Mark has decided). He can't even focus on his basic vanilla froyo, because he's too busy trying to figure out how to bring up what he so badly wants to bring up.
"How do you eat all of those sprinkles?" Mark wrinkles his nose, and you giggle around your spoon, eyeing Mark's melting frozen yogurt. "Seriously, it's too—"
"Sweet" You fill in the sentence for him, but you smile again as you scoop up another batch of sprinkles. "I know they are, Mark, but I like it like that".
"Hm".
"Yeah".
Mark stares at you, and you finally seem to catch the mental argument he's having with himself, because you leave your froyo alone, dropping your spoon. "Mark" You whisper, scratching your arm underneath your sweater.
"I'm sorry".
Mark wants to punch himself in the face, why the fuck are you apologizing? What are you apologizing for? He wants to ask why you're apologizing, but you keep going before he can open his mouth.
"I ended things because.. I felt like I was holding you back, your album was a hit and you became so busy and I didn't want to get in the way of that—"
"But you weren't" Mark doesn't care if he interrupted you, he had to get his point across. "I shouldn't have been so avoidant, you were clearly not doing your best and all I cared about was music".
"Don't give me that, none of it was your fault".
Mark's lips turn downward at your claim. "Still, I could've tried to consider your whole side of things".
You scoff, it's a playful one though. "I was being petty, I don't blame you for breaking up with me".
Mark is still frowning, and you relax your shoulders as you chuckle. "Stop frowning, stupid, I forgive you" He seems to want to resist his smile, but he can't, because his lips turn up, against his will, of course. "Your froyo is melting".
"I didn't really want it, anyway".
"Aww, you don't like frozen yogurt?" You raise an eyebrow, a teasing tone in your voice reminiscent of the tone you used back in that phone call.
"Not really, I just tolerate it because you like it" He states much too honestly for his own comfort. Mark has no idea why he said that, but he doesn't regret it, because you snicker, looking down at the floor. "What's so funny?"
"I don't know.. it's just— it's just how you say things, your words make me giggle".
"At least I still have that affect".
You giggle again, your giggles are addicting, Mark missed this, Mark missed you, he feels like he might go insane if he doesn't hold your hand or something.
But he doesn't give into such desires.
Mark has a good time out with you, he guesses Johnny was right, froyo does work every time. Thank goodness he barged into Mark's room earlier this week, thank goodness he decided to go through with this stupid frozen yogurt meetup thing.
And seeing you smile so wide just makes Mark feel giddy, he doesn't remember the last time he saw such a smile from you. He's not going to make the same mistake again, he promises.
Mark won't let you slip so easily from his fingertips this time.
previous masterlist next
taglist 𓏧
↳ @junjiie, @cosmiicdream, @prettyrenjunn, @multifandomania, @luvkyu, @x-alightinthedark, @haocovr, @joonggphilia, @choerubies, @enthusiastofmanythings, @doejaejung, @iluvkyo, @yawnzbf, @haechansbbg, @ldrei, @dkmyman, @lampcults, @monstaxpuppy, @dreamandback, @moonslie04
#☆ endless nameless 마크..#mark lee#nct#nct 127#nct dream#nct u#mark lee nct#mark nct#nct imagines#nct drabbles#nct scenarios#nct smau#nct 127 smau#nct dream smau#nct 127 x reader#nct dream x reader#mark lee x reader#mark lee x male reader#𑁍 ࣪˖ 𓂃 isa's works!
25 notes
·
View notes
Note
please only read this if you finished cyno’s story quest!
I absolutely loved the story quest and cyno’s dynamic with everyone else but cyrus left me a bit disappointed… not in his character overall but in his actions. he had good intentions but took cyno away from his origins, denied him answers when cyno asked (cyno said he asked many times about hermanubis and the temple and cyrus always avoided answering him) and since cyno suffered under hermanubis it would’ve been his right to know where it stems from since he couldn’t recall… cyrus probably did it to protect him but he cut cyno off from his culture and people. Bamoun and cyrus owe cyno and sethos a lot in my honest opinion and cyrus still kept avoiding answering cyno at the end of his quest (cyno even calls this out) which just shows me he didn’t learn anything at all from the events.
he also had the option to try and reach out to cyno’s biological parents because they might’ve given him away to provide a better life for him (but I have to say as a middle easterner I’m tired of this poor parents give their children away etc etc narrative we had the same with collei)
cyrus also didn’t feel responsible enough for sethos after taking everything away from him or even leaving him behind back then even he knew it’s bad for him.
cyno and sethos both suffered under the actions of cyrus and bamoun and deserve so so much better cyno is a perfect example of ethnic children being taken in by white people and having their cultures and roots taken away from them. not to mention we know that cyno did maybe have a better life in the akademiya but he was still surveilled and treated like a lab rat and discriminated and isolated until he met tighnari
sorry for this little rant. I still appreciate everything cyrus did for cyno but I think this is also an important part of his very flawed character and ideals. in the end of the quest it even felt like he was manipulating cyno by showing him the photos which he “miraculously” found again showing him “look who raised and took you in”
Sorry I just saw this! First, please never apologize for sending me long asks, I love them! Also congratulations anon, I successfully had to log onto tumblr on my PC to type out this response lol. This is... very long, longer than your ask. I'm so sorry, this is the first post I've made with my thoughts on the quest, so it's going to be a bit of a ramble in return and probably not totally coherent.
Okay, so, full disclosure, I am super white. I mean I look like Barbie sort of white. That means that I don't think I can have any constructive input on the trope (arguably cliché) of middle eastern and BIPOC+Asian characters giving away (or selling, in Cyno's case) their children, so I will definitely defer to your discomfort with the concept. It's definitely a pervasive trope (see: Collei, Dehya, Cyno) and not just in Genshin Impact. It's something that is absolutely worth bringing up and thinking about, and I bet most people didn't even consider it, so thank you for voicing it as something you've noticed! Because of this, I don't feel comfortable talking about whether or not Cyrus should have looked for Cyno's parents, because it's very wrapped up in the narrative vs the damage of the trope, which has a lot to dissect and would be better done by somebody more educated.
As for the quest, I think I've gotta split this into two parts to have my thoughts make sense. God this is so long.
-
First, as a basis, the whole thing with Hermanubis is actually so fucked up from the start even before we can get to Cyrus and Cyno. I mean Hermanubis was an advisor to King Deshret, right? (Also that was two-thousand years ago, but he only died five-hundred years ago? Did I misunderstand that? Was he immortal? The timeline in this game could use an entirely different post because between Cyno and the Hearth kids it makes zero sense, but ANYWAYS-). Presumably, having witnessed this, Hermanubis knows the danger of Forbidden Knowledge and fucking with things that should not be fucked with.
After the fall of Tulaytullah, the Temple of Silence moved to the rain forest but left due to corruption, right? So you'd think they would have agreed on the basic Cardinal Sins of the Akademiya. But now, four hundred years later, the Temple of Silence's attempt to ressurect Hermanubis breaks at least one of those sins (tampering with life and death), and arguably two more (interfering with human evolution and/or attempting the forbidden and fearing none.) I really can't imagine Hermanubis would be happy with their actions. This is like the Akademiya trying to ressurect Rukkadevata (and boy do I have a fic I want to write that digs into those parallels of Cyno and Nahida.)
The very basis for the experiment they did on Sethos and Cyno is so unethical and corrupt. This killed adults so they thought, hey! It's not going to kill the children, right? Lets do it on them despite the negative effects (headaches and fevers). Bamoun's children even volunteered Sethos, which, again, is so fucked up.
Narratively, the quest didn't focus on this at all. It was never framed as something negative or messed up like you'd think it would be? I imagine it's because they didn't want to paint Bamoun and Cyrus as bad people or Sethos as indoctrinated. (What's interesting to me is how differently some situation are treated vs others in different quests. Arguably, Wriothesley, Arlecchino, and Cyno have parts in common that are condemned to totally different extents depending on the character, but that could be it's own post too).
We can talk about Cyrus taking Cyno and whether or not that was a good decision (removing children from their culture is never a good thing but we'll get to that) but we also can't really get into it without first talking about how the entire thing was absolutely horrid and wrong from the start. We're starting the conversation about Cyrus from a remarkably low place.
Okay, onto Cyrus and the quest. I actually think it's okay that Cyrus is a flawed character. We already knew he was super strict when he was teaching Lisa and Cyno, and we knew he was into some unethical shit since we already knew he was part of the experiments on Cyno, albeit not to this extent. (Also Naphis knows all about this so what does that say about him? All the Sages are so sus, but, I mean, isn't that just government?)
Here's the thick of it. Was Cyrus taking Cyno to the rain forest a good decision? I don't know. We just don't know enough about why he left and took Cyno. The quest didn't frame the action one way or the other, nor did it give the reasons he left or Bamoun didn't go after him.
There's generally three ways to frame this. 1. Cyrus was a saviour for taking Cyno from an abusive environment. 2. Cyrus was awful and stole Cyno's power for himself. I don't think either of these make sense, since in either case, I think Bamoun would have gone after them. I think most likely is 3. There were conflicting needs.
The one I'm leaning towards right now is that The Temple of Silence was desperate and willing to push harder than they should, even if it was going to harm the children, so as an outsider with a different perspective and more objectivity, Cyrus stopped the experiment. He knew Sethos wasn't at risk of being harmed nearly as much as Cyno because Sethos had a family there already looking out for him. Cyno didn't. People care less about a child who isn't part of their community vs one who is. So he took the child who was far more likely to be harmed, and left. Taking Sethos would have been even worse than just taking Cyno, imo, since it would be taking Sethos away from his family, whereas Cyno was already taken from his family. Bamoun realized the same thing in hindsight, which is why he let Cyrus and Cyno go. But again, that's just a headcanon about what happened.
As for the rest of the problem. While as previously mentioned, I'm very white, I'm also Canadian (I promise this is relevant). A bit of Canadian history here for those who might not know, Canada once had something called Residential Schools. These were boarding school for indigenous children who were forcibly taken from their parents to be "educated." There was a lot of abuses in them and I cannot over represent the amount of damage it has done to the indigenous peoples of Canada and the country as a whole, but the main reason I bring it up here is because of the way the government tried to kill indigenous culture through their children. While I don't think this was Cyrus' intent at all, it is a real world example very close to my heart of the damage it does to children to be cut off from their cultures. We see it in fostering and adopting children as well. Indigenous foster children are best kept with indigenous foster families when at all possible. Foster parents are told to try their best to keep their foster children connected to their cultures in the home but that isn't always achieved, nor is there always even an effort made. Mixed race families often practice both cultures with their children because know how important it is.
The fact that Cyno was completely cut off from the desert is wrong, and it would have been very difficult for him to face the discrimination for being a race that he has no cultural connection to. It's something Cyrus absolutely should have done more about. I mean The Corps of Thirty are eremites even if they aren't from the desert! Cyrus could have reached out to them on Cyno's behalf to introduce him to people who share cultural aspects (young!Dehya and Cyno friendship anyone?). He could have taken Cyno to Aaru Village (young Candace and Cyno friendship?) or at least spent time in Caravan Ribat. The only reasons I can think he didn't is because he was trying to keep Cyno away from the Temple of Silence out of fear they'd come after him (well intentioned but still harmful), he didn't think about it (obliviously harmful), he didn't have the time (willfully neglectful).
Cyrus also absolutely should have told Cyno about The Temple of Silence and Hermanubis, especially when he got a little older (although I'm for raising children with that sort of knowledge. Secrets only hurt later). Assume best intentions, he was pprobably trying to protect Cyno, maybe because he wanted Cyno to find his own path instead of the one the Temple of Silence laid out for him, but I still think that was a mistake to keep it a secret.
Cyrus is a very flawed person, but so are a lot of parents. That doesn't mean that his actions were right or justified, but it does make him an interesting character. It also makes his relationship with Cyno interesting. Canonically, Cyno isn't angry. He's already struggled and come to terms with who he is and what his power means, but I still think he and Cyrus need to sit down and have a long conversation. Cyno deserves answers about Cyrus' motives and decisions and they need to talk about Cyrus trying to protect Cyno vs Cyno not needing that protection, ways Cyrus should have acted differently, etc. I'd love to see somebody explore it; it would be interesting to see since it's definitely overdue, but I don't think I could do it justice.
I don't think it's wrong of Cyno to forgive Cyrus. We as the outside observer can say, "whoa, that's fucked up," but I don't think Cyno is necessarily wrong in how he feels. Like I said, he's already dealt with a lot of this already and is remarkably resilient. I think the hardest part of all this for Cyno would probably be Sethos, because that's definitely going to be a ton of messy emotions, but that doesn't have to reflect on Cyrus. It could, of course, and if somebody wanted to write Cyno as being angry and fracturing their relationship, that would be a valid way to go, but like, idk, I know a lot of people who made really bad decisions when raising their kids, and their kids still forgave them. Not always, and being a parent doesn't mean somebody deserves forgiveness for their mistakes, but I think it shows how resilient Cyno is that he bounces back from this so well. It shows his strength in his how convictions and beliefs, which is really interesting when compared to characters like Sethos and Kaeya (and man are there a lot of similarities between Cyno and Kaeya).
I also don't think finding those photos was intended to be Cyrus manipulating Cyno, but I can see how it feels that way. Since the quest was about Cyno, it felt like a nice narrative way to tie it together by reflecting on Cyno's childhood with Cyrus, but I think it really depends on how you view the entire situation and whether you think Cyrus should have taken Cyno. It's definitely a valid take and something that's okay to feel uncomfortable about.
This is where people might disagree with me, but Cyno grew up loved. He had a lot of challenges and Cyrus made a lot of mistakes, and love doesn't fix how fucked up it all is (lots of adopted kids are loved and still hurt by not having a connection to their culture), but Cyno has already accepted all of this and ultimately, he has forgiven Cyrus for his mistakes. I think that's what the photos were trying to depict.
To me, the entire quest does a very good job of using Cyno and Sethos as foils of each other. They're both paying for the decisions of the people who raised them, and neither are right or wrong, just different. It shows Cyno's growth as a person vs Sethos who hasn't yet found his way. It shows that neither Cyrus or Bamuon made the right decisions, nor were they evil people. They were doing the best they could at the time, and they both fucked up, and now it's up to Sethos and Cyno to figure it out, but they both still love their family despite whatever mistakes were made.
I hope this rambling essay length response is satisfying lol
#genshin#cyno#professor cyrus#cyno & cyrus#cyrus posting#em talks#asks#cyno story quest spoilers#genshin spoilers#Lupus Aureus Chapter 2#Lupus Aureus Chapter 2 spoilers
24 notes
·
View notes
Text
So, I’ve pretty much entirely stayed out of the James Somerton discourse, because frankly, I just didn’t think I had anything that valuable to say. I wasn’t a fan of Somerton’s, I never watched his videos or fell for his lies, the first time I heard of the dude was in HBomberGuy’s video, and the most impact he’s had on my life is encouraging me to watch Todd in the Shadows.
That said, I did have thoughts as things developed, about his “apologies”, about his claims of depression, and even about the “suicide note” he posted to Twitter. But, I really didn’t feel like I had anything to add to the discussion that wasn’t already being said by at least 50 other people.
But uh, I have thoughts. About the latest developments.
One of the thoughts I shelved about Somerton in the past was that I wasn’t sure if the “note” being real or fake was the worse option. I really don’t have much sympathy for James, given some of the really heinous shit he’s said in the past, but I’ve never wanted him dead. I personally wanted him punished for his actions, and then removed from public view; I didn’t think anything he’d done deserved the death penalty.
While I do still think that, him posting a fake suicide note makes me VERY skeptical.
Here’s the thing: I’ve talked before about my struggles with my mental health, with Suicidal Ideation, and just general depression. There have been many times in my life where I have wanted to kill myself, and even one occasion a decade ago where I actively tried.
I’m also not a good person.
A few years ago, I did something bad to someone I cared about. I won’t go into details, for both selfish and non-selfish reasons, but suffice to say, it’s the kind of thing where I think most people would say I deserve some kind of punishment.
And I can say, based on that point in time, based on what I was feeling then, I could very easily believe that someone like James was actually suicidal.
I knew it could still be a manipulation tactic, I knew it probably was one. I even knew that, if it was real, it was still arguably a manipulation tactic. But I genuinely thought there was a chance, even a solid chance, that Somerton had wanted to commit suicide.
That chance has gone out the fucking window.
Let me be clear, also: the fact that James was horny posting on an alternate Twitter account, and engaging with media was not what convinced me that it was all bullshit. As someone who’s used the god damned Professor Layton games as a coping mechanism during depressive episodes, I’ve seen far weirder and worse responses to being suicidal.
It was how he talked about himself, responded to his defenders and accusers. The fact that while people were genuinely panicked at the thought that he might have tried to kill himself, he was purposefully stoking the flames and trying to make himself look better.
James Somerton is a fucking bastard, and I never want to hear from him, or ANY defenses of him, ever again.
27 notes
·
View notes
Note
The reader's boyfriend is abusive and has bruises all over her arm.
Then your best friend Quackity, who ends up having a crush on the reader, notices the bruises 😭
yesssss, ANGST
pls remember, this is fictional but it does happen to many people on the daily so be respectful my sweets
[i have brackets before and after tw content, PLS do not read if you’re not in the right place or are easily triggered, take care of yourselves my loves<3]
prompt: alex helps you leave an abusive relationship
warnings! mentions of r@pe/forced sex && abuse/abusive relationships
“i can’t believe this y/n” alex said angrily as he paced in his living room
“i can’t believe you didn’t tell me! i’m sure you had your reasons and i promise im not upset at you. im pissed at that piece of shit. and you better let jaime know that if i ever fucking catch him absolutely anywhere, i will beat him to a god damn pulp, i swear on my mother. just look at those bruises! why didn’t you come to me the first time this happened?” he sighed, sitting next to you and taking your hand in his
“it’s not something that’s easy to talk about… i didn’t want you to think i was weak and… i dunno” your cheeks were very tear stained
“y/n… you’re not weak. you’re one of the strongest people i know. i’m so sorry this is happened to you. you deserve the absolute world. please just stay here, don’t go back to him… don’t give him the satisfaction..” he pleaded while looking into your eyes
“i can’t… you know i can’t. i promise everything will be okay. i’m going to go home and he’s going to apologize and i’ll pretend everything is okay until i can plan a way out, okay?”
“y/n… he could kill you. you’re so tiny and fragile especially right now and he’s literally 6 ft…” alex shook his head as he spoke
“i promise to call you if anything. i have to go now, okay? i’ll talk to you when i can” you said, giving your best friend a hug goodbye and heading home
~
you quietly closed the door behind you, hoping not to wake your boyfriend.
“it’s 12am.. where have you been baby?” jaime said with a devilish grin as he stood up and began moving closer to you
you jumped as his voice scared the shit out of you. you expected him to be asleep.
“jaime.. i thought you’d be asleep. i was just at the park, needed to clear my head” you gulped nervously as jaime wrapped his arms around you
“are you seriously still mad about earlier? i told you i was sorry… i promise i didn’t mean to hurt you. you know i love you to bits y/n” he said, with a strong smell of alcohol and cigarettes on his breath
“i k-know.. but i’m here now”
“let me make it up to you…” he said, kissing your neck roughly
suddenly, your phone vibrated in your pocket. you shut your eyes tightly, already knowing what was going to come next. jaime stopped kissing you and snatched your phone from your pants.
“alexis…” he whispered, reading the name of who was calling you and then he turned to look at you. you saw burning rage beginning to form in his eyes. he threw your phone at the wall near you and it shattered
“so you went to see that son of a bitch?! i fucking knew it! you disgust me, you fucking whore. i’ll show you who the fuck you belong to”
[tw; pls skip if you’re not comfortable reading r@pe/forced sexual situations]
a harsh slap echoed throughout the room and your face stung so bad.
he proceeded to rip off your shirt and jeans. you said nothing as he did this. tears silently spilled from your eyes. you were too tired to fight back. you were too tired to make a sound. you were just so tired.
you laid there as he did the unthinkable to you. your body was in terrible pain as he gripped your arms and took everything from you. he had you faced down on the sofa and all you could bring yourself to do was stare at the floor.
you decided right there that thus was the end. the second jaime was nowhere nearby, you’d finish getting your half packed things and leave him once and for all.
he finally finished and kissed your back, dressing himself back up.
“i love you so much baby, i hope you know that.. i’m gonna run to the store to get some more beer and some cigarettes before they close. i’ll be back okay? then we can have some more fun” he smiled and kissed your head before leaving
[end of tw]
~
your heart was racing. you had about ten minutes before jaime got home. you hurriedly packed as much as you could fit in your backpack and your small traveling bag. you made sure to get your expensive stuff like your ipad for school, your jewelry, and especially your car. you also did your best to get your clothes and shoes together.
before walking out of the door, you looked yourself in the mirror behind your front door. your hair was messy as you hadn’t brushed it in a few days. your arms were sore and had patches of purple and yellow scattered everywhere. your eyes were swollen and red from constant crying. your mascara and eyeliner were runny, and you looked a complete mess. you had a black eye and you felt embarrassed. you put on your sun glasses and left that prison of a house.
you got into your car with all your belongings and drove. you didn’t exactly know where you wanted to go but it’s like your body knew where to go and all you could do was follow it.
the worst pain you felt was in your heart. your heart was in so much pain from everything. you couldn’t believe how bad you let this get. you knew you deserved better.
as you parked your car at your destination, you took a deep breath. you locked your car after exiting and headed to the front door. you knocked softly.
alex opened the door sleepily, only in sweatpants.
“y/n? what happened?”
you couldn’t even get a word out as you practically launched forward and sobbed against his chest
“come in, please” he said and you did
he closed and locked the door behind you. he grabbed your bags from your arms and took them to his living room. he then led you to his bedroom and sat you down on his bed.
“did you park in my back parking? remember how we talked about hiding your car if something bad happened again?”
and you nodded
“y/n… what happened?”
“he h-hurt me… so bad ‘lex. he went to the store for more alcohol and i left. i had to. i’m really sorry to bother you with all of this. i just… i feel safest with you..” you said, beginning to sob even more as alex held you
“shh, it’s okay. i’m here and you’re safe now. you’re never a bother to me. you’re my best f-friend… i always want to make sure that you’re okay, chiquita” he said, rubbing your back
“alex…. he hit me… and then h-he… r-raped me… and i’m just a weak useless nothing! i just laid there! w-why? why did this h-happen? where did i go wrong…” you sobbed even more now and alex simply held you tighter
“we ned to get a test done for evidence y/n… we need to protect you. i’m so fucking sorry. you deserve real love. you never ever deserved any of this. you’re not nothing, you’re absolutely everything to me okay? do you want to go and do that rape kit thing at the hospital?” he asked
“i-i don’t know…”
“it’s okay, you still have time to think about it but you only have less than four days to make your mind up. let’s get you out of these clothes and let’s put them away in a sealed bag in case you do want to get tested.” and you just nodded
you felt numb as alex changed you into clothes of his own and put your clothes into a big ziplock bag with gloves on. you didn’t want to have to see jaime again or even relive the pain but maybe this could prevent others getting hurt by him in the future. you still had a little bit of time to think about it.
for now, you let alex change you and lay you in his bed. after he went and made sure every door and window was locked in his house, per your request, he tucked you in and laid right next to you. he held you to his chest and let you cry.
once you calmed down, he sang to you. his voice was so soothing and it was putting you to sleep.
right before you fell into a deep sleep, you heard alex whisper something to you,
“i promise to take care of you and show you the love you deserve. i’ll make you okay again..”
43 notes
·
View notes
Text
Introduction. The hypothesis of a God
Before entering upon the subject-matter of these new memoirs, I must explain an hypothesis which will undoubtedly seem strange, but in the absence of which it is impossible for me to proceed intelligibly: I mean the hypothesis of a God.
To suppose God, it will be said, is to deny him. Why do you not affirm him?
Is it my fault if belief in Divinity has become a suspected opinion; if the bare suspicion of a Supreme Being is already noted as evidence of a weak mind; and if, of all philosophical Utopias, this is the only one which the world no longer tolerates? Is it my fault if hypocrisy and imbecility everywhere hide behind this holy formula?
Let a public teacher suppose the existence, in the universe, of an unknown force governing suns and atoms, and keeping the whole machine in motion. With him this supposition, wholly gratuitous, is perfectly natural; it is received, encouraged: witness attraction — an hypothesis which will never be verified, and which, nevertheless, is the glory of its originator. But when, to explain the course of human events, I suppose, with all imaginable caution, the intervention of a God, I am sure to shock scientific gravity and offend critical ears: to so wonderful an extent has our piety discredited Providence, so many tricks have been played by means of this dogma or fiction by charlatans of every stamp! I have seen the theists of my time, and blasphemy has played over my lips; I have studied the belief of the people, — this people that Brydaine called the best friend of God, — and have shuddered at the negation which was about to escape me. Tormented by conflicting feelings, I appealed to reason; and it is reason which, amid so many dogmatic contradictions, now forces the hypothesis upon me. A priori dogmatism, applying itself to God, has proved fruitless: who knows whither the hypothesis, in its turn, will lead us?
I will explain therefore how, studying in the silence of my heart, and far from every human consideration, the mystery of social revolutions, God, the great unknown, has become for me an hypothesis, — I mean a necessary dialectical tool.
I.
If I follow the God-idea through its successive transformations, I find that this idea is preeminently social: I mean by this that it is much more a collective act of faith than an individual conception. Now, how and under what circumstances is this act of faith produced? This point it is important to determine.
From the moral and intellectual point of view, society, or the collective man, is especially distinguished from the individual by spontaneity of action, — in other words, instinct. While the individual obeys, or imagines he obeys, only those motives of which he is fully conscious, and upon which he can at will decline or consent to act; while, in a word, he thinks himself free, and all the freer when he knows that he is possessed of keener reasoning faculties and larger information, — society is governed by impulses which, at first blush, exhibit no deliberation and design, but which gradually seem to be directed by a superior power, existing outside of society, and pushing it with irresistible might toward an unknown goal. The establishment of monarchies and republics, caste-distinctions, judicial institutions, etc., are so many manifestations of this social spontaneity, to note the effects of which is much easier than to point out its principle and show its cause. The whole effort, even of those who, following Bossuet, Vico, Herder, Hegel, have applied themselves to the philosophy of history, has been hitherto to establish the presence of a providential destiny presiding over all the movements of man. And I observe, in this connection, that society never fails to evoke its genius previous to action: as if it wished the powers above to ordain what its own spontaneity has already resolved on. Lots, oracles, sacrifices, popular acclamation, public prayers, are the commonest forms of these tardy deliberations of society.
This mysterious faculty, wholly intuitive, and, so to speak, super-social, scarcely or not at all perceptible in persons, but which hovers over humanity like an inspiring genius, is the primordial fact of all psychology.
Now, unlike other species of animals, which, like him, are governed at the same time by individual desires and collective impulses, man has the privilege of perceiving and designating to his own mind the instinct or fatum which leads him; we shall see later that he has also the power of foreseeing and even influencing its decrees. And the first act of man, filled and carried away with enthusiasm (of the divine breath), is to adore the invisible Providence on which he feels that he depends, and which he calls GOD, — that is, Life, Being, Spirit, or, simpler still, Me; for all these words, in the ancient tongues, are synonyms and homophones.
“I am Me,” God said to Abraham, “and I covenant with Thee.”.... And to Moses: “I am the Being. Thou shalt say unto the children of Israel, ‘The Being hath sent me unto you.’” These two words, the Being and Me, have in the original language — the most religious that men have ever spoken — the same characteristic. [1] Elsewhere, when Ie-hovah, acting as law-giver through the instrumentality of Moses, attests his eternity and swears by his own essence, he uses, as a form of oath, I; or else, with redoubled force, I, the Being. Thus the God of the Hebrews is the most personal and wilful of all the gods, and none express better than he the intuition of humanity.
God appeared to man, then, as a me, as a pure and permanent essence, placing himself before him as a monarch before his servant, and expressing himself now through the mouth of poets, legislators, and soothsayers, musa, nomos, numen; now through the popular voice, vox populi vox Dei. This may serve, among other things, to explain the existence of true and false oracles; why individuals secluded from birth do not attain of themselves to the idea of God, while they eagerly grasp it as soon as it is presented to them by the collective mind; why, finally, stationary races, like the Chinese, end by losing it. [2] In the first place, as to oracles, it is clear that all their accuracy depends upon the universal conscience which inspires them; and, as to the idea of God, it is easily seen why isolation and statu quo are alike fatal to it. On the one hand, absence of communication keeps the mind absorbed in animal self-contemplation; on the other, absence of motion, gradually changing social life into mechanical routine, finally eliminates the idea of will and providence. Strange fact! religion, which perishes through progress, perishes also through quiescence.
Notice further that, in attributing to the vague and (so to speak) objectified consciousness of a universal reason the first revelation of Divinity, we assume absolutely nothing concerning even the reality or non-reality of God. In fact, admitting that God is nothing more than collective instinct or universal reason, we have still to learn what this universal reason is in itself. For, as we shall show directly, universal reason is not given in individual reason, in other words, the knowledge of social laws, or the theory of collective ideas, though deduced from the fundamental concepts of pure reason, is nevertheless wholly empirical, and never would have been discovered a priori by means of deduction, induction, or synthesis. Whence it follows that universal reason, which we regard as the origin of these laws; universal reason, which exists, reasons, labors, in a separate sphere and as a reality distinct from pure reason, just as the planetary system, though created according to the laws of mathematics, is a reality distinct from mathematics, whose existence could not have been deduced from mathematics alone: it follows, I say, that universal reason is, in modern languages, exactly what the ancients called God. The name is changed: what do we know of the thing?
Let us now trace the evolution of the Divine idea.
The Supreme Being once posited by a primary mystical judgment, man immediately generalizes the subject by another mysticism, — analogy. God, so to speak, is as yet but a point: directly he shall fill the world.
As, in sensing his social me, man saluted his Author, so, in finding evidence of design and intention in animals, plants, springs, meteors, and the whole universe, he attributes to each special object, and then to the whole, a soul, spirit, or genius presiding over it; pursuing this inductive process of apotheosis from the highest summit of Nature, which is society, down to the humblest forms of life, to inanimate and inorganic matter. From his collective me, taken as the superior pole of creation, to the last atom of matter, man extends, then, the idea of God, — that is, the idea of personality and intelligence, — just as God himself extended heaven, as the book of Genesis tells us; that is, created space and time, the conditions of all things.
Thus, without a God or master-builder, the universe and man would not exist: such is the social profession of faith. But also without man God would not be thought, or — to clear the interval — God would be nothing. If humanity needs an author, God and the gods equally need a revealer; theogony, the history of heaven, hell, and their inhabitants, — those dreams of the human mind, — is the counterpart of the universe, which certain philosophers have called in return the dream of God. And how magnificent this theological creation, the work of society! The creation of the demiourgos was obliterated; what we call the Omnipotent was conquered; and for centuries the enchanted imagination of mortals was turned away from the spectacle of Nature by the contemplation of Olympian marvels.
Let us descend from this fanciful region: pitiless reason knocks at the door; her terrible questions demand a reply.
“What is God?” she asks; “where is he? what is his extent? what are his wishes? what his powers? what his promises?” — and here, in the light of analysis, all the divinities of heaven, earth, and hell are reduced to an incorporeal, insensible, immovable, incomprehensible, undefinable I-know-not-what; in short, to a negation of all the attributes of existence. In fact, whether man attributes to each object a special spirit or genius, or conceives the universe as governed by a single power, he in either case but SUPPOSES an unconditioned, that is, an impossible, entity, that he may deduce therefrom an explanation of such phenomena as he deems inconceivable on any other hypothesis. The mystery of God and reason! In order to render the object of his idolatry more and more rational, the believer despoils him successively of all the qualities which would make him real; and, after marvellous displays of logic and genius, the attributes of the Being par excellence are found to be the same as those of nihility. This evolution is inevitable and fatal: atheism is at the bottom of all theodicy.
Let us try to understand this progress.
God, creator of all things, is himself no sooner created by the conscience, — in other words, no sooner have we lifted God from the idea of the social me to the idea of the cosmic me, — than immediately our reflection begins to demolish him under the pretext of perfecting him. To perfect the idea of God, to purify the theological dogma, was the second hallucination of the human race.
The spirit of analysis, that untiring Satan who continually questions and denies, must sooner or later look for proof of religious dogmas. Now, whether the philosopher determine the idea of God, or declare it indeterminable; whether he approach it with his reason, or retreat from it, — I say that this idea receives a blow; and, as it is impossible for speculation to halt, the idea of God must at last disappear. Then the atheistic movement is the second act of the theologic drama; and this second act follows from the first, as effect from cause. “The heavens declare the glory of God,” says the Psalmist. Let us add, And their testimony dethrones him.
Indeed, in proportion as man observes phenomena, he thinks that he perceives, between Nature and God, intermediaries; such as relations of number, form, and succession; organic laws, evolutions, analogies, — forming an unmistakable series of manifestations which invariably produce or give rise to each other. He even observes that, in the development of this society of which he is a part, private wills and associative deliberations have some influence; and he says to himself that the Great Spirit does not act upon the world directly and by himself, or arbitrarily and at the dictation of a capricious will, but mediately, by perceptible means or organs, and by virtue of laws. And, retracing in his mind the chain of effects andcauses, he places clear at the extremity, as a balance, God.
A poet has said, —
Par dela tous les cieux, le Dieu des cieux reside.
Thus, at the first step in the theory, the Supreme Being is reduced to the function of a motive power, a mainspring, a corner-stone, or, if a still more trivial comparison may be allowed me, a constitutional sovereign, reigning but not governing, swearing to obey the law and appointing ministers to execute it. But, under the influence of the mirage which fascinates him, the theist sees, in this ridiculous system, only a new proof of the sublimity of his idol; who, in his opinion, uses his creatures as instruments of his power, and causes the wisdom of human beings to redound to his glory.
Soon, not content with limiting the power of the Eternal, man, increasingly deicidal in his tendencies, insists on sharing it.
If I am a spirit, a sentient me giving voice to ideas, continues the theist, I consequently am a part of absolute existence; I am free, creative, immortal, equal with God. Cogito, ergo sum, — I think, therefore I am immortal, that is the corollary, the translation of Ego sum qui sum: philosophy is in accord with the Bible. The existence of God and the immortality of the soul are posited by the conscience in the same judgment: there, man speaks in the name of the universe, to whose bosom he transports his me; here, he speaks in his own name, without perceiving that, in this going and coming, he only repeats himself.
The immortality of the soul, a true division of divinity, which, at the time of its first promulgation, arriving after a long interval, seemed a heresy to those faithful to the old dogma, has been none the less considered the complement of divine majesty, necessarily postulated by eternal goodness and justice. Unless the soul is immortal, God is incomprehensible, say the theists; resembling in this the political theorists who regard sovereign representation and perpetual tenure of office as essential conditions of monarchy. But the inconsistency of the ideas is as glaring as the parity of the doctrines is exact: consequently the dogma of immortality soon became the stumbling-block of philosophical theologians, who, ever since the days of Pythagoras and Orpheus, have been making futile attempts to harmonize divine attributes with human liberty, and reason with faith. A subject of triumph for the impious!.... But the illusion could not yield so soon: the dogma of immortality, for the very reason that it was a limitation of the uncreated Being, was a step in advance. Now, though the human mind deceives itself by a partial acquisition of the truth, it never retreats, and this perseverance in progress is proof of its infallibility. Of this we shall soon see fresh evidence.
In making himself like God, man made God like himself: this correlation, which for many centuries had been execrated, was the secret spring which determined the new myth. In the days of the patriarchs God made an alliance with man; now, to strengthen the compact, God is to become a man. He will take on our flesh, our form, our passions, our joys, and our sorrows; will be born of woman, and die as we do. Then, after this humiliation of the infinite, man will still pretend that he has elevated the ideal of his God in making, by a logical conversion, him whom he had always called creator, a saviour, a redeemer. Humanity does not yet say, I am God: such a usurpation would shock its piety; it says, God is in me, IMMANUEL, nobiscum Deus. And, at the moment when philosophy with pride, and universal conscience with fright, shouted with unanimous voice, The gods are departing! excedere deos! a period of eighteen centuries of fervent adoration and superhuman faith was inaugurated.
But the fatal end approaches. The royalty which suffers itself to be limited will end by the rule of demagogues; the divinity which is defined dissolves in a pandemonium. Christolatry is the last term of this long evolution of human thought. The angels, saints, and virgins reign in heaven with God, says the catechism; and demons and reprobates live in the hells of eternal punishment. Ultramundane society has its left and its right: it is time for the equation to be completed; for this mystical hierarchy to descend upon earth and appear in its real character.
When Milton represents the first woman admiring herself in a fountain, and lovingly extending her arms toward her own image as if to embrace it, he paints, feature for feature, the human race. — This God whom you worship, O man! this God whom you have made good, just, omnipotent, omniscient, immortal, and holy, is yourself: this ideal of perfection is your image, purified in the shining mirror of your conscience. God, Nature, and man are three aspects of one and the same being; man is God himself arriving at self-consciousness through a thousand evolutions. In Jesus Christ man recognized himself as God; and Christianity is in reality the religion of God-man. There is no other God than he who in the beginning said, ME; there is no other God than THEE.
Such are the last conclusions of philosophy, which dies in unveiling religion’s mystery and its own.
#organization#revolution#anarchism#daily posts#communism#anti capitalist#anti capitalism#late stage capitalism#anarchy#anarchists#libraries#leftism#social issues#economy#economics#climate change#anarchy works#environmentalism#environment#solarpunk#anti colonialism#mutual aid#the system of economic contradictions#the philosophy of poverty#volume i#pierre-joseph proudhon#pierre joseph proudhon
18 notes
·
View notes
Text
yeah fuck it i'm not done with my fanfic rant. it's very very clear that many of the people out there saying 'i don't read fanfic because its not canon and its poorly written'...have never really, truly spent the time to interact with fanfiction. it's kind of like they heard all the bad criticisms of fan writing, and just assumed they were true and never bothered to check for themselves.
yes, there are fanfics that are poorly written. yes, there are fanfics that are just porn. yes, there are even fanfics that are alternate universes of canon that may even have OOC characterizations. all of these things are true, and pretty much every fanfic enjoyer will agree with you.
but the point of fanfiction. the whole point is that you have to search around and find what you like. because for some reason, canon isn't doing it for you. or you just want to know what someone else's interpretation of how things could have happened is!
there are brilliant fanfictions. there are truly amazing, incredibly written fanfictions that take the good parts of a story and make them better. there are fanfictions better than actual published works that are better plotted out and researched than anything canon has to offer. but you have to FIND these fanfics, whether through recs or by searching yourself.
the people who say all fanfic is bad and poorly written seem to live with the expectation that good media will simply be handed to them and they can consume it unquestioningly. regardless of the slew of bad books, shows, and movies that exist and are thrown at us on a daily basis. would you really go so far as to say 'all tv shows have poor writing' because it took trying to watch several bad shows in your streaming recommendations to find one you liked? or do you really, honestly think that because something was made with profit in mind it inherently has better quality and more value than something made out of passion?
fanfic haters, find the love in your heart to engage with media you love outside of the context of it being sold to you. you may even find a gem among the coal that makes you love the original property even more.
#fanfiction#all of this has been said many times before but god#the battle is no closer to being won
238 notes
·
View notes
Text
I don’t usually make posts like this, but I’ve been seeing a lot of anti-intellectual junk lately, and I really think we need to put the word “pretentious” up on a shelf until people learn what it actually means.
It doesn’t describe someone who likes artsy-fartsy deep meaning media. People who are pretentious are fake. They’re posers trying to be sophisticated and unique, not like other girls. They pretend to only like stuff they think will make them sound cool when they talk about it. They want to act like they know something you don’t, and they want attention for it.
By definition, if you genuinely enjoy something, you can’t be pretentious. If it resonates with you, and you analyze it, and you don’t care what people think, that’s the polar opposite, actually. If you love obscure experimental prog music, if you watch underground high concept indie films through English teacher eyes, if you spend hours in a modern art museum reading each piece as a vessel for storytelling, if your backpack’s full of poetry books that inspire you, if you play underrated games that were someone’s passion project, if you have an interest in studying the classics or the masters, you are not pretentious.
Of course, some people just don’t like some stuff, and that’s fine, but that’s not what this is about. Don’t let anti-intellectuals shame you for enjoying things just because your interests are inaccessible to them, because they refuse to be brave and put effort into critical thinking. You’re not stuck up for refusing to overlook the craft of artists.
#anti intellectualism#media#movies#books#music#critical thinking#my friend who primarily listens to one very popular band once said that people who listen to obscure music are annoying and pretentious#which rubbed me the wrong way because 1 she knows that I listen to obscure music and 2 it’s such a cowardly consumerist take. anyone can#make music and hey a lot of the people who do make GOOD music. and this goes for all *obscure* media#this post was mostly inspired by people talking about Barbie and those anti pick me girls like the pick nobody girls who insist thinking is#for boys and having fun with an empty brain is for girls. Greta gerwig is an artist. I haven’t seen the movie yet but I know it has a deeper#message than haha cute pink! I’ve seen the summaries about the true meaning. the pinkness and popularity doesn’t negate the narritive.#though in the notes I saw a lot of tumblristas comunistas shitting on the film for being one big ad that people *fell for* which tbh is#tbh almost as anti-intellectual. don’t get me wrong they milked this film to sell hella shit but I don’t believe kids who play with dolls#are the target audience as these people claim. Barbie is a culturally iconic symbol almost archetypical of societal expectations for women#you say barbie people think unblinking perfect plastic pink girly. reminds me of the poem The Last Mojave Indian Barbie. yeah yeah you all#hate brands but this one carries undeniable significance and makes for a powerful literary device. it’s been used many times before#sorry for writing a tag essay about a film I haven’t even seen but I’m tired of internet people focusing so much on proving others wrong#that they end up oversimplifying everything just as much as the other person. god I saw people doing this to Nimona saying transphobes were#looking too deep into her character and they’re reactionary clowns for making that jump. like for once the transphobes are right. she is#trans. it’s a queer story. and irl the first people who notice queerness are the bigots who can tell you’re different. sick owns telling#them the story’s not that deep is harmful and it’s like they’re ignoring the real message on purpose. okay enough rambling hehe! thanks#barbie#nimona
129 notes
·
View notes
Text
I am so fucking sick of living with my roommate and his fuck ass boyfriend. Also watching my roommate burn every single one of his (already rather minimal, I might add) bridges for this guy is also kind of painful but also his relationship with me is one of said bridges so I'm almost past the point of even feeling bad for him lmao
#i have had to piss for probably the better part of an hour now#because they decided to take a shower together and have been in there for well OVER an hour now#and this is a nightly occurence atp sometimes MULTIPLE times a day#we have one bathroom.... can yall not be considerate enough to not be in there for up to TWO HOURS AT A TIME???#also it's such a waste of fucking water....#idk we've hit a point where i literally hear the bf doing anything and i get pissed off#but also tell me why i'm sitting in my room (which shares a wall with the bathroom) and i can hear this man hacking and spitting shit up#and this is also something that happens multiple times a day#like.... dude.... why are you spitting up toothpaste so fucking loudly oh my fucking god#but yeah no i'm like my roommate's only friend atp and he's about to not have me lmao like we're about to reach#'i'm cutting you off when i move out' levels of me being pissed off with this whole situation type shit#and apparently the bf convinced him to come out to his family which his mom was chill which is good#his dad's side of the family though....? not great. and my roommate KNEW that would be the case cuz we'd talked about it before#also love that my roommate has constantly talked about moving out of the city we live in because he hates and also there's no good career#opportunities for him here (which is true)#and now. MAGICALLY. he's like 'idk i think it'd be best for me to stay here'#like oh my GOD???? are you hearing yourself???? are you fucking stupid???? you fucking hate it here???#but sure throw your life away and ruin all your meaningful relationships for a guy you met six months ago jfc#and the thing is i *know* my roommate we've been close CLOSE friends for nearly a decade now#i know he is not like this.... like yeah he's being insane by allowing this but also i know these aren't the kinds of decisions he would ma#and also i know he wouldn't treat me like this all on his own#it's the deranged fucking control freak of a guy he decided to date and my roommate has too many of his own issues to put his foot down#about certain things and tell the guy no so he's just allowing him to completely take over his life#and fuck everything up until the bf is the only thing he has left once it's all said and done#and yeah. it's painful to watch. but also wtf am i supposed to do because obviously my opinion is not respected nor wanted regarding this#that has been made PAINFULLY clear#ugh this is so fucking horrendous#what is it with ppl who start to date someone and then go clinically fucking insane and destroy their lives all for this one person#who. realistically. they barely know in comparison to all the other ppl in their life#like explain it to me jfc
10 notes
·
View notes
Last Seen Blogs
5tourist
5tourist
thylaneloubryblondeau-blog
Thylane Loubry Blondeau
waters-a
dazzle me;
rrrirors
Mirrors
othello-barsetti-blog
Roman Purgatory